#if it’s not piercing the very layers of my soul i’m not interested

[moondrifterr]

can i just say? my favorite headcanon for simon petrikov is when he’s given the most piercing, glow-in-the-dark eyes possible. like something you’d be a little unnerved to see in the dark? idk, i honestly just like when people give him sort of like- “remnants” of the crown? like sharp teeth and the piercing white eyes? i just think it’s neat tbh!

[hispipsqueak]

Hunger

Beel x F!Reader NSFW

Synopsis: After a chaotic week at the House of Lamentation, you need a night out and your favorite demon is there to accompany you in more ways than one.

A/N: Hello! Here’s another smut of my favorite demon brother. I just really like Beel and so this is some v self-indulgent content. As always, likes and shares are mighty appreciated <3 Also there is a mention of Beel lifting the reader up during this. I HC all the brothers as extremely inhumanly strong and big so they could EASILY lift anyone up regardless of size. I know some people may get uncomfortable with that, but we are inclusive in these parts.

Tags/TW: unprotected sex, drunk/tipsy sex, distracted driving, rough sex, demon sex, drinking, creampie, slight cumflation?

You woke up to the sound of fighting outside your door. 

  “Mammon, I know you took it. That’s LIMITED EDITION Ruri-chan merch, you scum!”

“I didn’t take ANYTHING! Why ya’ always accusin’ me?”

“Are you two going to keep fighting? I’m trying to get beauty sleep! I require at least 9 hours for my youthful complexion!”

“Ridiculous.”

“HEY! Don’t do that!”

“Tell him to give it back!”

“Or what?”

You grabbed your pillow and pressed it against your face. Living with the demons was an...experience, to say the least. You could still make out the muffled voices even through the soft fabric and let out a low groan. You threw open the door.

“Mammon, stop being an ass and give the figure back. Levi, keep your door locked. Asmo, your complexion is fine. SHUT UP.”

The boys stopped yelling and looked at you. It was rare for you to yell at them, but you were TIRED. They had kept you up half the night with pointless arguments and texts asking you to be on their side and you were exhausted from it.

Mammon was the first to speak.

“Yeah, you heard her. You guys keep trying to start fights and it’s exhausting the poor human.” He threw his arm around you, and you groaned. 

“You know what? You clearly don’t listen to me. It’s fine. But you’re gonna regret it. I can’t be so stressed all the time with this. I’m going out tonight. AND I DON’T WANT ANY OF YOU TO JOIN ME!”

Lucifer appeared out of nowhere and glared at you.

“That’s impossible. You know it’s too dangerous for a human to go out by themselves here. I’ll go with you.”

His stare was piercing into your soul, but you stood your ground. You fought the shakiness in your voice.

“No. I made it very clear. I do not want any of you to join me. Respect my decision.”

An audible gasp came from one of the boys. No one stood up to Lucifer. Sure Satan and Belphie argued with him, but coming from you? This was going to be interesting.

“You are not leaving this house without a chaperone. Now you can either stay in, or I will accompany you.”

You narrowed your eyes. And then an idea in the shape of an orange haired demon boy came walking down the hall.

“Fine. I’ll take Beel.”

The rest of the brothers began to protest.

“I’ll go!”

“No, me. She’s my human!”

“Seriously?? Beel?”

“ENOUGH.” Lucifer bellowed, silencing everyone. Before he could continue, you interjected.

“Beel will you go with me to The Fall tonight?”

Beel looked up from his bag of chips. His lack of situational awareness when he was focused on food was astonishing really.

“Of course MC, and we can grab dinner after too.”

You cocked your head at Lucifer.

“Then it’s settled.”

And with that, you turned back into your room and slammed the door.

-----

The night couldn’t come fast enough. You had been ignoring texts and knocks on your door all day from the rest of the brothers and you were ready to go drink, dance, and flirt the night away.

You didn’t expect Beel to do much of either but he was good company and you know he would get the best food in town. As you finished applying your makeup, you heard a knock at the door. Beel’s deep voice rang out.

“You ready, MC?”

You took another look in the mirror. Your black dress accented every curve of your body. The halter top showed off your shoulders and the keyhole cut showed off your cleavage. Your hair was loosely tousled and you spritzed a bit of perfume over yourself before heading to the door. 

“Yeah I’m—” Your voice caught in your throat.

Beel, the goofy, relaxed guy cleaned up WELL. He had a dark leather jacket over a white v-neck that accentuated his muscular figure. He had a few silver chains layered around his neck and a couple silver rings on his hands. He was wearing dark jeans and black boots and...fuck...he looked HOT.

You always knew Beel was attractive, but this...this was new. You had half a mind to cancel the night and drag him into your bed.

You turned away, to grab your handbag and hide your heated face and Beel took the opportunity to stare at you. He had always found you gorgeous, but knowing he was the lucky guy accompanying you to the club had him feeling some type of way. HIs eyes roamed your body and locked on every inch of skin exposed. He could feel his body heat up and when you finally had grabbed your stuff, he prayed you wouldn’t notice his apparent blush.

The two of you headed to his car, a shiny black Ferrari, and he opened the door to let you in the passenger seat. You could tell he had cleaned it, since the usual bed of snack wrappers that adorned the interior were gone. You smiled at the gesture and he waited until you were situated before closing the door and getting in on his side. 

As he drove to the Fall, you admired him. His body was massive and built and his hands, god his hands, looked so good gripping the wheel. You imagined what they would feel like wrapped around your neck or clutching the sheets —

“...I really think it would be cool!”

You blinked. 

“Sorry, I completely spaced out. What?”

He glanced at you and chuckled.

“You look like you’re thinking a lot about something. What’s up?”

You shrugged your shoulders. “I’m just happy I get to have fun tonight.” You shot him a smile.

Beel blushed. “I’m happy I get to hang out with you.”

He pulled into the parking space and opened your door for you. As the two of you walked towards the entrance of the club, he could see a few demons checking you out. He pulled you close to him and wrapped his hand around your waist, before throwing them a dark look.

Your mind reeled. You pressed into him and could smell the spicy scent of his cologne. You hoped the dimness of the club and the thumping music hid how much your heart was beating. You flagged down a waitress for a shot of something and handed one to Beel. The two of you toasted before downing the glasses.

The sweet liquid electrified you and you could feel your body loosen. You looked at Beel to see him licking his lips. He grabbed two more glasses from a passing waiter and passed one to you. Another clink of the shot glasses and this time the drink was rich and fiery as it slid down your throat. As the two of you polished off more drinks, you began to feel restless.

You tugged on his hand, emboldened by the alcohol.

“Dance with me.”

He nodded and let you pull him into the sea of moving bodies.

You pressed yourself against him with your back to his chest. His hands were wrapped around you, gently but firmly pulling you into him. The bass drummed in your body and you threw your head back into him. The combination of alcohol and the crowd, not to mention his fingers sliding down your thighs made your body heat up and you felt so good. 

Beel leaned into you, tilting his head down. His breath tickled your ear, as his low voice whispered. 

“How do you feel, cupcake?”

“Good, so good.” you breathed out, not even sure if he heard you. He must have though, because he twirled you so you were facing him. You looked up at him through your eyelashes. His skin was flushed and he had a cute smirk on his lips. The flashing club lights cast a hazy neon glow behind him. Before you could stop yourself, you pressed your lips against his.

His mouth tasted sweet and warm. He deepened the kiss as his hands ran down your back, gripping at your ass. Your tongues danced in each other’s mouths and you dug your nails into his shirt, feeling the hard muscles underneath. You could feel his excitement press against your thigh through his jeans and you let out a soft moan into his mouth. 

Beel let out a pained groan. 

“I need you, right now.” he whispered into your neck, pressing hungry kisses down.

“Not here. Home.” you gasped out. While you weren’t against fucking in the club bathroom, Beel was the largest demon there and it would be plainly obvious if you tried to sneak in with each other.

He nodded and pulled your hand as you headed out of the building. You made your way to his car while he continued to kiss and suck on every bit of exposed skin. He pushed you up against the door of the black car and kissed you eagerly.

“Fuck...cupcake, you’re so delicious. Need more of you.”

You moaned. It was taking all of your willpower to not let him bend you over the hood of his car, but you resisted. 

“Take us home and then show me how much you need me.” You whispered into his neck, before leaving a soft kiss. 

As Beel drove, his other hand was gripping your thigh, dangerously close to your heat. You leaned over and kissed down his neck, leaving soft bites on the sensitive skin. He let out a low grunt, and slid his hand up your dress, running a thick finger across your clothed pussy. You were soaked and he could feel your arousal through the thin fabric.

You grinded against his hand, craving any bit of stimulation from him. He pressed his fingers against you, teasing your slit through your clothes. 

The car slowed in front of the House of Lamentation and he pulled his hand away. He turned to you and whispered.

“We have to be quiet.”

The two of you stumbled into the house, looking around for any of the other occupants. It was dark and silent. Beel pushed you against the heavy front door and kissed you deeply. You wrapped your hands around his shoulders as he lifted you up with your back against the door. You wrapped your legs around his waist and he continued kissing your lips, trailing down your neck and shoulders.

“Beel we should go. Someone might see us!” You breathed out, half delirious from how good his mouth felt on you.

“Good. I want them to know you’re mine.” he growled into your skin, leaving what was sure to be dark marks to explain away later.

“Lucifer will kill us.” You giggled, though your resolve was crumbling away with every kiss. Beel grunted, and then pulled away, pressing his forehead to yours. His amethyst eyes sparkled from the moonlight.

“Yeah, actually that is a pretty scary thought. Let’s go to your room.”

The two of you crept to your door, being extra cautious when you passed each brother’s room. As soon as you clicked the lock, Beel picked you up and easily tossed you onto the plush bedsheets. 

“Finally.” He growled, before pushing up your dress and pressing hot kisses against your thighs. You let out a soft whimper. He tugged at the thin lacy material covering you and you felt him smirk against you.

“So pretty.”

He slowly dragged them down and pressed his mouth against your folds. His tongue flattened and lapped at your cunt, eliciting a loud moan from you. He circled your clit with his tongue, before sucking it into his mouth. You clawed at the sheets. 

“Fuck...Beel please! Need you.”

He continued his delicious assault on your body, pressing his tongue inside you.

“You taste so good. Please cum in my mouth. Wan’ taste you” He mumbled into your pussy. You writhed against his mouth and you could feel your thighs tense up and attempt to close on him. He gripped into the soft flesh of them and forced your legs apart while he continued, pushing you closer to your release.

“Fuck...Beel! I’m gonna–”, was all you could muster before you felt the rush of your orgasm hit you. He groaned into your cunt as he guzzled you down.  Your eyes fluttered and you tried to push his head away.

“No...mine...so good.” He moaned hungrily. Your body shook against him.

“S’ sensitive, please…” you begged. Beel was the avatar of gluttony and you knew he could spend days between your thighs but you wanted him, all of him.

He pulled away, his face wet with your juices. His eyes were hazy and unfocused and he looked drunk on you. He pulled off his shirt and jeans before pushing you back into the soft bed. You took this moment to take a look at his cock and your eyes widened. Before you could panic, he was on top of you. His silver chains dangled off his neck as he towered over you and his hands held your wrists above your head. You gazed up at him and your breath hitched as he lined his cock up with your entrance. Beel was BIG and you knew it was going to be a tight squeeze. Sensing your hesitation, he pressed a kiss to your lips.

“I’ll go slow and tell me if you need me to stop.” He looked at you waiting for confirmation. You nodded and bit your lip.

“Please…” you whispered and he pushed into you.

The stretch was intense and your eyes watered as he eased himself into you. But quickly the pain morphed into an intense pleasure. You felt every vein of his cock press against your walls and he stilled. 

“You okay, cupcake?” 

You nodded, and he pulled slightly out before slowly rocking back into you. You felt so full and started to buck your hips against him. He started fucking into you faster and you cried out as his cock hit the most pleasurable spots inside you.

“Fuck...fuck...fuck. So good! Feel’s so fucking good.” you moaned out as Beel slammed into you. You opened your eyes and noticed Beel had transformed into his demon form. His horns glinted in the light that streamed in from your window and your eyes rolled back. 

“So good. Squeezing me so tight...I wanted this so long. Let me claim you, MC. Make you mine.” Beel grunted as he fucked you into the mattress. You could feel his claws dig into the skin around your wrist and you squeezed your legs around him, pressing him closer into you.

“Yes...I’m yours! Please...fuck me, use me. I need you so goddamn bad!” you wailed, feeling your second orgasm of the night rapidly approach you. He kissed you hard and you tasted the desire on his tongue as you thrashed under him. You could feel the soft walls of your cunt clenching tighter against his cock and every cell in your body was on the edge of explosion. You felt stars dance behind your eyes and you gripped at his biceps, dragging your nails down across the lightly tanned skin.

“I’m gonna–gonna…” Beel grunted, his thrusts getting sloppier and faster. His breath was ragged and he pushed his cock as deep as he could. 

Your pussy clamped down around his cock and you arched your back from the sheets as you gushed around him. Beel’s eyes rolled back and he groaned as he shot his cum deep inside you. You could feel his hot cum spurt into your cunt and he gripped your shoulders tightly as he rode out his release. He slowly pulled out of you, before using two fingers to scoop the dripping cum back into your hole.

“So good. So full.” He mumbled. You looked down and could see the slight bulge from the amount of cum he had filled you with. You laid back down and sighed in satisfaction.

“Fuck that was amazing.” you whispered, suddenly aware of how loud the two of you had been.

He got up and pulled you against his chest, running his fingers through your hair.

“It really was. I wanna do that again.” he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to your head. You giggled and buried deeper in his chest.

“Maybe not tonight, but yes we will definitely do that again.” you mumbled into him, smiling as your eyes started to close. Before the both of you drifted off to sleep, your eyes widened.

“Beel!” you whispered, startling him awake, “We never got dinner!”

It was silent for a moment before the two of you burst into laughter. Beel grinned before softly speaking.

“It’s strange MC. When I’m with you, I don’t feel as hungry. It’s like another part of me is full.”

You looked up at him, your eyes meeting his. A soft smile danced on your lips and you kissed him, pouring as much love into the kiss as possible. You pulled away and buried yourself into the crook of his neck, and as your breath slowed and you fell deeper into sleep, Beel wrapped himself around you and let himself rest.

[winchesterxxi]

Urges of the Subconscious (Din Djarin x Reader) | PART 1

Gif by @keanurevees​

Rating: E (Explicit)

Type: Smut

Pairing: Din Djarin x AFAB!Reader

Summary: Stationed in Tatooine for the night, courtesy of Peli Motto, you and Din are forced to share a room. Thinking that it was more than obvious that the two of you weren’t together, you both expected to find two separate beds - that didn’t quite happen. Sleeping next to the person you’ve been having dreams about for a while now leads to some unconscious shuffling closer to each other - culminating in quite the interesting morning.

Word Count: 3.6k

Warnings: One bed trope, SMUT (wet dream, rubbing, blindfold, nipple play/breast play, fingering)

A/N: I haven’t written for Din in so long, god, I missed my favorite bucket-head. This is also a long one because my gears are oiled and working, so bear with me. Also, part 2? 👀

Buy me a Kofi!

✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ 

When Din had told you that there was a fault in the differential and exhaust manifold of the Razor, you knew that meant a trip down to Tattooine. You weren’t particularly excited about it – the scorching hot weather mixed with the sandy landscape always made you feel gross and heavy, sensations that you weren’t particularly fond of.

The child on the other hand, at the mention of a need for repairs, cooed in excitement, eager to encounter his adored Peli Motto, who he seems to have absolutely smitten. Nothing wrong with that, in fact, it was nice to see the kid being in someone else’s arms without fearing for his life.

Down on the rocky ground in front of her secluded shop, Peli looks up at the shadow that suddenly allocated itself in front of the sun, only to adjust her vision and catch the Razor Crest slowly descending closer, until its landing skids contacted the red ground and the large cargo ramp started to lower itself.

Into her vision came what she secretly nicknamed as “The Space Family”: You, with the baby in your left arm, and the imponent Mandalorian just a couple of feet behind, a gothic painting, some would say one that was slowly making their way towards her.

“We brought the Child!” You amusingly exclaimed, grinning as her smile immediately grew and the child was already trying to wiggle out of your embrace.

“Easy there!” she exclaimed as the child cooed and babbled in her arms, content with the reunion

“How much do you want for it?” she asks you “Just kidding. But not really.”

“The kid’s still not for sale. But I have a few repairs that need to be done.” Din intervenes. You know he isn’t being purposefully stern, but the man could sure use some lessons on loosening up and being able to understand a joke.

“Always a pleasure to talk with you, Mandalorian.” Peli greets with an expressionlessly sarcastic face that falls upon her as soon as she looks up from the child  “Point me in the direction.”

After a close inspection alongside the Mandalorian, they both returned to where you and the child stood before he reached for Peli once again and you laughed at his tiny attachment problem.

“ I can get you out of here tomorrow at around noon.”

“Noon? Peli, we can’t stay overnight. People need us.”

“People can wait. Can’t they?” She asks the question in a higher-pitched voice directed towards the kid who she bops in the nose before turning back to you and Din. “And sure you can! There’s a small holsterly just a few miles down the sand, an hour walk and you’ll be fine.”

“We only have credits for the maintenance.” Says Din from your right side.

Peli is about to throw a quick answer, as she always does, but something stops her. She closes her mouth and looks down at Grogu, who happily jiggles the tiny ball between his fingers. She smirks and looks up at you two again, adjusting the kid in her embrace.

“Tell you what. You let me take care of the kid for the night, you two go and have some rest, Maker knows you need it… and the maintenance is on me.”

“We’re not leaving –“ the Mandalorian starts but you quickly cut him off, placing a firm hand on his whistling bird, settling him.

“Deal.”

“Wh- What?” He shakes his helmet in your direction.

“Come on.” You tug him along your side, heavy beskar boots reluctant to move, as you wave back at Grogu and Peli who is smiling like two children who will, more than definitely, be up to no good in the following hours.

But he knows better than to make a scene with you when you are playing nice. So he waits until the pair that was left behind to be out of sight to pull you by your elbow to face him.

“Are you out of your mind?”

“No, but we are almost out of credits.” You reason with him, picking up on his sentence. “Din, she did a nice thing… not all people are out to get you.” Your voice is calm, and it takes all of your strength not to reach out and touch him, maybe caress the helmet of his cheek, or his hand. But he’s who he is, and you don’t want to cross any lines.

His towering figure lets go of your elbow and he walks ahead through the sand, talking over his shoulder.

“This is the first and last time we’re doing this.”

You grin and bit your bottom lip behind him, feeling victorious from having him wrapped around your finger in situations like this, before speeding your own stride to catch up to him, feeling the heat reflected on his beskar hit your skin.

It was a small inn, there was no doubt, more like a one night resting home for the looks of it, the offer ranging little above a few sleeping quarters along a hall and a shared bathroom at the end of it.

Once unlocking the wooden door, you and Din stepped into the now moonlit room, which ended up being more spacious than anticipated.

With Din closing the door and locking it once again, your eyes scan around the carved walls and the big window, the tapestry on the floor and then – the bed. The only bed. Not even a couch on the other end of the room. Only a bed.

Din seems to have noticed it too as you feel him come to a halt right behind you, helmet turning to scan the room.

“Why would they give us only one bed? I specifically said it was a two people bedroom.” You can feel his aggrieved tone sip through the helmet, frustrated with the situation.

“Two people. Not two beds.” You scoff and he looks at you, causing you to look away and avert your smile from his field of vision – how unskilled Din was with such mundane tasks always amused you. “I’m afraid this one’s on you Din Djarin.”

You walk over to the bed and start to peel the layers of your leather uniform, down to your undershirt and panties.

“Woah, what are you doing?” Din asks you, turning his helmet away once his helmet falls upon your bare legs.

“Getting to bed. You should too.” You state in a deadpan voice, before sliding your legs underneath the cotton sheet and laying your head in the fluffy pillow – something you haven’t had in months.

“No, yeah, I can see that! But I-… do you… Are you…?” he stumbles over his words, awkwardly still standing in the middle of the room at the bottom of the bed.

“Din, rest. Come on, it’s not every day you have a real bed to lay on.” The man huffs and walks over to your opposite side of the bed, before pulling the covers back, getting ready to seat down, before you shoot up on your elbow.

“Aren’t you going to take the armour off?”

“Why would I? Hostile planet, unknown people sleeping next door. Peli might contact us at any minute.” He has a big list of reasons, and he could more than definitely go on, but something in the way you are looking at him through the visor stops him.

“Din. Nothing bad is going to happen for one night.” Your eyes were honest and they pierced his soul melting his insides and kicking his usual hunter instinct out the window.

Not being able to resist, he drops his shoulders and sighs, before reaching for his chest pauldron and unclasping it while you grin victoriously.

“The helmet stays on.” He warns you, while pieces upon pieces of beskar and leather fall to the ground, placed against the foot of the bed until he is in nothing besides his fitted undersuit and beskar helmet.

Reaching for the covers once again, Din finally sleeps into the bed and as soon as his back hits the mattress he releases a quiet grown and you chuckle.

“Better?” you ask him, face turned his way and cocking your eyebrow up.

“Better.” This time, to your surprise, he’s the one that chuckles, the vibration of the modulated sound going straight to your stomach.

“Goodnight Din.” You whisper, turning your back to him and placing your body in your preferred position to sleep. With one look at you, the only nothing he can now see is the moonlit outline of your curves as your ribcage rises and falls at the rhythm of your quiet breath.

He’d be damned if anything happened to you. For as paranoid as he was the possibility of someone breaking in at the dead of the night and harming you, stopped him from turning his back to you and instead, settling with his chest up to the ceiling, helmet turned in your direction.

“Goodnight.”

For the first time in Maker knows how long, both you and Din managed to sleep during a full night with no sudden wake up calls or alarms beeping around. It was nice, he had to admit. So nice, that his body got a little too comfortable, his hands in his slumber reaching for your body and your own figure, unconsciously draw to his embrace let itself be held by him during the long hours of the dark – none of you being aware of such.

But somewhere along that time, in the wee small hours of the morning, your body rotated in his arms, back to his slowly moving chest and his hands, unbothered, had to keep touching you, they had to make sure you were there, hence gently palming your right boob.

It wasn’t until you felt an involuntary squeeze of his bare hands against your tunic, a definite sleep spasm that you were pulled awake and made aware of the situation.

Heat flooded your whole body once you realized the compromising position you both found yourselves in. Gently humming Din’s name, you don’t dare to move his arm, being very aware of his hunter instincts.

“Din.” You repeat again, this time louder and the man behind you hums. At the same time as the sound leaves his lungs, his fingers squeeze yet again. You suck in a breath and bite your bottom lip, preventing any sort of moan from escaping.

Din groans once, the sleep still gripping his system but he must’ve soon realized where his hand was, forearm trapped beneath your weight as he quickly pulls it away, sitting up straight in the bed.

“Kriff. I’m so sorry, I didn’t intend to-“ His chest is rising and lowering heavy, and you can see a hint of the red skin that heats on his neck and upper chest.

“It’s alright, I know.”

A heavy silence hangs in the air, you having since sat up in bed, back against the headboard, only your breathings and and heavy tension floating in the air. You were pretty sure your cheeks were still pink, as they still felt hot.

“I don’t want you to think that I wanted to do anything to you. I would never.” He says, coming off harsher than intended. It’s not that he didn’t want to be with you, Maker, he did, he had fallen head over heels a long time ago… But, maybe you didn’t feel that way. You were too good for him, anyway. A puddle of light in his life that he didn’t want to corrupt with his own being.

“Would it be so bad?” You whisper, afraid that he really didn’t want anything to do with you, slightly hurt by the words he’d just said.

Silence remains and you look to your side only to find the beskar helmet turning in your direction, your hopeful eyes and hung mouth pleading for a genuine answer.

Feeling bold, you reach for his bare hand that rested against the mattress and hold it up to where it was before and he is silently following your actions, but you can feel his muscles tensing at your actions.

“What are you doing, Y/N?” His voice is strained as he looks away but dares not to move his hand.

“Din. Please.” You whisper in a broken voice and that’s all it takes for his helmet to return to face you.

“If I start, I’m afraid I won’t be able to stop.”

“I don’t want you to.”

There is a moment there. One of silence, but that was heavy with unsaid words. A look into your eyes was all it took him to pull your hips gently down and lay you back on the soft mattress while his body shifted to be above you.

His rough fingers gently tugged at one of the straps of your tunic before pulling it down and off your arm, same as with the other one that followed, leaving the thin fabric still splayed over your chest, from where he could now see the hard buds straining through.

Your breathing deepened and you could feel heat pool at your core, shifting your thighs closer together, an action that didn’t go unnoticed to the masked man above you as your knees brushed his crotch.

“Mesh’la.” He whispers, looking down your body, his erection pressing against the fabric of his confined pants.

Putting all of his weight on his elbows, the Mandalorian slides the fabric of your tunic down, revealing your swollen breasts, courtesy of the arousal he was fabricating in you. His fists curled at the sudden need that he had, one that he couldn’t fulfil if there was the possibility of you seeing his face.

Sitting back on his knees, he reaches out to the floor on his side of the bed, where he remembers to have discarded his armour and other layers the night before. When he sits back up, you can see that he is holding one of his undershirts, the one that went directly under the leather layer, made of a soft black fabric.

He motions it towards your head as if asking for permission to put it around your head and all you can do is nod while bitting your bottom lip, eager to give in to the pleasure he intended to deliver.

You lift your head from where it was resting against the pillow and his gentle hands tie the fabric around your eyes, making sure that it was tight enough for it not to slip, but not too much so that it would hurt you.

In the darkness that you found yourself surrounded by, all your other senses tingled in anticipation, especially your touch and hearing as from somewhere lower above you, a hissing sound filled the air, followed by that of metal being placed on wood.

Still sitting on his knees, his eyes could now see you in all of your glory, without the darkening of the helmet. And you were a sight to behold. Hair splayed around your head on the pillow, lips parted in anticipation, breasts aching for him. To the latter he gave in first, lowering himself to attach his lips to your left nipple, his breath fanning over it for a moment before diving in.

You suck in a sharp breath and moan at his action, while one of his hands finds your free nipple, not wanting it to go unattended.

“Din, that feels so good.” Your head lifts up and then drops with a small thud against the pillow taking in shallow and quick breaths as his fingers and tongue continued to tease your sensitive buds.

His mouth and hands were equally skilled, the latter, rolling your bud between his thumb and forefinger, as quick jolts of pain and pleasure rushed through every nerve in your body.

He stayed there for a long time, switching sides every now and then, mouth sucking and tongue lapping and brushing against your nipples.

He sucked and moaned around it every time his tongue stroked the tip of your nipple and your hands fumbled between grabbing the sheets below you or his soft hair, body arching up wanting more. More of him, more of that sensation, just more.

With your tunic still draped over your torso the one hand of Din’s that wasn’t supporting his weight travels down to your core, thick fingers brushing against your clit and soon after trailing a path up your dripping slit, moaning when his digits became wet.

“Did that make you wet, cyar’ika? You like it when I play with your nipples?” his husky voice sent waves of arousal up your body.

“Yes, Din, you’re so good at it, please.” You reach your hand down to palm at his erection “I need you, please.”

Gently he grabs your hand from his crotch and places it down next to your head. “Next time. We need to get going in a few if we don’t want to burn under the midday sun. But I can still make you feel good.”

You moaned at his willingness to prioritize your pleasure over his, going as far as denying himself of an orgasm at this crucial moment, which would have him frustrated until the next time you could be alone together again.

His lips return to your nipples and, at the same time, he slides two digits inside your aching cunt, the warmth and clenching around his skin making him whimper around your nipple, making the pleasure skyrocket on your part.

The outer rim of his free hand now rested against the mound that was free from his mouth’s hold, as his middle finger flicked up and down against the tip of your nipple, making you cry out in pleasure as it synched perfectly with his ministrations against and inside your core.

It was all too much, and tears pooled at the outer corners of your eyes, leaving an eventual wet trail behind as they ran down your cheeks, until being soaked by his shirt that rested around your eyes.

Your body convulsed under his frame, arching against him as a wave of white pleasure washing over you like never before, the joined ecstasy of his two places of stimulation pushing you with full force over the edge you were chasing.

Din rode your high until he felt you could no more, never for once slowing his movement in between your legs as your cum dripped down his fingers and into his palm, and making the most of your sensitive nipples by bringing both your breasts together with his large hand, positioning them in a way that both nipples were almost touching, allowing him to lick and suck at the two simultaneously.

Once your body is spent and limp, chest rising and falling trying to catch your breath and trying to drive some oxygen up to your brain as you felt like being high, Mando finally lifts his face up to your own and, for the first time lets his lips latch onto something other than your chest. The kiss is deep and wet, his tongue roaming your lips before exploring your mouth.

Din then sits back up on his knees, chuckling as your head followed his once your lips parted, not wanting to separate just yet.

His bare hand reaches to the side table where he’d laid the helmet and puts it back on, coming away from straddling you and rather returning to his side of the bed, pulling you in by your waist to his side and sliding the shirt up from around your eyes

He watches you smile, still in the aftereffects of your orgasm.

“Hey.” You muse up at him.

“Hey.” He answers, the helmet preventing you from seeing the lopsided smile that adorned his beautiful face.

“That was…”

“I know.” He completes your thought.

“Was it so bad, after all?” You close your eyes as the question leaves your lips, the exhaustion of this morning activity starting to wash over you.

“Not even close.”

As if on cue, the first ray of sunshine makes its way through the window glass and you know that it means you need to get dressed and out of this place. Din notices it as well, patting your side before slinging his legs over the edge of the bed and standing up.

“Come one, mesh’la. We need to go.”

“I know.” You groan up to the air. “But this is so comfortable.”

“The faster we get there, the faster we can go into the Razor and the closer we are to putting Grogu asleep.” He tells you, hands on his hips, a teasing tone on his voice and damn it, he got you good.

“I hate that you know me so well.” You huff with a smile, crawling up to his side of the bed so that you’re on your knees on top of the mattress, still, he towers over you.

“Can’t wait to know all of you.” He whispers as his helmet comes closer down your face and his hands travel to your waist. He then gives it a little squeeze before patting your ass. “Come on now, let’s go. I have a feeling someone is waiting to make grabby hands at us.”

“I was about to say you have a stationed ship waiting to take off, but I’m glad to see you have your priorities straight.” You muse over your shoulder, walking to the small bathroom adjacent to the bedroom.

As you go, Din stays behind adoring the view of your hips swaying and ass jiggling as you walk.

“Oh, you have no idea.”

He really couldn’t wait to know all of you.

✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸

TAGLISTS

PERMANENT TAGLIST

@blondekel77​  @pedrobreakmyback

DIN DJARIN TAGLIST

@niall2017​

PEDRITO TAGLIST

@weirdowithnobeardo

✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸

Want a completely personalized imagine just for you? Click here!

[5uptic]

crewfu: fanfic spotlight :)

Angel of Life, Bringer of Death by woofles1990 (5up/Steve, teen rating, gen | 377 words, chaptered WIP)

Summary: Steve and Dk just wanted to explore a dungeon. That's all they wanted! A certain angel clearly had other plans.

flashover by Anonymous (Apollo & 5up, teen rating, gen | 853 words)

Summary: n. the moment a conversation becomes real and alive, which occurs when a spark of trust shorts out the delicate circuits you keep insulated under layers of irony, momentarily grounding the static emotional charge you've built up through decades of friction with the world. OR: it's pretty stupid to sleep on the tiles of a subway station, even though you are well aware you have a home. It's also quite embarrassing to have a friend pick you up from there.

Sparks Fly by Rocketro (5up/Fundy, gen rating, m/m | 863 words)

Summary: 5up and Fundy watch fireworks together.

you're holding back (shut up and dance with me) by lytriis (5up/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 1.2k words)

Summary: 5up and steve dance.

what happens in Vegas by aphilologicalbatman (Apollo/Steve, explicit rating, m/m | 1.4k words)

Summary: "I'm pretty sure this is a bad idea, Steve." "Nah, this is a great idea, dude." (Or: the one where they hook up in Vegas.)

quiet when i'm coming home by homeward_bound (5up/Hafu/David, teen rating, gen & multi | 1.4k words)

Summary: 5up comes home from LA.

i could peel it for you by sweetlikesugr (5up/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 2k words)

Summary: One appletini at a time, 5up ponders about oranges, buttons and celestial bodies.

from blossoms by 5280ft (5up/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 2k words)

Summary: “O, to take what we love inside, to carry within us an orchard, to eat not only the skin, but the shade, not only the sugar, but the days, to hold the fruit in our hands, adore it, then bite into the round jubilance of peach. There are days we live as if death were nowhere in the background; from joy to joy to joy, from wing to wing, from blossom to blossom to impossible blossom, to sweet impossible blossom.” -Li-Young Lee, From Blossoms

you think that i'm foolish now by amsves (5up/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 2.1k words)

Summary: “Is everything okay?” That’s a stupid question and Steve knows it. If everything was okay, Five wouldn’t be randomly appearing at his hotel room at—Steve checks his phone—2:37 in the morning. Their group had split up for the night a few hours ago, uncharacteristically early for them, but Five had had plans to talk to—

Like you wouldn't notice by Anonymous (Apollo/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 2.1k words)

Summary: Apollo is having feelings, so he pushes them down and hopes Steve doesn't notice. Avoiding Steve was never going to end well. "From that moment on, Apollo becomes hyper-aware of all things Steve. The way his long leg touches his, hip-to-knee, in the bar booth when they're drinking overpriced cocktails."

Vegas Lights by amethystvxidwalker (5up/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 2.3k words)

Summary: “You were planning on actually swimming with me, right?” Steve faced him, brown eyes and dopey grin almost making Five swoon. He forced himself to focus on Steve’s face rather than the black ink above his hip, small, blocky text that read ‘SUGR?’ because of course it did.

ice-cream-covered screaming hyperactive thought by cj__writes (Apollo/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 2.5k words)

Summary: Apollo isn’t sure when, exactly, he fell in love with Steve. Maybe, just maybe, he thinks, he never really fell. Maybe, he’s been falling. He’s still falling.

u spilled orange on u by SmearedWords (Apollo/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 3.1k words)

Summary: Five times Dumbdog thinks Steve is illegally attractive and the one time he tries to admit that to him. Keyword: tries.

My love is the evening breeze touching your skin by tumtummeke (Apollo & Steve, general rating, gen | 5.2k words)

Summary: Steve's love language is physical touch. Dumbdog's is... not that. A day at the beach with Steve and Dumbdog (and background crewfu), told in five touches.

be like the love that discovered sin by Qupid (Apollo/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 5.6k words)

Summary: It’s annoying because Apollo even left for work a whole hour early today, which should be enough time to get to his shitty office job like everyone else on the train, but unlike everyone else, Apollo also has a second job. Which leads to the last reason why Apollo is having a bad day: being pinned under an overturned car while a villain monologues at him. Well, that last reason isn’t really part of Apollo’s bad day, but sue him if he wants to include the misfortunes of his hero identity Dumbdog while listing the reasons for his bad mood. “I don’t have time for this, Suptic,” Apollo grits out, interrupting the villain’s monologue.

friends in this town by 5280ft (5up/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 6.1k words)

Summary: Five only realizes he’s bitten his nails down to the quick when the sting of pain catches up to him. He’s probably overthinking. He just needs to talk to Hafu. That’s all. ...He doesn’t want to. He’s worried he will only hear an answer he’ll hate. Out back, putting off talking to his sister really gives Five a sense of deja vu. All he needs to complete the feeling is Steve. “You need to relax, man.” Speak of the devil.

this party's just another haunted house by cj__writes (Apollo/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 7.7k words, chaptered WIP)

Summary: On December 31st, Apollo wakes up in his hotel in Vegas. The problem is, it's always December 31st.

call me by your name (i don't know that's pretty gay) by Qupid (5up/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 10k words)

Summary: “Oh!” The human suddenly exclaimed, “You probably want my name!” Five had no interest in holding the power of a name over a human, it always seemed more trouble than it was worth, “Not particu-” “I’m Steve! It’s a pleasure to meet someone as cute as you.” The human, Steve, interrupted before 5up could finish. 5up’s eyes widened as he felt the power of gaining a name rush through him.  It was intoxicating and he could see why some fae would frequently come to the human realm just to trick humans into giving up their names. Five hadn’t needed to trick Steve, the man had given up his name freely and Five couldn’t believe how goddamn stupid he was to do it. “Ohhhh my god you’re an idiot.”

you'll hear me howling outside your door by Qupid (Apollo/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 22.2k words)

Summary: Something warm blew against Steve’s face and, distantly, he heard a high pitched whine. A nudge, and when Steve ignored it, a more insistent push had him opening his eyes to the face of a wolf mere inches from his own. Steve laughed. How delightful!  He was hallucinating animals now. The wolf’s fur looked bright to him, but even with as dark as it was Steve could tell it wasn’t white. Maybe it was more of a sandy color. Not that it mattered when all Steve could focus on was its piercing gaze and how its eyes seemed to bore into his soul. The wolf whined again and nudged Steve in the shoulder with its nose, making the man rear back when he realized that this might actually be a real wolf and not a hallucination at all.

kinda good for my love by sweetlikesugr (5up/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 44.7k words, chaptered)

Summary: 5up can’t really recall the exact moment when dares became his and Steve’s thing and he is not sure if he even wants to try - after all, why would you mess with something that feels so natural, that feels so right? Why not just let it take its course and see where it might lead them?

Also: mangoedges‘s 5up the human impostor collection!

FAQ:

Wait what is this: pretty straight to the point! i’ll regularly share crewfu-related fanfictions to this blog :)

How regularly is “regularly”?: great question! LOL. it depends on the flow of fanfics that get uploaded, which i do not have any control over, but i’m looking forward to do this twice a month. after all, it’s only me doing this and i often run on a tight schedule.

What’s the format like?:

[title of fic with link] by [author of the fic with link] ([main pairing(s)], [fic rating: eg, general rating], [relationship: eg, m/m] | [word count in k], [added prompt to specify if it’s complete or not])

Summary: [summary provided by the author. if it doesn’t have a summary, a “No summary” prompt will be put instead]

(What does WIP mean again?): Work In Progress :)

Why are you doing this?: from the beginning, my blog has hosted conversations about RPF (real people fiction) and crewfu pairings. this has evolved into people sending me updates about certain fics in the crewfu tags every now and then, but i wanna take the next step and just do these things myself. after all, i’m already lurking in the tags often to see the fics that get posted. as someone who is both a writer and a reader, i wanna appreciate fanfic writers and help out other people that want to read fanfic and consume more fandom content!

Will it be AO3 only?: well, ao3 has a very helpful tag system that makes finding fics incredibly easy, as well as allowing people with no accounts to like and comment on fics, so that’s the site i will personally look in for fanworks. but if there are any fics you’ve written or liked in any other platforms, such as wattpad, you can always contact me through my inbox (send an ask or a dm!), and i’ll make sure to include for the next fanfic spotlight :)

Does it mean you won’t reply to fic asks anymore?: yeah, i guess. since i’ll be doing the searching myself it seems counterproductive. but if i ever skip a fic or again, it’s in another platform, or you’ve posted/read the fic a while ago and you want to get more traction on it, hit me up and i’ll take it into consideration!

Will you read every single one of the fics on your list?: oh no. again, i run on a tight schedule, and also i have my own taste when it comes to fics. i won’t be reviewing fics or any of the sort, and my intention extends to simply sharing these fics to this page so people will have easier access to them :) that’s where ao3 tagging becomes SUPER useful!!!

So what’s the criteria for the way you’ll sort out the fics in your list?: word count, going from lowest to highest. in case of fics in other platforms, i guess i’ll put them at the top of the list. i’ll also be looking for fairly recent fics, so let me know if you want any old-ish fic to be included.

I see you talking mostly about 5up/Steve and Steve/Apollo. Can I still send/see other crewfu fics?: why yes absolutely! my goal is to push every fic which heavily features regular crewfu characters - 5uptic and supdog just happen to be very popular pairings. so, to give you a list: core 4 (5up, hafu, dk, steve), apollo, aipha, annie, janet, kimi, ellum, koji… you know the drill. it doesn’t have to be centered on a relationship, or about 5up in specific, etc. my only requirement is that any of the previously mentioned members are a central part of the fic or are HEAVILY featured in it (sorry, minecraft fics with 50+ tags who only mention 5up as an afterthought won’t make the cut :/).

Isn’t shipping Bad™?: well, it’s a little more nuanced than that. i will go out of my way to discourage and shame people who often violate CCs’ boundaries by acting like so and so has a crush on this person, or that this and that are Actually Into Each Other or secretly dating. any sort of tinhat bullshit is a big nono (think larries). but i run on the assumption that people who write rpf understand that what they’re doing is simply write a completely fictional story using real life personalities, and understand the boundaries necessary to do it - aka they’re not tinhats, they understand they can’t assume everything about CCs’ thoughts and personalities, they understand that what they’re writing is strictly fiction, they keep these works only in fandom circles, etc. (but again, it’s only one me doing this, so please be kind if i don’t happen to know that this person is Actually a tinhat or whatever).

show fic: NO. (seriously. i don’t feel comfortable putting my ao3 account out there. please respect my privacy on these trying times <3)

I REALLY don’t care about your rpf/fic talk: fair! i’ll be tagging every single one of these posts as “fanfic spotlight”, so just mute the tag using tumblr settings so you’ll never have to look at these! likewise, you can follow the tag if you want to keep up with it, or search it on my blog to look at the other entries you might have missed.

Hey, my fic is here and I don’t feel comfortable with it being shared over here: no problem! let me know as soon as you can and i’ll take it down <3

[annikasafternoonread]

Hello all! It’s been a few days (okay it’s been a whole ass week) -- I’m sorry for the wait, but I had a surprisingly hard time starting this wrap up. Part of that was just being busy with life, but I also just… felt like I didn’t know what to say. Or maybe I didn’t know how to say it. These books are deeply complex, which is part of what makes them so captivating, but it also can make it hard to describe or respond to or explain. So much is left unanswered or unexplored or unknown. How can I sum up something so multi-faceted, that I know I’m only scratching the surface of understanding?

So, Harrow the Ninth. I want to preface this post by saying I did enjoy this book a lot, and I’m glad I read it. Tamsyn Muir is a very talented writer, I love the characters and the world, and the story is really cool. But although I liked the reading experience as a whole… I seem to have a lot of things I wasn’t totally happy with in the book itself. 

Tamsyn Muir’s books are fascinating, but they are also challenging. I’m sure that description doesn’t come as a surprise to anyone who has read them. It is both a strength and a weakness, part of what makes these books so intriguing and surprising, but also something that I know can turn off potential readers. I remember shortly before I started reading Harrow the Ninth, someone told me that the book itself is really hard to read, especially at the beginning. I remember that during the book, someone else told me that they had read Gideon the Ninth and started Harrow the Ninth, but wound up not finishing because the second person was too confusing. 

Neither of those was my experience. I didn’t mind the second person, or the confusing nature of the first sections. It was what I expected from this book at this point, and while it was unusual, it worked. The world they exist in is incredibly complex, the writing style is quite unique, but none of that really fazed me. For me, the ending was what felt... a lot of things. Confusing, incomplete, unresolved… and for me at least, a little unsatisfying. Again, I get that it’s kind of the point, but I just… 😒 is the best way I can describe the emotion. Like, okay I guess, but also no. 

The good news is, this book as a whole answered a lot of my questions from the previous book. Not all of them, but a good few. We know a lot more about this universe, about the history leading to this point, about who and what they’re fighting against, about what Lyctors are and how they work and what they do. And we know why Gideon didn’t die from the gas 🤯 

This book also hit a lot of the themes I was hoping for, many of which are concepts I’m quite interested in. In my opening post, I guessed that we’d be seeing a lot of focus on the ideas of: identity, duty, loyalty, morality, and truth. Granted those are kind of generic and open-ended, but I think they were all pretty on the nose. Harrow’s identity shifts with her memory, with her sense of who she is and what she is supposed to do and be. We explore duty and loyalty through her relationship with Lyctorhood and especially with the other Lyctors’ actions. Morality is a constant undercurrent, never really brought to the surface by most of the characters (well, I guess with regards to becoming a Lyctor it’s explicitly explored, but with regards to killing planets and the BoE and such it isn’t really touched much) but always there and very intentionally so. The narration doesn’t engage with it because the characters don’t question it, but it’s clear that we the reader are supposed to. And truth -- well, there sure are a lot of lies on that ship. I was even spot on that truth circles back to identity, though granted not in the way I initially expected. 

But while this book answered a lot of the questions from last book, it of course introduced many more of its own, and many of those weren’t resolved either. Some of those I expect to be answered later, like: How did Mercy and Augustine connect with the Blood of Eden? Why did they want to break open the Locked Tomb? What’s up with Original Gideon (OG) and did he (or someone else) fuck with his brain? Some of these it makes sense to leave unresolved to heighten the drama, like: What exactly is God and why and how? What exactly is the Blood of Eden and what do they want and how much should I trust or distrust them? What exactly is up with the Body? Some of these are small but still bother the heck out of me, like: What was up with Ianthe’s arm after all? How did the Commander get into that sword? Did Harrow hallucinate before she became a Lyctor, or was that a false memory too, part of the dreamscape? 

But some of them are big. Some of them matter. Some of them feel like I’m supposed to think they’re answered, but I just… don’t. Like, why did Mercy and Augustine break with God? I get the surface level reason that they’re talking about, but it doesn’t make sense to me, there has to be more to God or Lyctorship or the Resurrection or something. Or at least, I have to believe that, because honestly if there isn’t, I think that would be more unsatisfying to me. I’m also deeply curious about how all the different souls and ghosts inside of Harrow interacted -- did they fight each other, layer with each other, influence each other, braid each other’s hair? For instance, who told Harrow to keep the two-handed sword close -- was it Gideon or the Commander or Harrow or some other reason? 

And then there was the scene with Camilla and Judith and Coronabeth. Like, I get that this scene served quite a few purposes -- introducing the idea of a River Bubble, letting us (sort of) meet the Commander, getting to see some of Harrow’s letters, setting up the next book (as per the epilogue), and let’s not ignore the value of getting to say hi to some favourite characters, but at the same time it just… it feels so out of place. Like a weird crossover, except these characters actually do go here? But they’re not supposed to? They show up once, their presence is not explained, and then they disappear into the plot of the next book. A cameo within their own world.

There were of course plenty of things I liked. This world is fascinating and we got to know a lot more about it, about history and necromancy, about how this society views death and destiny, about their conflicts and challenges and triumphs and fears. We got to see a lot of new party tricks. Like in the previous book, we got plenty of unapologetic queerness and enjoyment of titty fiction. The writing style is engaging and makes me laugh at the most unexpected moments. I love a lot of the characters and seeing how they think and interact. I want to know more about this world and these people and this story. 

But if I’m being completely honest, I’m not sure I’ll read the next book. Not because it’s challenging to read, but just… I don’t know if it’ll give me the payoff I want. Especially given the amount of effort and brainpower these books do take. I want to know I’ll get something back for my investment. Not eventually, when the series ends, but in the book I’m actually reading. Maybe the incomplete ending is supposed to cliffhanger me into desperately wanting the next book. But I don’t want to jump. I just want to land. And with this book, I guess I just don’t feel like we stuck the landing here. I don’t feel like we landed. I feel like we’re still in freefall. I’m definitely not ruling out reading it, I’m sure I’ll be drawn to it and like I said I do want more from this universe. But I just don’t know. 

I feel like this is one of my more critical wrap up posts, and I feel a little bad for that because I know so many of you guys love these books. And I’m glad for you! They’re great books! Well worth loving! If someone asked me if I recommended them, I’d absolutely say yes. I enjoyed them a lot, and my lukewarm response to the conclusion doesn’t take away from all that I did love. It just means I’m wary of that happening again with the next book. 

But that’s a problem for next year! In the meantime, I’m going to have to read something else :) The contenders for our next read are An Absolutely Remarkable Thing by Hank Green, Most Likely by Sarah Watson, or Wild Magic by Tamora Pierce -- any of them are still in the game, so let your voice be heard! I hope to start reading on Saturday, so see you then!

And as always, thank you for joining me on this journey. It means the world to have you along, and you guys make it so much fun. I love doing this, and I love sharing it with you. Thank you. I hope to see you on the next journey :)

[buckyownsmylife]

Touch-A Touch-A Touch me - Part II - Sebastian Stan smut

The one where you get back to Professor Stan’s apartment and he’s not behaving like you’re used to.

Warnings: smut, pwp, professor-student relationship (both legal), dominant relationship, jealousy, begging, dirty talk, ice play, insecure! Seb, secret relationship, sir kink, spanking (briefly), sex with clothes on while partner is naked

A/N: Okay, you guys! Here it is! This is the second part to my Sebastian Stan Professor AU that I promised I’d do and that the sweet @godohammers encouraged me to write! You don’t need to read that one to understand this, but if you want, here it is! I hope you guys like it!

Y/N’s P.O.V.

As I made my way into his apartment, I felt like my skin was on fire from all the desire I had boiling inside of me. It was like this every time I had to deal with Sebastian’s eyes on me for any amount of time. Knowing that he had done precisely that all throughout the evening - not to mention the little episode we shared inside the bathroom - had made me wetter than I cared to admit.

Having to spend all night apart from him was terrible. Having to take a separate cab to go back to his place was awful. But nothing was worse than bursting through his door to find him quietly sipping on a glass of scotch, piercing eyes connected to mine, but otherwise absolutely silent.

“C’mon, baby, please…” I had been begging for the last fifteen minutes, but still, nothing. He had ordered me to strip and relieved me of the agony the fabric of the dress was prompting as it brushed against my hardened nipples, but now I was being faced with a different type of torture. Being spread out for him over his mattress while he quietly watched as my wetness gathered over my pussy, until it was slowly dripping from me onto the bed.

He hadn’t even touched me. And he hadn’t allowed me to touch myself either. I was a mess and all from the effect he caused on me, simply by his staring.

My desperate whine must have prompted him to approach, or maybe it was because he had finally finished his drink. All I knew is that suddenly he had pulled me by the back of my head so our lips could connect in a kiss that was all fire and tongue and I was already on the edge just from this little bit of contact.

God, I needed him.

“You’re so wet, baby,” he pointed out after he let me go, pushing me back into the bed. He carefully made his way around the mattress, still not climbing into it, just staring with a piercing attention at my body. “Who made you this wet?” He asked, collecting some of my wetness with two of his long fingers, before rubbing them together. The touch was so light, barely there, but it fed the fire in my lower stomach, making me gasp in excitement. “Was it Tom?”

The question made me freeze. Who the fuck was Tom?

Then, suddenly, I remembered. And it all made sense.

“You’re jealous,” I noted. “Of professor Hardy?” Sebastian didn’t say anything, opting instead to turn his back to me and walk towards his now empty glass. Except it wasn’t empty, I was suddenly made aware as he came back to me after having scooped up a single piece of ice.

He still didn’t say anything as he held it above my body, letting it drip just between my breasts. The coldness surprised me, even if I thought I was prepared for it. I gasped, my breasts bouncing as I convulsed, my nipples screaming out for attention.

That made him smile.

“So I can still get such a reaction from you, huh?” The answer was obvious, but at least now I knew where the question was coming from. Underneath that cold exterior, I could now see the insecurity in his eyes. Sometimes I forgot that it was hard for him too, having to keep this relationship a secret. But I was more than eager to help remind him that I was his, and that’s what I wanted to be for as long as he wanted me.

“You can always get this reaction from me, sir. Only you.” It was clearly the right thing to say, by the way he rewarded me with a quick kiss on the lips that honestly only left me wanting more. But then the ice was deposited just above my belly button and down, down, down it went, until it met another type of wetness, the one I was producing. After quickly rubbing it over my throbbing clit, he pushed it inside of me, right where I had been desperate for his touch. “Seb… Seb, please, please fuck me…” I begged, but my only answer was a spank to my clit with the hand that wasn’t otherwise occupied.

“I’m not in the mood to play games, doll.” Crying out, I instinctively tried to move my hips so his fingers would provide me with at least some of the friction I so desperately desired.

“I’m sorry, sir,” I scrambled to rectify it. “Please, sir… Please, fuck me.” Although he didn’t immediately answer, his eyes never strayed from mine, and his hand kept moving, giving me at least the tiniest bit of pleasure. Still, it could never compare to how it felt to have him inside of me.

Finally, after what felt like forever, he granted me a tiny nod, but his face never showed any emotion, remaining in that same distant demeanor I had found when I first entered his apartment. I had no idea what his acquiescence meant, but I was desperate to find out.

“Do you want to cum tonight?” He asked, his voice not betraying any of the emotions that would help me understand what was going on inside his head. But I knew the answer he wanted to hear.

“Yes, please, sir.” I immediately nodded, licking my lips at the prospect of having him inside of me, filling me up, stretching me out like he always did. No matter how many times he fucked me, it was always the tiniest bit uncomfortable when he first pushed in, but I had come to cherish that immediate sensation and now constantly craved for it.

“Then beg for my cock. Assure me it’s the only one you want. Remind me you’re mine and only mine.” He had unbuckled his trousers while speaking, and his cock was now tightly secured in his fist, that travelled up and down his length while he stared down at my naked body. 

“I am,” my response came without any need to think about it. “God, I’m all yours, sir. Mind, body and soul. No one can make me feel the way that you do. Please, please fuck me. I feel so empty without you inside of me.” For the first time that night, his lips twitched up, betraying how my words had really affected him. 

In a second, he made his way over to me, still not properly undressing, but that was the least of my concerns. At least now I had him between my legs, his weight pressing me down, his warmth seeping into my skin even through the layers of his three-piece suit.

Seb’s P.O.V.

“I love you so much,” I muttered against her neck as I fused us together. The welcoming gasp she let out every single time I thrusted into her was like music to my ears. “You are everything to me, baby girl.”

Little moans of pleasure escaped her delicious lips as she accepted my declarations and the movement of my hips as I tried to find that one spot that made her eyes roll back. When I did, she gasped again, one of her arms coming around my shoulders to hug me closer to her. 

“I-I love you too, sir,” she managed to admit, although she could barely open her eyes as I continued to passionately fuck her against the mattress. I wasn’t completely satisfied with her words, however, and I let her know by biting on her earlobe.

“No sir anymore, darling. Just me. Tell me you love me, c’mon. I wanna hear you say my name.” The vulnerability in my tone made her open her eyes to stare up at me, her lips still somewhat open from the sounds she couldn’t stop releasing.

“I love you, Seb,” she said, her eyes connected with mine like our bodies were, no hesitation in her declaration. The moment became too much for me. The sight of the woman that I loved underneath me, telling me she felt the same way, the feeling of her wet, tight walls clenching around me… I came with a strangled groan, my knees failing to keep me up as she screamed my name when my spurts of cum caused her to reach her high too.

We stayed there for a long while, just silently basking in each other’s warmth, while Y/N caressed my hair and I thought long and hard about the evening we had shared. “I’m sorry,” I decided to come out with it sooner than later.

“For what?” She asked, stopping her movements, which allowed me to push myself away from her chest to look her in the eye.

“For being a jealous asshole. For being blinded by Tom’s interest in you and letting it get to me. I never really thought you’d reciprocate his feelings, I was just… scared. I don’t want to lose you.” Y/N opened up a smile at my words, but her eyes seemed somewhat saddened by them.

“You’re never going to lose me, Seb. I love you.” She pushed herself to lean on her elbows, so she could kiss my forehead briefly. “Besides, Professor Hardy is nowhere near as hot as you.”

That made me laugh out loud, and just like that, the cloud of anxiety that had been weighing me down was pushed away, ignored and forgotten by the incredible caring power of my girlfriend.

“I’m not so sure your friends would be completely in agreement with you,” I argued, but she simply shook her head, strands from her hair sticking to her sweaty skin. She had a determined look on her face that begged me to take whatever she was going to say very seriously.

“They have terrible taste in everything, including men. Please don’t use them as any sort of standard of judgment, or you will be embarrassed by it.” Her words were so honest that I knew there was a story behind it. Already laughing, I managed to ask, “You’re talking from a personal experience, darling?”

She looked at me with wide eyes, like she was suddenly brought back from some difficult memories by my question. “Yes,” she admitted, but immediately added, “Please don’t make me elaborate on that.”

With another hearty laugh, I hugged her to my chest, squeezing her as hard as I could, thankful to whatever God was in charge that we had managed to find each other. “Of course, baby girl. Let’s talk about better things, tell me you love me again.” This time, it was her laugh that filled the room and my heart, and with that loving sound in my life, I was sure I’d be able to overcome any obstacle that might appear in my way - even if it was another suitor interested in her caresses. Because I knew the only person who would ever received them would be me.

[cajunquandary]

A Beacon to Beasts

A Beacon to Beasts

AO3 Link (in the works, check back later)

Summary: While Dean is in Purgatory, he comes across some interesting monsters who help him through.

Created for @spndarkbingo​

Square Filled: Fornication

Rating: R (18+ ONLY)

Pairing: Dean x Reader x Benny

Warnings: Dark Fic. Canon level violence, SMUT (p in v, biting, anal, oral, dp, unprotected sex *dont be silly wrap the willy,* all the smut, also I might be developing a praise!kink here??), angst, traumatic memories. If you squint: suicide, Destiel, Denny

Word Count: 7600

A/N: Originally published in early 2017, this is a total rewrite with the tremendous help of @thinkinghardhardlythinking​ and @wonder-cole​. You talented bitches. I love you.

Lightning spider-webbed across the sky, for a brief moment illuminating every shadow across Purgatory. The forest practically hissed in the unwelcome brightness as the trees whispered amongst themselves. A crack of thunder caused a quake larger than you’d felt in the god forsaken land ever before. It cracked the sound barrier, bent the hellscape reality at all of its slithering edges, and sent a shockwave so powerful it nearly tore apart every cell in your body. With an eerie silence, darkness fell again, and as your eyes adjusted, you could see that the beast attacking you was fleeing the other direction from whence it’d come—no, not fleeing. It was chasing the impact. 

Something pulled in your chest like a red-hot meat hook, something that sent sparks of electricity straight into your brain and signaling an overwhelming raw need. You were familiar with such will-crushing lust. Your fangs were proof. But this… this was stronger than anything you’d ever felt before. It nearly drove you mad. You could feel your mind slipping, until you took a step forward, then another, and another. The more you walked towards the source of the prior disturbance, the more sated you felt. The more whole. 

It took weeks of fighting others like you and endless backtracking to find the source—a vampire and another beast. It was a bit like a human, but no humans could be in Purgatory. Whatever it was, it was intoxicating. 

Your body shuddered at the proximity of the delicious flesh. The warmth. You were merely a moth, drawn to a flame of your own destruction. Your head swam and you reached towards the man, but another fang sped from the shadows opposite you first. This was just enough of a distraction to pull you back from the brink. 

You crouched behind a half-rotten tree, only one eye peeking from behind your cover. The human barely had time to react before the fiend had him forced into the well-trodden packed earth. His fall was hard. Your mouth watered as his pulse quickened and echoed through your soul. 

The vampire accompanying the human sent the attacker’s head flying so closely that spattered monster blood landed on your hand. The foul stench drove you deeper into the safety of the trunk. You didn’t want to be next. 

In this land, the best way to survive was to stay hidden, quiet, so you decided to follow them for the first few weeks, being careful to keep to the shadows. The thirst for the human ebbed and swelled unpredictably. At times, it was all you could do to resist the pulse exposed on his neck, especially when the man slept. 

For days you tried to figure out what the other one was, who he was, but damn, was he a monster magnet. You’d been in pretty thick shit before, but never like this. Your cover was nearly blown a few times a day, but you were thankful the two were too busy fighting their own to notice you.

“Damn, man. You’re humanity is gon get us kilt.” The vampire wiped the rancid blood from his blade on the latest dead monster’s shirt.

“Yeah well, as soon as we find Cas, we’re getting the hell out of hell.” A human in Purgatory? How? No wonder there had been such a disturbance. He must have been pulled here by a great force--one that very nearly ripped the entire existence apart. 

“Hey brother, I’m startin to think the angel don’t wanna be found. Dean, think about it. Every time we get close, he disappears again.”

“Benny—don’t.” The human stormed away from the vampire. What was going on? A human and an angel? Things must be getting really messy up top.

The vampire, Benny, turned suddenly in your direction, and you closed your eyes, hoping the thick layer of leaves and thorny bushes camouflaged you well enough. It must have, because he merely shrugged and walked after Dean.

This night was the quietest it had been since The Event. It had been hours since the last monster attack and you were almost as exhausted as they looked. It wasn’t long before the men settled down into the dust and a pile of dry brush and began to lightly snore. Usually one stood guard as the other slept, but on this occasion, both must have been too far gone to care. 

You crept slowly forward, focused completely on the human. He was so beautiful. The creases of his forehead were reduced to fine lines as he slumbered, slow, tender breath fluttering across weary-pale swollen lips, freckles and mud mixed on his cheeks, hair tousled and bloodied, yet still so soft and shiny. His lashes twitched as he dreamed. You were only a few feet away now, beginning to feel lost in the warmth radiating from him, drunk in the light from his soul.

A sharp pain through your side interrupted your trance and you collapsed into a prickly shrub. Between gulps of agony, you could just make out that you were pinned to the ground with a rough makeshift javelin, reminiscent of a butterfly pinned to a shadow box as you’d owned as a human. You screamed in pain, and if you weren’t already twice dead, you’d worry about losing too much blood.

A pair of boots came into your view. “I smelled you days ago. I know you’ve been followin’ us. Why haven’t you attacked? You workin for someone?”

You looked from under your brows, straining to see if Dean was still where he had been, but found nothing. All you could do was gasp shallowly against the burning splinters. It had been years since anyone had gotten the jump on you like this. The bit of human that was left within you prayed that this was a bad dream, that you would wake in a moment in the gently swaying safety of the treetops.

The javelin was ripped from your aching side, and you screamed again as your organs smacked back together in the loss of pressure. The vampire threw you against the nearest tree. Through the pain that overwhelmed your ability to flee, you watched in utter captivation as the human secured you with heavy, rusted chains.

The latter bent close to your face, piercing green eyes a stark contrast to the caked mud and blood spattered across pale cheeks. “Now look, you piece of shit. I’m gonna waste you like I’ve wasted every damn thing in this place. But first, you’re gonna tell me where the angel is, and why you’ve been following us. If I like your answer, I’ll make it quick. If not… well, I don’t normally like the answers.” He smirked, tilting his head just slightly as if he was considering just how he was going to end you. 

You gulped hard knowing the human meant business. You’d seen him firsthand, the violence, the rage. All this man left behind him were wide trails of blood.

You were shaking now, feverish and confused. When had your fangs come out? You retracted them in an attempt to look less intimidating and more cooperative. Between gritted teeth and a gradual tunneling of vision, you managed to respond. “I’ve been tracking you since you arrived. There was this storm, and I’ve felt a pull towards you the whole time. I-I don’t work for anyone, I swear.” His gnarly blade pressed into the soft flesh of your throat now and panic was rising  and threatening to close off your throat if the blade didn’t do it first. “I didn’t even know about the angel until earlier today when I overheard you.”

“Well. I don’t think I like your answer.” Dean sliced deeply into your arm, which produced a guttural scream from deep within your core. The blade itself didn’t hurt that bad, but whatever was on it sure did. Benny walked away, knowing what was coming. Benny was a monster—Dean was worse.

“P-please I don’t know, I just know the light—your soul is like a candle in this endless darkness. I’ve been here for so, so long and you feel like home, like safety. I crave your closeness and I don’t know the details of why, but I couldn’t hurt you.”

Benny looked over his shoulder as Dean paused. Something struck a chord. Benny walked back over and pulled Dean slightly off to the side, almost out of earshot.

“Brother, I think she’s tellin’ the truth. We should give this one a chance to talk.”

“Why? She doesn’t know anything about Cas. She’s just another monster in my way.”

“And so was I. We were both human once. Let’s hear her out. She hasn’t even fought back.”

The fatigue and injuries caught up with you. Focusing on the thick red-black ooze streaming from your wounds, sleep was finding you swiftly with your head falling forward, blood-soaked hair in your eyes and chest pulled tight against the restraints.

Dean lifted your chin with the end of his blade, remnants of your internals still glistening on the edge. Your eyes followed the length of his arm to his face where he held you in an unwavering gaze. Those eyes were greener than anything in this world—more than the trees you hid in, the brush around you, or the sparse grass beneath your feet. 

You seized your breath and relaxed your tense muscles. If this was finally what wiped you into oblivion, it would be okay, as long as you could stare into those eyes. After all, you were tired of fighting. Your mortal soul had been tired in life, grown wearier after you were turned, another century had passed before you’d been sent here after a hunter took you out. The memory flashed by: how you sat there on your knees, glad to be facing the barrel of the gun after so long that you didn’t even fight. Had you known you’d end up here, you may have fought more to stay topside. But now, you faced oblivion, or so you hoped. This would finally be the end of the suffering, the fighting.

Dean must have read the all-too-familiar look of defeat and acceptance in your face. He lowered the knife, letting your head fall forward again, and caught you in his arms as the chains broke and clattered to the dust.

He leaned you against the base of the tree. You weakly gazed upward through hooded eyes, wanting to see past the leaves to the empty sky, but couldn’t. It was all grisly branches for a hundred feet up.

“Why were you creeping up on me?” Dean pulled your attention back to them.

Battling the unconsciousness that nipped unwaveringly at the corners of your mind, you whispered, “The ache in my chest… the closer I get to you, the easier it is to handle. I wasn’t going to hurt you, I just needed to be... closer.”

“And is this better?” He motioned to the foot’s distance between you.

“Yeah,” You half-smiled through gritted teeth, the pain from your side still throbbing. It wouldn’t kill you. Nothing in Purgatory killed a monster except another monster—usually by beheading. It still hurt like a bitch, though, and left you exposed and vulnerable like a wounded animal.

He pursed his lips and shared a look with Benny, who shrugged. “I’ll stay up and watch, Dean. You get more rest before it starts again. And I’ll watch you, specifically.” The other vampire motioned at you, an intensity behind his blue eyes you could identify with. This human was meant to be protected, no matter the personal cost.

Dean was soon asleep again, his back turned to you.

The earth supporting your broken form was anything but forgiving. But still, you weren’t going to waste time whimpering to yourself now that you were a part of the misfit group. “Benny, where are you from? How long have you been here?” You wondered aloud.

He eyed you suspiciously, pausing before he answered. “I ran with a crew out of Louisiana, but we sailed all over the Americas. Been here a long time.”

You adjusted your position with a grunt. Benny’s hand was already on his weapon. “Calm down, sailor, just tryin to get comfortable... I’m from Shreveport. Been here a long time, too. Only did about two centuries up top, though.”

“Well, I’ve got a few on you then, sister. Shreveport was nice. Rolled through there a few times.” The vampire chuckled at the memory.

Even still, your body had different plans for the evening, and if anything else was said afterwards, you wouldn’t remember. Rest was in the cards that evening, even if your mind protested. Between stretches of sweet nothing, nightmarish memories flashed by in haphazard, non-chronological snippets. 

There you stood, on the bridge above deep, twisting waters. Though the wind whipped your hair wildly, you could feel nothing. Not since the day you were bit.

Then you were in the shed on your grandfather’s land, centuries before, when you were young but still so old. Had you ever had a chance? And there were fires and anthills, guns and chains. 

Before that one could go where you knew it would, you shot awake. Benny raised a concerned brow in your direction, but you couldn’t face him. Not after that. Within moments, sleep took you once again. 

The butterfly pinned in the box. Such a stark contrast was that orange and red and blue against the green felt and the glint of silver pins. You would chuckle at the sight if you could. Tiny fingers traced the outline of the glass. 

Then you were on your knees. You didn’t even fight. This? This was the day you died… the second time. By the hands of an inexperienced young hunter who was too focused on fighting with his dad to even notice you there. I mean, he practically tripped over you. The boy looked tall for his age, hazel eyes partially obscured by choppy bangs and mouth pressed into a thin line. He hesitated too long. You’d cocked your head to the side, wondering if he even had it in him to off you, and you almost felt sorry for the kid. Especially when his dad saw. The old black-haired ass berated him, belittled him. Compared him to his older brother. A disgrace, he’d said. Nothing like him, nothing like Mary. When the boy could look you in the eyes, you gave a slight nod as if to say, “It’s okay, I forgive you.” Those bright hazel eyes morphed into the moon cast over a monster wasteland. 

By morning’s light, you felt better, somewhat healed, but mostly sore. You and Benny spoke all the while, learned your ins and outs, and caught up on the situation with Dean, the toothy leviathans, the apocalypse (again), the dick angels, and everything else Dean had filled him in on weeks ago. If you weren’t in Purgatory yourself, you never would’ve believed all this. I mean, angels? C’mon. 

Sure enough, Benny was right. Beasts continued to attack in waves. There were a few close calls, and not one would speak of the whereabouts of the angel Castiel, though a few tried to save themselves by spouting lies. Dean would see right through them. It only ever took one question. “What color are the angel’s eyes?” A few had gotten lucky and guessed blue, but Dean didn’t even accept that answer. You asked once, what answer he was hoping for. He only shook his head in response. 

There were times, though, when he would describe Cas to you in the quiet of night, and it was like listening to a lost lover. Dean gave in after some months and described the angel’s eyes as full of grace, blue, but slightly glowing. And not just any blue, no. The bluest blue you could ever imagine. The purest blue. He spoke longingly about things they’d done, things he wanted to do, wanted to say. Needed to say. You would close your eyes and drift off to him mumbling stories of Cas, the fondness softening his voice.

It was dark again and the almost empty end of a particularly difficult day. You’d all sustained serious injuries from the violent fray that only seemed to become more dense as of late. You and Benny would heal quickly, but Dean wouldn’t… and you worried for him, lingering protectively close.

The weary hunter screamed in time with the monster as he thrust his knife through its eye, his voice echoing long after the lifeless body crumpled in front of him. In a rage, he threw his weapon down, stalking over to a nearby tree. He punched, kicked and threw himself against the bark until he was nearly bloodied beyond recognition. Benny could only look down, powerless to help his friend. Unable to watch any longer, you forced yourself between Dean and the tree. His eyes were closed until his bruised fists struck soft skin stretched over bone, the unexpected change in texture catching him off guard. You winced against it but grabbed his jacket in both hands, balling your own fists into it to hold him firmly in place. Jerking him forward until you were nose to nose, breath and blood mixing, you growled, “We will find him, Dean. But not if you kill yourself first.”

“Y-you sound like him,” His voice cracked and his head fell to your shoulder. You could feel his tears, hot on your frozen skin. This world was so cold and it never ceased to amaze you how he kept his warmth. You held him tightly, even as his knees buckled and swayed. By the state of those green eyes, you could see resignation and defeat creeping up on him. 

You shared a look with Benny, and he knew, too. “I’ll keep watch. You make him rest, cher.” You’d come to learn that Benny preferred to keep watch from all the years he’d had to watch his own backside here. You’d survived in hiding, while he’d made a name for himself—a killer, like Dean (not that either of them ever wanted to be.) You had to give it to him, though. After all, you’d tried to fight off everything in the beginning, but it was too tiring, like living was. So instead, you learned to thrive in shadows and whispers, moving like a ghost through whispers of the trees.

You were grateful for the moment alone with the warm beacon of a man, though. If the electricity across your skin anytime you touched the human indicated anything, it was a confirmation of your heart’s longing. You kept him pulled flush against your chest, his heartbeat so strong that it reverberated through your body. You focused on the feeling. How many centuries had it been since you felt your own beating? Dean’s was so strong it could surely support you both, you thought.

With a groan, Dean pulled the two of you down into a horizontal heap. You couldn’t make out the details of his face in the dark abyss of night, but his heart rate had shifted notably, along with his breathing. His anguish was palpable and you couldn’t help but to take some of it on as your own. He exuded it, it leaked from every pore. 

Supple lips brushed against yours, and you closed your eyes, slowly guiding one hand to his back above you and the other through his hair. It was as soft and silky as you’d hoped it was. You pulled just slightly, allowing your nails to gently spread and retract in circular motions. Dean clenched, the softest sounds carrying on the thick night air. Smiling at the reaction, you carded through the messy spikes and repeated the measure for several moments before Dean crashed into you, with his sudden need matching yours. Every kiss grew deeper, longer, and your tongues began to wrestle gently but urgently between locked lips. He grabbed at you hungrily with a certain ease, unable to hold back anymore, with palms stroking openly up and down your torso, until they slipped below your core.

You both pushed and pulled, wallowed and rolled, careful of injuries but powerless to pull away, fighting to get closer. You helped him slip from his leather jacket, and he groaned into your mouth with a tantalising mixture of pain and pleasure. The sound made you shiver, and you hastily removed yourselves from worn and tattered pants, breaking only for a moment. 

“Shh, Dean,” you whispered next to his ear. He nodded, understanding that even in this embrace, you were exposed and hunted. But with skin on skin, it was difficult to keep logic and sanity at the forefront of your mind. 

Dean slowed his pace and shifted until you were straddling him. With a touch so light it tickled, he let his hands trace every angle of your body, until he felt the latest wound and drew back suddenly. 

“It’s okay,”  you breathed into his gaping mouth. 

“No, I-- I’m sorry.” His voice was feeble, desperate. 

Taking his hand in yours, you placed it back where it’d been. It was a small gesture, but the effect it had on Dean was profound. With both hands now, he clutched your sides so tightly, it sent swells of something delicious straight to your center, before rippling out to every nerve ending exposed to the cool air, and then some. 

Just as you began to give in, a rustle from only several feet away snapped you back to reality. You shot up upon bare feet, weapon already in your hand as you scanned the malevolent shadows for the source, listening and feeling for any shift in the air. Dean lay frozen by your feet, head still spinning in weakness and lust.

In a swift turn on the balls of your feet, you faced the intruder, ready for war. 

“It’s just me, cher. I heard something and wanted to make sure you two were okay.” As Benny took in the situation, he laughed softly. “Sorry to interrupt. I’ll be over there…”

With an annoyed frown, you allowed your stance to go slack. “Thanks.”

Dean touched your leg, leaning in to kiss it lightly before planting a little nibble at your ankle. You slipped back down next to him, gasping when he quickly found your neck and nipped along your clavicle to the sweet spot in the hollow of your neck.

He was shaking slightly under the strain, but lifted himself atop you. To help keep him steady, you placed your hands on his shoulders and wrapped your legs around his torso. With a grateful kiss, he traced his tongue across your bottom lips as he lined himself at your entrance. 

His tip sank into your soaked folds and his resulting keen made you tremble beneath him, itching for more. “Dean, p-please…”

“What do you want?”

You rotated your hips against his, fighting to make him move. “Please, fuck… Dean I need you. Need more.”

Your begging tore his resolve to shreds and he sunk into you, stretching and filling you like nothing ever before. Your back arched at the sensations as they nearly overwhelmed you, drowning out the hell around you and leaving only Dean. Your heavy breathing barely registered as you whined his name. A shallow shriek betrayed you. Dean placed a calloused hand over your mouth, and it only drove you more mad. 

As he bottomed out and began short but powerful thrusts, tears gathered at the edges of your eyes. Everytime, he hit that sweet spot. Everytime, you whimpered into his hand and dug your fingers into his flesh tighter. Everytime, he moaned in response. 

It wasn’t long before those slow, drawn out jolts coiled you so tight you could barely contain yourself. Dean could sense the change as you began to rub against him, allowing the friction to take you over the edge. Right as you fell off into a fierce and roiling sea of ecstasy, Dean replaced his hand over your mouth with his own, swallowing your choppy breaths as you twitched and spasmed beneath him. 

Still lost in the swell, you felt the hunter release and fall, spent, onto your chest. You managed to wrap your arms around him and held him steadfastly, not ready to let go. It was incredible to watch Dean unravel and relax for the first time. In fact, it’d just become your favorite drug. 

Unknown to the broken lovers, a pair of “gorilla-wolves” attempted to interrupt throughout the steamy romp in the leaves, but Benny quickly took care of them. The nasty things wouldn’t have gotten as close as they had, but the vampire had been distracted by the sinfully delicious sounds coming from the far side of the tree. He’d tried to ignore it at first but found his mind wandering. It’d been ages since he’d felt the touch of another being, and the want rose up in him, a fire in his stomach.

You panted next to Dean when he rolled to the side, your injuries far from mind in the lasting rapture from being one with the human. His breathing was still ragged, but slowing. The wound on the back of his shoulder had reopened. Begrudgingly , he let you patch it again. Once dressed, you fell back to the sorry bed of leaves. Dean nuzzled into your side and let out a pained sigh as sleep found him. You could’ve sworn you heard the faintest “Don’t let me die here…” fall from his lips. Your grip on him tightened. You’d get him out if it killed you. But first, you had to find that elusive angel.

It was another month of the same routine. Days and nights ran together. The closer you got to the angel, the denser the swarm of monsters was. Even Benny seemed to be on his last leg. You offered to keep watch this time. At first Benny protested, but you shut him down.

“It’s broad daylight out here. I can see them coming from far enough off, I can give you plenty of time to wake up and fight if I can’t handle it. Don’t worry.”

He didn’t feel like protesting too much, and finally nodded, sad blue eyes locking on yours in a silent promise of trust in comradery.

A few hours passed, and you stood to stretch. A twig snapped behind you, and you twirled quickly, your knife to Benny’s throat. His hands raised. “Sorry cher, I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“Nearly lost your fool head. Why aren’t you resting?” You dropped your arms and stood next to the vampire, staring out through the forest again, scanning. Listening.

“I rested enough.”

“Right, that’s why you have to use that tree to support yourself.” His lips pressed into a hard smile, electric eyes dropping to the ground. When he looked back up, something in them had changed. He reached towards you, hesitant, and brushed the wavy mess of hair from your face behind your ear, hand gently gliding across your jaw until his thumb rested on your lip.

You closed your eyes and shuddered under the vampire’s touch. It was more familiar than Dean’s. You leaned into it, following as it guided you into his embrace. He was larger than Dean and still smelled of the swamp and sea. The scent was intoxicating, dragging all of your attention to Benny. 

He pulled back for a moment and cradled your face in the large, thick hands of a sailor. “You okay with this? Don’t want you to feel pressured, darlin’.”

“Mm not pressured,” you smiled up into those spirited sharp blue eyes. You lost yourself in them, completely ensnared. You could see past them, to cerulean glittering waters, could feel the lapping of them against your old boat, hear the seagulls and crows chattering as they glided on heatwaves, taste the salt on your tongue. 

You stretched up on your tiptoes, craning to taste the salt on his lips, feel the waves in the way his tongue twists. Benny must have felt the same, as he met your parted lips in a feverish kiss, maneuvering you effortlessly between himself and the tree for support until he was rutting into you.

The touch was bittersweet and starved, driving both of you as you stripped away layers. Benny pressed into you until the bark bit into your back and arms. You knocked the hat from atop his head to get closer, to guide him in, and he responded by taking the thin flesh of your neck into his mouth. Fangs drug thin scratch lines over your chest and shoulders, followed by sucking kisses. Benny grunted as he settled next to your ear, the growing bulge in his remaining trousers becoming almost painful in the restriction. 

Sensing this, you moved to loosen the last piece of his clothing until it slumped to his ankles, all the while raw, needy noises spilled from your mouth. If only you’d found each other topside, things would have been better. You wouldn’t have let that young, long-haired hunter boy and his grumpy father kill you.

In one smooth move, Benny hooked his fingers into your jeans and slid them off, until you were completely free of them. With lust in your eyes, you found his full lips once more. You bit and sucked at his bottom lip until he was throbbing against you and whispering your name in short breaths in desperation. 

With a slight adjustment in position, he grabbed your ribcage and lifted you just enough to line himself at your entrance. Hungrily, you raised your knees and rested them on his sides. You dug your nails into his shoulders in anticipation, but he didn’t keep you waiting long. With a final shift of his angle, Benny slid into you unrestrained.

His pace was unforgiving. He was rougher, more desperate, yet somehow more controlled than Dean. Pain was something you both knew too well, and found pleasure in at this moment. Neither of you had to hold back in fear of hurting the other. 

Benny muttered a long string of praises as he placed his cheek on yours and relished in the fragmented breaths and mewls leaking from your gaping mouth.

Between the friction to your front and the sharp ache in your back, the intense set of his pace brought unwanted tears to the corners of your eyes. Before you knew it, he had you biting back a scream as you came in his arms, your back digging into the tree as he held you through it. You sank your teeth into his neck, drawing blood and pushing back the sharper set as they threatened to emerge. He snarled into your ear and released, standing for a moment, relishing in your closeness.

For a time, you just remained in that position as he softened inside you, foreheads resting fondly on each other.

Dean stirred, grumbling as he woke. With a silently shared promise to continue the embrace another day, the two of you straightened yourselves back out and rounded the tree to greet the sleep-starved human.

Over the next two weeks, the three of you grew much closer. Sometimes in between attacks, you took solace in each other. Most times it was talk, but when words were too difficult and your bodies needed to feel something… else, something primal and good and pure, they would pass you between them, never straying too far.

Benny's eyes would always drift and land upon Deans. It intoxicated him, pulled at his heart in ways that tore him apart. Deep green eyes, full of hope and goodness and humanity… something fragile yet unbreakable, much like what he once saw in Andrea’s. Just like Andrea’s. As much as he tried to put her memory to rest, Dean’s gaze would always take his breath, whether they were fighting or fucking, and the feelings that washed over Benny were wild and raw.

You ventured off to scout ahead one day, leaving Benny to help Dean walk after a surprise run in with a gorilla wolf didn’t fare so well. Those things sure liked Dean. Could you blame them? As you cleared the spaces ahead, you reminisced on the first time it happened. 

It’d started innocently enough, some kissing and tender touches traded between you and Dean. You craved comfort, and his touch never disappointed. The fading daylight illuminated something… different, something new in his eyes. There was a spark of acceptance? Resignation? You couldn’t quite put your finger on it, but for some reason the usually tightly wound hunter was relaxed. His movements were delicate and slow, a stark contrast to the usual quickie on the run. 

You nearly lost your balance when he stripped your pants away and traced deliberate sucking kisses down to your sweet spot. You’d had to catch yourself from falling over at the heady sensations, threading your hands into his hair and holding on for dear life (or death.) Within moments, Benny swooped in to support you from behind, snaking a strong arm around your stomach as Dean began to lick and hum and stroke you in ways you’d never felt. Your blood burned like fire, causing every inch of your skin to become more sensitive. 

Benny brushed the hair from your shoulder with his free hand, then took a fistful of it and guided your head back. With a contented sigh, he took your exposed neck into his mouth and you twitched violently between the shivers running down and the heat rising up. The contrast of Dean’s soft lips to the burn of his stubble mirrored that of the rough, blood soaked fabric of Benny’s jacket against the smooth of your skin… and it drove you mad. Your vision swelled with every wave and the sounds of the cursed world around you faded as if cotton had been shoved in your ears. 

Your legs gave way and you fell into Dean’s lap as he chuckled, watching you come undone. The orgasm hit you somewhere along the way down, untouched but wound so tightly that you couldn’t hold out another moment.

While you writhed against him, Dean held you securely to his chest with arms that crushed into your ribs and pinned your arms to your sides. Your head finally came to rest upon his shoulder, and as your senses eased back into focus, you realized that you were completely laid down upon his bare chest. Still buzzing from the high, you nuzzled into the crook of his neck and laid a small peck. Dean’s resulting smile stretched wide, and you could feel it there without even needing to see it. 

“You okay, baby?” Dean gently stroked your back up and down with one hand, and moved to tangle strong fingers in your hair to hold the base of your head tenderly with the other. 

When you found your voice, you muttered a small, “yeah, thank you.”

Benny kneeled beside you and lowered his face until your foreheads met, the three of you so impossibly close. “You up for some more, sugar?”

You smiled wryly and closed your eyes. “Yeah, I’m all yours.”

Though your limbs were but heavy gelatin, you managed to lift out of your shirt as the men undressed. Pulling Dean’s discarded coat over you like a blanket, you rested against a fallen tree and admired them. Dean was more slender, but faster and stronger. The way his muscles rippled and creased beneath pale, freckled skin reminded you of a swimmer--all lean and mean. He was graceful in every movement, like a dancer. Benny was a little more solid, built like a tank. Maybe he wasn’t as fast, but there was no going through him. You’d seen beasts hit him straight on with full power, and the vampire had barely flinched. Those fists could break anything, but his face was always… soft. Kind. Dean’s was hardened, but you couldn’t blame him. And yes, there were moments, like this, where the lines of his face smoothed, and some color returned to his cheeks. 

How you’d ever found Heaven in this Hell, you’d never come to understand. But you were ever grateful. Hopeful for a future with them topside, however it may go. 

Dean’s outstretched hand pulled you from your daydream. You took it, letting the jacket go as he helped you stand. As you stood, he continued to pull you forward until you were flush with him. He pressed a firm kiss to your scalp and rubbed his palms up and down your body. His cock twitched against your belly, and you wrapped your arms around him, squeezing just a little tighter at the new flood of arousal. 

Benny snaked his arms around you from behind, until his hands rested on your neck, not gripping, but just *there.* The weight of them naturally guided your head to fall back against his chest. He growled into your ear, “You’re so fucking beautiful. So good for us, cher.”

Your mouth fell agape and released a strangled moan as Dean kissed along your exposed neck and mumbled a steady stream of “You’re such a good girl for us, such a good fighter, a great companion.” 

With every word, a new fire raged through your veins. Your face burned hot. Dean’s hands wandered south, caressing every inch passionately. One hand found its home grasping your thigh right under your ass, and the other came to rest in your dripping folds. You bucked against the touch and right into Benny’s length resting between your cheeks. 

You whimpered, needing more, needing release. “D-Dean please, fuck. I need you. I want you inside me, please--unnghh.”

Dean teased your entrance for a moment more before the wrecked look on your face and the subtle, high pitched sounds spilling from you completely enraptured him. Benny nodded, moving his hands to steady your sides as you squirmed uncontrollably. With a swift movement, you were raised up with both of Dean’s hands cupping and spreading your ass until he lined up at your folds and let you sink down much too slowly. 

Pathetic cries filled the air as you struggled to maintain control, the stretch of him almost too much to handle and not nearly enough all at once. You shook and grabbed at anything you could hold with a flutter in your chest that threatened to make you implode. And yet, the intense feelings only grew. Benny planted himself and anchored with a strong arm outstretched and clutching to Dean’s shoulder. 

Dean bit his lip fiercely and let out a pained groan at the other man’s unyielding hold on him. His cock twitched again as he bottomed out deep inside you. The depth burned and ached, and with it your eyes came to focus on Dean’s. 

The emerald green was more prominent now, outlined by the hot blush beneath a spray of freckles. His brows were drawn tightly and jaw slack, full, pink lips parted in bliss. His breathing was erratic, and with every intake of cool evening air, Dean trembled. 

You mewled and whined, shifted against them, desperate for friction. The slightest broken smile graced the hunter’s face and he nodded, knowing but not yet ready. 

Tears already began to gather as you fought the urge to physically fight the men into submission, to finally scratch that itch. Benny didn’t leave you waiting much longer though, before he was slipping and pushing into place in your ass. The deliberate burn of him spreading you open opposite Dean left you thrashing between them. 

Dean took a deep breath in as a reminder for you to do the same. If it weren’t for him grounding you and helping you through, the black void would’ve already sucked you in as another victim. You did your best to relax and bore down, allowing Benny to fill your other hole completely to his base. 

The vampire grimaced through his own keening, the tightness of you nearly sending him over the edge right there and then. You stilled between them, already on the verge of destruction as the three of you adjusted to the new feelings washing over you in waves. 

Dean’s lips found yours, open and wanting. Taking his tongue hungrily into your mouth, you sucked and fell absolutely limp as he sucked your lower lip between his. The scent of him was utterly intoxicating, and you were ready once more. 

Benny began to move in tandem with Dean. With every movement of the both of them against your thin membrane, a wailing cry seeped between your clenched teeth. Benny was now clutching both of Dean’s shoulders so tightly that were white bloodless patches beneath each of his fingertips. This made Dean buck harder until the hunter’s eyes shut tightly and left his head bobbing backwards in lust. 

The symphony of your cries was lost beneath those of the two men, who shuddered and swayed. The sweet, sinful music flooded your mind and sent you reeling over the edge once more, clenching and swearing and falling against Benny’s outstretched arm. 

Dean’s thrusts faltered as his stuttered, “I’m.. I’m about to--”

“Just let go, brother,” Benny encouraged. 

It was the only confirmation Dean needed before his load spilled into you, sending renewed longing to your stomach as he pulsed inside you. “Fuck Dean,.. You feel so good,” you managed.

Benny came seconds later, and you relished in the full warmth of them. 

You smiled to yourself as the familiar electricity flooded your veins and leaked to your core. It may have been the first time, but every time since had only been… better. Impossibly, incredibly better. 

Upon your return, you noticed that Dean had found new strength.

“We’re closer than ever to Cas, he’s three days away by the river. We’re almost done! We can go home!” Dean was grinning widely, a spark finally back in his tired eyes.

You smiled, scooping him into a rough embrace. If Dean was happy, you were happy. Benny joined you in the bear hug. You were so ready to be topside again, and now, it was so close you could just taste it.

Your second chance.

With a start, Benny hollered and let go, leaving Dean tense and alert in your arms. Then, he threw you to the side as a beast attacked. Its whole face morphed into a shark-tooth ringed mouth, and you grimaced.

Leviathan. You must’ve been really close to that angel.

You drew your weapon as one engaged you, swung and lopped its head off easily after years of practice, until something glinting and sharp emerged where it should not have been.

You looked down, the blade bloodied and protruding through your chest, through your lungs. Unable to draw a breath, you fell to your knees.

“No!” Both Benny and Dean were yelling, voices echoing through the hostile forest. Black ooze covered them from the slain monsters. You looked up as your assailant withdrew the sizable knife from your back and placed it against your neck. It was another vampire. You looked back to the boys.

“You killed our sister, so now we’re gonna kill yours,” the voice behind you teased in a sing-songy tone. More boots shuffled into your line of view.

Benny looked absolutely broken as he charged, extra teeth bared sharply in defiance. Dean bounded to you, holding your gaze with those emerald green eyes as he expertly dodged the advances of his adversaries.

Once again, your breath was seized and you relaxed your tense muscles. If this was finally what wiped you into oblivion, it would be okay, as long as you could stare into the comforting depths of that hunter’s eyes. After all, you were tired of fighting…This would finally be the end of the suffering. To oblivion. The warmth from Dean’s soul flooded over you as he got closer, but it was too late.

Your head rolled from your body. 

Dean decimated the group of vampires in record time, the rage fully restored and urging his body forward against all odds. Once again, the hunter had become more vicious than any monster in the land. In two days, he would limp to the river and find his angel.

You, however, woke on the other side of Purgatory. Oblivion was not something that would ever come for you. There would never be a release. Despair, overcoming any hope you ever had, creeped its dark tendrils through your entire being and swiped your feet from underneath you. So that’s what happens to monsters who die in monster heaven… they get respawned and zapped to another part. Great. You were stuck in hell, too far away now to reach them in time. One day you would find a way out. You had to. But first, you would have to find the strength. Strength you may never have again. You curled into a ball, mind silent as you gave into the feeling, a single, small tear streaking a thin line from your eye into the dust. 

You were alone. Again. 

Your second chance gone along with the human and his friends.

 This was my second attempt at writing smut and maybe I got carried away??

WAYWARD PEEPS:

@carryonmywaywardcaptain​ @manawhaat @supernatural-jackles​ @jensen-jarpad @wheresthekillswitch​ @bummblebeeblue @nothin-after-79-blog​ @docharleythegeekqueen @fangirl-writing-fiction @inmysparetime0​ @impala-dreamer​ @arryn-nyxx​ @idk-life01 @attorneyl​ @deathtonormalcy56​ @xwing-baby​ @wonder-cole​ @itsangelpie-supports​ @thinkinghardhardlythinkingogblog​@icecream-and-gadreel

ANGST BABES:

@trexrambling​ @abbessolute @emptywithout​

ALL ABOUT THAT DEAN:

@akshi8278​ @will-winchester

[hazbincalifornia]

Only cause I’m evil I’m having a blast imagining what Clove’s outcome in this trickery is, the change in Kit’s eyes as he realizes how deep this con ran, Clove earning his father’s same wicked grin.

Kit shifted about under the tree at the back of the graveyard. "So this is for..."

"Your soul." Clove's palm was up, snow-white fingers extended towards Kit's and surrounded in a faint bloody glow. "I can keep you safe forever, so you don't have to worry about the nasty little side effects of wading around in the netherworld or while performing your more... intense spells. Nothing can take you without your permission, as long as you belong to me." His lip curled up a bit as his eyes fell to half-lidded, and he shuffled closer, hand stroking over Kit's hair and brushing the bang away from his eye. "Come on, Kitten, you know that I'll do anything for you."

Kit's fingers curled in the withered grass, feeling the blades crumble beneath his fist. "Clove..."

His sentence trailed off long enough for Clove to capture his lips in a kiss, fluffy red hair tickling his forehead with texture just off from any human's. It was warm and comfortable with a stuttering heartbeat pressed against his chest, the way it always was when they kissed- Clove said this was his first relationship, and it was so cute that his heart still jumped every time. When Kit set his hand on Clove's back, he could feel the cervine boy's tail fluttering slightly, and swallowed back a smile.

"Do you promise to take care of it?" Dad had always told him to avoid crossroads deals, but he knew Clove, knew that he was fumbly with his words when he got frustrated and that he always jumped at a chance to join Kit in whatever he was doing. He loved the eagerness that Clove always brought, how he could spin any situation with a wink and a trick and how he filled every room he entered with his mere presence. Even now, his ears twitched in excitement as a grin split his face, stretching his cheeks as his tail started wagging faster.

"Of course, I'd take very good care of it. No one gets to hurt you..." Again, he extended his hand, and out of the corner of his eye Kit could see that Clove's shadow had blinked red eyes into existence, watching with interest as Kit set his hand in Clove's, grimacing as the demon's fingers suddenly tightened.

"...Except me," he chuckled. Kit managed to open his mouth before he was thoroughly impaled, chest jumping forward and his claws digging into his palms as pain sharper than any he'd ever felt dove straight through his spine. It pierced his lungs and stole away his breath, layers of muscle shredded to bits in a millisecond. Only a squeak left him as Clove glanced up, and reflected in his eyes, Kit could see that Clove's shadow had thrust one hand straight through his back and pulled out a glowing duplicate of his heart. "I promise, you'll be the prettiest little trophy on my shelf."

The shadow handed the glowing heart over, and Clove ran his fingers around it like it was a precious jewel. Kit twitched a little, feeling his heart spilling out on the ground and too afraid to look down and see if he was actually bleeding out like it felt as Clove dug a claw into the organ, glowing ooze spilling out and coating his hands before he popped it in his mouth, swallowing it down with the glow visible through his throat before disappearing into his chest.

It was only when Clove used his thumb to swipe some of the spectral gore away from his lips that Kit managed to stutter out something, eyes blown wide in pain and betrayal.

"H-how long?"

Clove cupped his cheek, the dripping spectral ichor ice-cold as it smeared against the hybrid's face. "Since we met. You really are adorable when you're surprised, Kitten, but I knew I had to have such a sweet little half-alien. Even Papa doesn't have something like you. I want a collection of the strangest and most unique freaks in the world, and since your sister's too smart to fall for this and you're cuter anyway, you'll be my crown jewel." His hand traced up to ruffle at Kit's hair. "Don't worry, I take good care of my toys."

When Kit tried to speak again, Clove pressed a finger to his lips, and Kit wasn't sure if it was the shock as he realized he couldn't say anything at all.

[granvarones]

Sometimes we are late to the BBQ right? Well in the case of Ultra Naté (pronounced Na-Tay), I didn’t arrive at the BBQ til 1998. I was 15 years old and my teenage icon Filipinx Freestyle/Dance Diva Jocelyn Enriquez was sprinkled with Disco fairy dust along with dance divas Amber and Ultra Naté under the moniker Stars On 54. They revamped the 1971 folk classic “If You Could Read My Mind” by Gordon Lightfoot into one the most fascinating covers I’ve ever heard (just listen back to back and gag). This collaboration introduced me to Ms. Naté and piqued my curiosity.

Eight years into her career, Ultra Naté had landed five singles into Top 10 on the Billboard Dance Chart by the time I bought the single to her hit single “Free” at Tower Records (I miss you so much). As soon as I heard that guitar riff in the intro followed by those chords and 4/4 I was hooketh. I immediately grabbed a copy of the Situation: Critical album. I stared at the artwork fascinated by its silvery gloss and the acupuncture needles in her face. It was futuristic as fuck! The album’s photography was shot by the legendary Eric Johson who is known for iconic photos of Erykah Badu, Lauryn Hill, Aaliyah, and Biggie. I wasn’t totally sold on the album at first because as a teenager I was infatuated with Freestyle music and this was out of my teenage comfort. However, the album grew on me and eventually I connected to each song on a personal level. At the time I was struggling with my budding sexuality, lack of interest in education, and a toxic-ass family dynamic. This album would eventually become my personal teenage bible.

“Somehow things must change, and it’s got to be for the better” the lyrics from the albums intro track “Situation: Critical” pierced my young gay soul. When my being sexually molested was brought to the light my parents were so wounded by life; none of them had the capacity to support me. My father was strung out on drugs, my mother’s mental health was dwindling, and my step mother struggled to keep a roof over our heads. I felt so fucking hurt by their neglect that all I thought of was escaping at 18. My then therapist Judy had a huge black and white picture of New York City and one day I declared “I’m going to live there!” Until then I endlessly played this album on my discman throughout my teens to keep my ass sane.

There was a rage building inside me and “Found A Cure” was that song that embodied what I felt. Lines like “Feels like I’m going crazy, feels like I’m going insane” were my everyday life and I wanted out but I was still underaged. “How many times have you been left alone and you feel confused?” solidified my connection to Ultra. This was the second single from the album which hit #1 on Billboard Club Songs. The music video was directed by Charles Stone III who would years later direct the epic CrazySexyCool: The TLC Story. Larry Flick of Billboard wrote “Naté fearlessly faces the challenge with a jam that smartly doesn’t aim to duplicate the tone of her now-classic hit…The diva is in fine voice here and is matched by a muscular bassline and keyboard/guitar interplay that oozes with funk flavor…Miss Nate proves there’s more than Free in her locker with a pure floorfiller. A Gloria Gaynor for the Millennium.” Mic drop.

“A New Kind of Medicine,” the album’s second track, and third single, lightened the mood after the dark yet realist ‘Situation’. During this era in House music Disco samples were a huge commodity. While this was purely an original song the Disco influence is prevalent. The single had some heavy hitters on the remixes and the first two being producers in Freestyle: Albert Cabrera, David Morales, and Danny Tenaglia. The Morales mix is quite festive especially at the 5:20 mark when you get that tidbit of Inner City’s “Big Fun” followed by a lyric not in the original: “Stop taking me down.”

My favorite track on the album was the last single released from the album, the Al Mack produced “Release The Pressure.” How can you not feel like you’re transpired into a film where the woman is struggling, breaking shit, cursing bitches out, lights a joint, a sip of wine, puts on her favorite 12” and gets her damn life. The production on this track has so many beautiful layers from the piano, to the horns, and guitars. It always felt like time froze whenever this track came on. The song was also featured on the soundtrack The 24 Hour Woman starring Rosie Perez. This is one of my forever tracks because it always remains true to this day: “You get up, It knocks you back down, Release the pressure, Let it out.”

The album itself pays homage to the 70’s and 80’s influence of staples in Disco, Funk and House which are very evident in: “Any Ole Love” (Indeep’s “Last Night A DJ Saved My Life”) and “Love You Can’t Deny” (Royal House “Can You Party”). The mellower affairs “It’s Crying Time” and “Every Now and Then” were so damn pretty that they seduced my young self who was anti anything slow.  The last original track on the album “Divine Love,” produced by the duo Masters At Work, transports you to Sunday mass everytime. That 5 minute mark is pure gospel ear candy with those luscious rhodes and ab libs take you on a journey to the ether. This felt like the sequel to “Rejoicing (I’ll Never Forget)” from her first album Blue Notes In The Basement. At this point in time I was severely struggling with my belief in God however this song just anoints you, especially the 9 minute MAW Version.

This album took me on a musical journey. It became my bible, my salvation, my healing. In the spring of 2001 my life took a huge turn. I had fallen in the love with a man in NYC whom I thought I’d be with forever. After a huge argument with my parents I finally said “fuck this shit I’m out!” Ultra’s lyrics rang in my head “Now I know you’re no good for me, Now I got to find a remedy,” my remedy: move to NYC. After settling into my then boyfriend’s apartment I would blast this album on volume 5000 and the whole damn planet would shake. I didn’t give a fuck about the neighbor downstairs because I was ‘Free’ and living my damn best gay life. I didn’t leave my heart in San Francisco that’s for damn sure!

In 2012, I had a full circle moment when I was hired by Naté’s management, Peace Bisquit. It was completely surreal to be in direct communication with her, and an honor working under the brilliance of Bill Coleman (remember Deee-Lite? “Groove Is In The Heart”? Nuff said.). I was bestowed the task of managing the execution of the Hero Worship album to digital platforms. Miss Naté was the most humble artist I ever worked with. A memory I will always hold dear is a tender moment we shared at  the Paradise Garage Reunion Party in 2014. The DJ began to play “The Whistle Song” in honor of the iconic Frankie Knuckles who had passed just months earlier. As the song played, Ultra began to cry. I put my arm around her and consoled her. The same way her music had done for me in all the years before.

Thank you for never giving up on your music Ultra because this album saved me!

“You might save someone’s life.” – Ultra Naté “Situation: Critical”

If you are experiencing or have experienced sexual abuse please call the National Sexual Assault Telephone Hotline 800.656.HOPE (4673)

Giorgio Alxndr (He/Him) is into music, modeling, activism, and plant fathering. He creates beats and playlists in his free time. Loves deep conversations and therapy sessions. Professionally he’s always in the mix between music and technology.

[haruyzal]

It kills me how your mind can make you feel so

worthless. pairing: Kirishima Eijirou / Bakugou Katsuki summary: Kirishima tends to forget himself, and so he falls. As nightmares exist, Bakugou happens to witness his best friend’s delicate state of mind and tries to help. rating: teens up, so pg-13 i guess tags/warning: angst, (emotional) hurt/comfort, self-depricating / insecure kirishima, bakugou is trying his best, my boys just need a hug y’all wordcount: 1230, that delicious round number Can also be read at AO3: shorturl.at/tIJKX that’s also where i put my author’s notes

Kirishima tends to forget himself.

Sometimes, it came merely as a whimper, only lasting for a second before quickly being wiped away by his own boisterous laughter and promises of doing better. Become stronger.

Sometimes, it crept its way during the dark, during cold and bitter hours when the sun had set and no light could chart its way into his heart. So, it stopped trying.

It wasn’t the first time Kirishima realised. Far from it. The thoughts circulated in the back of his head ever since they met, just lingering by his side would burst his own fragile heart.

He loved Bakugou. Truly. Whether it was platonically or romantically, well, he’d figure it out one day. Or maybe not. Now, he was content just trying to survive. Their fingers brushing. The warmth that light his skin on fire despite the layers of clothing between his arm and Bakugou’s shoulders. The shivers sent through his spine whenever Bakugou whispered something in his ear, just for him to hear. Just for him.

That’s why it hurt. Deeply, he knew he loved him. Deeply, he knew he hurt himself. Bakugou was everything Kirishima wanted, everything he wanted to be and everything he wanted to have and it pierced through his very soul that all of that was, for lack of better words, unobtainable.

Bakugou stood up at the crack of dawn, wide awake and ready to face the world head on. A light jog, a healthy breakfast, taking notes in classes with perfect attendance, finishing homework early yet reading ahead, then getting more sleep than the average teen gets during their entire adolescence. Bakugou wanted to be the best. Cook, musician, hero, you name it and he’s already halfway to master it purely out of spite. But he was also Kirishima’s friend, best friend even, and Kirishima was his. He knew as much. It was daunting, really. The person he loved the most was also the one he’s most afraid of hurting, which in turn, made him hurt himself. Funny how that works.

Thoughts raced against each other, competed to be the loudest, the most compelling, the most dangerous. Thoughts screaming at him for being a burden, useless, dumb, slow, daft, stupid, naive whiny weak weak weak weakweakweakweakweakweakweakweak you’re a drag dragging him down slowing him down you’re nothing but a pile of

A knock on his door. Kirishima barely noticed had it not repeated itself twice, thrice, and now he just refused to reply, knowing all too well who was on the other side of the door. The knock was a telltale sign of an impatient but ever-trying Bakugou Katsuki. Impatient, but persistent.

Minutes felt like hours, stretching itself, trying to outdo infinity and finally: “I’m awake.”

Vividly.

The sound of a door creaking, god he needed to oil it soon; then footsteps, a whiny floorboard he’d need to look at; and an akward greeting, so low he’d almost missed it. The softest ‘hey’ Bakugou had ever said. It went unanswered as Kirishima kept his body still and rigid, head in his arms curled tightly around his legs, his quirk activated hours ago.

The sight nearly made Bakugou whimper. But he bit his lip and swallowed the sound, his resolve to help bigger than his own need for comfort. Maybe that’s why Bakugou crept onto his bed. He tried to figure out a way to approach Kirishima but honestly, his need to yell, no, scream his heart out at the sight of a downed friend, worse, best friend, just squashed the last braincell he’d saved for tomorrow, so he opted with something more familiar:

“Do you want me to hug you?”

Kirishima always asked the same question when he was sad and cursed the world with his silence, the world so used to Bakugou’s explosive nature. Kirishima, with his arms wide open, ready to hold them up for hours until Bakugou was ready to either shake his head or dive into his embrace, all thoughts drowned by the redhead’s warmth.

So Bakugou did just that. Hoped that his words didn’t fall on deaf hears, hoped that his gesture would be welcomed with red strands in his face and a sharp nose buried deep into his shoulder and strong arms closing in around his neck.

And Kirishima did just that, halfway remembering to deactivate his quirk. It was a relief, not just to hold and be held, but the mere acceptance of the other’s state, vulnerable in their own ways.

A sob escaped Kirishima’s lips. Bakugou combed his fingers through soft, red hair as he tried to shush the tears away. When Kirishima was ready, he backed out of the embrace. Just slightly, their noses almost touching.

“I’m sorry, I-“, hiccup, “was it a nightmare?”

And Bakugou couldn’t help it, laughter escaped his lips at the irony while tears threatened to form in his eyes. “You bastard! Don’t try to make it about me! You’re the one crying, so just... just shut up and let me take care of you for once, yeah?”

A little louder than he intended, but it did the trick. Kirishima visibly melted, sinking back into Bakugou’s embrace as the blond practiced how to breathe again, fuck.

“What happened, Ei?” The name like honey on the tip of his tongue. He could practically taste it. “Do you want to talk about it?”

A sniff, a hiccup and arms tightening.

“I... I don’t know, I just... I was about to go to bed, then suddenly I just. Cried. I fucking cried and I don’t know where these thoughts come from, Kats. They’re awful, I really shouldn’t but I can’t- I can’t help it. Suddenly I just feel so... so...”

A deep breathe, then an exhale.

”It’s okay, Ei, I got you. I got you...”

“I feel so useless,” Kirishima breathed out, his heavy heart sinking even further into the abyss. He could feel Bakugou’s arms tense, slightly tightening and later relaxed again as a sigh escaped the blond’s lips.

“God, Ei-“

You’re pathetic.

“You’re strong, you hear me? You’re so fucking strong, you made friends with that one villain, as if you were some fucking- God I’m still not over that.”

No, wait-

“You are so strong, Ei. You always try to protect us, to protect me and, don’t get me wrong, I’m fucking grateful, but your dumbass always puts others before yourself and I can’t- fuck, Ei, I don’t want to lose you. I don’t know what I’d do without you...

“Please, just... When you’re ready, talk to me...”

The silence nearly drowned his plea, and yet an ‘okay’ rolled off Kirishima’s tongue like butter. His heart tried to regulate itself.

“Can you maybe... I mean, It’s... it’s nice to hear your voice and... just...”

Bakugou merely nodded, ransacking his brain for any interesting information and let his words run like waterfall, slipping in poems as words of encouragement as Kirishima fought to stay awake. Yet Bakugou lulled him into sleep, his fingers gently massaging his best friend’s scalp.

“The corpse we carry has iron in its veins.

The same iron forged in burning stars now dead yet living on in all of us,

we are merely stardust floating through vast emptiness,

so we make of it as we want and hope for light and colours in the dark,

forgetting it’s at the very tip of our fingers.”

[nikibogwater]

Shedding Layers--a Tales of Arcadia fanfiction

“There is a piece of Nari’s head on the sofa!”

Winter has hit New York City, and unfortunately for Douxie, Nari forgot to tell him something important about the season.

Another ToA fic about the Magical Siblings and their Therapy Cat, done partly in collaboration with @poetryinmotion-author (thank you for all the help! ❤). I am SO excited to share this one, you guys. It was a real treat to work on. 

Read on Ao3

Or under the cut:

Winter had finally settled on New York City. The freezing air bit like a wild animal, and depending on the day, there was often either rain, sleet, or snow driving against the windows of the apartment. Douxie kept a space heater running twenty-four hours a day now, but even so, Nari spent most of her time huddled beneath a stack of comforters. The yearning for freedom that had tormented her mere weeks ago was long gone. Now, she wanted nothing more than to burrow into her pillow and doze the day away. Douxie had been understandably concerned at first, but she assured him that it was quite normal for her to go into something of a hibernation state come winter. She always made a point to be awake when he came home from work, and between his and Archie’s company, and the wonderfully soft cocoon of blankets Douxie had provided for her, she could honestly say that this winter wasn’t nearly as terrible as she would have expected. 

Then came a particularly gloomy Tuesday morning in November when Nari awoke to a telltale tingling feeling at the top of her skull. She groaned and pushed her face deeper into the pillow. She had forgotten about her yearly shed. It usually only took a day or so, but it was always so uncomfortable. It started with the base of her antlers itching. Then as the limbs slowly began to come loose, they would wobble around on top of her head, causing a very unpleasant feeling of imbalance until they finally broke clean off. The top of her head would be a little sore for a few days afterwards as well. Still, there was nothing for it but to just wait it out. She tugged her blanket cocoon tighter around her shoulders and snuggled back down again. 

She didn’t have the chance to go back to sleep before she felt Douxie’s hand touch her shoulder, and she emerged from her burrow just enough to peer at him with one sleepy eye. 

“Hey, sorry,” he said softly. “I was going to leave a note, but then I felt your aura waking up, so I thought I’d just tell you: I’m working a double shift today. Going to be pretty late, so don’t stay up waiting for me. Make sure you eat today. It’s supposed to be overcast until after dark. Archie will be here, but I want you to call me if anything happens, alright?” 

“Mmm...I will be fine,” Nari mumbled, clumsily disentangling one of her hands from the blankets to pat Douxie’s where it still rested on her shoulder. It felt like he told her the same thing every morning, but she supposed that as her guardian, he was entitled to a little fussing. “Have a good day.” She felt Douxie’s aura glow warmly as he squeezed her shoulder before letting go. He tucked the blankets around her snugly before straightening and zipping up his hoodie. Nari heard him cross the floor, pause to scratch Archie behind the ears and throw on his heavy winter coat, and then with a jingle of keys, the click of the door, and the soft hum of magic as he activated the protective seals, he was gone. Nari lay awake for a while afterwards, feeling his soul as it traveled, until she could sense that he had safely arrived at the bookstore where he worked. With a satisfied sigh, she pressed her face as deep into the pillow as she could, wincing as the base of her antlers gave a tingly throb of protest, and went back to sleep. 

*****

“In my opinion, the leader of the town should have lost more than just her arm. They should have given her a fitting villain’s death.” 

Nari glanced over at Archie, who was perched on the back of the sofa by her shoulder, watching the credits roll for the movie they had just finished. 

“But she was kind to her own people, Archie,” Nari argued, swirling her mug of cocoa for a moment before taking a sip. “Perhaps she was consumed by her hatred for the forest, but I do not think she deserved death. It was better that she suffer the loss of her arm and learn from it.” She drained the last of her cocoa and set the empty mug on the floor, grimacing as her antlers jostled on top of her head. 

“Are you alright?” Archie asked as she leaned back in her seat, pulling her arm out of the comforter she was wrapped in and massaging the base of her left antler with her fingers. “You’ve been scratching your head all day. You don’t have fleas, do you?” He began to draw away from her warily. 

“No,” Nari giggled. “It is just my yearly shed. It always makes me itch.” 

“You shed your antlers in the winter?” Archie resumed his place by her head, staring up at the limbs in question with curiosity. “I didn’t know that.” 

“It never came up,” she replied, wiggling her left antler experimentally. “This one seems almost ready.” Archie reached out a paw and gingerly prodded the extremity. It wobbled again, and his pupils expanded with interest. 

“Yes, I should say so...” he murmured distractedly, batting it a little more forcefully. Nari giggled again as he sat up on his hind legs and swiped with both paws. 

There was a wooden creak, and then a snap, like the sound of a branch being broken. Archie lept back as the antler dislodged from Nari’s head and tumbled down into her lap. There was an awkward beat or two of dead silence. Nari was the first to break it.

“That is one down,” she sighed in relief, picking up the dead limb and turning it over in her hands. “I am not sure what to do with this, though. Do you want it?” she asked, looking up at Archie. He slid down from the back of the couch and sniffed the offering, considering it for a moment. 

“...No, thank you,” he said at last. “It is significantly less interesting when it’s not attached to your head.” 

“Maybe Douxie will know what to do with it.” Nari set the antler down beside her and stretched her arms above her head with a wide yawn. Outside, the wind shrieked, and a fresh flurry of snow flashed in the glare of the city lights. “I wish he was home,” she murmured. “It is an awful night to be out.” 

“Yes, I certainly don’t envy him just now,” Archie replied, jumping to the floor and stretching his own legs. “But don’t worry about him. He’ll be alright. Wizards are very resilient, you know.” 

“His soul is already tired,” she whispered, closing her eyes as she reached out with her magic, feeling the weary glow of his aura. “He always works too hard...” 

“Yes...” Archie sighed, his ears folding back slightly. “He does.” The Familiar shook himself and looked back up at Nari with a reassuring smile. “But that’s a problem for the daylight hours, hm? You look ready to keel over.” He shifted into his dragon form, picked up her empty cocoa mug between his paws, and flew it over to the kitchen sink. He came back to the sofa and nudged Nari’s head where it was beginning to droop against the armrest. “Come on. Don’t want you falling asleep here and getting a sore neck.” Nari hummed sleepily and eased off of the sofa with another yawn. Archie turned off the television and the overhead lights, then slipped back into his cat form and crossed the room to Nari’s bed, where she was creeping beneath the covers. Once she had properly secured herself in her blanket cocoon, the cat curled up against the crook of her legs, and with the sound of his gentle purring in her ears, she quickly drifted off to sleep. 

****

A few hours later, Nari was violently torn from slumber by a sudden, sickening pulse of ice-cold terror that pierced her aura like one of Skreal’s icy daggers. It was accompanied by the sound of Douxie frantically crying her name, his voice twisted with fear. The wood nymph yelped and blindly tumbled out of bed, accidentally throwing Archie off of her in the process, who yowled in surprise as he landed on the floor next to her. Nari struggled with the blankets wrapped around her, disoriented and somewhat panicked, and felt her powers seizing up, preparing for a fight. Surely only the return of the Arcane Order could make Douxie sound so petrified. Before she had the chance to disentangle herself, or even ask what was happening, he sprinted across the room, dropped to his knees beside her, and ripped the blankets off of her. Ignoring her second yelp in response to the sudden exposure to the cold, he grabbed her face between his trembling hands and frantically looked her up and down, hazel eyes blown wider than she had ever seen before. 

“What happened?!” he demanded in a horrified whisper. “Were you attacked? Where else are you hurt?” He didn’t give her a chance to answer before turning his attention to Archie, who was emerging from underneath the bed where he had taken shelter. “Archie, are you alright? Was it the Order?” 

“For goodness’ sake, Douxie, calm down!” Archie ordered a tad irately, readjusting his skewed glasses. “What has you all upset?” 

“What has me...?” Douxie stared at his Familiar incredulously. “There is a piece of Nari’s head on the sofa!” He thrust his hand out and pointed at the piece of furniture in question--Nari’s left antler was laying innocently right where she had left it earlier. 

“...Oh,” Nari squeaked, both relieved and embarrassed. Douxie returned his attention to her, now clutching her tightly by the shoulders. “No, we were not attacked. It just fell off earlier today.” She had been hoping he would find this information reassuring, but if anything, he looked even more aghast. 

“It just....fell off?!” he echoed hysterically. “What do we...D-do we call a doctor? Or a vet? Who are you supposed to call for this kind of thing?!” 

“Nobody! I am perfectly fine, Douxie!” She grabbed one of his hands in both of hers and squeezed, trying to send a wave of calm into his frantically churning aura. “This happens every year.” Douxie’s eyes moved from her face, up to her one remaining antler, and then over to Archie, as though looking for a second opinion. 

“Most antlered creatures have what’s called a shed around this time of the year,” Archie said in a calming, matter-of-fact voice. “It’s perfectly natural, and it doesn’t harm them. It’s really no surprise that Nari experiences the same thing.”

“And it will grow back!” Nari added hopefully, squeezing his hand again. “So please do not worry.” There was a somewhat uncomfortable pause, during which the only sound was Douxie’s labored breathing, which gradually became slower and softer. Finally, he seemed to deflate, the tension in his aura dispersing as he heaved an enormous sigh. A moment later, he gave a mirthless chuckle and gently pulled Nari into an embrace.

“...Fuzzbuckets,” he muttered. “I think I just aged three centuries.” 

“I’m sorry,” Nari whispered into his shoulder. “I should have warned you. I just forgot all about it.” 

“Does it hurt?” he asked, easing her back enough to see the top of her head.

“...A little,” she admitted, hating the way Douxie’s aura paled as she said it. “But it will be fine in just a day or two.” He gave her a sympathetic look and gently ran his hand over the top of her head, fingers ghosting delicately across the small bump where her antler once grew.

“It will grow back?” he questioned anxiously. “For sure?” 

“Yes,” Nari assured him. “Sometime in the spring.” Douxie’s aura settled a little more at the reassurance, but he continued to look despondent as he stared at her. “...What’s wrong?” she asked nervously.

“...It’s just...You’re....lopsided,” he stammered, looking embarrassed. 

“Oh.” She reached up and felt her one remaining antler, wiggling it experimentally. “Wait, perhaps I can...” She tugged on it gently and felt it begin to break away from her skull. Douxie gaped at her in abject horror as she pried the limb off of her head with a sound like that of wood peeling. With a final crack, the antler was in her hands, and a bare-headed Nari smiled up at him hopefully. “Is this better?” 

It took the shocked wizard a long time to find his words, as his eyes flicked between the top of her head and the dead limb she cradled in her hands.

“...I think I’m going to be sick,” he mumbled, one of his hands coming up to cover his mouth.

“Don’t be rude, Douxie,” Archie scolded as Nari visibly shrank with disappointment. “This is a perfectly ordinary process for her.” 

“Sorry, I’m sorry,” Douxie muttered, hastily pulling the small demigoddess back into his arms. “S’just been a day. Someone was signing books at the store today, and the crowds were absolutely ludicrous, I haven’t been able to sit down since lunch this afternoon, and then I come home to find out Nari is losing bits of her head...” He trailed off with a heaving sigh and rest his cheek against her hair. “...I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.” 

Nari tossed the antler aside and folded her arms around him. “My poor Douxie,” she whispered, pressing him against her tightly. He sighed again--this time in relief--as her aura wrapped around his, sharing her warmth and energy, and easing some of the tiredness that was weighing down his limbs. 

“...Thanks,” he breathed as she pulled back. She looked a bit drained, but pleased, as she gave him a nod and smile. He ruffled her hair gently, still mindful of the sore patches where her antlers had broken off. “...There isn’t....anything else like this that I should know about, is there?” he asked hesitantly.

Nari was about to tell him no, when she caught sight of Archie’s golden eyes staring up at her with a mischievous gleam. He gave her a conspiratorial grin and a slight nod. “Well,” she began slowly, looking back at Douxie. “...I do secrete a deadly toxin from beneath my fingernails if I am agitated.” 

All of the blood immediately drained from Douxie’s face.

“...What?” The wood nymph burst into a fit of squeaky giggles, while next to her, Archie collapsed onto his stomach and howled with laughter. “...This is abuse,” Douxie groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Do you realize how many beats my heart just skipped? You’re bloody psychopaths, the both of you.” 

“It’s your own fault for making it so easy,” Archie retorted, while next to him, Nari was trying to gasp out an apology between her giggles. Douxie huffed and gave his Familiar a playful shove. 

“Would a cup of tea make up for it?” Nari asked, once she was able to regain control of herself. 

“It would be a good start, at least,” Douxie replied with a fond grin. 

Ten minutes later found the three of them on the sofa, mugs in hand, Nari wrapped up in her favorite blanket once more and curled against Douxie’s side, Archie sitting on the wizard’s lap and purring like a small engine.

“...I don’t suppose you have any idea what we should do with those?” Douxie asked, nodding towards the pair of antlers now resting neatly on the island countertop.

“I was hoping you would,” Nari confessed, taking a sip of her tea. “I have always just left them wherever they happened to drop. I liked to imagine they would bring good luck to whoever found them.” She smiled ruefully into her mug. “I suppose that is rather childish of me.” 

“I like that idea,” Douxie said firmly. “Tell you what: I don’t have to go in to work until four tomorrow. We’ll eat out for lunch and then find a nice back alley to leave them in, where some poor sod can find them and pick up a bit of good fortune. Sound good?” He glanced at her sideways, his expression soft and his aura glowing with a gentle affection that, even after four months, Nari still sometimes struggled to process. She gave him a shy smile and nodded, pressing her face into the side of his shoulder as her fingers tightened around her tea mug. The wind howled outside, and Archie continued to purr.

Yes, winter here was downright pleasant, Nari decided, as long as you had a family to share it with.

[hopelessromanticspoonie]

Foolish

Characters: Tom Hiddleston x Reader

Rating: PG-13

Summary: A date with Sebastian Stan brings your friendship with Tom Hiddleston into a whole new light.

Warnings: None

A/N: This is a fic based on this (paraphrased) request from an anonymous user: I thought maybe a jealous Tom who is in love with his best friend and he helps her go on a date with some other famous Marvel boy (maybe Seb Stan) would be nice! But in the end of course they stay together.

I hope that you enjoy this, Nonny!

Permanent Taglist (open): @yespolkadotkitty​ @nonsensicalobsessions​ @just-the-hiddles​ @vodka-and-some-sass​ @he-is-chaotic-she-is-psychotic​ @myoxisbroken​ @blah666 @brokenthelovely​ @myworddump​ @polireader​ @wiczer​ @littleredstarfish​ @the-broken-angel-13​ @arch-venus25​

“What about this one?”

You walked out of your bathroom, holding your arms out from your sides and giving a spin to show off a casual but cute outfit of a blue fit and flare dress that went down to your mid-thighs.

“It’s alright, I suppose,” Tom replied from where he was sitting on your bed, propped up against the headboard with his long legs stretched out and crossed at the ankle in front of him.

You huffed and stormed back into the bathroom, loudly calling your response through the closed door, “‘Alright, I suppose’ isn’t good enough! You said that he was really into me, and I haven’t been on a date in ages!”

Throwing on your last outfit choice - your go-to when you didn’t have a clue on what to wear - you stomped out of the bathroom, a little less excitement in your spin before you turned back to your best friend with your arms crossed over your chest. “Well?”

With a heavy sigh, Tom rose and walked over to you, turning you around to face the full-length mirror leaning against your wall. His hands settled on your shoulders, warm and comforting, and the fondness that lied beneath his azure eyes set off a flight of butterflies in your stomach. His chin came to rest on top of your head so that his soft words vibrated through you, “You are breathtaking in whatever you wear, darling. You know my thoughts on the matter.”

And you did. Throughout your friendship, he had been nothing but amazing, layering the sincerest of compliments about anything and everything on thick. But there was never more to them. The man could compare you to all things beautiful under the sun in his velvet baritone timbre, but it didn’t mean much when paired with nothing but a platonic hug where his hands remained firmly where they were supposed to.

You had given him every opportunity to further your relationship, cuddling up to him during your movie nights, hugging him for much longer than was appropriate, even holding hands when you were pulling him around town in his ridiculous disguise of a baseball cap and sunglasses - that fooled no one, by the way.

But either the vastly intelligent man was too dense to realize the hearts in your eyes, or he didn’t feel the same way and was saving your dignity by ignoring them.

Which meant it was time to try to move on from your unrequited pining. Waiting for him was like waiting for a god to take notice of you. Why would he deem to love a mortal when he gallivanted around the world with beautiful women who looked to be created by the most discerning eye.

So when he had introduced you to Sebastian Stan at a party, you put the yearning you held for your British best friend in the back of your mind. Soon enough, you were cracking jokes one right after the other, laughing and talking quietly in a corner of the room.

And when he asked if he could take you on a date - nothing too serious - you had agreed.

The doorbell to your apartment rang, and you reached up to pat Tom’s hand gently on your shoulder. “Showtime. I need to throw on my shoes; can you grab the door?”

Tom pressed a light kiss to your temple before exiting your bedroom, leaving you to scramble to throw on a pair of comfortable shoes for the evening. You didn’t have any idea what Sebastian had planned, and it was better to be prepared for any scenario than have aching feet the whole night.

Finally dressed, you snagged your bag before leaving the bedroom, coming into the living room to see Tom and Sebastian talking quietly. You cleared your throat, quirking your brow at the slightly guilty uptick to Tom’s brows when they both turned to you.

“Hey there, sweetheart. You look great.” Sebastian smiled at you, open and kind, holding his arm out to you.

The tension between the two could be cut with a knife as you took your place under his arm, glancing at Tom. You could just ask him about whatever that was later. “You gonna hang out here to mooch off of my cable?”

He shrugged his shoulders and dropped his chin, looking up at you through light lashes with a sheepish grin. “If that’s alright. The hotel doesn’t have all the channels, and Bake Off is tonight.”

You hugged him quickly, squeezing his bicep when you pulled away. “There should be all of the episodes of that and Countdown recorded for you. I’ll see you later, then. Don’t eat all the cookies while I’m gone, ya hear me?”

Sebastian guided you out your front door with his hand on your lower back, giving you just enough time to hear Tom’s answering shout of “I make no promises!” before the door closed and he was leading you to his car.

~~~

Everything was just slightly off.

The touch of his hand on your hip when he walked past you to retrieve his ball on the miniature golf course was a bit too timid.

Your hands didn’t fit properly when your fingers were laced together, his squeeze too tight and his knuckles pinching yours.

The sound of your name on his lips was too harsh without a lilting accent to draw out the vowels and soften the consonants, more like a handshake and less like a caress.

His eyes were just a shade too dark when he gazed down at you, reading the hesitation in the worry of your bottom lip in between your teeth and the lines between your brows.

And when he pulled you in for a hug, your bodies didn’t align comfortably, your arms not knowing whether to go around his neck or his waist, your hands just awkwardly patting his cool leather jacket until he released you. He smelled pleasant, like woodsmoke and light musk, but it wasn’t right.

“This isn’t working, is it?” he asked quietly, letting his hand capture yours as you pulled away from him, twining your fingers together.

You squeezed his hand softly, and took a chance, standing on your tiptoes to press a light kiss to his lips. He reciprocated, just barely moving against you, allowing you to set the pace. When you pulled away you sighed, shaking your head. “It was a nice kiss, but there’s no…”

“Spark,” he supplied for you with a shrug of his shoulders. “It’s okay, though. Wanna know why?”

You followed him as he led you to his car by the hand. The touch was friendly now that any expectations of romantic activities had been squashed. It didn’t stir any feelings deep in your belly, or make heat spread throughout your limbs, or cause your heart to race in your chest. No, it was just nice. “What’s that, Seb?”

He opened the door for you, that easy smile back on his handsome face once again. “I think I do know someone who could spark your interest.”

~~~

“Honey, I’m home!” you called out into your dimly lit home, dumping your keys and bag on a table in the entryway.

When you received no response, you rounded the corner into the living room, following the soft music coming from your ancient record player Tom must have unearthed from the cobwebs it had been buried beneath. He was sitting on the couch, elbows on his knees and his head cradled in his hands.

“Tom?” you asked quietly, concern lacing your voice as you came around the couch to sit down at his side.

He heaved a heavy sigh when your hand stroked down his spine comfortingly. The muscles in his back were tense, hard as marble, unyielding beneath you. “How was your date?” he asked, the last word poison dripping from his tongue.

“Definitely no love connection there. I think we’ll make great friends, though, in time,” you replied, arching your brow as you tugged on his arm to try to see his face. “What’s gotten into you? Are you okay?”

He let you pull his arm away, following the motion by turning his whole body to face you. The expression on his face was unreadable, his brow furrowed as his eyes flitted over your face. When they came to rest on yours, it felt like he was staring into your very soul, piercing you with the intensity of his ocean-eyed stare.

Whatever he found from his inspection, it wasn’t what he had been looking for, and he stood up, scrubbing his hand over the back of his neck. “I’m fine.”

You stood as well, walking around your coffee table so that you were facing him once again. When he tried to turn away you caught his hand with yours, twining your fingers together. A comfortable, natural fit. He squeezed your hand gently. Your heart beat that much faster for the contact, but you ignored it. There would be time for your overeager emotions later when Tom wasn’t clearly upset about something.

“I can’t fix it if you don’t tell me what’s wrong. You’ve been in a mood all day, Hiddleston. Spill it,” you implored him, not unkindly, but leaving no doubts in your tone that you were going to let up.

“I just-”

“No, no excuses or half-truths,” you insisted, cutting him off before he could wiggle his way out of the situation with a distracting smile and a well-crafted argument. “Please?”

That seemed to do the trick, his shoulders slumping in resignation and his grip on your hand tightening ever so slightly. He released it to place both of his hands on his hips. “You know that you are, without a doubt, my dearest and closest friend, yes?”

Not knowing where this was going, but trusting him to lead you there, you nodded slowly. “Of course.”

Open vulnerability lifted the inside of his brows and reflected in his bottomless blue eyes as he finally looked at you, so startling that it made your heart skip a beat in its sprint against your ribcage. “I am not content with the current state of our friendship.”

Your heart, which had been threatening to burst from your chest, now stopped beating and lodged itself firmly in your throat. Fear dug its icy claws in your lungs, and you clenched your jaw to stop your lower lip from quivering. You knew this day was coming. One day he would get too famous, too popular, wanting more out of life and his friendships than you and your mundane existence could offer him.

“Oh, okay. Sure, I get it…” you murmured, afraid if you spoke any louder that you would lose the tenuous grip you had on the burning on the inside corners of your eyes.

“No, darling, that isn’t what I meant,” he assured you, placing his hands on your upper arms, rubbing the tense muscles there soothingly. Each stroke tore at the barrier of strength you had quickly constructed around your barely-contained emotions. “It pained me to know that you were on a date with Sebastian tonight.”

A hot tear rolled down your cheek unbidden. “You introduced us, Tom.”

“I didn’t intend for you to hit it off.” His hand burned a trail up over your shoulder until it settled against your neck, thumb catching the edge of your jaw.

You pulled away from him, swiping the back of your hand over your cheek angrily to wipe away the evidence of your failing control. “Yeah, well, that didn’t happen. So, if you don’t want to be friends anymore, I’d appreciate it if you left, now,” you said thickly, words distorted around the sob that you held back in your throat. You thrust your hand out toward the front door.

The floorboards shifted, groaning beneath his steps, but they weren’t toward where you had indicated. Instead, his hand curled around yours, and a flutter of warmth trickled out from your hand from where his lips ghosted across the smooth skin. “That is not what I meant, and I beg your pardon for leading you to believe otherwise.”

Hope soared inside your chest, stilling your tears and lifting your eyes from where they had landed on the floor. He set your hand upon his chest, over his rapid heartbeat, covering it with both of his own. The vulnerability you had seen before was tinged with sadness pulling down at the corners of his mouth. “My stomach has been tied in knots since you walked out the door with him. I didn’t pay an ounce of attention to anything on the blasted telly all evening because the thought of you in his arms drove me to madness.”

“Tom…”

He shifted so that his face was just inches from yours, eyes shining as he gazed down at you. “I’ve spent the entirety of our friendship hoping that you would one day open your eyes and see that I have always been here, by your side, loving you. I was driven to distraction tonight at the thought of you with him. I cannot continue this way, so I’m asking you, with my heart in your hands, if you have any similar feelings toward me.”

It took several beats of his heart for his proclamation to sink in, for you to fully grasp what he was saying. Could your Tom, the man who visited you in his every free moment, who ate all of your sweet treats when you weren’t looking, who pulled you into impromptu dances in the middle of your living room, feel the same way?

Laughter bubbled up from your throat, and your head fell forward to rest in the crook of his neck. The scent of leather and soap and warm spice washed over you. Home.

“Is my affection for you that hilarious?” he asked, clearly offended.

You let your free hand come up to snag your fingers into the loops of his dark jeans, tugging so that the lines of your bodies matched up. Perfect. You tilted your chin to kiss his neck gently. His breath hitched, and you hadn’t thought it possible, but his heart beat even faster beneath your joined hands.

“Darling?” His voice was low, intimate, hesitantly lined with hope.

You angled your head back to smile up at him. “We’re both idiots,” you explained. Your tongue darted out to wet your lips, and his eyes darkened in response. “Idiots who need to shut up and kiss before we both explode fro-”

Your statement was cut off by his mouth crashing down onto yours. Years of mutual love and frustration were poured into your lips working against the other, rushed and less than graceful in your eagerness. Your fingers dug into the soft material of his shirt, and one of his hands came around to flatten over your lower back to hold you to him.

It was everything you had hoped for, everything that your date earlier hadn’t been. Passion and strength and fragility and love and fire that scorched through you, burning you up from the inside out. It was all you’d ever wanted. It was Tom.

You were both breathless when you broke the kiss, searching for air desperately in the small space between you. His nose rasped along the length of yours. “We are fools.”

You stood on your tiptoes so your rebuttal was delivered against his lips. “No, we were fools.”

And then there wasn’t another moment wasted to talking, as you had to make up for so much lost time.

[weaverlings]

fresh blood

@lacenet-week day 3!

aka the “lesbians can have a little murder. as a treat.” entry

content warnings: moderate and intense violence, blood, poison/venom

alt link

*

Hornet sat back on her knees, with her fists tight in her lap. The seal glowing over the walls of her cell traced over the darkness behind her eyelids. She knew her soul was there inside, too; the spark that kept her heart beating, waiting for her to spin it into a blaze of silver. Still she could no more grasp it than she could walk beyond the cell door.

They'd even been wise enough to take her cloak this time, and her tools with it. She had no choice but to wait. Not, she told herself, for them to come and do whatever they wanted, but for whatever opportunity they might show her to escape. She would be ready. They had her needle, her tools, even her soul - but it wasn't as if they'd pried her claws from her chitin.

She flexed them now, hearing voices in the hallway outside. They were muffled, which meant that the speakers were shouting, to be heard at all through the thick stone walls.

An urgent plea came down the hall, "Your highness, wait! Please!"

Hornet opened her eyes.

A high, haughty laugh. "You think to tell me  no ? Dear captain, you must consider the consequences of your words!"

"It's only for your safety. If you were to be hurt-"

They were outside the door now. The second speaker, her voice familiar and as clear and dire as a warning bell, commanded, "Then they'd have your head, yes. They will, or I will; someone will have your head, no matter what. You poor soul. Will you open the door, or must I take the keys from you?"

Silence, as far as Hornet could tell. Then the knob rattled, and someone heaved open the door. The seal flashed off for just the time it took the visitors to enter.

There were only two. Some unspoken decree, no doubt, kept the others waiting beyond the door. Hornet could see them, suspicion showing beneath helmet brims, weapons bristling. The guard captain came first, with his pin at the ready. Before either woman could speak, he positioned himself between them and flourished his weapon sternly. "Mind yourself, weaver witch. You're in the presence of Pharloom's noble princess."

Lace stepped past him with a wave of her hand. "I'll put on my own airs, thank you."

Lace looked down at Hornet. Hornet did not rise, but lifted her chin and met Lace's easy smile. Hornet saw, though, the same frigid determination as her own in Lace's eyes.

Hornet asked, "What do you want?"

Lace pressed a hand over her chest, a gesture of supremely innocent curiosity. "To know how they've been treating you. Such a precious prisoner, surely we ought to be doing more for you."

"Your highness, the weaver has-"

Hornet fixed him with a glare that choked him as well as if she'd grabbed him by the throat. She said, "It does not matter. I am a prisoner. They could have showered me with the very silks my family bled to make, and I would still be a prisoner."

"Hm. You never were one to complain, anyway, even when you should."

"I have no interest in such frivolity."

"But you must have an interest in something."

"I want to leave this place."

Lace cupped her cheek in one hand. "I heard you put up quite a fight, before they finally brought you down."

"I assure you..." Hornet stood at last, and declared, "I am far from finished."

Lace's smile turned up on one side, sharpening. She laughed, her delight so visceral that Hornet felt it in her own gut and shivered, a thrill.

The captain stepped forward, once again trying to assert himself between the two women, and said, "Your highness, I told you, this isn't safe - we don't fully know what she's capable of!"

"Oh, captain," Lace sighed, "You really should worry less about her. I'm quite capable of dealing with threats."

The captain grunted. A trickle of blue liquid spilled from his mouth. He stared down, to see the gilded point of Lace's pin, coated in a translucent layer of his own blood. A single drop fell to the floor, and then another.

Lace said, "I did tell you someone would have your head. Ah, well."

Her weapon came free with a wet crackle. She kicked him into the wall of the cell, hard, and he slid down into a misshapen mass of armor and shell.

Finally, Hornet stood. She approached the captain's corpse, and removed his weapon. She swung it, made an experimental lunge, and huffed. "I suppose it will suffice."

"It will have to, darling, until we can get you your needle back." Lace tsked. "Soon, I hope. You really are dreadful with that."

Beyond the seal, the soldiers clamored, shouting threats and swearing vengeance in the name of the captain or Lace's royal parents or Pharloom in general. The group was smaller - some had left, either to raise an alarm and report the princess' betrayal, or unable to bear raising arms against her.

Lace simpled flicked her own pin, and drew the fluttering light from its tip into her palm. "Are you ready, Hornet?"

Hornet nodded, and slid into the best stance she could manage. Lace opened her palm.

An elegant flare of white, and the seal was broken. The soldiers rushed the room.

Everything after that was only movement - Hornet knew Lace's silk-shrouded form, gleaming, dancing; and understood where her own body was; and that was all. Everyone else was only their vital parts - shining shell under armor, gaps for her to pierce, to break. Each only took a moment. Some were lashed with silk, some blasted back to the wall as she exercised her birthright, each strike like stretching a stiff muscle at last.

But some of the earlier guards had plainly gone for reinforcements. There were more, and and more. Hornet's unfamiliar grip on the pin slipped, the weapon clattered to the floor. The guard before her cried out, anticipating victory, and drew back his own blade. He had an angle that would have stuck her neck, and from there, the damage might have been such that she lost her head - an injury well beyond binding.

Hornet struck first. She had to, and she used what she had. Her fangs snapped shut on his arm. Chitin crumpled, a stream of venom flooded her foe's blood. She hissed and threw him back into the last gaggle of other guards, now cowering.

She drew herself up and spread her arms, a posture that would have left her cloak flaring around her, but the blood dripping from her fangs served just as well.

"Yes, I know. You want to live. So do we all - but trust me when I say that my life is more precious to me than yours. Stand in my way, and you'll find no mercy. Or go. Now."

The remaining soldiers, few enough by then, scattered beyond the door.

"Delicious." Lace stepped up to Hornet's side. She clapped her hands, just once. "Let's away, shall we?"

"Do you know where they have my things?"

"Of course. Come along, little spider."

She darted from the cell, beckoning Hornet after her. Hornet caught up in a few strides, and they tore off down the tower stair.

*

Some ways away from the city, they found a stream and stopped to catch their breath.

Hornet dipped a washrag into the water, and set about washing the blood off. Lace peered over in the midst of her own ministrations, and sighed in an obvious request for attention.

Hornet didn't look at her, but replied, "Alright, what is it?"

"You were quite a sight back there."

Hornet allowed herself a half-smile. "That sorry lot seemed to think so."

"Fools, the lot of them. They wouldn't know beauty if it bit them - oh, pardon me." Lace giggled.

Now, Hornet glanced at her, sidelong. "Beauty, is that right?"

Lace mused, "Perhaps it's too bold of me to say."

Hornet wrung out her rag of the water. "You are nothing if not bold, but I might prefer the sort of boldness that leads you to stab captains." She laid the rag over a rock to dry some before storing it, and swung on her cloak. "Thank you. For that, I mean."

"Of course. It's the least I could do."

"Nonetheless, you did it, and at great risk to your wellbeing. Then, and in the future, as well."

"Oh, yes! I'm a traitor now! Well, I always was - I'm glad to have torn the veil myself. So perhaps I should be thanking you."

"That is for you to decide," Hornet told her. "But we certainly have other things to discuss."

Lace nodded, and tucked one knee up to her chin, resting on it. She beckoned to Hornet, and Hornet sat down again, cross-legged in front of her. They plotted together, keeping their voices low under the rush of the stream.

[thelastofgala]

I started The Last of Us, Pt. 2 last night, and here are my first impressions, musings on parallelism, Naturalism, Ellie’s characterization, Joel’s characterization, the “presence” of Riley, gameplay, story development, and more:

***SPOILERS UNDER THE CUT***

Starting with Joel. I always imagined The Last of Us 2 would begin at the end of Joel’s journey, though I will say that I did not expect to pick up so close to the end of the first game. I thought they would start us somewhere COMPLETELY out of context. Like I was prepared for much deeper flashback. In this way, I really felt like I was playing a sequel, which is not a bad thing. I just had no idea how they were going to frame this. The compelling thing about starting with Joel is that it immediately sets up parallels between Joel and Sarah, the character we start with in The Last of Us. There’s no way this was not a pointed decision. Just like it was with Sarah, Joel is our point of reference in a new, strange world. His point of view in this new world is all that we know. We don’t know what the new special world contains, and we don’t know grown-up Ellie at all. Plus, old fans will have missed him. It is a comfort to be Joel, and like a daughter protected by her father, a false and short-lived comfort. We are also now thinking of Joel as, like Sarah, someone who is in danger, whose agency is compromised, who, for whatever reason, is weakened this time around, and who may not survive the story. 

I will say, too, that I really loved that after the 4-years-later cut, Joel is held off-screen. He and Tommy are out on a patrol. They are out there, in danger, and that sort of restraint is really effective. We are ALWAYS looking for Joel, just like we were in the run-up to the release, because he is the only person we truly know in this strange, new world. ND knows and takes advantage of this.

There are many parallels between Joel and Riley. Both Joel and Riley sneak up on Ellie during their first interaction. They’re even wearing similar colors. Both Joel and Riley lied to Ellie in the previous story, and both betrayed her as an act of self-preservation. In Left Behind, Ellie is somewhat chilly toward Riley in the beginning, even as her younger, more optimistic self, just as Ellie is chilly toward Joel in the beginning of The Last of Us 2. Still, you can tell through Ellie’s dialogue with Dina that she and Joel are knitted together—he defended her against the bigoted bartender, and she appreciates this even if she doesn’t outright say it. They share taste in movies and have plans to watch a movie together soon. I haven’t interacted with Joel in the current timeline, but I do know that in Left Behind, Riley has to earn back Ellie’s trust and take measures to reenter her good graces, and that this is a large part of their relationship arc. I also know that, by the time they reconcile, it proves to be too late. The world will not let them have what they want, and nothing is simple. All of these parallels worry me a lot, as Left Behind, while still driven by a strong undercurrent of love (it is a love story, interwoven with Ellie’s desperate search for medical supplies in a bid to save Joel’s life), is a much bleaker, sadder story than The Last of Us, and it has a tragic ending.

Joel's conversation with Tommy feels important. I was very glad to hear Tommy say that he would have made the same choice, in terms of saving Ellie or letting her die for the possibility of a cure. It shows that Tommy is more like Joel than perhaps we knew. Plus, Maria will have taught him something about love and commitment, as the notion of saving the one you love above all else should make more sense to him now that he has foregone the youthful idealism of the Fireflies in order to focus on the practical wisdom of family. As a parent, I understand Joel’s decision to save Ellie at the end of The Last of Us and know I would have done the same. I also understand why Joel lied, even though I think it was the wrong choice. Hearing him confide all of this in Tommy was cathartic. It was also very characteristic of Joel to respond that Ellie “didn’t say nothing otherwise” when Tommy asks if she believed him. In all of his denial, Joel chooses to believe what is conveniently in front of him, even if he knows it’s untrue. Also, I couldn’t tell, but was that a Firefly logo on that guitar he’s shining up? Maybe I hallucinated that. But if it is, I do wonder where he got it.

Ellie’s character is much more deadpan and ruminative in young adulthood. She seems tired, and a little lacking in self-esteem and sort of immediately defeated by what happened during the experience with Joel. When Joel sang, we could see her return to that place, just a glimmer, and her response—that it “didn’t suck”—shows how she still shields her heart with sarcasm, something Dina points out to her later on (“Did I ruin your punchline?”). Joel has been broken down by the events of The Last of Us and now bears his soul to her with his music, unabashed and dedicated to her, and Ellie is now the stoic one, unshakable, sealed inside a heavy, protective armor that seems impossible to pierce. I look forward to getting to know Ellie as a young adult and, ultimately, crying a lot. She is artistic and honest and still a little soft underneath. You can tell by her early interactions with Dina especially that she can still blush, and she can still come undone.

I love the snowball fight lol. I am always so frustrated when these big environment games, like Red Dead 2, Dragon Age, etc., don’t have any kids running around. Why don’t these stories pay attention to kids? Kids exist. They are an important part of almost any open world or quasi open world environment. I love the presence of kids in The Last of Us 2, because the loss of childhood innocence is an important theme for Ellie as a character. It’s also clear we’re trying to set up the edenic innocence of Jackson. It is childhood, in a way, and just like childhood, it will come to inevitable corruption. The scene, too, reminded me of Ellie and Riley on their teen dream adventure, romping through the Halloween store at the mall, trying on masks and talking to the magic eight ball.

I’m really pleased by all the parallels with Left Behind and Ellie’s portion of the journey in The Last of Us. Winter was her season, and that’s where we’re starting now. The horseback riding, the blizzard, and all the blood in the snow bring flashbacks of Ellie hunting on the woods, Ellie alone in the frozen mall, David, and the Lakeside Resort, all of which layer the current moment with a lot of emotional tension for the player.

The opening is, I think, sprawling. I’m having fun but there’s this sense that I haven’t even begun to scratch the surface of the story. Like Joel in the first game, Ellie is also big-timing me a little and I feel far away from her. I know this will change soon, and I’ll warm up to her, but for now, like Joel, we’re all being held at arm’s length. I actually like the POV shifts we’ve gotten so far and the multiple POVs is something I predicted a while ago, based on ND’s tendencies in the first game. Ppl are going to give The Last of Us 2 shit for being too cinematic but tbh it sometimes feels more like a playable novel than a traditional video game. We’re on a cable car headed straight into disaster and there’s nothing we can do. In this way the game is using the medium itself to perpetuate its Naturalistic themes. We play and we play, and we fight and we fight, but the environment entertains no interest in our struggle and the outcome will always be the same. There is no free will in The Last of Us.

On that note, the gameplay so far is, I think, pretty fun. I have played a lot of stealth games and am always looking for ways the genre is reinventing itself. Like Sekiro and Tomb Raider, The Last of Us 2 is increasing the verticality of the map with rope climbing and scaling up obstacles (though I do miss using Joel’s immense upper body strength to move those dumpsters around lol). In a stealth game I want creativity and problem solving to be central to the gameplay. I don’t want to be magically handed tools and weapons on a constant basis, to meet every individual need. I want to be forced into resourcefulness, and I don’t want to enter a shoot-out unless I absolutely have to. That said, I’m nearly to the tower checkpoint with Dina, and I’ve only fired my gun twice. The dodge/melee mechanic is neat, but more than anything, having real, actionable help from an AI enables stealth kills even in zones crawling with enemies. On that note, I am playing with a headset, and I’m glad I am, because I find the sounds of the goddam clickers to be all-encompassing this time around and a LOT bigger and scarier than they were in The Last of Us. Holy shit. They’re absolutely terrifying. I can only imagine the horror to come lol.

Now, finally, Abby: I don’t have much to offer on this yet. Abby is not who I thought she’d be. I’ll just say it. Still, the melee battle with her and the runners in the woods was AWESOME. For me, the most fun I’ve had yet, because it was completely different than anything from The Last of Us. Playing her, however, I will say, filled me with foreboding. I didn’t want to be there. I didn’t want to help her. She seems beyond desperate and while deeply sympathetic, she is a new character and her loyalties are not mine...so far. I could be very wrong, and please don’t correct me if I am, but I get the sense she might be a Firefly, or somehow associated with Marlene, and she is looking for Joel, in vengeance. Her group was small and rogue, and they seemed new to the area. All I know is that ND is creating a moral dilemma here, and as to what will become of this, the jury is still out completely.

One small personal criticism, take it or leave it: I don’t personally love that the kiss with Dina and scene with Joel defending Ellie was kept off-stage in the game and left to the trailer. We could have started at the dance. That would have taught us everything we need to know about Ellie, Dina, Jesse, and Joel and Ellie’s relationship state. This is my only criticism of the story so far. From a writer’s perspective, it’s just inefficient and clumsy to try and cover all that in expositional dialogue, taking into consideration that many casual players will not have seen all the trailers. Even still, it’s not hurting my experience in any way. Just an observation and maybe a bit of personal opinion on the fact that perhaps the choice to reveal so much scene in pre-release trailers might be a great way to build hype but might not be the most efficient choice in telling the actual story. My two cents!

In the end, I’m overall super excited and can’t wait to keep playing. These are just my own personal thoughts, and I’ll be back with more thoughts soon!! PLEASE NO SPOILERS OR SPOILERY SUGGESTIONS IN THE REPLIES!! I am NOT privy to the leaks and I do NOT want to know what’s coming. Thank you!! ^_^ 

[yadds]

Another Geraskier Fix-it Fic, Part 2 Jaskier tells Geralt to fuck off, Geralt is forced into some self-reflection.

Part 1

I was going to wait until I finished this to post the rest, but that’s gonna be in approx. 3 million years at this point, so here’s part 2 if anyone is still interested.  Should only be one part left after this since I actually have an ending in mind!

.

Geralt was jostled from his meditation by a foot to the side of his head. He whirled around and caught the ankle, yanking until the perpetrator fell to the floor with a squawk. He had a knife to a throat before he realized it was Jaskier, hands up defenselessly and eyes wide. 

He tsked and released him. 

“Excuse me,” Jaskier said indignantly as he sat up, wincing, and brushed his hands across his bare back, which had been dragged across the dusty floor in the scuffle. “You’re annoyed at me? I don’t even rightly know what’s going on right now! I woke up and was just trying to get out of bed! What did you expect to happen when you took up post there like some looming lurker?”

“You seem to be feeling better,” Geralt muttered. 

“I can’t even tell; my bladder is about to explode and I literally cannot even think about anything else. So if you would kindly move your arse, I would like to fix that particular problem.”

Huffing, Geralt shifted to the side to allow Jaskier to go and relieve himself. 

Jaskier was soon collapsing back onto the bed with a sigh. “In answer to your non-question, yes, I am feeling better. Thank you for pretending you care. You’ve fulfilled whatever bizarre obligation you seem to have felt so please feel free to leave. Preferably without soul-searing insults this time, but that’s honestly up to you.”

Geralt scowled as he watched Jaskier watch the ceiling, one arm thrown over his forehead and partially obscuring his view. 

“You never answered me,” he said gruffly. 

Jaskier’s head tilted minutely in his direction. “You’ll have to remind me what exactly I didn’t answer. My memory of our conversation while I was bleeding out is a bit vague,” he said acerbically. 

“Those men,” Geralt clarified. When he saw Jaskier open his mouth with an expression of exasperation, Geralt continued. “You said they were after me.”

Jaskier nodded, peering through his fingers up at the ceiling again.

He didn’t offer any more information. Gritting his teeth, Geralt mustered all the patience he could and asked for it. “Why? And why are they after you?”

“Oh yes, I’m starting to remember now - I told you already that I. Don’t. Know,” Jaskier sneered.  “I have no idea who those men were.” 

“Stop the bullshit!” Geralt finally barked. “You also implied this was a regular occurrence. What the hell is going on, Jaskier?”

Jaskier continued glowering. Just as Geralt was ready to start physically demanding answers, Jaskier suddenly turned so that he was fully facing Geralt. 

“Okay. Fine. You want to get into this? Alright. This has been going on for years, Geralt. People have been trying to kidnap, kill, or maim me to get to you for years. Not the same people - sometimes it’s hired hands for rich people you’ve pissed off, sometimes it’s people that don’t want you stopping them from doing something, and sometimes it’s random folk that just don’t like you.”

Geralt felt as though he had ice water coursing through his veins, freezing the breath in his lungs and slowing his heart to a sluggish crawl. 

“Most of the time, I don’t have a clue who or why unless they’re successful,” Jaskier continued. 

Suddenly the ice in his blood was seared to steam by the raging fury that overtook him at the thought. “The fuck does that mean?” Geralt growled. 

“Oh, yes, I’ve been in some pretty precarious situations, my friend,” Jaskier pressed cruelly, noting how each new piece of information wound Geralt tighter. “Been attacked more times than I can count. Although, to be fair, I don’t know how many of those were just because I am such a delight to all those around me and how many were thanks to you. I’ve been kidnapped at least 3 or 4 times. That’s never enjoyable but has ended up being surprisingly relatively benign,” he mused. 

Geralt was trembling, strung tight enough to snap. 

“Oh relax,” Jaskier said, rolling his eyes. “I never tell them anything.” He rolled back to stare at the ceiling again, arms folded behind his head, appearing to tire of his game. “I can withstand a lot more than you might think.”

“Why?” he rasped. 

Jaskier shrugged. “Well most of the time I actually don’t know anything since you usually just ditch me with not a word of where I could find you again even if I needed to. But also because I’m not a heartless bastard; I used to consider us very good friends, you know. I would never do anything that might cause you harm. You do so much more good in this world than I do so if I had to sacrifice you to save myself…well, I’m not that kind of selfish.”

The sound that punched out of Geralt at the thought was choked and miserable. “Jaskier,” he croaked, then stopped, unable to find the words to continue. 

Jaskier turned his gaze back to Geralt again, a delighted, malicious grin stealing across his face. “Oh, my,” he crowed. “Does it hurt, Geralt? To know someone has suffered for you?”

“Yes,” he hissed, eyes narrow and intent on the bard perched above him. His hand lifted briefly towards Jaskier before he dropped it to fist in his lap. 

“Good,” Jaskier replied simply. His clenched jaw and the fire in his eyes belied the casual tone.

Geralt flinched slightly before lashing out. “What the fuck is your problem?”

Jaskier quickly rolled back towards him, pushing himself up to sit on the edge of the bed, looking down at Geralt, still seated on the floor, with contempt. “My problem?” he parroted incredulously. “You rip out my heart and tear it to shreds for no gods damned reason and I’m the one with the problem? I’m sorry, was I supposed to just roll over and take it? Beg for more?”

Geralt’s glare intensified.  “What bullshit are you spouting now?  I haven’t even seen your godsforsaken face in a year.”

“Were you dropped on your head sometime in the past year?  Gotten amnesia or dementia of some sort?  I feel like I should ask because this could be a legitimate issue before assuming -    No?” Jaskier asked facetiously before continuing.  “Okay, so you’re just willfully misremembering the way you very sincerely wished me out of your life?  I’ve done my part and stayed out of your way!  Yet here you are, still...maligning me.”

Geralt scoffed, immediately knowing that was the wrong thing to do but unable to stop.  “That’s not anywhere near the worst thing I’ve said to you.”

He saw the muscle in Jaskier’s jaw jump repeatedly, accentuating the slight tremor in his chin as he took a long moment before responding quietly.  “True.  But that was the first time I knew beyond a doubt that you really meant it.  Also, the fact that you think that’s a justification just proves what a fool I was to follow you for as long as I did.”

The silence that followed was oppressive and suffocating.

When Geralt made no move to refute, or even acknowledge, the accusations, the renewed expression of disappointment on Jaskier’s face hit him like a forging hammer to the chest.  

Jaskier’s mouth opened as if to say something, but all that came out was a heavy sigh before his lips pressed together tight.  He pushed himself off the bed, face drawn and shoulders slumping in defeat.

“Well, thanks for saving my life yet again.  I hope you don’t mind if I steal a drink before I’m off,” Jaskier said with forced nonchalance as he stumbled the two steps across the room to a pitcher on the small table.  

Geralt looked up when he heard the clangor of the cup clattering against the pitcher, both trembling and unsteady in Jaskier’s grip.  As water sloshed against his front, Jaskier slammed them both back down onto the table, breathing sharply through his nose in frustration.

Standing silently, Geralt stepped close and gently grabbed the cup from Jaskier.  Before he had grasped the pitcher, Jaskier snatched the cup back.  “I can pour my own damn drink, Geralt!” he snarled.

“Of course,” he agreed as he stepped back.  His eyes traced the tense lines of Jaskier’s back as he fumbled to get enough water into the cup for a long draught, somewhat surprised by the definition of hard muscle just visible beneath a shallow layer of softness.

Jaskier turned and brushed past Geralt to get to the door.  Geralt grabbed his arm.  “Jaskier.”

“What?” he replied curtly, still facing the door.

“Stay,” he said gruffly.

“No.  I don’t wish to add to my debt to you.”

“Since when do you care about such things?” Geralt asked mockingly.

“Since we’re not friends,” Jaskier bit out.

Geralt’s grip tightened with the pang of annoyance that pierced through him.  He quickly released his hand when he heard Jaskier hiss softly.

“You’re in no condition to be out there alone,” he said, frustrated with Jaskier’s stubbornness. 

“Who says I’m alone?” Jaskier replied. “Believe it or not, there are others who don’t find me so despicable.”  He watched as Jaskier stopped briefly to rummage through Geralt’s saddlebags to take one of his shirts, turning and showing Geralt quite pointedly that he was taking it, daring him to say something about it.

For once, there were many things Geralt wanted to say, ranging from groveling apologies to scathingly cruel remarks that made his previous ones sound like fucking love letters. But he remained silent as Jaskier turned and opened the door, jumbles of jagged words clamoring against the back of his teeth, shoved down his throat until he could scarcely breathe. 

Pausing, Jaskier looked back once more, eyes tracing Geralt’s features. “Goodbye, Geralt.”

Nothing had ever sounded so devastatingly final. 

.

Geralt left the inn with the rising sun, body still humming with pent up tension. 

Not knowing where Jaskier was or who he was with became Geralt’s newest form of personal torture. 

He would have stayed with Jaskier, traveled with him again, kept him safe. He didn’t like feeling responsible for Jaskier’s hardships. But apparently Jaskier’s pride was more important than his safety. Fucking idiot. 

He grit his teeth, hands clenching. Roach snorted and shook her head, making Geralt loosen his too-tight grip on her reins. “Sorry, girl,” he murmured. 

He dismounted and prowled beside her, unable to stomach sitting idle with his fuming thoughts. 

What right did Jaskier have to punish him? For all of his extravagant overtures of devotion, Jaskier was the one who left. And all it took was a few unkind words.  It certainly hadn’t been the first time he’d lashed out at Jaskier when his frustrations had lain elsewhere.  He wasn’t proud of how he’d acted, but it was far from the worst thing he’d done in the decades that they’d traveled together.  What kind of ‘friendship’ could be shattered by something so trivial?  

Geralt spent the next mile attempting to force his mind into silence.  He was unsuccessful like he hadn’t experienced since he’d first become a witcher all those years ago, his thoughts roiling and ranting violently.  

Geralt was not stupid - he knew that a distraction such as this would only result in a quick, needless death while on The Path. Fortunately, he was also not a coward.  If this required putting thought to the...feelings he was experiencing, he would do it.  

Geralt mounted Roach, trusting her to keep the path and warn him of any conspicuous threats.  He squared his shoulders as he turned his focus inwards.

Putting a name to the emotions that were clamoring below the surface was a trying task for one who only experienced pale shades of their human counterparts.  He approached each tangle of sentiment marring the dreary landscape of his inner mind, prepared to unravel it, acknowledge it, and move the fuck on. There was anger, yes, that he was all too familiar with.  Some hurt, he supposed, if he had to admit it.  But the biggest beast was a deep-seated sense of betrayal.

The realization made him snarl; betrayal to this extent wasn’t possible without a level of trust that he thought himself incapable of. How could he be so fucking stupid?  Geralt was forced to acknowledge that Jaksier had, despite his valiant efforts to keep him at arms length, insinuated himself as the closest anything came to a permanent fixture in Geralt’s life.  He’d trusted Jaskier in a way he’d not done since he’d been a boy, been so unquestionably sure of Jaskier’s loyalty.  

And he fucking knew better.  Nothing was permanent and nobody could truly be trusted.  How many times must he learn that gods damned lesson in his endlessly long life? Apparently at least once more, it seemed. 

Fury reared its head once more, searing through his nerves until he could think of nothing else. Partially at Jaskier, at destiny, at this shithole of a Continent. But mostly at himself.

But self-castigation was of no use to him. He drew a deep breath and pushed through it, finding that he was once again placing his misdirected anger firmly on Jaskier’s shoulders, something he’d been doing so long that he didn’t even think about it.

Perhaps he’d been needlessly cruel for too long. Jaskier was an easy target, one who would take a beating with nothing but a cheeky comeback or sullen silence. And wasn’t that on Jaskier, not standing up for himself? Perhaps a little, but no, he had to admit that this was his own shortcoming. It only incensed him further to realize just how much he’d taken advantage of...yes, his friend. If he had ever had a single friend in his life, it would have been Jaskier. 

But despite his self-involvement and constant reparation of the thick stone walls protecting his inner self from the rest of the world, Jaskier had grown like weeds through any cracks in the mortar. Though he’d stopped the spread, the sprouts of greenery stubbornly remained in the endless brown and gray of dirty stone, demanding his attention.  And as the mulish weeds started to finally die, the color fading, Geralt was forced to recognize the beauty of a bit of color in a colorless life.  

Just another story of too little too late.

_______________________________________________________________________

So you’d think quarantine would be the optimal time for writing, but I’m finding I have less time/energy than ever between keeping up with a 3 year old and a 1 year old that are cooped up inside while trying to work from home and not neglect our little bit of husband/wife time.  

Not having any time to myself is the hardest part of all this for me (for which I’m so incredibly grateful, that that’s my biggest problem) and makes me want to just curl up and do nothing the few moments I’m able to steal for myself.  So, plan on me being EVEN SLOWER THAN USUAL.  Yes, that’s possible.  And it’s happening.

Despite my complaining, things in general are good for us - Husband and I have job security, are continuing to get paid normally, and have bosses that understand our need to juggle family/work balance, and we’re all in good health.  

Stay safe and well out there, y’all, both physically and mentally, as much as you can!  

[natebuzzlover344]

First of all, i’m sorry for my english and grammar. And this is a chapter of one of my wattpad stories named “Cliché”

It’s a Mitch Rapp fanfiction, if you like it i will continue to translate it in english.

I don’t own this gif (take it from pinterest)

I stand in front of the mirror looking at my sad reflex. My skin is whiter than milk, and the dark circles around my eyes look awful to me, the redness of the bruise around my eyes has been pierced by small thin veins.

I'm in a tough, tough time. I do not feel well. It was as if all evil had come upon me. I take a foundation with two shades darker from the cherry blush on the table. I need to have a little color, I look like a corpse.

I pour a few drops into my palms and start stretching in front of me. My blue eyes, like the sea, watched as my face began to come to life.

At just twenty-three, my embers-black hair begins to turn white at the roots. The stress is too great. I'm surrounded by people, but I feel lonely. Empty inside.

After applying a layer of mascara on my long lashes, I get up from my chair and take my red dress off the bed.

The bitter taste of sadness is the only aroma I have been feeling for more than three years. The judgment of the people around me depresses me, as if cutting me in the flesh.

My name is Jenna Lockwood and I'm probably the most fake person you've ever met.

After I put on the dress, I look in the mirror and struggle to smile. The red dress fit perfectly on my waist, and the square neckline highlighted my golden necklace, received as a gift from a good friend. I untie my hair and let it fall, reaching close to my hips.

Now that I'm ready, it's time to leave for a new white night in which I will hide my sadness and insecurities behind a mask. White Nights for black days.

I walk in the door of the club excited by the colorful strobe lights and the catchy music that sings so loud it seems to shake the club. The smell of liquor and expensive perfume was all that pleased my nasal senses. People dancing perfectly to the music, lovers making obscene signs without inhibitions, drunks and drunks falling on the stairs in the bathroom, that's my world. The world without prejudices.

I make room using my elbows through the crowd to reach the bar on the side of the club. It seems that the handsome blonde with long hair up to his ears was working hard flaming a few glasses.

“Ohoo, my man!” I yell at him to hear the music and I lean over the bar to clap with him.

He has been my friend since childhood, somehow our friendship lasted despite the years. Although he does not agree with my lifestyle, he understands my pain and respects my decisions.

"Lanna, I thought you'd miss the party!" Michael replies with a wide smile on his face.

The blonde returns to take the bottle of bacardi, already knowing what I usually order, but tonight I thought of drinking something new.

"Why don't you make me a margarita?" I ask, raising both my eyebrows.

Michael smiles at me and takes a glass of daisy from his stand, then greases the top of the glass with water, then dips it in salt and then pours tequila and triple dry.

I could already feel salivating seeing the beautiful pale green liquid poured into the glass. To make matters worse, Michael squeezes another lemon and hands me my glass.

I take the money out of the black envelope but Michael stops me.

“You know the start is from me!” he says friendly.

“ I always forget, some interesting people?” I ask, sipping my glass.

"About that, I understand that friends of the owner will be coming tonight, some dubious ones, be careful ..." Michael informed me, looking around.

I nod and offer a kiss on the cheek. I wink at them, then walk away to the bar and join the crowd of people dancing as if there were no more tomorrow.

I begin to move to the rhythms of the song Feel so close, occasionally sipping from my glass. The taste of tequilla caresses my taste buds.

A tall man with an enviable athletic body had appeared in front of me. He wore a black T-shirt and a pair of jeans of the same color, torn, accessorized with a chain. His beard was a little overgrown, and his hair was quite long with a gorgeous brown.

I approached the charming man in the rhythm of the dance, putting the glass of daisies around his neck, then leaving it on a nearby table.

The mysterious brunette moved in decline with me, giving me a small smile. He wasn't the kind of boy you'd see everywhere, he had a unique face that stood out from the rest of the males around here. The rhythm of the music pushed me closer and closer to him.

I took the opportunity to look at him closely and feel my amber-colored eyes soften in his eyes, not to mention the small drops of honey that were hiding in his iris.

“I've never seen you here and believe me I come very often!” I whisper in his ear to hear the music.

“It’s the first time, this pleace is awesome!” He replied very excited.

The guy grabs my hand and spins me around, and with a strong pull I get to stick my chest tightly to his. I notice a few strands of hair settling over his eye so I reach for his hand and place his hair on his back.

It had been a while since we had been dancing, the songs seemed to change from second to second.

The rest of the evening I felt like in a story. I danced until I felt my sandals tighten and the kamikaze shots flowed incessantly around our necks. I was at the entrance of the club, the cool summer breeze drying the drops of water that flowed on my body. The handsome brunette takes a pack of cigarettes from his jeans pocket, then carries a cigarette with an orange filter in his mouth.

"My name is Lanna, I think you should know that we've been dancing for more than five hours," I say sarcastically.

“I’m Mitch, very glad to meed you, ma’ lady” he say very charming.

I watched him curiously as he drew so pathetically from the cigarette that it was almost over. It seemed to me that he was stressed, I had never seen anyone smoke a cigarette so quickly.

As soon as he throws the cigarette in the ashtray, he lights another cigarette. The silence of the night put me back in my bitter thoughts, I didn't want peace anymore. The silence depresses me. I stared blankly under the starry sky, searching for a lifeline in my own thoughts.

"Look up!" he tells me with a smile.

His voice instantly woke me from my thoughts, as if it were a crack that pulled me out of my trance.

I conform quickly and feel him wipe the underside of my eye with his fingertips.

"Your mascara had spread," he announced, smiling.

"Oh, thank you," I say through gritted teeth.

I look back at a fixed point and am blocked again by thoughts. I have become addicted to noise, the silence is stifling.

Two young people in love leave the club. A couple who have been visiting the area for more than half a year. I always tried them with admiration, in their case it seems that love and fun are on the same waterline.

This time they didn't come out with a smile up to their ears and holding hands. They seemed to be arguing.

"I'll put my hand in the fire in a few seconds because the guy will slap him," Mitch says, laughing as he looks at the two of them.

I see the skinny blonde slap him hard on the face, turning her head completely.

"She's going to leave now," Mitch continued, as if anticipating the couple's every move.

Indeed, the girl walks away, but the man grabs her arm and turns her away. The variety continues to quarrel, vaguely hearing the girl's tickled voice screaming at him. Probably fed up with the conversation, the man hurried back and entered the club nervously, leaving the girl with his eyes "in the sun".

"Sad show," He commented, lighting a third cigarette.

I take a pack of slim cigarettes out of my envelope and light one. I watched the blonde sit on the curb and cry with her head in her hands.

I never felt the taste of love, I had a few relationships, but I didn't bother. I didn't think anyone would ever love me, after all, if I don't love myself, what can I expect from people?

"I didn't think love hurt," I say, looking at the girl as she wipes her makeup off her face.

"It hurts harder than anything," He says seriously.

“Love shouldn't hurt ... Loneliness hurts, rejection hurts, losing a person hurts, envy hurts”

“Did you list some examples, or did you say what hurts you?” he asks, looking me straight in the eye.

His question had hit me in the head, keeping my mouth wide open looking at him confused. His question was like a slap in the face.

"Forgive me, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable.You've changed since I went out, what's the matter with you, Lanna?”

Mitch kept in touch, emphasizing everything with his hand over mine. I look at him confused, trying to convey a state of frustration, then I start laughing amused. Confusion had appeared instantly on his face.

“Sorry, but I remembered those cliché scenes when the guy asks the girl if she's fine-“

"She's lying to him, telling him she's fine," he continued.

“Exactly!”

"Then let's do something else, what would you tell me Maybe we won't meet again, maybe the roads will bring us back again. Maybe we will become the memory of a pleasant night. We don't know what life has in store for us. You have nothing to lose.

His realism intrigued me. It implied to me that he was open-minded. I sigh, as if without that sigh I wouldn't have had the strength to speak.

“Have you ever felt depressed?" Instead of reassuring you, does it feel like eating live? I ask, sitting down on the metal bench next to me.

“ Yes, I have moments, but all these worries have a cause.”

“ I feel like I want to break up, like me. Sadness, suffering, hot tears and annoying looks.” I say sad

"Have you ever thought we'll drive too much?" he asks in a melancholy tone.

“We think too much about everything, every look, every text.”

“Maybe we should blame ourselves, maybe we will break our hearts, but personal mistakes that are just the basis of suffering. We build the walls ourselves.”

His words seemed to caress my soul, opening my eyes to new perspectives. Is it my fault for these cruel states? For years I threw the arrows of blame on my mother.

Stubborn by nature, I did not want to attest to the fact that I could be the creator of my own agony.

I watch the sky light up, helping the sun to reveal its hot rays, indicating to me that I should go home.

"And another night has passed," he sats, looking at the beautiful sunrise painting the sky in beautiful shades of pink and red.

"I think I should go home," I say, taking my phone out of the envelope and ordering an uber.

"Let's smoke one more cigarette," he says, as if he doesn't want tonight to end.

His words form a smile on my face. I take out a new cigarette and hold it to my lips, and he lights it with a lighter. Our eyes meet, and for a few seconds I forgot I had to smoke.

Looking at him more closely, I noticed small scarred cuts running down his rough face. I was so curious about him. What he does, what his passions are, what brings a smile to his face. On second thought, I didn't want this night to end either.

"I know it may sound cliché, and you may already know that, but you're very beautiful," he says, lost in my eyes.

I thank him and see a blue bay parked right in front of us. Looks like my uber has arrived and will break me from this desired moment.

"Looks like my car has arrived," I say through gritted teeth.

“I really liked this night, Lanna, I hope we meet again, maybe life will last with us” he blushed sincerely kissing my hand.

"I hope so."

I say goodbye to the man who gave me the most beautiful night and I get in the car, looking nostalgically as I walk away from him.