#something about heat and desire and sweat and summer activities

[mayasaurusss]

omg i need more taivan x reader 🙏🏻🙏🏻

Trophy

Contains: gendernautral reader, therm "trophy wife" used once, fem Van, small steamy blurb. A/N: Hello my lovely readers (and anon)! I know that I haven’t been active these past couple of weeks, but I had a bit of a hard time. I wrote this as a small, steamy blurb to kinda get myself into writing again. I hope you’ll enjoy it!

It's so very hard to be the trophy wife of two of the most sexiest people on the planet. Waiting for them to arrive back home after their long work day is like hell: the house is dark, there are no petty remarks, no trashy tv or laughter filling the space, nothing. Just you, sitting on your ass, counting the minutes as the hours approach midnight.

You still remember the first night you met Taissa and Van. Well, you met Van first: one Friday night, when the air was fresh and the summer euphoria started to make itself known, you chose to go to a club to dance the night away.

You let the music flow in you and before long, noticed the fiery red headed woman at the counter. She was stunning to say the least, with eyes that could lit you on fire. The scar running down her left cheek did nothing to make her less beautiful in your eyes. She noticed you too: dancing in the middle of the club, a trickle of sweat falling into your brow, you looked like an angel. Something she might just eat up.

Van was still rusty by then, and despite her cool attitude, you could see the way her dimples twitched when she talked to you "Hello beautiful. Would- would you like to dance?".

You met Taissa a while later, one autumn afternoon. Van had already talked to you about her with a glint in her eyes that suggested Tai was more than just a friend, or at least had been. She introduced you to each other, and from the very first moments, you had been down bad for her too. She had something regal to the way she carried herself, as if she knew her worth as well as the next guy. The first time you saw her, there was something in her dark eyes that just made your heart race.

How could she wrap you around her finger, only you and her knew. As did Van.

It didn't take them much to read the sings and before long, you were on a bed, kissing Van as Tai's hand inched slowly to the middle of your legs. Never in your mind had you ever thought that you'd be sitting on senator Taissa Turner's couch, waiting for her and that girlfriend of hers -and yours-.

Just as your eyelids start to close, the door slams open and you immediatley recognize Van's sigh and Taissa's smell. One of them, you assume it's Van, throws their keys on the small coffee table next to the entrance, making a noise so loud that it shakes you fully awake.

"Damn Van, you woke them up!" Taissa almost yells, a scorn marking her features, deepened by the black of her coat.

"Oh, did I? I'm so sorry" reaching down to you on the couch, she kisses you. The kiss is chaste at first, small and tender, but grows heated the moment she presses her lips more deeply into yours. Her breath is hot against you, her body boiling from a long day at work, her tongue dry and so in need of yours on top of it.

"Have you waited long for us?" she asks you, now trailing down your jaw and onto your neck, "Yeah...". Taissa, who you discover had been watching you the entire time, reaches for your cheek. Her nails sit just right under your jaw, where Van's lips were just a moment prior.

"You have been so good for us" she lifts you up to look into your eyes. "So fucking good" her breath ghosts on the opposite side of your neck and her hand trails down, gripping the base of your neck.

You feel the strain of her muscles through her fingers, her want, her desire on the way the skin molds around her mouth and in those dark eyes that you've grown to love.

"What do you say we reward them?". 

[dropofdrool]

What the night does to the day - Alex Turner x Reader

Summary: Alex can't sleep alone during a hot summer night, so he decides to call for his baby.

Warnings: mature content (read responsibly), fem!reader, masturbation - self giving, dirty talk

Word count: 2.7 k

!! This is my first time writing not in my native language, so I hope this doesn't affect anyone's reading. Also, for this reason I didn't want to write something particularly original, just my personal version of a common fantasy that I’ve been thinking of for some time.

~☀︎︎~

The night was soft. The air exuded humidity after the heavy downpour, and the heat was stirred by warm gusts of wind, like pants after an intense sex. Alex shuffled to the sill and pulled the window open, hoping to catch one of those fleeting whiffs. The air movement was like balm on his bare, sweaty skin, but left him even hotter than before. Even the last piece of cloth that covered his body ended up on the floor. There, it wouldn't have been more useful than on his body, but at least it wouldn't have been in his way. He lay down, spread eagle, on the bed with too heavy blankets. Oh, his lovely darling, she loved to keep the duvet even in the summer. In this way, she could bask herself in the softness of the sheets, as she rolled around naked in their softness. Since she'd left, he still hadn't had the heart to change them. Those sheets smelled like her perfume, sweat, humours, natural sweetness. 

He was so hot, it was unbearable. Another gust of breeze teased his legs, and he activated for a moment, hopeful, but then grunted in disappointment. He had wanted to delude himself that it was her hands touching him, delicate and relieving, but nothing. She wasn't there. For too long now.

Come on, she's been away for just three days. Just? No one had touched him for three days, and that was beginning to affect his body. She used to touch him often, and for him it had almost turned into an addiction; before he knew it, he found it impossible to live without her. Actually, he didn't ask for much: he didn't need to penetrate her every day, wet his lips with her to feel that she was really his. A kiss was enough, her hand on his shoulder or one of those powerful hugs that she used to vent her joy. I'm like a reptile, I'll die without her warmth, Alex thought dramatically. Indeed, at the moment he felt right like a lizard in the desert, slow and dehydrated; all it needed to complete the picture was a bit of sand. He ran his hand over his face, and his eyes stung with sweat. Then, he brought that hand to his lips, in a casual gesture, that however made him flinch in surprise. He was extraordinarily sensitive. A rush of pleasure shot through his body and suddenly, he was aroused. The endless immobility of the heat made everything unpredictable. 

Carefully, he slid one hand down his neck, feeling it quiver. His chest, covered in light, soft hair, rose and fell now irregularly as he touched himself, curious. First his pecs, then his abs, v-line, even thighs. He marvelled at how toned he was: the training, as well as the effort on stage, had its effect on his body. Oh, I like it, he thought. But what does she think about it? Several times she’d told him how watching and touching his body sent her into ecstasy, a conflict between the desire to admire him as a painting and actually touch him, to confirm that he was a property of hers, a work of art that she alone could enjoy. Her voice was broken with sincerity as she spoke, blood rushing to her cheeks and eyes wide and bright: she seemed to be declaiming an ode in honour of a god. Her words sounded funny to him, because sometimes he forgot that he was no longer the boy with buzzed hair that girls used to look at with affection only. Now, he was a rather attractive man in the prime of his life, according to what he was told. Despite that, he needed her attentions only. 

He really wanted to believe that he deserved her adoration, but he just couldn't understand how anyone could worship him with such strength and honesty. However, in those moments, he remembered how that feeling wasn't so unnatural in the end: he just had to think about how much he was capable of loving her. His muse, goddess, comfort, despair: oh, if only she loved him half as much as he loved her, what a lucky man he would be! He thought about the feeling of inhibition, helplessness in front of the glory of her person, brilliant mind, sparkling soul, radiant body and enveloping warmth and softness and wetness and moans sighs lovebites pleasure

He shook his head, running a hand through his hair. He needed her now. He closed his eyes, trying to imagine her next to him. Over him. Under. On all fours, with her head pressed on the pillow while

You need to call her. He grunted. “Yeh can't, silly,” he said out loud, to make it clear. She's been busy today, and she'll be tomorrow too, you can't disturb her. But it was hot by her too, surely she was tossing in her sleep, tormented by the heat. Maybe she's not sleeping. Maybe she was in his same situation, craving his touch and company.

The unavoidable thought flashed through his mind. Just for a second, but it was enough to make him moan. He imagined her hands running along her body, tracing its irregularities as precious as diamonds to his eyes. Perhaps, she would have teased her nipples, erect and sensitive, sighing and then laughing at her own action. Slapped her thighs lightly, as he liked so much to do, to see them shine and move in the moonlight. Then, her slender fingers would have met the soft wetness between her legs, rubbing playfully at first, then desperately, seeking relief. He felt the familiar rush of blood boil towards his lower abdomen, discovering that he was half-hard already. Mm, that’s nice. That’s really, really… Without thinking, his hand ended up around his length and he began to slowly stroke himself. An all too loud grunt escaped his lips and he pouted, annoyed. He didn't want this for tonight, a pointless wank that’d only get his sheets dirty in vain. If that had really to be done, he didn't want to be alone through it. Before he knew it, his fingers were dialing her number and his phone was ringing. He felt the waiting with his whole body, hoping that she was awake or would become soon.

"Honey, what are you doing up this late at night?"

An audible sigh left his lips, a weight seemed to unhook from his heaving chest.

"Can’t sleep. 'M feeling a lil’ blue."

“Poor sweetheart. How so?"

“‘S too hot in here.”

“You should try and stay here! I've been laying here naked for hours, smeared on the bed. I can't even remember the last time I saw the curtains move because of the fucking wind. At least you’ve got a fan.”

The fan, right. Surely, it was holed up in some hidden corner of the house, and surely she’d taken it there, to do who knows what strange things. Where was he supposed to find the strength to get up and go look for it?

“I can barely move me limbs, I fink yeh'll find meh fused to yehr bloody duvet when yeh get back.”

She laughed. It was a breathless laugh, maybe a little tired, but honest. His heart ached with a twinge of nostalgia.

"I missed hearing yeh laugh."

"Did you?"

"Oh yes. I've been finking about yeh all night. All day, to be honest. Everyday."

Alex heard a sigh from the other end of the phone, and he was sure she’d smiled. He heard the sheets shift, as if she'd rolled over in her bed.

"What are you thinking about?"

“I’m finking about how it's been three foockin’ days since anyone’s touched meh. It ‘urts more than the heat, and the 'and I burned myself yesterday trying to grill a stupid steak.”

She laughed again. He loved making her laugh.

“Honey, do I need to remind you that you also have your little big hands to touch yourself?”

Little bastard. He loved her.

"Yeh want meh to say that mine are nothing compared to yehrs, don't yeh?"

"That’s not true. The expressions and noises that you make… they are no less luscious when we do that thing I like so much, right Alex?”

He knew exactly what she meant.

"Tell meh about it."

“Only if you make sure your little big sweet hands are on your cock while I do it, stroking it exactly the way I want.”

Well, they finally got there. Alex felt himself burning.

“Okay,” he moaned.

"Perfect." she replied. She sighed shakily, then started to speak.

“That thing I like so much, love, is when you please yourself without me doing anything. I love watching you as my mere presence turns you on, and you caress yourself and moan oh so sweetly. The first time we did that, you were so nervous. You'd stripped completely, and so had I; I sat on the bed with my legs crossed and you could see everything, my darling, you couldn't take your eyes off from between my thighs…" The first moan slipped out from his lips. Behind the black of his closed eyelids, he saw a flash of her open, wet, pink flower ready and throbbing for him; she who acted as if nothing happened, her hands tucked underneath her thighs and her adoring eyes wide open, ready to enjoy his little show. 

“You said you didn't understand what I wanted you to do. I remember you looking like a lil' lost puppy, yet your cock was there, standing between us, throbbing and so hard in your hands. Your body was glowing, love. I told you to touch yourself like your sixteen self would in your childhood bedroom, when a pretty girl had fluttered beside you in the morning and that tingling sensation in your stomach just refused to go away; when the shame surrendered to the instinct, and there was only you and the desperate pursuit of pleasure in the room.”

“But back then the pretty girl was right in front of meh, almost worse off than meh. Yeh were glorious and I 'ad never touched meself for anyone, it seemed like a waste."

"You changed your mind, didn't you?"

"Oh yes. I could ‘ave come joost because of yehr gaze.”

“And I because of yours. How funny’d have it been, if we’d actually came there, just because we were staring at each other?"

“I don't know if that's the funniest or most erotic fing I've ever ‘eard. Oh…"

He’d accidentally flicked his wrist too quickly, and now he felt the relentless knot in his belly begin to tighten, a rousing pleasure crawl up his spine. 

“Not so fast, baby. Breathe, slow down.”

“Are yeh with meh, honey?”

“Oh yes Alex. Yes, yes, there’s such a mess on my bed now. So empty, so cold…”

"Yeh 'ave to 'old on love, I can't stay away from yeh anymore too, but I promise that when yeh’ll come back I’ll make yeh feel so good, yeh'll wonder if these lonely moments weren't joost a bad dream.”

"You sure?" she whispered, her voice broken, this time from something different than pleasure; Alex recognized that she was holding back tears in her throat.

“Yes honey, that's a promise. Don't cry, focus on us. On yehr fingers, babeh, keep moving 'em. How many d’yeh ‘ave inside?”

She sniffed, then let out a soft moan.

"Two…"

“Good, yeh're doing so well… if I were with yeh, love, I'd take yehr little fingers in my ‘and and lick ’em clean of all yehr sweetness. God, I love yehr ‘ands so much… when I squeeze yehr wrists, I almost feel like I could break 'em, yet they ‘ave such an effect on meh, when they work so well between me legs. It may be true that I love touching meself, especially when it pleases yeh too, but without the dream of yehr touch I’d die, my darling."

“God, Alex, you have no idea how you're making me feel…”

“‘M glad. I'm so close…”

The orgasm began to blossom in Alex's lower abdomen, and his body arched. He closed his eyes for a moment, overwhelmed by the intensity of his sensations. He panted heavily, revelling in the orchestra of moans and sighs of his name on the other end of the phone. He felt so empty, deprived of his other half, yet so full, knowing that despite the distance they were still with each other, in the middle of the night, coming together. He smiled. Suddenly, a thunder ripped through the silence of the sky. The pounding of a precious and unpredictable midsummer rain filled Alex' ears, in a vibrant crescendo that shook him to the core, making him tremble.

"Alex Alex Alex I'm right there, come with me..."

He ignored his wrist beginning to feel tired, stroking his cock ready to receive an orgasm. His whole body claimed it, and he desperately chased it, abandoned to passion like a seed carried by the spring wind. Suddenly, his eyes fell on her bedside pillow. He saw a detail that he hadn't noticed until then. A smudge of lipstick, top left. Surely, when it still painted its owner's lips, it must have been of a magnetic, inhibiting brilliance. Now it was faded with age, but it still stood out like a crimson flower in the snow white sheets.

That did it for Alex. He remembered how that loveprint had stained her pillow: he thought about her face pressed into it, her back arched and shining as he took her from behind, lovingly holding her hips and breasts, craving another pair of arms to be able to touch her entirely. "Harder, Alex, please don't stop..." she moaned, biting the pillow and smudging it with the lipstick that she hadn't had time to take off after their night out. Her body spoke too, claiming and urging him, writhing her oh so soft hips against his. Because of those lips on the pillow, Alex felt himself wet his own hand, a fog cloud every other thought as all the tension left his body. Sweet relief. He collapsed on the bed, managing to hear the last loud moan of his love. He waited to calm down, panting; his heartbeat didn't seem to want to slow down.

"Honey, are you there? Do you feel good? It's not time to die of a heart attack during sex yet…"

This time it was he who laughed with joy.

"I feel in heaven, love. Oh, I love yeh so much..."

His voice trembled with the intensity of his own words, as if his mouth alone couldn't express what he was feeling. His body proved it too, since it had just been blessed by the ecstasy of the senses at the mere thought of her.

"D’you remember what we did the night before yeh left?" 

"Mm, I don't know, we do lots of things…" 

"Tha’ lipstick yeh were wearing. It's still on the pillow." 

"Oh…"

Alex smiled, knowing that she had realised.

"Yes, now I remember… you rascal, you were insatiable that night."

"Insatiable, meh? I don't remember it being meh who asked yeh to spank meh."

"Pff, you're a cowboy now, Turner, certain things shouldn't shock you anymore." she teased him in an American accent. 

They stayed together for a few more minutes, without saying anything; her presence, even if just virtual, relaxed him and he didn't want to let her go. The rain dropped lazily, unhurried on the roof, in an incessant lullaby that slowly began to weigh on his satisfied eyelids. He yawned.

“Honey, I think it's time to go back to sleep. I've loved spending time with you, but tomorrow’s gonna be a busy day…”

“Mm.”

That painful twinge of nostalgia made its way back into his heart, but he chased it away. She had just shown him that she would always be there for him, even in the middle of the night: what more could he desire?

“See you tomorrow then, sunshine. I love you."

"Love yeh too, sleep well."

"You too, goodnight my love."

She cut off the call. Alex threw back his head, breathing deeply. He didn't have the strength to get up and clean the mess he’d made; that would have been next morning’s business. He took the galeotto pillow, hugged it and sank his tired yet satisfied face in it. He closed his eyes, ready to abandon himself to sweet dreams of her.

~☀︎︎~

Notes: "Galeotto" is an Italian adjective that means "love intermediary", "guilty of having made two people fall in love", just as the pillow of our lovebirds; Dante Alighieri uses it in the Divine Comedy to indicate the book that Paolo and Francesca were reading when they fell in love.

[ragefitofficial]

Gym Wear Essential You Must Have in Your Wardrobe

So you have taken a gym membership but don’t know the appropriate gym wear  No worries! We have prepared an ensemble of essential clothing apparel you can perform well without. Do not start gym without adding these to your shopping basket or will constantly feel like you are missing out. 

A) A Gym Tshirt That Fits Perfectly

Don't even think about going to the gym in your regular T-shirt. No there are no strict rules about what is allowed in the gym. But it is advised to pick something more suitable for the exercises you will be performing. So buy gym t-shirts that are designed for high performance.  Some options  you can choose from are mentioned below:

Compression T-shirt: You will find almost every other gym person wearing one of these. Such active wear is known for its ability to keep your muscles warm and ready for engaging in high-intensity level workouts. These fit like a second skin and also improve blood circulation, making it the most ideal choice. 

Technical T-shirt: These are high-performance T-shirts that are made of breathable material and keep you dry and comfortable during intense workouts.  They also have temperature regulation properties that cool off your body when it gets heated up during workouts. 

B) Well Fitted Gym Shorts

Your summer wardrobe for gym wear has to have shorts to stay cool throughout workouts. Wear those shorts that fit you perfectly, provide the required coverage, and have high functionality. In the gym, you will find people wearing different types of shorts including: 

Ribbed Shorts: These shorts have a ribbed texture making them stretchy and super comfortable. The rugged texture is meant to provide a cushy fit while allowing 4-way stretch. These have been more trending active wear in recent times and will stay in fashion for the coming years. 

Mesh Gym Shorts: Wear gym shorts made of mesh material that dry off easily, keeping the sweat away from your body. They don't stick or move away from your body and are comfortable to carry. If you are working out in summer and don't have mesh gym shorts, grab these and you will see the difference yourself. 

Shorts with liner: Wearing shorts with liner keeps your legs warm and gives inner compression to your legs. These shorts are a combination of fitted material inside and flowy fabric outside to provide lightness and comfort. 

C) Gym Vests

Vests are not only that type of gym wear with no sleeves, it is gym apparel that gives complete freedom to your arms and partially to your shoulders. Try gym vest for men for your next workout, the desire to perform better and look ripped will come to you without asking for it. 

D) Leggings for Gym

If you are a workout girl, your gym wear attire is incomplete without owning a pair of comfortable gym leggings. Purchase the gym leggings for women made of a thick material that is stretchy and breathable. Fitness wear that is seamless and allows good coverage will be better for prolonged use. 

E) Gym Joggers

Recently, gym wear fashion has shifted from wearing tights to wearing more comfortable joggers, especially when you are not doing any intense cardio exercises.  The idea was to create something comfortable and suitable for training as well.  These offer a loose fit comfort around the thighs but tappers down to the end. These are available in fleece, cotton, and polyester fabrics.

These were the list of gym apparel that every fitness enthusiast must have but what’s even more important is the gym clothing brand you buy these from. RageFit has become very popular among today’s generation. In total, it is advised to pick gym attire that is comfortable and suits your workout purpose effortlessly.

FAQs

1. What clothing is best for the gym?

Gym clothes are specially designed with performance and durability in mind. Wear comfortable and lightweight clothes to the gym that provide you with the support and flexibility required for all types of exercises you perform in the gym. 

2. Which clothing material is best for the gym?

The best clothing materials for the gym are polyester, spandex, nylon, and cotton. These active wear are moisture-wicking, durable and provide movability that other materials cannot. 

3. Why is gym wear important for working out?

Gym wear is important because it gives you the confidence and internal support you need to show up to the gym. Because gym clothes are something that is designed while keeping your performance in mind, it's important that you only wear these while working out.

[sunnnfish]

I hate summer in real life but I love summer thematically

[redgillan]

Under Pastel Skies - fin

Sugar daddy!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Modern!AU Bucky doesn’t need anyone, especially not a sugar baby. He isn’t that desperate… but she smiles so sweetly and she’s endearingly awkward, and he’s so lonely. She’s an artist, a painter, the type of person who always puts others before herself. Throwing caution to the wind Bucky offers her a place to live, a place where she can finally paint whatever her heart desires. He doesn’t need much in return; a friend, a muse.

Word Count: 6,800

Warnings: Mutual Masturbation (non explicit), Hallmark Movie Cheesiness 

A/N: I’m am SO sorry it took me months to finish this. Also there’s a tiny bit of sexy times (it’s non explicit and put between two ‘*’ for those who want to skip it) but just a heads up. I can’t remember who said I should name Bucky’s book under pastel skies but thank you ;) I want to thank you all for reading this series, it has been really fun. I’m sad it’s over but hopefully I can add an epilogue and I got several requests for this series so it’s a good bye, not an adieu ♥ 

Wannabe sugar daddies don’t interact, idc if you have money, eat it and leave me be.

Summer was Bucky’s least favourite season. He despised the heat, the sunburns and mosquitoes, the sweat running down his temples and back. He was always tired, never hungry, and he hated feeling so... bleh.

But most of all, he hated the expectations that came with summer: enjoying the sun, reuniting with friends and family, soaking up the extra hours of daylight, being happy. It felt like an obligation.

Summer with you was Bucky’s favourite season. He loved the way you squinted against the sun, your face bright and happy and your lips glossy with sorbet. He loved those lazy afternoons spent at the pool and he definitely worshiped your summer wardrobe.

You had found a part-time job at a renewed museum. You often said that it was boring and tiring but your colleagues were nice. You were still visiting galleries from time to time but you weren’t actively pursuing a career as a professional artist.

Bucky spent most of his time in his office, finishing up his novel. He was really anxious about it, and he hoped his little surprise wouldn’t blow up in his face. He had everything planned. His uncle had been delighted when Bucky asked if he could use the bookstore for a reading. It would be a private reading, just the two of you after the shop closed.

Now he just had to ask you out...

Bucky climbed the stairs two at a time to your floor, a bouquet of flower in his hand and a smile on his lips. You had invited him over for dinner, which was a bit unusual because you had to work the next morning, but he wasn’t complaining. Far from.

“Bucky,” you giggled sheepishly when you opened the door. He bought you flowers every time he saw you. It didn’t matter that your studio apartment now looked like the back room of a flower shop, he liked the way your eyes softened at the sight of the pretty blooms. “These are stunning.”

He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to your cheek. “Takes one to know one, sweetheart.”

You good-naturedly rolled your eyes before you waved him into the room. “Come in, I made dinner.”

Your apartment smelled of marinara sauce and spaghetti boiling in hot water. It was a comforting smell, a smell that reminded him that he wasn’t alone.

You didn’t have a proper table, the apartment was too small for that, so you ate on the breakfast counter. Bucky didn’t mind eating side by side. He liked the way you turned your body to face him, your knee touching his. It felt intimate.

“I have something to tell you,” you said, closing the door behind him. He watched you bounce around the room like some excited puppy dog. “I haven’t told anyone yet.”

His forehead creased into a deep frown. “What is it?”

You pulled something out of your bag and hid it behind your back before you took a step closer to him. You were unable to meet his confused gaze but he found it so endearing that he started smiling.

You handed him a postcard-style flyer with a shaking hand. It was a mini print of one of your paintings along with the logo of a gallery in New York. He turned the card over and read it, his eyes instantly brightening. It was a flyer for an art opening.

“Angel,” he said, his voice full of emotion. “You did it!”

You chuckled bashfully. “It’s a collective exhibition. They gave me half a wall and a corner of the engraving table.” You raised your eyes to his, your bottom lip caught between your teeth in a way that managed to be both shy and sensual. “Will you be there?”

Bucky placed the flyer on the kitchen counter and took a step closer to you. “Will I b-? Of course!” he exclaimed, taking your hand and kissing your knuckles. “I’m so happy for you.”

“I couldn’t have done it without your help.”

“I did nothing,” he replied, shaking his head. “It’s all yours and you deserve it.”

With a little laugh, you pulled him into a tight hug. You wrapped your arms around his middle and pressed a kiss to the tip of his nose. He hugged you against his chest and watched as you played with the lapels of his shirt.

“Do you think,” you started timidly, your eyes glued to his chest. “Do you think I can introduce you as my boyfriend?”

“Oh, my angel,” he chuckled lowly. “You think we’ve waited long enough? Am I allowed to kiss you now? Because let me tell you, sweet angel, I’ve been eager to taste you all summer. Didn’t help that all you ate was ice cream and sorbet. You know I have a sweet tooth.”

“You’re all talk,” you said with a grin before you curled your fingers around the lapels of his shirt and pulled him down to you.

He smiled against your lips and pressed his hand against the small of your back, pulling you flush against him. You shivered when his hand trailed up your side, his fingers grazing your breast over your clothes. You leaned your head back enough to break the kiss and audibly sucked in your breath.

Bucky cupped the side of your face, planting one last kiss on your parted lips. “My girl.”

With a breathy laugh, you let your head fall onto his shoulder and soaked up his warmth, his love, before you took a step back.

Dinner went well, albeit with more sexual tension than you’d both anticipated. He stole several kisses from your tomato sauce-covered lips, praising your cooking skills.

You touched the pendant at your throat and traced the tiny gemstones with the pad of your middle finger.

“It drives me crazy when you do that,” Bucky admitted with a chuckle.

“Really?” you replied, a tentative smile on your lips.

“Mhm mhm.” He nodded and licked the creamy remnant of ice cream off his spoon. “Looks real pretty against your skin. I like seeing you wearing it.”

Watching you smile down at your pendant made his chest burst with protectiveness. You bit your lip but couldn’t hide your smile. He leaned sideways and kissed your cheek.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered in your ear. “Especially when you’re wearing my necklace and nothing else.”

You tilted your head to look at him. The tension between you became so intense that he could hear you breathing hard, and without thinking he pressed his lips against yours. His hand came up to your face and you took the opportunity to climb into his lap, desperate to touch him.

You grabbed a fistful of his shirt, kissing him roughly. He could taste the ice cream on your lips, your tongue cool against his own. With his arm around your waist and a bit of your help, he hoisted you onto the counter.

The empty bowls, plates and glasses fell to the floor, shattering loudly but you didn’t care. You wrapped your legs around his waist as he gently lowered you down onto the counter.

*

He kissed his way down your throat to the dip between your collarbones where the pendant was. He felt himself harden against you when you stirred against him, moaning. You pulled him down for a kiss and blindly reached for his belt.

“Condom?” you half moaned against his lips.

“Shit.” He sagged heavily against you and buried his face in your neck. “Fuck, shit! I don’t have one. I didn’t think we’d-”

“That’s okay,” you cut him off. “We can either cool down or... get creative.”

With a breathless chuckle, he started to run his hand down the length of your body. “I might have an idea.”

You squeezed your eyes shut in anticipation when his hand slipped between your thighs. Bucky looked at you, paying close attention to your movements and the sounds you made.

Your head thrashed from side to side, your breathing erratic. You gripped the edge of the counter with one hand and slapped the other against his chest, your back arching off the counter as you moaned his name.

He had never seen anything more beautiful than you; lost in your pleasure, brow furrowed, eyes fluttering shut. He almost reached his peak with you, untouched.

You lay there with your mouth open and took a series of short ragged breaths, filling your deprived lungs with air. After a minute, you tried to sit up but your arms were too weak to support you.

You let out a loud, frustrated groan as you tried again. “I think you killed me.” You held out your arms to him. “Help me up.”

He wrapped his arm around your waist and helped you into a sitting position. After another long kiss, you ran your hand over the front of his jeans, smiling wickedly when his breath hitched.

He looked down at your hands as you started unbuckling his belt. He knew you could feel the tension in his stomach, the anticipation.

“You don’t have to-”  

“Shh,” you whispered, kissing his cheek. “Do you want me to?”

“Yes. God, yes.”

You slipped your fingers under the elastic waistband of his boxers and Bucky hissed. Your fingers were cool against his heated skin but he silenced your apology with a kiss.

He didn’t last long. He couldn’t; not when you were whispering filthy things in his ear, or playing with his earlobe, sucking it gently then biting it harshly. You were all he could feel, all he wanted to feel.

You chuckled softly when his legs buckled under him, your free arm coming around his waist to keep him upright. He slammed his hand down on the counter, grunting like a beast in pain. He moaned your name, repeated it like a prayer as he reached his peak.

With a tired laugh, he slumped forward, exhausted, and kissed your forehead before he drew several long deep breaths. He tucked himself back into his boxers, pulled his jeans up and buckled his belt.

*

“That was...” He didn’t finish his sentence, choosing instead to grab the back of your neck and pull you in for a kiss. You chuckled as you returned his kiss. Bucky drew back and bowed his head, resting his forehead against yours.

“Looks like we won’t do the dishes today,” you said, looking down at the broken ceramics and glass. Bucky followed your line of sight to the broken pates before he burst into laughter, the corners of his eyes crinkling.

The next Thursday, Bucky was getting ready for your art opening. Sam and Natasha had flown from D.C. to see your first show, though you had no idea they were coming. Your sisters and brother were already at the gallery waiting for them.

The street was quiet when Sam, Natasha and Bucky arrived at the gallery. A few people were standing outside, smoking and talking. As they walked up to them, Bucky glanced through the window in hopes of finding you.

It was only seven but the gallery was already busy, packed with people milling around, laughing, drinking, and talking. His ears started ringing and he had to stop to take a deep breath.

“You okay?” Sam asked, concern colouring his brown eyes. Natasha paused too, her hand still clasped in Sam’s. They turned to the crowd then looked at Bucky with sympathetic eyes. He had grown paler and his skin looked shiny with sweat. “Is it too much?”

Bucky couldn’t see you but he knew you were inside. You were waiting for him. He couldn’t miss your first show, he simply couldn’t. He tried one of his breathing exercises, working with this nervous energy instead of letting it consume him. He tightened his grip on the single sunflower he was carrying and straightened his spine.

“I’m good.”

“If you need a minute, we can wait here.”

“You look very sharp, Bucky,” Natasha replied almost immediately, a warm smile on her lips. “She’ll be thrilled to see you.”

Sam wanted Bucky to be comfortable but Natasha understood that it wasn’t going to happen. Bucky needed reassurance; he needed to know that everything would be fine, that you’d be happy to see him.

“Yeah?” Bucky asked, seeking validation in his friends’ eyes. “Yeah, of course. C’mon, let’s go.”

Inside the gallery, they were greeted by a cute twentysomething who gave them a rundown on the gallery and the exhibition. She had more energy than a puppy and spoke incredibly fast. They smiled and nodded politely, though their eyes kept wandering around the main room looking for you.

They managed to quietly escape when another group of people entered the gallery. As Bucky looked around the room, he felt a little overwhelmed. A couple of women were speed walking amongst the guests, an urgency in the way they moved that contradicted with the smiles on their faces.

“Find her and I’ll get us something to drink,” Sam said, raising his voice to make himself heard over the chatter. It really didn’t help Bucky’s anxiety.

Natasha and Bucky made their way through the throng, trying not to bump into people. Natasha waved at someone across the room and Bucky recognized your sisters and their partners. Scott was there too, carrying a half-asleep little girl.

Natasha looked over her shoulder when he didn’t follow her, then smirked knowingly and jerked her head in the direction of the crowd. He’d say hello later, right now he wanted to see you.

The gallery was designed in a u-shape with a patio at the centre. From where he was, he could see the engraving table, the bar and the door that led to the patio. Candles were lit in the patio, climbing roses and jasmine elegantly concealing the cracks in the concrete walls.

And there you were.

You were standing amongst a group of older folks, listening to their stories. The woman next to you exuded confidence and she seemed to enjoy being the centre of attention.  

Seeing you didn’t suddenly make his anxiety disappear, it didn’t make everyone around him vanish into thin air, but he still felt ten times better. It kept him grounded because he knew you were there for him.

A smile spread across Bucky’s lips as he observed you. You were smiling politely at the woman next to you, then let your eyes wander around the room as if you knew someone was watching you. When your eyes finally met, your whole face lit up and you quickly excused yourself.  

“You’re here!” you exclaimed, wrapping your arms around him. He raised his arm, making sure you weren’t crushing the flower, then returned the embrace. “Thank you for coming.”

“I hope you don’t mind, I brought a couple of friends who are die-hard fans of your work,” he said, kissing your temple.

You pulled back slightly. “What? Who?”

“You’ll see,” he replied with a grin before he handed you the flower with a flourish. “A sunflower for my sunshine.”

You rolled your eyes at the corny line but your smile was shy and happy. You carefully tucked the sunflower into the top buttonhole of your blouse, then gave him a kiss. He smiled against your lips, enjoying this moment when it felt like it was just the two of you.

“Hey listen,” you said, your hands framing his face. “I know there are a lot of people here tonight, so if you need to leave or take a break-”

“I know,” he interrupted you, a smile on his lips. “Thank you for always looking out for me.”

“That’s what angels are for.”

He laughed softly and placed a lingering kiss on your forehead before he let you go. He’d been to several events like this one, he knew it was only a matter of time until someone dragged you away. After all, it was a networking event.

“This place is great,” he said. “But I haven’t seen your work yet.” He held out his hand, palm upward, and you bashfully looked at your feet as you took his hand. “You’re cute when you’re flustered.”

You simultaneously buried your face in his shoulder and smacked his arm, making him laugh. “It’s a sales technique,” you quipped, leading him across the room to where your family was waiting.

“Well, it’s definitely working on me, beautiful.”

“Oh, no! You’re not allowed to buy anything tonight. Your apartment already looks like a museum.”

“The one above my bed is my favorite,” he continued with a grin. A little shiver ran through you at the memory, and Bucky couldn’t help but feel proud of himself. He pulled you closer and whispered in your ear. “Do you remember the night we made it? You and I, naked, covered in paint, making each other feel so fucking good.”

“Bucky,” you whined, trying to wiggle out of his embrace. “I can’t think straight when you say things like that.” He chuckled lowly in your ear. “People are staring at us.”

“Let ‘em. They came to look at art, uh?”

You good-naturedly shook your head at him and rolled your eyes, your expression one of annoyance and amusement. Bucky had become a bit of a flirt since the two of you started dating, and he loved riling you up in public.

You opened your mouth to speak when your eyes darted toward something behind his shoulder. “Nat?” You looked at Bucky, your eyes wide and filled with unshed tears. “You brought Nat!”

“And Sam,” he said with a nod. “They’re a package deal now.”

“Sam’s here too?” you exclaimed.

Bucky watched you powerwalking toward your friends and family. You wrapped your arms around Natasha as tight as you could and she pretended to gasp for air making your siblings smile fondly at the two of you.

“Thanks for not inviting me to your first big gig, doofus,” Natasha said as she pulled back. “You’re lucky your boyfriend had my number.”

“I didn’t want you guys to come all the way here on a Thursday,” you explained. “You all have your lives. I don’t expect you to drop everything to see my art show.”

“We live in D.C., not Mars,” Sam said, appearing with two glasses of champagne. He handed one to Natasha before he greeted you with a one-armed hug and a kiss on the cheek. “Besides it gave us an excuse to take a few days off work. We’re staying until Sunday.”

You looked away, uncomfortable. “Guys, it’s not that big of a deal.”

“Newsflash, it is,” Scott said, having heard your conversation.

“And we’re all incredibly proud of you,” Okoye added.

“You accomplished so much,” Wanda agreed, raising her own glass in a toast. The others raised their glasses high, clinking them together in the air before they drained them dry.

“I’m really glad you’re all here,” you said, sagging a little against Bucky’s chest. He wrapped his arm around you and kept you close. “It means a lot. I love you all.”

One of the interns popped out from behind Bucky, interrupting the little reunion. She walked over to the wall and placed a little red sticker on the label under one of your paintings. She turned around and congratulated you on your first sale, making everyone explode into cheers and applause.

“If you have a moment, the buyer would like to meet you,” she said.

“Oh, yes, of course!”

When you turned to him, Bucky saw the worry colouring your beautiful eyes. He smiled tenderly and cupped your cheek in his palm, his thumb grazing your cheekbone. “Go, it’s your night.”

He pressed his lips to yours before he let you go. You worried your bottom lip between your teeth, a nervous habit Bucky had seen you do a lot in the past few months. You touched the pendant around your neck and smiled.

Before you left, you gave Natasha a sharp look –which could only mean one thing, ‘take care of him for me’- and she replied with a firm nod. It made Bucky grin to himself as he gently nudged you toward the intern.

The rest of the evening went by in a blur of soft classical music, loud conversations, and laughter. Bucky spent most of the evening sitting on the patio talking with Sam, Vis, Scott and W’Kabi while the girls were chattering cheerfully next to them.

He preened whenever you introduced him as your boyfriend to gallery owners and art collectors. You mentioned that he was a talented writer, even though it was supposed to be your big night.  

“Are you writing anything at the moment?” someone asked him.

“I have a book coming out soon, hopefully,” he said, brushing it off with a wave of his hand. “But that’s not why I’m here tonight.”

“What is it about?”

“Oh, Bucky’s incredibly secretive,” you answered for him. “He wouldn’t even tell me.”

Bucky tuned out the rest of the conversation and decided to watch you instead. You were too engrossed in their story to notice his intense eyes fixed on you.

He decided that he’d take you to his uncle’s bookshop after the party.

He did a quick mental checklist to see if it was feasible; he had the keys to the bookshop, he knew the alarm code, and the back of the bookshop already had chairs lined up in rows from a previous author reading. The only thing missing was his book but he had a copy at home and Sam owed him a favour anyway.

It was getting late, several people were standing next to the engraving table but the gallery had emptied enough to really look at the paintings on the walls.

It was a beautiful, cosy place when it wasn’t overcrowded with guests.

Your siblings had left about an hour ago. Sam came back from Bucky’s apartment with Bucky’s book hidden under his coat, acting like he was smuggling candies into a movie theatre. They left soon after.

“Hey,” Bucky whispered in your ear as he wrapped his arm around you from behind, tucking you against his chest. You were standing alone in front of your paintings, the distant sound of voices and laughter came from the other side of the gallery. “Everything okay, angel?”

You hummed under your breath and tilted your head back so you could kiss the underside of his jaw. He felt you relax against him.

“They’re closing up soon,” you said. “But I don’t want tonight to end. Can I stay at your place?”

“The answer’s always yes,” he replied, making you laugh. “We have to make a quick stop somewhere first.”

“Where?”

“You’ll see.” A minute passed before you turned and wrapped your arms tightly around him, squeezing hard enough to make the air whoosh from his lungs. He let out a surprised laugh and held you close to his chest. “Sweetheart, what’s wrong?”

“Nothin’,” you said, your voice muffled against his chest. “It was a really good night. I think I’m feeling a little emotional.” You pulled your head back to look at him. “Thank you for asking Sam and Nat to come. I really needed that.”

“That’s what good boyfriends do,” he said with a grin.

You laughed. “I love you.”

Your blunt admission made him blink. Hard. The words had left your lips so easily that the weight of their meaning hit him like a lightning bolt. He stood there frozen, unable to move, unable to speak.

You laughed softly. “Earlier tonight I was upset that my mom and Pietro couldn’t be here. It was supposed to be the happiest day of my life and I wanted to cry. But then I saw you and I knew everything would be all right. I know we’ve only been dating for a couple of months but we’re known each other for almost a year and... I’ve loved you since you took me to that charity event at the Museum of Natural History.”

“Angel,” he said in a choked voice. He pressed his lips together, then tried to say your name.

“It’s okay,” you said, cupping his face. “You don’t have to say it back. I know you love me. You have the most expressive eyes I’ve ever seen. You can’t hide anything.” He laughed, the sound raspy and wet. “No one has ever looked at me like this before.”

“You’re-” he paused and swallowed the lump in his throat. “You’re everything to me, y’know that?”

“I know,” you said, smiling tenderly at him.

His book felt heavy in his pocket, a reminder of all the things he wanted to tell you. He smoothed his hand over his pocket and looked over his shoulder but the remaining guests were too engrossed in their own conversations to pay attention to you.

“Come with me,” he said, holding out his hand.

You placed your hand in his and let him lead you out of the gallery. You both stepped out into the street laughing and feeling lighter than air. Bucky hailed a cab, opened the door for you and climbed in.

He gave the driver the address and settled back into his seat, his attention on you. You looked at him with incredulity mixed with amused curiosity. He leaned closer to you and rubbed his nose against yours, making you laugh.

When the cab stopped, Bucky looked out the window, surprised to see that they had already arrived. You let out an incredulous chuckle next to him, probably realizing that you’d spent most of the ride kissing.

“A bookstore?” you asked, watching Bucky walk over to the crisscrossed metal security gates. “Well, too bad it’s closed. Then again it’s almost midnight.”

“That’s not a problem.”

The gates made a loud screeching noise as Bucky opened the store. He punched in the security code and waited until the light turned green to turn on the lights. You slowly walked into the bookstore, a dubious look on your face.

“Are you sure we’re allowed to be here?”

“Technically, no,” Bucky replied with a cringe. “But I have the keys, don’t I?” You levelled an assessing gaze on him. “It’s my uncle’s bookstore,” he finally relented. “He gave me a key for emergencies, and sweetheart, that’s one hell of an emergency.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “You’re smooth, Barnes, but I’m not spending the night in jail.”

He laughed. “You’re no fun, angel.” When you didn’t seem convinced, he added, “We’re good, promise.”

You raised your eyebrows and puckered your lips into a doubtful grimace as you began browsing through the shelves. Bucky reached into his pocket and pulled out his book, cradling it protectively against his side.

“I bet you used to work here,” you said, your back turned to him and your head tilted to one side as you read the titles.

“You’re right.” He glanced down at the book in his hand and traced his thumb along the gold lettering. “I worked here with Steve. We were saving up money to go to Nepal.”

You paused and looked over your shoulder at him. “To climb Mount Everest?”

Bucky made an affirmative sound but he was took busy looking at the book in his hand to notice that a worried look had crossed your face. You walked to him and touched his cheek, trying to coax his eyes back to yours.

“I’d go through all of this again,” he said, blue eyes boring into yours. “Just to spend a minute with you.”

“Don’t say things like that,” you whispered, hiding your flustered face in the crook of his neck. He tilted his head to kiss your crown. “Are you going to tell me why we’re here?”

He took a deep breath and you slowly pulled back from him. “We’re here, angel, because... well because I’m an idiot who can’t express his feelings, at least not out loud and definitely not in an intelligible way. I thought I’d sit down and write it down but it got away from me.”

He raised the book in his hand as if proving his point and let out a derisive snort. You cocked your head, trying to understand.

“I called it ‘Under Pastel Skies’ because that’s what you remind me of,” he said, looking down at the cover. “Clear, cotton candy skies. Bright and colourful, soft and beautiful, and with that ethereal golden hue that makes you believe in Heaven.”

“Bucky,” you tried, your voice coming out thin.

“Will you come with me, please?” He offered you his arm and you looped your hand around the crook of his elbow. You didn’t try to take the book from him and you were oddly silent next to him. He sneaked a glance at you but he couldn’t make out the expression on your face.

He led you into the backroom, where several rows of chairs had been set up in front of a lectern, and walked you down the central aisle.

“You want me to take a seat?” you asked, glancing around the room.

“Please,” he whispered and pressed his lips against your forehead.

You sat down willingly, though you kept wringing your hands. For a brief moment, Bucky wondered if he hadn’t made a terrible mistake. He had no idea how you were going to react to his book, and it hadn’t really hit him until now that his book was filled with extremely personal information.

He never mentioned your name, your siblings or your mother, but he did share more than he had intended. With his heart in his throat, he forced himself to walk over to the lectern.

“Thank you all for coming today,” he tried to joke but his anxiety made him stutter. “I see that we have a full house tonight.”

He briefly glanced up at you, sitting all alone in that big room, then looked down at his book.

“Mmh, so,” he cleared his throat, “usually when you speak in front of a large audience, or an important audience, they tell you to start with an anecdote. It’s supposed to put everyone at ease, it’s supposed to break the ice, but I, uh, I think we know each other quite well.”

Bucky became acutely aware of the beads of sweat running down his armpit, sending an uncomfortable chill through his spine. He wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand and cursed when the book immediately closed itself.

“I’m,” he let out a small laugh, “I’m sorry, this is what happens when you only have one hand.” It took a few tries to open the book again. His fingers were trembling so much. “I’m a little nervous,” he acknowledged with a cringe. “Here we go!”

My name is Bucky. I have been writing for years and my faithful readers know me as Grant Thomas, a sarcastic and witty writer who makes fun of his own struggles, but in real life, I’m just Bucky. According to my friend, I’m a sourpuss, a fun killer, and I guess that’s fair. I’m not as charismatic as I used to be.

Meeting new people can be a scary thing, especially when you’re a one-armed brooding machine. I carry a lot of emotional baggage. Sometimes it feels like everywhere I go I have a backpack strapped to my chest, filled with notebooks containing undisclosed information about me.

I met my angel at a bar. She was wearing a tight orange-red dress, her lips the color of blood; she looked like she was about to sell her soul to the Devil. I was the Devil. And I knew I had to leave before I could taint her with my darkness.

I saw her outside the bar while I was hailing a cab. I don’t know if she followed me or if she wanted to leave but I was drawn to her. Her shoes didn’t match her dress. She was wearing an expensive-looking dress but her shoes were old and scuffed, most certainly loved, and spattered with flecks of orange and blue paint.

It dawned on me that blue and orange have nothing in common but they do look good together. I shared a cab with her that night.

Bucky turned the pages until he found the chapter he’d been looking for. He didn’t look up, too afraid of your reaction. He continued.

The first holiday we spent together was Liss, our made-up holiday around Christmas time. Liss is an old English word, it means comfort, happiness. I remember feeling particularly happy. I had opened up to her. I felt close to her. I told her things I’d never told anyone, not even in my books, not even to my best friends, the men who’d saved my life.

Everything is so natural with her, so easy. She challenges me and I like to think I challenge her too. She makes me feel at peace, she understands me. She’s my friend, my companion, my soulmate.

And as I sat on my apartment floor, covered in tinsel, laughing so hard my cheeks hurt, I realized I was falling in love with her.

At first I struggled against this feeling. In all honesty, I’m not a model of emotional stability. I have a compulsive need to clean when I’m stressed, I label things and put them into boxes instead of dealing with my problems, and I simultaneously crave and loathe the comfort of my everyday life.

As someone once pointed out, I’m not boyfriend material.

It doesn’t matter if the person you love is a friend, a family member or your partner; when you love someone, the last thing you want is to smother them with your darkness. I’m lucky enough to have friends who never gave up on me.

Bucky quickly flipped over the pages until he found what he’d been looking for. He knew you were there and he knew you were watching him but he couldn’t meet your eyes. He lowered his head, his heart hammering in his chest.

My angel is nothing if not strong. She cares so deeply for the people she loves that she puts their needs before her own. It breaks my heart to know that she gave up, not only her dreams, but also her comfort and independence.

Sometimes I watch her from the living room while she paints, her brush strokes quick and confident, or slow and delicate. She is talented; entire worlds spring into life under her fingers.

I love the way she squints at the canvas, the tip of her tongue sticking out of her mouth in extreme concentration, a paint brush behind each ear. Her posture is awful and I know I’ll hear her joints crack when she finally stretches. The sigh that comes with it makes me smile.

I won’t go into the details of her artistic journey, but like most artists, she’s plagued with self-doubt. Inspiration, like happiness, is a fickle thing, and sometimes they are tied to one another so intricately that the knot can never be untied.

I gave her a necklace; a gold pendant in the form of a palette. It took me weeks to find the perfect charm, something that would remind her that even if inspiration fails her, she is still an accomplished, talented artist.

She was born with a paint brush in her hand and her skin is dotted with multi-coloured freckles.

I want her to be happy.

Bucky closed his eyes and took a steadying breath as he finished reading these lines. He raised his terrified eyes to yours and words failed him. He could see tears streaming down your face and a little frown between your eyes.

He set the open book upside down and started to move toward you when you pushed yourself off your chair and rushed to him. You buried your face in his chest and he wrapped his arm around you, relief washing through him.

“My love,” he said, now tenderly stroking your hair. You brushed your tears away and sighed. “Is it too much? Do you want me to stop?” He pulled back and met your eyes. “Are you upset? You don’t need to worry, I’ll never publish this book if it makes you uncomfortable.”

You turned your body sideways and touched the book, your other arm still wrapped around his waist. “No, I- I just wasn’t expecting it.”

“Do you want me to keep reading?”

“Yes, please,” you said softly.

Bucky chuckled under his breath and pressed his lips to the top of your head. He shuffled the two of you closer to the lectern and cradled you against his chest, kissing your hair, before he turned the book over. You tightened your hold on his waist and played with your pendant.

“I love you,” he said, dipping his head slightly to meet your eyes. The words came so naturally that he realized he wasn’t afraid to share his feelings anymore. You deserved to know you were loved. You reached up to caress his cheek and repeated his words back to him.

The moment I saw her, I knew I had met my soulmate. I don’t mean it in a romantic way, I didn’t fall in love with her at first sight, but despite our brief and awkward first conversation, we clicked. I knew I could trust her.

She knows how to bring me back from the darkest corners of my mind. I am myself with her, flaws and all. She’s patient, kind, and understanding, and the best part is, I know I bring her similar comfort. It’s as if we’ve always known each other, as if we’ve carried each other’s fears in us all our lives, not knowing what it was.

She doesn’t treat me like I’m fragile, but she’s careful. She took care of my scars, a look of intense concentration on her face. I almost blurted out the three words I’m so desperate to say. I love you. But I chickened out, too scared, too insecure. Our first kiss brought tears to my eyes. She held my hand and took me to her studio, and I knew, right there, that I would love her for the rest of my life.

I only ask one thing: let this book live. Crack its spine, fold the corners of the pages, write in it, stain the pages with your tea or coffee or your wine, let it be a coaster, and then give it to someone you love. It will look a bit rough and damaged, like me I guess, but it’ll be worth something to whoever wants it. I can understand the appeal of a well-worn book. When it bears the marks of our everyday lives, reading it feels more personal. So please, do not handle it with care. Hold it close to your heart and let it live its best life.

Bucky let out a long sigh as he closed the book. There was a moment’s silence between you as he cradled your head, his lips resting against your temple. Slowly you untangled yourself from him and reached for the book.

“To my angel, this book is my heart,” you read the epigraph. You turned to him, tears in your eyes, and a wave of panic hit him. “When you said you had an idea for a new book, I asked you if I could be in it,” you said with a little laugh, “Do you remember?”

“I do.” He laughed along with you, then his voice took on a serious tone. “I never intended to publish it, you have to know that, I just wanted you to read it but I was so... I don’t know, so in love with you that I wanted to shout it from the rooftops.”

You looked down at the book and bit your bottom lip to keep from smiling. “I really don’t know what to say.” You raised your eyes to his face. “Can I keep it?”

“Yes, of course. And if there’s anything you don’t feel comfortable with-”

“I’ll let you know,” you replied with a coy smile. “But I want people to know our story. I want to live forever as your angel and maybe, in a hundred years, someone will read this book and they’ll know the love we had for each other was real.”

He hadn’t realized he was crying until you wiped away a tear with a stroke of your thumb, the action so delicate and sweet it made his breath hitch in his throat. He closed his eyes, causing more tears to fall down his cheeks.

“Because after this, Bucky Barnes, you’re stuck with me forever,” you emphasised the last word and Bucky chuckled.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way, angel,” he said, claiming your lips in a searing kiss.

- the end

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[wildheartsalwaysburn]

Sex on Fire (by Kings of Leon) || C.W.

Pairing: Charlie Weasley x fem!reader summary: Charlie and y/n are celebrating their anniversary with some sexual fantasy they've had in mind for ages: sex on a dragon's back. a/n: If there would be any real dragons around, I'd highly recommend not try this at home. They are some very empathic and highkey intelligent creatures with a serious bonding issue, so any activities on their back are only happening with their consent! Also I think Charlie is such a caring and sensitive person, so this is gonna be the real "love-making" art of sex.

warnings: Smut18+, unprotected intercourse, a few swear words but actually it's fluff-smut words: 1.609

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"And you are sure he gave us permission?", y/n asked while she undressed completely and put on her new piece of lingerie. Her boyfriend, while taking off his shirt and pants, chuckled: "Again, love. We talked about this and it's an honour for him. Fedir won't hurt us, he never did. You know him." Fedir was one of y/n's favourite dragons in the reservate Charlie was working at and a 26 feet tall Ukrainian Ironbelly. Due to their international reputation of being one of the most dangerous breeds, her worries were eligible. But she trusted her boyfriend more than anyone else. He planned something very special for their 3 years anniversary: having sex on a dragon's back. The couple has talked about this fantasy so many times, he had no choice but finally try it out now with y/n. Charlie, completely naked, grabbed the kilt y/n had gifted him for Christmas. He never knew what to do with this but today it hit him that his girlfriend had got something in her mind when choosing this thing as a present. The man was bobbing eagerly with his feet until his girlfriend came out of the bathroom. Only an opaque gown encased her body, still keeping her best parts a secret. His amber eyes widened when finally seeing her and a hint of blush appeared on his freckled cheeks. Y/n smirked when noticing: "So after all these times you're still blushing when seeing me like this?" She walked closer to him and put her arms around his neck. Her hands were playing with his long ginger hair, which he had tied up in a ponytail all the time. As a response Charlie just pulled her even closer and started kissing her impetuously. His hands were running all over her in a silk covered body, grabbing her thighs firmly before lifting her up and pressing his girlfriend against the wall. Y/n wrapped her legs around his waist, pressing his hard crotch against her hips, just one layer of tartan separated him from her sweet entrance. Her hands were running over his strong arms trailing the freckles on his skin up to his shoulders again before she buried her fingers in his hair. When the ginger started kissing and sucking on her neck, she couldn't help but moan his name quietly. As if this was a signal Charlie stopped and breathed against y/n's soft skin: "We should continue outside, princess…" one soft kiss more on her cheek, " It'll be worth it, I promise."

It was a warm summer day without any breeze. The crystal clear sky above them seemed like a perfect invitation for their plan. Fedir was already waiting on a small hill, his silver scales glistening in the sunlight. When seeing the couple coming closer, he spread his wings on the ground to make it easier for them to climb up his back. "How do we actually...sit here, Charlie?", y/n asked slightly doubting that anything would work out on there. Her boyfriend smirked: "Let me handle this, love." Before she knew, he already lifted her up with ease and pulled her on his lap, which made her gasp of surprise and affection. Through the delicate fabric covering her thighs, she could already feel his hardness, so she started to get more confident again. As if Charlie could read her mind, he pulled her even closer, his strong hands on her back, wandering underneath the silk. "Looks like we can get on, now", the dragon tamer growled with a voice as deep as the ocean but as warm and sweet as fresh honey. He even smelled like this, which made y/n go crazy everytime she noticed. Just like at this exact moment. She pressed her lips eagerly on his, her hands on his warm face, pressing her body on his with pure relish. With a small, almost unnoticeable hand sign, Charlie told the dragon to fly off. The moment they raised into the afternoon sky, he mumbled into the kiss, telling his heated girlfriend to hold onto him. So she did, wrapping her legs around his waist, her arms around his neck, her hands tangled softly in his hair and her cooch exposed towards his hips. He could feel her getting wet, what made him even more excited to go further. His hands wandered from her back to her bum, squeezing it firmly while one hand went around her hips in between her thighs and up to her slit. There he started to caress her clit with his fingers and he knew exactly how to make her feel good. When feeling him down there y/n started moaning into the fiery kisses, Charlie taking the chance to slide his tongue in her mouth dancing with hers as if they were two snogging teenagers again. The air between them was getting hotter with every second, their bodies burning from lust and desire for each other. Sometimes a low breeze was waving through them causing some goosebumps on their skin. But the lovers didn't mind at all, it made them feel like being completely free. "I want you, Charlie.", her voice sounded quite desperate, "Please." To emphasize her craving for his hard cock, she pressed herself onto his lap slowly moving back and forth, slightly massaging him to get even harder. Her hand stroke over his broad shoulders, down to his strong tensed biceps, back again to his muscular chest where she dag into his freckled skin. Charlie hissed quietly due to the short pain but it turned him on even more, since he knew she was doing this because she wanted him really bad. And he liked that. So he opened his kilt and pushed the tartan fabric aside, exposing his huge, stiff member. Without hesitation he scooped up his girlfriend with one arm, his hand leaving her wet slit to get a hold on her thigh. The sudden cold air between her legs made her shiver for a second before the dragon they were sitting on was flapping his wings, making her lose balance and Charlie's hard cock sliding into her all of a sudden. Both gasped in surprise, the sudden pleasurable feeling running down their spines, stirring up the already heated atmosphere between them even more. Y/n's hands laid on her boyfriends warm, freckled shoulders, her legs tensed and pressed against his thighs, moving rhythmically up and down to give Charlie the pleasure he deserved. To show his appreciation, he pulled her hair slightly back, so her neck stretched and he could cover her in kisses, most of them soft but sometimes he couldn't help but sucking on her skin, leaving small hickeys. His lips rushed over her neck and throat, his tongue traced her muscles and veins down to her breasts where he started to carefully bite her nipples. All of this made y/n even more wet, she moaned out loud since nobody

was up there to hear them anyway, her arms were embracing Charlie's strong body tighter with every thrust of him inside her. The dragon's wavelike motion intensified the pounding of his huge cock inside her, hitting her G-spot, slowly getting her to the edge. She could feel he was almost ready, too. His body moved more erratically, his hands grabbed her breasts and bum more roughly, his whole behaviour became more demanding, more eager. The thrusts got faster. Her moans got louder. Their kisses got more fierce, tongues nearly battling to win over the other. Heat was rising up in both of them. "Oh fuck...Charlie…", every word of hers was just breathed heavily between snogging, "I-I'm about to come…" She moaned the last words out loud, feeling his hot breath against her cheeks when he begged her to wait for him. "Let's...come together", his voice sounded raucous, as if a warm firewhiskey was running down his throat. Charlie took y/n blushing face in his right hand, making her look at him, locking his amber eyes with her y/e/c ones. "Fuck...babe...I-" - "...love you." she smiled briefly when finishing his sentence, putting his freckle covered face in her hand as well, reaching her climax shortly before he did. A wave of pure heat, serotonin and delight was rushing through their bodies. He still thrusted a few times after that, wanting to make her feel good. Her body collapsed on his, shivering and sweating heavily. His face still in her hand y/n laid her forehead on his one, her sign of purest affection and love. Charlie's body relaxed then as well, he let out a deep breath of satisfaction, smiling when she touched his face. "Damn, y/n. How did I get so lucky?", he chuckled. His girlfriend, completely out of breath, just chuckled, shrugging her shoulders and pecked his lips. His arms were scooping her body, lifting her up a little to get out of her. She shifted herself in a more comfortable position, sitting between his legs nowm the silky gown loosely hanging around her shoulders. The air around them was cooler now, but she wasn't cold, protected by her boyfriend's warm body, and he was never cold actually. "What about we keep enjoying this view up here a while, before taking some hot bath together, down on earth?" Y/n stressed the word hot with a small smirk, holding Charlie's hands who blushed a little but chuckled when she suggested this. "A hot bath seems perfect to me, princess." - "So round two then?" her smirk was getting wider. "Round two, then.", he winked, squeezing her slightly.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Taglist: @marturavera

[sailtoafarawayland]

The Chicken Debacle

Summary:  There’s nothing Emma loves more than watching her husband work up a sweat, but being right certainly comes in a close second. In which a hot day, a flock of fowl, and a naughty Emma work together to make good use of some patio furniture. 

Rating: Explicit 

Tags: Humor, Pregnant Emma, Pregnant Sex  

Many thanks to all of my lovelies over on the discord - a truly inspiring bunch who prompted my muse to take what was a rather frustrating real life situation and turn it into something a bit more fun, and a bit more naughty.  

AO3 - FF

The Chicken Debacle

“You're not going to help?” Killian asked, eyebrows darting up in surprise as he swept his arm across the backyard, gesturing toward the small flock of chickens currently digging through the garden and flower beds.

Emma caught the edge of her bottom lip between her teeth, her cheeks warming as she bit back a smile.

“Nope, sorry, babe,” she shrugged, running her hands down the large swell of her stomach, “I probably shouldn't be chasing chickens seven months pregnant. Besides, I'm not the one who forgot to shut the latch on the gate.”

His eyes narrowing at her accusation, Killian looked as if he were about to argue, but finally sighed and started toward the closest chicken, the heavyset, yellow fowl bobbing her head suspiciously as he drew near, her feathers ruffling as she shook herself and pecked viciously at the ground – readying herself for a fight, Killian imagined.

“I'll keep you company though,” Emma called out, grabbing her iced tea and laying back on the lounger – smothering a laugh behind her hand as her husband leaped toward the chicken only to have it kick up a cloud of mulch in his face and dart between his legs, making for the nearest bush.

“I'm very grateful indeed,” her husband quipped as he turned and reevaluated the situation, casting his eyes around the yard to see if there was anything he could use to ensnare the unsuspecting birds. “Enjoying your iced tea, Swan?”

“Yup, delicious,” she purred, enjoying the way the hot sun was glancing off the sheen on his chest, the summer hot enough that even the smallest amount of activity outside was enough to make them both sweat. “Perfect for a hot day – oh, our little one just kicked!”

A look of genuine contentment washed over Emma's face as she rested her free hand on her belly, her hair falling to frame her cheeks as she whispered something he couldn't hear to the child growing within her – and just like that the frustration fell from his shoulders, replaced with a love so deep he wouldn't begrudge his beautiful wife anything, not even the opportunity to hold something as trivial as the chicken gate over his head, but...that didn't mean he couldn't make his Swan work up a sweat of her own while doing it.

Emma had just looked up from the gently undulating swell of her belly when she saw Killian standing in the middle of their yard, his fingers folded around the edge of his shirt as he lifted the hem up and over his body, his abs and pectorals flexing as he tossed it to the ground nearby, shoulders rolling as he stretched and eyed the closest chicken with a determination Emma recognized immediately– those poor birds were in for it.

She watched as he lunged forward, his sneakers shifting in the grass as he chased the chicken toward a corner of the fencing, just managing to snatch it by the leg before carefully folding its wings in and lowering her over the fence back into the run, the only sign of a bruised ego some few ruffled feathers.

He rounded on the next bird, a smaller one that Emma liked to call Cinnamon – although they were pretty sure she'd never laid, and were somewhat concerned she didn't seem to know she was a chicken at all, preferring to spend her time stubbornly following around the chipmunks and squirrels that frequented the yard. While she wasn't the smartest of the bunch, she was quick, and Emma had to bite back a chuckle as Killian stumbled more than once trying to get near her – eventually giving up and moving on to the larger fowl digging in the raspberries.

Emma enjoyed the cool slip of iced tea down her throat as she feasted on her husband – his skin glistening in the sun as he moved, each hard line and muscle calling out to be touched, stroked, lavished with the sweep of her tongue as she slid her palms over the ridged planes of his stomach, moving lower until she could curl her fingers around the waistband of his shorts and slowly peel them down, her nose parting the thatch of dark curls that surrounded his thick, glorious –

“Ha!” Killian let out a triumphant yell, drawing Emma's mind back to what he was doing, two rather disgruntled looking hens fidgeting in his arms as he hurried them back to the pen and plopped them over the fence.

Her eyes were locked on her husband as he paused to catch his breath, his biceps curling as he ran his hands through his inky mop of hair, a curtain of it falling once more over his face as he bent and tightened the laces on one of his shoes, giving her an eyeful of just how firm and perfect his ass was in those particular shorts – if her husband wasn't made in the image of the gods, then she wasn't sure there ever was such a thing.

The straw she'd been sucking on finally let out a loud gurgle as she drained the last of her drink, her cheeks flushed as Killian turned around and shot her a look that said he knew exactly what she was thinking, and indeed, as she shifted on the lounger, she could feel her desire slick and wet between her legs – but there was still one chicken left to catch – Cinnamon, and her pirate wasn't one to give up before the job was done. She set the glass down on the patio, her fingers brushing against the firm coil of the hose they used for watering the garden, and as she watched Killian sprint across the yard after the last, stubborn bird, she got a perfectly wicked idea.

He'd made a few passes around the yard, Cinnamon dodging into the raspberries when he rooted her out of the garden, but no matter how quick he was, she was faster, her beady eyes never leaving him as she pranced through the grass like a tiny, cheeky dinosaur, always just out of arm's reach. It wasn't until he paused mid yard to catch his breath that Emma struck, the hose already primed and ready as she pulled the trigger and let a spray of cool water douse him, his muscles tensing as he jumped out of range and spluttered, wiping the rivulets of clear water from his eyes, his hair plastered to his head.

“Oh, you'll pay for that, Swan,” he promised, stepping forward with a dark intensity that had her scooting back on the lounge chair, her hands raised in front of her to ward off any tickling he was likely make her suffer.

“You looked so hot,” she begged, her voice rising an octave as he drew closer, droplets spraying from his hair as he shook his head and graced her with a sinful smirk, “hot and thirsty...I just thought – ”

She was about to scream, her body already on edge at the mere thought that he might tickle her, but then he stopped, both of their heads swiveling to the garden shed where they could here the clamor of something knocking and a plaintive bock that sounded for all the world like it was coming from the bottom of a well.

“Well, your punishment will just have to wait, love – that's too good an opportunity to pass up,” Killian grinning, walking swiftly to the shed where Emma could just see the fluffy bottom of Cinnamon framed by two flapping wings, her head stuck in the open neck of an old water can.

Triumphantly, Killian picked up both the bird and the can, soothing her with quiet sounds as he coaxed her free and dropped her back into the pen with her sisters, her soft orange feathers looking only a little worse for the wear as she rejoined the flock with a confused warble.

Emma's heart thumped in her chest as her husband finally turned his attention back to her, no more chickens to distract him, and advanced across the yard, the ripple of his muscles as he moved making her core clench and her nipples harden beneath her tank top – fuck if she didn't always want him, and pregnancy hadn't done anything but make that need more sharp, more constant.

“Killian,” she pleaded, licking her lips as he strode toward her, that same determination she'd seen earlier now focused entirely on her. “You could have gotten heat stroke. It's got to be ninety – ”

She yelped as his large hands gripped the bottom of the lounge chair and pulled it closer, its wheels grating against the patio as she held on, her bare foot running along the side of her leg in anticipation.

“You were quite right, love – I was getting quite thirsty.” Letting go of the chair, he kept his blue gaze locked on hers as his palms traced the firm lines of her calves, pressing deliciously into her muscles and sliding up towards her thighs as he leaned closer, “and now that you've sated that need, I can focus on more important matters.”

“Oh?” she breathed, every other part of her brain shutting down as her body screamed for him to touch her, to  take her right there on the lounge chair, “and what would that be?”

“Well, a bit of hard labor always makes a man hungry, Swan,” he growled, his hands swiveling to press against the inside of her knees, her legs falling open on the lounger as he filled the space between them, his fingers deftly pulling the adjustment on the side of the chair and carefully lowering the head rest so she was nearly flat, her view of him suddenly blocked by the roundness of their child – it was the only thing she missed, being able to see him so sinfully enjoying himself between her legs.

“And I intend to enjoy every last bite of my dessert,” he finished, his fingers making her jump as they brushed against her inner thigh, pushing the light fabric of her shorts and panties to the side as he exposed her. “I knew you'd already be sopping wet for me, love...”

Emma whimpered as she felt the welcome press of his stubbled cheek against her leg, his breath hot against her damp folds for only an instant before the sensation was washed away by his tongue lightly dragging through her arousal, her back arching as he curled the tip of it around her clit, just barely nudging beneath its hood to tease the sensitive nerves within.  

“Oh my god,” she hissed, her fingers wrapping tightly around the edges of the lounger as she pushed forward, desperate to have his mouth sealed over her, sucking and licking and making her feel as if she could shatter with one flick of his tongue – knowing she would. “Killian, please...”

“Now be a good girl,” he whispered, pulling back as she writhed closer. “I intend to savor this, just as you savored watching me chase those bothersome fowl around the yard.”

“You shouldn't have forgotten to lock the door,” Emma whined – why she was arguing, she wasn't sure, after all, it wasn't talking she wanted his mouth occupied with.

“Ah, but I didn't let the chickens out this morning,” he chided, licking a stripe along her leg before returning to her drenched folds, teasing along the edges of them as he drank down her essence. “I was dropping Henry off at work, if you recall.”

“Oh!” Emma gasped as his tongue slipped into her, stroking another wave of wetness from her walls as his lips massaged her flesh – oh, that was right, she remembered it now, letting them out, dropping the lid to the feed bin on her foot and forgetting to latch the gate. “Oh my god....fuck...Killian, please...”

She could feel his grin against her as he pushed her legs wider, the top of his head bumping against her belly as he moved up. The flat of his tongue licked straight through her wetness and encircled her clit, his lips pursing as he sucked on her small, swollen nub, his scruff razing her thighs and countering the overwhelming roll of pleasure that was spiraling between her legs.    

“So delicious, Emma,” he moaned between her sharp gasps, leaving her only a moment's relief before he returned to making her crumble around him, alternating between sucking and laving her clit, his fingers reaching between them to slide into her tight sheath, her walls grasping and pulling as soon as he entered, eager to be filled. “I could feast on you like this all day...”

Something between a cry and a scream fell from her lips as she clutched the lounger, the pleasure building in her core spiraling and writhing and threatening to pull her apart as his rough fingers stroked her swollen walls, his tongue darting down to swallow every drop of arousal that was slipping from her, his breath fast and needy against her hot flesh – and then with a rough press of his fingers and soft flicks of his tongue, she was falling, tumbling, breaking apart around his mouth as her orgasm rolled through her like a storm.

She eased her hips up without realizing what was happening, Killian's strong hands caressing her flesh at the same time he slipped her shorts from her body, leaving her half clothed in their backyard, her mind still spinning from his incredible mouth, the sounds of the outdoors and the cars in the distance only just filtering back to her.

“That was...”

“I know,” he smirked, tossing her shorts to patio as he hooked his fingers into his own and drew them down over the impressive length of his cock, its swollen thickness bobbing against his stomach with urgency, “and now that I've eaten, I think we can move onto taking care of my other needs.”

“Killian,” she rasped, her words muffled against the material of the lounger as he gently lifted and guided her, turning her still reeling body over so that her hips were raised in the air, her sopping folds open and framed by her pale thighs as her face rested against the cushion.

“Yes, love,” he hummed, drawing a groan from her as he ran his cock through her folds, coating it in her arousal before slapping it cheekily against her bottom. “Is there something you wanted to say, perhaps?”

“I left the...accidentally...” she mumbled, coherent thought fleeing her as she felt the thick press of the head of his cock against her pleading center, her folds parting around its velvet roundness as he slowly entered her.

“What was that, darling?” His hardness slid unhurriedly into her, his strong hands holding her achingly in place as she sought that burning fullness that came when he was in her completely, but her walls pulsed longingly around just the tip of him, anticipating when they would be stretched to their limit.

“Fuck...Killian, please, need you in me...all of you,” she begged, wriggling against his grip as he grunted and gave her a few shallow thrusts, the swollen head of his cock so close to that sensitive, ribbed place inside of her that would scream with pleasure as he rolled over it.

“Aye, I know what you need, Swan, but you won't get it just yet...” He pulled out slowly, his fingers grasping her full bottom and squeezing as he watched his cock slip from her, only the flushed, glistening edges of her folds still brushing against his sensitive flesh. “Not until you admit what you did.”

“I forgot,” she hissed in a rush of air, pushing hard against his grasp, his nails almost certainly leaving red marks in her pale skin as she struggled to slide herself back onto his hard length, needing it like she needed to breath. “I left the gate open for the chickens to get – get out...”

“There we are, Swan,” he crooned, his grip easing as he swatted her on the bottom and leaned forward, a keening whimper falling from her mouth as he lodged himself completely within her, her nails dragging across the cushion as she rolled her hips to adjust to his girth. “Now was that so hard?”

She would have laughed if she didn't think she would cry from how amazing it felt to have him buried inside of her, every inch of her core throbbing around him and begging to be stroked by his beautiful cock.

“Very hard,” she breathed, squeezing his member inside of her and reveling in the deep groan it pulled from his chest, a mischievous smile twisting her lips.  “Are you mad at me?”

“Never, Emma,” he whispered, his words ghosting along her back as he leaned over her and placed a reverent kiss to her shoulder, his hand trailing along her body until it came to rest against her swollen stomach, drawing small circles against her taut skin. “There's nothing I love more than indulging the beautiful...” He thrust roughly into her, her cry of pleasure lodging between his ribs like the most exquisite knife as he withdrew “...forgetful...”      Another drive of his hips buried him in her once more, her body trembling as her walls clung desperately to his cock “...mother of my child...”

A wavering cry hung between them as he sunk deeply into her again, stilling for only a moment before his hips snapped back and he set the punishing pace she was craving, greedy, desperate pleas falling from her lips as he pistoned into her, his skin burning with a heat that roared from deep in his gut to blaze along every inch of his body.

Emma clung to the lounger as Killian filled her over and over again, his member caressing the most intimate parts of her and pulling from her noises she'd only ever shared with him, her panting breaths lost amid the slap of their skin meeting, the back of her thighs stinging from the scrape of his hair as he pounded into her, whispering things into the air that had her core throbbing with sinful pride.

It didn't take them long, the hot sun beating down against them as he roared over her, her upper body limp and clutching the cushion beneath her as he finally came, the vicious pulsing of his cock sending her over that beautiful horizon once more, her tight sheath squeezing him as he washed her insides with his release, their bodies shivering and trembling together as those last waves licked their skin – electric and burning and perfectly right.

His cheek was rough and hot against her back as his cock finally softened and slipped from her, pulling a last whimper from her lips as her wet flesh was left cool and exposed, everything throbbing pleasantly. His fingers traced soothing lines along her legs and sides, a soft chuckle reverberating against her back.

“Something funny, pirate?” she murmured, her back starting to ache even though she felt too boneless to move.

“It just occurred to me that I may very well find the chickens loose more often after this...lovely afternoon interlude.”

“I make no promises,” she quipped.  

“I've have always said you've a little bit of pirate in you, Swan,” he rumbled, pinching her bottom before gently rolling her to lay sideways on the lounger, his arms pulling her close to his chest.

“Well, more than a little,” she reminded him, drawing his calloused palm over her stomach, their not-so-little pirate rolling happily against them both as they soaked in the warmth of another lazy afternoon. Everything was bathed in that burnt, hazy afterglow that comes with summer, nearly tempting them to fall asleep – at least until something moving across her field of vision had Emma's eyes springing open, her mouth opening in surprise.

“Is that...Killian, did you check that the latch was actually shut after you put the chickens back in?”

Her husband's stubble scraped her skin as he peeked over her shoulder and watched the slow march of fowl making their way around the edge of the garden, scratching and pecking and looking far more recuperated from their last encounter than he currently felt.

“Bloody hell...”  

END

Tagging: @justanother-unluckysoul​ @kmom0f4 @the-darkdragonfly @teamhook @zaharadessert​ @xarandomdreamx @jrob64 @wefoundloveunderthelight​ @tiganasummertree​ @pirateprincessofpizza @lfh1226-linda @alexa-fangirl-forever @alifeofdreams @superchocovian @donteattheappleshook @hollyethecurious @caught-in-the-filter @snowbellewells @itsfabianadocarmo @stahlop 

[leafsbabe]

love you - Nolan Patrick and Travis Konecny

You were in the middle of setting up your sleeping bags when Nolan’s laugh made its way into your ear. While he prefered to keep up a stoic front for the media you’ve come to be spoiled by it in private during the last few months. Suddenly Travis’ laugh joined Nolan’s and you couldn’t help but smile more. Curious as to what made them laugh so hard you stuck your head out of the big tent you had brought along to look at your two boys. Nolan was sitting on his butt behind one of the logs surrounding the fireplace. He was curled up, laughing full force, his cheeks tinted a dark red and an expression full of joy.

Travis on the other hand was laying close to the water, his cargo shorts tangled around his legs and his face full off mud, laughing so hard tears left tracks through it. The entire scene was too funny for you to not join in on their laughter. Once the three of you calmed down they explained the situation to you. Nols wanted to start a fire for dinner whereas Teeks thought that going skinny dipping would be a great afternoon activity. Only he slipped still half clothed and fell face first into mud which caused Nolan to laugh so hard he fell over the log on the ground.

Since Travis had to take a dip to clean up anyway you decided that skinny dipping sounded like a nice thing to do, both to cool down from the summer heat and tease your boys a little. Without any hesitation you pulled your dress over your head, grinning to yourself when their looks automatically went to your nearly naked body.

“Last one in the water has to cook dinner tonight!” You laughed as you pulled your underwear down and took of into the lake.

Travis and Nolan where both yelling behind you but instead of listening to their bickering you simple dipped your head under water, drowning out the noise. When you ran out of breath you come up again, wet hair clinging to your body, seeing TK and Nolan watching you closely. Their eyes ran up and down your partially hidden figure.

it was Travis that broke the silence. “Nolan was last.” He said, eyes still fixated on where your breast breaching the surface.

“Okay so Nolan has to cook.” You smiled at them before splashing them directly in the face.

Of course they retaliated and before you knew it you had a full on water fight until two strong arms wrapped around your body and pulled you against a warm hard body. Grinning you spun around, planting a big fat smooch on whichever man had managed to grab you. From the kiss alone you immediately knew it was Nolan. One of his hands went up to your jaw, moving your chin up a bit so he could deepen the kiss while his other arm pulled you tighter against him. You got lost in the feeling of him and the way he slowly moved his thigh between your legs, giving you something to grind against.

A cold swall of watered covered you both, causing you to pull away in a shriek. TK stood a few feet away, a smug little smile on his face. “I thought Patty was supposed to go make dinner?”

Sighing Nolan pulled away from you but not before he gave you one last kiss. On his way out of the lake he splashed the grinning Travis, who only began to smile harder.

“I’m sorry baby,” he said, sliding into the spot Nolan had vacated, “I know he got you all hot and then had to leave but I’m here to help,” It was kind of a dick move but both of them were hot as fuck so you didn’t hold a grudge. You let TK pull you close and run his hands over your body. The lake water was cool enough to make your nipples harden on your chest and his gaze immediately drops to them again. Whereas Nolan kept his hands on your waist to help you grind against him Travis lets his roam free. Just a gentle touch all over before He touches your core. His finger feels wonderfully warm against your clit before they wander towards your fold and in your head you’re screaming ‘do it’ only for him to move on with nothing more than a teasing touch.

His hands wandered down your thighs before he grabbed your ass and lifting you up up high for you to wrap your legs around his waist. The water made it easier for TK to hold you up, one arm below your butt and the other one reaching up to run his fingers along the outline of your now exposed breast. More of your upper body was outside of the water now and the slight wind caused goosebumps to form across your skin. You knew exactly why he had lifted you up.

The TK’s mouth on your cheat was overwhelming. He didn’t play around, just sucked one of your nipples into his mouth and engulfed the hard nub with warmth. His tongue toyed with it for a moment before Nolan’s voice rang around the campsite. “Dinner’s ready.”

Travis playfully lightly bit down on your nipple making you squeal in surprise before he moved to put you back down. “Way to ruin the moment, Patso.”

“Don’t pout asshole, you did the same.” Came the reply.

The two of you left the water to join Nolan for dinner. Still feeling very much in the mood you didn’t bother to change back into the clothes you wore before, instead choosing to steal one of the guys hoodies in the tent and your sleep shorts. Wrapping your wet hair in a towel you walked back out to find TK already sitting next to Nolan on the fireplace logs so you decided to plop down on the other side of him.

“What’s for dinner?” You asked. While you all did the shopping for your camping trip together there were still several options and the smell gave nothing away except that it was grilled over the fire.

Nolan handed you a plate already filled up. “Those weird sausages from that store TK likes and veggies. I made you some separately tho since i know you don’t like them.”

Knowing Nolan remembered made you feel warm inside. It was the small things in life.

“Oh and i got that soda from that one store hipster store you like, it’s in the cooler but i can get it for you if you want to.” You knew exactly what store he meant but you also knew that it was across Philly and would have spent ages driving there just for your favorite soda. He would never admit to it out loud but you knew Patty was the biggest softie.

“Thank you Nolan,” You gave him a sweet soft kiss before leaning into his side, “You’re the best.”

On the other side of Nolan Travis stood up abruptly before walking to the cooler and coming back with your fancy hipster soda and two beers for himself and Nols. “See i can be sweet too. Nolan just got his dumb service kink or whatever.” He grumpily gave each of you your bottles.

“Oh Teeks,” you mumbled before pulling him to sit on your other side, essentially sandwiching yourself in between them. “You’re the best too, you don’t need to be jealous. Nolan just likes taking care of us and it’s very sweet of him to do so but that doesn’t make him a better part of this relationship than you and me, okay? We’re all equal.” Putting your plate down you pulled him into a hug once your lap was free again. He snuggled in for a moment before you felt Patty’s ong arms wrap around the two of you. He gave TK a giant smacking kiss on the head before mumbling “love you, asshole” to which Travis mumbled “love you too, bitch” back.

You finished dinner in peace. It was awesome and the seasoning and marinade on everything just pulled the entire meal together. You and TK quickly took care of the dishes since Nolan cooked for you earlier before you went and sat back down on the log and just watched the fire for a bit more. During the last few days you had talked a lot. Sharing childhood memories about going camping with friends or family. Telling each other of a close encounter with wildlife or bragging the size of fishes they had caught. It was sweet to just sit back and share stories and laugh together.

Before long you all decided to go to bed a bit earlier today. While you had stayed up late the days before and watched the stars in the sky, the hike you had undertaken earlier that day tired all three of you out so you made sure the fire would die down soon and then retreated back to your tent.

Your boys went all out when they had planned your trip and thankfully were able to borrow a giant tent from a teammate so all three of you fit in it comfortably. Instead of sleeping bags you just had a nice mat at the bottom and then the big summer blanket from your bed in Philly. Travis was already under it half asleep when you came back from brushing your teeth while Nolan still up putting his stuff back in the bags in the corner. Careful to not disturb Teeks you slid under the blanket and waited for Nolan to lie down as well. His large body laid down next to you and you immediately attached yourself to his side, turning so your back was to Travis. He used this opportunity to spoon up behind you, grinding his crotch against your ass just for good measure. With a sigh you rested your head on Nolan chest and closed your eyes, smiling softly when you felt TK reach over you to hold Patty’s hand while the three of you slept.

You woke to Travis very softly grinding something definitely not so soft against you. Blinking the sleep out of your eyes you waited for a moment before you heard his even breathing, confirming what you already thought. It wasn’t the first time TK grinded on you in his sleep and it would definitely not be the last. It was kinda cute that he couldn’t hold back from finding you so desirable, even in his sleep, but it woke the fire from yesterday in you again and now you wanted more.

Nolan was still asleep as well but he’d be easier to wake up. You trailed your hand over his chest, gently running your nails across his skin. When his breathing changed and you knew he was awake despite his still closed eyes your hand wandered down, gently touching him over his sweats. “Hmmmm, somebody’s in a good mood.” He mumbled, causing you to giggle quietly.

“I’m not the only one.” You whispered back, both meaning Travis who was still busy rutting against your butt and Nolan who was half hard under your hand.

He looked past you to Travis and what he was doing and instantly knew what your plan was. Nolan shimmied his sweats down under his butt to give you better access before bending down and taking your mouth in a soft and filthy kiss. You were still just petting at him, lightly teasing so the fun wouldn’t be over before Teeks could join. By turning more of your body and not just your attention to Nolan you were pushing your butt into Travis and his thrusts anyway so a bit of wiggling and pressing back surely wouldn’t hurt. You mind was racing, occupied by swallowing Nolan’s moans and continuing to tease him, and Travis who was so hot against your back, and the sheer amount of neediness you felt. It was almost like heaven when you felt Travis move behind you. You were so occupied by the situation that you had missed TK waking up until you felt his hand that had rested on the dip of your waist slide down into your sleep shorts and to your core. The feeling of his fingers touching your folds made you gasp, allerting Nols to the now awake Travis. His hand found it’s way to your jar, tilting your head just right so that he could kiss you again while TK’s skilled fingers carefully avoided your clit and instead began to explore your pussy. His hips stopped moving with intent and instead his focus was turned towards you.One of his fingers entered you and you couldn’t help but sigh against Nolan’s mouth. You had been craving the feeling of something inside you for hours so even one of his talented fingers made you feel slightly overwhelmed. You hand on Nolan’s dick stopped but he didn’t see to care, instead running his hands over your arms and body, under the hoodie you stole from them and to your breasts. As Travis gave you a second finger Nolan started playing with them. Pinching your nipples and grabbing your boobs in his big hands. The idea of the two of them just playing with you was one of your favorite fantasies but you needed more.

“Please.” You gasped out, desperate for anything they were willing to give you. Your eyes were closed in an attempt to hold yourself together but you knew that they were silently communicating above your head.

Nols moved your face a bit so you could look at him. “Do you want to suck me off while Teeks fucks you, love?” His tone was so gentle and sweet and you knew that even after everything if you didn’t say yes now they’d both immediately stop. But you needed it.

“Please.” You begged him, desperate for it.

It was quick work getting rid of your shorts and arranging your bodies. At first you whimpered when Travis removed his fingers but seconds later they were replaced by his dick and you couldn’t help but loudly moan. Finally.

It wasn’t the hard fucking you were expecting but rather both men decided to take their time. Travis trust into you languidly, trying to savour every moment and every moment not spent moaning Nolan was telling you how good your lips felt wrapped around his dick and gently petting your hair or playing with your breasts. They took their time playing with you.

“Baby,” Nolan began, causing you to glance up at him, “I’m about to come, okay? You do whatever you want, swallow or let me finish on you, or whatever you want. Fuck, you’re hot!” Feeling challenged you knew exactly what you wanted. You took him even deeper, desperate to make him finish and show him just how sweet and hot you could be for him. He moaned loudly and seconds later you could feel him pulsing on your tongue. You quickly swallowed everything before pulling off, pressing on last little kiss to his tip.

“I love you.” He breathlessly mumbled as he fell back, all his energy completely spent on you.

Behind you Travis took this as his sign that it was your turn now and gently helped you move over until your head was gently resting on Nols thighs while he doubled his efforts. His thrust gained power and he became fast and it was obvious he was chasing his own high but you knew he’d never allow himself to come first, always putting your pleasure before his. Fingers found your clit again and were seeing sparks.

When you came too again Nolan was wearing pants again but Travis was still holding himself above you. Sometimes after sex he liked to stay inside of you for a bit and just feel where you are connected. He was pressing small little kisses all over your shoulder.

“You okay?” Nolan asked from beside you, running his hands through your hair again. You smiled up at him before a yawn interrupted.

“Yeah, but now i’m tired again. What time’s it? Do we have to get up already?” TK grumbled against your skin again and and that moment you really wanted to go back to napping with him.

Nolan checked his phone real quick before turning his attention back on you. “It’s still early love. You can go back to sleep for a bit while i go make breakfast, okay?” His smile was soft and sleepy and once again you were overcome with nothing but sweet pure love for him.

“Okay. Love you.” You smiled before pursing your lips at him in an exaggerated way, silently asking for a kiss.

“Love you too.” Nolan bend down to press one against your mouth before getting up and leave the tent.”

Travis was still laying on top of you but you knew napping would be nicer in a different position.”Told you he has a service kink.” He grumbled as he shifted from you and back to your side.

You let out a little sigh when the movement caused him to slide out of you, already missing the feeling of his warmth stretching you out. “Come on,” You said, rolling to your side so you were spooned to his front like you were last night. “Can you put it in again?” Travis complied wordlessly, entering you again and pulling you closer with his arms around your waist.

You just took a second to enjoy the moment, one beautiful boy preparing coffee for you and another beautiful boy beside you in bed. You never truly understood what you did to deserve being loved by both of them but you wouldn’t change it for anything in this world. “I love you.” You whispered into the tent, behind you Travis was already snoring softly.

[cheri-translates]

[CN] Kiro’s Variety Show Date (Eng Translation)

🍒 Warning: This post contains detailed spoilers for a date which has not been released in English servers! 🍒

The call before this date is important in establishing the context! Please read it first: here

This post is dedicated to @kudoriee​, who is an adorable and pure-hearted soul with a lot of love to give 💕 Hope you’ll enjoy this!!

Kiss Dates Collection: Gavin // Lucien // Victor

Note: This date is mostly a bullet point summary because a lot of details were just fillers. The important scenes that you’re probably here for have been fully translated, no worries! 😂

The date begins with the film crew outside Kiro’s house, with the host staging the whole “surprise visit” thing we typically see in reality shows

They take a plane to the island where the show would be filmed

Once they reach the island, the show officially begins. Kiro isn't the only guest on the show, so they just introduce themselves and start doing tasks

The host asks Kiro who he most wants to visit the seaside with, but Kiro says that it’s a secret

At one point, the host suggests a volleyball game, and that the winner would get an award - a cold soft drink

Because the program team is extremely stingy with their budget, everyone perks up at the idea of getting something for free

Of course, Kiro groups with MC

Even though MC worries that she’d be a burden, Kiro sweetly says “As compared to winning or losing, being happy is most important!”

Her physical strength is no match for their opponents, but Kiro’s strategy enables them to win

The volleyball game takes up 1/3 of the date and there’s nothing worth mentioning...

...apart from this CG making Kiro look like an otter holding a sea urchin:

As the triumphant victors, they attain the coveted prize - the cold soft drink

MC blushes furiously after Kiro drinks directly from the bottle because sure, indirect kisses are so raunchy.

Afterwards, they have some alone time and walk along the beach while the sun sets:

MC: When the host asked who you most wanted to go to the seaside with, why didn’t you respond?

Kiro turns his head and looks at me with a surprised expression. Then, he laughs.

Kiro: You really don’t know the answer?

His shadow falls into my eyes, like a cloud blocking the sky behind it.

MC: I…

Kiro: I’ll bring you to a place first!

MC: Where-

Kiro pulls me into a run, towards the direction of the sunset, as though we’re chasing the vanishing light on the beach. Very soon, the big rocks on the shore enter my vision.

Kiro: Hurry and look, this is the place.

Kiro pulls me along as we walk closer, pointing at a shadowy area. There are two unremarkable, mutually independent rocks.

But the shadows they cast on the golden sand look like a couple snuggled up with each other.

This scene is fleeting. Very soon, the snuggling shadow disappears along with the final ray of light.

Before a sense of regret creeps in, Kiro suddenly leans in close. The colour of the dusk in his eyes grow dark.

I close my eyes without realizing it, and feel a soft and moist touch. It starts off tentative, then becomes demanding.

Our fingers are entwined tightly, heartbeats like loud cicadas, becoming even more urgent with every beat.

Only the waves retain their original rhythm, and continually wash onto the shore.

And then the scene abruptly cuts to MC being in the hotel alone

The program team suddenly sends her a message telling everyone to gather on the beach for an activity

On the beach, the host says they're going to play a game where everyone writes a challenging activity and put it into the box. If you pick it, you have to do what’s written on the piece of paper

Kiro goes first

Host: “Let me see – let one guest on the scene sit on your back and do twenty push-ups!”

Obviously he picks MC, and we get a description of Kiro’s back muscles:

With a palm on his back, I can feel his tense muscles through the thin material of his shirt, and the sweat that is slowly oozing out.

After that, it’s MC’s turn

She has to answer this question: “Who are you most willing to elope with?”

Kiro: I really want to know the answer to this question!

After some thought, MC responds.

MC: I’d pick my good partner, our host for this show.

Host: Are you sure you’d pick me?!

And then the lights suddenly go out (totally not Kiro’s fault). 

As everyone starts panicking, someone grabs her wrist.

Kiro: Let’s leave this place.

Before I have time to think, I’ve already been pulled away by Kiro in the middle of the chaos.  

We leave the sound of voices far behind us. At this moment, only starlight illuminates our path.

Shadows from the surrounding trees are cast on the surface of the water, and everything becomes quiet.

Just when we think we’re safe, a familiar profile, with a phone pressed to his ear, suddenly appears.

Savin: What happened? Why did the power suddenly go out?

Kiro: Oh no.

Seeing that Savin is about to bump into us, Kiro reacts quickly by pulling me into a pond shrouded by fallen branches.

Splashes of water can be heard, but they are quickly overshadowed by the sound of the faraway waves.

Kiro: Don’t move.

Kiro uses his hand to hold me in front of him, his eyes following Savin’s impending figure. This corner should be sufficiently covered by the surrounding plants.

I hold my breath nervously, and dare not move an inch. Kiro’s lips press against my ear, and he says in an incredibly soft and breathy voice.

Kiro: If we didn’t leave just now, would you have “eloped” with someone else?

In the middle of his phone call, Savin seems to sense that something is wrong, and he tosses a glance in our direction.

My body tenses up immediately, but Kiro continues waiting for my response, so I explain in a soft voice.

MC: That was just a game… the answer I gave was the safest one.

However, this answer doesn’t satisfy Kiro. He tightens his arms around me and holds me closer, creating ripples on the water surface.

Kiro: Even if it’s a game, you’re not allowed to do that.

There is a hidden danger in his soft voice. His half-lidded eyes contain an emotion which I’m unfamiliar with.

MC: Kiro?

My instincts make me feel like escaping, but lips dotted with water droplets are already trailing from my earlobe downwards. They stop at the side of my neck and suck gently.  

Seeming to have an intention to punish, he grips that small patch of skin between his teeth, rubbing it lightly then releasing it. He uses the tip of his tongue to lick the area soothingly.

MC: Mm…

I bite down on my lower lip hard to suppress the sound that’s about to rise from my throat. My arm holds onto the only support preventing me from slipping into the cold water. The beating of my heart is almost too much to bear.

Without realizing it, Savin has already left. All that remains are the moving shadows of trees on the water.

Kiro: Didn’t you want to know who I most wanted to go to the seaside with?

The voice in my ear is slightly breathless, but firm.

Kiro: It’s you. Whether it’s Summer or the beach, you are the only one who cannot be absent.

Kiro’s fingers lift the hair covering the side of my neck, his fingertip gently caressing the mark he has left behind.

Kiro: Now, this place has my marking.

His tone is accompanied by a low, satisfied laugh, and a possessive desire.

The fingers on my back follow the trail of water and snake downwards. Blazing heat follows his movements, gradual yet eager, as they flow over every inch of my skin.

His breath lays siege, filling every crevice in my body, wet and lingering.

Even so, Kiro is not yet satisfied. His arms hold me even tighter, and he uses his fingertips and lips to hold me prisoner in this secret corner, and I am unable to withdraw.

Kiro: Miss Chips, you belong to me. So, I won’t let you escape this time.

His searing breath takes over mine. I am unable to tell if it’s water droplets or sweat that slowly trickles down our tightly-pressed skin.

In our misty vision, dots of starlight pass through the trees, and are scattered across the surface of the water. Suppressed gasps diffuse near our ears, and are amplified by our senses.  

The water sways continuously like a tide, gently wrapping two hearts that are about to merge into one.

And the breaths of the sea breeze render the night even more blurry.

[charincharge]

Cruel Summer, Part 19

cruel summer masterlist

AN: Another chunky 4k chapter, and this is only the first half. It was so long and unruly, that I split it in two. (Which means a fast update!). I could have taken out the gratuitous smut and made it shorter, but... I felt like it needed it. So, that said: NSFW. 

Rowan knows he’s playing with fate every time he sneaks into Aelin’s room, but he can’t stop himself. With the end of summer barreling towards him, he needs to spend as much time with her as possible. The hours he’s at work without her are pretty much torture. So, in the last few days since Aelin has moved back into her room, he can’t help but spend every night sharing her bed; it’s their problem-free oasis. Despite everything else, sex is something they are incredibly good at.

Tonight, though, Rowan has to share Aelin, and he’s feeling pretty grumpy about it. That is, until he sees her emerge onto her back patio in the smallest bikini known to man – just a few scraps of black fabric held together with gold rings. It takes all his self-control to keep his hands by his sides. He clenches his hands in fists, reminding himself he can’t run his hands all over her curves. Not until later, at least.

“That bathing suit is indecent, Ace,” Elide says with a laugh, grabbing the chips and guac from Aelin’s hands.

“That’s the point, babe.” Aelin spins, revealing her mostly exposed backside, and Rowan chokes on his own sharp inhalation of air. When Aelin turns to him, her blue eyes are sparkling with mischief and Rowan has to force himself to look away, trying to cool down his warm face which is flushed with desire.

He finds Lorcan, eyes glued to the floor, his hand on his neck, uncomfortably avoiding eye contact with Aelin.

Aelin remains unfazed. She then stares Rowan down, eyes wide and innocent.

“Rowan, want to help me grab some wine from downstairs?”

Rowan doesn’t need to be asked twice. Aelin runs down the basement stairs, and Rowan bounds after her, skipping every other stair until they’re shutting themselves away in the wine cellar, just the two of them. His arms wrap around her bare waist as he pulls her into his chest, and he loves the way she melts into him. Her mouth is on his immediately, and he moans against her tongue.

“I missed you,” he mumbles against her lips, walking her further into the wine cellar.

“I missed you more.” She breathes heavily as she turns them around and backs Rowan into the small table and chairs in the middle of the cellar. Her eyes are wild as she pushes down on his shoulders, and Rowan sits in the chair, obeying the woman in front of him. Aelin’s hands run down his bare chest and down his thighs, and he groans loudly.

“Quiet,” she whispers, a devilish gleam in her eye. Rowan is constantly flustered by her, and now is no exception. He sputters out a slew of conflicted statements as Aelin sinks to her knees between his legs. He looks at the cellar’s stone floor and tugs on Aelin’s arm, trying to coax her back up. It’s not that he doesn’t want this. He absolutely does.

“Aelin, everyone is upstairs. We don’t have time to…”

“We’ll make it fast then,” she giggles.

She runs her hands up his legs, and she kisses his knee. That’s all it takes for his will to break. Fuck it. She can do whatever she wants with him.

“That won’t be a problem,” Rowan laughs, lifting his hips slightly to help her pull down his swim trunks.

His erection springs free, and her hands immediately wrap around the thick base. Rowan swears softly as she lightly kisses the tip. Her eyes burn with fire, silently assuring him that she’s exactly where she wants to be, as her mouth descends over him.

Rowan pants as Aelin teases him with her mouth, rubbing her lips and tongue up and down as her hand starts to slide slowly up and down his length.

“Fuck, fuck fuck,” Rowan repeats to himself, like a centering chant as Aelin increases her pressure, her cheeks hollowing out as she sucks harder. He was right. This is going to be over way too fast. He’s afraid to put his hands in her hair for fear of slamming her head down too far, so he reaches for any place he can touch instead – her hand, her arm, her shoulder, her cleavage. She hums happily around him, and Rowan nearly loses it again.

He runs his finger inside the edge of her bikini top, eager to feel her bare breasts in his hand, but he’s surprised when he finds a small foil wrapper instead.

Aelin’s mouth pops off of him when he pulls the condom from her suit and dangles it between them. Her hand continues to stroke him slowly as a grin spreads across her face, one eyebrow quirked at him.

“Someone planned ahead,” he says, strained. Her thumb rubs across the head of his erection, and he bites his lip to stop himself from crying out into the echoing cellar.

“I told you I missed you.”

The devil woman uses Rowan’s grasp to help her rip the package with one hand. She rolls the condom onto him, and Rowan is left absolutely no time to process what’s happening as Aelin moves her bottoms to the side and lowers herself onto him in one quick maneuver.

Fast is the name of this game, and Rowan can’t bring himself to care one bit. Aelin is a woman on a mission as she rides him at a brutal pace, taking him in over and over until she’s writhing over him. He can feel her tiring of her fast pace, but he knows she’s close, and he’s been close since she first kissed the tip of his erection.

He digs his hands into her sides and helps her find her rhythm again. She uses her arms to leverage herself, her sharp elbows digging into his shoulders painfully. But he could care less. He wants more of her, always. He can feel his heart pounding with exertion as he bucks his hips up into her, and he gets a thrill of satisfaction as she cries out loudly, unprepared.

“Shhh,” he chuckles through his heavy breathing.

“Fuck me again,” she moans, and Rowan loses it. He thrusts up, again and again, slamming her hips hard onto his lap. Her quiet whimpers rise in pitch as she squeezes her eyes shut and convulses on top of him. She swears over and over as Rowan chases her high. As he shatters, he bites into her shoulder to prevent from screaming himself.

They collapse into each other as they finish, and Rowan practically purrs as he feels Aelin’s fingers scratching his scalp softly. Neither of them make a motion to leave, just sitting and breathing and touching each other softly. Their soft touches turn into soft kisses, and as Rowan opens his eyes to look at Aelin, he’s shocked to see her already looking at him.

“What?” he asks, pulling back, but she shakes her head. “Tell me,” he whispers against her skin. He nips at her neck again, and she laughs, pushing him away.

“I just…” she begins, and Rowan runs his hands up and down her back, now damp with a sheen of sweat. Her soft eyes disappear as a wicked smile crosses her face. “I just really needed that,” she laughs. He’s almost positive that’s not what she was going to say, but he accepts it.

“Any time.”

He kisses her again, tangling his fingers in her hair. As their kiss deepens, he hears Dorian’s upset voice – “Oh, Gods. Why? No!” he whines, upset.

Aelin gasps and climbs off Rowan’s lap as they spot Dorian behind them, hand slapped over his eyes.

“Is Rowan still inside you?” he whisper-yells, his voice miserable, and Rowan can feel himself turning so red, he’s not sure he’ll ever be able to look at Dorian again. He quickly pulls up his trunks and tosses the condom into the trash as Aelin fixes her bikini and pulls her hair up into a high ponytail.

“Not anymore,” she grumbles. Dorian groans again. “You’re good,” Aelin assures him, and Dorian peaks through a crack in his fingers and sighs.

“It was bad enough to hear it all those weeks ago, but to see it…” Dorian shudders, and so does Rowan. He hadn’t even thought… Oh gods, poor Dorian. “I’ll never be the same, Ace.”

Aelin frowns and grabs two bottles of wine and hands them to him. “That’s what you get for barging in.”

Dorian gapes as he snatches the wine from her. “You were barely gone for ten minutes, and I thought you could use an extra hand! How was I supposed to know that…” He pauses. “You know what? Never mind. This is on me. I should have assumed…” He mutters under his breath, “Horny monsters,” as he exits the cellar and trudges up the stairs.

Aelin grabs two more bottles and hands one to a still-blushing Rowan. She kisses his pink cheek lightly. “He’ll get over it.”

They follow Dorian up the stairs and back out to the pool, where Elide and Lorcan are already situated in the hot tub, both of them with their long dark hair up in matching top knots, Rowan notes much to his amusement. He watches jealously as Lorcan wraps his arm around Elide’s small shoulders. She looks up at him with a happy smile, proudly tucked beneath his large arm and rests her chin on his broad chest. Rowan would give anything to be able to touch Aelin so freely, so casually. But sadly, they’re at her house, and her parents could come outside at any moment. So, he’s resigned to sit next to her awkwardly, with his hands to himself.

Dorian uncorks the wine and pours some for everyone while Aelin and Rowan climb into the steaming water. Rowan sinks in and groans. The heat feels incredible against his recently active muscles. Dorian throws him a dirty glare, and Rowan begins to apologize for what he walked in on, but Dorian stops him.

“Let’s just forget it.” Rowan nods succinctly as Dorian pours him a too large glass of wine.

As he takes his first sip, Elide bursts out laughing. Her nose crinkles, and she buries her face into Lorcan’s shoulder, who seems surprised by the contact.

“What’s so funny?” Lorcan asks, poking at Elide’s arm.

“Aelin,” Elide drawls, staring at her friend with amusement. “You were gone for like fifteen minutes, max.” She pauses and touches her own neck, motioning for Aelin to do the same. “Really?”

Flustered, Aelin’s hand goes to the spot on her shoulder, mirroring Elide. Rowan realizes that is where he very recently sunk his teeth into her, and his blush returns in full force. He takes a large gulp of wine.

As Aelin moves her hand, Rowan sees the spot is already a dark red-purple ring, the fresh bruise blooming against her tanned skin. He hadn’t realized how hard he bit her.

Lorcan barks out a loud laugh as he sees it. His eyes flick to Rowan and then back to Aelin. And then back to Rowan.

“Huh.” Lorcan seems thoughtful as he assesses the situation between his coworker and his boss’s daughter. “Nice work,” Lorcan says, and Rowan can’t resist smirking.

Aelin’s blue eyes go wide with panic as she realizes what’s happened and shoves Rowan’s arm. “How bad is it?” she asks, and Lorcan replies for him.

“Pretty bad.”

“I hate you,” she seethes at Rowan, and Elide laughs again.

“Kinda looks like the opposite of that,” the tiny brunette cackles.

Aelin sticks out her tongue and takes a long sip of her wine.

Dorian grumbles as he finds a spot in the water between the two couples. “I hate being the fifth wheel. I should have invited a date tonight.”

Aelin pats his arm and smiles. “And who would that have been? Random bar girl? Random yacht girl? Or random beach girl?”

“I know their names!” Dorian insists. “One was Sorcha. One was Kaltain. And one was….” He pauses, thinking hard. “One was…”

“Exactly,” Aelin smirks.

Dorian pouts, but Rowan can tell he’s already forgiven Aelin for the awkwardness he walked in on earlier.

“Well,” Elide interrupts the best friends’ back and forth. “Now that your cat’s out of the bag, can you do me a huge favor?”

Aelin nods, coaxing her friend to continue.

“Since you’ll be at the staff overnight, I was wondering…” Lorcan coughs and hides most of his face behind his large hand as Elide continues, clearly preparing himself for embarrassment. Rowan is curious what favor Elide plans on asking if it already has Lorcan riled up. “Can we swap rooms so Lorcan and I can sleep together?”

Aelin gasps and draws her hand to her chest dramatically. “Elide?! My responsible park manager wants me to help her break the rules? You know boys and girls bunk separately!”

Elide splashes towards Aelin, who squeals. “Shut up and share the wealth. Some of us haven’t gotten laid yet this summer!”

Aelin gapes and looks between the pair of brunettes. “For real? You haven’t… yet? But it’s been like a month!”

“I know,” Elide deadpans, sliding her eyes to the man next to her, who despite being three times her size looks like he’s trying to shrink and hide behind her, sliding down into the water as far as possible.

Lorcan groans, hiding more of his face. “Ellie… they don’t need to know…”

“What?” Elide continues. Her lack of embarrassment reminds Rowan of Aelin’s brazen attitude. It’s no wonder the two girls are friends. They never mince their words. “My studio is so tiny, I only have a twin bed. And it’s not like I’m an acrobat, but have you seen him? He’s huge.” Aelin can’t help but snicker, and Rowan elbows her lightly in the ribs upon seeing Lorcan sink even further into the water, his face in flames. “And Lorcan has like two thousand roommates. Okay, it’s just three. But someone refuses to bed me with them around.”

Lorcan mutters quietly. “The walls are too thin…”

Aelin holds up her hands. “I would have insisted we swapped regardless.” She looks at Lorcan. “You think I’d let you two share a room? I know how irresistible this guy is,” she says, poking Rowan’s arm. “No way. I don’t trust Lorcan as far as I can throw him.”

Lorcan blushes furiously, and Rowan realizes for the first time that the manager he thought was quiet and grumpy has really just been incredibly shy this whole time.

“Nor should you.” Lorcan winks at Rowan through his blush, and Rowan insists that everyone needs more wine if they’re all going to start flirting with each other.  

“MAEVE!” Dorian screeches out of nowhere, and the group all turns to him with confused looks on their faces. He points to Aelin. “That was the name of random beach girl. Maeve.” He looks so proud of himself, his chest puffed out and his blue eyes wide with vindication, and the hot tub devolves into laughter.

The five of them lounge and drink and banter until their fingers start to become pruney.

Amidst their laughter, the back door slides open and Rhoe and Evalin come out to say goodnight to everyone. Aelin turns and places her hand on her shoulder, expertly covering her bruise and smiles innocently.

“We’ll wrap up soon,” Aelin says to her dad.

“Not necessary,” Rhoe says, waving her off. “Stay as late as you want. We’re more than happy to have your friends here.”

Rowan notices that Evalin doesn’t say a word. In fact, since Aelin’s returned to her house, he’s not even sure she’s spoken with her mom at all. He’s been too nervous to ask about the fight and subsequent makeup, and Aelin hasn’t offered him any information. He doesn’t want to press.

Lorcan looks at the time and says they should probably get going anyway. Work waits for no man. Or woman, he adds, looking adoringly at Elide. Elide scrunches her nose and kisses his cheek, and Aelin snorts into her wine. But the open affection shared between the pair once again makes Rowan burn with envy. He longs to even put his arm around Aelin’s shoulders, but instead, he sits stiffly beside her, cautiously keeping his free arm attached to his side.

As Aelin’s parents head into the house, Aelin leans over and whispers into Rowan’s ear. “You’re staying, right?”

Rowan nods and startles slightly as Aelin slides her hand over his thigh.

“Again?” Dorian complains. “At least wait until we’re gone…”

Dorian’s words spur Aelin to get everyone out of the house as quickly as possible. As soon as everyone hoses off in the outdoor shower and changes back into their clothes, Aelin is slamming the door and saying goodnight to everyone loudly.

She and Rowan head upstairs quietly and shut the door behind them, immediately falling onto her bed, limbs wrapped around each other.

“Did I mention I missed you today?” Aelin breathes against his mouth, and Rowan chuckles.

“A few times, yeah.” He smiles against her lips, happy to have her all to himself again, when there’s a loud knock on the door.

“Aelin?” Evalin’s voice calls through the door. “Can I come in?”

Rowan’s never seen Aelin’s eyes widen so much, it would nearly be comical if his heart weren’t pounding out of his chest. They freeze immediately, before scrambling into action.

“One second!” she squeaks out as Rowan jumps off the bed, wondering where the hell he’s supposed to go. Under the bed is far too conspicuous, and Aelin always leaves her bathroom door open.

“Closet!” she mouths as she fixes her clothes.

Rowan rushes to the walk in closet and shuts himself inside as fast as he can. As he takes his spot on the floor, under Aelin’s hanging garments, he hears Aelin call for her mother to enter.

Rowan can’t see anything, but he can hear everything all too well. He feels somewhat guilty for listening in on what is sure to be a private conversation, but it’s not like he can go anywhere else. And Aelin does know he’s here.

“What’s up?” Aelin asks, and there’s a long silence as Evalin thinks of her reply.

“I just wanted to see how you were doing,” Evalin says quietly.

“I’m fine.”

“Good.”

More silence.

“Is that all?”

Rowan hears a long sigh, and he’s not sure who it comes from. It could be either woman, to be honest.

“No. I…” Evalin starts again. “I know you’ve been avoiding me since you came back to the house, and that’s fine. But I wanted to apologize anyway.” She clears her throat. “You know I didn’t mean what I said.”

“No, I didn’t know that,” Aelin says, her voice as icy as Rowan’s ever heard it.

“Aelin,” her mom pleads. “Of course I didn’t mean it. I was just confused. And you know canceling on a date is incredibly rude, and it reflects back on this family. I had to apologize to The Cortlands, who were also very confused. We just thought you two were such a good match.”

“Mom,” Aelin breathes, exasperated. “Sam and I weren’t a good match. He was constantly disrespecting my personal boundaries. I didn’t want to go out with him, but he asked me out in front of you so I’d have to say yes. He’s manipulative and shitty, and I don’t want to be with anyone like him. Sorry you had to quit picking out our china.” She pauses and then continues again. “But I don’t need your help getting a date.”

“I’m sorry,” Evalin says finally, quietly. “I didn’t see any of that.”

“Well, you wouldn’t have, would you?” Aelin laughs humorlessly. “I don’t want to talk about Sam anymore. He’s not even important.”

Another long silence.

“We just want you to be happy.”

“Dad tell you to say that?”

Rowan wishes he could see what’s going on as another silence fills the room.

“You’re very good at putting on a smile, Fireheart,” Evalin finally says. “We just want you to mean it.”

“Maybe if you hadn’t taught me that appearances mean everything I would fake it less,” Aelin snips.

Rowan’s heart hurts as he hears Aelin’s defense. He knows it’s true. In the weeks she spent with him, she only broke down that first night. The rest of the time, she plastered a smile across her face. It was as if she thought if she put that smile there long enough, she’d finally forget she was sad. Though he supposes he can’t fault her for that. He’s been known to do the exact same thing. He’s like a wounded animal, hiding its injuries from his owner, so as not to worry them.

“Aelin,” her mom sighs, but Aelin shuts it down, apparently finished with the conversation.

“I’m tired. Thank you for your apology. I’ll see you in the morning.” She dismisses her effectively, and Evalin wishes her a goodnight softly.

The door closes again, but Rowan is afraid to move, as if Evalin will come back in at any second. The closet door wrenches open, and Rowan is momentarily blinded by the bright lights of Aelin’s room. He squints and sees Aelin, standing in front of him, with a worried frown on her face.

He stands quickly and wraps his arms around her. “You okay?” he asks, and she nods silently, but he knows she’s anything but.

Aelin undresses methodically and gets ready for bed, and Rowan stands, unsure of what to do. She definitely doesn’t seem to be in the mood for any amorous activities anymore, and Rowan hasn’t ever been in her room for anything else.

“We don’t have to, uh…” Rowan stumbles his words, like usual. “I mean, I can go home.”

“No,” Aelin says quietly and looks up at him with those entrancing blue-gold eyes. She clutches onto the hem of his shirt with her fists, keeping him close. She looks nervous as she fiddles with the fabric between her fingers. “Would you still stay, even if all we do is sleep?”

“Of course,” he answers, and Aelin smiles softly. He has no idea why she was so nervous to ask him. He’d do anything she asked of him.

Rowan strips down to his boxer briefs as Aelin throws on a t-shirt that he recognizes as his. “Hey, I was wondering where that went…”

Aelin tugs at it. “You told me it shrunk in the dryer and is too short for you now.”

Rowan smiles as Aelin climbs under the covers with him. “I did say that.”

She flicks the lights off and rolls back to face him. “It’s so soft.” She pauses. “I’m keeping it.” He scoots closer to her and rests his hand on her thigh. “I’m still mad at you,” she says, and Rowan rears his head back, wondering what the hell he could have possibly done wrong. She laughs.

“I can’t believe you bruised my neck, you heathen.” She shoves at his chest, and it rumbles softly with his own laughter. “I’m going to have to curl my hair tomorrow, just so when I tell everyone it’s a curling iron burn they have to believe me.”

“I’m sorry,” he says through his chuckling. He kisses the tip of her nose, and he feels it scrunch beneath his lips.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asks, referring to her conversation with her mom, and Aelin shakes her head.

“I want to hear about your mom,” she whispers.

“What about her?”

“Everything,” she says, and so Rowan does. He tells her about Sunday baking days and learning her favorite recipes. He tells her about how she sewed every single one of his Halloween costumes. How she never missed a cross country race. He tells her about how he had no choice but to leave the Army when she was diagnosed with a brain tumor. And that he was happy to help her through her extensive rehab, because he’d do anything for the woman who raised him single-handedly.

“I love her,” Aelin murmurs, half asleep.

Rowan brushes her hair out of her face as she succumbs to sleep. “She’d love you,” he whispers, sadness suddenly weighing heavily on his chest. Aelin hums lightly in reply.

I love you.

He hears it so loudly in his own head, he almost startles himself awake. He knows he can’t say anything. But for a selfish second, he lets himself feel it.

The soft glow of the moon highlights the tip of Aelin’s nose as it filters through her windows, and her eyelashes flutter against the tops of her cheeks as she starts to dream. She breathes slowly, her lips slightly parted, and Rowan hasn’t seen her look so completely at ease as long as he’s known her. He wishes he had his camera. He’d like to capture this moment forever. Instead, he stares at her, etching every last detail of the image into his brain, until he finally gives into exhaustion and falls asleep, too.

~*~*~*~

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[hallowed-be-thy-username]

For @nietopesh 💖💕💜 Thank you so much for your request, dear!! I focused mostly on the back story and progression of the relationship with a little fluff thrown in there. I hope its what you were looking for, let me know if there’s anything you’d like me to add or change!!

Self-insert, Ledger Joker x fem reader, romantic relationship

Word count: 1,688 (sooo, um, it got a little long 😂)

Warnings: a little angst, a bit of gore, reflections on a darker past, mentions of murder, enabling criminal activity

Jack

His name is Jack. No one else knows that but you.

Twelve years ago you met him at the bookstore where you worked during the summer before your senior year of high school. He used to watch you from the non-fiction section, his eyes shifting away when yours would wander in his direction. This went on for a couple of weeks. You even started stealing your own glances his way. His head of dark blonde hair always hung in his face, obscuring your view of his features but his eyes drew you in. He never spoke to anyone, keeping to himself at the table in the corner where he sat every afternoon. One night after he left, you saw that he’d been carving notches in the wood on the table’s edge. What the little tick marks meant, you could only guess.

You weren’t sure if he knew that you saw him until one day, you were stocking shelves and turned around to come nearly nose to nose with him. He asked you if you wanted go for a walk in the park nearby. His eyes were even more hypnotic up close. His deep brown irises held you in place, staring into them with your breath washing over his face. His face. He had high cheek bones and a sharp jawline, his prominent brow framing all of it perfectly. You squeaked out an answer. Yes, you’d love to.

Jack never smiled much. It took a long time for him to let you in but you learned about him in bits and pieces. He didn’t have much. No family, no friends, barely a home to live in, Gotham native from The Narrows. He fended for himself, no desire to do or be anything that anyone expected of him. But now he had you. He cared to know more about you than for you to know about him. He often confused you with his questions. Jack is smart.

Your relationship grew more intimate as time went on. He touched you, he let you touch him. He wasn’t used to that sort of contact. But with you, he loved it. His hands memorized your every curve, his fingers idly tracing the shape of you when you laid together on warm summer nights. You swallowed each other up, lost in one another’s skin beneath the stars.

Summer turned to fall and fall into winter, the heat between you to keep you warm. As spring and the promise of graduation approached, Jack started to become distant. You’d encouraged him to go back to school. He stopped going when he was left out on his own at the age of sixteen. Jack didn’t like school. He found it to be boring, he was better at teaching himself everything he needed to know. The prospect of college was on the horizon, the world open to you, and it seemed to eat away at him. Something was dragging him down to some impossible depth where you could barely see him. Those summer nights were too good to last. You were too good to last.

Then he disappeared. With no way of contacting him, you didn’t know what to do. You tried to find him but found only shadows. You willed yourself to forget about him, but you couldn’t. You wanted to be angry with him, but you couldn’t. There was something about Jack Napier that you couldn’t let go of. Ten years went by with you watching and waiting, hoping that he’d come back. You moved on with your life, got your degree from Gotham University, got the job you were hoping for, but that empty space was always there. Until one night when your life took a sharp turn.

You turned the keys in the lock on your apartment door, water dripping from your coat from the rain poring over the city. When you turned on the lights your heart nearly stopped at the sight of a blonde head of hair hanging low on a figure slumped against the kitchen counter. Your bag dropped to the floor and the blonde head rolled to the side to reveal a trail of bright red down the front of their shirt. Your instincts kicked in and you slammed the door shut to drop to your knees in front of them, calling out “are you alright?” and “how did you get here?”. You stopped when a pair of deep brown eyes opened and gazed back at you.

“Jack??”

His face. A freshly healed, jagged scar stretched from the corner of his mouth and into the soft flesh of his left cheek. The right was torn open, the flesh split into a smooth curve up toward his ear. It steadily dripped, clotted blood hanging from it’s edges as he clung to consciousness. Your thoughts ceased and everything was a blur after you helped him up, his arm over your shoulders, to rush him outside where you flagged down a taxi. You talked to him, carefully brushing his hair from of his forehead wet with cold sweat on the way to the hospital where he was taken away on a gurney.

Those were the longest few hours of your life. Spent pacing the waiting room at Gotham General, mind racing with thoughts of where he’d been, what had happened to him, how and why he found you. The blood loss was significant. Transfusion brought the color back to his skin, but the scars may as well have been etched in stone. Now he had two, tugging at the corners of his mouth to form a permanent smile.

You never talked about where they came from or who made them. He had no interest in telling you and you didn’t want to push him. His inside was changing with his outside, his smile wasn’t real and neither was what he showed people. He lied, he manipulated, he tricked. But things were different with you. With you he was eighteen again, stroking your thumb with his own while you held hands and watched the night sky. He was still Jack.

The scars were a part of him now and you made sure that he knew you loved him for him, scars and all. Your relationship took time to grow again but it did. You remember the first time he kissed you with his new face. It brought something out of you that you didn’t know existed, a desire to become a part of the darkness that surrounded him, to hold a special place in the heart of the man with the scars. With his new face came a new name. The Joker.

The wild card. Extremely beneficial or extremely harmful. The persona completed him. He was happier. It gave him something, an added charisma, an invincibility. A coating of ghostly white paint with hollow black rimmed eyes and blood red to highlight his scars ensured no one forgot his face. He used his mind, his intellect, to show them all what he was capable of. He was relentless, garnering a reputation that grew with the body count he left behind over the past year. It didn’t take long for the Gotham underground to know his name and you were with him through it all. His hands had become stained with blood, blood of anyone that stood in his way. But your blood, he’d never spill.

You were his constant, the secret anchor that kept him grounded, the only soul alive that he could come home to. You even had the suit made for him. He’d melded mind and body with his new name and you couldn’t help but adore him for it. Had you enabled him throughout it all? Yes. Did he pull you down into the darkness with him? He did. But you wanted him to. You’d seen the unstoppable force he was to become from the beginning but found yourself wanting nothing more than for your Jack to show the world it’s own ugly reflection.

“D’you remember that day, doll? At the bookstore down on 12th?”

J stayed with you most of the time. You chose a cozy little apartment in the back of the building by the fire escape for a good reason. The Joker couldn’t exactly sign the lease. You kept up your life and your job outside of his criminal dealings but in your time alone together, nothing else mattered. He was yours and you were his.

You looked up from the needle and thread you were using to sew a button back on his coat and answered, “The first time you talked to me? Of course I do.”

“How’s a-bout we take a, uh, little trip down memory lane?” he asked.

Your cheeks stretched into a smile to match his.

The moon was full and high in the sky that night, the bright white light casing soft shadows onto the pavement. You walked with J down the quiet street toward the boarded up bookstore, long since out of business. He lifted you by your waist to grip the ladder on the side of the building and followed you up to the roof, not without a cheeky comment about how nice the view of your ass was while you rolled your eyes, of course.

When you reached the top, you saw a plush pile of blankets laid out in the center of the rooftop with a bottle of wine and two glasses waiting for you. You turned to J with a look of surprise on your face and a deep chuckle came from his chest.

“Didn’t think I’d forget our anniversary, did ya?”

Before you could answer he picked you up to toss you onto his shoulder to carry you to the blankets where he flopped down with you. The sounds of your giggles drowned out his sarcastic questions of “what’s so funny, hm?” and “why are you laughing?” while tickled your sides until you could barely get air in.

You stayed on that rooftop together all night, gazing at the stars just like you used to. To everyone else, he’s the Joker but to you, he’s also Jack.

[rosesloveletters]

Halcyon.

Thank you @heavymetalnarwhal​ so so much for requesting! Unfortunately, my free time for writing is limited, so I am going to do head canons for this, as well as the rest of my requests, if thats alright *sweats*. I will still write enough detail for this hc set to be lengthy enough to be considered a small fic. Enjoy!

wc: 1,042

Autumn had always been the kind of season that perpetuated your desire to stay close to the ones you love. You loved the grey clouds, the smell of rain that hung in the air, the way fallen leaves crunched beneath your feet wherever you walked and the crisp air that always made you shiver and clutch your jacket tight around yourself to block out the wind. Most had come to prefer summer and the warm and forgiving temperatures, non-stop beach partying and skimpy outfits, but not you. Autumn was a time for self-reflection, gentleness and love. And you only wanted to spend it with one other person.

J was not as dazzled by the seasons’ change as you were. The Earth did the same thing every year; why would he care about something that happened without cause? People make a fuss about every little change. All J noticed was it was beginning to get cold and it was time for him to dig his royal purple trench coat out of the depths of your shared closet. You’d let him keep it there during the warm months when he was unable to wear it. The heavy coat trapped in heat and in July, J found he could not wear it due to the extreme temperatures, much to his dismay. The extraction of his coat from the closet lit up his world, so to speak, and he was happier than ever to feel like a piece of himself had returned.

This put J in a good mood. Where he would’ve been unwilling and surprisingly vocal about his disdain for any fall activities, you found him to be somewhat compliant.

You both had grown close over the passing months and you now found it easier to ask him for what you wanted. As much as you knew J liked going out and finding new and dangerous things to get involved with, you asked him to stay home with you the first cold and rainy night of autumn.

You had expected him to vehemently deny you; he took great pleasure in telling you no while he went about his business. He loved the way your nose would crinkle and you would get a look in your eye that almost rivaled his murderous one any time he said no to you. It amused him how dead-set you were to spend time with someone like him; it was a bad joke. He almost didn’t believe you at first. He liked saying ‘no’ because he knew how it irked you.

The only reason he hadn’t been so quick to respond the negative tonight was because it had begun to rain. It wasn’t his favorite type of rain either, no, it was the kind that made your skin crawl. J liked a downpour. If it was going to rain, he wanted to be drenched. But the water that rained down from the heavens was not a downpour. It would've taken hours for his clothes to become saturated and the tiny water droplets seeped into his bare skin and made him feel as though he’d just woken in a cold sweat. He hated that feeling. He couldn’t work properly when his mind was preoccupied in such a way, and so he stayed.

You liked to watch the heavy clouds move across the sky, pulling the rain in to stay. You would look out your bedroom window and watch as little speckles slowly fill up the glass. You could sense J moved around behind you, seemingly restless from his unexpected night in.

The one way you knew you could relax J was if you could somehow occupy his mind with a different desire or task, and thus autumn movie nights were born.

You learned, for painful, painful experience, not to under any circumstances let him pick. J’s choices tended to be a bit more...graphic for your tastes, or perhaps, if you did enjoy the movies of his choosing, it was his inability to know when the moment had passed that got under your skin. J enjoyed the fullest extent of movies and would eagerly watch intense movies for days on end if you let him. He monopolizes your television quite frequently when you’re out.

You have your own cinematic masterpieces (as he so sardonically put it) that you enjoy and make him watch, which he does, though do not expect him to keep his mouth shut. You angrily remind him that you don't talk during his movies, so he should be more respectful; this only results in cackling.

The best part about rainy and cold movie nights with J is the comfort. Fuzzy socks, soft blankets, a warm drink (tea, coffee, cocoa - whichever you prefer), sometimes cookies or other sweet treats (J has a sweet tooth, but nothing compares to his unhealthy obsession with holiday popcorn.) J eases into the season comfortably and soon he’s enjoying his down time as much as you are.

Having a friend to relax with is not the sort of luxury J has ever had access to. His line of work has no room for friends and neither had his life, up till this point. Sure, it was a lonely existence at times, but J didn’t get lonely. The only thing he ever noticed was that whenever something particularly good happened (ex: he got a new knife, swindled the mob out of their hard earned cash, got away with murder, etc.) he had no one to share it with or tell about it to. His escapades were great fun to him, but J could have a big ego from time to time and your encouragement of the person he was made him see the value in what he was doing; you didn’t want to change him. He also found great amusement and humor in how much time you wanted to spend with him. He found it funny how messed up anyone would have to be to request his time and that was the kind of person he wanted to be around.

So the nights he spent with you, cuddled up on the couch watching movies while the cold air settled in around you, were something he would never admit to looking forward to, but still...he did.

[sinsbymanka]

One more for @pookydraws! This is actually a gift from @tessa1972 who donated to RAINN and then donated the commission to Pooky! I love you both and thank you for being so supportive of each other and all of us! This smutty drabble features Pooky’s Sarita Amell and King Alistair Theirin! 

Do you want your own fluffy and/or smutty drabble? I’m still accepting donations through Ko-fi for RAINN! I met my goal BUT you can still donate there and hit me up anywhere to let me know what you’d like! You can also donate and receive your drabble anonymously. I will not post your name or tag you in the post.

Title: The King’s Reward Pairing: Female Warden/Alistair Theirin, Female Amell/Alistair Theirin Rating: E Content Warnings: Post Dragon Age Origins, Explicit Sexual Content, Oral Sex Read on AO3

Alistair knew there were less pleasant places that Denerim in the summer. Abandoned crypts. Swamps. The Korcari Wilds. Anywhere that served Orlesian cuisine exclusively. Orlais in general.

Yes. There were certainly worse places to be than the sweltering heat of Ferelden’s capital city. But it was certainly hard to remember that when he’d taken off everything except his own skin and still felt like he’d stepped into mage fire.

He reclined on the chaise, rubbing the back of his palm across his nose, and frowned down at the near illegible tiny print blurring before his eyes. Andraste, he’d been at it for hours. He had to be nearly done.

Alistair cast a despairing glance at the stack of papers on the floor, the rest of his newest Antivan trade treaty. Then he pinched his nose, hard, and sunk further into the plush material.

It was Sarita’s favorite chair. He’d hoped sitting on it would help him channel some of her focus, but so far he’d been disappointed. He just… wasn’t as good as the minutiae as she was. Frankly, the fact Ferelden didn’t fall into chaos as soon as she rode out of the capital city was a miracle sent from the Maker himself.

But she had a duty. They both did. She fought the blight, for both of them, because he’d had to forsake his oaths for a crown. His sword languished in a training yard, his crown fit ill upon his head, and Sarita…

Sarita was his mistress instead of a queen like she should have been.

It had been the right thing for Ferelden. The only thing to do, really. That didn’t mean it didn’t sting. Though things were changing. The situation in Kirkwall was becoming tenuous, proving the Circles didn’t work. Once that keg exploded, and it was about due to at any moment, it would be a matter of time until the established systems fell down around his ears.

He’d be ready. They’d defeated the blight, after all, and once the old rules were gone…

Well. It was a pleasant daydream. Much more pleasant than Antivan trade treaties, in fact. He tossed the paper to the side and laid his head back, luxuriating in the faint breeze that stirred the curtains. He closed his eyes and conjured Sarita’s azure eyes, the blonde hair tucked behind the curve of her ear.

She’d be back soon. He couldn’t wait.

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

Alistair didn’t know how long he slept, but the soft sound of movement drew him from heavy, blissfully dreamless, sleep. Even after years, his gut reaction was to freeze and hone in on the small noises, searching for danger while keeping his eyes closed. He heard the rustle of silk. The splash of water.

Then he felt thin, staff calloused fingers tracing over the hard planes of his muscles.

“Sleeping on the job, your highness?”

He chuckled, stretching his arms above his head before opening his eyes. Above him, Sarita returned his crooked grin with one of her own, walking her elegant fingers down his chest.

“You’re a sight for sore eyes.” He rumbled.

“Not as much as you were.” Sarita’s expression shifted into a wicked smirk, searing hot gaze dropping down his body.

That was the moment Alistair remembered he was snoozing away in all his Maker-given glory.

“You’re lucky I wasn’t a servant.” Sarita added, eyes twinkling.

“Maker’s breath. I’m lucky you weren’t Oghren.”

“Oh, he was with me. I’d say you struck him blind, but I’m not sure he noticed.”

Alistair laughed. “Sounds like Oghren.”

Sarita hummed a muted agreement, her eyes trailing down his revealed skin. Cheekily, Alistair snatched her fingers from his chest and brought them to his lips, kissing the tips while he held her gaze.

“And have I struck you blind like the Revered Mother always said would happen?”

“Not yet.” Sarita purred, leaning over him on the chaise. “Have you missed me?”

“Endlessly.”

Joy sparked to life in her eyes. She brought her lips closer to his, leaning in to whisper against them. “And is this our treaty with Antiva?”

“It is.” He replied, pious as possible. It was made difficult because his sleep addled mind had finally caught up to look beyond Sarita’s stunning eyes and the golden fall of her hair.

His lover wore a simple silk robe, the pale material almost sheer in the late afternoon sunlight. She smelled of lavender, clearly already washed up after her arrival. The loose tie of the robe let it fall just right so Alistair could trace the swell of her breasts.

“It’s all done?”

“Just needs a final stamp. Got to read through it and make sure they didn’t put me dancing naked in the town square as one of their…”

Alistair lost his train of thought watching Sarita capture her plump lip between her teeth, peering at him through her long lashes. His breath caught in his chest as her finger drifted lower, scratching at his abdomen with blunt nails. His cock twitched with interest, beginning to swell between his thighs.

“Maker’s breath. You’re beautiful. I’m still a lucky man.”

“Working hard and compliments?” Sarita questioned. “It sounds like someone has earned a reward.”

“I have behaved myself. Ask anyone- oh Maker.”

Sarita’s quick fingers pulled the knot in her robe and it fell from her shoulders like Andraste herself was unveiling her most glorious masterpiece to the world. Alistair pushed himself up, eager eyes darting over her exposed flesh. The curve of her waist, the fullness of her hips, and those breasts.

Andraste herself didn’t have a nicer pair of breasts. Alistair knew. He’d been shoved in front of many statues of the blighted woman.

...not that he’d been looking at Andraste’s breasts.

Before he could fall further down that train of thought, Sarita settled herself on the opposite end of the chaise. One firm, strong hand pushed him back into a reclining position, her smile absolutely wicked. The kind of smile that always heralded the best activities.

“I know just the thing to show my appreciation.” Sarita purred, running her hand back down his body. His cock, fully erect, bobbed as she trailed her teasing touch up over his stiff length. He watched her smile grow predatory.

“Just enjoy, love. Allow me.” She whispered.

Truly the only thing he could think to say was a prayer of gratitude for the lovely creature in front of him. Sarita stole the words out of his mouth by dropping her pink lips to the tip of his manhood, pressing a perfectly filthy kiss to the tip.

Alistair swallowed, hard, and brought his hand up to cup the soft skin of her cheek. She leaned into his palm while her quick tongue darted past those tempting lips to lick a stripe down his length.

Alistair grit his teeth together, blowing his breath through his nose. It’d been too long, she’d been gone too long, and he wasn’t going to last. “Sarita…”

“I know.” Her own voice was husky with desire, blue eyes molten with it. “Thank Andraste for Warden stamina, right?”

“It’s a perk.” Alistair breathed. One of the few, but he’d take it. And her. He was certainly going to take her thoroughly before the evening was over.

She smirked, wrapping her long fingers around the base of his cock and opening her mouth.

Warm. Wet. One of Alistair’s hands threaded gently through Sarita’s hair, the other roughly grabbed onto the delicate upholstery of her chaise. His back arched, although force of will kept his hips steady while Sarita swallowed his length in her hot, willing mouth. Years of habit meant she took him easily almost to the hilt, the hand wrapped around his base stroking what she couldn’t take comfortably.

Those sharp eyes looked up at him again and Sarita squirmed between his legs. He could smell her own desire, heady in the air, as she bobbed back up his length. His cock slipped from between her lips and she placed another kiss on it’s tip before diving back down.

Someday, she was going to kill him and Alistair wouldn’t even complain. His moan of approval rang out in the silent room while his fingers stroked through her soft hair. She felt… Maker, she felt fantastic.

Then her tongue swirled around him and he hissed, knuckles gripping the chair going white. “Sarita.”

She made a noise of approval that vibrated around his length and he moaned again. That only emboldened her to devour him with relish. Her teasing tongue danced over his throbbing shaft, she hollowed her cheeks to suck him deeper into her mouth.

Alistair’s hand trembled. Fire ignited in his spine, traveling down to his groin. He clenched his jaw, trying to stave it off, until Sarita’s eyes found his again.

He was lost the second he saw the matching heat in her gaze. With a groan of defeat, Alistair surrendered to the pleasure she coaxed from him. His head fell back, something buzzing in his ears as his cock swelled further before everything went white.

Searing white. Hotter than anything he’d ever touched.

He came back to himself in pieces, panting and slick with sweat, Sarita’s fingers swirling patterns over his thighs. He huffed a small, choked laugh that was matched by her giggle.

“Missed you.” She admitted softly, resting her head on his thigh.

“Only cause you love me.” He murmured.

“I do. Very much.”

His heart melted in his chest and he looked back down into her angelic face. “Good. Cause I’m quite mad for you.”

[stereksecretsanta]

Merry Christmas, negativenorth!

For @negativenorth <3 

Read On AO3

*****

This is Our Last (First) Christmas

The Hale Pack survived junior year. Miraculously. The troubles that surrounded them sophomore year brought on by their sacrifices to find their parents were increased by the cleansing ritual in the spring Stiles and Deaton did. It cleansed the Hale Territory-including Beacon Hills and the Preserve-The Pack, the air, the ground, even the humans of all the remaining darkness; reawakening the hibernating Ley Lines and brightening the light of Beacon Hills.

The summer was strangely terror-less. Deaton explained the cleansing happened like and earthquake, the energy radiating out and it would take some time until the epicenter was found but once things found it, everyone would tune into it. The Hale Territory was highly desired by many supernaturals for many reasons. Derek (under the advisement of Stiles) began a training regiment for the pack, humans included. Derek focused more on the wolves-Scott, Jackson, Danny, Isaac, Erica, Boyd, and Ethan and Aiden-who deflection helped defeat the Alpha pack and Derek welcomed in with open arms. The humans trained too, but with Melissa on first aid and field trauma medicine and Chris and John with hand to hand and gun and knife combat training. Stiles had added training with Deaton on magic. Eventually, The wolves joined the humans.

"Why do we need medical training?" Isaac asked, diligently paying attention to proper stitching technique.

"If something happens, yeah you may heal but that doesn't solve blood loss. Or if a human is out. Or you needed to be inconspicuous about lycanthropy. Technically you don't exist." Stiles said. "Or a broken bone that heals wrong."

"He's not wrong. I agree." Derek chimed in.

"You're only agreeing because-"Erica was cut off by a hard nudge to the ribs from Allison and a heated glare from Scott. Stiles was confused but let it go, only to silently agree with the Mate-Marks on their right arm-a vine of bright red thorny roses.

"Well, if Mom says and Dad agrees then I guess we have no choice." Jackson sneered. Stiles sighed and rolled his eyes.

"Excuse me for wanting you to stay alive, dipshit. These aren't bad skills to have in general even. My first aid saved your fucking ass more than once." Stiles practically snarled. This pack was made up of his friends but that didn't mean they were easy to get along with. Jackson opened his mouth to retort but was cut off by Lydia's hand on his arm. Stiles always smiled softly when he got a glimpse of their Mate-Mark behind their ears, the chemical formula C43H66N12O12S2 also known as oxytocin.

A week during the fall of junior year, Stiles felt a chill go down his spine. One of the wards he spent several long days putting up with Deaton's teaching had been triggered. He had put up a dozen or so of varying intent, getting stronger and closer together the closer to Derek's loft they got. Stiles had a list in his journal of placements to recharge them if needed but Deaton had told him with his Spark and use of Ley lines, they will stay charged and operational until removal. Stiles texted to Derek to warn him of the visitor and he with Boyd checked it out.

That was the first of almost weekly trespassers of the creatures-that-go-bump-in-the-night variety. The pack had their training, their strength, their determination to survive but they didn't have their teamwork, their trust, their knowledge to win. Stiles and Lydia and occasionally Allison worked to compile as much information as possible from Deaton and Chris and Derek and independent research as possible. The Pack grew smart but they still couldn't click, they used too much brawn not enough brain.

"You would think, with werewolves needing packs, they would innately understand teamwork." Stiles said. He was at the Argent's house looking at few of Chris's books. He had become more helpful since Allison and Scott finally told him the truth about their Mate-Marks. He didn't like it but he know helped as much as he could knowing that was the only way to get his daughter safe.

"You have to remember Stiles, they may be werewolves now but they are teenagers first. High schoolers. Derek isn't that much older than you all. You somehow see the bigger picture but they can't." Chris said.

"I have always had to see the big picture. No one else was looking at it at the beginning. I was trying to keep everyone alive, not just-"Stiles cut himself off. "You are so right. You always have the best ideas." Stiles sagged a little with relief. He was glad he'd been able to convince Chris to help them, join them. "I have to go." Stiles left the kitchen, uncharacteristically leaving the books scattered on the table. He hopped into his jeep and headed straight to Derek's loft.

"Derek, are you home?" Stiles opened the door to the loft with the only spare key Derek ever made.

"Hey, Stiles. Surprise seeing you here, everything okay?" Derek popped out from the kitchen. "I am making dinner, care to join me?"

"Oh, that would be nice. Everything is okay, I just have something to talk to you about." Stiles sat at the island rubbing a thumb against the glass Derek handed him and the other rubbed the spot behind his ear.

"Okay. If you are this serious then it probably has some merit." Derek said. Stiles felt proud of the growth Derek had gone through. He had become a better man and Alpha since the pack had grown and settled and he was able to grieve properly. Stiles, however was confused at his statement. Derek looked up to see Stiles looking back with his head tilted and eyes narrowed. "You have tells just like the rest of us. You may know all of ours but you don't know your own. You have gotten good at lying to us weres but you forget that some of us? We know you. Like me, you rub behind your ear when you are thinking about something and it may upset the balance of things." Derek explained. Stiles didn't know how to answer, wasn't sure what to say, Derek studied him? It made sense in Stiles' head, at the beginning Derek needed to know everyone's angle even his.

"I didn't know that." Stiles said. He decided to ignore the other parts Derek said until later. "I know as a pack we have strengths and weaknesses. We need to work on those weaknesses, our biggest one? Teamwork. This pack is holding the strongest territory in the Northwest right now, and it is made up of young werewolves and several humans and a Banshee who all happen to be teenagers in high school. We had a social hierarchy and it worked until you bit several of them. Now they have to relearn that, everything is discombobulated causing tensions, and second-guessing and we may have survived until now but eventually that won't be enough. We may be a pack but we won't be a family until that happens." Stiles paused realizing how that sounds. "Not that I want to replace yours. I just want-I don't mean to-I get it. I don't want you to be alone anymore." Stiles finally spit out.

"I know what you mean. I would never think that you of all people are trying to somehow push away my family. You have too much resect for others to even think that." Derek said. His face was relaxed and open, the skin around his eyes wasn't even tight. You probably love hearing this from me, even though I say it a lot. You are right. We don't know each other well enough to know what we'd risk for each other. So what is your idea?" Derek turned back to the stove.

"What makes you think I have an idea?" Stiles asked. Derek just threw a look over his shoulder at the young man.

"You wouldn't be here if you didn't have an idea." Derek said.

"I was thinking of having the pack rebuild your house. It would give them a safe common goal and outlet. It would reestablish your territory ad strength pack bonds and the bond with the land. it would give us a den. I know I just said I don't want to replace your family. And that is true. I don't want to because I know I can't. I can however make the pain less, the burden lighter and you happier. We can do this together Derek. Me and you. like always.

"I. I will think about it." Derek said very slowly. Stiles nodded. Derek said nothing else, instead finished up dinner and Stiles took it as a sign to get place settings ready and switch to lighter topics.

The winter of junior year was made up of blood, sweat, tears, anger, resentment, claws, teeth, bullets, arrows. The pack was surviving, but barely. Stiles could see the fault lines forming, the glares more frequent. He never pushed Derek, only waited and hoped. He knew that the Hale Pack had the potential to be amazing once again, but only if they worked for it.

The spring of junior year bloomed with hope, filled with finals college preparation and a wendigo or two. March came and went but April came in like a lion. Derek had made his decision, rebuilding the Hale Manor is needed and would do them some good. The pack had too many issues amongst themselves to work through, if they didn't settle as a whole and members of that whole, then more people would die and the pack would fall apart. Derek's decision came instinctively, The young betas had been arguing over who was to land the first hit, the baddy of the week threw Erica into a tree skewering her on a branch. Derek saw it happen in slow motion, anger thrumming in his veins. That second she impacted the tree Derek knew. He would make a pack out of these teenagers or die trying. They needed the pack as much as he did.

Derek stood over his pack watching them cuddle each other from a distance. They were on the floor of the loft spread out, but unable to ignore the need to touch. Lydia had a leg curled with Allison, tucked under Jackson arm. Isaac bridged the space between Erica and Boyd and Scott and Allison. Stiles was sitting at the island still working. Always working. Derek had actively tried to not look at Stiles, the few glances he allowed had the same results, heart pounding breath catching results. Stiles had showered and was wearing a pair of sweats he'd left here some day and a shirt of Derek's, who's scent of pine and leather mixed deliciously with Stiles' own scent of lemon and honeysuckle. Derek was glad the rest of the pack was sleeping, unable to witness him softening. Stiles was the only one to bring it out. He sat down next to Stiles, pulling his feet into his lap, rubbing lightly.

"I've been thinking...about what you said a while back." Derek couldn't look at Stiles. He instead focused on his feet. "About rebuilding."

"Oh? Did you come to a decision then?" Stiles kept his face turned to the books in front of him, side-eyeing Derek. He knew that staring would only cause Derek to shut down harder. Stiles could feel his heart pounding, knew Derek could hear it but tried to project calmness.

"Yeah. I did. I want to do it. I need to do it. The last step of grieving and the first step of acceptance. This pack needs a fresh start. You are right, like always. I only want to do this if you help me every step of the way. I can't do this by myself. I don't trust anyone else to help." Derek admitted. Stiles beamed. The absolute joy and pride on his face made Derek almost forget that he had just agreed to tear down the last standing reminder of his family.

As if Stiles could read his mind, "They'd want you to be happy. I would be honor to help you.

The decision to rebuild the house triggered something in Stiles. He began working with Deaton, honing his sputtering spark into a full-fledged flame. Deaton was impressed with his strength, commenting the flame was more like an inferno. Stiles did his school work on top of learning magic and keeping a pack of rag-tag teenagers alive. Deaton explained that Sparks were common but without proper training burned out, with proper training Sparks became witches or varied magic users, they often became emissaries to those in need or ran shops. The idea of being a pack emissary resonated with Stiles and that became his goal. He learned moon phases, herbs, spells, enchantments, crystals, sigils, runes, ancient languages. As he learned, he wasn't the only one to grow emotionally. The pack began to pull down the old Hale Manor. Piece by piece, they pulled it down. The beginning was hard-insult were thrown without care for where they landed, more than one fight broke out usually but they worked together and talked and learned about each other. The insults lost their thorns, the glares lost their heat and the smiles lost their fangs.

During the days between the too-hot spring days and the too-cold summer days, the last dumpster full of the remains of the Hale Manor vanished down the road. Derek watched feeling numb. Stiles stood by in quiet solidarity. All that was left was the scorched earth and a smattering of rubble, the grass was stained gray from ash and fire, the foundation crumbling into itself. There would be a specialist coming to demolish and redo the foundation, that was something Derek requested. The two men looked at the now empty clearing, Stiles pretended not to notice the trembling of Derek's fingers. Stiles simply took his hand in his and pulled him down to sit, letting Derek lean against him and grieve.

"No one likes it when strangers speak for those who you have lost. I know I hated it. I also know what it is like to an extent." Stiles paused. "They would be proud of you. You were in a down really low, and you brought yourself back. You did it." Stiles pressed himself into Derek's bulk.

Thanks. It has meaning coming from you. I know you understand. You know loss, not like Scott. You don't pretend to be unaffected like Jackson." Derek sat for a bit, letting the Stiles' strength soak into his bones. He wasn't alone anymore. He could do this. He wasn't 16 again pushing away Laura in a fit of survivor's guilt. He had Stiles. He had his pack. "Now what?" Derek turned to face Stiles, looking like as lost as a child after a nightmare.

"Now we build your house. Together." Stiles said. "And watch YouTube. Lots of it."

The summer between junior and senior year was the best Stiles had in a long time. He and his mother always had adventures and busy days. Then one year it was just him and Scott. It was only the two of them for years, neither popular enough for summer plans. The others in the pack in similar circumstances. Allison didn't stay around long enough to make plans and Lydia and Jackson's families made plans without consent. Stiles and Derek read and watched and googled for hours before getting the materials. The did it step by step from framing to electric to plumbing to hanging drywall to building stairs to putting in windows. Derek bought the supplies, secretly pleased that the insurance, investment, assess money was getting some use, not just growing interest, coming into several millions of dollars was daunting without a purpose especially when part of the blame fell on his shoulders. With every step of the way, Stiles and Derek worked together to make the idea into a house into a home. Stiles layered charms and spells and enchantments and runes and straight ingredients into everything. Protection from water, fire, illness, bad luck, ill-intent, accidents, death, and anything Stiles could think of was woven into every step, from the frame to the paint. The house was built by Stiles and Derek for the pack, for the future, for each other.

"Derek, we need a bigger kitchen. And I think a mudroom will be a good investment with a lever handle door. We have a nice entrance way, where people came come in and hang up their jackets and put away shoes but the back entrance doesn't have anything." Stiles was looking over the blueprints with Derek. He was making notes for when they finalized some decisions.

"Why?" Derek asked.

"You will be housing a pack of teenage/twentysomething werewolves. You need a big enough kitchen and matching pantry to feed a small country." Stiles said, still scribbling notes.

"No." Derek growled. He was running out of patience. He wanted to make this house with Stiles but everyone seemed to have an opinion on something. Which would be fine it he had asked, or if there was some logic but the majority was just annoying.

"You don't want a big kitchen? I mean it is your house." Stiles looked confused but his voice seemed blank, undermined by his pounding heart and cold brittle scent of sadness.

Derek wanted to growl but held back. Derek didn't want to push him away. Derek liked how close they had been getting, his wolf was pleased as well. His wolf had been unusually attached to the young man since the beginning and was originally satisfied but as time went on both Derek and his wolf wanted more and more, not sure what they were asking for. The concern for Stiles' wellbeing, high sensitivity to Stiles' emotion and heartbeat, The willingness to entertain Stiles' commentary and personality and enjoy it, his gaze lingering on Stile' fingers and throat, reveling in the challenges he offered all resonated with Derek as signs pointing to Stiles being his mate but if that was true they would have Mate-Marks.

"It is our house." Derek said. It was all he could give right now, a house where Stiles could be relaxed and happy, Derek would have to accept what he had for right now.

"So, yes big kitchen?" Stiles looked up, Derek just stared back waiting. "Oh! The lever handle is so you can open it with paws."

That is humiliating. And smart. Make it so."

"You did not just make a Star Trek: The Next Generation reference. Are you a closeted nerd?" Stiles poked Derek in the ribs, peering at him suspiciously. Derek stayed silent, glad Stiles couldn't hear his pounding heart. Stiles laughed, head tilted back, cheeks crinkled and mouth open. Derek could only stare and memorize the moment, proud he got Stiles to laugh that easily. Derek could hear the thoughts in his soul: mine, claim, mate. The possessiveness and softness was happening more and more but only around Stiles, further adding to the mate checklist. Derek just enjoyed the moment.

Come on. Let's finish this. I do eventually want to move in, ya know?" Derek tapped the paper with a single claw, trying to remind Stiles-ineffectually-he could rip his throat out with his teeth.

The weekend before senior year found the pack piled in the living room of the recently finished Hale Manor. The pack was well-protected and well-stablished now with Stiles' magic and the 'den' and the bonds that were solidified over the summer. Deaton said the terrors of the years past will not go away but would drastically slow down. The Hale Territory was claimed and the others would understand innately. The plan worked, the band of high school students thrown together by happenstance became a pack, a family. And it showed, in moment like this. They were tightly woven together on a bed of pillows and blankets with a Disney movie playing softly on TV. Stiles looked on and felt his chest warm and his heart flutter. He pulled out his phone and making sure the shutter and flash were off took a few pictures, trying to shove away the sadness and nostalgia. He had been slightly obsessed with taking photos lately, needing proof that the pack had come together, they now had a home not only physically but in one another too. He had done it, he had somehow kept them alive through all the bullshit. They only had one year left together and he didn't want to look back and regret not capturing the memories or being unable to remember the normal days. One day, a year from now he would look up and realize everyone had scattered like seeds on the wind, he wanted to remember. Stiles got up from the chair he was curled up in, he was feeling melancholy didn't want to ruin the mood. Even Derek was on the edge of the puppy pile. He decided to use his favorite goodbye tactic he borrowed from the Irish.

"I can hear you thinking too hard from over here. Come join us. Get comfy. And we can talk, I know something is on your mind." Derek ungracefully shoved the others to make room. It isn't pack night if one person leaves."

Fine." Stiles was a sucker for the pack card. He knew he was pack but not being a wolf meant he couldn't feel the bonds as strongly as the others so he needed reminded sometimes. Stiles slipped in between Derek and the pack, thoughts like: safe, pack, mate, mine. After a few seconds Derek pinched him lightly. "I just don't know hat I am to do next. I did what I was supposed to do. I kept Scott alive, I helped you, I healed the land, solidified the pack. My job is done. This time next year, the pack might be tossed across the country and then what? We come back for weekend and holidays? For how long? Then we just fall apart and I never have this again? I made this family just like each of them did. I can't lose another one." Stiles felt his stomach drop at the cold, bitter, sharp feeling his own words gave him.

"That isn't how this works. A pack this established only gets stronger. No one gets out. There may be distance but not much and not for long. We are too new of a pack for that. You certainly don't get to leave, you are my emissary. You are connected to me and the pack and the land. Don't force ties to break when you don't know the future. There is time, there are options. Enjoy now, before fretting about the future. Talk to them, You'd be surprised to hear you aren't as alone as you think." Derek pulled Stiles closer, tucking him tightly into his embrace. "That is why you get sad after taking photos. You think old memories are all you will have left."

"I would rather leave then be left. I have grow weary of being left." Stiles tried to shrug.

"Don't look too far ahead, you'll miss the now. Make memories to enjoy the moment not resign yourself to only having memories." Derek said. Stiles nodded and snuggled closer, Derek's body heat and voice rumbling in his chest soothing his anxiety. "Go to sleep, Stiles. I'll be right here."

Fall of senior year was calm, content. Stiles and Lydia and Danny were in a heated competition for valedictorian, a contest that was a secret to everyone in school but no one in the pack. Some filled out college applications like Danny, Jackson, Lydia. Some decided to go the technical route like Erica, Boyd. Isaac and Scott were looking at community college. Stiles adopted a forget about it and it doesn't exist attitude. He often pulled out pamphlets or packets only to sort them into piles and then put them away again. He changed the subject when asked about anything dealing with after senior year. The closest he got to talking about it was with Derek one day, by themselves hanging out on a Friday night. He told Derek, he liked magic and the supernatural and being a witch, he might open a shop, take over for Deaton who wanted to be a vet and only a vet. That was the last time he seriously spoke about it. The pack spent full moons together, running and eating dinner and then a sleepover. Slowly each pack member added their own things to the house, a blanket here, a favorite mug there, A sweatshirt draped over a chair, a forgotten pair of shoes left by the front door. Stiles took pictures and cleaned and tutored. He talked a lot without saying much. Derek knew something was on his mind.

"I want you to come over tonight. I told everyone to stay away. We have some things to talk about." Derek texted him one day in October.

Stiles went over, slouched over like the weight of the world rested on his shoulders. Derek felt sympathy for the kid.

"Stiles, I know you have been struggling a bit. Understandably so. A lot has happened these past few years. I want you to sit here with me, all night if we have to, and talk over your options. I want you to do what you want to do. I know your dad wants you to go to college and I know you want to open a shop. I think you can do both, and with the way the world works, I think you could make it work. I would gladly help, we can build you a small shop here or something." Derek said. Stiles sagged, eyes lit with relief.

"You don't think it is a dumb idea? Magic isn't well known, and I won't be successful." Stiles said.

"You are right, But people from all over will come if you are good. You will gain a following. I believe you would be a great successor to Alan, if you so choose. I will gladly help you get to that point." Derek said.

"What? I don't even know what I am doing." Stiles rubbed his face. "I can't let you...support me while I decide what I want to do."

"You are running out of time. You didn't hold me up in a pool for two hours for me for me to not learn what kind of person you are. You already made up your mind. You have helped me over and over and over again. Let me help you!" Derek demanded. Stiles threw up his hands, groaning loudly.

"What do you want me to say? That I want to learn all that I can to help you be the best alpha you can be? of the best pack we can be? And if I help other people with things around town or even farther, that would be perfection? That I have no idea what I want to do, but I can't see myself going to university and getting a typical 9-5 job and having 2.5 kids? That you coming in all dark and broody ruined me for all normalcy." Stiles ranted. He was gesturing wildly, pacing in short burst.

"Yeah. That is all I want. Feel better?" Derek, pulled Stiles close, rubbing his nose into his hair. Stiles leaned against him, this time borrowing strength.

"A little. I am glad I finally got to say it aloud. now I have to convince my dad." Stiles said. Derek squeezed him in a side hug.

"We have to convince your dad. You aren't alone, I'm not going anywhere, ever, We're a team." Stiles smiled softly and nodded, relaxing into Derek's grip.

The days and nights grew colder, the wolves handing full moon runs when the humans got the food, hot chocolate and movies ready for their return. Or rather Stiles did, the others just laid about, studying or figuring out how to move into Derek's house without their families noticing. November was quickly finishing and Stiles' favorite time of year was approaching. He had already pulled out the containers of decorations for his own house, trying to figure out how to bring it up to Derek. He wanted to have a pack Christmas, wanted to go out and pick out a tree together, and hang the garlands and argue over where the lights go on the tree, hang up ornaments and behind everyone's back rearrange them. He wanted to get presents for everyone, wrapping them with paper and ribbons and bows.

"Stiles, is something burning?" Scott said coming into the kitchen, kissing Allison on the temple. The other Mates sharing in similar displays of affection. Jackson and Lydia cuddling on a large chair, Erica and Boyd sharing a chaste kiss. Derek walked up to Stiles simultaneously pulling the pan of bacon off the stove and trailing a hand down his jaw to latch into his hair.

"Shit! The bacon. I was distracted. Sorry. It should be fine, I am mixing it to make perogies for you tomorrow. Its Sunday after all." Stiles said softly. He still looked a million miles away, Derek pulled him around ducking slightly to make eye contact.

"Stiles, is something the matter? Are you okay?" Derek asked. After they talked about Stiles' future Stiles had been coming to Derek more and more for support. Derek was more vocal with his thoughts, trying to verbalize emotions. The pack was close, a family but only because the two of them were a solid unit. They knew each other in and out.

Stiles looked nervous, like he didn't know how to ask. Derek just raised an eyebrow. "I want to decorate for Christmas. Here. I want to go and pick out directions and a tree and argue over lights and rearrange the ornaments when no one is looking. I want to agonize for days over the prefect presents. I want to do that, if you are okay with that." Stiles said, in a round of word vomit.

"Okay. I want that too, I was going to ask soon, you just beat me to the punch. How about we pick a day after Thanksgiving to pick out a tree and maybe you can come with me a few days to pick out Christmas decorations, without the children." Derek huffed a laugh into Stiles' temple. "This is your house too, You'll be here just as much as I will be. I want you to do what makes you happy."

"Okay. I'd like that. We can talk about it more later. Let's eat and then tomorrow we can look at some ideas, I want you to be the end all, end all on decisions." Stiles beamed at Derek. He went back to making dinner, leaving the slightly burnt bacon cool off to the side.

Thanksgiving was spent with their families, Derek did join the Stilinksi and McCalll's and Isaac for the big meal, finalizing plans with Stiles on decorations and tree-hunting. They decided on a red, green, gold scheme and more traditional type decorations, simple and minimalistic. Stiles used his internet skills to get some deals on older decorations on craigslist and facebook. They had a few pick-ups scheduled and the time for tree-hunting at a local christmas tree farm. Derek's only request was it had to be a big tree.

The pack three days later met up and began discussing trees. They were all in agreement, for a tall bushy tree but they couldn't pick a species until an employee showed them the examples and explained the difference. Three hours later and they finally agreed on the perfect tree and were on the way to the house. Stiles made them help him put it up right away so it warms up and the branches drop. The pack then scatters and Stiles and Derek head out and got decorations.

Derek watched Stiles spend the next few days putting the inside decorations in places. Derek helping with a comment here or there, but staying quiet, enjoying having someone to share the holiday with. "Thank you Stiles. I am glad, even though we've been through some shit together, that I have met you. I found myself because of you. I am glad that you are happy here with me." Derek told him.

"Me too. I feel safe here with you. Like I belong here, with you." Stiles said. "I know that wolves have mates obviously when they get introduced to each other, but sometimes when I am with you...you look at me and see me and I feel you..." Stiles shook his head.

"I do too. I am more attuned to you and your scent and heart than anyone in the pack. I can only chalk it up to you doing what would be my mate's job if I had one. I am not sure Stiles but I am not mad about it. Maybe after the holidays we can figure it out." Derek said.

"Yeah, that sounds like a plan." Stiles agreed.

The almost confessions triggered something, Derek became more tactile and protective than ever towards Stiles, Stiles made sure the betas were fed and the house was clean and tutored when needed and gave advice. They had been a unit before but now, Stiles and Derek were barely apart, only for school hours. Stiles' dad at one point asked if he was moving in and Stiles took that as permission and did just that (practically) moved in and also used the opportunity to tell John about his post-school plans. John was hesitant and needed some time to think it over before he could agree and support his son. Stiles did as promised and agonized for days what to get each of his friends. He meticulously wrapped each and every one of them. The one that took the longest to put together was the most important.

Stiles had learned many things over the last two and half years, about the world, himself, his hometown, his local vet. One of those things was his most important secret-he had been in love with Derek Hale for two of those years. It wasn't anything grand or extreme, one day Stiles saw him smile at a joke and decided he needed to do that all the time. Stiles knew that Derek needed somebody in his corner and chose to be that person. He didn't know spending all that time with his dry humor and caring nature and supportive personality would result with him falling in love with the older man but he wouldn't change anything that happened for anything in the world. 'except getting his real family back.'Stiles thought. 'That is it! A photo album. The Hales are a very old and well known family, there should be some photographs floating around.'

Stiles got to work. He went to the library and school paper archives, pulling out back issues of newspapers and yearbooks. He called into several nearby packs, opening the Hale pack up to negotiations in the future and even searched through Beacon Hills residents photos to find any and all of the Hale family memories. He also searched the star registry for a bright one towards the north and named it Talia Hale, so Derek would be able to find a guiding light for the rest of his life.

Stiles spent days putting the album together, finding near 75 photos and newspaper clippings for it. He also framed the star certificate and got a observatory to take very good photos of the star. and framed those as well. He was so focused Stiles forgot that his dad told him family was coming over. He obsessed over ever little detail for his present.

Derek did not fare much better. He had decided on a two part present for Stiles as well. One was a greenhouse/workshop Derek was having built for Stiles and a small business front to turn into a shop. Derek bought the shop and added Sties name to the deed so it was legally his. The greenhouse was going to be built in the spring so it could be used over the summer. Derek knew it might be too much for a friend but Stiles saved his life. Without Stiles, Derek would be alone and devastated and family-less. He fell in love with the whiskey eyes and contagious laughter and selflessness and love and compassion. They may not be Mates but Derek wanted no one else with him in the future, not only as a pack member or an emissary but even more than that. Derek kept his feelings a secret not wanting to push Stiles away.

The 23rd of December was the pack Christmas day. They had a wonderful breakfast and were in their PJ's getting settled and waiting for everyone. Everyone go a seat and the presents were sorted. They went in a circle.

"Derek, can you open my last? I...um..." Stiles said. Derek nodded not commenting on the obvious nerves.

"Only if you open mine last too." Derek said. Stiles nodded smiling gratefully. They went around and opened presents; clothes and make up and a few books for the girls, the boys got video games and comics and clothes. Honestly it was a good first Christmas as friends.

all that was left was Derek's present from Stiles and vice versa. The pack watched in silence. Neither moved.

"Please go first." Stiles pleaded. Derek looked between the presents left on his lap and Stiles. Derek picked up what Stiles knew to be the album. Derek gently pulled the paper off pausing in confusion. He looked up at Stiles again who waved at him to continue. He opened the book, the front page being a family picture of the Hales for the work Talia did to create the preserve.

"Stiles, is this..."Derek couldn't finish.

"Yeah It is. A Hale Pack photo album. Took me a while to make it. Think it was an idea even before I knew it." Stiles explained. Derek thought of the all the photos Stiles had taken recently and flipped to the back pages, glossy photos of his current family lined the pages. The last phot was a picture of him and Stiles cuddling on a pack night, the note below was in Allison hand, You both deserve love and happiness no matter who it comes from..

"Thank you Stiles. Thank you." Derek knew somehow in his soul, that was Stiles showing his love for him, without saying. Words took courage, and that wasn't easily found in front of others. "Open yours. The bottom one. Please."

Stiles did as he asked, opening the bottom one, a square shaped box. He opened it to see a copy of a building deed sitting in tissue paper. "Der-Derek. You didn't...Not the-" Stiles' voice broke. He scent blooming with tears and pleasure.

"That place on Pine you've been dreaming about for two months? Why, yes it is." Derek tried to play it off as funny.

"This isn't funny. I told you I didn't want you help." Stiles tried to sound stern. Derek only shook his head.

"I told you to let me help. I did. Also it is technically half mine. But you have a place now. You can actually do it." Derek said. The pack made noises of confusion.

"I am not going to university. I am doing online classes but I am opening a magic shop and taking over for Deaton and becoming Hale Pack Emissary. Derek just bought my dream location." Stiles announced to cheers from the pack. Stiles knew in that moment that is how it felt knowing someone loved you enough to give you want you needed not just what you wanted. He knew how it felt to know someone loved him enough to stand with him not out of obligation but actual love and desire to do so.

They opened the other presents with similar reactions.

"A greenhouse? Seriously? and a workshop?" Stiles was dumbfounded.

"You named a literal star after my mother. A. Star." Derek was flabbergasted.

The rest of the pack sensed it was time to leave, the two men had a lot to discuss-least of all their emotions. The pack began piling out trying not to overhear the conversation.

"Derek, I can't accept this. I really can't. It may be all I ever wanted but I can't let you give it to me. We talked about this, I am filling in. If I was meant to be this important, we'd be mates." Stiles said.

"You aren't a fill in. Do you think I would give you up for someone I don't know? I would never. No relationship will ever be more important than our to me. You say this is all you ever wanted? You can have it!" Derek said.

"This isn't something I can take, you may change your mind, or find someone better. This is something to dream and hope for. Let me dream and hope, so I don't get hurt." Stiles sounded sad and broken. Derek made a soft wounded noise.

"You are it for me. I built you a goddamn house Stiles. I tore down my last memory of my family for you. We have almost died for each other too many times to count for you to back out now." Derek said. Stile growled and shuffled trying to think of an argument. He was saved by his dad coming down the road in a hurry. The pack was spilled on the porch trying to look like they hadn't been listening.

"Scott, where is Stiles?" John called. Stiles and Derek came out at the sound of his voice. "Mieczyslaw Stilinski! You were supposed to by home an hour ago! We have family coming in today remember!" John yelled, standing against his open car door.

"I'll be right there!" Stiles blanched. "I can't believe I forgot." He turned to Derek. "We aren't done here, mister."

"Your first name is really Mieczyslaw?" Derek asked. He didn't want Stiles leaving while angry, it made it anxious.

"Yep! Mieczyslaw Stilinski. Please to meet you Derek Hale!" Stiles understood what Derek was going for without him saying like most times.

"Please to meet you too." Derek chuckled before a sharp pain brought him and Stiles to their knees.

Several painful minutes later, Stiles was laughing hard enough he had tears streaming down his face. He left hand was clamped over his shirt collar, knuckles white. Derek stared openmouthed. John and the rest of the pack stood confused and worried.

"Did what I think happen just actually happen?" Scott asked.

"We'd never been formally introduced. Definitely not with my first name. Mate-Marks only form when properly introduced." Stiles moved his hand to show the large wolf print marking his upper chest and collarbone.

Derek laughed. and laughed and laughed before swooping down and pressing a slightly desperate kiss onto Stiles' lips. "Guess we won't have to discuss the shopfront or greenhouse later, mate." Derek grinned goofily at Stiles who could help but smile back just as dopey.

"Guess not" Stiles said. "I guess not."

Both of them could feel the calmness and happiness in their souls for finding their mates. Derek's wolf stopped shifting anxiously as it had been for months, finally calming down for Derek to relax. Both of them filled to the brim: safe, mate, mine, forever.

[thejudgingtrash]

[ID: A dark camping side with a fire pit in the foreground. A white frame highlights the logs and the fire. Orange sparks ascend into the sky. Underneath the white frame stands the title ‘A Warm Place at the Fire’. End of ID.]

As promised, @goldendaysareahead​ a little fanfic about my Camp Hestia AU!

I hope you enjoy it and thank you for @the-real-annabeth-chase​ for being yet again an amazing beta!

A Warm Place at the Fire (3,8k) 

“There! We’ve almost made it!” yelled Bode. His hooves would have brought him much faster near his goal if it weren’t for the mortal legs next to him that trampled to keep up with his speed. Thunder crackled in the distance which made Bode’s brown skin glow in an unusual pale blue.

The satyr looked over his shoulder. His enhanced hearing made him filter out the noise much better. It also helped him focus on the danger behind him. The growls, the hissing and the mass that the animal carried as it surged ahead to kill its prey. “Don’t look behind you!” panted Bode as his friend was about to turn his head.

“Are you kidding me?” coughed the young boy. His legs were burning, and his lungs felt like they were set on fire. “Look who’s talking!”

“Parker, now’s not the time!”

Thunder.

Everything today fell apart. Everything today was nothing but a major disaster. Everything… was simply strange. Parker was used to strange things. He had a vivid fantasy as a kid and always talked about the plants singing for him before he started elementary school. But today really took the cake.

It started with Parker failing three reports at school and slowly peaked to Parker’s father getting robbed in his shop, to said father calling Bode to tell him to put Parker far away in a summer camp for gifted kids out of all places and now after running through the busy streets of New York City, a hell of a ride in a taxi cab that three blind ladies who fought over one single eyeball drove, some weird animal hybrid had sensed them and decided to hunt them the minute they arrived in Long Island.

Oh, and Bode Underwood, Parker’s newfound best friend and neighbor who had just transferred to his middle school, was apparently a satyr with the hairiest goat legs Parker had ever seen and he even had tiny horns hidden in his tight black curls.

The earth shook. It was an earthquake. It had to be an earthquake. But the way the ruptures of the earth had shifted it was clear that it could not be an earthquake. The massive body of an animal still wanted its prey. Tearing two children apart was what he desired.

“There! We’ve almost made it, hold on, Parker!” hissed Bode.

Parker was trying to not land on his face as the path became muddier. It had rained the previous days in New York. “Look! The sign!”

Parker’s eyes followed Bode’s arm. It was true. Deep into the forest there was an archway. It was made out of marble and a wooden sign said New Athens. Behind the archway were… buildings? Houses? Didn’t Parker’s dad tell him that he would be brought into a summer camp? As the two boys came closer Parker could even read the small insignia underneath: formerly known as Camp Half-Blood.

A roar made both nearly jump. The animal. The monster. It also hissed?

Parker jumped over a fallen tree branch and Bode bleated. Oh, he’s really a goat, Parker thought.

A roar. Parker felt the heat in his back. Was he imagining acid tearing his jeans jacket apart or was it truly happening? He had no time to care about it.

The two boys nearly reached the archway. “JUMP!” yelled Bode and Parker did. The both of them slid through the archway and were greeted with silence. Parker vowed to himself to never slide on mud again. The taste of grass and dirt was truly displeasing. No wind was howling and only the echoing songs of the cicadas kept them company.

This so-called camp looked strange. It was a clash of cultures. It was a fight between new and old. To Parkers right it did look like the old grounds of a camp. They looked like they had sporting events, a dinner area and a large area for all kinds of other activities. It would have been fairly normal if it weren’t for deadly ancient weapons lying around in front of a cabin and the dozens of cabins themselves. Each cabin had a different character to it as if they were dedicated to someone. They radiated a strange force. Parker instinctively knew that it was old and ancient, that it was powerful.

The left of the campgrounds were the polar opposite. It wasn’t just buildings and houses. It was an entire city. It was a huge construction side with many finished and unfinished buildings. A city so big yet so hidden deep in the woods of Long Island. The architecture was astounding, and the design was precise and heavily inspired by the world of Ancient Greece.

Was that a CVS out of all things placed into something that looked like the pantheon? And it had a Trader Joe’s next to it in something that looked like another temple? An entire Ancient Greek Taco Bell with a crunch wrap supreme advertisement that had a lightning bolt pressed into its side?! And in the middle of the city was an old market place like in Hollywood movies?

What’s going on? asked Parker himself.

A big blue house seemed to draw the line between old and new. The old ways and the new life. The yesterday and the new beginning at dawn. The old life that Parker had and the new one that rose like a phoenix from its ashes.

Yes, Bode and he made it. The boys had truly made it. They were alive and safe! For now. They gave each other a high five as they rested on the ground and thanked the shining stars above them for their guidance.

A clash disrupted their celebratory mood. The beast. Parker finally saw it in its entire glory. The head of a lion. The back of a reptile? Was that a dragon? And its tale was a snake out of all things?

Fearsome snarls and growls were drowned out behind the invisible layer that prevented the beast from entering campgrounds. The piercing yellow eyes shifted and tried to find the mortal flesh it desired only to be disappointed. The barrier was too strong to be penetrated. The massive beast turned around and was lost from Parker’s sight as it became one with the forest’s darkness. Parker’s adrenaline rush slowly faded away and his heart rate returned to normal.

What he felt rushing over him was a wave of fatigue. He felt the aching pain of his burning lungs that demanded more oxygen, the pain in his bones and muscles that wanted some rest. The young boy sank into the soft grass and wiped the sweat from his forehead. Bode only patted his shoulder as he sat down next to him. The satyr was tired but not as exhausted as the camp’s newest family member.

“You’ve made it,” Bode whispered.

“You’ve made it here, safely! Everything will be alright once the moon chariot sets and the one of the sun rises, we’ll take the entire day to truly process what happens and make a plan about what your father had said, alright?” Parker was too tired to realize the true meanings behind Bode’s words. He only mumbled a “yeah,” and tried to breathe with a steady rhythm.

“Hey Parker,” Bode started, “You just survived the chimera which is something I’m incredibly thankful as that beast has killed other kids prior.”

Chimera? For some odd reason that weird Hercules movie from Disney came to Parker’s mind. “It did what now?”

Bode raised his hands in defense. “Woah hold your horses! No one was seriously injured – this time.” he said.

“What’s important is that you’ll catch your breath and meet the new camp director. Right there at the fireplace.” Bode pointed into the distance and Parker’s gaze followed. “I know all of this is new and weird to you, especially since this place isn’t the most organized, but trust me.”

It was true what Bode said. The juxtaposition between the two worlds that clashed at Camp Half-Blood were simply weird to Parker’s unaccustomed eyes. But there! At the old camp site, right at the edge of old and new, there she was. A woman poking a log with what looked like a golden hook. She wore a brown gown and held a hand to the flames. The flames rose and Parker was worried that the strange lady might have singed her eyebrows accidentally. But no. It was the opposite. It was as if the fire were dancing for her. As if it’s flaring was a beautiful melody for her eyes and only her eyes.

The orange and yellow and golden streaks of the flames were hypnotizing. Parker didn’t even realize how he was already standing up on his two feet and walking towards the pit. Bode followed him. The pit looked small in the distance but only enlarged close up. Parker didn’t feel fear – it was the polar opposite. He felt as calm as he had never been before. The young boy stopped.

“Parker Mbata,” the woman smiled and turned her head to him. The reflection of the flames danced in her eyes and Parker knew that the orange highlighted his beautiful black skin. Beautiful dark skin that she had as well.

“How do you know my name?” he asked her and raised an eyebrow. His voice cracked; he didn’t want to appear impolite as that was what most people thought wrongfully about him. The woman only smiled and pointed to a seat next to her. She was middle-aged and her black braids would probably reach her knees if she had been standing upright. She was pretty. A round face that loved to smile. It wasn’t the movie star look, but she had the calm and grace of someone who had seen much of the world and was able to see the wonderful side of things.

For Parker, she had the aura of a friendly aunt that would help out with homework, try to play on a console with you and would bake here and there from time to time with you. Rib crushing hugs, hands that drove through hair, a pat on the shoulder that said: “No matter how far you’ll go, remember that I’ll always be proud of you.”

If it hadn’t been merely the surface level of her being. She was no ordinary woman like his math teacher – of that Parker was certain. Her eyes. The gleam of the orange nourished her skin and highlighted her beauty. The warmth in her eyes radiated the power of a thousand hugs.

She reeked of power that should never be underestimated.

“I know the names of all new campers,” she simply answered with an honest smile on her face.

“Thank you, Bode.” The woman said and shifted her gaze to the young satyr next to him. Parker could have sworn that he saw his best friend blush at the compliment. That or it was a simple illusion from the fire. “You may now go to your parents’ house. I’m sure Juniper is still waiting on the porch, and Grover will be over the moon with your first search that was a successful one at that.”

The corner of Bode’s mouth threatened to tear his face apart from grinning so big. “See you tomorrow, Parker!” he said before he bowed to the weird lady.

Parker waved goodbye and saw how lights of lanterns turned on in the modern part of the camp as Bode crossed the streets. They turned off again automatically as he turned to the left.

“You may call me Hestia. I’m the new camp director of Camp Half-Blood.”

“Hestia,” Parker repeated, and he saw how she nodded.

“This is a camp for very special people,” Hestia continued and poked the fire. A flame erupted and rose to the sky. “You are safe in here. No monsters or other meddlers will interfere within camp boarders or in the wider city of New Athens. You will train like other half-bloods, find your strength and weaknesses so that you may survive into adulthood and now how to protect yourself and those that you love.”

Half-blood? Monsters? Survive into adulthood? The questions stood bright on Parker’s face as his dark brown eyes widened.

Hestia laughed and patted his back. The warm feeling of being comforted flooded Parker’s body.

“You look an awful lot like my sister,” Hestia said after a few seconds of comfortable silence.

“People just say that I look like my dad only with a better fade on the sides of my head,” Parker denied. “Also, how can I look like your sister?”

Hestia grinned yet again and shook her head. The golden jewelry on her braids clanged. “That is not what I mean, Parker,” Hestia stated.

“Her personality. Her abilities. Her capabilities. All of that and more I see in you. After all, she is your mother.”

Parker’s jaw dropped. Hestia was actually his aunt? She knew his mother? How?! His father had always told him that his mother was a busy person and big in the botanic scene, chasing new discovery after new discovery and that that was the reason why she was never around. Also, Parker had the suspicion that she had fled the country so that she didn’t have to pay child support.

“But I see more in you. Further down your line.” Hestia placed her index finger underneath his chin and lifted it up slightly.

“I can see Morpheus as your great-grandfather. I can see Hermes even further down there.”

“Hermes like the Greek god?”

“Yes, my nephew is a funny albeit sometimes exhausting one.”

“So you want to say that I’m a descendant of Greek gods?”

Hestia nodded. “That I do.”

Parker coughed. Hestia was worried. She waved her hand in the air and Parker had to suppress the scream that was bubbling inside of him as a bottle with a clear liquid appeared. Now he definitely believed her. It wasn’t for the fact that a terrible monster had hunted him for nearly two hours earlier.

“Here drink this slowly. Do not haste, I’d rather not clean up the burnt remains of my newest nephew,” she winked. Parker took the bottle and a first sip.

“Nectar. The drink of the gods. It heals you demigods but too much and it’ll set you on fire.”

The drink tasted like good times. Like the fondest memories that had been deeply buried inside of Parker. The fudgy chocolate brownies with a hint of peanut butter that his father used to make for him whenever he had a good mood. And now his father had sent him away.

The disappointment hit Parker harder than the strenuous activity that had been fleeing the chimera earlier. Hestia sensed his mood and decided to distract him.

“Normally I start camp tours and initiations in the mornings, but I see that I should start out early. You aren’t the only new camper but who would mind a little head start?”, she winked again. “Let me do it differently as well. We used to show a terrible introduction movie around to introduce you into the new world but the reception has been mostly negative.”

Okay thought Parker and nodded slowly.

“How do you feel about your classmates? The Jackson twins?”

Parker narrowed his eyebrows. The twins were weird in a way that most twins were. They were definitely the sort of twins that could read each other’s minds and answer for one another if it weren’t for the fact that they seemed to annoy each other. Apart from that, they were also very friendly and sat down at lunch with him at school despite their constant bickering going on Parker’s nerves.

Ari was the more out-going and bold one and her twin Theo was quieter and more reserved. And he wore glasses that he always readjusted. Parker was definitely not fond of him. No, he was absolutely not. And the swoon in the pit of his stomach that he felt was something he would ignore for the time being.

The more important question: what did the twins have to do with all of this? Hestia grinned as if she had read all of his thoughts and emotions. “As much as I adore Ariadne and Theodoros, we need to begin a generation earlier with their parents. I have much to thank them for.”

Hestia’s immortal memory brought her pictures back that happened decades ago. As her brother threatened to smite Perseus Jackson for daring to stand up to him and ask him for another wish instead of the gift of immortality.

“From now on, I want you to properly recognize the children of the gods. All the children . . . of all the gods,” young Perseus Jackson wished. “I want you to promise to claim your children—all your demigod children—by the time they turn thirteen. They won't be left out in the world on their own at the mercy of monsters. I want them claimed and brought to camp so they can be trained right and survive.”

Oh, how her youngest brother had been furious. “And the minor gods,” Perseus exclaimed. “Nemesis, Hecate, Morpheus, Janus, Hebe—they all deserve a general amnesty and a place at Camp Half-Blood. Their children shouldn't be ignored. Calypso and the other peaceful Titan-kind should be pardoned too. And Hades as well. As for Hestia and him, I have another wish for them. Give them their seats in the Olympian council back.”

That demand made the eyebrows of Poseidon and Athena rise as Zeus’ mouth grew into an even thinner line.

And then Perseus Jackson had turned around to her and had given her the biggest gift she had ever received in her immortal life. “And aunt Hestia, you are the heart and soul of Mount Olympus. You are the guidance and comfort we seek, the hope that remains in our very core. With your permission—the permission from all gods—I’d ask Hestia if she would like to lead Camp Half-Blood as a new co-camp director alongside Chiron and Dionysus until he is done with his punishment?”

Then Hestia did only two things. Hug the savior of Olympus and accept his gracious gift to her as Zeus was legally bound to make his nephews wishes come true.

“Mr. Jackson did all of these things when he was a teenager? With his—uhhh—future wife? And Bode’s dad?” The tales of him having that much influence seemed too great and big and so… unrealistic? Parker couldn’t believe that Percy Jackson was that sort of man. He was a pastry baker and started crying whenever his wife butchered the name of one of his fancy creations according to Ari. That and he was supposedly very busy with his bakery Blue Jackson’s in Downtown Manhattan and another subsidiary in Los Angeles. And that person persuaded Olympian gods as a teenager? Saved the world as a child?

“I mean Mr. Jackson is just a baker,” Parker shrugged. “And Mrs. Chase is this crazy busy architect that also plays mom taxi somehow and drives her kids around while she’s running from meeting to meeting?” At least that was what Theo had texted him ages ago.

Hestia pointed to the beautiful city of New Athens. Not the majestic buildings that stood proudly there surrounding the market place but beyond that where the façade began to crack as the largest construction side he had ever seen. “Yes, Annabeth is incredibly busy with her occupation. As it was she that bore the grounds of New Athens as a safe haven for your kind. Do you see that house on the hill?”

It was pompous, enormous and combined the modern and ancient style beautifully. A light on the second floor was on. “The residence of the Jackson-Chase’s.”

Parker’s jaw dropped. These people must have been filthy rich. No wonder that Mr. Jackson ordered flower arrangements on the regular from his dad. Those pieces were expensive. Parker’s eyes shifted slightly to the left. A few feet away was a Blue Jackson’s bakery right next to the house. Easy commute for Mr. Jackson.

“The illuminated room is Annabeth’s office. It seems like she is still working on her designs.”

The light was suddenly switched off. “Oh!” Hestia sounded surprised. “It looks like Perseus was for once successful in telling his wife she ought to sleep. Oh well.”

Parker snickered.

“After all it is way past two in the morning. You should also rest so soon.”

But Parker didn’t want to. He was wrapped up in the tales that Hestia told him. The middle schooler reassured Hestia that he was yet not entirely worn out. The goddess sighed like a tired mother.

“And it was she, Annabeth, that restored the honor of the gods and built a cabin for every one of us gods—even the ones without half-bloods—so that we have places for our children, visitors and prayers. Until you are claimed, you will stay at Cabin Zero—my cabin,” Hestia smiled.

“We all start at Zero. We all start from nothing only to learn and to grow into something. You will find new friends, a new life, a new home. Just like your parents intended and. I am sure that Mr. Mbata will arrive soon safely at camp. I have given him instructions to hide in a secret place due to the monsters starting to sense you.”

That made Parker smile and relief spread throughout him. He would be reunited with his father very soon.

“You remind me very much of Perseus Jackson, Parker Mbata. Since the introduction movie left a sour taste in many campers and inhabitants of New Athens and you do not appear to be so sleepy, let me retell the tale of Perseus Jackson from the beginning. The most famous demigod of them all. Greater than any other hero the Greek pantheon had ever seen.”

The flames seemed to dance around goddess and demigod. “He was just like you. Small, a little bit on the scrawny side…”

Parker frowned a little bit, but Hestia giggled at her backhanded compliment.

“A half-blood. A child of man and god… Perseus gets quite frequently asked to retell his story. At first, he did so begrudgingly. He wrote his memories down. For his and anyone else’s sake. Had an entire folder with papers in his hand as he sat down. But now he grew confident and into an incredible speaker. He speaks from his heart and not from paper.”

Hestia inhaled sharply. The eldest child of Kronos turned her face to the red of the flames to recount the events that happened nearly twenty years ago.

“Perseus always starts his stories with ‘look, I didn’t want to be a half-blood’…”

The End

I’m not really an OC person but I hope you enjoyed this little thought experiment regardless ;>

If anyone is interested in my other fanfics, I can offer you How Could You (Percabeth, sad, finished) and The Fool (Percabeth, mystery, on-going) :3

[starstruck-thirst]

i love anything you write about hisoka but that lake fic and the follow up... best x reader with with i have ever read. Will you perhaps continue it?

I had an idea for the scenario to follow for a while. And as I wrote it felt like the same reader to me? So I hope this helps scratch that itch for you, Anon!~*~*~

Hisoka Morow: Play Date

Warnings: None______________________

People always complained about the cold in winter, but honestly summer heat was much worse.

The fan next to you was on full blast, oscillating back and forth in a trivial attempt to cool the room. Its efforts yielding in only the slightest bit of sweat coating your body. Preferable to sweating out buckets, but only just so.

You pretended not to notice someone enter the room, eyes focused on the computer in front of you. The only thing that was helping to distract you from the heavy heat of the day was the dozens of web pages you were digging through for information.

Passively, you wondered how non- hunters got by. The license was worth a literal thousand times its weight in gold for all of the easy information you could pull up, if not more. Granted you also had to know where to look, but that just took some old fashioned luck and patience.

Patience that was starting to run out as your brow furrowed in frustration. Your fingers came especially hard down on the keys as you altered your search terms and replied to a forum post that was hunter exclusive.

“If this fucking idiot asks me this question one more time I swear I’ll break his fingers,” you mumbled, computer keys crying loudly as you abused them. “I’ll tear them off and stuff them into his-”

Your rant was cut off as the feeling of wet fabric crashed down over your head and the view of the computer was completely cut off by darkness. Startled, you yowled. On instinct your hands left the keyboard to grip at what felt like a wet, cold towel.

With a little struggle to find the edge you managed to peak out of the towel to shoot a glare at a giggling Hisoka who stood to your side. His enjoyment at watching your annoyed scramble only served to make you even more frustrated and you gripped the towel around your head like a scarf, pouting silently.

“It seemed like you needed to cool down,” he said, emphasizing the word ‘cool’ as a hand raised dramatically to his cheek.

“Maybe I’ll rip your fingers off instead,” you muttered. No way would you admit it to him- seeing as he was laughing at you- but the towel did feel nice.

His citrine eyes opened and looked at you with pinpoint accuracy. “Are you threatening me?” he asked, the lit in his tone dark with danger but sweet with excitement at the same time.

“Maybe,” you mumbled before turning back to the computer screen. Even if you had responded as if you were prepared to get into a fight with Hisoka, you didn’t particularly actually want one. It was far too warm to be getting physical like that.

Now that your concentration was broken you didn’t even want to look at the computer anymore. The screen felt like it was from another world as you disassociated into it. Idly you slid the towel from your head to your face as blank eyes continued to take in the glowing rectangle. Though you weren’t actually reading the screen you continued to stare at it blankly while blotting your face with the cool towel. You traced it down your neck, enjoying the feeling of the cool water wiping away some of the heavy sweat. As you brought it to your chest, you sighed at the relief that slowly swept through your hot skin.

Something must have struck Hisoka, because suddenly he gripped your shoulder and twisted your chair to look at him. He was bent at the waist, eyes level with yours as he grinned like a cat with a mouse. A low chuckle came just before he asked, “Honey, do you love me?”

A second passed.

Maybe another one.

All at once you felt hot again and you tried to push the chair back away from him, scrambling to create distance from this abrupt and uncomfortable situation. But Hisoka’s hand on your chair was firm, his muscular arms wouldn't’ allow you to slide back even a millimeter. “What the hell?!” you asked at last, holding the towel to your chest with both hands like a shield.

Hisoka laughed. He was obviously amused at your reaction. “Have you never heard of that children’s game?”

You didn’t relax but you couldn’t help but to think, ‘Of course it is something like this.’

“No. What are you talking about?” you asked incredulously.

Hisoka stood straight again, releasing your chair to put a finger up matter-of-factually. “It’s a game in which one player asks the other ‘Honey do you love me?’ The person being asked must respond with ‘Honey, I love you but I just can’t smile.’ If the person being asked cannot do that without smiling, they win.”

How did he think of these things?

“So what happens if the responder can say it without smiling?”

His grin widened. He knew he had your attention. Mentally you scolded yourself, he already had one victory now. The success of your interest. “You can play a few ways. The questioner can ask one more time, making any contact they wish to get a result. Or the questioner loses that round, the game continues,  and now the responder becomes the questioner.”

It made sense. To some extent. “Wait… then how is the game won?”

“You win by getting the questioner to slip up and smile.”

A corner of your mouth turned down in a contemplative gesture. “Doesn’t seem like much of a win.”

Hisoka’s eyes gleamed with mischief. “We could sweeten the deal then.”

A second victory for Hisoka. You huffed. “I didn’t say I would play. I am trying to work, you know. So we can get paid?”

Long fingers brushed your words away. “I’m bored of that. I think you should take a break. Unless you’re just scared of what I’ll make the reward for when I win.”

This was such an obvious trap. But one glance back to the computer was enough to make your brain shut down again and you knew that no matter how much you wanted to make this job move forward, you needed to look away from it.

Fuck.

“Fine. But if I win you have to go out and get dinner.”

“That’s all?” he asked.

“And a back massage,” you tacked on quickly.

Hisoka chuckled and rounded on you, moving to your side then to your back. “I agree. If I win you’ll do what I ask for one hour with no complaints.”

Your breath stopped as the tips of his fingers caressed the sides of your face. The self-preservation part of your mind couldn’t help but to imagine Hisoka simply ripping your head off. He probably could with ease if you dropped your guard. But the touches were gentle, fingers caressing your cheeks sweetly as he looked down on you from behind.

“Okay,” you responded against your better judgement.

“Excellent,” he hissed, satisfied. “But smiling alone seems too dull. Let’s change up that rule a bit, hmm?”

“Hisoka, you can’t just change the rules,” you complained.

His fingers arched up and slid into your hair, palms squishing your cheeks as he rubbed his fingers in and out of your hair line. “Come on now, y/n. Let’s make it more difficult. How about if the responder laughs, smiles, or fails to respond completely they lose?”

The suggestions were ominous. What was he planning on doing to win? But you had to admit that it would also help your odds. “No actively restricting the other’s ability to speak. Like covering their mouths,” you added.

Almost sounding hurt, Hisoka promptly responded, “Of course not.”

“Fine. Let’s start.”

“But you already lost. You didn’t respond, remember?” Hisoka teased, using his hands in your hair to tilt your face backwards to see his impish grin.

“I didn’t know it was a game then! That does not count, Hisoka!”

He sighed, face falling to a more neutral look as he slid his hands out of your hair. “Very well then. But I’ll still start.”

You swallowed, lowering your head to watch Hisoka come around to your front. This time his method was to remain standing, placing a hand delicately under your chin to help tip your gaze up to him. “Honey,” he started, voice as sweet as it could be, “do you love me?”

When you had agreed you had no idea your heart would hammer at hearing the words come from him a second time. Even if you were expecting it, they were just something you never in a million years would have expected from the magician. But, with a clenched hand against your knee you responded with a straight face, “Honey, I love you but I just can’t smile.”

Somewhat surprisingly your lips did tingle with the desire to smile. Probably from the absurdity of the situation.

Hisoka laughed. “Very well then,” he said, retracting his hand as his face went completely neutral. His seriousness was more frightening than his usual twisted joy. “Your turn.”

The way he was looking at you was making you even more nervous than you already were beginning to be, now that you were in control. You hadn’t gotten this far in your planning, so you had to act on impulse.

Standing you took the still slightly damp towel into both hands, threw it around Hisoka’s shoulders, and pulled him down to you, tilting your head cutely to the side. “Honey, do you love me?”

If Hisoka was tempted to smile or laugh it was impossible to tell. Turning the game back on you he leaned in closer, lips hovering over your own. “Honey,” each movement of his lips caused them to brush your own, “I love you but I just can’t smile.”

Consciously you had to remember to breathe as Hisoka stood there, looking at your face with focused eyes. “O-okay,” you responded a bit shakily, releasing the towel to step back. “Your turn.”

“You’re already blushing and we just started,” Hisoka pointed out, the joy in his voice not reaching his lips. He was playing so seriously that even when he was no longer the responder he wouldn’t smile. And it was unnerving.

“Just go,” you urged, crossing your arms subconsciously over your stomach. The heat in your face didn’t go away as the next round started.

This time Hisoka walked towards you, causing you to back away from him due to the slightly dark aura you were getting tastes of as he closed the distance between you with each step. As you clumsily bumped into the wall Hisoka put an arm onto the wall next to your head and leaned in slowly with purpose. Your head swam as Hisoka swooped down on you. Before you knew it he had the top of your ear between his teeth. Each hot breath out made you squirm against the wall.

“Honey, do you love me?” he asked in a low whisper before kissing your neck.

You had to swallow, putting both hands on the wall to literally steady yourself. Eyes squeezed tight you took a deep breath as his teeth grazed your skin. “Honey, I love you but I just can’t smile!” The words came out in a rush and all at once. It was either that or not at all and you would have lost right then and there.

Against your neck, Hisoka hmmed in disappointment. He pulled his face back, but made no other move to free you from your position. You waited for a moment, thinking he would eventually, but instead he just raised an eyebrow. “Are you giving up?” he asked, looking a bit annoyed at the thought.“No,” you replied firmly, his mere suggesting you were doing such a thing giving you some strength back.

What would make Hisoka laugh in times like this? You were trying to figure it out, seeing your time was running out as Hisoka’s look grew more and more irritated.

Remembering the towel it gave you an idea. Hisoka liked to laugh at you when he forced you out of your serious character. And right now you were being as serious as ever, even as he had you pinned against a wall.

You licked your lips, took in a shaky breath and readied yourself.

“Honey,” you began, making your voice a bit higher and cuter as you looked up at him through your lashes. Just to add to the effect you slid your hands along his waist and shifted your hips forward enough to be teasing. “Do you love me?”

Whatever Hisoka had been expecting, this wasn’t it. Before he had responded quickly and easily, but this time he paused for just a moment first. The tiniest hint of a muscle in his face showed he had to fight to keep from smiling this time as he responded, "Honey, I love you but I just can't smile."

Damn. You thought you had him that time.

"My turn. I hope you're ready to lose," he said, the sense of a hidden smile lingered though it still didn't reach his face. That feeling was so strange it made you shake a little as Hisoka's hands both went to your face.

One brushed your hair away from your eyes as he tilted his head each direction, really looking at you. The action was so simple, but it felt so intimate as his eyes scanned your face from your chin up to your eyes.

You could feel your heart tighten in your chest as his thumb rubbed your cheek. You told yourself you were steeled for anything, but when Hisoka gently laid his lips on yours something inside of you shifted.

The kiss was soft, the kind of kiss two people shared after a really excellent first date. And as Hisoka pushed his chest to yours, pressing you into the wall with just enough force to crush in a pleasing way, he moved one hand into your hair behind your head. With your head cradled so sweetly you felt a bit lost in the sensation.

He kissed you again, lips moving against yours and inciting you to kiss him back. A warm feeling filled your body as it fell into the moment. Feeling nothing but Hisoka’s lips moving against and his body slightly crushing yours.

When he pulled away you stayed where you were, feeling all the lingering emotions and sensations for a moment longer before you opened your eyes.

His face was still incredibly close, but it didn't feel as intrusive as it had before.

"Honey, do you love me?" he muttered, rubbing the thumb over your cheek again.

"Y-Yeah," you mumbled, still caught up in all the sensations in your head.

Hisoka laughed. Soft, rolling, and sinister.

"You lose.”