#the ending was not the direction i had planned

[shotmrmiller]

(Unnamed for now, 4.8k words of nothing but self indulgence because ex bf simon is king. just porn without plot, the usual filth. also i wrote myself into a hole with the smut but whatever.)

If your friends knew that you'd gone to great lengths to look presentable— less cave-dweller, more human— hoping to get lucky tonight only to end up waving off anyone of interest because you're too busy sulking about a relationship you willingly broke off, they'd kick you from the group chat.

(Or never let you live it down.)

But here you are, perched on a barstool, its cracked leather slightly sticky beneath your legs, the cocktail you'd ordered a while ago sitting mostly untouched on an even stickier bar top. Lamenting. Moping all over a guy who hasn't bothered to return a single phone call since you left him the voicemail. And it hadn't been his fault, really. He'd been upfront with you from the get-go; he's a busy man with a job you don't want to know about and are safer not knowing about.

You'd noticed the specific wording he'd used. Not better off but safer off, its implications perilous. The hardened look he'd given you when you'd pressed him on it, hoping for a slip of the truth, had been the first and only warning you'd needed.

Get off his case, understood.

You clench your teeth, irritation nipping at your nerves. You'd like to think that you've mourned this ex-relationship plenty and feeling an acute, smoldering ache again over a whisper of a memory (and not even a fond one at that)—

Time to douse these flames.

Waving the bartender down, you push away the watered-down drink and gesture for a shot. She eyes you warily, hesitating for a moment before sliding an empty glass over and reaching for some top-shelf bottle your bank account already feels the bite of. The fiery burn that courses down your throat resembles the one in your chest.

The alcohol swiftly does its job, offering a sense of relief, and you're grateful for it, even if fleeting. The room starts to blur a bit, the strobing lights overhead bleeding together like a watercolor painting left out in the rain, and you let yourself sink into the moment, the gentle ebb of intoxication pooling heat in your cheeks, warmth seeping into your limbs.

Things don't look so bad now; the world has taken a dreamlike quality to it, with softened edges and vibrant colors. With the liquid courage dulling the sharpness of your previous thoughts and easing the tension in your shoulders, you reckon that now you can start looking for your prey of the evening. It's why you even bothered to slink out of your comfort zone in the first place.

Mission directive: Get laid. Or plan B: go home with a new number saved in your contacts.

You rest your chin on your palm, eyes lazily scanning around the room, taking in the hazy but lively atmosphere. The dance floor is a whirl of energy, couples moving to the rhythm of the music, a group of friends huddling in a corner, hands gesturing animatedly as they chat each other up, and at the front—

If you swiveled away in your chair any faster, the courage you'd knocked back 10 minutes ago would come back up, spilling onto the bar top the barkeep gave up trying to keep clean. There have been numerous instances where your mind plays tricks on you, teasing you with glimpses of big and blonde in your peripheral while out running errands, the miserable lump in your throat only dislodging once you've made your grand escape.

(It's not running away; It's a tactical retreat. You'll face the music when it's less deafening.)

And in keeping with tradition, you settle your tab and scurry off to the bathroom, clutching your bag like a lifeline. A familiar shadow just walked in through the front door, once again haunting you. No matter how many times you whisper reassurances under your breath, dismissing it as a cruel joke your mind loves to play, the semblance of him never fails to arouse a bit of panic in you.

The trip to the bathroom feels like you're trekking across the country, weaving in and out and around crowds of people, dodging flailing limbs like an extreme sport. The inside is relatively small and cramped; three stalls for the entire bar. It's blessedly empty, so you beeline to the sink, hoping for a splash of cold water to settle your nerves.

The water is startlingly cold, or maybe it feels colder because you're flustered, and you're mid air-drying your hands when you hear it: that unforgettable gait, heavy and solid, like a tank rolling over rugged terrain. It's something that you can still hear echo in the small confines of your flat when the world is quiet. The mirror in front reflects your tense face, its edges cloudy with time and poor-quality cleaning solutions.

Get a grip, you're losing it.

Until the door swings wide, hinges screeching as it gives way with no resistance, and you realize that you're not losing it. But you just might.

"'Ello, poppet."

Incredulity forces a chuckle out of you because it's either you laugh or you cry.

"Nice," he eyes the cracked tile beneath your feet, "choice for a night out. Beer's more piss than ale, though." The door closes behind him.

The mockery in his voice is wildly unwarranted, especially for a man you haven't heard from for a better part of the year, and you finally gather your wits to bite back indignantly.

"What? It's not your cuppa? I always assumed you ratted out in seedy holes like this." The bruise-tight grip you've got around your bag makes your fingers ache. "I'll be sure to pick a more refined place for you next time."

He wastes no time closing the gap between you two, your three steps back negated by his single one with laughable ease, and the space around you seems to shrink, his presence swallowing it whole. You'd forgotten just how large a man he was— is.

A different beast altogether.

"No need. We won't be comin' back 'ere again." Your brows quirked at that. He's gone and learned French, apparently. Oui. You try to keep your personal bubble intact by taking another step back only to come in contact with a stall door, its chilly surface forcing your spine rigid. Cornered, caught in the crosshairs of the hunter's gaze, and the intensity of it makes you feel vulnerable, bare, as if you're staring up the barrel of a loaded gun.

"Easy, lovie, no need to look at me like tha', 'm jus' 'ere to talk," he says with a tone that's tinged with condescension, and his giant mitts are up and palms facing you like he's dealing with a skittish animal. There's a thought there, buried deep, that you refuse to acknowledge.

"Talk?" The question bursts out before you can stop it, followed by a sardonic laugh that feels unexpectedly cathartic as it leaves your mouth. Talk now, when you not only kept your line of communication open but also actively tried reaching out for weeks? Weeks spent waiting for a response, foolishly hoping he'd give a damn enough to at least put up a fight for you and what you had?

He tilts his head slightly, eyes unreadable. "Better late than never," he remarks, but that's the problem, isn't it? You were forced to come to terms with never, whether you liked it or not. And you had not liked it, but it had been necessary. To know there was a part of his life you weren't welcome to, regardless of reason, was something that shadowed your interactions. The realization that you were kept at arm's length due to the duality of his life was too bitter a pill to swallow.

It'd been a painful process making peace with the fact that maybe things just hadn't been meant to be. C'est la vie and all that tripe. But now, here he stands before you, having materialized out of thin air, a bloody intrusion upon the fragile peace you've built for yourself— it feels like a mockery of the emotional distress you've had to endure.

"Better late than—? You honestly fucking think you can just," you stumble over yourself in disbelief, "just corner me in a tiny bathroom of a dingy bar to talk?"

Simon raises one bulky shoulder, unconcerned. "You chose the place."

His piss poor attempt at a joke is like a slap in the face. "Right. Goodbye, Simon." You step around him briskly, your arm brushing against his. Just as your fingers graze the cold metal of the door handle, his encircle your wrist and gently pull you away. The span of his palm could easily engulf the entirety of your hand, and you can't help but wonder if you're as delicate and fragile as you feel in his grasp.

"Let me try that again," he murmurs tentatively, and you curse your good nature— the one that's always been too quick to soften even when you know better. You know just how clumsy he is with words, how his tongue ties itself in knots when emotions creep into the conversation. Simon gives your wrist a tender squeeze. "Ya can leave whenever you want."

Damn it. Damn it. Fine. This confrontation has been a long time coming anyway. "Then try again and make it fast," you snap, words short and clipped. "How we haven't been kicked out of here yet is a bloody wonder."

He steps away from you and leans his hips against the sink, arms crossed over his chest. Here Simon stands, no longer a hazy apparition in the corner of your eye but fully here. Real. Uncomfortable so. You shift your weight from one foot to the other.

"Didn't mean to disappear on ya," his tone carries a note of something resembling regret. "Work took me across the world, couldn't reach out t'you even if I wanted to." And there it is, the crux of the problem. His job. Always his job. The one part of his life you've never been allowed to see, what had been the ever-constant shadow hanging over your relationship. What tore him away from you for weeks at a time only for those same gaps to start getting longer and longer while his stays grew shorter.

That's not good enough.

"So that's it?" Simon cannot honestly expect you to take his paltry excuse and run with it. As if it's enough to stitch together the wound his silence left behind. "Work? That's what you're going with?" It's the audacity that stings the most, the hope that you'd simply accept it and move past all of this heartache.

For all you know, he could be lying through his teeth, spinning enough truth to make it seem believable. You must have your suspicions plastered on your forehead because Simon peels himself off the sink with a sharp breath and narrowed eyes.

"'M many things, love, but a liar ain't one of 'em." His hand disappears into the front pocket of his worn denims, and when he pulls it free, you instantly recognize the tattered, frayed edges of his wallet. Still clinging to life, it seems. As stubborn as the man holding it. He opens it and extends it to you because it's imperative you see...?

"Work." And right there is an ID, not your plain old driver's license, which you're unsurprised to see absent. The man has no business being behind the wheel of any vehicle; he's a threat to all life and limb while on the road— but a military ID, the insignia emblazoned on the card unmistakable. You'd pieced together as much but never fully assumed, never formed a picture, just a blurred outline that left more questions than answers.

Name: Simon Riley. Rank: Lieutenant. Special Forces is right above the square where a photo is supposed to be. "There's no picture." You flash your eyes up at his in question.

"Never," he states.

You swallow thickly. An admission, this is. A roughly hewn olive branch tucked away in the ratty wallet you'd told him to toss ages ago. He snaps it shut with a practiced flick and then rucks up the right sleeve of his jacket up to the crook of his elbows, exposing his forearm, stark and freckled, the skin pale but then closer to his wrist, his flesh taking on a more golden hue— honeyed, sun-kissed.

Simon Riley does not tan.

"Sat on my arse out in a barren stretch o' land f'r months on end, cookin' under the blazin' sun while waitin' for orders tha' never came," he grumbles, voice weary. He doesn't flinch when your wandering fingers feather across the darkened strip of skin. "The only form o' communication was local." You flip his hand, the underside of his wrist startlingly pale like the underbelly of a fish. "Couldn't 'ave reached out even if I wanted to. No signal."

It hangs heavy, what he was willing to share, and you're wondering if he's only asking for understanding or something else. Your treacherous heart flutters in your chest, breath squeezing from your lungs. A tiny part of you hopes for he's asking for that something else.

There's a new scar on his palm, close to the hardened calluses on his knuckles, the deep, puckered groove still red and raw— fresh enough to make you wince— and you can't help the frown that pulls at your lips. You can bet he took care of this himself, the oaf. Probably spit it clean and wrapped it up with whatever he had on hand. He's lucky it didn't infect.

"Only when I came back did I receive the missed calls, the texts, the bloody voicemail," he gnarls, and while the sharpness of his tone isn't aimed at you, you feel the biting sting of it anyway. Simon cradles your hand in his much larger one, and he doesn't squeeze, doesn't hold too tight; he simply holds it, the choice to refuse him if you wanted.

You don't.

"And this isn't something you could've told me before? I know I pressed when I shouldn't have," chagrin pools in your cheeks, "but I worried for you. You were sometimes so unreachable, standing between two worlds at once. I couldn't help ease the weight of your responsibilities because I didn't know what I was dealing with." As you thread your fingers with his, they feel impossibly small, brittle— like the bones of a bird swallowed in the expanse of his hand. How unsettling.

(Yet you wouldn't have it any other way.)

Simon shakes his head, slow and deliberate, but his grip on your hand tightens. "I've more enemies than friends," he mutters, raising your hand to his masked lips, the gesture oddly tender as he presses a kiss on it even though it forces you to rise onto your tiptoes. You blow a puff of air, mildly exasperated. Big geezer.

"Every time I rid myself o' one, two take their place. I only did it t' keep ya safe. There's nothin' they'd love more than to exploit any o' my weaknesses." He says it as though the admission itself is dangerous, and maybe it is, but the risk, you believe, is one worth taking even if he won't.

Where he sees danger, you see trust. And that's all you ever wanted. Trust, because either you'll have all of him or none of him, so you tell him that.

His grip tightens imperceptibly. "Only wha' I feel is safe f'r you to know. Nothin' more." You know he means it. You've seen how far he's willing to go, how much he's willing to sacrifice, to keep you out of harm's reach.

Simon will shoulder just about anything alone if it means you'll be kept safe.

How lovely. He's taken it upon himself to play Batman when no one cast him into the role. Ah, well. A win is a win, and you've long learned some battles aren't worth the effort today, so you tuck this conversation into the back of your mind, a note to revisit at a later date. As for now, though...

"Alright, Si," the old nickname slips from you so easily, as if it never left, "We can continue this tomorrow, if you're able, but as for me," your gaze flickers to the faint ring of grime around the drain and the scribbles covering the peeling walls, "I've just about had it with this place."

But he's got no interest in letting you go now, not when you've given him the second chance he'd been desperate for. Instead, he jerks you to him, your shoulder colliding into his chest, his arms cinching tight around you. There is no grace, no soft pretense to it— just a raw, unfiltered need of a man clinging to what he's been too afraid to lose; your arsecheeks apparently because that's what he's currently pawing at.

Pervert. Honestly, you'd applaud him for holding back from groping you for this long. No shame in giving credit where it's due. You thought about letting him have his fill, indulging his starved-dog behavior until his hands started to wander beneath your clothes. You ought to make him stop this before it spirals into something completely out of your control.

Ah, but then he latches onto the sensitive spot on your neck, right below the ear, so close to your drumming pulse and your words snag in your throat like fishhooks when he suckles.

It's tragic how quickly you cave.

Simon's breath fans hot over your spit-slick throat, slow and composed while yours is sharp and shallow as if you can't quite catch it. He jerks his head toward the stall, and you freeze, disbelief rooting you in place.

"You're joking." He's gone and lost whatever scraps of sanity he had left back wherever he was because there's no way you're getting down and dirty in— your lip curls in distaste as you look at the industry-grade bottle of disinfectant that sits in the corner— here. But then he's dragging you toward the nearest stall anyway, your bag tumbling to the ground, not my bag, Simon, shit, you owe me another. The door is a pitiful excuse for privacy, barely clinging to the hinges and sporting a gap wide enough to make you grimace. You've hardly any time to register anything else before Simon is already at your feet, smoothly dropping to one knee, the crown of his head dipping slightly below your navel.

Simon's hands cup the back of your thighs, palms spread wide as they trail upward, the tips of his fingers finding lace and not your everyday cotton. With a deliberate slowness, he lifts the hem of your skirt, his neck craning just enough to bring his line of sight under the drape of fabric, and his gaze lingers.

Oh right. You've got on that set— the one he'd carefully chosen for your birthday, that one that fits you so perfectly it almost feels unfair. A little indulgence that'd been meant for his eyes only. Even as you'd slipped it on earlier tonight, it'd felt like you'd been breaking the rules.

It makes you wonder...

You hook a leg over his shoulder, the heel of your shoe digging into the straight plane of his back. "Well?" Your question is wrapped in feigned nonchalance. "Does it make you upset?" Simon shrugs, dismissive, his eyes steady as they lock onto yours. The dim light above buzzes faintly, its unkind glow spilling over his rugged face. It does nothing to soften the sharpness of his features.

And you notice a new scar, tiny, close to his hare's lip.

"Doesn't threaten me, sweet'eart."

A sharp laugh escapes you. How infuriatingly arrogant. Simon leans in, his nose brushing against your sex roughly before he takes a crude sniff, unrestrained, unapologetic. Nasty as always.

The faintest smirk curls the corners of his lips. "Can't blame me, my girl and I 'ave been apart f'r too long." Humming, you place a hand on his head, palming over the short bristles of his hair before curling around the back of his neck, and you grind down on him.

"If you're hungry, then eat." The smile you give him after your gracious offer is nothing short of salacious.

Simon thumbs your gusset to the side and slips his tongue through your folds, and it's electric, raw. Frissons ripple through you, starting from your nape, and it cascades down your arm and your legs, and the sensation is sharp, almost overwhelming, and you bow forward, nails digging into the dense muscle of his traps.

It's been so fucking long.

Hot, wet pressure circles around your swollen clit, purposefully shy of what you covet, enough to stir something within you but not enough to satisfy— nowhere near enough. It makes you testy. Impatient. It pushes you to lose control, feeling it slip from his grasp, only to land squarely in his.

It's the exact reaction Simon craves. You can grind down on the tip of his nose all you want, push and pull at his head every which way, but you don't come without his say so, and to earn that, there's something you have to do.

By the way your teeth sink into your bottom lip, bite-swollen and glossy with spit, peering down at him with bleary eyes after having rutted against his face without restraint, frantically seeking the friction you yearn for, you also know what to do.

Good.

Now he waits. Your pussy is dripping slick, dewy honey trailing down his chin and joining the sticky mess pooling near his knee, but he doesn't care— his focus is entirely on you. Simon knows exactly how this will end. You're as mulish as ever, he muses, but you'll break. You always do. It's not a question of if but when, and he's content to wait as long as it takes for the inevitable. After all, he's a patient man when he chooses to be.

Your chest heaves with every ragged draw of air to your lungs, your pretty lips quivering with need, eyes shimmering with unshed tears. If he had the skill, he'd pencil this very moment onto paper, immortalizing it. The desperation that clings to your features, the frustrated grunts you give when he laps at your— his— cunt, tongue skimming just shy of your pearl.

It's intoxicating. A heady visceral rush that courses through his veins and pools white-hot in his groin, stiffening his cock almost painfully.

And then, when a finger dips into your sopping entrance, the composure you'd been desperately clinging to begins to come apart. Simon watches it unfold through heavy-lidded eyes, the gentle part of your lips, the tremor in your breath— he drinks up every single second.

"Please," your voice is barely more than a breadth of a whisper. Your surrender is almost as sweet as you.

The kiss he plants on the inside of your thigh is searing as he hums. "What's it?" The prickly stubble of his jaw scratches against your skin. "Don't lose ya courage now," he murmurs, "you've already fought 'alf the battle.

Heat licks up the sides of your jaw, but you truck on, dignity long lost, in tatters next to your bag on the floor. "Please let me come." Your words come out in a half whine, half plea, and Simon's response is immediate; he cants your hips as two thick fingers enter you fully, and at this angle, it's more than he knows you can take, but you asked for it. Begged for it.

Simon takes it slow, not easy, the suction on your clit maddening; strong, fluttering pulses that seemingly beat in tandem with your heart and the world begins to tilt on its axis, his strong hands keeping you anchored lest your knees give way beneath you.

The world narrows down to the sound of your hiccups, the tension coiled spring tight below your navel, the feel of his shirt knotting in your fist— if he had hair long enough to tug, you would've ripped it out.

You knock your head back against the door almost violently, the dull throb stamped out by the livewire crackling beneath your skin when you finally do come, a scorching heat radiating from within your core out, leaving a raw, tingling sensation in its wake. It stings, you dazedly muse. The orgasm that was wrenched from you was so thunderous your pussy stings. It's short-lived but potent, and you can't help but wince, your lips curling, teeth slightly bared in discomfort.

Ouch.

Simon, on the other hand, is just peachy, unbothered as ever, leaned back on his haunches, chin glistening with slick, his thumb sweeping what's about to drip off his nose.

"Don't think for a second I'm returning the favor here. I've standards, Simon." He huffs in response but says nothing, expecting nothing less of you, instead opting to shrug his jacket off and place it over your drooping shoulders. Your limbs feel leaden as you exit the stall, Simon nimbly reaching for your health hazard of a bag before leading you toward the door.

Your fingers curl around the knob, and twist and pull—

and nothing. Confusion knots your brows together as you retrace your steps. Had you pushed or pulled it open? You can't quite recall, so you give it a firm push it instead—

and nothing. Again. The door stays closed.

"Need help there?" Irritation sparks within you, wishing your glare would eviscerate the obstinate door. Does Simon think himself funny? All you want is to go home, scrub yourself sparkling clean, and sleep until the late afternoon, but the door is conspiring against you. Good. Great, even.

"Bloody door," you grumble, "It won't open." Simon steps forward, unhurried, and twists the handle once, twice—

"Open sesame," he says, tone utterly flat and casual, and you snap your slackened jaw shut. "Oh for fuck's sake, Simon, keep your shit jokes," but the door opens with a click.

You're joking.

You're fucking joking.

It swings wide with a creak, and you glance around instinctively. Nothing out of place— just the usual drunken bodies flowing in and out, their laughter and slurred conversations blending into the background.

Simon drapes a heavy arm around your shoulders, large hand squeezing firm as he walks you out, and you trudge alongside, your gait sluggish, until a massive bulk stumbles into your path, and Simon quickly places himself between you and the drunken mass, both a protector and a threat.

The bloke is a guy with a row of thick hair that runs from his forehead to the nape of his neck, the sides clean shaven. "Sorry, bonnie, didnae mean ta-" limpid blue flashes to Simon, his thin-lipped smile stretches wide— too wide— flashing too many teeth for comfort, "bump into ye." He doesn't linger though, clodhopping his way back to the bar. There's a bold-lined tattoo on his nape, of a... revolver? A choice.

"Walk. I'll take ya home. Won't come in for a nightcap," the lines by his eyes becoming more pronounced. "Scouts 'onor." Simon pulls you along, and you're fighting off the sleep in your eyes when a man in a cap, his profile partially hidden by the brim, bumps his knuckles against Simon's shoulder, and curiosity outweighs your fatigue.

"Who's that?"

Simon grunts. "Security."

You don't remember having been frisked by security when you came in.

The crisp air outside bites your cheeks when you step out, and you're grateful for Simon's forethought as you tug the sides of his jacket closer to you, burying your nose into the collar— it smells of cigarette smoke and him, musky and woodsy— a quiet comfort. Sleep tugs at your eyelids, each step feeling heavier than the last as you make your way towards his vehicle.

The metal door groans as it opens, and he extends a hand, aiding you up when you squeeze it as you slur out a confession.

I missed you.

He doesn't falter in his movements as he guides both your feet inside, and his hands are steady as he adjusts the belt, buckle quietly clicking into place until he straightens, gaze dark and fluid as it lingers on you.

He runs the rough pad of his thumb along your bottom lip tenderly.

"I know, sweet'heart. Get some sleep."

The door closes with a firm but gentle push.

I know, he says. Exhaustion pulls at you, dragging you further away from consciousness. Bastard.

Simon doesn't wake you when he pulls up to your driveway, hooking an arm under your knees and the other around your waist to take you inside, your head lolling on his shoulder. Tomorrow, you'll ask him how he knows where you live, considering you moved for a new job months ago.

[petertingle-yipyip]

MISS POSSESSIVE - JOAQUIN TORRES

Pairing: Joaquin x Reader // Word Count: 2,061

Summary: So what if you were a little possessive? No one got hurt. (fun fact: the biting story is a true story)

Your relationship with Joaquin was no secret.

You two didn’t necessarily shove it down everyone’s throats, but you didn’t hide anything either. You arrived at most trainings together, sat next to and against each other, went to lunch together, left together. The only time you were really apart was when he went on a mission with Sam and you went with your recon team.

You noticed the new set of eyes in the training center one day. You were doing your planned solidcore routine while Joaquin did weights on the other side of the center.

You saw her when you took a break between exercises. You sat flat on the machine’s pad and breathed deeply, glancing around the relatively empty center. You and Joaquin were there, as part of your usual schedule, along with Nat and Yelena sparring in the far corner. Kate was doing some yoga routine with the blonde that was actively staring at Joaquin, who was oblivious as he began a set of lat pulldowns.

You stared at your boyfriend for a moment as well. Admittedly, the blonde had a fair excuse to stare, and she was new. Or you hadn’t met her at least. Maybe she didn’t know.

You pushed a headphone aside, ready to snap at her, when Kate smacked her friend’s arm. You could barely hear her say to pay attention and that he was taken. Kate met your eyes a moment later and she offered you a thumbs up with a nod, a not-so-subtle confirmation that she had your back.

You smiled at her as you chuckled. Replacing your headphones, you went back to suffering through solidcore.

Later that week, in a more packed training center, Joaquin’s newest fan was watching him again. You two were jogging the track and conversating, and he decided to show off and jog backwards. You caught the woman over his shoulder and you fixed a glare in her direction. Her eyes met yours and she changed from basically undressing Joaquin in her head to daring you to stop her.

“Hello?” He waved a hand in front of your face and your attention slid back to him. “What was that?” He was smirking slightly.

“Nothing.” You shrugged. “You’re gonna fall.”

“I’m not gonna fall.”

“You’re gonna fall.”

“I’m not gon-“ He began before nearly tripping over his own feet.

His arms flailed slightly and you caught him, which caused you to stumble with him. You couldn’t help the laugh as he righted and you two resumed your easy pace.

“Don’t tell Sam.” He said quickly.

“I already saw!” Sam called from the other side of the track.

Joaquin groaned in embarrassment and you nudged him slightly with your elbow. He frowned dramatically at you and you giggled before jerking your chin, daring him to keep up as you increased your stride.

By the end of that week, his watcher had built up some courage.

You were at the cubbies near the door, rifling through your bag for your sparring gloves. Joaquin was leaning against the wall near the cubbies, casually mentioning how he had his already and you were putting your session behind. You mocked him quietly as you dumped the contents of your bag on the floor.

“You set me up.” You blamed him.

“Me?” He laughed. “I’d never do such a thing.”

“Yes you would, because you know I can kick your ass.”

He sighed dramatically and knelt beside you to help you look. You filtered through your scattered items while he checked the zippered pockets. He was the one to find them, which only added on to his guilt in your mind, and you shoved everything back away.

He offered you his hand to get up and you made a show of your reluctance as you took it. He laughed, pulled you to his chest, and kept you close with an arm over your shoulders.

She wasn’t there when you two began your session. You would’ve felt those baby blue eyes following. By the time you were taking a break, she was there, lingering at the edge of the sparring area. She pretended to be focused on her own workout  when Joaquin glanced in her direction but she didn’t hide her blatant stare when you looked at her.

You didn’t give a warning before storming over. You knelt to be at her level and she propped herself up on her elbows. She opened her mouth but you cut her off.

“Funny how you think I don’t notice the way you undress him with your eyes almost everyday.” You said flatly.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She rolled her eyes.

“Look at the floor. Or the ceiling. Or anyone else in this place. Just keep your eyes off him.” You forced a smile that was anything but friendly. “Got it?”

“I’m so scared.” She said sarcastically, craning her neck to see around you.

“Listen. I can only be nice about this for so long. Some fights you’re not gonna win. And him?” You nodded towards him once. “No way.”

“May the best woman win then.” She shrugged and returned to her sit ups.

You kicked her braced feet away before heading back to Joaquin, earning a muttered “bitch” as you left. His brows furrowed but you waved him off. With a new anger in your veins, you knew you’d hit someone you shouldn’t soon, which made the next portion of your sparring more intense than necessary.

You were both covered in sweat by the time you were done. You had also both removed your shirts by then. Your muscles were burning with the effort and you assumed Joaquin’s were too, but by the way he was talking your ear off you wouldn’t have guessed.

“You’re pretty chatty.” You teased with a grin.

“You wouldn’t let me get a word in over there!” He sounded offended as he threw a hand towards the sparring area. “Anytime I tried to talk, you pounced.”

“I pounced?” You laughed. “What am I, a cat?”

“A feral one.” He muttered and you smacked his arm before you both laughed. “Definitely feral.”

“If I was feral, I’d bite.”

“You do!”

“I do not!”

“Didn’t you bite a kid in second grade?”

You whirled to face him and jabbed a finger into his chest. “You know good and well that I had a good reason!” You defended.

His hands went up in surrender but the grin was still plastered on his face.

“I felt threatened.”

“And biting was the only answer?” He tried and failed to keep his laughter contained.

“Yes! I was playing my own game, he tried to make me the prisoner in his war game with some other kid. You don’t put your arm-“

“Around someone’s neck and not expect to get bit.” He finished and you glared lightly at him. “At least you didn’t get suspended.”

“I cried in the principal’s office because I was scared of getting in trouble.” You deadpanned. “I don’t think I ever apologized to the kid, though.”

“And you still went on that field trip.” He shook his head, clicking his tongue. “I’m so disappointed in you, Y/N/N.”

“Oh no, whatever will I do now?” You dramatically put your hands to your heart.

“Just don’t bite me.” He shrugged, which earned another smack to his arm.

“I left my water. Grab my bag?” You began backing away towards the sparring corner.

“Yeah.” He nodded and went towards your cubby.

As you were grabbing your bottle, Kate and Yelena were stepping into the square. Kate waved enthusiastically at you and Yelena held a fist towards you. You bumped your own against hers and smiled towards Kate.

“How’s it going?” You asked. “Feeling stronger?”

“Today’s the day.” Kate nodded firmly.

“Ha!” Yelena responded loudly and you turned. “You think you’ll beat me?”

“Okay, you say that like it’s a joke.” Kate frowned.

“Was it not?” Yelena laughed. “C’mon, Kate Bishop.”

“Why do you still do that? Stop saying my name like that!” Kate urgently whispered.

“I don’t know, Lena. She might.” You added. You gave Kate a once over glance and then nodded slightly. “Yeah, I think she actually has biceps now.”

“See?” Kate threw an arm towards you. “Wait a second.” She furrowed her brows.

“Staying to find out?” Yelena asked, bouncing side to side on the balls of her feet.

“No, Joaquin and I are gonna try to catch a movie.” You nodded towards where you left your boyfriend. “Just came back for my water.”

“Oh!” Kate announced. “That reminds me…”

“You’re stalling.” Yelena complained.

“It’s important!” Kate insisted then turned to you again. “Sorry about before. I tried to tell her.”

“The new girl?”

She nodded, almost looking embarrassed, but you shrugged.

“I told her today in the nicest way I could to back off.” You waved a dismissive hand.

“What if she didn’t get the memo?” Yelena asked, focusing on something over your shoulder.

“Oh shit…” Kate looked at the same thing behind you.

“What are you two-“ You mumbled and turned to see for yourself. “Oh.”

You crossed your arms and watched for a moment. Joaquin was sitting on the floor with the new girl kneeling beside him. They were involved in some sort of conversation and you were just glad he had put his shirt back on. She exaggerated a laugh and he was confused for a second. Apparently, what he said hadn’t been that funny.

“I think you should start planning your friend’s funeral, Kate Bishop.” Yelena said flatly as the blonde reached out and put her hand on Joaquin’s forearm.

“No, it’s…” You began.

You knew Joaquin. You knew his mannerisms and body language better than anyone. He didn’t care to be talking to this girl, not in the way she was trying to talk to him. He had his phone in one hand and judging by the way he kept looking down at it, he would’ve rather been scrolling than talking to her.

“You’re better than me.” Kate offered. “Two warnings and she still acts like that? Friend or not, I’d slap the hell outta her.” She laughed slightly.

Her other hand landed on his forearm and her other moved to his upper arm. Your brows rose and as if that expression sent a signal, Joaquin looked over towards you with wide eyes.

“Pray for her.” Kate said simply as you took long strides to get back to Joaquin.

He stood as you got closer and she bounced up beside him. She stepped closer, one of her hands on his shoulder and the other reached for his hand.

“Ready to go?” You made a point of only speaking to and looking at Joaquin.

“Yeah.” He sighed in relief and shifted to get away from her touch. “We leave now, we’ll have enough time to shower first.”

“Did you get the tickets already?”

“I thought you were going to stick around and spot me.” The blonde pouted.

“I’ve got ‘em.” Joaquin answered. “And your bag, m’lady.” He bowed slightly as he offered you your bag.

You laughed slightly and slung the strap over your shoulder.

“But Joaquin!” She cried, grabbing his hand with both of hers. He immediately pulled away and she pursed her bottom lip in another pout.

“He already said he’s busy.” You snapped. “Go see if Kate or Yel have time to babysit.”

“I didn’t realize you were his mommy.” She said sarcastically.

You turned to face her fully but Joaquin pulled on your bag to force you back a step. He tapped his knuckles against your thigh and you shifted your weight closer to him.

“Seriously.” You threatened. “Get your hands off my man.”

“Scared?”

“I’m gonna kill her.” You ground your teeth and looked to Joaquin.

Quickly, he put his arm around your shoulders and guided you out the doors. She called after him but you lifted your hand to give her the middle finger. After a string of curses were directed at you, Joaquin closed his hand over yours with a laugh.

“Told you.” Joaquin said proudly as he opened the passenger door for you.

“Told me what?” You raised a brow.

“Feral.” He grinned.

You opened your mouth to argue then closed it. Maybe he was right, at least where he was concerned.

Feral. Possessive. Protective. Same thing, right?

[flufftober]

🍀🍂 Hello and welcome to Flufftober's (first) Fluff Bingo 🍀🍂

In our poll, nearly 50% of you voted for a handful of bingo cards to fill the other half of the year with more fluff before we jump right back into the excitement that is Flufftober - and of course, we're here to deliver 😊

Find all the important info, more cards, and all the prompts in writing below the cut.

We hope you like this event and our prompts, and now

Happy Creating 🥳

🍀 Pick your card - we offer:

🍂 one card with 5x5 prompts (as seen at the top)

🍂 two cards with 3x3 prompts:

🍂 three themed cards with 1x5 prompts:

🍂 and as a bonus, a 3x3 card with tasks instead of prompts:

🍀 How does this work?

🍂 our standard blog rules apply and you'll find answers to most questions on our FAQ post

🍂 aside from that, you can go wild: fill these cards however you like, as quick or as slow as you like, as often as you like, and use as many of them as you like. We just want you to have fun 😊

🍂 if there are prompts on the bigger cards you don't like, feel free to use the 1x5 cards as alternate prompts and switch them out

🍂 download the cards and tick them off once you've finished a square; make a post for every square or only once you have a bingo or even a blackout - it's all up to you!

🍂 as with all our events, this one will never close, you can always use these cards. If you need a timeframe/deadline because (like me) you'll never finish otherwise, consider these loose goals:

finish until July 1st when we release the new Flufftober list

finish during October, maybe by combining some of these with the Flufftober prompts

finish until the end of the year so you're ready for whatever event we plan for next spring

🍀 What about tumblr reblogs and ao3?

🍂 tumblr reblogs will still happen but not daily as you're used to during Flufftober. It will strongly depend on how many posts there happen to be at a time and how the modmin team will have time. But as long as you mention us and/or use the tag (and follow the rules, obviously), reblogs will happen

🍂 please use the tag #fluffbingo

🍂 feel free to also add the general #flufftober tag

🍂 please make sure to clearly show the fandom, either in the first few tags or noticeably in the post

🍂 contrary to how we do it during Flufftober, we will only use four tags during reblogs this time: #fluffbingo #fluffreblog #[fandom] #[your user name] - that means we will not tag any ships, characters, or which prompt you're covering

🍂 on ao3, our collection for this event is Flufftober Fluff Bingo

Prompts

We're going left to right, top to bottom!

🍂 5x5 card

Fresh Start

To-Do List

Craft Fair

Creature AU

“This was a bad idea.”

Exploring Together

Plushie

Secret Signal

“You’ll love it.”

Late Night

Hidden (...)

“It’s just so much.”

Free Space

Fake Dating

Carnival

“You’re the best!”

Royal AU

Missing the Other

Never ever, ever

Rainbow

Hanahaki

Pep Talk

“I really mean it.”

Hoodie

Movie AU

🍂 3x3 card I

“Where do I start?”

Famous AU

Traveling the World Together

Enjoying a Lazy Day

Task: Write in a tense you usually don’t write/write less than another tense

“You said you had it handled!” - “Yeah, well, I lied.”

Birthday

“Hey, wait, that’s mine.”

Direction

🍂 3x3 card II

“You’re late!”

Hospital AU

Grocery Shopping Together

Going for a Walk

Task: Write from a POV you usually don’t write/write less than another POV

“Could you not do that, please?” - “Spoilsport.”

Sunshine

“I don’t know, you decide.”

Concert

🍂 1x5 card - Smiles

Secret Smile

Relieved Smile

Honest Smile

Devious Smile

Teary Smile

🍂 1x5 card - Hugs

Soothing Hug

Hug in Celebration

Sleepy Hug

Hug from behind

Desperate Hug

🍂 1x5 card - Kisses

Kiss on the Hand

Kiss to distract

Goodbye Kiss

Forhead Kiss

Kiss on the Cheek

🍂 3x3 card - Tasks

Finish your WIP

Sort all your Ideas and/or WIPs

Edit an entire Chapter or Oneshot

Outline a Story

Work on that hard Scene that is giving you so much trouble it is holding you back

Finish the next Chapter of your WIP

Join in a Writing Event (this card doesn’t count 😉 but the others do!)

Finish a Oneshot

Dig out an old Draft and work on it

Have Fun and Go Wild 🥳

[kissylec]

RAFE'S DREAM.

directed by love you goodbye...

pairing . . . rafe cameon x pogue!reader in which . . . in an unexpected late night conversation, rafe thinks it's the right time to tell his dream warning .ᐟ . . . mention of smut, wedding talk, fluff at the end. english is not my first language w count . . . 1.0k kissylec says . . . HI IS THIS THING ON? i didn't want to end love you goodbye like that out of the blue, so i brought you a nice extra so you don't cry so much

masterlist .ᐟ 𝜗𝜚 navigation .ᐟ

RAFE RARELY ASKED YOU TO STAY. the first time he did was when he had done so many drugs that he ended up having a nervous breakdown. that night you stayed until you were sure he was okay. today was different, although you couldn't understand why.

stay.

it was a request that came out of his mouth just as he reached his orgasm, your breath stuck in your throat as you felt him paint your walls with his cum. you thought you had heard wrong, but as if rafe was reading your mind, the words came out of his mouth again.

"stay" he breathes. "stay the night."

you swallowed hard and your lips parted. your eyes fluttered open slightly, feeling your lashes wet from the few tears that had gathered at the edge of your eyes when rafe hit your cervix over and over again.

“i–” you had started, but rafe was determined.

“i’ll give a ride in the morning” he says, his voice raspy against the skin of your neck, giving you convincing kisses. “i promise.”

and it wasn't hard to convince you. you stayed.

the grey sheets caressed your bare skin as you hugged him, legs intertwined in front of the television at zero volume, playing a show about weddings. the air conditioning was on, but your body still felt hot. and suddenly rafe's bed had never felt as big and comfortable as it did at that moment.

you felt his hand caress your back, your head on his chest allowing you to hear his heart, which was beating calmly. rafe's eyes felt heavy, and instinctively he snuggled closer to your body.

you licked your lips, staring at the television. the program on was planning a wedding in italy, making you smile unconsciously as you watched the bride's excitement over her dress. the corset had an exquisite pattern, the sleeves were lace and the skirt fell delicately, the dress worthy of a princess. it wasn't white, but rather a creamy shade, making it look more delicate and unique.

“i always wanted to get married in tuscany” your lips trailed out, almost uncontrollably.

rafe opened his eyes instantly. “hm?"

your lips parted, your gaze fixed on the television.

“if i’m going to get married, i'd like to do it in tuscany,” you murmured. “nothing too big or too… flashy.”

rafe gulped, his gaze going to the television. his mind wanders to a dream he had, and it seemed like the perfect time to tell it.

"i–" he starts, his words dying on his lips. "i had a dream once…"

you raise your head, and rafe mentally cursed, thinking it would be easier to tell you all this with you not looking at him.

"i don't want to be weird and shit, it's not my plan," he mutters. "but–uh, i had this dream that i was marrying you."

he seemed to be making it up, something he's probably saying because you said you wanted to get married. his eyes drifting back to the TV, avoiding your gaze.

"did you?" you asked.

rafe nodded his head. “yeah,” he said. “it wasn’t in italy anyway, it was here,” he continued. “secretly.”

you looked at his lips, unconsciously nodding your head.

"you had this beautiful white dress on... and the veil was falling over your face," rafe says, his gaze going to you. "you looked gorgeous."

you felt your heart race, and you stopped to think. this was too intimate, which was a joke, because rafe had been inside you countless times, which was way more intimate. but talking about a wedding? another level you never thought you would touch, especially with him.

"and what does that mean?" you asked.

"what does what mean?"

"your dream."

"well, it doesn't mean anything," rafe answers, his gaze shifting to the television.

your eyebrows furrow and your head lifts slightly. "dreams always mean something," you insist.

the one who frowned this time was rafe. “not this one,” he says. “this one doesn’t mean shit.”

you quickly sat up in bed, the sheet falling off your chest leaving it exposed, catching rafe’s eyes.

“you dreamed we were getting married and it doesn’t mean anything?” you asked incredulously.

rafe lets out a tired breath through his nose, his eyes closing as his head began to throb. "it was just a dream, you don't need to look for an answer to everything."

"so you wouldn't marry me?"

his eyes instantly opened, bringing his frown to you. "what?"

"answer the question," you insisted.

rafe parts his lips, looking you up and down. "i–" he begins. "yes i would marry you."

"don't bullshit me."

"i'm not" rafe sat up in bed.

the atmosphere in the room had changed, as if it was colder and your lips felt dry. you didn't know why you were so offended by the idea of rafe not wanting to marry you, but it bothered you, so much that just thinking about it made your stomach hurt immensely.

"i would marry you," rafe repeats. "i–i didn't want to–" he stumbles over his words. "i didn't want to make this weird or awkward."

"why would you make it awkward?"

"because i'm not supposed to want to marry you," rafe says.

your heart starts racing faster than it can possibly go, because rafe wasn't telling any lies, he shouldn't want to marry you and you shouldn't want to marry him, but at that moment, it was an idea that sounded brilliant and wonderful in your head.

"i want to marry you too" you said without even thinking twice.

rafe opened his eyes wide, as if your comment was the stupidest thing he had ever heard, but after a few moments, he let out a sigh that he didn't know he was holding back.

"great."

"great," you imitated him.

you swallowed hard, lying back down on the bed, close to him. "turn off the TV, i'm sleepy," you said, covering yourself up to your shoulders.

rafe couldn't help but smile, grabbing the remote from his nightstand and turning off the television. "i don't want a bossy wife."

"shut up, yes you do."

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© KISSYLEC. 2025 — please do not plagiarize, repost, translate or claim any of my work as your own.

[aealzx]

_______________________

Update Post

Prologue | AO3

Previous

_______________________

“DANNY!”

The moment Danny arrived with Jason at the meeting site Jazz and Danielle were immediately wrapping him in a hug. Which was only somewhat unexpected. But after a moment of being surprised Danny found himself holding his sisters tightly, lowering his head between both of theirs’.

“I’m okay. Just… had to blow off some steam,” he assured quietly, taking in their scent and reminding himself that they were still there. He did feel a lot better than yesterday. But there was also an uncertainty if his reprieve would be short lived. And as he lifted his gaze to his friends, and caught sight of their uncertain expressions, he let his mask fade so they could see the half smile he gave them.

That tiny smile was enough to motivate Sam to speak. “...Danny, I-”

 “They have a really good burger joint here,” Danny interrupted. “We should go some time.” He knew what she wanted to say, but he didn’t think he could handle hearing it just then. He didn’t want apologies. Couldn’t handle sympathies. Let him just focus on what he wanted to do at the moment.

It was a simple pair of sentences, but it held just enough behind it that Sam and Tucker’s shoulders both drooped in some relief. Their friend was okay for now, and wasn’t upset with them. And even still wanted to hang out with them. It was more than they could ask for, but they would accept it all the same.

“Sure dude,” Tucker accepted.

“Only if they have vegetarian,” Sam half agreed. Her usual response.

None of them were okay. But they were hanging in there.

“You didn’t puke from it?” Danielle half joked, trying to make the mood lighter now that there was some faint semblance of normalcy among the group.

“No. I’m fine,” Danny half snickered, reaching up to squish his hands against her round cheeks. “Let’s just get you taken care of so we don’t end up having a repeat of this past mess. And then I can take you to go get a burger too. Okay?”

He already seemed to have a plan. Already falling into his forced role leading the people from Amity. Bruce’s frown under his cowl grew, but he didn’t comment. There were more of them there than necessary for the proposed task. They all knew from Jason’s texts that something wasn’t quite right. But they didn’t have enough information to motivate any of them to do more than watch. So watch they did as Raven stepped forward.

“...I’m sorry for your loss,” Raven began politely, also uncertain how to address the mixture of emotions she was picking up. “I had no idea-”

“Let’s save talking about that for later, yeah?” Danny requested, interrupting the girl before she could stir too much of the hurt back up from where he had it buried. He knew it wasn’t healthy, but he told himself it was just temporary.

“...Sure,” Raven relented, figuring she didn’t need to delay any longer in getting to the task she’d been asked to do. “I’ll start with showing you how I accessed the Liminal Realm while walking you through the process. Just watch and listen for now, and we can discuss any questions you have after. Okay? Also, don’t be surprised if it doesn’t work.”

Danny nodded easily, eager to watch how this had been done. They had already warned him there was a chance the ritual would fail this time. But there was also a chance that it would be more stable with him there. Raven had mentioned that he appeared to have a stronger connection with the Realm then even Danielle did, and at this point he was hoping it was true. He needed a good thing in his life right then.

As Raven started her demonstration the rest of the group moved back to give them some space. It was a little smaller scale than before, with the ritual area being isolated to just Raven and Danny. Each motion she made she explained the reason for. As well as any non visual elements that Danny wouldn’t be able to pick up on. Focus of intent, recital of inscriptions in her mind, directing certain energies in which manner, and which energies specifically.

Honestly Danny hadn’t been expecting to understand any of it. He was used to science, not magic, and even then science was a struggle. Or perhaps not, if Tim was still correct. But as the portal between realms was gradually pieced together Danny found he seemed to understand more at a subconscious level than he’d thought he would. He knew that energy. He knew this feeling. He knew this pattern. He knew these demands. This was his realm. And without his home realm to vie for half possession of him it was even more prominent now as a small rift opened in the space in front of Raven, barely visible from where Danny was standing mostly behind her.

This. Was. His. Realm.

And it owed him.

He was right.

“That’s enough Raven, I’ll take it from here,” Danny spoke up suddenly, an unexpected confidence lacing his tone as he reached out to grab Raven’s shoulder and pull her back. She sputtered slightly not only in confusion, but also because pulling her out of the central point caused the tiny connection she’d built to the Liminal Realm to flicker. At first Raven thought that the realm was irritated about the ritual being disrupted. But as Danny became the central focus for that tear to see, for whoever was beyond that tear to see only him, Raven noticed a distinct sense of uneasy anticipation. Everyone that was there could feel the air shift from the same  absent eeriness from before to feeling like they had millions of eyes actively staring through them. Eyes from people, from things they didn’t know had turned on them, watching as Danny took Raven’s place and gently shoved her away.

There was something watching all of them that seemed borderline angry, but Danny didn’t seem to care. He’d thought it would take longer than one afternoon for him to get the connection to the Infinite Realms that he needed. But this was enough. And both sides knew it.

And it was good it was angry, because Danny was too.

Reaching his fist back Danny ignored the others’ cries for him to hold on and smashed his hand through the tiny gateway, shattering it and the surrounding area of this realm in a crashing cascade of glass. The others felt their realm lurch around them, breaking away and tilting just enough to feel wrong and disorient their sense of balance as they were dumped into the connecting space between realms. There were short cries and curses from the crowd brought to the weightless realm that Jazz and the others from Amity immediately recognized, expressions going slack as they realized what happened.

Danny had brute forced his way into taking over the ritual, bending the intent to his own and ripping open a gateway whether it wanted him to or not. Because he knew it couldn’t tell him no. He may not be the Ghost King, but he was something else. He was their connection between realms. Their servant- their slave - their soldier, their hero, their icon. Kept obedient and easily manipulated through ignorance that no longer applied. He would not be kept out of his realm. And he’d even selected the specific place he’d wanted them to be brought to.

As soon as Danny’s hand had passed through the barrier between realms he’d opened his fingers just long enough to grab a fistful of fabric before he could even see who it belonged to. It was only when the barrier fully broke away, a moment of blinding white and residual glimpses of the other realm’s sky lingering in their sight, that the owner of the purple cloak was visible. And said owner seemed incredibly unconcerned with Danny holding him in a borderline chokehold.

“...There you are, Danny,” Clockwork chose as a greeting.

“Clockwork?!”

“Danny! What are you doing?!”

“Who?”

“Oh this is bad!”

Despite the commotion of those, admittedly accidentally, brought to Clockwork’s tower with him, Danny just narrowed his eyes at the ghost he’d grabbed. “Put. Them. Back,” he demanded, not bothering to elaborate since he knew Clockwork had already seen everything that had happened.

“I can’t do that,” Clockwork denied easily.

“Yes you can! Turn back time! Send me back alone! Just do something!” Danny protested, his irate front breaking slightly into desperation and causing him to have to force his grip to tighten.

“And why should I?” Clockwork asked, prodding.

“BECAUSE YOU OWE ME!” Danny burst, bringing his other hand to also grip the fabric at Clockwork’s throat and shaking him slightly. “All the damn errands I’ve run for you! Every mess I’ve helped you clean up! Every damn mistake you’ve forced me to correct- even when it wasn’t my fault! I took out Pariah for you! Vortex! Undergrowth! Myself! I helped you rewrite the future so you didn’t have to deal with me! You. OWE. Me!”

“You speak as though the tasks given to you aren’t outweighed by your own mishaps we’ve had to clean up,” Clockwork pointed out, knowing that Danny had personally caused his fair share of trouble with the Infinite Realms.

“YOU STARTED THIS IN DEBT TO ME!” Danny roared, eyes flaring bright with a flash of ice.

Despite the outburst, Clockwork seemed almost pleased with the accusation, a strange glint in his eye despite his smile from the beginning having never faltered. “...That’s a rather bold claim,” he pointed out, eyes shifting momentarily away to look at someone who wasn’t there. “Care to elaborate?”

Despite his anger, Danny still caught Clockwork’s motion, and understood what he was getting at. They were being watched. And while the watchers knew what Danny meant, apparently he had to say it. Had to show them he knew they had broken their own rules. That they had stolen his right to choose. He drew a breath to steady himself, but his voice still shook with borderline rage when he answered. “You told me before that I always have a choice. When I tried to change the past to save my friends. And again when I beat Pariah- you told me then that the Infinite Realms run on people being able to make their own choices. That it’s a law here, and that they couldn’t force me to take the crown if I didn’t want it.”

“Yes. I did. What’s your point?” Clockwork confirmed, prodding again.

“And you can confirm that those choices are honored. For example: my decision to not accept the title of Ghost King is still in place.”

“Correct,” Clockwork confirmed, then repeated his previous prompt. “What’s your point?”

“You broke that law when I became half ghost,” Danny finally exposed. He didn’t mean Clockwork specifically at this point, but he wasn’t sure exactly who were all involved in this matter, his gaze momentarily scanning the space around them. He’d only ever dealt with Clockwork, who always seemed stuck in the middle of whatever disastrous mishap was going on.

“I’m not sure I follow,” Clockwork prodded once more, a slight smirk betraying that he did know, but once again needed Danny to say it. 

The response wasn’t specific enough. And while it was frustrating to have to play this game Danny had learned by now that Clockwork was only playing this game to lead him into saying what he needed to say. “I became half ghost by opening the portal to the Ghost Zone - to here- that was in my parents basement. And I learned in that realm we ended up in that it was only possible because this realm requires payment. Payment that was taken on that day.”

“Yes. Your parents paid the price of succeeding in opening a permanent portal to the Infinite Realms in the form of losing their only son. Despite years of failure, they made the choice to continue to pursue the portal, even though there was a risk of catastrophic failure,” Clockwork confirmed, giving him a break by filling in one of the facts for him.

“They chose to continue their research, but I didn’t choose to DIE!” Danny snapped, unable to keep himself calmer. “They paid a price, but I also paid for a debt I didn’t owe. You took my choice away!”

“You walked into the gateway.” Clockwork pointed out.

“I fought Pariah!” Danny countered.

“You didn’t know defeating him would allow you to take the crown.”

“I didn’t know walking into a hunk of metal that hadn’t worked in ten years was going to kill me!” Danny shouted, shaking Clockwork again.

“People die from danger they’re unaware of everyday, Daniel.”

“But how many of them are from a direct action from the Infinite Realms?” Danny hissed, pulling Clockwork close. “I know now that someone else was there, on this side of the portal, to offer me a sacrifice to open the portal and keep it open. I know that someone chose me as a pawn, and didn’t give me a chance to accept or not. I know that someone here broke the law at my expense, and I know that The Observants are involved despite claiming they never act. And therefore I demand that my family, friends, and anyone else I care about be allowed to live long, healthy, fulfilling lives. Or else you’ll have to deal with something worse than Dan.”

There wasn’t a response this time. At least, not from Clockwork. The age shifting ghost simply allowed Danny to maintain a hold of him, letting his words ring into the aether and allowing those watching to consider their actions. Consider the consequences to the events they had allowed to happen. That they may or may not have manipulated into reality. And after a horrid stretch of stagnant time the very environment seemed to shift. The anger that permeated the Realm faltered, then faded. Sliding away into what could more accurately be described as frustrated, and somewhat shameful acceptance.

It made Clockwork laugh.

Which in turn made Danny falter slightly, his grip on Clockwork’s cloak loosening enough to allow the ghost to pull his hands away. “So, you figured it out,” Clockwork eventually chuckled, resting a hand on Danny’s shoulder. “You are correct. There are many in the Realm who owe you recompense for taking away your right to choose the life you have now. So let’s see if we can figure out how to meet your demands without using up your little pool of debt, or breaking the other realms, shall we?”

It was enough. That was finally enough for the relevant people to understand that Danny knew exactly what was going on. What had happened. There was a glimmer of proof that Danny’s idea from the night before on the couch might actually work. That he could force The Observants, and any other necessary party, to bring his realm back because they owed him more than he could probably cash in on. To break such a fundamental law of their realm put them in his debt, and they were only safe because he hadn’t known until now.

He hadn’t known until a certain ghost of time made sure he ended up in a realm where someone would be there to tell him.

Breathing out a shaky sigh, Danny let his head sag forward to thump against Clockwork’s chest, fingers loosely gripping his friend’s cloak. “...Thank you,” he breathed, ignoring the mild shake in his tone.

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

Hhhhhhhhh I got excited and ended up drawing this one real fast because I realized there was a lil trick I could try (that I'm really hoping worked) with the image @ v @ People on dark mode won't get to see the trick because dark mode spoils it, but people in light mode click the picture (or drag or open in a new tab) to see something extra.

Also I'm so excited for this part because I actually had the part with Clockwork typed out since around the part with Raven telling them what Danny was. There's a lot about Ghost King Danny, or new Ancient Danny, but what if Hero of the infinite realms was already something more than those?

And shout out to Rainbow_Sneks on AO3 for being the only person to comment guessing The Observants were involved 8'DDD Well done!

___________

Tag list: @galaxy-sharks-and-bottled-ships, @starscreamlover, @nerdynonnativenarnian, @dragongoblet, @megacharizardx99

@bellathecatastrophe, @cj-ghostemoji-destielpie, @asexual-insomniac, @wolfeyedwitch, @tkiesai, 

@fanaroff, @raven1508, @nebulainajar, @serasvictoria02, @oliocelottafanfics,

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@op-sys-chaos, @kirasigncomics, @ehobep, @paranoid-ira, @nomaru666

[jays-bonnie-on-the-side]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, JAY

PAIRING : jensen ackles x fiancé!reader

SUMMARY : it’s jensen’s 47th birthday and reader surprises him at work

WARNINGS : fluff. love. surprises. established relationship. mentions of wedding. age gap if you squint. strong language. implied oral sex (male receiving). daddy!jensen. hints of jealous ex.

A/N : thought of this last night and wrote this morning. happy birthday jensen. i love you more than you know and i hope you get to see your kids today. —your bonnie on the side. 🫶🏽😘🎉🎂🥳🎈🎊🎁

March 1st: Jensen’s birthday. Today, he’s turning 47, a year closer to the number he dreads, yet his age had never bothered me. All I wanted was Jensen. And I’m fortunate enough to say I have him.

He’s been working so hard since September, juggling cons and shooting Countdown, and it doesn’t end there. Once he wraps up his current project, he’s heading straight to Toronto to film The Boys, followed by Vought Rising. I moved to L.A. to be with him, both of us refusing to be apart. Yet, he comes home so late and leaves so early that I hardly see him. But not today, not on his birthday.

With the filming running behind, he still had to go in on Saturdays, and unfortunately, that’s the day his birthday fell on this year. Unbeknownst to him, I had very special plans. The first one was waking him up with breakfast and head in bed.

“Fuck, sweetheart. I don’t know what’s better: the food you make or your pretty little mouth.” Jensen breathlessly chuckles as he swipes the dribble of cum from the corner of my lip.

That was this morning, and now I’m on the set of Countdown, talking with the PAs about his surprise. As he’s finishing his scene, the most important part of my plan shows up. Jensen knew I’d meet him for lunch but had no idea I was flying his kids out from Connecticut for his special day. The only downside to both him and I was his ex tagging along. Despite the years Jay and I have been together—and after Vought Rising wraps, I’ll become their stepmother—Danneel didn’t trust me alone with them. And no matter the animosity I have towards her, I needed his children to be here.

They rush toward me, tackling me with their embrace. It had been months since I last saw them. In between cons, tournaments, and public appearances, Jensen spent his free time visiting his kids across the country. Not that I minded, but I did miss him—and them—like crazy. I wrap my arms around them, laughing with glee as they cling to me.

“Hey! I’ve missed you guys so much.”

“We’ve missed you too!” says JJ.

They squeeze tighter, close to taking my breath away. I play into it and gasp dramatically, making them giggle. My gaze falls on an annoyed Danneel, and a smirk tugs at my lips. She’s always hated my relationship with the kids. ‘Could’ve been one of the reasons she gave Jensen such a hard time about bringing me around. It didn’t matter, though; They loved me anyway. Right from the very start.

They set me free, and Arrow asks loudly, “Is Daddy almost done?”

“Yes, but it’s a surprise, remember? We have to be quiet until we sing him ‘Happy Birthday,’ then you can be as louudd as you want. Okay?”

“Okay!” A PA calls me over, and I excuse myself, but she scampers beside me and takes my hand. “Can I come with you?”

“Sure, but you have to ask your mom first.”

Arrow spins on her heel, asking her mom, “Can I go with Y/N?”

“I wanna go too!” “Me three!” Both JJ and Zep chime in.

She shakes her head. “No, you can stay here.”

They begin to whine, but she doesn’t care. “C’mon, Danneel. It’s not like you won’t be able to see them. They can help me finish a few things.”

A few producers and PAs watch her closely, waiting for her response. With all eyes on her, she caves in, grumbling a “Fine,” under her breath.

The kids jump in joy and hurry after me. Backstage was lined with Jensen’s favorite foods and desserts. All that was left was to finish the decorations and bring out the cake. Without having to be directed much, they pick up streamers and run them along the tables. They even blow up balloons and hang them where they see fit. Once we finish, I tell them my plan.

“Okay, so. I’m thinking you guys hide when Daddy comes in, and when everyone starts singing, you roll the cake out, surprising him. What do you think?” They nod their heads in agreement. Jensen’s PA comes in, quietly shouting that he’s coming. “Okay, kids, it's showtime! Go tell your mom to stand in the back so he doesn’t see her, and you guys wait by the cake.”

They run off, and I direct everyone to stand in a half circle, facing the direction Jensen will be coming from. After giving the final instruction, I turn around and wait. My heart pounds, excited to see his reaction. Everyone’s quiet, and we hear the laughter between the cast members coming off stage. It gets closer, and the curtain pulls back, revealing my groom-to-be.

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY!” The crowd shouts, making Jensen jump.

His green eyes widen, and a grin grows. He looks around the room, and his gorgeous orbs land on me. His face says it all: He knew I put this together. That’s not all, Ackles. Everyone begins to sing to him, and he stands in amazement. I walk to the edge of the crowd and wave the kids out.

JJ pushes the cart with her dad’s favorite cake, and the twins walk beside her. His demeanor changes in shock, not expecting to see his offspring. She wheels it in front of Jensen, and the moment it’s in place, he pulls them in for a hug. Everyone watches in awe as they continue to sing. He glances toward me, tears welling in his eyes, having not seen them since Christmas.

My heart soars at the sight. They look so happy. He’d been feeling down lately, not only having gone so long without their presence but knowing their absence was to be expected on his birthday. And when JJ told me her New Year’s resolution was to see her dad more, I knew I had to make this happen. Seeing their reunion was a gift of its own.

I walk toward Jensen, settling my hand over his neatly trimmed beard as he extends his neck to kiss me. It was long and sweet, enough to make Zep cringe. We chuckle and pull away, ceasing our PDA. The traditional birthday song ends, and he blows out his candles. With his face still close, I push his head down, and it smashes into the frosting. Everyone laughs, some hooting and hollering, as they clap. He stands up, shocked that he hadn’t seen it coming before a laugh of his own comes out.

Nearly everyone snaps a picture of his cake-kissed face before he uses his tongue to clean the area near his mouth. Someone hands me a napkin, and before I can wipe him off, he grabs and holds me still. I squeal, but he shuts me up with his mouth, smearing the frosting onto mine. The crowd cheers, and he deepens the sugary kiss. We separate and clean each other’s faces off, but not in the way we would in private.

“All right, kids,” Jensen claps and rubs his hands together as the kids circle the chocolate sheet cake. “Dessert first!” They cheer, and Danneel comes out of the shadows to protest. He mutters, “I knew it was too good to be true,” before arguing back. “Hey, it’s my birthday, and as their father, I say let them eat cake!”

I roll my eyes, knowing he won’t be the one dealing with their sugar rush. Then again, it’s not like she would let me have them anyway, so to hell with her! She doesn’t put up much of a fight with everyone so close. Instead, she stomps away. Once she’s out of sight, I talk some sense into the man.

“Dad, are you sure that’s a good idea? ‘Cause if I remember correctly, you once told me that cake tastes soooo much better after eating food first.”

Understanding my hint, he nods. “You’re right. I did say that.”

“Did you make the food, Y/N?” His younger daughter asks.

“No, babe. Not this time,” They ‘awe’ in disappointment, but I assure them I will tonight. “For now, why don’t we eat some food from Daddy’s favorite restaurant here in L.A.?”

Bouncing at any chance to be closer to their father, they nod excitedly. The kids then run toward the table with the disposable eatware and grab their plates. Before I follow after them, Jensen pulls me into his chest.

“I can’t believe you did this for me.”

I turn in his arms and pull him closer. “Of course, baby. Why wouldn’t I?”

He shrugs, looking in the direction his ex-wife disappeared off to. “I guess it’s not something I’m used to.”

“Well, get used to it, birthday boy.”

Jensen gently cradles my face, tilting it up so our eyes meet. “I love you. So fucking much.”

“I love you more.” His lips attach to mine, keeping the kiss PG with our audience present. “Happy birthday, Jay.”

“Thank you, sweetheart. For everything. ‘This has been one of the best days I’ve had in a while.”

“You’re so welcome,” I press a quick peck to his luscious lips before tugging his hand. “C’mon. Let’s go feed our kids.”

He drapes his arm over my shoulder, drawing me close and planting a kiss on the crown of my head as we stroll toward the impatient children.

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ALL RIGHTS RESERVED TO JAYS-BONNIE-ON-THE-SIDE

: do not steal, plagiarize, translate, and/or republish any of my works* on here or another platform

*beside my writing, my works include : all banners, dividers, and gifs that i use (which were made by me,) unless otherwise stated.

[sunsbaby]

❝ de. i think i'm stuck... ❞

❝ sam will you help me! gosh... ❞

⋆ dean w. & sam w. x photographer .ᐟ reader

ever since you began hunting with the boys, their life went in a new direction. they found themselves appreciating the little things a bit more—such as taking photos, just on their phones and not a huge camera. sam had taken more of an interest than dean, following you around and secretly 'learning' from you. dean, however, he didn't care for it, but somehow he always took the best photos. albeit some are rather embarrassing, like you with pie all over your face, but they were fond memories and a way for him to relive the moment again.

"biride, hurry up. we don't have all day." dean groaned, his head falling back as he dramatically rolled his eyes.

sam stood on the side-lines, too busy in whatever lore he was reading to focus on the important matter at hand—important in your words. there was a beautiful bird high up in a tree, one that you had to climb in order to get close enough; that's how you ended up perched on a branch, camera held tightly in your grasp as you shot a look down towards dean.

"de, do not distract me or so help me god i will break this camera on your head!" you threatened in a hushed whisper as to not scare away the creature in front of you. "and you will buy me a new one."

"yea right, birdie. you won't do anything, and i'm not buying you anything." dean teased, sam let out a sigh—he gave dean 'the look.'

somehow sam thought this was the perfect moment to take a picture of, their birdie trying to take a photo of a bird. he let out a chuckle as his finger pressed the button on his phone, a snapping sound echoed through the trees when you both clicked a button at the same time. the bird flew away, but you were successful. celebrating your victory with a little dance—to which dean face-palmed at.

when you attempted to get down, you realized something was off. you quite literally could not climb down. your lips pursed and you tried to come up with a plan inside your head—which was filled with song lyrics and what else you could take a picture of. not helpful, so you resorted to your only other option. sam and dean!

"de. i think i'm stuck..." your voice was almost quiet, which dean took as an opening to tease you.

"huh? what was that birdie? i can't hear your chirping from down here." he said, that dumb grin etched onto his face—a face you couldn't wait to smack.

"sam, will you help me!" you almost yelled as a pout formed on your glossy lips—no dry lips around here! "gosh..."

⋆⭒˚.⋆

after that stressful part of the day, you settled into the backseat of baby while the boys sat in the front. people might think that you're being forced to sit in the back—no, it's actually the opposite. who wants to sit between two men, especially ones who spread their legs like they're the only ones sitting there. at least in the back you can lay down, and not think about the sexual activities that have gone down. it makes for a great way to take pictures of them with out their knowledge.

"can we stop at a gas station, i want snacks." you asked as you poked your head into the front, turning up the music in the process.

"i could go for some too." sam joked, his eyes focusing in on yours.

a soft smile played at his lips—he couldn't imagine life without you. you'd just walst into it and changed them for the better. no matter how far you went, your wings always brought you back.

"i guess, birdie..." dean grumbled, he knew good and well that he couldn't say no to you. neither could sam. "shut up, bitch." dean joked with sam, a genuine smile forming on deans stubbled face.

"jerk."

the sun faded in the background as you sang out into the sky, the wind tangling in your hair. another day spent with your boys and memories made. that was what a good day is to you.

sunny yaps! HIII EVERYONEE! 👯‍♀️ photographer!readers first little story/drabble! i hope you guys like her and pls share your thoughts and opinions! I LOVE HEARING THEM!

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𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐒𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘 ® 𓂃 do not repost or copy my works without permission!!

[angelltheninth]

Can I request headcanons about how Arcane Steb, Vander, Jayce, Viktor, Silco, and Ekko would react to his shy gn crush confessing to him in private please?

You can, and I will luckily write some fluff today.

Pairing: Viktor, Jayce, Ekko, Vander, Silco, Steb x Reader

Tags: fluff, developing relationship, love confession, co-workers to lovers, teasing, being shy

Ko-Fi | Rules | Fandoms and Characters | Commissions

A/N: Hope reading this makes you all feel warm and fluffy.

Viktor was suspicious of you when you asked him to stay in the lab even longer. Usually you'd be the one telling him that he needs to end work early and then walk home with him.

When you began acting all bashful about it and looking through the papers you'd been working on the whole day he was even more suspicious. Although you wanted to confess to him, your words failed you, so you went to your next plan. Handing him your notes you left him bewildered as he didn't even get to read them before he could read it. On it was your confession, and asking him if he wanted to go on a date sometime.

The next morning you arrived early and found his notebook on your desk. In it was a note from him, accepting your confession, but wishing you had been a bit more direct with your feelings as he isn't good at guessing how people are feeling.

"Seems like you beat me to the lab this morning. And you've had a chance to read my note, yes? I thought so, the way you blush doesn't lie. Since that is the case I will take some time off this weekend, we can go on that date you mentioned. I look forward to it, darling, I hadn't been on many dates, this will be interesting."

Jayce is very casually touchy with people so he didn't notice how much it flustered you. He knew you were a shy person so he assumed it was due to that you blushed easily. But he had been wrong before.

He never took himself as overly flirty so he didn't think you saw him that way either. But to you his actions, his casual touches, his soft smiles, his praise that made your heart skip a beat, was almost too much to handle. When you confessed to him in the empty hallways of the Academy you expected him to brush it off, but he was left stunned. For the first time it clicked with him, all those longing and bashful glances of yours.

As smart as he is he can be foolish sometimes and it seems like this is one of those times. There's a part of him that wants to kick himself for not noticing your feelings. The other part of him urges him to kiss you and assure you that he feels the same, even if it took him a confession from you to realize it.

"Pretty dumb of me isn't it? Well I never said I was the smartest when romance was involved. You give me too much credit, babe. Oh, was that too soon to call you that? We haven't been on a date yet but I felt like I had to kiss you or else you'd get the wrong idea. I know how wound up you get over the smallest stuff."

Ekko had a bit of a hard time noticing your feelings. He wants to be mindful of everyone around him, Because of that certain things get tangled up together.

Not to say that he was fully oblivious to your growing feelings, which might be why he started acting more protective over you. When you went on missions together you always stuck close together, watching each other's back. He was very lucky to have a strong person like you fighting alongside him. Which is why it was also hard for him to believe that you'd had such a hard time telling you that you were in love with him. For someone as cool as you it should have been easy.

Then again he is a lot like you in that regard. He was scared of hearing your confession, so he tried to avoid it, almost making you not say it at all. One of the last things he wants to do is to lose someone else when he just started loving them.

"Know this is gonna sound real stupid, Firefly, but it ain't you, it's me. I wanna be with you, trust me I do, and you, taking me by surprise in the middle of a flight and telling me that almost made me lose my footing. You sure know how to take a man by surprise. But hey, it's just one of the many things I like about you."

Vander knew you liked him but also knew you were too shy to say it. He felt like he shouldn't put any more pressure on you to do so either. When you felt like he it, he believed you'd find the courage.

And who knew that all it took was a bit of liquid courage on a late night that you spent closing up the bar with him. It wasn't like he planned on it, but one drinks turned into two and you started talking to each other. Listening to him praise your work and telling you how the kids liked being around you, combined with the drinks, gave you enough courage you needed to confess your feelings to him. The last thing you suspected was to hear he already knew of your feelings.

That was the last thing you remember before you passed out. When you woke up you were in his bed, while he slept on the old couch. Memories from the night before came flooding back, your confession. You were so embarrassed you wanted to quit your job.

"Now why would I fire a perfectly fine worker? Way I see it you caught feelings for your boss, is that right, darlin'? Think you'd be the first one to do that? No way, but you are the first that caught my eye, it's been a long time since that's happened. Hopefully one day you'll be able to confess without any alcohol in your system. Looking forward to that day."

Silco always knew you had feelings for him, even before he became the feared crime lord that he is. That was one of the reasons he kept you close. Well, that and the fact that he liked you too.

Being aware that you had feelings for him meant that he went to great lengths to keep them a secret, and his own feelings too. He might be feared but he is also hated. For your sake it might be better if he sent you away but he knew you were too stubborn to leave him. When things started to get more and more complicated you thought you might never get a chance to tell him how you feel if you didn't do it now. It wasn't so much a confession as it was a quick kiss which you then urged him to forget all about before running off.

Of course he wouldn't forget. But he would still keep his own affections on the downlow. At least for the time being it was better to keep your relationship a secret.

"You know as well as I do how many people want me dead. I don't want to put that same target on your back, darling. The reason I would like to keep us a secret is just so I can get things under control better. Once that happens I assure you that I'll be kissing you every day, until you get sick of me. Which might be a long time, I know we're both stubborn people."

Steb has always been the most calm and collected member of his team and that doesn't change when he realizes you have feelings for him. If anything he wills himself to act even calmer.

But he also makes sure that he isn't cold to you, especially to you, when you're trying very hard to admit your feelings for him. He sees that effort and doesn't want to take away from your big moment, even though he wishes that he could just confess himself. It's been a while since he's been in a relationship, not a ton of time for those. Since he doesn't have that much experience either he would rather follow your lead, your pace and when you have him alone, when you walk out with him after training and ask him out, he will say yes.

Although he would rather not make too big of a deal of your confession to him, he just can't help the way his face heats up. It feels like this is something he's been waiting for and now it's here.

"So much to think about in regards to our future date, angelfish. Let's see, I do know of a good spot, but they close before our shift ends. Perhaps I can put a good word in for us, have our shift end a little early before the week ends. It took bravery to ask me out, let me repay it in the best way I can and give you a date to remember."

[rayyanishere1]

"Studying? Yeah, Totally."

A Short FiddleStan Oneshot

(Part of the Loser Ford AU, but isn't relevant to the lore whatsoever lmao)

One night, Ford announced that he'd be at the library for a couple of hours.

"Knock yourself out, Sixer."

Once he left, Stan and Fiddleford looked at each other.

"Wanna..?"

"You don't even have to ask."

Stan led Fiddleford to the couch with only one motive in mind.

Forcing him to watch trashy television! They spent good money on that TV, and by God, they were gonna use it.

"Ladies and Gents, welcome back to 'Your Guess Could Be Royally Wrong!' The show where you don't win prizes, but you don't get punished, either. I'm your host, Zain Squalus—"

Ah, yes, gameshows. The peak of entertainment.

"Is this really what you wanna watch?"

"It's either this, weird chick dramas, or the news."

Welp, can't argue with that.

Fiddleford tried many times to make a move; pretending to yawn to wrap his arm around Stan's shoulder, not very subtly inching his hand towards Stan's thigh. Hell, he tried to go in for a kiss at least 3 times!

Without fail, something would make Stan dodge his advances. Oh, he suddenly has to shift a little in the opposite direction to grab something, oh, something shocking happened and he needed his whole body to react to it.

Seems fate was planning on cockblocking Fiddleford today. Not cool, man. Not cool.

During a commercial break, Stan left to get some snacks. That gave Fiddleford some time to think.

It was obvious that subtlety was getting him absolutely nowhere. He just had to be a little more direct, right? Yeah, that's definitely it.

Stan returned with a bowl of chips and sat back down. Now was time for Fiddleford's master plan.

He used every tactic he knew all at once. Wrapping an arm around Stan's shoulder, leaning in closer. Maybe he should also try getting Stan's mind off of this weird gameshow he was so invested in...

"You know, Stanley, we're home alone."

"I would hope so, yeah."

"And we aren't doing anything."

"Yes, we are! We're watching Your Guess Could Be Royally Wrong, the totally original gameshow based in Oregon."

"I just thought that, with Stanford gone, we'd be doing something else."

"...I don't follow."

That's Stan Pines for you, folks. The dumbest genius on Earth.

"Stanley..."

Fiddleford didn't know if he wanted to laugh, cry, or scream. Instead, he decided that his plan of being direct was the right way to go.

"Stanley Pines."

"That's my name. Am I in trouble?"

"You're going to be if you don't kiss me right now."

"Haha, what?"

∆∆∆

The TV buzzed on in the background as they practically devoured each other's faces.

"Fidds, if you were this—hah—pent up, you could've just told me.."

"I tried to! For an entire hour!"

"Wait, really?"

"Lord, yes! I suppose something was keeping you from noticing."

"Uh huh.."

Deeming the couch to be too uncomfortable, Fiddleford took it upon himself to bring them somewhere more suitable for their.. Activity.

He picked Stan up like he weighed nothing and carried him to the bedroom.

Many kisses later, the two were shirtless and all over each other. It was like they were trying to fit multiple days worth of making out into one session. To be fair, though, it wasn't often that they had alone time like this.

Stan pulled away for a moment, much to Fiddleford's dismay.

"Ford's been out later than usual. He could come back any minute..."

Just as he said that, they heard the front door open.

Oh, God.

They rushed to put something on, not bothering to check what they had grabbed. If Ford saw them like this, in their shared space, Lord knows they'd never hear the end of it.

"Wait, are you wearing my—"

Too late to change now!

A few lazy knocks came from the door before Ford went in. He didn't even look at them, he just dropped his bag on the floor and flopped face first onto his bed.

Stan sighed in relief. It was a good thing that Ford was so tir—

"Wait."

The couple tensed up, expecting to get berated for their "inappropriate behaviour." Instead, Ford just took his glasses off and put them on his side table before promptly passing back out.

That was close...

[blouisparadise]

Here are some great bottom Louis fics that were posted or completed during the month of February. We really hope you enjoy this list. Happy reading!

1) Just Wanna Be Loved By You | Not Rated | 1,901 words

Louis is too tired to be tough and Harry tries to love him through his struggles. A Defenceless AU.

2) Darling, I Will Give Up Everything | Explicit | 1,903 words

Louis' had a terrible day at uni, but thankfully he can always fall into Harry's arms and be taken care of.

3) Dear Harry, | Not Rated | 1,945 words

The one where Louis writes a letter to the Alpha that he one day dreams of meeting.

4) The Eagle Has Landed | Not Rated | 3,311 words

Louis comes back from the Superbowl and Harry exacts his revenge for Louis' night with Zayn in LA

5) Early Mornings | Explicit | 3,428 words

“You’re everything to me, you know that?” Harry whispered, his forehead resting against Louis’ as he looked into those familiar blue eyes. “I know,” Louis whispered back, a soft smile tugging at the corners of his mouth despite the overwhelming sensations coursing through him.

6) Skulls And Crossbones | General Audiences | 3,467 words

“Thanks for the tea, mate… but uh, why did the steam turn into a skull and crossbones when you stirred it?”

7) Truth Or Dare | Mature | 4,296 words

"See that guy over there?” Louis shifted slightly in her seat, directing her gaze toward the table across from her. “The one in the wool vest?” Camila nodded at the blue-eyed girl's question. "Go make his day, Lou; he looks like he wants company.” Louis raised an eyebrow. “Don’t look at me like that. He’s cute. Just look at him; he looks so adorable with his plaid vest and coffee.” .... "I've never done this, I don't want to ruin it" Louis leaned on his chest. "You're not going to ruin it, just let yourself go" She kissed him again tenderly and Harry ended up nodding softly.

8) Are There Still Beautiful Things? | Explicit | 5,473 words

Louis brings Harry to a secluded meadow for one last night of happiness before they both go to war.

9) Fuck Me Til I Feel Better | Explicit | 6,904 words

Louis is stressed, tired and anxious and he just wants his Hazza!

10) The Devil in Disguise | Explicit | 8,276 words

At a lavish masquerade ball, Harry and Louis, once inseparable bandmates of One Direction, find themselves unknowingly drawn back to one another after years of silence since the band’s split. Hidden behind elaborate masks, they exchange furtive glances from across the room, each wondering if the other can see past the disguise. As the night unfolds, their quiet game of cat and mouse leads them to a secluded spot, where the truth of their identities—and the years of separation—are finally laid bare, sparking a reunion neither of them saw coming.

11) Not Quite As Planned.... | Not Rated | 9,105 words

The plan was for them to make gingerbread houses with the gingerbread Harry had made. But things don’t end up going quite to plan….

12) Where You Lead, I Will Follow (Part 1) | Explicit |2,301 words

Louis and Harry are best friends. One night after a great show, he admits his feelings for one of his friends, his male friend. He knows his crush has experience and asks Harry for his help on what to expect.

13) Too Young | Explicit | 18,193 words

Accidentally bonded as 8 and 10 year olds, Louis starts resenting Harry once they were old enough for him to realize what had been taken away from him and now they're roommates who fuck out of obligation.

14) Tangled Up In You | Explicit | 22,795 words

Louis has a hopeless crush on his best friend’s dad but his crush may not be as hopeless as he thought.

15) With All My Heart | Not Rated | 34,339 words

Popular omega Louis receives a present each day from a secret admirer. Throw in some humor, jealousy, calculus, a masquerade ball, Mario Kart, snowball fight, mixed CDs, a cute dog, oh, and a cute nerdy shy alpha, who just might be the biggest surprise of all.

16) Rogue Omega | Mature | 38,791 words

Louis is a rogue on the run from his birth pack, who want to kill him because he's a male omega. He ends up in the Styles pack's territory, trying to get away from his hunters. But it's too late--the alphas surround the exhausted omega and attack him. The last thing he sees, before he passes out, is a huge black wolf with green eyes. What a sight to die to.

17) Loving You's The Antidote | Explicit | 60,450 words

Louis is a struggling musician who can barely pay his rent, Harry is a successful art curator with a rich family. Louis ends up as Harry's fake boyfriend for a weekend and they have to share a bed.

18) I Believe In Magic | Explicit | 115,276 words

Harry is the Crown Prince and the future king of Camelot. His sworn duty is to protect his kingdom from outside threats, especially from the dangers of magic. Louis is his best friend and, technically, his servant. And he has a secret.

19) You Belong To Me | Explicit | 125,621 words

Where Louis is sent to prison for the first time. He is set up with Harry who is willing to help him to get through his sentence. But his help doesn't come without a price tag.

20) Yours, Mine, & Ours | Explicit | 126,630 words

A ten year reunion puts ex-boyfriends, Harry Styles and Louis Tomlinson, in the same room together for the first time in ten years. Louis' desperate to avoid the man who left him sobbing outside a dive-bar in the middle of London. It's going swimmingly until an accidental submission to the reunion's slideshow highlights the existence of the son, Leo, that Harry never knew about. Harry's determined to stake a permanent claim in Louis' life as their child's father. Louis knows Harry's temporary, and refuses to allow him to break their son's heart too. The past bubbles up in uncomfortable ways, and choices need to be made. Will Harry and Louis be able to put everything aside in the best interest of their son? Or will everything fall apart just like it did all those years ago?

Check out our other fic rec lists by category here and by title here.

You can find other monthly roundup fic rec lists here.

[choerrysjubiles]

wasteurtime

pairing: virgin!sungchan x fem!reader

warning: smut! oral, protected sex, short? reader, slight corruption kink? Definite size kink and Sungchan’s eating cum

wc: 3k

a/n: not at all based on the song but I needed a title <3

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Weekends were for of daytime studying and nighttime parties. Finishing up whatever amount of work you needed done before rewarding yourself with the fraternity block's weekly parties. No matter how stressed or how close finals could get, most students at SM University found their way towards the weekly party hosted by someone or another.

Due to constant patrol, there have been plenty of saintly frat boys and sorority girls who donate their parents house for these parties. Which is where you find yourself.

Sitting on the counter of Wonbin's kitchen, you caught a familiar face. Jung Sungchan, one of SMU's top soccer players. You've seen him around campus, even seen him at Wonbin's parties before. But you've never really had the chance to talk to him, always kept a lingering eye on him, instead.

Friend of a friend is usually a weird relationship. He knows Wonbin and you know Wonbin, but Wonbin’s never tried inviting you both to the same event. No soccer games, no parties, no get togethers, no mundane events where your paths could cross. Almost suspicious.

You stayed on the counter, sipping your drink as he walked around. Spotting you, he walks up.

"Have you seen Wonbin?"

"Dunno." You say, "Saw him a minute ago, might be in the backyard."

"Thanks." He smiled before walking away.

You enjoyed watching Sungchan, he was tall and broad, muscular, he was a heartthrob to any student. Hearing from Wonbin, he was mostly just a goofy guy, nothing crazy or playboy about him. Just some college kid.

You hopped off the counter, passing your drink to some random guy walking by as you walked around. You were practically stone sober but this sounded far more fun than drinking your night blank.

You loosely followed Sungchan’s direction, trailing well behind him as he was on his hunt for Wonbin. You wouldn't say you were some voyeur but you enjoyed seeing what people were up to. You liked seeing their behaviors in different lights, whether they were alone or in public. Psychology could've been your calling.

Before you knew it, you lost Sungchan. He was far too serious in his endeavor for you to catch up. Failing to follow him, you began walking around the house, finding people in all sorts of positions. Again, you swear you’re not a voyeur.

You found a cheerleader getting non so secretly fingered on a sofa, you will definitely tell Wonbin about that. Finding two jocks make out behind some potted planet under the staircase. Not much was happening but some things were catching your interest. By the time you make your rounds and end up near the back door, you spot Sungchan again. Walking near him, you waved as you asked if he'd found Wonbin yet.

"No, it's okay, though.” He said, heading turning every few directions trying to find him.

He was tall. Far, far taller than you. His shoulders were huge, he was far larger than how he looked in the kitchen. You were able to get a better scope of him, finally closer to him in his largeness. Seeing his long legs, large hands, the way he slightly hunched over to talk to people.

"What's wrong?" You ask.

"Nothing, I can text him later, just plans for soccer and stuff."

"You should relax, this is a party." You say, "Here, let me get you a drink."

"You don't have to." He assures you.

"No way," You grab onto his hand, leading him to the kitchen, "let me help you."

You feel his hand tense a little as you drag him to the kitchen. Standing by the mixing table, he watched you prepare a drink.

"Don't make it strong." He leans down to tell you.

"I won't." You smiles at him.

You grabbed at the hidden mixers Wonbin stashed for friends, pouring it into Sungchan’s cup before letting him choose and pour his own alcohol. He added a dash more after a taste.

You two walked to an empty couch as he sipped him drink. He was slightly fidgeting but the more he drank the better he sat still.

"So does Wonbin hire you to come here are do you actually like drinking."

Sungchan bursted laughing, "I'm not a drinker but I don't hate parties."

"How do you know Wonbin?" He asked.

"We had some classes together, knew him before uni but we weren't close."

Sungchan nodded.

"Wonbin isn't on the sports team, is he?" You ask.

"Oh no, he's in sports medicine. Too scared to play out on the field."

You laughed, noticing Sungchan occasionally staring at you before moving his vision to his drink or to some people.

"Are you alright?"

"Can I kiss you?" Sungchan blurted out.

You blinked for a second, "Sure."

"I'm sorry, I- you're just really pretty."

"You can kiss me."

"I-"

"Is this too open of an area?" You lean in closer to Sungchan. "We can move somewhere more private."

"Can we?"

"C'mon." You take his hand and lead him upstairs.

The crowds of people were too dense and preoccupied to notice the two of you. You walked up the stairs into the off-limits zone of the party. Every party was like this, even on campus. Don’t go upstairs unless you’re with a brother. Don’t go upstairs at all for some houses.

Walking into a spare bedroom, you shut the door lightly.

"Should I lock the door?" You ask as Sungchan was looking around the room.

"Please."

You turn the lock before walking back to Sungchan.

You both sit on the bed, he's flushed looking anywhere but you as you're looking at him.

"You wanted to kiss me?"

Sungchan nervously grabbed your hand, "I did- I do!"

You feel your lips pull into a smirk as you lean in closer to him. He leans in and kisses you. His soft plush lips felt nice, tasting a bit of the alcohol from his solo cup he set down somewhere. Your free hand held his face, lips continuously melding together.

His hand moved from your hand to your arm, wrapping around it as he deepened your kiss. He was groaning as he tasted the alcohol on your tongue, you moved into his lap as he stretched his arms to your back.

Pulling away for a breath, Sungchan stared at you.

"You're really pretty."

"You're pretty, too."

Sungchan blushed more as you complimented him, “How?"

"You're flushed cheeks and rosy lips are adorable."

You held his chin as you looked at him, doing your best to keep his eyes on you.

"I've, uhm, I've never done this before."

You cocked your head to the side, caught off guard.

"Done what?"

"Anything beyond kissing a girl." Sungchan looks away, feeling vulnerable and shy.

"Really?" You asked.

"I-"

"You're even cuter than before."

"That's cute?" He scoffed.

"You think I'd make fun of you for being a cute, pure boy?"

Sungchan's eyes moved away from you.

"Did you wanna learn? I can teach you."

His cheeks stayed a red-pink color, he was thinking hard about this.

"Can you?" His eyes flicked to your face.

"I can show you anything you want, baby boy."

His dick twitched when you called him that, Sungchan was worried you could feel it. He knew you could feel his growing hard on.

You lean back in to kiss him, his hands holding you a little tighter, more comfortable being nervous around you. You continue kissing before you grind lightly on his bulge.

"Ah." He moaned.

"That wasn't too much was it?" You ask.

"No, just different."

He captures your lips again, leaning further down as you grind your pelvis into him. Your hand moves down to feel him, his jeans are rough but you can make a good outline of his dick.

"Ah." Sungchan moaned again.

"You're real sensitive."

"Can you-"

His eyes were desperate when looking at you, clouded and almost watery with pleasure.

"You're so hot." You blurt out.

You begin moving down, lifting his shirt off as you crawl between his legs, pushing him onto his elbows. You stare up at him as you undo his belt, slowly pulling it from his jeans before tossing it to the side. You carefully crawl up to undo his jeans. Sliding his pants down, you see just how tight he is in his briefs. A large outline of his dick trying to poke out. You pull his underwear down, pulling them past his knees so he can kick them off as you stare at his dick. Fuck, he's huge.

Sungchan stares at you as you begin pumping him in your hand. His dick stood up tall as you massage up and down his shaft. His moans were low but high, never feeling someone else touch him.

"You feel good?" You ask.

His eyes flicked to you, his mouth agape with light pants coming out of him, "Yes. So good."

You continued pumping him before leaning in closer to him, sitting between his thighs are you brought his head closer to your mouth and kissed his head.

"Ah." He gasped.

You licked his slit, tasting his precum, before wrapping your lips around him.

"Y/n." He moaned.

His voice was so desperate and sweet you began sinking lower onto him. Tongue pressing along his underside as you sucked down his shaft.

"Fuck." He groaned, watching you bob your head up and down his length.

Your hand jerked his base as you sucked up and down his length. Your jaw ached as you moved up to lick along his tip. Looking up at him, you felt him twitch in your hand.

"I'm gonna cum."

"Where?"

"Where, what?" He asked.

"Where do you wanna cum?" You asked, jerking him faster.

"Fuck, your face." He groaned, feeling your hand speed up around him.

Your grip became stronger as you reattached your mouth to him, sucking and bobbing until you felt him begin to cum. Pulling off, you closed your eyes as you felt his hot cum spray onto your face, it was mostly around your mouth and cheek thankfully away from your eyes.

"Holy shit." He moaned, falling backwards onto the bed.

"Did you feel good?" You asked, crawling up his body.

"That was so good." He was in a daze, staring up at the ceiling as he tried cooling down.

"Can I make you feel as good?" Sungchan asked, not wanting to be the only one cumming.

"Of course," You lay on your back, wiping some of his cum off of your face, "eat me out."

Sungchan moves, seeing you take your shirt off as he stared at your boobs. He used his shirt to wipe the rest of your face off as you undo your bra. He leaned down and kissed you, letting you fall back and relax on the bed. He licked along your mouth, tasting his cum that was still on your tongue as he moved down.

Kissing along your jaw and neck before moving down to kiss along your breasts. His hands perfectly cupping them as he played with your nipples. His hands stayed on your breasts as he kissed down your body, your hands wrapped around his wrists as he descended. Sungchan left licks and kisses along your stomach and hip bones, carefully undoing your pants and sliding them down with your underwear, almost gawking at your exposed body.

The first thing Sungchan noticed was just how small you looked. Your dripping pussy was right in front of him but all he could think is how small it looked. How is his dick supposed to fit in there, your mouth could barely stretch around his dick. Pulling your underwear off of your legs, you spread them for him to kneel into. He immediately begins licking at your core.

“Sungchan.”

“Am I doing good?”

“So good.” You sigh.

He flattened his tongue as he tried feeling how small everything was. Your entrance was small, your clit poked lightly against his tongue, barely noticeable. You were feeling euphoric while he was trying to map everything out. Sungchan continued licking at you, his flat tongue swiping against your clit so well. You were sure he had no idea how well he was doing, beginning to lap at your clit your hands moved to hold onto his head. Your back began to arch as your noises grew louder.

His hand moved down to touch your core, flicking at your clit. Feeling his hand against you to further comprehend the size difference.

“Good?” He asked.

“Keeping doing that.”

He leaned down, you couldn’t see it but his eyes were wide in fascination with how much pleasure you were feeling. Seeing your twitch and grip onto him was exciting. He was making a pretty girl feel good, he can only hope you can cum soon.

Out of curiosity, he pushed one finger into you. Just to feel and see if it’s possible. He kept his other hand on your clit as he watched his finger disappear into your core, feeling how tightly you clenched around him. Your moans grew louder, waking Sungchan from his fixation. He began lapping his tongue against your clit, before he knew it your legs stiffened as you clenched around him. It was a unique feeling, your walls clamping before fluttering against his finger.

Pulling it out, he noticed the thick trail of cum connecting you and him. He wrapped his lips around his finger, tasting your sweet essence before diving back in to drink from the source. He was careful to just suck from your entrance and not touch your clit. Seeing your ragged breathing and your back fall onto the bed, Sungchan felt accomplished.

“Sungchan, you’re really good at that.”

“I am?” He gleamed at you.

“So fucking good.”

You could barely move your legs as you stayed there.

“Nightstand, look for a condom.” You ordered.

“You know they’re there?” He asked.

“This is Wonbin’s place, of course they’re there.”

He opened the drawer and grabbed at a loose condom packet. You help roll it onto him as he’s twitching from the sensitivity. Sitting up, you and his shift into missionary.

“Can I-”

“Please fuck me.” You say.

“Yes, ma’am.” He says, aligning with your core.

Sungchan moved beween your legs, looking down at you he was amazed at the new angle. Your cheeks were flushed, eyes dripping in arousal, you looked so hot. He carefully aligned with your core, still not believing you could fit him. He carefully pushed his tip in, not wanting to hurt you but also seeing if this was even possible.

You laid in ecstasy as you felt him stretch you out.

“Sungchan.” You moan.

He pauses and asks of you’re okay.

“Keep going, you feel so good.”

Good? He’s so surprised that you feel good, he feels good but you? He’s barely comprehending how your pussy can stretch around him but also is feeling good?

He pushes in all the way before he feels you grabbing onto him. Holding him as you’re feeling so full and fucked out. Your walls are fluttering around him, you’ve never felt like this before and you need to feel him pound into you.

“Keep going.”

“Already?”

“Please, Sungchan.”

He slowly pulls out, about half way, until he begins pushing back in.

“All the way.”

He stopped. All the way?

He pulls more out, leaving only his tip in before pushing back into your core.

“Yes.” You drawl out.

“That feels good?”

You nod as he continues slowly pushing and pulling, carefully thrusting into you as your hand moves to circle your clit.

“You’re so fucking big, fuck me.” You moan.

He slowly leans down, wanting to kiss you again.

“Faster?”

“Yes.” You sigh.

He moves faster, slowly getting used to moving his hips this way. He looks at your face, seeing your lidded eyes and hand covering your mouth, heavily breathing as your other hand circles your clit. The sight is so erotic, seeing how much you want him, how you want him to move more, harder, faster. Sungchan begins moving faster, thrusting harder into you as he hears your moans grow louder.

He leans down and kisses your cheek, you move your hand to turn his head, capturing his lips. You feel his tongue poke out as he continues thrusting into you, you kiss and lick against him, wrapping your lips around his tongue as he blanks from the pleasure.

“You’re so good.” He moans. “You feel amazing.”

He pulls out less, opting to move faster and harder. His eyes close as he begins pumping into you harder, keeping a hand on your hip as he switches with your hand on your clit. Opening his eyes, he peers down to messily rub your clit.

“Sungchan.” It comes out far more high pitched than you expected.

His hips stutter as he cums into the condom, rubbing your clit harder. His long drawn out moan is melodic as your high hits you.

“Fuck.” You moan.

He almost falls on top of you, so overwhelmed by your pussy still clenching around him. He stays inside you for a minute, trying to find his breath as he calms down. Finally pulling out, he throws the condom away.

You stay like that for a minute, catching your breath as you feel the aftershocks from your orgasms. Slowly, you both relax and sit up to look around for your clothing. You want to make quick work, unsure of how long or loud you both were.

“Did you, uhm,” Sungchan starts, “did you wanna go on a date sometime, or just like hang out.”

You stare in surprise, “Yeah!” You nod your head, “That’d be really nice.”

You slowly redress, picking and handing each other different clothing you find as you both compose yourselves. He grabs his phone to exchange numbers with you, both of you sending a quick text to save each other’s contact.

[rikiflowers]

the moon is beautiful, isn't it?

Steven Grant is full of surprises and you can't wait to discover them all.

chapter 1

words: 4,889

Steven Grant/Marc Spector/Jake Lockley x female!reader (Marc and Jake appear later)

warnings: p18+ smut (oral female and male receiving), fingering, use of alcohol, virgin!Steven

You fall for him relentlessly. His smile as he guides visitors through the museum's corridors, making full use of his knowledge; his crooked smile when he has the opportunity to talk and answers all the questions from the little ones.  You've worked in many museums and met all kinds of people, but never someone who made your heart flutter like that. Hell, even you think about havings kids, when you see your coworker handling them with the outmost care. The looks you give him when he isn't looking are so uncomfortable even for you in retrospect and you spend many hours in the shower questioning your behavior. But you can't stop there. The man had you completely in his hands and he didn't even know it.

He flirted with you unknowingly, always throwing you a cheeky smile as he walked past you with his group of visitors. Every time your heart seems to stop. You haven't been here long and you feel like everyone knows about your feelings except the person they're directed at. Maybe if you just ignore it well enough they will eventually disappear. After all, you have to concentrate on a job and not indulge in any crushes. And the fact you don’t know if he’s returning the feelings to begin with. A new exhibition doesn't plan itself. Donna has also been pushing for new ideas that you still have to give her. You would get to it straight away tomorrow evening. But today your energies are in the basement. Your sleep schedule is non-existent and this is clearly evident in the deep circles under your eyes that you tried unsuccessfully to cover up with concealer. The fourth coffee today was definitely one too many as you get ready for the end of the day. You're just putting your things out of your compartment when you hear your name - from Steven's lips. You lift your head, your hair falling over your face. He's standing in the doorway and again your heart was pounding too fast for your liking. “Steven?”

He seems restless and struggles with his words. He said something that you couldn't quite understand. "I'm sorry, what?", you push out, words coming out of your mouth to sharp, but it wasn’t intended. You’rejust too nervous around him. 

He clears his throat and runs his hand through his brown curls, which you also wanted to have between your fingertips. Many deaydreams are spent about the softness of brown curls. “Excuse me, I was asking you if you had any plans after work… Maybe you would like a coffee or wine?” 

“Everything but coffee right now,” you reply fastily with a  nervous grin, showing him your shaking hand. Steven's eyes widen as he sees the trembles. Without thinking about it, he holds your hand in his and you froze at the unusual but definitely not bad contact. A tingling sensation runs through your body. Apparently he hadn't thought either and let his body act on its own. You see his ears peeking out a deep red through his beautiful curls. He lets go of your hand far too quickly. “No coffee for you in the near future,” he replied. “I can’t promise that,” you giggle, because the brown drink is your elixir of life. 

“At least for today, if you want…of course,” he assured himself, looking at you expectantly. You give him a smile. “Yes, I want to” He lets out a sigh of relief when you agree. He was really clueless about your feelings. He really thought you would refuse. At the beginning of the day you wouldn’t even have to think about this happening,m

“Let’s go, then,” he grins as he holds out his arm to you and you laugh and wrap your arm around him. The dark-haired man offers you, 

…

You fucked up. Steven looks at you like you've lost your mind. “I can’t believe it…”

“Are you now mistaken about me?” 

The brown-haired man grabbed his chest theatrically. “I have never been so disappointed as I was at that moment. How can anyone prefer the Greek gods to the Egyptian ones?”

“Guilty” Your lips go back to the third glass of wine, feeling the red juice warming you up (or it’s Steven’s presence causing it). “How can you sit here with me after I betrayed you like that?” 

“Your smile makes your betrayal a little better” 

That damn heart pounding again. “And how can I make it completely fine again?” Your leg accidentally brushes against his. You can clearly see the effect in his facial features. The corners of your mouth turn up a little further as you look at him meaningfully. He returns your gaze, but far too intensely. You're literally falling apart under him. 

“Steven?” 

Only when you speak to him does he seem to awaken from his torpor. He clears his throat, embarrassed. “Sorry…I think I had one drink too many, but I was so fascinated by the sight of you, your smile…my first thought when I get up and get ready for work is that smile.” 

You stare at him. Heat rises to your cheeks. 

He misinterprets your reaction. “I said too much again…sorry,” he tried to apologize hastily, running his hand through his brown curls. 

"I could kiss you here now, Steven." 

“I know, I just can’t keep my mouth shut- What?”

You grin again. “You already understood me” 

“Bloody hell…” His eyes keep moving back and forth between your lips and eyes. Everything inside you tingles as you think about kissing him raw, hogging his lips, running your fingers through his hair and pressing yourself against him, hearing your name fall from his lips as you-

“A penny for your thought?” 

“X-rated, my dear,” you reply breathlessly as you take the next sip. “I want to kiss you too, Steven...and have for a long time” You admire your courage and your heart flutters as Steven grins from ear to ear. God, this man was wonderful.

“Thank God we’ve already eaten”

“and the restaurant is closing soon too…” you reply conspiratorially, resting your head on your palm and batting your eyelashes inconspicuously. He sucked in a sharp breath as he leaned back slightly. “We don’t want to exhaust the staff…”

"Exactly…" 

At that moment, Steven's hand shot into the air, signaling to the waiter that you wanted the check. Of course the black-haired man insisted on paying for the meal. You let it go, but you playfully threatened him that you would pay the bill next time. 

He helped you put your coat on, his hands touching your bare skin, sending shivers down your spine and you looked over your shoulder, noticing how close he was to you. His breath brushed your cheek. His eyes became a shade darker as they traveled to your lips. You interrupt the moment, even though you would have liked to pounce on him straight away. You walk out of the restaurant together, your heart pounding in your throat and almost bursting out of your chest. 

The cool evening air hit your face. The city lights illuminated the path. People are making their way along and you realize you're in the way. You take a step back and turn to your companion, who was already looking at you. At that moment you act quickly. Your hands cup his face and your lips press against his. You immediately feel the fireworks in your stomach as Steven immediately returns the pressure of your lips, placing his hand on your neck. As if your lips were a complete puzzle; they fit each other perfectly. You sigh into the kiss. All the tension falls away as you finally got to do what you could only hope for in dreams. Steven became more urgent, running his tongue along your bottom lip and you parted your lips immediately. Your tongue meets his as the tingling in your groin grew stronger. Everything about this man captivated you. His smell, his touch. How will you ever live without it? Your thoughts were already circling around him. 

You break apart breathlessly. Steven leaned his forehead against yours as he looked at you. “Wow…” You giggled in response. Your lips curl into a smile as your hands rest on his shoulders. “Finally...” you replied, quickly kissing the tip of his nose, which made him grin. 

He sighed. “Where have you been all my life?” 

“I could ask you the same thing…” He caressed your cheek lovingly. You didn't want the night to end yet...Everything inside you was tingling and not just from the alcohol. You continued to look into each other's eyes and couldn't keep your eyes off each other. 

“Do you want to come to me for coffee or tea?” 

Without thinking twice, he nodded and gave you a gentle kiss on the lips. “You’re welcome…tea sounds good” Your lips curled into a warm smile. You call a taxi because you didn't feel like taking the train for so long. Steven carefully linked your hands together. While you waited, the handsome man stroked the back of your hand with his thumb. You can't wait to get home and wrap this man in your arms. The thought creeps up on you that maybe it happened too quickly. Maybe you caught him off guard and didn't do it because he wanted to. But then there was the gentle squeeze of his hand. “The taxi is here…” he said, snapping you out of your circling thoughts.  He helps you into the back seat before walking around the car to sit right next to you. You greet the driver and you tell the driver your address. There was some space between you and Steven, but that didn't stop the black-haired man from carefully reaching for your hand and holding it in his. His hands were warm and lay like a blanket over your cold skin. The soft light from the driver gently enveloped you as he looked at you, giving you a small smile before answering the driver. You tune out the conversation a bit, looking out the window as you stroke his hand.

…

The journey seemed to have dragged on forever when you were finally able to get out of the vehicle. You suddenly felt ice cold and Steven seemed to notice that too. He grabbed your waist and pressed you lightly against him. “Do you want my jacket?” 

You just shake your head. “We’re almost there, I can handle it…” you waved him off, chattering your teeth, which made him laugh darkly. You lead him to your apartment complex, nervousness taking over your body. You missed the lock a few times, which made you laugh nervously. His proximity didn't help you much either. The walk to the third floor to your apartment was also stressful because you had to be careful not to fall over your own feet. Why was it all so exciting? Otherwise it wasn't so bad to take someone home with you. You reached the top much too quickly and this time you will catch up more quickly. The cozy warmth of your apartment immediately welcomes you as you lead him inside. 

“Feel at home,” you say over your shoulder as you finally kick off your shoes, which are a little too tight. Steven next to you takes off his jacket, his shoes neatly next to your pumps that have been carelessly thrown into the corner. 

“Wow…that’s a lot of books,” you hear Steven next to you. You grin. Your living room acts more like a kind of library that you've worked hard to build over the years. “May I?” You nod, watching the curly-haired man euphorically examining your bookshelves. You seem to have completely forgotten the intention behind why you are in your apartment. The wetness between your legs is very present and only gets worse as you watch him nuzzle. “You really have to explain to me the background of all these little anime characters!”  You're down bad for him. It's not funny anymore. You go into the open kitchen, rummage through the bottom drawer for the good wine you've been saving for really bad times. 

“A court of thorns and roses? Sounds interesting,” you hear Steven say and you bump into the kitchen counter. You're suddenly next to him at the speed of light and, your head red, you snatch the book out of his hand. “I don’t think that’s your taste,” you stutter out, looking at his big brown eyes. 

“Oh, okay…why, if I may ask?” 

God. What have you gotten yourself into? He doesn't have to know right away that you read Faerie Porn. The wine definitely went to your head. You just give him a wry smile and he slowly seems to understand, looking at you with wide eyes as you put the book back. “Oh yeah, I think I understand” His ears turn a dark color as he avoids your gaze. God. You want him. A little too much. 

"Wine?" 

“Gladly”  

He follows you into the kitchen, sitting on one of the stools as you pour the two of you a drink. You watch his lips touch the glass and he watches you watch him. At this moment everything is happening very quickly. You don't know who will take the step first, but that's irrelevant now. Your body is pressed against the kitchen counter. Strong hands grip your waist as your fingers bury themselves in his soft curls. Warm breath hits your lips and you part them slightly, wetting them. Steven is so close to you and yet you need him even closer. 

“Darlin’… is it okay for me to finally kiss you?” Steven looks between your eyes and lips, waiting for you to back down. Never. “Fuck…please Steven,” you breathe out desperately. That is confirmation enough. Mouths crash into each other, literally devouring each other. Your tongue pushes itself between his lips, which he greets with his. Your heart jumps, your moans encourage the curly-haired man to grab his hands behind your neck and literally press you against him. Breathing heavily, you pull away from each other. Your head rests in the crook of his neck, you feel the goosebumps your warm breath causes on his skin. Steven's fingers run through your hair, kissing your head. 

“You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to do this…” 

You hum against his skin, your lips hovering over his neck. “How long?” you breathe, tracing his skin with gentle kisses. He sighs heavily, running his fingers through your strands. “I think you know that yourself, love…” Your lips curl into a smile. 

“...you just want to hear it again, right?” 

You hum in agreement, causing him to chuckle quietly to himself. Rough fingertips reach under your chin, causing you to lift your head so that you have to look into his deep brown eyes. His facial features are relaxed and gentle; the deep circles under his eyes stand out far too clearly on his skin. You carefully move over the pigmented skin. His eyes flicker briefly. Steven's fingers close around your hand, bringing it to his lips before touching each fingertip with his lips. You look at him breathlessly, feeling the tingling sensation in your fingers as his soft lips kiss them. “Love, I fell for you the moment you first walked through the doors of the museum. Your excitement and charm fascinated me from the first second.”

His open and honest words trigger a storm of emotions in you that you can't yet fully understand. You look at him with wet eyes. 

“If you want me, then I’m yours,” he adds afterwards and now you release yourself from your rigidity. “I want you Steven. I want to be yours,” you mirror his answer. He gives you the most beautiful smile before you can't hold yourself anymore and throw your arms around the unsuspecting Steven, throwing him off balance. Together you find yourself on the cold floor of your kitchen. “Steven…oh god, I’m sorry,” you mumble to yourself, stroking the back of his head and hoping he doesn’t get a bump. A gasp escapes him before he starts to laugh, which calms you down a bit. You straddle his lap, your hair tickling his face as you lean over him. What you clearly feel is his bulge pressing against your thigh. You become bold and move your hips slightly, noticing how he gasps harshly, his fingers pressing harder into your upper arm. 

“Very dangerous, what you're planning on doing…” he says, tucking the strands of hair behind your ear, which was useless because they immediately fell into his face. “Does that bother you, sir?” 

“Not in the slightest, My lady”

You move your hips again, grinding against him. A soft moan escapes Steven's lips, only making you go faster. You want to hear more. “Steven…I want to suck you off….is that okay?” 

“Oh god…are you sure?” 

“There’s nothing I want to do more than to taste you.” Just what comes out of your mouth makes the dark-haired boy whimper. "Please…" 

There it is. The magic word. You kiss him gently before getting off his lap and trying to get comfortable between his legs. You run your fingers over his probably aching erection, desperate to be released. You fiddle with the fastening of his pants, Steven helps you pull them down and you slide them off his feet. 

“Darling, wait...the ground is too hard,” he says gently, holding your shoulder. “You just smile. “I want you in my mouth now” 

“naughty girl...” he grins, which sparks fire right between your legs.  “How can I say no to that?”

Your mouth is watering when you finally pull down his shorts and his cock presses against his stomach in its full bloom. “So pretty” Before Steven can respond, you kiss the leaking tip and lick it up. The curly-haired man accidentally grabs your hair harshly, which only makes you moan against his cock.  You try to take all of him into your mouth, but it seems almost impossible. He's just too big. 

“Love...I don’t want this to be uncomfortable for you...” you hear him say softly. This only encourages you even more to take him deeper, so that his cock massages the back of your throat. You don't care. You want him to lose his mind under you. “Bloody hell...” he blurts out, making you grin before you start moving your mouth. Your saliva collects at his base, the sounds of your mouth around his cock making him throb inside you. “Darling…so good…don’t stop,” he blurts out, trying to press his hips against your face. Your fingers claw at his hips, pushing him to the ground. Your pussy leaks at the taste of his cock, his glassy eyes focused on you between his legs. His fingers run through your hair, which falls loosely over your face. “So pretty…if you could see you, love” 

You moan around his cock, going faster. You gag, but try to continue with your fast pace. You want to see him coming. Want to hear the highest notes from his velvety lips. Your fingers cup his balls. You suck on him, feeling his thighs start to shake. “Darling…I’m coming…wait” 

You keep going, wanting him to cum in your mouth. “hell…I’m coming in your mouth…” 

You finally taste his cum on your tongue and hear your name on his lips before you start swallowing everything his cock gives you. You feel some of his juice running down the corner of your mouth. You suck him dry before slowly letting go of him, his cock gently in your hands. 

Out of breath, Steven sits up, cups your face to wipe your lips, ridding you of his remains. You take his fingers and put them in your mouth, licking them clean. The curly haired man sucks in a sharp breath. He pulls his fingers out of your mouth and alternates them with his lips. You sigh into the kiss, cupping his cheeks. You smile at each other. 

“I don’t want to spoil the mood…but my ass is freezing like hell”, the pretty man exclaimes, earning a snort from you and you both heave yourself off the ice-cold floor. “And, already exhausted?” you grin at him, your hand scratching the back of his neck. He smiles, his white teeth biting his bottom lip. “Darling…you just gave me the best blowjob of my life…it would only be fair if I gave it back to you…”

The prospect alone makes your pussy throb around nothing. “If you can do that?” you wink challengingly, which only makes him raise his eyebrows. He takes up your challenge. You grab his hand, leading him to your bedroom. You push him onto the edge of the bed. “Oh you’re so lovely when you’re feisty like this,” he breathes out, looking up at you, desire reflected in his eyes. You brush your fingertips along his chin. “I have to admit...I'm a little excited,” the curly-haired man whispers, his fingertips brushing your arm that you've rested on his shoulder. “Me too…” you reply with a grin. He shakes his head, lowering his head slightly. Your gaze turns to him questioningly. “You don’t quite understand…when I said you gave me the best…you know…that was actually my first” 

Steven speaks so quietly that you almost missed it. “Oh,” is the first thing that comes out of your mouth, without really thinking about his revelation first. “Are you still a virgin?” 

His beautiful head nods. You feel bad at the moment. Have you perhaps pushed him to do something he wasn't ready for? “I know how uncomfortable this is for you…” 

“Steven,” you interrupt him gently. “Look at me.” 

He slowly lifts his head and you immediately hold him, caressing his cheeks. “Why should I be uncomfortable? I just think that if I had known that, I would have slowed down. You don’t have to be embarrassed” 

“I didn’t want to scare you,” he replies, leaning into the touch of your hand. “You can’t scare me, but I understand your thought process,” you reassure him. “Shall we cuddle?” you ask gently. “Darling…you can’t want to cuddle right now,” he replies in disbelief, making you laugh. "Why not?" Your fingers run through his dark curls again. “Because I want to know what you taste like,” he mumbles, his face bright red. This makes your heart beat faster. “Steven…” 

“May I…please?”

How could you say no to that pleading look and words? You are a whole lake down there thanks to him and he would soon discover that for himself. “Fuck okay…” you reply. Everything inside you is tense. He runs his fingers painfully slowly over the contours of your body, which were still far too covered by your clothing. “Darling, will you please take off your clothes for me and lie on the bed?” You nod quickly before literally ripping your clothes off, not avoiding his gaze. You can clearly feel how excited he is, but you can't help it. You also take off your old bra and panties. You would surprise Steven with your good underwear next time. You can't wait to see the look in his eyes when he sees you...

But now he looks at you with shining eyes as you stand completely naked in front of him. You feel like a teenager about to experience his first time. It's your first time too; with him. You close the distance to him, wanting to feel his skin under your fingertips. “Don’t you want to take off your clothes too?” Your heart is pounding even though you already had his cock between your lips. God, his dark eyes looking at you as he unzips his shirt. You see him struggling with the buttons and your fingers are quicker, fumbling around to open those annoying buttons. You're way too impatient. Your hands grasp his shoulders, pulling him onto the bed with you. Steven lets out a surprised sound as he leans over you. Finally he pulls his shirt off his shoulders and throws it on the floor. Suddenly Steven pushes his knee between your legs, rubbing it against your pussy. You gasp and claw at his back, causing a growl to escape him. “Steven…” 

“Yeah, Darling?” 

“Touch me…please” You no longer recognize the voice that says that. You've never been so desperate...

His thumb traces your bottom lip. “Show me where…” 

You reach for his hand, guiding it to your tormenting wetness between your legs. His knee on your pussy disappears, but his fingertips run over your vulva. Everything inside you convulses with anticipation. Two of his fingers tentatively move between your folds. A whimper escapes you as Steven's eyes are on you, watching the movements of your face. His lips part slightly as he moves along your pussy, slowly starting to rub your clit. Your fingers curl into the bed sheets as he explores you. His fingers on your wetness results in the slick sound, which makes you a little uncomfortable. You try to avoid his piercing gaze and close your eyes. 

Steven harshly penetrates you with a finger. You suddenly open your eyes and press your pussy against him. “Fuck...Steven...” you gasp out, spurring him to take a second finger and sink it into you harder. 

“Exactly like that?” he breathes against your open lips as he rubs his thumb over your clit and you can barely hold yourself up. You mumble unintelligible words, lifting your head to feel his lips on yours. Steven grants you the kiss, your tongues mingling together as he purposefully curls his fingers. This almost made you lose your mind. “Steven oh my God!” you practically screamed, you would definitely wake up the neighbors. “Darling….more of this…” he speaks darkly. And you give it to him with ease. YOU are way too close to your orgasm. 

“I..I’m going to cum.” 

“Love, cum for me” He kept the pace, rubbing your clit in just the right places. The climax literally hits you. Steven is there, holding you tightly in his arms while his fingers are inside you. He clearly felt your climax. Your pussy throbbed around his fingers and your name left your lips in a strangled moan. Under Seven's lascivious gaze, the waves pull you along. Your hips fell onto the mattress. He slowly pulls his fingers out of you, looking at them with fascination. Your juice glistened in the dim light and suddenly he put it in his mouth and licked it clean. This scene literally takes your breath away. With your heart still racing, you watch as Steven suddenly places himself between your legs and pushes your thighs apart. “Steven…What?” 

“I have to taste you…” he breathes darkly before he disappears his face between your legs and you have to watch helplessly as the beautiful man devours you. Your thighs automatically close around his head before he grabs the flesh of your thighs and pushes them apart again. You claw at his dark curls, making him moan against your wet pussy. His one hand reaches for your breast, kneading it while his tongue licks your folds. The smacking makes everything even more perverse. 

“Steven...I can't take it anymore...oh!”, your whimpers get louder, but Steven doesn't listen to your words, instead he sucks a clit to drive you crazy. How can he be so good? He's a virgin...That doesn't make any sense. Your thoughts are a mess that quickly disappears as the next painful orgasm approaches far too quickly. 

“I'm coming - Fuck!” you let out from your lips as everything inside you tenses and you fall onto the mattress. Steven slowly lets go of you and you lift your head, exhausted, to look at him. His lips are shiny with your juices. Your hands pull him towards you so you can press your lips to his and taste yourself. Your skin sticks to his as you start trailing kisses down his jawline and neck. You feel his hard cock pressing against your thigh.

“Steven…I thought you were a virgin?”

He looks at you with those big, gentle eyes. “I am Darling…did I do well?” 

The tingling sensation in your pussy is answer enough. A giggle escapes you. “You just gave me my second orgasm. I think that says it all, right?” 

His ears actually turn red. You run your fingers over the warmth of the shell of his ear, a gentle smile on your lips. 

“Steven…you’re beautiful.” 

He shyly places his head in the crook of your neck and gently kisses the area under which your carotid artery pulsates. “Oh darling…don't flatter me too much” 

“It’s no flattery…”, you reply softly, massaging his scalp. “I mean it” Steven buries himself against your body and you let him, feeling his heartbeat against yours, moving in the same rhythm. Oh. Oh. 

You like him a little bit too much. Words wait on your tongue, ready to be spilled out, but your mind holds them back. For now you just enjoy his warmth, lulling you slowly into a well needed sleep.

...

[do-androids-dream-ao3acc]

All The Devils Are Here

E-rated, ≈2.800 word BuckTommy fic for @bisexualbrainrots because of this post.

Once, Evan had told Tommy what it felt like, being struck by lightning. “Hot,” he'd said, “scorching, actually. Like accidentally touching an exposed power line, only a thousand times stronger.” It was pretty close to what Tommy felt this morning.

Though serious, the call hadn't sounded particularly dramatic at first. There’d been a pile-up on Pregerson Interstate, and Tommy had been deployed to assist with traffic control and to provide transportation if necessary. As it turned out, the 118 was also on duty. Whenever they met on the job, both Tommy and Evan considered it an unlikely stroke of luck, even if it was barely enough for a fleeting smile and a twinkle in the eye. Tommy usually stayed in the air, where at most he could imagine what Howie had spilled to him one night: that every time Evan saw a helicopter in action, he pointed up to say, “What if that’s Tommy?” This time, it was really him, and he was on the ground after the 122 had requested a specific tool that Sal, who Tommy still occasionally kept in touch with, knew was in every LAFD helicopter.

Tommy landed on an interstate littered with debris, exchanged tools and a handshake with Sal, gave Evan who was running by a smile, and turned to leave when it happened. One of the wedged cars, just a few feet away, exploded. Such things happened much less frequently than TV series suggested, but this time it did happen, with a bloodcurdling bang. The air was already thick with heat, intensified by the numerous small fires that were smoldering everywhere. But now, it was an inferno. Tommy heard Evan's captain shouting orders to try direct the chaos, and he himself was already sprinting in Bobby’s direction to offer help. And Evan... well, Evan ran straight towards the car.

“Buck,” Bobby shouted, and when Evan turned around, his captain pointed to the blazing vehicle, “There's nothing left to save!” “I can help, I h-have to,” Evan shouted back, and Tommy stood there, his mouth and eyes wide open, frozen in time.

“You won't. That's an order,” said Bobby in his most authoritative voice, making it clear that he was Evan's boss, not his father figure; indeed, not even his friend at that moment. It had an unexpected effect on Evan: he pursed his lips, narrowed his eyes and adjusted his helmet. And then he turned to run off.

Two, maybe three minutes passed, then it was all over: Tommy's paralysis, but also Evan's ridiculous attempt. The rest of the 118 were close enough to prevent the flames of the explosion from spreading to the surrounding vehicles. Meanwhile, Tommy saw Evan hitting dented metal with one of their extrication tools, as if he actually believed he could save anything, anyone from that completely warped car. He obviously did believe it, Tommy heard his frustrated cry; that's when he knew it was over.

As if he were standing outside his body that suddenly seemed made out of fire and ice at the same time, Tommy watched Evan take Bobby's scolding with his head down. Watched the captain sent him away to cool off, watched him disappear between two trucks. He found himself put one foot in front of the other, leaving in the opposite direction.

The rest of the day passed in the sequence of a mechanized automatism. Tommy went flying, put out fires, did his duty. Inside, he felt like a question mark, weighed down by a conundrum he couldn’t grasp. That evening, however, he showed up at the 118’s station as planned, and as soon as he saw Evan, the anger from that morning resurfaced. He found him at the lockers, Evan was just packing up. Although the shift had ended for everyone, he was alone; Tommy would have understood if the others had avoided his boyfriend because of his bad mood. However... he wasn't in a bad mood at all. Upon recognizing Tommy, his eyes immediately lit up; he cocked his head and smiled, greeting him with a bright “Hey.”

For some reason, this was the last straw. Tommy stopped in the middle of the room, his distance from Evan not merely a matter of steps. Hands on hips, he asked flatly, “What were you thinking?”

Evan’s smile faltered. He sounded so damn innocent as he asked, “What do you mean?”

“You disobeyed a direct order. Ran into the middle of the fire,” Tommy returned sharply. The memory alone was enough to tug at his nerves, he almost felt the heat on his skin again, smelled the smoke.

“S-someone was still in that car,” Evan’s slight stutter was the only sign of uncertainty.

“Who couldn't be saved.”

“You don't know that,” said Evan, his voice full of edge now. Tommy tried to reason.

“You’re a firefighter. You’d know a lost cause.”

“A... lost cause?”

There was a flash in those otherwise kind eyes which usually reminded Tommy of a calm lake. There was nothing calm about them now, nothing kind. Evan, who had been standing with his head inclined, as he often did when he wanted to appear narrower, straightened up to his full height and looked him straight in the eye. That's what he’d looked like when he had contradicted Bobby. Tommy immediately realized that his boyfriend felt backed into a corner, and he also realized that they were about to experience their first real quarrel.

“I'll do what I have to do, because that's why I became a firefighter. I thought you, of all people, would get that.”

There was a hint of hurt in his voice, and for some reason, it only upset Tommy even more. The morning’s fright turned into anger stirring up his bowels.

“You put yourself in danger when you act on your own,” he spat.

“Says the man who flew a helicopter into a hurricane,” Evan scoffed.

“You know what, I don’t need this.”

Seized by the urgent feeling that he would soon lose his temper, Tommy turned away. He walked off blindly, his ears ringing. Fresh air would calm him down, he was sure; he needed to think. He didn't get far; Evan’s hand on his shoulder prevented him from reaching the door. He sounded as angry as Tommy felt, and somewhat breathless from running after him.

“You're not running away, not again, Tommy. Tell me what’s wrong.”

“What's wrong? You’re reckless, that’s wrong.”

“I'm willing to take risks.”

“You're a daredevil, that’s not the same thing.”

Tommy felt that some of his anger had evaporated just because Evan had followed him. He had broken the pattern. Still, they were arguing, and it was wearing on his nerves.

“You like me too much,” Evan said softly, the defiance in his eyes fading.

“What makes you think that? You’re being unreasonable.”

Deep down, Tommy knew this was true. He liked this man too much not to be afraid.

Evan shrugged, “Well, look around, you’re so upset, you turned the wrong corner.”

Reluctantly, Tommy looked around, and sure enough, instead of near the entrance, he found himself in the annex where the ambulances were stationed. He’d actually been so upset that he hadn't watched where he was going, and from Evan's sparkling eyes, he realized that this amused him. The emergency lighting cast a strange, reddish glow on Evan's face, emphasizing the hint of a smile on his lips. Tommy, however, was still angry, or rather irritated by a feeling that seemed out of place. Evan’s plush lips, his gaze veiled by the darkness in the room, it provoked him.

Suddenly, he found himself grabbing Evan’s hand, which was still on his shoulder, using the momentum to push him against one of the ambulances.

“You'd better come to your senses,” he growled.

“Or what?” Evan shot back, his eyes fixed on Tommy’s lips as if there was some special secret there, one that had never been told. A tantalizing, dark secret. All thoughts vanished as he found Evan's lips magnetically attracted his, and the kiss that followed was anything but gentle.

Their teeth slammed into a sloppy clash while their tongues entangled. It was still an argument, a special kind of fight with no losers. This, Tommy knew for sure. And if he was surprised by this severity, Evan’s hands on his butt drowned out all doubts.

“If that's what makes you tick, we should do it more often,” that impossible man breathed against Tommy’s jugular. It made his next words rumble.

“No talking,” he snapped, and if to emphasize this, he slid one leg between Evan's thighs, pushed them apart and began grinding against his crotch. Evan's fingernails pierced his jeans, clawing almost painfully at his ass. The guy was strong, and for a moment, this actually became a test of strength. It was a game for two, and Evan wasn’t easily pushed. His muscles tensed, and Tommy reacted too late – or rather not at all, and perhaps deliberately. In any case, the tables had turned, and now he was the one being pressed against the vehicle. The cool metal against his back did nothing to calm his temper.

“I'm not done with you yet,” he said, but it sounded anything but threatening, and Evan, that insolent man, gave a choppy laugh.

“Thought you didn’t want to talk,” he teased, one of his usually gently hands cupping Tommy’s bulge through his pants with force. 

With a last shred of sanity, he murmured against Evan’s mouth trying to recapture his lips, “They’ll hear us.”

“Shift change was half an hour ago. Paramedics only show up in an emergency.”

That was true; just like the firemen, they had a common room, and Tommy’d been with the 118 long enough to know that even with the siren going off, they’d had a minute before the place would be busy.  This was an emergency, somehow, albeit not the kind they’d need help for.

“What if I make you moan so loudly that they think there is one?”

Interestingly, Evan's cool facade crumbled briefly at those words. He was eager to see this side of Tommy, and in fact – Tommy had left all shame and restraint in the bright and open locker room. Wordlessly, he pulled his boyfriend closer, just briefly so that he wouldn’t forget the turmoil he’d caused, then he brusquely shoved him along. Lips locked, hands restlessly roaming their bodies, they pressed each other against the ambulance’s rear doors. This felt like wrestling, a show match; a tad violent yet somewhat arousing. Evan's shoulder slammed against a handle, and Tommy was grateful that the doors opened outwards and they didn't tumble into the vehicle. However, a thought formed in his lust-numbed mind, a ridiculous little idea.

A minute later, they staggered into the vehicle after all, but only because he had deliberately opened the doors and pushed Evan inside.

“P-perhaps we should continue this at home.”

There was the slightest hint of doubt in Evan's voice, and Tommy was eager to dispel it, quite out of character.

“Heard you once screwed on the fire engine’s rooftop.”

Evan laughed way too loudly, and Tommy knew that he should still be angry, but he was just extremely turned on, he needed an outlet. He reached for him, tugging at Evan’s shirt, but not wasting any time undressing him. If this was a game, then he wanted to set the rules for once.

“Pants down,” he demanded, and rarely had anyone obeyed a command more quickly.

Evan, who usually enjoyed it when they slowly and pleasurably bared each other bit by bit, tore off his pants as if his life depended on it. In his eyes, his whole being, there was no longer any defiance. Nevertheless, this compliance somehow irritated Tommy even more, as if that slight smile was just mocking him, not taking him seriously. And yet Evan didn't seem surprised when he said, “Bend over.”

His arousal was not only visible, it seemed tangible, filling the small space around them with a peculiar smell and tension. There was no longer anything provocative about Evan’s movements as he leaned on the ambulance stretcher; he didn't do it slowly or even carefully. Impatience was already dripping out of his every pore. It infuriated Tommy, they shouldn’t even be here right now, and they certainly shouldn’t do what they were about to do. But why should he be the voice of reason? He was indulging in the very same behavior he'd scolded Evan for, he knew it, and he still didn't care.

The inside of the ambulance was cold, just like Evan's glutes, between which he slid his hand. This wouldn't be gentle nor polite, and he wanted his boyfriend to know that, wanted his thumb, hastily moistened, to rub roughly against him. It was less about testing his readiness than his willingness. Evan was clinging to the gurney, spreading his legs even more; oh, that man was certainly ready for him.

Tommy had done this before, jerking off a guy in a dark alley, quick fucks in the back rooms of shady bars; he never thought he would do something like this with Evan. It was absurd, he adored the man, he would lay his heart at his feet; but now, now he wanted nothing more than to take him, hard and fast, controlled by his dick just this once.

So he did, without regret and with little consideration, and it was so much easier than he had thought. It was almost as if all resistance, all unruliness, had finally melted away. Evan hadn’t followed orders, he’d chosen to shut his ears, following instinct; and now he paid the price, with a small, surprised gasp. The narrow surroundings shrank even more, as if everything around Tommy wanted to reflect the tightness he felt. One reckless thrust, and he sank completely into it, pleased to see Evan’s knuckles turn white around the edge of the stretcher.

Gentleness was for those who reflected, and Tommy didn’t want to. He’d discovered an unexpected side to his lover today, surfacing an unexpected side in himself. His thrusts came rough and hard, but if this was supposed to be a punishment, why did it feel so good? Why did Evan gasp every time he withdrew, exhaling in a sigh when he was filled completely again? He’d pushed Tommy to the limit, and now he returned the favor. Obscene smacking sounds filled the air when their bodies collided, over and over. The stretcher swayed in unison, even though the brakes were locked; if the alarm would sound now, they’d be in so much trouble.

In truth, very little time passed; not because they rushed all of this, but because it was just too much. Like a fifteen-year-old who cums in his own pants at the mere thought of something horny, Tommy finished faster than desired. A grunt, a last slap on that peach of an ass in front of him, and he was done. His mind went blank, and he briefly bent over Evan, stroking his hair as if he wanted to say, Good boy, you’ve been doing me a favor. Then he withdrew his hand, almost as if he had been burnt, even if only in his thoughts.

He pulled back, careful not to leave any stains in the ambulance; feeling that their lust could still be smelled in here for hours. Evan turned around, nimbly pulling up his trousers; only a redness on his neck and the slightly tousled curls suggested that anything had happened at all.

“Unbelievable,” he croaked, “I'll need a moment.”

Tommy realized that he didn't even know if Evan had come at all. While trying to suppress a small twinge of sorrow, he hadn’t forgotten why all this had happened in the first place, and tried to color his words with seriousness.

“We're not done yet.”

“Oh, you're pretty done,” Evan teased.

“With talking,” Tommy replied, although he could no longer suppress a smile. “Seriously, I want us to discuss this, sensibly. You need to realize that at the end of the day, there’s someone waiting for you who values your life. Not only me, and you know that, yeah, but also me.”

“You’re babbling,” said Evan, fascinated; running a still warm and strangely moist (Oh, thought Tommy) finger over his lips. Certainly not to shut him up, he was just provoking him again. “A-and that's sweet, actually. But this isn't the place to discuss it.”

For a brief moment, there was a glimpse of this unruly man again, words of resistance already on the tip of his tongue. There was reason for it, Tommy knew this now, and he’d try to understand it.

“At home, then,” he returned quite ambiguously, and with a final slap on the butt, he pushed Evan out of the ambulance.

AO3 version | Song by Dynazty | All my BuckTommy on AO3

[uncleasad]

“Home safe, Kate Bishop.”

So back in Chapter 3 of @the0fi’s lovely Kate Bishop/Yelena Belova fic Red Post-Its (which I read because 1) they’re a fantastic writer and 2) they said you could see a bit of Hosie in there, and, yeah, as promised 👍) there’s a scene involving Kate, Kamala, and Yelena, where Kate hopes certain events don’t end up in one of Kamala’s fanfics. And, well, we never got to see if they did (which I suppose means they didn’t), but my mind wouldn’t let go (never mind I’ve only seen one of these characters!). So a few days ago it gave birth to a tiny little fanfic for another fanfic involving writing fanfic! Fics all the way down! Ficception!

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“Home safe, Kate Bishop.”

“Home safe, Kate Bishop.”

“Home safe, Kate Bishop.”

“Home safe, Kate Bishop.”

Kamala Khan played those words over and over on her own journey home. She and Kate had planted a trap for a bunch of thugs in a warehouse, and things didn’t go quite according to plan. Nothing they couldn’t handle, really, but a Mysterious Stranger suddenly appeared and provided an unexpected assist…beat the crap out of all of the thugs near Kate. (Well, all but one, who’d managed to knock Kate to the ground.) And then the stranger helped Kate up and uttered those four words before disappearing into the night. “Home safe, Kate Bishop.”

The voice was steady, belying any emotion, but there was something about it…the tone? the cadence?…that made Kamala sure there was more to it. It was accented, Slavic…probably Russian, maybe from Brighton Beach? And definitely female.

Kate had never mentioned a partner. Or a trained friend, for that matter…besides Clint. And this Mysterious Stranger…Mysterious Friend…was definitely too professional to be one of the LARPers. Was she a spy? The newest Marvel’s mind continued to spin, considering the possibilities…this was even better than her fanfiction!

There was definitely an undercurrent of not just concern, but tenderness, in the woman’s voice, Kamala was sure of it. Maybe it was a gut feeling? But she knew she wasn’t imagining it, playing those sounds over in her head again.

When she’d asked Kate, “Who was that?!” the CEO-by-day, Hawkeye-by-night had answered “A friend,” but the smile that took over her face told a different story.

Was Mysterious Friend Kate’s…girlfriend?

Kate’s girlfriend, an international agent, a foreign spy?

That would be one reason for Kate never to mention the woman to Kamala. Not that she thought Kate was doing anything wrong; she was sure the new Hawkeye had thoroughly vetted Mysterious Friend. And not that Kate was in any way obligated to reveal her private personal life, either; they were teammates, not sisters.

The Pakistani-American teen’s imagination began to run wild. Maybe the two met when Mysterious Friend dropped in to help Kate in a fight in a warehouse, not unlike tonight. Ever since then, they’d been passing each other in the city in the way that only spies do. Secret rendezvous in coffee shops, where they stole longing glances at each other across the room, leaving love letters taped to the undersides of their respective tables. Passing each other on the subway, pressed against the windows, cars going in opposite directions. Perhaps one time they both found themselves in a crowded elevator, slowly moving towards each other as the occupants got in and out on various floors; eventually, they were pushed together, shoulder-to-shoulder, in the back, the tips of their fingers touching. And watching over Kate, silently, in the shadows, as she patrolled, perhaps taking out unseen threats to her girlfriend with a thrown knife, never making her presence known. Except Kate would know. She would feel Mysterious Friend’s love radiating through the city, helping to keep her safe.

When she arrived home, Kamala rushed to her room and opened her laptop, starting a new fic. This was too good not to write. She began to type.

“Home safe, Kate Bishop.” Hawkeye had just taken out a nest of petty crooks when a knife-throwing mysterious stranger had emerged from the darkness. The only prior indication of the stranger’s presence had come moments before, when the glint of steel in the moonlight caught a knife in mid-air, a knife that had then embedded itself in the right gastrocnemius of one final crook. He was either trying to escape or to get the jump on the dark-haired heroine, whose back was to the man. Whichever was the case, it didn’t matter to the stranger. Kate Bishop whirled around upon hearing the crook scream in agony and then crumple to the ground. She had an arrow nocked, drawn, and aimed in the direction from which the knife had come, even though she had neither seen nor heard it. When Hawkeye caught sight of the stealth suit emerging from the darkness, she lowered her weapon—and an enormous smile spread across her face. “Thanks,” she greeted the mystery figure softly, the smile being joined by a blush spreading across her cheeks. If the Mysterious Stranger had acknowledged the gratitude, it was imperceptible. The figure then spoke a single line of heavily-accented English, “Home safe, Kate Bishop.” She—for there was no doubt the voice was feminine—then melted back into the shadows whence she had come, leaving Kate Bishop alone with the neutralized crooks. Kate Bishop whose face was hot, red, and giddy. Kate Bishop whose heart was beating rapidly, but not from adrenaline nor from danger. Kate Bishop, whose fingers traced her lips as she remembered the feeling of another set of lips pressed against them. Kate Bishop who, in that moment, was no longer a deadly archer, but instead a besotted schoolgirl. “Home safe, Kate Bishop.” The words echoed in her head as she restrained the incapacitated crooks for the authorities. “Home safe, Kate Bishop.” They followed along with her as she moved through the city. “Home safe, Kate Bishop.” They were not a request nor an order. “Home safe, Kate Bishop.” They were a promise. “Home safe, Kate Bishop.”

FIN

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No idea what Kamala’s fics might be like, or what her internal monologue might sound like, or, well, anything 😳 But this idea was too good not to write, and that line, those four words, wouldn’t leave my head, so here we are. Enjoy, I hope?

[loucifersbitch]

When they finally make it to the bedroom, Buck shoves Tommy so that the backs of his knees hit the bed, and he falls back, bouncing a little as he lands. Tommy stares up at him, that smirk on his face, as Buck yanks his shirt over his head, discarding it carelessly to the side.

"See something you like?"

Tommy thinks for a moment, pulling Buck down to straddle his lap. "Hmm, no."

When Buck pulls back, confused, Tommy says, "I see something I love."

[victorie552]

Ok, so Noldolantë, "The Fall of the Noldor" is a lament composed by Maglor about what happened before, during and after First Kinslaying at Alqualondë. It's such a good song that it's played regularly in Aman and Valar listen to it often (I swear, I swear it was in the Silmarillion I just can't find it now).

It's also a more or less common fanon that Maglor continues writing Noldolante through the whole First Age. Makes sense - it's about fall of the Noldor, and Noldor did a lot of falling back then.

Headcannon time: So my first thought was that Noldolante must a long, long, long epic of a song. So it probably has many parts, right? Iliad has 24 books/parts, somehow I think Noldolante would be at least just as long, and there are longer epics. And again, just like Iliad, unless you're a scholar, in the daily life you don't really listen to/read the whole thing, just reread and repeat the most dramatic fragments. What I'm trying to impress upon you all is that the story would have different segments, or chapters, if you will.

And if Maglor continues to write the story during the FA, there would absolutely be a moment in the lament where the OG Noldolante becomes Noldolante 2, and even Noldolante 3. There may be the same musical motif or something, I decided that Maglor IS that good of a bard to keep it all consistent enough so you know it's all the same story, but the style changes a lot - it's been 400 years in the making, let The Music Elf have fun!

So, Point 1: Many, Many Parts, basically Maglor's FA WIP

My second thought was that, while Feanor invented his alphabet, elves learned their history mostly through oral tradition aka songs and spoken stories. Noldolante is definitely a historical record, where a historical event was archived for future generations.

(It was a also a way to deal with grief, guilt and blame Maglor and all Noldor have faced regarding First Kinslaying - free therapy! But that's not what this post is about)

Archived.

My 2.5 thought was that Noldolante isn't just recallings of how pretty and horrified the beach looked during the murdering or how mad and sorrowful the sea was at everyone during the voyage or even how awesome and charismatic Feanor looked during his speeches that every single Noldo was ready to fight Morgoth barehanded in his name - no, this is a record of who killed who, who got killed by whom, and how.

Noldor and Teleri knew each other (were friends, even!) before the First Kinslaying, so I'm confident that after a lot of interviews, detective work, and cross-referencing, Maglor could and would create a very good... name list. Practically every Noldo and Teler present during First Kinslaying would get a stanza in a song, more if he killed someone, most if he killed many people. Killers and killed would show up twice, first in a fragment listing the killers and their victims, then in a part listing the victims and their murderers. Basically it's the same thing twice, but from different POVs. With when, where and how included.

(It was seen to be in bad taste to compare kills during Maglor's Regency, when most of his interview-part work happened. People did it anyway. There were a Saddest Kill, Funniest Kill, and Weirdest Kill discusions. There was a Tier List. These were weird times to be a Feanorian Noldo.)

(It WAS in Bad Taste, but at least people talked about it. I cannot stress enough how much free therapy this lament provided)

(Little did they know, when Teleri started getting reembodied in Aman, they had very similar discussions, but more in a "I can't believe he killed me like THAT" way. Long, long, long after the First Age. Noldolante is a gift that keeps giving)

So, Maglor had all the historical grith and no common shame to create a "We Killed All These People And We Feel Bad About It" banger of a song, and every Noldo had a very personal reason to at least remember the fragments they are in. It's a hit on a scale never seen before.

(I'm not sure how to tackle the issue of Nolofinweans and Arafinweans learning about Noldolante after crossing the Ice. But there were discussions. There was anger, there was "????", there was controversy. Basically, the song got bigger and bigger rep no matter what your opinion on it was. By the time of Mereth Aderthad it was an important cultural and political piece and at least Fingon's forces were included in the main song. It had parodies.)

Point 2: Archive Function/Kill count storage. Cultural phenomen, every Noldo included

This is where my personal nonsense begins: Main Noldolante was done, there was nothing more to say about First Kinslaying, all killings and deaths were well documented.

But the Siege started. And the Noldor kept dying.

It was less dramatic than it sounded - between the big battles the siege was maintained, but orc raids also happened and sometimes one to few Noldor died in skirmishes. The legal procedure was to document the death of a fellow elf and send a word to king Fingolfin. The cultural procedure, technically started by Feranorians but adapted by many more, was to send the name, common characteristics and cause of death to Maglor's Gap. After few months, King Fingolfin would send reinforcements, short condolences and financial compensation if they had family. After few months, family of an elf would also receive a personal lament for them and a place for them in a Noldolante.

Yes, every lament Maglor created in that time was technically part of the Noldolante. Noldolante 1.5, if you will. Laments make in that time were very customized, and simpler than Noldolante Main, but were still considered a part of the same song. Of course, nobody was expected to know and remember laments for every single Noldo, younger Noldor born in Beleriand could even only know fragments about their family members. Only Maglor would ever know Noldolante in full, but it was understood that everyone had their place in The Song.

The results of Great Battles were harder to document, but Maglor did that. Of course, Dagor Bragollach was hard on him personally, but he worked his way through.

(High King Fingon forbade creating laments for his father. There were no songs for Fingolfin. Apart from in Noldolante, of course. Of course. Maglor did not share the lament with anyone, but he sat long hours and many nights with a blank paper before him, looking at the candle flame and thinking of the past and the future. The song unsung, but there)

Nirnaeth was... Maglor was never more hated and more approached at the same time than then. Still, Noldolante grew and grew, as if people knew the end was near.

It was Second Kinslaying that destroyed the myth of Maglor's song. Feanorians didn't know the Sindar they killed, but surely, they couldn't just left their names unmentioned like they did with orcs? So, Noldor talked, but the battle happened in caves - it wasn't uncommon to find dead bodies in empty rooms, with no witnesses to what happened. Surviving Sindar didn't want to share any names, even when Maglor strong-armed some into talking with him, and good for them. Maglor made a big lament anyway. Maglor, wild, with no shame and dead brothers, with legacy crumbling around him. Noldolante, with holes.

After Third Kinslaying, Noldor didn't want to talk. Lament for Sirion didn't have any names. Clearly, songs weren't a way to go anymore, it was always about live witnesses. And so Maglor raised the twins.

Lament for Maedhros was sung repeatedly. There was no one to hear it.

Point 3: Only Maglor knows Noldolante in full. But that doesn't matter, because everyone knows the important part: the Noldolante is finished. The Star of Hope rises in the West and the story goes on. The Fall has ended.