#was listening to Dark Speed as I wrote this one that song is so damn good

[accidentally-in-fictional-love]

📖🤹‍♂️🔞, pretty pleeeaasee ?

Collared But Untethered - Abner Krill/Reader

Warnings: No use of Y/N, gender-neutral reader, slowburn, slight exhibition (Belle Reve), touch-starved induced desperation, making out, sudden smut, handjobs.

Wordcount: 2970

Summary: Even with every personnel in Belle Reve questioning why you wanted him, you kept coming back for more so long as they kept letting you touch him just out of sight.

Notes: Even when I try to drabble I still can't resist the buildup cause I love him so much oop- This is the first request I've ever gotten/filled so here we gooooo :'D I hope you like it, thank you so much for sending something in 💗💗💗

You were 100% certain that everyone had caught on by now to what you two were doing, but it was hard to care when orange fabric was bunched under your hands and the sound of his poorly quieted voice was in your ear. Belle Reve was well known for its lack of care towards its residents, so at first you’d both assumed that someone would barge in at any second to tear you apart, ban you from ever returning, but you were going on your fifth visit now with no one disturbing you, so even if you weren’t as perceptive as you’d thought and they were watching on a camera you’d missed no one made it known.

You’d first seen him on TV, shakycam footage barely capturing him as he and the other prisoners briefly designated as ‘Heroes’ made quick work of the current bigger threat destroying the city, and the way his powers had lit up the area in a rainbow of colours had instantly drawn you in, made you forget all about the danger as you hid in your apartment and waited in terror for it to be over, trembling hands clasped together in front of your heaving chest as you prayed you’d be safe. He’d destroyed that threat singlehandedly the second he was sure no one else was in his way, the others chiding him in the footage as he’d closed up on himself and apologized, having forgotten their goal of taking the villain alive so he could join them in their home. 

He was so unlike anyone you’d ever seen before, a timebomb of danger wrapped up in a polka-dotted bow, hands fidgeting and head downturned nervously while the destruction of what he could do showed all along the street up to where gory remains decorated the open main road.

As the reporter took over the submitted shakycam with her own live footage, people circled the villains to thank them, albeit keeping their distance even as they reached out to shake hands, pat backs, give gifts that would definitely be confiscated as soon as they returned. No one thanked him for killing their target, everyone too afraid of the gauntlets holding back bright lights and coloured dots, worried that he’d turn them on the crowd next even as the infamous Harley Quinn herself showed off the gun she’d stolen from one of the fallen policemen to a couple kids who’d wandered up to praise her without their parents’ permission.

That wasn’t fair at all, he’d needed some thanks too.

So you’d left your apartment and hurried down to them, the fight just a couple blocks away, the still burning circles in the buildings and pavement growing in number the further you got. They were already starting to get into the armoured vehicle that brought them there by the time you’d arrived, and you didn’t know his name so you could only call past the gathered guards making sure they didn’t run before he disappeared out of sight. He turned to face you, one of his teammates elbowing him to go when it became obvious that you were there for him; he walked back down the lowered ramp to approach, looking apprehensive that you’d want to talk to him when the others were right there, so you’d extended your hand to shake his, prove that you weren’t afraid but rather thankful for his help as you reached as far as you could between the two guards keeping you at a distance for your own safety.

The moment his hand touched your own you knew that you could never let him get away again.

Visitors to Belle Reve were always heavily inspected and supervised, no one ever allowed to meet face to face for fear of what could happen to either party as well as those around them, and they made that explicitly clear to you as you passed their inspections and were ushered down the hallway to the partitioned phones. The moment you told them that you were there for the Polka-Dot Man so they knew who to get they’d hesitated, turned halfway down the hallway to look at you like you were crazy, some weird thing to be studied for wanting to see him of all people. You’d just simply shrugged and told them you wanted to thank him for the other day.

He’d never had a visitor in all his time being there, and the moment he’d seen you holding the phone opposite of his own he’d gone red in the face, a mix of embarrassment for the continued support and obvious confusion as to why you’d sought him out a second time. It was cute, and while the conversation had been short, his voice low and answers coming out in single worded sentences as he thought about what to say, it still brought butterflies to your stomach until your time was up, your final question asking for his name before you were forced to hang up.

‘Abner…’ he’d told you, like he hadn’t said it in a long time. ‘Abner Krill.’

The second time you visited you asked for permission to talk to him face to face, as his voice barely carried over the phone and he had a tendency to forget he was holding it as he talked to the desk. Request denied, but they’d think about it for the right price, it wasn’t like he was going to escape his birdcage when it kept him safe from himself, the shiny collar around his neck stopping the kaleidoscope from painting the walls in cinders. That conversation had come easier, the guards getting bored and pulling out their phones as you talked about everything and nothing at all, his words flowing a little more freely.

The third time you’d gotten your request with the handing over of a few steep bills slid under the table, Abner looking around at the room before seeing you and smiling. There was a little more space between you compared to the phones but the wall was gone, and you almost missed his questions about your life as you watched his mouth speak, hands rubbing and fidgeting on top of cold metal in his persistent nervousness. The moment you’d started talking about yourself the guard watching over you had sighed loudly in annoyance and walked out, leaving the two of you alone to both of your surprise, the camera whirring in the corner telling you that they were still watching from afar at least.

You shook his hand again when time was up, and he trembled a little less as he stood before you, your bodies dangerously close for a quick moment before the guard rushed in to put a little space between you with an utterly confounded look shot in your direction.

The fourth time you looked around to see if there were more cameras than just the one over your shoulder before he was brought in, his eyes instantly brightening in your presence as they’d recently started to do. He looked more alive, his face less sunken like he was taking better care of himself so you wouldn’t worry, and you longed to hold him as the table became a deep crevasse between you. He wasn’t chained to it this time, they didn’t care enough and he knew better, he was well trained by now, and the moment you were left alone again you’d moved your chair to the empty space on the side, a little closer but not touching, testing the waters as you shot a glance to the camera to see if this was okay.

Nothing happened. No one came. Hands rested in sight as they reached but never touched, the crevasse a little smaller as the space between turned from feet to inches, then centimeters.

When your pinkies linked together it was like a bridge formed instantly, the two of you meeting in the middle as he closed his eyes and just breathed, completely calm as his free hand ran over his arm to make sure the gauntlets were gone, make sure he wouldn’t hurt you. He was touch-starved, that much was apparent as long fingers crawled over your own to create more points of contact, Abner fully holding your hand and forgetting that you were supposed to be talking. Your heart raced as you wanted more, wanted to see what other reactions you could pull from him if just this was enough to make him lean towards you, eager to invade your personal space, or perhaps invite you to invade his.

It was a space he guarded dearly, you’d learned as much over your visits as he told you about how the other inmates treated him, your touch so gentle compared to their punches, both of your chairs sliding over the floor as you closed the gap even more. Still no one came, your eyes going to the door to make sure they weren’t watching you through the wire-meshed glass to see what would happen next but the space on the other side was empty, the camera blinking red high above you as your legs made contact, a buzz of electricity shooting up your spine.

He tried to pull away, surprised by his own brazenness, or maybe it’d been an accident since he was so much taller than you, but you refused to let him, your leg pressed into the cold table leg almost painfully as you pulled him right back. The knowledge that you wanted him close, wanted to touch him even though he could burn right through you in an instant without the collar controlling him, made his chest start to heave then, eyes searching your face for fear but finding none.

Your hand unlinked from his before sliding up his arm, feeling the way he shivered as you reached his elbow, his bicep, muscles tensing under loose fabric just out of sight, a sigh leaving his lips as your fingers carefully trailed over his collar up to his cheek. He leaned into you, slowly at first, like you might change your mind and pull away at any second, his eyes closed tight as chair legs scraped over the ground. The gap closed more and more as you stood, leaned in close enough to see the scars of his time in this place, the way his lips parted ever so slightly as he let out shaky breaths, how long his lashes were as they fluttered in anticipation of what you were going to do next.

The door opened before you could make that final leap, the men who rushed in looking just as confused to your actions instead of angry, and while they weren’t rough with you they did tease him all the way down the hallway as he tried to hide the fact that he’d wanted you in those last seconds, your face flushing as pure longing rushed right to your gut at the sight of something hidden behind shaking hands as he was led to the showers to cool off.

The fifth time you’d come in you’d stared down everyone you passed as they whispered and nodded in your direction, not caring as you headed for your visiting room, no one stopping you even as they shook their heads and questioned your life choices. They still let you wait by yourself, your heart pounding as he was brought in and the door was closed behind him, the guard locking it muttering to himself about how he didn’t get paid enough for this. Abner didn’t even get a chance to sit down as you stood up and grabbed onto his shirt, pulled him down to continue what you’d started with a chaste kiss, testing the waters as he let out a surprised noise against your mouth before it turned into a moan, his hands hovering over you as he tried to decide what to do.

‘Touch me,’ you told him as you parted for a breath, the end of the collar pressing into your own throat as he groaned and kissed you back, dry lips parting to let you in as you ran your tongue experimentally over his bottom one. His hands wandered all over you, touching whatever he could now that he knew you wanted him to, his back hitting the wall and the collar scraping against the brick as he arched against you wantonly. It was like the floodgates had been opened, touch-starved desperation making him want more before you were separated again, your body ready to follow his every command should he ask, wanting nothing more than to make him feel good before he was forced to go back to his solitude. 

You palmed him over his pants and he keened needily, hips moving to feel you more before he stopped himself with a choked whine, he was asking too much too soon, surely you couldn’t want him that badly, surely now would be the time you’d come to your senses and see him like everyone else did. You nipped at his bottom lip, got him to look at you before you glanced up at the camera; it was facing the table, the two of you probably just in frame, so you led him to the corner directly underneath it, in its blindspot as you played with the hem of his pants.

‘Do you want this?’ you whispered, voice low so anyone outside wouldn’t hear, Abner’s eyes shut tight again as he nodded his head, slowly at first and then a little quicker as you made contact against his bare stomach. He was breathing so heavily, the growing tent just under where your hand rested making you lick your lips; they were bound to stop you before it got too heated but you could at least give him this, all your fantasies from the past month coming to life as you felt hot skin under your fingertips.

He sighed and let his head fall back, hands gripping you like a vice as you touched him, and you couldn’t help but wonder when the last time anyone else had touched him like this had been, if anyone ever had; it made you a bit jealous to think about the former, of someone else making him look this way before you, so you couldn’t help but selfishly wish you were the first as you wrapped your hand around him. His knees shook, he wasn’t used to it, your name falling from his lips as he started to buck desperately into your hand. 

He was beautiful as his jaw went slack, so open with what he wanted as he held you close, your own pleasure building just from watching him come so easily undone like it was the strongest aphrodisiac. His quiet voice came in handy as he moaned out his desires, how good it felt, how he needed more, pleas to not stop sending shockwaves all the way down to your toes as the words started to cut off the closer he got. You felt your throat tighten as his tongue peeked out to wet his lips, needing to taste him again as you swallowed and leaned up to capture him in a deep kiss, his tongue dancing over your own and refusing to let you get away in such a lewd way that it made your head spin.

He didn’t last long between your kisses and your hand attacking him at the same time, his hips jutting with a broken cry of pleasure into your open mouth as he came into your fist, palm gathering as much as you could for his sake. You didn’t realize you were panting as well with how turned on you were as his expression softened into one of pure bliss, a need filling your gut and making you burn with desire unlike anything you’d ever felt before as you wanted more. You pulled your hand free, mouth watering as you felt the sticky substance leak through your fingers, Abner just staring at you through half-lidded eyes as you raised your hand to your mouth, tongue darting out to taste when the door suddenly opened, two guards rushing in.

‘Alright, that’s enough of that,’ one of them said, your fist held by your side as you were pushed out of the way, Abner letting out an actual whine at not being able to return the favour before he was dragged out the door. Once he was out of sight you were led to the nearest bathroom, the guard not fooled at all by your attempted nonchalance and letting you wash up, your hand shaking as you still felt his heat against your wet skin. You wouldn’t do anything about your own situation until you were home, the guard just shaking his head as you rejoined him and followed him to the front doors, the detour allowing you a glimpse of Abner as he walked down a connecting hallway.

Despite the cuffs around his hands and the collar around his neck he looked relaxed, free, not even reacting as one of the inmates passing by tried to insult him, sharp canines biting his lip as he just stared the men down. You grinned, proud of him as you walked out of sight of him again, the highly protected doors leading to the outside world coming into view moments later. You didn’t leave right away, turning to talk over your shoulder as your escort waited impatiently for you to go, a gleam in your eye as you stared into his mask.

‘I’ll be back again next week,’ you promised, everything that came with that unsaid but understood, and he sighed before giving you a shove, everyone around you already whispering about the day’s visit as you just grinned and walked out into the warm Louisiana sun.

[coastalcowgirl35]

Just Us- Tyler Owens x Reader

Note: I accidentally wrote this in first person, then had to go back and fix it and I'm very mad.

Also I'm horrible at titles, mb guys

Also I went to go see Twisters again last night and let's just say I've reaffirmed that Glen Powell is going to be my entire personality for quite some time.

Also listened to the soundtrack while writing this, 10/10 Too Easy is literally the most motivational song ever.

Also apparently Y/N really likes murmuring against Tyler's lips when they kiss, once again mb

Warning: pretty hot and heavy at the end guys, idk what came over me

"Y/N... Y/N" You blink my eyes open slowly revealing your boyfriend Tyler's grin in your face. "Hey baby, come on get up, we've got a big one coming." His excitement is palpable as he plants a kiss on your lips.

"Wait what?" You mumble, confused.

"Time to get up hon, we got a storm to chase." He kisses you again then pulls away so you can sit up. You quickly brush your teeth, change into cargo pants and a tank top, and pull your hair back to keep it off your neck in the Oklahoma heat.

"Okay Ty, I'm ready!" You say as you slip on your boots. He's looking up at you from where he sits on the edge of the bed with a grin on his face. "What?" He stands up and wraps his arms around you.

"You're just so damn cute." He says, tilting your chin up to give you yet another kiss.

"Mhmm I thought we had to go." You murmur against his lips as your kisses become more passionate and his hands find their way to your waist.

"We do." He agrees and you reluctantly pull apart. You open the door and he grabs his keys.

"Who's coming with today?" You ask over your shoulder as he ensures that the door is locked.

"Just us today sweetheart, that okay?" He says, grinning again. You nod and he puts an arm around your waist as you walk into the parking lot and up to his giant red truck.

As soon as you are both in your seats he places a hand on your thigh, you're dying internally but he acts as if it is the most casual thing in the world. You clear your throat and shake your head, trying to think of anything else.

"Do you see it?" Tyler asks quietly. His green eyes are fixed on something up ahead on the red dirt road and you follow his gaze. A dark mass of clouds are forming and you can see it too, the way they are swirling towards each other slightly, the way the wind is brushing over the grasses in that direction, in a way you both know will add fuel to the fire and hopefully cause a storm.

"God it's beautiful." You whisper.

"Not as beautiful as my girl." Tyler responds, eyes fixed on you now, a wide grin on his face.

"You're so fucking cheesy." You say, as if your cheeks aren't flaring a bright red and your heart didn't skip a beat at his words. He simply laughs and looks back at the road, with his hand still on your thigh.

You fall into a comfortable silence as you watch the clouds. They seem almost as if they are dancing, their movements so perfect and fluid. Tyler's driving matches the storm and as it begins to grow faster he speeds up, soaring down the open road as the sun just barely begins to peek over the horizon next to you.

The sight is truly breathtaking. The orange light spills across the acres of land sprawling out before you and is heavily contrasted by the dark clouds floating menacingly above, miles away.

As you get closer light rain begins to tatter against the top and sides of the truck. You watch, transfixed by the storm, when suddenly an idea hits you. You roll down your window and unbuckle your seatbelt.

"What are you doing?" Tyler asks, but he clearly can guess because he slows down slightly. You slip away from his hand that is still resting on your thigh and hoist yourself up so that your entire torso is outside the window. You tilt your head back, enjoying the gentle shower of droplets and reach one arm out, feeling the wind. You stay like that for a few minutes before Tyler calls up to you.

"Get back in Y/N/N, the rains about to get harder." He says gently. You nod and slide back inside, resuming your previous position and rolling the window back up. Tyler doesn't miss a beat and his hand is already on your thigh again before you can re-buckle your seatbelt. You smile and blush but don't say anything.

As Tyler predicted, the rain gets harder almost instantly and you can feel the atmosphere changing as you venture away from the orange sunrise and towards the gray storm.

You peel your eyes away from the storm and turn to look at your boyfriend. His beautiful green eyes are fixed on what's ahead, his jaw set determinedly.

"Whatcha looking at pretty girl?" He asks, caressing your thigh with his thumb. You blush and he turns to look at you, grinning.

"Eyes on the road Tyler." You say, blushing harder.

"What so you're allowed to stare at me but I can't look at you?" He teases.

"Just drive." You groan, attempting and failing to not laugh at his comment.

"Alright, alright." He says, still grinning. "Hey look" He points out the windshield. The clouds are swirling closer together and beginning to form a tight tendril that reaches towards the ground.

"Come on baby." You urge in a whisper, willing it to touch down. Tylers grip on your thigh tightens slightly. It reaches closer and closer then finally touches the ground, instantly causing a swirling cloud of dust to explode into the air. "Fuck yeah!" You shout, clapping your hands together triumphantly.

Tyler laughs raucously at your reaction but can't hide the excitement on his face.

"Happy are you?" He asks with a grin.

"You're lucky you're I love you Ty or I would absolutely hate you." You scoff. He laughs harder at that.

"Whatever you say babygirl."

You sigh dramatically at his teasing but can't help the permanent grin on your face. You're really in love with the stupid Tornado Wrangler. The wind and rain both get harder and louder as you both pull on your harnesses.

Tyler is going at nearly full speed now. Your heart is pounding, adrenaline pumping through your veins. The cyclone is growing and hurtling towards you faster than you are hurtling towards it.

"Ready Y/N/N?" Tyler asks, almost shouting so that you can hear him.

"Hell yeah!" You shout back. He slams his foot on the break, pulling you to an unnecessarily rough stop. You give him a look and he smiles apologetically as he deploys the augers.

"Here she comes baby!" He yells. You curse under your breath and wrap your hand around his wrist tightly as he squeezes your thigh again.

The cyclone slams into the truck, throwing both you and Tyler harshly against your harnesses. The swirling cloud of dirt and leaves and who knows what else obscures your vision on all sides. The truck rocks violently and you squeeze Tyler's wrist so hard you wonder if it will bruise.

As fast as it started, it ends. The howling wind pulls past you and dust begins to settle on everything that was torn apart in its path. You laugh in astonishment, no matter how many times you chase you'll never get over that feeling. You and Tyler both jump out of the truck, turning to watch the twister get further and further.

You don't hear him walk around the truck but suddenly Tyler is next to you. You turn to him, beaming at his handsome face.

"You have fun babe?" He asks, endearingly tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. You nod and stand up on your toes slightly to press a kiss against his lips. He tangles his fingers into your hair instantaneously as the other hand finds its way to your waist, pulling you closer to him. "God I love you Tyler." You murmur against his lips.

"I love you too Y/N." He walks you backwards until he has you pinned against the truck. You whimper quietly as his hands start to roam your body and his kisses become more passionate. He suddenly breaks away and tilts your head upwards gently so his can kiss your neck. "You. Drive. Me. Fucking. Crazy." He pants out as he sucks on your soft skin harshly.

You moan breathily at his words and unconsciously buck your hips towards him, desperately searching for relief. He reads your mind and, while still passionately marking up your neck, slots one of his legs between yours so that you can rub up against his thigh.

"Fuck baby, I need you so bad." He groans, pulling his head back. His eyes are filled with lust and longing and his beautiful lips look swollen from your kisses.

You place a hand on the side of his face, peering straight into his perfect green eyes.

"Well it's a good thing it's just us today." You say with a smile. "The backseat is wide open."

[x3no9]

Soap x Ghost, post mission. A quick speed-fic I wrote this morning. Unpolished, raw thoughts running. My other stuff is on AO3 as this one may disappear here if ya catch what I am saying. ;)

Reblog if you want but please do NOT use this without giving me credit. It is mine.

MATURE READERS

"Riding with my Mate"

By x3no9

Soap listened to "Closer" on repeat while riding in the Hummer with Ghost post-mission. 

Ghost: "You sure love this song, don't ya?" 

Soap: "Ya, mate I do. It speaks to me." 

Ghost: "You mean the bit about *puts up quotey marks with gloved fingers​* fuckin you like an animal?"

Soap: "Oh fuck, yes please."

Ghost: "Come again, boyo?" 

Soap: "Yes SIR." 

Soap pulls over, it's night time on the outskirts of the city.

Ghost: "Something come up, Johnny?"  *clueless, because they haven't fully given into the idea that they want one another*

Soap hums softly in his throat as he climbs into Ghost's lap, squeezing his thigh as he does it. 

"Whoa, boy, what's this then?" Ghost's hands are up in surrender, he is sweating mentally a little in his mask. ​

Soap plants kisses all over his mask, taking some of the soft material between his teeth and tugging like a playful pup. 

Ghost finally lets his hands down and starts massaging Soap's muscular back, where his armored vest doesn't cover it. The impressive, tense muscles yield to his curious fingertips. Soap pulls the mask down from Ghost's mouth and traces his peachy lips with a gloved thumb. 

"So fuckin tasty, Si." Soap tells him with a knowing smirk, before planting a hard, moist kiss on him. He pulls back, sucking on Ghost's lower lip. 

Ghost can't stop himself, he grabs Soap's ass roughly, palming, squeezing and shaking the firm, ample globes. Soap doesn't warn him, he reaches down and reclines the seat too fast, they fall back. "Closer" starts up again and Ghost kicks the radio off with a heavy boot and grabs Soap with a growl, they tumble and wrestle into the large back seat, biting and pulling at one another. 

Soap starts tearing everything off; Velcro ripping and peeling, snaps snapping, buttons popping off, zippers running down, getting jammed with haste. Ghost cups Soap's naked, bulging pecs in his large leather-clad palms, pressing his half-masked face between them and then alternating between biting and kissing each one. The light layer of dark fuzz that Soap grew on his chest tickles his tongue as he laps at him. 

Soap moans very softly in his throat, careful not to sound desperate, but he certainly is. Ghost isn't going to strip, there isn't enough time, his need is too great. A lone vehicle speeds by, they don't give a shit. Ghost yanks Soap's pants down over his hips, down his thighs, Soap accommodates him in his mission, popping his ass up. The pants are around his ankles just above his boots, Ghost wants to get between his thighs but fuck, he can't. The damn pants around Soap's ankles. 

"Fuckin hell." Ghost mutters as he roughly flips Soap over on to his hands and knees. Soaps lets a small excited laugh escape as Ghost tosses him around a bit, he allows it. With a grunt, Ghost pulls Soap's delectable bubble ass up closer to him. He unzips, pulls his throbbing, swollen need out with a gloved hand, spits several times and sighs as he works his cock over a little.

Soap is there, in front of him, slightly fuzzy ass up in the air and eager. Ghost presses a large gloved thumb against his crack, moving his one cheek away a little. Too dark to see well, he spits in the right direction and shoves his finger in, spitting and pressing in until the lovely, snug hole gives way just enough.

Soap bites on his fist as Ghost presses the enormous head of his desperate cock in through the tight gate. Small, bursting thrusts and he is home, leaning down and spitting every now and again, he is rolling his hips, fucking Soap hard. Soap moans and coos, bites at the hard leather seat under him. He feels Ghost's rough hands gripping him by the haunches, driving in and exhaling hard through his slender nose. 

Ghost feels his knees get all rubbery, his thighs tingle, he is getting close. Soap moans more against tightly sealed, full lips, then Ghost taps his prostate, gently at first, then as he drives in deeper, he smashes into it. 

Soap can't hide any more, he comes out moaning and panting. Muttering worshipping praises at the novel sensation of Ghost's cock plumbing him deeply. He reaches blindly to hold on to anything at all, something to squeeze, something to get his tension out on. The pressure in his love canal is powerful, Ghost is merciless. Soap wants to jerk off but Ghost won't let him, he stops him with a firm, gloved grasp around the wrist.

Soap whimpers in protest and desperation. Ghost leans down, pressing his rigid, rough gear against Soap's bare back, he pulls him up around the front of his throat a little. "Shh." He whispers into Soap's ear. His breath is warm, but not hot, and minty with a hint of cigarette smoke. 

All Soap can do is pant, "Yes, Sir." 

"Good boy." Ghost tells him as he plants a kiss somewhere near his ear then leans up and spanks him a few times. 

He slows down and Soap feels Ghost's cock pulsing against his used rim, then he feels the hot liquid inside him. Both panting, Ghost pulls Soap up and holds him tight. They lock eyes, crystal light blue meets burning dark sapphires. 

He wraps his hand around Soap's dripping dick and slides his palm over it deliciously, slowly, tightly, he jerks him off as he drives inside. Soap's mouth drops a little, tongue visible and touching his front teeth, he climaxes, rolling his hips in unison with Ghost's.

Panting, laughing breathlessly and quietly, he let's Ghost finish, Ghost continues to stroke Soap's spent cock for a few extra minutes, giving him every ounce of pleasure possible. 

"I fuckin love you, mate." Soap pants.

"You too, luv." Ghost tells him and they kiss hard for a few minutes. 

[xmystophalesx]

Best New Heavy Metal Releases Week of August 12th, 2022

This one came down to the wire, as I had a much busier weekend at work than it should have been. Some big name releases this week in the Melodic Death Metal genre, but the dominant genre this week was definitely the good old-fashioned Heavy Metal genre, especially if you like it in the more traditional vein. No worries however, there was still something for everyone this week. Here are a few of the highlights…

The Halo Effect-Days of the Lost (Melodic Death)**

With members of this band with resumes that include bands like Dark Tranquillity, In Flames, HammerFall, Sacrilege, Sinergy, Nightrage, was there any doubt that this was going to be good? I was on board after just hearing about who was in this band and that trust was solidified after hearing the first track they released as a bit of a teaser. What I wasn’t prepared for however, was just how damn good this album would be all the way through. This will be pushing for inclusion in my top 10 at year’s end. Yes, it IS that good.

Acid Blade-Power Dive (Traditional Heavy)**

Now we start the old-fashioned Heavy Metal run on your senses. This is about as traditional as you are likely to get. Even the production sounds like it is straight out of 1983. Riffing that borders on Speed Metal that is just insanely catchy with vocals that are clean but NOT clean at the same time. I know that sounds weird, but trust me on this one. If you know what I mean, you know what I mean. If you are going to lean into this genre, then go all the way and this band wallow in it. Would be absolutely perfect for a festival like Hell’s Heroes in Houston.

Stryfe-Cursed Theatre (Heavy)**

For some reason, when I first saw the logo and album cover of this album, I first thought it would be a Thrash Metal album. Yeah, not so much. What you DO have here, however, is Heavy Metal but on the more modern side with a bit of Hard Rock here and there, but not in a way that makes the album feel “Lighter”. The Hard Rock elements are what remind me of a band like The Lord Weird Slough Feg. They also have that ability to create a Hard Rock inside their Heavy Metal sound that is just a LOT heavier than you would normally expect from that genre while never sacrificing the overall vibe. This is really hard to explain and I think I am doing a terrible job of it but just give the album a listen. I will say it isn’t something you come across every day.

Hell Fire-Reckoning (Heavy/Speed)**

Back to more traditional Metal sound. Got to admit, I wasn’t as enamored with this album at first listen as I was with their previous output, 2019’s “Mania”. That being said, there was something about this album that just kept drawing me back in. Each successive listen and I liked the album more and more. The way I was gushing about the Halo Effect album, it is probably pretty clear what the Pick of the Week is going to be, but to be honest, as time goes by, I think this album might be even better. If you don’t know this band and you like this genre, this is a no-brainer recommendation. Another band that would be perfect for Hell’s Heroes.

Nordic Union-Animalistic (Power/Heavy/Hard Rock)**

I consider the band Pretty Maids as one of the most underrated bands in the history of Heavy Metal. They always wrote some insanely catchy songs with hooks that were instantly memorable and vocals that were just made for this genre of Metal. Well, this band is a partnership with Ronnie Atkins and Erik Martensson. I found out about Erik Martensson after hearing his band Eclipse, which released one of my favorite Hard Rock/Heavy Metal albums of 2021, “Wired”. Add these two guys together and you have an absolutely fantastic partnership. Both guys understand the value of hooks to pull you into this genre and holy shit, do they ever use that knowledge. This album has hooks and groove for days with sing along choruses that instantly burrow themselves into your brain. You have been warned.

That will do it for this week. Until next week and, as always,

BANG THY HEAD!!!

All worthy of a listen if you like the genre

*= standout in that genre

**=best of the week regardless of genre

Best of the Best

The Halo Effect-Days of the Lost (Melodic Death)**

Acid Blade-Power Dive (Traditional Heavy)**

Nordic Union-Animalistic (Power/Heavy)**

Hell Fire-Reckoning (Heavy/Speed)**

Stryfe-Cursed Theatre (Heavy)**

Standouts in their Genre

Unexplainable-Prophecies & Revelations (Melodic Death)*

Overdose Brain-Overdose Brain (Thrash)*

Ardi Beltza-Cinco Balas (Thrash)*

Arch Enemy-Deceivers (Melodic Death)*

Shuriken Cadaveric Entwinement-Constructing the Cataclysm (Death)*

Sunstorm-Brothers in Arms (Hard Rock)*

A-Z - A-Z (Hard Rock)*

Carrion Vael-Abhorrent Obsessions (Melodic Death/Black)*

Paralyzed-Heavy Road (Sludge/Doom/Stoner)*

Goot-God’s Doubt (Gothic)*

Worth of a Listen if you Enjoy the Genre

Tensile-Regression of Humanity (Heavy)

Devil’s Paradise-Post Mortem (Hard Rock)

Cancer Priest-Weaponized Brainstem (Death)

Embarla Firgasto-Temporal Capsule (Progressive Death)

Extermination Day-Be the Consequence (Heavy/Hard Rock)

Cianuro-Odio Total (Thrash)

Aronious-Irkalla (Technical Death)

Arpeghy-3 (Hard Rock)

Mimorium-The Route of Haeresis (Black)

Seventh Storm-Maledictus (Heavy/Power)

Paxtilence-Wildfire (Thrash)

Seven Horns-In Loving Memory (Melodic Death)

Caroline Brietler-The Guide Within (Melodic Heavy)

The Halo Effect takes the Pick of the Week with 5 princess bulldogs out of 5!

[hockeyboysiguess]

planez | v. dunn

a/n: someone said vince dunn and the song planez by jeremih and j.cole and now here we are. i took it like a hair less literally because someone wrote a killer blurb about vince dunn and joining the actual mile high club (shoutout to whoever wrote that), so i got a little more metaphorical with it. who am i kidding, you’re not reading this. i need some holy water and so do you. enjoy your filth. 

warnings: entirely smut. language.

I can put you in the Mile High Club, what's up? Let's take a trip Have you ever read "The World Is Yours" On a blimp?

“Vince,�� you breathed out as his mouth moved to your neck.

Your legs around his waist tightened as you tried in vain to get some friction. If Vince wasn’t giving you something, he didn’t mean for you to have it. Everything he did when you were together, especially like this, was planned and calculated, designed in his mind to bring you exactly where he wanted you exactly when it wanted. Damn it if it wasn’t the best sex you’d ever had. That’s why you were always showing up at his place and you didn’t see yourself looking anywhere else. 

Vince grabbed the bottom of your shirt with one hand and pulled up, exposing your chest to him. He pulled back from your neck to look at you, letting out a low, steady whistle. His hand moved to gently pull back on one of the straps of your bra, letting it snap back against your skin. He looked so unbelievable with his hair tousled, dark curls going in different directions, and his lips slightly swollen from your teeth earlier. 

“Mm, this is new,” he muttered more to himself than to you. 

“I went shopping,” you said breathlessly. “Thought it looked good.”

“Oh, it looks good,” Vince chuckled softly. “You know it looks good. You look good.” 

Without warning, he pressed you harder against the wall just long enough to yank your shirt off over your head. He immediately dropped his mouth to one of your exposed collarbones, sucking on the thin skin there. Your collarbones had been consistently littered with small bruises since the first night you came over to Vince’s. Tonight wouldn’t be an exception. 

His mouth lazily trailed down your sensitive skin to the swells of your breasts as one of his hands came up to gently squeeze one of them in his large hands. You hummed in pleasure and tugged at his curls, encouraging him to increase his pressure. Vince didn’t listen. Instead, he secured his hands under your thighs and crashed his mouth back to yours. He shifted your weight towards him so he was supporting your weight and carried you to his room. His mouth didn’t stop working against yours as you walked, his tongue massaging yours and pulling small noises from deep in your throat. 

Vince dropped you softly onto his bed, his blankets practically swallowing you up. Vince’s hands never left you, sliding from behind your legs up to the tops of your thighs, then up your stomach. His large hands spanned over your skin across your stomach to keep you pressed into the mattress as his mouth worked across your breasts He took one cloth covered nipple between his teeth gingerly and you let out a whimper as you arched high off the bed. Vince’s strong hands pushed you back down almost instantly, a reminder of exactly who was in control right now. He lifted his mouth inches from your skin, his hot breath dancing across your skin and you tried to pull him back to you with a hand on his neck, but he wasn’t budging.

“Trying to join the mile high club, eh?” Vince’s joked, but his voice was low and steady and it went straight to your already wet core.

“Shut up,” you managed to get out as your fingers tangled in his dark curls. He chuckled as his mouth moved back to you, taking the other nipple in his teeth, your thin bra mitigating some of the sensation, but not enough to stop you from desperately tugging on his hair. “You know, you can take my clothes off.”

Vince paused before lifting his head up, shifting onto his hands so his face was level with yours. He was absolutely beautiful, especially this close up. Despite the dim lighting, you could seen the brown and golden flecks in his bright green eyes. They had to be one of his best features, not that he agreed when you’d told him that a few weeks ago.

“Can you just trust that maybe we’ve had enough sex that I know exactly,” one of his hands suddenly moved to your denim covered core as he shifted his weight over to his free hand, “what I’m doing.”

Vince pressed down firmly on your core with the heel of his hand, giving you your first taste of the friction you were craving. Your hands flew to his shoulders, digging into his skin. You couldn’t recall when he’d lost his shirt, but you didn’t really care to try to spend the energy to figure it out. Your mind was focused in the present.

“Let me take you on a trip, babygirl,” Vince breathed out as he tucked his face into the crook of your neck.

All you could do was nod as he turned you into a mess beneath him. No one else made you feel like this. You knew you were in deep trouble with him, but you weren’t sure there was a level of trouble that could make you stop seeing him at this point. No one else mattered when you were with him. Hell, no one else mattered even when you weren’t.

Tell her be free, baby, spread your wings Got your legs in the sky like a plane Let me guard that, I'm the pilot

Vince’s hands trailed down to the waistband of your jeans, stopping just long enough to unclasp your bra and toss it somewhere in his room. He popped the button of your jeans open with practiced ease and started to pull them down your legs. His mouth pressed lazy, wet kisses onto your exposed hip bones as soon as they were in his line of sight. Vince seemed to pay no mind to your hand in his hair tugging on it, trying to pull him left and towards your center.

“We have a rule,” you groaned when your jeans hit the floor somewhere to your right. “Same amount of clothing in the bed.”

“Mm,” Vince hummed against your hip, “rules are rules.”

He pulled back from you and stood up off the end of the bed, giving you an absolutely amazing head to toe view of him. He smirked at you with a confidence that made your head spin as he pushed his sweatpants to the floor. The cocky grin was firmly on his face as he did a little spin for you, making you laugh lightly.

“Satisfied I’m following the rules?” he asked you.

You nodded, even though the question was mostly rhetorical. Vince’s smirk shifted into a soft smile. His eyes scanned over you from head to toe almost impossibly slowly, taking in every inch of you. His tongue darted out between his lips, swiping along his bottom lip to wet it before taking it between his teeth.

“Goddamn, you’re so gorgeous,” Vince breathed out, his voice barely above a whisper.

He shook his head softly as he bent down to pull his phone out of his sweatpants. He quickly started some playlist you didn’t quite recognize, but felt in line with everything he normally chose, before tossing his phone onto a nearby chair and focusing back on you. Vince dropped to his knees in front of you at the edge of the bed. His large hands reached out to grab the backs of your thighs to pull you forward so your hot core was right in front of his face.

You could feel his warm breath on your center and it made you squirm on the mattress, soundless begging for contact. Vince’s hands gently rubbed up and down your legs, his fingertips lingering on the insides of your thighs which always made you gasp. Vince suddenly dropped a kiss right over your cloth-covered clit, pulling a whimper from you.

“Please, Vince,” you groaned out, letting your fingers card through his curls as you softly begged for what you needed from him.

Vince chuckled. He loved being in control, you loved it too, but he wasn’t in the business of denying you what you wanted. His index fingers looped into the sides of your lace panties and pulled them down your legs. They joined the collection of his and your clothes on the floor.

“So fucking perfect,” Vince signed happily when he saw how wet you already were for him, his green eyes partially glazed over as he looked at you.

Without warning, he placed his hands on the inside of your thighs and pushed to spread your legs wide open for him as he dropped his mouth to your slit. His tongue ran one smooth, steady line up your slit and you practically cried out when the tip of his tongue ran over your clit. Your back arched off the bed again. One of Vince’s heavy arms looped over your stomach, making you settle back down onto the bed.

His tongue circled your clit slowly and lightly at first, drawing small noises from you as your fingers stayed where they always were whenever he ate you out, threaded among his dark curls. You liked his hair a bit longer like it was now, more to hold onto in these moments.

Vince could feel you as you shifted, trying to get more pressure. His arm held you in place, but he pressed his tongue down harder on your clit and you hummed in appreciation, giving his hair a gentle tug to say thanks, a communication system you’d worked out many times in his bed ago. He was gently speeding up at just the right moments. He knew exactly when you needed more and when to hold steady.

One of his hands that had been kneading your thigh slowly inched up your body. His green eyes locked with yours as he pitched one of your nipples between his index finger and thumb. You gasped, your eyes rolling back into your head at the sensation. Vince chuckled against your clit, the vibrations making you whisper out his name like a prayer, “Oh my god, Vince.”

Vince took the note, he was always paying such careful attention to your body, and purposefully hummed against your clit with his tongue flat against it. It had your vision going hazy and you were starting to see stars. Vince’s free hand switched to your other nipple as he pressed his tongue hard against your clit and gently shook his head back and forth against your slit for a second, before immediately switching to swiping up and down on your clit with the tip of his tongue. You moaned his name as your fingers fisted in his hair. Your orgasm was building. It was probably closer than you thought. Vince knew just how close you were though and exactly how to get you there.

His hand moved from your stomach to your hips to try to keep your core right against his mouth. You were shifting constantly as he let you, made you, teeter on the edge of your orgasm for what seemed like forever. His tongue moving as just the right pace on your clit to make you painless close, but not bringing you over the edge. You whined and Vince lifted his eyes he’d let droop closed to enjoy the moment to meet yours.

“Please, Vince,” you begged for the second time that night and definitely not the last.

He listened. His tongue switched to quick, tight circles on your clit as he pinched your nipple hard. Your back arched off the bed without his arm across your stomach to hold you down, as your first orgasm of the night hit you. Your eyes screwed shut as the sensation washed over your, hitting you in waves. Vince let his pace slow, milking the moment gingerly, letting you ride out your orgasm on his mouth.

“Fuck,” you managed to get out as finally came down.

Your back settled into the blankets again and your eyes lazily flitted open. Vince turned his head slightly and started places gentle kisses on the insides of your thighs. He worshiped you in moments like this and no one else had ever made you feel like he did. You slowly untangled your fingers from his curls, leaving one hand on the top of his head to slowly stroke them instead.

“Want another one?” he mumbled against the soft skin of your thigh.

“I want you inside me,” you replied breathlessly, “right now.”

I got you in the air, your body in the air How it feel up here? You can scream as loud as you want, loud as you can And ain't nobody gonna hear it

Vince sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth at your words. He couldn’t control himself well when you said things like that, but he tried to. His hands were shaking a little as he pushed himself to his feet and made his way to his dresser. You watched him closely, watched the way the muscles in his bad tensed and relaxed in a symphony that created each one of his movements. He grabbed a condom from the top drawer before making his way to the bed. He dropped his boxers to the floor and you watched with hungry eyers as he tore the foil packet open with his teeth and rolled the condom on slowly.

“Your knees good after the other day?” Vince’s asked softly, his voice hoarse as his hand gripped the base of his shaft

The other day referring to when you got on your knees for him in the living room and gave him the best blowjob of his life, but got rug burn on your knees in return.

“Yeah, they’re good,” you told him as your eyes journeyed up and down his frame, taking him all in with a deep hunger.

“Then you’re on top,” he countered smoothly.

On top never meant in charge with Vince. It just meant he really wanted to be able to see all of you as he fucked you from underneath. You swallowed hard and your legs squeezed together as you thought about what was about to happen and how good it was going to feel. You bit your lip as you shifted to give him the middle of the bed. He dropped down into the spot you vacated and patted his thighs gently.

“Up you go, babygirl.”

You weren’t sure if he knew exactly how much that particular nickname made you wet. It’s was Vince though. He probably knew, which was why he used to sparingly. You chewed your bottom lip, an anxious habit, as you slung one of your legs over his until your slit was against his shaft. You took the only second you knew he would allow and ground your hips down, letting your body rock forwards and backwards.

“Oh, fuck,” Vince said through closed teeth as his hands flew to your hips. His fingers dug into your skin harshly and you knew there would be some light bruises tomorrow. He couldn’t handle this for very long. He could handle you being in charge for even less time than he could handle this feeling. He gripped your hips harder and pulled you up until you were in the air before saying, “No more teasing.”

You nodded softly, a coy smile on your lips. The few seconds he let you be the one to tease him we’re few and far between, but some of your favorite moments. Watching him lose control because of something you were doing was powerful and incredible. One of the two things that was better was the look on his face when you guided him into you for the first time that evening. You let your body sink down, fully taking his length in you.

“Jesus,” Vince breathed out before letting out a loud, long breath. “You feel so fucking tight, baby.”

Baby. Babygirl. Reserved exclusively for the bedroom. Your entire relationship was excluded to the bedroom, occasionally the kitchen counter, but that was good for now. Having this, feeling him inside you, was worth the small sting every time you left.

Vince pulled you out of your thoughts by grabbing onto the backs of your thighs and pulling you up just enough that he was almost out of you, before he bucked his hips up to slam into you roughly. You couldn’t stop the groan that came from deep in your chest. Your nails dug into the skin of his chest, making him hiss and he slowly and steadily started to fuck you from underneath.

“Fuck, Vince,” you moaned as he found his rhythm.

He hit a particularly good angle, going deeper into you, and you bit back a scream at the feeling.

“Scream as loud as you want,” he grunted, “as loud as I want you to scream.”

You didn’t need him to tell you twice. You briefly thought of his poor neighbors, but when he hit that same angle again any thoughts of them immediately left your mind. You screamed his name as loud as you could and he moaned when you did. He loved hearing you say his name, loved making sure you knew exactly who was making you feel this good.

“Touch yourself.”

Vince didn’t have to tell you anything twice in bed. You did exactly as he asked and whimpered when your fingers touched your clit. You started rubbing smooth circles with two fingers as Vince increased his pace.

“God, that’s a fucking sight,” Vince groaned as he looked at you. His green eyes were studying you, taking in every movement, every breath, trying to commit you deep into his memory so he’d never forget this feeling. “Faster, babygirl, for me.”

Your hand started moving faster before you could even process the request. Vince moaned when you did. He’d hit that amazing angle as the same time you picked up the pace. Your walls had tightened down around him and you were both in a shared bliss.

“Vince, I’m so close,” you breathed out as you get your second orgasm start to build.

“Me too,” he groaned. “Cum with me.”

His breathing was ragged. You watched as his eyes screwed shut and his face contorted in pleasure. His mouth slowly parted and his eyebrows raised up. You rubbed even faster on your clit to push yourself over the edge with him. Vince moaned your name as you started to orgasm, your walls squeezing down on him, pulling him over the edge with you. You screamed his name as you finished with him.

“Fuck,” Vince breathed out as he slowly came down from his high.

His hands came to the small of your back, securing you in place as he slowly sat up to be face to face with you in his lap. Vince started placing open mouthed, wet kisses on your shoulder and neck. Your fingers ran gently through his hair and you hummed in pleasure as you both took a few moments to let your breathing come back to normal.

“You’re so beautiful,” he mumbled against your skin.

“You’re pretty nice to look at yourself,” you laughed lightly.

Vince chuckled in response before pulling back from your throat to place a tender, short kiss on your mouth. His hands gave your ass a light tap, your signal to slowly raise off him. He hissed a little as you did so, already missing how it felt to be inside you. Vince slowly rose off the bed and headed into the bathroom. You heard the sink run and a few moments later, Vince appeared with a warm, damp washcloth for you. You thanked him and cleaned yourself up as he headed back to the bathroom to take care of himself. He always made sure you were taken care of.

“Well, that was fun,” you laughed a little.

“Definitely,” Vince replied as he emerged from the bathroom. He grabbed his boxers off the floor and slid them on. He also found your panties and his t-shirt and tossed them to you before he climbed back into bed. “You want to stay tonight? I’m not going to the gym in the morning or anything.”

You paused as you slid your panties up your legs. Vince has never asked you to stay before. You tried to cover your pause by quickly pulling your panties all the way on, but Vince noticed anyway.

“You don’t have to,” he added quickly. “No pressure.”

“No, I want to,” you said firmly as you yanked his black, soft t-shirt over your head.

“Okay, cool.”

Vince was giving you a lazy smile when you turned to look at him. His eyes where looking you over steadily, drinking you in.

“What?” you asked, a laugh edging at your voice as you let yourself fall onto the bed next to him.

Vince just shook his head a little, a lazy smile on his face, and stuck one arm out and encouraged you to slid into him with a wave of his hand instead of answering. You obliged and curled yourself into his side, placing your head on his broad chest. Vince’s hand shifted so he could rub up and down your back. You sighed as you relaxed into him, letting yourself get lost in the moment with him.

“Pretty sure my neighbors might hate me now,” Vince joked to you as his fingers gently ran through the ends of your hair.

“You asked for it,” you reminded him. Your fingers started tracing small circles on his chest. “I can be quieter next time if you’d prefer.”

“Don’t you dare even suggest that,” Vince immediately replied. “I fucking love it and you know it.”

“Mm, then don’t complain, mister.”

Vince smiled as he dropped a quick kiss to your forehead.

“By the way, is joining the actual mile high club on your bucket list?” Vince asked you, a playful smile on his face. “Because I can probably make that happen for ya.”

It hadn’t been on your bucket list before tonight, but it definitely was now. He’d already made you feel like you were floating thousands of miles above the rest of the world, where nothing else mattered. What could he do if you were already that high up and there really weren’t people around to hear? You fell asleep on Vince’s chest, your mind thinking about repeating tonight’s activities at thirty-thousand feet, or maybe even just right in his bed tomorrow morning.

[nahimjustfeelingit-writes]

Sound Proof

okay so this fic was from Wattpad and I found it in my google docs so I’m just gonna upload it here for ya’ll lol. I didn’t tag, I wrote this a while ago let me know what ya’ll think!!!

Warnings: Smut.

With dancing, came immense concentration and a lot of cardio.

That was all okay for Damara. She wore her silk pressed hair back into a pony, simple Polo Ralph Lauren hat on to keep her edges slicked back, high waist thin grey leggings, all white cropped tank, and matching white Vans. Damara held onto the aluminum double bar Ballet barre, studying her glistening reflection within the wall mirrors that covered every single area from floor to ceiling. 

Her chest rose and fell, right hand coming up to rub sweat off the tip of her nose. She had thirty minutes down, only twenty more to go. Being a pro dancer was fun when you posted tutorials on Instagram and YouTube, but when it came down to touring internationally and getting a chance to perform at Coachella, dance became a full time job.

Damara stares down at her version three iWatch, allowing herself to become consumed with the breathing app. She watched it expand with every breath, then declined whenever she exhaled. After her breathing returned to normal, Damara pulled up her iTunes playlist again, choosing to go sensual with a little bit of flash dance routine.

The instrumental to Kendrick Lamar- Love.

This song was always a warm up for her because it got her ‘in the mood’. She could feel the want and need behind the beat and his words. Damara snakes her hands up her frame, sliding slowly from the cuff of her ass, to her lower back, and lightly up and over her shoulders, forearms pressing into her large D cup breasts. 

One thing is for sure, Damara could move her torso like Shakira, body rolling and ticking to the beat with perfect harmony. Doing a sudden spin on her tiptoes, Damara Lowers herself to the polished flooring, arching her back off of the surface with her legs spread into a V, before lifting her lower half off the ground to do a series of air kicks like she was back in an 80s workout video or like she was in Kanye West’s video for Fade instead of Teyana Taylor.

She turned over onto her hands, hitting a side to side split perfectly before lifting from the ground to walk seductive and tantalizing towards the middle of the dance studio.

That’s where it began, the sweatiest most bewitching dance yet. Her hands cascade everywhere, eyes closed to take in the beat with heightened hearing. Her hands rubbed along the outline of her pussy in a teasing manner. Damara was so shameless when it came to dancing provocatively. She twirled and made an S with her body like a snake, body in sync to the beat. The sultry look in her eyes could trap you like Medusa. You would think she danced to one of Prince's songs from the outside looking in. 

The song came to an end, Damara lifting her shirt over her head and tossing it in the corner, picking up her gallon water bottle to take a huge sip. She wiped at her mouth with the back of her hand, feeling the burn in her curvy waistline from all the crunching and belly rolling that came with dancing. Her gluteal muscles were on fire as well, causing Damara to admire her ass in the mirror, sweat staining the crack of her ass over the fabric. 

—

Finishing up, Damara grabs all her things before leaving the dance studio at the gym she finally snagged a membership for. The gym had two sections: one for premium guests who had VIP access to the soundproof workout rooms or standard. Sadly, Damara was standard. She always wanted to workout in the soundproof tinted glass rooms like all the extremely fit individuals did, but one look through those glasses at the equipment housed within would make you withdraw with fear. Her personal trainer had stressed for her to go VIP, bribing her with access to the ice bath room and luxury pool where you can watch the LA skyline like you’re in a hotel.

She made a left at the end of the hall, walking with her shirt and towel over her shoulder to the main gymnasium area full of musky people and terrible workout music. Even though Damara did a one hour session of dancing, she couldn’t help but to gravitate towards the stair master for a good fifteen minute burn. Once there, Damara climbs the stairs, beginning her workout on nine speed, instantly feeling the ache. Her eyes scanned the area, finally landing on a group of women huddled around one of the sound proof workout rooms for VIP gold card members. 

She let out a tired chuckle, shaking her ponytail clad head before pausing to drink some water. Of COURSE they would all salivate over some random ass man instead of working out, because that’s what gyms are for these days. On queue every day Damara comes to the gym, once the clock strikes 8 pm, a hoard of women suffocate the glass, fogging it with their heavy breathing and wetting it with saliva from their wiggling tongues. Damara would have been one of them if she listened to her group of girlfriends who didn’t come in tonight. Supposedly, there is this fine ass man that comes to the gym every day, around 8 pm. Damara never seems to catch him, and even if she did, no man was that fine to act like a hyena over. He couldn’t be that sexy.

“Ooo, girl, let me get off this got damn treadmill he back again!” Damara turned to find a short, slim, mocha skinned girl with a track runners body ogling the group of women, her friend who looked like she could be her sister, biting her lip.

“I wonder if he’s doing the pull ups right now, fuckk. You know his dick stay hard when he working out.” 

The other girl laughs, “I just want to suck it. Just give me one good time!” 

Both women laughed while Damara tries her best to work out and ignore them. But to her surprise, she couldn’t focus. Not because of the talking, but because she wanted to see what all the fuss was about. Maybe after this she could rub it in her friends faces that whoever this guy was, wasn’t about the hype after all.

Defeated, Damara stopped her workout, quickly lowering herself off the machine and towards some spray and paper towels to wipe away her sweat. Tossing everything, Damara makes her way towards the sound proof workout room straight across from the men’s locker room. 

Here she was, and yet just a few minutes ago she was laughing to herself at how ridiculous it was to come to a gym and stare at a man for two hours. Wasn’t no man fine enough for that.

The glass window straight ahead had about seven ladies standing in front of it, whispering and admiring at what looked like absolutely nothing to Damara. It was so dark she couldn’t see a thing. As she got closer, at first, all she could see through that glass was the usual workout machines of all types and weight racks. Just before she could walk away, he started lifting those weights. Suddenly, as if pulled by some type of force field, Damara turned into a fan girl with glossy eyes and a watery mouth. He had to be the one her friends were talking up. There is no way he couldn’t be the one with how fine he is. 

“This must be your first time noticing Erik.” 

Damara turned to the lady who looked to be twice her age standing next to her.

Damara didn’t respond, she simply looked back at him through that tinted glass. He was so fucking sexy that her jaw dropped; literally. Erik was definitely the one her friends were juiced up over. Not the juice you drink, but the drip from that pussy when she hungry for a nigga as damn fine as he is. 

Erik had been bench pressing weights and she couldn’t get a good enough look at him until he lowered the weights. Yeah, when he was laid out on his back, sweaty muscles moving as he lifted 280 pounds over his head he looked good, but GOD once he stood up was she slapped with his looks.

Erik was wearing sweat shorts that dropped low around his waist, a damp sweat top and a pair of Nike Air Max Trainer 1s on his feet.

His braided back dreads were damp from the perspiration; it really set off his caramel complexion.

Erik returned his weights to their respective places and stood facing that mirror with a bottle of gatorade. Damara could really see how perfect he was. Fine wasn’t even the word, it was so much she could say about him. The look in his eyes, the way his muscles moved in conjunction with him, the smoothness of his skin, the hairstyle that compliments him very well, and let’s not forget those lips. She figured he got many compliments on his lips, as beautiful and suckable as they were. That thick erection he was sporting was an added bonus. All she could see was herself lowering onto it and rocking like crazy, like she was riding a horse. When she returned to reality from her lustful daze, she noticed her hands were flat against the glass, jaw STILL dropped, and her nipples tender and hard practically clawing at him. They were so hard that they were hurting, and the feeling of his lips pulling and sucking and licking on them would have been exactly what she needed, just pull her shirt down and suck em.

All of that talk and fantasizing in her head, ironically made his eyes meet hers. Damara swore she thought those big, dark eyes could see her and only her. The lady she ignored next to her smiled, like she knew what Damara was going through. She did, that’s why her and the others were still there.

——

Feeling a little foolish and embarrassed by her behavior, Damara asked the lady next to her if Erik could see them or was it one of those half way windows.

“Girl, he can see us alright. That’s why his dick is so big and hard poking through those shorts. He sees something he likes.” 

Damara looked back at him, and right then like a spark had been ignited, he smiled a little at her with dimples, then winked before downing the rest of his gatorade. Damara could feel her knees buckle, body so nervous. She decided it was most definitely time to bounce. That night, Damara never told her girls about seeing the living legend, but she did go back the following day, a Wednesday, to stare him down at that window again. She purposely went there alone to have him to herself. It was crazy how obsessed he became.

——

After about a week or so of admiring Erik through that glass, Damara decided to take it up a notch and use the adjoining women’s workroom; yeah, like she could actually bench press any of the equipment in there. Getting into that women’s workroom meant that she had to become a gold member. The upgrade was about 20 dollars more, which landed her to about 80 dollars a month; great.

She felt like she’d been walking the yellow brick road to the emerald city. Opening those double glass doors to her new sanctuary,  she could smell musk no longer, only fresh air and a cool breeze. The music was even better in there, sicko mode playing low through the speakers. It was approximately 7:50 pm, so she knew Erik would be arriving soon. 

At about 8:15, a little later than usual, Erik pulled open the doors and walked into the men’s workroom. He had his dreads crinkled and messy, a pair of Beats solo 3 in black with gold trim over his ears, black Nike pro training top that clung to his body like it was two sizes too small, matching black shorts that hung low on his hips with the waistband of his compression pants peeking through. He hadn’t immediately seen Damara on the other side since she was in the corner tugging on the pull ropes that she couldn’t make budge. She didn’t really know what to do. If she popped out of nowhere near that window, she could scare him to death, and he’d be mad. He looked like the no nonsense type too. 

Damara decided that hiding wouldn’t fix anything so she came out into the open to do some yin yoga poses that helped stretch her body. Sitting Indian style, she started with the butterfly, bending forward while gripping her shoes. The stretch made her moan, all the tension in her back disappearing. Next, she decided on the dragon, bringing one foot forward in a low lunge, stretching out her glutes and back again. Admiring herself, she liked the way her ass looked in the tinted mirror, and apparently so did Erik. Her heart dropped to her stomach like she’d been on the tallest roller coaster, her eyes reverting towards the ground. Damara could feel his eyes on her still as she lifted from the ground, rolling her neck. With one hand on the back of her neck to stretch the muscles, her eyes met his again. That same slight smile graced his face again, almost innocent, but those eyes were dark and sultry, like hot coal.

The heat turned down just a little, Erik walking away leaving Damara a flustered mess.

——

He started out with a little cross training. Damara watched from her workout mat in between doing crunches. Next, he pumped a little iron. She noticed how he enjoyed admiring himself when he lifted weights. The veins in his arms would bulge so much it looked like they wanted to break the surface of his skin. She could see his mouth slightly opened, concentration set in his features, and she just knew he was making those grunting, straining noises that guys make when they workout. Watching those muscles flex and bulge like that made her weak in the knees again. She liked the feeling. When he lay on his back to do the leg lifts, that’s when she lost it in a major way. The weight Damara had in her hand to do Russian twists fell down on her shoulder. She screamed out without even knowing it. All she could feel was pain beginning to throb in her left shoulder, and she laid back on the floor massaging it with a whimper. Unfortunately, at that time Erik was the last thing on her mind. When Damara got enough nerve to look at the window, Erik was pressed against it looking at her. He mouthed to her since it was sound proof, “You aight, Lil Mama?”

After Damara figured out his words, she nodded and gave him the okay symbol with a tired smile. Erik stares at her for a few seconds, scanning her frame in that PUMA workout suit she decided to wear, then moved on to the leg machine again. Damara liked the way he scouted her, and that made the pain in her shoulder go unnoticed.

——

Throughout their workouts, they would peep each other, and he liked the attention she was showering him with. There he was again with those pull-ups, directly facing her with intimidation in his eyes. Somehow, he had lost his shirt along the way, sweat pouring off his body like he’d been doing push-ups in the rain. 

Damara’s workout suit was almost see-through and hugging all her curves, and he definitely paid attention because his erection was good and hard, tenting the front of those black workout shorts like wild. Damara wanted to think it was solely her making those pants tent like that, but working the hell out of those machines may have played a role in it. She’s good, but not that good.

The more she looked at Erik, the more she wanted to taste him, feel him pressing into her throat. 

Damara looked down at her iWatch and realized it was minutes to closing time, but she couldn’t leave that room, let alone that window. She hated to leave because he was worth staying and getting caught with. Knowing the kind of man Erik was, he probably got a kick out of the chicks staring his fine ass down, then going home to his equally fine ass girl. That was the kind of luck Damara had: finding the juiciest man on the planet, but not able to land him because he was taken.

Damara suddenly had a lightbulb moment. Erik was a gold member, with a passkey to leave the gym if he ever got locked in. Damara could lie and say she lost her passkey, having to go to him to get out...or to get off! Shit, lord knows she needs that, it’s been way too long. Suddenly, Erik made a move she hadn’t been prepared for. He stepped away from the weight trainer and approached the window again. Damara couldn’t move, couldn’t muster a speech, all she could do was watch him approach her with that sweaty, perfect body. Maybe not so perfect to some because it was littered with tiny raised scars, but to her it was absolutely perfect. Man, the closer he got to her, the hotter she got. In all her orgasmic nonsense with a pussy so wet and probably creaming her panties, it soon dawned on her that he probably approached her to ask her why she’s still there; that maybe he was tired of being stared at as if he were a zoo animal. Damara got scared and backed up.

Erik backed up a bit, confusion on his face before chuckling, giving her a head to toe view of him, then he got busy. His eyes stared into hers as he massaged that massive erection up and down through his pants. Damara could feel her nectar elevating within her core. Then it hit her, he was about to give her a private sex show. Was she about to bounce? Fuck no, she stayed and watched everything that pretty nigga did.

When his erection got hard and thick within his pants, he let out a fucking dazzling smile that could make her cum right there. No man had ever smiled so wickedly at her that her panties got wet; then again, she’d never met Erik. His pecs were mouthwatering to the point of drool, contours and ripples were everywhere. All her nasty little tongue wanted to do was lick, lick from his collarbone to his abs and continue south. Her hands shook as they clutched her chest, feeling her nipples brush against her fingers. All the while, her eyes never left his.

——-

Bending to remove his shoes and socks was a chore because that delicious dick was in the way, but he managed. His fingers beckoned Damara to get closer. Damara knew he was going to slide his pants down next, the nigga was clever with his seduction. She moved back to that window, and watched him slide his shorts to his hips. His dick bounced out, sprang to life, and she dropped to her knees, wondering how all that would feel stroking her insides. He was real heavy, the type of dick where the tip and about two inches could only fit in the pussy. The type of dick where you would push him away while he blew your back out from getting too deep. The type of dick where you had to use two hands to jerk while you sucked; you really gotta be a pro to suck a dick like that with no hands, not to mention ride a dick like that.

Erik bit at his plump bottom lip, massaging it with his tongue while his hand massaged that long pole; that damn snake. The more he stroked, the bigger and bigger it became within his hand. He strokes that beautiful dick until he was about ready to nut. He mouthed at her through that sound proof glass, 

“I want that throat.”

His muscles tensed, he squeezed it harder, and playfully rubbed it against the glass directly where her mouth was. She swore she could taste him, feel him sliding it between her lips and forcing his inches into her. Erik stroked it so hard that she could see the moisture forming on his tip. Damara couldn’t help herself, she had to reach between her thighs and stroke her pussy to match his tempo. Damara pulled her suit down, revealing her drenched sports bra and panties to him. She didn’t want to waste any time the way her fingers made its way to her panties, pulling the fabric to the side to reveal her wet sticky treat. The more he stroked himself, the deeper her fingers slide into her valley; all three of them. When Erik dropped to the floor, she scrambled to see what he was going to do next. It was fucking outrageous! That pretty ass nigga got on his back and moved his hips up and down like a bitch was on top of him. Damara screamed in ecstasy over the sight of it. Her fingers went deeper and deeper like she was trying to scoop her cum out the pussy. She turned around and arched her back, rubbing at her clit with one hand while fingering herself with the other. He pumped hard and long, perspiration dripping from him, muscles tensing. Damara just knew he was going to explode on the floor instead of her which was a damn shame. No. No fucking way. He turned over on his stomach, and did push-ups, pumping those hips and dick into oblivion. He still hadn’t cum for her yet. His arm shook when he did his one-handed push-ups, dick throbbing in his other hand. She felt her orgasm building deep in her belly, her legs shaking from muscle strain and intense pleasure. That was the grand finale, watching him cream into his own hands while staring her down. 

Damara screamed out, Cumming on her fingers with a shake of her body.

——

He returned to his back and pressed out so much cum that she almost fainted from the orgasm he gave her. When her breathing returned to normal, Damara looked into her hand, now covered with so much of her own thick moisture that her fingers were sticking together. Then she glanced up at him watching her with a sweet smile on those wonderful lips—his erection was still in his hand and still harder than boulders. 

The windows were nice and steamed by the time he and Damara finished. She watched him grab the rest of his belongings and headed for the showers. Damara took off as well, figuring that was all she’d get from him. 

Damara made her way to the showers herself, letting her plan go. At least she got a good show from him so she was thankful. 

While in the shower, Damara couldn’t help but smile as she wet her body under the steamy water. She struggled to fight the urge that this was it and probably her last sex show a man would ever give her and he didn’t even touch her. Damara allowed the warm water to trickle down her aching joints and relaxed. Her body mitt delicately encircled her breasts, pretending the sultry touch was Erik’s fingers, sucking on them gently before making a tongue track down to her core. She shuddered in waves of heat. Her body trembled, spasms, taking her mind off the pain from her injured shoulder. She completely gave in to pleasure and let the most tremendous orgasm hit her like no other one had ever before...well, until Erik happened on the scene. 

Then.

“Damn, girl.”

The words came from nowhere. Damara assumed they had been in her mind. Nonetheless, her eyes opened and she twirled around to see if anyone had come in. There Erik was, standing directly in front of her. Damara tried reaching for her towel but Erik snatched it from the railing before she could get it.

His cool, seductive voice melted into her horny spirit. 

“Imagine how big this dick would be if I would have been standing right above that ass, watching you finger that pussy from the front. All I could see was that phat ass shaking and quivering to some sexual fantasy. Was it about me?” 

Damara couldn’t speak. All she could do was look down at the towel around his midsection, sporting a killer of an erection. Her mouth opened, her voice cracked. 

“I...I, uh…”

“It’s okay, babygirl. I already know that ass was thinking about me. How could you not after the show I gave you.” 

Erik moves toward her, one step away from entering the stall with her. 

“You liked that show I already know that shit. I already know I got you”— he slapped her pussy, then reached around to palm her ass roughly, smacking each ass cheek causing it to sting—“hot enough to want more, right? You should anyway since I gave you a little taste of what the fuck I got,” he pulled his towel off and entered the stall.

It was different from having that window in between them both, Damara covering her nakedness with her arms. Erik pulled them down.

“Don’t you dare cover up a fucking thing.”

The grip on her wrists were so tight her hands shook.

“So, you just walk in women’s locker rooms? What if I wasn’t the only one here?” 

He chuckles, letting her wrists go, “And? I don’t give a fuck about that. It’s okay for me to do whatever I fucking please in here.” He kisses her cheek. “I’m Erik—“

“I know who you are, Erik. Every woman within a five-city radius knows who you are.” 

“Yeah? And who might you be?”

“Damara; nothing exotic, nothing romantic, just regular old Damara.”

“Not from where I’m standing, girl. You are so fucking sexy. I bet you taste good too, I know that pussy enjoyed me pleasing you.”

“It did, I can still feel it.” She lets out a moan.

“Well then that pussy won’t mind if I please you again?”

Damara relaxed, his hands covering her breasts, much the same way they did in her daydream. He stroked the tight tips with his thumbs, then replaced them with his lips. She was right, that mouth was made to suck on some titties. Erik sucked them ferociously, licking them like they were candy. Her head reared back as he sucked like he was trying to milk her. Her back arched off that wall, his arm circling her waist and pulling her close.

“So, you want everything, huh?”

“Every single drop.”

Erik’s muscles tightened around Damara; their bodies pressed against the wall. As the water continues to drench them, he lifted her into his arms; her legs hugged his hips. She felt the tip of that delicious dick play with her opening, tease it, rub up and down on it. She faces him, staring into those delicious brown eyes of his. 

“It’s almost closing time, I couldn’t leave yet without a little taste.” 

It definitely wouldn’t be a little with how big he was. Damara prepares herself for the surprise, her pussy clenching and quivering on its own. Erik takes his fingers to caress her clit, taking a single finger to tease it with a flickering motion. Damara kept a firm grip on his neck, pressed against the shower wall. 

“I’m playing wit that clit good, huh?”

She responds with a bite to his shoulder, her pussy jerking in his hand. Erik brings his fingers to his mouth, spits on them, then brings them back to her clit. He was very generous with his spit, making her pussy extra sloppy. Clearly with him still going at it on her clit he aimed to make her cum this time with his own fingers. 

“Ok, you working my clit,” she felt him take his dick to finish it off, rubbing her clit in circles. The smoothness of the tip of his dick hit every sensitive spot on her clit. 

“Make that pussy cum,” she edged him on.

His hand came down to grip her ass while he worked, her body shuddering, legs securing around him even harder, moans echoing off of the shower walls. 

“Shit, fuck, damn…”

She could feel the sensitivity in her pussy too.

“Open up for me.”

Damara opened wider, Erik bringing his dick to her pussy. He pushed his way in slow, only by a few inches before she clamped up. Her guess was correct, he was too much to take. Damara was scared now, she didn’t know if she could go through with it.

“Fuck, you’re so fucking big,” her eyes grew wide.

“Ha, You knew that already when you saw me jerking it.” 

“I’m too tight.”

“So?” He moves his hips, teasing her walls to let him in further. Her body crunched, hand to his chest. Was she fucking a monster dick or what? His shit was too damn much.

“Chill,” her eyelids fluttered. She wouldn’t be able to stand.

“You’ve been eyeing me all fucking week, teasing me and shit and now you wanna cry about how big my dick is?” 

He kissed at her neck, causing her to moan and rub her wet face against his. She brought her hands to his biceps, squeezing them tightly. 

“Be gentle, okay? It’s too damn big.”

Erik takes that invitation, gripping her hips firm before pressing himself in inch by inch, pausing in between. Each time he entered her it felt like he was ripping her a new hole, but it felt so full in a good way. Along with the pain came a shock of pleasure. The vein on the underside of his shaft rubbed smoothly at the floor of her pussy, a new sensation she had never felt. It curves at the tip to hit her g spot, swiping it each time he moves his hips.

“I don’t think I ever had a dick this good,” she hissed the moment he fully entered her. 

“I already know you didn’t with all that crying you was doing.” He pulled out to the tip, purposely, to make her feel every inch again. Erik pushes back in, watching the way her face went through a series of confused and unprepared emotions. It was time to pick up the pace now. Erik started off slow, his strokes growing and her moans. Damara held onto the rails along the walls of the shower, watching with astonishment how Erik’s dick fucked her.

“Oh, oh, omg,” she shook tremendously, a single hand clawing at Erik’s chest. He simply fucks her with deeper strokes, reminding her what came with every inch. Clearly he had a fetish for making women cry from how big he was. That rock hard body came with a huge package. 

“Are you fucking kidding me!!!!!” She felt a rush of pressure forming in her lower belly, so big it pushes Erik’s dick out, a fountain of liquid pouring. The more she clenched, the more it flowed. Damara couldn’t control it and it shocked her. No way, this nigga made her squirt and for the first time ever. She’d always tried to make that happen for herself but it never worked so she would give up. 

That seemed to fuel Erik even more, he brought one of her legs up into a split, entering her body again. This time, he flexed his abs, bringing his dick into even more of a curve, really hitting her spot. Erik knew what he was doing, he wanted to see the reaction again.

“Come on, take this big dick,” he held her leg up even if it shook.

“Ah, fuck yes, shit it’s happening again!!” Before she could relax, here she was, squirting again but Erik stayed in. He smiled, slamming her so hard with his dick that she could feel it in her stomach. At this point, Damara might as well lose count of how many orgasms she’ll have. 

———

It was true.

Damara has missed two days of the gym for a reason. 

She couldn’t get out of the damn bed the morning after her and Erik had sex. Her pussy was sore and sensitive, inner thighs shaking when she stood from the bed. Damara didn’t bother exchanging numbers with him, unsure if she would even be able to take him up on a second chance. Deciding to be a big girl, Damara went to the gym for a dance session. 

She stood in the mirrored dance studio wearing a leotard colored bronze, a pair of sweats on and her hair in a messy bun with her vans. She skimmed through her playlist on iTunes, adjusting her AirPods to her liking.

Damara had to squat ballerina style to stretch her thigh muscles, bringing her leg up to extend the muscles of her inner thigh. Rolling her neck, she turns from the mirror, deciding to dance to a Nicki song. Once she got in the groove with the tempo, she started her routine. Her body moved like magic. The mirror wasn’t her own audience anymore, Erik was standing at the door watching her closely. He didn’t make a move, his eyes following her skillful moves along with her dangerous body, I mean, Damara was thick. Even through her loose fitted sweats he could tell. Now that Erik got a good look at her, he recognized her from Instagram.

DeetheeDancer.

She was pretty popular on social media for her dancing. Erik watched a few of her videos from time to time, loving the way she moved. She had this way of letting you know she was sexy from the look she gave in the camera when it followed her body. It was as if she was daring you to touch her, let her throw it back on you and see if you can catch it.

——-

Damara finished off to her first song, bending over with her hands on her knees to catch her breath. She paused her music, picking up her water to take a long sip. After recapping it, Damara’s eyes sweep the area, landing on the door and seeing a familiar face waving at her. 

It was him, the big dick nigga that had her on a two day hiatus. He looked to be arriving at the gym because he didn’t look worn out just fresh with a bomber jacket over top of his workout gear, beats over his ears and shades on. 

“Mind if I come in?” He mouthed.

Damara caught her breath before smiling, motioning for him to enter. He finally stepped through, dropping the duffel bag that was on his shoulder.

“Why ain’t you tell me you were a dancer? You ain’t so average.” 

“It’s kind of hard to do that when you were balls deep in me.” She mouthed tiredly.

“You talk hella bold but when I’m in there I have you running though.” He removed his shades, blessing her with his brown eyes.

“Mind if I watch? I got all day.” Erik removed his jacket.

“Fine with me,” Damara was okay with it, she had eyes on her with dancing almost all the time.

“She plugged her phone into the wall Bluetooth, settling on dancing to some pussy popping music from her freaky playlist. Yes, this was absolutely purposeful.

Right off the back, Megan Thee Stallion Freak Nasty began playing. She started off with a routine she already had to this song. She poses, hands rubbing down her frame before squatting down with a grip on her knees while swaying her hips. She did a turn, one hand in her hair with the other on her ass. Once the beat dropped, she got into the groove with a sexy hip hop routine that involved a lot of footwork and ass shaking. Her ass shook alright, like a goddamn tidal wave straight from the sea. She bounced in a circle, spreading her legs wide before landing into a perfect split that deserved tens across the board like she was a gymnast. 

Erik was impressed, and so was the huge dick that jumped happily in his compression briefs. She was clearly giving it her all, impressing him. He could fuck her ass royally with his dick, congratulate her for the little talent show. She was on the floor again, doing a perfect side split, her eyes moving from the mirror and zeroing in on his erection. She must have known that he was turned on because her eyes didn’t move from his crotch the entire time she grind, bent her body over, and twerked her ass. 

“You think that pussy can handle this dick today?”

She stops moving, hyperventilating before pausing her music.

“Nah, keep that playlist rolling, I want you to dance on this dick.”

She looked at him. He looked at her. She whispered, “okay, I admit it. You’ve got too much dick for me.” 

“Girl,” He wasn’t trying to hear that.

“I’m serious, I need to be able to move not walk like a cripple.” 

“It’s a gift,” he smiles wide.

Damara walks over to the mirrored wall, holding onto the bar before stretching her leg all the way up to her head. 

“See, you preparing yourself already.”

Erik began to approach her, Damara bent over with her head between her legs, looking from behind. She could see Erik making his way to her, the feeling in her stomach making her nervous. Damara lifts back up, grabbing a towel to wipe her neck off. Here he was now, fully enveloped in her personal space with his hands on either side of the bar, chin resting on her shoulder.

“I mean, you really got that shit up there, huh?” He was referring to her leg.

She chuckles, “Chill out, monster.”

“Monster? Hm,” Erik turns Damara around, his eyes scanning her heaving chest, “Well, it is October.” 

She smiles, licking her lips before looking at his, “You plan on scaring me again?”

Erik takes his thumb to stroke her chin, “I thought you were afraid of big, bad things?”

Damara swallows spit, eyes fluttering. She grabbed the bar on either side to brace herself.

“You ain’t know? This is my favorite time of the year.”

Damara places her hands on the back of Erik’s head, pulling him down to meet her lips. They kissed, Erik’s hand on her hips now, pulling her off and against him. The next song that played was dvsn- With me.

“C’ mon,” Erik kisses her again, their full lips in French kiss mode, “dance on me.”

Damara takes her time to work her hips into the slow beat, Erik easily matching her movements. She was impressed, turning now, dipping forward with her ass against his crotch, twirling her hips in a hypnotizing circle. Erik places one arm across her chest, his face buried in her hair, Damara turning to face him slightly while she moved her hips tantalizingly slow against him. 

“Mm,” Erik looked her frame up and down.

Damara turns, on her knees, arching back before rolling her body forward, grabbing Erik’s legs as she began to rise while her hips moved from side to side. She went to her tip toes then, one leg cleanly rising to rest on his shoulder before she arched her back, jumping up for Erik to catch her. He does, twirling her around before slowing down as the song slowed, their eyes meeting. 

“Wow,” she spoke breathlessly.

Before she could stop herself, Damara places her lips against his, Erik bringing her to the floor. Between frantic kisses, Erik undressed her, her naked sweaty body warm against his. She moans, arms around his neck. Erik takes his fingers, slipping inside to get a feel and taste.

“You taste just right,” He sucks slowly on his fingers before taking those same fingers to rub her nipples. 

“Fuck,” Damara pushes Erik down to the floor, her hands moving quickly to undress him. She needed him no matter how big he was. The sight of him again almost knocked her out. Damara grabs his dick, licking her lips before sinking her mouth over him. Erik instantly palmed the back of her head, biting his lip and saying how much of a good girl she was.

Damara sucked like her life was at stake, spit covering her hands and chest. She couldn’t fit him all in her mouth but she did her absolute best. Erik pulls her mouth off, watching the string of spit connect with her lower lip.

“Climb up, Baby girl.” Erik motions for Damara to come to him, Her legs straddling him on either side before her arms grabbed his shoulders tightly. She tried to prepare herself but the moment Erik slipped inside again she squeezed his biceps with her nails. Erik hisses, taking his hands to grab at her waist to keep her still. He started fucking up into her at an even pace, the pressure within her too much. She could feel the shit in her spine. Damara looked back at it, eyes closing in sweet pleasure before looking down at Erik’s smiling face.

“God, please keep fucking me.”

Erik grabs her ass, anchoring his hips before picking up the pace. The scream from her was so loud it bounced off the walls. 

“These walls ain’t sound proof, Baby girl.” 

She couldn’t move or control her cries. Erik was deep within her guts. Damara begged for Erik to keep going over and over, a series of please and I need more escaping her mouth.

“You gonna squirt on me like that again?” He bit his lip, raising his brows in a rude manner to initiate a response from her, “I said is that what you’re gonna do?!” 

“Yes!!!!!”

Damara snapped, squirting like he asked. Erik slaps both her ass cheeks for that.

“Good girl, I know you got more for me.”

“Yes, Erik.” 

She froze, mouth suspended open before cumming again. Within seconds?

“FUCKkkkkk.” 

“Mhm,” he fucked up into her at the same killer pace, “mhm...mhm.”

“STOP!” She cries out, the urge to cum right there.

“Stop it, I’m gonna cum again!”

“Girl, shut up and cum.” 

Erik was close himself.

“Shut that crying up and cum on this dick.”

She went silent, body trembling before cumming for a third time.

“Oh my God,” she cries.

“You gonna let me cum in that mouth, Baby girl?”

Erik bounced Damara a few more times before slipping her off, standing to his feet quickly while she stayed on her knees. Damara opened wide, waiting for his treat. He jerked his big dick, grunts deep and eyes low and dangerous. After three pumps the cream spilled, Damara’s tongue ready. He tasted so damn good. 

“All of it, I’m not playing with you.”

She grabs his dick, licking and sucking all of it off.

“Good girl,” he puckered his lips down at her, mouthing a kiss. She almost fainted.

“You gonna have them thirsty bitches mad”

Damara didn’t care.

[winchesterwords]

“Not Heaven, But Hell” John Winchester x F!Reader

Summary: The reader is a hunter who used to casually date John Winchester. They left when things went wrong between them, or so he thought. When the two of them are reunited during a routine hunt, old emotions are sparked and a secret is revealed.

Word Count: 3194

Warning: Mention of Abuse, character death

Song I Wrote To: “Dopamine” by Barns Courtney

Note: I was just needing some John Winchester angst in my life.

----------

As the hour of midnight approached in the forests of Gatlinburg, Tennessee, a hunter relished in the silence. 

You had been traveling alone for months, picking up jobs wherever you could. Whether it was a vampire, skinwalker, or just the run of the mill haunting, you managed to take care of it quickly. When rumor had sprouted of a Ghoul nest in the area, you had taken the hunt from another hunter as the job had come over the wire. You were closer and in need of a distraction.

After investigating for a day and a half, you had discovered that it was a false trail and that if any ghouls had been in the city, they were long gone now. However, you still headed into the thick woods for one last look, and being among trees and nature at night had always brought you peace of mind which was very much needed at that moment. 

The leaves beneath your feet were soft from the morning rain and your breath was visible as you exhaled. However, even with the brisk weather, you didn’t feel the cold. You didn’t feel much of anything as you walked. 

When you reached the old abandoned shack near the edge of the North Woods, you slowed your pace, pulling your gun from your waistband. Knocking the barrel against the side of the old building, you attempted to draw anything outside and towards the bullet that was expertly loaded in the chamber of your pistol. It was silent for just a moment before you heard footsteps. With a sigh, you raised your gun and stepped around the side of the shack. You immediately came face to face with another barrel as you stared down at the gun with wide eyes. 

“Jesus,” a man swore and it took you less than a second to recognize the voice. When your heart finally calmed down and you looked up at the face of the person in front of you, your gun fell to your side. 

“John?” you asked, completely taken aback. 

“(Y/N),” he said. He wore his usual expression of concern mixed with caution, but his eyes always remained very warm. John Winchester looked the same from when you last saw him, but there was something about the way his shoulders were tensed that told you something was wrong. The band of his wedding ring glinted in the moonlight, reflecting off the shiny weapon in his right hand. 

“John, the gun,” you said, staring at the piece that was still aimed between your eyes.

“Oh, shit, sorry,” John said as he holstered his weapon, earning a relieved sigh from you. “What are you doing here?” he asked as you pushed past him. 

“Same reason you’re here,” you said, examining the eves of the shack. “I’m working. Though it looks like you have it handled so I will leave you to it.” You turned to leave, hoping to find more peace and quiet before the day was over. The last thing you wanted was John Winchester around. 

The two of you had casually dated years before and after it ended horribly, you had essentially disappeared from his life and never looked back. Now, seeing him in those woods, felt like a dagger to your chest. One you desperately wanted to yank out.

Deciding that silence was better than trying to explain, you turned your back on him and began walking away. John, however, was not going to let that happen. Not yet anyway.  

“Wait,” John said as he caught up to you, stepping in front of your path. 

“Move,” you ordered, but he just sighed, already dreading the conversation. 

“Come on, (Y/N), there’s two of us and if this nest is full then we should be able to take them.”

“What nest, John? All I see is a decrepit building with a whole lot of nothing. I told the hunter that gave me this case that there was probably nothing to it. Looks like I was right.”

“Or maybe you weren’t and there could still be evidence of a nest,” John said, trying to persuade you. “Come on,” he tried again. Looking between him and the shed, you finally relented and with a sigh nodded for him to go ahead. “Right, always makin’ me go in first,” John jested. 

“You’re idea, big man,” you shot back, and even with his back turned, you knew he was rolling his eyes. It was odd the way the two of you just slipped back into the routine of jabbing at one another. You didn’t like the way it made you feel, that knife only twisting further. 

You and John took either side of the main door in the end, both pulling your weapons. John counted to three before reeling back and kicking in the door, splintering the hinges. Immediately, you were met with darkness and when John clicked on his flashlight, you crossed your arms in annoyance. 

“Told you,” you said, gesturing to the empty room around you. “Not even a shred of ‘ghoul-ness’.” 

“That’s not a real word,” John said and you gave him a rude gesture to which he just frowned. 

“So, you’re still an ass. That’s nice to know,” you said.

“And you are still as charming as ever,” John retorted, finally turning to face you in the dark of the shack. “The years have certainly not changed you, honey.”

“Don’t call me ‘honey’,” you shot and he raised his hands in surrender. After staring at each other for a moment, you gave up and left the shack and John behind. He silently followed after you in the woods and you didn’t have the energy to scream at him. 

“Main road is the other way, (Y/N),” John called out, his boots somehow not making a sound as he walked along the debris-littered forest floor. 

“I’m aware, Winchester,” you called back. “Not goin’ to the main road.” 

“Then where are you going?” 

“Do you care?” 

“Maybe,” he said. “I’m allowed to wonder.” 

“Then you can just keep on being the curious cat you are,” you said with a roll of your eyes as you crested a small hill. John jogged to catch up and stood beside you as you looked out at the city below, all lit up in the dark of night. “John, go home.”

“I’m in no rush,” he said. 

“Maybe I am,” you whispered.

“What was that?” 

“Nothing,” you said as you began to descend. “Just go, John.” He ran to keep up with you and when you turned to snap at him again, you heard a low howl echo through the air. You froze as the sound entered your bones. 

“What?” John asked, noticing your change in demeanor. In the distance, you heard the unmistakable sound of an animal running, many animals. You didn’t even need to look at your watch to know that it was after midnight. All the negative emotions you had been feeling towards John vanished at that moment and all you could think about was that you didn’t want to be alone anymore.

And so, you just whispered one word to him, “Run.”

-------

You and John ran through the woods. 

He didn’t even hesitate or ask questions when you had told him to run. There wasn’t time and he clearly understood that from your tone of voice. He kept up with you as you sprinted, not daring to look back. When you spotted an old annex building down another hill, you picked up your speed. 

Slamming into the door, you fumbled with the lock. John arrived shortly after, pushing you to the side and aiming his weapon. With a single shot, he blasted the lock from the door and wrenched it open, pushing you inside. He followed and then slammed the door shut. “Help me with this,” he ordered gesturing to a metal cabinet. 

The two of you dragged it in front of the door, but you knew it wouldn’t hold. Nothing was going to stop them from getting in. “This is all your fault,” you rasped, trying to catch your breath.

“How?” he asked, staring at you with wide eyes. 

“If you had just listened to me,” you said, though you didn’t mean it, ��then maybe we wouldn’t be in this mess.” 

“I don’t even know what this goddamn mess is,” John shot back. “Whatever it is, we can wait them out.”

“Whatever,” you said, as you began to pace. 

“You’re still a bitch too, huh?” 

“Seriously?” you asked, not in the mood for his attitude. In fact, all you wanted was for him to hold you and not talk, but you were too proud to admit that, especially to a man like John Winchester. 

“Sorry, but it’s true and you know it,” John spat back. 

“I’m not the one that ruined us,” you said, hating the words that came from your mouth. 

“Aren’t you? You never cared about what happened to you on hunts. Hell, you were so damn reckless more times than not, always running into situations halfcocked and full of anger.”

“I never cared? And you did?” 

“Are you kidding me? I always offered to go with you!” 

“And I told you to stay the hell home with your boys. Or did you suddenly forget about Sam and Dean?” you asked and you knew it was low, but you couldn’t stop yourself. John’s face turned dark at your words. He stepped closer to you, his eyes almost deadly in the dark of the room.

“Don’t,” he said in a low voice, “Do not bring my boys into this, (Y/N).”

“Tell me where they are right now, because I know damn well that they aren’t with you,” you said, gesturing around you with wide arms. John was silent for a moment before taking a step back. 

“Sammy is at school and Dean is on a hunt of his own, they aren’t kids anymore.” 

“All grown up, huh? Good for them.” 

It was shortly after that when John stopped talking altogether. He wanted nothing to do with you at that moment and all you wanted was for a little human contact. Yet, you couldn’t stop trying to push him away. John was right, he was always right, you had been the one to ruin the two of you, but it was for a good reason.

At least that was what you kept telling yourself. 

As you sat behind those walls, the howls got louder and you couldn’t help the shivers that ran down your spine. You had been expecting this, you were ready, but you never expected to not be alone when it happened. 

“I’m sorry,” you suddenly said, getting John’s attention who saw across from you. “Your boys are off-limits. Always have been. I didn’t mean to bring them up.” John just nodded, accepting your apology. At least that was still the same, the ability to read him like an open book. He was quiet for a bit longer before he finally looked at you. 

“Bobby told me that you were attacked,” he said, trying to offer some sympathy. 

“I’m fine now,” you told him. 

“You were in a hospital for a month,” he pointed out, moving closer to you, clear worry on his face. 

“I survived. I always do.” 

“You should have had back up,” he said. 

“My back up was my other gun,” you said in defense. John ran a hand down his face in exasperation. 

“Dammit, (Y/N), when are you going to realize that you pushed me away. I haven’t felt the way I feel about you since Mary. Do you not understand that? Have you ever?” You shook your head, not wanting to hear any of it. You knew how he felt about you, he had made it abundantly clear multiple times. 

He had even offered you a chance to stay with him for more than a weekend here and there. John had wanted you to meet Dean and be with him officially. A part of you wanted that more than anything, but then you would think back to your current situation and it would all disappear, the hope and the wanting of the future. 

That wasn’t in the cards for you. Not now, not ever.

“John,” you whispered, “I am not someone you want to be around.” Speaking those words had felt like there were hands around your neck and you were choking them out. 

“Why not?” he asked, trying so hard to see the world from your perspective, to know what you were thinking. 

“I have demons in my past,” you admitted. 

“Honey, we all do,” he said and your heart dropped at his use of the pet name that had become very familiar to you. 

“No, you don’t understand,” you whispered. “I mean I have actual demons.” John’s brow furrowed, confused and so you continued. “You once asked me why I always seemed on edge. Well, baby, I’m reachin’ my ten years.” 

“What are you talking about?” John asked, his eyes never leaving yours. 

“I made a deal,” you said. “In order to get away from my abusive ex-husband, I made a deal with a crossroads demon. Ten years of peace and then...then I’m going downstairs. Midnight tonight is when the clock ran out.” John was already shaking his head before you finished. He moved forward, taking your face in his hands. You could feel the rough callouses that littered his palms from all times he handled a blade. 

“No,” he whispered. “I will not let that happen.”

“It’s hellhounds, John. That’s what’s coming for me. You won’t be able to see them, but I can,” you said as the tears dripped down your cheeks. His fingers caught them as he looked at you as if his world was falling to pieces right then. “It’s time and I am being so damn selfish because I don’t wanna be alone right now.

“(Y/N)…”

“They won’t hurt you, I promise,” you explained, trying to get him to look you in the eyes. 

“No,” he said again, still trying to deny the inevitable. 

“Yes, John, I’ve already accepted it,” you said, leaning your forehead against him. 

“Is this why you pushed me away?” he asked. 

“I’m sorry, but I had to. You already lost one love, I couldn’t be the reason you lost another.

“Dammit,” he said, clutching you tighter to him. 

“Please don’t be mad. I never intended to become so fond of you. I never expected to fall in love with you because I do, I love you so much and I never stopped.” 

“I love you too,” John managed to get out. 

“I need you to promise me something because I don’t think I have much time left,” you said, choking on the riding sob in your throat. 

“Anything,” he promised. 

“The next time you see Sam, tell him you love him. For me, please.”

“(Y/N)…”

“No, I need you to listen to me,” you said, leaning back to look him in the eyes so he would understand. “I know that the two of you never get along and I also know he struggled growing up on the road. I need you to tell him that his father still cares about him. He needs to hear that whether he knows it or not. None of us hear it enough. 

“Stop,” he begged, but his voice was barely above a whisper. You kept going. 

“I know that Mary was your forever John,” you said, smiling through the tears, “but you were always mine.” John hastily rubbed at his face, not wanting you to see what he thought was his weakness, but you thought he had never looked more beautiful than in that moment kneeled before you. 

“We were never supposed to die,” he said, reminding you of a laughter-filled conversation one evening in the backseat of his truck. 

“John,” you whispered and he looked into your eyes as if he was trying to memorize every ounce of them. “Don’t forget to love again.”

“No,” he said. “You’re it. Nobody else, I’m done.” John surged forward and kissed you with every bit of love he had in his body, holding you tight to his chest. You couldn’t hide the sobs now as you kissed the man you loved. 

You pulled away just as something bagged against the door, rattling the walls. John held onto you tighter, afraid you were going to be snatched away at any second. “You’ll be okay,” you told him as you detangled yourself from his arms. 

“No, no,” he whispered as you stood us and made your way to the door. 

“Our legacy lives on, Winchester,” you said, pushing the cabinet from the door and bracing your hands on the buckling wood. “Don’t let it completely end with me or your boys. The world needs Winchesters and I was just so lucky to know one of them.” 

“Please…” he begged, but you were shaking your head. 

“Don’t say anything else. Just remember what I told you and tell Sam, Dean too. They need to hear from their dad more than anything. You may not see it, but I do. The three of you need each other. One day, you’re going to change the world.” 

“I’ll tell them,” John promised. “I’m so sorry, (Y/N).”

“I’m not,” you said, shaking your head. “I got to have one epic love in my life and not many people can say that.” Reaching behind you, you unlatched the door and threw it open. “Until we meet again, John. Thank you, for loving me.” 

John cried out the next moment as you fell to your knees and long red lines appeared down your neck as the hellhounds descended. Yet, as you were being pulled away from him, you smiled, and then, in a rush of cold air, you were dragged away and you were gone. 

--------

John didn’t know how long he sat there as he stared at the space you had disappeared through. 

He didn’t know if he’d be able to find your body or even if he wanted to. He would be lying to himself if he hadn’t thought about you in the years after you left him alone in that motel room. John never stopped loving you and the fact that when he had found you again, you were taken from him was as cruel as it got. 

However, this time he couldn’t fix it. There was no singular demon to hunt and kill. You had made a deal and you had chosen to take the consequences when the bill came due. 

Leaning back against a stack of crates, John felt for his phone in his jacket. His thumbs fumbled on the keypad for a moment before pressing the number one on his speed dial.

It didn’t take long for his eldest to answer. Dean answered groggily from the other line and all John could think about then was you and your final words to him. 

So, after taking a deep breath, he finally spoke to his son, “Hey boy, have you heard from your brother lately?” 

[jusvibbbin]

Darling Duet

Harry Kim x Reader

//My first anonymous request! Enjoy!

Watching Harry play was amazing. The way he sat straight up in his chair. The laser focus he used to read the music on the stand. How his lips clasped the mouthpiece, firm yet soft. You wondered just how soft his lips were. You had admired him from a far for several months now, talking to him on occasion, but never more than a few minutes. To say you were smitten would be an understatement. 

(Y/N)! What is wrong with you? Pay attention to the concert!

As Harry finished his concerto, you and the rest of the audience stood and clapped for him. Tom began to hoot and holler much to B’Elanna’s embarrassment as everyone chuckled. Harry took a bow and the after-concert party moved into the mess hall.

The night was marked with toasts and small talk, and though you enjoyed having a night to relax, you were acutely aware of the fluttering in your stomach every time you stole a glance at the ship’s clarinetist. Not to mention the intense heat that lit your face on fire when you caught him looking back at you. After this happened once or twice, the dark haired ensign made his way over to you, accepting praise from everyone as he went.

“Hey, music man! Finally got some time away from your adoring fans?” As soon as you said it, you cringed a bit. 

I’ve got to sound ridiculous. Why can’t I just relax?

“Time away? Are you not one of my adoring fans?” Harry asked innocently enough, but the comment caught the attention of Tom, who slowly edged closer to eavesdrop.

You blushed slightly, and feeling a little brave you said, “Of course I am. You could say I’m your biggest fan.”

You’re so dorky but maybe it’s working.

Harry laughed and rubbed the back of his neck. “Glad to know I have such a sweetheart for a fan.”

You froze. You had no idea what to say. Every time you started to get comfortable talking to Harry, you clammed up. You must’ve turned beet red because Tom swooped in to congratulate Harry and told him the captain wanted to talk to him. Harry waved a small goodbye and you returned his weakly before starting to leave the mess hall with Tom on your heels.

“(Y/N), wait up!” Tom was jogging now to catch up to you as you speed walked to your quarters. As you reached the door, Tom grabbed your arm.

“Hey! What happened to you?”

You pulled your arm away from him gently and sighed. 

“Damn… You got it bad huh?” Tom started to chuckle to himself

“Come on, it’s not funny! I don’t know how to act around Harry. He smiles at me and I feel like I’m gonna pass out! How do I get him to realize how I feel if I can’t say anything?” You covered your mouth after you finished your rant and waited for what Tom had to say. He was Harry’s best friend after all.

“I saw the way you looked at him while he played. You were enthralled!” Then Tom’s eyes lit up and he grinned at you.

Uh oh…

“Can you play an instrument?”

You shook your head.

Tom put his hand thoughtfully on his chin and hummed quietly. 

“How would you feel about learning one?” he asked excitedly. And you couldn’t help but feel as excited as he looked. Tom suggesting you express yourself through music? It was genius, and very personal to Harry. 

But what the hell am I gonna play?

Tom seemed to read your mind as he said, “I’ve heard the flute sounds very good with the clarinet. And I’d be willing to donate my replicator rations to such a noble cause.”

You smiled and shook Tom’s hand. You were going to be a flutist. 

--

Learning the flute proved to be much more difficult than you and Tom first thought. Even with the professional holo-programs and access to extensive databases, you were still having trouble. You decided to turn to the only person that could help you.

“Ah, Ensign (Y/N)! What can I do for you?” the Doctor asked as you walked into sickbay.

“Hi Doc. I was hoping I could call on your expertise as a musician and see if you could help me with some music. I can hold a note, sort of, and my fingering has been getting a lot better but I just can’t seem to get it down.”

As you spoke, the Doctor wasted no time pulling another chair into his office and sitting down across from it.

“I would be delighted to assist you! Finally someone around here appreciates my talents.” 

For the next two weeks, you and the Doctor worked tirelessly to get your playing greatly improved. But at the start of your third week, the Doctor surprised you. You walked into sickbay to find none other than Ensign Harry Kim with his ever shiny clarinet. 

“So this is your student.” Harry smiled at you and you tried to hide your panic with a little laugh. 

“(Y/N), while I am very well equipped to assist you in your music theory, I think that Harry might be a better teacher when it comes to playing. It is true, I am a great musician, but I prefer to sing and I’m positive that your flute would be much improved with his experience playing a more... tangible instrument.”

Oh jeez. There goes my secret plan.

“Shall we get started?” Harry asked as he gestured to the door. You nodded and threw the Doctor a look you knew he wouldn’t understand.

Harry led you down the corridor as you tried to figure out where you were going. He slowed down to walk next to you and looked at your case.

“Flute, huh? I didn’t know you were interested in music.”

“The flute is new but I’ve always wanted to learn something.” You could feel yourself starting to turn a bit flushed.

“That’s great! I hope you don’t mind switching teachers. To be completely honest, I’ve never really taught anyone before.”

“I’m sure you’ll be amazing, Harry.” You said as you smiled at him. 

“Thanks (Y/N),” he said gratefully. “Here we are.”

He stopped in front of quarters you had never been to before. 

Are we going into his quarters!? I don’t know if I can do this.

As you internally panicked, Harry started to set up chairs and music stands before looking back at you standing in the doorway.

“Uh, (Y/N)? Are you going to come in?”

You pushed down your nerves and stepped inside, the door whooshing shut behind you as you sat down in one of the chairs.

“Alright, now lets see your playing position.”

--

“(Y/N) that was really good! I’m impressed with how far you come in such a short time!” Harry flashed you an elated smile as you blushed looking down at your flute. Harry was right, you were doing excellent. Once he helped you with your embouchure and taught you how to hold the flute in a relaxed, but proper way, you were playing with ease. 

The two of you had also gotten extremely close over the couple of months you had been playing, often getting dinner in the mess hall afterward and talking about what your lives back on Earth had been like. Harry told you about his family and how much he missed them and you told him about missing your own family and the garden you had started working on before getting assigned to Voyager. Other people had noticed how much time you were spending together and you both were often embarrassed when someone asked how long you’d been dating.

As time went on, pushing down your feelings was getting more and more difficult. You were starting to worry if you’d be able to ever tell Harry how you felt. You talked to Tom and he told you to make your move tonight.

“Tonight?” you asked incredulously. “I don’t know if I’m ready!”

Tom rolled his eyes. “You’re never gonna be ready! You just gotta have that quick burst of bravery and be honest!”

You thought about what Tom had said as you walked back to your quarters after lunch. Maybe Tom had a point and you should just do it. But you couldn’t stop wondering if you should wait a little longer. 

No… Let’s go for it!

Making up your mind (after going back and forth a bit more), you told Harry to meet you in your quarters once his shift was over. He happily agreed and you went to prepare with the couple hours you had.

--

The door chimed, signaling your time was up. You sat down in front of your music stand and smoothed out your clothes. Once you were presentable you told the door to let Harry in.

The moment he entered, you began to play your flute. He stood there, caught off guard for a moment, then he slowly sat down on your couch and closed his eyes to listen to you play. After picking up some extra theory lessons with the Doctor, you decided to write Harry a song expressing how deeply you felt about him. As you spent more time together your song had only got more emotional and beautiful. You let the Doctor look at it but refused to play it for anyone but Harry. It was far too special and personal to show to someone else. 

You had practiced for about a month now and it sounded good. Sure you stumbled a bit at certain parts and you were feeling a little light-headed, but Harry didn’t seem to care. The look on his face said it all: relaxed, happy and a bit surprised at the impromptu concert. 

Once you finished, Harry stood and clapped. You felt your cheeks begin to heat up as he walked over and picked up your piece. 

“You wrote this?” he asked, looking at the hand-written notes on the paper. “A bit old-fashioned, isn’t it?”

“It makes it more meaningful I think,” you said quietly.

He eventually stopped looking at the music itself to read the title. ‘A Heart for Harry: One Romantic Movement.’ Harry’s eyes locked with yours and that was enough for you to shoot up and push him quickly out the door. You leaned back against it and took a deep breath. You heard him shift on his feet for a moment or two before his footsteps receded down the corridor. You immediately regretted it.

Why did I do that!?! I have got to be the most awkward person in the galaxy. 

You sat on your couch and went over the moment in your head. The way he listened to you play. How impressed he looked when he saw you had written it yourself. His face when he realized the song was for him. 

He looked… Confused? Appalled? ...Happy?

You tried to replicate his face in your mind but you had been blinded by your shyness and you had no idea how he really reacted. That was ten times worse than not knowing. You laid down, remaining on the couch, wondering what in the world you were going to do now.

--

You awoke to your comm badge pinging and you quickly shot up. Were you late for a shift? A quick query to the computer erased that worry from your mind. It was 0100 and you had this particular day off. So who could this be in the middle of the night?

Hesitantly, you answered, “Yes?”

“(Y/N), I’m sorry if I woke you but I need you to meet me in Holodeck One,” Harry’s voice came softly over the comm system. You sat there for a moment before telling him you’d be there in five minutes. 

You ordered the computer to turn the lights up in the bathroom, quickly washing your face and fixing your slight bedhead. You squeezed your hands into fists and they felt clammy. You wondered what the hell you were walking into as you left your quarters and headed towards the holodeck.

You got to the doors and as they whooshed open the scent of fresh flowers hit you. You were standing at the entrance to a gorgeous garden, filled with flowers from all over Earth and various other planets. There was a narrow cobblestone path that led deeper into it and you cautiously walked down it. As you went further and further, you began to hear music. 

It almost sounds like… my song!

You quickened your pace on the winding path and soon you were in a clearing. And there, in the middle of it, was Harry Kim and his clarinet, playing a spectacular harmony to your song. You stood there as he reached the finale and he let the last note hang in the air for a few moments before putting his instrument down. 

Harry walked over to you, gingerly grabbing your face and kissing you. It was gentle, and his lips were softer than you imagined. But there was a passion behind it too, as one hand dropped to your waist and another went to the back of your neck to deepen the kiss before he pulled away. You stood there panting slightly, with your hands resting on his chest and his eyes looking sweetly into yours.

“You don’t ever have to be nervous or embarrassed around me. I feel the same way about you, I have for a while.” 

You had barely recovered from the kiss before his confession took you by surprise. Harry Kim had liked you the whole time and you had no idea? You started to laugh and he joined you, never once letting go of you. 

“Computer, add a flute, a chair and a music stand,” Harry said. As the computer materialized these things, he led you to the chair and you sat down to play your song together. A sweet duet to start off a budding romance. 

[snorlaxlovesme]

Walk Me Home

So I guess I wrote this fic for a SoMa week prompt last year and then didn’t post it??? I found it in my drafts and was really confused what a fully completed one-shot was doing staring back at me lmao

So. Here’s a fic for I think the “2am” prompt. Title a reference to the P!nk song, since I’m pretty sure I spammed it while writing this.

                             ____________________

“Hey. Hey!”

Maka hears Soul’s voice call out from behind her, but she doesn’t turn around. She doesn’t want to talk right now; she wants to leave.

“Jesus, why are you walking so fast? Slow down, fuck’s sake.”

The grit of the sidewalk digs painfully into the heels of her bare feet. It doesn’t slow her down, nor does it stop her. In fact, when she hears Soul’s panting from behind her, she petulantly picks up her speed until his hand is landing on her shoulder and pulling her to a stop. He tugs her around despite her best efforts to keep walking.

“Hey, you wanna tell me what the problem is? Why did you leave the party?” He doesn’t even look mad at her, just concerned, which somehow makes her just feel worse. Soul continues, “I went to go talk to Kid for a few minutes and when I came back everyone said you left. Did something happen?”

Clearly something must have happened. She knows he can see it all over her expression, in the way she bolted away from him. Hell, he can probably feel waves of it coming directly from her soul.  

But she doesn’t want to talk, so she pulls her shoulder away from his grasp and keeps walking, marching towards the direction of home, probably. She’s still a little tipsy, even though she only had a couple drinks at the party. But whoever Kid hires to bartend at the Gallows Mansion has a heavy hand when it comes to mixing drinks. Either her cocktails were stronger than normal or Maka really is the lightweight every assumes she is. She keeps walking despite her protesting feet and the way the world is swaying around her.

“So you’re just not gonna talk to me?” Soul asks, still trailing behind her. She can feel his hand come to rest on her shoulders every now and again, steadying her when she tips a bit too far in one direction, but pulling away once she’s righted herself. Protecting her while also respecting her boundaries. It’s infuriating.

Soul keeps talking to her back. “Was it something it something Black Star said? You know how Star gets when he’s drunk. He’s got no fucking boundaries.”

It’s not Black Star. It’s not anyone specifically. It’s just everyone. It’s everything. It’s nothing. She doesn’t want to explain it, because that would just be another weakness to add to the ever-growing pile.

“I can kick his ass if you want,” Soul keeps trying, knowing full-well that he could never take Black Star in a fight. The pathetic offer almost makes her smile, but she gulps it down and tries not to cry.

Soul circles around in front of her. “Look, you don’t have to tell me, but could you please stop for a sec? You’re not wearing any shoes and your feet are gonna get all fucked up. There could be glass or something.” Maka, being Maka, doesn’t give a damn about potential dangers to herself, and continues marching forward, leaving Soul to roll his eyes and pick up his pace to catch up with her again. She’s trying not to look at him, but she can see the way his eyes widen in his ‘I have an idea’ face, and two seconds later he’s transformed into a scythe in front of her, hovering a few feet off the ground beside her. His wings flap quickly and silently to keep steady beside her.

“Please?” His voice comes his weapon form, tinny and desperate.

Now Maka is the one rolling her eyes. His winged-form only rubs salt in her emotional wounds, but her feet are admittedly in a lot of pain after almost a half mile of walking on cracked concrete. She concedes and throws a leg over his handle. She grabs onto him with both hands, expecting him to whisk her away to their apartment above the buildings of Death City. Soul surprises her by hovering another foot in the air, so her feet don’t drag on the cement, but flying at the same pace she was walking.

The quiet extends before them into the night. The farther they get from the Gallows, the harder it is to hear the booming bass of the music. Soul lets Maka direct them with her soul through the residential neighborhoods and away from crowded streets. She started this walk with the intention of being alone.

But, ten times out of ten she’d rather be with Soul.

She swallows. “Do you care what people think about you?”

On a normal day he’d snark at her for finally deeming him worthy of conversation, but today he’s quiet as he thinks of what response she might be looking for. She can feel he’s trying to pick apart the meaning of this starting question, but eventually just decides to answer honestly.

“Yeah. All the time.”

It’s the truth, Maka can feel in his soul that it is, but she still doesn’t believe it. In the time that Maka has known Soul, he’s grown so much. She’s always admired the way he just lets things roll off his shoulders, not giving a shit what others think about him. Maybe he’s just been faking it, but he does a damn good job playing the Cool Guy he’s always wanted to be as a kid. He makes Maka’s version of the same kind of make-believe feel like child’s play. No one believes in her flimsy brand of confidence.  

“Do you care what people think about us?” she asks.

There’s always been something in the way people talk about the two of them. Soul, the powerful, confident demon weapon that took down Arachne and helped save the world from madness on the moon. Maka, the meister who just managed to hold on for the ride. Maybe that’s not exactly what they say, but it’s implied. In the way other students will look at him with admiration, with appreciation, and then how they look at her, like they’re surprised it was little unstable Maka Albarn who managed to produce a Death Scythe. She knows she’s weak, but do people have to throw it in her face all the time? Like she was the last person they expected to be helpful in the apocalypse?  

Even at a freaking party there are people coming up to Soul and asking him for autographs while Maka stands right next to him. Like somehow they know the exact imbalance of strength between Soul and Maka and they’re disappointed in Maka the same way she is with herself.

Just thinking about it has her unconsciously pulling Soul forward down the street a little faster. She breathes deeply. Just a few more minutes and she’ll be home.

Soul finally speaks, breaking her out of her own internal pity party.  

“No.”

Maka blinks.

No?

“Our partnership is no one’s business but ours. If people have something to say about it, whatever. I only care about one person’s opinion when it comes to our partnership. And that’s you.”

God, it’s such a simple yet complete answer. And he’s totally right, like always. She doesn’t know why she gives a shit what other people think about her and Soul. None of it matters in the end, but God, does Maka wish for once that when she thought of the word “strength” she could picture herself embodying that word instead of never measuring up. Instead of feeling guilty for somehow always thinking she’s holding Soul back.

“You know there’s nothing wrong with you, right?”

Maka’s soul spikes so suddenly in surprise that Soul comes to a halt in the middle of the street.

“I’m serious. I know you wanna be the best meister you can be, but you’re too stuck in your own head to realize how fucked I would be without you as my partner.” He quiets in a way that means he’s gathering his words, and Maka listens with bated breath.  

“You’re the smartest and bravest person I know, okay? And you’re also a reckless moron who pulls some of the craziest shit in battle that I’ve ever seen in my life. It sucks that I have to keep saying this to you, but I’ll keep reminding you until you believe it. The only reason I ever had a prayer of becoming of a Death Scythe was because you’ve been my meister. Stop thinking that you’re not good enough, because you’re better than every asshole at the party. You did something they never could and now never will be able to do.”

Maka closes her eyes for a few heartbeats, allowing this to sink in. Even now, at 2am with the sky pitch dark because of the blackened moon, it’s hard to imagine that she was involved in that fight. She helped save the world and she’s still convinced that she’s somehow not good enough. Maybe Soul’s right, and what they have could only be accomplished with the two of them together. Maybe no one else matters but her and Soul.

“Soul? Transform for me, will you?”

Without hesitation, Soul morphs back into human form, holding her now on piggyback instead of on his weapon form. The shift from being supported by his handle to hanging off his backside is so natural that Maka doesn’t even have to think about it, just adjusts her arms so they’re tighter across his shoulders. She presses her face into the side of his neck in gratitude.

“You always know what to say, you know that?”

Soul snorts and hops a little to scoot her higher up his back. “It’s easy when your soul is practically screaming at me what you’re upset about.” He starts walking again, refusing to put her down because of his stubborn insistence that she’ll hurt her feet. “So. Party sucked for you too, then?”

Now it’s Maka’s turn to snort. All of a sudden the night’s whole emo conclusion feels very overstated. She feels foolish for being so dramatic but remembers that Soul thinks she’s strong even when she’s a drama queen. Depends on her even when she gets caught up in her own head. The reminder calms her soul down considerably.

“Think I drank too much,” she says, nestling closer to his back and laying her arms heavily over his shoulders to remain balanced. “Ox said some dumb shit about me being the weaker partner and it made me sad.”

“Alcohol is a depressant,” Soul says, kind of snooty. He’s repeating what she’s told him on his Moody Drinking nights.  

“Wait a minute,” Soul says. “Did you say Ox? Who the fuck is he to talk about being a weak partner?”

“I thought you said you don’t care what anyone thinks about us.”

“Yeah, but that was before I found out it was fucking Ox Ford who was talking down to you. I could totally take his ass in fight.”

Maka laughs for the first time all night. Soul continues ranting all the way home about how he’s going to beat Ox’s face in the next time he saw him (he won’t) and Maka thinks that maybe real strength is remembering that you always have someone on your side.

[path-of-my-childhood]

9 Taylor Swift Moments That Didn’t Fit in Our Cover Story

By: Brian Hiatt for The Rolling Stone Magazine Date: September 30th 2019

Taylor Swift had a lot to say in our recent cover story (on newsstands now), tracing her eventful path to Lover, her political views and many other topics in a lengthy, revealing interview. There was even more to the caffeine-fueled conversation, which Swift made it through on four hours of sleep after staying up greeting fans at her parents’ Nashville house. Here are some highlights:

On releasing “The Archer” after “Me” and “You Need to Calm Down”: That’s sort of the world in which a lot of the album lives. It’s weird, because in pop, I love hooks and bop and catchy melodies so much. And I also love writing the songs you need to ugly cry to. So I really enjoy “You Need to Calm Down” and the brattiness of “damn, it’s 7 a.m.,” and then the next song being like, this is how I feel about myself in my lowest moments… It was unexpected when people liked “The Archer” seemingly sort of unanimously, I was like, What? This doesn’t happen to me. This almost feels like foreign and strange.

On Lover‘s place in her catalog: Reputation was so far from what I usually do. And Lover feels like a return to the fundamental songwriting pillars that I usually build my house on. It’s really honest; it’s not me playing a character. It’s really just how I feel, undistilled. And there are a lot of very personal admissions in it. And also, I love a metaphor. I love building on the metaphor for a very long time. You know, the whole of Reputation was just a metaphor, but this is a very personal record. So that’s been really fun.

Writing the title track of Lover: I was sitting up at the piano up in my loft, and I had the chorus. It just kind of happened immediately. It was one of those ones that I wrote very very, very quickly. And I was working out the cadence of the first verse and it just sort of fell together. But then I took some time to write the bridge because I wanted to really level up with that bridge. That one would for me be less of a ranting bridge and more of a story-time fable type bridge. Sometimes I like to imagine a bridge as like a sort of fairy-tale lullaby fable expanding upon a song that has been not as detailed until that point. “Can I go where you go/ Can we always be this close forever and ever”  is less detail then when you go to the bridge and you realize like, oh, it just got really personal in the bridge. It expands on it all.

Writing “Paper Rings” We just were messing around, just wanting to make something really, really fun. And I had all these lyrics about all these funny memories of how something can start off in a really quirky way and surprise you. Like how it says, “I hate accidents, except when we went from friends to this.” So I wanted to show the quirkiness of a relationship and how it’s like, wow, this really fell together in really interesting, funny, playful, cute pieces. And now it’s something we’re both really stoked happened exactly the way it did.

On her creative burst circa 2016: I was writing constantly. And a lot of the things I was writing ended up being songs for Reputation. So after 1989, I didn’t write really anything. After I made 1989 and put it out, did all the promo stuff, went on tour... The Grammys happen, which is like this unbelievable blitz of excitement, followed by me going, “Oh my god, what am I going to make next?” I had no idea what to make next, because I was so proud. 1989 — I’m still so, so deeply proud of that record. But I was like, where do we go from here? I have no idea what comes after this. And so, when my life took a very dramatic shift, all of a sudden I knew what to make next — which is a strange dichotomy to feel like, ‘whoa, this is all really weird, twisted, dark and dramatic, but I can’t stop writing.’

I think I would have made Reputation whether or not I actually put out the album or ever made another album again. That album was a real process of catharsis, and I thought I experienced catharsis before, but I’d never had until that album, because it was creating this strange defense mechanism. And, I’d never really done that in that exact way before. The only way I’d done it in the past, was with “Blank Space,” which I wrote specifically about criticisms I had received for supposedly dating too many people in my twenties. I took that template of, OK, this is what you’re all saying about me. Let me just write from this character for a second.

On the Reputation Tour: That’s just such a fun album, Reputation. I’m so proud of how that whole process was because I’d never had an album that made more sense to people after they came to the concert. Literally people would be like, “I came to the show and now I completely love the record.” Now I get the record. Whereas before with 1989, I felt like it was such a great listen but it was harder to portray it live because when you when you see it live, you’re like, “Oh, I love that song and now she’s performing it live.” But it never had songs that came alive live.

With Reputation, I wanted to keep my head down, not say anything, but work harder than I ever worked. It was really motivational for me to just have the stadium tour to prepare for and prove myself almost. My career was in a weird spot, but still have that kind of ignite something in you to work harder, to practice longer, to think of bigger, better concepts for the live show. I was thinking, if anything can pull me out of this weird disillusionment I have with the way that things have gone in my career that I was feeling back then, I knew it would be playing live. If I could be proud of the live show and if I could feel that connection with fans, that would remind me of why I love this.

On the challenges of choreography: It’s really hard for me to memorize choreography. Dancers keep count, but I can’t memorize choreography that way. So I have to assign movement to an exact lyric. Everything in my brain has to be assigned to a lyric. Because I have to learn choreography in a way that reverts back to songwriting. My vibe is I have to rehearse so, so many times for so long that I can do the choreography without thinking about it. Because when I’m thinking about choreography, my face says it. You can see it in my eyes. There’s a fear and, like, a deadness to my eyes if I’m trying to remember choreography.

On being less caught up in chart battles: I’m just a little more chill about stuff like that now. Obviously, you want to do well, and you want to do things that people like and you want people not to make fun of you for that. A lot of the pressure that I feel in my career is just the fact that I’m compared to everything I’ve ever accomplished in the past and also new artists. I can’t live in that pressure cooker. Charts — I truly, truly do not understand how they work anymore. My friend Ed [Sheeran] is such a chart monger. He’s obsessed with how it works and the math of it. I have no idea what goes on with the math with it now, it used to be so easy. I don’t even get how, people get a big release week, because they sold T-shirts, or they sold concert tickets with their albums. It’s just very confusing. But I was stoked about the “ME!” music video getting that many YouTube views. I was like, well, that’s like, that’s something to write home about.

On the longevity of songs: I think it often takes a lot of time for people to understand how they feel about music. And I know that now because there’s a song on Red called “All Too Well” that I’m really, really proud of, and it took people about three years to note that that was one of the best songs. I didn’t see that starting to pop up when people would talk about my music until about two or three years after the album had its moment. So one thing that’s actually really comforting about music — and I know that people consume at a crazy speed now — but I think that things settle for people after a long period of time. My music kind of assigns itself to maybe a moment in somebody’s life; that’s the way that my fans usually describe it. So when you’re dealing in memory curation in a way, if they have memories that include one of my songs, they go and they live their lives and those memories become further in the past and more nostalgic to them, and the music becomes more important to them.

[alexandralyman]

project neverland

Inspired by Colin’s upcoming role on The Right Stuff, I wrote a little 1960s CS test pilot/early NASA AU one shot. I didn’t aim for historical accuracy with this one, it’s more about the feel of the era instead of a literal depiction of the Mercury 7 and their missions.

Summary: Test pilot Captain Killian Jones always liked to go too fast. When he gets asked to join the elite group Colonel David Nolan of NASA has formed to be the first men to fly into space it's all he ever wanted...until he meets his CO's daughter, the beautiful and headstrong Emma Nolan.

Read on ff.net here and on AO3 here

Killian Jones always liked to go too fast.

In fast cars.

In fast planes.

(with fast women)

The NASA shrinks said it was because he had to grow up too quickly, too young when his father finally took off for good and his absence sent Killian hurtling recklessly into adulthood too soon with only his older brother left to try to keep him tethered to Earth. They almost didn't clear him to join Project Neverland, the internal code name given to the mission when someone made a late night crack after one too many pots of coffee about throwing out all the charts and just taking the second star to the right to reach the moon, but he was a hell of a pilot and after rising star Captain Arthur Pendragon, given the call sign "King" because everyone expected him to lead the mission, literally crashed and burned out of training in the Excalibur prototype and actually broke the damn thing clear in half, Colonel David Nolan publicly decided to give Captain Killian "Hook" Jones a second chance to join the team and be the hero.

Alongside a more private warning for Killian to clean up his act if he really wanted to reach the stars.

Killian knew the man wasn't kidding, so he took it to heart and stopped drinking (hard liquor, at least), stopped sleeping around (he'd been given the call sign "Hook" for his ability to hook up with any woman he wanted, including a general's wife, the bold and brash Milah Gold), he cut his hair short and shaved twice a day to keep within NASA's strict grooming requirements for its elite group of test pilots, he wore a suit and tie and smiled politely for the photographers whenever he was told to, doing the whole dog and pony show for the press without a single word of complaint. He wanted to fly to the stars, wanted it more than anything, he wanted to go faster, higher, than any man had gone before and bring home honour and glory for the name Jones.

Dr. Hopper scribbled furiously in his little notebook during their mandatory sessions and went on and on about his clear "father issues" and his "tendency to overcompensate" while Killian tuned him out, thinking instead about the feel of the wind in his hair when he drove with the top down on his 'Vette, rock 'n' roll blaring on the radio and putting the pedal to the metal up and down the Florida coast, or the exhilaration of taking off in one of the sleek new jets, feeling the lift and drag of the wind under the wings as delicate and powerful as a lover's touch along his skin when he aimed straight for the clouds above and pierced the sky fast enough to break the sound barrier. He agreed with whatever the doc said every week just to get out his office, lighting up a cigarette as soon as the door closed and taking a deep inhale to deal with his nerves instead.

Killian was keeping to the straight and narrow as best he could, but he couldn't stop himself from driving way over the limit in the early morning when the roads around the base were clear and empty as far as the eye could see, or taking his boat out just before sunset after a long day of NASA eggheads telling him what he could and couldn't do and blowing off steam by opening up the throttle as far as it would go to ride the waves so fast that the hull barely touched the water. Giving up booze and unhappily married women were one thing, he'd already almost ruined his career more than once over both and he'd learned his lesson the hard way, but the bone-deep need within him to push just a little bit harder, go a little bit faster, always chasing something that lingered just beyond his reach, well, what NASA didn't know couldn't hurt them.

Captain Killian Jones did everything too fast, but when Miss Emma Nolan grabbed the collar of his leather aviator jacket and kissed the smirk right off his face he wanted nothing more than to take it slow for once, since the only thing more off-limits than a superior officer's wife was a superior officer's daughter and Colonel Nolan wasn't just Emma's father, he was Killian's CO, with the power to ground him for good if he knew that his princess had been sneaking out to meet Killian at the underground drag races and after-hours nightclubs in Cocoa Beach. She wore dangerously short miniskirts and pale, frosted lipstick, all the men assigned to Project Neverland were half in love with her and she was the cause of every grey hair on her mother's elegantly coiffed head. Colonel Nolan's illustrious career had taken the family all over, although not always together. Emma had been sent to live with relatives in Boston while her parents were overseas on a remote posting that didn't allow children, reuniting several years later and then taking assignments at several different bases across America until he was handpicked for the most coveted position of them all and the Nolans moved again to Florida.

Emma recited the long list of former addresses without looking at him, staring out at the horizon instead while she sat with her legs folded Indian-style on the beach blanket he kept in the trunk of his car.

"It must have been hard, moving around so much," he offered. Military life was tough on families and tougher on marriages, which was one of the reasons why it had been all too easy to fall into bed with Milah Gold, despite both the ring on her finger and her husband's rank and a bigger reason why he had never followed that track.

"Yeah," she agreed, letting the clean white sand run through her fingers. "If I wanted friends I had to make them quickly, and then as soon as you really got to know someone new orders would come in and either we'd be leaving in a week, or they were shipping out, and sometimes you didn't even get that much notice. Sometimes...sometimes someone you thought you were really close to would leave one night and just never come back."

She said in a way that Killian knew she was referring to someone in particular, someone who'd done just that, walked out of her life one night and broken her heart in the process. But before he could say anything she stood up and took off, sprinting away from the memory on those long legs that looked so fantastic in white go-go boots and that he privately thought would look even better wrapped around his hips instead. She headed straight for the ocean and came to a halt right at the water's edge, waves just licking her toes and lapping at her ankles before rolling back out into the sea. Her hesitance confused Killian at first, Emma was like him, always leaping before she looked, but then she peeled off her lime green two-piece and dropped both halves into the sand, plunging straight into the crashing surf as naked and carefree as any flower child.

Killian Jones was one of the seven best pilots in the entire country, his reflexes were literally off the charts...and yet it took him an embarrassingly long time to pick up his jaw from where it had dropped somewhere around his knees and reach for the knot in his own swim trunks. Turned out there was something that could get his heart beating faster than the sight of the sleek vessel he was slated to fly into space sitting in the hanger at Cape Canaveral, and for the first time in a long time, he didn't look up into the sky when the sun set and the stars appeared.

But a late night skinny dip at a secluded little cove aside, Killian did his damndest to be a gentleman to Emma Nolan, and it wasn't because it was rumoured that the sword her father had mounted to the wall in his office wasn't just ceremonial. It would be easy to fall into bed with Emma, easy for this thing between them to be nothing more than another meaningless fling, but maybe he had been listening more than he realized while Dr. Hopper droned on about how lost boys either grew up and became men, or just grew older and which did he want to be? So he checked his speed and drove much more carefully when she was in his car and didn't let his hands wander when they danced no matter how dark it was in the hole-in-the-wall bars far from the country clubs frequented by his fellow officers and their wives. He made sure to have her home at a reasonable hour afterwards, even though he had to park around the corner and she was going to climb the tree next to her bedroom window and sneak back in anyway.

They got caught one afternoon, not by Colonel Nolan (although there had been a couple of close calls in that regard) but by one of those Florida downpours that came without warning, a sudden and shocking deluge that plastered the clothes to their bodies and ruined Emma's bouffant in a heartbeat before Killian could get his jacket off to serve as a makeshift umbrella. She clung to him while he held it over their heads, cursing a blue streak that would make a sailor blush and her mother faint while he laughed and did his best to shield her with his body. Raindrops slid down her neck and lingered in the little dip of her collarbones when she tilted her head up to the sky, mapping a course on her skin that he longed to follow with his lips until he'd charted every square inch. For someone who was about to take off at speeds men could only dream of a few short years ago and touch the stars, everything he'd ever wanted and more, Killian wished for nothing more now than to make these quiet moments last, for the song to never end when they danced and for the rain to keep falling, to keep them grounded in the here and now.

"You're leaving soon," she said in barely more than a whisper, a statement instead of a question. Suddenly everything was moving too fast, the mission date was measured in days instead of years now and their time together was growing short. The rain stopped, the afternoon showers were heavy but they never lasted long and it ended as abruptly as if someone had turned off a spigot, leaving wet pavement steaming in the sun and nothing to hinder Emma's return to her own car, the cheerful little yellow thing her parents had bought her.

"Yes...but not a day will go by where I won't think of you."

Emma looked at him and he wondered if the dampness on her face was from the rain or from something else. Her lips quirked in a half-smile that made his chest ache.

"Good."

Killian watched while she walked away and got into her car, putting it in gear and driving off. Slowly, at first, until it started to pick up speed. He knew, intellectually, that it couldn't go nearly as fast as his own V8, but it didn't feel that way when she was driving away from him.

He stood completely still until she was gone.

...

The little beach house that he'd rented when he first arrived to join the program went unused, Killian had to cram in his flight hours to stay mission ready after falling behind thanks to a certain blonde distraction, and he was going out daily in the jet that had been nicknamed the Jolly Roger and staying on base at night with other members of the crew. It seemed that whatever he'd had with Emma was over completely, she used to come by on a regular basis to visit her father and once she'd left the colonel's office there were all sorts of storage closets and empty stairwells to hold a more clandestine meeting afterwards. They'd neck frantically against the wall until Killian had to tear himself away to return to the daily physicals and calisthenics and whatever else the brass had scheduled for him, with the waxy taste of Emma's lipstick lingering in his mouth for hours afterwards and his uniform rumpled. But now it was Mrs. Nolan who came to base instead, with her lacquered helmet of dark hair and impeccable manners she was the Jackie Kennedy of NASA, always with a smile and a gracious word for the men under her husband's command.

It would be much more colourful if she knew exactly what her free-spirited daughter had gotten up to with one of them, even though he hadn't crossed that line. They'd come close, too close, moving too fast, too soon, the way Killian did everything else in his life.

Perhaps breaking up before one of them inevitably got broken was for the best.

Life magazine devoted an entire issue to Project Neverland and the men carrying the hopes and dreams of the nation on their shoulders, with each member of the flight crew getting their own double page spread. Captain Graham "Huntsman" Humbert was unsmiling and stoic in his photograph, described as, "the serious, single-minded leader of the elite group and devoted husband to his wife Ruby, as stunning and statuesque as any high-fashion model" while Captain Will "Knave" Scarlet was, "the practical joker, unofficial jester and class clown and a newlywed to boot, to former school librarian Belle, as pretty as her name suggests."

Killian posed alone in his flight suit, with no sweet-faced wife in hat and gloves like the others to stand by his side he was, "the swinging bachelor with the rock 'n' roll attitude and the looks to match, with eyes even bluer than Paul Newman's fixed firmly on the prize."

They were all inundated with fan mail after that, everything from children's crayon masterpieces of themselves meeting little green aliens on the moon to letters from senior citizens who remembered Kitty Hawk and man's first flight, but Killian in particular received a lot of perfumed envelopes decorated with lipstick prints and marked SWAK. Infatuated schoolgirls wrote him mash notes that Scarlet stole and read aloud to the rest of the crew in a high-pitched squeal, suburban housewives offered home-cooked meals with themselves served for dessert, and a Playboy Playmate even sent a few photos too racy to publish with her phone number scrawled on the back.

"Have you rung up Miss November yet, Hook?" Scarlet asked with a wink and a nudge, his caterpillar eyebrows practically doing the Twist on his forehead at the prospect. "Maybe we should start calling you Hef instead."

"Knock it off, Knave," Killian replied around the cigarette in his mouth, trying to snatch the picture back. Scarlet was shorter than he was, but he kept dancing just out of his reach with that smug grin while he continued to make jokes about Killian trading his flight suit for a smoking jacket. Finally, Humbert intervened, smacking Scarlet in the back of the head with one hand and grabbing Miss November away from him with the other.

"Ow! Watch the goods, it's property of Uncle Sam now, you know."

Humbert rolled his eyes. "We all are, dummy, which is why Captain Jones here isn't going to risk catching the clap and getting grounded. Are you, Hook?"

Killian met his expectant look. "Sir, no sir," he said, giving a mock salute and taking the photo delicately between his fingers. He left them to their bickering and headed outside, where he lit another cigarette and then held Miss November over the little flame, bidding her a silent farewell as she turned to ash on the wind before sliding the Zippo back into his pocket. Maybe he would have given her a call, once upon a time, risked a venereal disease and a shot of penicillin in the ass just for the story alone. But Humbert was right, there was too much at stake now. They all had to stay squeaky clean, in more ways than one. He wasn't even supposed to smoke in public anymore, which was even more of a pain when he had to deal with the press. Thankfully access to the base was highly restricted, and the wide swath of tarmac was completely deserted save for him and the line of sleek jets parked in neat rows, under a clouded sky.

The clouds drifted and the moon appeared, just as she had to the ancient sailors who set off in search of riches across Homer's wine-dark sea of old. They'd plotted a course into the unknown with only the stars to guide them and he was about to do the same, on a ship of a different kind but a ship nonetheless, with titanium wings instead of canvas sails to carry them across an ink-black sky, navigate by the stars and then follow them back home.

It wasn't his empty cottage that Killian pictured when he thought of home now, closing his eyes and letting the cigarette burn out untouched, breathing in the clean night air instead and hearing the faint crash of the waves against the distant shore.

...

A decision was made to hold a party at the base a few days before they had to enter pre-mission quarantine, a full on soiree with politicians flown in from Washington to see for themselves where their constituents tax dollars had gone, four star generals, celebrities and the cream of Florida society, and as the guests of honour, the flight crew in full dress uniforms with their brand new commendations pinned over their hearts. Colonel Nolan would lead them in to the fanfare of a naval brass band, each man with his wife displayed proudly on his arm. As the only unmarried one, Killian would escort one of the single women who'd been invited so he wouldn't have to walk alone.

Emma Nolan.

She arrived with her parents, stepping out of the car in a red cocktail dress that matched her red lipstick and drew him straight to her like a beacon.

Ot a warning light.

Maybe it was both.

"Miss Nolan."

"Captain Jones."

He proffered his arm and she accepted, her gloved hand resting lightly on his sleeve. His eyesight was as keen as the rest of his senses and yet everyone else seemed to fade into nothing more than a blur in the background, as far removed as the Earth would be once they broke through the atmosphere and went where none had gone before. The only one he could see clearly as the flashbulbs popped and the band started to play was Emma.

They weren't seated together at the dinner, much to Killian's chagrin while he made polite small talk with the senator's wife on his left and tried not to let his gaze drift too much in her direction. When the floor was cleared for dancing he took a turn with Ruby and one with Belle (neatly evading the rather overzealous senator's wife, a tall redhead from Kansas) and even danced with Mrs. Nolan herself, feeling his back straighten even more under her scrutiny. Her husband might be the one wearing the silver stripes, but she had the bearing of a queen in her golden dress.

"You look lovely this evening, ma'am," Killian said, his posture still stiff and formal despite the modern bossa nova the band was currently playing.

"Thank you, Captain. At ease."

He did relax a fraction at that while her stern expression melted into a smile. Over her shoulder he caught a flash of red and saw that Emma was dancing with her father, on the next pass Mrs. Nolan saw them as well and her face softened even more.

"Part of me is glad he's not twenty years younger or he'd be the one leading this mission instead of overseeing it. As exciting as this all is, don't forget about those of us back down on the ground waiting for you to come back."

Humbert drifted by with Ruby, her arm wrapped tight around his neck and her cheek resting against his chest. The wedding ring on his hand shone under the lights, his fingers splayed across her slim back and looking like there was nowhere on Earth or beyond that he'd rather be.

"I'll bring them all back safe and sound, ma'am, I promise."

Mrs. Nolan's eyes were a lot like her daughter's, a deep gemstone green that reminded him of distant galaxies they'd only caught the faintest glimpse of from Earth. They fixed him in place for a long moment, making his step falter and lose the beat while everyone else continued to dance.

"Not just them, Killian. You come back safe and sound. That's an order."

She had no real authority over him, but as the song ended and she patted him affectionately on the cheek, Killian was tempted to salute her as neatly as he would a general. He settled for giving a respectful dip of his chin instead, wondering as she walked back to her family if maybe, perhaps, his relationship with Emma hadn't been nearly as secret as he thought it was.

"Yes ma'am," he whispered, even though she was too far away to hear.

A few (or several) champagne toasts later everyone was invited into the hanger to view the spacecraft itself up close. Killian hung back, he'd already seen it, after all, more times than he could count, and as tipsy politicians eagerly followed the NASA eggheads through the doors to gape and gawk at what had built in this little corner of the world for the glory of all mankind, he noticed a familiar woman in a red dress with a bottle of champagne dangling from her fingers, heading the other way.

He went after her instead.

"You know, if you mean to christen the vessel with that, love, it's actually that way."

"Hmm," Emma mused, her red lips pursing as she appeared to contemplate the thought. "It's for good luck, right?"

Killian took it from her and swigged right from the bottle, feeling the bubbles pop on his tongue. "For luck," he said, and he was lucky that it didn't break or tip over when he set it down, blindly thanks to the woman in his arms, her mouth hot under his and her fingers fumbling with the buttons on his jacket. She got it open just as he hefted her up in his arms, fingers splaying over his heart while her legs went around his waist and a shoe hit the floor with a thump. They were in a darkened conference room, the walls strewn with maps and schematics of the most modern undertaking ever dreamed while the most ancient and primal of needs clawed at his belly, and he carried her to the couch in the corner that had seen many a hastily-snatched catnap during the late nights of the Project, but never an assignation quite like this one. For all the optimism and hope that they all professed publicly, privately everyone knew that the mission was dangerous, and there was a more than infinitesimal chance that none of them would make it back. Humbert knew it, Scarlet, despite the juvenile sense of humour, knew it, Colonel Nolan knew it and Killian did as well. The fierce claim in Emma's kiss as he fumbled with his belt told him that she was more than aware of that grim possibility, the squeeze of her thighs around his hips was an anchor, one he would remember later once gravity faded and he was floating free. As dangerous as this was it was more than worth the risk, and when he crossed that final barrier it was like both braving the unknown and coming home in one fell swoop, his face pressed to her neck to muffle his groan and her nails digging into his shoulders. The little half-moons she left in his skin had faded by morning, when all of NASA was hung over except for Captain Killian Jones and Miss Emma Nolan had gone home with a pilfered bottle of champagne and without her girdle.

She still cut quite the figure in her dress, even if it was wrinkled just a tad.

They were each allowed to bring one small personal item with them on the mission, something Dr. Hopper had said was to remind them of whatever it was they held most dear. A photo of a loved one, perhaps, or a symbol of their faith, the choice was up to them. The shrink had nodded approvingly when Killian had shown him what he'd finally decided to bring in their last session, leaving his little notebook closed for once. It didn't weigh very much, it couldn't, since it cost a literal fortune for every pound of weight being sent into orbit, and tucked easily into the little zippered pocket on his flight suit set aside for the purpose.

It was therefore the most expensive engagement ring in all of history.

Maybe he was moving too fast, but when he caught sight of Emma on the other side of the glass, come with her mother and the wives to say their final goodbyes on the morning he was going to leave the Earth and take the second star to the right, he knew he'd finally found what he'd been chasing for so long.

[i-dont-want-your-hysteria]

The Leppard Albums: A Summary

(inspired by Every Beatles Album)

Happy Saturday night everyone

The Def Leppard EP

Joe is 19 and just wants to ride a motorcycle okay

Groupie fantasy

Zeppelin lyrics meet Rush with an underappreciated bass line

On Though the Night

IT'S!!! ROCK!!! N ROLL!!! BABEY!!!

Joe is 20 and just really doesn't wanna work in a factory anymore okay

pls D; girl D; stop D; hiding D; your D; pain!!

another... groupie fantasy... I think? ...???

Leppard in Space

Joe is 20 and just wants to write something edgy okay leave him alone

STEVE 👏👏👏 FUCKING 👏👏👏 CLARK!!!! 👏👏🔥👏🔥👏👌👌

the original groupie fantasy but it's been re-recorded

girl?? make up?? your mind???

let's be mysteriously edgy ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Zeppelin lyrics meets Rush but it's been re-recorded (but don't worry they still kept the underappreciated bass line)

High N Dry

everyone in this band is a slutty bottom and this is the song that proves it

we have Mutt Lange now and this is the song that proves it

drONK TIEM

betcha didn't think we could write a ballad, did ya ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

STÊVË!!!!! 👏👏👏👏 FÜCKÎÑ!!!!!! 👏👏👏👏👏 C L Ã R K!!!!!!!!!!!!! 🔥🔥🔥🔥👏👌👌🤙👏👌🔥👌🎉🎉

underappreciated and that's all there is to it

noooo don't go you're too mysterious and sexy hahhaha

oh god Dx oh god no Dx we don't sound like this anymore we swear Dx

betcha thought we stopped writing Beowulf-esque pop songs didn't ya ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

🚫🚫⛔👎🚫🙅‍♂️👎🚫⛔🙅‍♂️⛔ *Joe tearing his throat up for 2 solid minutes*

Pyromania

IT'S ROCK!!!!!! N ROLL!!!! BABEY!!!!!!!1!!!!1!!1!! AGAIN!!!!! 😆😆😆

the Classic Rock Fandom™ in a nutshell 😓

INTRODUCING PHIL 👌👌👌 FUCKING👏👏 COLLEN 🔥🔥🔥

betcha thought we abandoned the idea of doing a ballad didn't ya ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Joe's back at it again with the edgy songs and is getting a lot better at it too

( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) ∆ ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Gunter 🙃 Glieben 🙃 Glauchen 🙃 Globen

the most underappreciated song on this whole entire fucking list sorry I don't make the rules

Alright, WHO in this band wants to be in a porno >:C

Joe's back at it yet again with the edgy songs but it's even BETTER this time

Hysteria

Girls Girls Girls ALL WOMEN ARE QUEENS ANAKIN

🎸we!!! fucking!!! love!!!! glam rock!!!!!! and african drum rhythms!!!!!!!!!🥁

we're not furries we swear we're just kinky D: also fuck you DJs here's some false endings

we haven't made a ballad that HURTS yet so here we go (with an underappreciated bass line)

the song that invented "( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)" (AKA when you cram for a test the minute before and end up getting 100%)

( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)😏( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)😏( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

S T E V E 😭👏👏 F U C K I N 😭😭😭 C L A R K 👏👏👏😭👏😭

nooo don't shoot me you're too kinky hahaha

a song about rioting and being #punk, but the only crime the man singing it has ever committed was getting a speeding ticket when he was 19/20

oh. oh shit. oh god. holy shi- I can't believe... ...we just accidentally made the most perfect song to ever exist :o like seriously- people are achieving nirvana as we speak I'm not joking I think we went too far with the perfection this time guys

THIS SONG IS ABOUT S E X AND WE AIN'T BEING SHY ABOUT IT EITHER LET'S FUCKIN GO BABE-

Don't 👏 give 👏 me 👏 love 👏

Adrenalize

gkKLglldlflhlADKSLALLFLSS 😆😆😆

I fucking love my wife uWu

fkKMglgllsLLslgflephpGLDLPT 😆(͠≖ ͜ʖ͠≖)😆

We're just gonna get extremely romantic and passionate for 4 minutes and 3 seconds if that's alright with you (͠≖ ͜ʖ͠≖)

this album was the most painful thing any of us have ever had to do, so here's the most serious song we've ever done to date. Steve ✊ Fucking ✊ Clark ✊ -n-

now that our mental breakdown is over, we're gonna get extremely passionate and romantic again but for a lil longer this time aiight 🤙

one of us has a protection/ownership kink but we're not gonna tell you who

you know what this album needs? a little bit more pain

we're layin down the line (and by that we mean we want sex)

we're layin down the line pt.2 (we still want sex btw)

Retro Active

Beowulf songs are back babey 🤙

I'll say that again if I have to^

we!!! still!!! fucking!!! love!!!! glam rock!!!!! we even covered something to prove it!!!!!!

Joe has now officially mastered ballads

I fucking love my wife part 2: she's a badass top

While Joe was off mastering ballads, Phil studied the blade

We covered something else bc again!!! we fucking!!! love!!! glam!!!

We rewrote Joe's motorcycle song bc we now realize it was cringe af (and it was an excuse for Joe to talk to Ian Hunter so that made him happy)

Joe has now officially mastered edgy/serious songs

it's a total bop but oh god. No. Please. No. Oh God. No. Don't. Please. No. Pls. No. Oh god. Don't.

This should've been on Adrenalize and you can Fight Me On That

Phil studies the blade (electric version)

Joe masters ballads (electric version)

Vault (there's only one new song on here so that's all I'm doing)

babe nooooo D';

Slang

Epic edgelords part 1

Epic edgelords part 2: Phil wrote it this time

everyone in this band is a slutty bottom and this is the song that proves it Volume 2: Electric Bugaloo

soft breakdown :'c

hOT DOGGITY DAMN JOE'S VOICE HOLY HELL TAKE ME N- *clears throat* I mean introducing Vivian Campbell :3 aND THERE'S A BASS SOLO MMMM 🤤🤤👌 THIS SONG IS JUST SEXY FUCKIN LIFT ME UP AND-

Phil's marriage isn't going too well

in fact, no one's marriages are going too well

severely underrated bop

We're still not over Steve's death and we never will be :c

Joe makes edgy ballads his bitch yet again 👏👏

severely underrated banger 🔥🔥🔥

Euphoria

wE STILL MAKE FAST BOPS IN CASE YOU FORGOT 🤘🤘🤘🤘🤘🤘🤘

Holy shit I didn't know Joe could hit a note that high

The 90s sucked for us but we'rE STILL HERE BICH 🖕

Can we pls give Sav more songwriting space on albums thx 😭💗

everyone in this band is a slutty bottom and this is the song that proves it Volume 3: Even Sluttier This Time 😏

totally different from everything we've ever done and WE 👏 MADE IT 👏 OUR 👏 EDGY 👏 BITCH

uwu but it's sad so it's actually umu

partying like it's 1999- oh wait, it actually is 1999

*hugs Viv and scREEEEEEEEAAAMMS*

Phil studied the blade and attacks you with it

*gets escorted into the back of a police car* IM GUILTY!! I'M GUILTY!!! I'M NOT INNOCENT!!! 😫😫😫

whatever edginess we couldn't fit into Paper Sun we put into this song instead

we're entering the new millennium as Kings and there's nothing you can do about it 👑🖕

X (Ten)

Stand on a balcony at sunset when you listen to this one

(insert Vizzini saying "INCONCEIVABLE" here)

the big UwU

I got ghosted and it’s actually a lot more dark and depressing than I thought also I wish I was never awake

soft and edgy and sad acoustic dads

F-U-C-K SPELLS F- I mean L-O-V-E spells love uWu

babe nOOOooO I'm sorry I suck so much DD;

this sounds like out if Work It Out and Day After Day had a kid

we're gonna have a Funky Good Time whether you like it or not 😎

E D G E L O R D S 2 0 0 2

we can't decide if we want this album to be edgy or uwu so we're gonna make it both

the same passion as Tonight but less sexy and more (you guessed it) uwu

E D G E L O R D S 2 0 0 2 P A R T 2

Betcha thought our emo phase was over didn't ya ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Yeah!

bops have been and will ALWAYS be something we have mastered- even if the song we're playing isn't ours

SAV'S TIME TO SHINE

betcha thought we couldn't cover a Blondie song, did ya ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Phil's just getting nostalgic about London it's fine 👍

don't worry joe's still sCREAMIN

in which we make this song a million times better than the original

WE LOVE ROXY MUSIC SO MUCH WE CANTEXPLAINWEJUSTLOVEHEMRMFLGPHPH

we're letting Joe have his moment ok just let him have this 👨‍🎤

yeah we like Free- so whAT??

okay NOW we're letting Joe have his real moment- he's been waiting for this moment ever since he was like 12 okay just. let him. have this just. this one time. pls.

in which we confuse literally everyone by making them think this is a song that we wrote

we just need ONE more bop, okay? Just ONE more we swear then we'll stop being fanboys (for now...)

we'll be right back, it's Bow Down To Thin Lizzy Hour

*Phil tearing up his throat for 4 and a half solid minutes*

Songs From The Sparkle Lounge

this one's actually kinda dark and heavy? :o

honky tonk time 🤠🤙

FINALLY ONE OF SAV'S SONGS IS THE MOST POPULAR SONG OFF AN ALBUM 🙏🙏🙏🙏😩

FINALLY WE HAVE MORE SAV MATERIAL I LOVE IT SM ;∆; !!!!

Phil's songs are severely underrated tho pls give them more attention

it's time for one (1) badass religious song and if you don't like it then you can Fuck Off kindly 🙃

This whole album is "Songs That Were Written By Phil and Viv and Sav" heaven

I think sometimes people forget that we, even as a band, are fans of the Classic Rock Fandom™ too, and we feel the same pain as the other fans :'^)🤙

Joe's three minutes of fame on this album

Joe's three minutes of fame on this album part 2

Viv's songs are severely underrated tho pls give them more attention

Mirror Ball (bonus tracks)

we grabbed fate by the balls and screamed fUCK YOU 🖕🖕

We are still Kings™ in case anyone was wondering 👑🖕

✨PHIL BELIEVES!!!! IN!!!!! LOVE!!!!!!!! AND!!!!!!!!!! BELIEVING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!✨

Def Leppard (Self Titled 2015)

Is this song about playing a live show? Probably. Is it also about having a fight? Is it also about angry sex? The world may never know.

Okay this one just absolutely SLAPS, periodt.

bootleg Another One Bites The Dust

*SOBBING* THEY'RE ALL SINGING LEAD I'M-

being badass, That's The Power Of Love

don't worry, we still know how to be Poetically Edgy

iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii'm *bump bump* hooked on a feeeeling

I've Got a Spiritual Romantic Boner

Can't Keep Away From The Flame edginess gets crossed with some Zeppelin charm and badassery

someone in this band is fucking piSSED 😠😠😠😠

we're gonna @ someone tonight fellas

sAV OH MY GOD BABYYYYY 😰😰😭😭😭😭 DO YOU NEED A HUG

what if we tried to cross newer Metallica with Nickelback 🤔

what if we turned this into We All Need Christmas three years from now... 🤔

Bonus: Personal Jesus/We All Need Christmas

Viv really wanted to cover ABBA but everyone said no so he settled for cowboy goth™ instead

What better man to write a warm and fuzzy Christmas song than the warm and fuzziest man alive (Sav)

[xperiwrites]

can you do some soft!geralt? 🥺🥺🥺 pretty please

This feels a tad like a cheat as I co-wrote this with @doodled93 for @geraskierweek buuut…..

TITLE: Conduction

SUMMARY: There’s a snowstorm, and Bards don’t hold heat the same way Witchers do.There is a (cuddly) solution.

WORD COUNT: 1801

(Netflix’s The Witcher) 

Day #3: Protection

Rating: G

Triggers/Warnings: None, just some cuddling and sharing body heat

Ao3 Link

The storm as it comes is not a surprise—it had been threatening and picking up since yesterday. Geralt had known from the start they wouldn’t make it to the next town in time. Jaskier had known, too—he could tell by the fact that the bard kept hypothesizing that, with a frankly unlikely amount of luck, they may yet beat the storm.

“The next town is four, five days you said? If we make it four, and maybe find an as yet unknown shortcut, that may cut it down to three.”

Geralt had hummed, watching Jaskier squint at the grey clouds, hands on his hips.

“Maybe if the wind stays at our backs we may travel at speed, cut it down to a further two and a half days…”

“The wind would have to push us off this mountain.”

“Why yes, Geralt, that is one way to look at it. Now then, two and a half days, well, two and a half days is nothing. The storm may not be that bad, you know? Despite all the,” he gestures, and he could mean the grey sky, the cold wind, the chill in the air, the darkness in the distance. “Well, you know all this. Could push through this grey and, ah, wind, and I bet at a good speed we could be only two days away from the next town… in fact,” Jaskier strode forward, arms sweeping ahead with flair, “in fact this wind is nothing! One might imagine that there might not be—ah, fuck!”

The wind picked up, then, and Geralt is smirking when Jaskier is shuffling back to Roach, arms tucked back to his sides, hands under his armpits.

“Well then,” Jaskier nudges into Geralts leg. “Four or five days to a town when there’s a storm like this brewing isn’t as impossible as one might expect, you know. I mean, it’s not entirely impossible we might encounter a… portal, of some sort. One we could reasonably and reliably assume would bring us, say, even a days’ ride away from the next town, and we’d certainly beat the storm with that sort of time on our hands.”

“And I’m sure you could recognize one such a portal, as well as the location it would bring us to?”

“Ah,” the man looks off to the side of the path, humming in a considering manner. “I… I do have many skills, as you well know. While that is not one of them—that I know of—it’s not unreasonable to assume that there are some skills I do not yet know of, but am perhaps born with. Perhaps I’m also a man with the skills to unconsciously put off very bad storms until after four or five days?”

“I suppose we’ll see.”

It would perhaps be annoying, all this hypothesizing, if the bard didn’t come up with consistently different ridiculous ways they might escape the inevitable. He’s been writing an ongoing maybe-it-would song for the past three years now, with familiar verses repeated with every bit of bad weather they encounter, the tune catchy even without an instrument. A quick beat to walk to, steps naturally falling in quick-time.

It’s not something Geralt has heard at a tavern, yet, so it likely hadn’t reached some milestone of completion Jaskier had set in that fool head of his—some of his songs were done in days or weeks, fine tuned to an audience well oiled with alcohol.

Then some of his songs, like this one, were worked over the course of months and years; Geralt could admit that the one about the nightwraith was both factually correct and catchy, but if he got it stuck in his head one more time…

The sky got steadily darker as more verse was added to the song, Jaskier repeating the established bits he’d gotten down the last time they’d been caught out in an awful rain storm. Geralt had caught two rabbits and a grouse in the meantime, hanging them from his saddle.

It could be the wind will come sweep us ahead

Skip days of this trudge—off some cliff, and we’re dead!

The clouds are so dark who’s to say night or noon

To be out in this cold must be truly a l-loon!

The d-damp it sinks in, soaking deep in my cl-lothing

So s-soggy I ssay, soon a Drowner be roaming—

“No,” Jaskier interrupted himself, shaking his head and following to where Geralt was leading off the edge of the path, only barely visible in the snow. “N-no, it’s no longer happy maybe’s, I’m afraid this bit of lyric has gotten away from me.”

Geralt got off Roach and led the two further off the path, listening to the faint whistling of the wind against an opening.

“You know, I don’t suppose it’d be very, ah, good to put the thought of a drowner d-down ones pants either, so—ah! A c-cave! Are we certain that it’s an unoc-c-cupied one?”

Geralt led Roach into the protection the cave’s narrow opening offered, checking the ground just beyond there for any recent markings. Theirs were the only tracks leading in or out of the cave, and that meant exactly nothing with this type of wind.

He checks deeper into the cave and finds nothing but dried brush blown in form years past and old, old bones. He comes back to a shivering bard and the beginnings of a puddle from where Roach shook off snow.

“Hmm.”

“Oh th-thank f-fuck.”

Geralt humms again and heads back out into the blistering cold and wind, heading further into the scrub and trees in a hunt for wood that should still be fairly dry—there was snow, yes, but with the sudden cold snap he’s hoping there’ll be enough just encrusted with snow that they can get a decent fire started.

He brings back what he finds that’s dry, nodding when he finds that Jaskier’s already looked after Roach, her things laid out over one of the rocks, her coat tended to, and sets his pile down next to where Jaskier is setting up rocks for a pit. Heads back out for more wood to put in a pile to dry out.

By the time he’s done Jaskier is still shivering, but has managed to coax a fire into existence; Geralt sees a pile of the dry brush from further in the cave in a heap to the side, more tinder should the fire get low.

They divide preparing the rabbits and cooking in relative silence, Jaskier’s shivering abating to a fine tremor. It’s never completely silent around Jaskier; even now the bard was peering at where he had set his lute, case protecting the instrument form the cold and damp. He’s humming, low and melodious, and every time he glances to his lute he’s flexing his too-pale fingers, and then putting them closer to the fire. Geralt doesn’t recognize the tune. They eat in that same relative silence, colour returning to the bards cheeks… the shivering doesn’t go away.

“Take off your jacket.”

“T-that—oh.”

Jaskier had looked up with a frown that cleared at the sight of Geralt pulling open his own jacket, undoing the ties. Jaskiers hands are still stiff even after the warm meal and the fire, so in the time it takes him to wrestle off his jacket Geralt has his open and has moved to open his bedroll close to the fire. Has pulled both their blankets nearby.

When Jaskier finally frees his last arm from the damp clutch of his sleeve, he seems surprised when Geralt plucks it from his hands, draping it over one of the rocks near the fire.

“D-d-damn it Geralt h-humans need a b-bit more than th-that… w-what are you d-doing?”

It takes very little effort to pull the shivering bard down into his lap and arranging stiff limbs to his satisfaction—tucking his arms into the warm cocoon within his jacket, and using one hand to pull that hunched back into his chest. Geralt arranged the blankets around them and over Jaskiers legs until just his feet were out, propped next to the fire, and pulled the rest around them into a barrier against the cold.

Having access to warmth seems to make Jaskiers shivering worse, chattering teeth just a mess of sound rather than any words Geralt could actually pick out. He hummed in response anyway, and that seemed to satisfy the bard that he was heard enough to settle down in Geralts lap.

That didn’t stop the humming from coming back—Geralts sigh at the sound only has Jaskier wiggling back even further, tilting and turning his head until it was pressed back to Geralts shoulder, and Jaskier was pressing a cold nose to his jaw. The humming was clearer, louder, and Geralt could feel a smile pressed against his neck.

He adjusts how Jaskier is sitting and happens to give him a squeeze, coincidentally pushing all the air from him and halting the noise, if only temporarily—when it starts up again it sounds distinctly fond pressed up against his skin.

The things he does for his bard.

X

Geralt has slipped into a meditative state by the time he realizes that the humming has petered out into even breathing, Jaskier having curled further in his embrace, face tucked into the hollow of his throat.

He’s been adding to the fire as needed, an ear to the howl of the wind—listening for the howl of anything else on the wind.

He’s not looking forward to hearing about a cricked neck from Jaskier however, and makes the decision to shift him; using one arm to prop him and the other to swing his legs first to the side, and then further manoeuvring him around…

Once the hard part is done, Jaskier adjusts himself well enough, tucking his face back into Geralts neck with a sigh, arms going around him and hands up his shirt to press against his warm back. It takes a bit of shuffling but the Bard settles more into his lap, seemingly happy enough to wrap his legs around behind him. Geralt readjusts the blankets to be sure that Jaskier is entirely covered in this new position straddling his lap, and settles back down to monitor the fire.

This new position means that along with not kinking Jaskiers neck, with them belly to belly like this it should keep Jaskiers neck, belly, and groin warm enough to not be damaged by the cold. In the morning he’d leave him on the bedroll to see if he couldn’t find more wood and possibly hunt something else to tide them through until the storm has fully passed. Until then he’d enjoy the rare quiet, arms holding his bard close.

[sagittariuswritings]

i love you.

A/N: I literally wrote this in a little over an hour, and I’m shocked that I finished it that fast. I loved writing this so much. I hope you enjoy it just as much as I enjoyed writing it!!

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Word count: 2,610

Warnings: Plenty of angst, some romantic tension, SHORT HAIRED BUCKY, fluff, making out, Bucky teasing reader, some language, and that’s about it, I think

Fog emitted from Y/n’s mouth as she mouthed the lyrics to the song she was listening to, her cold bare hands shoved in the pockets of her lightweight jacket. Her mind, even after spending hours at the library reading in an attempt to calm herself down, was racing with thousands of thoughts at once. She wanted to think about anything but what her mind was telling her to dwell on, but she just couldn’t, and each time her mind went back to what happened hours ago, she would feel her heart pang in pain.

It was finally around lunch time at the compound, and Y/n was exhausted to no end. Her hair was let down after being up for hours of training recruits, a little kink in her hair from being up for so long. She grabbed a jar of peanut butter out of the cupboard, a butter knife with it, and started to spread the peanut butter on a slice of wheat bread. Just as she went to spread the delicious creamy peanut butter onto the bread, she heard a loud thud from what seemed to be in the hallway. Y/n put the object down, and craned her neck around the corner that peered into the hallway. She saw nothing at first, and went to go back to making her sandwich, but she double-took, and saw the end of a duffel bag around a corner in the hallway. She thought nothing of it for a moment, but then she heard wet sounds. Which immediately made her skin crawl, almost having a gut feeling that it was the new girl doing something with a recruit or something.

Y/n headed out of the kitchen and down the hallway, and turned the corner she saw the duffel bag in. Her heart seemed to stop pumping blood through her body, and her breath caught in her throat as she saw the scene laid out in front of her. Maddie, the new girl, had Bucky pinned up against the wall, her hands in his freshly cut hair, her mouth on his. There was either passion or force in the way Maddie kissed Bucky, but Y/n didn’t know what to think. Did Bucky just lead her on all this time? She didn’t know. What she did know, was that she needed to get the hell out of there before she blew a fuse.

Y/n felt eyes on her as she stormed out of the hallway, hearing the shouts of her name from none other than Bucky. But she ignored him, just as she ignored the overflowing tears in her e/c eyes.

That moment was playing on repeat in Y/n’s head as she made her way back to her house. Occasionally, Y/n would look up at the dark sky to see the stars, in yet another attempt to calm herself, but it didn’t work, and it not working just made her more frustrated. Drive by Halsey started playing on her phone, and her fingers, though in her jacket pockets, thumped to the song as she walked. 

Her steps slowed to a stop as she neared a crosswalk, her foot now tapping to the song. As she waited to cross the road, the last thing she expected was a car to drive by and hit a large puddle. Which of course that exact thing happened.

As soon as the cold water hit her body, she gasped at the shock that went through her body. Her hair was now sticking to the sides of her face, and water trickled down her cheeks like tears. Her eyes slowly opened, water falling off of her eyelashes, which made her blink drastically to get rid of the water trying to find its way into her eyes. It took her mind off of the biggest event of the day, that’s for sure. And that was the only good thing about getting drenched head to toe in the middle of the city. 

With a large breath, she stepped off the sidewalk and started walking across the road, her head down as she listened to the end of the song. The lyrics “Would it really kill you if we kissed?” lingered the moment she heard it.

Smack.

Y/n’s back hit the mat with a loud smack, the air being knocked out of her lungs for a moment. Bucky was strong, no doubt about it.

“Need a hand?” Bucky smirked from where he stood above her, offering his metal hand out to her. 

That earned him a glare, Y/n’s e/c eyes like daggers as she glared up at him. “I have a working body, Barnes, I can get up on my own.” She huffed, inhaling sharply before sitting up.

“My most sincere apologies, my lady.” Bucky bowed sarcastically, making Y/n shake her head with the smallest of smiles gracing her soft lips. Something about him calling her ‘My lady’, whether it be used sarcastically or not, made her all soft and mushy feeling inside. She couldn’t place her finger on whether or not she liked it. But she smiled, so she thought it must be a good thing. 

“You better be sorry. Because karma’s gonna beat your ass.” Y/n winked at him while she stood up, a quiet groan following her words when she stood.

“Are you trying to tell me your name’s karma?” He asked, challenging her to come at him.

Y/n’s brows raised, and she looked at him with a smirk. “Is that a challenge, Barnes?”

“Maybe it is, Y/l/n.” Bucky winked at her, lifting his arms out to the side, as if saying ‘come at me’.

“Oh, it’s on.” She mumbled before she ran at him, jumping onto him. She wrapped her arms around his neck as soon as she got close enough, and hoisted herself up onto him, spinning her body around to where she sat on his left shoulder. She went to put him in a headlock, but before she could, Bucky tripped on the mat, sending himself tumbling forward onto the mat, Y/n with him.

Her back hit the mat roughly, and Bucky’s body practically crushed her. He landed face first on her, his face buried in her neck when he landed. 

Y/n’s eyes had closed when Bucky started to fall, preparing for the impact. But when she felt his face against her neck, her eyes shot open, and a harsh blush spread across her cheeks like they were kissed by the sun.

Bucky groaned against her neck, after what seemed like forever, but was really just mere seconds. He lifted his head to look at her, a soft blush settling onto his cheeks once he realized the position they were in. But he didn’t mention it to her, not wanting to make things more awkward. “Are you okay, doll?”

Of course he had to use that god damn nickname, Y/n thought, almost frustrated. He knew that nickname made her flustered, but sometimes he let it slip when he wasn’t being sarcastic, and this was one of those times. “I-I’m fine, Bucky.” She managed to get out, looking up at him. “Are you okay, though?” She asked, lifting her hands to move a strand of his hair out of the way on his forehead. There was a pink spot on his forehead from where he hit his head on the mat beside her neck, where a bruise would form eventually, no doubt. 

“I’m fine, doll, really--” He muttered, using his flesh hand to get some of his body weight off of Y/n. But his hand was still sweaty from sparring, and his hand slipped on the mat, sending his chest onto her own chest, and his face a hair from her own face.

Their lips brushed for a moment, sending Y/n’s heart into what felt like and sounded like, in her ears at least,  20 horses on a racetrack running. His heart felt the same, unbeknownst to Y/n.

The romantic tension built up like an overflowing sink, and neither of them could take it anymore, especially with how close they were.

Bucky was the first to make the move, his head tilting a hair to the side, his soft pink lips pressing gently but passionately against Y/n’s own lips. Y/n tilted her head into the kiss, her eyes slowly closing, as did Bucky’s.

Her hands started to travel into his dark brown hair when the doors to the gym burst open, a shrill voice following the sound of the doors hitting the gym walls. The voice and sound of the doors echoed off the walls, sounding absolutely horrible together. “Bucky Barnes?!”

Y/n and Bucky broke apart as quick as possible, their cheeks flushed pink as they turned their heads towards the doors to see a petite blonde girl. “Yes?” Bucky answered, his voice cracking for a split second.

“I’m new here, and I was sent to talk to you. You’re to be my teacher?” She asked as she walked up to the pair, her arms folded. To Y/n, her nose seemed to be pointed towards the ceiling, which made her snicker from beneath Bucky, earning a small flick on the bicep from Bucky when he stood.

“I wasn’t aware there was anyone coming today, but uh, I’m he.” He cleared his throat, offering his hand to shake hers. 

“I’m Maddie.”

The sound of screeching brakes broke Y/n out of her thoughts, but after glancing for half a second, she merely turned her music up a hair and continued walking down the sidewalk.

Y/n heard her name being called, and it seemed as if her music drowned out upon realizing who said her name. Her steps faltered and she stopped, pulling an earbud out as she turned on her heel to see none other than Bucky with the passenger seat window in his car rolled down as he tried to talk to her. “Y/n, you’ve got to be freezing, let me take you home.” He lightly shouted from his car, sincerity in his sapphire eyes.

It was hard, but Y/n stuck the earbud back in her ear, and turned up her music all the way, her steps faster than before.

She had no intent on stopping, her mind set on getting home and turning off her phone and locking her door.

Even the feeling of a hand on her lower back didn’t stop her. What did stop her, however, was Bucky stepping in front of her while she was speed-walking, making her run into his chest face first.

“Move.” She bitterly spoke, her eyes anywhere but his own as she took one step back.

“Y/n, please.” Bucky tried to plead, but he got no response from her, other than her taking a quick step to the side in an attempt to move around him. That only resulted in him pulling out an earbud, which really made her turn on her heel to give him a sharp glare.

“What the hell do you want?”

“For you to hear me.” He responded softly, a desperate look in his eyes.

“No.”

“Just let me take you home, and we can discuss things--”

“There’s nothing to discuss, James.” She spat, starting to walk away again, but both of his hands grabbed her biceps to hold her in place. His strong arms felt comforting, in a way, but she wouldn’t let herself give in, she was upset and frustrated, and she just wanted time to herself.

”Please” He whispered to her. She’d never heard him whisper so quietly before. She could hear the hurt behind his words, which made her lift her chin to look up at him.

Quietly, she responded with a simple. “Fine.”

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

The ride to her apartment was silent and filled to the brim with tension. When she got out of the car, the tension drained some. But it all came back once she unlocked the door to her apartment, Bucky on her heels.

Y/n closed the door behind her and threw her keys in the basket on a small table she kept beside the door.

Bucky had never been in Y/n’s apartment before. There were books practically everywhere. Her living room was to the right of the door, two couches and one rocking chair outlining the room. A dark oak coffee table sat in the middle of the room, a small bouquet of flowers in the center of the table.

A stack of three books sat beside the bouquet, all written by George R.R. Martin. He read A Game of Thrones, A Clash of Kings, and A Storm of Swords. The books were so thick, his head was boggled just by imagining how many pages there were. He loved reading, and these books were on his list of ‘Books to read’ but he rarely got around to reading, he was so tired by the end of the day.

“Well?”

Y/n’s words broke Bucky out of his book trance, his head turning to face her. He roped his thoughts back into his mind, and nodded, glancing at the couches. Y/n followed his glance and sighed quietly, but walked to the living room. She sat on the rocking chair, having no intention of sitting beside him at all.

“Maddie came onto me. I don’t know how much you saw, but you had to have seen how uncomfortable I was pinned between her body and the damn wall, Y/n. I didn’t want to be in that situation, and I got in trouble for throwing her off of me because according to her, I broke her pinky, and now it’s the end of the fucking world, I’ve got her on my ass about assaulting her, and I haven’t been back to the compound all day, because I’ve been looking for you for hours, Y/n, hours. I haven’t eaten since god knows when, because I’ve been so hellbent on trying to find you. My phone died because I tried to call you so many times, and Sam was blowing the hell out of my phone. I lost the keys to my apartment, and I almost got a speeding ticket. Watching you leave the compound so heartbroken hurt me to the point I broke some wannabe beauty queen’s pinky.” He barely even took a break the whole time he ranted to her. “I love you, Y/n, and watching you leave made me feel like a complete and utter failure. I’m sorry I hurt you, I didn’t mean too--”

Bucky was so caught up in explaining the hurtful event, that he hadn’t even noticed Y/n getting out of her seat and walking over to him. 

Y/n’s hands gently cupped his cheeks and she tipped his chin up, pressing her lips to his to stop him from speaking more. She went to pull away when she didn’t feel him kiss back, but that resulted in him pulling her by her waist and onto his lap, practically making her straddle him.

Her hands found his hair, her fingers lacing through his locks. His hands held her waist securely, his head tilted to the side as he kissed her. His flesh hand traveled up her stomach and her chest, stopping when his hand reached her cheek. He used his hand to bring her face closer to his, deepening the kiss.

The kiss was heated, full of several emotions; All pent up emotions.

After what seemed like hours, they pulled away finally. Y/n was panting, her eyes closed from the deep kiss. Her forehead was pressed against his, and she felt his hot breath on her lips as he panted too. 

“I love you too.” She managed to get out, opening her eyes at the same time as him, their eyes meeting.

[julia-highstorms]

I can't hide my feelings from you now (Tom x F!MC (Julia Vance-Chu))

Author’s note: Tom Sato is having his first serious crush. It’s Valentine’s Day and here’s something I wrote a time ago. It takes place in ILB Chapter 11 and I wanted to get inside Tom’s head. My masterlist

Disclaimer: Characters and some dialogues belong to Pixelberry Studios.

Song: There's Too Much Love - Belle & Sebastian

Rating: PG-13

Pairing: Tom x F!MC (Julia Vance-Chu)

Word count: +1.7k

It's safer not to look around

I can't hide my feelings from you now

There's too much love to go around these days

Tom stopped short right in front of the wooden door, the first aid kit in his hands, pondering if he really should get in or not.

As soon as they all got inside of Wescott’s fancy yacht, they all were headed to a different room to get dressed up. Tom thought about the insane night they were having and it might would be helpful if he helped Julia with her wounds...

...But she might wanted to be alone for a while, not seeing anyone. They had just fought a horde of animal zombies and her little brother had been kidnapped by a psycho lake ghost… Alright, Julia most certainly wanted to be alone.

But… he wanted to see her. Talk to her. Listen to her. Check out if she was doing okay, as she could ever be.

…He just wanted to be near her. Was that too weird? Was he a creep?

It was crazy. Tom felt like he had never connected to anyone before the way he connected with her. And he had known Julia for just a few days, but he was… so charmed by her. Since he had seen her for the first time at Arthur’s cabin, actually.

The truth was that Julia Vance wouldn’t leave his mind for the past days, as much as he forced himself to not think about her.

Whenever he went to work, he secretly wished she would drop by at the shop, just to say hi. And she did. Every single morning.

Even in the middle of his investigation on finding out what the hell was happening at Pine Springs, his mind would always drift back and forth to her pretty face, and that mysterious side grin of hers. His eyes were always searching for her. He was even listening to songs that reminded him of her.

He’d always get anxious by the thought of just seeing her. But whenever she was around, he felt the most comfortable ever. In his element. As if they’ve known each other for years. He could be himself around her.

Was he going crazy? Was he sick?

But, before he could change his mind and turn away, he hesitantly knocked the door. He had all the trouble to find a first aid kit and go there. He wouldn’t leave now like a coward.

“One second!” - he heard her voice from the other side and Julia opened the door a few seconds later, her dark surprised eyes finding his.

“Uh, hey, Julia, I’m not bothering you, right?” - the words spilled out of his mouth before he could hold his tongue. Tom Sato was feeling nervous.

“No, of course not. What’s up?” - she said softly, looking curiously at him.

He felt that tingling sensation going up to his cheeks as he lifted the white box with an emblazoned red cross on it in his hands.

“I, uh, I thought maybe you could use some help patching yourself up. And, um, maybe talk a little…?” - the words kept leaving his mouth in a rush. - “I mean, we almost died back there, and now we’re speeding toward evil magic ground zero to do some kind of mysterious ritual and it’s all just—” - he stopped himself, looking down at his feet, trying to contain his anxiousness. - “Or... maybe this was a bad idea. If you just wanna be alone, that’s cool too, I can just leave this and go. Yeah, I’ll go.”

But before he could turn and leave, he felt her soft and small hand on his, stopping him. He looked up to her face and watched the corners of her mouth turning upright.

“Some help patching up would be amazing. And I always will have time to talk to you, Tom.”

He smiled, feeling so suddenly relieved. She had this funny effect over him. Julia could make him the most nervous mess but also put him at ease at the same time. Just crazy.

“Okay, great! Where should we start?”

“You can start by coming inside.” - she giggled, stepping to the side and letting him in.

After closing the door behind them, Tom and Julia settled next to each other on the narrow bed. He cracked open the first aid kit and began to remove rolls of bandages and cans of antiseptic spray.

“So… have you done this before?”

“Some. There’s a lot of injuries in basketball.” - he remembered all those times he had to patch himself and Andy up after a game. Good thing his cousin, Rei, taught him the basics of first aid. - “And robotics. And boat repair.”

“So I’m in good hands then?”

“Definitely the best hands on this boat.” - she grinned.

“...And should I take off my shirt? You know, so you have better access.”

That question caught him off guard and Tom fumbled the roll of bandages in his hand as he felt his cheeks burning.

“Uh, yeah, that’s— that would help. I mean, if you’re okay with that.”

“‘Course.”

Tom watched in awe as Julia turned around and pulled off her top, casting it aside, exposing her bare back to him. She heard him whistling low behind her.

“Damn, you really did get banged up.”

She felt his fingers carefully trailing lightly over her back, sending a brief shiver throughout her body.

“Think you can fix me, doc?” - she playfully asked over her shoulder. Tom chuckled, before assuming a ‘respected doctor’ tone:

“Leave it to me, kid. Your life’s in good hands.”

He gently disinfected her wounds with the spray and cotton swabs.

“You know, I wanted to say thank you, again, for saving my life tonight.” - she murmured and Tom ducked his head bashfully.

“I don’t know if I saved your life exactly…”

Julia rolled her eyes, smiling and turned to face him. Tom focused on keeping his eyes on her face. And not on the black bra she was wearing.

“You know you don’t have to be always so humble, right? You’re a badass. It’s okay to own it.”

She watched a shy grin spreading through his face.

“You think I’m a badass?”

“Come on, dude. You’re a one-man monster-death machine. If you haven’t figured out you’re a badass yet, I don’t know what to tell you.”

“Y’know, I spent a lot of time in high school thinking no one would ever see me the way you see me right now.” - Tom shyly tucked a stray strand of hair behind his ear. - “So I guess what I’m saying is…” - his smile widened. - “Thanks.”

“No need to thank me, Tom. You’re a badass.” - Julia smiled back at him.

Setting aside the antiseptic swabs, he picked up the bandages and began wrapping them around her disinfected injuries.

“How’re you doing now? In a lot of pain still?”

Julia smiled mischievously.

“Why don’t you kiss it and make it better?”

She watched with satisfaction his cheeks blushing a furious red as he stammered:

“I— that— wouldn’t that be unsanitary?”

“Not if you do it like this…” - she leaned in, gently cupping his jaw in one hand, and planted a tender kiss to his lips.

Tom kissed her back right away, softly and pliantly, and when Julia pulled back, she saw his glassy eyes.

“Is, uh… do you feel better?”

“Hmm…” - she pretended to be thinking. - “I think I might need a stronger dose.” - she smiled cheekily, leaning back in and Tom welcomed her eagerly, his arms wrapping carefully around her waist, pulling her closer to him.

Julia deepened the kiss, feeling his smooth skin with her fingertips, his taste on her tongue and how she felt so comfortable and safe in his arms. Tom tried to memorize how soft and sweet her lips were, the heat of her body and how small she felt in his arms.

After several moments of trading kisses, they finally pulled apart, breathless and excited.

“I should, um, start pulling all this stuff away, right?” - Tom pointed to the rolls of bandages and antiseptic spray cans.

Julia frowned, clearly disappointed for not having any more time to spend kissing Tom.

“Yeah… I wish we had all the time in the world.”

He flashed her a grin, squeezing her hand gently.

“We will. When this is all over.”

She felt enoughly reassured by that and pulled her shirt back on, while Tom carefully replaced the supplies back in the first aid kit, feeling that it was a good thing that he went there to talk to her, after all.

“You know, I was kind of nervous before coming to see you.”

She looked both surprised and confused at him.

“You were?”

“It’s crazy, but I still get nervous around you sometimes. Or, maybe nervous isn’t the right word. My heart starts to pound and my hands starts to sweat. I don’t know, maybe I’m getting sick or something.”

Julia giggled, and her soft hands cupped his jaw, caressing it lightly.

“You’re not getting sick.”

“I’m not?” - he genuinely looked shocked.

She smiled tenderly at him, admiring that face that’s been stuck on her mind for days.

“Haven’t you ever been in love before?”

Tom suddenly went rigid as the words came down to him.

“I… No. I haven’t.”

She took his chin in hand and tilted his face to her, making him meet her gaze, a genuine gracious smile spreading through her face, lighting it up.

“Tom, I’m falling in love with you too.” - she said in a whisper, feeling her heartbeat speeding up.

“I— you— what…?” - Tom just couldn’t believe in his ears.

Julia ran a thumb tenderly along his jaw. She loved him. She loved him so much.

“You heard me.” - she grinned widely before capturing his lips with her own, kissing him deeply and passionately, until he realized that she did love him. When they pulled back, she found Tom grinning radiantly.

“Whoa. Does kissing actually get way better when you’re in love or it that just me?”

Julia giggled, staring deeply into his eyes. Those eyes that she’s been dreaming about.

“Oh it��s definitely not just you,”

And they both leaned in again, eager to continue…

It's safer not to look around

There’s no hidin’ my feelings from you now

There's too much love to go around these days

Tagging: @littlecrookedheart @pixelburied @mysticgayralsei @breaumonts @abbiebishops @madhattterusagi @noahpologiste @danni-asturias  @mysteli @indiacater @indescribablechoices @emomoustache @choices-fanatic @edgydepressedchoicesthot @violarobics @withoutanyconfidence @tiz-rex @priya-trash @alicegma @thequeenchoices @endlessflame @ludextruction @scrappysheep (if you would like to be tagged - or don't - let me know!)

[mythandlaur]

alright. test of redemption. and also dissonant counterpoint and "are ya winning the tournament son" for good measure. go.

The WIP Tag Game

Couple repeats, but I have more snippets for both of them so it’s fine.

Long post once again!

The Twins: Test of Redemption (old title) - Terraria - 2016

Ah, yes. My baby, and the bane of my existence. A piece that makes me both smile and cringe whenever somebody happens to find it on AO3. A piece that embarrasses me now because I didn’t know “sp*z” was a slur at the time and now I can’t figure out what to nickname Sp*zmatism thanks Re-Logic. And also embarrasses me because I couldn’t think of a better title. I didn’t even think it was a good title back then I just couldn’t think of another one. This story is a specter that sometimes leaves for a while, but occasionally returns to remind me of its existence, and when it does I look on it with as much fondness as I do shame. I had so much planned. To an extent, I still do. It sits in the back of my mind, waiting for me to get the courage to try again. Maybe I will someday, but for now it sits in a massive series of documents on my computer and Google. And here, now.

Randall and Sherwin Spencer, chosen heroes of Terraria, failed, and died. However, a pact Randall made with an otherworldly power both damned and saved them, and twenty years later, with the world shifting more violently than ever, the stars align to see them revived--without any memory of either of their past lives, man or monster. Guided by the displaced and irritable Keeper of the Underworld, who's trying and failing to remain low-key, the two eventually make their way to a refugee town founded by those the Spencers had abandoned long ago. And so their fight for Terraria begins anew, though now more difficult than ever with the Moon Lord trying to hinder them, the land's strengthening corruption pulling at their very souls, and a few key members of the Lunar Cult keeping a too-close eye on them, one of whom has more than a little bit of a bone to pick after a hasty decision invokes the Moon Lord's favoritism. Meant to be a story of companionship and family, hope and guilt, making up for mistakes and facing the people you hurt without running away, and saving the world--even when it's hard.

Okay, big spiel over, you can tell I still love this stupid thing. Have a bit I wrote slightly more recently (during NaNo 2018) of our green lad being outrageously stupid and summoning a boss, but it’s fine because the moon told him to do it, and then the boss screwed off because the cult told it to go and try to destroy the town so the twins didn’t have any support network. Instances of the character’s name have been replaced by [S]

The next orb was in another dip in the ground just before the main cavern closed itself off into a dead end. A grin spreading across his face, he swung practically before he even reached it.

This time, when the orb broke, dropping an odd-looking spear at his feet, the ground immediately began to rumble.

All at once, the gold light he’d been emitting winked out, leaving him in the purple-tinted darkness. He jolted as if suddenly waking from a dream, his thoughts quickly slipping back into focus as he leapt forwards to avoid being knocked down. A great quake shook the world around him, sending his teeth rattling in his head as he tried to figure out exactly where he was and how he’d gotten here.

He—he’d been on the roof, hadn’t he? The moon…but…how had he gotten here?

Another tremor. [S] grit his teeth and braced himself against the stone with both hands, hammer discarded at his side. He could swear he heard something in the distance; the earth turning, stone crunching, the low rumble of a creature’s roar…

The ground exploded behind him.

[S] scrambled forward, but found himself hitting the cavern’s dead end. He quickly pushed himself around to face the threat, and all the blood drained out of his face.

It was a titanic worm, thicker around than a man with mandibles the size of [S]’s head. Its skin was a sickly purple that almost blended in to the corrupted landscape, and it was covered in innumerable yellowed eyes, all focused directly on him with a look of absolute hatred as it rose up out of the earth, roaring loud enough to shake some loose stone from the walls.

[S] staggered backwards, back hitting the wall as he gaped up at the creature. Was this the worm he’d been told about? There was on time to worry about it—he was unarmed, he needed to get out—

The worm lunged forward with surprising speed, and [S] cried out as he launched himself to the side, back roughly smacking into the wall of the cavern. Hammer was quickly replaced with shield, and he scooped up the thin spear from the orb, testing its weight before plunging it down towards the worm’s body as it raced past.

The spear itself didn’t connect, but with a pulse of mana, it shot out a spike that made the worm roar in pain. [S] quickly dashed further down the cavern in an attempt to get more room to move as the worm burrowed itself into the ground, then burst out of the dead end towards him.

[S] quickly grappled the ceiling, feet barely an inch above the worm as it raced by underneath him, then burrowed back into the ground. Another roar shook the cavern, and the world around him rumbled and lurched, before the head of the worm popped out again above him, and its undulating body twisted up to try and encircle him.

Teeth clenched, he used the power of the shield to dash forward and past the worm, though it nicked him on his way by, causing him to hiss in pain and fumble his landing. He rolled along the ground until his head smacked into a Demon Altar, and stars shone in front of his eyes even as he struggled to get his legs back under him. He could hear the worm burrowing, hear it getting closer, closer, he forced himself up and started running without being entirely sure in which direction he was heading—

And then, the faint moonlight shimmering down from the surface seemed to brighten. The worm burst straight down vertically out of the ceiling where [S] had been standing, but it burrowed straight down into the floor without paying any mind to him. Its next appearance was traveling straight up, up, and out of one of the chasms, leaving [S] frozen as he watched it disappear and heard its roar fading into the distance.

A minute passed, then two, [S] listening intently to ensure the worm wasn’t about to come back. Three minutes later, [S] crumpled to his knees, gasping for the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding and letting the shield and Vilethorn drop to the stone beside him. His hands reached up to his head, and his face twisted as a massive headache blossomed behind his eyes.

His mind was racing. What was he doing here? Hadn’t he been on the roof moments ago? What had made the worm so upset at him?

Why had it left? And…where was it going?

[S] pushed himself into a proper sitting position, throwing his head back, eyes shut. The allure of the Corruption had absolutely left him, replaced by fear and guilt. Just what had he done, and why? Had Ret been right? What was he supposed to do now?

Ungodly screeching and scrabbling from creatures deeper in the cavern snapped him out of his endless questions, and he scrambled to his feet. He—he couldn’t go back to Rifdale, not yet, so without thinking he ran, he ran until he reached an alcove where one of the orbs had been (he remembered that, somewhat, vaguely, it was difficult to tell) and curled up inside, staring up at the opening as some of the Corruption’s strange mandibled creatures tried and failed to figure out a way through the opening.

Once he was certain they wouldn’t get in, he buried his face in his arms. He wasn’t sure how long he was going to stay there, but if he hadn’t been able to face Ret before…he certainly wasn’t ready to now.

---

Dissonant Counterpoint - Crypt of the Necrodancer - 2017

Talked about here, but here’s another bit dated January 2018, from near the fic’s tragic end, immediately after the undead Fret’s been incinerated by a red dragon.

"It seems a shame to just leave you here like this. You did have so much...potential."

He wasn't sure how he could see or how he could hear--it was something beyond him, now, some sort of magical tomfoolery he'd never wanted to deal with. But he could see Octavian's boots in front of his face and could hear his constant song pulsing inside his head.

"Ah, don't worry. I think I'll be able to get you set up with something you'd like."

Anger flared again.

You don't know a single fucking thing about what I'd like, he thought, You don't know anything about me. You never did. You just know what you made up.

He wasn't sure how he could stand, either, but he did, compelled by a command. He stared at his former friend, who now looked somewhat uncertain and spooked. He wanted to yell, he wanted to scream, but words were something else beyond him.

He could see and hear when he shouldn't be able to. He could stand when he shouldn't be able to. He could live when he shouldn't be able to.

And yet whatever cruel joke the universe wanted to play on him still refused to let him speak.

"Still have nothing to say to me, old friend?"

The anger burned away, just like everything else had. And all it left was a grim, defeated sort of certainty.

His final act of defiance would be to give in.

He refused to give Octavian the fight he so clearly wanted. He would not let this man tease and torment him, control him however he liked and know he was still there watching it all in despair. He refused to despair.

He couldn't move on his own anymore. He was no doubt unidentifiable. No one would know it was him except Octavian.

How's it gonna feel to get everything you wanted? He wished he could somehow convey his own bitterness, but he was frozen. To know there's nothing more for you to do?...I bet you're gonna hate it. You always wanted to be something more. How's it gonna feel when there’s nothing left to be?

Octavian ducked out of his sightline, and then something was shoved into his hand; the familiar shaft of his halberd. His fingers closed around it, though he wasn't sure how that was possible. Octavian looked...perhaps the least bit upset.

"Er, here. I'll get you something better later. Come along."

The song pulled him forward behind Octavian as they walked deeper into the crypt and away from his own coffin. The only thing that made him question his decision was the thought of Maria--his weird little half-sister that he did care about so much--sick, dying, clutched by fever like he was and all because of him. If she came here...If he wasn't here...

But maybe it would still be better, because she and whatever ghosts she could conjure to her aid would destroy him. And then it would be a double loss for Octavian. Something he could never fix.

Give him hell for me.

But he was going to free himself. He would not let himself stay trapped here anymore.

...You win. How's it feel?

The song seemed to grow louder in his head, rattling him to the core, overwhelming him, and the anger came back, burning hot and bright, and he stopped. He saw Octavian turning back to face him in confusion.

In one final act, he gathered up all of his strength.

He threw his head back, and broke whatever curse had left him speechless.

And he screamed.

---

are ya winnin the puyo tournament son (doc name) - Puyo Puyo - October 2020

Talked about here, but have another bit.

“Yes? Did you need something?” She looks them over. “I don’t think I’ve seen you around here before. Are you new?”

Ajisai gives a small bow. “Yes, very much so. I only just arrived here a little while ago, but I heard that you were arranging a Puyo tournament--and that more than just the magic school students were able to participate. Is that true?”

Accord turns her head, glancing at them out of the corner of her eye. “Yes, though the prize will only be for students this year. We had some...unexpected guests vying for it last time, and I’d like for my students to have incentive to show what they’ve learned.”

“Of course.” They nod respectfully. “I’m not interested in the prize, but I would like to participate if I’m able. I’ve been told I have some skill.”

There’s a moment’s pause as Accord looks them up and down searchingly, then shares a glance with the cat. A sly smile spreads across her face as she meets their eyes. “So, you’re participating by yourself this time?”

Ajisai’s eyes widen slightly, but they manage to recover. “Ah...yes, yes I am. Good eye.”

Accord giggles. “You could say we have a nose for this sort of thing.”

“And we don’t trust mew,” the cat adds, baring its teeth. 

Ajisai turns their focus to it, a hand to their chest in mock offense. They know what the cat’s about, of course. “You don’t trust me? Why, we’re practically family.”

The cat hisses, and Accord laughs again, though tries to hide it behind the feather of her cane. “He’s a bit high strung,” she offers, stroking the cat’s head with a finger--it appears to try and pout, but leans into the touch anyway. They’re almost positive they hear purring. Her gaze becomes serious. “Though I do hope you don’t intend to cause any trouble.”

“Of course not.” A hand over their heart, this time genuine. “My wits are about me again, and that is all in the past.” ...They can’t help a slight smirk. “...well, mostly. But I don’t want to cause any harm.”

Accord nods slowly, taking a second to judge their sincerity. “I’m going to choose to trust you.”

“I appreciate it.” Another, lower bow.