Tumgir
#Heat Shimmer Theater
gifmovie · 9 days ago
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ozu-teapot · 4 years ago
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Kagerô-za | Seijun Suzuki | 1981
Michiyo Ohkusu
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manganic-malaria · 4 years ago
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Kagerō-za (Heat-Haze Theatre), 1981
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undiscovered-horizon · 3 months ago
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Imagine being a warrior who grew up on an alien planet. One day, you become Doctor's champion in a trial by combat: a bizarre beginning of a relationship that will shake the universe in its time.
(Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5) (Part 6) (Part 7)
"Doctor, the last of Time Lords of planet Gallifrey,” the Emperor began. The audience in the arena was silent. ”For your crimes against Tartayah and her people you should be sentenced to die. But I am a merciful rex,” He smiled, rotting teeth shining in the scorching sun. ”And I will give you a chance to preserve your worthless head. A trial by combat!” Emperor yelled out with outstretched hands. The crowd roared. Hundreds of people dressed in tunics were waiting for the Doctor to close his eyes once and for all. ”Your champion against mine.”
All maenia were filled with people of various social statuses. For that day, they had put their differences aside to closely watch the death of a man who put an end to their bloody conquers across the system.
One gate at the battleground level, right below Emperor’s gallery, slowly opened. The four men opening the heavy stone door were visibly too weak to do it faster, their red skin glistening with sweat. Tartayan sun, just like the people of Tartaya, knew no mercy. The day, like many others, was fatally hot. Most surfaces were too scorching to be touched even through clothes.
Two enormous hands emerged from the gap between the door, held the wings one each, and slammed them against the wooden construction. The pace was too slow for them, it seemed. Maybe not all gate-openers were crushed to death.
The creature that emerged couldn’t be human, no, it was way too big. Seven meters tall and bigger than anything the Doctor has ever seen: veins under its reddish skin looked too thick to belong to a man. He was dressed in rags and had metal chains around his neck, ankles, and wrists: a slave, a gladiator. His right arm, the size of a horse at least, was holding a stone mace that was leaning on his shoulder.  The gladiator had a full helmet on, Doctor couldn’t see his face. It was the only piece of armor the gargantuan Tartayan was wearing.
"And who should fight for you, Doctor?” the Emperor asked before laughing. The crowd laughed with him. "Could it be that all others have left you, oh, the last of the Time Lords?"
Doctor’s gaze found Rose who was equally terrified and hiding near one of the exits, among women, in higher parts of the theater. She knew she couldn’t help, although she was already thinking about how to possibly delay the hour of doom. The metals chains around Doctor's hands started to heat up in the Tartayan sun. It burned his skin. The coarse sand he was kneeling on irritated his skin even through clothes. He could feel waterfalls of sweat drench all layers that he was wearing. The Doctor started to pant, his mouth dry and his head starting to hurt: not used to such weather, he was fighting against the wrathful rays of Tartayan sun. If he did not do something soon, the incoming heat stroke could do the job faster than the seven meters tall giant in front of him.
”I -" he began but didn’t have the chance to end.
”I will fight, your majesty." A voice behind him said. It was a woman.
And in that second, every set of eyes has lied on her: (Y/N). She had her hair put into an intricate and quite fancy hairstyle, the pearly decorations contrasted with her tanned, dirty skin. (Y/N) had yellow warpaint on her face, its design followed local artistic traditions. Physically speaking, she was muscular, big even for a Tartayan woman, who already grew larger than women on Earth. She was dressed in a white flowy tunic and greyish baggy underpants. (Y/N)'s legs were covered by a type of thick bandage in places where her underpants did not provide sufficient protection from the scorching sun. On her feet, she was wearing a pair of old brown shoes made from cheap leather. She held a shimmering, silver one-sided sword in each of her hands. Although her clothes yelled poverty, (Y/N)'s weaponry was of extraordinarily high quality, on top of being well taken care of. The Doctor noticed that under the tunic's wide sleeves, she was wearing more bandage: it wrapped around her hands and forearms, securing wrists and joints between fingers.
”And who are you, warrior?” The Emperor asked displeased. He had plans for that evening and if real combat was about to ensue, those plans will have to be rescheduled.
”I am (Y/N) of Viperion, the War Dancer!” She yelled back so everyone could hear her. ”And I stand here, on these hallow sands to fight as the champion of the Doctor of Gallifrey. This champion knows her holy duty!”
”What are you doing?” The Doctor tried asking her quietly. He didn’t want anyone dying for him although he did not complain about watching a real War Dancer fight if it had to be the last thing he saw before death.
”Saving your life, what else did you think? Weird to be the one saved instead of saving, isn’t it?”
”I don’t want you to fight for me. Look at that guy, you’ll die.”
(Y/N) looked at the faceless giant in front of her: his knees were more or less at the same height as her head. If the story of David and Goliath was untrue, it surely became real at that moment.
A gist of wind smacked Doctor's wet face with a handful of coarse, hot sand. He could feel the little granules burning and irritating his skin. Although he was drenched with sweat, everything felt dry.
"Too late, my friend.” She smiled. ”Fortunately, I don’t know when to die. A trait we have in common.”
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divinedoggo · 11 months ago
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An Acquired Taste
Pairing - Getou Suguru x Reader
Summary – You ask Getou a question about his curse technique.
Tag(s) - Fluff, Kissing
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It looks like chocolate.
That thought crosses your mind as you witness Getou use his curse technique.  Black and tar like, the defeated curse swirls into an orb inside the palm of his hand with a strange light shimmering inside it.  No matter how many times you watch him do it, Getou always amazes you with how mesmerizing his technique is.  To turn these curses that hurt people into a force for good.
But than reality come back to remind you that good things come with cons at times.
An unknown emotion flickers across Getou’s face as he shallows the ball whole and his body stutters. His throat bobs as it enters his body and he lets out a breath similar to a person who was close to being sick.
“Are you okay?”  He chuckles at your baffled expression, his eyes examining you for any injuries. “That curse was pretty strong, did you get hurt?”
“Ah, no... Um, Getou-kun, I-I…”  You twiddle your fingers as you try to come up with a good excuse.  Right, it’s rude to stare and you probably made him uncomfortable. “I…”
“They won’t hurt you...”
“Huh?”  You stare at him as he approaches you, the smug expression on his face makes your heart beat a little faster.  He coughs to clear his throat before he delivers a long-winded speech with the practiced proficiency you normally seen from teachers.
“Once the curse is weakened, I will be able to extract it and have it purified by my technique.  To do this, I orally ingest the captured curse and it is purified by my body.  Once this process is completed, they are completely under my control and-”
“What do curses taste like?” Your question cuts him off and it is his turn to be baffled at you.  You scratch the back of your head as you feel your face burn, waiting for him to make fun of you.
But he just stares at you, pink dusting his cheeks and eyes wide with shock.  You wonder if you are being too bold with your question and just made him upset.  You prepare an apology, but a deep chuckle escapes from him and gives you pause.
“What?  What kind of question is that?”  Chuckles turns into full-blown laughter and your body feels like it’s on fire as you choke out an explanation.
“I see you eat them so many times!  I get a little curious sometimes…”  You cross your arms and look away with a huff.  It’s an honest question after all.  “But for you to think I might be afraid of you.  Do you truly think so lowly of me, Getou-kun…?”
“Sorry, sorry!  Give me a sec!  Don’t try run away.”  He wipes a tear from his eye as he grabs your hand to stop you from reporting back to the Auxiliary Manger.  His hand is warm and gentle.  “It’s not a question I’m used to being asked.”
You both stand there in the clearing with the sound the summer cicadas buzzing and the wind.  You look back to see a contemplative look on Getou’s face as he mulls over your question.
“It’s a bit of an…acquired taste.”  You brush your thumb softly over his knuckles as you wait for him to gather his thoughts. No words come to you, the startling sight of Getou having nothing to say for once.  A look of insecurity crosses his face and it makes you feel bad for asking this of him.  
“How do I explain it without you thinking I’m gross…”  Your heart breaks a little as you hear that.
“You always smell like sandalwood…”  You look away from him as you start off, your heart beats fast as butterflies flutter in your stomach.  Is it weird when you tell a guy he smells good?  “And you… I always feel at ease when you’re around and I like dependable you are…”
“Oh~?”  A teasing smirk spreads on his face as he interlocks his fingers with yours to pull you close.  You didn’t like that look.  That look usually preludes before he or Gojou do something to embarrass you. “Keep going. I’m liking where this is going.”
Crap!  That sounded too close to a confession now that you mull it over.  Tone it down before he gets ideas and a even bigger head.  
“But sometimes you come off as a bit smug.”  You pull away and your turn your nose up like a hissy cat.  God forbid you feed into his strange ego you catch at times.  “And your pissing contests with Gojou-san can get a little bit old…Especially when you got us kicked out of the theater that one time. Oh!  And the incident where-”
“Let’s not talk about that~!” His laugh is insincere as he reins you back in and locks you in a hug. You dig your feet into the ground as he tries to lift you.  The air went from teasing to tense.  “Tell me how great I am again.”
Now, from the distance, a stranger can misconstrue his actions as romantic, but the truth is this move is the equivalent of a wrestler preparing to suplex their foe.  He is just waiting for an excuse to start a fight if you continue to engage this way.
“We’re straying away from the original topic.”  You surrender as you try to lower your center of gravity to counter him.  “What do curses taste like?”
He hums in fake thought to draw this whole thing out and your pinch his sides to voice your displeasure. A light bulb goes off in his head and he gives you a bit of a sly look as you prepare yourself for the worst.
“Close your eyes.” You puff up and stare him straight in the eyes with disbelief.  He laughs, easing his hold on you as a truce before repeating his request.  Something warm fills his eyes as he flutters his eyes lashes at you teasingly.  “Trust me, I’ll show you how it tastes.”
You sigh through you nose, giving him one last warning with a glare before closing your eyes.  The afternoon sun warms your eyelids. Cicadas buzz around you as you wait for him.  As you focus on your other senses, the faints smell of sandalwood fills your nose and a feeling of calm comes over you as he relaxes his hold on you.  
A shadow falls over you and blocks out the light.   You flinch as a hand cups your face and you feel a thumb brush over your cheekbones. You go stiff, your heartbeat roaring in your ears, his other arm lowers to your lower back.  
“Open up.”
You feel like you are about to burst.  Warily, you part your lips barely a sliver and you feel a warm heat hover over them.   Worry, anticipation, and curiosity flood you as a minute goes by and nothing happens. For a second you got scared that maybe he was about to prank you and just when you are about to open your eyes. Time stops.
His lips meet yours and you melt.  Your arms loop around him as he turns his head to deepen the kiss.  You welcome him in, lips parting as he molds himself into you. Your mind spins, question long forgotten as you give yourself over to bliss.  He holds you closely as your knees go weak and leans into you.  For a few minutes, everything around you two melts away and you forgot why you were there in the first place.
Then he stops.
“So…”  You blink as he grins down at you with a smugness.  His tongue darts out to lick his lips as he stares into your eyes.  “Do you want another taste of me?”
You can feel steam whistling from your ears as rage and mortification fill you.  Your emotions war inside you as he laughs at your ire and you couldn’t tell if you wanted to slap him for the audacity or pull him back in for a second kiss.  
Just as things are about to come to a head and turn violent again, Gojou Satoru finds a way to make things come back to him.
“Are you two done over there?  We have to report back or Yaga is going to lecture us again!”  You and Suguru turn your heads to find Gojou at the edge of the clearing.  Phone in hand, Gojou was wabing at you two with a shit-eating grinning across his face.
“Suguru-chan~!  We can’t get in trouble again after the incident!” He teases, the click of his phone’s camera echoes across the clearing like a gun shot.  “What would he say if he found out you two lovebirds were out here canoodling?”
The rest of the afternoon is filled with Suguru trying to wrangle Gojou’s phone away as you slowly die inside. Like a child, Gojou finds a way to make it worse as he gives a vivid account on how he became oh so worried about you two and came by to make sure you two were okay.  His storytelling top with making kissy faces at your two’s expense. This incident will fuel Gojou for the next two weeks as he uses it to goad Suguru into a fight or call him out if he was being a bit to promiscuous at the café.
But…
You press your fingers to your lips, the ghost of a smile on them as you remember the taste of Suguru’s on them.  You feel warm and soft inside with the memory of him stored safely inside.
He tastes like strawberries.
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nevergettingoverwincest · 7 months ago
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Like That - Weecest Fic
My fic for the @wincestreversebang​ inspired by the awesome art of @alexiescherryslurpy​ - See the art HERE or on AO3 Rated E, underage Fic and art on AO3
 Dean was propped against the wall in the shade under the tattered awning in front of the office.  Heat rolled off the cracked concrete of the parking lot, but at least the Wyoming wind blew dry and gritty during the hottest part of the afternoon. The motel was quiet. It was a weekday afternoon, people were either gone or lying low from the August weather.  Technically Dean was watching the desk for Kelly Ann while she fed the baby. She would make him and Sam dinner in exchange, in the little manager’s apartment behind the office. Dean had managed to get a job at Gillette’s single, run-down movie theater but stale popcorn was less useful to bring home than leftover gas station hotdogs.
 At the end of the breezeway, Mrs. Lawson, who was living in room 115 since her husband was “a real piece of work when he drinks,” was hanging washing on a portable drying rack in the sun. Dean made a mental note to ask her for some laundry detergent. He and Sam were down to their last clean pair of socks between them, and the less said about their underwear, the better.
 Cars roared by on I-90, a constant, distant rumble - tourists headed toward Yellowstone, or Bighorn, or Sundance. Gillette was too close to the parks to stop, and too far from everything else. Most importantly it was far enough from whatever top secret hunt Dad was on that he’d felt comfortable ditching them, but a day’s drive to Bobby’s “if something happens.” Dean wasn’t sure what would have to happen to make Bobby welcome them back, after the last fight he and dad’d had, but he’d just said “yessir.”
 School would be starting for Sam in a month, but that was a long way away. They’d be somewhere else by then. They’d already been in Gillette for three weeks, which was a week longer than Dad’s usual hunt timeline, but they’d gotten a voicemail from him a couple of days ago, so at least he was alive.
 Across the parking lot a door slammed and the lanky figure of Dean’s brother loped toward him, shimmering with heat haze, bare feet shoved into his battered sneakers. His hair was long enough that it was curling at the ends, fluffing out untidily around his head. He hadn’t reached Dean when another door opened and Sam was intercepted.
 “Hi, Sam.” Delaney Davis was about Sam’s age, blonde, pretty enough for a fifteen year old, and always stank of her stepdad’s dope.
 “Hey.” Dean could hear them over the highway noise.
 “Whachya doing?” As far as Dean could tell, in a short but storied life of living out of hotels, Delaney was doing a good job keeping her head above water for a teenager whose parents were definitely dealing heroin. She’d be a decent fuck and a better friend, if Sam could pull his foot out of his mouth for five minutes.
 “Not much. I was just reading.”
 Delaney fiddled with the end of her ponytail. “Some friends and I are going swimming at the lake this weekend. Saturday. Do you want to come?”
 “Sure. Yeah.” Sam shuffled his feet. “Can Dean come?” Dean dropped his head back against the cinder block wall.
 “Sure,” Delaney said, and laughed.
 Later, alone with Sam in the dingy, musty-smelling office, Dean said, “Sam when a girl asks you on a date, you don’t ask if you can invite your brother along.”
 Sam made a face. “It wasn’t a date. Her friends will be there. And you and I were going to watch that new Zorro movie Saturday. I didn’t want to ditch you.”
 A thrum of affection for his baby brother pulsed through Dean’s chest. Sam’s teenage moodiness seemed to be getting worse, not better, but sometimes he’d turn so sweet and earnest Dean got whiplash.
 Slinging an arm around Sam’s neck, Dean wrestled him into a headlock, ignoring the fact that he might not be able to for much longer. Sam had grown, offensively, an inch and a half taller than Dean this year, but he was still beanpole skinny, and Dean managed to pin him between his armpit and the counter. The bell chimed gently as Sam’s flailing elbow hit it. “We can watch Zorro any night, it’s running for another week.” He scuffed his knuckles through Sam’s silky-soft hair. “Let’s go get wet with some girls instead.”
 “It’s not like that,” Sam said, muffled into his armpit.
 “Sam, Sam, Sam.” Dean patted his head. “When a girl asks you to go night swimming, it’s always like that.”
Keep Reading on AO3
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hungryflowers · 9 months ago
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You’re Different Backstage
Title: You’re Different Backstage
Rating: Explicit (NSFW)
Continuity/Fandom: Balan Wonderworld
Character Relationship(s): “Balance” Balan/Lance
Character(s): Balan, Lance
A/N: This is going to be my FIRST NSFW submission for this fandom. Do not come at me with the torches, pitch forks, knives or shotguns. I, very recently, sent myself down the rabbit hole of Balance (Balan/Lance) and kept wondering: how nice would it be to see some good ol’ fashion sexy time with the two of them? Since no one has done it yet, I thought, why don’t I? What’s stopping me? Who can stop me? NOBODY!!! So I did this. And it took me 10 days to do, so please accept my thing!! Also, also, this will probably be the longest porn w/o plot I’ve ever written. Hence why it took nearly ten days. The editing alone was bananas!! Another thing, I’d like to apologize in advance if I offend anyone here who is Non-Binary or go by They/Them pronouns. Since Lance is canonically non-binary, I tried to keep it as close to the orientation as possible. This was real hard as I usually default to male pronouns for both of them. 
However, I didn’t do the same for Balan, as he does tend to go by more male pronouns than Lance does even though they are also androgynous in appearance. Maestro is a more masculine term even if neither of them actually are. Another big thing: Balan’s genitals here. Since they don’t have actual default genitalia, I like to think that he has the ability to oscillate his genitals. He can have male and female parts just not at the same time. With that out of the way, please indulge in this steamy lil’ fan fic. And yes, I take criticism.  
Other/Warning(s): Massive smut warning!! Penetrative sex, Oral and Cunnilingus, Some minor swearing, graphic depictions of sexual situations as well as multiple orgasms.  
Lance didn’t enjoy setting the ‘mood’ as others had assumed it. They weren’t  deeply inclined to romantic, or sappy gestures like the better half of themselves had been. Balan seemed better at the sentimental side of affirmations of love and adoration. Or of praises and well-wishes that devolved into lasting conversations of love and happiness. 
No. No such things came out of Lance. They never gave in the way Balan would crave it. All they have ever wished for in turn was the physical catharsis of those suppressed feelings. Lance never called it love. Far be it from them to say what it wasn’t, but call it what it is. For them, it was just sex. The debasing art form of it too; bed-rocking, sloppy and wet, body tingling sex. That kind one would have as a means to purge the physical, mental garbage of the day and get back to work. The sex that revolved around more the need to take and not deal in the emotional ramifications. Lance’s fangs would draw in a wicked grin, the idea of that perfect, lasting till the morning time sex rarely sounding so bad. They had raptured, fantasized of the feel of Balan’s more delicate, tender frame mashed into theirs as he was ridden to a mind-blowing high that could leave them both speechless for a long while. 
They would languish in these thoughts. The perverse nature of them driving him to do insane things in search of the release from the monstrous, bone-rattling ache. For now, Lance busied themselves to look away... their thoughts hazy and muddled with the resurfacing gnaw of pursuing pleasure. Their mouth ducked into their tattered caplet, hiding the baring growl that prickled at those lips. Soft, ocean-colored eyes hardened with shock, and some surprise as they locked with Balan’s. They must’ve been so entranced with the inner turmoil, Lance never registered the glance the maestro was giving them. The Maestro of Wonderworld’s presence did things to Lance. Things they acknowledged and didn’t like. Gods, who decided to torment them so by making this being so damned beautiful and siren-like? How dare he sit with an air so casual, it appeared nothing ever bothered him? Damn him. Damn his soft, luscious and devilish curves; feminine in some ways while masculine in others. But moreover, damn those goddamn large and intelligent yellow eyes.
Golden pools shimmered deliciously in the lamplight of the slow evening. The theater was always quiet at night. It was period of reflection, relaxation. Or maybe a time to finish some old project. Maybe begin anew. For Balan tonight however, it was his time to catch up on a few good reads. He hadn’t picked up a good novel in some time. Usually the only papers he read were his rough drafts of scripts and plans. But he loved to read. When he didn’t harass Lance with trivial tasks, or for the nuisance of conversation, Balan read. If not that, he wrote. He was a maestro of the craft; short stories, full-lengths, prompts and scenarios, or sometimes just a journal entry. On this night he didn’t busy himself with putting quill to parchment. 
Balan's mouth opened, a sound coming out but no words. He wasn’t entirely sure how to ask about Lance’s wellbeing with being snapped at. The other appearing to be in a dour mood tonight. Placing the book on the small, rounded oak table Balan unfolded his legs to stand. He stretched idly, rubbing at the back of his top hat before pulling it off his head to fluff out his bouncy mint-colored dreads. Humming a little tune, Balan rummaged through his showman jacket, pulling out a golden rubber band to tie his long dreads back. The tendrils folded down his shoulders neatly once they were out of the way, exposing the intricately made heart marking atop his dark forehead. 
His eyes fanned over the negati’s hidden features before he walked over to the bar on the far side of the room. Opening one of the cabinets, he pulled out an aged bottle of wine; the label slightly tarnished and dusty read in calligraphic silver “Caraveét”. He grabbed gold-rimmed chalices, pouring the shimmering iris colored wine into each of the glasses. He grinned, smelling the sweet and tart flavors. He took a slow sip from his glass before tapping the bar table with his gloved fingers, the racketing bring Lance out of their stupor.
“Did you want some?”, He inquired, hoping the swirling liquid would ease the storm that ravaged the negati, “You seem a bit broody tonight. Perhaps, a couple of glasses should ease both our minds.” The maestro chuckled giddily raising his glass as it gleamed in the low light. 
Lance regarded the glass, then the maestro as he walked over to them. The tentacles on their back lashed so abruptly, Lance had to do a non-verbal apology when they knocked over a few chairs by accident. They weren’t brooding. Not even mad, but they were feeling something. Just not sure how to find the words for it. 
Balan’s eyes drifted to Lance’s, regarding them. Waiting for them to answer the question they most likely didn’t hear in the first place. 
“What?” The tone was not to be a biting, agitated type yet Lance couldn’t make themselves look at Balan, knowing full well the turmoil they were in.
“Nothing... I was just asking if you would like a glass of wine? You are more the brooding lot than usual. Drink with me.” Balan’s playful baritone voice felt like velvet as it caressed their ears. That voice caused Lance to sulk further more, hiding their face inside the caplet as the thoughts, seeming to feel more like whispers of temptation, dominated their rational thinking. 
He took the offered glass yet chose not to drink of any of it. Instead he loomed over the rim as Balan took a long swig of his. 
Lance licked at their lips, unknowing of the gesture. They would give more than anything to kiss the taste off of Balan’s lips. Or just to kiss them at all. They had wondered what it would be like to feel the maestro’s lips tentatively licking, caressing theirs in a heated lip-lock. The maddening thoughts came back tenfold, causing the other in audible snarl, attempting to shut them away. 
“Lance... are you okay?” They heard Balan on the bridge of their conscious, the other’s voice like a muddling hum as they stood up quickly to move in front of Balan. The other, not knowing how to judge the move, backed into the bar, his glass still in hand while he searched the eyes of Lance. They appeared to be wild, nearly frantic with an energy Lance never expressed. 
Lance leered at the other silently before pushing himself right into the maestro’s form; trapping him in front of the wood lacquer. Balan’s fleeing gaze made Lance smile. Not grin... smile. His mouth perking with something that could not be said as his hands went to Balan’s cravat, pulling the other slowly toward him. 
“No...”, Lance confessed, eyes lulling closed dreamily, “I am not okay. And you are to blame.” That smile showed off the fangs, the points flitting in the soft lamplight. 
Balan could not fully process what was going on before Lance leaned in fully to capture the other’s lips. Night after night, they had dreamt up this moment and even now they cannot believe they had gotten this far. It was far better than any dream or wish; light blue eyes sliding closed as a slender tongue went past the maestro’s parted, stunned mouth. That moment caused a ripple of shock to seize Balan, contents of his glass spilling onto the floor, no doubt leaving a stain that’ll have to be dealt with. He didn’t even have the knowledge of dropping it, yellow eyes staring at Lance’s softened face before he willed himself to kiss back. His hands, once frozen indecisively, pulled Lance in close.  
Neither were sure how it had come to this, but Balan didn’t have the heart in him to make Lance stop. A small purr rumbled the kiss as Lance began to pull off. They disconnected breathlessly, only the small tail of spittle between them. Their breaths were heavy and hot, burning like steam with each exhale. It took the maestro to gather his bearings before his mouth was able to work again. 
“W-Why am I to blame?? Lance what’s happened to you?” Balan felt as if he knew what was about to happen, and tried his best to make it all make sense. He was normally in a lot more control in surprise like situations; yet here... he was unable to predict the sheer tumbling force that Lance was portraying. 
“You’ll understand soon enough,” Lance whispered, deftly kissing down Balan’s neck, inky-black hair brushing amethyst sparkled cheeks, “I’ll make you understand.” They said louder with a growl that exposed fangs.
Purrs rumble through Lance as they fumbled with anything that would be able to get Balan’s ensemble off. Instantly they are met with resistance as Balan shoves at them, hands going to the sharp shoulders defensively. 
“Lance! What do you think you’re doing?!” Balan exclaimed, standing his ground before Lance doubles their efforts to expose the maestro. They are only slimly successful when get to expose Balan’s upper shoulder; the tear just big enough to reveal swirling lines of golden runes, “Have you lost your mind?!”
 The other refuses to answer him, bringing themselves flush against Balan to kiss down the exposed markings. 
Had they managed to lose their mind? Lance would have to give that some thought later on. In the afterglow. But first, they’d have to get down from the tantalizing high that has them under a spell. Their lips brushed softly down the exposed skin, running lightly over the maestro’s clothed arm. Gods, both of them just had on too many layers. Lance flared up, frustrated by the inability to firmly feel the decadent skin.
“Lance, let me go!” Balan demanded, the command in his voice barely swaying Lance to push off him. He was losing control of the situation. And the scary part of it was that was what he wanted. Balan would have been lying to himself if he said that he didn’t want this. Yet to get it from Lance this way was never a part of the plan. 
“You don’t want me to let you go.” Lance stated, eyes twinkling with more than just mischief behind them.
“Yes I do!” Balan choked out, his act and bravado beginning to fail him.
“Then why are you pulling yourself into me?” Lance chuckled, allowing their hands to wander down Balan’s waist.
“I’m-” He stammered not expecting to see or know that he had been pulling Lance closer the entire time. Forbid it all, he wanted this negati more than anything right now. And he was showing how badly. Damn his body for this. He was normally in better control of his reactions, this lapse should not have been tolerated. 
His be-speckled face shown with the brewing embarrassment of being caught before shoving himself a bit harder, finally escaping Lance’s grasp. The poor thing looked a fright; face flushing a deep violet, hair askew as it rolled down his shoulders and back, teeth clenched in discomfort as he attempted to steady his breathing. His chest must’ve rattled from the urge to scream at Lance. Instead he stamped off, refusing to let Lance see how flustered he became. He’ll have to be in his room for a while to work out the steam that began to build.
He didn’t get far as a few tendrils of inky black wrapped around the other’s waist. He could hardly make a verbal protest while being pulled back into the other’s form. Large claws going up his neck, arresting Balan’s smooth belly as the tendrils dipped further. The tentacles moved lively, squeezing and pulling on the other as Lance’s hands swept and groomed over the maestro’s suit. When one hand dipped between Balan’s legs, he seized up. 
Yellow eyes dilated, Lance’s touch freezing his mind. The groan that escaped him was not intended yet was enough to make Lance’s groin ache. He was going to force those sounds out of Balan. In one way or the other. Their night was going to be fulled with these delicious noises. The tendrils smoothed over him, probing the other perversely. 
“Lance...please.” Balan became unaware of what he was begging for. He wanted this to stop, but he also felt like he’d regret refusing. This Lance... was much different than the one he’d encountered previously. The change felt real jarring; since they never made moves into his personal space. For anything. Least of all... This! He wanted to see where this could go. How much better it could get. 
His own hands skimmed over Lance’s suit, prompting the other to loosen their grip as Balan slid away from the tendrils. Balan took one coil in between his fingers, golden eyes gazing into the blue ones. The heat behind the other’s eyes made Lance shudder, a harsh sigh coming from his mouth as Balan took the tip of Lance’s tendril into his. The look stayed as the tendril came from Balan’s mouth, his tongue connecting it. The appendage darted out to swipe at the excess spittle left behind, the maestro’s eyes still glowing with a renewed heat. 
The action prompted a sneer from Lance’s features, their hand waving for a portal to open up behind Balan. The maestro gasped, turning to the hazy violet-colored portal. The shout of shock was to be expected as he was shoved right through it, the residual tethers of Lance’s self control snapping audibly as it receded. 
The overwhelmed, unknowing audience of Tims sat, wiggled, waddled and creeped up to sit in the place both beings had been.
                           ______________________________
It was not the fall that left him breathless as he landed on the massive expanse of what felt like a lavish bed. It wasn’t the deep contrasting colors of purple and gold accents that were illuminated by rainbow-esque runes and paintings of Negati markings throughout the immense, intimate space. Nor was it the pulsating rivets of scarlet that blended salaciously with the black and purple blankets and amassing of huge, plumy pillows. 
Lance himself left him utter breathless; transfixing him, mesmerizing him with the oscillating negati runes that gleamed in the room. Lance had never done this display before. Their runes barely pulsed or shined vibrantly whenever they were around each other. Evermore rarer when he was alone. The runes gave him an ethereal hue that the nighttime sky couldn’t rival. He brushed that thought away as Lance struggled out of their wardrobe, hardly mindful of seams, buttons or zippers as the top half of his shorn cloak was disposed of somewhere in the low lit room. Balan flinched yet shuddered at the ferocity Lance had showcased in removing his own tunic and darker colored vest from underneath. With his chest exposed; the tapestry of rune lines and fuchsia gleaming in the violet backdrop of the room, he was on Balan.
The maestro’s bright color scheme contrasted a great deal with the whole room, snow white wrapped in gold and scarlet with the fettering of navy with his undershirt. The colors screamed obnoxiously in comparison, and Lance wanted them all off. Balan looked on, dazed by the negati while Lance’s -no longer gloved, dark- fingers delved to pull apart the top of the collar, effortlessly tearing it asunder, a low suffering sound coming from the maestro but not much else. He would figure that Lance would be like this. There was no such thing as intimacy or care with the negati. Everything he touched broke in his hands. Balan knows well that this time will be no different.
 Those warmed hands skimmed over the prone body, fingers probing through the opened seams of the tattered clothings. They tickled him, a warm and fuzzy sensation spreading throughout the squirming frame. Balan felt lips on his chest, hands assisting in the pleasing endeavor while the other arched and shook. His mouth opened in an exhalation of steaming desire. When Lance pinched a nipple, Balan shot upwards in heated rebellion, forcing Lance to restrain him with his tendrils. 
He was about to demand that Lance release him yet was cowed into silence by a startling growl, “This ends if you keep moving.” That voice, their voice had done something to the maestro. In other instances, Balan would have fought Lance until the other relented control, but during this... he went oddly still, placate as Lance continued to trace a trail of kisses down his chest. He brought his hips forward and up as the negati began kissing down his belly, stopping shy of the seam of his pants. Warm hands went into the other’s pants, the kindled heat coming off of Balan’s genitals enough to make Lance purr. 
The maestro struggled against the hold as Lance pulled his pants down, heeled boots joining them as pile on the floor; kissing trails down his waist and down his legs. When the teeth pricked his skin, Balan thrashed. His face aglow with purplish speckles that brightened with his flush. He sparkled everywhere; cheeks, chest, hips and down the markings of his illuminated, swirling markings. Even the tendrils of his hair began to glow a slight with the forbidden heat. The hold on the restraints doubled.
“What did I just say?” Lance growled, the reverberating making Balan tense.
“L-Lance! Lance...”, Balan was calling to him yet couldn’t reach him as the negati roughly rid him of his clothing. Nearly naked, Balan shivered in the cool of the room as well as under the heated gaze of the negati, whom crawled up his frame to, again, kiss and lick at his newly glowing speckles, “Please... don’t stop! Please, Lance.” The maestro whispered pleas were a shock to the negati’s ears. He still wanted to punish him for fighting but couldn’t bring himself to do it. He was becoming so lost to the feelings. 
“Save your voice, pet...”, Lance whispered as his fingers slipped past the maestro’s brightly colored panties, feeling him for the first time, “It is too premature for you to be screaming for me now.” He chuckled more as his folds became reactive to the fingers smoothing them over, luscious wetness forming inside the panties. 
Balan’s eyes widened, the shock of Lance’s finger boldly touching him made him to squirm, his own palm moving atop the negati’s. Much to Lance’s surprise, he didn’t hinder him yet chose to guide his fingers even closer, near enough for them to breach the delectable, delicate walls. Sun-yellow eyes rolled back once he felt one fingertip push its way inside, stopping short of sinking in completely. The maestro’s moan was unabashedly loud, body rolling in venture of more fingers. Lance marveled with fascination at the other’s willingness; form softening as he shook his head to and fro in delirium. He couldn’t stop shaking, lithe body aroused as the finger came from his wet sex. He smelt utterly delicious, dripping the natural nectar like a perfectly ripe fruit. His tongue slipped out to have a taste of it... and it had been everything he had hoped for. 
The aroma of the finest wine with the scintillating notes of vanilla and lavender. His cock pulsed in his own pants, over eager for its own taste. 
In horny glee, Lance yanked off the maestro’s panties, tossing the last piece of clothing into the darkness of his chambers in order to marvel at the most succulent sight in between the other’s rune spiraled legs. The plump lips of the vulva were just perfect enough to kiss, the natural wetness dribbling onto the blankets, glittering a soft purple as it did. The negati locked eyes with the heated, glazed expression before moving to take Balan’s mouth in a heated, soft kiss. The other kissed back with more fervor than before, free hand going behind Lance’s head to drag him down. 
 They pulled away with a long, loud sigh. The other scoring hot in contrast to the sheets beneath. Balan splayed his legs more, allowing for more room.
Lance grabbed up his thighs roughly, pulling him to the end of the bed to comfortably rest on their knees. Without much warning, Lance dipped his mouth right onto the humming lips of his vulva. That tongue went right to work at lapping up the sticky juices in and around those lips, a soft chuckle coming out of Lance as Balan shouted in lewd desire. His giant hands went right to Lance’s head, twining his fingers in the other’s hair as he shook and shimmied to the lapping tongue, hips arching to bring those lips closer to his pussy. 
Lance focused on the luscious flavor of his cunt, dragging Balan closer to them as the maestro attempted to pull back. Their grasp got tighter the harder Balan fought against the hold.  He felt the other’s grip in his hair, the tugging just enough to keep Lance deep. He lost his mind to Lance’s teeth grazing the top of his clit before sucking hard on his folds.
“Gods! Uhh, huh, L-L-Lance!”, Balan stammered, the corner of his eyes prickling with unshed tears while he fought and screamed into Lance’s lips. He was in heaven, but damn him if he’d admit that to the Negati. Balan flailed his head, mint-colored dreads going all over as he lost all semblance of control, “Dear gods Lance! Please! I cannot take...!” Balan pleaded for him to stop, to show any mercy on him as an intense rush of savage, carnal desire shot through him. When the other didn’t heed him, he wept. A startled sob ripped from his gasping maw as he arched into Lance’s rippling tongue. 
Lance backed off in order to awe at the loss of self control Balan was beginning to display. He took in the panting, shaking mess of a maestro before his very eyes; mouth hanging open as he greedily swallowed gulps of air, body aquiver with mind melting lust, hands holding his head like a vice as those sinful thighs wrapped around him. The sight of him made the negati moan unintentionally, tongue plundering the maestro. The vibrations of it caused Balan to clench on him and scream, both hands abandoning Lance’s hair to slide against the cooler sheets. 
“Oh! Oh gods, please, please...” The maestro whimpered, body relishing in that feeling while his mind boiled in intensity. 
Lance, accounting for Balan’s behavior, moaned louder and longer against the lips of Balan’s clit, as well as kept their tongue inside with the intent to find his G-spot. They kept at it for sometime, their tongue buried deep as their hands massaged over Balan’s heated, dark thighs. They kept the maestro as close as they could as they tongued the bundle of nerves located far up the other’s pelvis. 
“Wait! Wait! Lance please... don’t...please-” He hardly could finish the plea as instant rapture shot through his frame, causing him to clench on Lance’s tongue in a spine-melting orgasm. His mouth hung open in a room-rocking cry as his body snapped rigid, arms behind him as he grasped tight on the sheets. His chest thudded rapidly to his erratic breathing. His flesh clenching and tingling around Lance’s tongue the climax continued through him. There would be no reprieve however as he became rigged again, legs snapping around Lance’s head suddenly with another powerful orgasm. 
Lance had not stopped even through the second climax. Not even with Balan wailing in what could be felt as pain. The silky walls gushed with his essence, the liquid sex simmering on the negati’s tongue as they drank it. A pleasured laugh rippled through them as they pressed hard kisses to the top of Balan’s pussy. Kissing it several more times as Balan screamed at them in another language. They still didn’t stop as he felt the other kicking at them with feverish intent. When he almost clambered away, Lance reinforced their hold to plunge their tongue into him again. 
“For gods sake Lance! I can’t take anymore! Stop, please! I beg of you!” He wailed as tears streamed down his face. 
An empathetic grimace came to Lance’s face as they finally relinquished his hold on the thoroughly ruined maestro. Their lips were deliciously wet with the slick of the other’s sex, the taste even better than the wine he captured on Balan’s lips only moments ago. He watched him roll on the sheets, finding some balance of his overheated body and the cold contrast of the dark sheets. Deliriously, he crooned and purred as he came down from the high. It took him about five minutes total to calm himself. And then he smacked Lance’s shoulder. Hard. 
“Bastard! I told you to stop! What in the hell would it have taken for you to listen to me?!” He hissed, eyes narrowing darkly as he sat up. He seemed the opposite of pleased at the moment. A contrast that Lance felt prepared to deal with. Can’t please some people. The sentiment literal in Balan’s case. 
“You were fine with me not a few minutes ago.” Lance jabbed as they groaned at the pressing of that erection against their tight pants. The glare Balan shot at Lance made the other’s ears pin low. 
“That was before I had two orgasms in a row, heathen! You should have more respect for me. And be more receptive Lance. This isn’t just about you!!” He snapped. Nope. None too pleased at all. 
Lance blinked, “This... wasn’t about me. Trust that if it were; I would’ve fucked you through this bed. The only reason I didn’t do that is because I want to see you cum. I’ve only ever heard that-”
“Wait, wait a minute. You’ve heard me climax?” Balan started, a touch confused. 
“In your bedroom, when you think you’re alone. True, there are no visitors around but someone was always in the theater,” Lance purred as soft as a breeze. The negati smiled at the brightening embarrassment on Balan’s face, wishing now he had his hat to hide it. It softened them so seeing the normally composed, bombastic maestro reduced to a shivering, blushing mess. Gingerly as allowed, Lance caught Balan’s face, causing the other to look at them, “I guess I just wanted to put the face to the voice. And I am not disappointed.”
Lance leaned over to kiss the still warm cheek of the maestro as the other side-eyed him, the smallest smile forming. 
“I’m... not used to this side of you. You’re normally so far away from me. In fact doing you’re very best to stay out of my sight. Even when I want you there. You know...”, A slow pause before Balan finished the thought, “You are different... too bad we both have to be backstage to see it.” 
“I’m different backstage?!”, Lance’s long ears perked at the comment, not ever having someone feel or compare the sentiment, “I’ll remember that then. Do you want me to continue then? Or would you rather sulk about how I never know about your needs and cues?” Lance’s eyes sparkled with a mischief that could rival Balan’s.
“Yes, damn you. That...was a genuine experience.” He giggled, the noise a delight to Lance’s ears, leaning back on the plushy pillows, tendrils sprawling out comfortably behind him. With a singular exhale Balan relaxed against the sheets, hands going in his hair, fiddling with and tossing a singular white sliver of his tendrils. Only... it wasn’t his hair, Lance noticed and then raised an unseen brow in suspicion. 
“Is that... an ear?” They breathed a laugh as Balan hid it in his hair again. When he sat up, it confirmed everything that Lance thought prior; he had the same ears as they did, a slight longer, floppier and appeared to be super soft. The negati’s eyes sparkled as they pulled out the hidden appendages, wondering why they hadn’t noticed them until now. 
“I-I-I never liked them. They’re long, cumbersome and don’t fit under my hat properly. So I just have been tying them back along with my dreadlocks. Wha? Why are you pulling them?!” Balan shrieked, his sensitive membranes folding as Lance fiddled with them. The stark white with the hue of light green made the ears stand out, the occasional flap picking up the slightest noise. 
“Why hide them? I think they’re absolutely wonderful.” Lance emphasized as they waggled their own long, dark ears. Their ears sat higher than the maestro’s and didn’t bend as much. He crawled over to the negati, aligning his hips in between the others legs with care. Their pulsing erection awoke his deepest desires, causing Lance to grind their clothed crotch into Balan’s exposed one. He gasps weakly, feeling the outline of the negati’s cock against his sensitive folds, gloved hands moving up Lance’s arms to bring them in for a deep kiss. 
Consumed by more the kiss than the passion behind it Lance drove their tongue deep into Balan’s mouth, tasting the other’s breath and intermingling the taste of his fluid sex. Balan’s tongue stuck out as Lance’s lips engulfed them, teeth grazing over the appendage while Balan groaned hotly. He brought his head higher, the expert work of that tongue making him drunker than any alcohol. The longer it went, the more impatient the maestro became; his hands going from Lance’s arms to dip into their pants to rip out the other’s cock. 
Lance’s eyes flew open as hands peeled off their pants and pulled out their cock, the member free from the strain at last. They’d never lie to themselves about not feeling relieved. The darker phallus was impressive at best; thick in girth and longer than Balan’s, some negati rune marks trailed on either sides of their crotch and lower hips, and the tip looked spire like yet appeared to be soft to the touch. Balan would find out soon enough. 
“I get it. This is moving too slow. But I thought that you’d appreciate it.” Lance inquired, chest rippling in steady laughter. It felt like a punishment for forcing Balan to ride out his first orgasms. 
Balan didn’t speak as he shoved Lance over, raising himself atop the other. Seated on their lap Balan took in the sight of his paramour, and just how dazzling they appeared. Chest rising and falling with softened breaths, the runes coming to life again in a brief flashes of multicolored lights, but he couldn’t stop looking at the other’s face. The heart marking atop his forehead blazing almost vermillion instead of the darker pink it usually was, their small fangs bared, glittering in the soft purple hue of the bed chambers. 
He leant down, kissing the long neck, chest, pressing his lips hard onto his ribs and trailed a heated kiss down their pelvis; stopping just short of that maleness. He spared them a coy heated glance before kissing the drooling tip, eyes going to Lance to see their reaction. The other tensed, mewling the moment they felt those lips, tip swelling on demand.  
“I’m going to suck the soul out of you. Just as you had did to me.” The heat in those words made it more fact than statement and Lance couldn’t wait long enough. They could have never imagined having the current maestro of Wonderworld’s mouth on their dick. To be honest, they could not imagine any of this happening right now. There was something so decadent and sinful about the way Balan talked dirty. Such things were just never heard from such an angelic mouth. 
He stopped thinking altogether as Balan removed his gloves, throwing them onto one bedside table to fist his thickness roughly, stroking the lengthy girth. Thumbing over the head, he gauged how steady Lance was, the swelling member making the maestro’s mouth drip with unshed spittle. From the way he opened his mouth and sucked in them in deeply, Lance could have sworn that he had done this before yet can never remember a time this would ever happen. 
“Ohhh yes! Balan...” Lance’s lungs stopped working the second Balan’s tongue encircled the head and bobbled repeatedly, his saliva silkening his hot length. Lance shuddered, moaning deeply as the tendrils on their back came back to life and spread across Balan’s pussy, massaging the outer vulva instead of the velvet walls. The sensation caused the maestro to moan around the dick in his mouth, a chain reactive shiver from Lance followed. 
Balan slowly rocked on the tentacles that fondled on his folds as he swallowed down more of Lance, lips almost resting on their crotch before pulling off. Soon the maestro began working his hands with his tongue, hands pulling at the medium sized balls as the underside of the long cock was stroked by Balan’s tongue. 
The tentacles worked Balan harder, the other groaning loudly with the near penetration on one tendril. The movement caused Lance to swear, hands digging into his hair, pushing the mint colored coils out of his face. 
“Don’t stop Balan! Please don’t stop!”, Lance cried as they got closer to an explosive release. The vision of seeing cum painting the maestro’s immaculate, lovely face caused a shudder to surge out unconsciously. The tentacles groped the silky vulva with an intensity that caused Balan to pull off the other’s cock to choke out a cry. 
“Lance!,” Balan called, drippings of drool falling onto the sheets as he shivered on the tentacles that never penetrated. He growled low as he pushed himself back on the largest of the tentacles, the bulb going right into his pussy, slicked with the welcomed wetness, “Ha, oh yess.” He crooned before stuffing the throbbing cock back into his mouth, pumping and sucking with the same vigor as the tentacle inside. 
Lance mumbled something in a different language, thrusting into Balan’s warm mouth, along with the tentacle slipping through the sticky mess seeping from his tightening walls. They could barely muster the maestro’s name as a ringing sound flushed through their ears, body going tight as a bow while Balan swallowed down the cock fully. Their hands dug into the other’s hair making sure Balan was close enough to swallow all of the rich, violet colored seed as it splashed down his throat. The tentacle widened inside of his pussy, pushing on the clit with the vibration of its master’s climax.
They thrashed in zeal as Balan continued to suck them dry, not worried about the veiny tentacle that fucked him deep. He was determined to live up to his statement; soft, warm hands smoothing over Lance’s sharp hips as he swallowed him down more, moaning and whimpering as the length sputtered more seed. When the tentacle pushed more into the G-spot, Balan cried out, forcing his hips down to rock with his new orgasm. He had to get the cock out of his mouth in order breathe a bit proper as his walls vibrated with the climax.
The room became blanketed in a contented silence as they both came from their highs; Lance’s chest heaving air as Balan sat on their hips to find his mind. He purred with fervor as the tentacle slipped out of his cunt.
“That was good, yes?” Balan inquired, eyes wide and soft, body just as soft and pliant as he awaited a reply. The poor darling was self-conscious. A trait he never displayed when performing for anyone, nor anything. 
Lance’s laugh brightened the maestro’s be-speckled face, ears twitching with the tenor of sound.
“That was the best head I’ve ever gotten, my lune-light. And you did what you said you would do.” Lance spoke breathlessly while they leant up to brush their forehead against Balan’s. The feathery kiss, as well as the compliment, drove the other to keen delightedly, ears flapping in exuberance. 
“Your... ears. They flap whenever you’re excited or praised don’t they?” Oh, Lance was about to be so evil now. The sly grin invited as much. 
Balan nodded his head, not even knowing he was acknowledging the question, smiling and flushing like mad as he did. 
“Look at you. Flushed, heated and so devilishly handsome. A most salacious siren you turned into,” Lance growled as they pulled himself up but kept Balan in his lap, “A gorgeous being like you deserves to be drenched in the most opulent of pleasures. The thickest form of desire. Do you want me to worship you?” That damning voice caused Balan to shudder and grasp them in desperation. 
“Yes! Worship me, worship my very body, revere it!”, He shouted, no longer bringing himself to care about anything other than the euphoria, “I want to feel you in me, on me, all over me!” Heat basked from his body as his ears flapped, mouth open in heavy pants. His naked cunt rocked on Lance’s cock, not sinking in fully. The movement caused Lance to spur into action, going on their knees to better to better position Balan, the maestro spreading his thighs eagerly on Lance’s lap. 
Lance’s fingers intertwined with Balan’s, his hands warm and only touch wet. They pressed their teeth into the skin, reveling in the dark wrists that glowed subtly with golden accents and swirling patterns. Lance repeated the motion, tongue lapping at both wrists, palms and fingers. Lance felt the smoothness of the maestro’s beautiful hands. Their eyes shimmering in reverence as they pressed sweet kisses to each fingertip slowly. Their own hands felt up his palms; still so warm and just as silky soft. That tongue continued to trace the long golden lines, taking his time to press his lips into his wrists. 
“Balan...” There weren’t enough words for Lance to say, or piece together for the time spent with each other. Nothing could prepare either of them for the sheer intensity of this new emotion. Melding of carnal lusts neither have the ability to describe. So for the first time tonight... Lance stopped talking. Letting only their bodies say so much more. 
Steadying him, Lance brought Balan down on the hard thickness slowly, agonizing slow. The maestro’s glint was hot and heady, hands going to Lance’s shoulders as support. Lance heaved a hot moan, aligning the next thrust directly into the maestro. There wasn’t a need to test if the other was ready for it or not; his tightness giving way subtly with each small piston. The fiery gaze of Balan soften into kindled embers once he was fully seated on the other’s cock. He was starting to perspire, a reaction that Balan never had to anything in his life. Rushing sweat beaded down his neck, his chest and around his waist glazing him in a hue of condensation that began to make his body slippery. 
They stayed in each other’s laps for a second before Lance thrust upwards, igniting Balan’s tongue again. He cried out in another language, most likely a swear considering the dialect. He groaned weakly, his body submitting to the roughness Lance invited with each movement. The moment Lance had worked out the rhythm the thrusts became harsher, more precise, pinpointing the exact spot to hammer him into a delectable frenzy. Lance’s breaths got rougher, louder, more of their teeth becoming exposed as they snarled in ecstasy. 
Balan could barely hold on. Literally. His grip on Lance’s shoulders loosened each time the negati impaled him, the motions making him too sensitive, body on fire. Though barely cognitive, Balan did his best to rock up to meet with his thorough pounding. Moving his hips at an angle, Balan caught the ribs of Lance’s spired phallus, screaming out as it stabbed him. 
The maestro’s screams did something primal to Lance, the sex-fueled fire warping and corrupting their licentious mind. 
“You like it?”, The negati spoke deeply, the baritone voice smokey and laced like a honey-tipped whiskey glass, “Look at yourself. Becoming undone with just my cock. You cannot comprehend how fucking devilish you are! Siren!” Lance dragged Balan down, further stabbing him with the rigged member. They were so close yet weren’t about to go if Balan didn’t first. They were going to see the maestro climax on his dick. There would be nothing to stop it now. Astoundingly, Balan replied to the question, voice much like Lance’s yet tremulous in its form.
“Yes! I love it, I love you!,” His gaze meets the others in an embrace that Lance cannot escape from, “I love you so much, don’t stop please.” The plea is whispered as the remainder of Balan’s self control is pounded out of him. His lanky legs surrounding the negati, forcing them to stay the course as his cunt devours them hungrily. 
It becomes too much for Lance; the fucking, the confession... just the sounds of Balan’s voice as they fuck. They snap forward hard, cock slamming the maestro’s pelvis as they climax, taking Balan right with them. The guttural snarl that surges from Lance actually scares Balan, those golden eyes wide with an erotic fear of the other before it fades with a deep-bodied orgasm that reverberates through his soul. He wails out, the pleasure so cavernous it eats him alive, body stiffening to the point of pain, absolution and exultation drowning him in high waves. His clit sucks Lance of everything; reason, sense, the will to stop. He trembles at the feeling of the other’s seed shooting inside of him, viscous ropes of cum shoot forth as Lance loses the rhythm of their own thrusts. 
They stop fully when Balan’s cunt loosens its hold, the negati falling forward atop the messy sheets. Balan makes a cry of something between pain and pleasure when he is flopped on his back with Lance atop him. Lance’s member has yet to soften inside the other’s creamy walls, the spired tip rubbing on Balan’s g-spot. 
The room falls silent again, save for the heavy pants and breathless laughs from the two. Neither recovering fast enough as the euphoria drains all other sensations from their bones. Lance’s spine is dexterous as wet spaghetti, mouth open in loud gulps of air. Balan fares no better, legs twitching uncontrollably. Bare chest dripping with sweat, golden markings along his arms and stomach gleaming and flickering in the contrasting violet lights. His coils are drenched as well, pouring over his eyes and messily over his face. Speckled markings aglow with the shades of amethyst make him look pulchritudinous. 
Lance raise themselves up, both of their hands going on either side of the exhausted maestro’s supine form, loins still burning from the near volcanic heat from their fucking. They readjust their position, body flush to the other, seeming to never be close enough. They smile softly as Balan smiled chastely at them. 
“That was fantastic... honestly the best sex I’ve ever had.” Balan complimented, his eyes not as glazed from before. 
“Good to know, but I hope you didn’t start thinking it was over?” Lance drawled, the tone eerily lustful.
Balan stares quizzically. How could anyone want another go after that?
“You want to go again?”
“Just one more?,” Lance breathily laughed as their hips rock gently, phallus a touch harder than prior, “If it helps, you can lie on your back and I’ll handle the rest.” They lean over Balan, kissing his cheeks and the heart on his forehead. 
Balan rolled his eyes. He wasn’t complaining about another time, but his body sure was. He internally decided one more bout wouldn’t cause too much strain. 
“Lancelot, the insatiable one. Who knew you’d be addicted to my cunt?” Balan chuckled; the nickname still an endearment to Lance. It would be rude to lie about how the name made them warm on the inside. And hearing that sugared voice utter it with a playful air softened the negati. 
“Not just your cunt... but you as well. I love you too.” The words came out before Lance knew. Their lips moved yet didn’t have any prior knowledge of it until seeing the way Balan stiffened, long ears swaying upwards at the words.
Both of their chests fluttered; Lance never expected to say those words during sex. This...this was not supposed to be about love. And yet, it was all Lance had on their mind. They had Balan now. All they would have to do is love him. In more than this way. With all of this joy they had felt in the confession, the familiar ick of something tar-like bubbled to the surface. Lance’s mind honed in on all the deprecating things the voice said.
‘What? You can love? Oh Lance... it will be ruined by you so soon.’
‘You once loved...and look at what it turned you into!’
‘This is sex Lance... that’s all it will. ever. be.’
‘He can only feel pity for loving a monster like you’.
The voices began to make Lance physically sick. No matter how hard Lance tried, they wouldn’t be willed quiet. They began to tremble uselessly, a sob retching from the negati as those thoughts and words; their own words swallowed them.
The maestro lunged forward, planting a kiss on the other’s lips. The cathartic heat that came from it brought Lance out of their head, focusing on the other below them. They both stayed lip-locked for a moment, Balan kissing as if Lance were about to drown any minute. The kiss saving them from themselves for a moment like this. The voices dissipated, barely a hum coming from the back of Lance’s mind. They didn’t matter. Only Balan did. The kiss ending when Balan pressed those lips to the fuchsia colored heart atop Lance’s brow.  
The touch was so gentle. So tender that it made Lance’s heart swell.
They looked down at Balan, who smiled pleasantly back at them. The look of love so much more than it could ever be. ‘It’s okay. You’re okay’ is what those golden pools spoke even if Lance didn’t hear it aloud. There wouldn’t be a need to. 
In spite of how small it was; Lance smiled. The motion felt real. He hadn’t had a genuine smile in over a thousand years. Gods, when was the last time he felt pure happiness unfold in his heart? There’d be a time and place to think on that later as they shifted Balan’s hips more, grinding forward, hips shifting to reawaken his long erection. The stings of pleasure rode through Balan, arms going behind his head to grab for the jumbled mess of velvet purple blankets. A small whine went past his lips as Lance’s midline bumped against Balan’s pelvis again, causing a flare of scorching desire to arise. The maestro never subdued, or otherwise suppressed his moans. He would allow Lance the ability to hear how he felt for him. 
The negati gripped Balan beneath his thighs, pulling his legs away so they could splay open. The new position allowed Balan to relax instead of trying to readjust too often. 
A surprised gasp from the maestro made Lance look at his face; the beatific expression of this dazzling, bewitching and downright mesmeric creature spurring Lance to pump into him harder. The be-speckled maestro had his eyes closed, turning out the warm, shimmering pools of the richest gold many would never see. 
“Please lune-light, open your eyes for me.” The reciprocal adulation of love  Lance gave could break someone’s heart and warm another’s but it was his tone that made Balan’s eyes open; aroused and so husky. When he looked upon the negati, a form of ardor seeped through him. A shy smile graced his features as he nuzzled into Lance’s chest. 
“Ohhh, say that again. Call me that again,” He whispered as his body arched with the deeper, slower thrusts, “I need to hear it again, Lance.” He began pining for the sound of the other’s voice, chest heaving in irregular patterns. Long ears flicked up, picking up the sounds of Lance’s exertions as they grounded each other closer to climax. 
“Lune-light...my lovely lune-light, you are so stunning.” Lance cooed, eyes warm as they watched Balan’s ears flap in jubilance. They fucked into him harder, faster when Balan’s hands went from the sheets to cling to Lance’s arms in order to steady himself. He was succumbing again, mind lost as avaricious lust ensnared his visage. 
Lance repositioned one hand to grab the maestro’s tight waist and underneath his back, slowing their thrusts first in order to shift a portion of their weight to sink in deeper. They kissed the inner thigh of Balan’s left leg as the other hand grabbed there and held him tight. The new position brought Balan’s ass up from the bed, both legs hanging on either side of Lance as they brought their pelvis’s together. The negati had to get to their knees for the next part to become effective, sprawling their hips a little. When they had gotten in position, they leant over to press another reverent kiss to Balan’s forehead, the friction causing the maestro to growl. 
“Move. Lance, I beg you.” Balan’s resistance melted a long time ago as his hands tightened around Lance’s upper arms. 
When they move, Balan’s equilibrium gets flipped upside down. The position had the maestro screaming so loud, Lance tipped their ears down to block out the sound. The reaction was instant, the gorgeous being’s mouth flying open as he threw his head back with each stroke. His hands scrambled for purchase of the negati as he began thrusting back on the other’s cock. Body spasming at the rippling sensations. 
The change in position did wonders for Lance as well; they were able to take in all of the other’s grace, elegance and succulent desire. The screams of pure ecstasy powered Lance onward, eyes half-lidding as they aimed their thrusts. Lance felt the maestro’s bruising grasp loosen, the body tightening from the exertion. He looked as if he was going to lose his mind again; assuming he had ever found it after the first few times. 
“Look at this.... look at you,” Lance growled, hands leaving Balan’s waist to drag the other further down, “This is what I have been wishing for. I’ve have been waiting for you and this! Gods, now that I have you, I’m not letting you go.” The negati enunciated a portion of their words with alternating thrusts that caused Balan to spasm around them erratically, the maestro’s head swaying, more mooring, like a boat on torrential waters. 
Balan tried to stutter something in response. There could not be any words he could be able to use in a circumstance like this. The euphoria blanketing his headspace, only the want for this to never end on Balan’s mind. He wished he could stay like this forever; being loved in between his legs the way that Lance was loving him. Tears welled up but were blinked back. That familiar entrapment, that build was upon him now. A spring ready for release as Balan angled himself to meet a harsher thrust from Lance. He didn’t know what to do with his hands so he tugged on the negati for some leverage. And he tugged at him desperately. 
“I-I-I can’t-- hold it back much! Lance, I need this! I can’t hold back! Oh my gods!” Balan’s pleasured whimpers were music to the other, the noise causing Lance to pulsate inside those divine walls. He was about to let it all go. Neither of them capable of denying their animalistic need for a blissful finish. 
“Do not hold back my lune-light! I want us to be in climax together. I’m ready, just like you are. Lock me inside your heaven!” Lance yelled, throwing their head back unabashedly for the final few thrusts. 
Something in the gravelly tone caused Balan to relent all self control at that moment, the high octane pressure rushing from his pelvis, seeping into his blood in a body rattling orgasm. He screamed, more belted out his release, muscles contracting and constricting in a severe, mind-numbing vice. He could no longer keep his eyes open, passion scalding his insides making his body heat unbearable. 
He kept spasming, helpless as Lance roared one last time, pinning Balan’s softened frame to theirs in a rough, possessing manner. They dove off the  pinnacle with as much fury and need as Balan did. Their fingers dug into the tender skin, maw wide with a roar that shook the room. The negati’s own form convulsing and seizing as Balan’s cunt squeezed their cock to the point where it ached. They shuddered with the intensity and rush of seed; feeling way too hot inside of the maestro, shooting deep inside, not stopping even as Lance humped Balan through their own climax. 
When they were sure they had nothing left to give Lance let Balan go, the other’s spent body flopping atop the bedspread. The negati pushed back their inky dreads back from the sweat drenched face, eyes slightly glazed. They shook with the inglorious feeling of satisfaction before pulling out of Balan’s thoroughly ruined cunt, their cum drooling out in delectable, erotic ribbons. The scent of the intermingling sex made the cock twitch. Without a thought given, Lance’s pointer finger went past the swollen, beat-up lips of the maestro’s pussy; swiping the oversensitive folds for just a taste of the cream. 
Balan yelled, overstimulated and a touch annoyed, kicking at Lance.
“Fucking stop! You’re going to kill me!” Balan cursed, his chest heaving. He was the perfect picture of the word ‘ruined’; mint-colored coils askew all over his face, sublime form thrumming with the residual orgasm. 
“Would this have not been the best death to have?” Lance giggled sweetly, tongue slipping out to lap at the mixed cream of their sex. The taste was of it was so divine, it couldn’t be described. When their legs regained function Lance dipped into the conjoined bathroom. Balan barely registered the sound of water coming from a faucet. Though he wasn’t going to register anything for a while. His eyes slipped closed, breathing becoming more steady as the high simmered out of his frame. He didn’t hear Lance’s footfalls when the other returned into the room yet the feeling of the cold, damp cloth felt exquisite on his hypersensitive skin. He smiled happily as the cloth went over his face, chest, arms and even his back, swiping away as much sweat that wasn’t collected by the sullied bedsheets. 
He winced as the cloth went between his legs, touches kept tender and dainty while the negati cleaned his clit. The movements were apologetic in the sense of the rough handling. With the remnants of their sex thoroughly cleaned, Lance threw the dirty cloth into a hamper nearby and crawled into bed. They felt the need to say something to Balan, yet was not prepared to see the other fully asleep. The smile remained on his face as he dreamt soundly. Safely. 
The maestro rarely slept so seeing him do so, even in the other’s bed, was recherché. The moment a surprise to see with their own eyes. It warmed their heart in so many ways. Lance wondered inwardly if their heart could get any fuller. Carefully, as to not wake him, they slid Balan’s frame underneath the heavy blankets, keeping his head low to rest it against the larger puffy pillows.
As much as Lance tried, they couldn’t lie to themselves about how adorable and desirable this being was. Is... and still will be. They could make up some spun tale about how Balan lusted for the feeling of this sex. And yet, they wouldn’t. They weren’t going to deny the affirmations and litanies of love, passion and reverence he bestowed. In this way, Lance loved Balan. Balan had loved them too. This new feeling blossomed and flowed within them. It was all Lance cared about and would gift this love in kind to Balan tenfold. It was definitely what they both deserved. 
For now, Lance snuggled into the maestro, a happy little smile playing on their cheeks whilst pressing their face into the other’s neck. The mint-colored coils of the other’s hair fell in a tangle on Lance’s face, making them wrinkle their nose. 
“I...love you, lune-light...”, Lance whispered pressing a singular reverent kiss to the glowing heart on Balan’s forehead, the mark shimmering against the darkness. The negati nuzzled the sleeping being, arms crossing Balan’s chest to swaddle him close to their body, “I don’t know if you had heard me, but I just hope you know.”
Unknown to Lance, Balan had heard him. His own smile was genial and kind, taking the affirmation as it was. There was no need for Lance to explain themselves. Such things like this rarely, if ever, happened. So Balan accepted this. He had openly accepted that Lance is, and will remain, worthy of love. 
“I love you.” The enamored statement was simple, sweet and soft-sounding. So such so that Balan wasn’t sure Lance heard him, the negati was already snoring before he could say anymore. With an exhale, Balan’s eyes slipped shut once more. His own hands went around to hold Lance’s closer to his body. Their combined warmth radiating soothingly as they slept throughout the rest of the night.
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megumidulce · a year ago
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“it’s okay, i’ve got you.”
Sugawara x Reader - Scenario
event request: “Congrats on 600 followers bb 🥰 could I req number 14 and Sugawara?”
a/n: i haven’t posted any scenarios for Sugawara yet and i love this prompt for him omggg. this deals with a fear of storms and how Suga helps you through it. thank you for the request, love!! <33 i hope you enjoy it!
warnings: storms, anxiety
wc: 1150
---
“Y/n stay right there, I’m looking for a flashlight.” His voice is reassuring, but there’s an underlying tinge of urgency.
Another deep rumble from outside, its eerie echo bouncing off the homes in your neighborhood. Before, your house felt like a reliable fortress, but as the walls shake from the reverberation, you’re not so convinced.
“I’m coming in just a second, baby. Do you want to talk to me while I gather everything?” 
Sugawara probes the question, but your hands are already tightly pressed against your ears, eyes shut rigidly. He shuffles through the supplies much faster, sweat beginning to form on his forehead, anxious to get to you.
*Crack*
Light shudders through the windows, casting wide, shifting shadows on the walls from leaves and ghostly trees in your yard. The lightning lasts but a stark moment, however it reveals the ghastly winds that blow at full force against your home. 
Another delayed crack and rumble seek you out.
You let out a whimper, your trembling body pressed against the frigid interior of the ceramic tub. You could feel every chilling vibration from each deafening roll of thunder. Every furious, battering drop of rain.
“Where’s the damn radio? I swear I put it here. Shit, shit, shit.” Sugawara’s tone is now a breathy whisper.
“Ah, here it is. Y/n I’m coming to the bathroom now!” He shouts across the house, making his way back downstairs to your guest bath.
What else do I need? I have the flashlight, my phone, some water, batteries… nope I have everything, Suga’s mentally checks off his list.
Now he just needed to get to you. Fast.
Tonight was, quite frankly, not going to plan.
You and Sugawara had just been getting ready for a Friday night out at the movies. His silvery, soft hair looking even more lovely than usual and your body adorning one of your nicest outfits. The intimate, 2 year anniversary celebration had only just begun.
But nature doesn’t take hints when it comes to festivities and movie nights.
A tornado siren got the better of you, its uncanny ringing filling the late-night air of the small town. Suga’s heart dropped at the noise, his eyes falling right on you. But before either of you could properly prepare, mentally or physically, the howling wind found its way to your street. It violently cut down powerlines, jolting the electricity, and flung you into a major panic.
Sugawara’s instincts kicked in, telling him to pick you up and put you in the windowless bathroom downstairs while he would go in search of necessary supplies.
You knew he only needed to grab a few things, but what only really took him 5 minutes felt like an eternity to you. With every second, you felt your pulse beat faster, as though it were trying to escape the confines of your shaking body.
You attempt to humor yourself, shifting your mind to how you wished you’d been wearing something less constricting. The fabric of your shirt took delight in tugging deeply into your shoulders and forearms, leaving red marks in the tighter places. It was all thanks to the way you shielded your eyes and ears from the creaking and groaning of the weather outside.
Because, of all things, it would be a storm to ruin your special night. Your greatest, most rational fear is coming alive when you should be kissing your lover in the sultry light of a movie theater.
So you only hoped, God, you begged that Sugawara was on his way to you.
You manage to detect footsteps even with your effort at muffling all sound. The eyes you had shut so tightly are given permission to peep open slowly. Every inch of you floods with relief at the sight of Sugawara’s figure, his arms full of blankets, flashlights, and water bottles. You’ve never seen a more merciful silhouette before.
But just as things start to feel safer with the shimmering eyes of your boyfriend resting on your form, you’re met with a frightening snapping noise from outdoors. The crackling and crunching outside is followed by a loud thump, shaking the entire foundation of your once secure home. A fallen tree? A powerline?
Soon your wide, fearful eyes are watering, hands fling back to your ears, body bunched up tighter than before.
Sugawara immediately tosses a soft blanket across your body. It’s both an attempt to briefly distract you and to free up his arms so that he can join you. You scoot forward, allowing him to steadily climb in behind you, his legs spanning the length of the tub while tangling with your own.
Sugawara’s heart breaks as his skin meets yours. You’re shivering violently, hair damp from sweat, the summer heat and lack of air conditioning getting to you. Every sound makes you jump, from the squeak of his shoes on the ceramic bathtub to the drumming of hail on the roof.
He can tell that you’re living your worst nightmare. Your fear of storms was nothing new to him, but Sugawara has never seen you react this badly to anything… ever.
For some, it’s hard to know what to say in these situations. But for Suga? The words are on his tongue in the most natural form.
“It’s okay, I’ve got you.” A gentle voice reaches you and a pair of sturdy arms circle around your middle. 
You startle at the contact, but back into it immediately, clinging to his touch as though it were your only lifeline. You sink into his warm body, curling into a compact ball, covering one ear with his chest, and using your free hand for the other.
“I’ve got you... I’ve got you, baby.” He breathes faint, whispery words into your hair, allowing you to soak in his vows.
His tone isn’t so much soothing as it is protective.
He will not let anything happen to you.
Sugawara is a mighty oak, unswayable under the winds of life nor by the stormy gales just outside your front door. The way his body encompasses yours reminds you of the solid tree’s branches, covering and shielding anything within or around it. You are safe.
He’s got you.
He won’t let go.
He’s got you.
You repeat these simple words to yourself until they eventually escape your lips in a hushed murmur. It doesn’t go unnoticed by the silver-haired boy above you. He shifts to cradle you, a hand resting on your waist, the other stroking the side of your face with his knuckles.
In the most literal way, he’s got you. You’re wrapped within his hold, untouched by the chaos surrounding you.
The thunder begins to lose its edge. The lightning, its fear factor. Even the deafening winds streaming off of the tornado seem calmer now that you can hear Suga’s heartbeat by your head. With every beat, you hear those words again. And again. And again.
He’s got you.
---
tags: @cherryonigiri, @yams046, @kaidasen, @miss-rin
(comment or send an ask to be added to my general tag list) 
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voltagesmutter · a year ago
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I can be a bad-boy
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Summer Of Smut Writing Challenge,
Prompt #12: In the car alone at the outdoor movie theater
Pairing: Kiro x MC
Word Count: 3000+
@voltage-vixen​​
*References to Kiro/Helios*
“Kiro put them down!” You hiss in a quiet but stern tone, watching as your boyfriend pouted, his eyes glistening with shimmering gold, “Don’t even try pulling the charm on me mister!”. You playfully tug his cheek as he lets out a little giggle, putting back the bag of candy on the shelf. 
“But there my favourite Miss.Chips” He whined, sticking his bottom lip out making an over-exaggerated face of sadness.
“You’ve said that about every item in the basket,” You shake your head slightly, eyes falling to the basket rammed with various treats and goodies.
“You're turning into Savin,” He huffs, adjusting the glasses on his face, using his index finger to push them up. His disguise to let you go to the store together was positively adorable, an oversized hoodie, some trackie bottoms, overly large spectacles and a baseball cap. 
“If I was Savin I wouldn’t have even brought you to the store!” It being your turn to pout, hating it when he referred you to being the same as his overly-strict manager. You scan the shelves for one final item, sighing as you hear Kiro sneaking more items into the basket, why did you agree to bring him here? Rounding everything up you brought the basket to the till, the cashier too busy scanning the vast amount of items to recognise Kiro, your jaw almost dropped at the price.
“$20? Kir-I mean Luca!” You hissed, stopping yourself from calling out his name as he handed over a note to the lady. How did the $5 limit get thrown out the window so quickly, leaving the shop with four bags of chocolate, sweets and crisps. 
“Here, something sweet for my something sweet,” He chuckled, diving into the bag and handing you one of your favourite pieces of candy. 
“Savin’s going to kill me,” You sighed as you walked back to your apartment hand in hand. 
---
The stash of treats were for a reason, Kiro was taking you to the out-door theatre, the ones where you watched the movie from your car. A new movie he was in had just been released and he promised to watch it with you, just you. As much as you love attending the red-carpet premieres with him, it wasn’t the same experience as snuggling up to him and watching a movie together at your own leisurely pace. Instead you had to be on top form, answer questions from reporters and spend most the night separated from your lover. It was exhausting. So this time Kiro promised to bring you to the movie in your own time and when you saw it was playing at the out-door theatre, he lept on the chance to take you. 
“Sorry we’re late Miss.Chips,” He continued to apologise, pulling up in the last free space available. It was furthest away from the screen, allocated at the park of the parking-lot in a secluded corner, a hefty distance between your and the other vehicles. 
“Kiro it’s fine!” You reassured him for the nth time since pulling up, it didn’t bother you one bit being so far away. In all honesty you preferred the privacy, especially since neither Kiro and you were in a disguise, the blacked out tint of windows would be enough cover to stop anyone from witnessing you in the car. You adjusted the radio to the setting on the movie, the sound of the opening credits flooded the car.
The warmth of a hand placed on your thigh, tottering on the edge of your dress and skin, giving you a gentle squeeze as your eyes focused on the big-screen. You watched as Kiro came onto the screen, silver haired with a black tattoo on his arm, the role he was portraying was a devious bad boy named ‘Helios’. 
“Ooh you're such a bad boy,” You teased, repeating back a line to him from the movie, catching the subtle blush on his cheeks. 
“It was… definitely a different role to say the least,” He laughed, his laugh purer than snow sent your heart melting. It was a conflicting feeling watching your boyfriend play such a bad-ass, I don’t give a fuck role when he sat next to you in a hoodie with a puppy on the front scoffing a bag of chips. Your jaw dropped slightly, a gasp coming from your mouth as Helios walked across the screen, danger glinting in his eyes as he pushed the female actress to the wall. A hand lightly held her neck as he darkly chuckled, pushing his face close to hers whispering dangerous words before pulling back and releasing her from his hold. Slightly excitement coursed through your veins seeing such a different side to Kiro, arousal pitting in the bottom of your stomach. 
“Miss.Chips? Are you okay? Your face is going red?” Kiro’s words pull your attention from the screen. You brushed it off playfully and nodded, claiming it was hot in the car even though the fan’s were blasting cool air. Kiro let you be, grabbing another bag of candy and unwrapping it before sucking on the sweet. Your eyes followed his movement, how could someone this sweet play such a role so well? It was almost as if he had embodied a whole new personality, a side that would only live in memory on the screen. The arousal within you stirred more as Kiro continued his portrayal of Helios on the screen, thighs rubbing together slightly to try ease from the friction you felt. 
“Miss.Chips why are you giggling?” He pouted, watching fits of laughter from your throat, tears almost brimming in your ears as you clutched a hand over your stomach. The scene on the screen was far from a funny one, an intense ballad of power as Helios was threatening a group of men on the screen.
“I’m sorry.. I’m sorry,” You couldn’t help but burst out laughing again, “It’s just seeing you so… dangerous and your sat here next to me cooing over what to eat next, it's just really got to me,”. The words came in between fits of laughter, not catching the brooding gaze of Kiro next to you. He mumbled something under his breath as you finally began to calm down, re-focusing on the movie. Silence took its toll between you, the only noise coming filling in the air was the sound of the movie. 
“You're really good, you know that,” You place a hand in his lap and give his hand a squeeze, “It’s so different for me to see such a different side of you, you did such an amazing job,”. 
“Do you not think I could be like Helios?” He questioned, turning to face you, a glimmer of mischief in his blue eyes. 
“You? No, Kiro, you cried when you saw a puppy miss a ball it’s owner threw,” You laughed. He let it drop, turning back to watch the final scenes of the film, moving his hand off your thigh. A slight twinge of pain came across you, had your words upset him? Kiro was nothing like Helios, Kiro was sweet, kind and gentle. Helios was… a beast, a reckoning force not to be toyed with. 
“Kiro, I’m sorry if-” You started, turning again to face him but you felt a force push you up against the window, Kiro’s face dangerously close to yours, a hand snaking up your thigh and disappearing under your dress.
“My Miss.Chips doubts me it seems,” Heat rising in your cheeks as his eyes flicked from blue to gold to grey, taking your bottom lip in his teeth and giving it a light bite. A moan fell as his fingers grazed your thighs, tottering on the edge of your cotton underwear. A wave of excitement rushed over you, Kiro was also so sweet with his kisses and public affections towards you, never going future than to kiss your cheek or hold your hand in public. Yet here he was devouring your lips with bites, running his tongue over your slightly swelling lip in the theatre car-park. “It appears my Miss.Chips rather enjoys a darker side,” He hummed with a raspy voice, fingers pressing over the dampness of your underwear, a finger dipping below to trace your wetting folds.
“K-Kiro!” You moaned into his mouth, shocked at his sudden flick of attitude, slightly embarrassed at the pooling wetness growing between your thighs. His tongue slipped into your mouth, silencing your slight protests as his finger teased over your budding clit, the dominance of his tongue coaxing over yours. Just as you began to part your legs future, a silent invitation for him to delve deeper, he pulled away leaving you breathless and weak at the knees.
“Movies finished Miss.Chips,” Pulling away and flashing you his trademark sweet smile, acting as if nothing had just happened, leaving you panting slightly as you adjusted yourself in the chair. 
---
The ride home was as if nothing happened, Kiro chatting about how much he enjoyed the role and asking you what you thought. You indulged in the conversation, although finding it hard to speak at times, Kiro’s previous actions had left your mind spinning. 
“You go to bed, I just need to make some calls to Savin and I’ll join you, okay Miss.Chips?” The blonde idol pressed a sweet kiss to your cheek as he left your bedroom. You peeled off your clothes and threw on one of Kiro’s oversized t-shirts, letting the smell of him embrace your body and you climbed under the sheets. It wasn’t long before your beloved returned, standing in the door frame, crossing his arms and leaning against the frame. Your eyes widened as you sat up, the air within your lungs disappeared, in front of you stood Kiro as Helios. His silver hair glinted from the glow of the light behind him, a black tank top with a leather collar around his neck tucked into black jeans, the same tattoo from the movie wrapped around his right arm. 
“Kiro…” You sat up on your knees, the pit of arousal inside you was set a blaze once more. 
“Kiro isn’t here right now,” He smirked, his voice dropping a few octaves to leave a husky tone as he stepped towards you. You crawled to the edge of the bed and sat back on your heels, he brought his fingerless gloved palm to your cheek and roughly rubbed his thumb over your lips, “Only Helios”. If you still had underwear one, they would definitely be bunched up on the floor from the sexy tone that left his voice. His hand moved down to your neck, wrapping his fingers around it and tugging you up higher onto your knees so you was level with his chest. Leaving down, his eyes lost of blue as steel-grey took over, forcefully pressing his lips against yours like he had done so in the parking lot, teeth biting and sucking over your puffing lip. His other hand came down to grope your breasts over the thin material of your t-shirt, giving your nipples a pinch as they hardened beneath the material, a careless rough touch that sent wetness spreading across your thighs. His tongue forced entry to run along your bottom teeth before he released his grip over your neck, pulling away and letting you drop back to the bottom of the bed. 
His steel-eyes burrowed into yours, a smirk grimacing as primeval desire as his hands until his belt in a teasing manner, the unbuckling of metal sent tingles of excitement down your spine. Your eyes came to glance on the harsh bulge in front of your eyes, soon to be met by the lengthy erection that sprung free, his gloved hand wrapping around it with a hiss from his mouth.
“Stop watching and get those pretty lips wrapped around my cock,” His hand released himself as he placed it on the back of your head, tugging you forward as he threaded his fingers through your hair. Lips parted and gracelessly you took his length into your mouth, lips wrapping around his head before he thrusted, the rest of his length being pulled into the wet cavern on your mouth. His fingers in your hair gripped down slightly, pulling you future against him until he was fully hilted inside your mouth, a heavy groan of acceptance rumbled from his chest. You brought a hand up to wrap around his base but the gloved digits smacked it away, “Mouth only” he growled. Your hands gripped to his out-thighs in search of some support, thrusting faster and pushing your head forward against him, his steel eyes dilated heavily with lust as he watched you gag partly over his thickness. Bopping your head in-time to his hands that guided you, salvia that pooled over his length began to drool from the edge of your lips as he continued to plunge into your mouth. Tongue running along the under-side of the throbbing vein, a twitch of his cock was a recognisable sign regardless of being Kiro or not, he was close. Just as you braced to accept the warmth that would spurt against the back of your throat, he pulled out of your mouth, a hand wrapping around him to pump himself, “Tongue out,” followed in a husky voice. His hand pumped himself as the other held the gripped the back of your head, leaving your flushed, saliva dripping lips at the perfect angle. Following his orders you stuck your tongue out, flicking it over his head as he tried to hold back a strangled groan in his chest, the noise shooting straight to your core as he released, spurting over your lips and tongue with his hot seed. Gracefully your lick off his release with your tongue, making a lewd pop as you smacked your lips together, swallowing his plentiful release. 
The next few seconds were a blur as he released you from his hold, flipping you over on the bed so you lay on your stomach, holding your waist and pulling it up as he held your ass high. He pushed down the material of your shirt so it was bunched over your highs, the trace of his digits as he pushed them over your dripping folds. 
“My naughty girl, look at how wet you are,” The smirk in his voice as he pushed two digits inside your core, the air forcefully leaving your lungs with a heavy cry. Thrusting and twisting his digits inside you, the wetness of your juices trailing past his knuckles and onto the leather hand-glove, pure lust coating through your veins as you indulge in the pleasure you were receiving. 
“K-Kiro! C-Close~" You managed through moans, as he added another finger, the cold steel of his ring entering inside your warm tightness as he pumped into you. As your walls began to tighten, teetering on the edge before he pulled his fingers from you, sleek wetness dripping from his fingers as you let out an infuriated groan. So close, yet so far… 
“Kiro isn’t here,” A harsh slap to your ass sent vibrations across your body, a slight buzz of pain and pleasure from the leather that collided with your skin, “Only Helios,”.  You waited in anticipated breath as another below came to your ass, a few following, leaving the red print of a hand on your skin. The build up too much, the bubbling inside you ran through your veins like hot lava, desperate seeking to be filled without this sweet torture.
“Fuck me already,” You cried, pushing your ass back in a needed attempt to angle yourself against his re-hardened member. 
“But Miss.Chips, you seem to be enjoying this far too much,” His finger returning to graze across your slickened core in a teasing manner.
“Helios please,”.
It came out in a high whine of plea than you hoped, but at this point you was too turned on and care. Slight shuffling behind, hands firmly on your waist as he aligned himself to thrust into you. Head thrown back, back arched your still clothed breasts pressed into the bed, a cry from your mouth that would reach the high heavens and make angels blush as he fucked you with raw intensity. Not even his touch resemble anything of his true form, as if the role of Helios had taken over his body. Gone were sweet words, subtle and loving thrusts, high-pitch songs of groans, instead replacing them harsh sharp thrusts, deep groans that caught in his throat and an intense drive that pounded you into the bed below. Your orgasm took meer minutes to hit, wonton moans that ringed through the air and seeped into the walls of your neighbours, fingers clutching to anything in their path as your body pulsed from the pleasure within. Him follows suit seconds later with a final snap of his hips, heat shooting in ropey lengths inside you as he twitched from your withering walls. 
Your sweaty body stuck to the sheets below, vision blurry for a few moments until you finally regained yourself with panting breaths. Kiro sat beside you, pulling your head into his lap as he stroked your hair, whispering soothing words to you. 
“I told you I could be like Helios,” He teased, earning a faint chuckle from you but you was too exhausted to even think at this point in time, letting the sweet words of song lull you to sleep. 
“Sleep well Miss.Chips,” He pressed a loving kiss to your forehead as he rested your head onto the pillow, your body almost unconscious from the deep realm of pleasure. Kiro wandered off to the bathroom, watching in the mirror as his hair changed from silver to his sunshine blonde, the iced-grey eyes sparkling back to his blue. A warm smile on his face knowing he could let Helios come out and play more often. 
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ozu-teapot · 4 years ago
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Kagerô-za | Seijun Suzuki | 1981
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ponamen · 4 years ago
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alarriefantasy · a year ago
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Hi, all! So it seems that the wonderful AO3 user - objectlesson - aka on tumblr as - horsegirlharry - has sadly deleted their fics. I have only a few saved in my files, but there are some I would really love to possess, if anyone has them? I would really appreciate it if you would message me and let me know! :)
Also, I am posting the whole list of amazing stories they shared for our fandom, and I am marking (with an asterisk*) the ones that I have myself, in case anyone else would like them too! <3
Silver White Winters
by objectlesson
In which Louis catches a cloud and pins it down.
Words: 5106, Chapters: 2/2, Language: English
I Must Confess (I Still Believe)
by objectlesson
Louis shrugs, eyes on the road. “You look cute in the blazer, too,” she says nonchalantly, and what the fucking fuck, what is Harry supposed to think?
“You probably do, too, but I wouldn’t know because I don’t even think you own one? Do you ever actually wear the entire uniform?” she asks, deflecting.
“Not since freshman year!” Louis boasts proudly. “They stopped giving me demerits because it’s, like, a lost cause. I literally haven’t seen my blazer in three years, I just borrow Veronica’s when I walk into Mass.” Her grin is very cheeky and bright, and she’s squinting in the sun, aviators pushed up into the overgrown auburn shag of her hair. The horizon is hazy and pink-orange as dark sneaks up on them, the air smelling of sprinkler water and BBQ smoke from people leaching the last warmth of October before summer’s gone for good. Harry feels alive with possibility, eyes watering as she smiles at Louis, unable to stop. She wrinkles her nose like it’ll somehow hide the way it looks on her face to be in love.
Or, Harry is the new girl at an all girl Catholic Girl’s School, and Louis is the unattainable, dashing senior who changes her forever.
Words: 44304, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English
Powerless (and I Don’t Care It’s Obvious)
by objectlesson
“Oh no, Lou, don’t make me laugh,” he whimpers. His Ribena-purple mouth twists into a glorious, breakable shape, and Louis’s heart stops. He should not be getting turned on by Harry’s full-bladder discomfort, his little twitches, his hips-stuttering. And yet.
Words: 4090, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English
The Pink Ghost of Princess Park
by objectlesson
The thought of the vibrator does not go away. It’s sitting there collecting dust all through January, and every time Harry and Louis have to leave town for a press event or a show or to record or what have you, they come back home, and it’s still there, the Pink Ghost of Princess Park, the fucking glittery haunting that Harry cannot stop thinking of Louis stuffing up his arse.
Words: 7556, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English
*Life Saver
by objectlesson
Nerd Boy’s giant, dorky, adorable hand shoots into the air. Louis notices he has chipped red polish on a few of his nails and some tattered friendship-looking bracelets, like the sort you make in camp, and he might hear the distant chime of wedding bells. He thought he didn’t even believe in marriage because it’s, like, oppressive and heteronormative or whatever, but that was before Styles, Harry (Harry Styles!!! What an absurd, wonderful name! What a perfect thing to scrawl in the margins of all his notebooks surrounded in hearts!) appeared in the bio lab at his new school and ruined all his principles forever.
or, Louis is a sweetheart punk with a theater background and a heart of gold, Harry is an inexperienced nerd who plays by the rules. Classmates, lab partners, and eventually friends, what happens when Louis knows he’s in love, but doesn’t know how tell Harry?
Words: 14809, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English
Even Your Honey Dew
by objectlesson
It probably says something about Harry that he’s so obsessed with another omega’s arse.
Words: 9512, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English
What a Heavenly Way To Die
by objectlesson
She’s thought about it a lot, and two big things seem to be holding her back, aside from the uncontrollable paralysis that overtakes her body every time she so much as tries to sneak a hand under the waistband of Harry’s knickers.
Or, Louis is afraid to do stuff to Harry, who has done a lot of stuff to her.
Words: 8052, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English
A Firm Believer and a Warm Receiver
by objectlesson
a few months ago, Louis had his first heat. It was no big deal, aside from it being awkward and weird and all the other things it was supposed to be. He figured he would present as an omega, so he wasn’t exactly surprised or anything.
But then, last week, Harry had his first heat, too.
Or, the omega/omega sleepover fic no one asked for but y'all really, really need.
Words: 10895, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English
You’ll Know What Makes The World Turn
by objectlesson
Sometimes, when things are messy and they have more than a few weeks apart, they need the reminder. It’s comforting to have stars to map your course by.
or, Harry’s blue bandana is a day collar.
Words: 4624, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English
Sing You Butterflies
by objectlesson
Louis stares for a moment before some primal sympathetic force in him activates. He has to help this boy. He can hardly walk, and he seems so young (yet ageless, beyond age, like a sea turtle or a parrot or a tree or something else odd and magical), and on top of all that, he has body glitter clinging to his skin, like that roll-on stuff his sisters used to use as preteens, only pink-gold and twice as thick. It’s, like, professional grade. He’s also wearing grass- and dirt-stained pink silk women’s underwear, so maybe he’s from London. Maybe he’s a drag queen who crawled all the way from a nightclub in Soho just to save Louis from his horribly mundane and woefully heterosexual neighbours out here in the middle of nowhere.
or, Harry’s a clumsy unicorn who accidentally stomps on a witch’s garden and is turned into a human as punishment, so he wanders into a nearby village covered in glitter, still figuring out how to walk on two feet, and meets the fairy-tale-fine Louis, who has to teach him how to live as a human and stop him from eating soap.
Words: 22701, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English
Holy
by objectlesson
She deserves not to be so goddamned put together all the time. Being in the world’s biggest and highest exposure girlband means she’s never seen without a flat stomach, a spray tan, contouring, eyelash extensions, the whole of her body inescapably toned and plucked and waxed so frequently she genuinely forgot what fucking color her own pubes are. Louis wants to eat burgers and smoke weed and be twenty three. She wants to wake up with Harry and spend the whole day in bed fingering each other because they finally don’t have to have goddamn acrylic nails for once. She wants to grow her pubes out. She wants to lounge around in a posh, red-velvet High Hefner robe.
Or, Louis is dressed like a fucking queen, Harry’s begging please.
Words: 6608, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English
Only One I Dream Of: A Drabble Collection
by objectlesson
A collection of all the m/m One Direction drabbles and timestamps I’ve written on tumblr, so my readers on here aren’t missing out!
Words: 5164, Chapters: 5/13, Language: English
Diamonds in the Moonlight
by objectlesson
The 70s au where Harry is a rich girl stuck in the suburbs who thinks she loves Shaun Cassidy, and Louis is the skater who breaks into her backyard and changes everything forever.
Words: 16136, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English
In the Heat of the Night
by objectlesson
“You’re sleeping with me, obviously,” Harry says then, pausing to regard Louis with a funny expression, nose wrinkled and brows drawn tight. “Don’t tell me you thought that I’d let you freeze out here!? Absolutely not! C’mon, the bedroom’s cozy, I dragged a space heater out.”
Louis wants to protest about as badly as she wants to sleep next to Harry Styles, which is a lot. Too much.
Or, Louis is the only butch in London with a truck and Harry needs to move a couch.
Words: 7726, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English
Once Upon a Dream
by objectlesson
“M’not gonna half-ass our fake relationship,” Louis almost snaps, voice sharp with a defensive edge, like Harry wandered too close to a bruise with needy fingers. “Now kiss me again. We’re gonna make every shitty tourist here wish they had stayed in the Midwest. We’re gonna burn Disneyland down with our gay. ”
Harry shuts his eyes and opens his mouth, because he can’t fucking say no to Louis.
Or, a fake dating AU where everyone is lying and they happen to be at the Happiest Place on Earth.
Words: 16643, Chapters: ½, Language: English
From Now Until Forever
by objectlesson
The girls go to Britney Nite and Louis wears Juicy track pants and Harry is not ok.
Niall takes the pint glass back from Harry and takes a swig, regarding her over the rim knowingly. “You’re nervous,” she observes with a grin. “Because you’re gonna get drunk at a gay bar with Louis, and you haven’t told her yet that you wanna marry her.”
“Oh, my god, stop,” Harry scolds, hiding her face in her hands, everything suddenly hot and shivery. “It’s not that,” she adds, even though it most definitely is.
“Then…you’re excited to see Louis in a schoolgirl skirt and bra? Covered in that body glitter that smells like cotton candy?” Niall presses, waggling her eyebrows, making Harry blush at the mere thought of Louis’s golden skin shimmering and sticky under club lights.
Words: 9223, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English
Hello, Heaven (you are tunnel-lined with yellow lights
by objectlesson
“Oh, yeah?” Harry asks, playing dumb as he helps Louis out of his coat before hanging it up. “A new phone charger? Mine’s still broken, the electrical tape didn’t work.”
Louis makes a face at him, all arched brows and tongue pressed into cheek. “Oh a phone charger? Is that what you need?” he quips lightly, voice high and lilting in this sing-song way that’s so, so high and gentle that it’s scary. He’s putting on a show for Harry, and Harry’s thrilled with it, already shivery and hot-cheeked because Louis got him something naughty, and they’re talking about it without really talking about it, wrapping it up in layers of mundanity and domesticity, still so excited to play the role of two Adults living in their new Adult flat in London that they bought with their own money from the X Factor. Harry’s living an unimaginably glamourous life so suddenly, and Louis and his gifts are right in the middle of it, the heart of his every dream.
Or, Louis buys Harry things sometimes.
Words: 2988, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English
Dream About That Casual Touch
by objectlesson
And that was the first thing Louis noticed about her. Not her nipples, or not only her nipples, anyway, but the fact that she was so confident with her body and didn’t seem to care that her tits were sort of soft and floppy and uneven or that she had a little roll of pudge around her hips that poked over the top of her jeans when she wore crop tops. She wore what she wanted to wear whether or not it was in fashion or technically even flattering; her hair was always messy, she only wore makeup half the time, and she seemed to like heeled boots even if she was already fairly tall and they made her tower over the boys. Louis always thought it was so fucking sexy how unconcerned Harry seemed with what people thought of her, how comfortable she was in her own skin. That by itself seemed like a sort-of gay thing, so Louis kept a remote, careful eye on her, hoping to one day see something else that blipped her radar.
Or, Louis and Harry fuck up two dates before they finally get it right.
Words: 7678, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English
*Smoke Dreams from Smoke Rings
by objectlesson
“When I get a craving?” Louis says, “You have to help me chase it away. Distract me”
Oh. Harry can think of about one hundred different ways to distract Louis Tomlinson. One hundred better uses for his mouth, for example. “Erm,” he squeaks, well aware of the fact that he’s grinning and dimpling and blushing all at once, his whole face a suddenly mortifying warzone of transparent emotion. “How?”
“By hitting my arm as hard as you can,” Louis announces, holding out the arm in question. It bridges the gap between them, stiff and expectant, and Harry stares, not entirely sure if Louis’s being serious, if this is some prank that he isn’t clever enough to understand, or if the promise of touching Louis under any circumstances is so titillating that he just can’t process it. Louis rolls up the sleeve of his hoodie then, revealing his pale inner arm in maddening increments, pushing Harry somewhere between drooling and vomiting, he isn’t sure which. He just knows that his mouth is flooded, and the barely-there ghost of Louis’s veins through his skin is the prettiest thing that he’s ever seen. “Go on, hit me,” Louis orders. “Don’t be shy,”
or, Louis enlists Harry to help him with his bad habit.
Words: 18116, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English
Black Stars and Endless Seas
by objectlesson
Or, A Star Trek Original Series AU where Lt. Styles is a young science officer on his first away mission, and Louis is the headstrong ensign assigned to his security detail, and maybe they would be able to function together professionally in a normal setting, but not when their shuttlecraft crash-lands and they end up marooned together on an improbably and unfairly beautiful planet.
Words: 32246, Chapters: 3/3, Language: English
Rose Garden Dreams
by objectlesson
Harry thinks it’s a fever-induced delirium, at first. After all, she’s been sick in bed for a full forty-eight hours following the Best and Most Important beach trip of her entire life because fate is a cruel and jealous bitch who doesn’t want Harry to go on a date with the girl of her dreams.
or, Harry is sick and Louis comes to visit her.
Words: 9464, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English
Palms Reflecting in Your Eyes
by objectlesson
Harry visits Louis at his campus and finds a crop on the wall.
Words: 6496, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English
Wrap You Up in Daisy Chains
by objectlesson
Ten minutes later, an awkward, long-legged, curly-haired, so pale she’s reflective, and so obviously gay-looking Harry Styles is sitting shotgun next to Louis in a bikini, denim cut-offs, and heart-framed sunnies.
Or, Harry and Louis and a too-small bathing suit.
Words: 10613, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English
To Keep the Night From Ending
by objectlesson
It doesn’t always feel real to kiss in the dark, Harry guesses. He wants it to feel real. He wants it to be the realest thing, burnt indelibly into his skin.
Or, Harry and Louis take a night swim.
Words: 5036, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English
Good Enough to Eat
by objectlesson
“Fuck,” Harry mumbles, shuffling. “You won’t give me shit for it? It’s sorta weird.”
“No,” Louis breathes. “Promise.”
“Okay. I just…fuck, I can’t believe I’m telling you this,” Harry whimpers, and he must be blushing because Louis can feel waves of heat coming off him, his embarrassment a hot, palpable thing. “So, like…I love rimming videos. Nothing makes me come harder,” he admits, covering his face with his hands so his voice comes out muffled and strangled.
It takes Louis a few seconds to process, to mentally rifle through his Pornhub search history and remember what rimming even is; Harry has him so stupid he can’t keep stuff straight. His ears ring, and then it hits him, and, oh, fuck. His stomach turns and tightens so quickly he’s gasping, an audible and shameful scrape of air in the dark. “You…really?” he chokes out.
Or, Harry is convinced he’s never gonna be able to try his favorite porn fantasy on a real boy, and Louis offers to remedy this.
Words: 6722, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English
Grenadine Sunshine
by objectlesson
Harry’s only sixteen, it shows right now, and Louis wants…he wants so many things. He wants to taste the faint, sugary ghost of lip gloss, he wants to cup Harry’s face between his palms and swipe the shimmery wet shadows from beneath his eyes. He wants to show him everything he knows, even though he doesn’t know anything about this, about kissing boys or flirting with them or doing their makeup or even showing them it’s okay to want to wear makeup in the first place. Still, Louis just wants, wants and wants and wants. It’s what Harry does to him.
Words: 18067, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English
Only Angel
by objectlesson
Louis pops his hip out, looking down at Harry from beneath the cut of his fringe sassily. “How do I look?”
Harry…Harry doesn’t have words, not really. He sits there on the floor with a half-hard cock, gazing up at this taller, scarier version of Louis with wide eyes. “Like I want you to spin-kick me in the face,” he admits after a moment, shakily inhaling. “You look…really good.”
Or, Louis finds a pair of heels that fit, and Harry wants to be ruined, as per usual.
Words: 6599, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English
Someone Who Knows How To Ride
by objectlesson
Harry gives Louis a lap dance. Or, at least, he tries to.
Words: 5114, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English
Copper Kiss
by objectlesson
Harry’s not allowed to fly back to the UK without marks to remember Louis by.
Words: 4604, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English
You Drive Me Crazy ( I Just Can’t Sleep)
by objectlesson
The first time Louis ends up in Harry’s bed is a total accident.
Words: 18520, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English
Christmas Without You
by objectlesson
It’s Christmas Eve and Harry misses Louis so badly he might be going little crazy.
Words: 5639, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English
Vinyl and Lace
by objectlesson
Harry tries on a skirt in the X Factor dressing room as a joke. Louis doesn’t think it’s very funny.
Words: 7541, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English
Touch of My Hand
by objectlesson
Words: 3104, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English
Fandoms: One Direction (Band)
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Categories: M/M
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson
Additional Tags: Tour Bus Sex, Bus Sex, PWP, Up All Night Tour, Uan era, Canon Compliant, baby boyfriends in love, Masturbation, Mutual Masturbation, Established Relationship
Born to Make You Happy
by objectlesson
Harry makes a quiet vow to himself that he will be the very best girlfriend Louis has ever had, even if he never actually gets to be Louis’s girlfriend.
Words: 25662, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English
Taste of a Poison Paradise
by objectlesson
Louis notices Harry’s mouth right away.
Words: 9894, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English
A Little Love (is better than none)
by objectlesson
It’s supposed to be no strings attached sex, but Harry’s in love with beauty and tragedy and Louis Tomlinson so there might actually a few strings they’re not talking about.
Or, alternately, the four times they fuck and don’t kiss, and one time they fuck and do (with a few more times thrown in because I’m a mess and know how to write short fics).
Words: 15074, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English
*Take Me Under the Blue
by objectlesson
Louis hasn’t even seen his legs yet. He doesn’t know how they work or how long they’ll be. Maybe they won’t suit the rest of Harry at all, and he’ll have to grow into them or something. It doesn’t matter; Louis has loved Harry for a year with scales, so he can’t imagine wonky legs putting a damper on his attraction. 
He supposes he’ll just have to find out. In the meantime, he wonders how the fuck he got here, in his squelching wellies about to save the love of his life from the sea and take him to bed and bang him for the very first time.
It’s sort of a long story.
Words: 19011, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English
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keelywolfe · a year ago
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FIC: Welcome To Backwater ch.2 (spicyhoney)
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Summary: Stretch isn’t running away, not really.
He took the bus.
Only to end up in a little town in the middle of nowhere, meeting unusual people, dealing with unexpected happenings, what the hell is going on in this place?
Content:  Spicyhoney, Midwest Gothic
Note:  Just as a heads up, I'd give this story a warning for mild horror and mild gore. None of our boys, but better to let y'all know!
~~*~~
Read Chapter Two ‘Meet and Greet’ on AO3
or
Read it here!
~~*~~
For the next week Stretch spent most of his time trying to figure out the method in the madness to Red’s store management. His first day of ‘training’ pretty much consisted of Red showing up long enough to demo the cash register and then shuffling off to the apartment at the back where he lived. Not that pushing a couple of numbered buttons was that complicated, but that wasn’t the only issue cropping up around here along with the local corn.
First of all, nothing in the shop was priced. All the items were recorded in a ragged notebook with coffee ring stains on the cover, where Stretch got to figure out if an item fell under the category of ‘toilet paper’, ‘paper, toilet’, ‘ass wipers’, or ‘shitty ass wipers’, all written in Red’s sloppy handwriting. The sheer number of items that fell under ‘ass’ and ‘shitty’ were staggering.
Turned out, the little store actually did a fair amount of business. Plenty of Humans stopped in to pick up one or two things rather than drive to the nearest Wally World which according to Granny Collemore, who Stretch was guessing was the unofficial town gossip, was better than a thirty-minute drive away.
“Don’t need to be driving an hour for a little bum tissue,” she bellowed happily, “shopping day is Sunday, we’ll stock up then!”
Stretch nodded as he rang her up, wincing away from her volume. He’d figured out pretty quickly that the old woman was stone deaf, but she didn’t seem to care if all she got was a smile and plenty of nods, so that was fine.
She handed over a wad of cash pulled from a little embroidered change purse that let out a puff of lavender so strong when she opened it that it overshadowed the store’s normal musty smell, hollering the whole time. By the time she left, Stretch knew enough about the local weather patterns to make a rain prediction and that the way someone named Pritchard was hamming on a pretty young’un Eloise meant they’d best they be married soon ‘fore it turned into a shotgun wedding. He nodded along with every proclamation, hurrying around the counter to open the door for her and ended up spending five minutes waiting for her to shuffle her way out, her bunny slippers leading the way.
But as she was leaving, she reached up and gave him a gentle pat on the cheekbone, her wrinkled hand barely able to reach. “You’re a nice boy,” she told him, too loud and with a pink, gummy smile.
Stretch was too startled to flinch away and only managed to mumble a thank you as she headed off into the growing heat of the morning, a hunched figure in a flowery dress and pink slippers, her bag of emergency tp bumping against her hip as she trundled along.
That was another thing. He’d thought that the Humans around here would be distrustful, even malicious, but that wasn’t proving to be the case. Aside from a little surprise when they first saw him, all the customers so far were small-town kindly. Kids came into the shop to raid the nickel-candy rack, their bikes left in piles outside as excited groups came roaring in. Mothers came in with babies wearing only their diapers, fanning themselves and laughing out their, ‘my, isn’t it a hot one today?’ as they bought a half-gallon of milk and some fresh apples to put in the bottom of their strollers.
No one in town seemed to care that he was a Monster past asking his name and maybe it was just ‘cause of Red being a skeleton, too. Could be that Granny Collemore was out there somewhere bellowing that the local shopkeeper had family visiting, who knew? It was sure different than he was used to. The general sentiment in Ebott about Monsters was resentment; over them taking jobs, enrolling in the schools, whatever it was, they didn’t want Monsters doing it.
It was…nice, he decided, to not have someone dislike him on sight.
That was how he spent his mornings. He worked in the shop, idly dusting, putting away the deliveries that a guy in the pickup truck and overalls brought in daily, and borrowing Red’s wifi to listen to soft music on his phone. The calls had trickled to only once a day and the glaring red alert number of his messages kept climbing.
Stretch didn’t look at them, only skipped right over to Spotify and the 'The Wedding Singer Divorce Special pt 2' playlist.
Red came in every day to relieve him at around two. He grunted out something that resembled a hello as he heaved himself up on the stool, leaning his cane against it as he pulled out a battered romance novel from beneath the counter. The creased covered did not in the slightest hide the young, scantily-clad woman caught up in a fiery embrace with her highland Lord.
“be back later,” Stretch said as he hung up his apron. Not that it mattered, wasn’t like Red was his dad or even a friend, not really, and he didn’t care when Stretch came home. A couple times they’d eaten together, takeout from the local diner that was imaginatively called ‘Mama’s’, not ‘Eats’, watched a little but that was it. His lack of idle chitchat was the complete opposite of Blue’s constant stream of chatter and after years of that, the silence was kinda disconcerting, but maybe not in a bad way.
Red didn’t even look up from his book, only pulled a crumpled bill out of his pocket and pushed it across the counter, “pick up some beer at the station, wouldja?”
“sure,” Stretch said, almost grateful for something else to do. It was miles better than sitting the rest of the day in his little room with its faded, floral wallpaper where the air conditioning wasn’t quite able to combat the heat of the mid-afternoon sun. He’d done that once, the first day, and after that made a point of staying out of his room until sundown to give it chance to cool off.
The town itself wasn’t much more than a bunch of ramshackle houses. To the west were fields, the leafy tops of what Stretch was now certain was corn rustling in the wind. Off to the east, the landscape slowly went from flat plains to trees, their wilting leaves yellowing in the heat and ending in a wooded area that surrounded maybe half the town. Shame it was too far away provide much shade unless you went walking right into it. Main street consisted of a few other public buildings; a tractor store right up next to the thrift shop, a little one-room schoolhouse with an attached shed that served as the town library, the Sheriff’s office, and the movie theater.
On the outskirts of town there was also a bar, The Whistling Cow, its glowing neon sign a single point of orange light on dark nights. As much as Stretch wanted a drink, he stuck with filching beer from the cooler Red kept under the counter. Hanging around with strange, drunk humans usually didn't end well for him.
The movie theater was where he’d taken to heading after work. Someone with a sense of humor must’ve named the place, since ‘The Grandeur’ literally only had one theater and maybe thirty seats, if that. The proprietor ran the ticket booth and the concession stand, and in his threadbare uniform with its yellowing shirt, he looked a lot like Lurch's second cousin, once removed.
But he was a nice enough fella and it was a good way to waste some time. Even if the only movies showing were old black and whites, the popcorn was fresh, with real butter, and the added bonus of air conditioning. Besides, the Three Stooges were funny as shit any old day.
That was where Stretch was headed today; the afternoon showing only cost two bucks, then another for popcorn and he was set for a few hours. It was better than trying to get anything to tune in on the television in his overboiled room. With a lot of coaxing, he might manage to get a PBS channel, but there was only so much time a person could spend sweating their way through a staticky version of Sesame Street.
Stretch got to his seat just as the lights were going down, settling in with his popcorn. Before the movie there were a few cartoons, and it was kinda wild to get to see Steamboat Willy chugging along on the big screen again.
Today’s flick was an honest to bitsy silent movie and Stretch watched with a wide grin as Charlie Chaplin slap-schticked his way across the stage. There were a few other people in the seats, at least one of them snoring; probably only came to get out of the summertime heat.
But it wasn’t really the movie he was here for. Not today.
He’d seen her the first time he came. Sitting in the far back row, not that uncommon, some people liked to sit far away. No one else seemed to notice her and that wasn’t strange either. Normally even he didn’t pay much attention to anyone else in the theater, who did? So long as a person was quiet, made no ripples in the pond, no one saw them. Movies were for escapism, not to make new friends.
But this lady. To begin with, her clothes were about a century out of date, with her pink suit and matching pillbox hat, her white gloves, and whenever the house lights came up while they switch the reel, she vanished without even a shimmer of dust motes, only returning once the darkness did.
He’d been back three times so far and she’d been in the theater for every showing. Sitting on her own watching the flick, always in the same seat. This time, Stretch was sitting in the seat next to it. He munched his buttery popcorn and watched as Charlie Chaplin-ed his way through the movie. He didn’t have to wait long.
None of the Humans noticed. The black-and-white light coming from the screen was dim enough that anyone sitting in the audience was nothing but a shadow. Humans tended towards the unobservant side, anyway, none of them had to be as aware of their surroundings as a Monster did, especially one like Stretch with only 5 HP between him and dust.
Besides, there wasn’t any fanfare about it. One minute the chair next to him was empty and the next, a young woman was sitting there, her hands clasped primly in her lap as she looked up at the movie with rapt attention.
“like the movies, huh?” Stretch said, very softly. “always wanted to be an actor myself, but i don’t have the guts for it.”
Waste of a good pun, he didn’t even think the woman had a chance to notice he was a skeleton. She startled, one faintly translucent hand flying to her mouth as if to stifle a scream. Stretch only munched on another piece of popcorn and let her gather her wits or ectoplasm or whatever ghosts had. Wasn’t like he had room to talk, the inside of his skull was as hollow as a drunken apology.
She settled quick enough and asked in a wispy little voice, “you can see me?”
Stretch slouched back and propped his sneakers up on the seat in front of him. “sure. it’s a monster thing. we see things that humans don’t, sometimes.” Or didn’t bother to see, Stretch wasn’t sure which.
“Sometimes they see me,” she admitted. “but they always run away.”
Yeah, Stretch couldn’t really blame them for that one. Humans weren’t used to ghosts, not the way Monsters were, and now that he was sitting up close, he could see the way she flickered a little, that pretty face sometimes flashing onto something else, half still pretty as a picture from an old magazine and the other a bloody ruin. There was a gaping hole on one side of her head, her blonde hair matted into dark clumps, and one blue eye stared out, unseeing. There were flecks scattered on the shoulder of her pink suit, chips of ivory, and Stretch knew enough about bones to recognize skull fragments. Another flicker and it was gone, only a pretty young Human woman looking back at him. The effect was a little off-putting, true, but it wasn’t like she could help it.
Besides, Stretch didn’t have to look. He was watching the movie.
“what’s your name?” he asked, softly.
She hesitated and he wondered if she didn’t want to tell him or if she didn’t know. Her eyes were large, absurdly long lashes sweeping against her cheeks as she considered. When she spoke again her voice was a little stronger, surer, “Doris.”
“doris, my name is stretch,” he told her, “and it is a pleasure to meet you.”
They sat together in silence for a little while. The music coming brightly from the speakers was as cheerful as a carousel, offering happiness and humor when she spoke again abruptly. “I know this is very forward. But. Could you do something for me?”
“maybe,” Stretch said, a little wary. Better not to make promises to unknown ghosts, they could get tetchy.
She smiled, a wry curve of lips as if she could hear his thoughts. “Your popcorn.”
He looked down at the paper cup in his hand, still half-full of buttery kernels. “you want some?” he asked, bemused.
She let out a whispery laugh, like a wind rustling through summer cattails. “No, but. Can I smell it?”
Oh. “sure.” He held the cup out and she leaned over it, inhaling deeply, or, well, looked like she did, he didn’t think ghosts actually breathed, but who knew? When she bent down twin ribbons of blood ran from both her nostrils, dark and slick. It didn’t drip into the popcorn, couldn’t, it wasn’t present in the same way the little carton was, but he felt his appetite fade. He still politely pretended not to notice.
She leaned back with a happy sigh and all signs of the blood were gone. “Thank you. I go behind the counter sometimes to smell it, but it’s not the same.”
“i bet. gotta be in a paper bucket or it ain’t right.” If she could go out to the concession stand, that meant at least she wasn’t stuck sitting in this one seat. Maybe it was just her favorite. “you get out much?” He jerked his head towards the door, “outside, i mean.”
“No,” She shook her head sadly, and her hair brushed her shoulders. “I have to stay in the theater.”
He nodded sympathetically. That was gonna make this a little harder, but not too much. He liked the movies, anyway. “yeah, it works that way sometimes. but hey, i’ll stop back in and see you again. if that’s okay?”
She brightened visibly, coming sharply into focus like a lens turned on a camera, until the chair behind her only barely showing through. “Would you?”
Now that was a vow he could make and Stretch sketched a cross over his chest with a finger and said solemnly, “i promise.”
Their chat must’ve been getting a little loud. Someone was turning around in the front seats. The room was too dark to see, but he didn’t have to witness a glare to feel it. Stretch slouched down in his seat and took the hint.
Hey, he’d made a friend. Well, most of one and it was the important part. A soul without a body was a lot nicer than a body without a soul, hands down.
Which made him wonder about the gas station attendant, because Mitch made Red seem like a warm, outgoing person.
The ancient artwork on the front window of the gas station showed a shiny, smiling attendant in a tidy uniform, his neatly cut hair almost hidden beneath his cap as he held up a dripping gas nozzle in offering. That guy must’ve gotten promoted out of state, because the only dress code Mitch followed was ‘fuck it, looks clean.’ Long, straggly hair poked out from his dirty baseball cap and, of all things, he was reading the New York Times, the business section.
His saving grace was that his disinterest in all customers was universal. Mitch was an equal opportunity kind of guy; he didn’t give a shit about anyone.
Stretch opened the door carefully so that the cowbell only gave a muted clang. He hesitated inside the door and decided to brave a question. Hey, he’d made one friend today, may as well push his luck. “you got any coffee on?”
It was a pretty safe bet, even as hot as it was. Coffee wouldn’t help with the sweat that was already dampening his shirt from walking over from the theater, but Stretch felt a little unsteady from meeting Doris. He could use a dose of caffeine to shore him up.
Mitch didn’t look up from his paper, but he jerked his chin towards the back wall. “Yep, but the only coffee I got is hot. Ain’t no ‘spressos around here, Slick.”
“Hot is fine.” He didn’t bother correcting him on the name. Started with an S, close enough, they’d be best pals in no time. The carafe of coffee smelled surprisingly fresh, considering that Mitch looked like he’d been holding that chair down for a few hours. There was a plastic basket next to the carafe filled with little coffee mate creamer cups. He added four French vanilla, carrying his murky coffee up to the counter with Red’s six-pack. Beer was one thing they didn’t sell at the store, no alcohol at all, something to do with the liquor laws in this county and Red not paying those skinflint jackholes for a license, not on his ass, thanks much.
He paid for both, picked up his change from where Mitch tossed it unhelpfully on the counter and went outside, fumbling out his smokes on the way.
Stretch sat down on the crumbling curb, drinking his coffee and smoking, letting the caffeine and nicotine wash over him in a twin, soothing rush. He’d been trying to cut down with his funds being on the uncertain side, cigarettes were a pricy vice, and he couldn’t bum any from Red the way he did the beers.
The sun was still high overhead pouring down the heat, coming up off the pavement in shimmery waves. Sweat was rising up on his bones, his t-shirt clinging damply to his ribs and spine. Somewhere nearby, he could hear children playing, the hollow thud of a basketball and their laughter carrying on in the still air. He didn’t have anywhere he needed to be, no one’s expectations to live up to.
When his cigarette was done and pinched out, Stretch climbed back to his feet and headed for the grocery to drop off the beers before they got warm. Again, he went easy on the door, keeping the bell to a faint rattle rather than a clang. It was only when he turned around that he saw the front counter was empty, Red’s book bent open on the counter but no skeleton around to pick it back up.
He set the beers on the counter, calling, “red?”
No reply and that was strangely ominous in a little store where even a short skeleton would be hard pressed to hide.
There was a long hallway in the back that led past a couple storerooms to the apartment Red lived in. He gave the storerooms a glance, just in case Red had a sudden urge to restock the sanitary napkin display, and wasn’t very surprised to find them unoccupied. He saw the door to Red’s apartment was open a crack like it never was and that cranked ominous up to sinister. The lingering sweat on his bones was chilling in the air conditioning, but that wasn’t the only reason a sudden shiver rattled him.
“red?” Stretch called weakly as he pushed open the door.
The living room was small with a ratty plaid sofa and a coffee table littered with beer cans and balled up chip bags, and standing in the center of it was a person who was not Red, not unless he got one hell of a growth spurt while Stretch was gone.
Once, Stretch would’ve just taken a shortcut out, right the hell to the Sheriff station down the road and never had he missed the skill more than when the guy-who-was-definitely-not-Red started to turn around. The instinct to teleport was still there even if the ability wasn’t, fizzling out with an aching pain right in the middle of his chest.
It was only a minor distraction and Stretch blundered over to grab a lamp from a side table, yanking the cord right out of the wall as he brandished it over his head like a club, yelling shrilly, “what the fuck are you doing in here?”
The guy turned around, looking back at him with deep crimson eye lights that flicked briefly up to the lamp before meeting his wild gaze. His voice was as smooth and dark as deep water as he stated coolly, “I believe that’s my question.”
Stretch could stare and the only coherent thought amongst the many tangled ones scrambling through his mind was only two words. Simple. Descriptive.
Oh, shit.
-tbc-
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darkdorkchan · a year ago
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New Year’s Drabble - Lico
Wow SURPRISE AGAIN! Another trashy BSTS drabble I wrote last night xD They just keep popping out of me :’D This is a gift for my friends of the heart and patient listeners of my BSTS crap @pihlajamarmeladi​​ & @ashwing​​ UwU <3 Love you guys
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This ficlet was also inspired by the end of the year cleaning song (炎神) event, especially the 2nd chapter was it where you try to help Ran, Lico and Kongou clean the restaurant floor.
I know Koku is my favourite, but I’m also such trash for Lico ;;;; What’s it with me and the trashiest possible guys I swear xDDD
Fandom: Blackstar Theater Starless
Pairing: Lico x fem!reader (established relationship)
Rating: Lemong
Warnings: Probably some OOCness (I’m still trying to grasp the characters x’I)! Cursing, oral sex with a bit of edging and… is this maybe like sex in public?? IDK what warrants a warning these day either….
Word count: 2664
Fic under the cut
***
Luckily both Lico and Ran seemed to be too busy turning over tables and exclaiming their disgust with what they found beneath them to pay much attention to you. Kongou had already left to help Mizuki and Heath clean the bathrooms. Perfect.
After they had all firmly refused you offer to help with the cleaning you had obediently sat down on a bar stool to act as their motivating charm, but you honestly felt so useless just perched there. Thus, you had crept silently behind the counter while the boys were distracted. Stealthily you had started to wash some of the coffee pots, tea kettles and other stuff hiding behind the counter.
Seriously, the coffee pot was so dark brown and murky from the inside you weren’t sure if it had ever been washed properly. But you’d get it clean, just they wait! And then you’d remove all the clutter from the bar counter and scrub it sparkling clean! They might complain, but you knew they had to be just a little bit happy and grateful for your efforts. You couldn’t help but to smile, helping them out made you happy. And listening to their complaints, especially Lico’s, had made you want to help threefold. He was so cute bemoaning his faith when the full horror of Team B’s promise to clean the whole Starless had dawned on him. Better not tell him though.
As his face flickered in your mind’s eye you raised your eyes from your work to the restaurant floor. Ran was scouring the tables with vigour, you could hear the rap blasting from his phone all the way to the other end of the room. Lico wasn’t there. Maybe he’s gone to get some more cleaning supplies, you thought.
Speak --  or think -- of the devil, though.
“Oy, oy, is our little songbird hard of hearing?” a soft voice purred to your side, from the same side of the counter as you were in, and quite close too. Lico’s voice was like velvet. It made the hair at the nape of your neck stand up as a hot shiver ran through you, even as you jolted a bit.
You turned to him to flash an apologetic smile. Lico was leaning to the counter, his lithe form bending and curving in perfect angles. How he managed to be so stunning even on his off day and in his cleaning gear, you had no idea, but that he was. Not to even mention the steely danger in his green eyes, he was clearly more than a bit annoyed with you for disobeying his direct request. The anger seemed to be less of the yelling sort, but something much more calculating and perilous.
“Can’t I just help a little bit?” you hazarded a plea at him, to which his mouth twisted sourly.
“You were already helping perfectly fine.”
“But...” he drawled, edging closer, you felt the nervous exhilaration of being prowled upon, “if you insist on being stubborn...”
He was right next to you now, so close you smelled his fragrance beneath all the detergent, drawing it in with quivering breath. He held you trapped in his gaze, and even though you were nervous about how Ran would react if he saw the two of you like this, you were completely unable to draw your gaze off of him. The way he smiled told you he knew it, too.
“I’ll clean with you here.” 
“Huh?” your thoughts had been so intent on him, you had already lost your grasp on the conversation. Lico just smirked, like the suave ex-host only could.
“You take the top, I’ll take care of the bottom,” he said crouching low, leaving your reeling. Was that it? You got your way with him this easy? Maybe he did have a bit of a soft spot for you, you chuckled under your breath. The two of you had been secretly seeing each other for a while now, after all.  
“Yeah, looks pretty dusty down here,” Lico’s voice came from next to your knee, but before you had time to look down upon him you let out a small scream of surprise.
Lico’s hands were holding you by the thigh and he kissed you just above the knee, all of a sudden.
“Hush, now little birdie,” he chuckled against your skin, and you felt a sparkling wave of arousal spring up your leg all the way to your sex.
“Are you okay, sis?” Your gaze snapped back to Ran, who was looking at you suspiciously from the tables, “You’re not cleaning up there are you??”
“Oh no, no! I’m just making us tea!” you yelled back at him, voice quivering as you felt Lico kiss a bit higher, hands brushing up your tights. He had one palm on both your legs, caressing gently.
“Lico, what the fuck,” you hissed at him, keeping your eyes on Ran and your voice down to a whisper.
After scrutinising you for a moment, Ran shrugged, “Okay~!” he chimed, diving back into his cleaning business with zeal.
“I’m cleaning,” Lico snickered against your skin. His breath felt hot, as he placed another kiss a bit higher and twisting slowly to your backside. You tried to fight down a moan, Ran was right there! He could notice any second! Yet, as you bit hard on your lip feeling Lico’s palms slip beneath your hem, the heady deluge of arousal drowned out any protest you harboured. Shame mixed into it, you didn’t want to believe how turned on it was making you, looking at the empty restaurant floor and the sole cleaner there while your lover was kissing his way up the back of your thigh.
The Lico bit down on the soft skin. Clamping a wet hand on your mouth you bent down over the sink, doing your utmost to not moan out loud. He should stop, no the both of you should stop this right now, but no such words made it past your lips. Your sex was throbbing with each panicked beat of your heart, and it was galloping madly. Belatedly you realised you had only made room for Lico to fit better between your legs with your squirming. The satisfied chuckle against your skin revealed his elation at your eagerness.
“Shh, honey, or he’ll see,” Lico crooned, his long, nimble fingers massaging your heated flesh, sneaking higher.
“Lico,” you hated how the name dropped from behind your fingers like a desperate plea, “Lico we--”
“Now, now, it’s not like you to leave things unfinished, my obstinate little cleaning lady,” his tone was that mock scolding, “Nor like me.”
Before you had time for another protest, his finger whispered their way up and in between your thighs, to the damp heat of your sex. He rubbed the pads against your panties, feeling the wet spot already seeping into the fabric of it and into your tights. His other arm snaked around your thighs keeping you firmly in check.
“Tell me if you really want me to stop. Say No, Lico, stop!” he purred, snagging the shimmering fabric of your tights between his teeth and pulled, downwards. You felt them slip a bit lower on your hips. All the while his fingers brushed a maddening little circle between your legs, sending jolts of spine bending arousal up. Instead of a denial a quivering mewl made it past your lips, as you tried to stand up straight, so Ran or anyone else who might come in wouldn’t suspect anything. You were sure your face was beet red though.
“Hehe, stay put there, and wash them pots and pans until they’re spick-and-span.”
You had not said a thing.
“And do try to stay quiet, love.”
Lico bit you again now on the tenderness of your inner thigh, a little higher. His fingers hooked on the waistline of your tights while you were distracted with trying to not make a sound.
“Ahh, Lico,” you whined out, quietly, unable to stay completely silent. You still couldn’t believe he was doing this to you. He wriggled the elastic fabric all the way down to your knees, crawling then under your skirt hem like into a fucking tent. He pushed you forward until you were bent half into the sink. Hastily you pulled the plug so you wouldn’t drench your clothes in the dishwater. You bit down on your knuckle, hazarding a glance at Ran, while pretending to wipe the counter or something with your free hand. You prayed to all the gods you had no faith in he'd keep being occupied by his work. Luckily he still had a lot of tables to wash. 
Lico was pressing wet, sloppy kisses onto your bare skin, traveling up your thigh slowly. Each kiss felt like it stole a bit of your blood from your brain, to have it flooding down into your hips feeling red hot with arousal, while your head was woozy and empty. Yet, you wanted him to go on, and your hips bent backwards to invite him deeper in. The satisfied little sounds he made against your skin were a telltale sign of how much he appreciated you yielding to your desires, to him.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you whispered between shallow gasps for air, and they too were engulfed into a deep mmph of barely contained euphoria as his lips finally landed on the drenched cotton of your panties, the only thing between that wicked tongue and your needy sex. You heard him echo you, distantly, felt more keenly the vibration of his moan against your oversensitive pussy.
 Without hesitation he hooked his fingers on the waistline of your panties to slowly, teasingly so, drag them over our ass and all the way down to your knees, bunching them with your tights. You squeezed your eyes shut thinking what a view he had of your privates now, hoping it was too dark beneath your skirt for him to see properly. 
Soon any such thought went flying from your head like leaves into the wind. His fingers slid languidly on the slickness of your folds, from back to front. There they rubbed deeper until he found the bead of your clit.
“Oh, fuck!” you spat out when a violent spark of pleasure almost stole your legs from under you. Lico let out a little laughter that sounded way too much like a gleeful giggle, rubbing your clit again, gentler this time.
“Keep your legs under you, little bird,” he said as you tried to find your footing, leaning half your weight already on your hands.
“Fuck you,” was the only retort you manged, and even it sounded insincere to your ears. He just scoffed at you, slipping his fingers in lazy circles, spreading your slickness all over. After a few teasing brushes by your entrance, earning him another demanding sound from you, his finger finally sank into your swollen hole, but keeping the leisurely pace. You leaned into that intrusion hungry for more, saw Lico’s cheshire grin as you did without needing your eyes.
Deciding that it was time to amp up the onslaught Lico slipped his finger out only to dive between your spread legs. You had to fight down another string of curses as you felt the soft tip of his tongue probe at your slippery heat. Quickly it found its way to your already agitated clit, teasing it gently.
Breathing shallow and fast through your nose you tried to keep yourself together even if the only thing you wanted to do was crumble onto the floor, and pull him on top of you. Why was he like this, you cursed, knowing full well this was the reason you liked him so much. No one was like Lico, no one came even close. Briefly you wondered how badly he would end up burning you.
Dispelling any dark thoughts, you surrendered to the pleasure you leaned into the counter clamping your mouth shut with both your hands. Otherwise you would’ve moaned out loud like a bitch in heat when Lico’s long tongue lapped at your folds eagerly. When you felt it slip inside you, your head blacked out totally. His hands were rubbing your thighs, in maddening esoteric signs bewitching you until you were completely under his spell. You felt one of the sneak over to the front and reach over the mound of you sex. He pressed the tip of his thumb onto your clit while his tongue gave you not an iota of mercy, caressing you flesh wherever it could reach. Deep. You were so close to the edge already, head buzzing with the heat of your rising wave. Lico must’ve felt it too as his agile tongue seemed to rub you in all the right places.
“Lico,” you hissed with urgency of your growing orgasm in your voice, “I’m going to..--”
“Hey, sis! You okay?”
Of all the fucking things, you cursed, forcing yourself up from the table upon which you had almost been lying while Lico had his way with you.
“I’m, o-okay, I just hit my head, it-it’s nothing,” voice an approximation of normalcy you tried replying, and arrange a reassuring smile on your face, too, while Lico hummed against your sex enjoying your predicament. You felt the vibration in the marrow of your bones, but had to stay put or Ran might think you had ants in your panties or something. Or worse, find out that it was Lico in them instead. Swallowing thickly you tried to keep your back straight as you felt Lico’s tongue delve deeper still within you.
“Oh, sure you’re okay?” Ran looked at you intently, clearly worried.
“Y-yeah, I’ve a h-hard head.” Another almost painfully hard rub against your clit.
“Seen Lico? He was supposed to go get this scouring soap or something for the tables.”
Just as you were about to say no, you felt Lico slip out from beneath you. Scandalised you watched him get up from behind you looking about as innocent as he ever could, with your juices glistening on his lips, and hair maybe a bit of a mess. You could smell your own lust on him from where you were standing. He smiled wide and winked at you seeing your eyes as wide as saucers. 
“Can’t find the fucking thing, not here, not in the cleaning closet,” you marvelled at the genuine annoyance Lico got into his voice, like he had actually spent the last ten minutes or so actually looking for soap instead of torturing you.
Winking at your shocked face he continued, “I’ll go check the kitchen next, maybe the staff’s hidden it there.”
He looked so un-flustered you couldn’t take it.
“Okkaay~!” Ran piped in from the other end of the room as you tried to give Lico your best You have to be joking -face but he just beamed a smile at you.
With a sideways glance he made sure Ran was back to his efforts, and leaned closer trapping you between him and the counter, “You just stay here little bird, and make yourself that tea.”
He pulled your hem up enough for his hand to slip back under it, rubbing gently at your still exposed folds. You felt your lust ooze down your thighs as your barely contained heat flared up again.
“I love how wet I got you, little pervert,” he whispered into your lips, “but you’re going to be a good girl now and up until we’re done.” Each word was accompanied by a maddening spiral by his fingers, circling your clit, taunting your need.
“Fuck you, Lico,” you snarled into his chaste kiss, but he just smiled that infuriating smile of his.
“You will, later.” He smacked one last stealth kiss and was on his way. And you stood there, unable to follow with your panties and tights around your calves and head still reeling with the horror of what you had just done. 
***
Thank you for reading this far! I’d love to hear feedback if you have any(=´∇`=)I’m pretty new to BSTS and I’m also not a native speaker so I’m always anxious about my language, and this time also characterisation…
Anyway happy new year! Hopefully we’ll see more, better BSTS fics out of me in this coming year, and before that I have a few DL & Haku stuffs in my sleeve >:3c 
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raysreads · 10 months ago
Text
Teen Wolf Character Scents
Okay this might sound weird, but I’ve been reading a lot of Teen Wolf fic lately and it always puts a heavy emphasis on what the character smells like. Because...werewolf senses and everyone has a natural scent. I personally love this so here are my headcanons for what each characters natural scent would be!!!!!
(I give reasons for why I went with those things but some of the reasons themselves are headcanons, and some just came to me and have no reason at all besides that fact that i love it that way)
So background info: I headcanon some scents are from birth, while some are added/change based on experiences, temperament and emotions. You have your own scent and it does its own thing, even when you’re human. Humans cant smell them since they aren’t necessarily real, they are more a smell supernaturals pick up that’s a cryptic reflection of ones personality.
Stiles: Gotta start with the main boi!!!! He smells like spicy chili peppers, honey and everything spicy. He is wild and loud and so so sharp. He uses cutting anger and snark and sarcasm as a defense mechanism, this reflects in a scent that burns your nose. But he cares and loves a lot and is super soft, hence the honey. If you focus on his scent too much your eyes water with the chili. When he gets angry he send tears down everyone’s faces and even reddens the cheeks and burns the tongues of the supernatural pack members in his anger, his scent becoming physical as his spark acts up.
Peter: He smells like cold. Like cold, and petrichor and mint toothpaste. He always has. He smells like the cold of ice, the cold you smell when you open a freezer in the cold isle of the grocery store and like Vick’s Vaporub but 10x as strong. As the left hand of the pack it was his job to kill, to eliminate threats, his job to bear all the blood on his hands, to have his hands permanently stained sticky red and his eyes glow blue, so that no one else in the pack has to live with the guilt of murder, even when justified. His first kill was at 8 years old and he would never forgive the fact that he had been given that burden. So he became unmovable ice and unending cold. With the thick smell of rain for the warmth he would always keep hidden.
Theo: His scent is that of fresh, right off the smoker, BBQ sauce-soaked ribs and apple juice. Its a scent he was born with, one that reflects the gooey warmth of his soul and his innocence before he was manipulated and tortured. His scent always throws people off since it usually reflects ones personality and he’s not a good person by any means, he is amoral and cruel; and such a warm, soft scent doesn’t make sense. But his soul (though no longer pure) would always hold his original innocence. The apple juice isn’t actually his scent, but his sisters, her heart such a part of him that his guilt manifested her soul in his scent. And if you focus hard enough, underneath all that you can find the sting of bleach. His time with the dread doctors (and the fact that he was surgically tortured into being a chimera) leaving part of his scent mangled and altered into the artificial tang of bleach. The fact that he forced his scent to remain mostly unchanged throughout his life (which was worse than hell on earth) is Very Very Impressive, even more so when in the beginning he wasn’t even supernatural.
Scott: Our ever-sweet true alpha. He smells like overly sweet pink and blue cotton candy and hot, buttered, movie theater popcorn. He’s literally sugar and spice and everything nice. His morals and warmth translating to the hot popcorn and his perpetual smiling and niceness coming though as cotton candy. He smells like fairgrounds and the laughter of children. Underneath all that he bears the subtle scent of rust,  a permanent reminder of his forced change to the supernatural and permanent resentment of the burden he must bear (and the guilt about that resentment)
Derek: He smells of Sandalwood, Patchouli, and Frankincense. He always smells like incense and spices, like the inside of a stereotypical fortune tellers shop. He becomes heat, warmth, and flame. Something that pulls at his soul since the fire. Something that is a comfort to the wolves around him. He also smells heavily of smoke (something that makes Peter unable to be in the same room as him for longer than 30 minutes unless forced) because of his never-ending guilt about his family, something that seared the event into his scent. When he’s angry (which is a lot) his scent gets stronger and the incense smell becomes extremely heady and makes his betas lethargic.
Lydia: She smells like metal, like your hands after handling handfuls of change. She smells like she bathed in pennies, her standoffish coldness bringing the bitter smell to her scent. Since she became a banshee she also smells strongly of spider lilies (also know as hell flowers), japans flower of death. You would think the contrast between bitter metal and floral scents, so strong you choke, would be bad but its actually strangely comforting. And while bitter its the only thing that can get Jackson to relax some days. The scent of the only person there for him for over a decade-and-a-half sometimes even more comforting than the scent of his boyfriend.
Isaac: His scent is of strong cologne even though he never wears any, he smells like he bathed in the Mahogany Teakwood candle from Bath and Body Works, or lived in an Abercrombie & Fitch for 50 years. He always had that smell, even as a child, but it just gets stronger the more confidence he gains. His childhood innocence and cleanliness of soul translates as a strong laundry soap smell. But hidden underneath there's an undertone of metal, plastic, and cold; that takes over his scent when he's scared and overwhelmes everything in a mile radius. It takes the Pack far too long to realize it smells like a freezer and metal chains.
Allison: She smells strongly of ozone and static (not rain though, never rain). Her anger and righteous fury making her scent like electricity and making the static-y-ness tingle in everyone's nose - sometimes making Scott sneeze. Nothing in her scent is pleasant or comforting to everyone's confusion. Its only when she feels negative emotions that she smells like roses and summer. Its like a warning but in reverse, the opposite of what it should be. Bad scents usually mean bad emotions or feelings or memories, and good scents mean good moods and positive things but for her its the opposite. Just like how she took the opposite path then what was laid out for her.
Jackson: He smells very very heavily of cherries, his scent so strong and sweet its like he took a bath in a hot tub filled with cherry cough medicine, chloraseptic cherry sore throat spray, cherry pie, cherry starburst, cherry Jell-O, and maraschino cherries. Its thick and sticky and strong enough to drown out the scent and stick for hours on anyone standing near him or touching him and it lingers on the Pack members even if they haven’t seen each other for years. Case-in-point: Jackson left for England after the kanima thing and Isaac left for France not long after. When Isaac came back 6 years later (2 years after Jackson came back) he still had the smell on him pretty strongly. Why cherries? No one knows. But its thick as hell and stronger than epoxy when it binds to things together forever. The Pack thinks it stems with his identity and abandonment issues, but once he claims you he wont let go, not even his scent. He is very self conscious and embarrassed about it so its never discussed, and he’s been friends with Danny for so long that his scent almost drowns out Danny’s own. 
Ethan: Ethan’s scent is subtle and barely there. He was the one who always stood in front of Aiden to protect them, and took the beatings when possible so his scent became as bland and barely-there as possible. The Pack can only smell his scent with intense focus and at least an hours meditation (unless you’re Aiden). He smells of freshly baked bread and homemade jam, comforting smells that easily calm Aiden down. In times of distress he smells of burnt toast, he scent twisting with negative memories. A reminder that all good things have eventually turned bad for him and his twin.
Aiden: Aiden on the other hand smells strongly like curry and lavender. An odd combination but one that speaks of his guarded- but angry, headstrong and stubborn- nature. The abuse left him angry and twitchy and paranoid, everything setting him off and his moods turning on a dime. His scent fluctuated wildly between spicy curry and calming lavender which indicated his mood and Ethan was the only one able to calm him down, doing so with a single touch between his shoulder blades where they merged.
Danny: Danny smells like he lived in a Eucalyptus oil factory for 50 years, the scent soothing and calm like he is. Its always the same and never changes, not even when his emotions do. It was concerning at first, since everyone else’s scents changed throughout the day, even when their mood didn't (the only other scent that barely changed was Peter’s but that was because the man hand an iron grip over his emotions, even in his scent. Which is super impressive). He was just that calm at all times, even when annoyed. The one time he got angry- and I mean really angry not just the pretenses he kept when ‘annoyed’ with Stiles who he more endeared with than anything- his scent overwhelmed the entire apartment complex ( the one Derek had bought out for his loft) with the horrible, strong, pungent scent of burnt rubber. No one angered him again.
But they did have a chat about his witch ancestry.
Erica: Her scent was that of a bonfire. A blazing bonfire, gasoline, and the smell of the world when it was so hot outside the air above the tar street shimmered. She was competitive, and fierce, and pure heat and burning. If she wanted something, she would take it she had always been that way, even when she was sick. And while her sickness may be gone she had a subtle distortion to her scent, one like poison, that made her always smell slightly sick. (Peter almost had a panic attack when he first met her because of her scent, he now never came within 10 feet of her).
Boyd: He smelled like a flower garden. He was so stoic that the floral scent took many by surprise. He had always smelled like soil and dirt, his down to earth personality manifesting as a calming and grounding scent. He also smelled like the ocean, like salt and brine, and waves. But that was all drowned out by the overwhelming smell of flowers, a scent that used to be his sisters, one that he subconsciously adopted after her death when he was still human. He empathized with Theo and would exchange heavy glances when the pack discussed their natural scents as a ‘pack bonding exercise’, they were both drowned in guilt for different reasons, but both over lost sisters. They never discussed it. That was all folks!!! Feel free to add on to this and/or use it as a fanfic reference!!! Do you agree??? What are your headcanons???
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maythedreadwolfbreakyou · a year ago
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What Dreams May Come
A Solavellan Story
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     Waking each morning was no longer the pleasure it had been in Skyhold. There was always that moment when she felt whole again, refreshed by the visions of the night before. But as they gave way to daylight, that happiness evaporated with their memory like a summer rain from the dry earth. Leaving only a vague memory of feeling hope, wrapped within a sharp edge that made it difficult to reach.
     It had been strange to see that towering monolith, once a bustling citadel of trade, spies, and military, now stand cold and silent like a discarded old bone in the soil. Yet as Ghilina walked the winding mountain path away from Skyhold, the place she had strangely come to call home, the mountains closed like theater curtains at the end of a play. 
No, she thought, her jaw set with determination, this is not the end. This is only an intermission. 
     It had been many months since that day, and if losing an arm hadn't been an odd enough experience to live with, leaving Skyhold felt like losing the ground from underneath her feet. But the Dalish were nothing, if not adaptable, and Ghilina took pride in being especially so. She had her father and his teachings to thank for that; moving from place to place and never lingering for long took little effort. She was, after all, Dalish. It was the constant watching of her surroundings while avoiding the prying eyes around her that proved to require more. 
     The days seemed to stretch far longer than they had before. The Inquisition was now a shadow of it's former glory, an echo, and operating what remained of it's forces with such necessary secrecy took more getting used to than she had first thought it would. 
     Even now she lay upon a bed within a rented room for the evening, waiting for contact from one of Leliana's agents, staring up at the tattered wood ceiling from the comfort of a warm and plush feather bed. 
     The countryside just West of Nevarra was lovely. Not somewhere she would choose to linger had she the choice, but it was lovely.
     Somewhere beyond her open window, she heard crickets sing with joy as the aroma of the night wafted in on the cool evening breeze, bringing with it the promise if rain. A hush as a torrent of wind rushed through the gusty trees.
     As much as Ghilina disliked being left with her own thoughts on nights such as this, there was also a sense of peace she enjoyed. Along with the hope for a better tomorrow. 
     Her thoughts began to slow with the progression of the night like the flow of a lazy river. Each one danced as the ribbons from a kite string reaching toward the sky, inviting the dreams that would inevitably take her. 
     Ghilina's dreams always took her to a happier future, the sort she secretly hoped for, yet tucked away into the darkest recesses of her heart. They were bittersweet wishes, for to wish for them earnestly would invite further heartbreak.
     It began as it often did, with the colors of a thousand ribbons and streamers decorating the town square of Wycome. They billowed and swayed on the unseen breeze as people danced and laughed all around her in celebration. 
     Ghilina looked down and found herself dressed in a simplistic white gown, her arms and shoulders exposed.
That was when she noticed that her left hand and the part of her arm that had been consumed by the anchor was no longer missing. It had returned, the same as it had been before the mark, and beautiful bracelets of gold and gems decorated her wrist. Interwoven with her dark hair were the small flowers of Prophet's Laurel.
     Standing before her, taking her hands gently in his, stood the man to whom her heart belonged. 
     Solas, down-turned gray eyes staring so lovingly into her own, wore a red and gold vest with a tunic beneath. It's billowing sleeves tapered at the wrist by leather wrap cuffs, and a white wolf's pelt draped over one shoulder. 
     "You look beautiful," Solas whispered admiringly. 
     Ghilina looked down with a shy smile, "You as well."
Then came someone's familiar dulcet tones, she immediately turned to look in their direction, "are you ready, da'len?"
     Standing there, with a kind and knowing smile, was Keeper Istimaethoriel. She looked beautiful with her graying hair pleated and braided elegantly, pulled back into a neat bun to display her intricate Vallaslin. She was the only one in her entire clan left that she truly thought of as family. To see her again here, Ghilina felt happy tears bud at the corners of her eyes.
     "She can't marry him!" A sudden voice protested angrily. 
Ghilina turned to the gathering crowd, her brows knotting as she stepped into Solas's arms, but she could not find the voice's source among them.
"That's the dread wolf! He tried to kill us all!"
Other faceless voices spoke up in agreement with the first.
Ghilina looked up into those gray eyes she loved so much, only for sadness and regret to look back. The same look Solas had given her that night in the glen.
"But she loves him!"
"He's a trickster god of many guises, he must have tricked her too!"
Chaos erupted all around them as more raucous voices rose with their own protests, the crowd beginning to surround them. All around her were angry and fearful faces. They were growing far too loud, and to block them out, Ghilina placed her hands flat over her ears. 
     In her fear, she looked again to Solas for some form of guidance. Solas, his eyes never faltering from her, slowly backed away and disappeared into the crowd. 
     The voices around her reached their crescendo, sounding more akin to a raging river. Then she realized the shouting and screaming she heard was no longer the voices, it was a torrential wind sweeping all around her like a vortex. It whipped her hair this way and that. Ghilina pressed her hands more firmly against her ears and tightly shut her eyes. 
     When the wind died, and she dared open her eyes again, she was suddenly surrounded by the stone infrastructure of Kirkwall's Hightown. 
     The sun glared down on her from its zenith in the vacant sky, an oppressive presence with it's unyielding summer heat. What trees she saw around her held drooping, flaccid leaves like wilted lettuce. Even the air was dry, not the usual humid warmth that came with living so close to the sea. The stones themselves looked bleached by the sun. The smell of baking pastries and fine perfumes wafted into the air, mingling with an occasional whiff of odor from the sewers far below.
    In spite of it all, the city was bustling with activity. Citizens swarmed merchant stalls, as others shouted for the attention of potential customers. Nobles strutted like peacocks through the streets, as others hurried to their work. The blending of voices echoing off stone walls was a welcome white noise.
     Suddenly a child's voice rose above the din, "Mummae!"
Ghilina whirled at the sound, catching the bobbing black head of a beaming young elven girl with gray eyes running toward her. Behind her strode the man she knew to be the girl's father: Solas. 
     In his arms was a small elven toddler, the same features as his sister, watching the scene before him serenely.
     Solas watched his daughter barrel into her mother for a hug, a gentle smile playing upon his lips As the corners of his eyes crinkled.
"Oh!" Ghilina exclaimed, looking down into the still-smiling face of this little girl who resembled her so strongly it made her heart ache.
"Mummae, I'm almost as tall as Uncle Varric!"
     Ghilina looked into the face of the child before her and rested a hand on her cheek. She tried to smile, but the muscles of her chin would not obey. They trembled as she felt the sting of unshed tears.
     Her knees buckled, catching her upon the stone. Her arms hastily wrapped around her small daughter and pulled her close, burying her face in the child's hair. The girl's hands lifted jerkily, tentatively returning the embrace. 
When she spoke, her small voice was laced with worry, "Mummae, what is wrong?"
The tears burst forth from her like a charging Druffalo before she could stop it, and suddenly the dam holding them back was shattered. The sounds that tore from her sounded like the wails of a distressed child, raw from the inside. 
     Her daughter suddenly began to fade from her arms until she disappeared, her worried and sad expression never leaving her eyes. Ghilina blinked back tears and looked up at Solas, finding only that he too, along with their son, was fading from existence. Hurrying to her feet, she ran to them, reaching for them too late. 
     All around her, the people faded away one by one until none remained. The scenery around her stilled, and the sky shifted, until everything was like looking through a filter of green. It was no longer the sweltering heat, nor the strange scents, of Kirkwall. This was the fade in it's more base form. She had been here too many times already in the flesh not to recognize it now, even as a dreamer. 
     A shimmer of mist, diffuse, lingered before her as if the air itself was being warped and twisted. 
     Finally, it congealed into form, "I did not mean to cause you pain."
Before her floated the translucent humanoid form of a spirit, it's voice silvery and soft-spoken, like an ethereal child speaking in a large room. 
Ghilina exhaled a breath she did not know she had been holding. 
"What manner of spirit are you?" She asked.
"I am what perches upon the soul to sing the wordless song, a driving motivation for change. I am the glimmer of light in a dark ocean of Despair. I am Hope."
She blinked, "Hope?"
"Yes, you have much in your heart. For the return of a lover, of a future together, of a better world for you both. Full of happiness, surrounded by those you love. But it is so very tangled amidst the thorns of your fears and worry, I cannot nurture it so long as you cleave to them so desperately." 
"How can I shed fear and worry when so many things could go wrong?" Ghilina demanded, "Even if I succeeded in changing the mind of Fen'harel, and returning Solas to my side, there is still so much that could go wrong."
"Then you would face it together. You are not alone, da'len. Even now."
"What do you mean by "even now"?" 
The spirit moved to the side to reveal a sad, lone white wolf across a vast distance. It's gray eyes looked into her's once, then quickly turned away. It faded as quickly as it had come.
Ghilina reached out instinctively, "Solas!"
"You will not catch him, not here." Hope warned.
"What?"
"Here he knows. Endless years spent learning how to bend and twist all things across the veil, his creation, into shapes; into what he wills it to be. You cannot find him here."
Ghilina frowned and looked down at her feet, thoughtful and sad. What the spirit said next startled her, "He sees your hopes as well as your fears. He sees them play out here in your dreams as he watches over the dreamer. He sees the place you hold for him there, and the thought of that future with you has already planted the smallest of seeds in his heart."
Ghilina's brows furrowed with confusion as she searched the spirit's featureless face, "he… wants that future?"
"As surely as he wants the other. He is torn and hurting. But hope for the future he would share with you is one I cannot reach. Only you have the ability to reach it. To nurture it."
"How?"
"You have touched his heart deeper than most ever have. He has tried to harden his heart to you, but cannot. You, only you, are the key to the Dread Wolf's heart. To reach him, though, you must first wake up."
     Waking each morning was no longer the pleasure it had been in Skyhold. There was always that moment when she felt whole again, refreshed by the visions of the night before. But unlike before, her heart retained a lightness it hadn't before. Though her dreams faded with the rising of the sun, glistening off the morning dew from the night's rains, she felt motivation returning. A sense of hope she hadn't felt since the disbandment of the Inquisition. 
And as the knocks on her Inn room door signaled the arrival of the informant, Ghilina rose to answer. Purpose renewed, she was ready to continue fighting for a way to change her lover's heart.
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jazzraft · a year ago
Note
Halloween Prompt #31 - Luna/Crowe
I’m just gonna go ahead and champion myself for my future self on this one, because I’m actually pretty proud of how it turned out! It’s femslash, it’s sad, it’s not gonna be everyone’s cup of tea, but I really liked it!
---
“The moon looks beautiful tonight.”
Crowe looked up to find Luna at her side, alighted in such elegant repose upon the dirty stoop. She looked so out of place in the dingy city, so perfectly pristine in her ivory gown, draped against the silty flagstone steps like the first folds of fallen snow, concealing every fault in the earth underneath. The delicate bow of her smile shimmered gossamer frail beneath the moonlight, her face upturned to its cool, midnight glow.
“Looks the same to me,” Crowe groused, glaring down at the mud caked between her bootlaces.
“It’s the shadows,” Luna mused. “It’s not the moon that changes, but how the light and the dark play around it. The shades of every night are always different.”
“And you think that’s beautiful?” Crowe snorted. “Just sounds unreliable to me.”
“There can be beauty in impermanence. Don’t we both know that?”
Crowe looked back up again, this time finding the pale glow of Luna’s smile reflected upon herself. Moonshine glimmered softly inside the Oracle’s eyes, so close Crowe could nearly see her own face emerge from the play of light within. And yet, there was still something so achingly distant in the way Luna looked at her, as illusory as the sky at daybreak; so close in sight, yet so far from reach.
“Hello,” Luna greeted her, as though she’d only just arrived.
“Hey.”
Lestallum hummed in mute whorls of industrious insomnia around them. Despite the perpetual warmth of the town’s meteoric core, pulsing in steady dregs of power beneath her feet, Crowe felt strangely cold beside Lunafreya. It wasn’t the first time. In the small span of time she’d known the princess, she’d felt a chill in her presence that Crowe could never quite define. It wasn’t exactly dread, not a fearful sort of cold that begged her to escape some frigid danger yet undiscovered beneath the placid grin of the Princess.
It was quite the opposite, actually. The kind of chill she felt around Luna was more of a relief. It was a balm to the heat that had seethed in Crowe’s veins since she was old enough to recognize rage. It was the kind of cold that one welcomed, if only for the promise that there would be warmth at the end of it. Crowe ran hot, but she’d rarely ever felt warmth. Her heat was fury, wild and volcanic erupting from deep within her resentment for the Empire.
Warmth, however – true warmth – was a feeling of comfort, soft and safe in the weary aftermath of the fighting. It was the long thaw of the extremes which numbed Crowe all her life. And there was a kind of terror to letting herself feel that. Every time she looked into Luna’s eyes and felt that gentle wash of wintry ease start to snuff the flames in her, she felt afraid. Afraid of the warmth she knew was coming afterward, afraid to feel the safety she knew that the Oracle would promise once she escaped her self-made inferno.
Lunafreya terrified her. And Crowe was certain she knew it.
“Where have you been?” Luna asked, with all the patience of a snowfall, the whisper of her voice as light upon Crowe’s ears as the winter flurries.
“Around,” Crowe said, wrinkling her nose as she kicked a chunk of dirt from the sole of her shoe – she didn’t even remember where she’d walked for them to get so dirty. “Easy to get lost in this place.”
“I understand.”
Crowe glanced over, unnerved by her deep blue stare, as motionless as a still pool of water, awaiting the first ripples to stir the surface. She hoped that she didn’t expect Crowe to be the one to dip her toe in. Because when she fell into Luna’s gaze, she made a splash, made waves cresting chaos in the quietude. That was all she’d ever done – create chaos.
“If you ever need help finding your way…”
“I can figure it out on my own.”
While Luna did not frown or flinch or flick away her gaze, Crowe felt guilty for being dismissive of her anyway. It was a reflex, to snap first and regret it later. But Luna took it with just as much grace as she took her morning cup of tea: with a touch of sweetness and a careful hand.
“Nevertheless,” she said, frosting over the hot lash of Crowe’s frustration. “Rest awhile. Enjoy the moonlight with me.”
Crowe huffed, but otherwise obliged the princess. Her boots were heavy with drying dirt and she could feel the fatigue in her soul. It had been a long night. Been a longer walk to get here. She might never understand what Luna could see in the banalities of the world which Crowe could not, but she’d take the excuse to just sit, be still, and listen to her talk.
“Everyone in the world is so frightened of the dark,” Luna murmured. “So few people see it for the stars anymore. I confess that sometimes I forget myself.”
“It’s a scary place,” Crowe agreed. “Hard to look up to see what’s there, when the second you take your eyes off the road a daemon’s bound to appear.”
“I suppose that’s true.”
Crowe squinted up at the face of the moon, trying to decipher the theater of shadows Luna claimed to see in every moonrise. It had always been difficult for Crowe to see the beauty in simple things. Watching a magitek soldier melt down into black embers at the snap of her fingers as fire wreathed around its core; now that was a thing of beauty. Destruction was beautiful to her, because while it was fleeting, it still left its mark. That’s all she ever wanted – to leave her mark.
When she looked back at Luna, she wasn’t looking at the moon. She’d never taken her steady gaze off of Crowe, full of that faraway fondness that Crowe didn’t know how to bring closer.
“Not watching your moon?” Crowe jabbed, gently as she could manage with her barbed tongue.
“We have such little time. I’d much rather spend it seeing you.”
“I’m here all night,” Crowe chuckled, bemused.
But then she saw what Luna meant about shadows across the moon. She could see how the light shifted across the woman’s face, how her smile remained the same yet the shade of it all changed. The chill she recognized as a comfort from Lunafreya turned sharply to the one she remembered as dread. Crowe looked down at her boots again, at the dark brown dirt caked between the laces. Her feet felt so heavy with it, weighing her down, down, down even further.
“Ah,” Crowe said, matter-of-factly. “Right. Forgot.”
“Forgive me.”
“For what?” Crowe grunted, dragging herself to her feet.
“For keeping you here,” Luna said, quietly, afraid that the whole world might hear her. “For not insisting you let me help you.”
“Couldn’t stop me in life, princess. Definitely can’t stop me now.”
The solemnity in Luna’s smile made Crowe yearn to remain, but remembering always kept her moving. She had to return the grave dust on her boots, start again from where she’d ended. She’d find her way back here again, though. Somehow, she always found her way back to Luna.
She vanished too quickly for Luna to say goodbye. Much like how she died, it happened too fast for her to say everything she wanted before it was over. She’d loved her too briefly, and lost her too quickly. And while she knew how selfish it was to keep her tethered like this, Luna couldn’t seem to bring herself to let go. What did it matter? They both had so little time. Was it so wrong of her to cherish these nightly visitations while she still could?
She knew what was coming. It had already begun, deep in her chest, just below her heart. It scraped up into her throat, coughing past her lips in faint black flecks. Luna took a deep breath, driving the darkness back down, and turning her eyes back to the moon. Watching the dark and the light orbit each other across the surface, never quite touching, yet never quite apart, she made a promise.
“I’ll see you soon.”
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lancermylove · a year ago
Text
I “Don’t” Like You
Fandom: BSTS
Pairing: Lico x Reader
Warning: Contains mild angst
Requested by: Anon
Prompt: Ahhh i love your bsts content so much!! May i request a fluff oneshot with Lico and a tsundere reader who does like him but gets easily flustered from his teasing? You don't have to do this if you don't want to but do have a great day!! ^^
A/N: Thank you so much! ❤️ This is my first time writing for Lico, so hopefully, it didn’t get too OOC. >< 
Word Count: 1083
———————————————
You had been regularly visiting BlackStar Theater Starless, and though there were a lot of attractive members, one, in particular, caught your eye. He had a flirty vibe about him, but the way he treated you, his alluring voice, his charming looks, and his style drew you towards him. You even got his schedule, secretly, of course, so that you could visit him on the days he was performing or on floor duty. 
Though you looked forward to seeing him, you were a bit disappointed to see that he treated you just like any other customer. You knew well that he was only doing his job, but you wanted him to treat you as someone special. 
“Princess, are you alright? You have been zoning out for a while.” Lico’s melodious voice brought you back to reality. 
“Yeah, I’m fine.” You glanced at him sharply, but as soon as your eyes landed on his face, you couldn’t help but feel nervous. 
“Were you thinking about me, my dear princess? Am I that special to you?” He leaned in a little closer to you and twirled some of your loose hair strands around his index finger.
“Have I told you that you look beautiful when you blush?” He whispered and pressed his lips on your loose hair strands still wrapped around his finger.
Your eyes widened as you felt your cheeks heating up. His teasing words never failed to cause your heart to race wildly. Seeing Lico’s attractive face only a few inches from your own made the situation a hundred times worse.
“Why would I be thinking about you?” You spoke in a cold voice while pulling your hair strands away from his gentle grip. 
Lico chuckled at your behavior and stood up straight, “Your cheeks say otherwise, my love.” 
“Can I enjoy my meal in peace?” You mumbled and shifted your eyes back to your food, hoping that Lico would stop teasing you. 
The redhead let out a laugh before saying, “As you wish.” 
Even though you told him to leave, a little part of you wished that he would stay and continue to tease you. As per your request, Lico stayed away from your table, but every time your eyes met, the ex-host gave you a wink. 
It was almost closing time, and though you left the establishment a while back, you decided to wait for Lico. Sitting in a nearby public bench, you curiously studied people walking to and fro. Suddenly a few high-pitch squeals caught your attention. 
"Hello, beautiful ladies. Do you miss me already?" You recognized that voice all too well. 
Rising from your seat, you took a few steps towards the group to get a closer view of your crush. For a little while, you watched the group of girls trying to get Lico's attention. But when he started showering the girls with compliments, you felt a pang in your heart.
'I really am nothing more than a customer to him.' Part of you wanted to storm away in anger, but the rational side of you kept saying you should've known all along. 
While you were busy thinking, you failed to notice a pair of emerald eyes staring at you. 
Sighing, you decided to walk away but not before getting one last look at him. When you looked up, you froze. For the first time, you saw a confused look on the usual haughty face.
Even Lico's smile couldn't change your mind this time. Without waiting for his next move, you turned on your heel and dragged your feet away from the painful sight.
You found yourself at the park and took a seat on a bench facing a lake. The stars were sparkling high up in the sky, causing the surface of the lake to shimmer.
"Princess?" Lico lightly placed his hand on your shoulder, "Is something wrong?"
You were shocked to hear Lico's voice, but you didn't dare move your gaze from the lake. "No."
Despite your cold response, he quietly sat down next to you, not taking his eyes from your face. "You know, princess, I really like it when you come to Starless. Every time I have staff duty, I look forward to seeing you."
You shifted your eyes to Lico, his words catching you off guard. "Huh?"
"I don't know why, but I feel comfortable around you. Getting attention from girls is great and all, but being stuck in that hell hole is a pain." Lico's voice had turned into a whisper, and his eyes were downcast.
"You don't like being at Starless?" Tilting your head, you looked at him questioningly.
"No, it's more of a have to than want to, but I guess it's not all bad since I get to see you."
His heavy words were unexpected, and you would've taken his words seriously had your mind not wandered to the fangirls incident earlier. 
"How many girls have you said this to?" You puffed your cheeks and crossed your arms. "Nice try, Mr. Flirty."
Lico titled his head and blinked a few times. "Princess, I am serious."
"Sure, you are." You rolled your eyes and stood up, wanting to get as far away from him as possible. His words were sweet, but if he was lying, they would be nothing more than poison. "Good night, Lico."
The ex-host was stunned to see you leaving so quickly. He took hold of your hand and turned you to face him, "Princess, you aren't like those other girls. Believe me when I say I like you."
"I don't believe you." You spoke in a harsh voice.
Lico gave a small smile before pulling you into a tight embrace and clashing his lips against yours. His deep kiss left your lips tingling, and your lungs gasping for air. The redhead stared at you with a smile as he studied your flushed cheeks. 
"Princess, I mean it when I say I like you." Lico's lips may have left your lips, but his hands were still cupping your cheeks. His thumb gently stroked your heated cheek as he stared at you with soft eyes.
"But I don't like you." Your voice was far from serious, and your puffed cheeks didn't help your cause.
"I will take that as a yes." Lico's chuckle filled your ears, causing your cheeks to get even redder. 
"Yes? I said, no!" You attempted to glare at him. 
"You don't like me? So is that the reason why you asked Ran for my schedule?" The playful glimmer in Lico's eyes had returned, and his sad expression was nowhere in sight.
"U-Uh...well." You no longer had any excuses as you never expected Ran to tell him your secret.
Seeing your troubled state, Lico couldn't help but draw you in his arm. "You are adorable, my little tsundere-chan."
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myoxisbroken · a year ago
Text
The One Thing You Can’t See, Chapter 6
But Somehow It's Enough
Characters: Steve Rogers/Original Female Character (Jessica Jennings)
Series Masterlist here
Also available on AO3
Rating: Mature
Words: 3373
Summary: Jessica has been friends with Steve Rogers since her first day at Avengers Tower three years ago, their friendship growing steadily closer from the day they met. When she gets news that makes her dread going home to Washington state for a family gathering, her best friend Steve offers to go with her and make it fun for her. When they end up in a fake relationship, it’s more difficult to maintain it as only a pretense than either one had imagined it would be.
Warnings: Minor language, ogling Steve’s pecs
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Jessica was slow to wake up the next morning. She was so warm and comfortable and had had a peaceful sleep, ending with a dream that her brain was loath to leave behind, especially when she was wrapped in the arms of her man. Her face was against his broad chest and she could feel his heartbeat against her cheek.
She hummed in pleasure as she stretched against him, then leaned up and found his mouth with her own. He stirred as she kissed him, his mouth beginning to respond as her brain registered his soft beard. Beard? Her most recent boyfriend didn’t have a beard. Wait.
Jessica’s eyes shot open as she pulled back to meet Steve’s surprised blue gaze. She sat up quickly and turned away, sitting up on the side of the bed.
“I am so sorry! I must have been really out of it this morning. I thought you were my boyfriend and it took me a minute to realize what was happening.” Her cheeks were burning with embarrassment.
“It’s alright, sweetheart. We’ve been playing the roles pretty convincingly this weekend, so it’s no surprise that it would sink into your subconscious a little. And it was no hardship, waking up to find you kissing me,” he said, a smile in his voice.
She turned to see Steve watching her, looking completely unbothered by his “wakeup call.” Well, if he was going to play it cool, she could certainly do the same.
“Okay, awesome. I’m just going to get ready,” she said, grabbing the first outfit she put her hands on in her drawer and quickly walking to the bathroom. Not playing it totally cool, then, but at least she had kept it together until she could mouth recriminations at herself in the bathroom mirror.
She was composed by the time she was dressed, and she had come up with a plan. She needed to get Steve off the island and away from the others so that they could just be normal with each other for the day. Kind of a Friendship Palate Cleanser. She needed to reset her brain so that she didn’t keep thinking of Steve as her actual romantic partner.
“Hey, I was thinking - you’ve never been to Seattle before, have you? I thought it would be fun for the two of us to take the ferry over there for the day and do some sightseeing.”
“No, I’ve never been. But don’t you want to spend time with your family while we’re here?” he asked.
“I do, but we’ll still be seeing a lot of them this week. There are three more days after this one. Besides, I’ve missed Seattle and would love to spend some time there!”
“That settles it, then. Breakfast and, after that, we’ll take the ferry?” he said.
It was with some degree of relief that Jessica went down to the kitchen with Steve. A quiet day with her friend would be a nice change.
**
Two carloads of relatives ended up on the ferry after breakfast. When Jessica mentioned that she and Steve wouldn’t be around for most of the day because they’d decided to spend it in Seattle, half of the family decided that they wanted to join them. There was no graceful way to tell them that she wanted to spend the day alone with Steve, and she knew that he would be mortified if she had done so, anyway. She could practically hear him chiding her for her rudeness in her head, had she tried to disinvite the others.
At least driving one of the cars meant that she could keep her focus on the road while they were traveling. But when they were on the ferry, they all stood at the rails, Steve with his arm around her shoulders. She had to admit that it felt nice. It was still fairly cool, and the breezes coming off of the water had been making her shiver a bit. Steve had noticed and, being a dutiful faux boyfriend, had pulled her close. She snuggled in against his side and took advantage of his warmth. Hey, if she was going to play the role, she was going to at least be convincing and enjoy the fringe benefits.
The group started at MoPOP, the Museum of Pop Culture. The wavy sheets of metal that covered the oddly-shaped building shimmered and changed color in the sun as they approached, appearing at times silver, deep blue, red, and shades of purple, including a particularly vivid shade of magenta. They spent several hours there, first exploring the music part of the museum with its massive sculpture of guitars and other instruments, as well as costumes and albums and instruments from famous musicians among the exhibits. Then they headed downstairs to check out the horror, sci-fi, and fantasy exhibits.
Steve was not big on the horror section of the museum.
“Oh, come on! Not even Shaun of the Dead?” asked Julie.
“Never seen it,” he answered.
“Well, I know what we’re watching tonight!” she said.
The fantasy section was a bigger hit with Steve, with its costumes from Lord of the Rings and Harry Potter and the Star Wars films among its holdings. Jessica noticed that Steve stopped in front of the costumes from The Wizard of Oz. It blew her mind when she realized that the classic film had come out when Steve was 21 years old.
“Did you see this at the theater when it came out?” she asked, keeping her voice low so that she didn’t draw attention to the fact that an Avenger was among the tourists.
“I did. It’s pretty neat to see the costumes in person. And also surreal,” he said with a slight frown.
“I’ll bet. Can you imagine how weird it would be to see your costume in here, or Bucky’s, or Tony’s?”
He laughed at that and shook his head.
They were at a display showing the costumes of Westley, Buttercup, and Inigo Montoya from The Princess Bride when Jessica checked the time.
“I think we’ve seen just about everything in here. Should we head to the Chihuly Garden?” she asked Steve.
“As you wish,” he said with a grin as he inclined his head, then extended an arm for her to take. Over Steve’s shoulder, she could see Jeremy fall into a fake swoon as David rolled his eyes. She would never admit that she had been tempted to swoon herself as she took Steve’s arm so that he could escort her from the museum.
They snacked on some popcorn from a food vendor on their way to the Chihuly museum.
“We’re not eating lunch until we get to Pike Place Market, and you do not want to see Jess hangry,” snarked Stacy as Jessica narrowed her eyes at her cousin.
“Oh, trust me, I’ve seen Jess hangry! It's a fearsome sight to behold,” said Steve, earning a glare of his own as Jessica threw a few kernels of popcorn at him in retaliation. Seagulls immediately swooped down to snag the ones that had flown past Steve when he ducked out of the way.
“I hate you all,” she announced in a deadpan voice.
“Baby, don’t be that way,” cooed Steve, taking hold of Jessica with his hands at her waist and pulling her close. “You know I love you even when you’re in need of a meal. I just don’t want you to be deprived.”
“Uh-huh, sure,” she said. She could feel Steve’s body heat through his T-shirt. How did he find shirts that clung to his pecs so nicely, anyway? Did he get them tailored? Was it some kind of magic fabric that shrunk itself to fit? She was drawn back to the present as Steve ducked his head to steal a kiss from her before letting her go.
He sure was throwing himself into this relationship of theirs, Jessica thought. And this day away from everyone in order to get back to normal had not worked out at all like she had planned. If only Jeremy hadn’t chimed in and decided he and David should go along, the others probably wouldn’t have done so, either, and it would have been just her and Steve. Damn Jeremy, anyway.
Their group didn’t have to wait long for their admission time to Chihuly Garden and Glass. The sculptures made out of blown glass were intricate and gorgeous. They went through the galleries, marveling at the ceiling composed of blown-glass flowers, the boat full of beautifully swirled and spotted orbs of varying sizes, the long darkened room with its own “garden” of plant-like sculptures, and the macchia bowls that reminded Jessica of vibrantly colored giant clamshells.
There was a tall sea life sculpture in blues and white, with orange sea creatures darting throughout it, and sculptures with octopus and sea turtles on coral and underwater plants. They went through to the glasshouse with its 100-foot-long suspended sculpture in blooms of red, orange, and yellow, before continuing on to the outside garden with plants interspersed with more sculptures. They enjoyed seeing how art intermingled with nature, and the garden gave them a fantastic view of the Space Needle.
“Did you want to go up in that?” Jessica asked Steve.
“Nah. We can visit there next time,” he said, smiling at her.
Next time. Steve was planning on coming with her again? Or was it part of the act? She had to admit, this trip had been so much fun with him along already, even with this weird sexual tension that seemed to be between them. Or at least that she was feeling. She definitely wouldn’t mind having him as her vacation buddy in the future.
After the garden, they all headed across Seattle Center to make their way to Pike Place Market, ready to explore some stalls and have some lunch.
Their group of eight spread out a little as they walked, Steve and Jessica falling to the back. Jessica debated with herself before finally deciding to speak up.
“Steve, I’m sorry about today. I hoped that you and I could get away on our own so that we could have a relaxed day together and not worry about my family and having to keep up appearances.”
“I don’t know, I’m pretty relaxed,” he answered. “It’s really no hardship kissing a beautiful woman like you, and I like being with you whether we’re part of a pretend couple or not. You don’t have to worry about me.”
Steve’s answer pleased Jessica more than she thought it should, but she shoved that thought to the back of her mind and focused on the approaching Market.
“Eat first, or shop first?” she asked.
“For all our sakes, I think we should get you some lunch first,” said Mark.
“Et tu, Brute?” she retorted as he winked at her.
They headed right for The Pink Door, the Italian restaurant named for its distinctive entrance. Jessica liked to eat there whenever she could make it to the city, and she knew that Steve would love it. The eclectic decor inside was charming, but they asked to be seated on the wooden deck outside, with its views of Elliott Bay. The sun sparkled off of the water as they sat and watched the waves.
“What’s good here?” asked Steve as he looked at the menu.
“How about if I order for us and we split the dishes?” suggested Jessica. “Do you trust me?”
“With my life,” said Steve with a teasing smile.
It made Jessica’s stomach do a little flip, both his response and the way he was looking at her. She quickly brushed off the feeling.
“It’s only lunch, Steve. I don’t think anything too harrowing will happen today.”
She started them off with a Caesar salad with a creamy dressing and plenty of freshly shaved Parmesan on top, along with an order of fettunta, slices of bread that had been charred on a grill, then rubbed with cloves of garlic, sprinkled with salt, and drizzled with quality olive oil. When Mark reached for a slice, she smacked his hand.
“Get your own fettunta!”
Next was the main course, with pappardelle al ragu bolognese, housemade ribbons of pasta with a meaty tomato sauce, and more shaved Parmesan on the top, as well as Lasagna Pink Door, layers of spinach pasta with bechamel sauce and pesto in between, topped with marinara sauce. Jessica got an order of the blistered asparagus on the side.
By the time their server came around with the dessert menu, Jessica was stuffed.
“But there’s a gelato trio! It sounds so good!” she said.
“Do you honestly have any room for it?” asked Steve.
“No,” she said sadly, laying down the menu.
“I’ll get you some gelato another time, baby,” he said, leaning over and kissing her on the temple. “And I won’t even order it for myself now and eat it in front of you. That’s just the kind of guy I am,” he finished with a smirk.
“You’re a regular Disney prince!” she teased him.
They spent the next several hours after lunch exploring the Market: visiting the craft and produce stalls; introducing Steve to Rachel, the massive bronze piggy bank that had served as the unofficial mascot of the Market since the 1980s; watching the employees at Pike Place Fish Market tossing whole salmon, tuna, and other big fish across the counter as customers purchased them; listening to the buskers earning a few dollars with their voices and instruments; and smelling all of the wonderful foods that were being sold.
They went through the downstairs shops and several people found things to purchase in the niche bookshop and the collectibles stores. Jessica purchased a few craft items for family members and some of the local delicacies for friends at work. She bought several assortments of chocolate-covered fruits and nuts at Chukar’s Cherries to snack on over vacation and to take back with her to Avengers Tower, knowing she’d earn favor there with them. They were heading back upstairs to buy a few salmon for tomorrow on their way back to their car when Steve stopped to watch a street artist at one end of the Market.
She drew charcoal portraits, and she had a remarkable gift for capturing not only someone’s appearance, but their emotional state. He could look at the portraits she had on display and imagine what was going through their minds or what was happening in their lives simply from seeing how she had captured them.
“You should get one of those, Jess.”
“Oh, I don’t know. I don’t even like posing for formal pictures.”
“Excuse me, how long does it take for you to draw a portrait?” Steve asked the artist.
“Usually no more than about 15 minutes for a single subject,” she answered.
“You can sit for 15 minutes for something that cool! Come on, do it for me,” he wheedled.
“Why don’t you two have a portrait done together? That would be adorable!” sang out Jeremy.
“I think that’s an excellent idea!” answered Steve. “How about it, Jess?”
“You’re not going to give up on this until I give in, are you?” she asked.
“Nope,” he said, popping the p with a cheeky grin.
Jessica turned to the artist. “Where would you like us?” she asked resignedly.
It took 25 minutes for the portrait to be completed since there were two of them, but the artist didn’t make them sit stiffly. Between Steve joking around with her cousins and the feeling of being in his arms again, his solid body against her back, the time flew by. Soon they were presented with their likenesses in charcoal.
“Wow, that is really…” Jessica stopped speaking as she admired the work of the artist, who had captured something on paper that Jessica was afraid to believe. There was such a look of love that she had depicted on Steve’s face as it was turned slightly towards hers, and her own had a matching look of adoration on it. It wasn’t an obvious expression or anything she could put her finger on, but she felt it in the portrait.
“Stunning,” finished Steve as he looked over her shoulder.
“You really do amazing work!” she said to the artist, tipping her generously on top of the charge for the portrait itself.
“Thank you! You’re helping to put me through art school,” she answered. “I’m so pleased that you’re happy with it!”
Steve rolled up the picture carefully and took the rubber band that the artist had provided, sliding it over the roll.
“We’ll have to get this framed when we get back home,” he said, smiling down at Jessica, who nodded at him.
They picked up the salmon on their way out of the Market and were crossing the street when Jessica pointed at a storefront.
“One more stop! You have got to try the World’s Best Mac and Cheese at Beecher’s,” she told Steve.
“World’s Best, huh?” he asked.
“That’s how it’s billed, and for good reason! I defy you to find better. And I want to get some Flagship cheese while we’re there.”
Steve could not deny that the mac and cheese he ate on the way back to the car was the best he’d ever had. He was glad that Jessica had insisted he try it. The entire day had been so much fun, even or perhaps especially with her family members along for the trip. He was happy that he’d had an excuse to keep touching and kissing her throughout the day, and to walk hand-in-hand, and to have his arm around her shoulders. And now they had a beautiful portrait of the two of them that captured the visit and, to his shock, displayed his emotions for all to see.
He was not sure if the artist had read something in his face that he didn’t realize he was showing, or if she had used artistic license. But the way she had drawn him in charcoal was exactly how he was feeling about Jessica.
They got back to Beverly’s as the others were finishing dinner, having been told to go ahead without them. Some of them picked up plates and dished up what was left, while others decided to make a few big bowls of popcorn for the movie. Julie’s suggestion of Shaun of the Dead had won out for the evening’s movie selection. Soon there was a group of them ensconced in the living room to watch it, while others went out on the deck to play cards.
Steve had gotten into his sweatpants and a soft, worn T-shirt, wanting to be comfortable for the movie, so Jess had followed suit and put on her pajamas. She came back downstairs to find Steve sitting at the end of the couch that had the chaise, his long legs stretched out in front of him. When she came over to sit next to him, he reached for her hand, pulling her to sit with her back against his chest as he moved his legs apart for her to sit in between them. 
She tucked a blanket over them and set down her popcorn bowl on her lap. Steve reached around her into the bowl and grabbed a handful, popping some kernels into his mouth as the movie got started. It felt very couple-y.
At first, Jessica thought that Steve had wrapped himself around her in case she got scared during the movie. But after feeling him jump several times during particularly tense moments, she became pretty sure that he was hiding behind her. She could not believe that Steve Rogers, Captain America, was afraid of movie monsters.
She turned her head to the side and waited until he brought his forward, then whispered in his ear, “It’s okay, I’ll protect you from zombies, Steve.” She grinned at him as he looked at her.
“Promise?” he asked with a twinkle in his eyes.
“I do,” she said, her grin fading as she suddenly thought about the usual significance of those words when making a promise to someone. She quickly turned her head back to the TV screen and reached for more popcorn.
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stupidsexyfandom · a year ago
Text
Armistice
@helsa-summer-event
Rated T // Drama, Modern AU
The gang engage in a classic beat-the-heat activity for people who don’t have central air: going to the movies.
Written for Prompt #5 of Helsa Summer: We’re cool in the summer. 
“Come to the movies with me and Kristoff.”
“I thought you said it was too hot to do anything?” Hans smiled against the phone. He had long ceased to be surprised by Anna calling him up out of the blue to hang out, despite their messy breakup a year before. What he was not expecting was to be invited on a movie date with her new boyfriend. Something else had to be going on.
“I meant that it was too hot to do anything else. The theaters are air-conditioned, and the matinee tickets are cheap. Plus, I hear they have those deluxe reclining seats.” Anna acted oblivious to his probing. It was more likely that she was deliberately avoiding his unasked question.
“Don’t you have any other friends?” He kept his tone light and teasing.
“Well, yeah, but they’re all couples, and I don’t want Elsa to be uncomfortable. I don’t want her thinking this is a date thing.” Ah, there it was. Translation: Kristoff and I want to participate in the storied summer tradition of making out like teenagers in the dark, and I don’t want Elsa to see. Other couples would surely tip her off.
Hans sighed overdramatically and said, with faux grandiosity, “Fine. I will chaperone the chaperone while you and Kristoff get up to whatever it is you kids get up to these days. All I ask in return is a simple cone of Carvel ice cream, given to me at a prearranged time after the showing.”
“Thanks, gramps. You know, it’s a real wonder that you’re my only single friend.” He could hear Anna giggling through her sarcasm.
“Wonder no longer, for the truth is that I am simply too cool for all of you.”
“Sure, whatever you have to tell yourself. We’re seeing the latest Star Wars. Meet us in the parking lot at 4.”
-
It really is too hot to do anything else, thought Hans as he walked across the parking lot. Heat radiated up from the asphalt, the air shimmering with humidity. He saw the others standing by Kristoff’s truck, looking ready to wilt. Anna and Kristoff were dressed casually, seemingly taking their not-a-date act seriously. Elsa looked overdressed in comparison, out of place in her sleeveless button-up.
“Hey, Hans,” Anna called to him. He raised a hand in greeting. Kristoff gave him a friendly nod, while Elsa made no acknowledgement that she had even seen him.
“Hey, guys. I hope I haven’t kept you waiting?”
“No, we just got here,” said Anna, “Let’s go inside, I can’t stand to be out here any longer.”
They purchased their tickets and made their way to the appointed theater. Kristoff filed into their row first, then Anna, then Hans. Elsa sat next to him at the end of the row. Almost as soon as they had sat down, the lights dimmed.
As the trailers played, Hans was keenly aware of Elsa next to him. She perched on the edge of her seat, ignoring the reclining function. Hans figured he had better do the same so she could not look past him to the end of the row. She seemed ill at ease. Even in the darkness, he could see her white hands fidgeting out of the corner of his eye. He wondered if she was ever able to relax. Beside him, Kristoff had already pulled Anna into his lap. Their attention was clearly not on the screen. It seemed to Hans this rather defeated the purpose of coming to the movie theater to cool down, but what did he know?
Just after the opening crawl, he heard Elsa hiss, “I’m getting popcorn.” She stood up abruptly. Hans did the same, attempting to shield Kristoff and Anna from view. The sudden movement filled his vision with white. Let it never be said that he did not take his role of chaperone seriously. He followed her out of the theater.
When they reached the lobby, Elsa did not join the concessions line. Instead she kept walking out onto the sidewalk. The sun beat down on them, and Hans was instantly too hot. She whirled to face him, looking irritated.
“Look, I don’t need a babysitter!”
“A babysitter?” Hans feigned innocence.
“I know Anna wasn’t expecting me to say yes when she asked me to come. She thinks that just because I’ve never has a boyfriend, I don’t know what she and Kristoff are up to. I know, and I don’t care. But I do care that you keep hanging around my sister. How dare you, after what you did to her?”
Ah, he should have figured. Anna had never been one to hold a grudge. She may have given him a whopper of a black eye, but they had managed to awkwardly patch up their differences. It might even be said that they were now friends. Elsa was a different story. She had always come off as restrained, but Hans had suspected that a quiet intensity lay beneath the surface. The thrill of being proven right paled in comparison to the discomfort of being the recipient of her ire.
“Anna invited me here. We’ve worked things out.”
“Unfortunately for both of us, Westergaard, Anna is a far better person than I will ever be. That’s why you need to stay away from her!” A few wisps of hair had escaped from Elsa’s updo. They glowed golden in the light of the late afternoon sun. It struck him that she was very beautiful when she was angry, but he pushed the thought away. For one thing, Elsa was always beautiful. For another, that information was really, really not helpful or relevant right then.
“I’m sorry about what I did to her— to both of you. I can’t tell you how sorry I am. But all I can do is try to be better and to leave the past in the past. I hope you can give me that chance.”
“This isn’t about me. I can leave behind your petty games. I can leave behind the way you tried to snipe that internship out from under me. I can even forget how you spread rumors that I was having a nervous breakdown and should be ejected from the program.” Hans wanted to retort that the rumors had mostly been spread by Duke Weselton, and anyway, wasn’t the nervous breakdown thing true? But the past year had taught him that sometimes the snappiest response was not the best one. Half the battle of becoming a nicer person was just keeping his mouth shut.
Instead he said, “But you did get that internship. All I got was academic probation, which I’ve only now been removed from. I’m sorry that I hurt you, but I don’t know what else I can do.”
“I told you, I’m over it. But I can’t leave behind the way you used my sister because you thought our name would further your career. I can’t forget how cruel you were when you dumped her. And I’ll never forget how you left her at that party afterwards, drunk and alone. She could have died! Thank God Kristoff was there. He had to take her to the ER!” Elsa’s voice had risen, the tension between them as palpable as the humid air. Hans felt his own temper coming to a boil. His flaw in arguments had always been escalating to match the other person.
“I didn’t realize it was her first college party, and I certainly didn’t realize she had drunk so much! Yes, I shouldn’t have said those things to her. But it’s not like I was her only reason to get wasted. You never did her any good. She was so lonely because you were never around! She was always telling me how you never answered her calls. She invited you that night, and for once she thought you were really going to come. But you weren’t there!” Hans regretted the words as soon as they were out of his mouth. If half of not being a jerk was shutting up, the other half was taking responsibility for his own actions, and he had just blown both in one shot. Elsa stared up at him with such anguish in her eyes that it almost hurt to look at her. She reacted like an injured wildcat.
“You say that like it makes you any better! Yeah, I may be barely holding it together, and I may be failing Anna in every way that matters! But at least I’m not an asshole like you!” She looked close to the breaking point both physically and emotionally, as if she might collapse at any moment. Hans fought the sudden urge to reach out and comfort her. She might seem helpless in the moment, but he knew she would sooner bite off his head than cry on his shoulder.
“Elsa, I didn’t mean—” But her pain had been replaced by cold fury.
“Save it, Westergaard. I need to cool down. Here’s what’s going to happen. I will leave Anna and Kristoff to their covert activities, and I suggest you do the same. But first, I’m going inside for fifteen seconds to splash some water on my face. When I come back out, you had better not be here.” Elsa’s voice was cool and sharp as ice.
“Don’t you at least want to see the rest of the movie?” said Hans, although he was certain this situation was beyond saving. Elsa gave a harsh laugh.
“Hardly. I read the spoilers online, and I have no desire to watch Kylo Ren get redeemed on the big screen.”
“So you don’t believe in redemption? Not even for love?”
“People don’t change, Westergaard. Not through love, and not through death. Some things can never be forgiven.” And then she was gone, the theater door slammed shut in his face.
Hans did not want to see what would happen if he ignored her directive, so he walked to the grocery store next door. Through the front window, he watched Elsa emerge from the theater and storm into the Carvel across the parking lot. She sat at the counter with only a water, her head in her hands. After watching her for a few minutes, he decided to kill time until the movie ended. He walked up and down every aisle, fantasizing about climbing into a freezer case. The air conditioning and the familiar surroundings eventually calmed him down.
When he felt enough time had passed, he made his way back to the cinema. He slipped into the back row of the theater to catch the tail end of the movie. As the credits rolled, he met up with Anna and Kristoff outside the door to the lobby.
“Did you guys like the movie?” he asked, “What did you think of the part where they revealed Palpatine was merely a puppet controlled by Obi-wan Kenobi?”
“It was great,” said Kristoff at the same time as Anna said, “Palpatine was in this movie?” They stared at him blankly until he started laughing.
“Oh, the looks on your faces! Speaking of which, Kristoff, you’ve got a little something…” He gestured vaguely at his face. Kristoff wiped away a smear of lip gloss as Anna giggled.
“Where’s Elsa?” she asked, “I thought you were together?”
“She’s at Carvel. I’m afraid we had a bit of a blowout. I’m not exactly her favorite person. I’d better take a raincheck on that ice cream; I don’t think she wants to see me right now.”
“Oh no! I’d better go make sure she’s all right. I’m sorry about the ice cream, Hans. Next time!” She raced out of the theater, Kristoff trailing behind her. Hans watched through the window as they comforted Elsa. Although he remained in the cinema, his mind drifted back to the earlier argument. Christ, he really had behaved like an ass. By the time the trio had finished their ice cream, he realized he had been standing there too long. He made his way towards the door.
“Excuse me, sir!” He turned. One of the cinema employees was approaching him, waving something in her hand.
“Your girlfriend left these in the rest room.”
“She’s not my…” But Hans shut his mouth when he saw the medicine bottle he had been handed. As he read the name of the drug, several things dropped into place. He thought he understood now why she seemed so anxious all the time, why she rarely went out, why she didn’t answer her sister’s calls.
-
They met the next day on neutral ground, in the movie theater parking lot. The weather was cool and gray after the rain the night before. Elsa was already there when Hans pulled in, standing next to her car. There was still something stiff and formal about her appearance, but today it was softened by the voluminous braid over her shoulder. She looked as if she hadn’t slept.
“Give it to me,” she said as soon as he stepped out of the car. He produced the bottle from his pocket and handed it over. She snatched it from his grasp as if she were afraid he was going to pull it away at any moment.
“What do you want? Money? I can’t give you much, Anna will be suspicious if I withdraw from our trust account. Academic help? I can’t write your papers; they’ll know my writing style. But I can proofread and do your literature review. Or is it pull you want? I can speak to the dean, get the probation taken off your transcript. I’ll say I made it all up. Or I can talk to the board of my father’s company, I’m sure they’ll have a job offer for you. I’ll do anything you want, so long as you don’t tell anybody. Well, almost anything.” She wrapped her arms around her chest, protecting herself from some imagined fate. Hans was baffled.
“What? I don’t want any of that.”
“So you’re just going to tell everybody? My boss, the dean, my advisor? You won’t even give me a chance to buy your silence?”
“No, I’m not going to tell anybody,” he insisted. Did she seriously think he was about to blackmail her?
“Right, because I’m willing to cooperate. But you have to tell me what it is you want.” Her eyes were pleading, and she fidgeted anxiously with her hands.
“Elsa, I promise I’m not trying to blackmail you.”
“You’re not?” Her fidgeting stopped abruptly.
“No! God, no. What made you think that?”
“Your text. It was a bit cryptic.” She seemed more relaxed now, almost bordering on exhausted.
“I wasn’t sure if Anna knew, so I didn’t want to be specific.” In all the times they had discussed her sister, Anna had never mentioned Elsa’s illness. Considering how much she talked about her, Hans found it unlikely that it just never came up.
“I’m sorry for jumping to conclusions. I know it sounds paranoid, but I just couldn’t stop thinking about the rumors last time. I couldn’t go through that again. And I was so certain that you hated me enough, especially after yesterday.”
“I don’t hate you. I never hated you” Hans leaned against his car, waiting for her answer. After a few moments, she leaned next to him.
“You were right yesterday,” she said, “I’ve never done Anna any good. I couldn’t even protect her from you. You know, when you started dating, I saw the red flags. I thought, ‘What’s this grad student doing with a freshman?’ But I ignored it. I thought that you might be a more stable presence in her life. I thought that even if there was something up with you, it couldn’t be worse than me.”
“Look how that turned out,” said Hans wryly. They stood silently for what could have been a split second or an eternity.
“Anna doesn’t know,” said Elsa suddenly.
“Hm?”
“You said you weren’t sure if she knew. She doesn’t.”
“Don’t you think you should tell her?”
“I don’t know how. That night in the ER, I was so scared. I thought I was going to lose her. And I realized something had to change. If something happened, I couldn’t live with myself knowing that I had spent my whole life pushing her away. She’s all I have, and I love her dearly. It’s been hard this past year. I’ve been trying to let her in, but I don’t know how to do it without hurting her. And I don’t know if she can ever forgive me for what’s already happened. I wasn’t there when she needed me most.”
“I think we can agree,” said Hans, “that I have turned out to cause Anna far more harm than you have. But you’ve seen how readily she has forgiven me. If she can do that, I’m sure you won’t have any trouble. After all, she loves you.”
“I hope you’re right.” Hans reached out tentatively and patted her shoulder. She stiffened momentarily, but then she relaxed into the touch.
“Anyway,” he said, “you are not an asshole like me.” Elsa seemed surprised to find herself laughing, and Hans found himself joining in.
When she had pulled away from the car, Elsa said, “You know this doesn’t make us friends.”
“I would never dare to suggest such a thing. All I ask is this: truce?”
“Truce,” she replied decisively.
“Well,” he said, straightening up, “in honor of our newly-signed armistice agreement, I propose we go see a movie.”
“All right,” she agreed, “but only if we get ice cream afterwards.”
-
“Well, Elsa, what did you think? Did it make a case for the redemptive power of love?”
“I will concede that love is powerful enough to motivate change for the better. But change isn’t instantaneous. Redemption is a long process. You have to work for it, and it has to be earned time and time again. Death is just a lazy shorthand, and it’s bad writing.”
“You want to talk bad writing, what about my man General Hux? The guy just switched sides in the third act with no warning. The foreshadowing was nonexistent because they were too intent on fooling the audience. It was just a plot twist for the sake of a plot twist, more for shock value than because it added anything to the story. That’s bad writing.”
“I don’t know, I kind of liked him.”
“Either you’re saying that to be contrary or you just have a thing for redheads.”
“I am not being contrary!”
“So you like redheads, then?”
“I don’t!”
“You answered too quickly.”
“I didn’t!”
“Yes, you did.”
“Look, are we getting ice cream or not?”
***
Author’s Note: Modern AU is something I thought I would never write. But I did say I was apologizing today. Unfortunately, this did not turn out as light and fluffy as I had hoped. Some apology, huh? At least you got some Star Wars references out of it. Thank you all so much for reading! <3
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