#so watching him fly out and roll is very gratifying

[layla4567]

Nursing day

Quicksilver x reader

Summary: The last battle against Jean was not gratifying and your boyfriend got the worst of it. Now while he is in the infirmary you visit him every so often and take care of him

Warning: injuries, mention of blood, fluff, a bit of angst, very poor plot of the film dark phoenix, spoilers of that movie, mention of death by impalement, a bit of coursing words

Jean was out of control, we didn't understand what was happening to her and to top it off she refused to receive help. Ororo, Hank, Charles, Raven, Scott, Peter, and I were trying to reason with her and reassure her that we wouldn't hurt her. On the other hand, the patrolmen had managed to upset Jean and now all that remained was to try to stop her, unfortunately we had to fight. Kurt was the first to strike, he teleported behind her but Jean's powers had expanded to unmatched levels and with a simple movement of her hand she pushed Kurt away as if he were a simple fly. Some policemen had approached and were pointing their guns at Jean, scared I approached but a hand stopped me

"Not yet"

Professor Xavier sitting next to me looked at me with a worried frown, he knew that even if I wanted to stop her it would be impossible.

Concerned, I saw how before the policemen could shoot, Jean yelled for them to stop and extending her arms, she overturned the cars, moving away, also blowing up the policemen. I could see that Jean's eyes had an orange aura around the pupil, right in the iris. And from his cheeks ran some kind of veins the color of fire.

This was too much for me, I wanted to help and I didn't know how. I was a mutant with cryokinesis. I could absorb energy and convert it into ice, as well as freeze things and people. Even so, I didn't think my powers could be of much use this time, Jean far surpassed me, to tell the truth, at that moment she surpassed all of us. I was trying to think of a strategy while Raven was talking to Jean to reassure her when to my horror I watched as Raven flew off and was impaled near a tree. I felt my legs lose strength as I raised a hand to my mouth in horror, Charles next to me had wet eyes and his lips trembled. Hank yelled her name hoarsely as he went to help her but unfortunately it was too late.

This was getting out of hand and I stepped in determined to end this once and for all. I could already feel that characteristic cold in my hands when I used my powers when suddenly Charles stopped me again.

"No!...wait.."

I turned around annoyed, not understanding why our professor refused to cooperate and stood idly by, but when I saw his afflicted face and his eyes full of tears, I understood that he didn't want to lose another student. I shake my head in frustration as I rack my brain trying to come up with some plan that will work, when I feel Peter stop next to me.

"Leave it to me"

With a quick and sure movement he put the glasses he was wearing on his head and ran towards Jean before we could stop him. Charles and I yelled at him to stop but he was gone at the speed of light. With my heart in a fist I was expecting the worst. Peter went to her climbing pieces of wood, we couldn't see him because he was going very fast but I could see how Jean made a movement of her hand and moved away a board where Peter was just going to step making him lose his balance and fall. Peter fell like a sack of potatoes and rolled abruptly ending up sprawled on the grass of a garden.

"NO!"

I screamed at the top of my lungs and trembling I ran to where Peter was. I approached calling him urgently but he didn't respond, his face was dirty and bruised. I took his face in fear. I saw how blood began to emanate from a wound on his forehead. Compunged and with teary eyes, I quickly looked for his pulse and breathed with relief when I verified that he was only unconscious. Inside me, sadness and anger swirled. I wanted to break everything. I was furious, with Jean, with Charles but especially with myself. If I hadn't hesitated so much I could have prevented this, or at least prevented Peter from going to confront him and going instead, even though that meant I could end up badly hurt.

when all seemed lost, out of nowhere Jean realized the damage she had done, she seemed to have woken up from a heavy trance. She looked around scared and with a special grimace of grief towards where Raven's body was. She couldn't help it and flew off in a hurry after muttering sorry. Apparently Charles had restored Jean's mind to normal.

With Raven's body in Hank's arms and Kurt and Scott holding Peter we rushed to the mansion urgently. I held Peter's hand in anguish, hoping that he would recover and that it was nothing too serious. When we got there Peter was taken to a parlor to put him on a gurney while the others prepared Raven's funeral. I stayed with Storm sitting on a bench. I was nervous so she put a hand on my shoulder and comforted me saying that everything would be fine. So much had happened in such a short time, and I didn't know who to feel worse for than Raven or my boyfriend, Peter.

Suddenly I saw Peter come out on a stretcher. I immediately stood up and ran to where they were taking him. His face was destroyed, he was wearing a bandage on his head and blood was coming out of his nose, apparently broken.

"Peter..!"

He turned making an effort to look at me, his eyes seemed to ask for help. They quickly took him to the infirmary. I took a step and stretched out my arm as if trying to catch my boyfriend who was walking away hurt. Storm stopped me by grabbing my hand as if she was afraid I might run away. Seeing him like this was the straw that broke the camel's back and I began to cry inconsolably collapsing in Ororo's arms.

"Don't worry, everything will be fine, at least he's still alive"

She rubbed my back as she wrapped me in a warm hug, but I couldn't calm down. I felt terribly guilty, if I had used my powers before Peter wouldn't be in the infirmary now.

The days that followed were hard, we didn't know anything about Jean and Raven's absence felt present like a heavy shadow loaded with misery. Peter was still being cared for in the infirmary but visitors were still not being accepted. I bite my nails all the time walking from here to there in my room. From time to time Scott or Kurt would visit me and tell me that I don't have to worry about anything and that I could see Peter soon.

and indeed it was. One day I was trying to study without much success when someone knocked on my door, it was Scott. He seemed to have a confident smile and that could only mean one thing, I nervously asked him.

"Yeah, you can go see him"

I felt a weight lift off of me, hugged Scott and ran to the infirmary. Upon arrival they told me that Peter was resting but that I could see him for a few minutes. Nervously I entered the room and saw my boyfriend lying on the table with a bandage on his nose, on his head and a bruise on his eye. I felt my stomach drop but I tried to keep my composure so it wouldn't show. I sat near him in a chair. Despite the injuries he seemed to sleep peacefully, I couldn't help but put my hand on his caressing him. Feeling the warmth of my hand Peter woke up confused. He slowly turned his head with a wince and looked at me with tired eyes. I smiled at him as best I could but my eyes were starting to get wet again.

"Hey.. Elsa"

Peter always made fun of me by calling me that. I couldn't help but shake my head and laugh, but soon the laughter turned into crying and lowering my head I started to sob, all the emotions that I had experienced those days came together and came out in the form of tears.

Peter looked at me with a frown.

"Please, don't cry."-said almost in a whisper

But I couldn't help it, I grabbed my face with my hands. Peter made an effort to reach out a hand and put it on my arm with a pitiful whimper. Noticing this, I quickly held his hand, fearing that he might hurt himself by trying too hard.

"Baby, I'm ok"-he said

Peter went to great lengths to pretend everything was fine when he had a broken nose and a bruised eye. But that filled me with tenderness, he just didn't want to worry me

"Shh..don't say anything, you have to regain your strength"

I took his hand and kissed the back of it and he smiled. Peter may have a super quick regeneration ability but this time it will definitely take him a little longer to recover. When visiting hours were over, I promised Peter that I would visit him every day and bring him something different so he wouldn't get bored.

I went to see Peter the next day, carrying a Walkman with his favorite playlist. I sat in the same chair with the walkman hidden in my back

"Hi sweetie"

Peter looked at me with a glint of excitement in his eyes and a small smirk.

"Hi doll"

"guess what i brought for you today"

Peter just shrugged slowly so I showed him the walkman and his smile widened. I got up and put him the headphones on giving him a sweet little kiss on the tip of his nose.

"Ow"

His nose was still hurt, I laughed softly and apologized. Luckily now Peter could move a little more so he grabbed the walkman and picked a song at random. Some songs that I had chosen were songs that we used to listen to together.

"Listen to number 5, I know you'll like it"

He obeyed me. His serious face little by little lit up and transformed into an open smile, almost a laugh.

"I can't believe you added this song" he laughed "Sweet dreams are made of this.."

Of course, I had to add his favorite song that he made me listen to exhaustion only to look at me funny when I hummed it distractedly. The minutes passed and once again I had to leave Peter alone but promising to return another day.

The days passed and I brought him more and more things to entertain himself. One day I went to a comic book store and bought his favorites.

Peter was already waiting impatiently for me to know what I had brought him this time, when I entered my boyfriend looked at me anxiously like a child waiting for his Christmas present. Patiently he waited for me to sit in my chair like a learned ritual and asked me what I had brought him this time.

"You have to guess, love"

That was a kind of game that we had between the two of us, every time I brought him something he had to guess. If I noticed that it was difficult for him to guess the object, I would leave clues for him. If he didn't guess it, sometimes he made me beg a little until he begged me to give it to him. And if he guessed as a prize, he would not only give him the object but also a kiss.

"Mmh is my favorite drink?" I shook my head.

"Ok, ok. Did you bring me a gameboy?"

"Sorry, not today"

Peter put a finger to his forehead trying to think by closing his eyes. I laughed at his face.

"Damn, babe give me a clue." Peter made a piteous pout.

"Okay, the object behind my back is smooth and is something children often read"

Peter frowned and stared at nothing, confused and thinking, I had to stifle a laugh. Suddenly he opened his eyes in surprise.

"I know!, you brought me a comic!!"

"Ding, ding, ding!. You got it"

I gave the comic to Peter giving him a tender kiss as well, who started clapping like a child. It did me good to see him happy. I knew how hard it was for him to be on a stretcher without being able to use his powers. That's why I did my best so that he wouldn't get bored and disobey by escaping from the infirmary.

As the days passed Peter was recovering, his bruise had completely disappeared and several bandages had been removed. Even he could already sit up straight on the stretcher. This time I brought him something special, something he had always wanted but for some reason could never have. Even as a good kleptomaniac that he was, he had tried to steal it from stores without much success.

"How is my favorite boy?"

Peter sat grinning on his stretcher.

"Very bad, I have abstinence from your kisses"

I rolled my eyes laughing as our usual guessing game began.

"Alright, I guess you brought me a water pistol today" He said with his arms crossed and raising an eyebrow smiling

"No, but you were close, it's a toy"

"An action figure?"

"Nope"

Peter ran out of ideas and began listing all the toys he knew.

"A robot? A ship? A drone? Come on doll, what is it?. He grumbled angry

"You give up? Oh then I guess I can't give it to you"

Peter leaned back on the stretcher pouting and grunting, I couldn't help but laugh and so he wouldn't get mad at me I showed him the toy. When Peter saw it his face went from a frustrated grimace to a gaping ecstasy and surprise. What he had brought her was a lit red remote-controlled car. But it wasn't just any car, it was a limited edition toy that Peter had seen in an ad when he was a kid.

"NO WAY! WHERE DID YOU GET IT?!"

"At a garage fair, I exchanged it for another object" I said laughing while my boyfriend took the car and began to play

I saw him happy as a loving mother watching her son grow. Suddenly, Peter stopped playing and looked at me seriously, stretching out his arms as if he wanted to hug me.

"And my kiss?"

I approached him laughing happily and planted a kiss on his lips taking his face in my hands

That afternoon I was trying to figure out what gift I could bring to Peter. I didn't know when they were going to discharge him so I had no choice but to keep looking for things that he liked. I didn't know what to give him anymore, I had gone to convenience stores, thrift stores, even his favorite fast food joints.

I went to my room to try to find something I could do with my own hands, it would be a different gift, handmade but I was sure he would like it. I rummaged through my desk opening and closing drawers without finding anything that would help me. I turned my room on its head without being able to find something that would work for Peter. In a bad mood I left there walking through the halls and asking my friends what I could give him. No one gave me an answer to my liking.

It was already time for the visit to the infirmary and I had nothing to bring him. Disappointed, I had no choice but to go to where Peter was and tell him that I hadn't brought him anything. I could already imagine his face, at first he would laugh thinking it was a joke, but then he would look at me disappointed but not before trying to hide it by telling me that it didn't matter. I hated to disappoint Peter. With these thoughts in my head I distractedly headed to the infirmary but upon entering the room I had not realized that Peter's stretcher was empty. I had my head down and that's why I didn't realize it but when I raised it and my eyes searched the place I worried. Where the hell had Peter gone? Didn't he take it anymore and ran away?

Cursing under my breath I started looking everywhere for him nervously.. Peter could be very impulsive and do stupid things when he got bored. I went to other rooms in the infirmary in case they had transferred him but I couldn't find him. Nervous, I ran through the entire mansion looking for him. In the end I was standing at the entrance of the mansion staring out and biting a nail concentrated. Damn it, where could he have gone?

"Shit, shit ,shit. You only had one rule and you broke it, idiot. Why didn't you stay in the infirmary? Don't you realize you're hurt, you sewer slime?"

If I were in a cartoon, smoke would already be coming out of my ears. Suddenly a voice behind me froze my blood

"Uhh, do you talk to your mother with that mouth, baby?"

I turned around in disbelief, there in front of me was Peter with his usual clothes looking at me with mockery. I yelled with excitement and hugged him around his neck as he picked me up and spun me around until I laughed.

when he put me down I gave him a little hit on his shoulder and told him angrily

"Where the fuck were you??, I looked for you everywhere"

"First of all ouch, and secondly the nurse released me this morning. She told me that my wounds are healed, what do you think?"

Peter spread his arms wide and spun around as if he were posing in a new set of clothes. I smiled and gave him a passionate kiss that he returned around my waist.

"You could have told me, couldn't you?"

"Sorry, babe it was a surprise. I also wanted to see how you got angry, it's adorable"

"Peter.."

"Sorry"

Peter cleared his throat. "Speaking seriously, I wanted to thank you for everything you did for me these days, even if it wasn't necessary. It's nice that you went to the trouble of entertaining a loser like me."

Sometimes Peter called himself a loser even though he really wasn't. In fact, sometimes I didn't know if he did it on purpose to pity me and manipulate me into doing him a favor or if he actually thought that way about himself. This time he seemed sincere.

I put a finger to his lips shutting him up."It was a pleasure to have done all that for you"

He smiled puffing out his chest with pride.

"And you already know that you are my favorite loser"-I winked mischievously

#marvel #marvel cinematic universe #mcu #one shot #x reader #imagine #marvel mcu #fluff #quicksilver #x men apocalypse #pietro maximoff #peter maximoff #dark phoenix #fox xmen #x men comics #xmen #x men movies #peter maximoff x reader #peter maximoff x you #peter maximoff x y/n #peter maximoff imagine #angst with a happy ending #light angst #angst #fluffy #fluff fluff fluff #fluff drabble #jean grey #scott summers #ororo munroe

[oliverreedmasterass]

Cub Scouts Pinewood Derby Competition🤩

Oh my god Addison I am SO sorry for the wait, but thank you for the request!!

Sleek, Modern, Sexy

Words: 3.8k

Warnings: brief mention of a kinda nasty finger injury, the Blue Man Group

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

“Sam,” Josh’s voice shook over the phone. “We did it. We won a Grammy.” 

Sam was taking a nap when his phone broke him out of his slumbers and, while he had at first been groggy, he immediately snapped awake. 

“You’re kidding,” was all he could manage to say. 

“For Best Rock Album. We actually won.” 

Sam sprung to his feet and raked a hand through his long hair in disbelief. Their EP had beat Weezer, Ghost, Fall Out Boy, and Alice In Chains. It didn’t feel real. In fact, Sam hadn’t felt such a gratifying sense of victory since nine years earlier. 

He was about a foot and a half shorter, his hair was clipped above his ears, and, at that point, he had only touched his dad’s bass a handful of times. Instead of playing music with his brothers, he spent his days flipping through Marvel comics and, more importantly, designing his car for the Cub Scouts Pinewood Derby. 

Despite his young age, Sam had established himself as a kid with a serious eye for engineering. It was most likely due to his father, Kelly, encouraging him to watch various Discovery Channel programs with him, and coming home with Lego kits, telling Sam to “go ham.” Sam’s creativity, logical reasoning, and handiwork made him a triple threat when it came to building a small, wooden car to race against his fellow Cub Scouts. He could hardly focus in school because he was too busy drawing blueprints and testing various models, hypothesizing which would be the fastest, or most aerodynamic. 

A week before the competition was supposed to happen, Sam was ready to put his car together. His older brothers, Jake and Josh, took interest in his project and trailed him into the garage as he gathered his tools. 

“I made a car for my troop,” Josh shared with Sam, hoping to impart some wisdom on his younger brother. 

“It was a lousy car,” Jake reminded Josh. “You placed in dead last because you glued your tires to a block of wood without checking to make sure that they rotated. The stupid thing sat at the starting line.” 

Josh frowned at Jake. “The whole point of this competition is to learn from your mistakes.” 

“I bought a Hot Wheels car ten minutes beforehand because I forgot to make one and got disqualified,” Jake told Sam. “So the bar isn’t too high if you want to impress Mom and Dad.” 

“I just want to make something I’m proud of,” Sam answered with a shrug. “But also I’m pretty sure I can win this thing,” he added. “The people in my troop aren’t the brightest.” 

“I guess things haven’t changed that much since we were there, huh Josh?” Jake nudged his twin in the ribs, which earned him a smack on the arm in return. He rubbed his forming bruise and motioned towards Sam’s journal. “Is that your plan?” 

“Uh huh,” Sam answered. He set his block of wood down and handed Jake the book. He would never say it to them upfront, but Sam really did want to impress his older brothers with his car. Earning their respect meant the world to him, and the fact that they had taken interest in his work was filling his heart with joy. 

Jake scanned over the various sketches of Sam’s car and raised his eyebrows. 

“This is detailed, Sammy. You really have been working hard on this.” 

Josh grabbed the notebook from Jake and studied it as well.

“There’s notes in here about aerodynamics. How do you know what that is?” 

“Dad showed me a documentary about how planes fly a few weeks ago. I thought it might make my car go faster too, with physics and all.” 

“Dad and his science documentaries,” Jake rolled his eyes. “So, can I help you with the saw?” 

Sam felt bad, but he had a specific plan in mind that he knew Jake couldn’t pull off. Plus, his parents had made it very clear to Sam that he and his siblings weren’t allowed to touch anything sharp. After Jake had sliced the tip of Sam’s thumb off a few years earlier, all of the Kiszka siblings were barred from putting their hands on any knives, saws, or other items that could cut. 

“I have to wait for Dad,” he sternly told Jake. The last thing he wanted was to get in trouble with his parents or, even worse, have Jake cut his thumb off again. That had hurt pretty bad. 

Jake looked like he wanted to protest, but Josh put a hand on his shoulder to stop him, and then pointed up the stairs at the main level of their house. 

“I’ll go and grab the old man now so we can get this thing started.” 

Sam wasn’t sure that he liked how Josh was referring to his project as a group effort, but he decided to let it slide since he was grateful that Josh was following his parent’s orders. It was rare that his brothers listened to their parents, especially since they had entered their teenage years. 

Josh bound up the rickety wooden steps and threw open the door leading into their kitchen, disappearing from sight while calling out for their dad. Sam and Jake stood in silence for a few beats, but then Jake cleared his throat. 

“Your design really does look good. Like, a lot better than the stuff I saw when Josh and I did the competition.” 

“We’ll see how it turns out,” Sam mumbled, his cheeks flushing. Jake seemed to be uncomfortable with the silence lingering between them because he moved across the garage to retrieve a soccer ball that was sitting around. Sam tried to focus his attention back on his blueprint while Jake started to juggle the ball, his sneakers squeaking against the pavement. 

Josh came back down a few minutes later with Kelly in tow, and the two joined Sam’s side. 

“You’re in charge here, kiddo,” Kelly told Sam. “You let me know what you need, and I’ll give you a hand. But you’re in the driver’s seat.” Kelly couldn’t help but chuckle at his pun. “What’s first?” 

“We have to rough cut my design,” Sam regained some of his confidence. He liked the feeling of being in charge and, more than that, holding his dad and Josh’s attention. Jake, on the other hand, was too preoccupied with his soccer ball at the other end of the garage. Kelly grabbed the block of wood Sam had been given by his Scoutmaster. 

“Shave it down a bit?” 

“Yeah, a lot thinner,” Sam said. He reached for his sketches and held them up to his dad to inspect. Kelly’s eyes scanned over Sam’s pencil drawings and he broke out into a smile. 

“Sounds good,” he said as he carefully set the notebook back down. 

Kelly let Sam wear a pair of safety goggles while he used his saw on the wood and instructed Jake and Josh to stand at least ten feet back. Jake had joined their side the second he saw Kelly bust out the saw, and looked visibly disappointed that he couldn’t move closer to see his dad cut the wood. While Kelly got to work, Sam looked over his shoulder a few times and grinned at his older brothers, who were both standing on their toes trying to get a better view. Sam had a front row seat though, and he remembered that he was the one in charge. He put that authority into practice when he noticed that his dad was being conservative with how much he shaved off. 

“I want it to be light,” Sam told his dad. “Take off more.” 

“You got it,” Kelly grunted. 

When he was done, Kelly presented Sam with his altered block, which was cut down to a thin rectangle. Sam cradled the wood in his small hands and studied it, picturing how it would look when it was done. He was still feeling confident that his design was going to win. 

“I need to sand it now,” Sam announced. This brought Jake and Josh closer to him, looking expectant that they would be asked to lend a hand. Sam wanted to be in charge of smoothing out certain edges of his car because he had to be very particular about it all, but he also wanted to make his brothers happy. “You can sand the tires,” he tried to delegate the work. “That will cut down on the friction.” 

That was more than enough to satisfy Jake and Josh since they happily accepted some sand paper from Kelly and grabbed Sam’s tires. 

“I didn’t realize you were supposed to do this,” Sam overheard Josh telling Jake. 

“It wouldn’t have mattered for your car, considering your tires didn’t even work.” 

“No need to keep bringing that up.” 

Sam kept his goggles on because they made him feel official, and he settled at his dad’s work bench to focus on his work. He reasoned that his car needed to be curved slightly in the front and have its corners be softened. He had read a lot of books at the library about the fastest cars on the planet, and a lot of them followed a similar structure. Sam grabbed his sandpaper and got to work, rubbing it carefully against the wood while biting his lip in deep concentration. 

“I think we’ve got the tires in good shape,” Jake joined Sam’s side while he finished shaving down the front of his car. Sam let out a short huff because he didn’t want to be distracted from his work, but he turned to look back at Jake, who was holding out the four black tires in his hand with a satisfied grin. Sam grabbed one of the tires and held it up to the lightbulb screwed into the wall above their dad’s bench to inspect their work. 

“Just a bit more sanding and then it should be good,” Sam said back to Jake. 

“You’re kidding,” Jake’s smile dropped. “We spent like twenty minutes on those.” 

“Friction will slow it down. I need this car to be as fast as possible.” 

Jake took the tire back from Sam and turned back to return to Josh. “The sandpaper is gonna turn my hands to stumps pretty soon,” he grumbled under his breath. 

Sam focused back on sanding the wood and, by the time Jake and Josh returned to his side holding out the tires again, he was happy with how the body of his car looked. It was pretty close to his drawings, which Kelly verified when he stuck his head back into the garage to check on their progress. 

“This is gonna be a fast one,” he claimed as he twirled the car around in his hands. “I can tell.” 

“Can you make some holes near the bottom for the axles and tires?” Sam asked his dad. “Oh, and also a few holes in the bottom for my weights?” Kelly inspected where Sam had penciled in for him to cut and brought the wood back to his workstation to use his loud drill. Within no time, the wood was back in Sam’s hands, and Kelly excused himself to get started on dinner upstairs.

Sam grinned down at his car and then snapped his head back up to look across at Jake and Josh. 

“It’s time to decorate it.” 

“What are you gonna do for the paint job?” Josh’s eyes were wide with interest.  

“Flames?” Jake guessed. “The Batman logo?” 

Sam shook his head. “I want it to be sleek, modern, and sexy.” 

“Sexy?” Jake and Josh both gaped at their younger brother. 

“You’re ten, what do you know about sexy?” Josh sounded genuinely concerned. 

“I hear people call cars sexy,” Sam replied. That was really all he understood about the word. His response seemed to bring some relief to his brothers since they dropped the subject. 

“So, sleek and modern, huh?” Jake asked Sam. 

“I want it to be red and glossy,” Sam shared. 

“Only red?” Josh checked in. “You could paint something else on it, you know.” 

“I was gonna do a Spiderman design, but I think only red is better,” Sam replied. “It feels more, I don’t know, grown up.” 

“I can grab you a Sharpie and you could write some stuff on it,” Josh suggested. “Like ‘Sam Kiszka rules’ and ‘I love my brothers.’”

“Ew, gross,” Jake made a face. “Don’t you dare write that on your car.” 

Sam laughed at his brothers. 

“I’m just gonna do red.” 

Josh was hovering around Sam quite a bit while he retrieved a tube of red acrylic paint from their arts and crafts drawer, and he took the hint. 

“Do you want to help me paint?” Sam asked Josh. 

“Sure,” Josh tried to sound cool, though Sam could tell that he was secretly ecstatic. 

They settled back in the garage and grabbed their paint brushes, both spreading the scarlet shade over the wood. Off to the side, Jake had snagged his own paintbrush and was carefully decorating the discarded pieces of wood that Kelly had cut off of the original block of wood with the Cool S. Sam and Josh covered the car in three hefty coats of paint before Sam decided that it was looking good. The color was bright and was certain to gather a lot of attention out on the track. To top it off, Sam added some gloss over the paint so it had a bit of a shine to it when it was held up to the light. 

“What do you think?” Sam called over to Jake, who had started mindlessly painting on his bare arms so they were mostly blue. He let his brush drop back down onto the table in embarrassment, and squinted to look at Sam’s progress. 

“Looking good!” he called back, giving a blue thumbs up. 

Since they had to wait for the paint to dry, Jake and Josh excused themselves so they could find something else to do to keep themselves preoccupied that wasn’t watching paint dry. Sam overheard them scheming to paint Jake entirely blue so he could run around their neighborhood pretending to be a member of the Blue Man Group. 

Sam took advantage of the peace and quiet and focused hard on aligning his axles and securing the tires. When he was satisfied, he glued the axles in place and then popped the tires on. He gave the car a light push across Kelly’s work bench and watched in delight as it moved in a straight line with ease. 

“Nice,” Sam whispered to himself. And then he hustled upstairs to find his mom. 

Karen was the self-proclaimed expert with the hot glue gun, which was what Sam needed to secure his metal into the back of his car to insure that it moved as fast as possible. 

“MOOOOOOOOOOM!” Sam shouted from the kitchen. 

“Yeah, Hun?” Karen’s voice was muffled from the other end of the house. Sam cradled his car in his arms to make sure it didn’t get damaged, and ran down the hallway to his parent’s room. There, he found Karen, laying on top of their Queen bed while flipping through Water For Elephants. 

“Can you glue something for me?” Sam asked, out of breath. 

“Is this your Pinewood Derby car?” Karen asked in intrigue, motioning for Sam to pass her his car so she could admire it. Sam excitedly handed it to her, hoping to receive more praise for his hard work. “Oh wow,” Karen breathed out. “This looks really good, Sammy. I love the color too.” 

“Josh helped me paint it,” Sam said as he puffed out his chest in pride. 

“That was nice of him,” Karen gave Sam a warm smile. “So what do you need me to glue?” 

“I have these Tungsten balls that should fit in the holes Dad drilled to the bottom of the car in the back,” Sam explained quickly. “I need the hot glue gun to make sure that they stay in place.” 

“Let me grab it,” Karen told Sam. He watched her mark her place in her book and stand from the bed to rummage through her closet for the hot glue gun. It had been a while since she had needed it; the kids weren’t doing art projects as much as they used to. 

They moved to the kitchen where she could plug the glue gun in, and Sam stood on his step stool to watch his mom trap the metal inside the drilled holes with the hot glue. While they waited for it to harden, Sam watched an entirely blue Jake run around the front yard, waving his hands around and cackling loudly. Karen caught a glimpse of her son and shook her head in disbelief. 

“What am I going to do with your brother?” she sighed. 

They both watched as Josh ran behind Jake with the garden hose, trying to wash him off with an equally loud laugh. 

Later that evening, the entire Kiszka family crowded in the living room to watch Sam test his design against the infamous Hot Wheel car that had gotten Jake disqualified three years earlier. On their homemade track, built out of old carboxes, Sam and a slightly less blue Jake held their cars at the starting line. 

“On your marks,” Josh called, “Get set, go!” 

Jake and Sam dropped their cars at the same time and watched in awe at the incredible speed that carried Sam’s car to the finish line in what felt like the blink of an eye. A few seconds later, Jake’s Hot Wheel clunked past the finish line. Sam’s grin was wide as he pictured his car winning the following weekend at the Derby in a similar fashion. 

In what felt like no time, Sam was at the Frankenmuth Youth Center, carefully shielding his car model from any harm. His fellow Cub Scouts were crowding around the racetrack and playing with their cars on the gym floor, which Sam noted was ruining their tires. 

He was standing off to the side, surrounded by his family, attempting to remain calm while he waited his turn for the competition. When the time finally came, Sam could feel his heart start to thunder in his chest. 

You can do this, he thought down to his car. He hoped with all of his might that his car was going to win. The prize was a large trophy which was pretty cool, but Sam mostly wanted to prove to the other kids that he could make the best, fastest car out there. 

He eyed his competitors and noted that their cars were too tall, too wide, too flimsy-looking, too chunky. In comparison his car looked like a part of the Indianapolis 500. Sam gingerly placed his car in its designated lane and then, per the Scoutmaster’s direction, took two steps away from the starting line. 

C’mon, c’mon, c’mon, Sam silently prayed. 

“Let’s go, Sam!” Josh called from the crowd. 

Please, Sam tried one last time. 

The bar holding the cars in place on their elevated slope was removed, and the cars sped down the track in a quick zip. The bright red color of Sam’s car definitely made it stand out against his competitors, and he had no trouble tracking it as it zoomed down the track at the front of the pack. The other cars felt like they were miles behind him. Sam started to imagine all of the bragging rights he would earn on the playground and could feel his stomach turn in glee. The Scoutmaster’s shrill whistle marking the end of the race brought Sam out of his daydream and, beaming wide, he waited to hear the announcement that his car had won. But, off in the distance, he saw the Scoutmaster holding a different car up. 

Bradley, who was conveniently the Scoutmaster’s son, ran to join his dad with an excited whoop, dancing at the finish line with his winning car. Sam’s face dropped in shock. Bradley’s car hadn’t seemed like a threat to him when he studied the other cars in the race earlier, but there must have been something about his design that outshone Sam’s. 

Sam could feel the excitement oozing out of him until he noticed that the Scoutmaster was holding up his car as well. He could just barely hear his gruff voice call out, “Second place!” 

Even though Sam had been shooting for first place, second place got a trophy as well which was more than enough to keep him happy. He had never won anything in his life and had always dreamed of having something shiny to display on his bookcase, just like his siblings. 

He sprinted to the finish line and had his winning car placed back in his hands, which he immediately lifted up in victory. Within seconds his family was by his side, clasping him on the back and congratulating him. That is, everyone but Josh. 

“Don’t you think it’s a bit rigged that the Scoutmaster’s son won?” he asked with his brows furrowed. 

“Joshua, not right now,” Karen told him. 

“It just seems a little bit fixed,” Josh continued to argue. 

Sam hadn’t considered that, but Josh did have a point. 

“Bradley cheated!” he called out. 

“No,” Kelly assured Sam, turning briefly to shoot Josh a glare. “He won fair and square. But you got second place which is so wonderful! You should be so proud of yourself.” 

“They stole that win from you,” Josh whispered to Sam. 

“Joshua,” Karen warned her son again. Josh took the hint and shuffled away from Sam. 

Sam was ready to continue spewing conspiracies that the entire race was fixed, but he was quickly distracted when the Scoutmaster announced that they begin the award ceremony. While Sam continued to hold onto his car, he was handed a polished gold trophy that had “2nd Place” written on a plaque at the bottom. He could hear his family whoop and cheer for him loudly and, in that moment, Sam felt like he had accomplished something truly great for the first  time. He always felt like he was living in the shadow of his older siblings but, finally, he could enjoy the limelight. He felt a new confidence growing in him as he realized he had won something that he was in charge of. It had been his design, not Jake’s, not Josh’s, not Ronnie’s, not his parent’s, his. He couldn’t be more proud. 

After receiving the news from Josh about their Grammy, Sam felt transported back to his youth when he placed second at the Pinewood Derby Competition. Like nine years prior, his heart swelled with joy that he, Danny, and his brothers had come together to create something that was uniquely theirs, and found success along the way. 

“We worked so hard for this,” Sam told Josh, his voice quivering as his emotions caught up to him.

“Nice to finally win first, right, Sammy?” Jake joined Josh, calling into the phone to Sam. 

“It definitely is,” Sam laughed.

#gvf #greta van fleet #sam kiszka #jake kiszka #josh kiszka #danny wagner #gvf fanfiction #gvf fic #gvf fanfic #greta van fleet fanfiction #greta van fic #greta van fleet fanfic #pinewood derby #now I know how to make one of these cars....kinda lol

[watch-grok-brainrot]

Dragging JGY for NHS’s BDay

I decided to make a set of GIFs of JGY being kicked down Carp Tower. I feel like NHS would approve. 

Set 1: NMJ booting JGY (ep 41)

Set 2: JGY booted on order of JGS (ep 49)

Also, because I found this version of gif 1 funny: 

Ok. I’m done for tonight.  

520 Tumblr friends! <3

#happy bday director nie! #聂导 生日快乐！ #i'm dragging jgy for you #i hope you're happy #this is also self serving considering how i hate his choices #so watching him fly out and roll is very gratifying #that's some seriously good rolling down steps #my cracked up gif making #help me with color balance! i can't figure it out! #learning #jin guangyao #nie mingjue #nie huaisang #聂怀桑 #聂明玦 #金光瑶 #陈情令 #the untamed 陈情令 #cql #the untamed

[things-we-cant-say]

pretty little liar

Pairing: Ten x Female!Reader

Summary: In order to get your annoying ex off your back, you tell a little white lie that takes an unexpected turn.

Genre: College!AU

Warnings: Smutty smut, dirty dancing

Word Count: 4,867

A/N: Unable to withstand Ten’s power any longer, I had to start writing about him…or a version of him anyway. Hope someone out there enjoys my first dip into the ~imagines~ pond. ☺️

The party was in full swing by the time you and your best friend Amy arrived, the music so loud it could be heard down the street. It was a wonder the cops hadn’t broken it up yet but hey, the night was still young. Ducking through the arched doorway with Amy hot on your heels, you let her guide you into the foyer where you both stopped to take in the scene. The place was packed with people dancing, drinking and laughing—everyone apparently having a great time. Which was perfect for you because all you wanted to do was blow off a little steam and pretend you hadn’t spent the day fantasizing about committing the perfect murder.

You enjoyed school for the most part and you enjoyed your classes, but really you couldn’t wait for it all to just be over. Two extra years and your master’s degree in linguistics was almost within your grasp. You still weren’t one hundred percent what you planned to do with it (teaching was definitely out) but either way you were ready to dive into the real world. To no longer be stressed out about exams and papers and boring ass professors that constantly seemed to have a stain on their tie.

And to get far, far away from your stupid ex, Adam.

“Uh oh you have murder face,” Amy said as she peeped around to look at you. “What’s wrong?”

You shrugged. “Just in my head I guess.”

Amy hummed. “I get it. That’s why we are here though! To get fucked up and do something we regret in the morning.”

You laughed. “Guess we’re Uber-ing home.”

She grinned and grabbed your wrist, pulling you over to a table loaded with different types of alcohol. The guy ‘tending bar’ as it were winked as you two approached. “What can I get you for?”

“Something with alcohol but where we can’t taste the alcohol!” Amy exclaimed happily. “Oh! And if you’ve got any little umbrellas I’d like one of those too.”

He did finger guns and proceeded to cook something up in two red cups, sticking in two pink umbrellas when he was done. You and Amy took your drinks and after a cursory sniff, took a sip. The tequila wasn’t as strong as with a single shot but you could still detect it just not enough to make you stop drinking. Unlike Amy you didn’t plan to get completely fucked up but you weren’t going to say no to a nice buzz.

Cups in hand you migrated onto the dance floor and fell in with everyone else, bopping to the beat and scream chatting over the loud music.

“I really needed this!” Amy yelled. “Statistics is kicking my cute little ass!”

“I know what you mean!” You shouted. “But hey! Soon we’ll be done and actual jobs will be kicking our cute little asses!”

Laughing, Amy bounced up and down, sending her blonde hair flying. “Is that why you’ve been so grumpy lately? Or is it…he who shall not be named?”

With a sigh you took a big sip of your strawberry margarita. “Yeah. He keeps fucking calling me and leaving me these stupid ass messages, apologizing and shit. I’ve blocked him but he just uses someone else’s phone.”

Amy’s eyes stretched wide. “That’s like stalker behavior! Or maybe he really is sorry for what he did.”

You snorted. “Sorry for having sex with his ex in the backseat of my car? As far as I am concerned he can take his ‘sorrys’ and shove them so far up his ass they come out his mouth as safaris!”

Amy choked a little on her drink, hitting you hard on the arm in admonishment after she stopped coughing. “I hate you! I could have died!”

Her words made you smirk. “But did you? No but for real, fuck Adam. Fuck Adam and anyone who even looks like Adam!”

“Woo!” Amy threw both hands up into the air, yelping as liquid sloshed down onto her head. “Oh shit! Drink emergency I’ll be right back!”

Before you could say anything, she turned and hurried back towards the drink table. Alone in the middle of a dancing crowd, you didn’t know whether you should slink over to a corner or just keep dancing. That last thing you wanted was some random dude trying to groove with you. Of course if you decided to hold up the wall nothing would stop some random dude from trying to hit on you either. At a bit of a loss you drained the rest of your drink and did a I don’t really know anyone two step, hoping Amy would return soon.

The tequila settled nice and warm in your stomach, making you feel more at ease. Most of the people at the party were from your school but not ones you associated with on like, a daily basis. Sure you recognized a few faces from the library or cafeteria but there was no one you’d had more than a surface conversation with.

And then your eyes landed on him. Ten.

Ten was a…different sort of person altogether. He was the kinda guy CW shows thought actually existed in college, except he was very real. And very much fucking gorgeous in that unattainable way CW shows also loved. However, that sort of did him a disservice because as far as you knew, he was just a decent guy who happened to be able to do some pretty awesome things.

For example, he was an amazing dancer. The kinda dancer that just freaking mesmerized you when he moved. Had you wondering how in the hell had he taught his body to do that shit? One minute he was in total sync with everyone else and the next he was performing his solo and blowing your mind. He’d done some show a few months ago with a friend and you’d nearly flipped out of your chair watching him work. The body rolls, the attitude, the way he’d just commanded the stage…whew. Was it possible to be a fan of someone who wasn’t famous?

Then there was his art; things he designed himself or drew from memory. Art class was essentially where you’d sorta came to be acquaintances with him. You weren’t exactly good at drawing but you liked it enough that you wanted to improve, plus it helped you de-stress after particularly hard days. Ten on the other hand excelled and just like with dancing, it was interesting to watch his process. He’d described himself as a sensory artist so he wasn’t always as concerned with the end product as the professor sometimes wanted him to be. From your eye though he’d yet to create anything that wasn’t remarkable. In fact, more than once you’d wanted to ask him to design a tattoo for you, but felt it would be kinda weird. He had no idea what you were into after all. So far your conversations with him had consisted of colors and that one time he’d asked to borrow one of your brushes.

You were pretty sure he’d sold something to an art gallery.

Anyway so Ten could dance and he could draw and he could sing and he was fluent in several languages; as far as you knew the only thing he was kind of shit at was cooking. But who hadn’t set a class kitchen on fire once or twice? Or three times…

If he were an asshole—well people would probably still crush on him—you’d count that as a major flaw and want to keep your distance. But the kicker was that he could do cool things and he was nice. Dorky even especially when it came to cute animals. Was always posting pictures of himself at the animal shelter playing with the kittens and the puppies, or just acting like an idiot with friends. Yet it was that confidence that made him seem untouchable, and also made him sexy as fuck. More than once you’d fantasized about biting his Adam’s apple.

Heh.

Shaking your head, you fanned lightly at your face with both hands. Maybe stepping outside for some fresh air would be a good idea.

“Y/N!” Amy nearly tripped over her pretty sandals in her hurry to get back to you. “Weewoo weewoo weewoo!”

“Um…”

She grabbed your shoulder. “It’s a police siren! We have a code red situation here, I repeat a code red! Adam just walked in!”

“What?” You blinked and immediately looked towards the doorway, brows narrowing when you saw she was right.

Standing there in a white t-shirt in his formerly handsome glory was your ex-boyfriend, Adam. Once upon a time you’d thought the world of him; thought he was the kinda guy you could probably marry someday. The kinda guy you’d introduced your family to. Turns out he was the kind of guy that hooked up with his ex in your car repeatedly until finally being caught in the act. Sure it had been gratifying to make him and her walk home half naked but it had done nothing to quell the pain left behind. Thankfully though your pain quickly turned to anger and now you usually focused on not murdering him when he popped up. There was a lot you could forgive but cheating was firmly in the do not cross zone. Everything you’d felt for him evaporated the moment you saw him with her.

And he’d promised he was over her. Lying piece of shit, you thought to yourself.

“What the hell is he doing here?! Does he even know anyone here?” you asked with a frown.

“I dunno!” your friend said slowly. “It’s possible, big campus and all. Do you want me to help you climb out of the bathroom window?”

“Yeah my boobs aren’t fitting through one of those skinny ass windows,” you replied wryly. “Though to be honest I’m almost willing to risk it. C’mon let’s—”

It was too late. Adam spotted you like an arrow searching for its target, eyes registering shock and then elation. He reached you in three quick strides, opening his arms for a hug that he was damned crazy to expect. “Y/N. Wow you—you look amazing. I’m so glad we ran into each other.”

You huffed. “I’m not. I told you we’re over Adam. Or does me blocking your calls not get the message across?”

He exhaled deeply. “Look I know I messed up but I’m sorry. Classes were just really tough and—and Lucy and I would reminisce about old times…”

“Do I look like I give a shit? You cheated on me and we’re over.” The lie came so easily. “Besides, I’ve moved on.”

“Yeah!” Amy poked him in the chest. “She’s moved on so suck it!”

Adam arched a brow. “You’ve moved on?” He sounded skeptical and that made your blood boil. “Since when? And with who?”

You’d once heard that Hippocrates came up with the saying drastic times call for drastic measures though it wasn’t something you’d be willing to bet money on. However, standing there with your ex eying you like he just knew you were lying brought a whole new meaning to the idiom. You would one hundred percent be damned before giving him the satisfaction of gloating.

Tequila’s kicking in…

Without missing a beat, you put a hand on your hip and motioned to Ten. “Him. I’m seeing him.”

Amy made a sound like a cat having its tail stepped on while Adam gaped at you. “What? I—no. No way. You’re totally lying. I’ve seen the people he’s dated and you’re not his type at all.”

This bitch.

Twirling on your black heels, you strolled across the room to where Ten sat in an arm chair, chatting with a few of his friends. Before you could talk yourself out of it, you straddled his lap and leaned forward to whisper in his ear. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry. I know this is awkward as fuck—I’m so sorry—but if you just play along I will owe you big time. I’ll give you anything. You need a kidney? You can have a kidney.”

Ten’s friends had gone mute and as you sat back to gauge his reaction—or to possibly be thrown off of him—you bit your full bottom lip. His dark eyes were watching you calculatingly, his own lips pursed together like you were a riddle he needed to solve. Up close he was utterly breathtaking, all smooth skin and silky black hair that fell artfully across his forehead. He smelled incredible.

And then he spoke.

“There you are baby,” he said wrapping an arm around your waist. “I’ve been looking for you.”

That was when you figured you owed him your first born but it was fine. “Well, you found me. Sorry to keep you waiting.”

He chuckled. “You’re worth waiting for.”

His friends still looked confused though they didn’t have time to voice their opinions. Adam stalked over seconds later like a man on a mission. “So it’s true? You and Y/N are together?”

Ten tilted his head to the side and you saw the moment the lightbulb went off for him. “Yeah we’re together.”

Adam huffed. “Since when? For how long? Where did you two meet?”

Ten smirked. “Are you taking a survey or something?” He brushed his lips across your jaw, making you shiver. “The only thing that matters is that she’s mine. Let’s dance, Y/N.”

“I would love to,” you replied with a smile. You were also grateful he’d remembered your name.

You climbed off of his lap and took his hand, sending Adam a you thought look before pulling Ten out into the thick of the crowd. Your heart was beating a mile a minute but you felt too giddy to pay much attention to it. Plus, you knew Adam was watching you like a hawk and you didn’t want to let on how nervous you actually were. If he found out you were lying he’d never leave you alone and consider you pathetic to boot. Besides the nice buzz that was finally creeping down your spine told you everything would be fine. How could it not be?

Ten’s hands settled low on your hips and he gave you a little tug, pulling your back to his chest. You fit rather perfectly with him, his chin brushing the top of your head. Picking a rhythm in the song that thumped with bass, you began to move together. You rolled your ass against him and leaned your head back to rest on his shoulder, focusing on his breath as it ghosted across your neck. A silver of light wouldn’t have been able to get between you.

Normally you wouldn’t have dared to do something like this with a near stranger but your desire to make your ex suffer was bigger than your nerves. Besides Ten appeared to be all in on the ruse; his body twisting and curving in sync with yours, fingers on his right hand sliding up between your breasts to wrap lightly on your throat. His teeth nipped at your earlobe and you gasped. Reached around to his side to clasp his shirt for an anchor. You heard him chuckle and suddenly you were spun away from him only to be reeled back in, this time face to face.

The room felt like it was two hundred degrees. You weren’t exactly wearing much—a slinky black dress with tiny ties at the hem—but even that seemed too much. Without missing a beat though you and Ten continued to grind with one another, his thigh just barely pushed between your own. Every time you swayed forward to meet him the denim of his jeans rubbed deliciously against you, sending sparks sprinting through your veins. Both of his hands were on your ass as if helping to guide you, and as you met his gaze you couldn’t help but bite your lip at what you saw there. Desire, lust, hunger—no one had ever looked at you like that before. Like they could just devour you and still not have enough of you.

It made you feel powerful.

You grinned and wrapped an arm around his neck, fingers giving his hair a little tug. He hissed and lowered his head so that he could mouth at your bare shoulder, hands squeezing your ass so hard it nearly hurt. You weren’t sure when you started to get wet—maybe it was the moment you sat on his lap or he decided to play along with your dumb stunt—but you could tell it now. Your panties were sticking to you, your skin was on fire and it was becoming difficult to think straight. Honestly however you didn’t want to think at all, especially not if it meant not being in Ten’s orbit.

“Ten,” you whispered into the skin under his jaw.

He hummed, the sound vibrating through your body. You plastered your hand to his chest and pulled it down, nails catching on the thin material of his shirt until they were brushing along the zipper on his jeans. You gave him a quick squeeze—he was hard and straining—and he cursed loudly. Between one second and the next he was dragging you down a dimly light hallway, past kissing couples and one guy passed out drunk in the doorway of someone’s room. He swung you both into the first vacant room he came to; a lavish bathroom at the very back of the house. The door was closed with a swift thump and the lock clicked shut.

You licked your lips as he crowded you back into the counter, looking down at you with a tiny smirk. That part of your brain that yammered on about bad decisions was surprisingly quiet, so you figured it was beyond okay to pull him down for a kiss. As with most of the stuff he did, Ten was a damn good kisser. His mouth was soft and warm, his tongue playful and coaxing. He kissed you like he’d been waiting to kiss you for a long time. Until it grew deep and sensual. Until you were both panting with the need for air but neither wanting to let go of the moment.

With a gasp you tilted backwards a bit, your knees suddenly weak. “Fuck me,” you said absently.

“Can I?” Ten asked, chest heaving. “Can I fuck you?”

“God yes,” you replied, already pulling your dress up until it hitched around your waist.

Ten hooked his thumbs onto the band of your pink panties and slid them down your legs, laying them next to the sink. He looked you over with that same eye he used for his art but you could tell he liked what he saw. You grabbed his hand and brought it between your legs, spreading them wider for him. Two of his fingers slipped inside of you without any resistance to find you damp and aching, already so hot for him. He started a lazy rhythm—in and out, in and out—like he was in no hurry at all. Like he wasn’t driving you crazy all the way down to the tips of your toes.

He kept his eyes locked onto yours as he touched you, lips slightly parted like he couldn’t believe this was happening. That rang true for both of you. Never in your wildest dreams did you think you’d ever really be friends with Ten, let alone about to hook up with him. It was like you’d stumbled into some alternate universe.

Bringing his free hand up to your cheek, he smoothed his thumb across your lips, pressing lightly until you let him in. You sucked his thumb into your mouth and gave it a little nip, smiling when he smirked. When he deemed it wet enough, he pressed it to your clit and you moaned, your hips stuttering upward with a will of their own. He began a firm massage, working your clit this way and that, fingers still thrusting in their maddening motion. Of course he’d be great with his hands. Of course he’d be able to play your body like a finely tuned instrument.

Pressure started to build low in your stomach. “I—I’m…”

“Turn around.” Ten took a step back and made a show of sucking his fingers into his mouth, tongue darting out to lick between them like he wanted to savor every drop.

You whimpered but did as he requested, your eyes finding his in the wide silver mirror. You watched as he unzipped his pants and pushed them along with his dark colored briefs down to the floor. You hadn’t seen him pull out a condom but he had one; ripping open the packaging with his perfectly straight teeth before rolling it onto his hard cock. It was a delicious looking thing you had to admit, long and thick with a slight curve. If you’d had the time you would have gladly went to your knees for him.

A low breath shuddered out of Ten’s lungs as he pushed inside of you, his hands gripping your waist so strongly you were bound to have a few bruises later. “Fuck, you’re tight.”

It had been a while since Adam and nobody after him until now.

When he assumed you’d adjusted to the size of him, he pulled nearly out before driving back inside of you. You moaned and pushed back to meet his thrusts, feeling the pleasure shattering through you. Your breasts bounced as he moved and he reached a hand forward, tugging down the top of your dress so that he could cup one. He rolled your nipple between his fingers and pinched, bending over you so that he could bite down onto the tender skin of your shoulder. The motion sent him even deeper and you both groaned at the feeling.

“Te—Ten,” you stammered, losing your train of thought when he rolled his hips liked he did on the dance floor. “Oh fuck! Fuck!”

The picture you made in the mirror was a very erotic one; you could see every single expression on Ten’s handsome face. The utter enjoyment he was obviously finding in fucking you was written all over it; there was nowhere for it to hide. His head was tipped back, eyes fluttering closed only to pop back open so that he could watch himself shove into you over and over again. He had you up on your tip toes, nose just an inch from the mirror itself. He was always sexy but tonight that word took on a whole new meaning.

All you could do was try to give as good as you got.

You slapped a hand onto the sink to steady yourself and clenched around him, reveling in the low whine that escaped his throat. It kinda sounded like your name.

And then he was pulling all the way out, dick bouncing as he stumbled backwards. You blinked in confusion. “Wh--what’s wrong?”

Ten ran his fingers through his hair. “C’mon. I want you to ride me.”

He sat down on the closed toilet seat lid and you straddled him without a second thought, sinking down onto his dick with a full body shudder. With your dress around your waist and your breasts jiggling in his face as you bounced up and down on his cock, he traced his tongue around your nipple before lightly biting down. You tangled your fingers in his hair and panted out his name, letting out a squeak when his palm connected with your ass for a hard slap. Planting his feet on the floor, he leaned you backwards a bit as he drove into you repeatedly, eyes watching how well your pussy took him.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmured against your collarbone. “Gorgeous—you feel so good.” He bit you again, this time on the side of your neck. “So good.”

With one hand on his shoulder to brace yourself, you rose up and let yourself come down hard over and over again, feeling him pound so deep it was almost criminal. Had the music not been so loud you knew exactly what you would have heard; the sound of skin hitting skin as Ten fucked you like he owned you. Just for tonight, maybe he did.

You weren’t sure how long it went on but when you came it still managed to take you by surprise. Your body lit up like a Christmas tree from the inside out and you cried out Ten’s name, clenching around him, your nails digging into his shoulder blades. He muttered a drawn out fuuuuck and pinched your clit with this thumb and forefinger, making you jerk so hard you nearly tumbled off his lap.

“Ah! Ten!” You shouted as he kept it up. “I—no—oh god—”

Your pussy tightened around him again and he shivered, thrusts growing erratic as he came with a grunt. You trembled through a second orgasm almost in disbelief—usually the only thing that could get you off twice in a row was hidden under your bed in a shoe box.

Seconds later you flopped against him, attempting to catch your breath. He was still rolling his hips just a tiny bit, making all the too sensitive areas ping.

“Whoa,” he said breathlessly, wrapping both arms around your waist. “That was…”

You chuckled softly. “Yeah…” Chancing a look at him, you admired the way strands of his dark hair stuck to his sweaty forehead. He was glistening, shirt sticking to his chest. He smelled like hints of your perfume and you smelled like hints of his cologne. It was all so intimate.

Reluctantly you sat back and gazed at him, wondering if things were about to get awkward. But Ten just smiled and ducked his head a little, a barely there blush creeping up into his already flushed cheeks. It was so adorable you couldn’t have resisted kissing him if you tried. From the way he melted into you, he’d had the same idea.

After a few minutes of just enjoying the feel of his lips against yours, you forced yourself up off of him. Your legs shook; you had to grab the counter to keep from tripping in your heels. You could already tell you’d still feel him tomorrow and the thought made you kinda dizzy, but in a good way. Blinking at your reflection—your hair was a dark mess—you knew there was no way you’d be able to hide the love bites that adorned your skin. They stood out stark red and purple like a bruise.

Ten remained slouched on the toilet for a couple of moments before removing the condom and tossing it into the trash. He dabbed at his dick with a handful of toilet paper, and then pulled up his underwear and jeans. “So…can I ask you something?”

You fixed your dress. “Sure.”

“Who was that guy?” he inquired with a grin. “The one you obviously wanted to get away from.”

Oh shit you’d forgotten all about Adam! “Oh he—he’s my dumb ex. He jumped stupid at me and I—I wanted to show him that he’s an idiot. That I’m totally over him. I—I’m sorry for getting you involved.”

He laughed as he patted down his hair. “No complaints from my end. I think he got the message though.” Reaching behind you he handed you your panties. “Don’t wanna forget these.”

It was ridiculous to be embarrassed considering what you’d both just done, but you couldn’t help it. You took them from him and pulled them on, keeping your eyes on the ground. “Thanks… Look Ten—”

“I’m hungry,” he said interrupting you. “Have you ever had grilled dried pollack?”

“Um yeah once I think,” you replied uncertainly. “It was pretty tasty.”

Ten motioned behind him. “I know a place that makes it if you wanted to go. And…maybe afterwards we could just hang out. Talk.”

That sounded amazing. “I’d love to. But…”

He picked up on your meaning. “Y/N I sit next to you in all of our art classes. I make conversation with you for no reason. Do you really think I of all people forget my brushes? Honestly I’ve wanted to ask you out for a while but you’ve always seemed…disinterested.”

You were dumbstruck by his admission. “Me?! That’s just my face! You’re the unattainable ingénue or whatever!”

Ten chuckled, folding his arms across his chest. “Oh please the only thing standing between me and being a serious cat dad is having an apartment that allows animals. However, this conversation is pointless. You owe me and I’m collecting…if that’s okay?”

You huffed but couldn’t stop grinning. “It’s perfect.”

The walk from the bathroom to the living room had everyone staring with a few people letting out loud whistles. Adam had disappeared but Amy was there to give you a big thumbs up. You promised to call her later and then let Ten pull you outside into the warm night air, your fingers happily entwined with his.

#wayv ten #ten imagines #wayv smut #ten scenarios #ten x reader #ten smut #nct scenarios #ten oneshot #wayv imagines #woc reader #wayv ten imagines #ten lee #wayv au #nct au

[lee-aveyourmark]

excerpts of a mingyu work.

playlist: 

> ‘sunkissed’ by khai dreams > ‘nervous’ by shawn mendes  > ‘like me’ by pH-1 > ‘you’re the reason why i love’ by redpestbeats

wordcount: 2.7k+

“Heads up!” 

The words are shouted all too late as a football makes contact with your head, leaving you momentarily shaken as your vision flashes white. You stop in your tracks, hands immediately dropping the stack of notebooks and loose-leaf papers and flying up to clutch at the zone of impact. A wince forms on your face as you will yourself not to cry, fingers digging at your scalp. 

“Shit, I’m so so sorry.” 

The voice is laced with worry as a larger, sweatier pair of hands cover yours. Looking up, you make eye contact with a tall muscular boy adorned in sweaty football gear. His eyebrows are furrowed and is biting his lower lip in nervousness at your state of distress: injured in a messy sea of probably very important papers. The athlete quickly lets go of your head to bend down and pick up the excerpts of research papers you had printed out for your new assignment, apologising profusely all the while. 

“I really am sorry, I didn’t think it would hit you that hard. Or on the head for that matter.” 

You blink, trying to smooth your unkempt hair. 

“Wait, what?” 

The tree of a male stands back up and hands back your papers that he recollected into a neat pile with both hands and bashful eyes that are unwilling to linger on yours for too long. 

“You...hit me on purpose?” 

He scratches the back of his head, now definitely too afraid to look at you. 

“Um, yeah...I swear I didn’t mean to hurt you though!” 

You fold your arms across your chest, raising an eyebrow in bewilderment. 

“Then what exactly were you trying to do?” 

He takes a deep breath before lifting his head up, sticking out a hand. 

“I’m Mingyu. Kim Mingyu. Arts major. Star of the college football team.”

- - - 

The next time you bump into the attacking midfielder, he’s still a little sweaty. Only now, it’s just his hands that are perspiring out of anticipation. 

You’re relaxing on the couch when he catches sight of you: hair splayed out on the back pillows, hands resting comfortably on top of your stomach and eyes tracing the imaginary lines of your apartment ceiling. Mingyu takes a moment to quietly appreciate the lilac of your sundress, the glow of your collarbones and cheekbones in the dim lighting of your apartment and the pink peach painted upon your lips. 

His breath hitches in his throat when you look at him after he calls out your name, the Arts student quickly feeling himself blush under your gaze and perspire even more in his subsequent efforts to look presentable. He doesn’t think he could feel any warmer than at that very moment, holding himself back from reaching up to wipe possible beads of sweat forming on his forehead, until he hears his name escape from your lips. 

“Mingyu.” 

Your tone is soft, albeit surprised - so soft that he’s certain his heart is melting inside its chest. Mingyu wants nothing more than to run out of your apartment screaming in joy at how adorable every part of you is, arriving at his own dorm before violently shaking Seungcheol by the shoulders and furiously - but very gently, rubbing noses with his older friend’s blue British shorthair kitten Mia. Oh, and he definitely has to thank Seokmin profusely for inviting him to the party with his treat to barbecue at the grill house doted by college students placed on a week-long waiting list. 

That fantasy will just have to wait until he finishes this conversation with you. 

“I wanted to talk to you.” 

That is, if he even manages to make it out alive. 

- - -

Warm. That’s the only thing your mind can comprehend when he’s around you. Every detail of him, from his golden skin to his saccharine smooth talk, sends heat coursing throughout your body. The scene is so new yet so familiar: Mingyu dressed in charcoal slacks and a Prussian blue short-sleeve button up sitting opposite of you at a small round table for two in a cozy Italian restaurant nearby campus, delicately sipping on a glass of cheap, bright red wine with one hand and softly holding yours with the other. 

You hang onto his every word as he admires the mellow spring breeze and the bright starry night sky, stopping yourself from telling him how you think that they couldn’t compare to his wide and curious eyes. However, the glint in his eyes as he shifts his gaze back to you from the restaurant balcony that is fenced by chipping wood coated in a messy layer of white paint tells you that he’s already picked up on your thoughts. Embarrassment rises to your cheeks as you look down at your bowl and continue to eat your pasta, being careful to not let the sauce smear to prevent the dream of Mingyu touching your lips being fulfilled. 

Although, when Mingyu tries his best to not whine about you not giving him a chance to be romantic while walking back to your dorm but ends his complaint with a pout and the swinging of his arms, you stutter to him out of sheer amazement at his brazenness that you’ll try to be more open next time. Excitement lights up Mingyu’s face at the thought of going on another date with you, prompting him to hold you firmly by the shoulders and swoop in for a kiss on your temple. His uncontrollable giggles afterwards is like music to your ears, and you wish you didn’t reciprocate the gesture of affection so quickly that you might’ve been able to listen to his audible enjoyment just a little longer. But his agape jaw and clasping of his left cheek with both hands is more than gratifying enough. 

He scoffs with a roll of his eyes, tongue poking his cheek, and your heart stops. 

“Wow, I really I can’t believe that I like you this much.”

- - -

One of your many other meet-ups with Mingyu later is at one of his football training sessions. His face is gleaming and his team jersey is clinging to his defined body like a second skin, the neon green of his bib fluttering against the wind as he dribbles the ball with ease across the vast green field. You’re waiting on the benches, watching him finish up the last of his practice. The mock match ends with campus heartthrob Jeonghan kicking the final goal before shooting finger guns and winks at a group of girls seated at the adjacent section, the shrill blowing of the whistle bringing some players to collapse onto the soft grass beneath in relief. You rise to your feet and send a few claps the team’s way in acknowledgement of their hard work, eyes immediately locking with Mingyu’s at your show of support. 

Despite the strenuous exercise, you still manage to pick on up his cologne - the same one at the party and during dinner, when he runs over and greets you with a kiss on your cheek that lingers. His action brings on a cacophony of cheers from his teammates, the captain Seungcheol patting him on the back with a dimply smile while jogging by.

“Let me get washed up, and then we can go to that new dog cafe on the corner.” The suggestion is mumbled in a smile against the warmth of your cheek, ending with another kiss before Mingyu pulls away and rushes off to take the quickest shower of his life.

As the two of you walk in the spring breeze, you can’t help but think that the world is on your side when watching the cherry blossoms fall. The feeling of his calloused hand tightly holding yours and his attempts to close as much distance between as possible by pressing his side to yours brings butterflies to your stomach, the nervousness and excitement persisting whenever you’re with Mingyu. 

And when he leans in to plant a sweet kiss on your cheek just before taking a picture of you two crouched on the floor of a dog cafe cuddling a lovable Samoyed smothering kisses on your other cheek, you hope that the butterflies never leave.

- - - 

“I think Wonwoo likes you.” 

Your head snaps up from your notebook towards your study partner with wide eyes, your pen stopping its writing mid-word. 

“Wonwoo? My Wonwoo?” 

Mingyu doesn’t reply, just stares at you with an unknown expression clouding his face. 

“Come on Mingyu, if you’re jealous, you can just tell me. And besides, you know that there isn’t anything between us.” You laugh, refocusing on your notes with a light shake of your head. 

“That’s want I want to believe as well, but I don’t think that’s true. I think he does have feelings for you.” 

Mingyu thinks back to all those times he’s seen you with your best friend, the way that Wonwoo looked at you, his eyes all too similar to how his own shone when catching sight of you. He thinks of Wonwoo, the best friend who doesn’t bat an eyelash when insulting any person on earth but doesn’t make a single judgmental comment about you, even when you do need the discipline. Wonwoo, who tries so hard to be physically and intimately close to you as possible without being rejected, allowing you to rest your head on his shoulder during lectures and sharing his drink without a second thought. Wonwoo, who Mingyu has made attempts to befriend, but can never find himself to be successful at doing so for vague reasons. Vague reasons that he now has come to understand. 

You notice Mingyu being caught up in a trance, thoughts plaguing his mind as he chews on his bottom lip. With a stroke of his cheek and a mention of his name, you bring him back. 

“What about you?” 

“What about me?” 

“How do you feel?” 

He breaks gaze with you to look at the chipping of the table, the chewing of his lip highlighting the distress that whirls inside his mind. 

“I...I don’t know. I want you. But, I don’t want to take you away from your best friend.” 

- - - 

You see him everywhere. 

Running across the football pitch, hanging out with Seungcheol and Jeonghan at the campus cafe, in deep conversation with Minghao at the library. You don’t look for very long, afraid of what might happen if he caught you staring, but your memory captures his figure quite vividly. His slowly growing fringe covering his eyes that still manage to shine through, his golden cheeks that radiate the early sunset glow, his lips that trapped between his teeth when he stumbles across an obstacle. The details appear in your dreams. 

Your subconscious thinks back to how you used to run your fingers through his hair, sweeping that fringe back so that you could gaze into his loving eyes better, how you used to place lip gloss stained marks on those cheeks which would shine on summer nights as he smiled in contentment, how you used to catch his bottom lip between your teeth on a slow Friday night. Even when you close your eyes, you still remember the darkness of his hair and the tan of skin as clear as day. 

But as you continue to walk past the football team in practice, as you decide to hang out with Seokmin at a cafe off campus, as you choose to move your Thursday study session to your dorm, the fear of forgetting such beauties grows within. 

Slugging back to the dorm after a long day of classes and grueling part-time work, the cycle continues as you toss your bag to one side of the couch and meet Seokmin’s arms at the other where he places slow, comforting pats on your head and back.

“Mingyu, huh?”

- - -

The coolness of the window does little to alleviate the blazing heat flaming your entire body as the taxi drives you to the campus dorms. Closing your eyes, you take a deep breath and try to relax yourself against the oddly slippery seat of the car, your mind drifting to the events which occurred just before. 

“Fuck, I can’t give you the love you want from me. You know I can’t.” 

You stare at the blue ocean breeze candle decorating the console table in the entrance of your dorm, it’s flickering flame barely illuminating the eyebags sunken into both yours and Wonwoo’s faces. 

Your best friend doesn’t respond, instead he just fixes his gaze on the same light.

You wish he would say something. Anything. Anything to help let you know where his mind is right now, because you’ve grown weary of trying to read Wonwoo over the past few weeks. You can’t seem to understand Wonwoo anymore, especially when he refrains from sharing his feelings with you. 

The thought of the change in your relationship with him brings tears to slip out, streaming down your cheeks. Your hands quickly lift to wipe away the hot streams, nose sniffling from what you wish was the cold of winter season. 

Wonwoo doesn’t move. Just stares. His fingers tremble slightly, and his eyes glisten, but he doesn’t reach out towards you. 

So you take a deep breath. 

“You should go back to Hayoung. She’s probably waiting for you.” 

Wonwoo clenches his jaw, then unhinges. Closes his eyes, then opens them. Takes a slow breath. In and out. 

Seokmin comes around the corner, the couple of drinks in his system bringing rose to tint his caramel visage. He catches you slipping on your shoes and putting on your coat, and moves forward past Wonwoo to wraps his arms around you. 

“Where are you going?” His question is muffled into your neck. 

You return the auburn-haired boy’s hug, planting a firm kiss on his cheek before stepping back to take hold of his hands. 

“I’ll be back, okay? Don’t wait up. And make sure that Woozi eats something, he can’t drink on a handful of Flamin Hot Cheetos.” 

Seokmin nods with a pout, embracing you tightly once more. Walking back to the party in the living room, he stops to give a consoling pat on Wonwoo’s shoulder then continues on towards the said Music major reaching for his fourth shot of soju for the night. 

You clear your throat, partially due to the lack of liquid consumed in the past half hour, and also in attempt to rid the fear lurking in the pit of your stomach. With your eyes trained on the floorboards beneath, you step closer to Wonwoo and reach out to grab his forearm. 

With another clear of your throat, you look up at him. Tears gloss over his eyes, threatening to spill, but never falling. You see the miniscule quiver of his chin, a sight only beheld when being at such a proximity; a sight that you don’t think you will really ever be able to see again in all its vulnerability. 

“Goodbye Wonwoo.” 

- - -

He looks so out of place, sitting in the small retro diner wearing a grey taupe two-piece and shiny black dress shoes with his hair slicked back accessorised with a pair of tired eyes as he stuffs four fries into his mouth and sighs. You hear parts of the conversation they’re having, mainly of Seungcheol trying to cheer him up by praising him for doing well in the interview, but the arch of his spine renders the older friend’s attempts obsolete.

“Mingyu.” 

Your voice is quiet but he catches on, blinking in bewilderment before sighing loudly once more. 

“Hyung, I think I’m going-” 

“Mingyu.” 

You’re moving towards him this time, the sound of your shoes against the tiled floor bringing him to perk his head up and look around the diner with frantic eyes. 

His gaze falls on you, and your feet stop its movement. 

As he stands up and walks over, you notice that attached to his navy tie is the silver tie clip engraved with the initials kmg that you bought for his birthday, and that as he wraps his arms around your beneath your coat to sweep you off your feet, he still wears the cologne you bought as an accompanying gift. 

You also notice, as you bury your head in his neck, that tears are dampening the shoulder of your thin wool coat and his body is shaking with each sob that he racks out. 

"Oh, Mingyu.”

Thank you for reading this! I hope you’ve enjoyed it, even though it’s at its bare bones. I don’t think I ever will rewrite this the future to fill in the gaps, so I’ll leave it to your imagination. Thank you again. 

Also, stay tuned for the version of this more focused on Wonwoo’s relationship. 

#mingyu #kim mingyu #seventeen #svt #svt fluff #svt fic #svt angst #seventeen fluff #seventeen fic #seventeen angst #mingyu fluff #mingyu fic #mingyu angst #wonwoo #jeon wonwoo #wonwoo fic #teeth rotting fluff #dk #dokyeom #dokyeom fic #seokmin #lee seokmin #seokmin fic #woozi #lee jihoon #woozi fic

[chalkrevelations]

And finally, here we are, Episode 36 of Word of Honor, and I have some FEELINGS. Let me show you them.

There also will be Episode 37 here, btw, because I’m not gonna do a separate reaction for a three-minute episode, no matter how grateful I am that we got it.

(Spoilers, so if that’s not what you want right now, scroll on by and come back after you’ve watched it. Them.)

Let’s get to the meat of the episode right away: THE HAIRPIN. And Wen Kexing knowing Zhou Zishu would have it, because he’d definitely take it with him if he was going on a suicide mission! Y’all. I really have to yell about this for a minute: That’s how secure WKX has become in his knowledge of what he means to ZZS! After all that time angsting and hiding the truth of his identity and worrying that he’s not worthy of ZZS and that he’d be rejected if ZZS knew the truth about him! But now, WKX has finally reached a point where he understands and knows (zhiji, the one I know) he’s so important to ZZS that ZZS would never ever go off to die without taking his most precious possession, the hairpin that his husband gave him! I can’t. My heart. This is like a declaration, after all that time saying they were zhiji, that WKX finally is able to truly see ZZS as that, to know him in his bones, and all of this is also delivered in the middle of WKX in a strop, irritably chastising his husband as an evil brat for running away from home to get himself killed, with Gong Jun’s little  >:(  face in full effect, and I am so filled with love for this show and this couple at this point that I have to pause Youtube just so I can roll around on the sofa, clutching at my chest and scaring the cats with my inarticulate noises. This is so good, y’all. It’s everything I’ve ever wanted. Also, now you know how it feels, WKX, you asshole. Which I suppose is why you even confess that it will would be more painful for the one who survives when if the other dies. And you were prepared to do that to him a second time? I cannot believe you, you asshole. You get to sleep on the ice couch for a month.

And then there’s some Six Cultivation Power mind-melding and what looks to be an INCREDIBLY STUPID and HEARTBREAKING ending that would leave us Burying One of Our Gays, so it’s a good thing Episode 37 (all three minutes of it) exists. It would be nice, though, if the connective tissue from 36 to 37 made any sense. Or existed whatsoever. Just, like, throw me a bone, here, show. Some kind of explicit hand-waviness that actually gets mentioned for why Ye Baiyi apparently was not as smart as he thought he was and didn’t really know what he was talking about when he was doomsaying about how one of the pair will surely, oh surely perish. None of this “Sooooo, they managed to figure out the technique and master it?” from some random shidi who never actually gets an answer. I mean, the door was left open for fanwankery on this one, with what looks to be a very last-minute conceit of all this being a story told by grown-up Chengling to his disciples, which begs the question of how much of what he’s telling them is totally accurate, given any number of issues, including the spottiness of human recall, the possibility (based on the fact they’re still on the mountain in Ep 37) that Chengling never actually saw either of them again to get the full story, and the way Gao Xiaolian basically calls bs on the whole thing. But this is still a gossamer-thin thread on which to hang Ep 37. Ep 37 basically functions as reassurance because of the mere fact of its existence, because they’re clearly both alive, right there in front of your face, regardless of the other fact that it doesn’t actually make any sense, based on Ep 36. It ultimately doesn’t matter if there is no Step 2, because Step 3: Profit! is … right there. In evidence. Happening. On your screen. No matter how vaguely unsatisfying the lack of Step 2 may be.

I do feel like there’s an interesting meta thing going on here, in that the entire show has been about – let’s be honest, it was never really about the plot - queer-coding this couple in ways that supposedly fly just enough under the radar that people can handwave them as Just Good Friends and Brothers (I mean, I guess) with a Bury Your Gays tragic ending (ugh) for good measure. And Chengling is telling a story in-universe that seems to conform to some of this same formula. And yet, we all know well and good that these guys were husbands. (I mean, barring anything else, they’re a couple in the original source material, so checkmate, censorship.) So, are we supposed to carry the same assurance out of the show, on a meta level, that what appears to be happening at the end of Ep 36 - what we discover we’re learning through Chengling’s story-telling - isn’t really the truth? Just, look: While we’re getting the Good Friends and Brothers push, there’s stuff like obvious voice-over work that doesn’t match the much more queer version of what the actors actually said, which is apparently blazingly clear to any viewers who know Mandarin and can manage to lip-read. The show has literally put de-queered words into these characters’ mouths. You can’t trust what you hear. But apparently the show has also made this obvious enough that, if you’re a good enough speaker of the language the show is being told in, and you have a good enough eye, you can see what is actually going on. Are we being taught to trust our eyes more than our ears, are we being told that what we’re being told - by the end of Ep 36 on a meta level, by Ye Baiyi-through-Chengling’s-story on an in-universe level, and by what we learn about what happened from Chengling’s story, itself, also on an in-universe level - is inherently untrustworthy, but that if we “speak the language” of this show well enough, and have a good enough eye, we can decode it and see what “actually” happened and is later made explicit in Ep 37? Is Ep 37 canon? Does it matter, when “what is canon” is already so slippery on this show, where you can apparently lip-read something that’s different than what you’re hearing, and it functions as canon because of the mere fact of its existence, because it’s clearly … right there. In evidence. Happening. On your screen.

Anyway, just some thoughts on all that, which I guess is my own fanwankery work to join up the end of Ep 36 with Ep 37, which was, of course, delightful. No matter how much I might bemoan the lack of Step 2, I had a stupid, dopey grin on my face all the way through Ep 37 and might have even teared up a tiny bit at the very end. You can’t prove anything. Lemme tell you, though, it’s a good idea to have 37 on hand when you run into the brick wall of the end of 36, because while WKX’s willingness to sacrifice himself for love is theoretically great, it is not something I actually want to see come to fruition, given the pall it would cast over the entire joyous experience that the ZZS/WKX relationship is throughout the rest of the show. Sure, there’s always fic, but there’s a heaviness that hangs over the Bury Your Gays trope, and it’s retroactively ruined shows for me before. So THANK YOU, to those of you who hooked me up so I could immediately move on to Ep 37.

What else? Other things:

OK, so, first, I have to get this out of the way: Did we actually already see all of those “flashbacks” we get in the first part of the ep, during the conversation between Zhou Zishu and Jing Beiyuan, when all the political stuff is supposed to be finally falling together to give us the big picture? I would have to go back and scrummage through those eps to be sure, and I’m not going to spend time doing that (yet) when I still need to do some keysmashing about Zhou Zishu and Wen Kexing OH MY GOD, but I do feel like some of this was new information, not just stuff that I’d glossed over because it didn’t seem important at the time? If so, not on, show. I will be keeping an eye out for that on re-watch. I am, however, perfectly willing to accept – if it turns out to be true – that you utterly distracted me with the failboats-in-love storyline, to the detriment of my focus on, you know, plot or whatever. It’s happened before. (It’s one of the reasons I need to go back and watch The Untamed again, at some point.)

OMG FAKE KEY! And as ZZS points out, this has been foreshadowed for us from early on, with WKX’s fake Glazed Armors plot. :bangs table with fist: YES. This show is going to reward re-watching SO MUCH.

Duan Pengju, oh my god, this asshole. The look on his face when the Armory didn’t open was so gratifying. Also, ha. I wondered when ZZS was finally going to be done with his shit. In fact, so much gratification in this whole scene. Xie Wang’s face when he realizes WKX double-crossed him – what, did you think you were the only tricksy one in that little alliance, Xie’er? And, holy shit – I cannot believe that Xie’er actually words this as WKX failing him, taking us back around to this theme one more time again. I would maybe feel a little worse for you if you hadn’t been a hairsbreadth away from killing him before ZZS stopped you in the last ep, Xie’er. Also if you hadn’t helped get A-Xiang killed. So I think the fail in this relationship is going both ways. Unfortunately, it doesn’t look like you’re going to get the time WKX had to start untangling yourself from the ways your abuser has fucked you up and over.

It once again becomes blindingly clear why ZZS has been my ride-or-die during this whole thing: Under the grumpy, irritable, day-drinking yet somehow eminently practical exterior, he’s actually an idealistic do-gooder who just wants to make the world a better place for people and sacrifice himself for great justice. Never let it be said that I don’t have a type. Also, I mean. Zhang Zhehan’s FACE. Let’s don’t discount the power of that.

Final word: Don’t miss Ep 37. All three minutes of it. They are perhaps the most important three minutes of the entire show.

(I mean, not FINAL final word. I expect to be going back for a re-watch and posting more things, particularly on eps from before I started typing up 1000K-word reactions this first time around.)

#zhou zishu #wen kexing #zhang chengling #ye baiyi? #sure why not #ye baiyi #xie wang #duan pengju #word of honor #word of honor episode reax

[galvanizedfriend]

The Wolf Outtake

This is a little outtake, if you will, of The Wolf universe. It actually fits within the post-TW2 headcanons I've been writing to keep myself happy, so somewhere in S3. It's something that would never fit within the actual story because it's pure domestic fluff. lol I wrote this for @recyclingss, baby Eve's number one fan who yells at me when the child doesn't make an appearance and who’s also the biggest cheerleader this story’s ever had. 💖

This is set much later in the future, and you will notice baby Eve is actually more of toddler Eve here, but I've removed any specific context to make it so this would fit into any point of The Wolf post S2E14, I guess.

Summary: Just random KC+baby moment in The Wolf. It's fluffy, domestic, features the child and Klaus' bitter feelings for Bayou wolves. Nobody asked for it, but I figured, after the WEEK we've all had, maybe people could use some fluff? Hope you guys enjoy it! :)

______________________

Klaus doesn't even realize it's morning already until Caroline stirs next to him, making a lazy hum deep in her throat that pulls him out of his idle reverie. He blinks his surroundings back into focus; the fluorescence that had been filtering in through the windows last time he checked has now been replaced by warm sunlight. He didn’t even notice so much time had gone by.

Caroline rolled onto her side and was quickly lulled into blissful sleep after their late-night exertions. Klaus was distracted by the rhythmic rise and fall of her chest for a long time until his mind was ensnared by its usual culprits, thoughts trapped in the latest batch of torments and woes to take over the Mikaelsons’ lives. 

 When Caroline opens her eyes and offers him a slow smile, Klaus feels himself touch ground again.

 "'Morning," she slurs in that husky voice, still thick with sleep.

 "Good morning, sweetheart," he replies with a short grin.

 Caroline yawns as she stretches out her body under the thin sheet covering her modesty.

 "Did you sleep at all?" she asks, blinking sluggishly at him.

 "I'm well-rested, if that's what you're asking."

 "It's not." Caroline props herself up on one elbow to stare levelly at him. Some of that drowsiness in her eyes dissipates, disappointment panging through him for bringing her back to the harshness of reality so fast. This is why, sometimes, especially on those not-so-rare nights when he ends up not getting any sleep, he'd rather not stay in bed. It allows the reprieve that slumber offers Caroline to last a little while longer. "Is it about Elijah?" she inquires, a knowing look on her face.

 Klaus' eyes wander away from hers. "It's about everything," he states vaguely, but not untruthfully. 

 Caroline hums unconvinced. "While I know you don't need to sleep, I also know it spells nothing but trouble when you can’t. It’s never good when you spend the whole night thinking."

 "Well, not the whole night," he says with a suggestive leer. "I did spend a good portion of the time engaged in far more pleasant activities."

 She rolls her eyes at him, but her smile is more than a little satisfied when she leans into him. "You're not as smooth as you think, Mikaelson."

 "I beg to differ." Caroline chuckles, shifting under the sheets to press herself against his side, placing a kiss on his shoulder, then his neck, his jaw. Klaus snakes a hand around her back, pulling her closer still, feeling the familiar stirrings of heat in his underbelly. "Shall I prove my point?" he all but purrs.

 Caroline smirks against the corner of his mouth, her palm coming to rest on his chest. Klaus covers her hand with his, angling his face to take her mouth into a kiss. Her breasts pressing against his skin sends a tingle shooting through his body, and his other hand is already sliding down her spine, ready to guide her to straddle him, when lively conversation in the next room makes them pause.

 "Oh-oh," Caroline mutters. "I guess that means Mr. Wolfy is up early today."

 Klaus lets out a disappointed sigh.

 Eve doesn't cry so much when she wakes up anymore. Now, she either stays quietly in her crib until someone sees to her, or she starts playing with her toys. A social butterfly like her mother, she loves to engage in complex conversations with that hideous stuffed wolf Jackson gave her and her absolute favorite toy, the wooden knight Klaus carved for Rebekah when they were children.

 When he started to wake up to the sound of her talking to herself, he became worried, thinking maybe she was seeing things they weren't - which, in New Orleans, could mean a number of horrifying deals. But Caroline assured him that it is perfectly normal for young children to talk to inanimate objects, especially one who lives exclusively amongst adults.

 Apparently, it's good exercise for her imagination, or something.

 When Klaus is watching her, he will make a point to take part in her debates, always highlighting Mr. Knight's grandeur compared to Mr. Bog Scum. 

 "Sweetheart, this filthy dog here is the enemy. He wants to shroud you in flannel, carry you away to the swamp and bore you to sleep. Mr. Knight is here to save you from this stinky animal's claws."

 He's convinced one day she'll understand what he means.

 What’s most troublesome, however, is that Eve has started to attempt to climb out of her crib on her own. They always lock the other door to her bedroom when she's asleep, but the door connecting her room to Caroline's is always left unlocked for safety reasons. One of these days, Klaus thinks, their little wolf is going to catch mommy and daddy in very compromising positions. The idea mortifies him, especially because he and Caroline can get a tad carried away. They are a hybrid and a near-hybrid, after all. Too much energy and whatnot.

 "No rest for the wicked," Caroline speaks around a sigh before peeling away from him. Klaus watches her naked form with wistfulness as she climbs out of bed, his prospect of a lovely morning enterprise disappearing alongside the shape of her beautiful breasts as she shrugs on a fleece robe.

 Caroline vamps off to the en suite bathroom to freshen up a bit and then follows to Eve's room.

 "Good morning, sweet cheeks!" she greets their daughter sunnily. "Good morning to you, too, Mr. Wolfy!" Oh, for goodness' sake, Klaus curses inwardly. "And Mr. Knight!" Much better.

 Minutes later, Caroline returns with Eve, comfortable in fresh diapers, right on her heels, carrying Mr. Inconvenient and Mr. Knight.

 When she sees Klaus, she takes off towards the bed, her little legs getting more and more agile by the day. He pulls the sheets and covers up to his chest while she tries to hoist herself up. With ease, using just one hand, Klaus lifts her up and puts her sitting on his stomach.

 "Good morning, my littlest wolf," he says. "Where's my kiss?"

 His daughter leans down and smacks a loud kiss on his cheek, and then holds Mr. Fleabag close to him for a kiss as well. Klaus makes a face. "Not the dog, Eve."

 "Seriously?" Caroline says with a bored air about her. "You're antagonizing a stuffed animal now?"

 "This thing is a health hazard."

 "That thing has a cute little name, Mr. Wolfy, and your daughter loves him."

 "I refuse to treat a swamp dog as though it were a gentleman. Besides, I'm sure she loves Mr. Knight way more, don't you, love? Where's Mr. Hero?" She shouts something that sounds like Miter Nigh before pushing it onto Klaus' face. He cracks a proud smile at her. "There you go." He attacks her with tickles, and Eve bursts with sweet laughter.

 Caroline shakes her head at him, but he notices she's quite clearly biting back on a smile. "You're impossible."

 "I’m quite possible, I assure you," he replies smoothly. "Where are you going?" he asks when she starts tying her hair into a ponytail and taking clothes from her drawers.

 "Running with Marcel."

 "Oh, for goodness' sake," he protests. "Can you believe this, Eve? It's not even seven in the morning and your mother is willingly stepping out of the house to run. I sometimes fear she might be a psychopath."

 She scoffs loudly. "You would know, wouldn't you?" While she walks by him to go into the en suite, she slaps him lightly across the legs. "Stop telling my child that I'm a psycho, psycho."

 "How else am I supposed to explain this insanity? What kind of person runs for pleasure when there is an infinite array of far more gratifying activities to invest your energy into? Just now we were about to -"

 "Not in front of the small child, Klaus!" she chides from the bathroom.

 "She doesn't know what daddy is talking about, do you, love?" Eve giggles while he lifts her up above him, holding her like a flying superhero. "Blissfully clueless."

 Caroline steps back into the room, already in her exercise gear. Klaus lets out an infinitely despondent sigh. He would love nothing more than to get her out of those.

 "It's inappropriate conversation to have in front of the toddler," she remarks, putting on the smartwatch she bought recently to exercise with and measure her sleep patterns or whatever the bloody hell that is. She showed him all of this gizmo’s functionalities, swearing it’s the best thing ever invented by human minds. Klaus thinks it’s adorable, however incomprehensible, that someone with such close ties with the supernatural world would still be so impressed by technology. There’s literally nothing that cannot be sorted through magic. How is a watch that counts steps supposed to awe you once you’ve seen someone brought back from the dead? Caroline’s attachment to her humanity goes way beyond her empathy. "Besides, it was gonna be a quick activity because I'd go meet Marcel anyway,” she adds after a beat.

 "I can make you see stars in five minutes," he leers, a smirk growing on his face.

 Caroline whips her face at him with what is clearly an attempt at outrage but turns into something else when she can't hold her own smile. She can't deny him when his point was proved just the night before. Several times, in fact.

 "Shut up," she retorts simply. "Can you give her breakfast? I left chopped fruits in the fridge. You can wait about an hour after the bottle and give it to her as a little treat - not Fruit Loops."

 "She loves that thing."

 "Of course she does, it's pure sugar. That's exactly why we don't let her have it all the time. She needs to eat real fruits."

 Klaus rolls his eyes, sitting up in bed and putting the baby beside him. "Honestly, sweetheart, your mother sometimes..." 

 Caroline narrows her eyes at him. "You really love to make yourself out to be the cool parent, don't you?"

 "I don't have to make myself out to be anything, love. I am the parent who doesn't deny her the little joys of sugary treats. If that makes me cool, then you’ve only got yourself to blame." 

 "You're the parent who'll spoil her rotten, that’s what. Let's see how you'll feel when she's 16 and her boyfriend is climbing the balcony in her room in the middle of the night because she never learned how to take a no."

 "Oh, I would love for her suitors to climb her window in the middle of the night. It’ll be the last thing they do,” he says, smiling innocently at Eve.

 “You’ll be such a ray of sunshine when she starts dating.”

 “As per usual," he says with a bite of arrogance. "Hold the child so I can get decent, will you?"

 Caroline picks Eve up and keeps her looking firmly the other way while Klaus flashes out of bed and into the bathroom. He hears Caroline teasing her with “Where did daddy go?” and laughing at what he knows is Eve's extremely confused but astonished face. She thinks they're magicians. It's one of her favorite things, to watch as Klaus makes full use of his vampire speed to all but vanish right before her eyes. Modern technology has got nothing on him.

 There's something extremely heartwarming about his daughter's innocence. One day, she'll be old enough to understand why he can do the things he does. When that day comes, Klaus will cease to be a creature of magic and wonder, to become what he truly is: darkness made flesh. 

 He has never been ashamed of what he is, hardly ever had any qualms with filling the villain shoes, quite glad to do it, in fact, but he suddenly finds himself dreading the day when his child will figure out what it means to carry the Mikaelson name. When their family’s history will weigh down on her shoulders as it does on theirs.

 While making people cower in fear at the mere sound of his name has brought him an obscene amount of satisfaction and pride over the centuries, Klaus has to admit he's fascinated by the pure sparkle in his child's eyes. She's the first human being in a millennium who does not see even a fraction of monstrosity in him, no shadow, no taints, no mortal flaws. Not yet, anyway. All she sees is a funny man who makes her laugh and can hold her up with his finger, tells her stories about evil werewolves and keeps her safe and that's enough for her to adore him. Sometimes, he feels unworthy of such love. As though he's a fraud, deceiving his own daughter and taking advantage of her innocence.

 It still astonishes him that he should ever be capable of making something as pure and bright as that little girl. In a thousand years, Klaus Mikaelson has only ever brought misery and pain into this world. Eve is the first genuinely good thing he's ever done. Then, of course, she inherited all of that from her mother, who holds herself open for compassion and kindness even though she is herself in a symbiotic existence with her own beast. Caroline has taken control of her darkness in ways Klaus doesn't think he's ever seen a vampire as young as her do before. She truly is extraordinary, and every day he hopes, from the bottom of his withered heart, that Eve will turn out to be every inch Caroline's daughter more so than his.

 Klaus can still smell last night’s sex all over himself, so he takes a quick shower and puts on a pair of denims and a shirt and vamps back to the room again, just to surprise Eve. She gasps when he materializes next to her, flinching, and then starts laughing like a little maniac, reaching out to him. 

 "Remember," Caroline says as she lets Eve slide over to Klaus' arms. "Bottle, fruits. No Fruit Loops. I'll tell your other child you said hi."

 "A child who enjoys running has clearly learned nothing from me," he grumbles. “Hopefully I’ll do a better job with this one.” 

 “Start by not feeding her Fruit Loops,” Caroline remarks with a grin before she smacks a loud kiss on Eve's cheek and then one on his.

 When she’s gone, Klaus turns to look at his little wolf, watching him with those dark blues of hers as though she's studying her father. Sometimes he wonders if toddlers know more than they let on.

 "Do you want to do magic?"

 "Yes!" she practically screams, her face splitting with a wide, toothy grin.

 "Get ready, then. Are you ready?" She gives him an exaggerated nod. "Keep your eyes open. One, two..." And then he flashes out of the room with her.

______________

✨ Thanks for reading! :) If you’ve enjoyed this silly thing, please drop me a comment! Your reblogs are also much appreciated to help this reach more people. ✨

#klaroline #klaroline fanfiction #klaroline fic #kc fanfiction #kc fic #kcfic #klarolinefic #yokan writes #The Originals rewriting #is this me writing fluff again? #fluff with BABY? #why yes it is #the wolf outtake #klaus x caroline #+ child

[heliosthegriffin]

Establishing Dominance

“Fearless Leader! I challenge you over leadership of team JNPR, accept or forever be a nerd!” Nora shouts at Jaune from on top of the lunch table, standing on his lunch, absolutely ruining Jaune’s nuggies.

Murmurs overtook the cafeteria at her proclamation, it was bold challenge indeed and one if ignored would permanently label Jaune as a nerd. Many people looked at Jaune as if he would bolt from the cafeteria in fear or as if he would crack immediately and surrender the title of leader to Nora so that he may not face her wrath, not that many would blame him, Nora hits hard. But to their surprise, Jaune merely smirked at her challenge, a new wave of murmurs rippling outward.

Jaune had been anticipating it for weeks that Nora would challenge him for leadership of team JNPR, so he wasn’t surprised she had finally did so. He wasn’t surprised she wanted to be Leader, it could be pretty fun at times and he saw how much she wanted to be Queen of the team , he was also pretty sure she wanted that crown he made of twigs, twine and, duct tape he wore in his spare time.

“Very well Nora, consider your challenge accepted.” Jaune said with a warm, smooth confidence.

Nora rocked back as if struck, not expecting this level of nonchalance from her friend and leader. Sure, she knew he would accept her challenge, he had far too much pride not too. But, for him to smile and welcome it? It threw her off guard.

A beaming smile came easily though, this just made it all more exciting.

“Very well, soon to be Fearful of me Leader, I will await in the Emerald forest for you, be there or be square!”

“Count on, it Nora.” Between the eyes of the blond and the ginger, one could swear they saw lightning hopping between them.

Ren signed tiredly, and Pyrrha looked torn between blushing at Jaune’s sudden confidence, and smiling warmly at Nora’s antics.

Yang was watching intently on the two, Ruby looked anxious, Weiss looked on wondering how her life became so insane, and Blake was already writing in her notebook.

The challenge was a serious matter, one he wasn’t letting it go without a fight, he worked really hard on the Crown of Juniper and he’d be damned if some upstart took it from him! ... And, he was the only one with leadership skills out of the four of them, he guessed. There was also the matter of Nora getting bored by afternoon and hand the reigns back over to him, but that would still be most of a day with Nora in charge of team JNPR, and while he may love that insane girl he did not want to clean up the mess after letting her lead.

What did surprise him was the fact she had waited long enough for him to find his semblance before challenging him, that was kind of her. Too, bad he was all out of mercy today. The Crown was his and his alone!

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

Jaune and Nora stared at each other, standing twenty feet apart from each other in a dirt circle thirty feet in diameter. Surrounding them was a crowd of people who turned out to watch them.

Jaune stood tall and proudly with his hair moving in the faint breeze, with the way the sun hit his face he could have been confused for a warrior-prince of old. Though, it was to be noted, only thing covering his body was a baby blue robe.

Nora faced Jaune with her arms crossed somehow managing to look down on him despite nearly being a foot and half shorter. Her turquoise eyes glittering with mischief like a the old Trickster spirits of old. Interestingly enough, she too only wore a robe, hers a pretty cherry blossom pink.

Goodwitch, and Winter Schnee, stood facing the two juggernauts of personality that were her students.

“Strip!” The two yelled out unison.

With that the robes dropped, and the crowd went wild, as nothing could obscure their sight of the Nora and Jaunes naked bodies any longer.

Pyrrha, Velvet, Coco, Ruby, and so many others turned red in the face screaming in ecstasy. The level of excitement in the crowd could not be measured by mere words.

Ren was taking a nap in the dorm, Weiss was sleeping with him; White Lotus for life, Bitches!

Goodwitch and Winter then held up their hands silencing the crowd, and said together, “FOR THE LOVE OF THE GAME!” Holding up a bottle of baby oil.

Goodwitch approached Jaune with a maniac look in her eyes and Winter Schnee did the same to Nora. Using their semblances they covered each and every inch of the two’s superhuman physiques! Making them glisten and glow in the sunlight, highlighting their beauty to a godly extent!

Many in the crowd could no longer take it and fainted on the spot, in fact so vast was the spell put on them, even those in Mistral, Atlas, and Vacuo trembled in ecstasy knowing something freaking hot was happening. Half the crowd then fainted, Pyrrha and Ruby were just one of the many casualties.

Winter and Glynda scurried quickly out of the arena to join the screaming masses as the Jaune and Nora began stretching, knowing their job done.

Nora rolled her shoulders, hopping in place. “Last chance to back out, Jaune. I won’t think any less of you.”

Jaune arched his back, his hands on his hips, stretching till he heard a gratifying pop. “Oh? Is that mercy from the queen, I hear? How rare. I’m afraid I have to refuse,” Jaunes eyes narrowed a Nora’s own. “A king never backs down.”

Nora’s smile could cut a man down. “Oh well, I tried.” And then she crushed two apple sized lightning dust crystals in her hands, lightning dancing across her body, eyes and hair which shot up like a middle finger to gravity, and she shivered in masochistic pleasure. “Oh yeah, that’s the stuff.” She cracks her neck. “When I win, I’m snorting that shit off your dick!”

Jaune stomps a foot down, a shock-wave sending dust flying away from him, as he squared up, his aura flaring as he amped up it up. “Don’t threaten me with a good time Nora, you’ll just make me fight harder~”

“Hehehe,” Then with a crack of thunder, the ground where Nora once stood crumpled, a series of foot prints broke the ground in a straight towards Jaune before Nora blurred into sight before Jaune throwing a right jab at his jaw!

Jaune however felt more than saw her, as his aura dangled a spider thin thread of awareness of where Nora was coming. Tilting his head to the side avoiding the jab, and then bringing up his left arm to block her left cross.

He put up his guard as she had him on the defensive, as Nora sent a avalanche of jabs to prod his defense. He felt her tiny, dense hands hit his aura clad arms like a automatic shotgun! Each blow sending him inching ever so slightly back.

But, his defense held, no matter the number of punches she could send, she couldn’t break his defense yet! So he waits and watched for her to over extend.

Nora felt a flash of danger in her aura sense, and jumped back over ten feet just as Jaune nearly grabbed her wrist, a move that would have left her at the mercy of his superior reach.

Jaune saw his chance and rushed Nora, sending his own valley of jabs, but keeping the superior range of his arms in account to send punches that put him a much lower risk than she was by staying out of her reach.

Nora chose to block the first set of jabs, and instantly regretted it, as Jaune may have been much slower than Nora sending out maybe one punch per five of her own, his superior range, mass, and aura amplification let him hit almost five times harder than her! Each of his hands glowing with primordial light, each hit releasing a shock wave of sheer force, each punch feeling like a artillery shell from an Atlas Warship, and they only grew harder to endure as she could feel Jaune’s aura amping higher and higher.

Nora made a tactical decison to keep herself in the fight, and let one punch hit her downward into the chest, just as she leaned back and jumped! She was launched across the arena, but that’s what she wanted, to get space.

She wiped out across the dirt, but soon regained control, and clawed her hands into the dirt and pulled herself into a crouch. She focused her electric power and her semblance, shifting her allocation of power from strength to speed, stamina, and reflexes. She just couldn’t hit hard enough to fight Jaune on equal ground without Magnihild, but weapons weren’t allowed in Leadership Challenges, but she could definitely out speed him and possibly, out last him, and if nothing else leverage her superior fighting experience to win.

Jaune felt more than saw her change in stance, as a gust of wind hit him and with it what felt like a thousand hits to his solar plexus. A gasp was forced out him, as his amped up danger sense could no longer keep track of Nora. He re-speced near instantly and put his perception into defense, he couldn’t keep track of Nora and defend against at the same time. He crouched and guarded letting her hit like a lightning.

But, so what if she was lightning? He’d be the earth that grounded her!

He could feel her chipping away at his aura, even as he amped its regeneration. He smiled with pride, but knew he couldn’t play defensive forever. She’d wear him down.

Nora hit him with everything she had, making sure to hit consecutively in the same spot so he’d really feel it. But, it didn’t feel like she was making a real dent in his reserves. Then she saw it, a slight tremble in his left calf.

She lunged forward and kick his tree trunk of leg a dozen-dozen times, then it went flying like she wanted. Jaune’s body leaving the earth, she smirked, didn’t matter how good your defense was, if you’re in the air you’re at gravity's mercy, and gravity is a bitch.

Nora got behind him and put her power into strength again and let him have it. Throwing him up sky high, Jaune disappearing like a twinkling star. That wasn’t the end of it thought, and Nora shattered the ground following him up.

Jaune never knew the Emerald forest was so pretty from a couple thousand feet up, but you learn something knew everyday. But, what he did know is that Nora would follow up that assault with something gruesome. So he re-amped his awareness, by twice, by tens times, by hundreds times, by a thousand! Then he felt it that the spider thread awareness widening into an almost prescience level of knowledge as he knew not saw where Nora was coming from.

He could laugh, that it was her throwing him up here that gave him the chance to actually track her. He followed the threads of awareness, and looked above as Nora tried to hit him with a spinning double axe kick to his head.

He caught her by the feet the moment gravity renewed her hold on the two, he gave her a wink, and as they fell he spun her by the feet faster and faster till he let her go, sending her down with a air shattering shock wave.

Nora hit the ground like a ginger meteor and she crumpled prone the last vestiges of semblance going out, her hair falling down, and a shock wave knocking over unfortunate watchers.

They wouldn’t get a chance to get back up soon, as Jaune landed on Nora with a shockwave as Jaune mounted her stomach, a hand cocked back.

“Still want to fight to be leader?” Jaune asked smiling, a glowing hand cocked.

“Nope!” Nora said cheerfully. “Maybe later~, but, that was the most fun I’ve had since I got here!”

“That’s great Nora!” Jaune said getting up. “Now is there anybody else that wants to fight me for leadership of team JNPR?”

“Yeah, I do!” Yang yelled out, striping out of her clothes, showing off two double DD’s.

“Me too!” Coco said stripping in tandem.

“Oh, whys that?” Jaune asks.

“Well you can’t strip naked, and fight, then leave! We came here to watch y’all fuck! Now you’re going to leave us blue balled! Oh, hell no!” Yang says, while Coco nods.

“Then come get some!” Jaune said still naked and glistening!

AN: I had fun writing this. The original idea was Jaune and Nora getting oiled up and a wrestling, but it somehow turned into this.

#Jaune Arc Crack #Nora Valkyrie.

[stopeatingwhales]

stargazing x graham coxon

yes, i’m back again with another graham fic! this was heavily inspired by the submarine ep by alex turner, a very beautiful, lyrical masterpiece which i definitely recommend you listen to if you haven’t already :)

Paring: 90s graham coxon x reader

Warnings: nothing again 

Word count: 1.886

Requested by anon, happy late birthday x

༉‧₊˚✧

Summer in England was something everyone craved. The agonisingly horrible winter days where you’d stiffly trek to the train station for work wrapped up with all sorts of things to maintain your body heat were abominable. Having to put on countless amounts of layers just to get a bag of crisps from the shop down the road was a nightmare, and everyone was sick of it. When the short summer months rolled round, we were all either sweating drearily in our homes or practically naked on the streets. As we rarely ever got sun in England, having it out once in a while with a clear blue sky was gratifying. It was a concept, without the crowded beaches or humid restaurants - due to the amount of people cramming in them - the hot days felt eerie. Everyone was out, until the sun went down for hibernation for a few short hours. 

I personally loved summer nights the best, especially on my birthday. The streets were empty, the only noise you’re able to hear is the short whistles of cars racing by on a motorway a few miles off. The echoing sound of an insect, perhaps a fly, buzzing quietly as it searches for a new settlement for the evening. The whistling noise of polluted air heaving past my face and occasionally in my eyes. My favourite thing in the world was gazing at the atmosphere as it gradually inked darker, admiring the small specs of light that had progressively gotten brighter - the stars. In summer I felt the stars always shone a little brighter. A little more luminous. I was able to identify any star constellation that ever so slightly patterned the skies; my liking for the heavens had me so hooked I ended up finding out all I could about them.

It was my birthday today, and I had hoped I could spend it with Graham, doing the exact thing I loved most. Sadly enough I was unable to do anything today, due to me having to go to work for the most part and Graham only coming back from his band rehearsals around two or something hours ago. Weekdays were usually like this, us both having practically no communication until the late evenings when he would come home from yet another draining day of recording.

Sighing, I came to my senses and stopped glooming my eyes through the kitchen window. It was 10pm, so the skies were somber enough to identify any ball of gas - my want for going out and watching the stars growing the more I pondered about it. The window was opened slightly, the light breeze scraping the little camouflaged hairs on my arms. It was soft, delicate, almost like the air that escapes someones’ mouth when they’re whispering. Gentle. Fragile. Mellowed. Sometimes the wind would pick up, the soft grazing turning into scruffy drags, forming goosebumps on my forearms. I loved it; I loved how simple howls of the wind formed strong structures on my body. Just like the stars, I could sit and admire nature as a whole for days.

Exiting the kitchen, I dropped my empty coffee mug in the sink. My hand caressed my arms softly, grating on small itches that had assembled on them earlier. Strolling into the living room, I stood by the doorway, biting my tongue as I watched my boyfriend Graham, tune his acoustic. I pondered whether I should leave him to it, he seemed extremely preoccupied by something as he always was - which was music. I knew how much being a famous rock star was debilitating him, especially when he wasn’t the centre of attention, putting tolls on his mental health. I felt for him deeply; watching your bandmates receive much more love than you do would definitely hurt, even so as a lead guitarist. 

“Hey, love,” I muttered, my head leaning on the door frame. I watched his head jolt up; he didn’t hear my quiet footsteps to the entrance of the room. “Hehe sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” 

He smiled slightly, echoing a small ‘hey’, before carrying on with his same doings. I bit my lip in thought, wondering whether I should say something or leave the room to let him do his thing. 

When about five minutes - which felt like two hours - passed by, I chose to speak up. “Wanna go and watch the stars for a bit?” I asked, seeing his head rise up from his instrument once again. God, his eyes are so alluring.

It was clear there was a lot on his mind, and the question lingering in the room peppered in his mind until he spoke up. “Yeah alright,” he answered, nodding also. Shifting his guitar to stand on the arm of the sofa he was sitting on, he pushed it away from his body, standing up. He stretched his arms out slightly, as he had been fixated in that same position for god knows how long. He seemed tired, exhausted perhaps, causing a small feeling of guilt to pit in my stomach, my mind forcing myself to push past it quickly. 

A small smile formed on my mouth as I marvelled at his appearance. His hair was just the right amount of messiness, it framing his face perfectly. His eyes softly squinted together, ultimately showing that he was making the most out of his stretch. His lips, forced together to stifle a yawn, in an attempt to hide his tiredness from me. His features were so enthralling. He was always so graceful, my body physically incapable of understanding why he found himself ugly; all he seems to ever be is the most graceful of them all.   

“Come on then,” he said, pushing my body lightly, helping me gain my consciousness again. “You always zone out,” he laughed, resulting in me rolling my eyes at his remark. The only reason I seem to space out so much is because of you, Graham. You and your flawless beauty.

After we left the flat, we began walking up the stairs to the roof of the building. My pace was slightly quicker than Graham’s - my excitement had consumed me entirely. I grabbed hold of his hand, trying to pull him up as I swept the endless amounts of steps, feeling the grip of his palm tighten around my hand as I paced faster. Our flat was nearer to the bottom of the building, meaning the jog up to the top was usually a tiresome one. My legs were beginning to give out, but I never halted. The adrenaline rushed through my veins - I felt as if I was chasing for the stars, and I was chasing them with the one person I adored most. 

Eventually, we managed to reach the roof, both of us inevitably out of gasping for air. My gaze turned to him, our eyes connecting as we stared at each other wholeheartedly. I tiredly beamed at him, him exchanging the same, as my view shifted to lock eyes with the stars. I let out a breathy sigh of satisfaction; we hadn’t done this together in ages, and I missed having endless conversations about whatever escaped our mouths. He was truly a remarkable person to be around, and I was ever so grateful to be able to call him my boyfriend. 

I proceed to lay on the ground, not caring whether any trace of dirt had entwined in my locks. My eyes fixated on the sky above me, the tired smile stilled on my face. I watched Graham do the same through my peripheral, lying down close to me, our arms touching. Squeezing up to him, I grabbed the hand that was touching mine gently, and cradled it with both my hands on my stomach. I ran my index fingers over every vein, every bump of a bone, every piece of skin I could mount to. “Your hands are so beautiful,” I mumbled.

Graham didn’t reply. Instead, he bit his top lip and blushed. I knew he wasn’t going to answer, and I didn’t want him to; I wanted to savour the moment as it was. We rarely were able to just have the clocks stop for a second, not care about what time it was, or whether we had to sleep early for our jobs the following day. It’s like the summer, you never know when you were able to just sit there and let the sun bake you, the unexpected clouds seaming over you just as you thought you had time to yourself. 

Exhaling softly, I shifted my gaze to the twinkling night sky. The darkened colour of the empyrean, glinted with small dazzles of light, fell over me as I drew my eyes to the moon. I stared at it, analysing the aged, grey patterns that decorated it on the only face that was known to man. “I missed this,” I heaved, grabbing hold of his hand again, this time intertwining our fingers together. I felt Graham’s eyes on me, but I didn’t budge. The relishing feeling of his stare roast my body and my face together evoked a sense of warmth within me, something I had never felt before with anyone, but him. 

The silence that fell upon us spoke for itself. It wasn’t a disturbing, unsavory one, it was a blissful, comforting one. It was the kind of silence you could fall asleep to, the silence you feel safe and enclosed by. It was the epiphany of actions speaking louder than words, and I absolutely adored it. 

“Y/n, can I tell you something?” Graham asked, causing me to lock eyes with him. 

“Of course you can,”

He breathed in for a few seconds, before exhaling a breath that was longly needed for an escape. I smiled at him, his beautiful globes of mercury connecting with mine. “I love you more than life,” he whispered, cradling my face in his hands. I smiled at him dearly, my eyes filled entirely with nothing but adoration for him. 

Copying his actions, I held his face with my small palms. My eyes tearing up as his words repeated countless amounts of times in my head. “Don’t love anything more than life,” I muttered, taking a brief moment to delight the moment before nonchalantly reaching to kiss his pretty lips. I grasped hold of him like a candy tasting so divine you suck on it to have the sensational taste for longer. The feeling of our mouths colliding sparked thrills throughout my entire body. The way our tongues brushed against one anothers, so sweet it turned bitter. 

We both pulled away out of breath, our eyes now wide open, staring into each others’ souls. I felt completely and utterly exposed to him in all ways possible, like my shield of clothing was not enough for him to not see the miles of skin laid underneath. I admired him, my mouth wide open as I panted for oxygen to fill my throat from the poisonous kiss. Everyday I fell more and more in love with this man, words unable to explain how much he impacted my life for the better.

“Happy birthday,” he said, smiling with that toothy smile of his. We both turned to gape at the skies once again, hugging each others’ bodies.

#graham coxon x reader #graham coxon #damon albarn #alex james #dave rowntree #blur #britpop #90s #writing #imagine #smut #fluff

[shhh-no-ones-home]

green looks good on you  vinny mauro x reader

+++++++++

Request from @gardenjungle : "If you are taking requests, I would LOVE if you could do an imagine where the reader has a ton in common with Chris (likes hockey and Harry Potter, is a vegan, etc...) so they’re super close, and Vinny is super upset about it because he likes her sooo much and “Chris gets all the girls” ??? Vinny gets no love and you’re one of the only people who writes about him often. I’d also love if you could get a little sexy action in there"

Ngl this is like 1600+ words and i wrote it in like twenty minutes and loved every minute of it. i really hope you like it! i didnt end up adding anything ‘sexy’ but its pretty gratifying to say the least lol.

Song: gold by sleeping with sirens

tag list: @musicsexandpizza69 @svintsandghosts @alilpunkrock @cynic-spirit @theoneandonlykymberlee @ryansitkowskiswifey @joeybarber @thisplace-ishaunted

+++++++++

i rocked back into the couch, laughing at what chris had said. he was sat next to me, very comfortably, as we chatted amongst ourselves. we had been very close friends for a very long time and i was over the moon that he'd invited me to travel with them for this tour as the videographer. not only did i get to expand my portfolio but i also got to connect with my best friend and his band.

"okay but do you remember that one fall at the orchard when you tripped on that apple and ended up face first in the dirt?"

he laughed out and i sent him a shocked expression.

"i thought we agreed to never bring that up!"

i protested, the other guys around us sort of laughing along, them only half paying attention as they played a new video game. their focus was above our heads.

"but it was hilarious. i looked up for a split second and BAM! there you went."

he said loudly, being a little more expressive at the 'bam.' i shook my head at him.

"okay then, if we are ratting each other out about stupid shit weve done,what about that one time you got your hand stuck in the Christmas tree ties on your dads car?"

i said matter-of-factly. his eyes got wide.

"hey! that was an accident and you know it. we couldve taken my whole arm off!"

he said in his defense.

"i thought it was hilarious."

i said sternly back, smiling widely at him. he stuck his tongue out at me, a notion i gladly mirrored. then he grabbed me around the shoulders, pulling me to him. i screamed at the sudden motion, looking to vinny and rick who were sitting across from us for some guidance but they were to into the game.

"you two are too much."

ricky laughed out, looking at ryan for a second as he walked by. chris pulled me closer before licking a stripe up my face.

"ew!"

i said pulling away from him and wiping his saliva off of my face.

"asshole!"

i said, grabbing his face and blowing raspberries into his cheek. he laughed incredulously, pushing me away from him.

"youre nasty."

he said mimicking my notion and wiping his face. i punched his arm lightly before swinging my legs into his lap, him holding them there and looking down at me endearingly.

"so are you."

i said back, shaking my head at him, nose scrunched.

"you know you love me."

he said, bringing his face closer to mine.

"well yeah."

i said back, squinting at him.

"i think im done for tonight."

vinny said suddenly, pausing the game. ricky sent him a look like 'wtf?' and watched him stand.

"im gonna go get some air."

he said and we all watched him walk off the bus.

"that was weird right?"

i asked and they all nodded. i had a good few chances to talk to vinny since tour had started and he seemed like a really cool guy. someone id be lucky to call a close friend by the time tour was over if not something more. part of me felt bad, like chris and i really where too much for him to handle in that moment. but this was how we always were. we practically survived our teens years together, losing touch for a bit but inevitably going back to the way things where when we found each other back.

"you guys mind if i go out there too?"

i asked and they all sort of shrugged at me, chris letting my legs go so i could stand. as i did i leaned down and kissed the top of his head.

"dont miss me while im gone."

i joked and he rolled his eyes at me.

"of course not."

i laughed a little bit as i descended down the stairs, pushing the door open and seeing vinny leaning against the bus.

"you okay?"

i asked softly, walking to him and rubbing my hands together. i had sort of forgotten how cold it had got. it was late fall after all but the bus was so warm and inviting i didnt even think about grabbing a jacket before leaving. i half shivered as i walked closer, his face being illuminated by the street lights outside the venue.

"uh yeah, everything's great."

he said a little condescendingly, kicking his foot into the gravel under him.

"im sorry if we were too much, i guess when we get together we have a tendency to overshare and its not for everyone. but i suppose thats what you get when youre comfortable with someone the way we are."

i tried to defend to him and he let out a short sigh-laugh.

"its no big deal, you guys really like each other. its cool."

i smiled.

"yeah, hes my best friend."

vinny nodded once.

"how long have you guys been together? i dont recall him ever talking about you before."

i drew my brows.

"together?"

i asked and he seemed just as confused as i was.

"look i get it, chris gets all the girls, being the front man and all."

he seemed a little jealous.

"but i dont think he ever mentioned you before tour started and then one day he told us about some girl coming on to film us. but clearly you guys are close so do you have like a, i dont know, like a open relationship type thing?"

i laughed a little bit.

"you think chris and i are dating?"

he half shrugged.

"well yeah, its kinda obvious."

i shook my head and took his hand in mine.

"vinny i can assure you that chris and i are just friends. if anything hes like the brother i never asked for nor wanted but got anyways. but life just does that sometimes."

he looked down at our connected hands and let go of me promptly.

"i guess it just doesnt seem like that."

he said a little hurt. i sighed and leaned against the bus next to him.

"it would be kind of weird to bring it up to him but i like someone else in this band, if you wanted to know."

i said, looking at him a little hopeful he was picking up what i was putting down.

"oh."

he said sadly. i sighed, i guess not.

"yeah, hes super cool, and nice, and ive really enjoyed connecting with him."

i shivered as the wind blew and he finally looked over at me.

"are you cold?"

he asked, ignoring what i had just said. i nodded a little bit, crossing my arms over my chest.

"just a little bit but i ll be fine."

he shook his head at me.

"no way, here."

he said taking his jacket off. at least he had long sleeves on. he placed his jacket over my shoulders, pulling it together in the front.

"thanks vin."

i said as we both returned to our positions against the bus.

"would your new dream guy do that?"

he half joked, i could still hear the venom in his voice. he was absolutely jealous. i thought it was funny because now he was jealous of himself.

"actually yeah."

he scoffed, hiking his foot up on the side of the bus.

"great."

he said looking away from me. i stepped closer and nudged him.

"he would because he just did."

he looked at me and drew his brows together.

"wait you mean?"

he asked, his face turning to that of shock. i nodded.

"god, yes. vin ive had a crush on you since i got here."

i laughed out.

"i didnt think you would like me back and then i realized just now that that was utter bullshit."

he half smiled.

"and whys that?"

he asked a little cocky.

"you were jealous of chris and that has only happened to me a handful of times in my life. once in highschool when my boyfriend said he would break up with me if i didnt stop hanging out with him. once when i graduated college and my then boyfriend accused me of sleeping with him. and right now."

he looked down a little ashamed.

"yeah i guess that wasnt fair of me to do. i just figured since you guys hit it off so fast that you were into him."

i laughed a little bit.

"dont get me wrong i love him with my whole being, but seeing someone go through puberty just does something to your vision of them ya know?"

i asked and he laughed back, nodding.

"okay, well if you really are into me, would it be stepping to far to ask you out?"

he said hopefully and i grinned widely at him.

"i would love that vin."

he sent me a tired smile in the dim street lights.

"may i also be so bold as to ask if i could kiss you?"

i let out a nervous laugh. i was really gonna let that happen huh? i nodded.

"id like that a lot vin."

he stepped closer to me slowly, placing his hand gently against my cheek, running his thumb over it. his hands were rough and calloused from playing the drums so long but i didnt mind. it kind of felt nice. he looked deep into my eyes before leaning down and capturing my lips in his. all of a sudden it felt like home, like this was it, the thing id wanted for so long and never found. his other hand made its way to my waist as he deepend the kiss. i sighed into him, practically melting against his mouth like chocolate left outside in the sun on a hot day. when he pulled away he rested his forehead against mine and smiled like an idiot, one i gladly returned.

"fucking finally."

i heard from behind me, the bus door clicking closed. both of us turned to look, seeing ricky and chris standing there grinning from ear to ear. i had a mad blush splayed across my face now and was thankful that the light was behind me so it would be harder to see.

"how long have you been standing there?"

i demanded, walking to chris and punching his arm. he laughed in pain as he rubbed his arm.

"long enough to see the sparks fly."

he teased, pushing me back. i rolled my eyes at him.

"get your ass back in the bus."

i said opening the door and escorting him back inside. he made kissy noises at me as rick followed him up the stairs. i shook my head and turned around, jumping a little bit at vinnys presence behind me.

"rick had kind of been waiting for that for a while."

he said, looking up at the now closed door. i raised a a brow.

"oh?"

i asked and he sent me a bashful smile, scratching the back of his neck lightly.

"ive been crushing over you for a while too. and being jealous of chris just as long, rick's been pushing me to say something. i guess it just took one last little push."

he shamefully laughed out.

"at least now we're on the same page."

i said before standing on my tip toes and bringing him down to kiss me again, both of his hands going to my waist.

"now come on, im still cold and the bus is much warmer."

i joked and he nodded along.

"agreed."

#wattpad #x reader #vinny mauro #miw #vinchenzo mauro #Vincenzo Mauro #imagines #one shots #243

[iwriteaboutkpopsometimes]

Hyunjin "Play With Fire (Feat. Yacht Money)" (원곡 : Sam Tinnesz) | [Stray Kids : SKZ-PLAYER]     ~A Love Letter~

I talk about why I love this video so much and deliver an excruciatingly detailed play by play of it, but why read a two thousand word, five page essay on a three minute video when you can just go watch the aforementioned three minute video? Forget me spending hours writing this, why are you here, seriously, it would take you significantly less time to watch the actual video. Regardless, enjoy my attempt to refrain from saying the same three things, “he's so cool”, “I love him”, and “this is so good”, in exchange for a  more, hopefully, academically professional sound.

Watching him perform never fails to put me in a trance, it’s incredibly captivating how precise and sharp while simultaneously lively and energy-filled his movements are. This video feels reminiscent of enjoying a movie I’ve seen countless times, memorized every line of dialogue from, and genuinely think of every part as the best it has to offer. I greatly missed seeing him dance and having this as his grand welcome back into the spotlight is nothing less of a gift. Every second leaves my heart pounding and as excited as the last, as he continuously tops himself the longer I watch. I feel that revisiting the video is the least I can do, for giving it only one view doesn’t feel morally acceptable if I intend to truly appreciate it for that art that it is. Dramatic of me? Perhaps, but I can’t help but perceive it as more than just this one video that was uploaded onto their YouTube channel. It isn’t just about all of the work he and others put into the making of this particular video, his choreography for the song was a result of years upon years of practice and learning different techniques. A performance this good doesn’t only involve technical skill though, but also skill in regards to one’s inner mind. To have confidence in one’s self, to hit every move powerfully, to know what you’re doing and be unapologetic about it, that is skill. Sure, the performer is at the focus of any performance, but don’t forget that it’s also about the audience, it is after all for the enjoyment of the viewer. If the audience senses your doubt and insecurity and uncertainty, it will make your stage that much less enjoyable. Whatever you feel, they can feel too. When I watch him, I don’t feel any of that. In fact, I feel the exact opposite, I feel inspired, motivated, confident, excited to advance in my own endeavors. The emotion that this video evokes from me goes beyond anything Stray Kids or K-Pop or even dance itself, it makes me want to be a better person, be kinder to myself and work harder. That might sound like a lot for one video to do for someone, but it’s the truth. All of the details, even down to the individual frames, it all works together to create the most gratifying viewing experience. At the time of writing this, the video has just hit five million views and has over one million likes, only a mere three days after its initial upload.

The first shot of his footsteps alone,  as he goes to stand in front of the mirror, I already feel this sense of importance coming from him, delicate, yet powerful. The setting, cold and empty, yet inviting, it makes room for him and gives him just enough light to be seen, for he doesn’t need all that much help to surely shine. The credits that pop up use a dark shade of pink-red for it’s background color and white text that acknowledges the same deep red imagery and text associated with the material of the original work. His outfit is neat and pristine with some sparkle, resembling one a prince would seem fit. He stares at his reflection, holding a sheer white ribbon in his mouth, gathers a section of hair behind his head and proceeds to tie it with said ribbon. The music starts as he finishes tying and lets his arms fall down at his sides. The over the shoulder shot looking into the mirror, shows that his expression is neutral, almost calm. This can most certainly be described as “the calm before the storm”, except the storm itself is antonymous to a tragedy, because when the singing starts, it’s as if his performance persona was turned on by a switch, a charismatic possession that took place in a matter of seconds that sends chills down your spine in the best way. His previously neutral, calm-like expression and gently resting arms are quickly replaced by the sudden placement of his right hand around his neck and a look that resembles more of  a vengeful, hesitant, and somehow playful one. Similar to what I’d imagine a villain would look like right before being bested during an epic fight sequence at the climax of a film. It’s satisfying to see him popping to the beat’s rhythm, his arms, wrists, and head smoothly illustrating the flow of the words, his focus and the secure angles he’s able to form before even fully utilizing his lower body. On the line “Got secrets I can’t tell”, he delicately places his pointer finger in between his teeth, as he turns back to meet the camera with his eyes, the shot now semi-closely focusing on both Hyunjin and his reflection as opposed to just one or the other. He extends his right arm, his hand forming a fist, and the camera movement making it as if I’ve been punched and sent flying. He stumbles to the middle of the room, does an opening gesture with his arms, like a proud baker showing off their completed wedding cake, along with a dramatic spin incorporating his thin, white, flowy cape. Reaching the pre-chorus, we get to see the room more clearly, like the stone pillars and the contrast of the small, warm lights on the walls to the grand grayness radiating from the large window that makes him appear as a near silhouette. There’s a certain holiness about him spending a count with his head down and arms out, much like the Crucifixion of Christ, before showcasing more of a demonic energy when he faces the window with his body, but bends backward and looks to the camera upside down. He rips off the cape, tosses it behind him, to his right. This could symbolize a transformation, an abandonment of a particularly purer image of oneself, a liberation. The music picks up, and the manner in which he dances is like a visual representation of one’s inner turmoil combined with an agenda to seduce those watching, wanting to dance for himself while taking us along for the ride. Now that the first minute of the video is out of the way, let’s continue.

The music fades into the background and the video takes on a sudden widescreen and grayscale appearance as he falls back on his right hand, flings his left hand over to his right shoulder, as though he’s been shot, and is being supported by his knees. He leans forward, places his right hand on the ground in front of him, uses his left hand to push his right knee over to achieve ideal balance, setting up his body roll. He extends his right leg back, getting close to the ground, and there’s something quite feral, yet intimate about the way he traces the length of his arm with his face and left hand. It looks like he’s taking out his frustrations through his moves while never sacrificing the detailed quality of the performance as a whole. It reminds me of how it’s more than common for artists to use their pain in their art, whether it be a point of well-intentioned expression with a specific purpose or simply an outlet for them to channel into. Hyunjin is the definition of aggressive elegance. The fullscreen, colorful display and music entirely return when he spins and lands on the ground in a Spider- Man esc pose, the room a lot warmer than even before the stylistic grayscale section. There’s hints of red, acting as a match that’s set to illuminate and ignite the puddle of gasoline that is him and his performance, that replaces the once colder, icy blue that previously enveloped his silhouette. He bounces to the beat showing off his proud, devilish smile that, instead of striking fear, makes me feel proud, as I’m essentially rooting for the villain in the movie. If the transition to the grayscale widescreen was him getting shot, then the transition back to fullscreen color is him emerging from his grave, an awakening. His shirt is no longer neatly tucked into his pants, but rather, hanging very loosely and mostly unbuttoned. He covers his face with his left hand, pulling it down for just a second before revealing his expression that has swiftly reverted to a roughly indifferent one. The inner conflict has greatly subsided, and focuses on the hesitant-free embracing of his newly discovered self, one of immense confidence and sex-appeal. Although, something about the flow of how he averts his gaze, looking to the left and not the lense, while pointing and doing body rolls at the camera, covers his eyes with crossed arms, and then allows for his hair to cover his eyes as well, makes me feel like he doesn’t want the viewer to know he is still at least a little bit shy. He quickly makes you forget though, because the next and final minute exaggerates everything he’s shown us up until this point, taking it to a whole new, spectacular level.

The bridge of the song creates a slower, softer atmosphere, which is beautifully interpreted with how Hyunjin carries himself during this part. Bigger gestures that blend into each other seamlessly, centering on really taking up the space he’s in. He gently and precisely lowers his body to the floor, collecting a white rose between his teeth. As soon as he returns to his upright stature, the setting changes dramatically. His hair now completely down, he’s under a spotlight in an otherwise pitch black and foggy room. There’s blue and red light reflecting off of his white top and his skin as he dances. This part feels more humane compared to the rest, with more of an obvious balance between sharp, impactful moves and tender, compassionate ones. He draws attention to his shoulders, brings his hands and feet close to his body, and showcases his red lit back. I particularly enjoy when he flicks his wrists and twists his ankles to the right in unison on the second syllable of “unstoppable”. For the “legendary animal” part of that line, his arms create a cage-like structure by doing a climbing motion and carrying it over all the way to the left. A cage in which he destroys the walls and breaks out of, shown by him punching downward on beat. From holding the rose in his mouth to holding it in his hand, he brings it over his head to his left shoulder, and raises his heels. He carries the rose down and around his left arm, his left arm momentarily resting at his waist, his right arm extended downward, he raises his heels again. His whole body lowers as a rigid wave starts at his up flicked wrists and subsequently elbows and shoulders. This collection of gestures results in petals falling off of the rose. He then inevitably throws it into the void, out of the reach of the lovely spotlight. I see this spotlight dance as a danse macabre, or dance of death. The white ribbon, white shirt, and white rose all coming together to illustrate this innocent and pure quality to him, that through this dance, he finalizes the renouncement of. He is more than ready to embrace a new and different side of him, but especially to get rid of the older and repetitive side that felt restrictive more than anything. The spotlight dance ends with Hyunjin looking directly into the camera, tracing his right hand down his chest and to his side, and the camera backing away. The last chorus of the song brings us back to the oh so familiar main room, Hyunjin’s hair back to being tied up, the lighting is the same, but there’s something that stands out. His shirt is on the verge of being completely unbuttoned and that allows for something alluringly shiny to be fully in view compared to before. The video comes full circle with Hyunjin’s hand around his neck, he stands in the hallway, and walks away a new man as the screen fades to black. 

As I wrap up this essay on Hyunjin’s “Play With Fire (Feat. Yacht Money)”, original song by Sam Tinnesz, Stray Kids: SKZ-PLAYER, the video has reached six million views, a million more than when I first started writing this, and I feel proud to have spent a day simply pouring my heart and mind out on this wordy display of my appreciation. Don’t be fooled though, for my necessary research, I guess you could call it, for this project may no longer be so necessary, I shall continue to watch and applaud the masterpiece and experience that is this video for my own personal enjoyment, much like how this whole piece was written for my own personal enjoyment. It was an interesting challenge to properly voice not only the contents of the video but also my thoughts and feelings on it. Hyunjin is a highly valued dancer, member of Stray Kids, and person and five pages isn’t ever going to be enough to fully explain the respect and admiration I feel for him and his various projects. I think he’s really cool, I experience all sorts of fiery euphoria watching him dance, his rap and singing alike are addictive as hell, and he’s pretty, haha. I missed him a lot while he was inactive, and I’m so happy to have him back and doing great things as per usual. I’m excited to see what he and the rest of the group have left to show us this year. I advise you to watch the video if you haven’t, but somehow ended up reading an essay on it first, and if you’ve already seen it, watch it again, yeah. I’ll leave you with lovely thoughts and lovely vibes and I hope you too can appreciate the work he’s put into the video, as well as my work on this essay. Thank you for taking the time to read my love letter, essentially, and bye for now ^ ^

#straykids #stay #hyunjin #skzplayer #lovestay #kpop

[the--highlanders]

Ride Home

on a ride back to the TARDIS, Polly finds herself a bit out of her comfort zone.

on ao3.

Biting her lip, Polly stared up at the towering form of the creature before her. Its legs looked almost too spindly to hold its weight, ending in neat hooves that she might even have called dainty. There was something giraffe-like about it, in the great neck and swishing tail, but its back was too long and sloping, divided up by three humps. Saddles were nestled into the spaces between them, held in place by a dizzying array of straps and ropes and chains, and the ladders that swung down from them looked decidedly less than solid.

She threw a glance over her shoulder to catch a glimpse of the Doctor, and wrinkled her nose at his benevolent smile. “Are you sure about this?”

“Quite sure,” he replied, his voice as smooth and unworried as his expression. “They’re the best way to cross the swamp, you know.”

Privately, Polly wished they had been handed the keys to something more like a car instead, but she could not bring herself to say so aloud. It had been very kind of the village to lend them two beasts for the journey back to the TARDIS. And yet she still could not bring herself to reach out one hand to the ladder and begin the climb.

“Won’t they just be stuck out there?” she asked, scrambling around to find an excuse, some problem the Doctor had not yet thought of. The thing swung its enormous neck down as she spoke, bringing its head around to prod at her with its short, bristly trunk. The tip of it was wet, and she shuddered, wiping her sleeve on her hip. The motion left a long smear of something on the fleecy fabric, like the track left behind by a snail, and she grimaced, scrubbing harder at the spot until it had disappeared. “I mean – we will be leaving them behind when we get to the TARDIS, after all,” she added.

“Oh, I shouldn’t worry about that.” Wandering around her, the Doctor held his hand up to the other creature. He did not so much as flinch when it nosed at him, nor did he seem to mind the splotch of mucus left on his palm. “They’re very intelligent creatures, you know. They’ll be able to get home just fine.”

“Just think about the swamp, Pol,” Ben put in, grinning. “Dunno about you, but I don’t want to walk through there again.”

That was true enough, she supposed.

“I’ll ride in front,” Ben was saying. “If you’re too scared to.”

His words galled her into grasping the sides of the ladder, her hands sweaty against the scratchy surface of the rope – and once she had grabbed it, she could hardly step back and let go. “I’m not scared,” she declared, more for her own benefit than Ben’s. Had he done it on purpose? she wondered. Or was he just goading her, without really expecting her to take it to heart?

Either way, she was here now. Gritting her teeth, she pulled herself upward, stiffening when the ladder swung inwards to bump against the creature’s belly. She took the next step laboriously, still clinging to the ladder as if she was a thousand metres above the ground. The creature shifted from side to side impatiently, flicking its tail like it thought she was some pesky fly come to bother it, and she froze, half-expecting it to take off with her still clinging onto its side. But it stilled again, and she dragged herself onwards. It was much easier to grasp the wooden rungs, she found, and she edged upwards until she found herself high enough that the ladder was stabilised against the creature’s side. She reached towards the saddle with a huff of relief, catching hold of the metal loops that hung from its side and laying her forehead against the leather for a moment. But when she moved again, her slick palms slipped against the metal, and she blanched, leaning forward to slam her body into the creature’s side. She stayed pressed there for a long moment, feeling her breaths push in and out against those of the creature, but eventually the relief at having caught herself propelled her upwards, and she eased her leg over the top of the saddle.

“I’m alright,” she called down, then winced. She could only have been on the ladder for a few minutes, and most of that had been spent standing still. The creature’s back was hardly high enough to warrant her telling the others she was alright. But they seemed so small down there, and the tops of the twisted swamp trees so close.

“I’m glad,” the Doctor called back. “Ah – Ben, why don’t you go next?”

Ben had scaled the ladder and swung his leg over the creature's back almost before the words had finished leaving the Doctor’s mouth. He had been raring to go the whole time, Polly thought with a twinge of something that was most definitely not petulance. Trust Ben to throw himself into something like this while she looked down at the ground with an uneasy stomach.

“What’s the weather like up here?” he quipped, settling himself into the saddle behind her with a grin.

She tried to meet him smile for smile. “Wind’s a bit stronger.”

“Sure, sure.” He was fiddling with something, but she did not dare lean around for a better view. “Have you strapped yourself in yet?”

“I was just about to.” Twisting around to fasten the straps, she caught a glimpse of Jamie and the Doctor clambering onto their own creature. She was a little gratified to see that they were as tentative as she had been, the Doctor pushing Jamie up until he was all but thrown over the saddle before starting his own nervous climb. But they settled themselves in easily enough, and she leant towards them as subtly as she could to catch whatever the Doctor was telling Jamie.

“- this is only a little different,” he was saying. Only a little different from what? Polly wondered. Perched atop such an enormous creature on the edge of a twisted, gnarled alien swamp, she had never felt further from Earth. She could not imagine anything even remotely similar, even after all their travels. “Roll the rope up, like that, yes -” Fumbling to copy Jamie’s motions, Polly managed to roll the thing up alright – but then she was left holding it. She cast around one-handed for something to tie it up with, settling on a loose strap. Maybe she had been meant to tie herself down with that, she thought. Still, she felt secure enough. There could be no real harm in it.

A clatter of hooves on pebbles beside her made her glance up to see Jamie and the Doctor’s creature setting off at a brisk walk, loping away towards the swamp pools. The Doctor had clearly told Jamie something about getting the thing going, but whatever it had been, she had missed it in her distraction with the ladder. There were reins sitting in front of her, looped loosely around the lump on the front of the saddle, and she picked them up tentatively, holding them high against her chest. That was steering sorted, she supposed – but how to move forward? She gave a half-hearted kick at the creature’s sides, but if it felt the impact through the thick leather of the saddle, it did not show it. Setting her jaw, she kicked again, harder, and it simply tossed its head, long ears flickering.

“Hit its neck with the reins,” Ben put in. “That’s what the Doctor said.”

“I knew that,” she tossed back at him – but there was no real conviction in her voice, and she did as he said. The creature shivered at the impact, the saddles shaking as its skin rippled, and for a moment Polly was glad of the straps holding her in place. But it skipped forward into a walk, striding over to where the Doctor and Jamie’s creature stood waiting for them.

“Took ye long enough,” Jamie called over to them, grinning. He was enjoying this too, she thought bitterly. Only the Doctor seemed to share any of her discomfort, grasping tightly at the front of his saddle. “Come on!”

He slapped the reins against the creature’s neck, quickly, sharply, and it set off at a brisk trot, legs flicking out in front of it. Polly pressed her own creature on more slowly, watching in trepidation as Jamie’s mount threw itself chest-first into the closest swamp pool. The impact broke up the clumped algae stagnating on the surface, and threw black mud over Jamie and the Doctor, leaving dark spots on their sleeves. Wincing, Polly glanced down at her pink jumper – but the creatures’ legs were long enough that the mud only brushed the edge of the saddle flaps. Nudging her own creature forwards, she guided it into dipping down more carefully, sliding rather than plunging into the pool.

“I could’ve steered, Pol,” Ben called from behind her. “You didn’t have to do it.”

Polly twisted around to throw him a dirty look, but she teetered dangerously far to one side, the straps holding her in place going taut, and she threw herself back the other way, clutching white-knuckled at the reins. “I’m fine,” she replied through gritted teeth. Her heart was pounding after another near miss, and she was sure her voice would be unsteady, too, if she let it. “I just don’t want to get dirty, that’s all.”

“Come off it, duchess.” Ben did not sound particularly convinced. She tossed her head, trying to ignore him. “You’re nervous.”

“I’m not,” she protested – but their creature made a great leap forward just as the words left her mouth, pitching them backwards, and she grasped at its neck with a yelp. She did not have to turn around to feel the weight of Ben’s smug expression. “I’m not,” she said, more evenly this time. “Why would I be nervous?”

“Dunno. Just thought you might be, that’s all.”

Clambering out of the pool, their creature ambled over to stand beside the Doctor and Jamie’s mount. The pair of them stood there, huffing and twitching their trunks, each of them coated so thickly in mud up to their bellies that it entirely obscured their reddish coats. To Polly’s relief, the next stretch of terrain looked mostly dry, with only a few shallow puddles marring the expanse of moss that carpeted the ground.

Puddles that a creature as tall as this could surely stride over, if it was going fast enough.

Once again, she wondered if Ben’s needling was just to bother her, or if he really meant to encourage her. She was perched up ridiculously high, yes, and glancing down to the ground made her stomach flip over. But she was safely strapped in, and the creatures knew their way around the swamps. And if Jamie could ride the thing so easily, surely there was no reason why she should not be able to.

“I’ll race you,” she called over to Jamie, taking up her reins and readjusting her seat with all the restless energy of a jockey. Her creature snorted and stamped its foot, like it had sensed her change in demeanour. But Ben tapped her on the shoulder, and she turned around to see him frowning.

“Polly -” Now he was the one sounding nervous. Satisfaction flashed through her, though it was quickly tempered by guilt. “Are you sure this is a good idea?”

“They know where they’re going,” Polly reassured him, patting their creature’s neck. “Think about it this way, we’ll be back to the TARDIS sooner.” Twisting around, she shuffled the reins into one hand and clapped him on the shoulder with the other. “If you’re scared, you can always walk back.”

“Of course I’m not scared,” Ben scoffed.

“Good.” His mouth snapped shut, and she turned around again, drawing herself up a little higher.

Jamie had watched their banter with an air of amusement. “You’re sure?” he called over.

“Of course.”

#second doctor #ben/polly #fanfic archive #my writing

[96harmony96]

Chapter 11

“But she’s let you in.”

And she’d already shown hints of how possessive she could be about that connection. I accepted that because it was a flaw I shared, but still…

“You’re analyzing this to death, Camila,” Cary said. “You’re thinking the way she feels about you has to be a fluke or a mistake. Someone like her couldn’t really be into you for your big heart and sharp mind, right?”

“My self-esteem isn’t that bad,” I protested.

He took a sip of his champagne. “Isn’t it? So tell me something you think she likes about you that doesn’t have to do with sex or codependency.”

I thought about it and came up empty, which made me scowl.

“Right,” he went on with a nod. “And if Jauregui is anywhere near as messed up as we are, she’s thinking the same thing in reverse, wondering what a hot babe like you sees in a girl like her. You’ve got money, so what has she got going for her besides being a stud who keeps screwing up?”

Sitting back in my chair, I absorbed everything he’d said. “Cary, I love you madly.”

He grinned. “Back atcha, sweets. My advice, for what it’s worth? Couples therapy. It’s always been my plan to get into it when I find the one I want to settle down with. And try to have fun with her. You’ve got to have as many good times as bad or it all becomes too painful and too much work.”

I reached over and squeezed his hand. “Thank you.”

“For what?” He shrugged off my gratitude with an elegant wave of his hand. “It’s easy to pick apart someone else’s life. You know I couldn’t get through my rough spots without you.”

“Which you don’t have any of now,” I pointed out, shifting the focus to him. “You’re about to be splashed across a Times Square billboard. You won’t be my secret any longer. Should we upgrade dinner from pizza to something more worthy of the occasion? How about we haul out that case of Cristal Stanton gave us?”

“Now you’re talking.”

“Movies? Anything in particular you want to watch?”

“Whatever you want. I wouldn’t want to screw with your big-dumb-blow-’em-up movie genius.”

I grinned, feeling better as I’d known I would after an hour with Cary. “You’ll let me know if I’m too dense to figure out when you and Trey want to be alone.”

“Ha! Don’t worry about that. Your tempestuous love life is making me feel dull and boring. I could use a hot, sweaty bang with my own stud.”

“You just had a maintenance closet romp a couple days ago!”

He sighed. “I’d nearly forgotten. How sad is that?”

“It isn’t when your eyes are laughing.”

I’d just gotten back to my desk when I checked my smartphone and found a text from Lauren letting me know she had fifteen minutes to spare at quarter to three. I nursed a secret rush of anticipation for the next hour and a half, having decided to take Cary’s advice and have a little fun. Lauren’s and I would have to wade through the ugliness of my past soon enough, but for now, I could give us both something to smile about.

I texted her just before I left, letting her know I was on my way. Considering the time constraints, we couldn’t waste a minute. Lauren must have felt the same way, because I found Scott waiting for me at reception when I reached the Cross Industries waiting area. He walked me back after the receptionist buzzed me in.

“How’s your day been?” I asked him.

He smiled. “Great so far. Yours?”

I smiled back. “I’ve had worse.”

Lauren was on the phone when I entered her office. Her tone was clipped and impatient as she told the person on the other end of the line that they should be able to manage the job without her having to oversee it personally.

she held up one finger to me to tell me she’d be another minute. I responded by blowing a big bubble with the gum I was chewing and popping it loudly.

Her brows shot up, and she hit the buttons to close the doors and frost the glass wall.

Grinning, I sauntered over to her desk and hopped onto it, curling my fingers around the lip and swinging my legs. she popped the next bubble I blew with a quick jab of her finger. I pouted prettily.

“Deal with it,” she said with quiet authority to whoever was on the phone. “It’ll be next week before I can get out there and waiting will set us back further. Stop talking. I have something time-sensitive on my desk and you’re keeping me away from it. I guarantee that’s not improving my disposition. Fix what needs fixing and report back to me tomorrow.”

she returned the phone to its cradle with suppressed violence. “Camila—”

I held up one hand to cut her off and wrapped my gum in a Post-it I took from a dispenser on her desk. “Before you reprimand me, Miss. Jauregui, I want to say that when we reached an impasse in our merger discussions at the hotel yesterday I shouldn’t have walked out. It didn’t help to resolve the situation. And I know I didn’t react very well to the PR issue with the photo. But still…Even though I’ve been a naughty secretary, I think I should be given another chance to excel.”

Her gaze narrowed as she studied me, assessing and reevaluating the situation on the fly. “Did I ask for your opinion on the appropriate action to take, Miss Cabello?”

I shook my head and looked up at her from beneath my lashes. I could see the lingering frustration from her phone call falling away from her, replaced by her growing interest and arousal.

Hopping down from the desk, I sidled closer and smoothed her immaculate tie with both hands. “Can’t we work something out? I do possess a wide variety of useful skills.”

she caught me by the hips. “Which is one of the many reasons you’re the only woman I’ve ever considered for the position.”

Warmth flowed through me at her words. Boldly cupping her cock in my hand, I fondled her through her slacks. “Maybe I should reapply myself to my duties? I could demonstrate some of the ways I’m uniquely qualified to assist you.”

Lauren hardened with delectable swiftness. “Such initiative, Miss Cabello. But my next meeting is less than ten minutes away. Also, I’m not accustomed to exploring job enrichment opportunities in my office.”

I freed the button of her fly and lowered her zipper. With my lips to her jaw, I whispered, “If you think there’s anywhere I won’t make you come, you’ll have to revisit and revise.”

“Camila,” she breathed, her eyes hot and tender. she cupped my throat, her thumbs brushing over my jaw. “You’re unraveling me. Do you know that? Are you doing it on purpose?”

I reached inside her boxer briefs and wrapped my hands around her, offering up my lips for a kiss. she obliged me, taking my mouth with a fierceness that left me breathless.

“I want you,” she growled.

I sank to my knees on the carpeted floor, pulling her pants down enough to give me the access I needed.

she exhaled harshly. “Camila, what are you—”

My lips flowed over the wide crown. she reached back for the edge of her desk, her hands curling around the lip with white-knuckled force. I held her with both hands and mouthed the plush head, sucking gently. The softness of her skin and her uniquely appealing scent made me moan. I felt the vibration ripple through her entire body and heard a rough sound rumble in her chest.

Lauren touched my cheek. “Lick it.”

Aroused by the command, I fluttered my tongue across the underside and shivered with delight when she rewarded me with a hot burst of pre-cum. Fisting the root of her with one hand, I hollowed my cheeks and drew rhythmically, hoping for more.

I wished I had the time to make it last. Drive her crazy…

she made a sound filled with the sweetest agony. “God, Camila…your mouth. Keep sucking. Like that…hard and deep.”

I was so turned on by her pleasure I squirmed. Her hands pushed into my bound hair, pulling and tugging at the roots. I loved how she started out with tenderness, then grew rougher as the lust she felt for me overwhelmed her control.

The soft bite of pain made me hungrier, greedier. My head bobbed as I pleasured her, jacking her with one hand while I sucked and stroked the crest with my mouth. Heavy veins coursed the length of her cock, and I slid the flat of my tongue along them, tilting my head to find and caress each one.

she swelled, growing thicker and longer. My knees were uncomfortable, but I didn’t care; my gaze was riveted to Lauren as her head fell back and she fought for breath.

“Camila, you suck me so good.” she held my head still and took over. Thrusting her hips. Fucking my mouth. Stripped to a level of base need where only the race to orgasm mattered.

The thought made me crazed, the image in my mind of how we must look: Lauren in all her urbane sophistication, standing at the desk where she ruled an empire, stroking her big cock in and out of my greedy mouth.

I gripped her straining thighs in both hands, frantically working my lips and tongue, desperate for her climax. Her balls were heavy and big, an audacious display of her powerful virility. I cupped them, rolling them gently, feeling them tighten and draw up.

“Ah, Camila.” Her voice was a guttural rasp. Her grip tightened in my hair. “You’re making me come.”

The first spurt of semen was so thick, I struggled to swallow. Mindless in her pleasure, Lauren was thrusting against the back of my throat, her cock throbbing with every wrenching pulse into my mouth. My eyes watered and my lungs burned, but still I pumped my fists, milking her. Her entire body shuddered as I took everything she had. The sounds she made and the muttered, breathless praise were the most gratifying I’d ever heard.

I licked her clean, marveling at how she didn’t fully soften even after an explosive orgasm. she was still capable of fucking me senseless and more than willing to, I knew. But there was no time and I was happy about that. I wanted to do this for her. For us. For me, really, because I needed to know I could indulge in a selfless sexual act without feeling taken advantage of.

“I have to go,” I murmured, standing and pressing my lips to her. “I hope the rest of your day is awesome, and your business dinner tonight, too.”

I started to move away, but she caught my wrist, her gaze on the clock readout on her desk phone. I noticed my picture then, sitting in a place of prominence where she’d see it all day.

“Camila…Damn it. Wait.”

I frowned at her tone, which sounded anxious. Frustrated.

she quickly restored her appearance, tucking herself back into her boxer briefs and straightening the tail of her shirt so she could fasten her pants. There was something sweet in watching her pull himself back together, restoring the façade she wore for the world while I knew at least a little of the man beneath it.

Tugging me close, Lauren pressed her lips to my brow. Her hands moved through my hair to unclip my tortoise barrette. “I didn’t get you off.”

“No need.” I loved the feel of her hands on my scalp. “That rocked just the way it was.”

she was overly focused on fixing my hair, her cheeks flushed from her orgasm. “I know you need an even exchange,” she argued gruffly. “I can’t let you leave feeling like I used you.”

A bittersweet tenderness pierced me. she’d listened. she cared.

I cupped her face in my hands. “You did use me, with my permission, and it was seriously hot. I wanted to give you this, Lauren. Remember? I warned you. I wanted you to have this memory of me.”

Her eyes widened with alarm. “Why the fuck do I need memories when I have you? Camila, if this is about the photo—”

“Shut up and enjoy the high.” We didn’t have the time to get into the photo issue now and I didn’t want to. It was going to ruin everything. “If we’d had an hour, I still wouldn’t let you get me off. I’m not keeping score with you, ace. And honestly, you’re the first person I can say that to. Now, I have to go. You have to go.”

I started away again, but she caught me back.

Scott’s voice came through the speaker. “Excuse me, Miss. Jauregui. But your three o’clock is here.”

“It’s okay, Lauren,” I assured her. “You’re coming over tonight, right?”

“Nothing could keep me away.”

I shoved up onto my tiptoes and kissed her cheek. “We’ll talk then.”

____

After work, I took the stairs down to the ground floor to feel less guilty about skipping the gym and seriously regretted it by the time I reached the lobby. Lack of sleep from the night before had left me wiped out. I was contemplating taking the subway rather than walking when I saw Lauren’s Bentley at the curb. When the driver got out and greeted me by name, I halted abruptly, surprised.

“Miss. Jauregui asked that I take you home,” he said, looking smart in his black suit and chauffeur hat. He was an older gentleman with graying red hair, pale blue eyes, and the softest of cultured accents.

As much as my legs ached, I was grateful for the offer. “Thank you…? I’m sorry—what was your name?”

“Angus, Miss Cabello.”

How had I not remembered that? The name was so cool, it made me smile. “Thank you, Angus.”

He tipped his hat. “My pleasure.”

I slid through the back door he opened for me and as I settled into the seat, I caught a glimpse of the handgun he wore in a shoulder holster beneath his jacket. It appeared that Angus, like Clancy, was both bodyguard and driver.

We pulled away from the curb and I asked, “How long have you been working for Miss Jauregui, Angus?”

“Eight years now.”

“Quite a while.”

“I’ve known her longer than that,” he volunteered, catching my gaze in the rearview mirror. “I drove her to school when she was a young girl. she hired me away from Mr. Vidal when the time came.”

Once again, I tried to picture Lauren as a child. No doubt she’d been beautiful and charismatic even then.

Had she enjoyed “normal” sexual relationships when she was a teenager? I couldn’t imagine that women weren’t throwing themselves at her even then. And as innately sexual as she was, I imagined she’d been a horny teen.

Digging in my purse, I pulled out my keys and leaned forward to set them on the front passenger seat. “Can you see that Lauren gets those? she’s supposed to come over after whatever it is she’s doing tonight and depending on how late that is, I might not hear her knock.”

“Of course.”

Paul opened the door for me when we arrived at my apartment and he greeted Angus by name, reminding me that Lauren owned the building. I waved to both men, told the front desk Lauren would be coming over later, and then took myself upstairs. Cary’s raised brows when he opened the door to me made me laugh.

“Lauren’s coming over later,” I explained, “but I’m feeling so hammered right now I may not stay up long. So I gave her my keys to let herself in. Did you order already?”

“I did. And I tossed a few bottles of Cristal in the wine fridge.”

“You’re the best.” I shoved my bag at him.

I showered and called my mom from the phone in my room, wincing at her strident, “I have been trying to reach you for days!”

“Mom, if it’s about Lauren Jauregui—”

“Well, of course, it’s partly about her! For goodness’ sake, Camila. You’re being called the significant woman in her life. How could I not want to talk about that?”

“Mom—”

“But there’s also the appointment you asked me to make with Dr. Petersen.” The note of smug amusement in her voice made me smile. “We’re scheduled to meet with him Thursday at six o’clock in the evening. I hope that works for you. He doesn’t do many evening appointments.”

I plopped backward onto my bed with a sigh. I’d been so distracted by work and Lauren that the appointment had slipped my mind. “Thursday at six will be fine. Thank you.”

“Now, then. Tell me about jauregui…”

When I emerged from my bedroom dressed in jersey pants and a San Diego State University sweatshirt, I found Trey seated with Cary in the living room. Both men stood when I came in and Trey gifted me with an open, friendly smile.

“I’m sorry I look so ragged,” I said sheepishly, running my fingers through my damp ponytail. “Taking the stairs at work almost killed me today.”

“Elevator take the day off?” he asked.

“Nope. My brain did. What the hell was I thinking?” Spending the night with Lauren was enough of a workout.

The doorbell rang and Cary went to get it while I headed into the kitchen for the Cristal. I joined him at the breakfast bar as he signed the credit card receipt and the look in his eyes when he glanced at Trey had me hiding a smile.

There were a lot of those looks going back and forth between the two men as the evening progressed. And I had to agree with Cary that Trey was a hottie. Dressed in distressed jeans, matching vest, and a long-sleeved shirt, the aspiring veterinarian looked casual but well put together. He was very different personality-wise from the type of guy Cary usually dated. Trey seemed more grounded; not quite somber, but definitely not flighty. I thought he’d be a good influence on Cary, if they stayed together long enough.

The three of us made it through two bottles of Cristal and two pizzas between us, plus all of Demolition Man before I called it a night. I urged Trey to stay for Drivento round out the Stallone mini-marathon; then I went to my room and changed into a sexy black baby doll I’d been given as part of a bridesmaid gift bag—sans the matching panties.

Leaving a candle burning for Lauren, I crashed.

____

I woke to darkness and the scent of Lauren’s skin, the lights and sounds of the city shut out by soundproofed windows and blackout drapes.

Lauren slid over me, a moving shadow, her bare skin cool to the touch. Her mouth slanted over mine, kissing me slow and deeply, tasting of mint and her own unique flavor. My hands slid down her sleekly muscular back, my legs parting so she could settle comfortably between them. The weight of her against me made my heart sigh and my blood warm with desire.

“Well, hello to you, too,” I said breathlessly when she let me up for air.

“You’ll come with me next time,” she murmured in that sexy and decadent voice, nibbling at my throat.

“Will I?” I teased.

she reached down and cupped my butt in her hand, squeezing and lifting me into a deft roll of her hips. “Yes. I missed you, Camila.”

I ran my fingers through her hair, wishing I could see her. “You haven’t known me long enough to miss me.”

“Shows how much you know,” Lauren scoffed, sliding downward and nuzzling between my breasts.

I gasped as her mouth covered my nipple and sucked through the satin, deep pulls that echoed in the clenching of my core. she moved to my other breast, her hand pushing up the hem of my baby doll. I arched into her, lost to the magic of her mouth as it moved over my body, her tongue dipping into my navel, then sliding lower.

“And you missed me, too,” she purred with masculine satisfaction, the tip of her middle finger rimming my cleft. “You’re swollen and wet for me.”

she pulled my legs over her shoulders and licked between my folds, soft and provocative laps of hot velvet against my sensitive flesh. My hands fisted in the sheet, my chest heaving as she circled my clit with the tip of her tongue, then nudged the hypersensitive knot of nerves. I keened, my hips moving restlessly into the devious torment, my muscles tightening with the clawing need to come.

The light, teasing flutters were driving me insane, giving me just enough to make me writhe but not enough to get me off. “Lauren, please.”

“Not yet.”

she tortured me, coaxing my body to the brink of orgasm, and then letting me slide back down. Over and over. Until sweat misted my skin and my heart felt like it would burst. Her tongue was tireless and diabolical, cleverly focusing on my clit until a single stroke would set me off, then moving lower to thrust into me. The soft, shallow plunges were maddening, the flickering against the nerve-laden tissues making me desperate enough to beg shamelessly.

“Please, Lauren…let me come…I need to come, please.”

“Shh, angel…I’ll take care of you.”

she finished me with a tenderness that made the orgasm roll through me like a crashing wave, building and swelling and spreading through me in a warm rush of pleasure.

she threaded her fingers with mine when she came over me again, restraining my arms. The head of her cock aligned with the slick entrance of my body and she pushed inexorably into me. I moaned, shifting to accommodate the heavy surge of her penis.

Lauren’s breath gusted hard and humid against my throat, her big frame trembling as she slid carefully inside me. “You’re so soft and warm. Mine, Camila. You’re mine.”

I wrapped my legs around her hips, welcoming her deeper, feeling her buttocks flex and release against my calves as she demonstrated to my body that it would indeed take her thick length all the way to the root.

With our hands linked, she took my mouth and began to move, gliding in and out with languid skill, the tempo precise and relentless yet smooth and easy. I felt every rock-hard inch of her, felt the unmistakable reiteration that every inch of me was her to possess. she drove the message home repeatedly until I was gasping against her mouth, thrashing restlessly beneath her, my hands bloodless from the strength of my grip on her.

she spoke heated praise and encouragement, telling me how beautiful I was…how perfect I felt to her…how she’d never stop…couldn’t stop. I came with a sharp cry of relief, vibrating with the ecstasy of it, and she was right there with me. Her pace quickened for several slamming thrusts; then she climaxed with a hiss of my name, spilling into me.

I sank lax into the mattress, sweaty and boneless and replete.

“I’m not done,” she whispered darkly, adjusting her knees to increase the force of her thrusts. The pace remained expertly measured, each plunge staking a claim—your body exists to serve me.

Biting my lip, I fought back the sounds of helpless pleasure that might’ve broken the tranquility of the night…and betrayed the frightening depths of emotion I was beginning to feel for Lauren Jauregui.

[pollylynn]

Practice, Chapter 2—A Season 2 Caskett Two-Shot (Now Complete)

Title: Practice, Chapter 2 WC: 1600

A/N: Still ridiculous. First chapter was posted yesterday. Set around the time of Den of Thieves (2 x 21)

He is confined to a name for the duration. The hushed E sound at the end of it is still dying away when all eyes except, regrettably, Lanie’s swivel toward the front of the room. Lanie’s eyes linger on him just long enough to convey the very important message If you try to run, I will murder you. I will dismember you. I will collaborate with Beckett to mess with the evidence and construct and solve a murder mystery so wild that we will both become wildly famous, all while making sure that your disappearance slips from the pathetic few headlines it ever appeared in within twenty-four hours.

Then Lanie’s eyes swivel front. It seems prudent for his to follow, though what they land on when they do is not heartening to say the least. 

A man has taken up his obviously accustomed spot, front and center. He unrolls his mat with one smooth motion and regards his sea of soon-to-be Warriors with a gaze that sweeps right, left, and back again.

The women stand ready, each centered at the foot of her own mat. Castle scurries to take up a similar position, tripping as he goes, largely because he’s trying to get a look at this guy. It’s not easy. There’s no dais or anything, so he has to lean from one side to the other and go up on tiptoe to see much more than decidedly not slouchy yoga shorts, a head full of flowing grey hair, and arms that are  not at all bulky, yet looks like they’ve been twisted together out of the steel cables that hold up the Brooklyn Bridge. 

He senses Lanie sensing him as he fidgets around. He notes a certain familiar drop to one shoulder that universally precedes her delivery of some devastating blow, nearly universally at his expense. He manages, in the fraction of an instant the fates allow him, to still himself and school his posture so that when her chin swivels to fix him with an over-the-shoulder glare, she finds him very much the picture of someone ready to begin his journey. 

He sees the flash of a quick gesture from the man at the front, and the room fills with a high, whining note—a tone that’s well outside any musical scale his own ear is used to. He’s still shaking his head against the onslaught when he realizes that everyone, to a woman, has swept her arms overhead and is following her fingertips backward until something like fifty-five pairs of upside down eyes are turned on him in the back corner that is clearly going to provide no cover. 

One pair out of the fifty-five sends further instructions that require his immediate attention. Get moving. Now. Or I will murder you. I will dismember you, etc., etc. 

So he does his best. His shoulders protest immediately at the jerky swing of his arms. His spine weighs in, not to be out done, as he tries to bend backwards and can hardly fix his eyes on the ceiling, let alone the wall behind him, as instructed. 

His failure at this first and most basic of poses is a preview of things to come. The music that seems to guide every other body in the room is utterly disorienting to him. He is behind, he is ahead, he is never, ever on the beat. 

The asanas—poses, as he figures out very late in the game and then feels like the most basic of idiots—come fast and furious. in the three or four seconds over the next hour when he is not actually, actively, right this moment dying, he happily concludes that Detective Schlemming’s failure here—his humiliation—would be total.  

The instruction, to him, is absolutely minimal, but then again it’s clear that these women, Lanie included, are hard-core regulars. They’re serious about the practice. When the instructor commences roaming through the field of bodies about a third of the way through the class, they are fiercely proud when he praises their form, immensely gratified when he offers a correction. 

When the man arrives alongside his mat—when he models the pose and offers a few adjustments, then a crisp nod of encouragement, Castle gets it. He feels like he’s just run the New York Marathon in under three hours while finishing Naked Heat. He never, ever under pain of death, dismemberment and fading into absolute anonymity wants to do this again, but he gets the appeal. He will never apologize to the entirely fictional, obviously nonexistent Detective Schlemming for anything, but he might have to send yoga a sheepish card. 

“Well?” 

Lanie looms over him as his eyes fly open. He may have fallen asleep and/or briefly shuffled off this mortal coil during his final savasana. Her question booms around the room, suggesting it’s empty or close to it. His death or nap may have been not-so-brief. 

“Help,” he says simply, which wins him a kick that might actually be a fairly gentle prod with her bare foot. “Roll on to your belly,” she coaches. “Work your way up to hands and knees. Take it slow.”  

He makes it to his feet, and she takes pity on him. She stoops to roll up his mat and stuff it in his fancy bag. He watches gratefully. Pity is good now. Detective Schlemming might not deserve it, but he certainly does.

“What—what now?” He hangs his head as she hands the bag to him. Spiritual Warrior, he knows without a doubt, is just Phase 1 of his punishment. 

“Now,” she says as she sizes him up. “Drinks.” 

“Drinks?” He feels the blood drain from his face and keep on draining until all of it is somewhere around his ankles. He sways a little. 

“Drink for me.” She catches his elbow. “Water for you. And maybe some crackers. You’re buying.” 

He tries to nod, but his neck isn’t working. He tries to lift his hand and only succeeds in releasing a wave of stench from his armpit. “I’m gross.” 

“Yeah you are,” she shoots back, and she’s not talking about the stench. He hangs his head again, non-working neck and all, and she relents a little. “Rooftop bar,” she lifts her chin. “Yoga and drinks. Everybody’s gross. It’s a thing.” 

“Lead the way.” 

*************************************

The sun is bright and cruel. The gentle spring breeze is like knives scraping his skin, and his hair hurts—his body hair hurts. But it’s a pretty nice rooftop bar, at least during the three-minute grace period Lanie affords him while they’re ordering drinks—a Bloody Mary for her, water, the tiniest glass of juice possible, and bread service for him. 

“So,” Lanie begins the minute the waitress is even arguably out of earshot. “You know your girl is not going to be working out in a place like this, right?” 

“My—“ he sputters. The slow-whirring gears of his mind work on the terrible substance of her words. “My girl?” 

“Don’t play with me Castle.” She casually unrolls the thick cloth napkin and lets fork and knife clatter on to the metal cafe table for emphasis. “I know this is about Beckett. So, what? I know you can just be dropping in to every yoga studio in Manhattan. You better not be staking out her place.” 

“Her place!” He silent movie gasps. “Staking out! No! No!” 

The drinks arrive at that precise moment, as though Lanie has willed it. She keeps her eyes locked on him as he struggles to keep silent until they’re clear of the waitress, who suddenly wants to list every single possible thing they might want her to bring them. 

“I am not staking anything—anyone—out,” he hisses as soon as it’s safe. Lanie slides the tall, stemmed glass toward herself and takes a sip epic enough to signal that she fully intends to wait him out. He caves. “It’s . . . it was supposed to be research.” 

He’s mumbling by the end, but that’s not what has Lanie shooting him a puzzled frown. “Research. For Rook?” 

He shakes his head. He sips at the juice, but it burns his tongue. His tongue hurts, too, he notes miserably. He must have bit it a hundred times while trying to haul his stupid body from one pose to another. 

“Another Detective.” He pokes unenthusiastically at the artisanal butter that comes with brown, heavy-looking bread that is almost certainly harboring nasty, fugitive raisins. He tears off a piece anyway and comes across a raisin immediately upon popping it into his mouth. “A creep.”

“Demming,” Lanie says quietly. Pityingly, and that’s not so good at the moment. 

“So you think he’s a creep, too?” He tries for a grin, tries to make a joke of it, but Lanie’s not laughing.

“Beckett doesn’t.” She shakes her head in a mixture of frustration, amusement, and yet more pity. “You like her.” 

He thinks about denying. Denial rises swiftly to the end of his bitten, juice-abused tongue, but there’s no point. It’s Lanie, and there’s no point. 

“I like her,” he says, eyes on the city stretching out below them. 

“Damn, Castle.” Lanie takes another pull on her Bloody Mary. “Think you should’ve said something about that, like, a year ago?” 

He thinks about denying that, too. Or pushing back at least, saying he didn’t even know until just now—until Demming. But there’s no point in that, either. “Yeah.” He sighs. He takes a sip of water. “Probably. Probably should’ve.”  A/N: Lanie ships. This is dumb. That is all. 

#Castle #Caskett #Castle: Season 2 #Castle: Den of Thieves #Richard Castle #Lanie Parish #Kate Beckett #Tom Demming #Fic #Fanfic #Fanfiction #Fan Fic #Fan fiction #Writing #Feh

[keichanz]

For the fictional kiss prompt, can you do "17. height difference kisses where one person has to bend down and the other is on their tippy toes", for InuKag? Thank you!

“Hey Short Round, you need a little help there?”

The male voice - god, she could hear the stupid smirk in it - came from behind her and Kagome felt her eyebrow twitch both from the hated nickname and the not so subtle slight to her height. Scowling, Kagome lowered herself back down from her toes and spun around, crossing her arms as she pegged her roommate’s boyfriend’s best friend with hard glare. That damn smirk widened and amber eyes glinted wickedly at her, irritating her even more with his stupidly roguish good looks.

Inuyasha Taisho was 230 pounds of pure hard muscle, sexy as hell, cocky attitude, and the most infuriating of all, a whole head taller than her at 6′2. He constantly teased her about her height and he never passed up an opportunity to rub it in her face and he - and pretty much everyone else - was taller than her. True, she was shorter than the average woman and definitely wouldn’t be winning any contents in that particular department, but she didn’t really care, either. She liked her body. Okay, sure, maybe she could stand to lose a few pounds, but she was perfectly healthy and happy and that’s what truly mattered.

And besides. She wasn’t short, she was fun-sized.

“Har-dee-har, Sasquatch,” Kagome fired back, using her own little pet name that she knew he disliked. “Haven’t heard that one before. Since you’re here, why don’t you make yourself useful for a change and get my mug that I know you purposely put up there just to piss me off.”

It was one of his favorite things to do; put her belongings in hard to reach places where he knew she wouldn’t be able to get without assistance or climbing up onto something. One time she’d ended up searching for two hours for her phone only for the stupid jerk to waltz in, ask her what she was looking for with that infuriating smirk, and then jump up and get it off the fucking ceiling fan.

For revenge she’d cut holes in the crotch of all of his boxers and miraculously since then her things had stopped disappearing so frequently. 

Surprisingly he didn’t react to her nickname for him and merely cocked a brow at her before slowly lifting his gaze to the top shelf of the open cupboard behind her. He knew which mug she was talking about because she was right; he had put it there, so he didn’t bother to deny her accusation. And though he hated it when she called him Sasquatch - only because he knew it was a barb at how tall he was and not his half-demon heritage - this time he ignored it because he’d put that mug there for a very specific reason, one that he’d been dying to do for a very long time now.

Kagome Higurashi was a little spitfire, a whole lotta fiery attitude, sharp tongue, witty remarks, and sassy wit all packed into her slender 5′3 frame and she was absolutely fucking drop dead gorgeous. With wavy hair black as a raven’s wing that fell down her back in a silken waterfall, big blue eyes that reminded him of the ocean and killer legs that he dreamed about being wrapped around his waist, Inuyasha had wanted her since the day Miroku’s girlfriend had introduced them to each other one year ago and their friendship, or lack thereof, was less than stellar.

Hopefully today he could change that and their tentative not-friendship would become a maybe-solid relationship.

“Hello? Earth to Taisho? Would you stop standing there and help me, please?”

Inuyasha snapped his gaze back down to hers, studied her for a silent minute - loving the way she huffed and pouted at him - before wordlessly closing the distance between them and standing right in front of her. Predictably Kagome tried to back up to put some space between them, but couldn’t go far with the counter at her back and she flushed when she realized she couldn’t escape. 

Actually, she could, but secretly she didn’t really want to so she just stared up at him with wide eyes and will her heart to remain calm.

Inuyasha smirked again and without even looking, keeping his eyes on hers, he reached up and easily snatched the desired mug from the top shelf, bringing it down and presenting to her with a raised eyebrow.

Glaring at him, Kagome clenched her jaw and went to snatch it from his hand but was not expecting him to suddenly jerk it up and away from her grasp, holding it above her head where she couldn’t reach it. Her mouth dropped open but then her face contorted into another scowl as she jumped up, swiping at her mug. Again he lifted it higher, just out of her reach and she released an aggravated grunt.

“Dammit, Taisho, knock it off!” she snapped and bounced again. He laughed and dangled it over her head, always jerking it away at the last second. “Give me my mug you asshole!”

Unthinkingly she placed her hand on his shoulder as leverage when she jumped up in another attempt. Again he held it away and she contemplated the appealing act of kneeing him in the balls. That would get him to bend over and she could get her mug back.

Growling impressively well for a human, Kagome huffed and glowered at him, her eyes twin slits of blue fire. “Stop being such a child, you jerk. Give. Me. My. Mug.”

He grinned. “What do I get out of it?”

"The ability to father children someday. Gimme.”

Inuyasha snorted but did put some space between them. Just in case. 

“Not good enough,” he drawled, spinning the mug around in his finger by the handle. Kagome made a distressed sound, clearly worried it would fly of his finger and shatter. Inuyasha grinned and put his plan into action.

“Do something for me and I’ll give it back.” Amber eyes bore into her own and he was gratified at the blush that stole across her cheeks. He’d always known his attraction wasn’t one sided, but it was always nice to see little reminders.

Despite feeling suddenly hot and the quickened beat of her heart, Kagome rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. “Do you realize how childish you sound?”

“Yes or no.” He wasn’t about to her distract him from his goal with one of their petty arguments.

Kagome frowned and eyed him strangely for a minute before giving in with a sigh. “Fine, whatever. What do you want me to do? And it better not be something ridiculous like--”

“Kiss me.”

Kagome froze. Stared at him with impossibly wide eyes, mouth dropping incredulously as her flush darkened to rival that of a tomato. Her heart thundered in her chest and her stomach started doing little flip-flops, not at all unpleasant.

“Wh...what did you say?” she whispered, sure she must have heard that wrong, postive he really didn’t say--

“I said,” Inuyasha rumbled, eyes going to half-mast, “kiss me.”

Kagome’s lips trembled and before she could stop herself her gaze dropped to his mouth. The growl that erupted from his chest elicited a gasp from her and she quickly darted her eyes back to his face, where shocked blue met with dark honey. She was speechless, jaw working but no sound coming out, heart pounding, blood racing, and a pleasant warmth steadily spreading throughout her body from the thought of kissing him, something she’d wanted to do for...a very long time now.

She should have said no. She should have told him how ridiculous he was being, should have been smart and simply walked away from his ultimatum. 

Instead she took a step closer to him and tilted her head back while raising up onto her toes. Inuyasha watched her, saying nothing as she tentatively lifted shaking hands and rested him on his shoulders. As if pulled by an invisible force, Inuyasha bent down to make it easier for her, feeling the warmth of her breath fan over his lips, making the breath hitch in his throat.

Kagome swallowed once, licked her lips, and achingly slowly, she pressed her lips to his in the sweetest, softest kiss Inuyasha had eve had the pleasure to experience before. 

Her eyes fluttered close, so did his and with a sigh Inuyasha kissed her back, his free hand lifting to brush his fingers along her jaw before sliding his hand into her hair, tangling in her dark hair as he deepened the connection. Kagome gasped and he slicked his tongue along her bottom lip before stealing into her mouth for taste. Her whimper was drowned out by his pleased grow and suddenly Inuyasha was backing her up, carelessly tossing the mug still in his hand onto the counter before grasping her hips and lifting her up onto the counter. He wedged himself between her legs and tilted her head back while his other hand wrapped possessively around her thigh.

Slim arms wrapped around his neck and with a heady groan Inuyasha finally kissed her the way he wanted to, hard, demanding presses of his lips against her own and greedily swallowing all the delectable little sounds she made. Kagome returned his passion with her own, fingers running through his hair while she arched against him, teeth nibbling his lip, tongue slicking against his own and driving him absolutely fucking crazy. 

After several more heated kisses were exchanged, Inuyasha finally pulled back and rested his forehead against her own, panting as he stared into blue eyes glazed over with lust he was sure reflected in his own.

“You’re still short,” he rumbled and kissed her again, teeth nibbling her lip.

“And you’re still a jerk,” Kagome returned breathlessly and nipped his jaw. 

“Shut up and kiss me,” Inuyasha growled and promptly stole that impish little smile for his own, covering her mouth with his and making her forget about everything but him.

#inuyasha #kagome #inukag #keizfanfiction #oneshot #kiss prompt #a little longer this time #whoops #oh well #enjoy #jarl-deathwolf