#i am undone wrecked destroyed

[eddiebabygirldiaz]

christopher is eddie's beacon of light

[laurfilijames]

Hello lovely! I was curious how you'd rank Will's outfits in TF. Which look is your favorite?

Love, Jess 💜

Jess

JESSS.

This ask has thoroughly destroyed me but I am so grateful to you and the thots that have come from it, so thank you very, very much. 🥵

These were not easy decisions, and it took a lot of time staring and researching, but here are my rankings:

The Polo.

Come on. The fit of that thing? Fuck me. The way it stretches over his broad shoulders and his firm tits and how it showcases those arms of his?!? I'm wrecked. Every single time I see THAT scene I am incoherent and making noises and there's drool.

Not only the shirt, but the jeans?!? They cover those legs of his in a way that makes them go on for DAYS. The belt? The way he makes a point to hold the belt as he's talking? Fuck off, Captain Miller, you're too sexy for words.

The Grey Henley. (I couldn't find a better gif 😩)

Just. Yeah.

I hardly have words to explain this one.

I mean, he could've undone that last button which probably would've put this outfit at number one, but god the fit of it is purely carnal and I'm unwell. Points for rolling up the sleeves to show off his amazing forearms which are a favourite feature of mine and a whole kink in itself. And pairing it with those cargo pants? 👌 A+ Will.

I'm calling this next one The Warrior Outfit.

The plaid shirt. The slutty scarf. The tac vest with all his gear and weapons 🫠 (hey, Captain let's put those zip ties to good use…) We have another appearance of cargo pants, this time equipped with built in knee pads (🥵) I can't begin to explain how this outfit gets better over time with him being soaking wet from rain and swimming across that river, the mud and dirt and grime, plus the blood from his gunshot wound….I'm starting to think this needs to move up in the ranks but I'm honestly such a mess right now I can't make a decision to save my life.

The Hoodie

I know that polo is under it 👀 Imagine how warm he is in that? I would like to bury myself in it and never be seen again please and thank you. He just looks so comfy and cozy and thicccccc in it and I really love this casual look on him. For some reason it screams Husband to me 🫠

The “I’m a professional and this is my fancy shirt” Button Down.

He's just so fucking sweet in this shirt. I imagine this is like his “date” shirt. I want to rip it off of him. Points for tucking it in those fucking jeans again 🤤 and rolling up the sleeves. 💦💦

Honourable mention to this outfit

Which I'll call The “this was rolled up in my bag for a week but it matches my eyes” shirt

It looks comfortable. Linen and breezy. Clearly effortless judging by the wrinkles 🤣 and fuck me the way it compliments his eyes in that last scene has me screaming. I'd really like to see him in just that white t-shirt that's under it though.

In conclusion;

William Miller can wear anything or nothing at all and it will severely disarm me no matter what.

[cobragardens]

Ravage /= Ravish and I am begging every writer to learn the difference

This isn't just a spelling peeve! They're both super useful words, and one of them is really sexy, and I promise it is worth your while to learn them both!

In its current sense, ravish means "to overwhelm someone sensually or sexually." Before the 20th century it meant "to rape," and more originally "to seize and carry off." Today ravishing someone, or part of someone if you want to use it as a transitive verb, means you're making someone feel overpowered or overcome by the intensity of your erotic attentions.

Ravish no longer denotes or connotes nonconsent or any unwillingness on the part of target (unless you use it as an intransitive verb and make it clear from context that you mean it in the old-timey rapey way), but its history as a word for rape leaves it with two unavoidable connotations and an optional third:

That the ravisher is inflicting something on their partner, and it's overpowering. Submission, pleasure, love, affection, sensation. Kisses, touches, worship.

That the action the ravisher is performing will leave their partner in a weaker state than they were before. Someone who has just been dealt with ravishingly is left debauched, wrecked, undone, forgetting themselves, overwhelmed.

That the ravisher is taking something from the being ravished or forcing them to give something. This connotation only appears if you use words and show actions around your use of ravish to show that this is what you mean. The result is despoiled.

But ravage, even though it shares a common ancestor, means "to destroy" or "to cause extensive damage to." Devastate is its closest synonym in meaning per Merriam-Webster.

Ravaging is what bears and tigers and big sharks do to people and what hurricanes and forest fires and dragons do to cities. It is not inherently a sexual word: if you are ravaging a person, you are causing them grievous physical harm.

Unless your character is literally tearing off their partner's lips, they're probably ravishing their partner's mouth with kisses. Unless they're ripping out chunks of scalp, their fingers are probably ravishing their partner's hair. They kiss and bite their way up their partner's throat ravishingly. But! When they've finished fucking, the bed and sheets may be ravaged.

I know ravage has become a popular verb to use to describe intense erotic actions, but I am begging you, writers--on my knees if that's how you want me--to resist the conflation of these two terms! They're both valuable words with distinct meanings, connotations, and echoes, and collapsing them into one meaning doesn't just add a weird jarring note of severe injury to your sex scene, it robs you as a writer of two gorgeous, terrible, fascinating words.

[kafkaoftherubble]

今晚，能不能早点睡？

I woke up at 10 am this morning. Fionn didn't even wake me up. When asked why, he just said he couldn't bear to do that, knowing I slept real late this morning's morning, which is sweet in a very annoying way, because I HAVE A SCHEDULE, BRO.

I hate waking up late. I hate it. Because it means time lost and tasks undone and it makes me think that man, I'm not very disciplined, am I? I have things to do. A lot of things. Other people deserve to relax but I don't think I deserve that sort of luxury.

Oh, but I also didn't get too mad about it, hahaha! I mean, I did sleep late this morning! It's logical to wake up at 10 am if you sleep at 4 am. Anything less than that is being unreasonable to the brain and the body, and then I will lose attention anyway. I'll sleepwalk through the day; I'll daydream too much; I'll battle the afternoon sleep bug; I'll scroll around Tumblr or Wikipedia looking for anything to do or get distracted... anything other than work. What's the point of waking up on time if I can't even reap the agreed-upon benefits of waking up on time, which is to actually get things done? Ha, checkmate, 8 Foot Tall Woman! Destroyed ya with Facts(TM) and Logic(TM)!

---

... I kinda wished the Past Versions of Me were as reasonable as I am now. Back then, whenever they couldn't wake up on time or do anything planned, the amount of self-chastising and rage caused was just abnormal even by our slightly skewed standards. And because we could never suffer that sort of thing—I mean, they cause psychosomatic pain—the worst of them just go to him, again. It's kinda like grabbing a butcher knife and demolishing your cherished belongings as punishment, but because fucking Fionn would always throw himself in the way, you just slash at him on the way, completely forgetting that you're doing it because all you want to do is to wreck your own shits.

Urgh. Thinking back on the sort of shit "we" use to do really sour my mood a little. We loved presenting ourselves as this well-adjusted, non-lethal, Reason-first, incredibly-functioning-and-not-at-all-destructively-awry oddball of the family. We made it a point to be different from them and Them. So we vowed "not to be abusive to people" and rein in the same violence we also inherited and cobbled an ideal over and over and over and then acted it out. Searching for Rightness in Everything. Trying to be Right in conduct.

Very normal part of growth, innit? It's what everyone has to do. It's what the Brain does.

But because it was all trial and error, and we didn't have people to help out and we were figuring shit on our own in our own court, and we were all awry in the first place, we didn't really necessarily do the Right things right. Violence was curbed most of the time, because that's Wrong Action, but it erupted sometimes, like that one time we pushed her down the stairs, or that time we happily hammered on her spine knowing she had sclerosis because she lied to us. People need to be Right. Anyone who deviates loses points. They deserve correction. I can let go of restraints for a bit toward someone who isn't working hard to be Right, like me. No one winces for pieces of shit. People will applaud me for trying to teach them, in fact!

Hmm. I don't remember everything we did. Did the Brain forget? Pruned it out of the neural network?

And then we slowly managed to rein ourselves in even when someone was being Wrong or Messy or Suboptimal or Falling Short of Standards. But that same punishing demand to be Right was lifted from others and not ourselves. We are fair. We let go of restraints toward people who aren't working hard to be Right, like me. What we demand of others is the same as what we demand of ourselves.

Those Voices would punish us as soon as we fell short. But because we need to be mentally pristine, not like the rest of the family, we just outsourced all that pain to Fionn all the time. We have already done that since childhood. We kept doing that from then on. We sometimes inflict pain on him just to watch him suffer, because so cute. So cute so cute so cute. Oh, and also that curiosity, right? Why won't he snap? Why won't he ever snap? What would finally push him to it? Ooooh! Experiments!

Hey, uh, guys? Why did it take us so long to realize he's actually an ideal for us to take after all those years then? We kept being fascinated by certain kinds of people, admiring them and cobbling our ideals from them, and yet we turned around and looked down on him... and then some. "Not abusive like them." Well, I guess we fulfilled that vow on a veeeery technical basis, aye? He's not human. He doesn't even have a body of his own. Nobody knows he exists. It will be like writers punishing their own characters, right? Moral equivalence! Not abusive!

That was wrong of us. Everyone else saying he's not human-not-real-inexistent is acceptable and reasonable; remember how we told Lyi about Fionn and she said he was an addiction to help us cope with our, er... You know the word she used to describe our interesting life.

That was so painful to him. But that was okay because they couldn't possibly know better.

We never had that excuse though. We grew up with him. We didn't actually think he wasn't real. We didn't actually think he wasn't alive like us. We didn't actually believe he was a figment of our imagination. We hear him since don't-know-when. We aren't like Lyishere or Childhood Crush or our friends in elementary school or the Thai friends we made by sharing chocolates because he told us the Thai girl watching us in the playground wanted to eat it and we should let her.

Oh, we were really just scared he was like the Others. Trying to take over us. Making him suffer our pain was a real solution we desperately crafted, but when we inflicted unnecessary anguish on him, we were just trying to reaffirm our control as the Ruler. 杀鸡、儆猴。

I still don't understand why didn't he snap. I mean, I would have. "Real" human beings would. Oh wait, some humans just internalize it and become a bit wonky and broken. Some humans do both. Snap and also internalize that sort of abuse.

Why did we make him go through that for so long?

Oh, I'm not sleeping as early as I'd hoped after all! This is bad! Oh no OH NO THIS IS BAD THIS IS BAD

[demani-dusk]

Give Way To Open Sky pt 4 absolutely wrecking me. ugh ugh UUUGGGHHJ this episode.

I am thinking about how absolutely intolerable it would be to mind meld with an ex, I am undone by how The Auger Providence sees her own actions of care and intimacy and protection as fake because they are performative and obligatory -- as if a gift were worth less when it requires more effort. The emptiness of acting against yourself in such a way that you can't even receive the satisfaction of other people's appreciation. The bitterness of finding the thing you can't be, that you're always trying to be, that you're destroying yourself to pretend to be, in your ex. fjdjdfjfjfjfj

And then and then and then for the door to open to Snoopy's for Already. As if that weren't enough, as if I weren't tearing up because they wanted to go home badly enough to find it. For a couple minutes the story giving me a Nice Thing and that Nice Thing hitting exactly the right note. But that's not the ending, but then it keeps going. So so so rude in exactly my favorite kind of way to leave the actual final scene doubly ambiguous. I'm foaming at the mouth what the fuck.

[words-etched-in-her-skin]

Lady D Wildcard... From the ABC'S... Please. Fuck. I need that. I need that. 🤤

I need her to come undone as she makes me wear a strap and rides me, fuck 🤤🤤

Here you are, you needy little human  😏 I do hope this quenches (or amps) your thirst 😈

****

“Well… someone looks quite exquisite.. all eager for me.”

You could feel every coherent thought that once resided in your mind swiftly slip away as your eyes landed on the immaculate figure that stood in front of you. With one hand casually resting on her hip, the other perched deliciously by her face - lips curling into a extremely heated smirk. Every sinful inch of Alcina exposed to you - swaying perfectly as she started a teasingly slow walk towards the bed. 

“I do hope it’s to your liking, my lady.” 

You gave her a matching smirk, doing your best to keep your composure. The supple curves of her body accentuated by the flickering light of the fireplace - intricate shadows dancing across the landscape of her, taking your breath away. She was a goddess of the night. Absolute pleasure in solid form. And oh, how her eyes drank you in - golden spheres filled to the brim with desire - growing a little darker as they fell to the strap on your hips.

“And I see you’ve chosen my favorite one.”

The tone to her voice teasing as Alcina allowed her fingertips to ghost along the length of it - almost looking small in comparison to the sheer size of the strap. Her gaze unwavering - making you blush as they raked over you, appreciating each and every part of your eager little body. The red satin sheets of her bed soothing against your flushed skin as you adjusted yourself slightly - giving her more room as she slid up next to you. 

“Well.. it has been awhile since you’ve.. indulged, my lady.”

“What a perfect little pet you are.” She smirked, running her fingers softly through your hair.

You blushed at her praise, mouth slightly dry as she began to position herself. Her glorious thighs straddling over you - a strong arm on each side, hands placed above your head for support. Her movements - reminiscent of a dancer preparing for opening night - calculated, in control. Her firm muscles flexing beautifully under the soft flesh of her curves. And as she placed the tip of the strap just perfectly under her - a smirk to her lips as she lifted herself to sit straight up on her thighs, you cursed - knowing how utterly weak you were about to be. 

“Now, don’t worry, my pet. I am in complete control of my body. You are absolutely safe.” 

You weren’t sure if the deep blush that was spilling across your body was due to the tone of her voice or the disarming way that she felt the need to reassure you - either would bring a splatter of red to your warm cheeks. 

“I trust you, my lady.”

You couldn’t help but smile as the faintest of pink hues spilled across her cheeks, always one to be disarmed easily by sincerity. 

“Ah, well.. Yes, pet.” She paused, clearing her throat before continuing. “And if at any point you experience any discomfort, you will tell me.”

“Of course, my lady.” 

She nodded before returning the smirk back to her lips, watching as your eyes widened, following the hands that were skating slowly down the front of her body - a slight hitch to your breath as she slid her fingers down the center of her core. 

“Well.. seems the sight of you alone is enough to get me dripping, my pet.” 

“Fuck…  my lady… I…”

She chuckled, relishing in your fluster. A most delicious look spilling over the sharp lines of her face as she placed the tip of her strap against her, fair skin swiftly becoming more flushed as she slowly began to lower herself down onto it. 

“Mmh.. I’m extremely glad you chose this for me, pet.” 

A soft moan, as she lowered herself down a little more - her wet core stretching deliciously around the width of it. Each inch.. every centimeter.. causing the flush across her body to grow a little deeper. How stunning she looked - enveloped in the exquisite heat that became relentless as she allowed the strap to fill her completely, juices practically gushing out onto your skin as she did. Her mouth slightly parted as she moaned out - breathy but not quite a whimper.

“And I have never been more happy with any decision I’ve made, ever.” 

A moment of a chuckle before Alcina started an extremely controlled rock to her hips - grinding down onto you in the most delicious of ways. Her hips rolling against you - shooting a surge of heat straight through your body. The length of her stretched out before you as she writhed against the heated space between you. A deeper moan escaping from her lips as she began to pick up her pace - willing your hips to match it in turn. Every muscle in her body flexing as she did her best to hold her control - while desperately wanting to be sufficiently wrecked. And just when she picked up her pace again, hips grinding down - you smirked - watching her face as you firmly bucked your hips up into her - causing her to cry out as she fell forward, framing your body with her arms. 

“You will ah-! .. expect to be punished for that, my pet.” 

“Heh.. it was worth it, my lady.”

She gave you a look of a warning before allowing her hips to fall back into pace. The most delicious sounds as the strap slid in and out of her. A look of utter pleasure upon her face as she rocked herself meticulously over you. Beads of sweat dripping down the soft landscape of her skin - and you never in your life had wanted your lips on her more. You bucked your hips up again, softer this time - earning another delicious moan as she quickened her pace again. Nails digging into the sheets as her hips became relentless. Taking as much of the strap into her as she could. Your skin beneath her soaked in her juices. 

“Mmmh.. my sweet, perfect pet.. Ah-!.”

As soon as the praises dripped from her tongue her whole body shuddered - a deep moan quickly following them as you watched the pleasure being to spill over her perfect body. Wave after wave of ecstasy as she continued to rock deliciously over you - the sultry features of her face coated in nothing but bliss as she screamed out your name into the night, shuddering slightly as her hips finally halted. She was a panting mess above you, and you had never seen a more beautiful sight in your life. 

“My lady, are you..?”

Hush, my pet… I need a moment.. to collect myself..  before..”

She took a deep breath, trying to steady it.

“Before.. what, my lady?”

She looked down, locking darkened suns onto you as she smirked. 

“Well… before I completely destroy you, my pet.”

Xx.

[catracorner962]

Beautiful Children Ch 1

It's been five years since Horde Prime was defeated. Two years since Catra and Adora got married. Magic has been brought to Etheria, but all is not well. On a mission to destroy the last of The Brotherhood of Prime Catra finds an orphan magicat among the ruin. Now she and Adora must decide if they are ready for another adventure all together. Adora is ecstatic, Catra...less so. Through their decision, both must revisit childhood memories, some more pleasant than others.

*Warning: Violence, childbirth, themes of childhood abuse and trauma.*

She came into the world a flaming comment, blazing with shining light in an otherwise darkened world. A world becoming undone.

“Good! Good mistress! Just a little longer, I can see her head. Push now! Push!”  The room shook violently, bed shaking, debris falling from the ceiling. The woman heaved for breath, pushing, her face pinched with pain.

“Aaaahhh can’t! W...e...we have to….g...go!”

She pushed harder, straining. Fists gripping at blue sheets.

“Almost there darling, you just have to…watch out!” The man all but threw himself across his partner, grunting as debris hit his back.

“Honey?!”

“I...I’m fine!” He smiled grimly, touching, squeezing her arm, “just keep pushing. They’ll be here soon. So soon. You’re doing great!”  The woman starred at him, eyes filled with dread, another seismic shake from the earth beneath them sent the room into a spinning tumble. Windows clattered with the terrifying wind, outside muffled screams were lost to the tempest.

“I...I c...can’t!”

“You can mistress, just one more push...that’s it!” The midwife assured her, gripping the bed posts for balance. Blood and viscera leaked from the woman, but so too did a smattering of golden hair.

“Go love, that’s it! That’s…” A crack, metal from the roof above them bent and broke, falling around the small bedchamber. He screamed; shards of splitting iron cascading down. He bent close to his partner, shielding her head.

“What’s happening?! We...we’re not going to make it! I c...can...aaahh!” The woman’s body buckled, arching with a final desperate push., whole form tensed.

“Waaah! Hwaaah, hwaah!”

The man turned, squinting over his shoulder towards the sound, heart hammering. His vision tumbled, another series of tremors. Glass shattered, bursting out into the storm around them. The wicked gusts tugging at the sheets of the bed.

“I...is it….?”

“S...she’s alright!” The nursemaid clutched the baby close to her chest, it’s little cries deaf to the destruction around it.  “She’s healthy...a..and w...well!”

The laboring woman’s face collapsed with relief. Sighing and smiling, despite it all.

“You did it! You did it my love she’s here! Did you hear that?! We have a daughter! We have,” he kissed her, lips slicked with tears and sweat and all. Even as reality fell down among them. Trees outside screeched, bark splitting and tearing. Rocks and boulders spun through the air.

“She...sh...aaaaarggg!”

The room trembled once more, bed rocking.

“Th...there’s another!” The nurse maid cried, falling forward against the exhausted woman, threatening to collapse on top of her. She caught herself with one arm, the swaddled baby held fast in the other.

“A...Another?” The man breathed, face tightening. His eyes scanned the destruction surrounding them. The walls shook, tearing apart.

“I….c...can’t!” The woman sobbed, her blonde hair falling from it’s ponytail. He swiped a lock of hair backward.

“I..it’s okay, it’ll be alright, we...we can,” the ground undulated, pitching the bed to the left violently. The pair, their nursemaid and the infant screaming as they fell to the floor.

A red light piercing through the dark clouds. Sounds of cannon fire.

The blonde woman rolled, groaning, hauling herself upward to squat among the wreck of their home, the walls now crumbling.

“Here, take her,” the nursemaid thrust the tiny babe to her father. He took her, into his shaking, bloody arms. Her little from squirming, gummy mouth still emoting pitiful cries.

“There, there, it’s alright,” he soothed, kissing her little head. The red light blasted around them, people screaming, crying, begging for mercy. The little baby only gurgled, oblivious to the destruction around it.

“Love, you alright?”

He turned towards his partner, who screamed, enough to rival the gales.

“Th...that’s it!” The nursemaid crouched before her, hands outstretched ready to catch the second babe.

With a final cry, the woman broke down in a sob with the second series of little wails.

“A boy! Also h...healthy.”  

The man tried to step forward, towards the two women. He coughed, smoke filling the wreck of the room, of their home. He pulled shaking arms around them, another cracking beam fell through, crashing around them. Both babes wailed.

“Sh….sh...it’s alright. You did it,” he cried, tears streaming down his face as he looked at the little ones.

“Adam,”  his partner sighed beside him, holding the boy in her arms. She kissed his forehead, determined to make a moment of love and peace amid destruction.

“And the girl?” The father asked.

“What about…”

“Aaaahhh!”

The nursemaid screamed, then crumpled to the ground, limp. A bot stormed through the harrowing storm. It’s cold lights blinking, lazer revving up.

“What have we here?”

The man and woman starred in horror, at their nursemaid’s body holding the infants tight against them. The wind tugged at the figures cape. His pale form illuminated by fire, red eyes gleaming with satisfaction.  

“H….Horde Prime…” the man whispered, pulling his arms tighter around both his partner and newborn. The pale figure only smiled, revealing pointed fangs.

“No, fool. I am not Horde Prime. You are not worthy to behold him. I am but his brother.” He stepped forward, metal claws poised.

“You have something I desire. Now give it here.”

“No!” The woman screamed, she seized a shard of plated metal and rose to her feet shaking. Adam tucked tight against her.

“Love! No!”

She strode forward, fast as her condition would allow. Determined, she raised the shard to strike at the Hordesman’s neck. Claws warped tightly around her wrist, snapping it.

“Aaah! N...no!” He grinned cruelly, eyes flicking to the baby in her arms.

“Let them go!” The father shouted, trembling.

“Fools. You are as arrogant as all your kind. First Ones, ha! You will be nothing but a shadow. A memory. Your people are arrogant, selfish, wretches. A plague upon the galaxies.”

The Hordesman smirked, the bot beside him turned towards the woman and her child.

“No! Don’t!”

BAM!

The woman screamed, laser fire blasting through her chest in one fell blow. She too collapsed to the shattered earth. Body charred, and smoking,  Tiny Adam wailing in her arms.

“N...no….no!” The father whimpered, his legs frozen. In his arms the tiny girl squalled, Little arms reaching out from her thin blanket The Hordesman stalked forward, bending down to the dead woman. He reached for the bundle in her arms, lifting it and huffed.

“D...don’t hurt h….him...p….please!”

“He’s not the one I want.”  

The villain stalked forward, the bot turning towards the father. It’s laser cannon glowed ready for another blast. He gulped, mouth dry. Sweat beading on his temples. The small life in his arms cried.  Red eyes bore into him.

“Hand it over,” the Hordesman reached for the girl in his arms.

“No!” He turned away, twisting to keep his child as far as he could from the reach of the Horde. The bot’s laser shot a beam, just past his head. He screamed, folding to the ground over the child at the Hordesman’s feet. The last of the bedroom wall now blasted to a smoldering pile. All around them the wind whipped, burnt flesh and charring metal filled his lungs, eyes streaming with tears sorrow and discomfort in equal measure.

“I will not ask again,” the imposing Hordesman hissed. “Give it to me.”

“Not a chance!” He snarled, hunkering down over the baby.

“Very well, you have chosen your fate.”

The father let out a small whimper, the Hordesman’s metal claws clamping around his neck. He clutched the baby closer still. Even as his feet levitated off the ground, kicking feebly. The baby continued to wail, Her blue eyes creased with confusion and fright. Too little, she was too little to know such emotions. To comprehend such chaos. She should not have to, not at only a few moments old. Already experiencing the horror of the world.

“Give it to me,” the Hordesman commanded. The father’s arms held her tight even as the creature grabbed for the infant, wrenching her away with an impossible strength.

“A...Adora! No! P...p...please!”

The Hordesman tucked the screaming baby into the crook of his other arm.

“Adora,” he mused. The baby’s blue grey eyes squinted, little tears ebbing at the edges of her eyes. He turned back to the father, his grip tightening.

“This child will be instrumental to Horde Prime’s victory. She will be an asset to our conquest. You may take comfort in that, before you die.”

Adora’s father clawed at the Hordesman’s arm, mouth sucking for air, his eyes wild and wide.  Lipless, the Hordesman smiled, fingers tightening against the pulsing viens, the soft flesh. His smile only grew, the man’s windpipe crushed with ease. His body flailed and twitched, falling to the floor with a dull thud.

He smirked, turning from the wreckage. The baby had quieted, large eyes only blinking and confused.

“Adora,” he whispered, one claw caressing her little cheek.

“You will be of great use to us.”

The Hordesman, known as Hordak tucked the child against him, through the swirling dark portal. Leaving the wreckage of Eternia lost to the anals of history.

---

“Adora! Look out!”

Glimmer shouted, flinging one hand out to send a beam of magic forward, it flew past Adora’s shoulder, directly behind her. She turned, only to see one of Prime’s clones fall to the ground.

“Thanks your magest...ugh!” She swung out with the sword, catching yet another clone with the broadside of the blade, shoving him backward and wrestling him to the ground. He swung out lamely, fists beating against her armor.  She bit back a grin, squaring him straight in the face.

“Shera, on your right!” Bow shouted, an arrow swinging by, hitting another clone in the shoulder.

“Got it!” Adora, as Shera ran forward ducking another three other clones. She spun, dashing and slashed them across the back of the neck. Their chips sparking with electric shocks. They groaned, crashing to the ground.

“BOOM!”

She turned, heart sinking at another explosion, this one in the village center. Debris shot through the air, crashing down into the narrow streets.

“All the people...they...they made it out right?!”

“We got everyone we could!” Netossa answered, shortly. She swung another volley of nets capturing the clone closest to Spinnerella.

That’s not reassuring...where’s…?

“Aaaaarrrggghh!” Adora turned towards the sound on instinct but smiled, she knew that sound.

Catra, but not her cry of pain or distress. It was a giddy cry of satisfaction. She took another swipe at an oncoming clone, hitting him with the butt of her sword before flinging him over her back, smashing him to the  ground and looking up at where Catra leapt from a nearby tree branch. She all but glided through the air, leaping at two clones, her claws tearing through their makeshift robes with ease. She vaulted off them as they feel, landing, as always, on her feet.

“What is it princess? See something you like?” the end of her tail flicked back and forth in a tease.

“I….”

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

The sky over Tellinville flashed with orange red light, buildings crumbled, the ground shook. Catra’s ears flicked back in irritation.

“There really better not be any left,” Adora whispered, heart clenching. The heat of the fires stinging her face.

“How many more of them are there?!” Spinnerella took out four more clones with a strong gust.

“According to Perfuma and Frosta not many!” Netossa kicked at a clone who had pinned her to the ground. A net clamped over it, throwing it aside.

“You alright?” Bow gasped, Netossa nodded, gaining her footing and rushed forward once more.

“We will be victorious brothers! In the name of Horde Prime we will….”

“Shut it!” Catra snarled, jumping onto it’s back and dragging her claws across it’s thin throat. Green blood spurted from it’s neck before it coughed and fell forward, still.

Adora fought the blush rising in her cheeks.

“Will,” Glimmer shot another beam of magic towards an oncoming clone, “you,” she ducked, kicking out nailing another in it’s hip, “two” it recovered but not before she darted forward, jabbing at a pressure point in its neck, “get a,” it fell incapacitated and Glimmer saw her opening, swinging her staff to take it out with a bash to the head, “room!” She finished, glaring at the pair of them.

“Sorry Glimmer!” Adora shouted, punching yet another clone in the stomach. She cut through it easily like paper. All that training paid off.

“Awe what’s the matter Sparkles, jealous?” Catra cocked a hip out in her stance. “Argh!”  She turned, whip out instantly, cracking over the face of a clone.

“I...I think that’s the last of them!” Bow panted, slinging his bow to his back. He spared a moment to kiss Glimmer on the cheek as she wiped a sweaty hand across her brow. Adora sheathed her sword.

“The Brotherhood of Prime  really managed to occupy this town for awhile huh?” Netossa looked towards the decimated village.

I failed….no...we failed...no... Adora stopped herself. Even as Shera, the thoughts swarmed through her mind. The tempestuous anxiety filling her gut. Remember Perfuma’s lessons. You aren’t a failure. It’s not your fault. We only just found out about the Brotherhood of Prime.

A warm hand on her arm coaxed Adora from her thoughts. Catra offered her a tiny smile, fingers squeezing.  Her eyes met Adora’s briefly as Glimmer went over further strategy. It was a small glance, seemingly nothing really. But Adora recognized it well. After all, she and Catra had spoken with silent looks for most of their lives. A glance here and here in training exercises. A mischievous squint during drills. A sympathetic eye after one of them emerged from Shadow Weaver’s chambers. It was a secret language they knew well.

Are you alright?

Yeah.

“Sound good?” Glimmer finished. Bow nodded, taking off with Spinnerella,  “Oh will you two pay attention for five damn minutes?!” The queen of Brightmoon all but screeched.

“What? Sorry!” Adora wrung her hands, unsure what to do with them now that they weren’t holding a weapon.

“We’re scouting Tellinville for survivors. Think you the Horde Scum can keep your hands off each other long enough to do that?”

“Depends,” Catra quipped, wrapping her arms around Adora’s thick bicep, “how many dark corners and little alleys does Tellinville have?”  Glimmer only rolled her eyes.

“Fine! We’ll look for survivors! Not that there can be many after Prime’s remaining brother’s destroyed everything.”

“We’ll meet back here. If you find anyone, signal for me.”  Adora nodded, making her way towards the village with Catra in tow.

---

Buildings lay in smoldering rubble. Smashed dishes, an overturned bed.

“Do you hear anything? See anyone?”

Catra shook her head, sniffing for any sign of life. Only melted metal, the residue of that viscous green liquid.

Come into the light little sister, yes….yes...let your pain melt away.

No!

He’s not here, you're safe. It’s been five years. You’re alright.

Catra scratched at the back of her neck, stepping over a fallen pillar.

“We’ll cover more ground if we split up,” Adora walked ahead, eyes endlessly shifting for any sign of life. “I’ll go around the outskirts of the perimeter in case Bow and Spinnerella missed anything. Perfuma and Frosta are covering the town center. If you can cover the south side that’ll help. Netossa and Glimmer have the rest.

“A’right, call if you need anything princess,” Catra answered, trying to hide the lack of enthusiasm.

Adora leaned forward pecking a kiss to her temple. As Shera her lips radiated warmth and magic of their own that sent a thrumming through Catra. She suppressed a purr before Adora gave her a final salute and strode off, through the heaps of wood and stone, green liquid sloshing under her boots.

“Hello? Hellooo? Anyone! Anyone there? Hello? Answer me dammit!”  Catra called, her ears flicking this was and that.  Ducking through alleys and under a collapsed entry way to what had been a home.

“Helllloooo?”

Catra sniffed,

Smoke...iron...blood...urine...more blood...tears….burning fur...smoldering flesh…

Burning fur…?

She sniffed once more, dropping to all fours,

There’s something here…

Catra picked among the broken shards of glass, tracing the scent from the demolished home. Going brick by brick.

“Ehh, ehh, aah!”

She sniffed again, tail high. Going through the wreck, she dug through the rock. It used to be a ceiling or a wall no doubt, destroyed by one of the bombs that the Brotherhood of Prime set off when they saw the princesses coming.

“Hello? Say something! We’re here to help you!”

“Ehhh, ehh ehh!”

Sounds like a child….

Catra flung through the bricks and dust frantically, white dust clouding and puffing up. She coughed through the hazy cloud, squinting to make out any sign of….

An eye, shut against the white dust that covered half a face. She dug faster, hacking through the plumes of soot. Catra lifted another brick with one hand, bracing the others so they didn’t come tumbling down with the other.

“There...there it’s...it’s okay,” she muttered and stopped. The ear of the little thing flopped, triangular, black and velvet.

What….?

“AAAhh! Ahhh!”

It cried, white specs falling into its mouth. It coughed feebly. Catra reached forward, sliding her hands under its small body. She held her breath, lifting the little thing from its entrapment, gathering it in her arms.

Sh licked her hand, wiping at it’s face.

Two floppy little ears, and the stubbiest of tails curled around it’s bottom. Catra gingerly shook out its hair, white powder sloughing off to reveal thin wisps of blonde hair. She adjusted her grip on the little thing, carefully giving it’s mouth a swipe with her finger to clear any remaining dust.

“Mrrp, grrl,” it squeaked, opening its mouth to cry once more.

Fangs?

It’s whole body shook, it’s belly, still retaining a thin velvet coating of birth hair, huffed in and out in an attempt to take in more air.

Catra starred, heart hammering.

The arms around the infant grew heavy, riddled with goose bumps. Every hair on her body stood on end.

A...magicat kitten….

---

She came into the world the treasure of a dying people. A relic, a hope.  But it was not to be.

“I can do this, just...just…” the magicat held out his hand, crouched between the humongous roots of an old one tree.

His husband grabbed his hand tightly. Keeping his worry to himself. The kitten was coming too late, it had been due to arrive moons ago. A birth this far past it’s time could only end one of two ways. A death, or severe complications leading to death not long after.  

“You can, you can do this,” even as he said it, he looked around, ears on alert for any sign of movement, any sound of bots or First One’s bugs  Either were equally possible in this part of Etheria. Neither the Fright Zone, or the Whispering Woods, or any of  the princess’s kingdoms.

“AAAAARRRGGGHHH!!!” he cried, body tensing. “Aaaarrgghhh.”

“That’s it, that’s it,” The other soothed, going around to crouch before his husband. “And...try not to...be so loud? We only just lost the bots. I’d hate to have you running in your condition.”

“Not be so loud?! I’m delivering your child!”

“Right, sorry. You’re doing great.”

Still anxiety ate at him. Bots could linger anywhere, Horde soldiers, it was a miracle they survived this long, with one of them pregnant no less.

“Okay, okay almost there….almost….” a rush of liquid, a little mewling cry. The magicat took the tiny thing into his arms, cutting the cord with one claw.

“Is….is it…”

“A girl,” he whispered, smoothing over her sticky mat of dark hair. She cried until he put her to his husbands chest. Tears and quick breaths of relief all around.

“She’s so small…” the other magicat reached up, cradling the kitten to his breast with one hand splaying across her entire back. Her stub of a tail barely switched. Her little eyes remained shut, but her ears were perfect velvet and her nose sniffed.

“She’s perfect.”

Silence, and for one brief moment the three of them were safe. Safe and together, a sanctuary between the trees. The magicat stroked her face lovelingly.

“I’m sorry love, I’m so sorry...I wish I could feed you properly,” his heart cracked, seeing her little mouth trying to suckle. Nothing would come. He was too thin, too starving. Barely well enough to carry her himself.

“Don’t feel bad my darling,” his husband kissed the little kitten between her velvet black ears. “It’s not your fault.”

“We...we can’t keep her,” he choked out, wiping his tears with a free hand. His husband nodded.

“They’ll catch us eventually. Even if she doesn’t starve.”

They held their child close, clutching her close against the breeze of the wood.

“What do we do?” He looked up at his husband, holding their child tight. She mewled for any food, her tiny body fragile.

“I have an idea, but...you won’t like it. I don’t like it either but it’s better… better than anything we can give her.”

It took four moons to get to the outskirts of the Fright Zone. Lightening cracked over the dark sky, they huddled close, keeping the kitten under a bundle of clothing scraps.

“...We...we can’t leave her,” the magicat pleaded, looking down at the flimsy box he held in his shaking hands.

“If she stays with us...she’ll die. We’ve been over this my darling we...we can’t. Better to give her a future, any future then sentence her to a slow death. That chance, a chance for a life is the only thing we can give her now.”

He looked down at the kitten in his arms, her yellow and blue eyes blinked up at them, curious. Her tiny claws poked through the folds of the clothing.

“I...I’m so sorry my love,” her father whispered through tears, pressing his nose to the crown of her head. Breathing her in, her scent, still fresh and clean. The kitten only whimpered, her tiny stomach gurgling.  Her father kissed her between the brows for one desperate longing moment. She reached out, little hands padding against his damp cheeks.

“Come here,” he handed the little kitten off to her father who held her to his chest, kissing her, running his hands through her matted hair and caressing the tiny velvet ears.

“We love you kitten, so, so much,” shaking, he placed her down in the box, making sure to double check her blankets.

He placed a hand on his husband’s shoulder, squeezing it.

“I...i just want to hold her...just a little longer…” he reached down, scooping her up once more against his frail frame. The other magicat spoke into the small recording device they had scavenged.

“Please...please take care of her,” he begged. “Tell her we love her. When she’s old enough, show her this, so she knows how much we cherished her.”

He reached forward,

“It’s time my darling.”

“No,” the other magicat cried, shielding the kitten from the torrent of rain and flash of lightning.

“No….no...no...no...stars please no!”  The little kitten, oblivious, drifted in and out of sleep in her father’s arms. One fist wrapped around her tail. Even through her birth fur, her ribs stuck outward.

He relented only when his husband pried her from his grasp gently, leaning down to put her in the box once more.

“She’ll have a bed, and food, and somewhere to live.”

“Is living with the Horde much of a life?”

“Darling….”

“I know,” he cried, ‘I know...I just….” he looked down at the sleeping kitten. “We never got to name her.”

His husband nodded, reaching down and giving the kitten a final kiss on the nose. He looked at her with adoration and misery. He could only ndd, despondent. They made the mistake of naming their first kitten. One that died shortly after being born. A heartbreak almost as bad as this one.

“We love you kitten, we love you with all our hearts.”  

---

“Shera! Shera you saved us!”

Adora let out a nervous giggle, giving the woman a pat on the back.

“Well it was a team effort,” she admitted, escorting the woman to join the other survivors. Glimmer and Bow helped the last few stragglers into the spaceship.

Perfuma and Frosta handed out blankets as people got comfortable.

“Is that all of them?” Adora asked, gazing up the ramp of the ship. Glimmer nodded,

“According to Netossa and Spinnerella yes. They’re doing a final sweep just to be sure.”  

Adora nodded,

Where’s Catra? She should be back by now?

Adora, calm down. It’s fine she’s probably doing a final check.

“I’ll do one last check,” she turned towards the village again.

“Adora, wait you don’t have to…”

She strode off before Glimmer could finish.

I have to do this. There are seventy five people in that ship who could’ve been killed. We...we weren’t able to get everyone out before the bombs….

Her heart sank, wandering through the quiet streets, looking for any sign of life.

Where is Catra….Catra?

“Adora?”

She turned instantly,

Now that was a cry of concern.

“Catra?! Don’t touch her! I…”

She stopped short as Catra came into view, wide eyed but in one piece, and holding something. She scurried up to Adora, something small in her arms.

“Catra your alright! We got the rest of the survivors on the….”

Adora looked down at the bundle Catra held. It was small, curled on its side into the crook of Catra’s arm.

“What….what is it?”  She spluttered, dumbfounded. Catra looked  from her to the thing in her arms, its little ears pressed against its head, tail curled against itself.

“It’s...it’s a baby,” Catra spoke as if realizing for the first time. She placed an instinctive protective hand atop its head.  “I found a baby.”

Adora blinked throat suddenly dry. She took in the little creature by degrees. It’s tufts of hair, its scrunched face, the way Catra held it to her so tenderly. The way it seemed to sniff her out and curl closer to her. Something swelled in her chest, making her heart flutter.

“Where….where is its parents?”

[itsyourchoicedevotionals]

Craving For Justice

“Though the Lord is very great and lives in heaven, He will make Jerusalem His home of justice and righteousness. In that day He will be your sure foundation, providing a rich store of salvation, wisdom, and knowledge. The fear of the Lord will be your treasure.” Isaiah 33:5-6NLT

Life has been handing out an overabundance of instability, corruption in every mountain of society, made-to-kill-coronavirus, fake elections 2020, communist liberals aiming to overthrow and destroy our nation; vaccine intended to kill what COVID didn’t, with RNA altering chemicals and aborted baby parts. I’ve begun craving for justice from Almighty God. We desperately need Jesus to reset planet earth back into order. Saying this, I’ve read where the Lord spoke through the mouth of prophets, saying, ‘this planet isn’t nearly as evil as it will be, before Jesus returns.’ Not too sure about you, but I am over bad, don’t want to see worse.

Where can we run and hide? Almighty God is my Hiding Place. Psalm 91 pours from my lips daily, as I consciously move myself and my family under the shadow of Almighty God. He alone is Whom I trust. No President, no Q, no political party, no church denomination, prophet, pastor or preacher— in Christ Jesus alone Debbie trusts.

Totally trusting Lord God, we must “fear” Him, which Isaiah calls a “treasure.” What do the words “fear the Lord” mean? Fear can be translated many ways. To me “fear God” means: — Submission to His ability and power with honor and reverence. If He ever turned His ability or power against us, we are ashes. — Worshipful adoration. Wrecked and undone by love without limits. — Respect for God’s authority over everything.

Every believer I know is buffeted right now. Lou and I both have been under severe attacks. When satan’s weapons are aimed at bringing any of us down, we must: — put on our armor and fight, see Ephesians 6:10-18. — commit God’s Word, ‘the sword,’ to memory for attacks against evil, Psalm 119:11. — start the attack using God’s weapons 2Corinthians 10:3-5.

Pray. “…Your kingdom come, Your will be done, on earth as it is in heaven.” Matthew 6:9-10ESV. The words “come” and “be done” —original Greek— are imperative commands. When you pray “COME” to God’s kingdom, you’re commanding everything on earth, to align with God. “BE DONE” commands according to God’s will and His ways in heaven. Commanding above all else, the justice and righteousness of God to take total control.

Churches have taught— praying ‘God’s will be done’ isn’t assertive. Nothing is further from the truth. Aligning with God’s will, God’s way, and God’s order ****you’re respecting the ‘star-breather, Psalm 33:6 ****acknowledging His ways and will are perfect. Psalm 18:30 *** show you’ve learned to submit to God’s authority, James 4:7.

Some churches teach, ‘find a scripture regarding needs, then start praying those scriptures.’ Let me tweak this statement just a tad. Ask God to bring to life His Word to you, as the foundation to your prayers. Praying those scriptures God gives you is your foundational right. After praying, praise with all your heart, mind and soul.

Face it, we can’t change anything with our own strength. Standing on Yahweh, the sure Foundation, “…Anything is possible if a person believes.” Mark 9:23NLT.

We have through Christ Jesus “a rich store of salvation, wisdom, and knowledge,” each one a part of God’s justice. Packaged all together with the treasure of the “fear” we have in the Lord. Are you craving for “justice?” It’s your choice. You choose.

LET’S PRAY: Almighty Lord God, You’ve been so good to me over these decades. I submit to You all my needs and wants commanding COME kingdom of God, BE DONE will of God, in my life and the lives of these readers, in the name of Christ Jesus I pray.

by Debbie Veilleux Copyright 2021 You have my permission to reblog this devotional for others. Please keep my name with this devotional, as author. Thank you.

[sweetiejunie]

Purity

Summary: yeonjun takes your innocence

Genre: smut

Yeonjun x reader

=====================================

“Are you sure you want to do this, princess? We don’t have to if you’re not ready,” Yeonjun asked, facing you, his own blown up with lust.

A slight blush rose to your cheeks. Yeonjun trapping you against the wall as you nodded. You hadn’t done it before and you wanted yeonjun to be your first. You loved him and you knew he had been very patient for you. Tonight, you decided that it would finally be the day you repaid him for it. Your heart was beating at the speed of light, a mixture of nervousness and excitement.

Yeonjun laughed lightly at your flustered state. His head spinning at the thought of being able to taint his princess’ innocence.

“Alright. But let me know if you want to stop at any point okay?” He adored the idea of being the one to corrupt you, the one that would teach you how to please him, the way you were determined to please him, yet so shy about it at the same time. But he also didn’t want to push you to do anything you weren’t comfortable with.

With that, he held your chin up, leaning down to kiss you. Leading you to the couch as he slowly stripping you of your clothes before taking off his own, leaving you both in your underwear. By this point, the only thing you could hear was the sound of your own heartbeat echoing in your ears.

Taking a seat, yeonjun pulled you into his lap. Starting to plant kisses on your neck as his hand held your sides firmly. You moaned at his touch, only to feel yeonjun getting harder beneath you. Without much thought, you hands wandered south, gazing across his toned abs, stopping at the waist band of his briefs, your next move hestitant, unsure of what to do.

Sensing your uneasiness, yeonjun spoke, “do you want to touch me baby?” His breath tickling your neck as a grin formed on his face.

Momentarily lifting you off him, he rid himself of his briefs before grabbing your hand lightly, guiding you to his hard member. Laughing at the way you jumped slightly as he wrapped your hand around it. The fact that your hand felt so small and soft in his only turned him on more. How you started pumping him ever so gently as if you were afraid of hurting him. God, was it possible for him to love you more? He was literally destroying any innocence in you but felt no guilt.

You watched as white droplets started forming at the tip. Subconsciously, you licked your lips. The sudden urge of licking it off him filled your mind and you shook your head to rid yourself of those thoughts. Of course, this little action didn’t go unnoticed by yeonjun.

“What is it princess?” Yeonjun smirked, knowing exactly what you were thinking. But he loved to tease and he loved the way your face turned red as you struggled to give him an answer.

You tried looking away from him, but this only caused yeonjun to grab your chin, forcing you to face him. Looking you in the eyes, he throbbed as he saw sweet, sweet purity. But that wouldn’t last long. Not if he had anything to do with it.

“I… can i…” you trailed off, your face getting hotter by the second.

“Hmm? Use your words baby.”

“Can i… use my mouth?” You whispered, barely audible, your eyes shooting close in embarrassment.

A few seconds of utter silence passed as yeonjun sat there grinning like a cheshire, processing the words that just came from your pretty, pink lips. The idea your mouth wrapped around him was enough to make him explode right there but he didn’t want to seem too enthusiastic.

“Of course you can princess, anything you want,” he stated, trying his best to keep his cool.

Sliding off him, you kneeled infront of him. The realisation of what you said hit you and suddenly it seemed daunting. You looked down to his cock, panic filling your mind. You had no idea what you were doing.

“What… what do i do…?” You asked awkwardly, slightly ashamed of yourself.

Yeonjun smiled endearingly, stroking your hair, “it’s okay princess, dont be embarrassed. Ill help you. Just take me in your mouth and start sucking. Only take in what you can handle okay? You don’t need to force yourself.”

You did as you were told, opening your mouth and taking him in. You started with the tip, lightly sucking and licking. Hearing a groan come from above you, you took this as a sign to keep going. Taking in more of him, you hollowed your cheeks as you sucked harder.

“Fuck pricness, you sure you’ve never done this before?” He questioned sarcastically, throwing his head back against the couch.

He couldn’t believe what was going on in that moment. His precious, innocent angel had her mouth wrapped around his cock. Moaning sinful noises that he would never have expect to leave her lips. The though was enough to get him to come undone, let alone the actual feeling being in your mouth.

Clasping your hair in a make shift pony tail he took at you thrusting his hips up slightly, “may i?”

You hummed around him as response, vibrations causing him to groan again before he started fucking your mouth. He started slow, not wanting to cause you any pain. But you saw how he started losing his composure, your name mixed with curses escaping his lips as he quickened his pace. Before you knew it, you were gagging around him. Yeonjun only stopped when he noticed tears forming at the edge of your eyes.

Pulling out, his admired the trail of saliva that still connnected the tip to your mouth. His thumb carassed your cheek as he wipedaway your tears that threatened to eacape.

“I’m sorry princess, i got a bit carried away. But now it’s my turn to please you,” a wicked smirk broke across his face.

Picking you off the floor, he threw you on the couch. Starting to kiss down your chest, he unhooked your bra, throwing it somewhere in the room. Taking one of your nipples in his mouth, he sucked and bit lightly, earning a moan from you. He continued kissing down your stomach, stopping to rid you of your panties and kiss your tighs.

“I really hope your forgive me,” he said inbetween kisses, slowly inching his way to your core before planting a kiss on your clit.

“I really am sorry for making you cry,” he continued, licking a strip down your slit.

You moaned out his name at the contact. A foreign feeling, but one you could get used to. Instinctively, you grabbed his hair in your fist, looking down, only to see him already staring at you, a smug look on his face. You weren’t sure how he had this effect on you, but as of right now you didn’t care.

You were in for a long night. I hope you’re ready.

.

.

.

=====================================

Is it wrong of me to want yeonjun wreck me 🤔 hmmm. Well tbh he’s probably gonna be the reason i die alone

Anyways, ive been sitting on this one for a while. Hope you liked it!! 💜

Masterlist

Reposted cause there was an issue with the previous one :’)

[bubblesyoh]

Finesse

1.

No matter how many times Michael has seen it, Alex Manes in a tux was a sight. The dark blazer hugs his shoulders and arms just the right way, Michael's eyes follow the flex and dip of every muscle thinking how amazing the suit would look on the floor later that night. There was just something so alluring when Alex suit up, somehow it complimented him, enhancing his sharp features to something almost God-like.

"Michael?"

"Uh," Michael said, eloquently. "Yeah. The shirt looks good."

"Sure," Alex replies, adjusting his tie, sounding like he was having fun. Sometimes Michael was glad for their line of work, being a spy was always more fun when you had Alex in a suit to ogle at.

"You clean up nicely," Michael told him, waiting for Alex to do his tie correctly before leaning him against the door, eyeing him up and down, dragging their lips together, hot and wet.

Alex moans, a barely-there sound in the back of his throat, and breaks the kiss, "Your turn to dress up."

.

Michael used to be terrible at blending in, especially in charity events. All the people chatting and mingling, canapes and crystal flutes clinking, used to make Michael itch, it was oppressing, he felt like he didn't belong. Then one day, Alex came along and Michael could finally breathe in easier and play his part. He nips on the miniature sandwich as he walks to Alex, who is in the middle of some conversation. Alex is gorgeous when standing tall and proud of himself, the way his eyes lit up when he smiles at Michael is ethereal. God damn it, those cheekbones.

Michael goes easily when Alex crooks his fingers, ordering him closer. He flinches slightly when Alex pushes him closer, as he whispers a Michael to his ear, the warm air escaping his lips and tickling the sensitive skin of Michael's neck. Half of it was Alex putting on a show, after all, they were here as a job, but the rest was definitely Alex teasing him, and if there was one thing Michael loved, was to play games.

Michael, casually, gropes Alex's butt, perfectly round by the amazing pants he was wearing, Michael is fighting such a voracious battle that he has to bite his lip when he whispers back; "Saving the best for last."

While they know it is not correct, and if any of the other members of the crew would find them making out like horny teenagers in a tiny bathroom the teasing would be nonstop, well, that is how they end up. It's cramped and the stall barely has enough room for them both in it, but it's not like either of them mind as they're pressed as close against one another as possible anyway.

"What am I going to do with you, Michael." Alex groans, but there's a distinctive trace of amusement dancing in his voice.

Michael doesn't answer, instead, he shushes Alex with a warning glare, reminding him they have to be careful and kisses him. He holds onto Alex to dear life, drinking of the muffled moans and all the other noises that Alex is trying to get out. By the time they let go of each other, Alex looks wrecked, hair disheveled, eyes dark and an undone tie hanging around his neck precariously. Michael thinks he looks delicious.

2.

They had an entire day just for the two of them today, and they were trying to make the best of it. Sometimes Alex felt silly, to bring Michael on a coffee date, such a mundane thing to do. The discrepancy between their jobs and their private lives was a laughable thing. That was Alex's mistake, to think they had a private life. Because when Michael took too much time in the bathroom, Alex did not think much of it, and when more time passed and Michael did not appear, eventually it clicked, but by then Michael was long gone.

Usually, Alex is good at following the rules they have, even if they are self-employed, it is a risky business. But love is a fickle thing that is uncertain and Alex had walked into it with eyes wide open and still managed to let it bite it in the ass. He is angry, at them for taking Michael, and at himself for letting this happen. Isobel is not pleased with him, Kyle has no right to judge him, and Max is a hypocrite.

The enemy does not want money, no, they want information. Information that if ever comes to light, it will create a war of proportions never seen before. Everyone is breathing down his neck, demanding that he fix the situation, as if it would be easy to trade the information they have for Michael. He entertains doing it for a few minutes, to do it and let everyone else deal with the fallout, but what would become of them then? Spent the rest of their lives running, to never feel safe, and be constantly looking over their shoulders?

This is not the first time they had trouble with an enemy agency, but it is the first time that it escalated to such a shit show. They received a small video recording of Michael, and Alex is trying to track it down. The only reassurance Alex has is that Michael can fend for himself, on another hand Michael also likes to antagonize and taunt. The only lead they have is a five-second clip of Michael smirking at the camera with a split lip, blood trailing down his chin, and tainting his shirt red.

The next day, Kyle and Liz come and take over, allowing Alex a few hours of restless sleep where the sound of Michael's labored breathing echoes in his ears, accompanied by that damn smirk. He finally sleeps a few hours, holding onto the thought they will not kill Michael if they want information. He dreams of Michael's warm and pleasant laugh echoing in his ears.

3.

Michael woke up to the cold concrete, digging into his face, his head was pounding, mouth dry. For a long moment, he fought to understand what was happening, but somewhere in the back of his mind, there was a sense of urgency. It was hard to think, his mind heavy and slow, it was a struggle to open his eyes and once he finally succeeded, he had to blink for long minutes for his eyes to get used to the bright light.

There were no windows, just a small cement cell with nothing on it, not even a mattress. There are no visible hinges on the door, there is no vent in the ceiling, only the neon-bright light. The door opens outwards, no amount of pushing on the door gave results, not even a smudge. Michael eventually gives up and sits against the wall, legs crossed. He felt strangely raw, overwhelmed by the slightest sensation.

"I see you are awake," a voice said echoes around the room. It was a dark voice, one which stirred a memory. If only he could push through the grogginess. Drugs. The realization did not bring the sudden alarm it should have caused, even though there was still an insistent sense of urgency at the back of his mind.

"What do you want?" Michael asks, his mind is a swirl of racing thoughts and only one of them comes through loud and clear.

Danger.

Before he can react, there are cold hands on his wrists squeezing, pulling him up roughly. His stomach churns, the nausea was so strong that Michael thinks he will vomit. Time passes, whether it's seconds or hours, there's no way to be certain, every muscle in his body ached, his heart is beating inhumanly fast, he's gasping for air.

One of his wrists is already broken when they strap him down to the table, even if Michael doesn't remember fighting back and things only go downhill from there. They ask him things he has no intention of answering, and he tells them so, cheerfully.

He laughs then, when he is finally coming to himself, no longer lost in the haze of uncertainty.

"Jesse Manes."

4.

Michael is not here, but he lingers in Alex's apartment. There are so many little things that remind Alex of him, a pair of forgotten shoes by the door, a stupid shirt over the sofa, on the coffee table a couple of science magazines, those terrible personalized mugs with puns, I love you s'more is currently drying on the rack.

He and Michael had a long story, not always the easiest, but if there was someone Alex would trust with anything, Michael was that person and part of him is angry at his stupid partner that let himself being captured. The other part is angry at himself for letting their relationship became entangled with their line of work. It had been such a selfish decision, but at the same time, it had been for their happiness. How could not Alex thought this was a possibility, his father after all was a rancorous man.

Angrily wiping the tears from his burning eyes, Alex takes the gun and inspects it, dissembles and reassembles, familiarizing himself with the weight of it in his hand. Or maybe he was just anxious and needed something to do with his hands. That was most likely the reason even if he wants to deny it.

"You're not reporting?" Kyle asks, looking over Alex's shoulder at Alex's work, trying to decipher how he had found out where Michael was. Earlier today they had received another email, this time there was a photo of Michael attached to it. He was bloody and smiling once again for the camera, mocking his kidnappers. Alex wanted him right next to him.

Alex does not answer right away, instead, he loads the gun. "This is personal. You know what they do to people in those places."

"Alex, it is also a trap and you know it."

"This is personal, Kyle," He repeats once more. Everyone needs to understand that this is Jesse Manes and nothing else. It's an evil and disgusting plot to try and destroy Alex. "My father is busy doing whatever the fuck he does, and we are here losing time arguing."

"You can't go alone. It's dangerous." Kyle places a hand on his arm to stop him. "I want you to stop and think for a moment. There are safer ways to get Michael back, dive headfirst into this is not one of those."

Alex's glares and Kyle glares back, not relenting. But Alex does not want to understand, he lifts his chin in defiance, face impassive and cold. Alex just wants Michael back, Alex wants him back right this instant. Kyle lets go of his arm and stares right back at Alex, making his choice known.

5.

"You talk too much," were the words out of the man's mouth as he shoved him back in the cell, Michael had to choke a laugh at them. That felt like it was a month ago.

Michael doesn't know how long he's been locked in the small windowless room. There's nothing to pass the time but his thoughts and the occasional meal and cup of water that comes through a slat at the door. His arm aches something fierce, a sharp pain that comes from his fingers all up to his elbow and travels to his shoulder whenever he tries to move the injured limb.

There's been no more demands, no more questions, only the occasional beating. There's no reason for more, Jesse Manes clarified that Michael was part of his crazy scheme to lure Alex. Michael can feel things changing. But what more can he do if not sit on the ground, hours upon hours, the cell constantly illuminated by the light bulb, thinking about how he misses Alex, wishing for him to come, but also for him to stay away and save himself.

He wonders if they miss him, his team, his family, just as much as he misses them. He considers what they think of him for getting caught in such an ordinary way. Michael was drugged in a coffee shop bathroom, what a joke. But most of all he thinks about Alex, his mind always goes back to him no matter what, and that is most likely the only thing keeping him sane, that and the wait for the right moment to attack.

6.

"I had a plan!" Max suddenly shouted, "I had a plan, okay? I was going to get him back!"

Alex bounced his feet on the floor, showing that this explanation wasn't satisfactory. He looks at Kyle because Alex could do this alone, he could also tolerate Kyle's help, but now Max? No.

Max continued anyway, "We need something from them too, the information they have, we need it, Alex. Then I would get Michael out, all right?"

Alex looks at him, not faltering. "I don't give a damn about your plans to get him out once you had gotten something in return. We are getting him out of there now or I will knock that pretentious smile out of your fucking face with my fists."

"Due to the situation, we know that it will be dangerous and if we want to get close enough, we may have to do things that we may not agree with it." Kyle turns to Max and gives him a warning look, Max ignores it.

"Ok, we will head out first thing in the morning." Worry was clear on Max's features, but it was not enough for Alex.

"You do know that Michael is in a research facility, right? We are heading out right now. I will do this and Michael will be safe and sound right here next to me where he belongs." Alex snarls in incredulity. Just the thought of Michael spending another minute in that place was enough to make him nauseous.

They don't understand who Jesse Manes is. No one, besides Alex and Michael, had seen what Jesse Manes is capable of, and if Max had the smallest idea, Alex was sure we would not want to wait until the morning.

.

There it stood the building, so imposing it appears never-ending, from the street it looks like nothing. For Alex, though, it looks empty. There was not a living soul guarding the double doors, no security around the perimeter. The stillness of it all sent shivers running down his spine. It had been too easy to follow the trail of the video and the photo they had sent to Alex. It was almost like they wanted him to find Michael, but if this place was empty, then why had his father run away and left Michael behind?

From the outside, the place seemed to be ok, but when Alex reaches the door, he can hear a faint alarm in the distance. Boots crunching on the gravel floor, Alex braces himself and shoulders straight through the outside door, smashing his way into the building, because fuck finesse. The inside of it was a complete mess, it was as if they knew he was coming and evacuated the place, the distressed wailing of the alarm much more present now. Kyle reaches a hand to a closed-door next to him and it opens without preamble. No security, no lock, nothing.

Alex memorized the blueprints, so he knows that the compound was akin to a maze, rooms, and floors joined by corridors with a polished linoleum floor and white sterile walls, giving the place the impression of a strange cross between a hospital and an asylum. He's immediately on the move, heading in the direction he needs to be going to try to find Michael, letting the information collecting to Kyle.

He runs the length of a lab, there are several pieces of equipment inside, what was once stainless steel and fancy furniture is now broken and in pieces, the leftovers of a hasty retreat. He jumps over the smashed glass and past a couple of bodies of what he assumes must be the technicians. The closer he gets to where he thinks Michael is, the most signs of a fight he catches.

Alex races through a bare cement corridor and kicks through the door he comes across, the lock snapping easily. He immediately comes face to face with three armed guards, they're so shocked by his abrupt entrance that they don't even have time to straighten up before Alex kills the first one, a clean shot to the head. He tries not to ponder on the horrible satisfaction he feels as the body falls to the ground. The next two charges at him, enraged and screaming. Alex ducks from the oncoming fist, smashes one of the man's head against a metal table, aims his gun, and pulls out the trigger at the other.

7.

When needed, Michael had the patience of a saint, he knew an opening would present itself, it was human nature to commit mistakes. Michael was trained to persevere and endure. The agent guarding him has become used to Michael's lack of fight, so when he opens the door one fine day, Michael is ready.

In three steps Michael is close enough to grab the man's wrist, using his arm to shove the others gun away. Still, the agent fires, the bullet nicks Michael's cheek, leaving his ears ringing, along with a trail of hot blood. The agent's eyes flare with rage, face in a snarl, eyes locked on his guns that fall to the ground with a thud. With a quick jerk, Michael lashed out, curling his fingers into a fist and hitting him to the side of his head twice, jabbing him in the nose with his palm, and he falls to the ground unconscious.

Another guard joins the fight then, he feints with his left fist and follows with a leg sweep. Michael expects the blow and jumps over his foot, hitting the agent with a knee in his side. The force behind the blow sends him stumbling back a few steps, but not before Michael had grabbed one of the knives strapped to the other's thigh and throws it straight into the man's eye. That is when a high-pitched wail starts from a nearby speaker, someone had pulled the alarms.

And that is how Alex finds him approximately one hour later, in the middle of some weird-ass laboratory, there was even a shower for chemical decontamination, with half a dozen bodies as company.

"Took you long enough," Michael says, pulling the knife out of a man's throat and blood spews from the wound.

"I knew you had it under control," Alex responds with false dismiss, his eyes scanning Michael with despair. And damn it all, because here is Alex, in one of his black suit without a single wrinkle, despite the chaos all around him. For a moment Michael stays put where he is, trying to understand the absurdity of it all. The man Michael loves just invaded an enemy agency and for Alex, it seems it is just another Sunday.

"Are you alright?" Alex asked, making his way to Michael.

"A few bruises, a minor fracture in my wrist, not much," he smiled grimly. "They don't take too kindly to backtalk."

They are face to face now, noses almost touching, when Alex spins Michael around and herds him towards the exit, as a bullet ricochets off the wall and plows into the cement him with a loud crack, sending tiny fragments of brick flying.

"Amateurs," he says, and Michael lets out a scoff, just as the next bullet embeds itself right above his head. "Better," Alex said with a small nod of approval. Michael sees Alex counting every bullet, waiting for the time the enemy will need to reload and shots two times. He was rewarded by a yell and fires twice more before signaling Michael to follow him.

They weave their way through the blood-soaked floor, Alex practically hauls Michael along the corridors and back into the main floor. If Michael was alone, it would take him a few to find the exit. When they burst through the doors Michael frowns at the sunlight, so different from the artificial light that had kept him company during his vacation, but he also feels like he can finally breathe again.

Max bursts out of the van that's parked across the road, a thunderous expression marring his face. "Would it kill you to listen to me for once in your life?"

"It might," Alex says, uncaring.

"Max," Michael greets.

Suddenly Max seems to remember where they were, mouth gaping open before he nods and gives Michael a quick hug. "Michael, are you okay? Is he okay?" Max asks all over the place.

"No," Michael answers.

"He's fine, some bruises but fine," Alex cuts Michael off with a look that says, what are you doing, he will hover like a mother hen and we want peace and quiet. "Kyle's done?"

"Yes, he's waiting in the car, the place is rigged to blow."

Michael finds himself zoning out from the rest conversation, half-listening as his mind wanders elsewhere, home. Home with Alex, both of them cuddling in front of the TV, buried under blankets, resting against fluffy pillows and a cup of hot chocolate. Michael was never one to be afraid of death, but the possibility of him never being with Alex again makes his heartbeat erratically in his chest.

Delicate fingers touch his cheek and Michael flinches away, pressing his eyes together, bracing for pain, but —

"Come home with me," Alex murmurs softly, voice so full of love and tenderness that Michael would do anything he asked of him.

Michael opens his mouth and closes it seconds afterward, repeats the action various times, and suddenly he is so exhausted that his legs stop supporting him. Alex immediately reaches to steady him, slipping an arm under his shoulder and hauling him to his side, and Michael takes advantage of the position, rests his head on Alex's shoulder, and closes his eyes, just for a few seconds.

Later on, Michael opens his eyes to the sound of a distant boom and what it seems the roar of flames. He doesn't care about it though, the only thing that matters now is the warmth of Alex's arms around him and the soft humming of words he is whispering against Michael's ears.

[autumn-oceanopromises]

So I decided to tackle prokopetz’ mini-RPG Olaf Hits The Dragon With His Sword. Except that I couldn’t figure out what the format was, so I rolled for that too, and ended up with an epic saga war song, Also I rolled d6s for every response that Olaf and The Dragon made, because I honestly could not figure out what story I wanted to tell. And then, after I wrote it, I sang it. Here’s Olaf, In Wrath, Approaches.

Olaf, in Wrath, approaches.

Steps like thunder on the ground, shadows writhing all around. Ignited fires in the air, Olaf approaches.

He is wrath, he is might, he drags his sword down by his side, Ploughing a furlough in the ground, Olaf approaches.

Storms are quieter than his voice, shadows flee from his annoyance His words are stoked by fires inside,

Olaf, of Wrath, approaches.

"Dragon!" "I have words for thee!" "I have come to fight you," "Leave your lair to meet with me!" "I will destroy you," "You buried my town, you withered my crops!" "You froze my fields, you killed my dogs!" "Recite your words and die today!" "I say my wrath, my hate is greater!"

(+Blood)

DRAGON:

Finally, a figure of my past comes to meet me, But he's a fragile man now. Olaf, you are just relearning how to burn. Reborn in flames, for another first time.

But maybe you can be the one to finally understand me. I am Loss, I am lost, I must earn

Something again to light my fire, Some way I can't define I lost my flight to a knight of your land, Do you remember him? I'm lost inside...

O, my partner... how we flew... in skies above the sky, and "strong" men took him, they trapped him, and they used him for his faerie light.

My fire now is ice. Olaf, you are outmatched now. You got older and tired. And ice stays the same Forever.

(+Sorrow)

---

Olaf, Of Wrath, approaches.

"I come forth to fight you! And I shall not turn back! I have burned my bridges behind me! eft lands I loved a wreck!"

"Dragon! Do you remember..."

"Long ago I was a hero, I found a sword after a quest, I returned, I taught my legend, Then I settled in to rest."

"I reforged my sword long ago, Turned it into a plough; For the monsters I cut down, I planted seeds all around."

"For each ruin that I defiled, I put new chests in domiciles, For warriors old and heroes new, I put barriers up to you - so that no one could disturb you...

It was the least I could do for you, my old friend...

I'm sad to hear of his demise, but you shouldn't have touched me or mine, I've done my time, I've paid my dues, Why did you do what you do?"

"You burned them all, You burned it all. You burned it all. You burned it all..."

(+Sorrow)

---

DRAGON: Can I make it up to you, Olaf? There are trees inside my lair. I have grown beside them since I was young, since before even you had hair.

I could restore the land to what it came from, ice is water, just bound. Put down your sword, we could go forward, We don't have to do this go-round.

I have all the world's riches in my hoard. I took coins but I kept each loved thing safe. I've had my loss, I won't do more, Put down your sword, we could go forward. Olaf, I could give you everything back and more.

I've had my loss, I won't do more, Put down your sword, we could go forward. You could have my hoard, and be adored.

Olaf.

...Olaf. Wait. Olaf! Wait!

(+Envy)

---

Olaf, in wrath, approaches.

"Dragon! I have prepared to meet with thee! I brought with me all the ritual items!" "With my preparation I will give thee an eternal separation from his side!"

"Dragon! I come to lift thee not from this world but from your strength, what would be worse but not acting I could leave your fire as ice untamped. I could do what I could to help you, but you've shown how you repay my help - So talk, or I'll leave my sword pinned in your hide, you'll not be born again, he'll forever search for your light, but he'll never find   you."

"Maybe one day he'll find his way back to you, but by then you'll be lost in time, maybe you'll burn him maybe you'll freeze him and you'll know who he is just before he dies."

(+Blood)

---

DRAGON:

Olaf, do you think I am young? I was fledged before you were grown. You helped me, that's a certainty, but I've been around since before you were born.

I was a king before you were an infant, I've seen the world before humans were here. You threaten, but I am greater, Your sword, my ice, who will prevail?

(+Blood)

---

OLAF:

"Dragon! You have lived more long years, but most of them you spent asleep. While I have lived each minute doing *something*, I've lived more life each day than you've in centuries.

Before your flight to freeze my land, When did you last leave your lair? He was with you, I was with you, We found the world was fair.

My sword - you know what it does, I got your love to it reforge. Dragonforged plough-to-sword. It's the last thing, it's the last thing you'll have of him -

And all this world's spirits know me, I've travelled since we parted, far and long. With just one word, you know I'll be heard, And we'll be done, dragon. We'll be done."

(+Ambition) ---

DRAGON: Then you know that nothing of his will hurt me, He spoke it with his dying breath. He was an artist, he was a blacksmith, he knew that someone would use his work against me.

Oh, Olaf, you are foolish, Did you count on that to work? Come on, hit me, hit me with your sword, Has it spent too long as a plough?

You could give it to me and I would return you all the things that I have stolen. You're right, it's the last thing I have of him, Give it to me, Olaf.

You were my friend and his, and the spirits were raised my me and then, my love. You speak that word and you'll be undone. Be smarter, come on, Olaf.

You're advancing on me now, Olaf. Fires in your eyes. Hit me, Olaf. HIT ME, OLAF! Come on, let's see what that sword can do!

(+Iron) --- OLAF:

Blood x3: 17 Sorrow x2: 14 Ambition: 15 Envy: 12 Iron: 2

---

OLAF:

I put down my sword years ago So I wouldn't be tempted to fight, To roam the land and cut down people in monstrous skins. This world doesn't need a hero, It doesn't need a strong man, It needed peace, it needed hope, It needed rivers to flow and trees to grow.

But my sword is pinned down in his hide. my temptation is too strong to fight. I roam the land and cut down monsters in people's skin and the people cheer me for it. Revolutions like storms ravage, both false and real Until I'm dead I know the land will never heal - my crops are blood, my dogs are war my fields are death, my town hunger -

The shadows writhe at night with the dragon's eyes still watching me.

I know that the dragon's lover will be reborn. I'll hunt him down and I'll raise him. And one day I'll walk him to the base of where I left the dragon's skin.

Will the dragon kill him? I don't know, I'll leave it to his lover now, I'll raise his fairy love, the best I can...

But there's hate in my heart. There's hate in my heart, there's hate in my heart, there's hate in my heart --

DRAGON: "If you Think of wrath, you think of hate, time will pass at a faster rate, but is it worth it?"

"Is it worth it?"

"If you think of wrath, you think of hate, at the end of your path, just dig two graves -"

"Was it worth it?" "Is it worth it?"

"If you have power, you will use it, A final hour win or lose it,"

"Was it worth it? I watch him Is it worth it? with my eyes open Will it be worth it? Coming at me -

Olaf, in Wrath, approaches.

[terrifictomholland]

Hiya we so need more haz content!! I’m a musical theatre student so could you have one where he sees a show and smut happens in her dressing room? This has been my fantasy for months aha, love you and your writing xo

I aim to please! I hope you enjoy this because I thoroughly enjoyed writing this! 

NSFW UNDER THE CUT!

Theatre was your life, you loved it more than anything. You loved being up on stage acting to your heart’s content each night in front of filled auditoriums. You loved the constant state of buzz behind the stage when you came off. People all over the place, running around shouting orders. 

You loved the organized chaos, it made you feel right at home.

You had just finished the final dress rehearsal for the show that was opening tomorrow night now. In your hurry back to the dressing room, you were so occupied with making sure you had your script in hand that when you opened the door to the dressing room, the last thing you expected to see or hear was Harrison.

Harrison, who was a fellow actor in your theatre group, and quite possibly the hottest guy you’d ever seen in your life.  

Harrison and you had a bit of a history, a rather recent one at that. It had always been a very playful friendship between the two of you, and his charisma and charm made him a lethal combination with your flirty personality. In other words, you two were currently in the midst of a very dangerous dance of will we, won’t we type thing as far as hooking up went. 

There had been a party a while back that your mutual friends had thrown. Long story short, alcohol had been consumed, a lot of it. 

Somehow, unsurprisingly, Harrison and you had ended up drunkenly making out in a dark corner of the kitchen. His body pressed up against you in all the right places, fingers touching you all over setting your skin on fire with his touch. 

The only reason why it hadn’t gone further that night was because your mutual friend, Tom, had found you and started yelling in a language you weren’t sure was even English. Something about chickens. 

“Good job tonight.” You jumped a foot in the air as one hand flew up to cover your mouth, heart rate going through the roof in fear. Just as you dropped the script you held in your other hand, seeing the way it fell down around you like snow. 

His reaction was immediate, lips twitching and before you knew it he was doubled over in laughter, slapping his knees and face turning red from the way he was laughing at you. 

“Oh fuck you, how did you even get in here?” you whined, dropping to the floor to collect the script, throwing it all together haphazardly in a stack. 

“I walked.” He smirked.  

You could hear him straighten up as you collected the last few papers, the ones that landed around his feet, tucking everything under your arm. 

“Well don’t you look gorgeous on your knees.” Your eyes widened and a tiny gasp followed by a soft whine escaped your mouth as you stared up at him with wide eyes and a slackened jaw. 

Out of all things, for him to say this was the last thing you’d expected. Not completely unexpected, you just never thought he’d say it here. In a cramped dressing room with your fellow co-stars only a few feet away. You could still hear them bustling around outside. 

“H-hm?”

His words had an immediate effect on you. Your nipples hardened through your bra and wetness instantly gathered in your panties. He was only fuelling your fire by running a hand through your hair gently, staring you down as you were unable to move under his gaze.

“You heard me, princess.” Your eyes shut and a moan fell from your lips when he called you princess. 

Your mouth opened but absolutely nothing came out. You were rendered speechless and that wasn’t something that happened very often. You had a remark for everything always ready, but to have Harrison insinuate that you’d look good on your knees and wrecked taking his cock? Yeah, no, you were done for and so horny in an instant. It was like a switch had been flipped somewhere inside you.

“Let me suck your cock and you can see just how gorgeous I am choking on it,” you teased back. His jaw clenched and his eyes turned a darker shade, staring you down. 

The tension in the room turned into something far more heavy and thick enough to cut with a knife, as you stared into each other’s eyes. You knew that after this, there’d be no going back to how things were before. Not after whatever was about to happen. 

This moment had so much riding on it, you both felt it in the air circulating between you both. The air in the room crackling with need and want and sexual tension. All cards were out on the table now. The second you saw his lips pull up into a smirk, you went for it. 

Greedy and nimble fingers working on his jeans popping the button and unzipping them, and in the next second you licked your lips at the way they pooled at his feet.

You dragged your eyes back up to the obvious bulge in his boxers now, cock straining against the material, and you ran your fingers up from his knee to his inner thigh, feeling his muscles flex on your way.

“I’m gonna love sucking your cock,” you whispered, moving your hand over him, palming him through his boxers and hearing the way he hissed at the contact. 

“Yeah, you are, princess.” He groaned and you moaned softly, feeling his hand tangle in your hair yanking it a little. You moved in closer to his cock, nuzzling your face against it, feeling the wet patch on his boxers where the head was, and you teasingly licked him through them, staring up at him with a wicked gleam in your eyes. 

“Don’t start something you won’t be able to finish,” he warned and the threat went straight to your soaking wet pussy, making it throb in anticipation.

“You’ll finish alright, want you to cum down my throat. Make me choke on your cum, baby,” you moaned, running your nails along the waistband of his boxers and he sucked in a breath as you tugged them down. At long last, revealing his rock hard and leaking cock. 

“You gonna let me fuck your throat, princess?” A whimper fell from your lips seeing the size of him and how badly you wanted him to utterly destroy you. 

“Please.” 

You watched as he took hold of his cock in his hand, fisting it a few times before he guided it to your mouth, slapping it against your mouth a few times and your mouth dropped open on instinct.

“That’s it, princess, so eager to suck my cock. What a pretty little cockslut.”

A helpless moan tumbled out of your lips at his words. You never broke eye-contact with him as you relaxed your mouth and took him as far as you could. Slowly pulling off him and spitting on his cock to help along, to make the slide easier.

“Oh fuck,” he grunted when the tip hit the back of your throat and you stilled around him, holding the back of his thighs and massaging them gently to stay still there. All you could do at this point was moan around him, feeling your pussy clench down around nothing. 

You pulled off of him, placing kisses along his length, moaning around him and moving down, sucking and licking his balls as you started jerking his cock. The animalistic noises that fell from his lips were breathtaking and made you focus more on your actions.

“I- oh fuck, Y/N,” he moaned loudly as you swiped your thumb against the slit. You were getting dizzy with the feeling of being able to turn him on like this and the way he was so receptive and vocal to what you were doing was a huge turn-on for you. 

“Mmh, wanna cum for me baby? I want you to cum down my throat, or all over my face. If you want. Whatever you want. Just mark me up, Haz,” you breathed, taking the tip back into your mouth, letting your tongue swirl around it, lavishing it with attention.

“Gonna mark you up so good, princess,” he grunted and you just moaned around him, watching him come undone. 

His forehead was matted with sweat, strands of his hair stuck to it haphazardly, his lip bitten raw and his eyes, fuck, his eyes were black from lust and desire. His cheeks were looking so flushed and his breathing coming out in short puffs and gasps as you sucked harder, wanting him to cum.

“That’s it baby, cum for me,” you moaned, jerking him off while teasing the head and you heard him let out the sexiest moan known to mankind. You pulled off just in time to feel his hot cum paint your face and you stuck your tongue out, feeling ropes of cum land on it. Letting out high pitched whines and moans at the way he was marking you up. 

He was still shaking and trembling as you let his cock go with a pop and you pressed a few soft kisses on the head before tucking him back in his boxers. You got up from your position on the floor, looking up at him with a reserved and shy smile, finding him staring at you in nothing short of awe.

Wordlessly, he grabbed you by the waist and pulled you against him, his lips crashing down onto yours. It took you by surprise, so much so that you nearly took a step back. Your arms weaved around the back of his neck, keeping you in place, and you played with the little hairs on the back of his neck as you two kissed.

“Fuck, that was amazing,” he moaned, walking to the tiny recliner in the far end of the room, bringing you with him to straddle his hips.

“Thank you,” you breathed, his tongue swiping across your lips. You easily parted them, feeling your pussy clench once more. 

“Wanna repay you, princess,” he muttered, cupping you through your tights. You broke the kiss as a moan left your lips.

“A-ah - fuck, yeah baby, please.” You nodded rapidly, grinding your hips against his hand, wanting more than he was giving you right now. 

“You want my fingers, princess?” You nodded desperately staring at him as he slipped a hand inside your tights and panties, coming into direct contact with your pussy. You let your head fall back as waves of pleasure ran through you. His fingers rubbed your dripping pussy, spreading your folds and easily sinking a finger into you. 

You gripped his shoulders whining as he started pumping it in and out of you steadily.

“Oh my god.”

Your voice was shaky and the coil in your stomach started tightening as he sped up, gaining confidence. Not long after, another finger joined, slowly but surely stretching you open. His ministrations were enough to leave you an incoherent mess. All you could do was grind against his hand and whine as he crooked his fingers and found your g-spot.

“O-oh fuck! Fuck fuck fuck,” you cried out as your toes curled and your eyes rolled back, hips jerking back and forth, looking for friction. You soon were riding his fingers harder and panting in short huffs, but it was so good. It felt so fucking right.

“So fucking gorgeous, princess,” he encouraged, making you whimper as you clenched down on his fingers. 

He groaned in response. “You gonna cum for me now? Hm?”

His thumb found your clit, rubbing it in tight, quick circles and you cried out, feeling your thighs shaking so much and your tummy clenching, trying to hold off your orgasm in a desperate attempt to make this last. 

“Soak my fingers, princess, c’mon, wanna see you squirt and make a fucking mess.” He smirked and you sobbed, tipping over the edge as you came. The coil snapping in your tummy as your high washed over you. He fucked you through it, not stopping until you were clawing at his hand, begging him to stop because you felt so overstimulated and so sensitive. 

You collapsed against his steady frame, watching him make a show of licking his fingers clean off your juices before he pressed gentle kisses all over your face.

“You look so fucking hot when you cum,” He praised and you grabbed his face, cupping his cheeks to give him a filthy kiss.

“That was, hands-down, the best orgasm of my life,” you chuckled breathlessly, and as you said that, his whole demeanor changed into something far cockier and more smug. 

“Bet I could make you cum so many times, you wouldn’t be able to get out of bed afterwards.” You hid your face in his neck, feeling your face burning, but fuck if you didn’t want that.

“Haz,” you whined and he let out a small laugh, rubbing your back. 

“One day, princess,” he said, kissing the corner of your mouth. “Just you wait.”

You knew he’d make good on that promise and quite frankly? 

You really couldn’t fucking wait.

special shoutout to @worldoftom for looking this over for me @angelic-holland who’s been my hype woman all day hahah

taglist - @exitsali96ivette - @localfangirlx - @siriuslyslyslytherin - @shaharloni1 - @averyfosterthoughts - @unicorn-princess-1999 - @softbaby-tom - @alwaysbenhardysgirl - @hazmyheart - @awesomelupe - @parkeraul @howdyho-holland @thirsttrapholland @farfromhaz - @peterparkoure - @fallingforfics - @1believe-in-your-self1 - @captainbuckyy @maryjanee23 @clara-licht @osterfield-holland-andcompany @soft-haz 

[honest0cabbage]

Analysis: Chiba Mamoru

Chiba Mamoru is probably the best and most recognizable difference between the manga and the anime. He’s also the one I most often see mischaracterized or misunderstood by people outside of the fandom. (*cough cough* my brother *cough cough*) I wanted to briefly go over his history, magic and personality. So enjoy and let me know what you think!

Alright, let’s get cracking into this with Chiba’s bio. 

Like a surprising amount of the Senshi, Chiba Mamoru’s childhood is tragic. At age 6, his parents died in a car crash and he received retrograde amnesia from the incident. He begins to have dreams about a girl begging for the Silver Crystal, which I think was his subconscious letting him know what was important. (He could have been partially awakened at this point. He’s definitely not surprised by his powers or transformations, even shown healing himself in high school.) Not realizing the truth about the girl or the Silver Crystal, he actually goes into jewel thievery which now I want a fanfiction about Chiba being the Phantom Thief and Mina being the vigilante to stop him. And instead of the whole sexy route, she’s just done with his bs and drags him to Usagi. Right sorry, back on track.

What we know about Endymion is that he is the prince of Elysion, holder of the Golden Crystal (Earth’s version of the SC) and that he has four guards, the Shittenou. It’s not a lot, but we can assume some things. He was not the king, so he had family who did. He was probably also not in the direct line to rule as he did not care that Serenity is a higher station than him and he’d have to go live on the Moon. My headcanon about Elysion is that it is some sort of city-state that existed in a neutral mediating facility due to the GC favoring their line.

Despite the vast differences between the manga and anime variations, Chiba Mamoru has a few defining features. He’s intelligent, awkward and gentle. 

Manga: Chiba’s very straight laced. The most dressed down we get is a button-down polo shirt. However, he’s shown to be sweet with both Usagi and Chibiusa, comforting the latter with a puppet when she’s upset. 

Anime: Chiba is a lot more dorky than his original iteration. He banters with Usagi, he’s got a horrible fashion statement. And he messes up, I’m certain after the whole break up during the Black Moon Clan arc, he had a lot of apologizing to do. 

I hear a lot of cracks about Chiba being useless (mostly from my brother) so please excuse me if I get catharsis from this. Chiba not useless; he’s a support class. He has exactly one attack (Tuxedo La Bomber); he has healing, enhancing and psychometry powers and has some sort of psychic connection with the Earth itself. He’s essentially a medic with some druid leanings, not quite a cleric that would be all Usagi. You even see him act as life support for Chibiusa in the manga when she’s temporarily killed. Also, how much of his magic is tied up in the Earth? He’s the only one we see with a living planet, that’s got to affect something and could explain why he has such a strange transformation. And we don’t see any other male Senshi so I at least can’t tell if it’s because he is male or because of the living planet business. (Kakyuk’s planet was destroyed by Galaxia so we can’t tell from her either)

He has been shown to being weak to possession, which in the three cases it happened in the manga there were extenuating circumstances. First one, in the Dark Kingdom, he had been badly injured and probably infected by the DK’s energy. Second one, either Wiseman or Black Lady turned him into her puppet. Third one was Galaxia and everyone got possessed plus Galaxia was the one person Moon couldn’t defeat so I think he gets a pass there. It may also be that because of his amnesia from the car crash, he is simply more susceptible to possession.

One thing I wanted to talk about was his fashion, or at least his anime fashion since that was what was available on Google. Look at this wonderful disaster man: 

Now I am well aware that some of these horrors is simply because the story is based in late 80s, early 90s so some outfits has not aged well. His standard outfit just begins the awfulness: an olive green blazer, black turtleneck and lilac purple slacks. It’s the color choices...I’d say just slap on a pair of jeans. but apparently this boy loves the color so much that Neo Endymion has an entire suit made out of it. Even just changing that awful blazer to a dark gray color would make a much nicer outfit. There’s the fashion inspired by the day: the popped collar of the green and yellow shirt, the two-toned shirt in the top right corner (not awful, just dated) and what I’m assuming to be a lazy day outfit just below that. Then we come to...the rolls. It’s just...why? How?! It makes no sense! The only outfit I actually like here is that pink shirt, he does formal wear very well. The rolled up sleeves, the top button undone, it’s a very nice outfit. He looks very sexy...who chose it for him?

In short, Chiba Mamoru is the perfect love interest for Tsukino Usagi who was revolutionary in that she was the hero and protector. He balances her out and supports her, whether it’s to stay behind or right there in the thick of things. He’s a bit dorky, his fashion sense is all over the place and he has trouble talking to people who don’t push themselves into his life like Usagi did. He’s a healer and not a macho man and he’s OK with that. In a time where there are Gokus and Narutos wrecking up shit, Chiba Mamoru is frankly, a breath of fresh air. He’s a gentle quiet man, content to take back stage and help his wife kick ass.

...Also, I need a fic where Mamoru’s trying to rope in both Naruto and Goku, pretty please.

[haruhi1087]

A Letter to Nowhere

An EdWinry rewrite of Ovid’s letter from Penelope to Ulysses Set after the events in the anime while Ed’s off traveling. Al’s not mentioned bc, well, Odysseus doesn’t have a brother *shrugs*. The parallel’s not exact, alright?

Ed,

I’m sending a letter to you, dimwit, because you’re so slow to actually come and visit. And you better not write back to me! I want you to actually come here yourself. You’ve accomplished your goals, but that goal means nothing to me when you are not here. Sometimes I wish Mustang’s train had wrecked and he’d never reached Resenbool. Then I wouldn’t be here alone in my room, complaining of each passing day; nor would the automail be sitting on my bench unused even though I’ve worked on it all throughout the night.

When haven’t I been afraid of things far beyond the terrors I face every day? Love is a thing ever filled with anxious fear. I dream you’ll find enemies that would try to destroy you; at the mention of Scar, my face pales. Someone told the story of Basque Grand’s death, and I became alarmed. Another told me how Hughes died, and I wept that intelligence could not win. Had another’s fate reached me, all my worries would have been renewed once more with that person’s fate. Whenever I hear of someone’s fate in the government, my heart grows cold because I worry for you.

But there is someone out there who favors us, because you have reached your goal and are safe. The people of Xing have left, and Resenbool is still peaceful. We are thankful every day that we still live. Yet other women get to be with the men they support, and I hear stories of what happens from the lips of travelling men. The children flock to the stories; women hang on every word. One man will act out a battle, and beer flows as they tell the story of the battle: “Here flowed the troops! This is the barricade, here was the furor’s headquarters! Over there was Mustang, there the Xing prince, there the troops from Briggs that helped to conquer the Furor himself.”

Everyone told the story to us. Ling even stopped by and told me, revealing how others had died, how Mustang had almost been undone, and then had been used. And how you were so ridiculous—too foolish and willing to risk your life!—to go into the enemy’s camp, and to fight so many creatures all at once, with too few people for help! Oh yes, you’re so careful, Ed. So very careful and always thinking of me! I was terrified by every word until he assured me you’d made it through safely and were with friends.

So the capital has been saved, the enemy’s plans in ruins—but must I continue to live without you, just as I did while you were fighting? For everyone else the country is saved, but for me the war still rages, even though the farmers still till the soil as they did before. Now are virtuous men where corruption once was, and towns prosperous after they’ve been rid of ruin, past policies still being overturned so that peace may reign. You won, but you are not home, and I don’t even know why, or where you are.

Whenever someone comes through town I pester them with questions again and again, wondering if there is any sign where you’ve gone, and I give them a letter for you, should they see you. Granny and I have sent letters to Xing with Ling, but no one had heard anything. We sent word to Ishval, but nothing from there, either. Where are you, Ed? Why do you idly wander? It would almost be better for me if this war still raged! It is unfair, and I hate the promises that I myself made. But if the Furor still ruled, I would at least know where you were fighting, and have only that one fear, and everyone else would be afraid, as well. But now… I don’t even know why I should be afraid! Yet I am, I’m so scared, and the possibilities are endless. Whatever dangers are at sea or on land, my heart tells me each and every one is why you’re not here. And while I live in foolish fears, you could be with someone else… would you be with someone else? I’m just a country girl from your childhood, who knows fine wool, but has never travelled far. Please let me be wrong, and this worry be meaningless like every other one, but I worry that for some reason you stay away even though you could physically return!

Granny keeps telling me I should give up on you and get married already. I don’t dare, though. I’ve always been yours, you know? Ed’s automechanic, Ed’s friend, Ed’s betrothed… I’ll always be yours. Granny sighs when I tell her this. Some of the boys from town want to go on dates and are constantly pestering me. This is your hometown, but they’re the ones who are well known here. Why should I talk about them, though? These boys that rule the town. Their disgraceful behavior only sickens me and makes me all the more angry that you. aren’t. here.

There’s only three of us here—Granny, myself, and Old Den. Ling left for Xing not too long ago. We hold down the old place just fine, though! And business is going well. Old Den can’t chase away these annoying guys, though, and they won’t listen to me or my wrenches. Please come home, Ed. Please be safe. We should be together; think of Granny, too, who watches out the window every day!

As for me… I was only a girl when you left me. No matter how fast you come, that’s no longer true.

Love,

Winry

[fragilevixenfic]

Caught in the Rain

For the secret Santa exchange I wrote a lovely little one shot for  wilhelmscreamf/Bob79519

Tagging the always lovely @monikafilefan @karinanic @country3living @reasonandfaithinharmony @agntstarbuck223 @invisigoth-1013 @msraddicted

Summary: A dark, rainy night leads Mulder and Scully to a hole in the wall bar where glasses of Scotch and unresolved tension is re-visited.

Is it real?  We're always the same  We're almost undone now  I was caught in the rain, wastin' my time on the ground.  Waiting the call of what would you say and can you come over?  I was caught in the rain, wastin' my time on the ground.

It was you

Who could get me high with whatever you say

You’re telling me something real

What we do doesn’t matter now

Whatever it takes for you to stay with me

-Revis

 11:00 PM, Sunday Night, June 28th 1998

Nearby the exterior of The Tune Inn

331 (and a half) Pennsylvania Ave SE, Washington DC

                 Am I cursed?

              Scully’s brain was addled, confused as she carefully avoided the dips in the cement, her heels slapping against the heavily saturated grade underneath of her feet, disrupting the direction of the splashes with every step she took. It wasn’t enough that she had to glance down as she blindly pushed the wet strands of hair out of her face and did her best to hold her heavily saturated jacket shut as a gust of wind harshly left its mark across her skin, leaving behind streaks of not-so-waterproof mascara and watermarks in the finish of her lipstick. She caught her reflection in a window of a closed clothing shop and didn’t recognize the woman looking back—disheveled, a wreck, bordering on an emotionally unstable mess that was hanging by a thread. She had been walking for a while and the ache along her calf muscles provided the healthy reminder that her choice of footwear had been lazy, at best. The length of this contemplative walk wasn’t planned for and her attire was the icing on the cake of “why did I just do this?” as she held onto the edge of a newspaper stand while stretching out her legs.

               Lack of a plan had carried her off the beaten path, down a set of streets that she hadn’t explored before, and the fluttering in her belly of the jumbled thoughts simply added to the algorithm of what had been another fucked up month that she’d rather forget. At least she thought she did.

              It was quiet, almost desolate, along the typically busy and bustling section of Pennsylvania Avenue that Scully had wandered into just blocks away from the Capitol Building. She turned her head and looked at the quaint row of old buildings, some of which still had their neon “open” lights on and burning bright in the window, each beckoning her in a different way, each carrying a different message that had her contemplating whether to take a risk or turn the other direction. As she continued down the wet, rain soaked sidewalk, her full attention to her right hand side on the quiet little dive with the squeaky door, beyond the awning of the busy “Hawk ‘n’ Dove” bar that nearly overshadowed it. She wiped the streaks of black mascara from beneath her eyes as she approached,  the relief hitting her before she even knew what to expect from inside.

              It wasn’t the definition of ideal as she pulled the door open and felt the resistance against it, followed by the warmth behind but the reward finally came from smelling of hops, liquor, and bar fare as she stood and stared at the antler chandelier hanging from the ceiling at the end of the bar while dripping on the welcome mat.

              “Oooh, shit, love, what in the hell made you go wandering out in this downpour from hell?” The voice wasn’t a welcomed melody or a sonnet against her ears as it came from behind the bar, but it was masculine, gritty, and a little amused beneath the almost baritone vocal tone.

              Scully blinked rapidly and made eye contact with him, slowly wringing her hair out as she approached the bar near the corner, her back to the window, sliding onto a stool. “Entirely too much thinking for my own good and it led to more walking than should be legally allowed by any human in these shoes.”

              “Rough night?” He was awfully cute but not at all her type behind those grayish-blue eyes and overly coiffed hair with the perfectly maintained facial hair to match as he reached for a couple of napkins, offering them to her, a single eyebrow raised. “Boyfriend troubles? Husband? Girlfriend? Both?”

              Scully rolled her eyes and roughly wiped away the mess of makeup and raindrops along her cheeks, smiling far bigger than she intended on as she glanced at his nametag, returning the same elevated eyebrow as she crossed her legs. “None of the above…Todd.”

              “Well, alright, then you definitely need a drink, wouldn’t you say, love? So, what’ll it be?” Todd had a bright smile as he tossed his towel over his shoulder and gripped the edge of the bar, momentarily glancing back at the expanse of the space to keep an eye on the remainder of people in the space. “Or were you planning on just sitting there looking overdressed, soaked to the bone, and tense without a drink in front of you?”

              “Well, what do you typically recommend to someone who can’t seem to shut off their brain for more than three seconds, who is stuck in a perpetual loop thinking about how close they came to destroying a perfectly good friendship with someone?” Scully already had her mind on what nearly happened in the hallway outside of Mulder’s apartment as the heat flushed her cheeks in three seconds flat.

              “Drink enough of just about anything and you’ll stop thinking about a lot of things but it sounds like, for your masochistic situation…Scotch on the rocks,” Todd was definitely brazen and a little out there as he emphasized the word ‘masochistic’ while pulling a bottle of Glenlivet off of the top shelf, momentarily turning his back on Scully.

              Scully audibly scoffed at him, almost horrified at the idea but intrigued at it at the same time, as Todd poured her the drink over ice, the tone of her voice taking a pitchy journey as she found herself pouring it out, figuratively. “I know what that means and I don’t think it falls into the wildly accepted definition…I have been consumed by thoughts that I can’t escape, I’m beating myself up over it, and I truly don’t know which way is up or down, none of which is pleasant, by the way, and I wouldn’t be so willing to tell a perfect stranger under ordinary circumstances but here I am, doing just that.”

              “Uh huh…masochist,” Todd chuckled and pushed the rocks glass in front of her, the Amber liquid dancing in front of her as he propped up his chin with his palm, smirking at Scully as she avoided making eye contact with him. “So what’s your name, masochist?”

              Scully had the glass between her fingers, the aroma of oak, vanilla, honey, nutmeg flooded her senses with a hint of fruit beneath, almost lulling her into a false sense of security over how much she could safely drink before losing control of her tongue, or worse. She took a solitary sip and let the heavier citrus and apple caress with the burn of the alcohol that followed as she swallowed. The choice, while presumptive, was likely the right one despite the fact that her brain immediately went right back to that fucking hallway—knowing how close she came to swiping a blur in the perfectly constructed line between herself and Mulder. She had known for so long how much she had wanted to run, either straight to the comfort of his arms or for the elevator, neither of which provided much vision of sanity for a conclusion after the fact, in any case.

              This was one way to keep from experiencing failure and the bitterest sting of rejection, she supposed.

              “It’s Dana, Dana Scully,” Scully knew her cheeks must’ve been lit up like a Christmas tree as the glass made a tap against the bar top, her eyes focused on the rippling around the cubes of ice as they rolled around in the Amber liquid. “It dawned on me that I haven’t drank anything beyond a glass of wine in a long time. I don’t know what will come tumbling out of my mouth so I apologize in advance for anything unnecessary.”

              “Well, Dana, I’m cheaper than a therapist, I don’t judge anything that might slip out and I hear so here much that it’s difficult to retain it,” Todd put the bottle of Glenlivet back, his laughter evident as he turned around and braced against the drawer.

              Somehow, she knew that the idea was close to the truth but it had her heart beating up into her throat at the mere idea of anyone stumbling onto a Freudian slip while mildly intoxicated. Carefully guarding her thoughts about Mulder had kept her safe for so long and that safety net no longer felt so securely beneath her, nor did it seem as though it would hold her if she were to fall. It was that “you’ve gotten yourself into this situation, now deal with it” realization as Scully held her breath, forcing a smile at the curious bartender across from her. Scully was precariously dangling on the edge of something palpable, raw, and the ignition switch was between her fingers and tasted awfully good.

              Scully straightened her back and slid the sleeves of her outer jacket down, removing the saturated material before tossing it across the stool beside her. “Oh, I’m sure you hear some interesting details about people’s private lives that you’d love to erase permanently from your memory banks.”

              “Boy, would I?” Todd nodded, sipping a diet soda from a plastic cup just below the lip of the bar top, making a slightly sour face as he renewed eye contact with Scully. “There are things that happen here that make a man shudder—but it’s all in good fun, for the most part.”

              “My woes are boring, run of the mill, and highly average, likely bordering on plaintive,” Scully took another sip, the burn a little more intense than the first as she felt it coursing through her chest before she let the glass come back down to the lacquer bar top. “I am transfixed on realizing that I am stuck, each day of my life, looking at the one thing that I didn’t know how badly I wanted and I have no idea if it’s mutually felt or if I lost that chance already by being austere.”

              “Your definition of boring and mine are vastly different, Dana,” Todd looked at the half empty glass in front of Scully and instinctively reached for the bottle, topping it off without being asked. “Sounds like you need to tell the guy you’re obviously talking about how you feel or forget about it? Either way, let it out or let it go?”

              Scully bit down on her bottom lip, sucking it into her mouth as she thought about how close they had been and how quickly it slipped away. “Forgetting the effect a person with that kind of passion, fire, and intensity has on you is a little easier said than actually done…I’ve come to notice.”

              “Now I’m intrigued and you have to spill the details about this guy,” Todd didn’t put the bottle away, he simply set it to the side and leaned against his elbow, a grin on his lips as he continued, almost too enthusiastically. “Is he tall? Dark? Mysterious? Is he delicious? Don’t spare any tidbits, Dana, lay it on me.”

              The belly laugh that left Scully’s lips was louder than expected as she nearly spilled her drink on the front of her blouse after another healthy swallow of it, delicately balancing it in her hand. “Oh my God, you’re absolutely terrible! Has anyone ever told you that?”

              “Guilty as charged but I’m not giving up, so out with it,” Todd’s effervescent energy radiated off of him and Scully felt comfortable with him in spite of herself as she poked an ice cube with the tip of her index finger.

              “I can’t believe I’m even telling you this ,” Scully leaned forward and put her elbows on the edge of the bar, covering her face for a moment as she gathered the thoughts, revealing an even more flushed face as caution abandoned. “Have you ever felt like you were mere milliseconds from leaping off a ledge, throwing the last remnants of a strictly professional relationship into the wind, exposing every bit of your vulnerability to that person, but something happened and it all came crashing down into pieces like broken glass?”

              “I can’t say that I’ve experienced something quite that intense,” Todd was watching her grappling with emotions as she took another nip of the drink.

              Scully inhaled a deep breath and let it out like she was relieved to let it go, let anyone hear it. “I was so ready to walk away and he pulled me back in like he really wanted me there, then it was over before I even could fully blink. Everything went back to the way it was and we’ve been acting like nothing happened but…I’m still standing in that fucking hallway with a breath on my lips that no one finished, and I don’t even know if he actually wanted me to be there or just needed me to stay, to make everything like it was.”

              Todd’s stance changed as he lifted his head and turned toward neon in the front window, the expression on his face changing from concern to a light smile as the cold breeze caught Scully across the back with the closing of the front door. “Well, hi there, you look like you’ve just walked through a rinse cycle—come in, get dry, we don’t bite.”

              The walls of the hole in the wall bar kept the deluge of precipitation outside at bay until the door opened and closed, ushering in another body that had the gooseflesh forming across Scully’s back in an instant. The silence was deafening as the water logged footsteps squished along the flooring before she finally looked up from the finger induced swirling vortex in the middle of her glass. Her core shook as she lifted her head and saw the unmistakable hazel eyes burning from five feet away, his clothes dripping, hair flat against his skin from the onslaught of the cloudburst that he had clearly been out in for quite a while. Scully swallowed hard against the urge to vomit as she felt the stare on her like a tractor beam despite the distance he was imposing on her as he purposely took a seat kitty corner from her at the bar, his lips pressed together almost pensively. He had put distance between them, but kept enough closeness that each curve, each little flinch of his skin was noticeable and evident to Scully. The look made her ache in about thirty different ways and all of which conflicted with each other as she reached for the glass, desperate to break the eye contact.

              “I didn’t know if anyone would be open at this time of night,” Mulder’s voice nearly leveled Scully as he settled onto the bar stool, averting his eyes away from her to Todd’s general direction, forcing a flat, cordial smile.

              She recognized that phony grin from a mile away and knew she was in for it as the undertones of his voice reeked of exasperation and thin patience.

              “Gotta keep an eye out for the lost individual even on a Sunday to get a drink or three,” Todd glanced at Scully, immediately taking note over the increased tension she was oozing before fully making eye contact with Mulder. “On that topic…what can I get for you while you dry off?”

              “Scotch on the rocks?” Mulder was eyeing the bottle of tequila but there was anger half playing with his emotional stability as he could see Scully’s hands shaking in his peripheral. “Isn’t the early summer rain supposed to at least be warm or did DC skip out on that memo?”

              “I’ve noticed that some of these storms are chillier late at night with a heavy wind to go along with it…seems like that’s what we’ve got on our hands tonight,” Todd slid the glass of Glenlivet in front of Mulder, gave him a subtle nod and turned toward Scully with the bottle in his hand, instinctively topping off the glass despite the fact she barely needed it. “You’ve got more than enough in that glass to continue that story so do go on…Tell me more about the guy, does he know anything?”

              Scully was like the deer in the headlights as the subject of her discussion was sitting just a few feet away from her, looking like he was seconds from downing his drink, flipping her off, and walking out as his jaw began to flinch. “Keep pouring Scotch in my glass and the only information coming out of my mouth will be different pitches of laughter—I told you that I don’t drink.”

              Todd wasn’t fully paying attention to Scully’s discomfort as he looked to the left and squinted for a long moment, a look of shock following immediately thereafter. “Son of a…Dana, hold that thought, I need to go tell Mister Davis that my booths are not for whatever he’s doing with his date. Gross.”

              Scully sighed softly in relief as Todd ran to the other end of the building, the instant berating of his customer in the darkest corner of the bar, tucked away in a booth that was barely visible from the front. Mulder cleared his throat as he took a tentative drink of the Scotch, not hiding that he was stealing a glance at her as she turned the barstool until her back was aimed at the wall, her left elbow against the bar lip. The song on the jukebox was distinctly by Radiohead, the lyric “What the hell am I doing here?” hitting Mulder directly in the gut. It was just loud enough that it did a lovely job of drowning out the bitching session from Todd in the back as the awkward silence continued in front of the bay window. She was afraid but not for the same reasons that Mulder was inferring from her body language as he finally allowed his eyes to lift away from the cup between his thumbs.

              “How long are you going to pretend like I’m not here?” Mulder’s tone was less than pleased as he blinked slowly, soaking in every little move she made as she brought the glass down from her mouth.

              Scully raised an eyebrow at him and felt the bravery burning beneath the remnants of the alcohol in her throat, both hands folded in her lap after setting the glass down. “That depends on how long you plan on sitting over there while I’m over here…”

              “I figured you needed the extra distance since my mere presence put a damper on one hell of a flirtation session that you were having with the bartender, Scully,” Mulder’s jealousy was radiating off of him like sweat as he took another healthy drink of the Scotch and fidgeted on his barstool.

              Scully bit down on the tip of her tongue and felt her heart thudding against her breast bone, anxious to get out as she white knuckled the edge of the bar. “How long were you standing there listening, Mulder?”

              Mulder was half hiding behind the glass of Scotch, his eyes glued to the top of the lacquer bar top, knowing that the frustration was mounting. “Just long enough to know that our strictly professional relationship is in pieces and you’re still stuck, standing in my fucking hallway? Is that what you want me to say, Scully? That I heard you opening up to a complete stranger about how you really feel about me?”

              His intensity was equally frightening and thrilling as Scully nearly dropped the rocks glass, accidentally splattering some of the contents on her fingers as she gathered it haphazardly in an attempt to keep it upright. “Mulder…that’s not what I…look, would you just come sit by me and make this a little less awkward for me, please?”

              “I don’t think you want me sitting next to you right now, I am liable to say something loud and make everything far worse than it already is,” Mulder was white knuckling the edge of the bar, his eyes barely lifting until they met hers.

              Scully stared down at her lap for a moment, feeling that pang of guilt and sadness meandering through her chest as she inhaled a sharp breath. “I’m not asking you to not be angry or change your mind; I just want you next to me.”

              Mulder gripped the glass as he rose from the swiveling stool, his lips pressed together while he took careful steps in her direction, staring her down as though she were a deer at the end of his crosshairs. Scully wiped her fingers on a nearby place napkin and kept the burning gaze locked on him, the heat rising in her chest as she held her breath for longer than she should have while he made the curve of the bar and stood directly in front of her. It must’ve been humorous for anyone that might’ve been witnessing the hunter stalking the hunted but the only feeling that Scully felt ravaging her body was conflict—to run or jump him right there on the bar. The choice, while undeniably ridiculous, was his.

              Mulder put his drink onto the bar just inches from Scully’s, gathered her jacket across his arm before she had a chance to reach for it, and re-established a comfortable seated position on the stool next to hers, swiveled in her direction. “Now that I’m here—are you going to explain to me what I walked in on or are you going to push your luck into thinking I’m going to forget about it entirely?”

              Scully tossed the remainder of her glass of Scotch back with the presence of Mulder’s half tense, half frustrated energy sitting directly next to her and him casually holding her jacket wasn’t making it any better as she turned her entire body toward the end of the bar. “Todd, if you’ve got that little situation under control…I think I’m going to need a little assistance if you’re not terribly busy?”

              “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me, I don’t want to see this, Scully,” Mulder was not in the mood for Scully’s flirting directly in front of him as he started to stand up again, not bothering to hide the pure disgust as it poured out of him.

              Scully grasped his wrist and bit down on her lip, locking him in that same gaze that had him so captivated in his hallway, before the world came crashing down, before fate’s cruel hand ripped the rug out from under them. He would never admit it to her but she made him go weak in the knees as he settled back down and glanced down at her fingers still gathered across his skin, her middle and index in the crease along his thumb. She was pulling a “you first” and the stalemate was resulting in Mulder’s dry throat and clammy hands as his eyes imagined his lips all over those rosy cheeks. Mulder cleared his throat as his ears went hot while he felt Scully’s warmth creeping in along with the vibration of her trembling that she could no longer hide. They had unleashed a little chaos between them as Mulder followed Scully’s lead and finished his drink just as Todd was walking back toward their end of the bar.

              “Musical chairs? I love that game!” Todd had one of those coy smiles that Mulder would’ve liked to wipe right off of his face but the quivering digits still squeezing his hand had him quiet as the bartender’s mouth opened. “Sorry that took entirely too long to explain to one of my very loyal regulars why a public sex act in a bar is still a crime in spite of it only carrying a misdemeanor charge. Clearly, you two need another round?”

              Scully cloistered a laugh as she nodded, pushing her glass forward with her left index, the effects of the previous drink already evident as she felt her head swimming just enough to lack a filter. “There’s friendly and then there’s, just take it home, no one needs to see that, right?”

              “Oh, he’s harmless—but I don’t need to sanitize a booth because he doesn’t want to pay for the hotel room,” Todd poured their drinks and added a fresh cube or two of ice to both before sliding them onto clean napkins, glancing outside at the sidewalk for a moment. “Not looking good outside for the two of you…that rain hasn’t let up since you sat down.”

              Both turned to look and sighed in unison, realizing that leaving wouldn’t be the easiest of options with the sidewalk looking more like a creek by the minute. Scully chuckled far louder than she had wanted to as she looked back toward Todd, sipping the Scotch to avoid the immediate questioning from both of them as it came out of nowhere. Mulder gave her a sideways glance and leaned against his hand, rotating his barstool a little to stare her down a little better. His facial expression softened as he found her already stealing a glance at him from the side of her rocks glass, the smirk almost immediate as he watched her clearly swallow wrong and nearly choke in the process.

              “What’s got you all giggly, Dana?” Todd furrowed his eyebrows at her and smiled wide as he started to address more clean glassware on the edge of the bar.

              Mulder raised an eyebrow at her, the sly grin on the edges of his lips as he lifted his glass to take a swallow of his own drink, emphasizing that he actually knows her in front of Todd. “Yeah, Scully, what has you so giggly?”

              Scully knew that Todd was instantly confused and rightfully so as she felt Mulder’s knee pushing against hers, coaxing another reflexive giggle in spite of the resistance she was attempting to put up. “Irony…so much irony.”

              “So I know why lil miss giggles is here but what made you get yourself soaked to the gills and come out here…I didn’t catch your name, by the way,” Todd rolled his eyes a little at them as he looked directly at Mulder’s half disheveled face, his semi-damp hair a little messy as he ran a couple fingers through.

              “Oh, sorry, it’s Fox Mulder…but I go by Mulder, please don’t use the first name, only my mother uses it,” Mulder fondled the top of the glass, redirecting his ice around in the middle of his Scotch. “I found myself sitting on my couch thinking about everything that wasn’t right in front of me that I really wanted to be there and had to clear my head before I said or did something stupid.”

              “Well, what exactly is your definition of stupid, Mulder?” Scully couldn’t help herself as she was watching the hemline of her skirt do a dance against the side of Mulder’s knee as he continued to intentionally rub it against her.

              There was an air of strategy in the comment but the words played against Mulder’s psyche like a well-placed, knowing, hidden grope in the middle of a crowded room that left him breathless. Their third party had grown increasingly confused and intrigued by the seemingly instantaneous chemistry, clueless to the reality that they had been discussing one another in vague, yet captivating detail. Scully wasn’t a game player but she had him trapped via a Fool’s Mate maneuver and he knew it as his eyes followed the glass as she drew it up to her mouth, tasting the Amber liquid with her eyes closed this time. It was driving him insane that he didn’t know what she was after with any of this other than his reaction.

              “That’s a trap question if I’ve ever heard one, Scully,” Mulder didn’t like being tested but he could tell she was doing it as she placed her half emptied glass on the bar top as he averted his line of sight toward Todd. “Doesn’t it sound like a trap to you, Todd?”

              “Most questions asked by the fairer sex are traps, Mulder and judging by the look on her face, yes, it’s a trap,” Todd was regretting that imposed rule about not drinking on the job as his eyes bounced between the two of them. “Why do I get the feeling that I shouldn’t be leaving the two of you unsupervised again? Something going on here that I should know about because bartenders are suckers for the juicy bits…?”

              Scully was feeling the discomfort of a two against one as she tilted her head and contemplated the liquid courage in her hand but thought against it as she felt the tipsiness swirling in her belly. “Oh no, you can’t go agreeing with each other. How is that fair?”

              “Hey Todd, we need another round down here,” the larger booth near the back had become a little louder as the group of people had run dry on their alcohol.

              “Damn…Be right there!” Todd snatched up the necessary tequila and beer chasers, along with a stack of shot glasses before meandering toward the end of the bar. “Behave yourselves till I get back, okay?”

              Mulder waited until Todd was barely out of earshot to go back on the defensive as he eyed Scully’s drink, the irritation evident as her eyes averted toward her glass. “Maybe I need to just go since it’s more than a little apparent that you are tipsy and it’s less than strictly professional to be around each other while under the influence of alcohol.”

              Scully felt her stomach drop as he was already halfway to his feet, rummaging through his pockets for cash to pay for his drink as she finally dug deep for the words, her voice shaking with every syllable. “Do you ever think about that night like I do or am I really alone in all of this, Mulder? Am I killing myself for nothing?”

              “I walked in on you baring your soul to a perfect stranger in a bar looking more comfortable than I can fully describe and now you want me to open up to you when you couldn’t even grant me the same courtesy? Jesus Christ, Scully,” Mulder wanted to throttle her as he took a healthy drink of what was left of his Scotch, feeling the burn immediately after swallowing, still holding her jacket across his left arm as he stood above her.

              “I deserve that,” Scully stood, kept her eyes glued on his, pulled the small wad of cash from his hand and pushed it into his front pocket, coaxing a less than expected audible gasp from him in the process, her voice soft and melodic as she looked up at him. “Now, could you please just sit down and let me try? I didn’t know how to tell you how I feel but now that you know, talk to me.”

              “I think you’re just trying to win an argument with what you just did, Scully,” Mulder slowly let the air out of his mouth and felt the heat rising in his cheeks, through his ears, down his neck, as he looked at her. “It’s working.”

              They both sat back down and Scully took a sip of her Scotch, a sly smile creeping across her lips from behind the rim of her glass. “If putting the tips of my fingers in your pocket is all it takes to win an argument with you, I’d be interested to see what would happen if had been the entire hand.”

              “Flirting with Todd, flirting with me, is this is what happens when you get drunk, Scully?” Mulder knew her better than that but the words still slipped out as he turned his barstool toward her while she leaned against the back wall again.

              Scully shook her head and slid forward, almost to the point that her backside was on the edge of the stool, her knees comfortably sliding between Mulder’s. “I don’t know if you’re entirely qualified to know when I’m flirting or not but I’m not flirting with the bartender.”

              “Are you entirely sure about that?” Mulder swallowed hard as Scully re-crossed her legs, purposely bumping against both of his inner thighs with every move he made. “Don’t go pulling a Sharon Stone on me, Scully, I don’t know if I can handle it right now.”

              There was something playful hidden in Scully’s voice as she bit down on her bottom lip and nearly finished off the Scotch in her glass. “I’m pretty sure Sharon Stone wasn’t wearing any panties in Basic Instinct, Mulder.”

              “That’s kind of a risky assumption considering I don’t actually know of a time I’ve witnessed you drinking anything other than wine,” Mulder’s fingers were rickety against the rim of his glass, the Scotch nearly going topside as he utilized it to calm the sudden rise in anxiety.

              “Not that you’re in any rush to find out if I’m lying or not, though, right, Mulder?” Scully’s voice dropped an octave as she egged him on, clearly daring him to make a move or shut his mouth, as she pushed an ice cube past her lips, the childishness on full display.

              Mulder did a double take at the woman that he had spent the past five years stealing the most abrupt of touches and glances, completely taken by surprise over the pass she had just made at him. She had him backed into a corner but not defenseless as he could hear the ice cube rattling around inside of her mouth like a rather large dinner mint. Her right knee was unusually high after crossing both legs and positioning them between his, almost too closely as he could feel the heat radiating off of her through his inseam via her shin as he made any movement, in any direction. Scully hadn’t made any attempt to slide away from him as she used her side and elbow to comfortably brace against the bar, her smirk still lingering as Mulder pressed both of his lips together before swiveling her barstool until she had to hold on with both hands to keep from sliding directly off.

              “I’m pretty certain that a maximum sentence for lewd or dissolute conduct in public is ninety days in jail and a tiny little three hundred dollar fine but guys like me don’t exactly do incredibly well in behind bars since most of the time the badge gets found out pretty fast,” Mulder’s hands slid carefully to the hem of Scully’s skirt, where his fingers wasted little time in sliding under the first two inches, pushing the material up until a run in her panty hose was visible above her knee. “Scully, you have a run in your hose.”

              “There is? I hadn’t noticed…” Scully glanced at the finger length run in her nude nylons, her pristinely white skin peeking out through the shreds as she bit down on her lip and blushed as she held onto her bar stool, pulling it under her a little better. “Maybe you should check to see how far up it goes, for scientific purposes?”

              “Are you two for real right now? I leave you alone for literally five minutes and you’re already getting fucking handsy on a pair of bar stools after I just got through having that little discussion about my regular customer getting all illegal in a booth?” Todd’s voice brought them both back to the reality that they were sitting in the bar, erasing the line between them without a second’s hesitation.

              “Actually, you just put a massive damper on five solid years of percolating…way to go, Todd,” Mulder gave Scully’s thigh a fairly firm squeeze and made eye contact with her as he heard her inhale rather sharply. “On second thought.”

              “Wait…five years? You’ve been talking about each other all night, haven’t you?” Todd rolled his eyes as Scully put her hand over the top of Mulder’s hand, preventing him from drifting further up her skirt. “I feel like I’ve just facilitated way too much sexual energy without even realizing it.”

              “I don’t know about a damper, Mulder, more like a tiny, little pause?” Scully had a lot more on her mind than the alcohol still running through her veins as she winked at him and tapped the top of his hand. “It’s not that late…yet.”

              “Here I am, thinking I have two broken individuals who needed to forget about their problems but were, in reality, airing their feelings in front of the other person, half anonymously,” Todd rubbed his eyes and glanced at the clock, exhaling loudly. “I feel like I need a fucking shot before shift ends out of the mind fucking you two just delivered. I hate exercising and my brain definitely hates aerobics.”

              Mulder couldn’t help but be a little amused over the reaction from Todd as he furrowed his brow at him. “You wanted all of the juicy details and you got exactly that…just not how you imagined it, which is the problem, I’m sure. Didn’t he ask for that, Scully?”

              “Yes, he absolutely did and said not to spare any tidbits to boot,” Scully was growing comfortable with the hand against her thigh but she would’ve been lying if asked if it were enough as she glanced at Mulder’s waiting, now palpable bottom lip that was staring at her. “He was an absolute hound for information…now he seems to be regretting such a request.”

              “I think I’m going to violate my own rule and I’m going to have a shot, do you want a shot? I think we should have a shot and toast to this cluster fuck of a night in which we discover that this mother fucker right here slings drinks to two flirty little assholes who want to give him an aneurysm,” Todd started rambling, mainly teasing them as he poured three shots of tequila without hearing an actual acceptance of his offer. “These ones are on me since I brought it on myself. To aneurysm causing third person chitter chatter.”

              Scully’s eyes widened as she picked up the small, gold rimmed shot glass, the smell hitting her nostrils from nearly a foot away, instantly making her entire face pucker. “To all of that whining and getting caught in the rain on a Sunday night to catch more than one person a little unaware.”

              Mulder contemplated the shot glass perched between his fingers and gazed at the woman across from him, her eyes managing to captivate him even more than they already had been for the past five years. “To finishing so much unfinished business so we’re no longer aimlessly trapped in that hallway.”

              Scully’s facial features softened as Mulder pushed his shot glass against hers, but neither made a move toward their mouths to take even a sip. “I haven’t even gotten there yet and I’m already on fire.”

              Mulder knew the quote she was referencing as he set his shot down, pulled the still full shot glass from her fingertips and placed it next to his own on the lacquer bar top. Mulder’s words hadn’t fully been illuminated toward her in regard to everything that he felt for her but his actions spoke volumes as he guided her fingers within the palm of his hand while his free hand gave a tug to the edge of her barstool, eclipsing the space between them. Scully wouldn’t have dreamed of turning away, not even for a second, as the air between them disappeared and the moment that had eluded them before came without anything to stop them this time. Like a dance, their palms slid apart and into the sphere of the other as lightning did strike when their lips finally met, fitting together as though they’d practiced this, rehearsed it, imagined it into life. Neither one of them gave a damn about an audience as eyes fluttered shut and Mulder gathered Scully closer to him, reveling in the closeness that had evaded them for far too long. They had imagined this moment, in repetition, for days and nothing could’ve quite prepared them for it as Mulder’s hand tilted Scully’s head back to fully drink her in, in spite of the mutual taste of Scotch on their tongues. The intoxicant was no longer what they had been drinking as eyes closed and hands slid through hair, desperate to hold onto one another for as long as fate would allow.

              “Ok…no second base shit or I’ll throw you both out,” Todd tossed back his shot with an almost surrendered tone with a hint of satisfaction underneath and coaxed resistive laughter from both of them as they forced the incredibly vocal, open mouthed kiss to come to a screeching halt.

              Scully groaned, keeping both eyes closed as she held onto Mulder’s collar, her bottom lip brushing against his just lightly as she started to speak. “I don’t even think you understand just how high those flames are and you only tossed a half full bucket on them expecting to put a stop to something.”

              “I don’t have nearly this much trouble with the twenty-one year old, amped up college students that come in here to cut loose,” Todd picked up their shots and nudged their shoulders. “Five years or no five years…you’re not horny teenagers.”

              “Certainly not a teenager, anyway,” Scully had one of those knowing smiles on her face as she matched Mulder’s drink for drink shot on shot of the tequila, the sour expression momentarily returning as she swallowed. “Now I remember why I don’t drink.”

              “Scully I better take you home before you go and get us both in more trouble than we’re already in,” Mulder was feeling his alcohol but it was clear that her Scotch consumption was a little more potent than his own as her fingers lingered against the front of his shirt, pulling him closer.

              “Mmmm…therein lies a question, mine or yours?” Scully pulled her jacket on and pulled a couple of favorable bills from her pocket while Todd scooted off to the side to call them a cab.

              “Do you really care which one, Scully?” Mulder had cash in his hand as he discarded it next to hers, before leaning in to get a soft, quick peck on the lips from Scully as they both stood up, his thumb lingering under her chin.

              “Not even a little bit,” Scully held that stance, stretched up on her toes and tugged on the center of his bottom lip with her teeth while her hands slid around his waist.

              Mulder groaned, closed his eyes briefly and slid his arm around Scully’s shoulders, enveloping her in an embrace before glancing toward Todd. “Is that cab on the way?”

              Todd nodded, gave Mulder one of those little smirks and put the empty shot glasses into the bin with the rest of the empty glassware. “You’re welcome, you two…maybe you’ll show up here again on another rainy night?”

              They didn’t need to answer the question as it was an unspoken understanding between two parties that were aware of the role that this little space had played in unraveling the broken, needing to be repaired pieces of their very mishandled hearts. The smiles were exchanged, hands shook with care, and the door pushed open, exposing them to the elements that brought them to the bar to begin with. It wasn’t the same as they went out into the rain, the downpour as heavy as it had been earlier but without the bitter reminder that had plagued them earlier. It carried fluidity in spite of the cold chill that the wind inspired as they neared the edge of the curb, waiting for the cab to come. The previously “handle with care” and “avoid at all cost” neon light that had been permanently affixed to Mulder and Scully was now gone, exposed as the self-imposed, invisible restraints were eliminated between them and they could look at one another knowing exactly how long, and hard, they had weathered the storm—within arm’s length of each other and no longer had to go without.

              “Next time pick up a phone and call me,” Scully was on the tips of her toes again, the palm of her hand against his cheek as the rain already had them soaked all over again, creating beautiful, shimmering lines down their skin along the curves of their smiles.

              Mulder leaned in close, rubbing her neck with his thumbs, closing the gap between them. “Next time isn’t needed, I’ll be right where I want to be…right there with you.”

              There was no going back as Mulder drew Scully’s lips to his, tilting into another kiss that took the breath away from her in a heartbeat and set off a flash of fireworks in both of their eyes before fluttering closed. Mulder’s hand tangled through Scully’s hair as it glided along the back of her neck, the warmth of his skin triggering a chain reaction of goosebumps down the expanse of her back, underneath her damp layers of clothes. The shudder reverberated against him and instigated a low, guttural groan as he held her tighter, craving more of her…needing more of her. Scully couldn’t help herself as the moan ricocheted into his mouth while her hands desperately held onto his midsection until her hands were laced together at the middle of his back, the urgency building. Their hearts, thudding in unison against one another, were set ablaze from within and reflected like gold of each droplet of rain that touched each inch of skin, multiplied by two. They had spent so long as soft light, flickering from the dark, and now were the embers, deep-burning and unquenchable in the sweetest of embrace as tongues slid past teeth, arms wrapped carefully along muscle, speeding toward the inevitable as the distant glow of headlights illuminated what had been so carefully hidden…until now.

For the curious, this bar totally exists and was featured on Diners, Drive-ins, and Dives at one point…I have not gotten to go there but I did a lot of research (photos and the like) to get the feel for the layout of this quaint little dive. It has been around since 1947 so if you’re in that area, check it out.

References Made

“Caught in the Rain” by Revis (Song)

“Creep” by Radiohead (Lyric direct mention “What the hell am I doing here?”)

Basic Instinct (Sharon Stone)

Unknown quote – “She was told to expect fireworks, but his lips set her whole heart on fire.”

[corellian-smuggler]

What do u think about Kylo Ren?

My thoughts on Kylo Ren are harsh so if you like his character I’d advise you not to continue reading.

I think the very existence of Kylo Ren is disgusting, and by that I mean I am appalled at the writers for choosing to make Han and Leia’s son evil. Not only does it completely ruin Han and Leia’s lives—AND Luke’s—but it also destroys the Skywalker legacy and narratively nullifies Luke’s triumph in redeeming Darth Vader. That is to say that having a son who chose the very evil that they dedicated their lives trying to eradicate—having a son who hero-worships the villain that tortured his father and joined the remnants of the regime that blew up his mother’s planet—is perverse and represents the most grotesque suffering imaginable for Han and Leia. I think this kind of destiny for them—writing their love story as resultant in such a monster who murders his father and tries to destroy his mother—not only COMPLETELY WRECKS the entirety of their story in the original trilogy, it also is, in my opinion, thematically incompatible with Star Wars.

On the topic of narratively cancelling out Vader’s redemption—Luke’s greatest victory in the OT was saving his father’s soul through the power of his faith, and as a result he tips the balance between Light and Dark and restores the Skywalker legacy to the Light. Kylo Ren’s very existence not only undoes that symbolic salvation of their family, it also is a huge “fuck you” to Luke’s entire journey, AND it has the added bonus of indicating that Luke had never really succeeded at all, because the seeds of evil were in their bloodline no matter what he did.

I also resent the way that the sequel trilogy completely and purposely ignored the characterization and character arcs of Han, Luke, and Leia in order to serve Kylo Ren’s story. Like, the writers made Han, Luke, and Leia say and do things that were completely OOC in order to make Kylo Ren’s story be what they wanted. For example, I maintain that it is absolute out-of-character blasphemy to insinuate that Luke Skywalker’s first “instinct” would be to murder his nephew in his sleep, but they wrote that into the story even though it was contrary to three film’s worth of characterization because they wanted Kylo Ren to seem more sympathetic to the audience.

Furthermore, Kylo Ren represents the utter destruction of the OT heroes. He is the cause for the dissolution of Han and Leia’s marriage. He MURDERS Han in cold blood. He destroys the Jedi Order that Luke built and then is the reason that Luke dies. The happy ending of Han, Luke, and Leia is undone because of Kylo Ren, and there is no hope left for any of them, because Han and Luke are dead. This means that now the only hope to be had in the films is on the part of Rey, Finn, and Poe, and while I don’t begrudge those characters the ending I’m sure they’ll get, it completely changes and degrades the original trilogy to remove all hope for the original heroes. By inflicting such inescapable misery upon them and by systematically retconning their every triumph, the message of the OT goes from “good will win and faith is rewarded” to “peace and happiness is impossible even for the heroes and their efforts were in vain.” Kylo Ren, as the cause of their suffering, is the embodiment and pinnacle of this message.

Finally, I think it was heinous and dangerous to make a movie that bent over backwards to remove blame from Kylo Ren and make him—a school shooter Nazi murderer—sympathetic or to “explain” or “rationalize” his crimes, and I also wholeheartedly object to the reduction of the (female) protagonist to a prop in the fascist murderer’s story.

In summary I think Kylo Ren represents the death of Star Wars, the blatant lack of respect of the writers for the original characters and for the fans of the OT, and everything that’s wrong with society. Oh, and I don’t buy that Han, Luke, and Leia could collectively raise such an entitled, cruel, selfish, petulant, cowardly, EVIL human being.