#but it’s the one about feeling the rain on your skin and releasing inhibitions and so on lmao

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

tell me more about being maid of honour with best man Nathan Bateman… 👀

Warnings: Tipsiness, nudity, skinnydipping, Nathan being a flirty little shit

oh my god

this fucking guy

You've heard your friend's fiancé talk about him (and your ex, a tech-bro who practically lives in Elon Musk's jockstrap, also used to talk about him).

You don't meet him until the engagement party.

Nathan barely meets your eye until your friend tells him that you're the Maid of Honor, and then he offers, "Aw, cool. Best Man."

He shakes your hand, holds your gaze, and smiles.

"Hey if you need help, just, uh...Ask someone else."

Your friend and her fiancé laugh. Nathan grins like he'd just told the joke of the century.

You pull your hand from his in favor of going to the bar.

You'd done as he asked, leaning on the bride and groom's family and other friends to help you with the few wedding duties your friend asked your help with.

You're doing pretty damn well, too.

At least, you are until Nathan emailed the wedding party that he'd be flying everyone out to Vegas for the bachelor and bachelorette parties

He's be footing the bill for the hotel stay, too.

Fucking show off.

But when you board your flight and get seated in first class...Fuck, dude, you can't even be mad.

Look, he's kinda hot, alright?

And him leading the festivities for the weekend, lording his wealth and influence over you? Incredibly annoying.

But also kinda hot.

"You don't like me very much."

It isn't a question. Nathan just says it with matter-of-fact bluntness, eyes slightly glassy as he watches you from the other pool chair.

You turn back to the pool, pursing your lips. You're the only two left on the rooftop; the others went to bed at least half an hour ago.

You don't ask how many he's had; you know it's a few, but you don't think he's completely drunk.

"I'm the one doing all of the hard work," You sniff, "And you just swoop in like a frickin'...Guy who swoops and dazzle everybody."

"Including you?"

He's grinning as he asks, and you sigh, nodding grudgingly.

"Including me."

There's a moment of quiet between the two of you.

It's not dead-silent—not in the least. You can hear the honking of car horns on the streets below, and the shrieks and crows of partiers walking the strip. You watch the light lapping of the water against the sides of the pool.

"C'mon," You hear.

You look up to see Nathan standing. He wobbles a little before he draws his shirt off over his head.

"What?" You frown.

"You ever been skinny-dipping?"

You balk—at the question, and the wide grin on his face.

"What? No!"

"You've gotta release your inhibitions—feel the rain on your skin. Or the pool water. Whatever. C'mon," He nods you back toward the pool.

"It's the hotel's pool, Nathan," You point to the sign by the railing. "Skinny-dipping isn't allowed!"

"Do you always follow the fucking rules?"

He sounds so annoyed with you. He has no right—

"No wonder you're so boring," He adds, taking a couple more steps back.

Heat flares in your face. You shouldn't allow yourself to be taunted, or lured into a such a bad idea—

But you're already standing and trying to ignore the thrill that you feel as tug off your shirt and shove down your leggings.

Nathan grins, gaze sweeping your body as you near him, wearing your bra and underwear.

"All of it."

It's a little heavy on his tongue, bu he doesn't sound drunk—he sounds turned on.

You swallow thickly, confidence waning.

"You first," You deflect.

He chuckles and reaches down. Your eyes drop, watching him unfasten his pants, and then—

You're not prepared for the speed with which he shoves them down. Your mouth goes dry as you take in his entire body.

He kicks the shorts away with no shame before he nods to you. You reach back and find your fingers fumbling with the hooks on your bra. You'd typically be able to do this in a second, but goddamn, this man makes you nervous.

Before you can unfasten it, Nathan's front is pressed against yours, his fingers whispering against your back as he undoes the hooks. The cups hang limply around your breasts, straps sagging. You shiver, nose-to-nose with the man that's loosening you up.

His hand drifts down your side, fingers hooking in the waistline of your panties and giving them a tug.

"Those, too," He murmurs.

"Seems like you've already got a handle on them," You answer primly.

He just chuckles. Your body washes with heat as you shrug the bra off, flinging it toward where his pants were kicked. He lowers his gaze, openly oggling your chest.

When he begins to tow you back toward the pool, using the hold he has in your underwear, you follow step for step. He stills at the edge, fingers sweeping along your belly.

"I paid for this weekend, sweetheart. I'm not doing all the fuckin' work."

With that, he lets go, taking a step back and into the pool. You suck in a gasp, watching his disappear before he reappears, swiping the water from his eyes.

You hurriedly shove your panties down, kicking them away before you join him.

The water is cold, and as you bob back to the surface, you draw in a frigid gasp. It's like you've been snapped out of a waking dream.

"Oh, my—god, oh my god!" You shriek, turning and making for the steps of the pool.

Before you can get far, Nathan's arms curl around your middle, and he draws you back against him.

Your brows raise, mouth falling open as you feel his broad torso and hot, hardening cock. The feeling is so dissonant, so separate from the cool water lapping over your body.

"Already back to your fucking rules?"

It's a low, almost hypnotic murmur, coupled with a slow, teasing roll of his hips.

You hesitate before you shake your head, reaching back and pawing at Nathan's side. When he turns you, you find a darkness in his eyes.

His grin grows as he backs you up against the side of the pool, his tongue swiping along his lips.

Anyway, that's how you get caught making out with the best man and almost get the entire wedding party thrown out of the hotel.

#Nathan Bateman x Reader #Nathan Bateman x You #Nathan Bateman/Reader #Nathan Bateman/You #Nathan Bateman fic #Nathan Bateman imagine

[count-alucard-tepes]

Can I request a one shot of Kizaru’s S/O singing to cheer him up after he lost to luffy?

Kizaru never really got upset over anything, he just wasn’t that kind of guy but after his S/O had found out that he has recently lost a certain pirate…they decided that it was time for them to go out that night.

“…so where are we going?”, he asked out of curiosity as he dressed down a bit to more of a casual look with a pair of light colored slacks and a black polo shirt.

“Just to the local bar, it’s karaoke night…”, his S/O said with a smirk as they got ready and headed out with him, hand in hand.

He hadn’t been out for karaoke in such a long time since he had been rather busy but it was something he always enjoyed…who didn’t like karaoke?

Once they arrived, he got some food and drinks before noticing that quite a few familiar faces from the marines were there. He made sure to mingle but stick close to his S/O, it was their date night after all.

He flirted with his S/O and gave them several kisses as they sat in his lap while the host of the bar would announce that karaoke night was about to start.

“…gonna sing tonight, Kizaru?”, Ryokugyu asked with a smirk as he sipped his beer.

“…only if you join me for a duet”, he replied teasingly.

“Way too sober for that…but I won’t shoot you down”, Ryokugyu chuckled.

Kizaru chuckled in response and nuzzled his S/O’s neck, “…you know I’ve never heard you sing here before…but in the shower, you sure belt it out”, he teased.

His S/O smirked and rolled their eyes, “…well tonight you will…because I’m going first”, they said before getting out of his hold and skipped to the stage.

His brows shot up in surprise and cheered his S/O in response, he wondered what they would sing.

“I am unwritten

Can't read my mind

I'm undefined

I'm just beginning

The pen's in my hand

Ending unplanned

Staring at the blank page before you

Open up the dirty window

Let the sun illuminate the words that you could not find

Reaching for something in the distance

So close you can almost taste it

Release your inhibitions

Feel the rain on your skin

No one else can feel it for you

Only you can let it in

No one else, no one else

Can speak the words on your lips

Drench yourself in words unspoken

Live your life with arms wide open

Today is where your book begins

The rest is still unwritten…”

His S/O sang their heart out to Natasha Bedingfield’s Unwritten and Kizaru couldn’t even smile more than he was already! He was so proud of his love.

He couldn’t help but think about what was the meaning behind that song choice, his S/O always did subtle gestures to cheer him up and this was definitely one of those moments.

When the song was over, he stood up and clapped for his S/O, “…well done, love! That was beautiful!”, he said as he wrapped his arms around them and leaned down to kiss his S/O over and over again.

He didn’t need to say anything but he could tell his S/O was trying to motivate him after his recent battle and he appreciated that simple gesture.

What a treasure he had at his side…

#ooc #one piece #one piece kizaru #borsalino kizaru #admiral kizaru #kizaru #three admirals #marines one piece

[vyladromeave]

not me thinking about doing all my aphtober entries as (rewrite) divine warriors oneshots this year—

YOU ARE FREE TO DO APHTOBER ENTRIES HOWEVER U WISH!!! as Natasha Bedingfield once said: "Release your inhibitions, feel the rain on your skin, no one else can feel it for you, only you can let it in" !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

#ask #BE FREE

[static-radio-ao3]

hii!! wanna ask what is your go-to karaoke song ?

STARING AT THE BLANK PAGE BEFORE YOU OPEN UP THE DIRTY WINDOW RELEASE YOUR INHIBITIONS FEEL THE RAIN ON YOUR SKIN

> inbox me one thing you wanna know about me

#unwritten by natasha beddingfield!! #such a banger #she has so many good songs #i am ready for the natasha beddingfield renaissance #ask game

[sorrellegiance]

3, 8, 9!!

hiya kasper! thank you for making the ask and then sending me an ask :DDD

under a readmore because it got LONG

3. Cher - Believe.mp3: unwritten by natasha bedingfield because release your INHIBITIONS feel the rain on YOUR SKIN no one else can feel it for YOU only you can let it IN. brebbs has already put his whirlwind romcom itinerary out in the world; webby just needs to say YES. yes to drenching himself in words unspoken, yes to living his life with his arms wide open!! YES TO GIVING THAT BOY A TOUR OF YOUR HOMETOWN (1).

8. Hall of Fame - BUMBUSTER!! they are actually going through a difficult period of separation right now because buster went in for that ownership stake, which could've been fine because plenty of sports team owners stay hands-off and prioritize their other investments, but he's buster, so he's GOTTA be IN there, even though he promised bum after they retired, he'd let him teach him how to ride and rope and they'd see if they were up to starting a herd out in north carolina. (phew, run-on sentence!) building a herd could literally refer to a herd of cattle or, euphemistically, maybe a friend of a family friend knows a girl who's in trouble and, well, it's something they've been talking about for almost their entire careers in baseball, but with their schedules, and then bum signing in arizona, it just wouldn't have been fair to let any kid essentially be 90% raised by a nanny. anyway so when buster flew off to pay court to shohei ohtani, bum left him a voice message: don't bother coming back, you BASTARD, unless you want to be met on the porch (that you and i built!) with a shotgun.

9. Hot Stove SZN - casey schmitt/jd davis/michael conforto...he is their young man!! jd's had a thing for michael since they were both on the mets, but then michael missed a season, and jd got traded, and then michael came and signed with the giants and jd thought...maybe. maybe. and then michael showed up for spring training, as beautiful and steady as he always was, and jd thought, fuck it who knows how long we've got before we're traded away, maybe we can try drinks. it's too easy to be around each other, but what's the point of fighting it? farhan will make his moves when he does, and they'll keep trying a different napa vintage with dinner every night.

casey comes up, and they definitely share a little chuckle as he pinballs around the clubhouse. he does solicit hitting tips from each of them, but is disheartened that they don't so much as blink when he pouts. casey definitely asks blake about them, and blake is like: casey, they live together. casey...doesn't know what that means. blake tries again: casey, they cook dinner together. casey: *suprised pikachu face* that...means he needs to COMPLETELY change up his approach! blake facepalms because that is NOT what he meant and decides he'd better go get a real vet to head this off at the pass.

but it's too late. casey has already finagled a dinner invite to the conforto-davis household, where, despite his best intentions, he gets wine-drunk way too fast and falls asleep in his dessert. michael and jd look at each other over the rims of their glasses and rock paper scissor for who washes the dishes and who puts him to bed in the guest bedroom. casey wakes up for breakfast, is embarrassed for exactly half a minute, remembers who he is, makes eye contact with jd, sits himself down in michael's lap and steals his waffle. jd, who is making more waffles, closes the waffle iron on the sleeve of his shirt. michael sloshes his coffee onto casey's pants and well, now he has to go lend casey a pair of pants. he very nearly loses his composure when casey shucks his pants in their bedroom, and then michael does lose his composure for real when jd follows them in and closes the door behind him. it definitely takes at least two sets of hands to handle casey's manic pixie dream girl-ness (2) (3).

#i had so many tabs of bbref and the athletic open for reference 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 #sorreplies #baseball on the brain

[ranger-kellyn]

One thing I haven't seen cross my dash is a "how to" tutorial for how to change your icon and header, and I mean. I've been here since 2011, so I'm well versed in this, but I have no clue how the website guides any new users. Maybe it's not nearly as intuitive as I think it is. Genuinely, no judgement here.

So have one I threw together while putting off an email. This is for DESKTOP. Maybe I'll make an app version as well, but I'm hoping that the app maybe guides you if you've just signed up on it.

First you go to the pencil icon in the top right corner of your dash.

It then gives you this drop down menu, and you want to hit Edit Appearance at the bottom.

From there, it takes you to this. You want to hit Edit appearance in the right corner of your blog. ( also recommend enabling custom theme, but that's a post for another day)

Once you've hit that, there's two pencils you can click. The one on the upper right, below Cancel and Save lets you edit the header.

Like this. You can play with the stretch header image toggle to see if it works better for whatever picture you choose. You can zoom in and reposition however you like.

The bottom pencil over your icon will bring up this. If you toggle Show avatar off, it just won't display your icon whenever someone clicks to preview your blog, it'll still be visible on the dash. You can change the shape to either circle or square. It's all personal preference.

Make sure you hit save and you're good!

I also recommend at least putting something in the header text. I obv have some Taylor Swift lyrics on the top, and then some very basic info about myself in the main body. You can put as much or as little as you like. You don't have to put your legal name. I know some people I follow have just a random quote or sentence there, and nothing else, and I personally don't think anything of it. But just put something to at least indicate you're a real person. Even something like "idk what i'm doing here". Yep. Sounds like the average tumblr user to me lmao (until the bots pick that up and well...if you have enough genuine posts on your blog you should still be safe)

And if I can give any other advice for newcomers: You're not here to be popular. You're not here for clout. You're here to be you. You don't have to give anyone you know IRL your url. Be free. Something something release your inhibitions, feel the rain on your skin and all that.

Also, get the XKit extension. It has a ton of handy features like the mass unliker, quick reblogs, some accessibility features, and my personal favorite: post blocker. (Goodbye color of the sky shitpost) Most of XKit, though, you'll have to play with on your own to find out what you do and don't like.

#Tumblr #How To #idk how to tag this lmao #but seriously no judgement if you just didn't know how to change it #i'm someone who will brute force a new skill or website to figure things out #if this helps even one person then great #if not #well i still win bc i got to put off this email for a while kdljfgkjld #long post #also i hope u like my bad squares :)

[blackacre13]

idk if you've been keeping up with memes around the CDC recommendations that they've changed around so much that the internet, per usual, have bastardised them. there's the "the cdc recommends that you should release your inhibitions and feel the rain on your skin" and "the CDC just announced you don’t actually have to wash your hands, just get the fingies a little wet."

please use the best one yet from this format if you can: "the CDC recommends sucking the strap"

😈😈😈😈 thanks!

“Well, for one thing, I’m closing down the club,” Lou sighed. “That seems inevitable anyway. I mean alcohol and dancing isn’t typically deemed essential unless you run in our circles.”

“Fuck, I’m sorry, baby,” Debbie breathed, sitting down on the edge of the bed next to the blonde as she leaned against her shoulder. “God, this is so terrifying. I mean, we’re better off than most. Healthy base for us both at least. Thank Fuck you quit smoking. And obviously, we’re set money wise. Can order in and avoid going out. We’re actually sort of built perfectly for this.”

“That’s true,” the blonde mumbled, scrolling through her phone, biting her thumb.

“Stop. Doom scrolling,” Debbie warned.

“Look who finally made it into 2020,” Lou smirked, kissing Debbie on the cheek as she lay back against the sheets, holding the phone above her head. “We’ve really got to take this seriously, Debs.”

“Alright, alright,” Debbie nodded, standing up as she started to pace. “We’ll make a plan. Let’s start a list. What can we stock up on so we don’t have to run out all the time. Things we need. Masks? Any meds that help? Hand sanitizer, obviously.”

“Toilet paper, paper towels, some canned goods and frozen stuff,” Lou muttered.

Debbie was pacing rapidly now, ticking things off as the blonde sat up, highly amused by her frantic wife, who was now, in no way, paying attention to Lou’s suggestions and additions to the list, even though she was really getting into the nitty gritty more medical side of things now.

“Did you same something about the CDC?” Debbie finally asked, only slowing her pacing slightly. “Special type of mask and when they think there could be a vaccine. What else.”

“I mean they do recommend one thing,” Lou smirked, licking her lips.

“Yeah, I’m all ears, obviously, Lou, what can we—“

“Well, new studies are showing that it’s amazingly effective against Covid.”

“Seriously?” Debbie whipped around. “What is?”

“Where did I—Oh, yeah, right here,” Lou spoke, pretending to scroll as she studied the phone with a serious face. “There it is. The CDC recommends sucking the strap.”

“Lou,” Debbie warned.

“Yes, honey?” Lou smiled innocently, her eyes twinkling as she clicked her phone off, placing it beside her.

“That’s not funny,” Debbie hissed, crossing her arms as she stepped closer to the bed. “This is a serious disease.”

“And you give seriously good head,” Lou shrugged.

“You’re one to talk,” Debbie snorted.

“You know that was a compliment right?” The blonde grinned, standing up from the bed as she tugged Debbie against her.

“What I said or what you said?” Debbie whispered.

“Dealer’s choice,” Lou murmured, fingers slipping into Debbie’s belt loops as she pulled the brunette’s hips tight against hers.

“Baby, I’m really scared about all this,” Debbie murmured, biting at her lip nervously as she leaned into the Australian’s embrace, grateful for her comfort. “This is all just a little apocalyptic and insane.”

“I know,” Lou agreed, nodding sadly. “It’s not something to joke about. And we’re both going to take this very seriously, because I just got you back and I’m not ever letting you go, so we both had better stick around through this, alright? But, we aren’t going to get through it without a little silliness. Laughter is the best medicine after all.”

“Mm,” Debbie sighed. “That is true. 4 out of 5 dentists recommend it.”

“That’s toothpaste,” Lou frowned. “You sure you want to quarantine here with me in the loft? It’s so small and uncomfortable and I could put you up in a hotel or—“

“What happened to both sticking around through this together?” Debbie teased, sticking out her tongue.

“Did I say that?” Lou grinned. “You must have heard that wrong.”

“Maybe you were too busy thinking about me sucking your dick,” Debbie winked, trying to scurry away as Lou grabbed her, the brunette letting out a shriek of giggles. “You know I’d offer,” Debbie murmured, pulling down Lou’s zipper, “But oops, something very vital seems to be missing for that activity.”

“I can fix that,” Lou whispered, licking down Debbie’s neck. “Easy.”

“And why should I just go ahead and agree to sucking your strap?” Debbie asked, raising an eyebrow. “Besides the obvious. That I’m excellent at it.”

“Because you know me, honey,” Lou whispered, her voice dropping as Debbie started to squirm against her. “You suck me off, I get you off. I’m sure you’ll already have the strap nice and wet for me with that pretty little mouth of yours and that gorgeous tongue. Might as well finish the job and fill you up.”

“I thought you were just joking around,” Debbie breathed, her breath hitching as Lou’s leg came between hers, pressing her thigh upwards.

“I’m not laughing,” Lou hissed, her voice seeping with lust. “Are you?”

“No,” Debbie shook her head. “That’s what I want too.”

“You do?”

“Please, Daddy.”

#queue #blackacre13 #ocean's eight #oceans eight #oceans 8 #ocean's 8 #o8 fanfic #o8 fanfiction #lou miller #Debbie ocean #lou x debbie #Debbie x lou #lou and debbie #Debbie and lou #loubbie #Lou Miller x Debbie ocean #heist girlfriends #heist wives #ocean's eight fanfic #ocean's eight fanfiction #ocean's 8 fanfic #ocean's 8 fanfiction #lou and deb #deb and lou #lou x deb #deb x lou #incorrect quotes #debbie x lou #debbie ocean

[dadiism]

DROPS OF JUPITER: AN ESME LOOMIS PLAYLIST

drops of jupiter || train

now that she's back in the atmosphere with drops of jupiter in her hair she acts like summer and walks like rain reminds me that there's a time to change, hey since the return of her stay on the moon she listens like spring and she talks like june, hey hey, hey, yeah

a thousand miles || vanessa carlton

making my way downtown walking fast, faces pass and i'm homebound staring blankly ahead just making my way making a way through the crowd and i need you and i miss you and now i wonder if i could fall into the sky do you think time would pass me by? 'cause you know i'd walk a thousand miles if i could just see you tonight

unwritten || natasha bedingfield

i am unwritten can't read my mind i'm undefined i'm just beginning the pen's in my hand ending unplanned staring at the blank page before you open up the dirty window let the sun illuminate the words that you could not find reaching for something in the distance so close you can almost taste it release your inhibitions feel the rain on your skin no one else can feel it for you only you can let it in no one else, no one else can speak the words on your lips drench yourself in words unspoken live your life with arms wide open today is where your book begins the rest is still unwritten

m!ssundaztood || pink

i might be the way everybody likes to say i know what you're thinking about me (uh-uh) there might be a day you might have a certain way but you don't have my luxuries and it's me, i know, i know my name 'cause i say it proud everything i want, i always do lookin' for the right track always on the wrong track but are you catchin' all these tracks that i'm layin' down for you?

hollaback girl || gwen stefani

i heard that you were talking shit and you didn't think that i would hear it people hear you talking like that getting everybody fired up so i'm ready to attack, gonna lead the pack gonna get a touchdown, gonna take you out that's right, put your pom-poms downs getting everybody fired up a few times i've been around that track so it's not just gonna happen like that 'cause i ain't no hollaback girl i ain't no hollaback girl

all i want || kodaline

when you said your last goodbye i died a little bit inside i lay in tears in bed all night alone without you by my side but if you loved me why did you leave me take my body take my body all i want is all i need is to find somebody i'll find somebody

dog days are over || florence + the machine

happiness hit her like a train on a track coming towards her stuck still no turning back she hid around corners and she hid under beds she killed it with kisses and from it she fled with every bubble she sank with her drink and washed it away down the kitchen sink the dog days are over the dog days are done the horses are coming so you better run run fast for your mother, run fast for your father run for your children, for your sisters and brothers leave all your love and your longing behind you can't carry it with you if you want to survive

flowers || miley cyrus

i can buy myself flowers write my name in the sand talk to myself for hours say things you don't understand i can take myself dancing and i can hold my own hand yeah, i can love me better than you can

#chq;task #[ inspiration ] #[ esme ]

[lilnasxvevo]

WAIT there’s two umbrellas left in the rain in The Untamed and one is Lan Wangji’s famous Umbrella of Sadness (release your inhibitions feel the rain on your skin) and the second one is Jiang Cheng’s Umbrella of Murder that he drops at one point when killing people outside Guanyin Temple and which we last see spattered with henchman blood.

…I KNOW there’s something smart that can be said about this but it’s escaping me right now. Anybody?

[miaclemeverett]

Everyone always talks about releasing their job how about you release your inhibitions?

FEEL THE RAIN

ON YOUR SKIN NO ONE ELSE CAN FEEL IT FOR YOU ONLY YOU CAN LET IT IN NO ONE ELSE NO ONE ELSE CAN SPEAK THE WORDS ON YOUR LIPS

[branded-perceptions]

The socio-psychological conditioning of submissive religious cults and colonial times' hierarchies war-times

are inherited via nature, nurture and culture

and are what

similar like the out of this resulting by data statistics measured often passive apathetic in subjective minds' lost indirect dating behaviours

have surfaced via out of this bent economic motivations and mishandling of corona pandemic and reputation managed apathy towards causal reality of C-19 vaccine side-effects that via the already in early 2020 publicly available scientific insights could easily been solved and mitigated if we as society would filter the our 🎶"UNWRITTEN - NATASHA BEDINGFIELD" future defining perceptions and interpretations less by social feedback

(🎵I AM UNWRITTEN)

and more by proactive curiosity towards causal reality testing motivating each other to in the here and now look behind our social norms, concepts and explanatory mind constructs like group-identities and ideologies

(🎵CAN'T READ MY MIND, I'M UNDEFINED)

regarding causal functionality of our life force

(🎵I'M JUST BEGINNING)

whose demands variate according to the evolving objective circumstances

(🎵THE PEN'S IN MY HAND, ENDING UNPLANNED)

whose otherwise predeterministic flow of causal effects we can only avoid proactively

(🎵STARING AT THE BLANK PAGE BEFORE YOU)

by looking behind the uncomfortably clouted inherited and learned conditioning

(🎵OPEN UP THE DIRTY WINDOW)

whose rather rigid cultural constructs🌛🛐🐑💤🐑 periodically detach from functionality of objective causalities' relation🌞 to our life force

(🎵LET THE SUN ILLUMINATE THE WORDS THAT YOU CANNOT FIND)

we collectively in society manage via our entrained aspirations

(🎵REACHING FOR SOMETHING IN THE DISTANCE)

whose from direction🧠👅🧠 of economic and cultural capital incentives'🏅 mimetic motivations emanated causal creations define societies' wellbeing

(🎵SO CLOSE YOU CAN ALMOST TASTE IT)

which in every form of social organisation the more powerful tend to leverage to their advantage via by that moulded mimetic repressions

(🎵RELEASE YOUR INHIBITIONS)

that similar like a "positive" monotonic city life or ever shiny beach weather apathetically detach us from the "negative" emotions like from a thunder storm whose contrast makes you feel more alive

(🎵FEEL THE RAIN ON YOUR SKIN)

to more consciously care for your causal wellbeing with the unconscious feelings of your motivations

(🎵NO ONE ELSE CAN FEEL IT FOR YOU)

whose functionality depends on "the judgment" of causal reality testing

(🎵ONLY YOU CAN LET IT IN)

whose results one needs to out of own initiative more directly publicly vulnerably voice and introspect about

(🎵NO ONE ELSE, NO ONE ELSE CAN SPEAK THE WORDS ON YOUR LIPS)

as otherwise we as society similar like in out of lack of this resulting mishandling of C-19 pandemic and vaccine side effects collectively not act upon

(🎵DRENCH YOURSELF IN WORDS UNSPOKEN)

via our thus quite narrow collective considerations

(🎵LIVE YOUR LIFE WITH ARMS WIDE OPEN)

of our by irony of Abrahamic religions' "holy" books

(🎵TODAY IS WHERE YOUR BOOK BEGINS)

mocked reputation managed status "heaven"🤥😷😇

(🎵THE REST IS STILL UNWRITTEN)

that via their emanated motivations direct our future aspirations metaphorical "afterlife" that our future generations will live

(🎵I BREAK TRADITION)

in ways they need to question and counterbalance for themselves

(🎵SOMETIMES MY TRIES, ARE OUTSIDE THE LINES, YEAH)

instead of passively blindly emanating or following any culinary dog shit charged with power, appearance and authority

(🎵WE'VE BEEN CONDITIONED TO NOT MAKE MISTAKES)

without understanding it oneself:

🎵BUT I CAN'T LIVE THAT WAY, BEN

[spartanguard]

summary: Imagine Killian came over with the first curse. Imagine Belle wasn’t locked away—that she actually had been Lacey that whole time. Imagine if they met. (Imagine if they did whole lot more than that.)

A/N: It’s time for Kaitlyn’s annual self-indulgent birthday fic! It’s not CS—not remotely—but I had a desire to see Killian x Lacey, and realized that I couldn’t do it within canon. So here’s some AU that’s bound to piss people off but I enjoy it so don’t come at me. Hope some of you like it, too!

rated M | 1.3k | AO3

Ian Jones didn’t bother to lock the door of his office as he left it. If anyone really wanted to mess with the harbormaster’s files and ancient PC, they were welcome to it. Besides, this was Storybrooke; he’d be so lucky if something that exciting happened. 

(Besides—the real valuables were hidden...offshore, so to speak. His extracurricular activities were not necessarily above board but the only thing that made his mundane existence bearable. Just don’t tell the new sheriff that.)

Anyways. He left the docks, taking the familiar side streets and alleys that led to the Rabbit Hole. It was a Monday, so it’d be quiet there—well, save for the regulars, like himself. He wasn’t sure exactly when it became tradition to end a shift with a celebratory drink, and some might find flaw with the frequency in which he stopped into the watering hole, but those people thankfully kept their opinions to themselves.

No one spared a glance when he entered the dimly-lit dive, and no one ever did. He slid onto his usual stool at the bar and ordered his usual rum, then settled in for a usual night of drinking and casual, empty conversation.

(He never said his nights here were fulfilling; perhaps they were as banal as his days. But he liked it well enough to not seek out a change. He was familiar with the stir of restlessness, but it wasn’t telling him to do anything—yet.)

He glanced around the half-empty bar; billiards tables took up one side of the large space, where a couple dusty miners were making bets that everyone knew they wouldn’t honor; a couple was attempting to have a private rendezvous in one dark corner, oblivious to the fact that they were actually on full display; and a fight was about to break out at the jukebox over whether they should play Van Halen or Guns N Roses, if his hearing was right.

Actually, that caught his attention; bar fights didn’t happen often but were always entertaining. But more importantly, he’d never before seen this dark-haired lass, who was trying to take on a much-larger man. 

It wasn’t often strangers showed up in town, so anyone new was a break in the monotony. (That included the new sheriff, though he hadn’t had occasion to meet her yet...and he was rather hoping to hold off on that encounter as long as possible given his less-than-legal side hustle.)

And, though this (rather attractive) woman seemed capable of holding her own in a fight, neither party was the most sober and her foe was easily twice her size. Ian was nothing if not a gentleman (when he felt like it), and it’d be bad form to let her lose this battle, as she was sure to do—she wasn’t as steady on her stilettos as she thought she was.

He strode over as casually as he could and told the man to, “Leave the lady alone.” 

The brute was nearly bent over, trying to get into the woman’s face, but rose to his full height at Ian’s arrival. “Or what?” he sneered, then shoved Ian’s shoulder—specifically the left one, the arm of which quite obviously ended in a prosthetic hook.

Ian was well aware of his lack of appendage, and if there was one thing he hated, it was when others tried to use it against him. “Well,” he snarled, but rather than finish his sentence, swung back and clocked the man with his right fist. The asshole fell against the jukebox head-first, then slid to the floor, knocked out cold. 

The bar had gone silent at the scene, but a few moments later, the opening strains of “Runin’ With The Devil” began, and the hum of conversation resumed. One of the guy’s friends came to tend to him, but Ian had already turned around, headed back to his stool to finish his drink (and hopefully get some ice for his aching knuckles).

“Wait,” the lass said, reaching out for his forearm. “You’re just gonna walk away without letting me say thank you?”

He turned around and she was grinning up at him—a wide thing, slightly inebriated, but genuine, and he couldn’t help but return it. He even went so far as to bow slightly, replying “At your service, ma’am.”

Adorably, she snickered at him. “I don’t think anyone has ever called me ‘ma’am’ and meant it,” she joked. “It’s usually ‘miss’ or ‘hey you, stop that’.” He couldn’t exactly place her accent—Australian, maybe? There were a handful of foreign ones floating around town, his own included. But he liked it.

He also liked the way her skin-tight skirt clung to her hips, and the way her black bra was visible through the gauzy blue blouse that brought out the color of her eyes. He might have a chivalrous side, but he could just as easily be a scoundrel.

A fact she’d picked up on, if the smirk he found on her lips after his blatant perusal of her form was anything to go by. But he’d noticed her eyes heading south as well, more than once.

“So, does my handsome hero have a name?” she asked, shifting ever so slightly closer.

“Ian,” he replied; he had a feeling that last names weren’t needed for this encounter. 

“Lacey,” she said back, and offered her hand. He took hers gently and lifted it to his lips, placing a kiss on the back of it. An apt name, he thought; it matched her bra. “Can I buy you a drink?” she offered.

“If the lady insists,” he shrugged, and they wordlessly headed to the bar.

One drink quickly became a few, the alcohol loosening their tongues—and their inhibitions. Later on, he could hardly remember what was discussed, and was only surprised to discover that they’d both been in town as long as either could remember and just somehow hadn’t had a chance to meet. A pity, that.

Because she was a divine kisser.

He wasn’t even sure how it had started; they were just suddenly too close—her lips looking far too delectable—and he needed to taste them. They were rum-soaked but sweet, whatever drug-store chapstick she wore getting lost in the shuffle of their lips. 

When their hands began to wander, someone told them they needed to take their activities elsewhere, so they stumbled out into the chill night—but didn’t go much farther than the side of the building. They weren’t the first to engage in traditionally horizontal activities on the vertical brick surface, and likely wouldn’t be the last. 

He pressed her against the edifice, quickly finding her lips again and cupping her pert rear with his hand, settling his hook at her waist. Her hands slipped under his leather jacket to grip his hips, though one eventually drifted up to his chest; her palm felt like fire through the thin cotton of his tshirt. 

She started to wobble—no thanks to her impractical footwear—so he slid his hand down her thigh and pulled her leg around him, letting her feel the evidence of his arousal. She groaned into his mouth and arched her hips against his, making him bite back his own cry of want.

“Can I?” she breathed, one hand on the button of his jeans. 

“Please,” he practically begged. 

She made quick work of the fly, and her own situation was easy to deal with. It wasn’t elegant—one might even call it quick and dirty—but they soon found release then and there, under the flickering streetlight outside the bar. 

As quickly as they’d come undone, they righted themselves—but he was enjoying himself too much to leave it at that.

“Y’know, my place is just a block away,” she said softly, but desire was dripping from the simple statement.

“Lead the way, love,” he replied—and oh, he loved to watch her lead.

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

Months later—after the curse was broken, after Killian had finally met and inevitably fallen head over heels for the blonde sheriff who absolutely upended everything in his life—did he finally realize that his lover-turned-friend (with benefits) was actually in love with his mortal enemy.

Yet another thing he could hold over the Crocodile’s head, he supposed: he knew how to make Belle come.

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

yeah, I stand by that last line.

no idea who to tag but some of you that might like it: @kat2609 @optomisticgirl @thesschesthair @laschatzi @cocohook38 @kmomof4 @word-bug @pirateherokillian @scientificapricot @stubblesandwich @ohmightydevviepuu @shireness-says @phiralovesloki @profdanglaisstuff @initiala @idoltina @thejollyroger-writer @let-it-raines @donteattheappleshook​. Feel free to ignore; I have no idea who is into this.

#captain beauty #captain beauty ff #my ff #kaitlyn turns 33 #and writes smut for her crack ships

[haloud]

homecoming king

ao3 -- [rated e] -- for @lambourngb, a prize fic for @rnmbingo!

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

Alex knew he was home, not when his plane touched down in Albuquerque, not when he passed the kitschy sign welcoming him to Roswell, but when he climbed out of his car, stretched away some of the aches of the road, and felt his suitcase lighten in his hand.

Glancing over to the front door, he was met with the most welcome sight in the world—Michael lounging against a pillar, barefoot and dressed only in a pair of his sweats. Did he sleep? If he did, his skin would still be warm and soft from it. The cool morning air pricked at Alex’s skin, soothed his beating chest with every inhale.

Michael raised an eyebrow, and Alex nodded, releasing the handle of his suitcase to let Michael carry it away with his TK, placing it just inside the front door. Then Michael took one step off the porch, Alex rounded the front of his car, and before Alex could blink Michael’s arms were around him, Michael’s grinning mouth was pressed against his neck, their heartbeats thundering together. Alex wound his fingers in Michael’s curls and kissed the side of his head, the closest thing he could reach, let out a measured sigh that stirred the little hairs standing up on Michael’s skin.

 Home.

As he drew back, Michael slid his hands along the plane of Alex’s back to curve around his ribs; but he only went far enough to nudge his forehead against Alex’s, freeing his mouth enough to speak.

“Good trip?”

Alex just laughed, cupping Michael’s face in both hands, tipping him at a better angle to kiss him, lavishing in the rough-soft of his chapped lips, the liquid heat of his tongue sneaking a taste. When they pulled apart, Alex answered him, “Not compared to this,” and drew him back in to kiss him again, Michael swaying into him, laughing into each other, giddy with something as simple as small talk.

The last two weeks had been an unacceptable eternity, but it was over now.

“Want to get out of the driveway?” Alex said in Michael’s ear, and Michael pulled back, ran his hand down Alex’s arm to take his hand, and pulled him toward the door.

“Sure thing. Wanna get you off your feet.”

The words were innocent enough, but the way Michael’s tongue stroked his bottom lip was anything but.

They all but rushed to the door and privacy, and once inside, the door fell shut behind them, taking half the light with it. In the soft blue of morning, Michael’s hair was dark, his eyes still drooping with sleep, his shoulders rounded and his lines soft, and Alex was too awake from travel, too sensitive from weeks of understimulation, Michael a shock to all his systems. His suitcase floated toward the bedroom and settled at the foot of the bed for Alex to unpack it whenever he was ready. But he wasn’t ready yet. There were other things he had to do first.

His mind sent a hundred signals in a hundred different directions; there were a hundred things he needed to do, wanted to do now that he was home; but only one of them was important, and it screamed loud enough to drown out any inhibition that might try to lodge a complaint. He just about leapt into Michael’s arms, and Michael caught him with an oof, locking his arms around Alex’s waist, Alex’s shirt and hoodie rucking up so Michael’s arm laid across skin, and Michael held him with his feet a couple inches off the ground, bearing all his weight, solid and steady.

“Hey,” Michael murmured, nuzzling the side of his neck.

“Hey,” Alex whispered back. He raked his fingers through Michael’s hair a few times while Michael held him, then said, voice just as low, “You going to carry me to bed?”

“Yeah?” Michael nudged their noses together, speaking right against his mouth. “That what you want?”

Alex nodded, rocking their foreheads against each other. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too.”

Michael caught his mouth in another kiss, and Alex fit his fingers on the curve of Michael’s jaw, fingering the sweet roughness of his stubble, basking in the sensory input.

“Let’s take care of that, huh?” Michael murmured when they parted.

Before Michael took even a single step toward the bedroom, Alex kissed him again, so starving he couldn’t bear to even have him distracted by walking. With a gentle moan buzzing between their lips, Michael leaned forward, dipped Alex down to kiss him deeper, Alex wrapping a leg around his waist, opening himself up in every way he had to devour Michael’s warmth.

“We even gonna make it?” Michael rasped. “Or do you want me to lay you out right here, babe?”

Alex slid his hands down to cradle Michael’s neck, drawing him into another kiss, and another, and in between, he said, “Here is fine. Here is great…”

“Don’t know if it’s good enough for you.” Michael grabbed his thigh, holding his leg high up on his hip and starting to rock them together, firm enough when he ground down to make Alex arch back out of pure instinct. “I want to get you on the bed, give you everything you need, give it to you right…”

Pushing his weight forward, Alex swept Michael off balance, sliding a hand down his bare chest and twisting his grip in the waistband of Michael’s sweats, only inches from the mouth-watering line of his half-hard cock. He arched his own hips to make certain they rocked together, to make Michael’s eyelashes flutter, and then he said:

“Then give it to me.”

And let go of Michael, spun around, and stalked toward the bedroom with Michael on his heels. Michael caught up to him just over the threshold; Alex was arrested by arms around his waist, hauling him back against Michael’s strong body, his cock rocking against the curve of his ass, and Alex let out a laughing moan, moving with Michael as he almost-lifted him again and deposited him on the bed. They didn’t need to talk; on instinct, Alex started taking his leg off—he wasn’t going to need it for a few hours—while Michael grabbed lube and condoms and wet cloths to clean up with after, and then Michael was behind him, kneeling, an arm around his stomach and his lips against his neck.

“You smell so good,” Michael groaned, and Alex could only laugh, because whatever scent Michael found on his skin paled in comparison to the heady perfume of rain that soaked them both, that wet each grateful breath into lungs that had been too long without it.

“I want to smell like you,” Alex blurted, then bit his lip, then forced himself to let go. It didn’t matter how embarrassed he was to say things like that, Michael—

Yeah, Michael groaned again, fingers creeping up under the hem of Alex’s shirt, and Alex let him strip him out of it. The first touch of skin on skin lit up Alex’s senses so bad he shook, a rolling shiver that ran down his spine and over his skin and under Michael’s hands, rubbing up his arms to his shoulders and down again.

“Alex…”

“Michael.”

And then Alex was caught, looking up just an inch or two into Michael’s huge, sparkling eyes, his slightly furrowed brow, his red, parted mouth.

Just two weeks. Was it only? God.

Two weeks of texts and pictures and the simulation of his voice a phone could produce, and it hadn’t been enough. Alex was new all over again back in Michael’s arms, in their home, and Alex could feel Michael anywhere, anywhere in the world, but when they were together, when they collided in space, nobody ever got used to that.

“What do you need,” Michael almost-begged. He was always asking to be allowed to give Alex what he needed.

“I told you—I want to smell like you.” Alex said, running a hand down his thigh and hitching his own over top of it, canting his body back so the curve of his ass rested sweeter in Michael’s lap. Michael held him there, his hand a lovely fulcrum giving him leverage to rock their half-hard cocks together.

As Michael murmured and started rocking with him, Alex said, “I’m not gonna last—”

“Me neither—”

“Not for the first one.”

At that, Michael blushed, and Alex had to fight down a grin to continue, “I want to be inside you, but we aren’t going to get that far.” Already, Alex could feel his groin tightening, the warmth of Michael’s body, the feel of his friction, perfect, perfect. “So I just want you to come on me, let me feel you, make me yours—”

“Alex!”

“—And I’ll make you mine.”

Alex pitched his voice low, on purpose, rewarded with the way Michael’s pupils blew black and deep, the way his fingers clenched on Alex’s thighs, tips digging into his ass, until he was scrambling to get his pants pulled down before he spent in them like the teenagers they were always making of each other. Alex knocked their foreheads together, giggling helplessly at the urgency in Michael’s movements. He was so fucking cute, and hot, and Alex did that to him. Alex Manes.

A few quick pumps of their fumbling hands, a rub of Michael’s cock against the tender skin of his thigh, high up just before hair began, the texture of Michael’s treasure trail against his sensitive, sensitive skin—Michael came first, with a shuddery gasp, and Alex tumbled after him, tipped over by the hot streak of Michael’s come against his skin, the feeling of Michael’s hand right after, rubbing it into his skin, just like, just like Alex had—it hadn’t sounded like begging when he said it, but he was—just like Alex asked, to smell like him, to be his. It was hot. It was a little over the top. But it was something primal in Alex’s chest; something farther away than the stars, something closer together than atomic nuclei.

A soft sigh feathered across Alex’s cheek, so Alex reached up and ran his thumb along the lower lip that gave it to him. Michael dipped his head to kiss it, taking the tip into his mouth and sucking it in, just holding it between his teeth.

So much he could do with Michael like this. Wipe Alex’s own spend from his skin and lay it on his tongue, roll Michael on top of him and pull him down until nothing else was real, or do the other, and press Michael down, down, bury himself and everything he is and all the missing time and all the missing pieces in his body.

When Michael told him—the pieces want to be together—they were deep underground, and the only light for miles in any direction but up came from Michael’s eyes. Here, now, with the first true yellow of morning peeking through the parted curtains, Alex understands.

“What are you thinking?”

Michael pulled his mouth off Alex’s digit, so Alex wiped it on his cheek, focused on the pattern of pores and freckles and every minute detail of his face, drinking in his fill before he tries to answer.

“I’m thinking…I need to get out of the next trip somehow. I’m thinking about being glad to be home. I’m thinking…I’m still hungry.”

Michael’s pupils widen, his cock twitching against his thigh, so Alex drops a hand to give it a little love, and Michael curls around him, sliding a thigh between his.

“I’m still hungry, too.”

Alex swallowed; Michael’s eyes tracked the bob of his throat. “How do you want to get fed?” Alex asked, voice hoarse.

Rolling them both, Michael didn’t answer and squirmed down Alex’s body, kissing down his sternum and his belly and lower as he went, until he was on his stomach at the foot of the bed and looking up, tucking one of Alex’s thighs over his shoulder, and diving down.

“Fuck, Guerin!”

Alex shouted, hand flying down to grip Michael’s hair and tug as his cock sank into Michael’s hot, wet mouth.

Pulling off to take a breath and adjust his angle, Michael wiped his mouth and glanced back up, and Alex gave him his due—his undivided attention. He was so fucking beautiful—so fucking beautiful—all golden skin and well-padded muscle and soft, honey-brown curls—so much of him to watch and take in, and Alex savored it, stroked down his face and across his shoulders and back and everywhere he could reach, but his hands always returned to his hair, petting and pulling at him while he let little sounds of pleasure escape his mouth. Watching Michael for any sign of discomfort, he rolled his hips into the suction of his mouth; but all Michael did was begin to roll his own hips in rhythm, frotting his cock against the bedsheets.

Finally, Alex pulled harder, yanking Michael up by an inch or two despite the unsatisfied noise he made.

His voice was hoarse—cock-rough—and he whined, “Alex—”

“Enough,” Alex said, and that one word was enough to get him to close his mouth, a jolt of fire licking through Alex’s veins at that reaction, roaring hot enough to loose his next words. “You like the taste too much, and I don’t want you coming from my cock in your throat before I’m done with you.”

“I could come again—as many times as you want. Til I’m dry, til it hurts—” Michael panted.

“You can come when and how I want you to,” Alex corrected.

Michael moaned theatrically, eyes rolling and a grin spreading wide across his full mouth, and he crawled up Alex’s body to kiss him silly, Alex grinning into the kiss all the same, licking the taste of his skin out of Michael’s mouth.

Murmuring against his lips, Michael said, “How do you want me, then?”

“Lie back.”

He obeyed, flopping down among the pillows, and Alex moved to straddle his thighs, to give him the space to stroke his soft cock back to hardness.

“You’re still smiling,” Alex commented. No matter how much time passed, no matter how much control Alex thought his life let him with, that smile on Michael’s face did funny things to his stomach.

“Got a lot to smile about. Now that you’re back.”

“Cheeseball.”

“’S true.”

Alex ignored that along with Michael wandering his hands all over his body, his chest and his sides and his arms and his hips—he could grab his wrists, lean his weight forward and pin them to the bed and bite at Michael’s throat until he whimpered and kept himself still—but he needed to be touched as bad as Michael needed to touch him, so he let it slide.

“Did you touch yourself while I was gone?” He asked, tilting his head to better take in the sight of Michael, hair haloed across the pillow, golden skin against the dark blue sheets.

“You know I did.”

“That’s right.”

Abandoning Michael’s cock, Alex ran his nails down his thighs and back up, paying special attention to the curve of his ass, the sensitive skin right where his legs joined, leaving light welts just barely enough to sting, souvenirs for Michael to ponder the rest of the day, at least. Maybe he’d leave more before he had his fill. He wouldn’t be going anywhere again anytime soon, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t make sure Michael remembered him in every step, every breath.

Too possessive? Maybe so. But Michael drank it all in, in long, thirsty gulps, body twisting under Alex with every touch, and his desperation told Alex everything words couldn’t—possession was an ecstasy unparalleled.

“What did you think about?” Alex asked, taking his own cock in hand and stroking it slowly, still wet enough from Michael’s mouth to slick his way, a thought that sent a pulse of blood right to his groin.

“Mmmn…” Michael shifted underneath him, and Alex put a hand on his hip to guide him, to make him comfortable, to ground them both. Then Michael continued, “Thought about having you underneath me, had a vibe in my ass and thought about fucking you while you controlled it. You’d keep me on the edge but I’d come just from seeing your face when I gave it to you…then later I’d suck you off in the shower.”

Alex nodded. He could picture it: the vibrator buzzing just below hearing, the thrust of Michael’s body, the flex of his stomach, the way his hips would writhe on the backstroke as his own shifting muscles worked the vibe inside him—then, later—the pounding of the water, Alex gripping the shower bench to keep himself stead, Michael’s mouth and throat working him tip to root—

“Good boy. I love your imagination.”

But he didn’t move to reach for the drawer where they kept the few toys they used; he was in a hands-on mood, and Michael’s fantasy could wait.

(They had time.)

The cap clicked off the lube and Alex spread it on his fingers, watching as Michael watched him, tip of his tongue peeking out between his lips, a high flush pinking his face. His cock was full and red against his stomach—like he could be any other way after Alex said the magic words.

 Good boy.

And he was. So fucking good.

“What’s your imagination telling you?” Michael rasped.

Alex started his answer by lifting Michael’s hips and running a finger down the crack of his ass, enjoying the shiver that rippled down his body at that light touch.

“Whether it’s imagination or instinct, I’m thinking that no matter what you’ve jacked off to, you haven’t had anything down here since I left. And that means you must be aching for it, hm?”

“F-fuck, I—”

“Yes or no, Michael.”

“Yes!”

“Why did you deny yourself? I’m curious.”

He ran his finger back down Michael’s ass, catching the tip on the furl of his hole.

“Hnnn…I didn’t want…!”

Michael’s voice broke off when Alex moved his finger again, flicked over his hole again.

“Yes?”

“I didn’t want anything that wasn’t you. Your cock—size, shape, hot inside me—anything else just…” He whimpered. “Isn’t good enough.”

Alex raised an eyebrow. “Are you saying I’ve—”

“Ruined me for anything, anyone else.” Michael blinked his huge, amber eyes up at Alex. “Yeah, I’m sayin’ it.”

“You…”

Unbelievable. He was unbelievable.

“You’re unbelievable,” he said it out loud, and then he leaned forward, unbalancing himself deliberately and trusting Michael to catch him, surging forward to swallow him in a kiss. Their chests pressed together—Michael bore his weight, bore him up, supported him, easily—and their hearts pounded, battering against the bone and blood and cartilage keeping them apart.

When they pulled apart, mouths slick with each other, without needing to be told Michael braced Alex to assist in leverage him back to sitting. Fuck, he was so good. Alex could almost wonder if he’d been taking mind-reading lessons from Isobel, except that this was just Michael, or at least Michael with him, eager and observant and attentive and just so, so good.

 I’m going to fuck him til he cries from it.

He reached for the lube again. He knew Michael, knew how to play him, fret to string, chord to chord, so he knew how he whined when he was wet and open, teased until his cock was wept slick onto his stomach.

Michael shifted underneath him, spread his thighs best he could, tipping his hips forward chasing more friction against his ass. Alex’s head swam with sex and sweat and shimmering summer rain—he dove down deeper, licked a stripe up a tendon in Michael’s neck, bit at the edge of his jaw.

Finally, Alex took pity. “Put a pillow under your hips,” he commanded, and Michael obeyed. When he was situated, Alex took another tender kiss from his lips—so he could feel and taste the shuddery breath Michael took when Alex finally slid just one, single finger into the hot clench of his body.

“That’s it,” Alex murmured.

“Ahhh…”

He repeated, “That’s it. Does that feel good?”

“Hh—more.”

“Not yet. You can wait, can’t you? One at a time.”

Michael whined. For a brief second, Alex considered slowing down even more in the face of that impatience—but he didn’t have the patience himself.

Slowly, he began pumping that finger in and out, hooking it against Michael’s rim on every pass, keeping a close eye on every minute flicker of his face for the moment he began to give over to the sensation—only then did he crook his finger on the next pass, seeking out his prostate.

“Alex!”

“I know. Michael.”

A thousand different endearments always tripped off the tip of his tongue when he had Michael so near to all his senses, but nothing was so sweet or so true or meant so much as the simple syllables of his name.

“More—mmph!”

Alex cut off his pleading with another finger, scissoring them, stretching Michael roughly before  going back to rubbing his sensitive spot in light, rolling passes, just enough to be a torment.

“You’ve already come once,” Alex said. “How long do you think you’ll be able to hold out for another? If I asked you to?”

“F-fuck—however long, I’d try, however long you wanted.”

“And do you want that? Or do you want me to let you come, like you already said, as many times as I make you, even if it starts to hurt?”

“Whatever, whatever you want.”

“No, Michael.”

He paused the rhythm of his fingers, just held still deep inside Michael’s body—Michael bit his lip, eyes flicking down and away from Alex’s face—so Alex reached up with his clean hand to thumb his chin and tilt his attention back to where it belonged. Only when Michael met his eyes again did Alex speak again.

“You’re going to decide, and I’m going to give you what you want. Okay?”

What you want matters, too. It was an old fight, and not one they’d ever had in so many words, and not one they were going to have right now. Not with Alex’s suitcase still packed at the foot of the bed, not with the sun still lavender-new in the sky, travel still clinging to his skin starved too much for Michael for him to even shower before having him, and having him again. The both of them threw themselves on so many grenades for the other; fighting that ground-in instinct was a daily effort, but one that they’d proven was worth it.

Michael nodded his chin into Alex’s hand, and Alex thumbed his bottom lip to make his teeth let it go. He pulled his fingers out of Michael’s ass just enough to drizzle more lube on them and then thrust them back in, a little slower this time.

“Touch yourself,” he said, following his own advice and stroking his own cock, as soon as Michael got a hand on his.

“What if I wanna touch you?” Michael said defiantly, and Alex laughed.

“You’ll get your chance, I promise. I definitely want to feel your hands on me. Never had anyone touch me like you do.”

The words came out hoarse. It was supposed to be a tease, dirty talk, part of the game they made of riling each other to fever pitch, but Alex couldn’t possibly help but to mean it.

And Michael, as always, met raw with raw.

“Never touched anybody like you,” he said, so Alex kissed his sweet, hot mouth, then trailed wet kisses from the corner across his cheek to his ear, where he said:

“So tell me what you want, so we can both get what we need.”

“Fuck me,” Michael said. “Fuck me until you come inside, that’s all I want. Fuck me like it’s been two weeks—like it’s been forever.”

For just a second, Alex had to press his forehead to Michael’s temple and collect himself. Then he said, “Okay. Okay, Michael. I can do that.”

He didn’t waste a second longer, slicking up his cock and rubbing it against the upturned seam of Michael’s ass, then guiding his tip to the hole and pressing inside.

Michael bent in a graceful, grateful arc as Alex pushed in, stretching him far beyond what two fingers did for him inch by inch; his stomach flexed, his elbows went underneath him, his throat was exposed as his head tipped back and his mouth tipped open on a hissing gasp. Alex paused, hips settling flush with his ass, and his eyes fluttered as his cock throbbed with every little twitch and clench of Michael’s muscles.

Then, Michael moved on purpose, rolling his hips to fuck himself shallowly on Alex’s hard dick, complaining, “Fuck me, Alex—”

And Alex answered with a sharp thrust instead of with words, driving into Michael’s body with singular purpose, toward a singular point, palms planted on the bed on either side of the pulse rabbiting in Michael’s neck to balance him and brace some of his weight off his knee. Michael cried out, lower body curling up to meet him, toes curling, thighs trembling at the onslaught of sensation. His hands grabbed for Alex, slipping on his skin, clutching at his back.

“Alex—ah—Alex—”

Michael’s moans were just that—just a litany of his name, and Alex could hardly stand it, muscles wanting to go all weak with the emotion, but he redirected that instinct into pouring love all over and all into Michael’s body instead.

On his next thrust, Alex angled towards Michael’s prostate and struck gold, coaxing a wild, abandoned cry from Michael’s chest that he cut off with a hand across his mouth. So Alex grabbed for his wrist and forced that hand aside, pinning it beside his head.

“I want to hear you,” he said.

“Alex…”

Michael turned his head to kiss the vulnerable underside of Alex’s wrist and up his arm as far as he could reach before collapsing back down again, moaning behind closed lips when Alex stroked against his prostate again.

Alex almost did something about it—he wanted to hear him—except Michael took matters into his own hands first, tugging on Alex’s hand, pulling it to his mouth, taking his index finger between his lips and sucking it down, filling his mouth as Alex stuttered in the rhythm of his cock filling his ass, as Michael’s tongue flickered against the tip of his finger.

“You little shit,” Alex laughed, and Michael gave up a grin that bore his teeth against Alex’s knuckle, so Alex gave him what he wanted there, too, driving two fingers against his tongue, toward the back of his throat.

Fuck, fuck, Michael was so gorgeous with his mouth full—like he wasn’t gorgeous any way, all the time, taking Alex’s breath away, turning his world inside out. Next time one of them had to leave, they’d have to do more, do better, video chat or send more pictures or something, even if it meant coaxing Michael out of his comfort zone when it came to technology.

But that was for the future, and Alex wanted to soak himself in the present, the tight clutch of Michael’s body, the pulse and strain of his own muscles, the heat in his blood and the sounds of skin and pleasure and the deep perfume of musk and rain, and—

The best laid plans slid aside for what mattered, beyond any clever talk, beyond any of the games they played together, beyond anything but chasing the kind of completion they could only find in each other. And Michael matched Alex thrust for thrust, fingers curling against his shoulder, sliding down to rest a palm flat against his heart. Pain seared across his chest for a split second—Alex cried out—and then it faded, and Alex was left clutching Michael’s hand to him, pumping out the last few strokes before he came deep inside his body. Michael tumbled right behind him, hips jumping, thighs shaking as he came all over himself for the second time. His head jerked back so sharply Alex’s fingers were pulled from his mouth.

But that was okay, because Alex flopped down to the mattress and occupied his mouth another way, kissing him in between sharing breathless laughs.

“How’s that for a welcome home?” Michael asked hoarsely.

Alex nuzzled their noses together and answered, “Am I home? This isn’t a dream I’m having asleep on the plane?”

Whatever Michael was going to say in response was cut off by Alex’s stomach grumbling, so Michael just laughed again and said, “Are you usually hungry in dreams? How about you go ahead and grab the shower while I whip up breakfast, or, uh…” He checked the clock, and his grin turned sheepish. “Maybe brunch.”

“That’s a good plan.” But Alex didn’t budge, and Michael didn’t make to move, either. “Maybe later.”

“Later,” Michael agreed.

Later came with Alex’s hair still dripping onto the shoulders of one of Michael’s old, thin, soft t-shirts, sitting at the kitchen table with the sun in full splendor gilding the floor, the wood, the air itself. Michael put a plate and an omelet on the table in front of him and sat across, and they ate in happy silence, Michael’s handprint and his love nestled against Alex’s breast.

He couldn’t stop touching it, the place on his skin that had only just begun to shimmer, passing his thumb over it again and again like he expected it to feel different somehow.

“You’re already feeling it? My emotions, I mean?” Michael asked, his eyes resting on Alex’s chest, a little furrow between his own brows.

Alex reached out to take his hand, rubbing his knuckles like he’d just rubbed the handprint in an attempt to reassure. “Just a little. It’s…it’s something else.” He lifted Michael’s hand to kiss it. “You’re going to have to practice more.”

Michael’s eyebrows lifted. “Is that a reference to the orgasms I still owe you?”

“Ha, no. It’s me saying…I want to be able to feel you any time we want that there. I…I always want to carry your love inside me, and do that for you, how this feels, I…”

Michael leaned over the table and kissed him, threading his fingers through the hair on the back of his neck. Their food got a little cold before they got around to eating it, but that was just okay.

#my fic #malex fic #roswell new mexico #alex manes #michael guerin #malex

[toku-fangirl-2015]

Star, Venus, and Supergiant ^_^

Star—what song(s) do you feel describes you?

Oooh, this is a tough one! I have a ton of favorite songs. I would probably go with “Unwritten” by Natasha Bedingfield because it describes who I try to be:

Release your inhibitions/Feel the rain on your skin/No one else can feel it for you/Only you can let it in…Drench yourself in words unspoken/Live your life with arms wide open

Venus—what is your favorite TV show?

Kamen Rider would have to be OOO. Favorite Sentai is either ToQger or Zenkaiger. Non-toku is Leverage. ^_^

Supergiant—what’s something you like about yourself?

I like that I’m creative, and I try to be a caring person, so I always feel good when people say that I am (it seems rather selfish to say that about myself, but if someone else thinks I am, I believe them).

#thanks for the ask! #asks and answers #dangerouscommiesubversive

[pickeringawd]

night falls like rain

W: explicit sexual content & unprotected sex. WC: 1.5k words. AN: thank u for reading !

Shawn keeps tossing and turning, rousing you from sleep, only to settle back down a few seconds later. He does it again but this time, he also pulls you back against his chest, his skin warm. You figure he needs you pressed against him in order to finally sleep comfortably, so, after a beat or two, you melt into him and drift back to sleep.

You feel his lips touch the skin of your neck and his hand grip your waist. It’s nice so you don’t complain. In all honesty, it doesn’t bother you that he’s being so disruptive. It’s Sunday tomorrow. You’ll have all the time in the world to sleep in with him. You weren’t really sleeping, either. It was one of those dreamless nights.

He circles a hand around your neck, his grip gentle. You whimper. Tilting your head to the side, he kisses the corner of your mouth before further invading your personal space and giving you a proper kiss, your lips immediately parting to allow his tongue to push past. Your tongues lick and explore each other’s mouth with urgency.

Much too soon, he pulls back. You try to chase after his lips but he gently presses down on your neck, releasing his hold only after you’ve settled back down against the pillows. He then lets the same hand travel down your chest, pulling down your camisole so it bunches around your waist, the air kissing your exposed chest. You’d rather he was kissing your chest. He caresses your breasts, his larger hand fondling each one unhurriedly, his lips ghosting over your shoulder. Your chest is heaving up and down, each breath ragged.

Shawn leans in and takes a nipple in his mouth, the latter deliciously warm. He swirls his tongue around it, his hand gripping your other breast and pinching your nipple between his fingers. He’s pressing his erection against your ass, his hips moving slowly. Eager, you push back and start grinding against him. You enjoy the quiet noises he makes in response. He gently bites down on your nipple before pressing his tongue flat against it. An insatiable desire to be wrecked by him overpowers you. You can’t wait to be at his mercy and let him have complete control of you and your body.

“Baby,” you whisper. He gives the breast he had in his mouth a final squeeze then hooks his thumb in the waistline of your panties and gently drags them down and off your legs. He runs a hand up and down your bare thigh, leaning in for another kiss. He has you so wrapped up in the kiss, the softness of his lips and the expertise of his tongue as it massages yours, that you completely miss him ridding of his own boxers and lifting up your thigh.

He rubs the tip of his length between your folds at an excruciatingly slow pace. “You’re so wet,” he whispers against your lips. You gasp into his mouth as he presses the head in, his hand flying up to wrap around your neck once again, hooking his arm beneath your knee in the process so that you’re spread open for him. You let out a strangled whine, the room suddenly unbearably hot. He nibbles your bottom lip, the flesh red and swollen, as he pushes in a little further. You’re overwhelmed by the way his cock stretches you out.

His movements still as he lets you adjust, focusing all of his attention on your lips until he’s got you in a trance. Everything blurs around you, Shawn remaining all that is visible. After a few minutes, impatience coupled with desperation settle in and you plead for him to fill you up. So, he does. He pushes his cock in, still slowly, gauging your reaction, until his hips are flush against your ass. You’re reminded of how big he is. You clench around him and he lets out a grunt, his hips bucking reflexively.

He holds himself back, his hips immobile as he showers you with careful attention, pressing gentle kisses all over your face, a sharp contrast to the obscenity displayed moments earlier. You’re putty in his hands by the time he decides to begin thrusting. You melt into him as his cock slides in and out, a string of moans tumbling past your lips.

“You feel so good. So warm and tight.” Heat pools in your gut, your body reacting positively to his words. His lips continue to taste the flushed skin of your face and you notice that he’s studying you, taking every facial expression into account so he knows when he’s hit a sweet spot, then hitting that spot repeatedly. You feel your eyes roll to the back of your skull, wave after wave of pleasure coursing through your veins. You never want him to stop.

“Doing so good, baby. Taking my dick so well.” He praises. He picks up speed, fucking into you a little more carelessly. You’re clenching around him more often now, his cock thick as it slides across your walls. The noises coming out of your mouth are incessant and increasing in volume. “I need you to be a good girl and shut the fuck up, baby, okay?” Shawn grits between clenched teeth, his grip tightening around your neck. You whimper, his stern demeanor so incredibly hot. Nevertheless, you sink your teeth into your bottom lip to keep from making any more noise. He’d never tell you to be quiet at home. Hotel rooms, however, are different.

You realize it’s impossible to keep quiet. Not when every thrust of his hips sends a jolt of ecstasy through you. So, you turn around, disturbing the rhythm he’d fallen into and drape a leg over his waist, remaining nice and open for him. You bury your face in the crook of his neck and feel his hand travel down the length of your back and down the curve of your ass. He raises his hand and brings it down hard on your cheek, the sound sharp as it rings out. A whine startles out of you. Burrowing your face deeper into his neck, the faint smell of cologne and sweat heavenly, you round an arm around him, fingernails scratching red angry lines down his back as he smacks your ass twice more.

He gently caresses the reddened flesh of your cheek then reaches between your bodies to realign himself, groaning as he stretches you open once more. The broken sounds that leave your mouth are muffled by his neck. You press your body flush against his and feel his moans rather than hear them. Mouth latching onto his neck, you suck and bite fresh bruises onto the sensitive skin, admiring the adorning colours.

“Fuck,” he drawls and runs his fingers through your hair before grabbing the side of your face and pressing his mouth sloppily against yours, swallowing your sobs as he fucks you hard and deep. A muffled and incoherent chorus of babybabybaby is all you can utter as your mind blanks, the entirety of your being attuned to the ruthless slamming of his hips. You clench and spasm around him as he pushes you over the edge. Grunting, he maneuvers you on your back and continues to roll his hips into you, burrowing himself much deeper at this angle. You reach out for him and watch as he lowers himself, meeting you halfway, lips locking in a heated and messy kiss. His moaning is a little less inhibited, an indication he’s about to orgasm.

You admire his face, how beautifully wrecked he looks, and can’t help but kiss his rosy cheeks, your fingers combing through the damp hair at the nape of his neck, tugging harshly. His breath hitches and he whines low and long as you do it again.

The obscene sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room. He emits an almost animalistic snarl at the base of his throat, gripping your hip and shifting a little so he’s pounding into you, hitting you just right every time. “Your pussy is wrapped so fucking good around my cock, baby,” he pants, huskiness coating his tone. His words travel straight to your core and you lose it, back arching and head falling back in ecstasy as you unravel beneath him. You fist the bedsheets, gasped moans spilling out of your mouth as his thrusts become more erratic, his cock twitching.

“Come inside me.”

“Oh, fuck.” A deep groan rips through his throat and you feel his cock pulsate as he releases his load inside you, warmth spreading through your gut. You rock your hips in unison with his, riding out each other’s high.

He pulls out and slumps against you, holding himself up by his elbows so not to crush you. You’re both breathing audibly, skin glistening under the moon’s glare. Fingers are light as they trail over the line of his shoulder, your heart fluttering as you take him in. His head is resting on your chest and you notice his breathing has slowed. Just like that, he’d fallen asleep. You run your fingers gently through his disheveled curls and focus on the slow rhythmic beating of his heart against you, sleep gripping you soon after.

#me right after posting this: *goes back into hiding* #shawn mendes #shawn mendes fanfiction #shawn mendes fanfic #shawn mendes one shot #shawn mendes imagines #shawn mendes stories #shawn mendes smut #shawn mendes fluff #type: smut #type: fluff #title: night falls like rain

[maria-scribbles]

glitter + crimson (let’s start a riot)//part two

summary: the pogues get up to a few shenanigans, burn the shit out of some marshmallows, and have a group hug of epic proportions. the dynamic duo of kiara and sailor brings out girl power in full force before getting real about a certain golden group rule. 

word count: 4.2k+ 

ship: jj maybank x oc (sailor flynn)

warnings: mentions of abuse/neglect/parental abandonment/anxiety, underage drinking, weed usage, more fluff, flirting, reference to absolute legend kobe bryant

a/n: hello again! thank you all for the great response to part one, i’m seriously blown away and so grateful for your support! <3 i’m happy y’all enjoyed reading about sailor’s adventures with the pogues! here’s part two, which had previously been combined with part one but i decided to split it because it was getting wayyyy too long (over 8k words, oops). also i’ve never even seen weed with my own two eyes before so my bad if that part’s not realistic, i did my best lol. unbetaed, so i apologize for any mistakes. enjoy!

gif credit goes to @toesure​

~Masterlist~

part one | part three | part four | playlist

part two: treading water 

The pogues spend the next few hours among the waves, surfing their hearts out until they’re waterlogged, exhausted, and hungry. As the sun starts to sink over the island they pile into John B’s beat up Volkswagen, all their boards tied together on the roof, and head to The Wreck, where Kiara’s dad begrudgingly feeds his daughter and her ‘delinquent’ friends.

That word seems pretty harsh at first but as the evening goes on and the group gets a little louder, it’s kind of well-deserved. Pope can’t seem to stop dropping his fork, sending the rest of them into hysterical laughter each time, and everyone knows when Taylor Swift comes on the radio, Sailor has an obligation to get up and dance. The fact that she knocks a chair over in her haste to show off her moves only makes them laugh harder. When they finally leave and head back to the Chateau for the night, she makes sure to put forty bucks on their table for the food and the twelve pack of beer Kiara swipes from behind the bar when Mr. Carrera isn’t looking.

While it may not look like much, John B’s house if home for more than just him. It’s a safe port for all the pogues when they get lost in the storm, a place where they can all be themselves, be real, without judgement, and it’s Sailor’s second favorite place on the island. She’s lost count of how many nights she’s spent here, sleeping in the spare room, on the pull-out couch, and the hammock in the yard (sleepovers have become even more common in the eight months since Big John’s disappearance at sea, no one willing to leave his son all alone in an empty house.).

The hammock is where she finds herself now on this warm June night, sitting beside JJ with his arm around her shoulders, clad in his sweatshirt that she unashamedly stole last year, passing a joint back and forth while the others lounge around the small bonfire, roasting the old marshmallows John B found in the very back of one of his kitchen’s cupboards and drinking beer. One of her long legs dangles over the edge, toes pushing against the cool grass as they lazily swing back and forth, watching Kiara burn her third marshmallow in a row.

“Kie, what did those poor things ever do to you?” Sailor asks, exhaling smoke through her nose before passing the joint to JJ, and the brush of his fingers against hers sends warmth through her whole body. Kiara just shoots her the bird in response as she stabs her fourth marshmallow and holds it over the fire. The redhead laughs and rests her head against JJ’s shoulder, her limbs light as air. In the distance, lightning arcs between the clouds and creates a dazzling show over the water as thunder rumbles but none of them care enough to notice.

Although she never outright asks to smoke, she also never refuses the chance to get high with her best friend and let their problems drift away with every hit, if only for a little while. Lines get a little blurry between them, too, as both become oh so affectionate with each other when their inhibitions disappear like the sun over the horizon. She sighs contentedly at the blissful feeling of his fingers running through her hair and burrows further into his side, turning so she can throw an arm over his waist and curl her own fingers into the soft material of his shirt.

“Damn it!” John B yells as his marshmallow, in the span of a few seconds, catches fire and unceremoniously falls into the flames with a hiss.

“Ha, I’m not the only one on the struggle bus!” Kiara laughs gleefully, delicately turning her fourth attempt to keep it from burning like the other three. “We can’t all be Pope, I guess.”

The other boy looks up at the mention of his name and grins, holding out a perfectly toasted marshmallow on the end of the stick in his hand. “It takes talent, Kie.” He jokes, chuckling as she sticks her tongue out at him.

Sailor can’t help laughing, too when the two of them dive headfirst into a heated discussion about the finer points of roasting things over a campfire, their voices becoming louder and louder as they try to talk over one another while John B, unfazed from his spot between them, just holds another marshmallow over the fire and ignores them completely as he takes a sip of his beer.

“Aaaand JB’s totally checked out of that particular conversation,” She says to JJ under her breath and she feels more than hears him laugh in response.

“Poor bastard,” He whispers back before taking one last hit of the joint, now burnt down to a nub in his hand, and flicking it into the fire with a shout of “Kobe!”

“Nice one, hotshot.” She shifts her head up on his shoulder as her eyes unabashedly trace his profile in the warm orange glow of the fire, from the golden hair falling haphazardly onto his forehead and down the straight slope of his nose to the curve of his lips before she’s caught -not that she was being subtle in any possible way-, his ocean blue gaze holding hers with an electrified energy that would’ve normally set her whole face aflame. She’s not Normal Sailor now though, she’s High Sailor and High Sailor has positively zero shame so she just looks up at him with a saccharine smile on her face and blesses the fact that weed makes her bold as hell. 

The flickering flames throw JJ’s features into sharp relief and highlight the dimples that she loves as he returns her smile, the hand in her hair now twirling a single curl around his finger. His free hand settles on the strip of bare skin at her waist where her sweatshirt has ridden up and her heart beats a little faster when he starts drawing agonizingly slow circles with his thumb. Her hand releases its grip on his shirt and before she even realizes it, she’s reaching up and brushing a finger along her jaw, just like he’d done to her that afternoon on the beach, and she feels the fingers at her waist press against her skin. 

It’s moments like these that make her wish she could freeze time and live in them forever. Just the two of them, looking at each other like they’re more than just friends, touching each other like they’re falling into something beautiful and all they need to do is stick the landing. The possibility of taking that final leap teases her. He’s so close, it wouldn’t take much to just reach up and make that minuscule distance between them disappear and from the way his eyes flick down to her mouth and back, she’s sure he’s thinking the same. They won’t though and for now that’s okay, but deep down she wonders just how long they can balance on the cliff’s edge before they both fall. 

As much as she’d like to stare at his stupidly handsome face all night, the weather has other plans as lightning flashes white across the sky, immediately followed by a big crack of thunder that makes Sailor jump and accidentally headbutt JJ right in the forehead. The stick in Pope’s hand goes flying somewhere into the bushes when he startles, too, and there’s a pause as everyone looks at each other before bursting into wild laughter.

“Jesus, Sail,” JJ says, reaching up to rub at the spot she hit, “you have a hard head.”

Her reply of “speak for yourself!” is drowned out by another clap of thunder and seconds later it starts pouring rain, sending the group scrambling to head back inside the Chateau before they get too drenched. The duo, in their haste, get tangled together in the hammock and nearly fall to the ground in a heap but manage to hold each other up with their hands clasped tight, both laughing so hard she’s sure the water on their faces is more than just rain.

“The beer! Don’t forget the beer!” Someone yells and John B, halfway to the porch in front of them, does a smooth 180 on the wet grass and runs back for the booze sitting beside the dying fire, sending them a lazy salute when he passes by.

“We honor your sacrifice, Captain!” JJ calls over his shoulder before they clamber onto the porch alongside a giggling Kiara.

“Oh my God, you two almost bit it so hard.” She says while wringing out her shirt, adding to the steadily growing puddle of water at their feet.

“But we didn’t, all thanks to me and my impeccable balance.” He says proudly, grinning down at the girl still snug against his side before she lets go of his hand to slug him in the shoulder.

“Ow, what was that for?”

“Oh please, J, I was the one who kept you from falling on your face. Now, hold still.” Sailor orders and places her hand on his arm, using him for balance as she brushes the grass from her feet.

“Yes, ma’am.” His reply is low in her ear, his hand settles even lower on her back, and she pretends the shiver her body makes is just from the cool rain.

“You like being bossed around, Maybank?”

Her hand grips his strong shoulder a little bit tighter, and she feels his fingers tighten on her sweatshirt as he replies, “Depends on who’s doing the bossing, Flynn.”

Kiara coughs pointedly, staring at them with her eyebrows raised and Sailor feels her face begin to flush bright red because, to be honest, she’d kind of forgotten she was even there as they both let go of each other. The other girl snickers and drawls, “If you two are quite done-”

Thankfully, a thoroughly soaked John B joins them and interrupts whatever Kiara was going to say, his hair plastered to his face and dripping onto the soggy carton of beer protectively cradled in his arms.

“Mission accomplished.” He says with a satisfied smile, setting the drinks down on a chair before shaking his head like a dog and splattering rainwater on everyone, including Pope as he emerges from the house carrying a pile of towels. A few drops land on his cheek and he wrinkles his nose in disgust, wiping them away with his own towel hanging around his neck.

“I was just kidding about the beer.” He says, throwing one and smacking John B right in the face, then kindly passing out the rest. Sailor barely grabs the last one before Pope’s suddenly put in a headlock by the brunet boy, yelling something about mutiny and a captain “not standing for this” as they start to grapple back and forth. JJ pauses in the middle of drying his hair and instantly jumps into the fray after tossing his towel to the floor, the scuffle quickly turning into a three way wrestling match.

She and Kiara both glance at each other and roll their eyes before scooting by the melee and heading into the house, leaving the boys to do their thing. They quickly dry off and change into pajamas, hang their wet clothes up to dry in the bathroom, and then tiredly flop onto the bed in the spare room together.

“How long do you think it’ll take until Wrestlemania out there’s done?” Sailor asks, rolling onto her stomach and reaching to pull her phone and glasses out of her bag on the floor; under her newly acquired hat, the lightning whelk peeks through its towel and the sight of it makes her smile softly. Kiara snorts and sits up, crossing her legs and running her fingers through her damp hair. “Knowing those fools, too long.”

The redhead laughs and mirrors the other girl’s position before slipping her glasses on and glancing down at her phone in trepidation, where no new texts block the lock screen picture of her and the rest of the pogues, and she does her best to ignore the hurt coiling in her chest, the smile fading from her face. She places the phone screen down on the bedside table and when she raises her head, she’s not surprised to find Kiara, ever so perceptive, staring at her with sympathy in her soft brown eyes.

“You okay?” She asks and Sailor takes off her glasses, then pulls her knees to her chest and wraps her arms around them.

“Could be better.”

Lightning illuminates the room, followed by an impressive crack of thunder a few seconds later as rain continues to pound against the window and down the hall, they hear the door slam closed as the boys finally storm inside after their scuffle, still yelling like banshees. The other girl reaches over and quickly squeezes her wrist before shooting her a bright smile.

“If you ever need to vent, I’m all ears.”

She knows she means it. Aside from JJ, Kiara’s her closest friend and from the moment they met, the two had quickly bonded over being the only girls in the group and their love of the environment: she’s lost count of how many times they’ve volunteered, both themselves and the rest of the pogues, to help raise money for animals. Despite Kiara’s kook year, Sailor considers her a sister and knows that Kie feels the same about her. Having each other’s backs no matter what is just what they do.

The redhead looks away from watching the storm outside and matches Kiara’s smile, then scoots closer to wrap her arms around her in a grateful hug.

“Thanks, Kie.” 

The dark haired girl eagerly returns the embrace. “Any-”

“Comin’ through, gotta get me some of this group hug action!” JJ yells, storming into the room like a hurricane and throwing his arms around them, all but tackling them onto the bed before they even realize what’s happening.

“No, no, you’re still wet!” Sailor cries as his head rests against the back of her neck, his damp hair slowly beginning to soak into her shirt while Kiara growls, “Oh my God, get off!” 

“And miss out on this? No way.” He says cheekily and pulls them both closer, ignoring the dark haired girl’s venomous glare and attempts to pry his hand away from her arm. Sailor, resigned to her fate, just laughs and calls over his arm to John B and Pope as they curiously poke their heads in from the hall, “Get your asses in here!”

She doesn’t have to tell them twice. They throw themselves into the hug faster than she can blink and with such contagious enthusiasm that Kiara can’t fight the affectionate grin making its way onto her face, even as she threatens, “I’m gonna kill all of you.”

Sailor rests her cheek on JJ’s outstretched arm and smiles to herself. This, right here and now, is where she belongs, surrounded by the best friends she could ask for, living each moment to its fullest. No matter what comes their way, she knows this is true: as long as they all stand together, the pogues will be just fine. 

Some time later, the hug comes to an end as JJ jokingly complains about Sailor’s big head making his arm numb, which earns him a swift elbow to the stomach from the redhead.

“Weak.” She replies, smirking at the little oof he makes before grabbing his arm and pulling them both up from the bed. “Now get out.” 

“Please.” Kiara agrees and pushes John B out the door, followed by Pope. “This room is girls only.”

“Since when?” The latter asks, sidestepping to avoid JJ as he’s playfully shoved into the hall by Sailor, who replies, “Right now.”

“Why?”

“’Cause we said so!” Both girls say in unison before they slam the door shut and then lean their backs against it, giggling. On the other side, they hear Pope ask in a very amused voice, “I thought this was your house?”

John B sighs the deepest sigh they’ve ever heard before replying, “Yeah, I did, too.”

“Ten bucks they’re gonna talk shit about us.” JJ says and there’s a not so subtle bump against the door that gives away the fact that he’s got his ear pressed to it, trying to listen in on them; a fact that gets proven when Sailor smacks her hand on it and makes him stumble back with a yelp of surprise.

“Dream on!”

“You wish!”

She and Kiara call at the same time, then glance at each other and burst into another fit of giggles.

“Tough break, dude. You’ll feel better in the morning.” That was John B’s tactless way of saying he’s tired without actually saying it and seconds later they hear his footsteps disappear down the hall to his room as he makes his escape, followed faintly by the sound of his door swinging shut.

“You don’t talk about us at all, Sail? Seriously?” JJ asks and Sailor can almost feel the sheer force of Pope’s inevitable eye roll when he mumbles under his breath, “Oh my God.”

Kiara’s on the same wavelength as him because she rolls her eyes, too and all but yells, “If we say yes will you fucking leave?” 

There’s a pause and then: a slightly miffed “...yes.” along with Pope trying and failing to disguise his laugh as a cough.

“Then yes, we do talk about you. Now go.”

“Okay, okay! Jeez.”

“Goodnight, boys!” Sailor calls in a singsong voice before hearing them retreat to the living room, arguing about who gets the sleeper sofa and who gets stuck with the regular couch. When she’s sure they’re gone she shakes her head fondly (she doesn’t see why they can’t just get over themselves and share the damn thing) and turns back to Kiara, who’s already in the middle of pulling the damp comforter from the bed, her face the picture of disgust. 

“Ugh,” She shudders, tossing it to the floor and then wiping her hands on a discarded towel from earlier. “Don’t touch that.”

“No shit.”

The dark haired girl jokingly flips Sailor the bird and then joins her in lounging on the bed, watching the fan spin in circles above their heads while the storm outside continues to rage on. The silence is comforting, soothing, and goes on for so long that the redhead’s nearly sent off to dreamland by the sound of the rain before Kiara finally speaks, “Hey, Sail?”

She hums in response, slowly turning her head to face her and blinking the sleep out of her eyes.

“Can I ask you something?”

“You just did.” She replies with an impish grin, but it slips from her face when the other girl shoots her a flat, unamused glance. 

“Ha ha. I’m being serious, okay?”

Well that wasn’t worrying at all. “Is something wrong?” Sailor asks, rolling onto her side to face her friend completely and propping her head on her arm, all traces of lethargy thrown out the window. Kiara does the same with an unreadable look in her eyes as she answers, “No, I’m just a little...okay, a lot curious about something, and I want you to be honest with me.”

“I mean, I kind of have to. You know I suck at lying.”

She frowns when Kiara doesn’t even react to her comment and instead starts to worry her bottom lip between her teeth. “It’s kind of a personal question, though.”

Oh, Jesus. She’s gonna ask about her dad, Sailor knows it, and that’s something she’s just not ready to talk about -she hasn’t even told JJ the whole story yet and she tells him (almost) everything- but before she can think of a semi-decent excuse, or run to the bathroom, or pretend to just pass the fuck out, Kiara blurts, “What’s the deal between you and JJ?”

Okay, that’s decidedly not what she expected to hear and it completely throws her for a loop, her brain blowing a fuse in epic fashion. A long stream of gibberish comes from her mouth as she tries and fails to articulate a response because holy hell she’s so not prepared for this; she’s a listener, not a talker! She’s the confidante not the confider, the asker not the answerer, and she can feel herself getting a little sweaty at just the thought of talking about her feelings, even with someone as close to her as Kiara. She almost wishes the other girl had asked about her dad.  

To be honest she should’ve seen this coming, considering the looks Kiara’s been sending her recently and especially today, the ones that clearly meant that the dark haired girl’s seen what’s been happening and wants. that. tea. What Sailor doesn’t get though, is why she’s being so serious about it: she expects at least an overexaggerated wink or a teasing comment or two from her friend but she’s just waiting patiently, the slightest hint of mirth in her eyes. 

Finally, the redhead manages to collect her panicked thoughts enough to squeak oh so eloquently, “Me-him-nothing!” 

Kiara arches one eyebrow. “Sail, you really do suck at lying.”

Sailor flops back onto the bed and slides her hands down her furiously blushing face with a groan. “I’m not lying.” She mutters insistently but even she can admit it sounds weak as hell.

“It’s obvious there’s something-”

Something in her snaps and before she can stop them, words just start coming out with the force of a wave crashing against the shore, rough and callous. “It’s obvious there’s nothing going on, okay? Nothing. And even if there was -not that I’m saying there is- it can’t happen. That’s the golden rule, Kie.” 

Kiara looks momentarily taken aback at the redhead’s outburst and then rolls onto her back, staring at the ceiling for a moment before she whispers quietly, like a secret she’s reluctant to share, “Maybe I think that rule is stupid.” 

“Stupid?” Sailor glances over incredulously, the brief flash of anger aimed at her friend slowly morphing into confusion. “You’re the one who came up with it in the first place!”

“I know...” The dark haired girl sighs, tiredly running her hands through her hair, “I wanted to keep things from getting weird! It’s worked pretty well so far but I’m kind of, sort of, maybe starting to think it might not have been the best idea.”

“Why?” She asks, brow furrowing.

Kiara appears deep in thought as she keeps staring at the ceiling, working her jaw until she seems to come to a decision and turns her head to look Sailor in the eye. “Because I don’t think something as simple as a rule should be able to dictate who you can or can’t...love.”

Oh, God. Anxiety starts to take hold in her chest and she tries to keep her brain from going into five-alarm fire mode, her fingers tapping nervously against her leg. Why oh why did she have to say the L-word? Who said anything about that? Hell, it’s been a few months and she’s still getting used to her world-changing, panic-inducing, everything-clicking-into-place epiphany that made her realize that she does, in fact, like JJ as more than a friend (how and when her feelings changed, she hasn’t quite figured that out yet.). She’s not even close to thinking about love. Noticing her friend’s distress, Kiara reaches over to place her darker hand on the paler girl’s and gives it a reassuring squeeze. 

“I’m not saying you love him, okay? But there’s obviously something good going on between you guys and I’m not cool with some dumb rule we made when we were twelve getting in the way of your happiness,” Her mouth curls into a lighthearted smirk, “even if it happens to be with someone as, uh, distinct as JJ.”

Despite herself, Sailor snorts a laugh and the tight feeling in her chest slowly starts to become a little more bearable as its replaced by a swell of gratitude that she has a person as wonderful as Kiara for a friend. She really did luck out in that department, she thinks, and the corner of her mouth lifts in a small smile. 

“Distinct?”

“Hey, I was gonna say idiotic but I’m trying to be nice here.” The dark haired girl says, laughing as Sailor affectionately rolls her eyes before continuing, “But you do know that if he messes this up I’ll kick his ass, right?”

“Trust me, I do.”

“Good.” She punctuates that with a massive yawn, then rolls away from her and pulls the sheets higher over her chest, mumbling, “Now I don’t know about you, but I’m ready for bed. All this deep talk made me tired.”

“Big mood,” Sailor replies, reaching over and flicking off the bedside lamp, the only light now coming from the occasional flash of lightning through the windows as she rolls comfortably onto her side, tucking her arm under the pillow. Silence settles over them, dark and calm and stretching for who knows how long before she says quietly, “Thanks, Kie.”

There’s no answer. Realizing she must’ve already nodded off, the redhead’s just about to crash herself when her friend’s reply softly cuts through the silence like a knife.

“You’re not the only one I did it for.”

Kiara doesn’t say anything after that and Sailor falls asleep wondering what, or rather who, exactly the other girl meant. 

~

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