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1-800-hellraiser · 4 years ago

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Underfell!Sans x Female!Reader

Hello! I'm back with an Underfell Sans oneshot! I'm an absolute S I M P for this man. Anyways, PLEASE READ THE DISCLAIMER BEFORE THE ONESHOT!!! Underfell is NOT my Au, it belongs to @VictheUnderfella. Undertale is made by Toby Fox, Sans and Underfell!Sans aren't my characters! The reader will use She/Her pronouns (sorry dudes and nb pals). Have fun reading :)

❗DISCLAIMER❗

This oneshot contains mentions of verbal and physical abuse, mentions of the aftermath of abuse, smoking, and swearing! If you are triggered by/ uncomfortable with reading about these topics, I suggest you don't read this oneshot. If you're not triggered by/ uncomfortable with reading about these topics, you can proceed forwards.

I also made a reader insert, your character is not a human. The character can be found here. I will write this in a way where it includes everyone, I just made the ref sheet so I can at least have something to go off of in terms of outfit/makeup/species of monster.

I Wanna Be Yours

Word count: 3,936

Song: I Wanna Be Yours - Arctic Monkeys

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"Secrets I have held in my heart are harder to hide than I thought. Maybe I just wanna be yours. I wanna be yours."

Flick. Your lighter lights with a simple motion of your thumb. You hold the lit cigarette to your dark colored lips and take a puff. You developed the nasty habit of smoking when you first became a part of the Royal Guard. Being a Guardswomen is tough, considering you actually had a kid fall down into the underground a day ago. You never thought it would happen to be honest, maybe you can finally get out of this hell hole and away from the insufferable assholes that inhabit it. Except for Sans. Sans has been your only escape, your safe haven. You met him through his brother, Papyrus. When you first became a Royal Guardswomen, you met Papyrus and Sans. After having a somewhat awkward conversation with the smaller skeleton, you both hit it off instantly. You two actually share a sentry station near the Ruins.

Both of you share puns and stories with one another. Stories about the good, the bad, and sometimes, the ugly. Sans isn't the most trusting person. It took you a while for him to open up to you about his past. About a year and a half to be exact. Once he told you a bit about his past, you felt so bad for him. Even though he doesn't want pity, you can't help but feel bad. His brother is a very verbally and physically abusive person, especially when things don't go his way. Papyrus usually takes his anger out on someone, and that someone is usually Sans. You want to take him away from this situation. You want him to live an abuse-free life. You want him to be happy. As soon as you leave the underground, you want to take him away with you, if he lets you, of course. But for now, you just have to be there for him when he needs you to be.

"Ay Y/n, you okay?" Sans says, waving his skeletal hand in front of your face. "Uh, yeah, I'm good, I just kinda zoned out." You mumble, taking another drag of your cigarette. Sans looks at you skeptically before returning back to what he was doing. Suddenly Sans turns to you "Ya wanna go to Grillby's?" He asks. "Yeah, I got nothin' else to do." You respond. He takes your hand and teleports into the small diner. You two take a seat at your usual spot at the bar. "I'll take my usual," Sans says to Grillby, you order your f/f. You and Sans just chill and talk while enjoying your meals. After cackling at Sans' story of Papyrus somehow getting his head stuck in a bucket, he goes quiet. You ask him what's wrong. "Can I ask you somethin' Bud?" He asks. "Shoot at me." You reply. "What would you do if you lost the person you love most?" He questions, you're a bit stunned at the serious question.

"I think I'd go crazy. I don't think I could live without the person I love most. Why do you ask?" You question the edgy-looking skeleton. "No reason, I'm just curious 's all." He says, shrugging. You nodd skeptically, you knew he was going to say something else, but then decided against it. After your meal, you realize it's actually pretty late. About six pm, to be exact, both of your sentry shifts ended two hours ago. "Shit! I gotta go, Papyrus is going to crucify me if I'm not back by six. Same time tomorrow, Dollface?" You chuckle, "Same time everyday, Sans," You retort. "I wish he meant to call me Dollface." Wow, that thought came out of nowhere. A blush spreads across your p/f/c (pastel favorite color) cheeks. You and Sans always call each other pet names, platonically, of course. Sighing, you begin walking to your apartment. There was a small apartment complex behind Grillby's that you live in. You used to live in Waterfall, but moved to Snowdin once you got paired with Sans to your sentry station. Even though sentry can change in an instant, you and Sans mostly stay in Snowdin.

Arriving at your apartment, you fish your keys out of your pants pocket. You open the door and sigh a sigh of content. After chucking off your boots near the door, you trudge to your bedroom and change into a pair of black sweatpants and a baggy blue shirt that says "Big Dick Is Back In Town" on it in Times New Roman font. You turn out the lights and collapse on your bed. Within seconds, you're fast asleep. At seven thirty am your alarm rings in your ear. You proceed with your morning routine, you shower, do your hair, put on some makeup, and get dressed. When you go to get dressed, you realise something. "Fuck I forgot to wash my work clothes yesterday!" You groan. You literally have four of the same pairs of pants and shirts you wear for work. You sigh exasperatedly, you have to wear the same ones you did yesterday again. Grabbing your phone, you set a reminder to wash your work clothes tonight at six thirty.

After that, you put on your boots and leave your apartment. Taking a few shortcuts, you arrive at your shared sentry station, cigarette in between your clawed fingers. You sigh, Sans isn't even at the station yet. Anxiously, you wait at the station. About ten minutes later, Sans finally appears at the station, panting and shaking. "Are you okay?" You ask, concerned. "Does it look like I'm fuckin' okay to ya'?" He snaps back. Shocked, you stay silent. You know he doesn't mean to snap at you when he's mad, it's best to give him some space for a bit. You excuse yourself from the station, saying you forgot your phone at your apartment. "Make it quick, I don't want Papyrus to catch you." He says, your breath hitches. Oh, so that's what happened this morning. "I'll be careful, I promise." You reassure, taking a shortcut through the woods to Grillby's. You go in, and order Sans' usual and your f/f to go. As soon as you get the food you leave for the station again. You pop out the same way you entered, right behind the station.

"I'm back." You announce, setting the plastic bag containing food in the front of the sentry station. "Where'd that come from?!" "Uh...Grillby's?" You say, "No-I mean-" sans sighs "I thought you had to go grab your phone from your apartment." He says, you chuckle. "Yeah, I lied. I thought you needed a little pick-me-up, considering the way you came to the station this morning." You explain, tail swishing a bit behind you at the uncomfortable subject. "Oh, well, thank you. I appreciate it, Doll." He says in a sincere manner. You love when he's soft with you when no one is around. In the Underground, it's considered "weak" to show genuine emotion outside of your home. You wish it wasn't like that, but sadly, this is the reality you have to live in for now. For now, you can only be there for Sans when he needs to show his emotions. He can't even show emotions in his own home, Papyrus will be a dick and judge him for it. It's not fair at all.

"Ya alright, Y/n?" Sans asks, pulling out of your thoughts. "Hm? Oh yeah." You respond, now realising how angry you must look. "Yeah, you looked pissed. Is somethin' up?" He asks, you sigh. You knew you'd have to bring this up eventually. "I'm just, so angry at your brother." "Why?" You look down at Sans. "Sans, he treats you like utter garbage! Why do you keep going back to him?" You sigh out exasperatedly. "Because I care about him, even if he doesn't care about me." He says sadly. Your e/c eyes widen. You get it now. He's the only one he has left that's his family. "Sans, I'm sorry. I know Papyrus is your brother, I'm just worried. All the scars he leaves you with. What if he damages you permanently?" You explain, biting on your black claw. Another habit you obtained from joining the Royal Guard. You look at Sans for an answer, you see a gentle red blush spread across his face. "I appreciate you caring Bud, I really do. But I can handle it myself." He says, looking you in the eyes. His red pinpricks aligning with your e/c irises. You sigh and avert your gaze down.

"Okay, if you say so. But if anything ever happens, call me, I'll let you stay with me, okay?" You say, giving Sans your number, witten down on a tiny slip of paper. He says he will. The rest of the day goes off without a hitch. You and Sans finish your shift (on time this time) and part ways until tomorrow. You almost kick your boots off at the door before your phone starts going off. You quickly pull it out of your pants pocket, you sigh in relief. It's just the alarm you set for your laundry. You take your bin full of laundry to the basement of the complex and throw your clothes in one of the cleaner looking machines. As you put your laundry bin down next to the washer, your phone starts to go off. You check and Sans is trying to call you. You immediately answer the call. "Hey dude, what's up?" You say into the speaker. "Y-y/n, could I come over?" You hear his raspy, pained voice through the receiver.

"Yes, of course! Do you need any help? You sound hurt?" You say panicked. "No Dollface, I got it." He says, you do not accept that. "Too bad. I'm coming over anyway." Before he could protest, you hang up the phone and speed out of your apartment complex. Thankfully, Sans' house isn't that far. After a short, speedwalk, you're staring down his front door. You rasp on the wooden door, waiting for a response. You were going to knock again, Sans opens the door, you let out a small gasp. Sans looks terrible, he was covered in his own blood. "Come on, you're staying with me tonight," you say, taking his boney hand. As soon as you start walking, you notice he also has a limp. If Papyrus were some random ass monster and not Sans' brother, you'd be covered in dust by now. You have a very motherly instinct, but only for Sans. You've never felt this way about somebody else before, you have no idea why either.

Once you and Sans reach your apartment, you bring him to your bathroom and seat him on the toilet (lid closed, of course). Grabbing your medical kit and some alcohol, you return to the bathroom and sit on the edge of your tub. "Could you take your sweater off? It'll be easier to clean your wounds." You ask, Sans slowly takes off his crimson red sweater. Suddenly, your bathroom gets really warm. You gasp at Sans' three cracked ribs, a bunch of cuts all over the others. You look up at him with concern written across your p/f/c face. "I don't want to talk about it right now." Sans mumbles, looking down. You take Sans' cheek bones in your hands, you tilt his head up to look at you. "That's okay, I'm just worried about you. You really don't deserve this Sans." You say, pulling your hands away from his face. You pour some alcohol on the washcloth and press it to one of the cuts on his ribs. He curses under his breath as you continue to clean him up. You'll have to call Alphys later about Sans' ribs, see what she can do about them.

"Alright Sans, just chill on my couch for right now. Uh, I gotta go real quick, I'll be right back," you say awkwardly, he gives you a thumbs up. Unlocking your door, you head down to switch your laundry. Once you come back up, you notice Sans wasn't sitting on the couch anymore. You panic and begin looking around your apartment, you stop in the entrance of your tiny kitchen, Sans was making something. "Sans, what are you doing?" You ask, he jumps a bit, then winces. "I'm making us dinner?" Sans says, the room starts to get warm again. "Sans, you don't have to do that. You should sit down and relax." You encourage, he shakes his head at your proposition. "Nah Dollface, this is the least I can do for you." He says, continuing to cook a mysterious food. You come up behind Sans, "Sans please, I appreciate the gesture, but you have three broken ribs, you need to sit down and chill out." Sans sighs "Fineeeeeee." He whines, you chuckle at him. "What were you gonna make anyway?" "Nothin much, just some Spaghetti and meatballs." "Okay, gotcha." You say, taking over the kitchen to make dinner.

Wiping your forehead of sweat, you finished cooking dinner. You walk into the living room, and set his and your plate on the coffee table in front of the couch. You sit next to him and start eating. "Holy fuck Doll, this shit's amazing!" Sans exclaims, shoving more pasta into his mouth. You chuckle and thank him, as you keep eating. After you both are finished eating you run down to the basement one more time to grab your laundry and return to your apartment. On your way. Back to tour apartment however, you notice that Sans has been calling you 'Doll' and 'Dollface' a lot more than he used to. You shrug it off as him being thankful for your hospitality. You return to your apartment for the last time with your laundry basket in your hands. "I'll be right back, I just gotta put away my laundry." You say, Sans looks over the back of the couch at you and gives you a nod of understanding. You quickly fold your clothes so Sans doesn't have to wait awkwardly on your couch. As soon as you're done, you put the basket in your closet and leave. When you return to your living room, you discover Sans asleep on the couch.

A small smile forms on your face as you go get him a blanket. After that, you change into a red tye-dye pair of sweatpants and a tank top. Soon after you lay down, you drift into a deep slumber. A few hours later, you are ripped from your sleep by a scream. You pull off your blanket and run to the living room. "Sans?!" You say worriedly and panicked. You see him tossing and turning on the couch, he's having a nightmare. Sans has told you about these haunting nightmares before, it usually happens after a bad day with Papyrus. Not really knowing how to deal with this situation, you sit on the edge of the couch and try to reach for him. As soon as your hand makes contact with his shoulder, he pulls away and curls up into a tiny ball. "Sans, it's just me." You say gently, scooting a bit closer to his trembling and sobbing form. You try to comfort him again, and he doesn't pull away this time. You pull him a bit closer to you. He rests his head on your chest and clenches his arms around you. You massage his skull with your fingertips and whisper sweet nothings to him.

After a while of comforting him, he falls asleep again. So you lay on the couch, Sans' head resting on top of you, blanket draped over your two sleeping bodies. After a few minutes, you fall back to sleep. You awake to one of Mettaton's shows. You were never interested in the performer robot that much, but this episode was a (what looks to be) a well made CGI human defusing a bunch of bombs. After a while, you forget about Sans laying on your chest, until he wakes up and jumps off of you like a startled cat. "Jesus! Just scare the shit outta me why don't ya?" You say, sarcasm lacing your tone. "Ah, sorry 'bout that Doll." "You're fine Sans." You chuckle. Looking up at Sans, you notice a light red blush across his cheekbones. Your heart skips a beat as you look at him, then you get up not wanting to make this any more awkward than it already is. Opening the fridge, you look for something to eat. You have eggs, bacon, and pancake mix in one of your cupboards, you take out all the ingredients you need for breakfast and start cooking. Sans insists on helping, but you tell him he needs to to relax because of his broken ribs.

After a half hour, breakfast is completely done. You fix you and Sans a plate and bring it to the couch. Sans looks very fixated on Mettaton's show. This was a rerun of a previous show. You set the breakfast down in front him, he immediately begins choking down food. "Holy shit Sans! Slow down your going to choke." You scold. "But we're gonna be late to work if we don't." He explains, scarfing down his meal. You give him a confused look. "Work? We're not going to work today, we have to call Alphys over to see what she can do about your ribs." You say, you can feel Sans look at you like you had just told him you had a death wish. "I can't, Papyrus would freak out-" "Papyrus can suck my dick!" You cut him off out of anger. "Your health is WAY more important to me than what Papyrus might do." You snap, Sans sits in shock. You've never snapped at him like that before. Looking at his face, you realise what you just did. "Sans I'm sorry. I didn't mean to snap at you like that, I just got to frustrated." You explain, Sans' face softens at your words. "Nah it's okay, I completely understand where you're coming from." Sans sighs, and rubs the back of his neck anxiously.

To defuse the thick tension, you tell Sans you have to call Alphys and you'll be back shortly. You shuffle awkwardly to your room to make the call. Pressing the contact "Weeb Lord'' with a picture you took off of Alphys' social media (it's a picture of a trash can with several red sparkly filters over it) and press the call button. "Yo Alphys" "What is it Y/n?" She says annoyedly. "So, I need you to come over to look at Sans' ribs." You say, "What? Why?" "Papyrus and him got into it yesterday and he's staying with me for a while." You explain, Alphys makes a noise of understanding from the receiver. "Alright, I'll be over in 10." She says, you can hear her shuffling around. "'Ight see you when you get here." You end, hanging up the phone, not really wanting to go back out and just awkwardly sit with Sans, you decide to have a smoke. Grabbing you cigarettes and lighter, you begin to head out of your apartment. "Where are ya going?" Sans asks, still staring at the T.v. "I'm just going to have a smoke, I'll be back soon." You reassure yourself as you leave the apartment. Maybe taking a smoke wasn't such a good idea. It's cold as balls outside, you shiver as you take drags of your cigarette.

After you're done, you are about to go inside, but a certain nerdy lizard shows up. She follows you up to your apartment and in through the front door. "Ay look what the cat dragged in." Sans teases, Alphys glares at him. "Nah I'm just joking with ya, how've you been?" "Okay, yourself?" She asks back, Sans shrugs. "Eh, could be better." "Yeah, I heard. Would you mind taking your sweater off for me?" She asks, he reluctantly takes off his sweater again. Alphys studies the three cracked ribs for a second. "Hmmm. I think the best I can do for you is to wrap you up. Other than that, there's nothing I can do." She explains, beginning to wrap Sans' ribs. "You'll have to not go to work for a few days, take it easy. No lifting, no fast movements, nothing." She drones on. "Your best option is to stay with Y/n for now so they can help you heal properly." She states, finishing up wrapping Sans' ribs.

You let out a relieved breath you didn't even know you were holding. You had hoped that Alphys would tell him to stay with you, Papyrus would probably just hurt him more in all honesty. "I'm going to give you some morphine to help ease the pain a bit." She says, handing Sans an orange pill bottle. "Take two when you wake up, and when you go to bed, if you notice the pain going away, then only take one per day." She explains. You and Sans both nod. "Thank you, Dr. Alphys." you say, Alphys nods. She takes her tote bag full of medical equipment, bids you and Sans goodbye, then leaves. You sigh, and sit next to Sans on the couch. You begin to think, why do you feel so nervous around him all of a sudden. Your heart skips a beat whenever he calls you "Doll" or "Dollface", his laugh gives you butterflies, you want him to talk to you forever, just listening to his New York accent makes you want to kiss him. You can't take hiding your feelings from him anymore, you have an undying love for Sans.

"S-sans, I gotta tell you something." You stutter out, Sans turns to you. "Yeah, what is it Dollface?" He asks, your heart beats faster and faster every passing second. "I think I wanna be yours, Sans." You manage to get out. As soon as those words leave your mouth, you regret everything. "Y/n, I...I think I wanna be yours too." Sans mumbles, scooching a bit closer to you. You move closer and closer to each other until your thighs are squished together. Sans cups your cheek with his hand, you place one hand on his shoulder and the other behind him. Sans sets his other hand on your thigh, you lean in and give him a smooch on his sharp teeth. You pull away before Sans' hand moves from your cheek to the back of your neck, pulling you into a more passionate kiss. The passionate kiss turns into a makeout session. Both of your mouths moving in sync, tongues sliding over each other, soft moans come from both of your mouths.

After a minute of missing, you two pull away, a string of clear and translucent red saliva connecting to your mouths. "Oh my god....that was amazing." You pant, leaning back into the couch. Sans nods his head in agreement. "I'm so glad you confessed to me, Sweetheart. I've had feelings for you since we were stationed at our sentry station together." Sans explains, your heart skips a beat at your new nickname. You blush. "I'm so glad I met you." You say, leaning your head on his shoulder. "Same here Doll." Sans responds, leaning his skull on your head. You're both finally safe and happy.

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derinthescarletpescatarian · 6 years ago

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So let me tell you about the bath in my new house

So I’m staying in an apartment for a few weeks with my new boss and her baby while we look for more permanent accommodation. I show up today, and the first thing I notice is that this place is SUPER fancy. I’m used to apartments being ‘houses, but smaller and shittier’, whereas the design philosophy here seems to be ‘hotel room, but bigger and fancier’. I walk in, am duly impressed by the big rooms, the boldly painted feature walls, the tasteful art. I check out the bathroom.

The bathroom.

Now, I am a fan of really nice bathrooms. In my view, nothing makes a house like a beautiful, spacious, easy-to-clean bathroom. You can show me a hovel and I won’t give a shit if the bathroom is nice enough. And this bathroom.

This is A Bathroom.

We’re talking gleaming white-and-metal tiling, minimalist glass shelving, huge free-standing shower, and those taps that just look like metal tubes. This is the kind of bathroom where somebody went, “okay, give me a hotel design, but that really rich people would also want.” I, a fan of bathrooms, minimalist design, and very clean things, am nodding in approval when I happen to look over to the other side of the bathroom, which is a bath.

A huge bath. With jets. And a little panel that lets you control the jets. You can also control the heat of the jets. I have seen spas, I have seen those baths you can get with jets, but I have never seen *this* unholy fusion, not on this scale. I vow that I will make plentiful use of this bath over the next couple of weeks.

So I unpack, my boss has a bath and goes to bed, I decompress for a bit, and then I decide to try the bath.

Climbing into the bath, I realise that It Is Big.

I knew that, of course -- it takes up half the room, after all. But it seems bigger from the inside. This bath was not designed for someone as small as I. Peering over the edge, I feel like Gregory in that one scene from What Remains of Edith Finch. With some experimentation, I find that I can very nearly lie flat along the bottom of the bath. This is not a bath; it is a pool.

At this point, some people might contemplate the logistics of using such an extravagantly sized container for washing and opt instead for the very nice shower, but not me. It is a Huge Bath, and a Bigger Bath is a Better Bath. I’m one of those people who gets in the bath before filling it, so I turn the water on and wait.

And wait.

Around me, the water rises very slowly, and now I begin to contemplate the logistics. It is occurring to me, science graduate that I am, that larger containers require larger volumes of water to fill, and the amount of time that it will take to fill this one might be an unreasonable preparation time for a bath. this is the kind of bath you turn on before going to have a cup of tea, not the kind you sit in.

But what am I going to do now, reconsider my fancy bath? Like some kind of sim whose car pool is coming in an hour and they still haven’t finished that painting they need to do before work? Ha! No, no; I am here for a bath. I am Committed. Besides, it’s not like I’m going to fill the bath all the way.

If I did, the water would be over my head.

So I wait ten billion years for water to fill this bath. I actually start to feel guilty over the environment while filling this bath. Does the cartoon fish who taught me to turn the water off when brushing my teeth know about this bath? Do they know I’m using it? Is the Murray-Darling being killed not by irresponsible damming and irrigation practices, but by my bath? Am I responsible for the rising salinity in the estuary by diverting vital outflowing water to this monstrous tub? I sate these fears by reminding myself that my town’s water doesn’t come from the Murray-Darling, but from an ancient volcano lake. If anything, I’m fucking up the local water table and eventually dooming the pine industry upon with the town’s economy depends.

Eventually, the bath water reaches a comfortable level. I turn it off with fingers already wrinkled from too long in the bath that I have not officially started yet, sit back, and turn on the jets.

Somewhere deep in the earth, an ancient metal dragon roars, shaking my flimsy porcelain tub, and vomits water from its many mouths. I barely register the impossibly loud sound of the pump for the jets (insert jet engine pun here) because I’m too distracted by the fact that I appear to be in the middle of a water cannon party. I quickly turn the jets off and realise the problem -- this bath is so huge that a ‘full bath’ to me is too low to even cover the jets, so they’re just spraying bath water up into the room. My options: abandon bath, or run more water. Well, I’m no quitter, especially after this kind of time and water investment. When I go to hell for using the entire town’s water supply and dooming everyone, what am I going to tell them, that I did it for half a bath and gave up? No. I eye the splashes of water that reach as high as the nearby shower head, swallow my trepidation, and turn the taps back on.

This time is much faster. Couldn’t be more than one billion years before the jets are submerged enough for me to feel safe. On go the jets.

The dragon roars once more. I briefly consider whether making that kind of racket is such a great idea in a sleeping household, but the baby slept through his mother’s spa bath just fine and my boss went to bed at 8pm so should expect noise. I lay back and decide... no, I have not been in a spa with this much force on the jets before. They pummel me from every direction, the dragon’s watery claws digging into my skin, and I grit my teeth, fortify myself against the noise, and bear it. because this is VERY FANCY. It’s an EXTREMELY EXCESSIVE BATH and I WILL ENJOY IT.

I lay back, but not so far back that I drown, and let the water massage me. I enjoy my spa until I feel that I have justified the wait time and water use and then, gratefully, turn the jets off and pull the plug.

The water takes a very, very long time to drain. I dry and dress, then lay back on my bed, softened and bruised by my battle with the dragon, and begin writing this, while in the other room it screams EEEEEEURGH as it greedily sucks up my offering of water and, by the sound of it, perhaps the entire universe.

Man, this place has a GREAT bathroom.

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lifeofmarvvel · 6 years ago

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The Song Sirens Sing Part 4

Summary: Peter Parker's life changes drastically when he joins a pirate crew. He learns new skills, meets new people, and has the time of his life. Then he meets a siren and his world once again turns upside down.

Word Count: 3718

Warnings: Uh, grumpy Tony who isn't the nicest but it makes sense in context

A/N: Sorry it's been a while since I last updated! Homework is killing me (yay junior year). This is honestly the longest thing I've ever written. And I thought -insert bug pun here- was long! This is like 1k more. It was a total of 9 pages on Google Docs. Enjoy!

Series Masterlist

Part 3

Nakia had successfully lifted your mood from that dreary day by the coral. She gave you answers to questions most people wouldn’t let you know about. For example, she had been to the surface a bit due to her job (which was one of the only secrets keep from you), and she was able to tell you all about it. She apparently saw humans quite frequently and told you what an odd species they are. Of course, this piqued your curiosity. And also drew you away from wanting to be a siren.

Everyone was still pushing you to train more so you could try again with a different ship. Well, mostly everyone. The twins and Clint supported your decision to take a break and gladly spent lots of time hanging out with you. Nakia encouraged it, saying it was better for your mental health that way. Natasha understood, but was slightly disappointed. She’d rather resume your lessons but gave you the space you needed. It was a shame. She was one of your closest friends, and she was actively avoiding you now. Oh well. If that’s what she thought was best.

“Zo,” Clint announced, mouth full of seaweed-wrapped shrimp. “Duu oou davva o ta dhe urfaks umellow?”

Wanda wrinkled her nose at him. “You are disgusting. Has anyone ever told you it’s impolite to speak with your mouth full?”

Clint swallowed his food and spoke again. “Well, considering we’re not very polite to each other in any way, shape, or form at times, I thought it was okay.”

“That’s not a good excuse,” Wanda replied.

“Yeah,” you chimed in. “Just ‘cause you and Pietro bully each other doesn’t mean the rest of us bully each other.”

He pointed an accusing finger at you. “I call your bluff. Nat bullies me all the time, and you personally have picked on me before.”

You shrugged your shoulders. “Okay, so maybe we decided as a group to bully you. But that still doesn’t mean we bully each other. What were you trying to say, anyway?”

“I was saying-” Clint cut himself off. “Wait, what do you mean you decided as a group to bully me?”

“Unimportant. Now tell us.” Wanda shrugged off his question with ease you wished you could have.

He let out a huff. “Fine. I’ll ask Nat later. As I was saying- do you wanna go to the surface tomorrow?” He pointedly looked at you, like he knew you were about to protest. Which you were.

And before you could respond to his look, Pietro spoke up. “What is so interesting that we’d have to go to the surface?”

You silently thanked Pietro. For once, he understood. “Well, you see,” Clint began to explain. “It’s something one of a kind. But we’d have to go to the shoreline, too.”

Before anyone could speak for you, you voiced your own opinion. “No way. The shoreline? You’d have a hard enough time getting me to go to the surface. But the shoreline!? Where the humans live? Nope. Nada. Hasta la vista. See you never because I’d rather go into hiding than be forced to come with.”

Your friends laughed at your actions. “Aw, come on, (Y/N). Is there any possible way to get you to come with?” Clint begged.

You hesitated. There were a few exceptions, but you doubt it’d be any or if Clint would even be able to guess any of them correctly. He, annoyingly, noticed. “That’s a yes. Now, let’s see. Hey, Wanda. My super great, amazing, wonderful- ha, Wandaful- friend who just so happens to be able to read minds. Could you help me out here?”

Wanda gave a little laugh at that. “Bribery does not work on me, Clinton.”

“It was worth a shot.” He shrugged his shoulders. “Give me a second, and I’ll have it figured out by myself.” You waited patiently, seeing what he’d come up with. Sure enough, he came to the realization that just telling you might help.

“Okay,” he said. “Might as well tell you. I wanna go because, first of all, the sunset looks prettier above the water-”

“Yeah right,” Pietro interrupted. “We all know you only said that because it might convince her.”

Clint turned to look at him quickly, raising an accusatory finger. He turned so fast, you were almost convinced he was the speedster and not Pietro. “Stop that! It’s not cool!” He turned back, this time looking more like himself. “As I was saying,” he said, agitated, “the second reason why I want to go to the surface is because I was promised I’d be able to try coffee by someone else- who shall remain unnamed- and we won’t be the only ones there.”

When you continued to look unimpressed, he continued. “Okay, third, I wanna go because I wanna talk to my friends and I want you to meet some of them.”

You pretended to be shocked. “You have friends other than us? Why. Clint, I didn’t know you were capable of such a thing. I surely thought that when you weren’t with us you would just sit around and cry.”

Clint huffed at you. “I’m really getting sick of this whole ‘pick on Clint’ thing you guys enjoy so much. News flash, it’s not fun for me. And yes, I am capable. They were my friends before I met you.” He crossed his arms across his chest.

He looked sincerely upset. “I’m sorry, Clint. I’ll try to do it less often if it’ll help you feel better,” you apologized.

He hummed while thinking for a second. “I’ll think about accepting your apology more later,” he said in a joking tone. “But really, I want you to come do some more stuff, meet more people. Even if you have to step a bit outside of your comfort zone to make it happen.”

Wanda and Pietro nodded, adding a bit of their own input. It seemed like all your friends were ganging up against you, trying to get you to go. When you finally appeared to be swaying back and forth between going and not going, Clint decided to use his last bit of persuasion.

“You know,” he said cautiously, “if you go, you’ll not only get to meet some of my friends, you’ll get to meet- and I quote you- ‘the mysterious Coulson’ I always talk about.

That definitely grabbed your attention. Meet Coulson? Yes, you were going for sure. “Alright,” you announced. “I’ll come with.” At your words, your friends all cheered. Who knew they’d be this excited about you going out for once. “What time should I be ready by?”

“The festivities will take place around dinner time and last after sunset. So I’d say around noon? It’s quite the swim,” Clint responded.

You nodded, taking in the information. “Thanks. I’ll try to be ready by then, I guess.”

“No. I don’t care that they’re ‘civilized.’ I’m not going to let Pete go. You said yourself that he might get sick again if he so happens to the one that did it to him. And what if she’s there? I’m not risking it. We don’t need to lose a sailor, especially not one who’s so young.”

“But that’s the thing, Stark. I said might. So far, research has shown that when the sailor does see them again, there is only a one in twenty chance that he will get sick again. And you know what we do then? We give him the treatment again, assign him to a month in the middle of the country, and once it’s up, we send him on his way again. He’ll be fine.”

“Why do you guys even have a festival on the beach with mermaids, anyways?” Scott spoke up.

Shuri sighed. “I thought I already explained it. It’s part of our cultural festivities, and we’d appreciate if our guests could join us. But it seems you are too stubborn, so I might just have T’Challa ban your whole crew from our nation for such an insult.”

She got an automatic reaction in response. “No, no. That’s not necessary. I guess we’re all going, right crew? Zip-a-dee-doo-dah!” Tony said with forced enthusiasm. It was quite the spectacle. “But seriously, after tonight, we need to head back. We helped you with your business. We have to get back to pirating.”

“You’ll have to talk to my brother about that,” she responded. Almost as if on cue, T’Challa walked in to the room. “And look at that! That is my cue to leave. Goodbye, Avengers. Don’t let my brother harass you too long. I have some more improvements I need to work on.” She turned on her heel and walked out of the room briskly.

Well, there was no doubting it anymore. Two co-captains well into their life were frightened by a sixteen year old genius princess. Who’d guess that’d be a fact they’d ever have to expect? Tony was very glad he made the decision to head back to sea the next day. While it was nice to sit around and plan things for a while, he was missing his ship. And the sea. And not having to deal with humanity other than the however many crew members they currently held. Yeah, he was longing for that.

He got up slowly. If Spiderling was being dragged along, no matter how much he disagreed, he’d have to go inform him of such a matter. Zip-a-dee-doo-dah, zip-a-dee-ay. Wonderful feeling, wonderful day my eye, he thought.

You waited on a rock in the midst of buildings, waiting for the rest of your friends to show up. The ocean was alive all around you. You watched as fish, mers, and seahorses alike raced back and forth through the streets. If only Clint would hurry up. You knew he had a habit of oversleeping, but it was well past noon. Where could he be?

To your advantage, he showed up right then, almost as if beckoned by your thoughts. “Huh,” you whispered. Louder, you said, “Hey Clint, since when were you a mind reader”

“What?” He looked befuddled.

“I was just wondering where you were, and then you popped out of nowhere,” you replied.

He chuckled. “No, I’m not. I can promise you that. I was making sure I had everything,” he gestured to the bags he was carrying, “when I realized I had to make a stop to grab a few.”

You got up and swam towards him. “Well, now that’s all sorted out, everyone else is close, right? Let’s catch up to them.” You started to head off when you remembered you didn’t know quite where you were supposed to be going. Stopping in your tracks, you turned around.

Clint caught up, but he didn’t answer your question. With some insistence from you, he relented. “They all left beforehand.” When you started to sputter, he cut you off. “They already knew since they agreed to go before you did. And because they don’t trust me to get there on time. So, come on; we have to prove them wrong!” He took off, speeding ahead of you.

“Hey! Not fair!” you called after him before starting off yourself. As fast as the two of you went, you made it to the shoreline in no time. All you had to do was follow Clint. It’s not like trying to follow Pietro, after all. Clint was generally a lot slower than the speedster. Clint was waiting for you to catch up after he came to a stop.

“This is it,” he said, confirming your thoughts. From the looks of it, you were at a human dock. There were giant poles sticking into the ground, some covered in algae, but mostly looking rather sturdy and brown. What appeared to be the bottoms of ships floated along it. As you noticed this, you gulped.

You took a deep breath, trying to center yourself. “Okay. I guess I ought to give it a try.” You nodded at him, and he paused for a second before nodding back.

“If you ever feel overwhelmed, make sure to find me, Nat, Wanda, Pietro, or Nakia,” he said, swimming over to you.

“Nakia’s here?” you questioned. “Nobody told me that.”

Clint gave you a sheepish smile. “Uh, yeah. Sorry? Oops.” He grabbed your arm and started to pull you up to the surface with him.

You had no idea what you were getting yourself into.

The dock was swarming with humans. Around the edges, mers laughed, joked, conversed, and even arm wrestled with them. It definitely was a party of some sort. You couldn’t believe your eyes? How did humans and mers get along so well? You had grown up with stories of the two species hating each other. How did this happen? A quick glance informed you of the twins joking around with a woman with a brunette angled bob, Nat was observing to the side, and Nakia was talking with a tall man who held himself with a sense of awareness.

Clint noticed your awe and confusion. “There’s an organization that works with mer and human interactions. They helped plan this, don’t worry. Actually, I should introduce you to a few of them. See if you’re interested in joining.” With your permission, the two of you took off.

He lead you towards the dock, carefully avoiding the other mers. He seemed to have one set person in mind. Eventually, he lead you to a man who, despite the heat, was wearing a suit and tie. The man had thinning hair, and looked as if he was always busy, but somehow gave off the feel of being everyone’s friend.

Sure enough, Clint swam right up to him, dragging you with him. Just in time, the man ended his conversation with the woman next to him. She moved on to talk to someone else, and he faced Clint. “Barton!” he exclaimed. “Long time, no see!”

“Sure has been, Coulson!” Clint replied, excited to see his friend again.

“Wait, that’s Coulson?” you asked, astonished. “I thought you were another mer! Clint! You deceiving little-”

“Alright, no need to go there!” Clint cut you off. “Coulson, this is (Y/N) (L/N). And (Y/N), well, you’ve already figure out who he is: Phil Coulson.”

“Nice to meet you, miss,” Coulson said, sticking his hand out. You shook the water off your hand the best you could before returning the handshake. “I doubt Clint has told you this, but I work for the Seafolk and Human Interactions, Education and Living Division. Or, SHIELD. We specialize in ensure humans and mers get along nicely. The annual Royal Festival of Wakanda is just one event where we do so. Granted, their culture was always more accepting towards merfolk, we just help it run smoother.”

Fascinated, you started asking him all kinds of questions. Who knew when he’d have to take off? Gone was your fear of drowning a human with your voice, at least for the moment. You definitely had no need to sing right now, and doubted you would the rest of the night.

He told you that they had a special program just for “superpowered” mers, as he put it. They teamed up with those willing to take down bad guys. Bad guys who had ships, spent time near the ocean, or even if they teamed up with a few humans to lure them to the beach and the mer took care of the rest. He assured results had shown it helped mers feel better about their more killer skills, and was carefully thought through.

“So, Miss, (L/N), will you consider joining our team?” he questioned.

“I’d be honored to,” you answered.

He smiled at you. “Great. Now, I should grab some more information for you. I’ll try not be get too sidetracked. Feel free to converse with others while I’m gone.” He turned and disappeared in the crowd. Taking up his advice, as Clint left a while ago to talk to Nat, you wandered around to find someone else.

Peter walked behind his captains as they approached the dock. It was swarming with people. He wasn’t sure why they were here. All that he had explained to him was that today was a traditional festival Wakanda held every year. Nobody told him what for, only what he had to be there, along with the rest of the crew.

All kinds of people were there, or rather, all the tribes were there. He also saw other foreigners, like their crew. Just here and there, and few enough for him to realize that Wakanda only let extremely trusted outsiders in, and it was an honor to be there. No wonder they kept a reputation for being a third-world country. When only a handful of people- who could be trusted not to blabber all their secrets- knew it wasn’t one, it was easy to do so.

He saw a few scattered around the dock, some in clusters, some not. He saw one white man making his way around the ranks of people, seeming to hold conversations with everyone but still moving quickly. He turned and started talking to T’Challa and the mermaid with a green tail. “This way, kid,” Tony said, redirecting his attention.

Peter’s head snapped back. “Aye aye, cap’n.”

Tony sighed. “Why is that everyone’s first reaction to me giving orders?” They continued their way through the swarm of people until they came across the banquet table. “Alright, stay in this area, okay? I’m hungry, so I’ll be here. Don’t wander off too far or you’ll get stuck.”

Peter confirmed he heard, and wandered off. He was wary about the mers. Everyone said they were evil creatures. Why did Wakanda interact with them so freely, then? He guessed it was in his best judgement to trust T’Challa. Seeing a quieter, shady spot by some trees, he walked over. Nobody was around; it was secluded and conveniently out of sight but not too far away from the banquet table to get yelled at. He sat down, admiring the water rippling in the sunset.

Lost in his thoughts, he didn’t hear anyone approaching until they spoke. “Hello?” the voice called out, startling him. He looked around before looking down and realizing it was a mermaid in the water. Well, actually two mermaids. One with brown hair and a red tail. The other had (H/C) hair with a (F/C) tail and looked about his age.

The red tailed one appeared to be restraining the other girl. “I noticed my friend here getting nervous when looking at you, so I’m assuming that means she thinks you’re cute and wouldn’t dare approach herself. So here you go.” She rounded on her friend. “I’ll know if you leave because,” she tapped her own head,” from now on I’m going to peek in more than usual. No funny business. You leave, I’m sending both Pietro and Clint after you.” Her friend gulped and nodded quickly. Satisfied, the red tailed girl turned and left.

“Uh,” the girl voiced. A slow turn let her face Peter. They made eye contact and memories came flooding back. He knew who this was. This was the siren that fateful day only a week or so ago. She looked as shocked as Peter felt. “Uh- I’m- uh- goodness gracious I’m bad at this. Sorry?” she said, but it came out as more of a question than a statement. She shook her head and started over. “Sorry for almost drowning you?” she offered again, still in a questioning tone.

Peter couldn’t believe his eyes. She was in front of him. He hadn’t imagined it. Her semi-question confirmed it. All caution towards the possibility of getting Siren Sickness again flew out the window. “You didn’t though,” Peter answered. “I’m here, aren’t I?”

She laughed softly. “Yeah, I guess so. I’m so sorry about the incident! It was my first sinking and there were so many expectations and I didn’t think it’d be someone my age. I thought it would be a grumpy old sailor dude who would’ve been better off gone but then it was-”

“Woah woah woah,” Peter cut her off. “No need to get in a hassle. I understand peer pressure and all that jazz. I just joined the crew the last time they stopped at my hometown a few months ago.”

She let out a breath of relief. “Thanks for understanding.” Peter gave a slight nod in response. “Oh, uh, I’m (Y/N), by the way.”

Peter smiled. Trying to avoid a cheesy comment, he instead said, “I”m Peter.” She smiled back at him. They launched into a conversation full of stutters, blushes, and lots of apologies. But Peter didn’t mind. In fact, he could feel himself slowly falling for this girl. Who’d have guessed? And he was sure it was real feelings this time, unlike the ship incident. She wasn’t singing, after all, no matter how melodic her voice sounded.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING!?!?!?!” an angry yell overpowered their conversation. Oh no. Peter knew just who this was. He mouthed ‘I’m sorry’ to (Y/N) before he felt a hand grab him by the collar and spin him around. Tony reared on the mermaid. “I don’t want to see you near him ever again!”

He ignored Peter’s protests and dragged him away. All the while, he was scolding him. “This is exactly what I was worried about! We need you, we can’t let you get sick again! How could you so carelessly do that?! The exact mer that hurt you!” He kept ranting, pulling him away.

Peter protested as they made their way through the crowd, hoping that someone might help him out. “But I’m fine! See?! We were perfectly fine and you ruined a great conversation! She told me she wasn’t targeting me and she regretted it!” His shouts fell on deaf ears (quite literally, when he saw a merman with a purple tail signing out of the corner of his eye).

Tony eventually stopped in front of Shuri. “I need you to check up on him again. He risked his life and I need to know he’s okay for tomorrow.”

Shuri looked in his eyes. “If you’re absolutely sure he needs it.”

“I’m sure.”

Part 5

45 notes · View notes

texanredrose · 7 years ago

Text

Did You Know?

-Today, 0317- (214) 13-170-9: Did you know that "hamburger" is two words combined, but it's not "ham" and "burger", but "hamburg" and "er"? No idea what "er" means, though. Or “Hamburg” really. English is weird. You: Who are you and how did you get this number? (214) 13-170-9: Shit, is this not Blake? You: No. I am not Blake. (214) 13-170-9: Ah fuck, sorry, must've fat fingered the number! You: It's four in the morning here. (214) 13-170-9: Oh, cool, same timezone. Still, sorry about that. You: It's fine. You: And, for the record, -er is an Atlesian suffix that roughly means "from" and Hamburg is a city in Atlas. "Hamburger" means, quite literally, "from Hamburg". You: I grew up not too far from there. (214) 13-170-9: Oh, that's so cool! My name's Yang! You: Noted. Now, may I return to slumber or do you have any other useless trivia to impart upon me? (214) 13-170-9: Right, sorry! Again! (214) 13-170-9: Night! Sweet dreams!

-Today, 1034- You: Now that it’s a somewhat respectable hour, I’d like to apologize for being curt last night. (214) 13-170-9: Hey, I get it! I’d be a little cranky if someone woke me up, too. (214) 13-170-9: Really, no harm, no foul. (214) 13-170-9: But if you’re ever in need of useless trivia, I’m here! You: That was... harsh of me. (214) 13-170-9: I mean, you’re not exactly wrong. Most of this stuff isn’t really that useful. But it can be food for thought or even a little funny! Like, did you know the electric chair was invented by a dentist? Sounds weirdly appropriate, doesn’t it? (214) 13-170-9: Guess he got his patients confused with chickens; THOSE are the ones where you pull out all the white things and THEN fry ‘em. You: That was dark. You: I’ll admit it made me laugh out loud, but still dark. (214) 13-170-9: Okay, look, I work with what material’s available to me, and that was the first one that popped into my head. (214) 13-170-9: Also, did you really type out ‘laugh out loud’? lol, really? You: What do you have against properly spelling out words? (214) 13-170-9: Okay, you know what, in hindsight, you’re right. It just caught me off guard. Most people use abbreviations. (214) 13-170-9: Or emojis. You: I honestly hate the sight of that stupid word. You: Also, I spend all day trapped in an alphabet soup hell. I don’t need more abbreviations, thank you. (214) 13-170-9: But they make things so much quicker! btw, ofc I could spell it all out, but rn I’m using one hand, other’s occupied. (214) 13-170-9: I swear that’s not as dirty as it sounds. You: At EOD, I meet with my POC for a SITREP, then CM to the DFAC. (214) 13-170-9: I respectfully withdraw my argument, have a good day.

-Today, 1425- (214) 13-170-9: Um. I might be overstepping here and maybe you’re busy but either way I hope I didn’t upset you or insult you earlier. You: You said “have a good day”; I assumed that was the end of the conversation. (214) 13-170-9: Do you even meme?! You: I realize I implied and now am outright stating that English isn’t my primary language but you don’t have to make up words. (214) 13-170-9: Oml have you never seen a meme before? Hold on. (214) 13-170-9: [MyHairIsABird.jpeg][open][save] You: What.The. Fuck. (214) 13-170-9: You’ve never seen that before? You: I have and am now wondering why I allowed myself to be teleported back a decade. You: At least. It’s probably closer to two at this point. (214) 13-170-9: That’s a meme. It’s short for mimetic mutation I think? Where a joke gets so far removed from the source that it loses all connection but it’s still somehow funny? You: No. (214) 13-170-9: Look, I’ve never had to explain a meme before! You: I’m not saying “no” to your explanation; I’m saying “no” to that meme, as you call it. (214) 13-170-9: That’s what it’s called! You: Of course it is. (214) 13-170-9: Okay, fine, how about this one? (214) 13-170-9: [loss.jpeg][open][save] You: Now you’re tormenting me. You: Wait. I recognize this format. You: This is the stupid joke the idiots I call my subordinates are giggling about like school children? You: It’s not even a joke. This is a serious matter. (214) 13-170-9: I mean, I agree, I’m not sure how it became a joke but it did? (214) 13-170-9: I swear I’m not as dark as I’ve been sounding. (214) 13-170-9: Like, this whole conversation is kinda atypical for me, I swear. You: You’re putting in a lot of effort to convince a stranger that you’re not exactly as you’ve been acting. (214) 13-170-9: Well, you got me there. Sorry.

-Today, 1832- You: You’ve gone quiet. I suppose both of your hands were required? (214) 13-170-9: I just figured you probably had a point and I should just stop digging a bigger hole for myself. You: You don’t have any more trivia? (214) 13-170-9: Did you know a shark’s top speed is 96 km/h? You: Which species? (214) 13-170-9: Uh, Mako shark, I think. You: You are correct. I have a certain affinity for sharks. You: They aren’t as terrible as people make them out to be, you know. Yang: Actually, more people die from being struck on the head with a coconut than from shark attacks every year. They’re mostly fine if you leave them alone. Unprovoked attacks aren’t as common as people think, I mean. It’s mostly just one species responsible for them, too, but people lump all sharks together. You: They do. Sharks are dangerous, yes, but most creatures are. Sharks just get a bad reputation for essentially no reason. Yang: Actually, the movie Jaws spawned a lot of the social stigma around sharks. Yang: Do you have a favorite shark? You: The catshark. There’s several species all over Remnant; they’re deep sea creatures, living below what most people fish at, but they’re occasionally spotted by research vessels. They have beautiful skins with wonderful patterns but very little is known about them, and each subspecies is unique in its own way. You: They’re truly fascinating creatures. Yang: They sound really cool! You: I have a question for you. Yang: Shoot. You: You’ve given me your name yet you haven’t ask me mine. Why? Yang: Well, let’s start from the top. Yang: I messaged you in the middle of the night on accident, which you weren’t very happy about. Then when you apologized, I made a bad joke and you took it literally. THEN, I apologized again, and we talked about memes, and that entire discussion didn’t go anywhere good, I think we’re on the same page on that one. Yang: So, from my perspective, I really don’t have any right to ask your name. I gave you mine so you’d know who to specifically curse if you’re religiously inclined. Yang: Or, like, you just want the satisfaction of specifically cursing me, because like, mood. You: How thoughtful. You: It’s Winter. Yang: I’m pretty sure it’s spring? You: You boob. My name is Winter. Yang: OH Yang: IT’S A GOOD NAME You: ... really? Yang: Absolutely! It’s a beautiful name! You: That wasn’t me looking for reassurance; that was me being... surprised by your response. Yang: It makes me think of Atlas, kinda, cause it’s so cold up there. Yang: Oh. Yang: I am just a series of “open mouth, insert foot” examples today. You: Are you on something? Alcohol? Weed? Nicotine? Yang: NO! You: Admittedly, that last one wouldn’t lead to such a lapse in judgement as you’ve currently displayed. You: Are you lying to me? Yang: FUCKING NO, I’M NOT ON ANYTHING! Yang: I just haven’t been sleeping well recently and my head’s a little fuzzy. That’s all. You: That would explain the middle-of-the-night trivia session. Yang: I said I was sorry about that. You: I believe you but I also believe that a good night’s rest in fundamentally important. You: Tonight, you’re going to sleep at a reasonable hour. Yang: You can’t just command me to go to sleep! You: I just did. Yang: Wait a minute, the acronyms, the orders, “subordinates”- you’re military, aren’t you? You: Yes. Yang: That’s awesome! I’m just a mechanic. I like working on engines. You: Riveting, truly, but those are topics for tomorrow. Tonight, you sleep. Yang: lmao, nice pun! You: I didn’t make a pun. Yang: I said I’m a mechanic, you said “riveting”, how was that not a pun? You: You’re deflecting. Yang: My shields are up. You: I’m not engaging in a pun war when you should be going to bed. Yang: I’m not going to bed, so I guess we’re at a stalemate. You: Fine. Here’s the deal. Make me a promise. Yang: Wow, we’re hardly on first name basis and now we’re making promises? You move fast. You: Promise me you’ll text me whatever piece of trivia comes to mind whenever you’re having trouble sleeping. Yang: I don’t get it. I’d be waking you up at all hours. You: Exactly. You seem like the sort of person to care very much about others so I doubt you’d compromise my sleep intentionally. Now that you have a clear purpose of going to sleep to help someone else sleep, you’ll have an easier time accomplishing the task. Yang: What are you, some kinda quack psychologist? Yang: You’re playing dirty. You: I’m military. What did you honestly expect? Yang: Touche. Yang: Fine. I’ll try to sleep tonight. But just know! I have a whole bunch of factoids for ya! Get ready cause neither of us is sleeping tonight! You: Usually, I’d insist someone buy me dinner first. Yang: Now you’re flirting. You: I’m merely stating fact. You: How about one more “factoid” before bed? Yang: Did you know a shark’s teeth are literally hard as steel? You: Playing to my interests, I see. Yang: I have my moments of brilliance. You: Indeed you do. Now, good night, Yang. Get some sleep. Yang: Good night Winter. Sweet dreams. You: And to you the same.

-Today, 0947- Yang: I hate you. You: Care to elaborate? Yang: Somehow, it worked, and I just woke up from the sleep of the dead. My body feels like mush sloshing around a hollow lead cylinder. You: What you’re feeling is the side effects of your body getting both too little and too much rest at the same time. If you establish a better sleep schedule, you’ll avoid this feeling in the future. Yang: Thank you, Doctor Winter. Do I get a lollipop? You: Continue being this cheeky; I assure you it’s doing nothing but improving my perception of you. Yang: Harsh. You: That was teasing. Yang: Oh. You really should add, like, an lol or something when you're joking. I'm not awake enough to find context clues. You: Aside from the lethargy, how are you feeling? Yang: Hungry. I finally dragged myself out of bed to cook breakfast and it turns out my sister already made me some. I’ve taught her well. You: Older or younger? Yang: I’m older by two years. Sometimes, it feels longer than that, though; I practically raised her. You: Interesting. I’m glad she made some food for you. Yang: Yeah. Now that I think about it, probably worried her pretty bad the last few weeks. You: Is that how long you’ve been having trouble sleeping?” Yang: About that. Yang: These pancakes taste fucking delicious btw. Yang: Did you know that, for most people, their right lung takes in more air than their left? You: We need to have a talk about priorities because I highly doubt you’ve inhaled your food that quickly. Yang: Sorry, my sis had to leave, so it’s a quiet breakfast over here. You: I don’t see that as something that needs to be corrected. You: However, I find myself wondering if you know the reason behind the lung trivia. Yang: I do! It’s because, for most people, your heart is just to the left of the center of your chest. So, since the heart takes up space, there’s only two sacs in your left lung, as opposed to three in your right. Yang: *sacks? Idek You: Idek? Yang: I Don’t Even Know- not sure what the difference between “sacs” and “sacks” is. You: This is why acronyms and abbreviations are more trouble than they’re worth. Yang: Okay, so basically, a sac is biological and a sack is manufactured. Like, sacs are things naturally occurring that fill with air or liquid, either in the body or outside it. Sacks are made for carrying things like groceries. Yang: Meanwhile, “sack” as a verb means either getting hit or getting laid off. Or maybe both, I guess, depending on your job. You: You went and looked it up? Yang: What, you think I was born with all these random things preprogrammed? Yang: I have a really good retention rate and I'm curious a lot. Yang: Google is my friend. You: Obviously. I suppose the appropriate follow-up question would be: you kept highlighting “most people”. Why? Yang: Well, there are a lot of medical reasons that makes it not applicable to everyone. Dextrocardia, for instance, in its mildest form causes the heart to face the opposite way, so the lungs usually fill differently because of that. More severe cases mean that more visceral organs are mirrored, too. You: Okay, so, language, sharks, the electric chair, and now medical trivia. The breadth of your subjects of interest is impressive. Yang: Thanks! Yang: Did you know that the cracking sound made by a whip is caused by the tip breaking the sound barrier? Yang: I’m pretty sure this counts as physics. You: I’ll add physics to the list. You: Now finish your breakfast and do something small. Take a nap in a few hours or whenever you feel tired. Yang: Do you have any siblings? Yang: You don't have to answer right away! Yang: Or at all. Yang: Guess you're busy? Eating breakfast maybe?

-Today, 1036- You: Actually, I was in formation. It's usually at 0930 but there were... complications this morning, so they pushed it back half an hour. Yang: Huh. For some reason, I always thought the military would be, like, SUPER punctual. You: And I have a younger sister and a younger brother, in that order. You: I'm going to tell you a secret: the military is always late. We just never admit it. Yang: So, you're like a bunch of cats? You: Given what constitutes my workday, yes, I would say that's accurate. "Herding cats" is the most accurate description of my job title. Yang: lmao, that's wild. Your siblings here in Vale too? Or back home in Atlas? You: My sister is here; she moved here to study at Beacon and then decided to stay. I suspect her girlfriend might factor into that decision but she's remaining tight lipped about it. My brother is at home, in Atlas. You: Now explain “lmao”. Yang: Laughing My As Off Yang: You really don’t know any chat abbreviations? You: Has it occurred to you that abbreviations is a very long word to describe the shortening of words and is, in itself, evidence that it’s all very silly? Yang: I know this is going to sound very grade school but you’re kinda cute when you’re annoyed. You: You’re right; that does sound very grade school. You: And you only say that because you can’t see me. Yang: Oh, so you don’t go all broody, kinda constipated, pursed lips when you’re annoyed by something? You: I understand those words individually but, combined, I’m lost. What would that even look like? Yang: Here. Yang: [photo][open][save] You: First, I want to assure you that you’re a very beautiful individual. You: Next, you look absolutely ridiculous. Yang: Hey, that’s how I think you look when you’re annoyed! You: I do not. Yang: Okay, I’ll take your word for it! You: [photo][open][save] Yang: Oh Yang: Wow You: That is what I look like when annoyed. You: And, not to wound your ego, but that annoyance isn’t inspired by you. A subordinate just asked me for fucking grid squares. You: At this point, one would think that joke’s too tired to work, but one would be wrong. Yang: Did you know that the winter of 392 was so cold, all of Beacon Falls froze over? You: Back to trivia? Yang: It’s my default response when higher brain function shuts down. You: I’ll admit, this is the first time in a long while I’ve felt flattery to be entirely sincere. Yang: This isn’t flattery; this is cold, hard facts. You: I see. Yang: Hey, I, uh, just realized the time, I gotta get to work. Yang: See if I still have a job, at any rate. You: I understand. Good luck. Yang: Thanks! Hope your work day gets better!

-Today, 1236- You: I assume the radio silence to be a good sign.

-Today, 1428- Yang: Yeah! Turns out, the shop kept a spot for me. My boss is being really understanding. Yang: Kinda... babying me, too, but... I’m getting used to it. Yang: At least he fired the idiot that started this whole mess. You: Am I permitted to inquire as to what happened? Yang: I don’t wanna go into details. You: That’s understandable. You: I’m glad they kept a spot for you. Are you going to return to work full time or ease into it? Yang: Give me a minute. You: Very well.

-Today, 1513- Yang: A few months ago, there was an accident at the shop. We do body work too and this guy tried using a machine he had no business using. Freaked out, caused a scene, I tried going over to help, ended up with my right arm caught in the damn thing. Mangled it pretty bad. So bad the docs had to take it. I got fitted for a prosthetic and I’m just trying to find normal again. Yang: I know I said I didn’t wanna go into the details but I’m actually shit at lying. Yang: Except in, like, weirdly specific circumstances. You: Thank you. Yang: Ok. Gotta admit. Not the response I expected. You: It must be very difficult to discuss and think about the accident. You didn’t have to go into it, yet you did, and I thank you for trusting me with that. You: That being said, is this a contributing factor to your insomnia? Yang: It’s not insomnia. I’m just not sleeping well. Yang: But yeah, idk, maybe it’s related. I liked sleeping on my right side and I can’t anymore. Anchor digs into my ribs. You: Establishing a new routine can be tricky at first. Everything is just a painful reminder of the incident. Yang: Sounds like you have experience with this. You: A bit. A superior of mine whom I respect greatly lost most of his body a few years back. He speaks very frankly about the challenges he faced when returning to the line. Yang: Wait, you mean General Ironwood? You: You know him? Yang: Who in Remnant doesn’t? He’s basically a celebrity. I mean, not just for the prosthetic body thing; he’s also the youngest commanding General of the Atlesian military. Yang: Which... tbh, is kinda weird. Isn’t he pushing fifty? You: Age takes on a whole new concept in the military. Yang: I’d say. Yang: They talked about him when I started my physical therapy. Supposed to inspire me, I guess. You: For what it’s worth, he actually dislikes when people do that. He says that each individual case is a war all unto itself. Comparisons are detrimental to the individual’s recovery. Yang: I like him better already. I’ve been over here trying to just “suck it up” I mean, not like I lost anything more than an arm, what do I have to complain about? You: Hold that thought. Yang: Okay?

-Today, 1558- You: Miss Yang? This is General Ironwood. Yang: Look, I’m all for practical jokes, but this isn’t a good one. You: [photo][open][save] Yang: This is not a joke. You: No, it is not. You: Miss Yang, I’d like to extend my deepest, sincerest sympathies to you for your loss. Having your life upended in such a way can be extremely disorienting. However, the measure of your strength does not come from what you can or can’t do in comparison to before. It comes from your desire to continue fighting, to find a new balance to your life. Asymmetry is a measure of beauty, strength, and courage in its own right. Yang: Thank you, sir. Yang: *Sir. You: I’d like to extend an invitation to a support group I host. It’s mostly military members from all over Remnant but, if you don’t mind a bit of morbidly crass humor- a habit I’m attempting to break the lot of them from, with limited results- we’d be honored with your presence. Yang: No offense, but I doubt a bunch of soldiers would be “honored” by a mechanic. You: The first thing I teach is to see similarities instead of differences. You saw something dangerous and, rather than run away, you ran towards it. All of us share that experience. You: Except Carl. Yang: What happened to him? You: I apologize; it’s a military specific meme. Winter mentioned you’re rather fond of memes. Yang: Oh, so you know what a meme is, but she doesn’t? You: Don’t tell her I said so- she’s a very good soldier- but she’s always had a stick up her ass. She could use more memes in her life. Yang: Should I take that as an order? You: Absolutely. Yang: Can do. And, uh, sure. About the support group. You: Excellent! I’ll give Winter the details so she can pass them onto you. It was wonderful taking to you, Miss Yang. Yang: Yeah, you too, Sir. You: It’s Winter again. I hope that helped. Yang: Did you literally walk into the office of the commanding General of Atlas’ military, just to hand him your scroll and say ‘talk to this bitch’? You: I didn’t use those words; I told him I had a friend who recently attended physical therapy post amputation and I thought some words of encouragement from him would be a good idea. You: Wait, did he literally say I have a stick up my ass? Yang: WOOOW, meme savvy he might be, but apparently he doesn’t know how to delete a text message. You: I can’t believe he’d say that. You: I most certainly do not have a stick lodged in my posterior, figurative or otherwise. Yang: I’d offer to check but that’s a bit too fast too soon, so I’ll just say you seem alright to me. You: Thank you, Yang. Yang: Cranky when I wake you up at the asscrack of dawn, though. That might be when ass and stick are firm friends. You: Do not make me take it back. Yang: I’m just kidding! Yang: Seriously, though, thanks. You didn’t have to do that. You: You’re welcome.

-Today, 0233- Yang: Did you know it takes the average person seven minutes to fall asleep? You: I sincerely thought you’d be asleep by now. Yang: I did. Woke up. Yang: Sorry. You: Do you know what a contact truck is? Yang: Uh, no, no idea. You: It’s the military vehicle utilized by mechanics, outfitted with tools, so they can drive out and repair other vehicles. Do you know why it’s called that? Yang: Hit me with it. You: That was an actual question. Yang: Huh? You: I’ve been asking for as long as I’ve been in. Not even General Ironwood knows why it’s called that. It just is. Yang: omg that’s hilarious You: It’s that, too. Also incredibly vexing. You: I just want to know why it’s called that. Yang: Heh. If I find out, I’ll let you know. You: Go back to sleep, Yang. Yang: I’ll try. Night. You: And sweet dream. Yang: lol, same to you.

#TRR writes #Elderburn #Texting AU

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ohheyitsbangtansinyeondan · 7 years ago

Text

"For Satisfaction" p.1 (R18! BTS x Reader)

Before anything else I would like to say sorry in advance for my first smut BTS story and ummm happy reading! For mature audience only!

***

___ opened her eyes only to see a man’s face beside her sleeping soundly, almost like an angel.

She smiled to herself as her feet rubbed against his.

“Good morning Hoseok,” She whispered, caressing his cheek.

Hoseok slowly opened his eyes into a half-lidded one, and he smiled at her sleepily.

“Hello,”

He hugs her close to him once again, and she laughs.

“I need to cook breakfast with Jin.”

Hoseok groaned disappointingly, but removes his arm and leg around her anyway.

“I’ll wake up later."He mumbles before throwing the bed sheet over him. "Too early…”

“Okay Hobi,” ___ says as she closes the door.

Once sensing she was gone, Hoseok removed the cover off his face and looked at the door over his shoulder silently.

***

“___ can you please pass that bowl over there.”

“Sure.”

Cooking with Jin is definitely fun, especially when he occasionally throws dad jokes at her. Seokjin on the other hand, enjoyed cooking with her then tasting the food they made afterwards first. The taste is satisfying, and you could really tell that they both made the food with love.

“Hey ___?” Jin flipped the egg, and he smiled at the smell.

“Yeah?”

“If I throw a tombstone at you, you are..?”

He could feel her frown from behind, stopping from whatever she’s doing.

“What? Why?”

“It’s a joke,” he explained.

“Ah, I see. Well I don’t know, what am I?”

“You’re in grave danger.”

His shoulders shook, and there he was again with his hyena + windshield wiper laugh. She rolled her eyes at the pun, but couldn’t help but laugh as well.

“What the heck, Jin.”

“The plate please."Seokjin requested a minute of laughing later, and she went to get it.

"Here you go.”

“Thank you,”

___ started setting up the table and after she thought she’d done a great job, she went to Yoongi, Hoseok, Taehyung, Namjoon, and Jimin’s rooms to tell them to eat breakfast together.

“You called them?"He asks when she came back to the dining room smelling of food.

"Of course!”

“Very good."Seokjin mockingly pets her. "Sit next to me, okay?”

“Okay."She shrugs and obeys, and he couldn’t help but smirk.

Sooner, people flooded the dining table and after chaste greetings, began digging down.

"Is it delicious?” Jin asked, and they all nodded their heads to his satisfaction.

His eyes searched for ___’s though, and just as he thought, she was looking at him.

“What?” He mouthed soundlessly, but he knows what’s up.

His hand was currently caressing her thigh under the table, and it was slowly climbing up.

“Stop it,” she mouthed back, then kicked his leg but he didn’t budge. His smirk only got wider as his fingers went under her skirt, and she sighs at his immorally childish act.

***

After breakfast, everyone scrambled about in the house and Seokjin went to wash his hand at the sink and ___ straight to the bathroom.

He couldn’t help but remember when ___ went silent while he was inserting two fingers to her wet core. Couldn’t help the way she shook violently as she tightened around his fingers minutes later as she came silently, unnoticed by the other people busy eating away to their heart’s content.

He couldn’t help but feel aroused. Looks like he would be using the bathroom when she’s finished.

***

Jimin hugged ___ tight and buried his face on her neck. Tickled, she laughed lightly and embraced back. They were both at the sofa, with her sitting on his lap, facing him.

Jimin was a sucker for cuddling, and at a cold time like this, he loves her against him.

She then started to lightly stroke his hair, and he couldn’t help but close his eyes. She really knew how to make him feel at peace.

Their moment was ended once the door on the entrance opened and Jungkook arrived with a box of donuts.

“Hey guys."He smiled, then looked at the both of them cuddling. His fingers twitched beside him, secretly annoyed at the sight he first sees.

"Welcome home Kookie,”___ greeted.

“I believe it’s my turn now,"Jungkook said as he walked pass them, signaling for her to follow. Jimin’s hold softened, letting her go. She flashes an apologetic smile at him.

"See you.”

Jimin hated this. He hated sharing her with anyone, especially with the boys, and that’s what made it harder. He knows that the boys are feeling protective of her too, but they couldn’t do anything. She couldn’t do anything. They were all struggling, all because of affection.

He hasn’t realized yet that he was pouting.

“Aww, Jimin."Before he knew it, she leans down and pecks his lips. He instantly kissed back, but she pulled away after a second.

He watches her leave, and suddenly his chest pained. He then grabs the soda at the table and decides to drown away his disappointment.

***

Jungkook and ___ went to the garden and sat at the garden table opposite of each other.

"I’ve bought your favorites.”

“Thanks a bunch,” she smiles, opening the box and grabbed a sprinkled strawberry donut.

Jungkook went to grab the nearest one, which is the cinnamon flavoured one and bit down.

“Jungkook? Where were you?”

“…the gym? I was surprised Jimin wasn’t there, but then of course, it’s because he’s doing something else.”

She kinda felt bad. Is she distracting Jimin from his daily workout routine? This is bad.

She shook her head instead. She shouldn’t think about Jimin too much when she’s with Jungkook!

She called his attention again.

“Mmm?” He raised his eyebrows at her.

“I got you a present.”

He eyed her fishing out something from her pocket and there it was, a box seated on her palm.

He couldn’t help but grin as he got it and examined it closely, bringing down the piece of donut on the box of pastry.

“An engagement ring?”

She rolls her eyes at him, giggling.

“Duh, no! Just open it..!”

He does, and he was surprised when he saw a gold necklace, with his name in English and Hangeul with it.

“It’s not that much…but I worked really hard for that!” She gives him an unwavering gaze.“S-So I would like you to appreciate it. And please don’t let the guys know I gave you a gift, I don’t have the money on me currently to give them a gift as well.”

“Okay, okay,” He chuckles, putting on the necklace. “It’s pretty.”

“It is?"She raises a brow at him.

"It is. I appreciate it,” He grins back. “What’s this for, though?”

“Well,” she started. “I figured I’d give a gift to someone who always comes over my room like he owns it.”

“I don’t know if you’re low key picking on me or not, but hey."He laughs as he picks up his donut and bites on it again.

"A token of gratitude for accompanying me at my sleepless nights, and for giving me cuddles. Like, massive amounts of them.” She smiles, and he stops and looks at her.

His cheeks flames red. She’s now looking at somewhere, and he took this opportunity to look away as well.

***

Taehyung was in his room, deep in thought, seated at his wooden rocking chair.

He wasn’t actually thinking about anything too serious. To be honest, he was just contemplating on what to play next. An online game? Nah. No thanks, some online games are full of trashtalkers. 1P games? Maybe some other time. It doesn’t appeal to him right now. A 2P game, he decides. Jungkook was home, and so is Jimin. He gets up and walks outside his room.

“Jimin,"he knocks on his door, and he doesn’t earn a sound.

"Jimin, let’s play a game,"he calls again.

"Jimin,"he knocks one last time, before sighing and went to look for Jungkook.

"Jungkook?”

He knocks on the maknae’s door, but no sound. Again. Is he being ignored by everyone?

He frowns as he goes to the kitchen, thinking maybe someone was there.

“Hoseok-hyung,"he greets once he sees the fresh-out-of-bed man who was currently eating breakfast Jin set aside for him.

”‘Morning.“he greeted back.

"Want to play a game with me?”

“Pass,"he dismissed.

So he just went to get a glass of cold water from the dispenser.

He started walking around the house while gulping down water. He eventually arrives at the deserted living room and he neared the glass wall covered by curtains.

He parted the empty glass from his lips as he parts a portion of curtain to the side to peek into the garden.

He spots Jungkook, and he sees ___ as well. They were at the garden table, talking. With donuts.

His eyes softened.

___…

She came into the household three weeks earlier.

Came not to solely become their maid, but someone who should satisfy their needs.

Manager Sejin introduced her as a simple girl from (City Name). He could clearly remember her being called to their front, and she wore a knee-length (f/c) floral dress along with strap sandals.

In his opinion, she was indeed simple. They met a lot of girls around the world before and she doesn’t quite stand out that much. But that doesn’t mean she would come out as a bland person.

He doesn’t know how Manager Sejin found her.

Heck, he doesn’t even know what he meant when he said,

"She’ll be staying here with you to satisfy your needs. You can do anything with her if you must.”

“So do we like…share her?” Namjoon asks.

“Yes."Their manager nodded."So don’t think too much of her…”

He doesn’t understand. Why are they talking about her like she’s some kind of toy?

He looks at her and she seems fine with it. Everyone was confused too though, to his opinion.

And so she moved in to the room between Yoongi’s and Jin’s.

At first everyone was polite around her, but she wasn’t that hard to be close with. She was a likeable person, so eventually the members treated her as one of their close friends. Some subtly. Maybe it, too, was because they had permission to do anything with her, but okay.

But as he looks at her and Jungkook interacting, he felt pity for her.

He knows she needed the money, and so she agreed to live with a bunch of strangers–and men at that.

It takes a lot of courage to move out from your home just for work.

Somehow, he sees himself in her. And he was sure that she, too, is tired.

He opens the door which made the two people look at him.

“Taehyung,"she greets, and he could only smile.

”___, Jungkook.“

The maknae pointed at the box of donuts."Want one?”

“Of course."he gets the donut dipped in green substance, and bit on it.

The three of them then ate in silence, and he wondered why neither of them started a conversation like before so he took the initiative.

"So, I was thinking of playing a 2P game,"he starts."Want to play?”

“Sure."Jungkook looked excited, and ___ nods.

"Me too.”

“I only have two controllers though,” he says.

Jungkook looks at her and she smiles, already knowing that he would say she should try the game and step down.

“It doesn’t matter if I can’t play. You go ahead, I’ll be fine.”

“Are you sure?” He asks.

“Yes, yes.” She stands up.“There are plenty of donuts. I’ll put it in the fridge.”

She leaves them both carrying the box and Jungkook stood up.

“Let’s go,"he says and went in first.

Taehyung stared at the door for a minute or two, deep in thought, but it’s not like he’s thinking about something serious or anything.

He just thought the avocado-flavored donut tasted nice.

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bigbangenthusiast · 7 years ago

Text

Part 2 of Shamy’s first time. Requested by Anon. You can find part 1 here : https://bigbangenthusiast.tumblr.com/post/167626421799/requested-by-anon-via-ask-hi-there-i-was

He finally looked at her face then back down at the garment. His fingers crawled past her navel, stopping just above the red silk. He looked up at her again, licked his lips, then lightly stroked the fabric. Amy inhaled sharply as he trailed down to her apex.

“You’re so wet.”

“Because of you,” she whispered seductively.

He moved his hand lower, stroking her inner thigh, before moving back up. Cautiously, he slipped a finger under the elastic. She clawed at the sheet as he sought out her nub, gently stroking it. He slowly increased the pressure and pace, all the while enjoying the various sounds she emitted.

“Oh, Sheldon!” Her body tensed, and he watched her face as she arched her back and shuddered against his fingertip.

“Two orgasms in one night,” he mused. “Shall we try for a third?”

“Y… yes,” she panted. “Just give me a moment.”

He slid his finger out of the fabric and leaned over, pressing a featherlight kiss just below her navel. His hands roamed over her hips and thighs. When her breathing returned to normal, he stretched his neck until their lips met. “How are you enjoying your birthday so far?” He whispered when they broke apart.

“This is the best birthday ever,” she gushed.

“Good.” He pressed his lips to hers once more before they made their descent down her neck, stopping briefly at her shoulder where he nibbled playfully, to her breasts where he lingered, then down below her navel. He hooked his thumbs in the silky fabric. “May I?”

She nodded mutely, lifting her bottom as he slid the garment down her legs. When her reached her ankles, she kicked them off.

He peered over the mattress. “Amy! We need to fold them.”

She studied his butt as he bent over to fish for the garment. Without hesitation, she shot her hands out and squeezed the firm muscles.

He startled, his head twisting around to face her. “Amy!”

“I couldn’t resist.” She licked her lips. “Forget the underwear. Now it’s time to remove yours.” In one swift move she yanked the fabric down.

He lifted his knees as she slid them down. When she reached his ankles, he took over, slipping them off and folding them neatly before turning to face her. Amy’s eyes were immediately drawn to his hard length. She tentatively stroked him from base to tip, enjoying the feel of his hot skin. Finding courage, she grasped him, pumping his shaft slowly.

“Oh, dear Lord!”

She pulled her hand back. “Is this uncomfortable?“

“Just the opposite. Don’t stop,” he begged.

“Let’s lie down again so we can pleasure each other.”

They lay back facing each other, their hands seeking their most erogenous zones. He placed a finger on her nub, sliding it down to her wet folds. He inserted and removed it slowly. She matched his pace, her hand gliding over his flesh, gradually increasing the pressure.

“Oh, Amy! I’ve never been touched like this before!”

As she continued her ministrations, she snaked her free hand to his testicles, rolling them gently between her fingers.

He gritted his teeth. Using his free hand, he gently peeled her fingers away. “You didn’t like that?” She asked.

“I liked it too much. I don’t think I could have lasted much longer.”

“I’m on the verge myself,” she admitted.

He crooked his finger, rubbing her faster. She grabbed the sheet and squeezed her eyes shut, her moans echoing through the room. He beamed with pride as she rode out her third orgasm of the night.

She leaned over and kissed his lips, softly at first, then with a sense of urgency. “Vixen,” he muttered when they paused for air.

She reached down and felt his still-hard member. “Shall we move on to the next step?”

“I’m ready when you are.”

He extracted a foil packet from his wallet and slipped the latex shield on as she positioned herself over her pillow. He hovered over her, inching forward slightly until the tip of him just barely touched her opening, then paused.

Her eyes searched his. “Are you okay?”

“I was just reflecting on our virginity. Once I go in, there’s no turning back.” “Does that scare you?”

“A little,” he admitted. “Does it scare you?”

“Maybe a little, not because I’ll be losing my virginity,” she clarified. “I still don’t really know what to expect. I’ve enjoyed what we’ve done so far, so it should only be better, right?”

He bent his head and kissed her lips, her eyelids, her forehead. “I guess I’ll just take the plunge.” She giggled. “What’s so funny?”

“Your pun.”

He furrowed his brow, then widened his eyes as realization hit. “Happy accident.”

“I love you,” she murmured.

“I love you too.” He brushed his lips against hers as he pushed his tip into her. Amy gritted her teeth as his hard length slowly entered. He stopped moving. “Are you okay? You look like you’re in pain. Am I hurting you?”

“I’m okay.”

“You don’t look okay. I can pull out. This still counts as coitus, right?”

“Really, I’m fine. It’s common for women to feel some discomfort the first time.”

He looked at her uncertainly. “Amy, the last thing I want to do is hurt you. I want you to think back on this day positively.”

She pulled his face down and kissed him hard. “I will. Let’s do this. I want to.“

He pushed himself in a little more, paused, then a little more, kissing her the whole time. When he was completely buried, he waited a full minute as she got used to his size. “Still doing okay?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” He slowly moved out then back in, pecking her the lips with each leisurely thrust.

Her hips bucked up, and her moans joined the sounds of the bedsprings. They picked up the pace gradually, his moans joining hers.

“Oh, dear Lord! Amy, you naughty Vixen!” He cried out when she reached around him, cupping his testicles.

Her nails raked his flesh as their movements became erratic. Her body tensed. “Sheldon!” She moaned, as she pulsed around him.

The combination of his name on her lips and the pulsating sensation was all it took for him to let go and release himself. He screamed her name and collapsed on her.

They panted heavily. When he regained his strength, he raised himself onto his forearms, hovering over her. “That was intense.”

“It was,” she agreed, still panting.

He swept the damp hair off her forehead and left a soft kiss in its place. They stay joined for several minutes, just staring at each other in wonder. He reluctantly rolled off and discarded the latex shield then pulled the comforter to their collarbones.

“Well, I enjoyed that more than I thought I would.”

“Me, too.”

“I look forward to your next birthday when we do it again.”

“That works for me.” She rested her head on his chest, reveling in the feel of his racing heart. They had really done it, and it was even better than she had imagined.

He slung his arm over her waist and pulled her even closer. “I love you, Amy. Happy birthday.” As he nuzzled her hair, his breathing slowed.

“Happy birthday to me.” She sighed contentedly and fell into a deep, peaceful sleep.

#tbbt #shamy #shamy fanfic #the purity dissolution

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tippity-toppity · 7 years ago

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Aranea: Be Tired

This is a oneshot fanfiction I wrote a while back before I had tumblr and posted on the homestuck amino! I actually can't believe it's taken me this long to remember to post it on here? It's a little old so it's not the best, and some of the reasoning is a tad shaky, but I still want to post it for fun ^-^ This is supposed to be Aranea's thoughts leading up to [S] Game Over in a humanstuck universe! Enjoy!

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

She was tired. Tired of being ignored, that is. Her name is Aranea Serket, yet sometimes she doubts anyone really knows that.

She's a nosy chatterbox, with only one person she could actually call a 'real friend'. A girl who speaks primarily in fish pun, a habit that Aranea herself had picked up more than once. An outcast, who can't really call anyone else in their group a friend. That's probably the only reason they started talking, and yet even Meenah will happily jump off a building, rather than listen to Aranea's stories. It's been like this forever, so it shouldn't really irk her nearly as much as it actually does. There's one person who does like her, and that's all that she needs, so why does it get under her skin so much?

Maybe because it hurts. It hurts when somebody waves her off, tells her to stop talking and laughs about it. When she was younger she used to try so hard. She thought maybe people didn't want to listen because of the way she was telling them. So she learned. She learned about proper structure, word building. She read countless articles on whatever might help. But of course it hadn't been enough.

She probably isn't helping either. She's got a nasty habit of talking about herself, of dragging the stories on too long. Of course she knows this. She berates herself everytime that she, without thinking, brings a conversation around to herself. Hates it when she gets so caught up in something she was saying that she just starts talking and doesn't stop.

She can feel their annoyance, too. It's like a sixth sense, she's always been great at reading people. Telling what they think of her. And of course, it's great on the occasion when somebody thinks she's pretty. But then there's always when she's talking to someone and just knows, deep down, that they don't like her. That they're waiting for her to shut up so they can go. Sometimes she'd wish that she didn't know.

Her grip tightens on the pencil she's using to draft an assignment for a class. Being a lit major, doubling in business, involves so much writing, but it's the same as talking really, just on paper. And as so many people have willingly pointed out, she's great at talking. Not that they listen, though.

She thought that maybe, just maybe, it'd be different in college. She'd meet others with the same interests, make some friends besides Meenah. That maybe somebody would listen to her.

But it's all been the same. She talks too much.

It stings. But it's not new.

She shakes her head, messy stands of stray black hair falling in her face. She can't get distracted. She's got essays to finish, tests to study for.

If she does them, then someday somebody might recognize her. Someone may look at one of her writings and listen. Actually, truly listen.

She allows herself to get lost in the fantasy for a moment, a better world. One where she's cool, amazing.

Like her Mother, for example. An amazing businesswoman, an absolute terror honestly. And just like Aranea, she talks too much.

But there's one big difference between her and Aranea. With 'The Marquise', people listen when she talks. Out of fear, yes, but they still listen.

So Aranea, for just a moment, allows herself to imagine herself in a position like her Mother's. A powerful, scary woman. A woman that people listen to.

But then her phone buzzes, some ridiculous clamshell thing Meenah got her ages ago, knocking her out of the illusion. It's not for her, of course. Kankri ranting about something or the other in a group chat Meenah had added her to long ago. She laughs bitterly, thinking about how sometimes it seems like even Kankri gets listened to more than she does. She doesn't like it, or want it, but.

Sometimes it's so easy to feel invisible. She wants to be in the narrative, get some form of attention. She wants to be something. She wants to insert herself into the action, but she isn't sure how.

There isn't even really much action going on. Unless you count things she's powerless against.

Like how recently there'd been a serial killer on the loose. Called himself Lord English, had evaded capture constantly.

That's the only noteworthy thing going on. Something not her, nor her friends could fix.

Meenah once joked about getting an army of police officers, even moreso than were already here. Her younger sister, Vriska, said that if she got a weapon- she could totally take him.

Of course they'd be insane to try. Even with her Mother's influence, one that made sure she could easily double the number of officers in the area.

Still, it's probably eighty-eight shades of illegal to interfere in an investigation.

She tries not to think about how she does have that English boy wrapped around her finger, how with a little bit of persuasion she could easily get the younger Makara in a position to frame him. How she's always been amazing at manipulating people when she wants to. That it'd be so easy to tip off the police about how there's something happening, make herself into a hero.

She's not insane. But as her phone buzzes again, and like always it's a call from Meenah, although Aranea thought she was hanging out with Vriska, she thinks that she might be leaning a bit towards crazy.

#aranea serket #homestuck #fanfiction #writing #s game over #humanstuck #my writing #tippity-toppity

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philsdrill · 8 years ago

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Chicken

Summary: Dan is worried that his social anxiety is going to mess up his job interview, but that becomes the least of his problems when he gets his vibrator stuck up his butt the night before.

Warnings: smut, unsafe anal practice, vomit, hospitals, puns

Word count: 10k

A/N: This is a weird little idea I had one morning about Dan getting a vibrator stuck up his bum, then I somehow managed to fill it with chicken/egg puns. Enjoy! (It was a hard decision whether to post this or another fic, but I decided you guys deserve the long one as I haven’t posted in over two weeks)

Dan was nervous for his job interview. He was as prepared as he could be: he'd thought about all the questions he might be asked and how he would answer them. He'd even made notes about the company in case he was expected to have any background knowledge.

Still, he couldn't relax. Dan had tried a few things to help him relax: a warm bath, some relaxing music, a cup of tea and a good book… but nothing seemed to be doing the trick.

Dan only had one idea left, and laying back on his bed, he decided to give it a shot. He needed an orgasm, a moment of bliss, with the relaxed exhaustion that followed. He wasn't just going to aim for a standard, hand job on the penis, kind of orgasm through. He’d been experimenting with anal play recently, having achieved a prostate orgasm a few times with his fingers, and more recently, with a new toy. He wasn't an expert on the world of sex toys and vibrators, so he thought he'd start out small. He'd purchased this little egg shaped vibrator, not wanting to get anything he couldn't cope with and so far, it had been amazing.

Before he started anything, Dan made sure he had everything he needed handy. He'd spread out a towel on his bed, so he could just toss the mess out of the way afterwards. He had his bottle of lube ready, his vibrator remote on the bed and he'd made sure that the strap was connected to his vibrator so he could get it back out alright. He was set to go.

As always, he started out with his fingers, applying generous amounts of lube to them and one by one, inserting them into his hole. The stretching process was easier now that he did more regularly and actually knew what he was doing. It wasn't long before he was fucking himself on three fingers and longing for more.

Dan pulled them out and paused his actions to pay a little attention to his dick, which was now resting against his stomach, begging for friction. The lubed up had gave him just the wet warmth he was needing, as close as he was going to get at the moment to a bodily warmth around his cock. He wasn't a top by any means, but his primal sexual desires knew what made his boner happy.

Dan stopped when he found precome forming at his tip and when the empty feeling in his rear got too much. He coated his little egg vibrator in lube, and making sure to keep the strap outside, he pushed it inside him.

When it was in just the right spot, Dan picked up the remote control, took a couple of deep breaths and turned it on. At first it was just tickling his prostate, teasing him, taunting him, but then he ground down into the mattress, rolling his hips in just the right way that it pressed into his prostate, causing him so much pleasure that he moaned very audibly.

Dan knew, however, that if he turned up the vibration speed, he could get even more pleasure out of it. When he felt he was ready, he pressed the speed up button a couple of times. The new level of pleasure was overwhelming and it was only seconds before Dan felt an orgasm pooling in his stomach.

Letting the vibrator do the work in the back shop, he allowed himself the use of both hands on his dick. They were already slippery from the lube, which made the whole process a lot easier and a lot more pleasurable. He was bucking up into his own hands, fucking them, crying out, feeling the vibrations course through his body, moaning so loudly the neighbours could probably hear…

With no one to tell, his orgasm came without warning, his body shaking, still fucking up into his hands as the cum started to spurt from his tip. With his prostate involved, it was always a lot more intense, more fluid flowing out of his dick and making him thankful he'd laid a towel down first. Eventually, he dropped his length, as it started to head back towards being flaccid. The vibrator in his rear was starting to overstimulate him, so he reached for the remote and switched it off.

Dan took a minute to recover from his orgasm before he reached down there to get the vibrator out. It never quite slipped out as easily as he’d expected, but it gave him copious amounts of pleasure, so he wasn’t complaining. He’d maybe try something else once he’d got a job and enough money to buy something better.

Dan spread his cheeks wide to make it easier, then grabbed the strap and slowly pulled. He felt it begin to move, but there was a lot more friction than he would’ve liked. The lube he put it in with must’ve dried out. He’d seen somewhere that silicon based lube would avoid that problem; he’d have to try it sometime. For now, anyway, he was stuck with water-based, so he’d just have to add some more. He paused, coating his fingers in lube and sticking them back up there to try and lubricate his passage. He brushed the egg with his fingers by accident, and lost the only progress he’d made in moving it. At least it would be easier now.

Dan dried his hand on the towel, then grabbed the vibrator strap again. He pulled it slowly, expecting it to come easier this time, and boy, was he shocked when it came flying out of him with just the tiniest tug. Relieved, he didn’t even bother to glance at the strap before shoving everything onto the floor and rolling over onto his stomach at the other side of his bed.

As he rolled, Dan felt something prod at his prostate and he paused. Was the egg still inside him? Sitting up to look at what he’d shoved onto the floor, he felt it again. He studied what he’d dumped on the floor and there was the vibrator strap, unattached. Shit.

How was he going to get it out now? Could he reach in there and grab it with his fingers? Would he have to push it out like he was going to the toilet? What could he do? Trying not to panic, although he was most certainly doing so already, Dan turned to the one place he could usually find the answer to anything. The internet.

The first results were all stories about people having gone to A&E to get them out. Dan couldn’t have that; his social anxiety was bad at the best of times, there was no way he was facing another human being with a vibrator stuck up his ass. Feeling himself panic more, as he realised that there may not be a solution, he scrolled further down the search results until he happened on some reddit forums. This was more like what he was looking for.

He couldn’t find any relating specifically to an egg-shaped vibrator, but there were certainly a number of people who’d had vibrators of some sort stuck up their butts. Some had managed to reach them with their fingers, or even barbeque tongs and some had been successful in trying to push it out as if taking a shit. Glad that there was two methods that could potentially work, Dan started with trying to fish it out with his fingers.

His rectum was still sufficiently stretched that he was able to get three fingers up there. He could feel the vibrator, and even get his fingers around it, but he just couldn’t get a grip on it. Maybe more lube hadn’t been the best idea after all. Dan made the decision to give up before he pushed it up further.

Dan made his way to the bathroom, not really wanting to do this, but not having much choice. He looked in the mirror as he passed and saw tears running down his cheeks; he hadn’t even realised he was crying.

Dan sad down on the toilet… and pushed. He pushed like his life depended on it - which maybe to some extent it did. He felt it move a tiny bit, but then when he took a break from pushing, it settled back in its original spot. More tears escaped Dan’s eyes when he realised that this wasn’t working either. He had one last idea, moving off the toilet and squatting down on his bathroom floor instead. He’d heard somewhere that squatting was meant to help you poop, so maybe, just maybe it would help him poop a vibrator out of his ass.

As he squatted, trying and failing to push the egg out of him, Dan had a realisation that he was acting like a chicken, in more ways than one. Here he was, trying to lay an egg that most certainly didn’t want to leave his body. Maybe he should just stop being a chicken and take himself to A&E.

Dan thought about it for a minute, trying to imagine how he could tell them what happened. He couldn’t. He was too socially inept to deal with the situation, ending in tears rolling down his face rather than a solution. Dan was exhausted, all he wanted was to go to bed. Maybe this would be easier to deal with in the morning.

Despite feeling that it might very well be the worst thing he could do, Dan went to bed. His anxiety was beginning to overwhelm him and he wouldn’t be able to handle the level of thinking that came with staying awake. He was terrified for his job interview tomorrow, he was worried about getting the vibrator out, and also, what if he couldn’t get the vibrator out before his job interview.

Dan went to sleep in a state of panic, but it was preferable to staying awake in a state of panic. Some part of him was convinced that he’d be able to sort it all out in the morning.

He couldn’t. Morning came and Dan still had a vibrator up his butt. Usually, he wasn’t much of an early bird, but he’d set his alarm earlier to give him time to sort it out. He tried everything he could think of to try and dislodge it, but nothing would work. He even tried taking a shit, but that usual part of his morning routine wasn’t happening today. Great, another thing to make his day worse. He was already starting to feel backed up and he knew that by lunchtime the urge to go would be killing him.

Dan eventually had to give up. He would have to just attend his job interview with the vibrator still in him. He couldn’t miss it. Not wanting to mess his day up even further by being late, Dan showered, downed a coffee and got himself dressed in his best suit.

Dan got on the train, feeling very self-conscious. He’d already stumbled over his words buying a ticket and nearly got one to the wrong place. The vibrator already seemed to be affecting his already limited social skills. He wondered if people could tell? He hoped not. At least it wasn’t vibrating. It pushed against his prostate now and then, which was uncomfortable, but if he was careful how he sat, then it seemed okay.

However, as the train got going and the track got a bit bumpier, it started to bother him more, rhythmically bouncing into his prostate with the rhythm of the train. Dan shifted uncomfortably, trying to find a position where it didn’t happen. The sensations were already causing his dick to stir, and he really didn’t want to be hard for his job interview, on top of everything else.

As Dan walked up to the front of the office building, he was so tempted just to chicken out and go home. He stopped and loitered outside for a couple of minutes, plucking up the courage. He knew he had to do this, he couldn’t be unemployed for much longer; he was barely scratching out a living as it was.

Finally, he put on a brave face and walked into the reception, making his way to the reception desk to explain why he was here. He’d taken off his outer coat and hung it on his arm, trying to cover his tented crotch area as inconspicuously as he could. This went unnoticed by the receptionist, which he was thankful for, as he went on to have his most coherent conversation of the morning with her. She explained which floor he needed to go to in the lift and how he would find Mr Lester’s office.

Dan repeated the floor number to himself as he made his way over to the lift. Seven. Seven. Seven. He knew his mind was clouded by what was going on his pants, but he didn’t want to face the embarrassment of forgetting or getting the wrong floor. Once he was in the lift, he pressed the button for the seventh floor and let out a sigh as the doors shut in front of him.

Thankful for the tiniest bit of privacy, even if it could be lost at any floor, Dan knew he needed to do something to hide the problem in his pants. He loosened his belt, reached down into his boxers, grabbed his dick and encouraged it to sit straight up towards his stomach. He carefully placed the waistband of his boxers back down over his shaft, pulled his trousers up a little further and tightened the belt again. He looked in the mirrored wall of the lift to assess his work. It wasn’t too bad; he didn’t think you’d be able to tell if you didn’t know. He knew it was going to be uncomfortable, but he needed the job.

Taking a deep breath, Dan stepped out of the lift and followed the rest of the receptionists directions to the boss’s office. The waistbands of his boxers and trousers were killing him as he walked, but there wasn’t anything he could do.

He stopped outside the big double door to the boss’s office, ‘Mr Philip Lester’ engraved on a metal sign on the door. He took a big deep breath to prepare himself and knocked on the door.

“Come in,” a voice said from within.

Dan fumbled with the door handle, but a couple of seconds later was pushing it forwards and stepping into the colossal space that was the boss’s office. A man in smart trousers and an opened necked shirt stood behind a desk, ready to greet him. He was undeniably hot, with his chiselled features and blue eyes. He was presumably Mr Lester, but Dan felt a little intimidated as he already had the hots for him.

“Hi, I’m Mr Lester, but I prefer Phil,” he told Dan, reaching his hand out for a handshake.

“Hi…” Dan paused, “Phil… sorry I expected this to be a bit more formal?”

“Don’t worry, everyone does,” he said cheerily, shaking Dan’s hand, “I’ve tried to make the workplace a bit more casual since I’ve taken over. We go on first names, ties aren’t necessary, it’s a more pleasant environment this way.”

“I like it,” Dan said, nodding, trying to appeal as a future employee, but understanding that formal wasn’t Phil’s style.

“So,” he said, glancing at his computer screen for a second, “I have you as Daniel James Howell from your CV, but what do you like to go by?”

“I would usually use Daniel for work,” Dan told him, “But I go by Dan with my friends.”

“So Dan then?” Phil confirmed, “Does that make you feel at home.”

“It does,” Dan nodded.

“Right, take a seat,” Phil said, gesturing to the chair in front of his desk, “I really need to make a more casual interviewing set-up.”

“It’s fine, this is what I’m used to,” Dan told him, wanting to show he was flexible with his environment.

“It might be what you’re used to, but it could be better couldn’t it,” Phil mused, “That’s my first question for you. How would you improve this space for interviews? And by space I mean the whole room.”

“Ummm…” Dan hesitated, glancing around the room; this was definitely different from the sort of interview he was expecting.

“I think I would use that corner over there,” Dan continued, gesturing to the corner between the glass wall and solid wall,, “Get a couple of comfy seats, open a window, maybe have a little partition from the rest of the space. If you’re going for a casual vibe, that would certainly be more comfortable and relaxed.”

“I like it,” Phil said, nodding, making a couple of notes on a piece of paper, “Okay, next question. People are usually nervous, before an interview. Were you nervous and did you do anything about it?”

“Yeah, I was,” Dan told him, “And yeah I had a bath, listened to some relaxing music, had a cup of tea and read for a bit…”

Dan stopped, feeling himself turn a bit pink as he thought about what had happened next.

Phil must have noticed his embarrassment, because he commented on it, “Oh, uh, you’re going a bit red, sorry if that invaded your privacy. I won’t ask what else you did.”

“Thanks,” Dan mumbled, feeling incredibly flustered by this hot guy almost hearing about his bedroom activities.

“Uhh, did it work though? Were you able to feel more relaxed or were you still nervous?” Phil asked.

“Sort of, it’s complicated, but yes, I was relaxed for a bit,” Dan told him, not wanting to go into detail about how he was relaxed for about two minutes before he realised that his vibrator was stuck.

“Ahh good,” Phil replied, “Sounds like you’re a good problem solver, then. What do you think you could bring to our office environment? And I’m not just meaning some problem solving skills and a nice smile, although you certainly have those, like what department do you think you would be most suited to? Are you into design? Marketing? Sales?”

“Marketing I think,” Dan told him, “I mean I’m interested in your business as a whole, and could probably do a little design, but I’m mainly into web stuff and communicating with an audience or target market.”

“Okay,” Phil said, making another note on his piece of paper, “I can see you in that. What sort of marketing things have you done in the past?”

“I ran the company facebook account for my previous job, but I got made redundant when they realised the guy doing twitter could manage both,” Dan explained, “And I’ve got some experience in web design and video making.”

“Okay, nice,” Phil said, “Sounds good, have you got any questions or concerns about potentially working in our marketing department?”

“Urm, I have quite bad social anxiety,” Dan said, suddenly stumbling over his words, “Will there be situations where I’ll have to go out in public or do presentations?”

“No, you aren’t made to do things like that unless you want to,” Phil explained, his voice calming, “And that’s something I’ll be able to mention that to the head of marketing, if that’s what you’d want.”

Dan nodded, “Okay.”

“Any other questions?” Phil asked, prompting Dan, “You can take a minute to think about it if you want.”

Dan thought for a second, “How open is the office area I would be in? Like obviously I passed doors on my way in, but I wouldn’t know how big the spaces are, or like are there screens between the desks?”

“Each department has their own room, so you’d only be in with the people you work alongside,” Phil told him, “There’s not screens between the desks, at least in marketing, as last year most departments voted that they would rather not have them.”

“Okay,” Dan nodded, “That’s fine.”

“I try my best to come and check on all the people in a different department every week,” Phil explained, “And make sure everyone’s feeling comfortable. Clearly, I sometimes have too much work to do, but really most of my work is just organising everyone else to do it, and in the most efficient way possible.”

Dan nodded in understanding, trying to think if there was anything else he wanted to ask about the potential job. He’d managed to answer what he’d been asked, but his situation with the vibrator and his erection was still on his mind, distracting him. So far, in the course of the interview, his situation hadn’t got any worse, but neither had it improved. The little egg was still lodged in an awkward position, brushing his prostate every so often and his dick was still flat against his stomach, constrained only by the waistband of his underwear and trousers. He’d made it this far, so hopefully he could make it out of here without his potential boss noticing.

“So I thought I’d show you a couple of videos,” Phil told Dan, “One’s just general information about our company and its policy, but first I’ll show you some of the work the marketing department has done recently. Hold on, let me turn my projector on.”

Phil opened a drawer, took out a remote, and pointed it at the projector which was mounted on a pole hanging down from the ceiling. He pressed the on button and an image of a computer desktop appeared on the screen.

Dan’s focus was quickly lost, when suddenly the little egg started to vibrate a little within him. Fuck. Now was not the time. He didn’t know it could malfunction in such a way that it could turn itself on. He really hoped it might turn itself back off, but that would be even more unlikely.

Dan barely noticed as Phil opened up his file browser and selected a video. He clicked play on the video, but at first it was barely audible. Phil reached for the remote and pressed the volume up a good few times.

Dan jumped, as his vibrator suddenly picked up about five settings in speed and intensity. At least he couldn't hear it over the video, but oh god, it was getting him in just the right spot, and boy, was that the last thing he needed.

Dan couldn't spare one ounce of focus for the video, instead, biting his lip and trying not to squirm as it vibrated. He could feel his already turned on self getting closer to an orgasm… and well, that couldn't happen here.

Despite his clouded thoughts, it suddenly crossed his mind what had happened. Phil's projector remote must be on the same frequency as his vibrator’s. Fuck.

Everything was so intense, that Dan couldn't help but letting out a pained sounding moan, “Ahhh.”

Phil heard this immediately, turning to look at his interviewee and realising that something was wrong. Dan was red in the face, a little sweaty and looked uncomfortable.

Phil hit the spacebar on his keyboard to pause the video, and looked over at Dan, “Are you feeling okay?”

Dan shook his head, feeling tears spilling down his face as a result of what was happening, “P-please… turn off your projector.”

Confused, Phil reached for the remote and pressed the off button. Dan was met with instant relief, but Phil was still puzzled about why the man opposite him was red in the face and crying.

“Dan, what's wrong? Do you need to go home?” Phil asked, staying calm and trying to be comforting as he knew something wasn't right.

“I got my vibrator stuck up my bum last night and I think your projector remote must be on the same frequency, because it was all fine and then you turned it on and…” Dan blurted, suddenly giving in to sobbing at the end.

“Hey, it's okay,” Phil said, after thinking for a moment in stunned silence, “Let's go through to my little private sitting room and I'll see whether I can help you out with this, okay.”

Phil gave Dan a hand up from the seat and supported the shaking man as they made their way to the little sitting room off the side of Phil's office. It had a couple of sofas, a small chest of drawers and a bathroom off it. Phil turned the thumb-turn lock behind him and deposited Dan on one of the sofas, then knelt down in front of him, “So I understand, you have a vibrator up your butt. Was it getting you in just the right spot?”

Dan nodded timidly.

“So you're feeling pretty turned on?” Phil asked.

Dan nodded again. He could feel Phil’s eyes on the front of his trousers now and felt pretty embarrassed about what he was seeing.

“Can I help you?” Phil asked, placing his hand on Dan’s chest, suggestively.

“Okay,” Dan said, blushing a little, not quite believing what was happening.

He wasn’t going to lie, the idea of Phil helping him with his little problem was a hot one, but he was a bit nervous. He didn’t really know what had happened to his job interview, but at the moment he didn’t really care; he just needed a release.

Phil’s hand on his shirt started to slowly make its way down the buttons, undoing them one by one. Soon enough, Dan’s jacket and shirt were being pushed back, leaving his stomach and chest bare. Dan squirmed as Phil played with his nipples, the sensation going straight to his dick.

Phil trailed his hands down Dan’s stomach, giving him the half-naked man goosebumps across his upper-body. Phil was good with his hands, Dan thought, as they arrived on the crotch of his pants and found his dick, rubbing it through the two layers of fabric, but still giving him a lot of pleasure. Unable to control himself, Dan bucked up into Phil’s hands, seeking more friction.

Phil brought his hand to Dan’s belt buckle and paused, “Okay to take these and your underwear down?”

“Fuck, yes,” Dan said, finding it hard to contain his lust.

Phil undid the belt and gracefully pulled Dan’s trousers down to his knees. He followed suit with Dan’s boxers, gently pulling them down and letting his erection spring free. Dan let out a sigh of relief at the freedom he had been craving, but the freedom was only satisfying for seconds as he needed to be touched.

Dan reached down and wrapped his hand around it, starting with a couple of slow pumps to satisfy his need. Phil batted his hand away seconds later, replacing it with his own.

“I’m guessing your prostate is feeling rather abused, would I be right?” Phil asked, “Shall we just do this the traditional way?”

“Yeah,” Dan nodded, “It’s had enough stimulation to last me for a while.”

Phil started to move his hand up and down Dan’s dick, slowly at first, but then picking up a rhythm as Dan got into it. There was no doubt that he was close, so it wasn’t long before Dan started to tremble as his orgasm approached him.

Phil stopped, took his hand away and stepped back. Dan whined at the loss, looking up at Phil with pleading eyes.

“Hold on,” Phil said, dropping to his knees, “I’m gonna suck you off.”

The feeling of Phil’s mouth on his dick was overwhelming, and Dan soon became a writhing mess, struggling to keep himself quiet enough for being in an office building. Phil licked strips up and down his length, bobbing his head up and down and moving with Dan. When Dan warned him that his orgasm was imminent, Phil sank all the way down, deep throating and sucking around Dan. He did his best to swallow all of Dan’s cum when he came, but inevitably, he was left with the odd white streak hanging from his chin.

As Dan lay panting, coming down from his high, Phil wiped clean his chin, then came and sat down next to Dan. He was certainly turned on from the affair, and had to reach into his boxers to adjust his hardening length. Phil would have loved to get himself off, or even have Dan get him off, but there were more important things to do in that moment. His potential employee was in a bit of a state and might possibly need a trip to A&E. He waited for a couple of minutes before he brought it up, letting Dan recover from his high.

“How’re you feeling?” he asked gently, “Better now you’re no longer about to come in your pants?”

“Yeah,” Dan nodded, reaching to pull his underwear back up, “Sorry about all of this. I guess I should be going.”

Dan knew he wouldn’t be getting this job. He’d tried so hard, but like all things in his life, it had gone drastically wrong. He was running out of jobs to apply to. People had always told him not to put all of his eggs in one basket, and he hadn’t, but this had been his last basket. Dan sighed; he was glad Phil had been so kind, but he’d embarrassed himself, he wouldn’t be able to show face here again.

“No, no, you can stay,” Phil said hurriedly, “You’ve still got a bit of an unresolved situation going on with that vibrator, and if anything, I’d like the peace of mind to know you got it out okay.”

“Uhh, okay, but I honestly have no idea how I’m gonna get it out,” Dan said, miserably.

“If you don’t mind me asking, what all have you tried already?” Phil asked calmly, putting his hand on Dan’s shoulder.

“I tried putting more lube up there to try and help it slide out, but I couldn’t get a grip on it. I tried to push it out like I was taking a dump, but that didn’t work. Couldn’t even go for my morning poop this morning, it’s like properly stuck,” Dan explained.

“You want to give it another shot?” Phil asked, nodding in the direction of his bathroom door, “I’ve got a nice little bathroom through there; I can leave you alone for ten minutes if you want.”

“That would be good, actually,” Dan said to Phil, knowing how much he needed to take a shit and feeling that he should at least give it a shot since this opportunity had presented to him.

“Great,” Phil said, “I’ll leave you to it, but just shout if you need anything. I think there’s lube in the cabinet if that helps.”

“Thanks,” Dan said, holding onto his trousers so they didn’t fall to the floor and making his way to the bathroom.

He didn’t stop to ask Phil why he had lube in his office bathroom. He just accepted the fact and got on with it. Dan shut the door behind him, found the lube, took it to the toilet and got to work. The sooner he got it out, the better; he was already feeling backed up and was starting to get those pains in his stomach which told him he really had to go.

Phil managed to sit down and focus on some paperwork for about two minutes before he wondered how Dan was getting on. He’d promised himself he wouldn’t try and check on him for at least ten minutes, so he remained in his office chair, spinning around as he tried to hatch a plan for if Dan couldn’t get it out.

Being his own boss, Phil was able to drop his afternoon’s work if he wanted and he was planning to do just that. He could take Dan to A&E and make sure they got the vibrator out for him. If Dan wasn’t sucessful himself, Phil was going to do just that.

Phil wasn’t quite sure why he was so invested in this potential employee. Maybe it was the cute dimple and fluffy brown hair; maybe it was the deep brown eyes and the smile which just made him die inside. Anyway, Phil had known this man less than an hour and already given him a blowjob. It wasn’t his usual work ethic to get that intimate with his interviewees, but there was something about Dan that just struck a chord. Dan didn’t know it yet, but he was going to get the job.

After ten minutes had passed, Phil felt that it was finally acceptable to go and see how he was doing. He stepped into his small sitting room and stopped outside the bathroom door.

“Dan,” he said, knocking twice on the wood, “How’re getting on? Any luck?”

“No,” replied Dan’s voice miserably, from inside the bathroom, “It’s well and truly stuck.”

“I think you need to go to A&E,” Phil said firmly, “Before you hurt yourself from trying too hard.”

“But…” Dan started, about to make some comment about his social anxiety.

“No buts, I’m taking you,” Phil said, “I know it’s embarrassing, but you have to get this sorted out.”

Phil waited for a response, only to be met with silence.

“C’mon, get yourself presentable, come back out here and I’ll get a taxi organised,” Phil told him.

“Alright,” Dan gave in, getting up from the toilet and starting to make himself presentable again.

Meanwhile, Phil was on his phone, organising an Uber to be ready at the front door of the office in five minutes time. Dan appeared a couple of minutes later, looking a little dishevelled, but still presentable. He was red in the face; Phil wondered whether it was still from the embarrassment of the situation, or if he’d been straining too hard.

“I’m sorry about all of this… you don’t need to come with me,” Dan said, stumbling over his words a little, “I can get in the taxi and go to A&E by myself.”

“Dan, I’m coming with you and that’s final,” Phil said firmly, putting his hand on Dan’s lower back and guiding him out of the small sitting room and through the main office, “I know it’s a bit weird for me to say this after not knowing you very long, but I care.”

“Umm thanks,” Dan replied, as they stepped out of Phil’s office and into the corridor where he had hovered nervously less than an hour before.

On the way along the corridor to the lift, Phil knocked on a door and poked his head into one of his colleague’s offices, “Just to say I’m heading out for a bit, in case anyone’s looking for me. Got some personal matters to attend to; it might be late afternoon before I’m back.”

The colleague thanked Phil for telling him, then let him get on his way. Dan and Phil made their way down to the lobby in the lift, where they both signed out of the building and headed for the taxi, which was now waiting outside. No one made comment about the two of them leaving together, which Phil was thankful for. There were a few older employees who didn’t completely approve how he run the company and he didn’t want them to get word of this. Although it shouldn’t really be suspicious, people had a habit of taking things in the wrong way.

The journey to A&E was an interesting one, for Dan at least. Similar to what he’d found with the train, the bumps in the road were making things a little uncomfortable for him. He tried his best to find a better position, but again it was proving a challenge. He just begged the journey would be over quickly, because he was already uncomfortably overstimulated and didn’t want to cum in his pants on top of everything else.

Phil, on the other hand, was having his own issues. Despite being in his late twenties and being a smartly-dressed businessman, he still had the stomach of a small child when it came to bumpy roads. He tried to focus on the horizon ahead and take deep breaths, but it wasn’t helping his nausea that much. Usually, he would know exactly when he’d be in cars to meetings and would set alarms to take his travel-sickness tablets before, but everything had been so spontaneous today, and with worrying about Dan, he’d completely forgotten.

It was when Phil asked the taxi driver to open the windows, that Dan broke out of his own thoughts and noticed Phil wasn’t looking so good, “Phil are you feeling okay?”

“Feelin’ a bit carsick,” Phil explained, his voice a bit muffled by the air billowing in through the window.

“D’you want me to ask him to pull over?” Dan asked Phil, referring to the driver.

“I think I’ll be okay… if I just keep my head out the window…” Phil said, pausing to take a deep breath, “Could you check google maps for how much longer?”

“Okay,” Dan said, getting his phone out and waiting for it to load, “Let me know if you feel worse though, yeah.”

Phil agreed, but his weak voice got lost on the wind. Eventually google maps loaded on Dan’s phone and he was able to inform Phil that it would only be another three minutes. Phil replied with an extremely wobbly-sounding okay, then proceeded to remain with his head half-out the window for the rest of the journey.

Dan sat next to him, watching on in concern. Even despite not knowing him that well, Dan could tell that Phil was on the verge of throwing up. His skin, which although fairly pale earlier, was now a pasty green. Dan kept quiet, letting Phil focus on himself. They were now turning into the hospital car park, so it wouldn’t be long before they could get out of the car.

When the taxi drew to a halt at the drop, they were both out of their as quickly as possible, thanking the driver as they went. Dan made his way around the car to meet Phil on the pavement, only to find that he was kneeling in a flowerbed instead.

Before Dan could figure out whether he had just been sick or was about to be, Phil bent forwards and unleashed a torrent into the bush in front of him. Dan approached him slowly, unsure how to deal with the situation; something told him to try and comfort him, maybe rub his back, but on the other hand, they’d only just met and Phil was the boss of the company he’d just had an interview for.

Concern washing over him when Phil threw up again, Dan listened to his instincts and crouched down next to him, placing a hand on his back. Dan knew it must be a strange sight, two six foot, well dressed men crouching in a flower bed together, but any onlookers would just have to deal with it.

When it was over, Phil shuffled back from the flowerbed onto the tarmac behind them. For a minute, he just sat on the ground, looking rather unwell. Moving to remain next to Phil, Dan sat down beside him, ignoring the discomfort that shot through him as he put pressure on his rear.

“Phil, maybe its best for you to go home,” Dan suggested, “You know, get some rest, that’ll help you feel better.”

“Honestly, if my bed was right here I would do just that,” Phil said, “But there’s no way I’m getting back in any sort of moving vehicle at the moment. I need a while to feel better, so I might as well accompany you.��

Once Phil was back on his feet, albeit still green and now a little shaky, the pair of them made their way towards the A&E entrance. People were going to think that it was Phil who was needing hospital care rather than Dan; he certainly looked worse, even vulnerable. Dan had to restrain himself from trying to put an arm around Phil, having to settle for just walking close by his side. They paused outside the door before they went in, Dan making sure that Phil now had his stomach under control and Phil making sure that Dan was ready to explain his issue.

To be honest, Dan felt like he would never be truly ready to admit to what had happened, but for some reason, with Phil by his side, he felt a little more confident about it. As they made their way to the reception Dan prepared himself to explain his complaint.

He stumbled over his words. Of course he did. Dan had felt humiliated enough by having to explain that he had a vibrator stuck up his butt, but of course his social anxiety had to make things worse. He was red in the face and he could almost feel the sweat dripping off his hands. Finally, the lady at the desk had finished interrogating him and told them to go and take a seat.

However, Dan had one thing on his mind to ask her. He didn’t know how he managed it so clearly with everything else going on his head, but he managed to ask the question, “D’you have a water cooler or something in here?”

“Yeah, there's one just around that corner,” she said pointing to a wall that jutted out into the room.

Dan told Phil to sit down, then went and got him a cup of water. He was still looking a bit green and Dan knew it would be exactly what he needed. Dan sat down next to him, knowing it might be a while before he got seen to. As his problem wasn’t really all that time critical, they’d probably be placed quite far down the pecking order.

The people at risk of dying would be taken first, then those whose problems were more serious, then maybe finally, they would get to the likes of Dan who had just got themselves into a bit of a sticky situation.

Ten minutes had passed and they were still waiting. Phil was looking and feeling a little better now that he’d had some water and a seat on a chair which wasn’t moving. Dan was wondering if maybe he’d be taken soon, as the numbers in the waiting room were starting to decrease. That was until he heard the approaching siren, a trolley being rushed in, and talks amongst the staff of cardiac arrest. That put a further delay on their wait, most of the A&E department rushing to help with the emergency.

In the end, it was half an hour before Dan was seen, which going by some A&E horror stories, wasn’t actually too bad. He got taken through to a room, where he was handed a hospital gown and told to change into it.

Phil was able to come with Dan, after a little quizzing from the staff, “What relation are to Mr Howell?”

“I’m his boss,” Phil had explained, knowing that Dan would presume he had just said it to get in.

“We only allow family and partners to accompany the patient,” Phil had been told.

“He’s coming,” Dan had said firmly, pulling Phil into the room with them.

Once Dan had changed into the gown behind the curtain, the doctor invited him to sit down on the bed while he explained what was going to happen.

“You have a vibrator stuck in your rectum, I understand?” the Doctor confirmed with Dan.

Dan nodded, his cheeks turning red with embarrassment.

“Okay, we’re going to conduct an ultrasound to get an idea of the location and how we’re best to proceed,” the doctor informed him.

Dan was instructed to lay down on the bed, where he was coated in a cold gel and rubbed with an ultrasound scanner. At this point, Dan no longer cared about his modesty. Phil had seen it all already, and the doctors were, well doctors; they saw that sort of thing every day.

A second doctor was called in for a discussion, and between them, they decided that the best way to get it out was through the same hole it had gone in. Putting on gloves and applying a lubricant to them, they started to stretch Dan’s hole wide enough to gain access with their tongs. The stretching process went fine for Dan; he was used to that. It was a bit different with doctors doing it rather than himself, but he could deal with that.

The tongs were another matter; although they were surgical tongs, designed to be used within the body, Dan wasn’t sure he really fancied them up his butt. As he expected from seeing them, the sensation was rather uncomfortable, the two cold metal shafts pushing his sensitive walls apart.

Not really giving a fuck, it wasn’t as if he was going to see him again anyway, Dan reached for Phil’s hand, needing someone to give him at least a little comfort.

“You’re doing great,” Phil told him, squeezing Dan’s hand, “Hey, look at me, not them.”

Dan turned his attention, to look Phil in the eyes.

“It’s going to feel weird, but it’ll be okay,” Phil reassured him, “I’m sure it won’t take long.”

Continuing to try and distract Dan, Phil asked him a few questions and they got to know each other a little better. After a few attempts, the doctors managed to secure their tongs around the vibrator and started to slowly pull it back out of him.

Dan bit down on his lips as the now wider tongs scraped their way back along his passage. It wasn't causing him much pain, but he'd been through a lot in the last twenty-four hours and a few tears spilled from his eyes.

Phil resisted the urge to reach out and brush his tears away; that would be a bit weird. Instead, he focused on holding Dan's hand and being as reassuring as he could be.

When the doctor's finally pulled it free, Dan broke down into sobs, emotionally exhausted. He immediately closed the gap between his legs and pulled his knees to his chest, ignoring the empty pain in his ass.

“D'you want to be alone for a couple of minutes, Daniel?” one of the doctor's asked, making a signal to the other.

“Yeah, but with Phil,” Dan responded weakly, “Thanks.”

The two Doctors left the room and shut the door behind him. They didn't need to be in the same room as Dan to discuss his discharge. On the other hand, Dan really needed a couple of minutes alone to get himself together. At first, Phil wasn't really sure whether he should be there, but when seconds later Dan was caving into his arms, he knew it was okay.

Maybe it should’ve felt wrong, hugging him, but Phil couldn't get over how right it felt. There was definitely some chemistry between him and Dan; there was no doubt about that.

“You're okay; it's all over now,” Phil mumbled, almost incoherently, into Dan's scalp.

Phil could tell that Dan wasn't deeply upset or panicky about anything, he was just overwhelmed. Phil himself wasn't a sufferer of social anxiety, but he knew that if he was in this situation he'd be feeling a bit awkward and wanting to go home.

“The sooner we get those two back in, the sooner you can go home,” Phil told Dan, “I'm guessing that's all you want right now.”

Dan nodded, tears slowing down as Phil showed a little understanding of how he felt. Phil managed to catch the eye of one of the doctor's through the glass panel in the door and give them a thumbs up.

At that, they came back in, one with a clipboard and the other with a box of some kind of medication.

“Okay, that's you all sorted out; how are you feeling?” The first doctor asked Dan.

“Okay,” Dan said, “Like a little sore and a little emotional and I really need the bathroom as I haven't gone since yesterday morning and…”

Phil paused him by putting a hand on his chest, “Breathe… you were starting to go blue.

“Okay, you might be feeling a bit tender down there for a couple of days,” the second doctor explained, “We don't want you to cause any further damage to your rectum by straining, so we're going to prescribe you stool softeners for the next four days just to make things a bit easier.”

“Umm okay,” Dan agreed, blushing furiously, “What do I do?”

“You take one tablet and it'll take effect in anywhere between half an hour and six hours,” the doctor explained, “It’s quite a low dose we’ve got for you, but as you haven't been since yesterday it probably won't be much more than an hour.”

“Okay,” Dan nodded, “I think I can manage that.”

“Now before you go, good on you for coming here,” the doctor said, praising him, “It’s as rare as hen’s teeth for people to actually own up to situations like this and get help. You did the right thing, as this could’ve seriously damaged your insides. Now a little advice for next time: choose a toy that is appropriate for your anatomy. Don’t just try winging it with a toy designed for vaginal use. Your rectum will try and keep things in, so you should get something with a flared base so it can’t get stuck.”

“Okay,” Dan nodded, feeling his face heating up further, “I’ll be more careful.”

The doctors told Dan that that was him good to go. They let him draw the curtain around himself to get redressed and then directed him and Phil to the sign out desk when he was ready. Dan clutched the box of pills in one hand, feeling a sense of loss in the other as it was no longer acceptable for him to be holding Phil's hand.

Once Dan had signed out, they stepped back outside into the hospital car park. Neither of them had particularly thought about how they were going to get back to their respective destinations from here. Dan was just so glad to get that over with; he felt as free as a bird, soaring away from his troubles. Okay, maybe it was a bit embarrassing but it was worth it.

Spotting the bush that Phil had thrown up in earlier, Dan wondered how he would be getting home. How far away did he live? Would be want to be in another car?

“How are you getting home?” Dan asked, “I’m guessing you don’t really fancy a taxi.”

“Well I’m going back to the office, but I thought I’d walk to the nearest train station,” Phil explained, “And yeah, I’m not sure if I can stomach any more cars today.”

“You sure you’re feeling okay to go back to work?” Dan asked, a little concerned as Phil had most certainly not been in a state to work when they arrived.

“I’ll be fine, like I’ve thrown up on the way to business meetings before. As much as I hate it, I’m pretty used to dealing with this,” Phil explained.

“Alright, well I’ll come with you on the train,” Dan told Phil, “My stop’s between here and your office.”

Despite a little protesting from Phil that Dan should get himself a taxi, soon enough they were on the train together. Phil picked out the one carriage with a toilet, so Dan was guessing that despite insisting he was feeling better, maybe Phil still wasn’t feeling all that good.

They talked for a little while and things got back to the subject of the interviewing process that Phil was currently undertaking to hire new staff members.

“So are you doing interviews all week?” Dan asked Phil, curious about how he was going about it.

“Well I just have two vacancies left: one in finances and resource management,” Phil explained, “So I’ve got a few more interviews do for them. Oh by the way, I’ve decided, you’re hired!”

“What, seriously!?” Dan said shocked, “I thought I’d majorly messed that up. Umm thanks!?”

“You have the potential I’m looking for and we’re getting on well, which is ideal,” Phil explained, “And I have no rules about inter-colleague relationships so it’s not as if what we did violated any rules.”

“Oooh that’s great,” Dan said, “I’m actually really looking forward to working for you. I love your work ethic and I feel like this is gonna be the best place I’ve ever worked.”

“Why, thank you,” Phil said, cheerily, “I hope it lives up to your expectations. We’ll be in contact in a few days about your start date. Now I’ll have your number in your application, but could I give you mine in case you have any questions? You can just call me if you need to.”

Dan handed Phil his phone to let him type it in. He knew this was technically in a professional sense, but some part of him was more than excited to be getting Phil’s number. Despite Dan loving his casual attitude, maybe it wasn’t the best thing in the world, as Dan hadn’t even started work yet and he already had a crush on his boss.

As the train approached Phil’s stop and he realised that he was soon to leave Dan, that was when the concern washed over him, “Do you live alone? Are you gonna be okay?”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine,” Dan said, “Like I need some alone time to go to the bathroom and then I need to let my social batteries recharge, so a few hours by myself is just what I need right now.”

“Alright, sure,” Phil said, “Mind if I call you later to see how you’re doing, though?”

“Yeah, that’s fine… would be nice,” Dan said, stumbling over his words a little as he didn’t want to sound either ungrateful or too forward.

When the train pulled into the station, Phil wished Dan a goodbye and headed off towards his office. He was expecting it to be quite an easy afternoon, that was until he saw a pile of papers lying next to his desk. It took him a minute of frantically clicking though his calendar to find when he was meant to have them sent off by and the answer was yesterday. So Phil spent his afternoon running around his office, frantically trying to get all the information he needed to get the paperwork finished and sent off today.

Phil technically finished at five, sometimes earlier if he got all of his work done, but today wasn’t one of those days. It was quarter to six before he finally got all the paperwork sealed into an envelope. He was too late to catch the post now, so he decided to deliver it himself, complete with an apology note. Phil tidied up his office, shutting down his computer for the night and only in the process of doing that remembering to get Dan’s number from his application. Phil had really wanted to phone him to see how he was doing, but his afternoon had been hectic to say the least.

Phil popped some travel-sickness tablets and took a taxi to the office where he needed to deliver the paperwork. Fortunately, the doors were still open and he was able to put it on the receptionists desk. That would get it to the right person in the morning.

Phil left the building, feeling rather relieved. He was going to walk to the nearest train station and head home. It was quite a walk, so maybe he’d take this opportunity to call Dan and see how he was doing.

Dan picked up the phone after a couple of rings, greeting Phil with a cheerful hello.

“How’re you doing?” Phil asked, “I've just got out of work because I spent the afternoon running around like a headless chicken, trying to finish some paperwork that I'd forgotten about.”

“Oh god, sorry for distracting you from that earlier,” Dan apologised. “I'm doing okay; I think I'm feeling the best I've felt all day. I took the tablets and went to the bathroom and everything’s good.”

“Ooh that's great,” Phil said, “You got much in the way of plans for the evening?”

“I think I'm gonna treat myself to some takeaway pizza, then later on, have a bath with a cup of tea,” Dan explained his plans to Phil.

“Would you like some company for a bit?” Phil asked, “And I'll buy you pizza.”

“You don't need to buy me pizza, but some company would be nice for a little while,” Dan explained.

Dan stopped talking suddenly, wondering why he had done that. Usually his social anxiety was too bad to even consider talking to people, never mind having them over to his flat.

“I'm sorry if it's a bit untidy or if I'm a bit awkward,” Dan stuttered, “I'm not sure my social batteries have completed recharged yet.”

“It's okay,” Phil said understanding, “Now I know I'm not far off because the station I was heading for is your local one, but whereabouts do you live?”

Dan told Phil his road name and flat number, only to be met with an exclamation from Phil, “No way!? That's the road I'm on?! I was just delivering some paperwork to an office nearby.”

“Wow nice,” Dan said, “I'd better tidy up a little; you can't be far away.”

With a few directions from Dan, Phil was soon heading for his flat. Dan opened the door with a smile and an apology about being in his pyjamas. He hadn’t quite been able to summon the energy to change into something else. Phil had seen him in less anyway, it couldn’t matter that much.

Phil, on the other hand, was a little overwhelmed by how cute and relaxed Dan looked in his pjs. He embraced Dan in a brief hug, but other than that was able to resist physical contact with him. They sat comfortably together on Dan’s sofa for a while, until Phil suggested that he would order pizza for both of them.

Dan had a medium pizza and Phil, a small. Phil didn’t want to worry Dan by telling him, but he hadn’t completely recovered from his earlier bout of carsickness. He was just going to take things easy and not eat too much. Phil insisted that the pizza was on him, despite Dan interjecting that he didn't have to.

As they sat down to eat, their conversation became more lighthearted and soon they were cracking up over Phil’s silly puns and Dan’s life fails. They got on well for having just met and Phil was looking forward to working with him in the future.

Phil began to feel like he was overstaying his welcome when he noticed Dan yawning and looking like he was about to fall asleep. Phil left Dan with a lingering hug and a reminder to take care of himself and have the cup of tea and cosy bath he’d mentioned earlier on. Dan nodded into Phil’s chest and promised he would do just that.

When Phil got home, he headed straight for bed, the only thing on his mind being the fluffy brown-haired man with the cute dimple that had occupied so much of his day. Phil was looking forward to more than just working with Dan - he sensed that the two of them had the potential to build a relationship in more than just a professional sense.

Back in his flat, now swathing himself in fluffy towels after a satisfying soak, Dan was thinking about Phil. It was a pleasant surprise to actually get the job and that made him like Phil a whole lot more; that he’d accepted Dan’s flaws and only seen the positives. Dan was so thankful that he hadn’t chickened out of going to the interview. Okay, he’d been walking on eggshells at first, when he didn’t know how Phil would react, but he’d made it through in one piece.

As Phil had promised, it was only a couple of days before the company got in touch with Dan about his start date. Dan immediately loved his job and Phil was always there to listen to any of his concerns. His social anxiety didn’t get in the way too much. His new team quickly learned that he wasn’t into doing presentations but he would contribute well in a small group.

Dan remained very close with Phil; in fact they got even closer. They were yet to put a label on it, but most would have called it ‘boyfriends’. They tried their best to keep most of their bedroom activities to their bedrooms, but Phil’s little sitting room off his office did have its uses. However, they did try to keep it private from the rest of the employees, as Phil knew there were some older employees who didn’t quite agree with his morals.

In the few months that followed their meeting, Phil’s company was doing extremely well, with their marketing team being successful in bringing in large numbers of new clients. Phil had to go on a fair number of business trips as a result, but Dan had bought himself a new set of toys for when he had to satisfy his needs alone. This time he’d made sure to purchase ones that were safe for his own anatomy; he didn’t want to end up with any other embarrassing situations.

With Phil’s increased amount of travel, his travel sickness became a bigger issue in his life. Dan did his best to remind him to take his tablets, but there was the odd occasion where Phil would turn up at his door, fresh off a flight, needing someone to look after him. It wasn’t always an option but Dan accompanied Phil whenever he could.

Dan learnt to take opportunities and do his best to push his social anxiety aside. If he had chickened out of his job interview, where would be now? Probably still unemployed and single… and who knows how long it would have taken him to rid himself of that egg. Dan was no chicken anymore.

thanks for reading! enjoy? read more of my fics here

#phan #phanfic #phanfiction #phan humour #phan smut #tw; vomit #tw; hospital #businessman!phil #au #phan au

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caranelguild · 6 years ago

Text

Caran El, Rafe 15

Assuring the women they will be back for them, Caran El & Co. advance to the next door. Rhedyn opens it, hears a click above and inside, and rolls forward as a giant axe swings down on a pendulum. She avoids the blade, but falls through a false floor headlong into a ten-foot pit. Groá fishes her out, and they all survey the room.

The floor is a random checkerboard of three tiles, repeating without rhyme 30 tiles by 30 tiles all the way to the far door. Groá taps the tiles to her immediate left and right with her hammer; a decorated tile and a tile perforated with small holes. Nothing happens. Gwyllt steps onto the decorated tile. Still nothing happens. “The decorated tiles are safe!” he declares, and hops over a row to land on the nearest of that variety. A jet of fire shoots from the ceiling and torches his head. Finding it too hot to handle, he steps forward onto a perforated tile, which promptly perforates his feet with little blades that erupt from the holes. He remains fixed in place as the others look on. “The decorated tiles may not all be safe,” Gwyllt says.

Rhedyn meanwhile steps onto the first decorated tile and prods an unmarked tile directly in front of her with her rapier. An anvil drops onto the tile and cracks it. At Tahiki’s suggestion, she prods it again, but no new anvil appears to land upon the first, so she steps gingerly onto its tile. From the new tile, she begins prodding tiles all around her in an effort to reach Gwyllt. She gets nothing promising from her efforts (and melts the tip of her blade in a tile that turns to acid as she touches it) until she tosses a bracelet onto a plain tile a row over and a spear ejects at speed from the ceiling. It sticks point-first into the tile. Rhedyn leaps over to it, collects her bracelet, and reaches the spear over to Gwyllt, who uses it to test the tiles before him. Blades of blue flame from a perforated tile, a column of water somehow rectangular and contained on its decorated tile without spillage, and a shower of gravel also contained on its plain tile reward his efforts.

Meanwhile, Tahiki is waiting on the anvil and Otato is on the first decorated tile by the pit and the door. He observes collections of empty picture frames hanging on the wall, many crookedly, and wonders if he’s solved the room when he straightens one. “We should straighten the frames! Each frame is connected to a trapped tile!” he asserts baselessly.

Gwyllt pole vaults onto the tile now piled with gravel, and his landing upon it breaks whatever spell had been holding the gravel to its constraints and it begins spilling over onto the surrounding tiles. Fire erupts, water pours, gravel is launched into the air by a catapulting tile, and further tiny stones suddenly fall upward towards the ceiling. Gwyllt himself begins to lose footing on the scree. As he slides towards a mystery tile, Tahiki looks back at the door, the tiles on either side of it unresponsive to Groá’s hammer. He looks at Otato, climbing up awkwardly onto Groá’s shoulders to get a better view of the room as a whole (unhelpful).

“The tiles along the walls are safe!” he calls out.

Gwyllt regains his footing on the gravel and Rhedyn pauses before leaping to join him. Slowly, they turn back to the others.

Groá tests Tahiki’s theory, letting down Otato in the doorway and moving slowly along the wall, tapping the tiles ahead. When she reaches the corner safely, she is convinced, and along with the others makes her way around the room to the door. Gwyllt and Rhedyn retrace their steps and join them. As they turn the corner at the far wall, the voice speaks. Fulfilling the unnoticed pun, Groá eagerly grabs the doorknob and throws open the door, realizing halfway through the action that her hand is wrapped tightly around something that is red hot. She pulls it back blackened and numb. Auni is quick to supply a Cool Aid, and she regains a tingling feeling that is followed by sharp pain. The group is dismayed at the shortage of sand in the top half of the hourglass. Gwyllt collects the key and pillow and they all move quickly towards the next door.

This time, Groá just kicks the door in. What greets their eyes is a rough natural cave softly glowing in the dim light of organic crystals erupting from the stone in every which way. In the middle is a crystal of particular girth. The voice introduces the room. Our party makes their careful way up the difficult terrain towards the central crystal and find a bowl indented into its top filled with a black liquid. Groá has everyone stand back and begins slamming her hammer into the crystal. It chips. A chunk flies off. Finally, a crack sings out and darts by degrees up towards the bowl. With a final “shing!” it finishes its journey in the crystal’s top and the liquid begins running down it to the ground. Caran El & Co. gather around the key still sitting in the mostly-intact bowl. A slight sheen of remaining wetness is seen on its brass. Gwyllt pulls out a mysterious powder from his pack, something he pickpocketed from a guest at Nakamoto’s tower, and shakes some of it over the key.

“Why would you put MORE drugs on something that’s already drugs!” complains the collective party. Auni sheathes two of his fingers in ice and picks the key up gingerly. Even more gingerly, he descends the far side of the crystal hill and comes up to the door, where he is unable to turn the key in the lock with only two fingers. Groá takes it in her burned hand and unlocks the door, a wisp of smoke rising from her fingers where they contacted the acid.

Our party does not hesitate on the other side of the door. Countable grains remain unfallen in the hourglass. Key, pillow, and the next door is opened. A small stone room greets their eyes, populated only by a low stone table upon which rest four vials numbered I through IV. The far door is wreathed in a sickly green mist, which is promptly explained. Our adventurers debate for a time. “He mentioned five vials,” they say. “One is the antidote, one causes paralysis, one is the poison, and two are harmless.”

“One of the vials has to be both.”

“The antidote is probably also the poison.”

Tahiki dwells upon the wording. “ONE is the antidote. ONE causes paralysis. There is one that is the poison, and two that are harmless.” He strides forward and drinks vial I and then sprints through the mist, colliding hard with the door that is not even a meter into the mist. He opens it and the mist disappears. As the others marvel about their returning to the entry room with the statue, Tahiki feels a tingling in his fingers and toes. He picks up the final key and the pillow, observing regarding the latter, “I’ll need this soon.”

“There’s gotta be something else in here,” mutters Gwyllt, and, ignoring the boring bookshelves, casts his eyes over the statue. Sure enough, he finds nine keyholes in its base, into which he inserts all eight of his keys. Tahiki gives him the other, and Gwyllt turns them all one by one as the rest of the party looks on.

The statue rumbles and rotates, revealing a descending spiral staircase. Our adventurers descend it, and find themselves in the circular room dominated by the genocide machine. Along its walls, equally spaced, are 33 pillars and 33 chairs. Sitting in each of the latter are robed Sablists, the skirts of their vestments decorated with new insignia in gold thread. One dark elf, sitting across the machine from our party, has the accoutrements of a golden facsimile of a chest of mail. He speaks in a familiar voice, saying to his fellows:

“Ah, look, our sacrifices have arrived, and mostly intact.” He turns to our adventurers. “Oh, are you surprised? You thought, ‘We’ve made it through all nine rooms, the races of Nos are safe’? You forget you are playing our game. What is fair or unfair is determined by the game maker, and I’ve decided that no rules have been broken. But you have entertained us, and for that you have our thanks. We do not need two mossers; one of you may go. And I think you know that we have no present need of a saltie, don’t you? Interesting: a stag’ has joined your party. We have no need for it; you may take it with you. Oh, and don’t think to use your wicka in this room. You’ll find our crystal is quite thirsty, and you may not want to give it all it asks for.”

Esa slips off of Groá’s back and totters forward towards the crystal.

“Impressed by our machine? It’s one-of-a-kind.”

“It’s not that big,” comments Groá.

“Yes,” whispers Esa.

Then, suddenly, he is touching the crystal. It glows brilliant purple-white and crackling energy fills the room. Caran El & Co. feel a force draw their energy from them. Some resist; others stagger, exhausted, as the light fades and the crackling ceases. Otato falls to the ground unconscious.

Esa has changed. He is no longer a withered old man but young and full of vitality. His white hair glimmers as red as his eyes as he turns to the Sablist speaker.

“Dreydark Morlas,” he says. “Your scheming is at an end. You and your guild are finished. NOS IS MINE.” He spreads his arms and the crystal crackles behind him, then falls silent and dark. There is a moment of silence, and then all 33 of the Sablists slump in their chairs. Some of them fall from them onto the floor. Every one of them is dead.

Esa turns to our adventurers. “You have provided me a service. You are free to go.” He walks away down the wide hallway leading to Sablist HQ proper.

“Wait!” calls Auni. He sets off in pursuit, the others following. Groá throws Otato on her shoulder. Tahiki says, wavering exhausted on numbing legs, “Better carry me, too.”

Caran El & Co. ascend a wide, curving stairway and spill into a gigantic room lit by bright morning sun through a massive stained-glass window. Esa is nowhere to be seen. “You owe us an explanation!” shouts Auni at the ceiling, many stories above them.

“I owe you nothing. Leave before you have exhausted my patience,” returns Esa’s empowered voice, echoing.

Our party, exhausted and injured, returns downstairs to complete their objective of locating Saja, who they find in a prison cell off of the machine room. Groá knocks herself into a swoon knocking down the locked door. A Cool Aid brings her back to consciousness. Something strange catches Auni’s eye as he passes through that room, and he finds the spiral staircase that they had descended---which had been solid stone when they had walked it---is now a skeleton of wood. Behind it, he can see the hallway that should lead to the sewers.

#caran el #traverse #journal #chapter nine: the nine rooms

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therantingsage · 8 years ago

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Alchemists in the Underground Chapter 5

In time, the pie was done. Plague was startled quite a bit when the goat monster had cooked the pie with fire magic instead of the oven, but his curiosity overpowered his surprise rather quickly. Both alchemists refrained from asking any questions yet, as they didn't want to draw any suspicion. They could talk about their origins later. That time came when they were eating the pie. Mona was ecstatic about how it had turned out, but Plague Knight was having trouble eating it. He didn't know how to eat with a beak yet; his arms suddenly seemed short, and he couldn't really use a fork effectively. "Dang it." He muttered in frustration. Mona rolled her eyes. "Do you want some help, Plaguey?" Plague blushed a little. "I-I don't need any help! I can do it!" He insisted as he continued to fail at getting the pie into his mouth. Mona chuckled. "I can feed it to you, you know. You don't need to be shy." "Mooonaaaa." "C'mon, Plaguey. It's really good and I don't want you to miss out." "...see, this is why I thought I needed that darn potion in the first place. No matter what I do I end up embarrassing myself." "Plague, stop being so hard on yourself." "B-but I-" Mona decided to cut him off by inserting a forkful of pie into his open beak. He looked surprised by the sudden action, but he took a moment to chew and swallow the pie. His empty eye sockets widened in awe. "That is really good." He remarked. Mona rolled her eyes. "Told you." She put the fork into the piece of pie again, and this time Plague Knight opened his mouth for her. She giggled at the change in attitude, feeding him the pie with a smile. Toriel watched the scene in silence. The strange duo were endearing, to be sure. But something about them was unmistakably foreign, lost. They acted like they had known one another for a lifetime, yet one was human and the other was monster. It didn't make any sense to Toriel. The only thing to do now was question them. "Now that we are here, I would like to ask the two of you some questions. Would that be alright?" Plague and Mona regarded each other with concern. How crazy would their story sound to her? Would she even believe them? "Maybe it would be best if we tried to explain ourselves first. Then you can ask questions." Mona suggested. "I'd hate to make things more confusing than they already are." Toriel nodded. "That seems fair." Plague and Mona looked at each other again. "Should I explain it or you?" The beaked monster questioned. Mona put a hand on his shoulder. "Neither of us know more than the other about what happened. We can take turns." And so, the alchemists explained to Toriel how they really came into the Underground. The potion they had created, the failed experiment, waking up to the changes that had occurred, and how they felt about the whole thing. By the time they had finished explaining, Toriel didn't know what to make of the story. They sounded serious and sincere about it, but it was confusing and unusual nonetheless. "You came from...another world?" She asked finally. Plague nodded. "Heh...yeah. I know it doesn't make much sense." "And in your world, you were a human, not a monster?" "Yeah, this is supposed to be a mask. Nothing more. But not all of us are humans. Right, Mona?" Mona nodded. "Mm-hm. We worked in the Potionarium with Percy. He was a horse-person. There's plenty of folks like him; deer people, peacock people, I've even seen fish before." Toriel smiled sadly to herself. "Sounds like humans and monsters coexist in your world." Plague Knight shrugged. "Well, not exactly in those terms. We don't call them monsters; they're just...different, I guess. I'm sure Percy would get super offended if we called him a monster, hee hee." The goat monster sighed. "Even so, your world sounds nice." She frowned to herself. "I'm terribly sorry you had to get stuck in this awful place." Mona's eyes widened in surprise. "Wait, you actually believe us? Not that I don't want you to, of course, but you really believe our story so quickly?" Toriel looked up at the ceiling wistfully. "I'm a very old lady. I have seen much in my life. Yet, I know that there is a great deal I don't know. Your story is strange and unbelievable, I'll admit. But I know you were telling the truth. You were both very sincere about what you told me. And I honestly can't think of any better way to explain how you two know each other." Plague and Mona held each other's hands. "Th-thank you, Toriel." Plague gratefully responded. "It's a relief that we have some support here." He frowned to himself. "Especially since we're back to square one again..." His statement confused Mona. "What do you mean, 'square one'?" "I mean we just managed to be free, Mona. We finally could practice our craft anywhere we wanted! We weren't the 'strange outcasts' anymore. A-and now, we are two enemy species, trapped in a strange world where at least one of us shouldn't be. Humans shouldn't be here, and n-now I'm...I'm a freak again, M-mona. Wh-what if we're stuck here forever? What if-" Mona wrapped her arms around the panicky bird monster. It shut him up immediately. "Hush." The human scolded. "As long as we're together, Plaguey, I don't care what happens to us. I don't want to hear you doubting yourself ever again, understand?" Plague Knight's beak flushed, and he gave a quiet coo. "What did I ever do to deserve you, Mona?" He muttered. Mona didn't respond; she only hugged him tighter. Toriel smiled to herself. They had such powerful chemistry, and it warmed her heart. And yet, something about the scene made her feel...strange. She felt a strange pang of longing, but she did her best to ignore it. However, the feeling did make her remember something else. "Oh, I'm late, aren't I?" She said to herself. The alchemists turned their attention back to her. "Late for what?" Plague Knight asked, still in the middle of Mona's hug. Toriel looked beyond the pair, then back at them. "Hmm, I don't see any harm in it..." She mumbled to herself again. Mona looked at her in confusion. "No harm in what?" Toriel realized she was being addressed, and chuckled nervously. "There's...something that I do around this time most days, and I think it wouldn't kill me to let you come along. You are my guests, after all." "If you say so. Heh, anything to keep me from getting bored. What do we do?" Plague asked. Toriel stood up from the table, smiling to herself. "Follow me, my friends. You shall see." Reluctantly, the pair of alchemists separated. They followed after Toriel, who was descending down a flight of stairs. The basement was dark and ominous, but Toriel didn't seem to mind. In fact, she looked positively giddy all of a sudden. Plague and Mona were beyond curious. What was down here that she was so excited for? At the end of the long, winding hallway, there was a large door. Plague could hear sounds coming from the other side. He opened his beak to question it, but Toriel put a finger to her lip. She giggled to herself, and sat by the door. The human and monster pair edged closer to the door so they could hear the voice on the other side more clearly. They kept quiet, as Toriel had told them to. "...knock knock?" The voice questioned tentatively. It sounded like a male voice. He sounded a bit nervous about something. Grinning, Toriel responded, "Who is there?" The voice sighed in relief. "mission." "Mission who?" "mission you for a second there. heh. i thought you wouldn't show." Toriel burst into laughter. Plague Knight was only barely able to hold in a few giggles of his own. Mona just rolled her eyes at the pun. Once Toriel had calmed down, she replied, "I am sorry that I worried you. I was a bit preoccupied and didn't realize I was late." "nah, it's fine. gave me some time to think of more jokes." Toriel beamed in excitement. "Wonderful! No, excuse me, pun-derful!" The voice chuckled. "heh heh! man, you're good." "Thank you~" "ok, here's one. knock knock." "Who is there?" "a broken pencil." "A broken pencil who?" "nevermind, it's pointless!" The goat monster practically doubled over from laughter. Plague let a snort escape him on accident. Then, Toriel proposed a joke of her own. "Why did the rabbit feel like cheering?" The voice seemed eager to hear what she had to say. "i don't know, why?" "Because she was feeling hoppy!" The deep laughter from the other side told them that the joke was a success. Plague Knight was barely keeping his amusement under control. "you know, it's kinda ironic we're separated by this door." Toriel froze. "Why is that?" She asked cautiously. The voice was silent for a few moments before replying, "because i absolutely a-door your jokes." Toriel laughed again, filled with a strange sense of relief. Plague Knight, wanting to get in on the action, whispered something in Toriel's ear. She grinned and giggled. "How many tickles does it take to make an octopus laugh?" Toriel asked. "uh, i don't know. eight?" "No, TEN-tickles!" It took a moment, but the voice burst into laughter once he got the joke. Plague Knight beamed in pride. "Hee hee! I told you it was funny." He whispered to Mona. Mona smirked. "Funny to huge dorks, maybe." She whispered back. The voice stopped laughing eventually. "that was a good one. bravo!" Toriel smiled to herself, replying, "I agree. I didn't come up with it, unfortunately, so I cannot take all the credit." This surprised the voice. "really? then who did?" "A guest. I have not had guests in a long while. It may be hard to believe, but they come from another world!" Plague and Mona gaped. Did she really just say that? Why would she just say that? They couldn't question her about it, as the voice had something to say. "r-really? that is pretty out of this world." Toriel giggled. "Yes, I thought so as well. Did you come up with the joke yourself, Plague Knight?" Plague had not expected to be brought into the conversation. "Heh, n-no. Someone wanted to challenge me in a duel, and he wanted me to make him a love potion if I lost. Heh, yeah, not happening, kid. Since I won, he told me his best joke." The alchemist explained. The voice seemed curious. "so you're the visitor from another world, huh? can you prove it?" Plague Knight scratched his head. "Not sure. I had some potions that would let us travel between worlds, but they seem to have vanished. And, heh, even if I had them I wouldn't share them with a stranger." "that's fair. you said 'us', so who else is there?" "I'm Mona." The human spoke up. "Plague and I are partners." "that's neat. you two oughta come to grillby's with me. or...are you gonna stay behind the door too?" Plague regarded Toriel with confusion. "What does he mean, 'too'? You don't stay here all the time...do you?" Toriel looked down guiltily. "I...I must take care of the Ruins. The door is here to protect those who fall down from the outside world. The world of monsters is not a safe place for humans like you, Mona." Mona's eyes widened. "How...how long has it been since the door was last opened?" "A...very long time, I'm afraid. The last time a human fell was long ago. I can't even remember exactly." "well, i've never seen a human out here before. it must have been a long time. then again, maybe i just wasn't paying attention." Toriel shook her head. "No, it was long before you first knocked. I was very alone for a long time, my friend. I am glad you came." "w-well i'm glad i came too, lady. it's always nice to meet a fellow punster." Toriel was laughing, but Plague was confused. "So...you guys have never met face-to-face?" "nope." The voice sighed plaintively. "I doesn't seem like you know each other's names, either." Mona added. "We do not." Toriel confirmed. "Well that's ridiculous." The beaked alchemist scoffed. "Why the heck not?" "we're planning on saving our names until we physically meet each other." "And when exactly is that happening?" Mona persisted. "I...do not know." The goat monster admitted. Plague Knight threw his arms up in exasperation. "What exactly are you waiting for?!" "actually, he's got a point. what are we waiting for?" The voice asked. Toriel bit her lip nervously. "I...I am unsure. Perhaps I am nervous. What if...I try to keep you here? I have seen so many meet me and leave. I am not ready to be abandoned again." "ah, c'mon. i wouldn't do anything to upset someone as cool as you. plus, now i kinda want to meet these universe traveler friends of yours. sounds like they could use some help getting back. it could be fun." Toriel considered her options, glancing from the alchemists to the door. She let out a sigh. "Al-alright. You all have convinced me. And...I wouldn't mind some company." The bird monster beamed. “Hee hee! Well, what are you waiting for then? Open the door!”

Toriel gave a shy smile before complying.

What Plague and Mona saw was incredibly surprising. Standing before them was a short, stocky skeleton. His black eye sockets had little white dots of light in them, unlike Plague's. He was wearing a blue hoodie, black shorts with a white stripe on each leg, and pink slippers. His face was seemingly fixed as a huge grin.

The alchemists didn't know what to make of the skeleton. Toriel, on the other hand, was ecstatic.

"Oh, I get it! Now all those bone puns make sense!" She exclaimed with a smile.

The skeleton didn't respond. He was staring at Toriel in awe, and if his mouth could have hung open it probably would have.

Toriel didn't notice he was staring at her. "Well, now that we can see each other, I can tell you my name. I am Toriel. It is nice to meet you!"

The skeleton, somehow, blinked. "uh, the name's sans. and, uh, same."

"Well, we had best get back upstairs. This hallway is rather ominous." Toriel advised. The four of them walked back up the hallway, towards the stairs.

"Heh heh! Looks like I'm not the shortest here now! Haha!" Plague declared triumphantly. It was true; Sans was shorter than him, if only by a little.

Sans just shrugged. "maybe i'm short, but i'm never short on jokes." He replied. Toriel giggled, and Plague Knight joined her. "Hee hee ho! Dang you're good! I am among kindred spirits!" The alchemist declared. Mona rolled her eyes. "Glad you're having fun, Plaguey." She said with a smile. She really meant it. Seeing him happy meant the world to her.

"so, another world, huh?" Sans questioned. He had a weird mix of caution and curiosity in his eyes, though it was really hard to tell with that static smile.

Mona shrugged. "Basically. We aren't sure how our worlds relate yet, but ours is certainly different."

"well, how did you get here?"

"It was a potion made specifically to make dimensional portals. It worked...sort of. We're here, but now we can't get back because the other potions went missing."

"H-hey, that's not my fault. They were gone when I woke up!" Plague protested. Mona patted his shoulder. "I'm not blaming you for anything, Plaguey. I'm just restating our main obstacle."

"We can discuss returning you to your home later. For now, we should focus on-"

They had just reached the top of the basement stairs when Toriel saw something that silenced her. The remaining monsters and human gaped when they saw it.

The floor was covered in vines and leaves. They all culminated in a large wad in the middle of the floor, and perched right at the top...

"Howdy! Long time no see!"

Plague Knight and Mona paled at the horrible sight. It was like the flower had turned into a boss or something. He towered over them, over Toriel. His face had warped into something downright frightening, even by their standards. The whole length of his stalk was prickling with thorns.

"What have you done to my home?! What are you?!" Toriel demanded.

Flowey cackled mockingly. "Oh, did I do that? Silly me, I REALLY should watch my strength." His petals flared up, almost as if he was trying to make himself look bigger. "As for who I am, shouldn't you know already? You wouldn't forget little old me, would you?"

When Toriel didn't respond, he rolled his eyes and bellowed, "I'm Flowey! Flowey the flower! And these stupid Ruins belong to me now!"

Toriel, looking very angry about something, spat back, "If you are that horrible flower that attacked my guests, then how did you get that way?"

Sans was starting to look rather intimidated by the goat monster's rage. Fireballs were already forming in her fists.

Flowey noticed the fireballs, as well as Sans' unease. "Well well well! It's been a while, Smiley Trashbag! Didn't think you'd be here! What a pleasure!"

Sans tilted his head, looking a tad confused. "uh, sorry 'bud', but who are you?"

Were the situation comical, a few chuckles would have followed the pun. Flowey growled at the skeleton. "Oh, don't play dumb with me, buddy. I know you don't remember anything, but don't you have the echoes? Don't they torture you every night? Surely you've seen something so horrible that it never leaves you a moment of peace?"

Sans didn't have a chance to respond. Toriel, with an angry snort, growled, "Leave Sans out of this and answer my question!"

Sans let out a sigh of relief. Flowey groaned, as if he was being terribly inconvenienced. "Ok fine, old lady. I'll tell ya. But you're gonna regret it!"

Just then, the bundle of vines beneath him uncurled, revealing something startling: a still, lifeless child. They had brown hair and a striped shirt.

Toriel's pupils shrank. Sans' eyes went dark. Mona gasped, and Plague Knight shook with rage.

"Hee hee...you should see your faces right now!" Flowey laughed. "While you were all hanging out in here, I was recovering from your attack. Then, almost as soon as you left, a human child fell! This was what I had been waiting for! Poor, poor Toriel. If only you hadn't left! Then this child wouldn't be dead! Now their Soul belongs to me!"

Flowey stroked his nonexistent chin with a leaf. "Actually, it's not your fault, Toriel." He said thoughtfully. Toriel's glare was unwavering.

Flowey payed her irritation no mind. "No, your timing had no part in it. The only way the kid would still be breathing right now would be if those two hadn't shown up!" He declared, pointing a vine at Plague and Mona.

Plague was aghast. "How is it our fault?!" He demanded. Flowey grinned evilly. "Oh ho ho! So glad you asked! See, the kid fell right after you guys left, so if you hadn't shown up and made Toriel lead you away, she would have stopped me from killing them. You were the focus of her attention! She couldn't be there because she was with you!"

Without warning, vines shot out, trapping and constricting Mona. Plague Knight gasped in dismay.

Flowey brought Mona close to his face, his fanged grin sending a chill down her spine.

"Let go of Mona right now!" Plague demanded, a bomb appearing in his hand. Flowey ignored him. "I have one human Soul already...just think of how powerful I'll become with two!" He boasted, mostly to himself. Mona kept as much of her composure as possible.

Plague Knight's nostrils flared, and he threw the bomb at Flowey. He had set it to have a short fuse and cascade powder, and it had been thrown at the bottom of the flower.

The pink flames burst out, finding perfect fuel in the form of Flowey's vines. He shrieked in surprise, but his grip on Mona didn't lessen; instead, to Plague's horror, his grip tightened.

The resulting scream of pain from Mona sent Plague into a panic.

"Wh-wha-? What do I do what do I do WHAT DO I DO?!?!"

He turned back, silently begging Toriel and Sans to tell him what to do. The pair then saw something. Plague's eyes, which had been empty up to this point, had dark teal colored glowing circles in them. He was tearing up, and shaking.

Sans saw the alchemist's eyes, and made a decision. He looked at Toriel, his silly facade vanishing in an instant. She locked eyes with him, not knowing what he was planning. Whatever it was, she knew she would help.

With the silent communication done, Sans' left eye began glowing blue. His right socket went dark. His left hand started glowing, too. And, with a movement of his wrist, the vines crushing Mona began to loosen. As the blue light washed over Flowey, it started covering more of him.

"No no NO! I will NOT let you stop me this time, Trashbag!" Flowey yelled in protest. Sans ignored him, deep in concentration. The vines trapping Mona were loose enough for her to slip through, and she fell to the ground. Toriel rushed to her side, picking her up carefully. Plague fell to his knees, tears of relief and worry dripping to the ground.

"You'd be smart to put the kid's Soul back, you freaky flower." Sans said coldly. His voice sounded different somehow.

Flowey let out an angry growl. "Not in a million years, Smiley Trashbag! It's mine fair and square! You can't make me!"

Sans' glowing eye was burning, magical mist emanating from it like a torch. "This is the only chance I'm giving you. Either give the kid their Soul back...or you're really gonna have a bad time."

For a second, Flowey simply glared back in defiance. Then, the blue glow covering him began to pulse. It started constricting him. In the air behind Sans, a large skull appeared.

That's when he realized what was at stake. "Ok ok ok ok! I-I'll give the Soul back! J-just p-put the Gaster Blaster away! Please!"

Sans' Blaster vanished, but the glow around Flowey remained. Flowey grimaced, reverting back to the small form he had had before. A red heart floated out of him, returning to the child.

Sans magically tossed the flower out the door, smacking him with a bone for good measure. His eyes returned to normal, and he collapsed on the floor.

Toriel placed Mona down gently, laying her next to Plague Knight. She wasn't unconscious, but she was in a bit of pain. Toriel slowly approached the child, looking them over with apprehension. A tiny smile on her face, she lifted them into her arms.

She made a course for the empty room she had. She almost walked past Sans, who was taking very deep breaths. He was clearly worn out from the amount of effort he had put into besting Flowey, and he had always told her that he was very lazy.

Smiling gratefully, she bent over, planting a tiny kiss on the skeleton's forehead. His eyes popped open in surprise.

"Thank you, Sans." Toriel said quietly. With that, she carried the child away.

Sans couldn't get himself up. He was too tired. And now, too embarrassed. A flush of blue magic painted his face, and he could only barely stutter out a faint, "n-no prob." He immediately fell asleep.

#HEY I'M SORRY IT'S BEEN A LITERAL YEAR #I MEANT TO POST THIS SOONER BUT I GOT LAZY THEN FORGOT ABOUT IT #Alchemists in the Underground #Plague of Shadows #Shovel Knight #Plague Knight #Mona #Toriel #Sans #Flowey #Undertale #Frisk

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squaredancing-weston · 8 years ago

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para || Brobastian: The Masquerade, 12/16/2016

Tagging: @sebadasssmythe and @squaredancing-weston

Time: Friday evening, 16 December 2016

Setting: William McKinley High School Gymnasium, Lima, OH

Summary: Brody and Sebastian run into each other at the Masquerade Fundraiser

Part 4

"I'm sure that's why you have to seek out satisfaction in other forms, as well, right?" Brody retorted with a sly smirk. "Or why you have them make up in action what they can't express properly in words. Bah-- modesty. I mean, think of all the great things great leaders of our time have accomplished by hubris, right?" he teased. God, if Trump hadn't actually won the damned election, there would be so many funny jokes to insert during their conversations. Too bad it was just killed the mood now. Brody chuckled, "Seriously. I mean, I can't imagine you ever went through a vanilla stage, but now especially, that extra flavor really is imperative." Actually, that was Brody as well-- although he had gone through a vanilla phase, of course, he personally hated the ones who just went through the motions. He was willing to give most a second chance, though, unlike Bas. The older teacher rolled his eyes, "Ah, yes-- the hot/crazy //scale//. On a graph. Imperative to get that right." A barking laugh escaped him, "Yeah, in more ways than one, I imagine.

"Brody nodded, lips pursed in faux seriousness. "Yeah, for my sake," he agreed, eyes flickering mischievously. "Because I was the one that could barely limp to bed, flopped like a dead fish before passing out dead on the mattress..." he teased lightly, a small smile playing against his somber expression. The night had been a blur, definitely, but certain things he couldn't forget. And one was Bas, eyes closed, hair disheveled, completely spent, on the mattress beside him. Maybe because Brody had been worried-- just a little-- that he was going to have to leave. To be dismissed. Brody didn't want to go to his own house, to sleep alone on Thanksgiving; arguably an odd holiday to be desperate for some cold comfort, but it was his. And when Bas hadn't objected to the way Brody had pulled back the covers, had shifted close, but refrained from actually pulling him in ...it was a nice moment, and he remembered it.

Brody swallowed thickly at Sebastian's assertion-- he couldn't have "wanted to" that night? Bastard. Even if Brody had been a little controlling throughout, he still would have gone for that if Bas had mentioned it-- he was pretty sure. It sounded hot, anyways. "Can you? No wonder you don't bring people back to your place then, because no headboard and shitty furniture would make me skeptical, even with your skills and //commanding// presence.""Oh, you're a generous guy, Bas-- I wouldn't insult you otherwise," Brody acknowledged, forcing his mind to block out those green eyes staring up at him, mouth full of cock. Fuck. "What I'm saying is if you can get it from all sides, you seem like the kind of guy to to take full advantage of that. I mean, tell me I'm wrong?" Definitely not wrong-- Brody remembered perfectly how tight Bas was around him, the sounds he made while he pulled at the man's cock while taking him from behind. Brody still got off on it, fingers curling against the wall of the shower as he stroked his own dick most mornings. "Exactly, and afterwards you suddenly have all these nice professional connections-- for corporate law?," he added with a smirk. "That can't be coincidence." He shook his head in amusement, "I'm sure it was."

"A blazer and tie in high school makes you look like you've got a stick up your ass," Brody argued, rolling his eyes. He'd understood the practicality of uniforms, especially as a teacher, but they'd never appealed to him personally. But Bas' scoff made him grin, "Yeah-- with all those back corners and unsupervised locations, it really did sometimes," he replied with a suggestive inflection. Not that Brody had really taken part of that sort of thing during school hours, but he definitely had learned the campus layout well. "Okay, fine. I can see your point," he conceded-- he probably would have figured out his own leanings a lot faster with someone like Bas wandering around a same-sex campus. "I swear, Bas, did you ever even know there //was// a closet?" Those green eyes fixed on him, and Brody's breath hitched. "And yet..." What was he saying? Hadn't he been arguing something at some point?

Bas wasn't shoving him off, so Brody took the whole interaction as a good sign so far. Which was good, because he was right up against the man, his erection pushing hard against the other's pants, and it was still not close enough. Bas' fingers were knotted into his hair, and Brody vaguely wished he had more, before continuing his conquest of the younger man's mouth, tongue sliding past his lips to assert his dominance over the other. His hands clambered eagerly, one yanking against Bas' shirt to get beneath the fabric, nails digging up the arch of his back. The other kept a firm grip on his shoulder, gripping in rhythm to the grinding that Brody hadn't realized he'd started against Sebastian's thigh. "Fuck...quiet, quiet..." he breathed in the other's ear between pants-- he'd gotten way too used to talking since graduating. He could keep his voice down, he was pretty sure, but he honestly wasn't certain now if Bas was the one that they should be worried about while they did this.

"Well, I need to be appreciated for everything that I am, Brodes," Sebastian agreed with a smirk. "I mean, complimenting myself is fun and all, but it's not nearly as satisfying as hearing it from someone else." Actually, though, Brody had been pretty damn complimentary in bed. It was yet another thing to add to the list of reasons why he couldn't get sex with the older man out of his mind. "Yeah, well - my first few times were pretty vanilla. I like to think I worked my way up to what I am today." He threw in a wink towards the older man. "Absolutely. So you see why it's so important to me."

"Mm, but you're conveniently forgetting the part where you were half-dead and I took pity on you. I just didn't want you to feel like you were letting me down by tapping out." He huffed. "This is what I get for doing you a favour." He was pretty sure he was outright lying at this point - and it wasn't even a very convincing one, but his pride couldn't seem to let it go. He had been a mess, his legs like jello as he practically melted into the mattress face first, barely registering when Brody had shifted under the covers with him. It had been a nice feeling. Something that he wasn't really used to. Well, not in his own place, anyway - but he certainly hadn't been complaining, not quite wanting for the night to end abruptly with Brody leavng. That might make him a hypocrite, but whatever - it was hardly something he didn't know about himself already.

He rolled his eyes. "Or I just don't want people that I've slept with knowing where I live. I'd end up having to move by the end of the month." He hummed thoughtfully, nodding his head to the side in acceptance. "Fine. You got me. What can I say? I get greedy." He smirked. "Same can be said for you, Brodes." The older man had certainly been commanding enough. "Not that it wasn't hot - because, believe me - it was." So maybe he had a bit of a submissive kink. It was something he'd long since accepted about himself. Why fight what felt good, right? "Oh, absolutely. Make money by doing what you do best, right? I think we can both agree that I have the skills for it."

"No, it looked hot," he corrected. "Definitely wasn't a /stick/ I had up there. It does rhyme, though." His lips twitched at his own joke, because he /knew/ it was terrible, but that was part of the charm, right? He raised his eyebrows. "Hey, we had our fair share of dark corners. More so, probably. It was an old building. Thick walls." He grinned. "Never got the memo that I should attempt to hide what I am. Why bother?" His parents had certainly argued against that fact when he came out. Even when he last spoke to them, they still treated his sexuality as though it was just a phase. How one goes through a phase for that long, he'll never know, but his parents were just as talented at the art of denial as he was. Brody trailed off, and his smirk widened, but he didn't comment.

A thrill ran through him as their erections brushed together, Sebastian groaning against Brody's lips before he parted his own to let his tongue claim him. His breath hitched with each time Brody rocked into him, trying not to cry out in pleasure. It was harder than he thought it'd be - no pun intended. "Fuck," he breathed quietly, dragging Brody's bottom lip through his teeth gently. His heart was pounding in his chest, and he could barely hear for the blood pumping in his ears. One hand slid down to Brody's arm, tightening around the muscle - fuck, those arms were yet another thing that drove him wild about the older teacher, even before Thanksgiving. His other hand skimmed down Brody's back, tugging the material out to let his hand slide under and glide over Brody's skin, nails digging into his back slightly.

"Well, and you already know all the nice things you can say and do for yourself," Brody laughed. "You never know with new people." The older man quirked an eyebrow, "Wow-- if I'd known you were going to stand here and call yourself vanilla, I would have brought a recording device. To think Sebastian actually had to work to improve himself at sex. He didn't just start out that way?" He chuckled in amusement. "Definitely."

Brody scoffed, although half-dead was probably putting it kindly. The older man hadn't had a run like that for a long time, like maybe New York-- //maybe//, if ever. Getting out of bed the next morning had been hard to do, not just because he'd wanted to stay, but physically from the sheer muscle ache. He'd said goodbye to Bas, but Brody was also grateful that the man hadn't seemed to wake up much more than to acknowledge him, because it was a slow process getting dressed and out of the apartment. "Well, if that's the case, I suppose I should be more grateful you don't do morning sex, otherwise boy would I have felt jilted come sunrise," he quipped. God he wished Bas did morning sex-- pain or no pain, he would have paid to take that man again in any form before heading out. Dee could have waited. Everything could have waited. He gave a dry laugh. "Bas, you drink pretentious wine and act like a pompous socialite-- you really think if someone //wanted// to hunt you down your complex wouldn't be one of the first places they'd look?" Maybe not for Brody, obviously-- knowing Bas was a teacher, that whole area seemed a little pricey for their level paycheck, but for Bas' demeanor to a stranger? That's exactly where he'd have gone. Or maybe some of the McMansions on the nicer streets.

Brody grinned, the humming noise emanating from Sebastian providing a very vivid image that fit in perfectly with their conversation. "Out of all the places to do so, I can't really blame you for that one, Bas," he excused him. "Hell yeah, I imagine some would argue that way, except from a different...angle, if you will." Brody acknowledged he could be controlling as hell in bed, which could definitely be a turn-off to some. For him though, being able to just take what he wanted from guys like Sebastian Smythe was an unbeatable high, so why change? It wasn't like it affected his behavior outside of the bedroom. And to hear Bas say he liked it (or at least it was hot)? No way in hell was anything changing. "Always nice to be appreciated," he acknowledged with a twitch of his lips. Brody laughed. "Law and sex? I'm surprised you didn't retire years ago with those two professions and likely clientele under your belt." He definitely wasn't going to argue Sebastian's skills: they were painfully good, and if Brody was a lesser man (or at least less competitive) he would have folded under the younger's ministrations in half the time he had. The guy made fucking an art form.

Brody rolled his eyes in disagreement, but he couldn't stifle the amused smile that was tweaking his features. "God, you've got an bad innuendo for everything, don't you?" he mocked, although Brody was hardly one to judge. Screw that-- he actually kind of got off on the lame jokes mixed with the clever wit; it made the man before him more real and less some surreal out of his league sex fantasy. "Big square building?" Brody retorted, "You'll excuse me if I'm a little skeptic of the remarkability, although I'm sure if you're into architecture, it was a total thrill. One day we'll get you out to Cali, and you'll see what a real campus looks like." The older man smirked, and shrugged. "Hey, I wasn't hiding anything growing up," he retorted. Just because he hadn't realized that not everyone else thought about how hot other guys was, doesn't mean he was in denial about himself. "I just...never thought about it, I guess." Damn that fucking shit-eating grin. If Brody wasn't so distracted, he would have wanted to smack it right off his face.

God Brody missed the sounds that usually came out of Sebastian's mouth-- he wanted to hear him, wanted him loud as he groaned and mewled and keened while Brody explored every piece of him. But this was a bad time for that sort of thing, he did recognize-- doing this here period, was a bad idea-- and so instead he bit hard on Bas' lip to stifle his own words, accepting the quite, muted noises of an eager man. Brody could feel Sebastian's cock rubbing against his own, and he let out a shuddering breath as his hands brushed up toward his face.Brody breathed in a hiss as Bas tugged on his lip, trying to keep himself under control. Bas' hands were gripping him tightly, and it just made the older man want to sit on the sink and let the other ride him the way he'd claimed he could, leaving bruises where his fingers were holding on. Instead, he arched his back to give the man better access to the skin beneath his shirt, humming in satisfaction at the trail Bas' nails were leaving.

The younger man was still wearing that fucking mask-- Brody had taken his own off as soon he'd entered the bathroom, but Bas did seem the type to play to the hilt. Carefully, Brody peeled the thing off, his eyes widening at the discoloration that had been hidden beneath. Sure, Brody had seen the bruise when it was fresh, but now it was a whole spectrum of colors damaging the gorgeous features that normally highlighted those perfect green eyes, and Brody paused as his brow furrowed, a fingers gently ghosting over the bruise. God, he hated the guy that had done it-- already hated him for Marley's sake, but this definitely wasn't helping. "Such a fucking moron," he murmured quietly, leaning closer and kissing the outline softly, before bucking his hips back up against Sebastian, hard and deliberate. "I can't fuck you here," he whispered, leaning in close to Sebastian's ear and tugging on his lobe with his teeth. "But I want to touch you-- I want you to cum, Bas. I want you to get half-hard every time you walk by the office from now on because of what I did to you right across the hall, right now." The hand gripping Bas' back was sliding around by now, thumbing at his fly to snake his hand lower down his waistband, palming his bare cock possessively. "What do you want, Bas?" he panted, half afraid to breathe for fear of how loud his chest was pounding.

"What can I say? We all go through a learning phase. I, sadly, was no different. Fortunately for you, by the time I got around to you, I'd had plenty of practice." He quirked Brody a grin. "It takes a bit of working up to get to the whips and chains stage." Well, whips, he's done - not so keen on them, honestly. Chains... well, not yet. Although he had been tied up plenty of times, one of which flashed through his mind - the not so distant memory of Brody driving him close to insanity, Sebastian being unable to grip back. He wasn't sure if he was ever going to be able to forget it. Then again, why would he want to?

He wrinkled his nose. "I wasn't /half dead/. I could've went another round if you looked up to it." He was well aware by this point how circular their debate had gotten - as was often the case with Brody - but the banter was always fun, nonetheless. Besides, no matter what the older man had tried to argue, he knew that Brody had been as exhausted as he was. He hadn't even protested when Sebastian managed to crawl his way under the sheets. He could vaguely recall Brody waking him up the next morning to say goodbye, but the memory was hazy, and Sebastian was hardly coherent so early in the morning. He was usually a zombie until he'd had at least two cups of coffee, actually. Although... he coudn't help but feel a little bitter that he'd missed out on the prospect of morning sex, because if Brody had woken him up for it, there was no chance in hell he'd have turned it down. "Right. Wouldn't want you to strain yourself too much that early in the morning anyway." He snorted. "No, I drink /good/ wine - the only type of wine one /should/ drink - and I act like someone with class and taste. Which, I suppose would still lead them to my apartment, but thankfully no one's managed to track me down yet."

Sebastian's tongue ran over his lips, thinking back to that night for - well, fuck knows how many times he's thought about it through the course of the night already. "Definitely not a bad thing," he agreed. "Oh, it was more than appreciated. Just a shame it took us so long to get there, right?" He hadn't been sure why Brody had held out so long, nor why he managed to cave that particular night - though it was probably something to do with the copious amount of alcohol flowing through his system loosening him up a little. "Mm, it's definitely something to think about. Maybe I'm being wasted as a teacher after all." Actually, the latter part was true. Teaching was supposed to be a temporary thing for him while he tried to pick up the damage that he'd done to his law career.

He scoffed. "There's no such thing as a bad innuendo, Brodes. It's all down to how you take it." Nope - definitely a bad innuendo, but apparently he just enjoyed contradicting him too much to stop. "Hey, if you'd have seen the inside of it, you'd have been impressed. If you don't believe me, feel free to ask Blaine." Dalton had felt like more of a home to him than his actual home at the time. Far more warm and welcoming. There were people who actually /wanted/ him there. "How can you /not/ think about it? Guys are really attractive, Brodes." Not that girls were anything to scoff at either. It hadn't taken Sebastian long to figure himself out when he'd reached maturity, and it certainly hadn't occured to him to question it. Some people liked boys, some people liked girls - apparently Sebastian wasn't quite so picky. "It didn't seem that complicated to me when I was a kid."

When Brody bit down on his lip, Sebastian barely managed to suppress a moan, rutting against the other man desperately. God, he wanted to be fucked again, but he knew that he'd have to settle - although, perhaps settle was the wrong word, because the feeling of Brody against him was nothing short of intoxicating, regardless of the situation.

He had to admit, the tenderness that Brody showed when he pried off his mask definitely had him taken aback. Not in a bad way, though. It had been similar to when he'd run into Brody at Marley's place, the day he'd shown up to try and make things right again after... well. Yeah. That. Which he was trying not to think about right now. Brody distracted him again, though, and his head fell against his shoulder, shortened breaths falling from his lips as he bucked into the touch. The question was definitely a loaded one. What he /wanted/ was for Brody to fuck him against the door, risk be damned - but that wasn't something they could do right now. They had to make this quick. With that in mind, he worked Brody's zipper quickly, his own hand trailing down past Brody's pelvis to dip below the waistband of his boxers, gripping Brody in his hand and thumbing over his slit. "Gonna have to just imagine you're fucking me, Brodes," he breathed, eyes sliding shut. God, the image that brought into his head was enough to make him groan. "I can still remember how fucking hot you were, taking control the way you did." He didn't masturbate often, but he certainly had the following morning - Brody firmly on his mind.

“Apparently we do. I just wouldn’t think you’d admit to it.” Brody raised an eyebrow. “Whips and chains? Can’t say I was ever really into the whole scene myself. Well, I mean, not really…” He’d been with people who experimented with the whole BDSM scene, but while Brody appreciated a good knot in bed, and he admited he had a yen for leather, he couldn’t say the pain/sex-dungeon idea really turned him on. He didn’t judge; he just didn’t usually come back for seconds. Probably not even for Bas, if he was being honest. Although if Bas was //into// being restrained, Brody felt he could persuade him in a less metallic direction, because that was a damn hot set of circumstances.

“Fine, not half dead-- like a third dead. Maybe just a little paralyzed.” Brody wondered how long their argument could circle the drain like this. Not that he minded-- as long as Bas kept bringing it up, Brody knew it was at least still on his mind, and he enjoyed knowing he was still on the other’s mind, even if it was a stupid fantasy to indulge. Even if he’d been too exhausted to keep going, although Bas looked just as bad. “Right; so you were just being considerate,” he agreed with a smirk and a light head shake. “Forget that I had an entire morning’s worth of barn work to do--it was the morning sex that would have done me in.” Brody scoffed. “French wine is not good wine, Bas-- it’s overrated and overpriced. And it tastes like feet. And you act like...a French guy. Elitist and overly-self-invested. Five minutes flat-- no question. Maybe you’re just not as addictive as you think then. Just the bed.”

Brody snickered-- arguably yes and no. Brody had managed three years of staying far away from Sebastian Smythe’s bedroom, and with good reason-- now he wasn’t sure he’d be able to get the guy out of his head, and he just was acting too much like //himself//, which was never a good thing. On the other hand, “I mean, I feel like the wait was kind of your own making,” he replied, choosing to shift the conversation to their long-standing argument, which felt like a safer path than why Brody didn’t trust himself around the younger man. “I mean, all you had to do was ask, Bas-- was that really so hard?” Brody smirked, “Well, I mean, I feel like it would definitely draw a higher salary-- depending on your pimp, you may have more flexibility in your schedule…” Brody wasn’t sure what had even drawn Bas to teaching-- he didn’t seem to care much for the kids, or really the curriculum. He got the impression that he’d left law due to a fallout with his father, or to spite him maybe, but why not just join another firm? “I see-- and although I feel like it’s usually more about how //you// ‘take it’, don’t you think?” Brody couldn’t help but retort. Hell, if they were playing pathetic games, he might as well, right? The older man raised his eyebrows in confusion-- did he know that Blaine and Bas had gone to the same school? “You went to //Dalton//?” he said, bewildered. “You lived in New York-- what the hell were you doing in Ohio?” Okay, wow-- maybe a little too invested there. He composed himself, with the exception of a skeptical eyebrow, because how the hell had that happened? Brody couldn’t help but glance down a little sheepishly as he rubbed his neck. “I didn’t say I //never// thought about it-- I just figured it was something //everyone// did, you know? Like projection or something. I wasn’t going around thinking ‘Hey, that guy’s hot, maybe I should go fuck him’ or something.” It was kind of weird to think about now, how Brody hadn’t even really thought to make the connection.

Brody’s hips bucked as he felt Bas’ cock through the fabric grinding into him with equal fervor to get some relief. He only paused, temporarily distracted, but the bruising on Sebastian’s face-- he actually didn’t think he could manage to turn him around if he tried, because it just felt wrong to do it. The guy looked damaged, and Brody just wanted to protect him from the implications, which was stupid because Sebastian Smythe was the last guy that needed anything from Brody except maybe an orgasm. But his hormones were up, and you think stupid things during sex (-like activities), so he kissed his face gently anyways, idiot that he was. Luckily, Brody’s filthy mouth apparently distracted them properly, because Bas was pressing up against him eagerly, his breathing stilted near Brody’s ear. Brody himself choked slightly as he felt the younger man’s hand slip into his pants, the pad of his thumb brushing away his precum. He pulled away slightly, watching mesmerized as Bas’ eyes closed. God he wanted to see Bas getting off to the memory of him. He couldn’t look away, instead twisting his hand around his cock as he matched his pace. The younger man moaned, and Brody felt his body shudder at the noise, a burst of adrenaline causing him to buck into Sebastian’s hand as he talked about their time together.

“I can still remember how you taste,” he whispered. “All of you. How fucking amazing you looked with your lips around my cock. Taking me in whole. Fucking sexiest thing…” Brody was trying; he really was. But Bas got his blood up, and he was afraid if he stopped talking, he’d start swearing in between groans, and neither of those alternatives would likely be quiet. So instead he pressed his lips hard against the younger man’s, tugging with his teeth at the already swollen bottom as he watched Bas jerk him off to his memory. As he felt the dick in his hand straining beneath him.This message was edited“I remember how hard you came in my truck-- I wanted to take you before we even got in the damned cab. Just push you up against the door just like this…” He thrust hard against Sebastian’s grip, the entire night a whirlwind of sex and want and finally giving in that was more than he could have ever imagined. “Do you remember me inside you? Fucking wet from booze and my tongue licking you up as I made you cum?” Licorice had never tasted the same way again, that was for sure-- hell, //Red Vines// didn’t taste the same anymore.

#ttl #smut #Sebastian Smythe #para #The Masquerade #p. Sebastian #classes #fundraiser #Cheerios #Masquerade Ball #Brobastian

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