#TAKE THESE PURPLES HANGIN' OUT]]

[eringobragh420]

➰ Pairing: Damian Priest x f!Reader ➰ Summary: Damian and his girlfriend disturb the peace. 🛑 Warnings: NSFW. Fingering, oral (m and f receiving), dirty talk, rough, unprotected p in v, mild pain play, cum. 18+ ➰ Notes: Spanish translations are at the end of the story. I do not speak Spanish, so if anything is incorrect, please let me know and I’ll fix it! ❤️ This one got away from me, but I loved the requester's idea so much lol ➰ Taglist: @eddiesrockstargirlfriend, @terrortwinunicorn. If you’d like to be added, please click here! ➰ Requested By: @danithepenguin05-blog. Hope you enjoy! ➰ MASTERLIST

“You know, I’ve been watching you all night …” She jumps at the voice coming from behind her, smiling when she can feel his warm breath ghost across her neck and bare shoulder. “And I think I’m gonna fuck you in that dress.”

Her grin widens, brow arching. “You might wanna be careful,” she advises, “my boyfriend is a big dude, and he gets really jealous.” She turns around, eyes climbing to meet the pair gazing down at her.

“Is he bigger than me?” Damian growls, puffing his chest out as much as he can in the confines of a button-down shirt, vest, and suit jacket, somehow making himself seem even taller than his normal six-five. 

“Oh, damn,” she purrs, closing the space between them. “You’re way bigger. Let’s get out of here.”

“And fuck you in that dress?” Damian repeats, eyes sliding down the garment in question—a deep purple ruched midi-dress with one sleeve and an asymmetrical hem that hugs every one of her curves, even ones she didn’t know she had but was excited to find just the same. His hands claim her hips, sliding back to her ass, possessive in his Priestly way, and she beams up at him. Her hands glide up his chest, straightening the tie she’d had to tie for him before clutching at the lapels. She inhales his cologne and body wash and the scent that is simply Damian, and her heart flutters, pussy dampening at the same time. The control he has over her should be studied by science.

“And fuck me in this dress,” she whispers, pulling him into a kiss that starts as a peck, but when she tries to pull away, his long arms wrap themselves around her. She giggles against his lips, her own arms snaking round his neck only when he bends his knees and comes closer to her height.

“We better get going,” Damian mumbles. He leans sideways and glances down at her silver heels—the ones that have diamond-encrusted bows on the toes, the excess of which provocatively climb her calves. “Because I think I wanna fuck you in those heels, too, and I know you’re not gonna last much longer before you whip out the chanclas.”

She throws her head back with a laugh. “Well in that case … Priest, you big stud. Take me to bed or lose me forever.” She’s given universal consent with a quote from their favorite movie to watch together, and the change in her boyfriend’s demeanor is palpable.

Damian releases her only to drop his arm around her shoulders, and she reaches up to interlace their fingers. She’s smiling up at him, adoring, as she usually does, when she notices the Three Stooges headed their way, all of them leaning on each other, none of them able to walk in a straight line. They stumble over JD, who is passed out with his head on a plate of salad. Damian glances down at her, shaking his head, and she takes the hint, averting her gaze in the opposite direction. Together, they pick up their pace.

“Guys, wait!” Dom hollers behind them.

“Nope,” Damian grumbles so only she can hear, and they continue on.

“Don’t leave us hangin’!” Finn slurs.

The couple continues on, waving goodbyes to friends in passing, blissfully, though not really, ignorant to the whining that seems to be following them.

“Besties,” Rhea cajoles, then exclaims, “oh, shit!” just before a stomp, a thud, and three dummies giggling. Damian and his girlfriend slow to a stop and look at each other.

“There’s like a 70 percent chance they’ll die if we leave them here,” she says.

Damian rolls his eyes, nods, and turns to their friends, waving his arm for them to hurry up. And once they arrive at the rental SUV, Damian stuffs all three of his inebriated friends into the backseat, slamming the door in Dom’s face when he asks if they can stop for chicken tenders on the way to the hotel. Rolling his neck, he straightens his suit before turning to his girlfriend, who’s patiently waiting near the front passenger door. He opens it for her, taking her hand and helping her inside before closing the door and making his way around to the driver’s side.

“No, but seriously,” Dom says, poking his face between the front seats. She glances at him, his cheeks rosy from the alcohol, and then she looks at Damian, catching him taking yet another deep, calming breath through his nose. “I was lookin’ on my phone earlier and there’s this place that’s open late that has tendies …” He begins searching the pockets of his suit. “Hey, hey, who has my phone?”

“Whoops,” Rhea giggles from behind her, and Dom reaches over Finn.

“Give it back!” Dom exclaims.

“Get your arm outta my face!” Finn says, shoving Dom’s arm away.

“Tell her to give me my phone back!”

“Give him his bloody phone back!”

“I know his passcode,” Rhea taunts.

Suddenly Dom’s own shiny black shoes bounce between the front seats as Finn launches him into the trunk area of the SUV.

“Well, open it already! What are you waitin’ for?” Finn shouts, holding Dom back as he both fights to climb over the seat and grab his phone from Rhea at the same time.

“If this is what having kids is like, you can forget it,” Damian remarks, making a left turn out of the parking lot. His girlfriend watches the street- and headlights bounce off his handsome features, smiling when he places his hand on her thigh, lifting her dress just a little.

“I’m not really concerned with that right now,” she quietly replies. The three in the back are still arguing and paying no attention to what’s going on in the front. Damian looks at her, and she lifts her hips, tugging the bottom of the dress up her legs until the very tops of her thighs are visible. His eyes return to the road to be sure he’s still in his lane, snapping back to her as she places her hand atop his, beginning to slowly drag it up her satiny skin.

Damian’s rough fingers make first contact with her bare slit, and he casts another glance in her direction. Her grin is wicked as she licks her lips, rolling her hips against his touch wantonly. His left hand grips the steering wheel, he adjusts the positioning of his own hips, and his middle finger slips within her folds. He massages the tiny nub in slow circles, torturing, before gliding his touch up and down, easily causing her pussy to surge. She sighs, head falling back against the seat, and she bites her lip.

“Shit,” she whispers. She squeezes his solid forearm with both hands as she rides his gifted fingers. Slithering inside her, first with one finger, then two, he hooks them expertly, and her back bows. The raucous from the backseat, the very fact that she and Damian are not alone in such a tiny space, sends her into a shivering, inaudible orgasm quicker than is typical when he uses his fingers on her. She releases his arm, gaping as he brings those cum-coated digits to his perfect lips where he sucks them greedily into his mouth. His cheeks hollow with the suction, sculpting those bones exquisitely, her thighs instantly twitching. He pulls them from his mouth with a lewd pop, winking at the same time, and she knows exactly which direction things are headed once that hotel room door clicks closed behind them.

He opens her door after backing into a parking spot. He rearranges the bulge in his pants as he holds his other hand out for her. She makes a show of raising her hips so she can pull her dress back down to its original length before placing her manicured hand into his, carefully climbing out of the vehicle. Damian closes the door, leaning down to press his lips to her ear.

“I’m gonna fucking wreck you,” he says.

“Promise?” she murmurs, brows raising.

“You guys suck,” Dom complains, tumbling out of the back of the SUV. Finn and Rhea lean on one another, uncontrollable laughter passing back and forth between them. “Now everybody’s gonna think I’m weird.”

“You are weird,” Finn and Rhea snicker in unison.

Damian’s arm rests on her shoulders once more, their fingers again tangled, as the party of five boards the hotel elevator. Dom continues to whine about whatever Rhea and Finn did to him, which evidently has something to do with an embarrassing Twitter post. But their bickering slowly begins to fade into mere background noise, the three of them standing in front of her and she in front of Damian, and she snakes her hands behind her. Her nails clack against her boyfriend’s belt buckle, a sinister grin splitting her lips as they continue southward. She follows the zipper, the mechanism threatening to burst trying to hold back the monster hardening within, which she tenderly cups in both hands. Damian brings an arm around her shoulders and across her chest, the other enveloping her waist, and she rests her head against his pec, massaging his still-growing cock through his pants. His perfect mouth latches onto her ear, biting, kissing, sucking, moving onto her neck, making sure to touch all of her spots. She’s so distracted she doesn’t notice his hand sweeping back across her chest so he can fondle her breast, which further occupies her attention and keeps her from realizing he’s pulling the sleeveless side of her dress down until that bare breast falls out. He takes it into his hand again, groping obscenely, all the while feasting on her neck.

The ding of the elevator breaks the couple’s building tension, and Damian lifts her dress back into position before the doors slide open. They resume their customary holding of one another as they follow their three friends into the hallway, Damian having to redirect them from turning right to turning left. The lump in his slacks is incredibly conspicuous, but he doesn’t try to hide it, and she doesn’t blame him—he has a lot to be proud of. She waits by their room door as he snatches the key card out of Finn’s hand, knowing none of the inebriated three will be able to operate the machine. He herds them inside, not even bothering to take Rhea to her room, and closes the door before they can make any more requests.

She backs slowly into their room as Damian stalks her. He regards her with a tilt of his head, stealthily reaching back to turn the lock on the door after it clicks closed. He casually starts toward her, opening his suit jacket and allowing it to slide down his arms. He catches it in one hand and lays it on a nearby dresser. Her breathing accelerates and she chews on the inside of her cheek as he unbuttons the cuffs on his shirt, rolling the sleeves halfway up his forearms like he’s about to take on a task that’s going to last for hours.

“I love that dress,” he tells her, closing the space between them.

She smiles. “Well thank you.” She runs her hands up his chest, over the vest this time, applying a small amount of pressure just so she can feel how hard his muscles are. “I thought you might like … the easy access.” Her hands come down his abdomen and she takes hold of the buckle on his belt. “And I—” She starts to unbuckle it. “—might like—” She unbuttons and unzips his pants. “—this big cock in my mouth.” 

Ahead of her descending to her knees, he grabs hold of her with his hands under her arms and he tosses her back onto the bed. A giggle nearly erupts, but Damian is leering at her in a way he’s never done before as his fists come down on the mattress, then his knees, and she backs up on her elbows. When she comes to the pillows, she bends a knee, lifts her leg, and Damian pauses his advance. He glances at the heel perched delicately on his against his shoulder, the diamond bows, the diamond ribbons ascending her calf, and when he returns his attention to her, his eyes are devoid of any color except sable and he’s wetting his lips.

“Lick me, Papí,” she says.

Damian chuckles softly, pressing a tender kiss to the inside of her ankle. “¿Qué dices?”

“Please, Papí, will you lick me?”

He seizes her thighs, spreading them, pushing them back toward her until her hips nearly come off the bed and her elbows collapse. She feels the cold from the air conditioner rush over her bare, wet pussy, sending a shudder throughout her body. She lifts her head only to have it fall back into the pillows again after watching Damian lick a hot stripe from her aching hole to the top of her slit. She groans and her back arches as she grabs at his ponytail of tiny braids, to which he responds by closing his lips around her clit and sucking, slurping, effortlessly holding her legs in place as she fights to close them around his head.

“Fuck,” she yelps, releasing his hair to reach back and grip the headboard. Damian releases one leg so he can pull her dress down until her breast spills out, and that heel lands on his back, digging in as much as she dares as she tries desperately to ride his tongue. Damian grunts, coming away from her pussy, and she looks down at him, worried the heel in his back is too painful. He glances behind him in the direction of the heel, and when he looks back, she’s not sure he’s the same person. This man must certainly be the devil—the onyx flames in his eyes and the impish slope to his grin supporting her hypothesis. He surrenders her other leg, and she instantly brings the heel down onto his back, because that’s where a devil would want it. His eyes close briefly, opening just before he attacks her pussy, assaulting every nerve-ending with every trick he knows. She cries out, heels burrowing even further as her body undulates, and gushes cum all over Damian’s gifted tongue.

Without warning, Damian pulls away, standing on the floor now at the foot of the bed, the bottom half of his face glistening with her juices, and he repossesses her legs. Before she has time to pout, he yanks her down the bed, a leg on either side of him. He reaches down and wraps his hand around her throat, pulling her into a sitting position, her hands immediately rummaging through his pants and briefs, reemerging with Damian’s cock and balls. She makes a show of spitting into the palm of her hand before sliding it down his rigid shaft. He leans down to kiss her, pulling back just as she attempts to accept the kiss. She glares, trying again to kiss him, only to be met with the same results.

“Papí,” she sulks.

“I want you to choke on this dick first,” he tells her, hand still clutching her throat, lifting to the point she’s nearly coming off the bed. She sighs, glowing, hand decelerating on his cock. “You know I like kissing you when your mouth’s a mess.”

She nods, waiting obediently for him to release her neck, and as soon as he does, she has his cock buried almost to the root in her throat before she gags, coughs, and has to come up for air.

“Fuck!” Damian shouts, one hand on the back of her head, the other on the side near her neck, as he thrusts into her mouth. She grasps the ends of his belt, simply using them for stability as Damian rides her face. After several pumps, he pulls out, strings of saliva and precum bridging her lips and his cock. Now he allows her to kiss him, groaning as their tongues twist and curl, and she knows he can taste his cock all over her mouth, just like he likes it.

He picks her up under the arms again and launches her just a few feet back on the bed. Snickering as she bounces, she watches as Damian sheds all of his clothes from the waist up before crawling on his knees to get between her legs. He takes one of her heels and arranges it on his chest. Rubbing the velvety head of his cock along her throbbing clit, she feels him press into the heel, so she adds resistance with her leg so it might go deeper.

“Goddamn,” he roars. He starts to push himself inside her, and she revels in the sensation of being split open as she gives a moan of her own.

“Mmm, Papí likes a little pain,” she coos. She gives him a shove with the heel, and he snarls, glaring down at her with a tilt of his head, and maybe she went too far, but they’re past the point of no return. “That’s hot.”

Damian’s hips surge forward, impaling her completely on his rock hard member, nearly bouncing her head off the headboard if not for the pillows. She cries out, gripping the wood that is fastened to the wall, making it safe from rattling. However, the mattress has a squeak, which sounds in time with Damian’s rapid thrusts. He wraps his fingers around her ankle, anchoring it to his chest, other hand groping her bare breast, and he has a steady, albeit aggressive, rhythm.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” she chants with each and every pump, unknowingly increasing the force in her leg. “Fuck me, Papí!” she cries out, finishing with a whisper, “please … please …”

Damian cries out his own set of curses, and with one final surge forward, he releases inside her. His pace slows, but doesn’t stop for several moments. A smile grows on her bruised lips, and even though she’s positive her makeup and hair are both incredible messes right now, she doesn’t feel shame or embarrassment. Her boyfriend doesn’t need to see her painted and polished to perfection every moment of their lives. And anyway, he’d warned her of his intentions to wreck her. Eventually he pulls out, lying next to her, and moments later, the couple is snoring together—she still in her dress and heels, he still in his pants and shoes.

The next morning, following a refreshing joint shower, they collect their belongings—Damian handling the heavier items, always leaving with her as little as possible to carry—and as she’s holding the door for him, Dom, Finn, and Rhea exit their room, Rhea having retrieved her things from her room earlier. The threesome are already wearing sunglasses and share a similar pale complexion, but when they spot her and Damian, they collapse into giggles.

Brows furrowing, she asks, “What’s so funny?”

“Oh, nothin’,” Finn replies.

She glances at Damian, who shrugs and rolls his eyes. They all head to the elevator, the three amigos murmuring amongst one another, and she has no idea what’s going on, but she knows it has something to do with her and Damian. Everyone stuffs themselves and their luggage into the tiny box, Rhea punches the button for the lobby, and the doors close. This is the moment the three of them launch into a litany of moaning and groaning and one of them even imitates the sound of a squeaking bed.

“Fuck me, Papí,” Dom’s voice is many octaves higher than normal.

“Papí likes a little pain,” Rhea joins in.

Finn repeats almost verbatim Damian’s list of curses after he came, and for some reason, she doesn’t understand what they’re talking about until this point. She feels her cheeks erupt as if coated in lava, and she’s shell shocked a moment before turning to Damian, who already has his hoodie unzipped and one side of it opened. Mortified, she buries her burning face against his chest and he covers her with the jacket. The rest of the elevator ride is filled with snickers and imitations.

Once outside, she pushes ahead of the group, hurrying toward the rental when she hears the distinct sound of hands clapping. Turning, she catches Damian grinning like he just won the fucking lottery, sharing handshakes with the boys and a high-five with Rhea.

“Really?!”

🎀 Chanclas - Flip flops 🎀 Papí - Daddy 🎀 Qué dices - What do you say?

[1427]

When the Levee Breaks (pt. 1)

Daryl Dixon x OFC

The one in which a stripper that used to know Merle and Daryl shows up at the Atlanta camp. Daryl’s feelings are complicated but mostly he hates her. Right?

Chapt. Setting: Atlanta camp

Chapt. Warnings: degrading and sexist language, season 1 Daryl, he’s not nice in this, probably won’t be for a while. 

Word count: 1600 

A/N : (aka authors warning) this is written in Daryl’s POV soOo idk. Probably not everyone’s bag. Maybe it’s no one’s bag. These first three chapters are kinda rough and I’m sorry but I can only proofread my own stuff so many times before I either post it or delete it forever.

masterlist

17+ mdni for the whole story

After stringin’ a few squirrels for dinner I figure I should get back to camp. ‘m breakin’ through the tree line, and that’s when I see her.  Beatle. Beatle, for the first time in… shit, who knows? Definitely years, I’m not exactly sure how many. Beatle, just fuckin’ sittin’ at my fire. Like somehow she knew it was mine and showed up just to take it from me. Just sittin’. Smile on her face like she belongs there. She doesn’t. She doesn’t belong at this camp, with these people. Shit, Beatle doesn’t even belong alive if I’m bein’ honest. 

No one in this fuckin’ camp can hunt worth a damn.  They’re gonna expect me to feed ‘em, ain’t they? Eventually. Eventually the food’ll run out and it’ll just be me feedin’ fuckin’ everyone. M’not doin’ it. I’m not doin’ shit for ‘em anymore. Why should I? Left my brother on that roof to rot. Naw, I’ll hunt for my damn self. Don’t even know why I’m still fuckin’ here. Should be out findin’ Merle. Honestly, don’t even know why I’m not.

Even before the dead started walkin’. I figured her days were numbered since the first fuckin’ time I met ‘er. Drunk as hell, eyes glassy, loud annoying voice barkin’ like a damn dog. Just yap yap yappin at Merle and me, tits half hangin’ outta her bikini top. Ones cinched in the string like she’d just forgotten to take ‘em out from her last time around the bar. A dumb drunk bitch, Beatle. Stupid fuckin’ stripper name. Who’s dick gets hard over a stripper named Beatle? 

I watch her, just for a second, checkin’ to see if maybe it’s not really her. But it is. ‘Course it fuckin’ is. 

Shane’s the first person I see that’s not doin’ anything, going through some clothes in a duffel bag in the back of a van, figure he might know, “Where the fuck did she come from?” Pointing toward Beatle, her back to us, fifty yards away. Stupid purple hair blowing all over the damn place. 

Shane looks to see who I’m pointing at, but who the fuck else is new at camp? His eyes finally land on Beatle before looking back at me like he’s trying to fight the smile on his damn face, “Why? You interested?”

I’m tryin’ not to lose my shit that she’s even fuckin’ here. “Nah…” I shake my head, “I know ‘er.”

Shane looks up, surprised maybe, and then not. Looking from Beatle back to me again, eyeing us up. “Yeah, makes sense.” 

I squint back at ‘im, “S’that supposed ta mean?” 

He shrugs, making a face, before smiling again, folding another shirt into his pack, “Just that you look like you might know eachother.” He doesn’t say more but I know what he’s not sayin. “Is all.” He adds on the end just to reiterate. 

He means we’re both fuckin redneck trash to anyone who looks at us. I look back over at her, startin’ to get real mad at this jarhead dickhead. Not for her or nothin’. Even if he’s right, he don’t gotta say it. Or maybe it was the way he said it. Or the way he didn’t say it. Like a fuckin’ pussy. 

A part of me feels like standin’ up for myself. Hell, a part of me feels like stickin’ up for Beatle. But, shit, it’s not even worth it.

I cough up a lougie and spit it close to his foot. “So where’d she come from?” I’m fuckin’ repeating myself. I hate fuckin’ repeating myself. 

“Think she just wandered in. Must’ve been lost in the woods or something. Ask Rick. He seems to know everything.”

Can’t keep myself from crackin’ at his petty comment. Always so fuckin’ loud with his contempt, makin’ the situation obvious to anyone with eyes. Messy. 

I decide I’m gonna ask ‘er. She’s gonna see me eventually. Better I approach her first, right? Don’t need to get football tackled in the middle of doin’ somethin’ else when she sees me for the first time. So I pull out a cigarette and start walkin’ over.

She’s talkin’ to Andrea. She fuckin’ would. Both of them loud dumb bitches. Talking about all the dumb shit they miss since everything’s turned to shit. Not talkin’ about people or nothin’ important. Just bullshit like getting your damn nails done, and eating fuckin’ ice cream. 

“Where’d you fuckin’ come from?” Sayin it louder than I meant. More aggressive than I thought my voice would sound. Usually fuckin’ is, though.  The laughing between Andrea and Beatle stops and they look over at me, just standing there waitin’ for it to register. Waitin’ for Beatles reaction. Starin’ ‘er the fuck down like she doesn’t fuckin’ belong here. She doesn’t. 

Beatles eyes light up, getting up from her chair and runnin’ over to me like she’s never been more excited to see someone in her whole damn life. I try to brace myself, but she still rocks me backward as she jumps on me, “Daryl!” Should have stopped her, could have moved just right out of the way. But nah, I let her. 

I don’t hug her back though, just push her off and let her own feet catch her. Dumb bitch doesn’t know personal boundaries. Her voice so close to my ear, “Damn, don’t look so happy to see me.”

Happy to see her? I’m not. Didn’t think I could be so unhappy to see a familiar face in my whole fuckin’ life. But she wasn’t letting that stop her, never fuckin’ did. “I was lost, found this camp. They said I could stay.” She explains, her voice high and happy and annoying as it ever was. At least she’s not drunk. 

Everyone around the fire had gone back to what they were doing. Not watchin’ us anymore. They could probably see as well as Shane that it was obvious how we knew eachother. Well, maybe not exactly how. But they probably had a good idea. 

I dunno what to say to her explanation, so I don’t say nothin’. And she just stands next to me, too close, clearly not gettin’ the hint that I didn’t really wanna talk to her. Just wanted to know why she was here. Now I know. She wasn’t gettin’ that she could and should just go back to her conversation with Andrea about ice skating, or cocktails, or what the fuck ever. 

“What about you?” Her voice quieter for fuckin’ once. 

I shake my head, blowing smoke out, “Merle and me, met up with everyone...” I don’t feel like explaining it, so I don’t. 

Beatle’s lookin’ up at me, her big eyes all wide and excited like a dumbass deer too stupid to move out of traffic, “Merle’s here?” 

This coil of disgust, I feel it snaring it’s way through my abdomen. Yeah, that’s the feeling Beatle usually gives me. Back like it never fuckin’ left. “Nah, not anymore. Sorry to dry your cunt.” 

Beatle says “Ew” fast. Like she’s so disgusted by my vocabulary. Like she isn’t just as crude, the things I heard that little mouth of hers say. 

“He’s not…” she means dead.

“Nah, hes not dead.” Usually this is where I talk something nice about Merle, about how he’s a tough sunuvabitch or some other shit. But not to Beatle. Beatle already knows, and for some reason talking about Merle with her makes me.. fuck… whatever. 

Glancing over, it looks like Beatle’s finally got the hint that I don’t wanna talk to her. She probably really was excited to see me, and I almost feel bad for a second. Before she puts her grubby fuckin’ hand in my face and asks if she can have a cigarette. Needy fuckin’ bitch. 

I laugh right in her face. At the gall of her. That at the end of it all, of everything; she was still trying to get some fuckin’ handout. “Naw.”

“Oh, come on, Daryl, please? I haven’t had one in days!” As if I give a shit what she has or hasn’t had. Hasn’t seen me in years and wants to ask for favors? 

I keep draggin’ on my cigarette, blowin’ the smoke out, and m’not smiling anymore, “I said naw. I don’t see your tits out, why would I give you anything?” Fuck repeating myself.

“You wanna see my tits?” She says it like it’s actually a question. Like she really fuckin’ believes that I’m askin’. 

“You’re a dumb bitch, Beatle, y’know tha’?” I shake my head at her, laughin’ at her again. She’s fuckin’ ridiculous.  Taking another drag I realize the cig is trash, and I almost throw the butt into the fire but decide to hand it to her instead. 

She takes it, with needy fingers like I knew she fuckin’ would. Trying to hide my smile at how fuckin’ pathetic she always seems to be.  Watching her take my trash like it’s fuckin’ gold. She drags it once, I can smell the filter burning and she throws it in the fire. “Next time maybe you’ll share one with me?” Her voice is so sweet it makes me sick. Like I didn’t just call her a dumb bitch to her face. 

Saccharine and fake, that’s how she’s always been. All her cute little movements and motions, all just tryin’ to work me up so I’ll share my smokes or listen to her dumbass whine about anything and everything. Annoying.

“Prolly not.” And I’m already walking away from the fire. From Beatle. Going back to my tent and praying to god, Jesus Christ, don’t let her follow. 

Chewin’ on what she said. Lost, huh? See? Didn’t even belong alive. 

pt 2

[lex-the-flex]

hihihi sophie!!! i hope ur well!!🫶🏻 i saw requests were open and i wanted to shoot u the idea thats been hangin in my head for a few days. its an angsty one i hope thats okay🫡 6Leon gets called out on a mission, not knowing that his shared apartment with his partner had somehow been tracked and found by his target. when he arrives home from what he thought was a failed mission, having been unable to locate his target, he finds his partner in extremely rough shape on the floor after being interrogated by his target for info on Leons mission and whereabouts.

One Last Night

Leon S. Kennedy x reader

Word Count: 859

Warning(s): HEAVY ANGST, descriptions of injuries, action and violence, slight cursing, mentions of mission failure, mentions of nudity, MEGA FLUFF, reassurance, and lots of tlc.

A/N: It’s about time I get to my inbox after so long! Thank you for requesting my love and I hope you enjoy!

The bright purple neon lights slowly poured in from the aftermath of the flash grenade’s intensity. Regaining his bearings, Leon suddenly remembered where he was: downtown Ontario, and the street was completely torn apart. Staggering from his place on the cobblestone street, the smoke began to clear – along with the target.

Ada Wong.

Only it didn’t seem like her. It couldn’t have been her. Ada never wore blue, but people become desperate on the run.

****

A heavy sigh escaped his lips as Leon finally made it back to the shared private apartment that you and him call home. Checking the tiny mailbox, he fetched a few envelopes and a small package wrapped in paper before thanking the doorman. Adjusting his bags strap around his shoulder, Leon practically bolted for the elevator, wanting nothing more than to take a shower and to fall asleep in your arms.

Walking down the long hallway to your front door, Leon’s cellphone buzzed in his back pocket, alerting him of the time. 2:46 A.M. It was a Thursday, so Leon knew you’d be in bed as you had Friday’s off. Silently smirking to himself, a feeling of relief started to wash over his exhausted frame, but that was quickly taken away by the sight of a light beaming from underneath the back front door.

Silently pressing the keys into the lock, Leon slowly turned the piece of metal against the doorknob, and hesitantly opened the door. Coming face to face with an empty medium sized kitchen, he carefully put down his duffel bag by the counter, and reached for his trusty Matilda hidden in a secret cabinet.

Leaning towards the the brick wall that separated the kitchen from the large living room, one of the various vases shattered against the floor, breaking into multiple pieces. Hearing you scream, Leon bolted into action, and announced himself from his hiding spot. Within seconds he couldn’t believe what he was witnessing: you were on the floor, clutching your stomach, and bleeding from your nose.

Jabbing a taser into your side, Leon’s very target, the woman he was assigned to track down from his “failed” mission had infiltrated your home.

“Stop!” He ordered, stepping forward to Wong in blue.

“Leon, no don’t…! Don’t come any closer!” You warned, extending your hand to him.

Stopping in his tracks, Ada straightened from her towering form over you, and gazed at Leon with her black locks covering her barely sweaty face.

“Hmm, I take it that mission didn’t go well, Leon? Poor boy.” She mocked the man before you.

“How do you know about that?” Leon questioned, and his grip only tightened around his pistol.

“You really want to know? I thought I’d ask your lovey-dovey partner while she was out at the farmer’s market. It’s a shame, Y/N is really good at keeping secrets. Too bad her ribs are too bruised from being tased for two whole hours.” Ada explained, twirling the plastic device in her hands.

Writhing on the floor, you quietly reached for a spare butterfly knife tucked in your jeans, and Leon caught on once he realized this wasn’t the real Ada.

“Well, what can I say: as much as our relationship has been a thrilling chase, I’m happy with the lady I’ve got.” Leon declared, dodging the path of your blade.

Grazing the assassin in the shoulder, she winced in pain before zipping out the open window within seconds. Rushing to your side, Leon wrapped his leather jacket around your cold frame, and refused to leave your side.

****

5:21 A.M.

The police finally left the studio apartment after two hours of their seemingly useless questioning. Crossing the doorway into your shared bedroom, you were sitting in the edge of the bed, carefully tending to the bruises on your ribcage.

“You alright?” Leon asked, squatting to his knees, wanting to get a closer look.

“Just another day in the office.” You replied with a half smile.

“I’m so sorry. I should’ve been here for you, Y/N. I knew I shouldn’t have gone to Ontario.” He apologized, hesitantly touching your black and blue skin.

Taking his face in your hands, you cupped Leon’s cheeks in between your palms, allowing his worried blue eyes to meet yours.

“Leon, I’m okay. I promise. This is nothing a heat pad and painkillers won’t fix. I’m sorry about your mission.” You replied, reassuring him with your gentle touch.

“Okay…” He said with an understanding nod.

Rubbing your shoulder, he stood from his spot on the floor.

“Why don’t I make us some tea, and you get in a nice warm bath? It’ll make you feel better.” He advised, shrugging off his leather jacket.

****

Slipping out of his set of dirty jeans, Leon carefully stepped over the edge of the clawfoot tub, careful not to sting your skin. Sitting behind you, he extended his legs around you, and pulled you into his chest.

Surrendering yourself to the warm water, a deep sigh escaped your chest, and Leon wrapped his muscular arms around your body, finally enjoying a moment of comfort after one last night of pure chaos.

re taglist ~

@dreamliners

@iraot

@beautifuljellyfishqueen

@balach-cadalach

@fetaneecole

@odaschopsticks

@tiredsurvivoronmain

@thecodeisveronica

@andyacklesspn

@kanzukikarin

@cloudybakery

@swimninhoney

@ashiemochi

@kennedysharper

@highball66

@onewinged-sephiroth

@scariusaquarius

@shions-new-blog-of-stuff

@thatdummy-girl

@acupnoodle

@slaughtrx

@rpd-rookie

@oreo-leon

@xxresi-rotxx

@ashrillvenheim

@knifefightandchill

@tradgothprompto

@brittlecakes92

@mnjxs

@rebidemp-ebil

@chirikalovesjill

@paleepeaches

@dargoww

@blueyheart

@leonwifey

@arzublogworld

@ec1ips3

@dreamingchocochan

@mothxmoons

@josieinwonderland

@winksasleeplesseye

@jl-micasea-fics

@thatgoblin

@venchai

@decath3ct

[untowardsthoughts]

I Believe You Have A Call [dndads brothers au fic]

this is one of the fics that i mentioned in this post; a lil piece of the Glenn and Jodie Brothers AU that's been rollin around my noggin for a few months now. its basically just a rewrite of that one scene where glenn takes the phone call from morgan but brothers au

--

Excerpt taken from Dungeons & Daddies (Ep 28, The Bridges of Dad and Son County) Anthony: The shortest one walks up to Glenn and produces a cell phone. Shortest Robe: I believe you have a call. … Freddie: Uh… Caller ID? Nothing? Anthony: The caller ID says the name of your late wife, Morgan Freeman.

--

Standing face to face with the men who kidnapped their sons was bone-chilling, to say the least. Jodie stood there, ears plugged on account of Erin’s warning to their group, unable to hear anything of what was being said from the purple robes in front of them. 

Jodie and Henry watched the muffled back-and-forth between Darryl, Ron and the robed figures, until Paeden turned to the two of them, flicking his ears in a gesture of take out your earplugs. 

The tallest robe steps forward towards the dads, “You are going to answer yes or no to the following question: you will let us raise your children, in exchange we will help you leave the Forgotten Realms today. And not only that…”

The shortest one approaches Jodie, producing a small cellphone from the depths of their robe. Jodie takes a step back, hand inching towards his firearm on his holster. 

“I believe you have a call.”

… A call?

The only people capable of producing phone calls in this dimension were themselves to their wives, and Scam Likely - and seeing how the latter recently met his demise, Jodie doubts either option. 

Jodie gingerly takes the cellphone from the hooded figure and puts it to his ear.

“... Hello?”

“Hey man! How’s it hangin’?”

The phone almost slips from his hand. That can’t be him- he’s dead, he’s been dead- He steadies his breathing as he can feel himself about to choke up. 

“... Glenn? Is that- is that you?”

“Yeah dawg, did you lose my number already? I’ve been gone for, what, a month now? I woulda hoped you’d wait a bit longer than that, at least two.”

“No, no, no, no - I didn’t- What I meant was.. you’ve- I-”

“Relax dude, I was joking. Anyways, I’m calling to tell you that I’m on my way back! Dad and I are gonna be in town for a couple days and I wanted to see if you were down to hang out. I’m thinkin’ McDonalds?”

“.... What year is it?” Jodie can feel himself beginning to hyperventilate. Out of all things, a call from his late brother was the last thing he was expecting to deal with since coming into this realm and losing his kid. The thought crossed his mind when they were faced with the whole Terry Senior situation, but once all the Dads agreed that they were indeed not dead, Jodie tried not to give it any more thought. His brother’s been dead for at least a decade now, he can’t afford to spiral down that theory again. Not now. Not here, not when he was so close to getting his son back. 

“...Dude, are you okay? Don’t tell me you went through my shit, dammit. It’s like 1 in the afternoon! Did you eat anything? If it was the gummies on my desk- ”

“Glenn, answer the question - please.” 

“It's 1996. Joe, listen to me, man. You’re gonna be alright, just hang in there. Put on a movie, sit your ass down on the couch - I’ll be home in about 2 hours. Is mom home?”

“I- uhh…”

“Alright, forget about that. Just relax, you’ll be fine. Try to enjoy it! I’ll see you later.”

Click. 

[winola-heart]

💚 A Much Needed Heart-To-Heart 💜

Win-Win fanfic era ⁉️⁉️

CONTEXT BEFORE THE STORY BEGINS: In this story I'd like to think that Purple had been following Green's influencer arc too, just from the sidelines. Which means he saw everything including the prank video and Instagram posts and all. And also that xe also was trying to get him to see that things were getting a bit too much, but like the others was cast aside.

As per my headcanons Green goes by he/they in this fic, while Purple goes by he/xe

Also this story takes place after Green's insta post about how he's taking a break

Okaaayyy lets start 💯

💚💜💚💜💚💜

Isolated.

That was what Green had been feeling for the past few days. Out in the open, looking on towards the setting sun, standing atop a hill- the same hill where he filmed his Minecraft vlog video with his friends- yet it was as if he had nowhere to go.

His friends.

The very friends who'd stuck around with him for years at this point- the people who still stood by him after everything they'd went through, the truest companions he'd ever had in so, so long. And during this whole influencer debacle all they'd ever done was help him out and follow him through on that dream, even as he grew more insufferable- before he ruined it all with that prank.

These were the same friends that he'd called "fake".

Green buried their face into their knees, letting out a choked sigh.

"...Maybe I'm the fake friend."

They chuckled bitterly to themself.

...

Flap, flap, flap.

The sound of elytra wings would interrupt Green's lamenting. Looking up, they saw a very familiar figure approaching.

"Purple-?"

The person must have seen him too, as he leaned forward and started to fly down, landing with his feet skidding across the ground.

"Green...?"

"Purple-! How's it hangin'?" Green greeted their only friend still around, trying to put on the usual confident expression they always had.

"Oh, it's... doing alright, I'd say. Honestly, this is the first time in a while I've seen you without these sunglasses."

"Haha, yeah, y'know, gotta get that full view in my eyes! No obstructing this moment, right. Uh huh."

He gave Purple a quick smile for reassurance- however, xe seemed to have caught on immediately.

"...Something's up, isn't there?"

"What- what do you mean? Of course not. I'm just having some alone time, you know, we all need that..." continued Green- however, they could feel their expression wavering.

He couldn't convince Purple anyway- xe saw through the ruse.

"Green. I can tell that something's wrong," xe replied, their voice becoming serious. "What happened...?"

He couldn't pretend anymore. The only thing he could do was tell Purple the truth.

"Okay- I'll say it, alright?" they said. "I- I... screwed up."

Purple blinked. Then, xe raised an eyebrow.

"You could only tell that much now, huh?" xe asked.

"Listen, I know this realization might have come too late, alright? But I-..." Green sighed, putting his head in his hands. "I had my head too far up my ass to comprehend it. Even behind the scenes I didn't stop to think of their feelings- all I thought of was what I wanted. All I had in my mind was- the fame, the views I'd get, the followers I had. And I-" he stopped to take a breath. "I didn't- I didn't want to hear anyone else out. I thought they wanted to drag me down- that YOU did, too, but-"

Their voice tailed away. They heaved up and down. Then, they spoke again.

"-I see now that I was the ones dragging you all down with me. I've g-gone too far, and..."

Their voice began to crack.

"-it's... my fault. All of it. It's my fault that my friends are hurt, it's my fault that I'm alone, it's just- this is all my fault, okay?!"

And with that, he broke, the tears he'd convinced the public he didn't have finally spilling out of his eyes.

...

"...?"

Purple had taken a seat next to him.

"Truthfully..." he began. "...I think you should have realized you've gone too far long ago when you dropped the others into lava for a video."

"Yes- I know I should've... but I didn't. I disregarded the consequences, thought it'd be funny- well, looking back on it now, it definitely doesn't make me laugh anymore, either."

"Yeah, I'd expect so-! I TOLD you that it was a bad idea before you got yourself into this."

"And... I should have listened to you. But I didn't, and-" Green had to keep himself from letting out a sob again. "-and now look where I am. They're probably going to stay away from me- and why wouldn't they...?!"

"Wait- wait. Okay. Green, listen."

This made Green look up.

"I... get it," Purple began. "I've been there before. The feeling of screwing up hard, I mean. How I thought I'd never be forgiven. You- you were there, remember?"

Green remembered- how could he forget? Thinking back to when that chase up the hill happened- and then now... he gritted his teeth, not wanting to make eye contact.

"But... you made me see that there WAS a chance," continued Purple. "For me to make amends after everything- for me to start anew. And- I guess I'm back to reinforce that statement."

The green stick looked back at him, then.

"It doesn't HAVE to end this way, Green. It shouldn't- they're your friends! Red, Blue, Yellow, Second- all of them. You can still set things right. It's not too late... okay?"

It was as if Purple's words had struck something within him. Green simply sat there, blinking, silent.

After a bit, he wiped a tear from his eye, exhaling shakily.

"I... well, I guess you're right, Purp," he muttered after a while. "Listen, I know this is long overdue, but... I'm sorry that this all happened. I'm sorry that I brushed you aside, and I-"

"It shouldn't be me you're apologizing to, Green," Purple told them. "You should apologize to them. The others. They're probably worried that they've lost you, too! This could be your chance to make things right again. Admit where you messed things up, you know... and... tell them that you're sorry."

"You know what, you've got a point." He HAD been the one who'd put them through the wringer, after all. "But who's to say that it won't happen again? This whole YouTube business was what kickstarted this entire fiasco-"

"You don't have to stop doing that, either," Purple replied. "Of course you can continue with your social media stuff if you really want to. Just... think about the others' feelings more from here on out, alright? Be more considerate, don't disregard how they might feel, don't shove them aside and ignore them..."

Green listened, nodding along to Purple's words.

"...and obviously DON'T drop them into lava for views, either. Or anything else of the sort. I don't think that'll be forgotten."

"I don't think I'll be able to forget that, either," Green replied, shaking his head.

Then, the corners of his mouth turned up into a little smile- the first time he'd smiled during this moment.

"Hey... thanks, Purp. I needed this," he said. "A lot."

"Don't mention it- okay?" Purple replied. "And... good luck with sorting things out."

Xe gave him a smile back- before a pair of green-colored arms wrapped around him.

"Oh-!"

Xe gasped- before wrapping his own arms around Green, too.

The two of them stayed there like that for a few moments, just Green and Purple atop the hill, eyes closed, hugging each other as the sun continued to set behind them.

At that fleeting moment... everything was at peace.

...

Then, Green's arms unwrapped from Purple, as he picked himself off the ground and stood up.

"Welp, it's time," he said. "Time for me to set things right- once and for all."

"You're- you're going?" asked Purple, looking up. "A-Alright, I- guess this'll be goodbye."

"That it'll be, my good Purp." Green turned around- but not before giving Purple one more wave. "See you then?"

"See you then," Purple said. "O-Oh, and... good luck. Again. Okay?"

"Hah..." Green chuckled again. "Thanks, Purp. And- thanks again for this talk."

Both of them exchanged smiles once more, before Green turned around, walking the other way.

The way to fixing up what he'd made wrong.

💚💜💚💜💚💜

[bluemantics]

Ring, a small bell tinkled, signaling the entrance of someone into the bar.

“We’re closed,” Lance called from behind the bar, rubbing it down with a cloth. Cream-colored towel smoothed alcohol stains off of the deep mahogany, and Lance stepped back for a moment to take a break and admire his work.

“Do I not get an exception?” a thick western accent drawled. Lance’s head snapped up, eyes wide.

“Keith,” he murmured. There he stood, just in front of the door, his whole outfit white and black save for his red boots. Lance loved those. They were proof that Keith could be sentimental, if anything.

“You shouldn’t be here,” Lance said into the silence. He couldn’t help but notice the contrast between his accent and Keith’s, the irony of him telling Keith to leave. “It’s not safe, Red.”

“Pfft.” Keith sidled up to the bar, a dangerous gleam in his deep purple eyes. Lance shuddered. “Since when has danger ever stopped me… or you, apparently?”

Lance froze, halfway turned to clean up the back wall. “Sorry, what do you mean?”

Keith reached over the bar to grab himself a bottle of whiskey and poured himself a glass, staring at it and swirling it under his palm, gaze now turned down to the drink instead of Lance.

“What would the people of this sweet ol’ town say if they knew that their kindly bartender was not just hangin’ round with the fearsome outlaw Red, but was an outlaw himself?” Keith quickly looked up to see Lance, expression flint, waiting for the other foot to drop. “Ain’t that right, Blueshot?”

BANG.

Keith stumbled back, hands scrabbling for purchase in his coats, but Lance hopped over the bar in a smooth motion and grabbed his collar. He quickly shoved Keith back to the wall, pressing his back to the dark blue paint. Keith’s hands came up.

“That,” Lance hissed, pointing to the hole in the wall next to Keith’s head. “Was a warning shot, got that? I’m living a fine life right now, alright sweet cheeks? Don’t need anyone screwin’ that up for me. We clear?”

They were barely an inch apart. Lance’s measures breath mingled with Keith’s fast panting, but despite Keith’s obvious distress Lance stayed stock still. Keith’s eyes snapped to the pearl-handled revolver in Lance’s left hand.

He’d shot that with his left hand.

“Fuck, fuck,” Keith huffed. “Yeah. We clear, Blue, just get off, Jesus Christ.”

Lance just hummed, looking down at Keith with an expression he’d never seen on the previously peaceful bartender.

“I dunno,” he purred. “I kind of like you like this.”

Keith’s jaw dropped, failing to form a coherent word.

After a far-too-long (short?) pause, Lance pushed away from him. The gun vanished somewhere at his side. Keith came away from the wall, collecting himself.

“So now what?” Keith demanded, rubbing at his collar.

“Now,” Lance said easily, rolling up his sleeves to clean up more. “Maybe I’ll let you come back if you keep it a goddamn secret. And maybe I’ll see you around more now that we got somethin’ in common. That is, if you don’t get caught.”

Keith looked down to his forearm. A blazing symbol was on his skin, right below his elbow, a… V, just like his own but in blue.

“Alright.”

“Now get out of the bar, Kogane.”

[rinneverse]

hiii congrats on 300 followers! can I ask for B J O and U for reo mikage?

HELLOOO NONNIE thank u v much ♡ i hope this lives up to ur expectations🤞🤞

a part of my ongoing 300 milestone event!

[ ❥ ] REO MIKAGE + B, J, O, & U!

[N]SFW CONTENT, MINORS DNI! cw pro player!reo, masturbation, oral (both m + f receiving), overstim, fem!reader

— b ; body part!

reo's favorite body part on himself is probably his arms. he's proud of how far he's come physically, especially with his training; and he thinks that you just look sooo pretty hangin' off of his biceps.

his favorite body part on you? i had a bit of trouble thinking of this one, but i think that he really really likes your legs. reo looooves leavin' hickeys on your inner thighs—it feels like a very intimate spot that only the two of you will ever get to see.

— j ; jack off!

i think that at first, reo wasn't too concerned with jacking off—he was more worried about achieving his dreams, daydreaming and lost in his own pretty little world where he wins the world cup with his best friend. every now and then he'll give into the urge, if only to get rid of some of the pent up frustration he has from everyday life. but when you come into the picture—oh, a pretty little thing, you were—you seemed to consume his very being. he finds himself needing to get off more once he falls for you, imagining your gummy walls whenever he fucks up desperately into his fist, or your pretty lips wrapped around his cock, tears gathering in your eyes as you take him inch by fucking inch.

reo knows he's got it bad once he notices how many tissues he's gone through.

— o ; oral!

pleeeaseeee PLEAAASEEEE just hear me out. i think that reo eats pussy for his own pleasure. thinking about it drives me fucking BANANAS like just imagine: he's got you pulled to the edge of the bed, kneeling in front of you as he eats you out like a man starved. you run your hands through his hair, and when you tug, he groans. he groans so deeply and sexily and his purple eyes are screwed shut in pleasure as he holds your quivering thighs open. he'll definitely overstim you just because he gets so lost in your taste.

now when it comes to receiving head, i think that he just has the prettiest whimpers. he'll guide your head gently as you bob along his length, and if you tease him a little too hard, he's not against fucking your face. he never really explicitly asks for head since he prioritizes your pleasure over his own (you've got him wrapped around your pretty lil' finger, after all)

— u ; unfair!

reo isn't too unfair for the most part, but he certainly loves flustering you and watching you stumble over your words as he leans in real close. in bed, he'll whisper the dirtiest phrases into your ears, warm breath fanning across your skin and sending goosebumps down your spine. he relishes in the squeak you let out as he nips at your earlobe, telling you what a pretty girl you are, how you take him so well, how you belong to nobody but him and him alone.

all in all, he is super focused on your pleasure—in fact, he rather enjoys overstimming you. loves to make you cum until you physically can't anymore. it might be his favorite activity.

does my silly little dance

[alexagirlie]

It's Duncan Idaho and I can be a slut if I want to be

A/N: I was still learning how to write when I wrote this series, please ignore the horrible grammar.

Song featured in the story is "Hail to the King" by Avenged Sevenfold

(Series Masterlist)

Header and art by me, divider by @cafekitsune

Fandom: Dune

Pairing: Groupie Paul / Musician Duncan

Rating: E

Words: 5,3k

Summary: Paul had spent many hours daydreaming about those muscles, what they would feel like under his hands and mouth. Hours spent touching himself to shirtless photoshoots and imagining all the things he wanted to do to Duncan. To have Duncan do to him.

TWs: band au. Tattoo'd paul. Tattoo'd duncan. M/M sex. Rimming. Anal fingering. Anal sex. Oral sex. Age Difference. Size Difference. Strength kink.

Taglist: @softhecreator @almostg @gatoenlaciudad

The beat of the bass pulsed so deep and so loud that it felt like a heartbeat in Paul's chest. Lights flashed and changed, red, blue, purple, yellow. Bodies pressed against his back, jostling him into the barrier at his front. Even so Paul couldn't contain the excitement that had built in his bones, built in his blood at finally being able to see one of his favourite bands live in concert.

He had been a fan of the Blades of Gintaz since he first heard them on the radio 5 years ago when he was 16. He had immediately ran out and bought all their albums and spent the following 6 months listening to nothing else. (He also developed a teeny tiny crush on their lead guitarist.)

The first song of their set finished and the opening chords of his favourite song rang out. Paul joined in the cheer that sounded through the crowd, hands in the air and closed his eyes to really feel the rhythm in his bones.

Paul let the lyrics flow through him, mouthing along with the words.

"Watch your tongue or have it cut from your head. Save your life by keeping whispers unsaid. Children roam the streets now orphans of war. Bodies hangin' in the streets to adore"

Something about this song just spoke to Paul, he could never explain it to people. The combination of the lyrics and the layers of instrumental work struck a chord in him.

"Royal flames will carve a path in chaos.

Bringing daylight to the night (night).

Death is riding into town with armor.

They've come to take all your rights."

"Hail to the King

Hail to the one

Kneel to the crown

Stand in the sun

Hail to the King

(Hail, hail, hail)

(The King)"

Following the chorus Paul opens his eyes just in time for all the spotlights to land on the lead guitarist, Duncan Idaho, as he rips into his solo. Paul was close enough he could see the sweat sliding down Duncan's neck, already sticking his shirt to his sculpted pecs and abs. His thick nimble fingers flew across the strings, playing flawlessly.

Paul had spent many hours daydreaming about those muscles, what they would feel like under his hands and mouth. Hours spent touching himself to shirtless photoshoots and imagining all the things he wanted to do to Duncan. To have Duncan do to him.

The first time Paul had fingered himself it was imagining those thick ring covered fingers in place of his own. It was the most intense orgasm of his teenage life. He had quickly improved upon it, getting very good at finding his prostate.

The first time he had used a toy was after a solo photoshoot Duncan had done where he was shirtless and wet in most of the photos. Paul had slid a dildo into his ass and used it to fuck himself to an orgasm so strong his release hit his chin. All without putting a single hand on his cock. (Okay so it may be more than just a crush, but Paul wasn't about to tell anyone that.)

Paul had saved for months to afford the tickets to see Blades of Gintaz and had managed to score himself a VIP pass. The passes gave the carrier early access to the venue so Paul was able to stake out a good spot right on the rails and a meet and greet with the band after the show ended. He had even taken a moment to snap a selfie in front of the stage during sound check. He couldn't wait to post it and about the concert after the show closed.

Paul gets lost in the music, gets lost in the lights and the feeling in his chest that threatens to explode. He closes his eyes, tilts his head back with a wide carefree grin on his face and just moves. It was euphoric.

Finally, with chants of encore encore encore the band plays their last song of the night. An epic ballad which was the perfect choice to wind the crowd down. At one point Duncan was stationed right at the front of the stage, head bent and fingers flying over the strings. He looks up through his hair and Paul could have sworn his gaze locked onto Paul's. But that would be a crazy fan level of delusion and Paul refused to be that brand of fan boy. (He wasn't crazy, Duncan had noticed the beautiful Twink in the front row and couldn't help making brief eye contact.)

The song ends and the show comes to a close. The front woman thanks the crowd and the venue and the band makes their way off stage. Paul makes his way to the entrance of the VIP area, flashes his pass and is let into the meet and greet area. About a dozen other people filter in behind him. They had been allowed to leave any bags in the room prior to the show starting so Paul headed to where he left his and pulled out two magazines.

One magazine had a group shot of the band on the front cover and was a safe bet to have them all sign. The second was the magazine which contained his favourite photoshoot of Duncan and had fueled many of his late night fantasies. He hoped he could have Duncan sign this one too.

Paul was almost vibrating with a mix of excitement and nerves as the members of the band began filtering into the room. It was an informal meet and greet, pass holders were encouraged to mingle freely and the band members were to make their rounds.

Paul gets autographs from the lead singer, bassit, second guitarist and the drummer all before Duncan makes his appearance. Duncan appeared to be freshly showered, hair damp and hanging loose around his neck and broad shoulders. He was dressed in a pair of tight baby pink pants, a white long sleeve Henley with the sleeves pushed up showing his forearms and his shark teeth tattoo. He had a thin pink scarf hanging around his neck, just a few shades darker than his pants.

Paul felt his jeans tighten as he registered what Duncan was wearing and he wanted to drop to his knees right then and there and beg for Duncan cock down his throat. He had to turn away and give himself a moment to calm down, taking deep breaths and thinking about anything other than blowing the man of his wet dreams. He runs a hand through his messy curls then tries to sublely adjust his hard cock so it wasn't obviously straining the front of his jeans. (He failed.)

Duncan couldn't get the face of the dark haired twink out of his head after the show closed. He went so far as to wrap a hand around himself in the shower, needing an outlet after the energy of the show and pictured those red lips wrapped around his cock. Got him off in record time.

He hurried to get dried off and dressed and rushed off to the area they had set up for the meet and greet. He shouldn't keep the fans waiting, they had paid good money to meet everyone.

Entering the room he could feel eyes on him, heavy as a caress down his body. Looking around the room he sees that same twink, obviously checking him out before quickly spinning around to put his back to the door and messing with his clothes and hair.

Duncan took the opportunity to give the guy a good once over, now able to see more than just his face from the concert floor. He was wearing skin tight white jeans tucked into black ankle boots and an oversized black knit sweater finished off the look. His hair was a wild mess of curls which he was only making messier by running his fingers through it.

His ass looked amazing and Duncan could only imagine what it would look like spread around his cock. He had a feeling it would be a spectacular view. He saw the twink adjust himself and grinned. He had a feeling if he played his cards right that he was going to have company in his hotel room tonight.

He needed to make his rounds with the other VIP pass holders first then he would make his move.

Paul turned back to face the room after attempting to make himself presentable to see Duncan making his rounds through the other VIP guests. He seems to be taking several minutes with each person, making sure to have a real conversation with them. It was something that Paul had always admired about Duncan, he seemed to genuinely appreciate his fans.

Paul kills time by helping himself to a complimentary soda and flipping through one of his magazines. He feels the very air shift and looks up and comes face to chest with the pec muscles that wet dreams were made of. He looked up further until he could meet Duncan's beautiful deep brown eyes.

They exchange the standard pleasantries, Paul introducing himself, Duncan asking what he thought of the night's set list. Paul can't help but flirt a little, letting Duncan know how much he enjoys his playing. Complimenting his fashion choices, not all guys can pull off baby pink after all. His eyes kept catching on Duncan's mouth as he was talking or on the light dusting of chest hair Paul can see peeking out the unbuttoned top of his Henley.

Eventually one of venues staff reminds everyone that their time is coming to an end and to finish up. Paul finally hands over the two magazines for Duncan to sign. Duncan is quick with the first magazine but takes special care with the one containing his solo spread. He has it open to a page in the middle and is writing a message Paul cannot see before closing it and handing it back.

"It was nice meeting you Paul"

"It was nice meeting you too"

They said goodnight and Duncan left with the rest of his band mates while the VIP guests were ushered out. Paul gathers up the rest of his belongings, feeling like he is on cloud nine. He had just met Duncan Idaho and it was amazing and mind blowing. He leaves the concert hall and steps out into the warm summer night when he pauses to look over what was written on his magazines. The group cover had the standard, nice to meet you message and signature, the other magazine however had the most peculiar message on it.

Duncan had signed it then right below that it read; 'Turn to page 52'

Paul flipped to the page in question, which was right in the middle of Duncan's photoshoot, to see another message scrawled across what was coincidentally his favourite image. Duncan was sitting on the beach, leaning back while the surf rushed up over his legs and groins. His shorts were clinging to him like a second skin and left little to the imagination. His chest was bare and gleamed in the sun, hair loose and wild around his face and shoulders. His brown eyes staring directly into the camera.

Paul read the message, couldn't believe what was written so had to read it again. Then a third time before it really sank in.

'Your the most beautiful thing I have seen in a long time. I would love to see more of you. Come to room 2022 at Hotel Arrakeen. I'll be waiting'.

Paul still couldn't quite believe it, he was being propositioned by Duncan Idaho, by the guy that sparked his bisexual panic and that he jerks off to at least twice a week. It was unreal, there was no way it was actually happening. (It was).

Paul debated with himself, should he go to the hotel, or should he just go home. Chock it up to a dream fueled by the joint he smoked before the show and adrenaline. Does he really want to be that fan, that sleeps with a band member or leave. (Guess which one he picks)

A fifteen minute walk later and Paul finds himself in the lobby of Hotel Arrakeen, hurrying past the luckily empty reception desk and hoping no one catches him. He wasn't sure what he would tell anyone if he was seen sneaking in. He gets into the elevator and presses the button for the 20th floor. As the elevator starts to move Paul is still debating with himself. He couldn't help but wonder to himself if he wasn't being a bit of a whore? It WAS Duncan Idaho, anyone else who was in his place would do the same wouldn't they? With that body, those eyes and the rumor that he was an absolute animal in bed you would be dumb to miss out on the chance. Paul hoped Duncan was a real beast in bed.

Paul's over eager dick ended up deciding for him, it was Duncan fucking Idaho, whom he has spent a quarter of his life jerking off too. He can be a giant slut if he goddamn wants to be. He will never get another opportunity like this.

Decision made Paul exits the elevator and turns down the hallway to room 2022. He knocks on the door, rocking on his heels, trying not to let the butterflies in his stomach get in the way of his horny determination. He can hear soft footsteps coming from within the room and then the door swings open revealing Duncan in all his glory. Duncan who had stripped off his Henley and is now in a low cut white tank top, glorious muscular arms and chest full on display.

Paul freezes for a minute, eyes running down Duncan's form, chest down to bare toes then back up to meet his gaze. He can't help but grin a little bit, licking his lips nervously.

Luckily Duncan is not so intimidated, he grabs a fist full of Paul's sweater and pulls him bodily into the room, kicking the door closed behind them.

Paul finds himself pressed firmly against the inside of the hotel door. His head bracketed between strong muscled biceps and forearms with Duncan a warm weight against his front. Paul tips his head back against the door with a thunk and meets Duncan gaze with heavy lidded green eyes. His heart was pounding.

Duncan's voice was a low rumble "This okay?" One of his hands moved from the door to rest on the curve of Paul's neck, his thumb pressing firmly against the hinge of his jaw.

Paul felt his cock harden to the point of painfulness in his jeans at the firm touch, at the possessiveness of the hold and at the fact that Duncan was asking for verbal consent. That even though Paul had shown up to his room he did not take it to mean that Paul wanted his touch.

Paul reached out and hooked his fingers in the belt loops of Duncan pants, "Yes Please," he answered, his desire obvious in his voice. He was so hard and his underwear was soaked from the precome leaking from his cock.

He pulled Duncan the last step needed to completely close the distance between their bodies. Pressing them together from chest to groin. Paul moaned at the feeling of Duncan erection pressing up against his own, it felt huge and he couldn't wait to get his mouth on it.

Duncan closes the distance between their mouths and lays a few slow closed mouthed kisses to Paul's lips. His beard scratches pleasantly against Paul's face. His stomach jumps and tightens as Duncan runs his tongue across his bottom lip, nipping at one of his snakebites. The hand on Paul's jaw slides around and cups the back of his neck, angling his head just so. He opens his mouth and the kiss deepens. Tongues sliding together and teeth nipping and panting gasping breaths.

Paul feels Duncan's thigh press up between his legs, making Paul's hips grind down helplessly. Duncan pulled on the hair under his fingers and it all felt so good. Paul couldn't help letting out several moans and high pitched whines.

Duncan breaks away from Paul long enough to pull his tank off, muscles in his arms and shoulders rippling. Paul helped by pushing the material up his stomach and chest. He then steps back into Paul's space to help Paul pull his sweater up over his head, his shirt following shortly after. His hair tousled into wild curls around his face.

Duncan grabs Paul around the waist and they stumble over to the bed, Paul pushing Duncan down to sit on the edge before dropping to his knees between Duncans spread legs and working on his belt. He throws it to the floor beside him then pops the button. He bites lip and pulls the zipper down. Duncan's hard cock springs up against his stomach, Paul's mouth watering as he takes in the bead of precome already forming at the tip and the gleam of metal. Metal barbells, not only is Duncan hung he has his fucking cock pierced.

"Fuck your cock is even better then I imagined" The words slip out of Paul's mouth before he can think better of it. He flushes a little when Duncan lets out a deep rumbling chuckle.

Duncan leaned back on his palms and looked down at Paul in amusement. "Spent much time thinking about my dick have we?" He asks Paul, seeming to be genuinely interested in the answer.

"I'm here aren't I? I think it's implied I've thought about what your dick looks like" was Paul's cheeky response.

Despite how eager he was Paul starts off slowly. He takes Duncan's cock in hand, giving it a single stroke and an almost chaste kiss to the tip drawing a groan out of Duncan's throat. That single kiss turns into a series of open mouthed kisses that Paul lays wetly down the length of Duncan's cock. When he gets to the base he sucks Duncan's balls into his mouth, one after the other, drawing another loud groan out of the man in front of him. The sound made Paul throb in his jeans.

Paul wants to pull more noises out of Duncan so he spends several minutes alternating between each sac before he licks a wet stripe up the underside of Duncan cock. When he gets to the top he wraps his lips around the tip and gives it a lazy suckle. Paul lets out a moan of his own at the taste as a spurt of precome pools on his tongue.

Duncan gets both hands in Paul's wild mess of hair trying not to pull on his curls, just holding, grounding himself. Paul releases Duncan cock with a pop and looks up at him through his lashes, licking his lips.

"You can pull my hair if you want" He suggests to the bigger man "It gets me hot."

Duncan grinned down at the younger man "Oh is that so, like this then?" Duncan tightened his fingers in the curls, pulling hard enough to make Paul's scalp sting and pull a pained gasp out of his mouth.

Paul nods eagerly, relishing in the pull as he does so, then gets his mouth back around Duncan cock. This time sinking down, down until it hits the back of his throat and he gags a little. He takes a slow breath through his nose, relaxing his throat and trying to sink further down, desperately wanting to swallow the whole thing. He can't quite manage but he does his best.

A few minutes go by like this, with the wet sounds of Paul's mouth as it glides over Duncan's cock. One of Paul's hands jacking the parts his mouth cannot reach, the other hand sliding down and palming firmly at Duncan's balls. Paul figures Duncan must be enjoying himself based on the sounds and words escaping his mouth.

"That's good, take it all down."

"Your mouth feels so good baby."

Duncan hips start to move, making shallow aborted thrusts. Paul takes note and pulls back so just the tip of Duncan cock is still in his mouth. He freezes there, very gently sucking and looks up at Duncan through the fringe of his hair, waiting to see if Duncan will take the bait. He places his hands on his thighs, fingers clenched in the material.

Duncan growls out a low fuck and twists hard on the handful he has of Paul's hair before using it as a handle to pull Paul's mouth down to meet his slow upward thrust. "Want me to fuck your mouth baby?"

He waits for Paul's answering nod and moan then starts to thrust, slow and shallow. As Paul relaxes into the rhythm he soon starts to pick up speed and fuck deeper into Paul's throat. Paul's eyes are wet and he is moaning continuously. One of his hands moved from his thighs to press firmly against his hard cock through his jeans. He doesn't even care about the bite of metal as he presses down, just needing to relieve the pressure.

Duncan pulled Paul off his cock, a line of precome and saliva connecting it to Paul's panting mouth. Hands still in his hair he pulls Paul up and claims his mouth in a deep devouring kiss. He uses his hold in black curls to bring them both to their feet then let's go to get his hands under Paul's thighs, lifting him up off the ground. Paul throws his arms around Duncan neck. Wraps his legs around Duncan's waist, completely overwhelmed by how strong Duncan is.

Without breaking the kiss Duncan turns around and crawls onto the bed, Paul still cradled in his arms. He tips them onto the bed and they spend several more minutes kissing heavily. Hips grinding and hands wandering over flesh. Paul can feel the beard burn forming down his neck and chest. Finally Duncan pulls back, staring down at Paul.

"Take off your pants" comes the gruff command, striking just the right authoritative tone to make Paul pliant and obedient. He was quick to obey, hands scrambling at his button and zipper, getting his pants undone and pushed down over his hips. Duncan was there helping him peel them down and off his long legs, dropping his jeans on the floor. He wasn't wearing anything underneath.

"That's a good boy"

Paul was positive that he had never been so turned on in his life. His cock was an angry red and it was drooling a continuous stream of precome onto his stomach. It gave a twitch at the praise and his face flushed. He watched appreciatively as Duncan made quick work of his own pants and briefs, dropped them to the floor. He gave himself a few strokes and Paul's brain shorts out at the visual.

Duncan crawls back up the bed and between Paul's sprawled legs, his hard cock hanging huge and purple at the tip. His piercing glistening in the low light with Paul's saliva. Duncan runs his hands up the inside of Paul thighs, thumbs digging in wonderfully, spreading them wider and slotting himself better in between.

"What do you want Paul?"

Paul pulled his eyes away from their focus on Duncan's massive cock and met his gaze. "I want your cock inside me, I want you to fuck me so hard I limp for a week"

Duncan grinned at Paul wolfishly "I can do that pretty boy, I can do that". Duncan gets his hands under Paul's knees and pushes them up. When he met no resistance he kept pushing until Paul's knees hit his chest. Leaving Paul's hole spread and exposed to the warm air of the room. Paul can feel Duncan's gaze on him, hungry and appreciative.

"Hold them open for me, that's a good boy"

Paul's flush is spreading down his neck and chest but he hooks his knees over his elbows and holds himself open for Duncan. Who has leaned over the side of the bed and is rifling around in the side table drawer. After a minute he pulls out a tube of lube and a condom. He drops both on the bed before leaning over Paul and running his tongue along his taint causing Paul to moan and squirm. Rimming was one of Paul's favourite activities to have done to his ass.

Duncan spent several minutes eating Paul out before he reached out blindly, grabbing for the tube of lube. Popping the cap he liberally coats his fingers in the slick substance before sliding the first one in beside his tongue. It sinks into the first knuckle easily, Paul having been opened up quite nicely on Duncan's tongue.

Duncan quickly works up to three fingers and Paul is a writhing mess. His cock and stomach are soaking with precome and he is rocking back against Duncan's fingers as much as his position allows. Duncan pulls away briefly, manhandling Paul up over his lap. Lining his fingers back up with Paul's hole he pushes all 3 back in, using his other hand to encourage Paul to rock his hips.

"Fuck! I'm gonna cum!" Paul groaned out as he chases the feeling of Duncan's fingers inside of him. They were pressing against his prostate with each thrust and twist of his fingers, sending sparks of pleasure up his spine and making his toes curl. His orgasm was approaching at a rapid pace.

"Could you go again?" Duncan kept up the quick pace of his fingers but angled them to miss Paul's prostate, to draw out the moment and not let Paul cum.

It took Paul a minute as his mind was fuzzy with pleasure and stalled orgasm. "What?" The word was almost a whine.

"If I let you get off now, could you cum again while I was fucking you?"

"Yes, yes please! Let me cum, please" Paul begged, hips moving, riding Duncan fingers trying to get them deeper inside him, back to where he wanted them most "Please!"

The last please was almost a wail and Duncan listened, adjusting the angle of his fingers inside of Paul. Making sure to nail his prostate each time, drawing the most beautiful sounds out of Paul. He was so close, practically bouncing to meet Duncan's fingers, his hole clenching like a vice.

"Good, I want you to cum, right now"

And Paul did, he tossed his head back, curls flying, and his whole body tensed up as he came so hard he splattered up to his chin with his release. He whined at the over stimulation as Duncan was still moving his fingers slowly, milking his orgasm for as long as possible.

"Good Boy"

Duncan tipped Paul over onto his back then leaned over Paul and licked a line of his release up off his stomach. He licked his lips and grinned up at Paul. "You taste good".

Duncan was relentless, barely letting Paul catch his breath before helping him turn over on his knees and had him grip the bars of the head board. He takes a minute to slip the condom on and lube up before his hands grip Paul's hips, adjusting him so his ass is extended. Duncan laid a line of kisses down his spine, paying special attention to the lines of the tattoo along his spine. Thumbs digging into the skin just below where Paul had his lower back pierced.

Chest pressed to back Duncan lines his cock up with Paul's slick opening. Letting just the tip catch on his rim before withdrawing, the metal barbell surprising cold against his skin. Paul moans desperately, push back against Duncan cock, trying to get him to stop teasing him.

Finally Duncan sank the first couple of inches into Paul and it was everything Paul had fantasized about. Duncan's cock was hot and hard and filled him just right. It burned as he slowly sunk another few inches in and Paul's eyes rolled into the back of his head. His hands were gripping Paul's hips like a vice and Paul hoped he would come away from this night with a few finger shaped bruises.

Duncan bottoms out inside Paul and pauses, breath coming heavy against the back of Paul's neck. He pulls his cock out a few inches before slowing pushing back in, letting Paul adjust and stretch around his girth. The piercing an odd pleasurable sensation sliding against Paul's walls.

As Paul relaxes and starts to push back against each thrust Duncan picks up speed. Soon he is setting a punishing pace, hard and deliberate against Paul's prostate. His grip on Paul's hips pulling him back to meet each thrust. Soon he had Paul begging again, the pleasure being unrelenting and his orgasm just out of reach. All the needed was a touch to out him over.

Duncan slid one hand around to grab Paul's renewed erection stroking him hard and fast. He bites down on Paul's right shoulder and Paul is coming again, screaming his release. Come staining the headboard and the bed below him.

Duncan slows the movement of his hips to a stop, "Think you can do one more?" He asks in Paul's ear. Hand petting over Paul's stomach, rubbing his spend into his skin. He kisses the mark left by his teeth while Paul catches his breath, muscles unclenching one by one.

Paul nods weakly and lets himself be manhandled by Duncan again. They end up with Duncan laying back and Paul over his lap, sinking down on his cock. Paul braces himself on Duncan's knees and lets himself be guided into a slow grind. He is whining high in his throat from the over sensitivity. He probably needed a few more minutes but he wanted desperately to be good for Duncan.

Paul wants to be praised and to be called a good boy again in Duncan's deep voice. As the sensitivity goes away and he gets his wind back Paul begins riding Duncan in earnest. Duncan has his head thrown back, his hair a wild mess across the pillows, eyes closed in concentration. He is chasing his own orgasm now and Paul is just along for the ride. A hole for him to use.

Paul is so focused on getting Duncan to that point that his third orgasm takes him by surprise. Surging up from nowhere and making him seize up, losing his balance and tipping face first into Duncan's chest, completely overwhelmed. He has nothing left in him so only a few drops of cum dribble out and drip onto Duncan's stomach.

His body locks up around Duncan and it takes two, three more thrusts of Duncan's hips before he is emptying himself into Paul, filling the condom. His groan is loud and satisfied. They lay there for several minutes, panting while Paul tried to regain feeling in his limbs.

"That…. was.. something" He pants out, breathing hard against Duncan's neck. He can feel the chuckle in Duncan's chest, rumbling under his check.

"That is was my boy" Duncan agrees, rubbing his hands up and down Paul's back "that it was."

Once they have cooled down and caught their breath Duncan dumps Paul gently onto the bed and gets up to wander into the bathroom. Paul lays there, limbs all askew and watched him, appreciating the play of muscles along his back and ass. Duncan comes back, condom tossed and a wet cloth in hand which he hands over to Paul so he can make an attempt at wiping himself down. He knows he will need a hot shower to get all the cum off his body.

Duncan pulls the corner of the bed spread down and slides in. "Stay?" He asked Paul, holding an arm open in invitation.

Paul smiles, drops the dirty clothes on the floor and wiggles his way under the covers, all loosed limbed from the thorough fucking he had been given. He curls up under Duncan's arm and rests his cheek against his chest. Duncan reaches over and turns the lamp off. Snuggling down they drift off to sleep.

Guess the rumours were true, Duncan really was an animal in bed.

(In the morning they go again in the shower. Duncan brings Paul to his first orgasm of the day with just his mouth, eating him out hungrily. His second orgasm was while Duncan was buried balls deep, fucking him against the shower wall. Paul's brain shorts out every time he thinks about how strong Duncan is. After they have dried off and clothes are back on they exchanged numbers and Duncan calls Paul for booty calls whenever he is in the city. His band mates tease him relentlessly about the mystery fan he pulled. They could hear them through the hotel walls. Then boys catch feelings and secretly start dating for real, then they come out and get married and it's a huge things cause Paul is half Duncan's age but they don't give a fuck.)

Bonus art for anyone interested can be found on AO3

[boxblondiecoops]

You should totally write a small thing bout the Band AU stuff, justice for the rockstar ( especially) trey and matt fr 🙏🏼 I would love to see you give your own opinions about it

-Saphari ★

As someone who literally listens to DVDA (I listen to maybe two songs) I- I'm so gay for the band AU shit. Like knowing Matt and Trey literally can sing and play shit makes me shake.

Mostly because of this. It's- you can see the energy and I need that. The neck, the hands? All it. All him.

I can not control myself, is what I'm learning. This is kinda smutty like it- it's just me being slutty for them tbh. Ok anyway idea times.

Gender neutral, mentions of slutty behavior.

✴✶✴✶

Let's see. Imma break this up the I can organize my thoughts.

If you're a fan...

So if you're just a fan, they (Matt and Trey) would both, likely, call you out if you're a "regular" at they're concert's.

And probably give you like a big hug over the railing at the like meet and greet sign bullshit after word SOULY to see you turn red and stammer.

They love you tho, I mean come on. You're adorable. Like a puppy.

If you don't understand some of the lyrics to the songs and like.. what they mean? Trey is ALL over you. Because he has that dumb stupid fucking kink.

If you have the same music taste as Matt, like Primus and shit? He's so down for anything you have to say. You could say the sky is purple and he'd look up and go "damn you right babe"

They LOVE knowing the fact they could probably tour anywhere and someone as adorable and innocent as you would just follow them and it's the exact OPPOSITE of what they're ego needs.

They give you a nickname since they don't really.... Know your name, just your face. Probably referencing the outfit you wore or your hair color or something dumb, I donno.

If you happen to bump into them just before the-the band starts? And like get blushy and explain yourself they just kinda smirk at each other and ask if you wanna hang out

It's fueling they're egos so damn much. Collectively.

Like Matt probably puts his arm around your shoulders and is like "backstage tour, just for you" and guides you back there.

And Trey's just watching you and shakes his head, tongue against cheek, because he knows it would be just so fucking easy to get you to do whatever they wanted.

But they sooooo offer to sign your chest. Or your hip. Or your thigh. Whatever, wherever.

They love it because it's like they claimed you.

Oh my god. You asking someone to take a pic of you three and it ends up being that one pic of like that lucky girl being kissed by both of them on the cheek.

Hangin out in the van with them before songs becomes a usual thing.

They also don't know your name still- anything they sign for you is made out to your nickname.

Like maybe Trey asked for it when he was drunk after a concert but he does NOT remember but he remembers moaning it as he uh relieved some stress....

And Matt definitely heard it come from your friends but he doesn't care about your name, no, he wants to hear HIS name leave your lips.

They do learn your name after a few repeats of they're concerts, they aren't total assholes.

But both are ridiculously talented. Trey's got that breath control and Matt's got those big bass hands. And Trey has the tongue technique and Matt has the ambidextrous talent. And that's all I'm saying about anything ever.

At the end of the day tho, they do find it admirable that you genuinely like them and the shit they make.

Trey can be a lil.............. self destructive when it comes to specific stuff he's not proud of, but knowing you'll give him genuinely helpful critiques makes him feel a bit more relaxed about it.

And with Matt's temper? He tried his best to keep it under control but you're like the one person he genuinely can't get mad at. Like he's tried. It doesn't work. You just make him soft.

If you're their manager...

Oh, they LOVE making it hard for you.

Like they do the most questionable shit on stage and then you have to explain it to like so many people and it basically just goes

"Who actually controls them?" "Who fucking knows. It ain't me." ".... Huh."

Example: the red carpet + dress + acid shit.

Good luck explaining that to the press....

They did try to get you to match with them that day... Maybe not the acid but they both thought you would've looked lovely in a dress like theirs.

And then you gotta yell at Trey to button up his shirt because he's being slutty for the paparazzi again and tell Matt to chill because he's about to verbally destroy a poor journalist for pronouncing a word wrong.

Also they shout out to you ALL. THE TIME.

On stage, during interviews, anywhere, everywhere.

Literally with out you, this shit can not be done. God knows they won't do it.... Maybe they will, they do kinda have control things, don't they?

Speaking of, you three bud heads a lot. Mostly because Trey writes absurd and inappropriate lyrics and Matt does his damn hardest defending him.

They get away with it tho.

Every single time.

Because they out number you so Matt will distract you while Trey cues up some puppy dog eyes because he knows he has them and they work so well on you

Also they flirt with you constantly. As a joke or for real, who knows, but they love seeing you blush and threaten to quit.

Especially Trey. He loves pushing buttons. And you're his favorite play thing. Like he loves to write dirty, fucking awful songs just to see you blush. Like he shows you one and he just goes

"Good ain't it? I was thinking about you when I wrote it."

And it's obviously about like 69ing or some shit and he has no shame in this at ALL.

And Matt loves like trying to calm you down because he knows he just has that nice soothing voice and sometimes to fuck with you he pulls you into a hug and pets you like a dog and is like

"Sshh, it's ok, baby, it's a joke. I know, he's so mean, isn't he?"

And he's all like pouty and mocking you and shit but you can't get free because the dudes fucking huge.

..... I might wanna be between them. This is such a journey for me, wow.

If something bad genuinely does come from they're teasing, they apologize so out right, serious as fuck and try to fix it the best they can.

Like they don't want you to get hurt or think they just want your body or to tease you- they do genuinely like you and find you funny as hell.

So if they fuck up and shit goes south during a concert or something, they take responsibility.

Although, with the way they can talk they're way out of shit? Psh, it rarely happens.

They do try to keep your name clean tho. They make like to fuck around and do stupid shit but they know you take your job seriously and you deserve respect for that and refuse to let you get roped into they're media fuck ups.

Also they throw you the best thank you partiest at the end of each tour concert. Like whatever you wanna do? Done. It's for you.

You planned the whole thing (the tour), had a budget, set up venues, you deserve more than a shitty lil party but fuck man. It's what they know sometimes. But it's with your best interest in mind.

They fucking LOVE you. They're just so fucking greatful for you not only helping them, but genuinely supporting them.

Speaking of- you are the one person they DO NOT prank.

If they do, it's dumb harmless shit like spraying you with silly string while you piss.

If someone does prank you or takes something too far??

Gone. Matt and Trey no longer know that person. They over stepped and gotta deal with the shit storm that's abouta knock the person's career dead.

If you're a band member...

You're fucked, bro.

The teasing from the other two scenarios gets worse because you just- you're stuck with them. All the time.

In the hotel rooms, on the bus, going to eat, sleeping, showering for fucks sake.

Privacy? Gone.

Well, not entirely. They still get you piss with out them, but they love being by you so they're glued to your hip.

You are their favorite lil band member and it shows.

They give you the best spot on the bus (the seat that doesn't hurt your ass after four minutes), you get first dibs on food during rehearsal breaks, you just-

You get the special treatment, ok?

You guys can "fit in the hotel shower and save the whales with the water you don't waste by taking three sperate showers"

Says Matt as he giggles and strips his clothes off and Trey just nods and smirks and is probably just gonna treat it like it's a casual thing friends do all the time because y'all are all adults anyway.

"It's fun." "Relax a lil." "I'll give you a shoulder massage." "I got the shampoo covered."

I think I'm just going through a lot while typing this out.

If you play the guitar and one of the strings snaps and cuts your hand, you have no idea how fast Matt while drop his bass guitar to help you out.

Trey'll make sure it doesn't happen again. And if it was the result of another band member pranking you?............. That dicks out the band. Doesn't matter. You got hurt, this isn't a joke. No one's laughing.

If it scars, the boys make a habit of kissing it as an apology. They're sweethearts when they want to be.

Trey probably lays awake at night thinking about how often you get hurt now and wants to wrap you up in bubble wrap. He thought you needed stitches.

Matt just double- triple checks the strings of any instrument you play before your allowed to touch it. He hated seeing you like that, it scared him.

If you play the drums, Matt and Trey will show you videos all the time of cool stick tricks and has if you can do them.

Also one of them makes a joke about you doing that to his dick but IDK who. You decide.

It you sit down with Trey and help him write a song he just gives you like heart eyes the entire time and he genuinely can't stop looking at you.

God forbid you have a cute mannerism when you write tho, he'll giggle and think about it for days. Literally.

And he always goes to Matt and is like "did you know they fucking do *insert thing* when they focus?" And he just sighs like "yes dipshit. This is the seventh time you've told me."

But Matt also hits him with the "dude I said my finger hurt and they kissed it for me" and sticks his tongue out at him.

Trey was pouty for the rest of the day.

They turn into idiots. Like puppies fighting for attention.

The way they CONSTANTLY make sure credit is given where it's deserved.

If you write a set of song lyrics to go into Trey's song? Guess who's singing it~ You are. Because you deserve the spot light.

Oh you wrote a riff for Matt? Shit, baby, it's yours now. Play it at the next concert and tear that shit up.

They also constantly talk about you during interviews and how greatful they are to have you and how you help make the creative process so much easier.

Don't imagine laying between them on the hotel bed and just whispering and giggling and kicking your feet at 3 am while the others are asleep and eventually you guys fall asleep all snuggled up.

These boys get handsy tho watch oouuuttt.

If you wear something revealing they just- they can't help it.

Someone's gonna call you pretty while the other just nods and bites his lip.

Compliments THROWN at you from across the room, dude. Literally.

They work really well off of each other so they rarely like fight for you.

Oh!! Oh they always go to you for help with naming songs and albums and album pics and shit.

-

Lowkey ashamed of myself because I feel like I could write more- I'm just blanking. Anyway @saphiari here ya go!! My shitty lil thoughts~

[mirikitakato]

[Translation] Reflections of the Moon in the Teardrops of Pavone: Episode 10

Keith: I'm utterly cowardly and despicable. I regretted it, but I didn't have enough courage to let go of the fame and career I had acquired. Angelo might even reveal my crime when he comes back. The possibility of the truth coming out haunted me. In a desperate attempt to control the situation, I found myself wandering in the Foster Research Institute. I thought if I asked Sage’s wizards for a favor, I might be able to find out how Angelo was doing. …And where the antidote for the Taboo Peacock is.

Mr. Keith bit his lip, looking at the Taboo Peacock.

Keith: ...I was afraid to face him, to accept the fact I was the reason for his disappearance. ...Angelo, I was such an idiot.

Mr. Keith crumpled to his knees, his face contorted in exhaustion.

Keith: ...I'm sorry, Angelo. I'm really...sorry…hic...

Cain: ......

The Taboo Peacock leaves rustled silently. Keith's tears were the only thing that shone quietly in the sunset, falling where poisonous nectar dripped.

---- oOo ----

A few days later. With Sakitty on my lap, I was playing cards with Cain and Bradley.

Akira: (Good feeling, good feeling. All I need is a 7…)

Bradley: Heh...

Cain: Now...

Akira: (Good! 7!)

I desperately tried to hold back the grin on my face and spread my cards.

Akira: Ahhhh...!

Cain: Bradley won again...!

Bradley: Heh, think you can beat me? Not a chance in six hundred years. The one who lost the most pays. Western pipe-man, get me a drink.

Shylock: Right away. But I must ask... how is the Sage’s wallet doing?

Akira: Not in the best shape, but I'm holding up!

The intense card game continued. I sipped my non-alcoholic cocktail, thinking about the inside of my wallet.

Cain: I thought this time I was going to win... But Bradley won everything...At this rate, it will be difficult to challenge Murr again.

Bradley: Speakin’ of that guy, I haven't seen him hangin’ around the Magic Manor lately. What's he up to?

Shylock: I have no idea either. He once barged into the bar, drunk and in a good mood, which was unusual for him... I wonder what he's been doing during his recovery.

As if cherishing a free-spirited stray cat, Shylock chuckled and placed a glass in front of Bradley.

Shylock: Speaking of which, have you gentlemen read the newspaper on the counter?

Cain: No...Any interesting articles?

Shylock: Dr. Keith Bird made a shocking confession. He said that the Taboo Peacock antidote research was actually Dr. Angelo Foster’s.

Bradley, Cain, Akira: ...

Akira: Mr. Keith told the truth.

Cain: ...What will happen to him now? It will be difficult for him to continue his career after this...

Bradley: What's with that sympathetic look? He's the one who brought all this upon himself. It was his own decision to end it. It's not our business to worry about.

Cain: ...You’re right.

Bradley: Seriously. Both you and Angelo are too kind.

Shylock: Indeed. Of course, that kindness is your charm as well... But sometimes, it feels like you shoulder burdens that even aren't yours to bear. I understand why Bradley is worried.

Bradley: Hey, who said I was worried?

Shylock: Oh, so you weren't?

Cain: ...Haha, thank you both.

Cain laughed and sipped his purple cocktail, as beautiful as the Taboo Peacock. Bradley shrugged and the glass clinked in his hand.

Akira: ...Oh, right. So what happened to the Foster Research Institute in the end? Since the owner, Mr. Angelo, is trapped inside the Taboo Peacock...

Cain: Now you mention it. The anomaly has been resolved, but there is no one to take care of the institute.

Murr: You wanna know?

Akira & Cain: Murr!

When we heard the voice, Murr was floating upside down. He was somehow wearing the same clothes as the last time we went to investigate the institute. He spun around and landed in front of me, holding out his hand.

Murr: Sage, let's go!

Murr took me to the Foster Research Institute. The Taboo Peacock tree, which had returned to its original form, was glistening in the orange sunlight. However, what caught my eye first was what was under it.

Akira: ...That's...

Murr: Someone must have left it here. Go ahead and read it, Sage!

Mur handed over a large stack of papers.

Akira: (……Amazing. It's full of writing.)

I couldn’t read it, but I understood what it was. This must be the fruit of Mr. Angelo's blood and sweat as he researched on the Taboo Peacock.

Akira: ...Mr. Keith returned it... ...Huh? There's another piece of paper on the ground here?

Murr: Oh, that's mine! It's a summary of the aftermath of when I was given the antidote last time, and also a summary of when I tried it out on Keith!

Akira: M-Mr. Keith?!

Murr: Keith asked me to do it. He said he wanted me to test the antidote on him, and that he didn't mind how much he suffered from the Taboo Peacock’s poison. Apparently, it's Keith's way of making amends!

Akira: ...I see...

Murr: If we repeat the tests and announce the results, scholars and nobles will be amazed! I'm still in the process of verification, but the efficacy seems to be fine. The day the antidote spreads to the world may not be far off!

While saying that, Murr was painting something on a wooden board he brought from somewhere.

Akira: ...I hope the Taboo Peacock is accepted by people, little by little.

Murr: Ahaha, as expected, the Sage also wants that.

Akira: Yes, that was Mr. Angelo's wish, and...I really like the tree too, I'm going to be sad if people rejected it.

Murr: I see! So that’s your honest answer to your own feelings!

Akira: ...But when Murr asked “Do you want us to sacrifice our true selves in order to be good kids and loved by humans?" I was hurt. I think of all the Sage’s wizards, as friends. I also want everyone to stop doing things that will make others hate them. But maybe there are more important things to everyone than being disliked by others. For instance, what if a medicine existed that could neutralize Murr's magic, rendering him harmless to humans? He could become a "safe-for-human Murr." But if he became this new Murr, loved by everyone, would it come at the cost of his happiness? In that case, is it always right to force acceptance on something that everyone fears?

Murr: ......

Akira: Ugh…this is difficult… ...I'm sorry. I couldn't give you a definitive answer to the question you asked then.

Murr: No, that's enough! It's charming to see the Sage thinking about something!

Murr laughed and flew up into the sky, proudly holding up the painted board.

Murr: ...Alright, completed!

Akira: Letters on the wooden board...Is it a sign?

Murr: That's right! Murr Hart Research Institute! This research institute is mine from today on!

Akira: Huh?!

Murr: I bought it because I didn't want it to be taken away by someone else due to the owner's absence!

Akira: W-w-what…? You, you bought it!? Where on earth did you get the money for that!?

Murr: I told you. I'm good at finding patrons. I even took care of a mouse that snuck into the salon and meow at them, while I was at it!

Murr said it nonchalantly and proudly. As soon as he recovered from the Taboo Peacock's poison, he kept disappearing somewhere. Without a word, no explanation. He did the impossible with ease.

Akira: (...Murr is amazing) You’re truly a genius of the century. So cool!

Murr: Meow! I got praised! Trees with Dryads are rare! I want to see it for hundreds of years! With this, I can observe it whenever and as much as I want!

Murr: ...So, Angelo. I'll borrow your research institute for a while. Maybe in a few decades, maybe in a few centuries... Until I see the end of your dream.

The Taboo Peacock leaves rustled softly, even without a breeze blowing. Maybe it's my imagination, or I'm just being overly positive…. But the sound of its rustling seemed like a word of gratitude.

Episode 9

P/s: I'm pretty sure the "mouse" Murr mentions is the con artist that tricks both Angelo and Keith.

[anthrofreshtodeath]

June prompts #8 please and thank you

Last one - let's do it! 8 is "discovering common interests" and this is merely shameless self-indulgence in one of my own pet interests.

___

“I don’t mind hangin’ out,” Jane says hoarsely. She stands where she stood when she first opened her arms for Maura, just after Maura had opened the front door, letting Jane in as she cried. “You know I’ll hang out with you forever. But is this… did he do it in here?”

Maura dabs her eyes with a new tissue, pulling her light sweater closer to her body just to replace the feeling of Jane on her. “Do what…?” asks Maura even though she’s hesitant to answer. Jane couldn’t possibly mean…

“The leavin’,” clarifies Jane. She leans one hand on the granite of Maura’s kitchen island and puts the other thumb under her belt, right next to the buckle. She looks around, and zeroes in on another one of Angela’s pathologically labeled cabinets. She pushes away and walks toward the wine fridge. She lets the bottle ping on the counter, and props open the door that says stemware. She pulls out two glasses.

Maura sniffles, small and with a latent hiccup, but she goes to the drawer with the corkscrews and pulls out the one she’d normally use for this full-bodied red. “Yes, to answer your question,” she says. She wonders if Jane knows she’s picked an Italian wine to counter Ian’s quite pedestrian, working-class Californian from yesterday. “He stopped here to say goodbye before his flight.”

Jane knows nothing about wine, but every right decision Jane makes is instinctual. Just like the decision to tug on her tight purple tee. She adjusts it until it spreads just right against her abdomen, long and toned and now visible in outline. “Thought so,” she tells Maura. She pours the wine once Maura opens it, and carries both glasses to the front hallway. 

Maura smiles, tired, confused, but happy to simply have Jane around. “He often doesn’t say goodbye at all. Which is why I… why I think I’ll never see him again.” And just like that, the tears return, unshed, but welling.

Jane nods. She provides Maura with some silence - cry if you need to, I’m not here to make you forget. Maura doesn’t crumble, even if she falters a little bit, and Jane nods in the direction of the staircase. “Change of scenery? It’s probably for the best,” she says.

Maura’s eyebrow curls up. “The bedroom?” she asks, intrigued. 

Jane blushes. “I’m not that kinda girl, Doctor Isles,” she replies. “At least, not while someone’s just had their heart stomped on. I was thinkin’ the library. There’s a sofa in there.”

Now it is Maura’s turn to blush. “Of course. That actually sounds wonderful,” she says. 

Jane waits, as Jane always does, for Maura to walk ahead, so that Jane can watch her back, even in Maura’s own home. Maura looks so diminutive when she shuffles on her bare feet back to the stairs; Jane wants to use her entire body to swallow Maura up again. She settles for pressing her front against Maura’s back when Maura pauses at the first step. It’s dark, but a dim light bleeds down from the second floor at the end of the hall. “What’s up?” Jane breathes, rather than asks, right into the crown of Maura’s hair. 

“My… I need to know that you really don’t want to go to the bedroom. Because it isn’t… well. The bed isn’t made,” Maura whispers.

“Climb the stairs, Maura. The books are waiting,” snarks Jane. She hears what Maura isn’t saying, and though it irks her, the implication, she holds one of the glasses of wine by the rim, fingers spread against the lip of it, and puts it in front of Maura’s chest. A gesture of goodwill. Of love. 

Maura takes the alcohol and obeys, coordinated enough to sip and climb at the same time. She takes the first left, and finds the light switch from memory. “Do you want a blanket?” she asks Jane.

“Let me handle it,” Jane says. She pulls the biggest blanket from the basket at the end of the sofa, smaller than the one in Maura’s living room, but a fluffier, cozier. She kicks off her boots, sits down, drapes the blanket over her knees, and then holds it open, eyeing Maura over.

Maura sighs. The emotion ripples over her face again, and she begins to cry when she finally collapses against Jane, has Jane wrap an arm around her while she curls close. Only minutes since their last embrace and she is starved for it. She sobs softly, almost silently, when Jane settles into the cushions and lets Maura snake arms around Jane’s torso. “I’m sorry,” Maura hiccups when she can.

“For what? Doesn’t seem like you were the one who did anything wrong,” Jane asserts. She looks ahead, and not at Maura, just to give her a little dignity. Maura thrives on dignity. “Who leaves you?”

“Not you,” Maura says quietly, tucked like a child into Jane’s side. The fit is heavy. It feels good. 

Jane is quiet for five long minutes. She sips slowly, occasionally, and eventually, Maura sits back up and joins her, pulling her glass from the small coffee table. They are still snuggled close, but now both upright and drinking. Jane studies the titles across from her along the wall-to-wall bookshelves until she gasps. “No way,” she exclaims softly.

Maura perks up. “What?” she presses.

“Snow - my favorite is the Franklin,” Jane points. She doesn’t get up, because neither of them seem to want that. 

“Storms and Shipwrecks of New England?” Maura asks. Her hand goes to the skin of Jane’s chest and she presses as she pulls back to stare with incredulity. “Really?”

“Don’t act so shocked,” Jane grumbles. 

“It’s just… you hate going out on boats,” Maura tries to save herself, but her chuckle betrays her. “Edward Rowe Snow - really?” 

“When I was a kid, I read that book cover to cover at least ten times,” Jane explains. 

Maura’s jaw drops. “Me too,” she confesses. “Of course you would like the story about cannibalism. The saddest was ‘The Wreck of the General Arnold.’”

“Yeah, not great,” Jane says. She pauses, thinking. Then she taps Maura's shoulder. “Let’s go to the Cape this summer.”

“You hate the Cape,” Maura responds. “You hate how crowded it gets.”

“But…. they have that pirate museum for the Whydah in Yarmouth,” Jane says. “I think we’d have fun. And we’ll beat the crowds if we go in the middle of June.”

Maura considers, and then she snuggles back into her previous position. “It would be fun,” she concurs. “Jane?”

“And yeah there was cannibalism, but the moral of the story is never give up - because those two sailors braved the rough seas and even though they perished, the stranded men got saved because of them,” Jane continues on her previous train of thought, voice soft and deep like how it gets just before she sleeps.

“Jane,” Maura tries again, more firmly this time.

“Huh? Yeah,” Jane hears her, takes another sip of wine. 

“You won’t leave me, right? You’re here to stay?” Maura asks.

Jane shakes her head. “You remember when we took out Marino-”

“When you took out Marino.”

“When we took out Marino, and I was layin’ there, guts, uh, guts spillin’ out?”

“God,” Maura starts to cry again, “how could I forget? Why would you bring that up?”

“Because you put ‘em back in. You didn’t leave. You braved rough seas, had me all over your hands. And that had to be some of the scariest shit you’d ever seen,” Jane says. She takes confidence in this truth. For all the genocide and war Maura has seen, the malaria and the trauma, holding Jane’s insides to keep them from coming outside? Maura hasn’t ever been the same. Not worse, not smaller, but changed. “But you stayed. So you can trust that I’m gonna stay, too. To the bitter end. But not just then, you know? During all the good parts, too. Like the Whydah museum parts. And like the ‘when I eventually say yeah let’s go to the bedroom’ parts.”

“Do you… do you think you’ll say that?” Maura blinks, forces Jane to look at her.

Jane furrows her brow, purses her lips. But then she says, “I think it’s gonna need a deep clean first.”

Maura knows this means more than the words Jane has used, that the sentiment runs deeper, but she can’t help it. “I’ll get Anita here on Monday,” she promises with a deadpan.

Jane cracks a smirk. “Might need CSRU instead,” she jokes. “Take it easy tonight, though, yeah? Nice and slow. Why don’t I grab ol’ Snow off the shelf and read us a few chapters? We can do some of my favorites and some of yours.”

“That… sounds wonderful,” Maura breathes for the second time tonight.  “You got it,” says Jane, getting up and crossing over to the array of titles across from them. They’re definitely reading about the Franklin first.

[neko-naruto]

Peace at last

Summary: Cross is simply minding his business, chilling in a hammock, when Epic decides to drop in.

Warnings: None!

Authors Note: I normally don't write fluff so I'm not sure of how good this turned out, but I'm still happy enough with it to post it, so theres that, anyways, please drop a reblog if you enjoyed it.

Cross lay in a hammock, swaying side to side gently, one foot propped up at an awkward angle in the fabric as he glanced out at the view. The small house he had taken residence in sat near the edge of a cliff, porch overlooking the nature and towns below, in the distance he saw the mountains. He kept his gaze trained on the balcony roof, taking note of the bird nests and abandoned mouse holes leading into his home (he had to exterminate them a while back so Killer wouldn't just do it himself, by hand).

It was nice, just existing without a care, free of his job under Nightmares watch after Dream pacified him. Yeah, Killer, Dust, and Horror come to him for support, unsure of what else to do now that Nightmare is gone and with them feeling unsafe around Error. He gives them advice, who knows how effective said advice is, but they keep on coming back for more which proves its good enough to help keep them alive at least.

He's nearly falling asleep when someone practically leaps onto him, he hears the hammock creak in dismay at the sudden weight increase and rough swing. He almost goes to shake them off until he realizes that its just Epic being an asshole, he uh, he's really good at doing so when push comes to shove- although he means good. Cross can hear the thrum of his partners soul, its weak, weaker than usual, and pulsing a little bit slower than usual, that's worrisome.

"Hey dude," Cross said as he shook Epic who was currently resting on Crosses torso, the black and white counterpart had a foot pressed against the ground to steady them, he gets a groan in response, "hard day?"

"You got the good shit, need that bruh," Epic said, speaking directly into Crosses jacket, he forced his hands around his partners torso, the squirm it elicits from Cross gives Epic reason to further explain, "low magic," Cross reciprocates the touch a little bit more upon the confirmation.

"Alright, were you and Fresh hangin' for to long?" Cross asked, he didn't get an immediate response, "I'll take that as a yes," Epic twists around a bit, trying to get comfortable.

"It was fun," Epic mumbled, he had to contort his form a little bit before he could rest comfortably, pretzel-ed up with Cross to an extent- Cross gave the hammock a few gentle pushes, "tired."

"Wanna blanket?" Cross asked, Epic shook his head, his souls thrum was already starting to pick up from should be dead to sleeping, he felt a bit more alive then when he first dropped onto Cross like a dead fish.

"Nope, jackets good enough," Epic said, he pulled himself up a little further so he could rest his skull in the fluff of Crosses hood, the calm sway of the hammock lulled him further into sleep, "g'night."

"Night dude," Cross said, continuing to nudge the hammock back and forth, a hand resting absently on Epics back as he drifts to sleep.

Cold breezes start to come in, nothing compared to Snowdin, but it still caused Cross to shiver and Epic to curl in a little tighter. Soon enough, the purple counterpart was out cold, he didn't snore, but his lack of movement and smooth pacing of his Souls thrum was more than enough of a tell he was asleep. Cross should move, he really should be bringing them inside so they won't catch a cold, but, Epic is a light sleeper and waking him up would no doubt result in him being sour.

So he opts to stay put instead, continue to push the hammock back and forth, watch the sun start to set- its all picture perfect, he doesn't want it to end.

[jonesatheart]

Miscommunication

Unsure how this will fit into anything, it's just a plot bunny I had after my friend shared a bunch of trans!Leo art with me and after telling my dog that I was unable to run around with him because my binder wasn't suitable for exercising. That said this is largely unedited from the initial impulse writing, we die like confused genderfluid people.

"Ya good, Case-man?" Raph asked and trotted over to his friend who was hunched over on his knees.  

"Jus' sec," Casey groaned, clutching his chest, without getting up. "Geeze, that guy got me good."  

"Ya need Don to check ya out?" Raph knelt next to Casey and gripped his shoulder. 

Casey shook his head. "Just need to catch my breath."  

"Hey, sit up, alright? Let ya lungs- Casey, what the shell?" Raph demanded when he spotted bandages wrapped around Casey's chest under the torn cloth of his shirt. 

Casey's eyes went wide and he pulled his arms in to cover himself. "Raph, I can explain-" 

"Explain? Case, that's not good for your ribs!"  

"I know, but I didn't know what else to use." 

Raph shook his head. "We don't use anything for rib injuries anymore, ya putz."  

"What?"  

"Why didn't you tell me ya were hurt? C'mon, let's get ya to the lair so Don can take a look atcha." Raph hauled him to his feet. 

"Raph, I didn't hurt my ribs at least not before that last fight. 

"Then what's with the bandages? What, ya goin' for apocalyptic chic? How the shell are you supposed to breathe like that?"  

"Look, I'll explain later, but I really don't wanna be havin' this conversation in front of these guys," Casey gestured at the Purple Dragons that were beginning to stir. 

"Fine. If ya sure ya not hurt. And no runnin'! Not till ya get those things off."  

"In that case we better head to my place." 

"Nuh-uh. Lair's closer."  

Casey sighed, not wanting to argue. "Alright." 

--- 

"Hey, Don," Raph called.  

"Raph-"  

"Who's hurt?" Don called back, not lookin up from his computer.  

"I'm fine," Casey insisted. "Not even hardly sore anymore."  

"Glad ya think so. Go let Don check ya out. I'll grab ya a shirt."  

"Can I at least get a hoodie with it?" Casey asked, resigned to his situation.  

"Sure thing."  

"Thanks," he sighed and met Don in the medbay. "Hey-" 

"Please tell me those aren't ace bandages." Don said when he saw the tears in Casey's shirt." 

"Don-" 

"Did you go out injured?" He demanded. 

"No! Will one'a you, please, just listen'a me?" He growled and dropped onto the cot, dropping his head into his hands. 

Don blinked, taken aback by the sudden outburst. He sat beside Casey, hand rested on his shoulder. "I'm sorry," Don answered calmly. "You just had us concerned. I don't know if you've noticed, but we did grow up pretty sheltered. It makes us tight knit and protective. I know you're not used to that. Are you okay with explaining why you're wearing bandages if you're not hurt?"  

"Don't interrupt me, okay?" 

Don's brow furrowed. "Okay?"  

Casey sighed. "I'm not...actually a guy. I started binding my chest before goin' out as a kinda protection, y'know? Made me less of a target durin' the day if they thought they were lookin' for a guy, and made me less of a target for...other stuff if they didn't know I was woman. And I just...noticed it felt like it fit better, y'know? It made more sense in my brain when I heard people talkin' about me like I was a guy. So. I started bindin' all the time. Started bein' a guy durin' the day when I could too. That's why the bandages." 

"Thank you for trusting me with that, Casey," Don replied. "I'm glad to know you're not hurt. Unfortunately, that doesn't make wearing ace bandages around your chest any healthier."  

"I know," he moaned. "I mean, I've got some good sports bras, but...I dunno. I started hangin' out with you guys and I just...was afraid to get caught, I guess, so I kept using the bandages cause it seemed like it gave a better illusion of what I was supposed to look like."  

"Casey, you're really well built. It's normal for muscular guys to have noticeable pectoral muscles."  

"Yeah?" He asked, his voice hopefully.  

"Yeah," Don promised. "I'll help you do some more research about safer alternatives, but for now please just use the sports bras?"  

"Hey, here's ya clothes," Raph cut in, his voice flat as he tossed a t shirt and hoodie at Casey. "I'm goin' back out." 

"Raph-" 

"On my own. I need to clear my head." He walked away before anyone could answer. 

Casey grimaced. "I think he's mad at me."  

"I love my brother, but it's not hard to do. Go ahead and change." Don patted his shoulder.  

--- 

"What's going on with Raph and Casey?" Leo questioned when Don came out of the medbay. 

"Just a bit of misunderstanding," Don replied and headed toward the kitchen.  

"About?"  

"It's not really my place to say. And do not corner Casey about it. I'll talk to Raph if I need to." 

"So he's not hurt then?"  

"Leo-"  

"I just want to know what's going on." 

"I know. But...I don't think Casey was really ready to talk about it and...Raph accidentally backed him into it. I don't want to do that to him again. He just needs some space about it, alright?" 

Leo sighed. "Alright. I'll trust you on this one."  

--- 

Casey tapped tentatively on the wall outside Raph's door. It had been a few days since they'd last gone on patrol together. Casey had simply stayed away, both to give Raph time to cool down and to psych himself up to being around the guys for the first time without the protection of the bandages. Even in the bulky hoodie, he felt like the difference was obvious. 

"Hey, uh, brought back those clothes ya let me borrow. Washed 'em and all that."  

"Just toss 'em on my hammock is  fine," Raph answered without looking up from the laptop, Casey assumed Donny had built for him. 

He set the small stack of clothes on the pillow and shoved his hands in the pocket of his hoodie. "Raph?"  

"What's up?"  

"Are we good?"  

Raphael clossd his laptop with a sigh and finally turned toward Casey. "Look, maybe I'm bein' selfish here, but I'm not gonna lie, I feel kinda lied to and I know that not what it is. I know bein' trans isn't lyin'-" 

"There's a name for it?"  

Raph blinked. "Casey, what kinda rock you been livin' under? I had to look it up, cause I live in the actual sewer, what's your excuse?"  

Casey shrugged self-consciously. "It ain't like I had the biggest friend group growin' up. Spent most'a my summers on the farm, remember?"  

"...Ya makin' it really hard to stay mad at you, ya know that?" 

"Sorry."  

"That's not- You really never thought about lookin' into why ya preferred bein' seen as a guy?"  

He shrugged again, staring at his shoes. "No. Just thought it was cause'a the autism or something. Too many concussions playin' hockey." 

"I mean, ya probably do got some brain damage, but that's doesn't have anythin' to do with bein' trans. Guess I can't really be mad atcha for not trustin' me anymore either." 

"Sorry."  

"Case. Ya don't gotta keep apologizin', man. My feelin's about the whole thing are mine to figure out, okay? They're not your fault. I mean, it would'a been good to know ahead time in case something came up and we had to cut those bandages off of ya, just so we could.have something else to cover you up or didn't have an immediate heart attack from shock. Ya didn't actually lie to me. You're a guy, it's not your fault genetics didn't get the memo. And yeah, I feel kinda hurt cause it feels like ya didn't trust me when if anybody's gonna know what it feels like to be afraid of gettin' caught it's gonna be me. You didn't owe me that information though. And the other is just kinda me makin' an assumption that ya didn't trust me." 

Casey quickly wiped his cheek. "When'd you go to therapy?" He grumbled. 

Raph chuckled. "The other night when Don dragged me back home and explained everything to me. So, yeah, we're good. Just no more scarrin' me with random bandages, okay? And do me a favor-" he opened a drawer in his desk and pulled our a soft tape measure, tossing it to Casey"-take some measurements. Bust, under bust, shoulders, and waist, got it?"  

"Why?" 

"Cause I said so. Do it in here or the bathroom, I don't care, but I need those numbers." 

[noloveforned]

i love bandcamp fridays but they certainly distract from getting my radio show together! tune into wlur from 8pm-midnight to see what i end up playing!

we finished up our first theme of the year last week- all year long we've been starting the shows off with songs about 'work'. we heard songs from east river pipe, pernice brothers, the happy thoughts, the flaming lips, mammoth penguins, superchunk, dolly parton, elvis costello, the bangles, the replacements, ramones, the reds pinks & purples, devo, the clash, drive-by truckers, and harry belafonte.

no love for ned on wlur – april 28th, 2023 from 8-10pm

artist // track // album // label harry belafonte // day-o (the banana boat song) // very best of harry belafonte // rca frankie cosmos // fragments // clean weird prone (inner world peace deluxe) // sub pop the hidden cameras // breathe on it // the smell of our own (deluxe edition) // rough trade rob munk // the ghosts of san francisco // phased out // magic door brontez purnell // jaboukie // jaboukie 7" // sub pop display homes // at capacity // what if you're right and they're wrong? // esrte theke tontraeger sir bobby jukebox // don't say goodbye // in the organ loft at midnight // (self-released) cathedrale // an alibi // words / silence // howlin' banana rotary club // american tower // american tower 7" // iron lung the replacements // hangin' downtown (alternate version) // sorry ma, forgot to take out the trash (deluxe edition) // rhino oswald five-o // all night takeout // serenade // grinning idiot water machine // hot real estate // demo cassette // gold mold packs // smallest one // crispy crunchy nothing // fire talk elizaband // talking in tongues // lonesome celestial // (self-released) mope city // mirror puddle // wind locked me out cassingle // (self-released) bardo pond // destroying angel // peel sessions // fire body/head // tripping // come on 2x7" // three lobed jon collin and niklas anderstedt lindgren // 27:19 // dark country // akti elijah mclaughlin ensemble featuring katinka kleijn // parallax // iii // astral spirits fire! orchestra featuring joe mcphee // echoes: i see your eye, part 2 // echoes // rune grammofon benji b, raven bush, theon cross, nubya garcia, tom herbert, shabaka hutchings, nikolaj torp larsen, dave okumu, nick ramm, dan see, tom skinner and martin terefe // it’s one of these // london brew // concord jazz flora purim // light as a feather // butterfly dreams // milestone david ornette cherry // so and so and so and so // organic nation listening club (the continual) // spiritmuse dinner party featuring hi-tek // watts renaissance // enigmatic society // empire linqua franqa featuring ears // the whole bank // the whole bank digital single // ernest jenning cold beat // paper // mother // crime on the moon marlody // these doubts // i'm not sure at all // skep wax snowy // where am i? // lipreader cassette // (self-released) the ekphrastics // fogtown // special delivery // harriet wild carnation // dodger blue // tricycle (expanded edition) // delmore some velvet sidewalk // 20,000 leagues // appetite for extinction // communion

[lordfreg]

LMFAOOOO I forgot to finish/post this when I was still working on this el oh el, so as a birthday gift to me you get half of part 2 from my Monkie kid project read 🠟

here

LEGO Monkie Kid™: Secrets of the Emerald Road - Episode 2: In Grave Danger

×warnings: 〰angst〰×

×unedited×

It was a nice night for Mk, the full moon, lovely music playing through his headphones and a relaxing stroll back to his apparent building.

After the whole "being chased by a giant stone tiger and barely escaping with our lives plus hangin' out with Monkie King all day while training" thing, Mk was kinda tuckered out. He found his way back to his room, setting up his bed, laying out his clothes for tomorrow and pushing out his pillows.

"Can't wait for Mei to come back!" Mk grinned.

He yawned a long yawn and snuggled into bed, squeezing his Monkie King plush doll and quickly falling asleep after.

As the peaceful night went on, it started to take a turn. The serene set of his room started to become more heavy and frightening. A purple mist snuck in through the half-open window, leaking into the room like a liquid. Quickly finding Mk's bed and reaching up like a snake climbing a tree.

It coiled itself around the boy's head, dripping into his subconscious.

Mk tossed and turned in the night, becoming more frantic and panicked in his sleep. This nightmare, it felt a lot more real than anything he's ever experienced before. His feet felt cold; the coldness slithering its way up his body, making him shiver.

The snake-like tentacle was almost done now, it started to retreat out of his room and back into the near by street.

His eyes shot open and he jolted up with a scream. Clenching his heart, he stared at the end of his bed for a moment, taking in everything he was flashed with.

His quick pants became heavy breathing as he realized it was only a dream.

"But it felt so real..." He spoke into thin air.

The tentacle slithered out and down, finding its way back to the one who made it, a mysterious demon, who wore a trench coat, a black turtle neck, big boots and black pants. They started spinning it back into a ball like wool. Starting into the orb they just made, they reviewed Mk's nightmare.

They lightly chuckled, "I've got you now, boy."

Mk fiddled nervously with his phone, "Hey, Monkie King?" The boy looked up from his blank black screen.

"Yeah, bud?" The Monkie responded, taking a bite of a peach flavored chip.

"I..." Mk started, looking back down at his weary reflection, "I had a nightmare.."

The monkey looked empathetically at the boy, "Are you okay with sharing?"

Mk looked surprised at the ginger monkey before smiling, "Uh, sure!"

Monkie King nodded, giving the okay.

"Well, it started like another day..."

"Hey, Pigsy!" Mk smiled at the pig man, "Any delivers today?"

But the pig couldn't bat an eye at him.

"Mr. Tang!" Mk charmed, "What's up?"

Still no response.

"Mei?" Mk called, "YOO-HOO!! I'M RIGHT HERE!!!" the poor boy waving his arms frantically like a bird while bouncing around from person to person.

Still nothing!

"Guys?" Mk called out, "GUYS?!" He started to worry.

The sinking feeling started up again, but this time, he was actually sinking, a pit of black sinking sand grew under him. He screamed as he struggled to get out. Desperately trying to summon his staff, his screams went unheard by his friends.

"Help!" He cried out one last time as the blackness swallowed him whole.

He was blasted of visions of an icey night, glaring at him with glowing eyes. An eye holding the map in its pupil. A princess being guarded by Nezera himself. And a mysterious someone being wounded.

"And after that, I woke up." Mk looked away from monkie king, avoiding his concerned gaze, "I just don't understand those visions, if they met anything at all."

"Hey bud," Monkie King gently smiled as he placed a hand on Mk's shoulder, "Don't push yourself; when you know, you know." He shrugged and continued eating the chips.

"I think they're really important," the boy huffed, "I just don't know what they mean.." He mumbled.

"Ah, whatever, kid." The king sighed, "Hey, what do you say we go and try to open that key again?" He side smiled, a devious glint in his eyes.

"You know it!"

Monkie King picked up Mk and hoisted him on to his cloud, zooming off to Flower Fruit Mountain.

[universestreasures]

@thuganomxcs Sent:

"HEEY RAPUNZEL, CHECK THIS OUT." He yelled out towards Mokuba from a distance, finally catching up with a deck box in his hand. With pride he removed the box to revealed the 42-card deck that he managed to construct. "After hangin' out with Haircut and hearin' all about duel monsters this and that I decided t' give this game a shot. He told me monsters are important but the magic and traps are just as important so I thought to myself? Why not beat people with a little razzle dazzle, ya know a little flim-flam." Once Mokuba saw his deck he would see that it's basically constructed of NOTHING BUT SPELLS AND TRAPS and majority aren't even compatible, the theme seems to be when the spell or trap's description are immense then he'll just assume it's game-changing. "What'd ya think? Got a new future king of games right here?"

"Oh, here we go..." The loud and rough voice of the spirit detective causes the boy some pause, and the irritation on his face is plain to be seen as he turns around to greet him. Yusuke wasn't what the boy would call an unpleasant individual. He was just way too loud sometimes and persistent when it came to his horrible nicknames, traits that one could also associate with Katsuya Jonouchi.

"Yusuke...We've been over this. Call me Mokuba and only Mokuba, okay?" The 'Rapunzel' nickname felt like a jab at his long hair, something rather uncommon for the boys seen in this town. Mokuba rather liked it this length. He's always had long hair ever since he could remember. Though, he does admit taking care of it can be a bit cumbersome at times. Maybe he should take Suzuha's advice an maybe trim it down a bit at some point.

Purple eyes scan the deck presented to him closely. While not a Duel Monsters expert like his brother, the youngest Kaiba still was well-verses in the game to give feedback about deck construction. Then again, any player with a little bit of actual experience at playing could tell Yusuke's deck was a mess. Man, he really should have listened to anyone else but the blonde Yankee. What a noob...

"Uh...I don't know how to tell you this, but...you aren't going to be winning any duels with that deck. It's borderline unplayable. Seriously, do you think you can win without a single monster card, the main way to deal damage to an opponent through attacking with them? I thought you'd at least know that much considering you're always so gun ho about fighting."