#YKNOW HOW EASY IT WOULD BE TO CURL UP ON HIS CHEST???

[stars-n-spice]

I think about this a lot.

Like when he was 6'6 that was more than enough but then they fucking added four more fucking inches.

FUCKING WHY.

[pricegouge]

horny knee-tattoo offerring...

ive had insomnia all this week and its super frustrating, bc you're tired but cant turn your brain off enough to sleep and its hard to physically tire yourself out at 4am yknow? maybe reader's 141 boy (any or all of em, its ur world babe) wakes up in the middle of the night and sees how frustrated and miserable their partner is, tossing and turning, doomscrolling, counting down the dwindling hours till their work alarm is due to go off, and they take it upon themself to fuck their partner to sleep. not just one round, no, orgasm after orgasm, squirting over the sheets, crying from tired frustration and then relief, till they fall asleep stuffed full around a cock. their boy(s) carefully get them all cleaned up and tucked back in the sheets dead asleep <3

i hope ur tattoo goes well! whatcha gettin 👀

Hii 💛

I went with Price cause I'm a simp

(also I'm getting Mothra)

cw: reader has a pussy which is referred to with fem terms, but no gendered pronouns for them. daddy kink (sorry). squirting. implied (non negotiated) somno. John's POV.

He's not expecting the glow of artificial light permeating the room when he opens his eyes in the dead of night, though by now he supposes he really should be.

You've been struggling to sleep for weeks now, the unhelpful sleep aids and your own frustration creating a bad feedback loop which left you tossing and turning into the early hours of morning when you would usually slink off downstairs to try your luck on the couch, leaving your side of the bed cold and empty.

It simply wouldn't do.

"Trouble sleeping, sweetheart?" His voice is rough with his own grogginess, sawing through the still of the night with enough force make you jolt, nerves shot with exhaustion.

"Yeah. Am I keeping you awake?"

He grabs after you when you begin to shift out of bed without even waiting for an answer. "Not at all. You stay right here." He pulls you closer to him, illustrating exactly what he means by tucking you in against his chest, his hand heavy where it cradles your skull. You sigh as if in contentment, but your body remains stiff and tense against him. "Anything I can do to help?"

"No," you grumble, just as much upset about it as he is. "Thanks though."

"Thoughts racing or just not tired?"

You shrug, shoulder jostling the arm he has slung over you. Your voice is watery when you respond. "Little bit of both I guess."

"Hey," John starts, immediately alert, pulling you impossibly closer. "What's wrong?"

You bury a sniffle in his chest, tension shifting rapidly to obvious frustration. "Nothing," you whine, obviously lying. "I'm just so fucking tired but it's like I'm not tired at all, you know? Like my brain's just decided we don't need it anymore even though body feels like a Furby with the battery running out, right? But there's nothing I can do; no matter what I try I'm still stuck laying here - wide the fuck awake and -!"

"Okay," John starts, easing you back onto the bed before you start rambling about more obscure nineties toys he's barely ever heard of. "Okay, let's just -." He pauses, at a loss, but then he looks down at you in the dim light of your forgotten phone and he sees your puffy face, the tear streaks, your hair a mess, tangled in sheets from all your tossing and your turning and he knows immediately how best to help you.

"I know something we can try, sweetheart."

"You do?" As if in contrast to your confused tone, your hands grip his forearms instinctively, eyes wide and hopeful as he lowered himself down over you, weight near crushing. He doesn't bother responding beyond a pleased rumble when your hands slip up over his biceps, kissing your fingertips when they curl over his shoulders. You're still so tense beneath him, but he's sleep-soft and heavy enough to smother you, thinks he can overwhelm you easy enough. Just has to ply you the right way.

The kisses your eyelids first, lips tracing the etch marks of your tears. He kisses the corner of your mouth, pulling back teasingly when he feels your lips part under his.

"John," you whine, and he can't help the huff of laughter which collects between you, humid and dense on your skin.

"Need me?"

"Yes."

He loves how eager you can get, the way you pull him down until he lays flat on top of you, the way you accept his tongue with a pleased groan. Your legs fall open beneath him and he grinds against you lazily, a tight contrast to your neediness, though he indulges you with the deep kisses he knows you crave.

When his lips trail down your neck, you thread your finger through his short cropped hair, your nails scratching against the tightness of his scalp and it eases that last little bit of lingering tension in him, makes him sink that last little bit into you. He's heavy, languid, forcing you to still yourself and meet his pace, rewarding you with a particularly dirty grind when you do.

He trails kisses down your chest, stopping to teethe lightly on your nipple as he slips down the bed. You jolt, undoing all his work, but he just chuckles, content to unwind you again and again if needed.

You're slick enough for a finger when he gets your bottoms off, but he makes you wait for that too, licks over your lips with fat, teasing stripes that have your legs falling open around him, blooming like a flower in invitation. He still doesn't give in, ignoring your clit in favor of pressing his teeth oh so gently into your fat mound and rubbing his beard into your soft inner thigh. It'll leave a rash, he knows, get you all huffy about it in the morning.

He'll kiss it better then, too.

"John, please," you whine and he smirks, pressed close enough to the crease of your thigh you can probably feel his incisors against your hip flexor.

"What was that?"

A pause. He can practically hear your breath catch in your throat.

"Need daddy to help?"

"Please," you sob, frustration bubbling up again.

"Shh," he breathes, lets his breath fan across your exposed clit when he thumbs the hood back. He should make you ask properly, but he hasn't forgotten this is about you. "I got you, sweetheart."

For all his patience before, John dives into your cunt like his last bloody meal. He's sloppy, spit and slick collecting on his chin as he licks into you, breath hot and humid, leaving him in heavy pants that have him groaning with your taste. You fingers find his hair again, pull him and he obliges happily, showing your cute little clit the love it needs as he finally sinks two fingers into you, moaning at the way you clench around him. He's efficient, a man with a purpose, and he makes you cum within minutes, your breathy whines sounding suspiciously like a low chant of 'daddy.'

You moan when he kisses you after, no finesse. Just a hot slide of slick tongues where he shares your taste with you, keeping you distracted as he lines himself up.

It's never an easy task. John's a big man, his cock nothing but proportional. It never matters how many times he has you, or how pliant he get you beneath him, the first press into you is always slow, measured in your breaths which he uses to his advantage.

His words are soothing in your ear, lips pressed flush against your temple as he tells you how good you are for him, how much he loves the feel of you stretched tight around him. You hand clutches at him blindly, distracting. He threads his fingers with your own and pins it by your head.

When his hips fall flush with yours he gives you a minute, stroking your hair and kissing away the tears that have sprung up again. "Poor pet," he murmurs, petting your cheek. "Daddy'll make it better. Promise."

You nod, perhaps a bit stupidly, and John kisses you as he begins to move again.

You're easy beneath him. Pliant, like he was looking for all along. He wrings the first orgasm out of you easily enough and knows he could probably call it a night, knows you'd sleep well enough by the satisfied look on your face.

He doesn't want 'well enough.' He wants to put you under on his cock alone, drill it into your head that he can give you anything you fucking need.

"What do you say to daddy when he fucks you that good, sweetheart?" His voice surprises him, borderline cruel.

"Th-thank you, daddy."

He hums, rolls his hips into you experimentally. "Want one more?"

He doesn't wait for an answer.

With your legs hooked over his shoulders, John shifts his weight to fuck down into you, his sheer mass keeping you spread and pinned like a butterfly beneath him. Your breath stutters, fingers across his chest, shoulders, biceps. Anywhere you can dig in, find purchase - mark him back.

He knows he's got you dead to rights when your moan turns deep, unaffected. "Fuck, daddy," you groan and John bites back a dark chuckle.

"That it, sweetheart? Right there?"

You nod tightly, cords in your neck nearly visibly with how tight you've already been drawn.

"You gonna cum for me again?"

"Yeah, daddy, please -!"

"Dirty slut, cumming already," he tuts, but he pistons into you exactly the way he knows you need, his own groan caught like gravel in his throat when your cunt starts milking him and you mewl like you're in heat.

He's not nice about it; doesn't even let you wind down completely before his thumb finds your clit, drawing a tight circle across your sensitive little nub while he rocks the head of his cock against that spongey spot deep within you that damn near makes you hiccup in pleasure each time. It's no different now, your breath stuttering out in while you tense and shake beneath him. John waits until you're arched beneath him, clenched so tight around the base of his cock he couldn't cum even if he wanted to -

And then he presses his palm down flat and hard on your mound and you cum so hard it soaks his belly, dripping down to the sheets and collecting in the creases of both your joints.

"Fuckin' hell," he growls, planting one fist on the bed by your hip to support himself as he watches you drift back to earth.

You're fucked out and dazed, already drifting off when John rolls you onto your belly to straddle your hips. "Feeling better, sweetheart?" he rumbles, lowering himself to settle snugly over your back, keep you enveloped in his safe, sturdy weight.

"Yes, daddy," you mumble into the pillow and John presses a whiskery, satisfied smile against your temple. He slips back into you with so little resistance you barely even seem to notice.

"Just needed me, didn't you honey? Get some sleep now, yeah? I'll give you some sweet dreams."

[mickmars-bbg]

❥ ❝ i'll be there for you . ❞

FTM!JON BON JOVI , AND FTM!DOM!READER .

SMUT INCLUDES ; BREEDING KINK , DEGRADATION , PRAISE , CHOKING . USE OF THE WORD CUNT TO DESCRIBE PARTS .

DONT LIKE ANY OF THESE THINGS ? DONT READ .

WRITTEN BY A TRANS AUTHOR .

it was an extremely hot afternoon . way too hot , humid too , for what you were doing at that moment . you were outside watching your boyfriend and his band play .

you watched intently , taking in all his features . long brown hair with some curls to it . brown eyes lit up like the sun as he played . you know he really enjoyed playing with the band .

you can tell the band is almost done with their jamming session , watching as the sweat drips off of them , but your focus stays on jon . his shirt was off and you could see his skin glistening with sweat from the outdoor heat . his top surgery scars were barely visible now and you were happy for him .

eventually the music comes to a stop . you snap out of your trance , seeing the members of the band begin to pack up their items .

at that moment , you notice your boyfriend jon walk over to you . you quickly wave with a smile .

❝ hello , my love . ❞

he says , smiling back to you .

❝ i saw you staring , yknow . ❞

you hesitantly nod , your face flushing a shade of light pink . you suddenly have the urge to touch him . to place your hand on his sweat gleamed chest and touch his top surgery scars . so you do , gently , incase you would hurt him . his smiles widens at the gesture .

❝ do you want something , my love ? ❞

he asks you , watching as you move your hand back down to your side . the tone of his voice makes you feel weak in the knees and your head spin . boy , did you love him .

you nod quickly , grabbing his wrist and pulling him toward his house where they were practicing outside of . he lets you lead him into the house and immediately after you two are inside and the door is shut , you push him against the wall .

you put your arms on either side of him , caging him in . since you were taller than him this was easy to do . he looks up at you , making eye contact . his eyes seem to be pleading at you .

you lean down a bit , pressing your lips against his chapped ones . almost instantly he returns the kiss . after about a minute of on and off kissing , you slide your tongue into his mouth . he whines at the sensation of it and you smile into the kiss .

you pull away , wanting to take things further . you once again grab his wrist , leading him toward his room . once inside you gently push him onto the black bedding .

you walk closer to where he was on the bed , climbing onto it and then sitting next him . next you pull your own top off , revealing your binder , but you left that on .

next , you slowly climb on top of him , sitting on legs . he looks up at you again , a goofy smile on his face . he was already out of it just from a few small touches .

you place your hand on his jeans and pull them down , revealing his boxers . you smile again at the sight of the wet spot on them .

❝ aww , youre already so wet for me . so pretty . ❞

you coo at him , smirking . he gives another whine at the praise , bucking his hips up into you . you begin to grind down into him , earning more whines .

❝ such slut , making such pretty noises for me . ❞

you tell him . he then grabs the hem of his boxers and attempts to pull them down , you help him . you can see hes soaking wet , just from your touch .

❝ please . ❞

he moans out , begging you to touch his aching cunt . you reach your hand out and begin making small circles on his clit . he moans again , tears pricking at his eyes from how good it felt . he hadnt been touched for weeks .

next , you move your fingers away from his clit and to the entrance of his cunt . you slowly push a finger in , earning a loud whine in response at the intrusion . you move your finger out , then push it back in , trying to make it go as deep as it can .

he lets out more needy moans as you finger him , adding another finger . you begin to make scissoring motions , stretching him out .

❝ fffuck , more ! ❞

his voice is high pitched and shaky .

❝ hm ? you want more in your pretty little cunt ? huh , good boy ? ❞

he nods , placing his arm over his eyes .

❝ nope . you have to look at me . ❞

you say , pulling his arm back down with your unoccupied hand . you add a third finger . next thing you know , he basically screams out your name .

❝ found it . ❞

you say , the smirk returning to your face . you can tell hes getting close . you keep pressing up against that special spot , and then hes spilling all over your fingers .

❝ good boy , cumming for me just from my fingers . ❞

[cognitosclowns]

Hey hey! I dunno if you’re taking requests right now but if you are, I am in NEED of just some soft things with Jr and Andre. I am just so, so gay for them. There isn’t a specific scenario I have in mind, I’m just craving something generally soft, cute and giggly <3

YOU'RE GETTIN SOME,, EXTRA FLUFFY SHIT OUT OF ME TONIGHT <3

ALL SFW !! tw for illness n medication!!

OKIE BUT <333 BOTH OF THEM WOULD BE THE MOST CHAOTIC BUT LOVING CARETAKERS IF YOU'RE SICK

JR

HHHHH how do people do things again?

LISTEN HE'S RICH HE'S NOT USED TO DOING STUFF. YOU THINK HE CAN COOK? NO! DARLING HE HASN'T COOKED IN YEARS.

This means you will be ordered some,, Very Yummy Expensive Meals <3. They might be a touch cold by the time they get there but,, mmm it's ok <3

He gets Super Worried even if it's just,, a cold. He rarely gets sick so seeing you all sniffy and mopey in bed makes him Fret (tm).

also he puts on his slippers for The First Time In Weeks (bc he's,, stayin home to take care of you <3) and ends up Slip N Sliding himself directly into the doorframe. At least it got a laugh outta you <3

HE DOESN'T CARE IF HE GETS SICK, FUCK IT, HE'S CUDDLING YOU.

Specifically, you laying back-to-his-chest while he make His Little Worried face and smooches your cheek. Lots of head rubs too <33

He does this thing,, where he runs his thumbs along your ears n jaw?? Just one clean motion, then he raises his thumbs and puts them back in the Start Position at where your Ear Meets Face? IDK IF I EXPLAINED IT RIGHT, BUT,, HE GETS QUITE MUSHY <3

whenever you sneeze he Instinctively goes,, ‘oh dear </3′ and rubs your shoulders.

Little murmurs asking if you're okay?? He'll INSIST on making you a tea, bc his 'trick' for when he's sick is!! Ginger Tea!! Or mint, but Ginger is his favorite. Settles stomach aches!! And the steam helps your nose hurt less smdnsmd

'hows my favorite angel?'

'do you have other angels?'

mm.. no, but you're still my favorite <3' whenever you wake up. He secretly loves feeling you lay on his chest - besides, hearing his heartbeat is very soothing??

ANDREEEEE

MASSIVE HYPOCHONDRIAC WITH A SHIT IMMUNE SYSTEM.

and,,, somehow this all of this goes out the window the Second he sees you curled up in bed, sniffling your face off.

some sort of Instinct kicks in and his ass is MOVING HE IS LIKE LIGHTNING GETTIN U SOME TISSUES AND FIXING THE COVERS <333

HES LIKE,, yknow when you're nervous about smth, but then your friend gets nervous and suddenly,, You Are Calm? LIKE,, THE MOM FRIEND INSTINCT KICKS IN SO HARD WHEN HE SEES YOU SICK. He might freak out about it later, but,,, rn he doesn't even think to worry about gettin sick <3 babe is sick he's gotta make himself useful

HE CAN'T COOK SO <333 CHEAP RAMEN BABEY. Maybe some microwaved meals - smth easy!! It's a little rubbery but,, it's the thought that counts.

HE LIKES SPICE SO,, if it's too much he'll Purposefully go out and grab smth a little less,,

When he was little and he had The Sniffles, his mum would gently rub his cheeks with a warm cloth bc,, his Sinuses would hurt. He'll absolutely utilize this technique while you cuddle up in his arms.

'i hear feet'

'i'm thirsty'

'sit your ass back down >:(' he always warms it a little w/ kettle water, so it hurts less to drink!!

you only get to stand to use the bathroom. No moving <3 only cuddles and drinks and you passing out at random times while you two spoon in bed.

MOVIE MARATHON TIMEEEE. So many jokes to take your mind off things <3 he already has Jokes Set Up for all of your favorites. Making ppl laugh is,, his way of trying to make stuff better. Hes The Funny Guy!

OH HE'LL ALSO,, PROBABLY WHIP YOU UP SMTH THAT'S JUST,, SLIGHTLY STRONGER COUGH SYRUP MSNDMS. IT WONT ENTIRELY KNOCK YOUR COLD, BUT ITLL MAKE EVERYTHING HURT A BIT LESS SO,, NOT TOO BAD? TASTES LIKE PINK LEMONADE TOO SO,, THAT ROCKS

SMNDSM THIS TURNED OUT MORE SAPPY THAN I EXPECTED BUT I HOPE YOU DONT MIND!!

eee this was very fun <333 TYSM FOR THE LOVELY ASSSSK

[serahlink]

Knight in Orc Armor // F!Orc x FtM!Reader

Summary : After being harassed by some transphobic goblins, an unexpected hero swoops in to save the day.

Word Count : 2,675

TW : transphobia (including slurs and misgendering)

The weaved basket filled to the brim with fresh fruit and various vegetables weighed down in your arms. The market you were leaving behind was always a lively sight to say the least. Goblins, humans and orcs alike ran about, hashing out meats and services to one another. It was the one thing you liked about being in a close knit village. People were brought together in a way. That same gesture wasn’t given or taken by just everyone though. Being one of the only humans in the village usually warranted you relentless bullying and if that wasn’t enough, the fact that you are a trans man was a thing that some people didn’t take kindly of.

Being trans has always been a journey for you, you’ve seen and faced countless discrimination and rejection. While it never ceased being an unrelenting pain, you’ve learned to let things like that roll off of you. You built yourself out of cold stone and you were proud of that. So when you spotted two mischievous goblins in your periphery, you were ready to ignore them and be on with your day. Then their squeaky voices began to taunt you.

“Why, if it isn’t ol’ (Deadname).” One cackled out on your left, easily keeping up with your patient steps. The question was an innocent one enough if you completely disregarded respect of your gender and how menacing their intent was. “Still an errand girl for your parents, are ya?”

The other one chimed in. “That’s how girls are, y'know? Maidens who don’t stray far from home~.”

Their voices didn’t fail to make you nauseous. Their raspy strained tones felt like daggers on glass and the urge to wring out their scrawny little necks only intensified. As if their transphobic taunts weren’t enough, one suddenly jumped in front of your way. Your once unfazed gaze was now bothered and stared daggers down at the creature, who wore a look you could only describe as sadistic.

“You’re no fun at all.” The goblin opposing your side pouted, yet held the same expression as the other one.

With papery hands folded over each other mischievously, the goblin blocking your path grinned a gross smile, baring his yellowing blocky teeth. His knobby hand outstretched to the food kept relatively safe in the basket and you caught a determined glint in his bulging eye. “Now, why don’t you be a good village girl and hand over a fruit or two.”

“Like hell.” You bit back, hugging the basket protectively close. Your response only brought an inquisitive look back from him.

“Really?” The goblin feigned shock, his curling smirk on his lips. “I wouldn’t take that a hero’s daughter would get that kind of attitude.”

“Son.” You corrected firmly, biting back the harshness in that statement. “Hero’s son.”

Just then, the small creature slowly made his way to you until you nearly fell backwards on yourself. He then swiftly hopped up on the basket and dug his chipped nails under your collar, bringing you in a distance that’s too close for comfort. “You will never be a hero’s son. All you are is a pathetic excuse for a daughter, you hear?” With each venom in his statement, he inched closer to where you could feel the musk of his breath. It was nearly suffocating.

Nothing was more suffocating than the heat from your building anger. You could tolerate most things, but slandering you under your own father’s name is something you would not ignore. With one shakingingly angry hand, you slammed down the goblin to the dusty floor and didn’t hesitate to get in its face.

“Listen here, you ugly fiend. You have some nerve to put anyone’s name in your mouth, let alone bring my fathers profession into this.” You spat. “You will not tell me what I will or won’t amount to because of my father going off and making himself a hero, you got that!”

Surprisingly to you, the goblin actually had a bit of fear in his eyes and you pulled up, a smirk on your face. “I think you need to get out of here.”

The goblin under you scrambled to its feet and ran past you, back into the direction of the village market. You then looked to the goblin, who was looking in a direction that wasn’t you. It’s wide eyes fixed on something tall that towered above you both and it was merely then that you realized a heavy shadow was covering your own. Whatever scared the goblins clearly wasn’t you but something much bigger.

Behind you, a muscled arm that appeared to have the bicep the size of your face reached past to pick up the sneaky small being, who yelped as the towering being picked it up. Immediately, you knew what kind of creature this was. An orc. If it wasn’t by the animal skins and steel armor you picked up on that told you it was an orc, it’s size sure did.

Slowly, you turned around. Your expectations told you that you’d be face to face with a savage beast who would rip out the spine of the goblin right in front of you, as if to send a message. You thought this was where you had to be prepared to fight all the fear pulsing through your veins and slay this monster but all that subsided like a cool storm when you saw her.

Instead of meeting a snarling beast, you found a beauty in its place. The toned body of a female orc was plated by armor and draped with various skins, a bow resting behind her back. The strap of it hugged around her torso.. Angular features were broad and tense under dark hair that shaped her face. Her concentrated features glared down at the stammering goblin she held tensely under her strong grip.

All the goblin could spit out was excuses and frankly, the female orc wasn’t buying it. “Tell it to my bow,” She snarled, “or get out of here.”

She only gave a flick of her wrist at most yet the goblin ate dirt at the velocity he was thrown. Quickly, he was on his feet and sped back into the village without sparing a word.

In the sudden quiet, you could hear the quick beating of your heart rattling in your rib cage. It only occurred to you just then that she saved you. This random orc was literally your hero.

Suddenly, before you could even think, you were enveloped in strong arms and being swaddled by the orc bridal style. Her eyes looked everywhere, examining you as if to check for any marks or bruising. You flinched a little, hands scrambling to cling onto anything as to not fall; that very place being her chest and neck. “-! Uh, excuse me!”

Under you, the woven basket fell to the ground with some spare fruit catching dirt ground. “Dammit.” You cursed under your breath.

She looked down at you curiously, her eyes being all you could see.

“Can you, yknow, put me down?” You cleared your throat, fighting back your raging heart beat and flush in your cheeks.

“Oh. Oh! I’m sorry,” To your surprise, she was sheepishly apologetic. “It’s just, you humans are so fragile so I just wanted to make sure you weren’t hurt.”

Fragile? Since when were humans treated as a baby species?

Essentially, she let you down and joined you as you began to assist you in picking up the fallen goods.

“Thank you.”

The orc peered up when you spoke and you found yourself stammering slightly. “But you really didn’t have to do that.” You sheepishly rubbed the back of your neck, picking up the basket once more.

She grinned. “What for? They were giving you trouble and I couldn’t let them do that. It’s common courtesy. Besides, I don’t really like goblins anyway. Pests are all they are.”

She had a bit of an accent, you noticed, but you couldn’t place what kind. Her own was pretty thick but it was easy to make out what she was saying.

“How long were you standing there?” You asked.

It was her turn to become all sheepish. She shrugged, a soft frown began to befall her face. “Long enough to see most of it.”

You weren’t sure why, but something about that frown sort of made you feel guilty. After all, it was enough to be discriminated against. You didn’t want to be pitied.

Then, you cleared your throat. “Right, well, I guess I’ll be going now.”

She stopped you before you could go, practically snabbed the basket out of your reach by its handle. Just as you went to curse her, her cheeky smile stopped you. “Let me carry this for you. You’ve gone through enough trouble today, besides, I’m heading this way anyhow.”

In a way you did curse her. In your head, your voice mumbled curse after curse of her smile and how persuasive it was. Even worse, she acted all innocent, as if she had no clue that a dumb grin like that could make you fall to your knees. Either way, you couldn’t refuse her and against all odds you were walking home with an orc by your side.

“So, tell me about yourself.” The orc suddenly said and she was smiling when you looked up at her.

“Why don’t you tell me about you instead?” You offered. “I mean, you’re the one who swooped in and all. I don’t even know your name.”

“Oh, that’s right. I never introduced myself, did I?” She laughed. “I’m Snatha.”

When she looked at you expectantly, you reluctantly introduced yourself. Snatha looked surprised, yet immensely intrigued. “That’s a nice name.” Her eyes lingered you for a minute longer. “You look a lot like him, your father, I mean.”

Her compliment nearly caused you to stop in your tracks to take it in. You’ve never heard something so heartfelt directed to you before. All your life you shaped yourself to be just like your father and it all usually fell on the hushed ears of people who ridiculed you constantly. Yet this one orc who barely knew you spoke of you as if she believed in you. It meant more to you than any transphobic comments ever did.

By the time you two made it back to your quaint village home, it was getting to be the peak of the afternoon and before you knew it, it was time to part with Snatha. You peered over at the orc herself who gently brought the basket from her shoulder to the ground. “Your house looks empty.” She commented.

“Yeah,” You mumbled. “It’s been just me for a while.”

The orc gave a sympathetic frown, realizing what your silence meant. Before she could give a word of comfort, you walked over and gestured to her to come near, close to your height. She obliged and when she was close enough, you granted her a soft kiss on the cheek. You pulled back and she looked back at you, face flushed and eyes wide; baffled.

“Thank you, for everything.” You smile. You would’ve gone and left straight for your house but instead, you took Snatha by the hand gently. “Actually..would you want to join me for dinner? It’d be nice to have someone to share a meal with.”

Her eyes drifted to your hand that softly squeezed hers and back to your hopeful face, a face she couldn’t have resisted even if she really wanted to. Snatha chuckled, “Of course.”

Instead of bringing the tall orc inside like you would’ve done any other sudden visitor, the two of you took to the back of your village hut where steamed meat was the main course tonight. The fire was blazing, crackling with each lick of flame. It was beautiful, you noticed, the way the light of the fire incandescently lit her features. Even if she was practically shoveling the food down her throat, you found it very endearing.

She only left a cleanly picked bone on her plate, leaning back with a hand over her stomach which was without a doubt full. “I haven’t had a meal like that in ages.” Snatha let out a full groan, smiling contently.

Just as you suspected, she must’ve been off either adventuring or maybe in the war before hand, perhaps both but you didn’t think to ask. Instead, you chuckled. “Really? Well, if you’d like, you can always come by here and get one. I’ll just have to remember to get more meat this time around.”

Snatha looked like she really liked the sound of that. Red glowed under her cheeks and while you told yourself it was because of the fire, some part of you suspected that it was more than that. “I’ll just have to take you up on your offer then, but don’t complain once I get stuck to you.” She teased.

You quirked a grin, then chuckled. “What makes you think I will?”

You could only smirk more and laugh as that red color you saw grew brighter and brighter and all she could do is sputter, struggling with what to say to you unexpectedly teasing her back.

After that, the conversation headed in the next direction. Next thing you knew, you were hearing Snatha’s war stories, stories she claimed to be from her own father which you learned died in a war years ago when she was merely a child. Across from you, she was animated on that log of hers as she practically reenacted the stories like it were theater. She was basking in the bravery and bravado of her warrior father, and it only immersed you in. It was easy to imagine the tall brooding orc dawned in warrior clothing atop a stone ledge, blood hungry eyes narrowed before leaping into battle, throwing no caution into the wind.

It was just like how you saw your father.

Slowly the warm hues of the afternoon were replaced by the cool blues and purples of sunset. It surprised you to realize you’ve spent the whole day with this orc and that’s when it disappointed you to realize it was now ending so soon. The two of you stood at the end of the trail where Snatha would depart from you. Before she did, she paused to say something.

Her eyes averted your gaze and she smiled, arm sheepishly rubbing her neck. “Before we say our farewells, I wanted to thank you for a great dinner. It’s one of the best ones I’ve had.”

“Same here.” You agree, also smiling.

Before she could turn to fully walk away, she paused and turned back to you. She looked a little reluctant and sounded a bit nervous. “By the way..I was wondering that, if you aren’t busy, if we could..I don’t know, go out somewhere sometime?” Although nervous, she indeed looked hopeful.

Her proposal surprised you a little. You knew the two of you took to each other well but to have her also feel the same way was surprising but also, you were relieved. Of course you’d love to spend more time with her. With a soft smile, you nodded. “Of course.”

Snatha lit up from her nervous demeanor, also relieved. “Oh! Oh– that, that’s great!” Her tone told you that she was surprised you’d even take up that offer even when you thought you made it clear you liked her. After a silent shared moment, she cleared her throat. “I suppose I will see you in the ‘morrow then, Sir (L/N).” Snatha forced a formal warrior voice that made you laugh.

“See you too, Warrior Snatha.” You gave your best impression of her back, failing at the orc accent you tried to maintain. Afterwards, you again took her by the hand and stood on your tippy toes to jump up and kiss her cheek.

“Safe travels.” You said, leaving Snatha to place a hand to the kissed spot on her cheek and smile.

“You too.”

[lavenderbexlatte]

entertained

stray kids 1.2k words gender-neutral reader insert Reader x Lee Minho EXPLICIT/NSFW

🖤 warnings: bratting, degradation (incl. sl*t), cat-based nicknames, semi-public sex, handjobs 🖤

🚨🚨 lino is a brat and a bit of an asshole and yknow, it’s sexy here, but it is not realistic.

connect with me! / masterlist

All you can do is stand there, unamused, hands on your hips, and watch.

You’d come to this cocktail event, a stiflingly boring affair inside a fussy restaurant put on by your workplace, with Minho, WITH him. Not like a real date, because the two of you aren’t like that, but he’s at least supposed to be your arm candy. In reality, you can’t even keep track of him. As soon as the first professional you were supposed to be mingling with came up to say hello, Minho excused himself, and you didn’t see him for ages.

Now you’ve found him, near the drinks table, talking to a pretty girl in a gaudy sequined cocktail dress. He’s got one of his best smirks fixed on his face, the one that you’re convinced he practices in the mirror to make sure it’s at full seduction potential.

But Minho shouldn’t be seducing anybody. He came here with you, and if your previous not-quite-dates have taught you anything, he’ll be going home with you, too. The two of you have been friends with benefits for long enough for this to be an expectation.

He’s flirting pretty hard with that girl, though. She’s leaning in close to him, tottering on her high heels, playing with her hair much more than is natural.

No. This isn’t gonna fly.

You walk over to the table, keeping yourself behind Minho and out of his field of view. You’re not about to make a scene, busying yourself with a pitcher of something fruity and a glass full of ice. You just want to listen.

“You smell incredible,” the girl is saying, bringing down one dainty hand on Minho’s shoulder, curling her long pretty nails into the fabric of his blazer.

“You think?” Minho replies, shifting his weight so that he’s even closer to her.

“You’re strong, too, aren’t you?” she simpers.

God. You nearly choke on your too-strong fruity drink, listening to them. No disrespect to this girl, who is obviously trying her damnedest, but it sounds like bad porn dialogue.

“I could let you find out,” Minho says.

Alright, enough. You affix your best clueless smile to your face, and move in.

“There you are!” you say.

The way Minho jumps at the sound of your voice is satisfaction enough, as you come around to stand beside them. The girl’s hand is frozen on his shoulder, and he’s just looking at you in an awkward approximation of his former smirk.

“Oh, my God, am I interrupting you? I’m sorry,” you say cheerfully, laying it on thick.

“Who is this?” the girl asks uneasily.

“I’m his date, but I didn’t realize he knew anyone here!” you say. “How nice, Minho, why don’t you introduce us?”

You don’t want to put her on the spot too badly, since it’s not her fault, but you do want to make Minho squirm. And from the way the girl flushes and excuses herself without another word, giving Minho a dark look, you’d say that you succeeded.

“Nice work, killjoy,” Minho mutters, as you step into the open space in front of him.

“I didn’t know I was so boring that you’d need to go looking for a whole new piece of ass,” you say.

Minho shrugs. “She was cute.”

“Oh, come on, tomcat,” you chide, “If you wanted my attention, you could have just said something.”

“Who says I’m trying to get your attention?” he asks.

You drain your glass before you answer him. “Why else would you be doing this after agreeing to come out with me? If you wanted to find someone to sleep with, you could’ve gone out alone.”

Minho rolls his eyes, “If I want something, I’ll ask for it.”

“Okay, then ask for it.”

You cross your arms, and wait. Minho just meets your gaze evenly, but you can see the annoyance rising behind his eyes, in the tic of his jaw.

“Come on, kitty,” you say, and he bristles at the diminutive nickname, “You know you’re only bad when you want attention.”

Minho is obviously not in the mood for your antagonizing, because he turns right around, muttering under his breath, and heading out toward the front foyer with the coatroom and the bathrooms and host’s stand.

“I could have any girl in here, you know,” he calls over his shoulder.

“I’d like to see you do it,” you reply.

You watch him until he rounds the corner, out of view. But you know this about Minho, from years of being his friend and months of being in this precarious arrangement: if he runs away like this, he wants you to chase him.

When you follow him into the foyer, he’s just standing there against the empty host’s stand, arms crossed. His expression is blank, his pouty downturned lips giving him that distinct catlike resting face that you like so much.

“Bathroom or coatroom?” you ask him lightly.

“Pardon?”

Choose, or I will,” you say.

He blinks at you. “Coatroom.”

“Nice choice.”

You grab him by both lapels and tug him toward the demure wooden door labeled “Coats.” The room is unmanned, since it’s not cold enough to necessitate outerwear, but the door is unlocked, and you shove Minho inside before shutting yourself in after him.

“What’s your safeword?” you ask him, as you crowd him up against the wall.

He grits his teeth, his malcontent visible even in the hazy yellow glow of the coatroom’s single yellow light, but answers, “Whiskers.”

“That’s right, it is.”

The two of you are pressed chest to chest, and you smile at him, deceptively sweet.

“What?” he snaps.

“Are you gonna admit that you were just being a little attention whore out there?” you ask.

“Why would I admit that?”

You hum, grinding your hips forward into his. Like the easy little kitty he is, you can feel him rut into you in return. His arousal rises like his temper: quickly and out of his control.

“What else would you call it, huh?” you tease.

You reach down between your bodies to grasp his cock through the material of his slacks, and Minho lets out a strangled moan that’s much too loud.

“You have to keep it down,” you murmur, “Or everyone’s gonna know that you’re just a bratty little slut who pitches a fit until he gets what he wants.”

Minho just presses his hips harder into your grip, and you let go of him to pop the button on his pants and slip your hand inside, instead. He moans again, at the feeling of your skin against him, massaging his length.

But as your hand moves, you can heat a rustling sound that’s almost like…paper? Curious, you poke your other hand into Minho’s front pocket, and pull out not one, but two scraps of paper. It’s dark but you can make out a scrawl on each of them.

“What are these?” you ask him, tugging his pants and underwear down more so that you can jerk him off more openly.

“Nothing,” Minho spits.

“They look like phone numbers.”

“Huh, funny.”

You squeeze him even tighter, and he yelps.

“Jesus fucking Christ, are you trying to castrate me?” Minho hisses.

“I just thought my dumb little slut wanted to get his dick wet so bad that he was out hunting for three phone numbers,” you reply.

“Fuck you.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” you grin, “Sluts don’t get what they want.”

[tiptapricot]

Hey there! Would you happen to have any headcanons for Sam Emerson and/or the Frog Brothers?

I do have some for Sam, yea! I don’t have any for the frog bros though, just cause I don’t rlly vibe w them as much

Lucy helps trim and re-bleach his hair whenever it grows out too much

He can’t come up with good insults to save his life, and makes people laugh more often than not if he tries to

He blushes easily and flushes all splotchy from his chest up to his ears

He loves bubblegum but hates bubblegum as a flavor, so he only buys variants. His favorites are orange and watermelon

Homophobia and a brief mention of drugs and alcohol under cut

When he turns seventeen ABBA’s Dancing Queen is playing nonstop the whole day. He’s just dancing around singing along to the words the whole time, pulling Michael and Lucy over to join him. He gets Michael to reluctantly get into it, and they start seeing who can sing the loudest

As seen in canon he sings in the bath/shower, but the thing is, he doesn’t realize that people can hear him when he does it. He’s just totally, blissfully, unaware that the bathroom isn’t sound proof

He really likes reading elementary-MS level novels, just because they’re fun and easy and in high supply. Think Boxcar Children, Nancy Drew, Bailey School Kids , etc., that kind of vibe

He chews on his pencils

He actually really enjoys school, and he gets pretty good grades too

He’s kind of a goody two shoes (affectionate) and feels uncomfortable breaking rules most of the time

He always makes friends with the librarians and lunch people at school, and a handful of teachers too. They all think he’s a gem (because he is😌)

He’s pretty self conscious when it comes to his orientation, and how people treat him for it. He’s been called every insult under the sun by the time he reaches high school, and has learned to laugh it off and just say he has a different fashion sense than most people, before busting out some classic “guy” knowledge that “proves” that he’s straight

It seems to work well enough

He’s really just trying to convince himself, when it comes down to it, and does such a good job that he actually starts to believe that after awhile

He has kind of a breakdown/forced realization one night while he’s laying in bed, like it just hits him yknow? It clicks into place that, oh... I actually am gay, huh?

He’s kind of conflicted about it for awhile, because he’s been making excuses and denying things for so long that it can’t be true, right?

It gets to the point that he’s practically bursting at the seams, not really sure what to do and feeling worse and worse about it by the day. One night he just trudges into Michael’s room and flops down face first on the bed, and when Michael asks him what’s wrong, he kinda reaches up to squeeze the blankets a bit, takes a deep breath, and mumbles, “I’m gay.”

He’s still laying face down, so when Michael doesn’t respond at first, his anxiety ratchets up to ninety and he just starts crying into the comforter

Michael’s hand is on his back immediately and he’s curling up next to him to pull him into a hug, and Sam just presses his face against his brother’s chest and cries harder

Michael tells him that that’s ok, that Sam is ok, and that he loves him so so much and always will

When Michael comes out himself a month or so later, Sammy’s just elated (Lucy is of course supportive of both of them)

His favorite sodas are Pepsi and Fanta

He doesn’t know how drugs work, he’d say “I know how to do a weed” to try and impress people, and he’s never touched alcohol in his life (and still doesn’t really when he’s older)

He tries to teach himself how to moonwalk once and ends up tripping and banging his head on his bedside table. It leaves a scar right above his right eyebrow

He picked up swearing in middle school and thought it made him the coolest fucking guy at the time

He hates black tea and coffee, they give him a headache and he hates the flavor

He collects cheap plastic rings from mall games and cereal boxes

His favorite color is magenta

He’s really bad at flirting but also does it a lot accidentally just because he’s a generally nice guy

He doesn’t like wearing hats

He has VERY strong opinions on music that no one else in his family fully understands, but they listen anyway (he likes to explain things w very emphatic movements)

He sunburns easily

He always falls for pranks and when ppl fuck with him, which led to him only finding out that bell peppers are in fact not the spiciest pepper when Lucy mentioned they were in dinner one time

(Michael told him that when he was younger to seem cool and keep Sammy out of the snack drawer)

To get revenge, he tells Michael the steampunk era was a real historical era, and that he “learned it in history last year, you really gotta pay more attention in class Mike”

He sticks his tongue out when focusing

He screams the first time Micahel takes him on a ride on his bike and refuses to ride on one ever again

He really likes the smell of the dishwasher right after it’s done, and of fresh laundry

He doesn’t know how to swim

Michael is his favorite person in the whole world, and he’ll tell anyone willing to listen just how cool he is. He’s probably embellished some stories over the years, but no one has to know Michael didn’t actually fight off three ninjas when he stood up to Sam’s bullies in third grade

Headcanons masterpost

[kitkat1003]

On the issue of Mortality

AO3 Link

MK chose to be mortal, to be vulnerable, for the time being, and Monkey King is fine with that.

On the surface, at least.  Now he has a successor, one that he likes, and he’s vulnerable????

Yeah, he’s never going to sleep easy again.

(Or, 11 chapters through season 1 about Monkey King, and anxiety his successor gives him.  Who knew being a dad teacher would be so hard?)

Chapter 1: Picking a successor

(Or “Look, I’m gonna come clean.  Um...I’ve been kinda watching you”)

When Sun Wukong—the Monkey King—decides he needs a successor, it isn’t an easy decision.  For one, he refuses to admit why.  Because that would mean confronting it all and he doesn’t want to.  

He needs a successor because he wants one.  Who doesn’t want to retire?  It’s not like he’s spent hundreds of thousands of years in technical retirement, waiting for the Demon Bull King to return.  No, he’s been...super busy.  Yeah.  Turning Flower Fruit Mountain into a paradise has totally taken him…forever, and, like, he’s got lots of stuff to do.  He watches TV, once humans get electricity figured out.  Gets a computer too, once those things start popping up.  He gets a lawyer or two, yknow, keeping up with the times.

He’s...super busy.  He definitely deserves a retirement.

So all that’s left is find a successor.  Easy, right?

Well....

He actually starts looking when he hears whispers that the Demon Bull family is starting to get close to figuring out how to lift his staff.  So about a hundred years before Demon Bull King actually escapes.

He finds a few kids he thinks might work, but nothing happens, anyway, so there’s no point in interrupting their boring normal lives for nothing.  Besides, he doesn’t really see any of them with the spark of...something that he wants in his successor in any of them

He watches them grow.  Child to teen to adult, he watches, and then he leaves before they get too old because he doesn’t want to see the headstones.

He doesn’t understand why they have to be human.  Why they have to be mortal.  Why they have to be able to die.

Why he has to watch them die.

Years and years pass.  He gets lax, when looking for a successor.  Lax when it comes to keeping an eye on the Demon Bull family.

He does, on occasion, watch the town where his staff is.  It’s a pretty populace place, always buzzing with some sort of activity, which is both fun and boring.

One night, he watches a kid—no older than 13, he thinks, since he’s gotten used to watching humans grow and can gauge it pretty well—sprint down the street in the rain, wearing nothing but a ratty old hoodie, a shirt, shorts, torn up shoes, and a headband so dirty that even he can’t discern the original color.

There are three other figures chasing him, and he ducks into an alley as they sprint past.  Monkey King watches as the kid settles down, sitting in the alley, and pulling something out from beneath his hoodie.

A puppy.

“Hey there, little guy,” the kid’s voice is soft, and he scritches the tiny pup behind the ears.  “Sorry I couldn’t get your siblings, but they’d already been thrown in the lake—” the look on the kid’s face is nothing short of heartbreaking. 

Monkey King has plans for the group of thugs he saw earlier, if that’s what they were doing. Humans. 

“But hey, managed to save you, huh?  I’ll bring you to a shelter in the morning.  Someone will take you home and you’ll get loved to death.” Monkey King rolls his eyes at the saccharine display, but he wonders.

There isn’t a lot of crime in this city, with its advancements.  What’s a kid doing outside this late at night?

“I’d take you home with me, but mine’s more of a hovel than a place to live.  You can still see it, though!  C’mon,” the kid gets up, stumbling a little, and Monkey King notices that he’s favoring one leg, that the elbow of one of the sleeve’s of his hoodie is wet.

He follows.

The kid’s house is literally a shack made of a metal sheet wedged between an alley wall.  There’s a ‘bench’ that’s a slab of rock placed on top of more rocks, where a well loved sketchbook sits.

The kid sits on the bench, setting the puppy down beside him as he flips open his sketchbook.

“I’m gonna draw you, so I don’t forget, kay?” He pats the pup on the head, and then, using the smallest, most worn down pencil Monkey King has ever seen, he slowly carves out the puppy’s features, getting the soft tones of fur.  He keeps squinting, but Monkey King thinks that’s because all he has is the light of the lamppost for his vision.

This kid...is pretty darn good.

Monkey King watches for way longer than he would like to admit, and then watches as the kid pulls out a very worn blanket-substitute, curling around the puppy beneath it.

He frowns, but isn’t sure what to do about it.

So he leaves, and makes sure those thugs learn a thing or two about treating animals with respect.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

This kid just keeps popping up in Monkey King’s peripherals.

He likes to people watch, and the kid will just appear from nowhere.  He’ll be running down the street, hanging out with this girl who looks about 3 economic classes above him. They’ll go to the arcade and play for hours, and she’ll pay for practically everything.

He decides he likes her, if she’s nice enough to do that for the kid.  Plus, he feels a familiar energy coming off of her, something he trusts.

They typically end their day at a noodle shop.  Pigsy’s?  The kid always pays there, with coins of various sizes.  The girl, when the kid isn’t looking, will slip the cook some more money.  They get steaming hot bowls of ramen, harass the cook, and eventually get half chased out, laughing all the while.

“You know you can stay with me, right?” The girl says, one day, when Monkey King is people watching (read: eavesdropping on their conversation.  It’s like his new favorite TV show, at this point).  Kid rolls his eyes.

“Mei, c’mon, your relationship with your folks is as strained as mine!  I wouldn’t want you to end up like me.  Besides, I’m fine!” he insists with the grin Monkey King has grown accustomed to seeing on Kid’s face.  

The information Monkey King gains from those two sentences is certainly something, and he ponders on Mei, the girl who spends her days as far away from home as possible.

Mei frowns.

“You still won’t show me where you’re staying.  Or explain why your clothes are all torn up!” She pokes him in the chest, and the Kid shrugs.

“Cause you wouldn’t like either of those things!  I can take care of myself!  Promise.” He rocks back and forth on his feet, all smiles.

Mei fixes him with a glare, before she sighs, relenting. “Fine.  But, if you won’t take my hospitality, you get my undying loyalty and free stuff!” She whips out a brand new red winter coat.  

Kid takes it slowly.

“It’s getting colder out!” She explains.  “And red just isn’t my color, you know?”

Kid slowly pulls the jacket against his chest, like he doesn’t know what to do with it, and then he smiles.  This one is smaller.  Less performative.  Monkey King didn’t realize that he’d been watching the kid to be able to tell the difference, but it’s not too hard to see.  Kid uses big smiles like a cloak, to hide what’s underneath.  The smaller ones-those are like the slivers of sunlight shooting out from an eclipse.  Wukong finds he prefers the smaller ones.

Kid wraps his arm around Mei’s shoulders.

“Thanks, Mei.”

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The days get colder, and Kid is still in that shack.  Monkey King finds out that Kid doesn’t steal for money.  Instead, he does little odd jobs for short change, and then looks for coins people have dropped.  Apparently, the city’s wealth has made people more loose with their change.

Mei drags him to warm places as often as she can, but apparently this time of year she has a lot of responsibilities, or “social events,” as she calls them, so she can’t be around as much.

Kid doesn’t seem to mind, shivering through the nights, curling himself as tight as possible with that jacket and shitty blanket, and Monkey King doesn’t know why he even cares, but...

He’s not cruel.  It isn’t pleasant to watch a kid suffer.

And then, Kid gets sick.  Like, delirious, fever sick, and he’s not getting better.

And Monkey King has told himself, a million times, that he would let Kid figure his own life out, but he ends up picking Kid up anyway, depositing him at the ever familiar noodle shop.

The cook drags the boy inside, and Monkey King doesn’t see Kid on the streets after that.

Good.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Kid starts working at the noodle shop, apparently, and he lives above the shop.  Slowly, he accrues random objects.  Sketchbooks, games, figurines, Monkey King comics?  He watches the show near religiously, and Monkey King is both flattered and weirded out.

A super fan, huh?  Okay then.

And when he isn’t working, or watching “Monkey King: The Animated Series,” or reading Monkey King comics, he’s begging the resident bookworm, Tang, for stories, which he then sketches out.

Monkey King actually goes through the sketchbook once, when Kid’s asleep.  Yup, Kid’s really, really good at this.  Monkey King actually thinks about stealing a drawing, but that would be both very obvious and also stupid.

So he lets it go.  He ought to look for his successor, anyway.  He hears the Demon Bull family is getting close.

He leaves Kid to his life and moves on to his own.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

He can’t find a successor.  Somehow.  It’s like every person in this city (and it would have to be in this city, because you need to be close to the staff in some regard if you want to have a connection with it.  Being born near it, living near it-makes it easy for the energy, the chi, to find you) doesn’t want anything to do with hero business.  The kids he considers are too small, the adults too...boring.

And he’s getting pretty frustrated here, because he thinks he might just have to fight the Demon Bull King all over again, which, ugh.

And then, it clicks.

He’s watching Kid drive around town, delivering orders, and somehow the kid steers towards the construction site.  Toward the staff.

Of course.

God, it was literally staring him in the face.  He feels kind of dumb, now that it hits him, but whatever.  Not like anyone’s around to tease him about it.

He watches Kid waltz towards danger, music in his headphones too loud to notice the literal demon family, until Kid opens his eyes and sees the whole demon army there, and hoo boy, is this comical.

Monkey King wonders if they’ll succeed this time, in lifting his staff.  They certainly seem confident.  He’s kind of curious, kind of bored.  The whole ‘take our rightful place as rulers of this world’ schtick is super annoying, and Red Son’s voice is grating.

The light show is pretty nice, though, and then.

Then.

Demon Bull King’s a lot smaller than he remembers, but his voice is the same, as is his attitude.  Monkey King can feel Kid shaking and takes a quick sweep of the area.  Seems his successor is right above Red Son.

He smirks to himself, not that anyone can see considering he’s a bird right now.  

This is going to be hilarious.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

When Kid touches the staff, Monkey King isn’t prepared for the feeling he gets.

It’s like he’s been the single Sun in an endless galaxy, surrounded by darkness, when suddenly another star appears from nowhere, throwing him into orbit with it.  The galaxy shifts, the light doubles, the darkness recedes.

Monkey King’s own center, his sun, feels red hot, warm, and tempered by years of life, with a spark of yellow and white in its center.  Kid’s is bright, brilliant golden yellow, more white than any color, bursting with energy.

That energy gets put to work pretty quickly, as the Kid fumbles his way out of the demon’s den, and Monkey King soars after him, watching the escape with a smile.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

He doesn’t properly meet Kid until he gets shot all the way to Flower Fruit mountain.  After Kid escapes Red Son, he panickedly tells his friends what’s going on and tries to get there on his own.

Well, all the way is a bit much.  Maybe Monkey King had to catch Kid and fly him there, because Kid was looking half dead and Monkey King was a little worried, but that’s beside the point.  He leaves Kid on the shore, and follows him when Kid gets up.

He isn’t expecting the frustration, when he can’t be found, but he supposes that’s his cue.

Getting stepped on is unpleasant.  Guess Kid doesn’t like bugs.

God, the look on Kid’s face, when it hits him that Monkey King’s been watching him!  If he could frame a memory, that would be it.  Hoo, boy, is that going to be replaying in his head for a while.  Kid seems more bewildered than anything else, and the idea of being Monkey King’s successor doesn’t sit well with him.

Which, Monkey King doesn’t get that.  Who wouldn’t want to be taught by him?

But maybe he overestimates the kid’s spunk, his confidence, because waving off his worries doesn’t spur him on; rather, it seems to deflate him.

Ugh.  Why is being a teacher difficult?  It’s not like his teacher had a hard time with him, right?

Distantly, he thinks he can hear his master shouting at him.  He hops off his cloud, says just the right thing to get Kid pumped up, and watches him race off.

He considers just sitting back and not watching, but then, that wouldn’t be any fun, would it?

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

He isn’t actually sure what having a successor means, really.  How much their powers, their lives, would mirror his own.  A part of him was terrified by the prospect—could he even be known as anything special, if he was no longer one of a kind?

But there’s also something quite exciting about this.  The idea that your life is being rewritten, the story unfinished and yet also repeating itself.  The Demon Bull King is on the loose, with his army and family, trying to take over the world.

And only one person can stop him.  The Monkey King.

Kid’s powers are volatile.  He can feel them flare up from time to time, wildly flickering out of control.  A lack of self confidence, that might be causing it.  A part of him is annoyed by that, a part of him is relieved.  Far better to have to teach someone to believe in themselves than teach them humility.  He’s pretty sure he hasn’t learned that latter lesson all the way yet.

Kid vanishes into the Demon Bull King’s chest, where the staff lies, and for a moment, the new sun vanishes.  Monkey King feels the cold rush of space in its absence, and feels panic, even though he’s only known this warmth for a few hours.

But then, it bursts back into existence, as a familiar stone drops from the Demon Bull King’s chest, cracking open, and, well, it’s history being written the same way over and over again, isn’t it?

Kid has a flair for silliness, childish maneuvers.  He likes to have fun, and that’s the best part of the powers they share.  To be invincible, to have fun while saving the day. 

It’s a repeat, until, well, it isn’t.

The blow Kid takes makes Monkey King wince.  The body becoming invulnerable takes time.  It doesn’t just immediately show up.  Every second, Kid’s body is absorbing and meshing with the powers thrust upon it, but that doesn’t mean getting hit a mile by a guy twenty times your size doesn’t still hurt, at this point.

But Monkey King knows this is what has to happen.  Because heroes aren’t heroes if they never feel pain, never get hit.

Heroes, he thinks, as Kid tears himself from the wall he’s embedded in, as Kid stands, eyes ablaze, are heroes when they get hit and they get back up.

And Kid sure as hell does.

“I’m the Monkey Kid!” He shouts, like a battle cry, like a challenge, and Monkey King smirks.  Monkey Kid, huh?  It suits him.  And then, Kid slams the staff on the ground, and the world shifts.

A part of him is kind of jealous.  How come he never got a mech?!  Has that been a thing this entire time?  Another part is in awe of this Kid’s creativity, ability, at such a young age.

And seeing DBK get trounced again certainly keeps the jealous part of him quiet.

Kid’s got a nice group of friends.  Reminds him of his journey days, him and a rag tag group of idiots going around wreaking havoc and learning moral lessons at the end of it.  He’s glad Kid isn’t alone or on the streets anymore.  A strong foundation leads to a stronger ability to grow.

Well, he’d better get some sort of training regimen ready.  Or, at least, start thinking of some things to do to train this kid.  He’s sure at some point Kid is going to bug him for a lesson or two.

Somehow, the thought doesn’t bother him as much as he thinks it should.

[needs-to-stop-looking-at-yigas]

Yknow, your writing of Daruk and Huni was just so good, I have to ask for an encore. Perhaps this time, Huni gets teased a LOT more? Because Hylia knows that brat does NOT deserve the amount of dick he gets

Fuck you- im getting kinky Rhoam shit out of you because of this.

Huni checked out his hair in the vanity, as well as applying a new coat of lip balm, before there was a knock at his door.

"What is it?"

A maid poked her head into the room.

"Daruk is here for you, he is in the dining hall. Shall I tell him you'll be there in a moment?"

"Yeah, just gotta...arrange some things."

She nodded, shutting the door. Rhoam had gone off on a hunting trip, which left him alone for a few days. So, like anyone who's daddy wasn't home, he invited boys over. Well, ONE boy. One big, dumb, strong, sweet boy. He added a bit of perfume to his collarbone (spicy apple pie. It was Rhoam's favorite, but more importantly, it was Daruk's favorite), before heading outside, right into the dining room.

He sat there, being just a gentleman as the maids offered him cookies. God he was MASSIVE.

"Daruk! I'm so glad you made the trip!"

Daruk got up from his chair, lifting him up effortlessly off his feet, and into his arms.

"Huni! There ya are! I got you a present as pretty as you!"

Oh Huni MELTED. So sweet and so...strong. Huni chuckled, leaning onto him and coiling a strand of his hair in between his finger.

"Oh well aren't you just precious. I...don't weigh anything to you, do I?"

"Think korok leaves are heavier than you. Which is fine, I like carrying precious cargo."

Oh, he was being SO serious. He needed to get this man to fuck him, pronto.

"Oh you~...why don't you bring that gift with us up to my room? You can even carry me there."

"Can I bring the cookies? They're really good."

Huni leaned over to grab the plate, letting it rest on his belly as he took one. Double chocolate chip, with a dash of salt.

"I'll handle those. Mush, boy."

Daruk obeyed, carrying him up to his room, and shutting the door behind them. He set Huni down on his bed, and held his hands behind his back.

"You ready for your gift?"

"Mhmm."

He'd be more sweet with his words, but his mouth was full of yummy cookies. Daruk showed his hands; a perfectly polished chunk of ruby, the size of his damn head. Huni ignored the cookies, letting it be placed into his hands. Huni LOVED shiny, expensive things.

"It reminded me of your hair. I polished it for you so you couldn't get dirt on your hands. Do you...like it?"

Oh he was going to GET it. He grunted as he put it on the night stand, grabbing a hold of the chain that Daruk had wrapped around his body.

"You need to fuck me. Now."

Daruk chuckled, putting a hand on his chest, and shoving him into his bed.

"I was expecting a little more foreplay before we got to the nitty-gritty of it. You missed me, didn't you?"

Oh the way his big hands ran up his thighs. He grinned, nodding at the warmth quickly rising in his frame.

"I did. God dammit I missed that cock. I couldn't remember the last time I came that hard. You make Rhoam look SO pathetic compared to you."

Daruk frowned, head cocked to the side.

"You uh. Sure he's okay with this? Especially with you talking about him like that?"

"It's fine- he LOVES it even! He LOVES being cucked. He's gonna come home, realize you plowed me, and get SO horny- if anything, you're helping our relationship."

Course that convinced Daruk. He nodded in understanding, allowing himself to peel off Huni's clothes. He was so sweet about it too, being careful not to accidentally tear anything. Then he got to his panties. He looped a finger around it, parting it to look at Huni's pussy.

"I didn't even touch here yet, you’re SO wet!"

"I've been waiting for you. This pussy needs that big, throbbing-!"

He didn't get to finish when Daruk pulled his panties, making the cloth rub up roughly against his clit. Daruk chuckled, pulling further and making his little toy writhe on the spot.

"Aw, what's wrong? Do you got a lil wedgie? Is it bugging you?"

Oh it hurt in just the best way. He could feel himself just ruin his once pretty underwear. Daruk pulled, relaxed, pulled, relaxed, enough to make poor Huni shake. He hadn't even touched his pussy, and he was already hungry for him. Huni whined after who knows how long, nudging his hands.

"Daruk c-come on, don't be so mean to me, please? I need it, pleeeease?"

With the puppy dog eyes, he knew he couldn’t refuse. Daruk sighed in defeat, pulling away the underwear, starting to undress himself.

"Alright alright, I can't say no when you beg like that."

Oh thank Hylia. Seeing his cock, all nice and hard, made him just oh so hungry. Daruk got back into his bed, forcing him onto his front, and even pinning his hands behind his back. Huni damn near squealed when he felt Daruk's weight on top of him.

"PLEASE hurry- I need it, I need to feel your cock, I need to cum all over it!"

Daruk rubbed his head in between his cheeks, sliding down till his head rubbed against his clit. He did it again and again, slowly, not pushing himself in anywhere just yet. It was fun at first, especially when he flicked his clit with his massive girth. But he kept going. Smearing his fluids in between his ass, as well as all over his cock. He was slathered in his own juices, just READY for him.

"You're shaking. Is it the way I flick your clit? Is it the way I part your lips when I dip down like this?"

He pushed himself in between his lips, but didn't go inside of him, didn't itch that scratch he needed.

"D-daruk, come on! Just slide it in! It's so easy, I'm so wet! Don't you like my little pussy? Don't you wanna-"

"I'm. Not. Ready."

He kept Huni's head down, as if he was taming some wild animal. Huni settled for a whine, knowing he had to be a good boy. Daruk ran his fingers through his hair, nails occasionally grazing his scalp.

"I wanna make you feel good. If I fuck you now, you'll feel good. But if I tease you...if I make you drip more and shake more, you'll feel even better. And you're so pretty, I wanna make you feel REALLY good. So no. You won't get it yet. Not until I know you NEED it."

Huni whined into his pillow. It wasn’t fair, he could feel the precum lathered against his own fluids. He could feel those fucking giant balls occasionally press against him, so ready to stuff him full of cum. Daruk hummed a bit in thought.

"I mean. I COULD speed this up, but I don't wanna be mean-"

"Please be mean! Please! Whatever it takes I want it, I NEED-"

That was when Daruk brought his hand down, smacking him right across his ass. His hand was bigger, firmer than Rhoam's, and by some miracle; nothing broke from the force. Even when he did it again and again, well until Huni's ass was as red as a Christmas light. It made him cry out everytime, not just in pain, but from the fact that it only made his little pussy even wetter.

Daruk was merciless. No matter how much he cried out, no matter how much he begged for what he really wanted, Daruk refused to relent. Huni didn't know how much time had passed, but he knew that when the spanking finally stopped, he was an overstimulated mess by the end of it.

"You okay down there?"

How such a big, rough man looked at him with such compassion, Huni would never understand it.

"Please. PLEASE. No more. No fucking more. I need that dick right NOW. Please! If I don't get it I'm doing to fucking CRY!"

Huni usually meant that as a means to just get what he wanted, but from the way his pussy was trembling, he might actually mean it for once. That was when Daruk held his head down, nearly smothering him in the pillow, then shoved his cock right inside of him. He shoved himself in fully, till his balls pressed against him. Don't ask Huni how he was able to take something that absolutely massive, that absolutely THICK. He just knew that when he did, he felt his eyes damn near rolled to the back of his head.

"I hope you don't mind-I'm gonna be a bit...rough."

That was an understatement. Daruk didn't even start off slow, he just started to slam into him, stuffing his pussy with pure, diasterious Goron dick. It made the bed underneath them creak under his giant weight, and it damn near smothered Huni under his force. And Huni just sat there and TOOK it. He knew he looked like a total whore right now, tears in his eyes and drool dripping onto the pillow. And Huni held NO shame in making everyone in this castle jealous.

"FUCKING SHIT!! POUND MY FUCKING PUSSY DARUK, FUCKING RUIN ME!!"

Oh he was a sweet guy, giving Huni what he wanted, absolutely no hesitation. It was enough to make him cum not just once, but twice. He usually wasn't so easy, but FUCK Daruk was goddamn merciless, he couldn’t help it. A moment after his second orgasm (the one that made his pretty toes curl), Daruk came.

And he came a lot.

"S-sorry, I didn't ask if you wanted me to pull-"

"God shut the FUCK up and stuff me."

Daruk kept still, pumping more and more cum into him. His stomach felt bloated, his pussy ached, and the extra cum cascaded down his pretty legs. Huni was limp as he sat there, throbbing as more cum continued to pour from him.

"Ugh...it's a LOT more than last time. You look stuffed, you sure you don't want me to-"

"Stay."

Daruk obeyed, staying put until he FINALLY finished. Once he seemed to have no more to give, he pulled out, and Huni finally collapsed, sighing in relief. He rolled onto his back, wiping the sweat from his forehead.

"You uh...good? You look spacey."

"I'm...good. Goron spunk just. Hits different. Shit."

Oh Huni was fucking loopy at this point. Daruk chuckled, playing with Huni's pretty hair.

"I'm just surprised you didn't break. Sturdy thing, aren't you? You wanna go again?"

"When I can feel my pussy again, absolutely."

Daruk leaned over to grab the plate of cookies, and they sat there in comfortable silence, stuffing their faces. Huni should feel bad, lying to Daruk about his relationship to Rhoam.

But fuck, with dick THIS good, who needs monogamy?

[heythatsfarout]

Part FIVE

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

I remembered the fear of this game from my schooldays. How mean girls would use it as a way to get back at you. Dare you to do something embarrassing in front of your crush. Make you spill a secret they’d found out through someone else and were annoyed you hadn’t told them. Things like that.

Here, there was a mix of people. Art school kids, mostly. Musicians and misfits, as my parents would say.

They lounged across one another like they were furniture, forming an irregular ring in the small living room. The music was turned down low now, I think someone was playing Transformer. I could make out the lyrics to ‘Perfect day’.

Graham leaned closer to me, close enough that I could smell his cologne, feel the warmth of his skin. He pulled back the hair falling over my ear and whispered the lyrics to me softly, ‘It’s such a perfect day, I’m glad I spent it with you.’

I shivered.

Someone I didn’t know was just finishing up eating the dirt from a potted plant. The small gathering laughed and gave him a round of applause, to which he mockingly bowed. He turned around, wiping the clay from his lips, and glanced speculatively at around the room.

He made a show of weighing his options, flicking his curls out of his eyes, before pointing directly at me.

‘You. Truth or dare?’

Damon laughed and took a swig of beer.

Never pick truth. Never pick truth. Never pick truth...

‘Dare.’

He pursed his lips, considering. There was something mischievous in his eyes, they glimmered now at the possibilities.

Damon cleared his throat and stared at him pointedly.

The curly boy sighed and threw his eyes up to heaven in disappointment. ‘Killjoy.’

That wasn’t aimed at me.

Curly looked at me and folded his arms. ‘I dare you.... to kiss the most attractive man in this room.’

My heart pounded so loudly in my chest I was sure it’d explode. Sure that everyone could hear it, was witnessing my panic.

Breathe. This was - should have been - easy. There should have been just one choice. And he was sitting right next to me. Quite happily now, a slow smile spreading across his face.

I don’t know why I did it. Maybe it was the alcohol. Maybe somebody spiked my drink when I wasn’t looking. Maybe, maybe, maybe.

Or maybe I was just a terrible person.

My legs shook as I stood up and turned to Graham.

He looked up at me, his face expectant. He was the obvious answer. Give my boyfriend a peck on the lips, and that would be that. This was an easy dare, a warm up for the new girl.

Damon had seen to that. Trying to be nice. For Graham.

It was for Graham, but I wanted him to notice me. Me, not Graham’s girlfriend. I wasn’t Coxonette.

I swayed to the right slightly, a sense of calm coming over me. I noticed questioning looks being exchanged, wondering what I was waiting for. Just kiss Graham.

Yes, just kiss Graham. Why didn’t I just kiss Graham?

Damon’s eyes were on me, slightly narrowed as he sipped his beer.

I stumbled closer to him, and before I knew it I was standing right in front of him.

Light amusement touched his eyes and he looked around me to grin at Graham conspirationally.

I could practically read the words in his smile. ‘She’s had a little much to drink, mate.’

Then, my lips were on his.

They opened for a moment, his hot breath mixing with mine, then his hands pushed my shoulders away roughly.

Angrily.

Deadly silence had descended upon the room, worsening the ringing in my ears. I turned slowly, unconsciously. To see his reaction.

There was an awful moment as realisation dawned on Graham’s face, crumpling it. He got up clumsily, banging into the table in his haste to get out of the room.

Damon stared up at me, his eyes wide with shock and... disgust.

‘What the fuck, Jessica?’

He cursed under his breath and lurched towards the door Graham had taken, pushing me roughly out of the way.

His discarded beer made a sticky dark pool on the carpet.

**********

A) yes I stole this shamelessly from the perks of being a wallflower I just felt it fit yknow

B) someone please let me know if this is getting boring hehe

[faofinn]

BTHB - Wiping the Other's Tears Away

Fao couldn't help himself, he pulled Harrison in for a hug, crushing him against his chest. “Oh, Tomcat, nothing is ever over.”

He stiffened. "It is."

“No. Come on, you of all people know things can and will get better. Look at where we came from, look at the family we have now.”

Harrison's body trembled as he sobbed, gripping Fao tighter. "They're gone."

“No, they're not. Not at all. They're so worried about you, Hars. Sheila is beside herself. I'd barely even gotten off the plane before she was all over me, asking me if you'd reached out, desperate to know if you were safe.”

"You're lying." He managed, though barely believed it himself. "They hate me."

“No, I don't lie.”

"They hate me." He repeated through sobs.

“No, they don't. Sheila will be so relieved you're safe. That you're alive.”

He shook his head, gripping onto Fao. "No."

“Yeah. We thought you were dead.”

He sniffed, trying to catch his breath. "I wish I was."

“I know, I know.” Fao soothed.

Harrison took a moment, trying to get his breathing back under control. His own wolf itched to be out, unhappy at the uncomfortable situation. "I'm glad you're safe."

Fao hummed. “I'm absolutely fine. Is that what all this is about, eh?”

He swallowed thickly. He wasn't going to admit that, he wouldn't ever admit that.

Harrison’s silence told Fao all he needed to know. “Oh, Tomcat.” He breathed.

His sobs grew harder and he buried his face in Fao's neck. He had no reason to be so nice to him. He'd hurt his brother, ruined the family. Fao should have hated him, not pulled him in for a hug, nor tried to help him.

Fao rubbed his back. “Hey, hey. It's alright, come on now. It'll all be okay. You're okay. I've got you.”

Harrison pulled away, stumbling back to sit on the bed. He reached for Fao though, an olive branch, the best part of an apology he'd give.

Fao sat with him, wrapped his arm around him as he reached up to wipe Harrison’s tears with his thumb. “There we go, you're alright.”

He didn’t pull away. "How long are you staying?"

“As long as you need.”

"That's not what I meant."

“How long am I in the country?”

He nodded; he couldn't bring himself to ask properly.

“I've got nothing on the horizon. So, a fair while. Six months, at least.”

"Six.." It wasn't enough.

“Easily longer. I have to sign up, so… I can take a break. Still gotta train, but…”

"Don't stop for me."

“It's not stopping. I need a rest period anyway.”

"That's just saying it a different way."

“Sure, either way. I'm back now.”

"You'll be gone soon enough."

“It's my job, Hars. But I'll be in the clinic and the hospital now, for a while. It's only the reserves, it's not forever.”

"Until you get hurt."

“I'm not going to get hurt.”

He rolled his eyes. “You can’t promise that.”

“I know. But I’m careful.”

“I know.”

“And I’ll have the best people looking after me if I do get hurt.”

"That's not what I mean." He snapped, tears falling harder.

“What do you mean? Explain it so I can help?”

"Just don't go."

“It’s not quite that simple, Hars.”

“Please.” He turned to face him properly. “Please don’t go.”

“I still have to train, but I’ll take a break.”

“Just please don’t go back.”

“I’ll take some time.”

“Please.”

“You could always call me, yknow?”

“My phone’s fucked.”

“If you were back with Sheila.”

He stiffened. “I’m not going back.”

“Come on, they want you back.”

“I’m not going.”

“Okay. You're gonna walk away from the pack?”

"It's already over."

“Except I've told you it's not.”

“You weren’t there!”

“I know. But I came home to it, I spoke to Sheila.”

“And you could just be lying to me.”

“Call her yourself.”

"Fine." He gritted his teeth.

“You're family.”

“I was.”

“There's no was about family.” Fao said, and pulled away to plug his phone in.

"There is. That's why we're with Sheila. Why I was with Sheila."

“The people who raised us aren't family. The pack is family, Sheila is family. Family's more than just blood.”

“I guess.” He frowned. “But they don’t want me in their pack.”

“They do, Harrison. Of course they do.”

“I hurt Finn.” He whispered.

“Yeah, you made a mistake. But Finn’s okay, and everyone knows it wasn’t you.”

“But it was. I did it.”

“But you weren’t yourself. Scraps happen, we all make mistakes.”

"My whole life is a mistake."

“That’s not true.”

“It is.” He said quietly. “My parents were right.”

“No, Harrison. They weren’t. You’re so much more than them.”

He shook his head. “I hurt Finn.”

“You made a mistake. Just apologise to Finn and move on, he’s okay.”

"How badly did I hurt him?" He barely dared to ask.

“He had to go to the hospital, Steve wanted to be cautious, but he was okay. Broken ribs and a broken bone in his arm. Nothing too dramatic.”

Harrison made a quiet, pained noise. "I fucked it up. I fucked it all up."

“No, you didn’t.”

"I did, I really did."

“He healed just fine.”

"Physically."

“He was upset, but just worried about you.”

Harrison shook his head. He didn't want to talk about it anymore, it just hurt too much.

“I know. It's alright.”

It wasn't alright. He didn't see how it could ever be alright.

“We'll go home, you can apologise to everyone there. And then it'll be okay.”

He leaned into Fao and nodded. He didn't have the energy to refuse, and as much as he tried to deny it, he missed the pack.

“I’ve got you.”

"I'm sorry."

“It's okay.”

"I really am."

“I know you are, I know.”

He was quiet again, his breathing slowly growing more steady. "Do they know?"

“That you're here?”

He shook his head. "That 'm sorry."

“I’m sure they do, but you’d do best telling them yourself.”

His breath hitched. "What if they don't listen?"

“You know they always listen.”

"But what if they don't?"

“It’s Sheila. She’d help you hide a body if you needed to.”

"She doesn't control the pack."

“Of course she does.”

"She doesn't control everyone."

“She’s Sheila.”

"She'd rip me apart."

“It’s fine, Hars. We’ll go back together and you can see the pack.”

He laughed humorlessly. "You'll protect me?"

“Yeah. Don't you know I'm a big tough soldier now?”

Harrison let out a proper laugh. "Tough, maybe."

“Rude.”

He reached for Fao's hand, gripping it tight. "I'm sorry."

“Let's stay here tonight, yeah? And we'll see what we're gonna do in the morning.”

"Okay."

“Get some food. When was the last time you ate?”

He shrugged. "Not too long ago."

“Long enough.”

"It's useful being wolf."

“Mm. Can I grab a shower and then we can get some food?”

“Sure.”

Fao nodded and pulled away to shower. It was nice, after a long while searching for Harrison as a wolf. He was quick, worried Harrison would leave or pull something stupid. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust him, he just knew him too well.

Despite himself, he’d fallen asleep, curled around his backpack. The bed was comfier than he’d expected and had drifted off almost as soon as Fao had got in the shower. His hair was still wet, still dripping down his back, but he was warm and content.

When Fao got out, he was surprised to see Harrison curled up asleep on the bed. With a shake of his head, he quietly got dressed. Poor Hars must be absolutely exhausted, he didn’t blame him for falling asleep.

Harrison stirred as Fao dressed, rubbing his eyes. “Did you shower?”

“Yeah, I did. You have a nice nap?”

"Wasn't even asleep."

“Yeah, okay. Wanna grab some food?”

"Yeah." He frowned. "I've not got any more cash."

“You can pay me back when you get some next.”

"Nowhere's hiring right now."

“I can wait.”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be. You want me to keep an eye out for you?”

“I’ve looked everywhere. Nobody wants a wolf.”

“I’ll see if I can find somewhere. But don’t worry about the money. You can pay me back whenever.”

“Thanks.” He muttered quietly.

“I’d say don’t bother paying me back at all, but I know you’ll refuse.”

“Of course I’d refuse.”

“So it can be an open IOU. Hell, just buy me dinner next time you can.”

“Alright. I can do that.”

“Good. I'm hungry, and I bet you are too. Let's eat.”

“I don’t need much.”

“You can have as much as you want. I sure am.”

“It’s okay. A meal deal or something will be more than enough.”

“No, come on, we’re getting a good, hot meal.”

“It’s okay.” Harrison protested.

“Well, I want hot food, so…”

"Fine."

“Might as well.”

"I guess."

Fao hummed and shoved his wallet into his pocket. “You ready to go?”

He shrugged. "Yeah."

“We won't be too long, then you can get some proper sleep.”

“I already slept.” He argued as they headed down the corridor. "And I ate earlier."

Harrison kept up his protests as they found somewhere to eat. He checked the menu several times before finally agreeing to let Fao pay for it. The restaurant smelled amazing, almost overwhelming for his wolf, and his stomach growled loudly. So much for saying he'd eaten recently.

He savoured every bite, eating as slowly as he could, his wolf screaming in protest - he didn't know when his next meal would be, he should be eating as much and as fast as he could. Fao chatted away as he ate, in between large mouthfuls of good food. When Fao got seconds, Harrison was torn. There was an ache in his stomach that had come from the week with barely anything, but his pride bristled. He was already in Fao’s debt. Fao kept persuading gently, and when he refused, ordered for him anyway. He didn't need to be wolf to read Harrison’s mind.

Dessert was another thing - Fao, of course, ordered something. After a quick glance at Harrison, he got the other wolf one too. Just a simple warm sponge, but it had to help the cold in his bones. Fao had only been wolf for a week, living rougher than he was used to, he couldn't imagine how Harrison felt.

As the evening dragged on, Harrison slowly warmed to him again. He'd missed Fao. He had been everything to him and then he'd just left. Of course Harrison knew that he'd had to go, that it was for work and he didn't have a choice. And of course, Harrison was proud of him. So, so proud. He just couldn't tell him yet.

The other customers stared at them, Harrison could feel it and he knew Fao could too. It was easy to see why; it wasn't normal to see a well dressed young man with another who was still very obviously homeless. While Fao held an air of authority, commanding attention in any room he walked in to, Harrison did the opposite. People averted their gaze or stared on in disgust, they'd walk in to him on the street, ignoring his simple questions when he'd ask for directions or the time. Even in the restaurant the stigma followed them, customers giving Harrison a wide berth as they passed, almost as if they were afraid they'd catch something.

Fao's joke about Harrison’s hair being longer than his didn't go down well, just another reminder of how far he'd fallen.

As their plates were cleared, Harrison dug about in his pockets, pulling out his old, almost a brick of a phone. It wasn't his normal phone, that one had ended up being sold before it could be stolen. It wasn't worth much, but he offered it to Fao as payment. Of course the other wolf refused, rolling his eyes and telling Harrison not to be daft. He took it from him though, checked the charger needed, and promised Harrison they'd go grab a charger so at least they'd be able to keep in touch. After a little protest, he gave in, agreeing to nip to the shop with Fao.

It wasn't far, the perks of it being a small town. Security on the door gave Harrison an odd look - he'd been caught trying to go through their bins a few times, and kicked out from their doorway more than once. With Fao by his side though, it seemed he could do anything. He gave him a grateful smile.

Fao grabbed a trolley-full of snacks and drinks, and then as a second thought, some quick meals. Harrison would be going back with him, he was certain. Hopefully.

Despite Harrison’s protests, he headed to the clothes section too - the clothes the other man wore weren’t dirty, but he could definitely do with some that weren't threadbare and holey, and that hadn't been washed in the sink of public bathrooms for months.

The longer they spent in the shop, the quieter Harrison became, only occasionally piping up with suggestions. His first aid kit was sorely lacking, his medications nearly all gone. Fao meant he wasn't going to be kicked out - and he didn't have to steal. Fao was happy to oblige; if Harrison was going to stay away, he needed to be able to take care and look after himself.

While Fao checked out, Harrison braced himself against the trolley. The lack of continuous interruptions from Fao only made him grow more and more tired, almost falling asleep standing up.

Fao was glad Harrison was finally letting him look after him. As they shopped, and Harrison grew more and more tired, Fao shot him a small smile. Braced against the trolley, he looked to be basically sleep walking. They’d gotten what they needed now, and it was getting late. Fao felt just as exhausted as Harrison looked. Resting a hand on his back, he ushered him to the tills.

They paid, shoved everything into their bags, and headed back to the hotel. They still got looks, but Fao countered them with his own, and hoped they didn’t bother Harrison too much. He’d be better in some new clothes, for sure.

Back in their room and away from the prying eyes of the general public, Fao tidied their things away, and flopped onto the bed with a sigh.

“Everything’s sorted now. Do you want to get some sleep before you pass out on me?”

“Not even tired.” He protested, running a hand through his hair.

“Sure.”

“Not a bit.” He said again, sinking onto the chair by the bed.

“Come sit on the bed?”

"I'm okay here."

“You don’t look comfy.”

“It’s better than the floor.”

“Beds exist for a reason.”

"So do chairs."

“Beds are for sleeping.”

"Fine. Shove over."

[mavmax]

The Art of Vulnerability | Maverick + Sooyun

When: June 21st, 2021

Where: Maverick’s Apartment

Warnings: Emotional breakdown, Depression, Self-loathing

Featuring: @sooyunjeong

Maverick laid on Sooyun's lap, his mind was in and out of watching what was on tv and his own clouded mind. He felt guilt, but he didn't show it to her, he wanted to be brave for her, be tough, and protect her. That was what he had to do, after all, but, even then, he could feel himself fighting back tears, when one managed to slip down his cheek, and he tried wiping it away before it landed on her lap.

sooyun jeong

Sooyun was watching a kdrama, a show that was beyond cheesy romance and figured it was a decent show to watch while she unwind from practice and her hand began throbbing from over using it. She was preoccupied by the male lead aggressively shouting in korean when she felt him move, glancing down at him on her lap, she reached down to smooth his hair with her left hand and leaned over to catch a look at his face. “Are you okay?”

Maverick froze at Sooyun’s question for a moment. Should he say that he was okay? Smile it off and nod and go back to the show? Or should he show the vulnerability, open up fully for once and let down that wall that he knew he had put up at Pride. He let out a shaky sigh, and shook his head quietly.

sooyun jeong

Sooyun realized that this was going to be something serious, her mind racing through reasons on why he was upset, so many ideas racing that she tried not to appear overwhelmed. Instead she tilt her head, “what’s wrong?”

Maverick could feel a part of him fighting to not even show a semblance of vulnerability. Part of the wall wanted to go up, to show that he got this, that he could lie and say he was tired, but in reality...the other part wanted to open up to Soo, he was hurt, exhausted, frustrated all at once. "I'm tired," He began softly. "I'm tired of not feeling like I'm wanted by anyone."

sooyun jeong

Hearing his voice, the difference between his usual tone and this one, she realized that perhaps he was hurting. Sooyun turned his face to look up at her, “what are you talking about? You are wanted.” She said softly, it pained her to see him like this, she can see the vulnerability in him and it made her realize he was always having this facade up.

When Sooyun turned Mav's face towards hers, his vision was instantly blurred by tears as he shook his head. "People are always like 'hey, you want him? cause I don't', whenever I do something that's just...a part of me. I've had that, my whole life. There was a part in my life, where I felt really unwanted and whenever I hear it, I can't help but wonder if everyone's...better...off without me. So, there's that," He responded calmly, trying to fight back the tears that threatened to escape him. He was finally letting down his walls.

sooyun jeong

Sooyun felt an immense guilt fill her chest, thinking back to when Soo thought she was joking but realized it was a trigger for Maverick, her eyes soften as she used her thumb to wipe away the tear that was ready to fall. “Mav…” she trailed off, her voice shaking, swallowing down the feeling as she gave him a smile. “Life without you would be boring, when I said that…when I said those words to Blaine, I was joking—not knowing that it affects you deeply. I’m sorry I said those words without thinking about your feelings. I was just angry at what your ex did to you without your consent and I took it out on you.” Sooyun lowered her gaze, talking about feelings and such was still a hard thing for her to do but she was slowly growing to understand. “I love everything about you Mav, even the parts that annoy me, I still find myself loving you even more.”

Maverick took a shaky breath to calm his own breathing, it was hard to even address his own feelings without feeling like he was drowning in them. Soo's touch, however, kept him afloat. He took a breath, closing his eyes for a moment before opening them again. "It's not your fault, you didn't know," He said softly. When her gaze shifted, he knew that it was hard for Sooyun to open up, too. It was something both of them had in common, after all. He reached his hand up to her cheek. "It's something I didn't think I'd ever talk about, my sisters know, Eric knows by proxy...but, I wanted to be strong for you, that's why I didn't want to say anything, you know? I love you and I just...I wanted to be that protective boyfriend."

sooyun jeong

“You don’t always have to be the strong protective boyfriend Mav, you’re human, just be open with me.” Soo reassured him, meeting his eyes once more and leaned into his touch, taking in his features and pushing some of hair away from his face. “I’m tired of people thinking they need to be strong for me, I’m a big girl and I can handle anything thrown my way…I want you to be okay….to be mentally okay as well.”

"I've always had to...be the protective one, you know? The one time I just...existed, well, we know what happened there," Mav chuckled dryly, but he nuzzled into Soo's touch. His vision getting clearer as he focused on her warm brown eyes. "I know...trust me, I know you're capable. Hell, you broke your hand for me and I can't help but feel guilty. I don't want you to hurt yourself for me," He sighed. "I wanna be okay, I wanna be vulnerable around you, you know?"

sooyun jeong

Sooyun rolled her eyes and lightly flicked his forehead, “I didn’t break my hand for you, I broke it because I was so mad that I didn’t hold my hand correctly for a fist. All I was thinking is just one bop to the face would do but I didn’t think she had it in her to fight back.” She grabbed his hand and brought it up to her mouth to kiss it, “you need to stop blaming yourself for something that isn’t your fault.”

Maverick chuckled lightly at Soo’s finger flick and he used his free hand to rub his forehead lightly. “I know, I just…I still felt responsible, you know? I know she deserved the sock to the face which, was epic, but, yknow,” he sighed. He smiled at her gesture and as a result he slowly got up to finally face her properly. “I’ll try,” He whispered, leaning in to press a kiss to her lips.

sooyun jeong

Sooyun let her lower lip poke out in a pout and wrapped her arms around him, nudging his forehead with her own, “Since I’m still learning new things about you…we should make up a word to inform each other we are upset instead of storming out of the room. When you left abruptly, I wanted to chase after you but obviously they made me go check my hand then I had to go on stage. I don’t want you to face these situations alone…I want you to be able to lean on me.”

Maverick smiled at Sooyun’s cute pout and curled into her instinctively, letting his own warms wrap around her small frame. He rested his forehead against hers and let out a soft sigh. “Yeah, we can do that…I’m sorry for storming out, by the way. I tend to do that before I lash out and I don’t ever want to at you,” He said softly. “No, no, I get it, which by the way, you killed it on stage. Broken hand and all,” He teased. “I won’t face it alone, not anymore…” His hand went softly to her cheek and he then said, “This sounds basic, but maybe code red? Or just saying red? I could also hold your hand if I say it if we’re standing next to each other?”

sooyun jeong

“Code red can work…red…it’s simple and easy to remember.” She agreed with him, she wanted to be able to be there for him, through the good and ugly of it. She knew relationships weren’t always going to be fairytale like, it was supposed to be hard to learn to lean on someone other than yourself. “If you lash out on me, I will find it incredibly hot to see you pissed and allow you to yell at me,” She admitted with a smirk

"I was thinking the same, nothing too complicated, you know?" Maverick offered with a small smile. It was definitely huge progress than before. It wasn't always going to be rosy and easy. Sometimes there was going to be bumps in the road, sometimes they were going to clash, but through Sooyun, he learned how to lean on someone emotionally rather than go into it independently, because after all, a relationship was two people and their emotions, not just one. "Babe," He laughed, shaking his head. "Are you saying you want me to be a little more aggressive?"

sooyun jeong

Sooyun laughed, "Yes that's exactly what I am asking, because instead of storming out, just grab my hand and pull me away somewhere quiet and you can take your frustrations out on me--or if you need a shoulder to cry on." She let her cast rest onto her lap, she wanted Maverick to at least lean on her in tough times, to think that two months ago she wouldn't have cared yet here she was.

"I'll do better and not storm out on you, but I also won't yell at you because I know that shit sucks...but, if you want me to be aggressive, all you gotta do is ask," Mav teased, pressing a kiss to her cheek. "But yeah...I'll let you know when something's bothering me from here on out, I promise." And he meant every word. A few months ago, she would've been the last person he'd go to, but she was there for him and understood him.

sooyun jeong

"But what if I want you to grab me and we leave and I allow you to take out your frustrations on me?" She playfully batted her eyelashes and laughed, reaching up to caress his cheek, "As long as you know I am here now, i will support whatever choices you make--I'll most likely question it but I will be here."

“I’ll wind up giving you so many hickeys,” Maverick chuckled at that thought of how rough he’d be with Sooyun. He nuzzled his cheek into her hand and the devilish grin had softened into his usual smile. “Thank you, Soo. And just know, I’m here for you too, okay? I know this opening up thing isn’t easy for both of us, but, I wanna make it work for us. Just like you’re doing for me.”

sooyun jeong

"Like you don't already? Who are you trying to play?" Sooyun laughed, the sound of the show playing some sappy music made her realize the show they were watching ended but at the moment she didn't care, Maverick was opening up to her and she enjoyed that. "We're working on it, we've both been hurt as you stated so of course it will take some time for the both of us to learn how to trust again. I want you to know I would never cheat on you...even though I was notorious for having multiple lovers, I can be faithful."

“But they’re tiny hickeys. The other ones out of frustration would be huge,” Maverick chuckled. It definitely didn’t help they were having this talk as the sappy kdrama music played in the background but at the same time, it was fitting for the moment. At Sooyun’s words he nodded with a smile, his hand reaching up to her cheek to caress it softly. “You’re right…and for what it’s worth, you won’t ever have to worry about me straying from you or getting hurt. I’ll be careful. I promise.”

sooyun jeong

"Small or large, they're still hickies," Sooyun laughed, "And besides, pretty much everyone knows we're dating at this point, which by the way, I love how we said we'd keep it on the down low, yet here we are." She knew her manager was most likely having a ball with that, soo on the other hand didn't care as long as people knew that Maverick was her boyfriend. "You better because, I don't think I can break my left hand or maybe I can ask Jae for advice."

“Hmmm…I guess you’re right,” Mav chuckled as he carefully watched her neck. “My favorite one is fading though, bummer,” He pouted for a moment. “Oh, definitely. Which is funny cause we did say we’d keep it on the low but here we are, holding hands and being cute in public…I like it though. I feel like it just brought us closer together you know?” He pointed out with a grin. “Um yeah let’s not break the other hand but hey push comes to shove, I’ll make out with you in public…or we could ask Jae for the best course of action?”

sooyun jeong

Sooyun could feel the heat of his gaze on her neck, the spot where the hickie he placed, it had her shiver in delight of him replacing it. She mentally told her hormones to relax as she tilt her head, "I mean...you can always place another one there again." She suggested innocently, but she knew that once he started anywhere near her neck she would allow it to go further. "I feel like Jae would just suggest to whack them in the face, but making out in public isn't so bad."

A smirk curled on Maverick’s lips as he watched Soo purposely tilt her neck towards him to show off the fading hickey, but also give him a free invite to add onto it. “Hmm,” Mav purposely leaned forward, letting his breath fall onto Soo’s neck. “Tempting but I should behave,”. He chuckled. “Yeah that’s true…let’s do less battery and more making out.”

[revasserium]

nekoma #1 - morning

kuroo. 

when he first told you that he was a morning person, you looked him dead in the eye and called him liar. it would not be the last time you call him on his bullshit, but ever since then his smiles have gotten just a little bit wider. and sometimes you find him leaning against the doorway to your class, casually scrolling through his phone, a bit too posed, hair a bit too ruffled, shoulders tense as a tightrope, insisting that he’d not been waiting for you, that he’d just happened to be hanging around and oh, would you look at that, you’d come walking down the hallway. it’s a misty, wednesday morning when he reaches out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, a thoughtless gesture, almost like second nature before he catches himself and realizes what he’s done. his eyes go wide and his cheeks go red and his usual low drawl of a voice hikes up four pitches as he fumbles for words and explanations. you reach up to tug on a lock of his hair too as you shrug and say, “there, now we’re even, though you could probably use a bit less gel. how do you even wash that shit out?” to which he’d sputtered indignantly, insisting that his hair was nothing short of artwork. it takes him another week to buck up enough courage to ask you out, but when he does, it’s the first time you don’t call his bluff. you say yes, you say only if you quit using so much damn hairgel; to which he grins, and turns with a melodramatic sigh and tells you that he’ll finally have time to sleep in in the mornings. 

kenma. 

there is nothing good about mornings, so he insists, and so you agree. but waking up next to you just might count as a good thing -- no, it definitely does. see, kenma is not known for being particularly active, or fond of physical movement (the contradictions therein about him being on the volleyball team shall be addressed at a later date, when he’s got more energy), and thus the transitioning from static to not so static as is ritual most mornings just isn’t on his list of favorite things. but you -- somehow, when he opens his eyes to find you there, curled up next to him just as you’d been the night before, he can’t find it in himself to be upset, not even at the foggy chill that had settled against his window overnight, or the cool, bleak sun peaking over the horizon-line, signaling the start to another doubtlessly tiresome day. you turn, lashes fluttering as you open your eyes, a sleepy smile stretching your lips and kenma can’t help the way his chest fills with butterflies. “g’morning”, you say, your voice still thick with the honey of dreams, and he just sighs, crinkling his nose as he snuggles in against you, grumbling through his chest, “yeah, i guess so.” you laugh, the sound ringing like bluebells along his skin, “i thought you hated mornings.” kenma huffs, his breath warm against your forehead as he pulls you close, “i do, but... you’re here. so, this one’s not that bad, i guess.” 

kai. 

for the most part, he’s quite ambivalent about mornings, just as he’s ambivalent about friday afternoons and sunday nights. they’re just mere times of day and he cannot, for the love of all that’s holy, figure out the obsession (or counter-obsession in the form of disgust) with mornings. a day has to begin somewhere, hasn’t it? and the morning’s done nothing wrong except to mark that; so, he accepts the morning, and goes about his usual morning routine of a well-balanced breakfast, before stretches and a subway ride to morning practice. it’s here that he meets you for the first time, the new manager, still a little shy then, but with eyes bright enough to light up an entire gymnasium, he’s sure. and suddenly, mornings are no longer just a time of day, but the times of days he looks forward to the most, because it means he’ll get to see you at school, cheeks flushed from the cold outside, bangs sometimes sticking to your forehead if you’re working on tossing for them, lips sometimes parted, your tongue peaking through the side if you’re concentrating on jotting down notes for their next training regime. and suddenly, he understands the mass attraction and aversions to times of day, because they could mean so much more than just the markings of time he’d taken them to be -- they could be earned towards and looked forward to, for the possibilities they contain, or the inevitability of their endings. and he finally understands that morning is no longer simply a pocket of time between a and b, but a measure of what might happen, if he just took one step closer, reached out and grabbed your hand, if he squeezed it, and never let it go -- what would you do? so he decides that maybe, just maybe, one of these mornings, he’s going to reach out, and try it. 

yaku. 

he’s always up at the first ring of his alarm, because there are always so many things to do -- brush his teeth, wash his face, iron his uniform, make sure his hair doesn’t look too nuts, text you good morning and ask how you slept, and mornings are just the perfect time for all those things, like the great start to a long race, it’s when he sets the tone for the rest of the day. you once teased you could publish a book with all the good morning texts he’d sent you over the years -- “how’d you think of so many? do you google them or something?” to which he’d squawked and said that he’d never plagiarize his morning texts... although sometimes, he does take a peak on the internet for some good inspiration. but he insists that the words are his own, and you believe him. “good morning! today’s gonna be a great day, i can just feel it in the air!” “morning sunshine! it’s chilly out so don’t forget to bring a jacket!” “good morning! did you have good dreams last night? tell me about them.” “morning~ i missed you.” “morning sunshine, let’s get coffee on the way to school. the vending machine on the corner restocked!” “gmorning, couldn’t sleep last night but i hope you did.” “gmorning. remember to put on sunscreen!” “gmorning! smile!” “gmorning. i love you.” “morning, i love you.” “good morning! i love you!” and just “hey, i love you.” 

tora. 

you’d asked him if he collected alarm clocks; he’d said they’re just to make sure he gets out of bed on time. you’d wondered what kind of sleeper he might be to need eight alarm clocks to get him out of bed every single morning -- the answer is a deep one. when he jogs by your front door for the third time that week, you ask him on the way to school what he’s doing, to which he answers “training, there’s a really good team in miyagi we gotta beat! and i can’t let myself go, yknow?” you wonder if it’s possible for anyone to let themselves go any more than he usually does (restraint is not one of his defining characteristics), but decide against bringing it to his attention. the fifth time he jogs by, you ask him why you’re house -- surely there are better streets suited for jogging? ones that aren’t next to a major intersection, a good 30 minutes away from his house, perhaps not in the opposite direction of school. he goes red and his usual loud, declaratives falter until they’re half-formed thoughts, cut off and tangled as he tries to iron out his tongue enough to force a proper sentence out. you decide to drop the issue, but from then on, he jogs by your house every morning, and on his way back, he finds you waiting for him, a bottle of water in hand, and a smile on your face. it takes him a solid half-year to ask you out. but when you say yes, he decides that the only way to celebrate is to take a dozen laps around your house. 

inuoka.  

he’s always up at the crack of dawn, somehow, someway -- sometimes you wonder if he’s solar-powered for all the endless energy he has, because photosynthesis is the only explanation left. he chatters during morning homeroom, filling you (and everyone within earshot) about his previous night, how the homework sucked, because they’d had practice till super late, and then on the way home, he got sidetracked by this litter of stray kittens that he just had to take to the shelter first, so by the time he got home, it was already hella late (which, mind you, is an exact measure of time in his world), so doing 14 pages of traditional literature reading and then having to write a short answer to be turned in by midnight was really really not the business. “what would have been the business then?” you ask one day, out of sheer curiousity as to how he’d answer. he blinks, quirking his head in a movement not unlike a slightly confused puppy dog, before grinning wide and saying, “well, that’s easy! not having homework, eating a ton of whatever i wanted for dinner, and spending all the rest of my time with you!” you let out a laugh and remind him that you literally have very single class together, to which he says, without missing a single beat, “yeah, but that’s not enough time. i wanna be with you from the second i wake up, to the second i fall asleep, and not a moment less!” 

lev. 

they see his eyes and call him lion, but none of them knows how much more cub he is lion than in the spare light of a dawning morning. curled up beneath his sheets, his usually giant body looks almost normal-sized, small even, spine bent like if he just tried hard enough, he could bend himself into a question, or perhaps an answer -- the answer to every question he’s ever asked of himself only to find that he can’t find a satisfactory answer lying in his own body. but that doesn’t stop him from trying. he tells you about the nightmares, and you promise him that they’re nothing more than the shadows of dreams, and don’t we all have shadows that follow us? even when the day is in full bloom? he holds you to him at night, his entire body wrapping around you, as if he were trying to soak you in, tether himself to something so as to make sure he’ll still have somewhere to wake up in the morning and find his own reflection; you shake him awake with a gentle smile, a kiss, a reminder that he’s going to miss breakfast again if he keeps on sleeping but he just whines and buries his face deeper into the crook of your neck. “not yet. it’s not light outside yet.” you smile, “but you don’t even like the dark.” “i don’t, but you’re always here, so i like that.” “i’ll still be here once we get up, lev.” “i know, but what it’s this is a dream? all dreams end when you get up.” you pause, stroking a palm down his spine, “maybe not this one,” you say, and somehow convince him to get up out of bed and cart him towards the bathroom. “maybe this one, you get to keep on dreaming forever.” he grins as he hop up onto the counter to watch him groggily brush his teeth and wash his face. after a moment, he looks up, seemingly much more awake than before. and then he smiles, “well if that’s the case, then maybe morning never, ever come again.” 

[billhaderlovebot]

i love you - aaron conners drabble

summary: you're in love with him, but you've been hurt before. every base instinct is screaming at you to get the hell out of dodge, but you can't bear to push him away.

tags: @a-second-hand-sorrow @gazebros

a/n: this is more of a drabble than anything because i couldn't be arsed to fully flesh it out and make it better but i wanted to wire for aaron yk. mm. so enjoy, anyway.

---

whatever strange cafe-bar aaron had dragged you into to have this talk was nearing closing time, and the oddly shaped paper lamps hanging from the ceiling were the only source of light. you resented him for how good he looked under the pale yellow glow. 

"you have to promise me that you're not in love with me." you sniffed, pointedly avoiding his gaze. 

you swirled your paper straw around absently in your long since abandoned gin and tonic, and aaron tried not to focus on your lips and how soft they looked as they closed around it every once in a while, pretending to be interested in the contents of the glass. 

"i can't." said aaron. and for the first time since you'd sat in the booth, you met his eyes. 

"you have to." it was barely more than a whisper, your throat not willing the words any louder. "you have to, or i can't-" 

"i know what he did to you." said aaron, drumming his fingers lightly on the table the same way you swirled your straw around. looking for something, anything to focus on, that wasn't this. 

"then you know why i can't let you-" 

"please." the despondent plea that fell from his lips shouldn't have cut you as deep as it did. but here you were, your chest constricting as his watery blue eyes bored into your own. "just, please, let me love you." 

"i can't, aaron." 

the first time aaron had confessed, it was hushed whisper in his car as you were speeding down the highway at night, the city lights faded to small white pinpricks dotting the curtain of black draped across the sky. you remembered distinctly the warm night air on your face and everybody wants to rule the world filtering from his car radio. aaron hadn't thought you had heard him until you started to cry. 

"take it back. please. don't say that."

"why?" 

"because i can't see you anymore if you do." 

---

he showed up the day after the cafe-bar encounter at your place of work, shuffling into the office in one of his infuriatingly cute polo shirts, coffee in hand, soft smile on his face. 

"i've thought a lot about what you said, and, while repairing a kneecap today, i reached some conclusions." aaron placed the coffee on your desk next to the ever growing pile of classic literature you had. the cover of the great gatsby faced up at him, and he remembered fondly the night, not too long ago, when you had called him up, practically vibrating with praise for this book and the wonders it presented to you. he bought his own copy the very next day. he hadn't liked it so much, but he wouldn't tell you that. 

"and what conclusions would they have been?" you smirked, closing your google search for "do penguins have knees" before he could see it. 

aaron cleared his throat. 

"number one, we really like each other." 

"no." you shook your head. 

"you weren't saying that last weekend when i was going down on you in that starbucks bathroom." he quipped, settling into the spinny chair opposite you, his eyebrows shooting up a fraction. 

"dr conners, do i have to ask you to leav-" 

"number two! you're scared of being hurt again." 

"was me leaving your ass in that bar not evidence enough of that?" you sighed, sipping the coffee he had brought despite yourself. 

"number three." 

"there's more?" you groaned. 

"number three! all you do is smoke weed and ignore people who like you. which i think is a shitty way to deal with your trauma, if you don't mind my saying so." aaron rolled the spinning chair right up to your desk, stopping inches away from your face. 

"i do, actually." you said. 

"also, i love you. but, we'll cross that bridge when we get to it." 

"we'll burn that bridge when we get to it, aaron." 

---

you slept with aaron again that night. he was falling for you, and you couldn't bear to push him away. 

to say that you didn't love him back would be a lie. blasphemous, almost, but you wouldn't admit it. 

as much as you reveled in the warmth of his body pressed up against yours, your back against his chest and your legs tangled together, as much as you wanted to kiss the socks off him, as much as you loved him back, you would not admit it. 

"why do you let me do this to you?" you asked, toying with the seam of his sheets and allowing him to wrap his arms around your waist. "doesn't it hurt?" 

"i can't be close to you any other way." he confessed, pressing his lips against your bare shoulder. "i take what i can get. i know what it's like to be broken by someone." his breath fanned over your cheek. you turned to face him. "and i know what it's like... when you don't feel like you'll ever be able to trust anyone again. you need to break out of it, for your own happiness."

your eyes were trained on the way his lips moved around the words, and the sharp curve of his jaw, and the way his hair fell perfectly even though he hadn't done anything to it. oh, for the love of all things holy, you loved him. 

so you relented. "look, if i give this a go, like, a real, honest shot--" 

"wait, are you saying--" his eyes lit up, suddenly alert. 

"will you please just be patient with me--" 

"holy shit, you're really--" he broke out into a sparkling grin, and you found that allowing yourself something you'd wanted ever since you'd met wasn't so hard after all. 

"because i need to heal, yknow--" 

"can i kiss you?" he breathed. aaron was near vibrating with joy at a frequency that could shatter every window in his penthouse apartment. "not to invalidate your outpouring of truth, here, but i just... really wanna kiss you." 

"aaron, you had your head between my legs not ten minutes ago, i don't think you have to ask." 

---

being aaron's girlfriend wasn't that much of an adjustment. it was the same as you'd been doing for months now. aaron, however, relished in the fact that he was able to present you to the world as his, and tell you he loved you every hour of the day, eagerly awaiting the moment you would say it back. 

until then, your various creative responses never failed to keep him on his toes. his favourites so far were: "oh, worm?" and "bet." 

despite all the doubts you had about committing to someone again after him, it was so natural. it was automatic. he moved, you moved. like an invisible force coordinating your actions. it was so blissfully easy to be with him and you found yourself wondering often why it took you so long. 

"do you still think about him?" aaron asked one night, while you were curled up together in his bed, just about to drift off. "is this still hard for you?" 

"it actually surprises me every day how easy it is." you admitted, yawning and tracing your fingertips across his bare chest. "because you're nothing like him, and i feel safe with you." aaron's heart swelled in his chest at that. 

"i won't let anyone hurt you again." he whispered, his words burrowing deep into your chest and fixing themselves there, next to your heart. 

"i love you." the admittance rolled off your tongue so easily that it seemed silly that you'd ever held it back from him. 

aaron audibly gasped. "holy shit-" 

"goodnight, bitch."

[pinnithin-writes]

I Realized. Then I Couldn’t Stop Realizing.

Chapter 3: C-53

Depending on where he looked, it had begun that night.

Dar’s party plan ended up being a success, save for a few minor snags and broken bottles. AJ had a delightful time being tossed back and forth between Dar and Horsehat until the latter got drowsy and had to be put to bed. C-53 caught Pleck’s amused grin from across the room as he watched the action, elastic and amiable, and it struck him how long it had been since he’d seen the tellurian smile.

Now, they were stretched out on a hill in the countryside of a grassy nearby planet. AJ and Horsehat were snoozing peacefully a short ways off, while the rest of the crew settled into a comfortable buzz. It felt good to be able to stretch out his limbs in the cool evening; so much of his time on the ship was spent cramped into a corner so as to not take up too much space. Dar was sprawled beside him, and Pleck lay with his arms tucked behind his head between the two.

The suns in the distance were setting, purple and hazy. C-53 luxuriated in the strange calm electricity pumping through his system, relaxing in this rare pocket of quiet they had found in the turbulent galaxy.

“So, what’s the verdict?” Dar asked finally, their voice syrupy with alcohol. “How’s morale? Good? Better?”

“Definitely better than it was, Dar, thank you for organizing all this,” C-53 responded. Putting sentences in order was fun in this state - the dust accelerated his processors in a way that pulled random threads of his consciousness to the surface and pieced them together in interesting ways.

“Yeah, Dar, I think everyone had a good time tonight,” Pleck yawned. “Thank you for forcing me to go against my will.” There was a laugh in his voice, and it was pleasant to C-53’s audio sensors.

“Anytime, you big mopey baby,” Dar purred. “Barge? You having a good time?”

“Doing way better now that my vents are full of dust,” Bargie hummed from where she was parked on the hillside. “This was long overdue. We should do this every week - no! Every day.”

“Well, that would get incredibly expensive after a while,” C-53 reasoned.

“Yeah, I just wish Nermut coulda been here, yknow?” Pleck piped up again. “I mean, I guess he has his hands full with the campaign, but it would have been nice to see him.”

“Nermut’s got his own parties to go to,” Dar muttered, honeyed tone falling flat.

“Oh no,” Pleck said, rolling onto his side so he could look at them with his good eye. “Is it like the Rebellion all over again? Is he going through Seesu boot camp?”

The captain sighed heavy in the back of their throat. “No, it’s just weird with him right now. I don’t really feel like talking about it.”

“Oh, is he like, being all impressionable-”

“I said,” Dar growled, talons quivering, “I don’t wanna talk about it.”

Pleck had thankfully learned the signals to retreat by now, and he fell silent. Bargie, on the other hand, was humming loudly, engines whirring just for the fun of it.

“Hey Dar, if you wanna talk about it with me, I’ve got a ton of dust in my vents that would make it waaaaay easier to deal with,” the ship said.

“I’m not sure if that’s how that works,” C-53 began, but Dar was already clambering to their feet.

“That sounds great, Barge,” they said. “Boys? Can you watch our fully grown children while Bargie and I have a chat?”

“Oh, uh, you got it,” Pleck said, raising a hand in salutation while C-53 nodded.

After the captain disappeared onto the ship, Pleck settled back in the grass, looking forlorn. “Guess I jucked that one up, huh?” he murmured, the lavender sky reflecting off his eye as he gazed into the distance.

C-53 watched him carefully. “You know how they get sometimes,” he stated.

“I know, but Dar wanted to relax and I went ahead and made them all agitated again.” He plucked a piece of grass from beside him and fiddled with it, keeping his eye on the clouds. “Should just keep my stupid mouth shut.”

His processors hummed, tacking together Pleck’s words with data stored in C-53’s memory bank. “There are many times since we’ve met that I would agree with that statement, Pleck,” he said, recalling a particular incident years ago that nearly resulted in the tellurian getting ritually sacrificed. “But lately I would say you’ve been too quiet, if I can be frank.”

Pleck idly tied his grass stem in a knot. “Got a lot to think about,” he replied vaguely. He tossed the grass in C-53’s direction and watched it flutter to the ground between them.

“Such as?”

Pleck floundered, freckled face animated as he searched for an answer. “Well, y’know, the usual,” he finally said, “The Allwheat bearing down on us, the fate of the galaxy’s leadership hanging in the balance, hundreds of sentients out there dying for no reason, Seesu Gundu’s failing campaign…” he trailed off and shrugged, hazel eye refusing to look at him. “Y’know.”

“Is the Allwheat still contacting you?” C-53 asked, gently.

Pleck flinched at his words all the same. He scratched the side of his jaw. He needed a shave. “Yes,” he said quietly.

“How often?”

The tellurian was tearing out grass by the fistful, now, slowly and methodically. His eyelashes fluttered low over his cheekbones as he continued to avoid C-53’s scanners. “Almost every day. Multiple times a day, sometimes.” His voice was soft and cautious, as if he would set C-53 off if he said something wrong.

We instilled that nervousness in him, C-53 realized suddenly. It had been easy to belittle Pleck when he was his usual unflappable self, but now it was pitiful to see the results on his self-esteem. C-53’s processors buzzed, drawing conclusions for him.

It hurt. It hurt to see his friend like this. And it was partially his fault he had gotten that way.

For once in his life, C-53 was at a loss for words. AJ and Horsehat continued to sleep peacefully a few yards away while Pleck, white-knuckled, tore clods of grass out of the earth beside him, refusing to meet his best friend’s eyes. The dust filtering through his system wasn’t making it any easier for him to compute this, and he almost wished he had remained sober for this conversation.

Maybe that way he wouldn’t feel so helpless. Somehow, saying ‘I’m here for you’ felt horribly inadequate.

“It’s not just the fact that it talks to me,” Pleck continued after an agonizing stretch of silence. “It’s the things it says. It… knows me, somehow. Says things about me that are true and real and it gets inside my head.” His shoulders were curled with tension, his head bent low, blue hair skewing out of its ponytail.

“Things that are true?” C-53 asked. “You mean, facts about our missions, or-”

“Like stuff about who I am. As a person.” He tossed the grass away from him in disgust and folded his arms protectively around his own torso. He tucked his knees up to his chest and hunched over, continuing in a small voice. “I know this is all my fault already, okay? I don’t need Beano’s weird hybrid Rodd-ghost telling me about it constantly.”

Pleck didn’t cry, but he did look like a frightened animal, huddled in the grass like that. While C-53 gazed down at him, his fan kicked on, startling both of them. He didn’t think he’d taken that much dust, but his processors were definitely firing off under an unusual amount of strain.

“Sorry,” Pleck muttered. “That was probably too much, huh?” He carefully uncurled himself, stood, and brushed the grass off of his robe. “I’m gonna…” he faltered, remembering that Bargie was full of dust and an angry Dar and the rest of their team was sound asleep. He cast his eye around the grassy hillside and the farmland below, the sky purpling around him. He looked so lost.

“Pleck, if I may,” C-53 ventured. His frame was vibrating uncomfortably from the heavy industrial fan, and he hoped it would kick off soon. “You don’t have to tell me about this if it upsets you. We can talk about other things. Or we don’t have to talk at all.”

The tellurian stared at where C-53 lay in the grass, the expression on his face complicated and messy. He always wore his emotions on his face. It was a marvel none of them saw his breakdown coming sooner.

After a beat, Pleck reached up and undid the rubber band keeping his hair back, shaking out the ponytail and letting his locks fall around his shoulders. “Sure. Sorry. I’ll…” He wrapped the rubber band distractedly around his wrist. “I’ll stay. I can stay here.”

And stay he did. They settled into companionable silence, absorbed in their own thoughts as the stars blinked into view around them. C-53's fan eventually stalled to a halt. At one point, he thought he saw Pleck’s lips moving in a silent, prayer-like repetition, but his scanners couldn’t quite track what he was saying.

His dust-addled cube was drawing up memories and notions he had long since compartmentalized, scattering his internal filing system with careless abandon. Pleck had come a long way since they’d all first set foot on the Bargarian Jade. He wasn’t clueless anymore, though he did blurt the occasional tactless observation every once in a while. He’d escaped federal tyranny, survived a bitter revolution, and resolved to lead the next one of his own accord with nothing but a stupid stick and his own naive willpower.

C-53 remembered the first time their consciousnesses had been tied, when they were at Suetopia and experiencing each other’s emotions as they happened. Pleck had felt so unsure, so curious, and so happy to be around friends. Friends. Had C-53 considered him a friend, then? He wasn’t sure when that had happened, but he did know the next time the two of them had been neurally connected, inside Kevin the blob, the experience was entirely different. C-53 had felt awash with every kind of emotion, a pleasant, peachy feeling he attributed to being one with hundreds of other sentients.

But… no, that wasn’t right. The dust zinged up and down his coding, plucking at his memories like a harp.  He remembered dawning understanding as he laid scanners on his crew, feeling their emotions submerging him, passing between them and identifying them one by one. He remembered locking eyes with Pleck last, cringing away from a fear and nakedness that softened in the orange glow around them. He remembered being flooded with longing, a latent ache in his wiring that he felt as his own, though it didn’t originate from his cube. He remembered. He remembered.

He... remembered.

“Oh my Rodd,” he blurted, realizing a nanosecond too late he’d exclaimed it out loud.

“What?” Pleck startled, looking around. “What is it?”

“I uh,” C-35’s cube was in overdrive as he scrambled. That look he’d given him in the blob, that ache deep in his fibers, that quiet hesitation every time they were close. Pleck had feelings for him. Strong feelings. Why had he buried that? Why had it resurfaced?

“...I saw a shooting star,” he lied.

Gullible, trusting Pleck believed him instantly.  “Aw, I missed it,” he said.

“It was on your blind side,” C-53 replied, hating himself for continuing the ruse. “I’ll point it out if I see another one. Sorry.”

“It’s okay. They’re fast little guys. Used to get them back on Rangus Six all the time.” Pleck stared fondly up at the velvet night, reminiscing.

C-53 wanted to slip into low power mode so that he could better examine this sudden realization. His tellurian coworker, his best friend, the man lying drunkenly in the grass beside him, had yearned for him for… months, possibly. At least a season. How had that happened? How had he not realized sooner? Was he still yearning, after all this time?

Pleck stretched his arms luxuriously over his head. “Hey, C-53?” he asked, his voice going soft with drowsiness.

He angled his chin ever so slightly. “Yes?”

“I’m glad you’re here with me.”

C-53 hoped Pleck couldn’t hear the strange, small juddering noise coming from his internal processor. His vocal modulator was slow to start up, but it spoke the truth.

“I am, too.”

Chapter 2 <-----> Chapter 4

[ghoulangerlee]

the first taste of love (oh bittersweet) ; malex

i posted this on ao3, but i am nothing if not predictable so i’m posting a tumblr version too! 

basically uhh i wrote a roswell new mexico fic, oh no. im very nervous and very anxious bc there’s so many good writers in the fandom and i am. me. but like, i saw that post, with the still from the episode tonight and my brain went okay sure here’s this. 

its definitely AU because yknow. obviously what i think could happen isn’t whats gonna happen but sdlkfj. ANYWAY. title comes from strawberry wine by deana carter bc tbh michael guerin definitely listens to country music’s greatest women artists 

also yes i know the whole alien thing isnt like anyone but said aliens thing to tell maria but yknow. guilt. being in on something someone else isnt in on. blah blah

=========

He doesn't know how long they’ve been sitting there, just talking, but Alex isn't going to complain, not when it's the first time in ten years that they've been able to have this.

And it's comfortable and nice and Michael's leg is warm where it's pressed against his, his posture open and welcoming and Alex can't help but lean into it, watching, as if hanging onto every word—and he is, hanging onto everything Michael's saying, unsure of when they'll get this chance again, with everything going on.

He's so caught up in everything, in how right all of this feels that he doesn't realize Michael's stopped talking, that he's staring at him with this horribly vulnerable look on his face, something morphing into determination and then, then —

Michael's lips are soft against his, soft and dry and chapped at the corners where Michael constantly darts his tongue out against the skin when he's nervous or annoyed and Alex’s breath catches, his eyes open wide and Michael just pushes forward, firmer, hand coming up to cup the side of Alex’s jaw.

He inhales, sharp through his nose and then, then he relaxes, his hand gripping the center of Michael's button up shirt, holding on tight as the kiss deepens, as Michael presses into his side, other hand warm against his thigh, warm through his jeans.

A noise leaves Alex’s throat, something soft and pained and desperate all wrapped together as he kisses back, gives as good as he can, feeling something warm and heavy in his chest at the needy sound Michael makes.

At once, it all comes rushing back and Alex pulls away, jerks out of Michael’s reach, panting and flushed and wishing for once he could be selfish.

“Guerin, we can't do this,” he says, wishing his voice didn't waver as obvious as it did, wishing to be anywhere but here right now. “ I can't do this to Maria. She doesn't deserve this.”

Michael's face does something weird then, a look crosses it—half pained, half ashamed, and he pulls his cowboy hat off, runs his fingers through his hair, Alex’s eyes tracking where his fingers get caught up in the curls. “Yeah well, no worries. She's not really in the picture right now.”

Alex frowns, feels something protective bubble up in his chest, “Just because she's not here—”

“ No , Alex,” Michael says, cutting him off. “She and I didn't last. Y’know. We're on an indefinite break.”

“So what happened to Maria being something easy ,” Alex can't help but ask, the words twisted with grief and pain, “If you two can't last, is there even any hope—” for us , he doesn't finish, but Michael goes rigid beside him and once again Alex is hit with the stupid realization that he's reactive , that he doesn't think before he speaks.

Michael stands up, putting distance between the two of them, hat held tightly in his left hand as he paces in front of Alex. “Look, I fucked up, okay? I fucked up big time, I just. Didn't tell her about the big green alien thing and then she found Rosa and well, now she knows.” His voice is quick, not quite panicky but not all calm either, “She’s pissed at me, at Liz, probably at you too for keeping her in the dark the whole time. And well, lying is sort of a relationship deal breaker in the grand scheme of things.”

Part of him hurts for Michael, for Maria, bit the quiet vindictive part of him just whispers if I can't be happy neither can he , but he pushes that away, quietly berates himself for even thinking that and inhales deeply. “Give it time,” he says instead. “Maria might come around. I. We still haven't quite talked since everything but I can put in a good word for you. Bring up dear old dad’s plot to destroy all aliens, you included, help you save face.”

And even as he offers to help Michael fix his and Maria’s relationship, he feels tired all of a sudden, feels like he should be selfish in this situation but, but—

“No, no,” Michael says, shaking his head hard enough to make his curls bounce. “She's made it very clear she can't trust me or Liz right now. That we're on her shitlist and it's looking like we might not get off of it anytime soon.” He breathes in deep, steels himself, “And I’m coming to realize that kissing you was a mistake,” he continues, “Just. You don't deserve that from me, I’d be doing the same chicken shitted shit I said you were doing to me.”

Alex watches as he deflates a little, his shoulders go limp, and he stands too, taking a step closer, “Look, Guerin,” he pauses, “ Michael ,” he corrects, “I get it, okay? You just started something with Maria, now you're not together and it hurts , and the physical thing between us? It's always been easy. Something to fall back on when words or whatever hasn't been enough.” He rubs his hands on his jeans before crossing his arms against his chest, posture going stiff, “I said some things I shouldn't have and this is not like me stringing you on all those years.” He swallows, “You're hurting, and I get that. Sometimes, it's easier to mask the hurt with something physical than try to parse through it mentally”

Michael looks up at him, raw and open, incredulous, “You really are a self-sacrificing piece of shit, aren't you?” He asks, something akin to wonder in his voice.

The deprecating laugh escapes before he can stop it, “Who told you that?”

Michael snorts, rubbing his right hand across his face in annoyance, “Liz briefly mentioned it when she said you'd reenlisted, said you didn't know when to quit. That you'd rather see those around you thrive even if it meant you had to suffer.” He presses his lips together, “That's why you just left after that night, wasn't it? In the shed. If you didn't leave, what, your dad would have come after me again? Hassling a teenage boy for sleeping with his son?”

Alex swallows, feels dread creeping up along with the urge to leave, but he tilts his chin up, stares across at Michael, “I did it to keep you safe.” He says, voice more steady that he expected. “And as much as it hurt, I'd do it again, if it meant he'd never lay another hand on you.”

A sour, pinched look flits across his face, “And what, you'd rather be in his shadow than have your own happiness?”

Alex squeezes his arms tighter against his chest, “I don't like seeing the people I care about hurt,” he says, and he suddenly feels vulnerable again, like a teenager, “I knew if I'd enlisted he’d leave you alone. If I distanced myself from you, he wouldn't have a reason to go after you. And after Caufield, I’m glad I did, all those years ago.” He breathes in shakily, “And yeah, I know, it's selfish, I should have asked you. I should have talked to you before making those sorts of decisions for you because it hurts , it's what makes our relationship hard and painful for you. I know .”

He goes quiet for a few moments, then, “After the way he ran my mother off, after doing that, I couldn't let him destroy you too, Michael. That's absolutely no excuse for anything I did, because I did fuck up, I fucked you up, I fucked us up, everything. But god ,I’d rather have fucked any chance of us up than lose you permanently.”

Alex rubs his arm across his face, feeling his eyes well with tears, “So yeah, I’m a self-sacrificing piece of shit but if it keeps people alive then I’ll continue to do it.”

Michael stands there, across from him and Alex feels a pull of something, sees the way Michael straightens his shoulders, makes himself look taller, and then he's closing the space between them, arms wrapping around Alex’s shoulders.

“You are a goddamn piece of work, Manes,” Michael says, voice half muffled by his shirt. “When I said loving you was hard, I didn't mean for you to fucking lie to your dad about cutting me out of your life. I didn't mean that we couldn't still be friends , that you had to sell yourself back to the air force.” he says the words so fiercely that Alex believes them.

“I want you and Maria to be happy, I want you to be happy, and that makes me selfish. There's part of me that wants to convince you to be with me, but the other part of me wants you and Maria to have a chance because. If she makes you happy? Then I want that for you.” Alex says, voice shaky as his hands rest on Michael's sides, gripping his shirt. “As much as I want to just kiss you and forget about all of this, I know we can't. We can't do that. If you want to be with Maria. If you want a chance at happiness.”

Michael squeezes him tighter, and then he's pressing their foreheads together, “But what do you want?”

Alex blinks at Michael, eyes wet and red rimmed, “I want you to be safe. That's why I enlisted again, so I can take down whatever this is my dad's planning. I can't do it from the outside. I have to be inside.”

Michael makes an unhappy noise, “Stop. Think about yourself for once. You said you wanted to convince me to be with you? So do it, Manes. Show me you're even worth my time. Show me that what we had in highschool wasn't just a fling for you.” He challenges, “I know you want what's best for me, but maybe. Hell maybe I don't know what's best for me yet. Maybe I still want you. Maybe I still want an us .”

“I don't want to force you,” Alex says, fierce, “I recognize I fucked up and I know you were with Maria because you like her and it doesn't hurt to be with her. I'm not going to ruin what little chance you have left.”

“We both fucked up, Alex,” Michael says, “We both did, and it's unfair that I blamed it all on you. We were teenagers who didn't know shit about each other except that we had feelings.” He looks into Alex's eyes, “I’d like to think that we're adults now and we can handle this more. Maturely. We can sit down, figure out shit out. And hell, maybe in the future we'll be at a place where we can be us again.” He slowly withdraws from the hug, dragging his thumb gently down Alex’s cheek, aching inside at the way Alex closes his eyes and leans into it. “Right now, we need to focus. We need to talk about all this. We need to shut your dad’s operation down. Somehow help Max and Rosa and Maria.”

When he pulls his thumb away from Alex's face, Alex opens his eyes slowly, staring at him with a sad sort of look on his face, “And if you and Maria somehow fix the mess between you, I don't want you to give up on that for me. Okay?”

Michael sighs noisily out of his nose, “I really need you to stop thinking about me and other people and please act selfish this once .” He says, “This isn't about Maria and me, this is about you and me, and the two of us reconciling , because I had a fucking good time today before I forgot to tamp down the unbridled lust I feel for you, and I want more of that. If we can be friends first, I’d just. I'd really like that.”

Alex inhales softly, nods somewhat tentatively, fighting back the urge to argue with Michael, stamps down on the voice telling him that they can never be friends because Alex feels too big for him. “Okay. Okay. You're right Guerin. I need this. We need this.”

“Just two guys talking about the past trauma they've inflicted on each other and the imminent doom of one's dad on an entire alien race,” Michael says, “Seems simple enough.”

And then, Alex pulls himself together, takes a few relaxing breaths, “We've also got to somehow bring Max back to life,” he adds dryly.

“Nope. No way, that's all on Liz. I'm an engineer not a biologist.” Michael says, finally placing his hat on his head again. “I’ll help where I can but she's taking point on that.”

Alex snorts quietly, and the tension eases out of the air, as he sits back down on the log, Michael joining him again, leaning back to stare up at the sky, their thighs pressed together.

“We're gonna figure this out, Alex,” Michael says into the evening sky, and though Alex is unsure of what exactly this is, he believes him.