#anyways i spent like a good hour trying to get my eyeliner right but when u got semi-hooded dbl eyelid eyes it's like 4 injured 2 dead

[domokunrainbowkinz]

put on and took off my eyeliner so many times the outer corners of my eyes are STINGING. wish i actually learned how to put on makeup in high school like the rest of society

[kidvoodoo]

Solitaire

The long drive from the airport passed by with a dizzying blur and Joost found himself barely taking in the scenery of the snowy streets, preferring instead to be captivated by the man in the back of the limo with him.

Käärijä. The upstart his own ex-boss had been complaining about not even a year ago. This was his savior and temporary bodyguard. He didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

‘He’s so much different than I pictured…’ he thought to himself. The man couldn’t be older than his early thirties, he was expecting some grizzled Fin with hard eyes and an even harsher demeanor, not an eccentrically stylish man with eyeliner, silver piercings and a bowl cut…

But the man, for all his oddities, was surprisingly warm.

He patched Joost up without question, risked his life and the lives of his people just to get the Dutchman out of danger. Joost doesn’t get it, doesn’t understand even in the slightest. He barely has a chance to process anything from the last twenty-four hours.

“Um,” he softly clears his voice, “I was gonna ask, where is a good place for me to lie low for a while? I have some cash I can use to pay rent…”

Käärijä looks at him with a puzzled expression, Joost shrinks a little under the stare.

“Why you need to rent? You coming to my place of course.”

Joost’s eyebrows shoot up and he nearly drops his glass of brandy.

“Wha-ah wait, I couldn’t do that, I would be bringing danger directly to you if I’m found out!”

The other man snorts a laugh, his eyes glinting with amusement.

“You think I scared of old Dutch gangsters? They are afraid of me! Besides, you try and go into hiding and they probably find you anyway.” He shrugs nonchalantly, as if he hasn’t just declared war on the entire Western Mafia.

“They always gonna find you, but they are stupid to try and take you while I’m watching,” he grins, those sharp canines giving his expression a vicious edge.

“Not the first time they try and cross me, now their men underneath a frozen swamp in pieces.”

Joost swallows, he forgot for a moment this isn’t just an excitable newcomer with a deathwish, he’s the Nordic Crime Lord for a reason. You don’t get far in the Underworld if you can’t get your hands dirty and bare your teeth.

“Still…it’s an imposition. I can’t in good conscience accept more help from yo-“

“Shh! Enough.” He silences Joost with a sharp word. “I say you are coming with me, you are staying at my compound. It is safest place in Finland I promise.”

Käärijä leans forward and fixes his gaze on Joost, much softer than before.

“Tommy doesn’t vouch for a lot of people. I hear you take two million from your former boss. I don’t know why you did it, maybe you need the money, but I do know a clever money man when I meet one.”

He smiles, he looks almost too sweet and genuine to have just been talking about butchered people and tossing their remains in a swamp.

“It take a lot of guts to do what you did Mr. Klein. We need people like you in the Union, if not as members, than at least allies.”

Joost drops his gaze to the ground.

“I didn’t steal the money for myself,” he says under his breath, ‘Am I really going to admit this right now?’

“What you do with it?”

“I emptied sixteen accounts and forwarded it over to INTERPOL, the two million is what the investigation is willing to discuss publicly.”

He looks up into Käärijä’s eyes and almost bashfully admits it.

“The total sum is around two Billion.”

<><><>

The rest of the journey was spent in silence, Käärijä seemed to adopt a more thoughtful demeanor as he no doubt was processing the depth of Joost’s gambit. He doesn’t blame the man, it still sounds absolutely absurd when he says it out loud.

Absurd, dangerous, stupid…

But does he regret it?

The scenery changes and it’s a while before Joost realizes they aren’t in Helsinki proper anymore. His abysmal grasp of the Finnish language isn’t helping as they pass sign after sign, the only one slightly recognizable is a larger sign displaying the name ‘Vantaa’.

Käärijä must have caught his puzzled look, as the man is beaming with pride when Joost turns to face him again.

“My city, my rules.”

Joost manages a shy smile of his own.

“I’ve always wanted to see Finland…didn’t think it would be like this of course.”

The gangster chuckles, Joost is caught off guard by the casual openness of it all.

“No worries, you gonna have a good time, a lot of fun things around here!”

“Have a good time fearing for my life you mean?” He means it in a joking way, but the concern on Käärijä’s face is evident.

“Hey, I promise you I keep you safe okay? I don’t break promises, and if I do? You can steal my money, I give you 10 seconds head start.” He winks and Joost can’t help but smile at the man, for someone supposedly so dangerous, he jokes around a lot.

A little while later the vehicle descends deeper into the city, the sky had quickly fallen dark and the twinkling lights of the streets and buildings illuminate the snowy walkways. The people are scarce on the streets, the occasional gaggle of pub-goers making their way around town seem unaffected by the cold and icy night.

“Here,” Käärijä says, tapping the glass of the window and gesturing outside. “This my place.”

Joost looks out the window at an imposing high rise building, towering twelve stories at least above the snow covered streets; It’s bright blue lighting casts a cold glow over the block, it’s massive, illuminated and worst of all, highly visible.

This…this is the hideout?!

The Finnish gangster grins and before Joost has a moment to process his now increasingly troubling situation, he’s being ushered out of the back of the car and into the frigid wintery night, up the short flight of stairs to the entrance where another bald gentleman in a black suit is waiting to open the door and welcome them inside.

His eyes adjust to the bright lights of the…lobby? The floors are a white marble and the walls equally as stark. Aside from a couple of comfortable and trendy looking leather couches, the ground floor is empty of any decorative features. At the back of the large room is a double set of silver elevator doors and sat in front of them is a concierge-type of desk. Its matte black surface stands out against the stark white room as does the figure sitting behind the desk.

Another bald man…could they be triplets? No, on further inspection Joost realizes they all seem to resemble each other, but not perfectly, not identically.

Brothers?

Joost startles and lets out an undignified yelp as the bald man who let them through the door grabs his shoulders and begins patting him down without a word.

“Hey! What are-“

“You really should have done this before he got in the car, Jere…”

Another presence startles him further causing the bald man to squeeze his shoulder threateningly.

“Be still.” The man growls. Joost freezes.

His attention is drawn back to a tutting noise, a taller blond man casually strolls up to the three, his hands in the pockets of his navy blue suit pants. He’s wearing a relaxed style shirt in crisp white and sports an easy grin. Around his neck is an expensive looking black camera, the man’s face looks…similar to-

“Jakko, relax. I don’t think Jere would let a spree shooter in the building, no matter how much of an air head he is.”

“Fuck off Mikke,” Käärijä snarls beside him, petulantly crossing his arms. “I know what I am doing.”

“Don’t let him fool you,” the blonde man winks at Joost and holds out his hand expectantly. “It’s lovely to meet you Mr. Klein, I’m Mikke, the boss’s older brother, welcome to the Union headquarters.”

The man grasps his hand for a firm albeit friendly greeting just as the bald man, Jakko apparently, digs out the meager belongings Joost had somewhat hidden in his suit’s inner pocket.

“H-Hey! That’s-“

He’s doesn’t have time to react before his wallet, phone and little vial of pills are passed off to Käärijä.

“We get you set up with secure phone card yes?” He says matter-of-factly, checking the edges of the device for any obvious tampering or bugging. “You smart to not turn it on yet.”

“Thanks I guess, but-“

“Mr Klein,” the blond man interrupts. “Look over here.”

Joost does, and is for the moment blinded by a flash of white light, having had his photo taken by the man’s black camera completely unexpectedly.

“Hey, wha-“

“For your fake ID, we’ll have it ready for you by tomorrow, also we can get you anything else document-wise within the next three days so please let me or any of the staff know! Good to meet you!” And without another word, the blond man is gone out the door behind him.

What the fuck is happening?!

“Come, let’s get upstairs okay? We have a lot of things to do before the night is over.” Käärijä says to him, passing his phone back but holding onto the wallet and pills.

He doesn’t have a moment to breathe or process anything as they make their way over to the elevators, a quick nod from the bald man at the front desk relays some unspoken information to the mafia boss and the sound of the elevator dinging echos in the empty lobby.

Loading into the elevator, Joost takes in the panel of floor numbers . Thirteen floors in total, one labeled as a basement beneath the building, the top floor button has a number pad next to it, off limits to anyone without the code.

“Fifty Euros? That’s all you have?” Käärijä asks in a shocked tone, he’s digging through Joost’ wallet now. “You say you have money for rent? This not enough!”

Joost moves to yank the wallet out of the Fins hand but one look from Jakko behind his dark shades and his hand lowers. He still resolves to clear his throat and holds out his palm in a gesture of polite request.

“May I please have my wallet back? There isn’t anything dangerous in there I promise, I shredded my ID and bank cards. I was planning on fencing some information for additional funds.”

Käärijä cocks a disbelieving eyebrow at that as he pulls out the only other thing in Joost’s wallet, an old folded up Polaroid.

“Wait! Please don’t-“ he begs, the gangster takes one look at Joost’s face and his desperate tone must have struck something, because the man is carefully tucking the photo back in and returning his wallet and phone.

“Sorry, Mikke was right I should have checked sooner.” His tone is apologetic and Joost sighs, pocketing his phone and wallet again.

“It’s…it’s fine, really. I understand you can’t be too careful in this business. And I appreciate everything you’ve done for me.” He offers a shy smile, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck. Käärijä pats him on the shoulder and the elevator dings to announce their arrival to the eleventh floor, the silver double doors parting to reveal new space.

The space is huge, penthouse sized with clean looking floors and expensive, elegant furnishings. The lighting is studio style with the sliders able to accommodate whatever level of visibility is needed, for now it’s a soft glow that doesn’t strain the eyes. The windows are large and have a breathtaking view of the cityscape below, there is a full sized kitchen, an alcove off to side where the bedroom and bathroom must reside, a comfortable looking leather couch, a desk, dinner table and chairs, a frankly ridiculously large flatscreen tv…

It’s…very nice.

“Here it is!” Käärijä claps his gloved hands together and practically drags Joost into the space, his excitement evident. “We getting you a new laptop and there is plenty of food if you are hungry, oh! Here is the bedroom, you have a great view of the river, we get your phone working tomorrow don’t worry-“

Joost can’t help but sputter in amusement a little at the man’s energetic enthusiasm, for a moment he forgets he’s being hunted by the most dangerous gangsters in all of Western Europe and instead lets himself be whisked away by the gangster. He forgets he’s in the company of the man upheaving one hundred years of underworld tradition, he forgets, as he looks out the window of his new bedroom at the glittering lights of the city below, dots of yellow and gold reflecting off the snowy cityscape. He nearly gasps at the beauty in the night.

“You want to hang onto these?” Käärijä asks from behind him, Joost turns and sees the man holding his little bottle of pills, a soft yet sad look on his face.

“Oh, I…I guess I should.” Joost stammers, staring down at the two little pills. He nearly forgot he had these. His just-in-case. Last resort.

“You know,” Käärijä says quietly, taking a second to choose his words wisely. “I hope you can be comfortable here. I am sorry this all happening.”

“But my place is right above, you can use call button by elevator if you need anything, okay?”

Joost feels almost guilty in this moment, it’s obvious Käärijä knows what is in the bottle but he won’t say it aloud. The man has risked his life for him, taken him in and is using all his collected resources to protect him. And here Joost is taking back the bottle.

Like he would thank the man with the gift of his corpse.

“Um,” Joost begins, taking it all in. “I really do want to thank you. I don’t have…many friends out there, at least not many who would go out of their way to help me like this…”

You don’t have any friends anymore, you robbed them blind and put a target on your head.

“So if there is anything I can do to repay you, please let me know. I don’t want to just take something without returning in kind.”

Käärijä looks into his eyes and a smile blossoms on his face though the sadness in his eyes stays. He squeezes Joost’s hand, the bottle of pills a barrier between them but the warmth in there radiating through the leather glove he wears. Joost can’t help but blush a little.

“The only thing you need to do is relax now, we gonna take care of this okay? Tomorrow I give you actual tour of the place, we get your phone secure and get you ID card.” He gives Joost’s hand one last squeeze and then he’s heading towards the door, Jakko standing vigilantly by the elevator waiting for him.

Joost watches him go, the bottle still clenched in his hand. The glass is warm as is his palm.

The man gives one last wave goodbye before the elevator doors close and it begins to descend, leaving Joost in the quiet of his new residence.

He takes a minute to let it all sink in. In twenty-four hours, his life has completely shattered and was simultaneously reconstructed in an instant. From the moment he ended the phone call with Tommy, his heart hasn’t stopped pounding and the eventual adrenaline drain finally begins to make his body tremble.

He needs to sit down.

He all but collapses on the bed, his bed, with the dark blue duvet cover and soft looking white pillows and stared at the ceiling, feeling the manic fight-or-flight instinct dissolving in his blood.

Minutes passed, maybe hours. Joost’s mind calms and he takes in his surroundings properly. There is a bedside table with a small reading lamp, next to it is an ashtray with a pack of unopened cigarettes and a lighter.

It’s his usual brand.

He should probably be more concerned about that, how could Käärijä know that? If Tommy is their only mutual contact, a man he has only ever communicated with long distance, who did Käärijä have in place to know this information?

He’s too tired to care as he reaches over and opens the pack, shrugging off his suit jacket and carelessly tossing it on the floor. Lighting up a cigarette, he stares at the bandage on his hand, the non-functioning phone on the bed, the little bottle of pills…

The photo is old and creased, the edges of the Polaroid turning yellow with age. There is a skinny boy with a head of bright blond hair and a huge smile on his face, his front left tooth missing, his second baby tooth to go that year. His glasses are busted on one side, held together with tape and willpower alone. He sports a striped polo shirt that has grass stains all over it, a result of his recent roughhousing in the field behind his home. Behind him is a man giving holding up two fingers behind the boy’s head, a mocking bunny ears gesture and a jovial expression on his face. He shares the same jawline as the kid, same smile and same joy.

Joost exhales a plume of smoke and looks out into the darkness of the night, the sea of lights below seemed miles away.

What have I gotten myself into now?

<><><>

Hey! I am now posting this story on ao3! Come check it out and leave a comment if you like!

[t4fft]

did shrooms #2 last week and it is making me deeply aware of how being unendingly passive and acquiescent and willing to manage other people's emotions and expectations of me has me dissociating through my entire life. i feel like every single day now i realize halfway through a conversation that i have not actually thought about or considered a single thing that i have said and have just been straight running on autopilot so i can get to the end of the interaction, even with people i love. i had friends over last night and looked forward to it for a full week and i still had a part of me ticking away in the background wondering when people were going to leave so i could not be in a conversation anymore, because having a conversation feels like pulling teeth, or pulling the drain out of the bathtub and i just leak away, nice and empty for other people to fill with whatever they want. if you want to talk to me we can talk about whatever _you_ want for hours. i am a good listener which makes me Interesting to a lot of people because i just reflect back whatever they want from me. i am a great rorscharch test, so adults loved me as a kid and called me Mature and said i was an Old Soul and a great conversationalist because i spent my entire childhood voiding myself so that people would not be mad at me, and have spent my entire adulthood voiding myself so i don’t have to subject anyone else to the fact that i am actively miserable almost all of the time. i was “let’s see if i can hang myself on my doorknob, just so i know for future reference (i can) and lets start writing a note just for future reference” levels of suicidal about two weeks ago and i have not mentioned a thread of it to anyone else. i think about killing myself all the time and i have never mentioned it to anyone else. if someone asks me how i’m doing i tell them i’m fine, and if i’m too Not Fine to hide it i tell them i’m hanging in there!!!!!! and do not elaborate and no one asks, anyways. 1) speaking it into existence makes it exist and i can only survive if things stay in my brain, on the other side of cracked and fogged over glass, unembodied and intellectualized and unfelt until im leaking on the floor at work and hoping my eyeliner doesn’t run while i grasp around for any line of thought that doesn’t end with concluding very reasonably and efficiently that i should actually kill myself for my sake and everyone else’s 2) no one else needs to deal with that. everyone i know and frankly everyone on the planet already has their own shit and it is the right and Just thing to do to lessen suffering in the world and exposing anyone to the pathetic misery sloshing around in here is a bad end for everyone, because no one can actually do anything to fix me and best case scenario, i make the people around me worry more than they already do and feel guilty for not trying to help me sooner/being a Bad Friend for not being someone i could confide in/etc., etc., and people only really like me because i am so good at making myself someone pleasant to be around and <<<<<<<<<^^^^^^^<^<^<^<^<^<^< this is all insane person shit. this is what an insane person sounds like. my friends love me but i don’t know if they love for me who i am, honestly, because i don’t think anyone can possibly know who i am, because i work very hard to not let anyone know who i am because i don’t think people would like me if i actually asserted anything about myself, the weird shit i’m into and the weird thoughts i have and the weird things i make - Some people Kind of Know, maybe, vaguely, i am better now at not shutting myself away completely, i Allude and Suggest but it never goes further than “oh yeah i like degenerate anime shit lol”. which ones, what about them, how much why and what that says about me and which deep rooted psychological issues they stab at and inform and curl into; so that just lingers, hangs in the air neon noose dayglow damoclesian steel. i am terrified of the version of me that lives in other people’s heads because she is not me in any regard; people seem to think that she is well-read and even remotely self-confident and able to socialize and will surely fit in with my friends and will thrive if left alone with a bunch of strangers and has Potential to become the kind of person I want her to be, (because even if they don’t realize it, people understand that i am not really a person yet, and think that they could fix me with one simple trick doctors hate him (just need to fuck her right, meet the right people, do the right drugs, etc., etc.)) - and that person is not me. that person doesn’t even have the same name or p’nouns that i do, because i don’t even use the name and p’nouns that i use and my “can’t say anything that even slightly contravenes the current moment and mood or else dad might lose his shit” complex is bad enough that i can’t even tell my essentially exclusively trans social circle that i changed my shit up again (and every day i don’t makes it worse because if someone asks why i waited X years to say something, well, what do i say to that except to tear apart like a wet napkin?). to people i am a bundle of signifiers and loose sketches of ideas and attributes, full of blanks i leave there on purpose (or, charitably, feel trauma-compelled to) that they can fill in with whatever they want. mirror doll mirror doll. pose my limbs however you want. You Should Just Be You :) and Your Friends Will Like You No Matter Who You Are! is great advice when you’re a jock in a disney channel movie and you secretly like nerd stuff. it’s less good advice when you’re a weird pervert with almost three decades of masking covering up whatever the fuck kind of thing you actually are under all the sublimated emotional abuse, so i will continue to exquisite corpse my way into being something i’m not until i kill myself or break down completely.

all of which is me being very cruel to myself, which is the actual thing i pulled from trip #2. i am many kinds of fucked, but i need to do something about it. no one is going to fix me; i need to fix myself. i need to make friends and take up space and assert myself mentally and emotionally and make myself other people’s problem and exert pressure on them and let them exert pressure on me and not apologize for my own existence and be unpleasant to be around if i need to be and talk about my weird art and draw people in and draw myself with darker lines and Actually be the weird collar in public sex pest nexprxnxuns mtftmtftmtftmtftmtf faggot christian moms wish they could hit with their ford f-150s because they recognize the actual divine in me and want to snuff it out of existence so they can go back to forgetting what love is and accept that people will probably hate me for it, people i love will probably hate me for it, but i would rather them hate me than hate myself. i need to do it for me and i especially need to do it for the weird little middle schooler in my brain that understood so keenly how much he was hated at home that he spent grades 6-12 convinced that everyone at school hated him too, despite the fact that by all later, external accounts, he was reasonably well liked. i need to be nicer to him and show him the love that no one else really could or would.

i just don’t really know how.

[madaboutmunson]

Girl U Want (Part 6 of 17 of Fire)

It feels like an eternity for 8pm to arrive.

You'd spent the last few hours trying to make your hair and makeup look effortlessly perfect. So you'd made an effort, but not too much.

You checked again in the rearview mirror that your eyeliner hadn't smudged, your fingers drum nervously against the car steering wheel in the empty parking lot.

20:01 he's late. Do you wait a little longer, or do you just save yourself the embarrassment of being stood up? You'd give him four more minutes. As soon as that thought enters your mind, you hear the screech of brakes as a van hurtles into the parking lot and abruptly stops.

Eddie bundles out his van, an arm full of tapes, a box and his lunchbox, running towards your car. Unsure what was going on, you instinctively get out of the car and run to the other side to open the passenger door for him.

He tilts his head, pulls an impressed face, and drops everything in the foot well except for the box, which he very carefully holds as he gets into his seat and places it gently on his lap. Once he's comfortably in his seat, you close the door and walk back to the driver's side. Midway a brief pause to ask yourself, 'What the hell was that?'.

As you drop into your seat, you hear, "Well, I'll be damned, I could get used to this" he puts his hands behind his head and reclines back in the seat.

"On the subject of this. What is all this?" You wave your hand at the foot well, "and what exactly is happening?"

He leans forward excitedly and grabs at the tapes creating a most bizarre chunky hand fan with them, "Well, these are for the journey. The lunchbox is for when we get there," he gestures at the box on his lap," and this, well, this is for later" as he finishes that sentence, pauses and winces a little. Realising that pointing at his lap might not have been the smoothest move. You nod at him to confirm his reaction was justified.

"Yep, that was not a good move. I probably should have held the box up, right?" He says awkwardly

He swiftly tries to change the subject by talking at top speed whilst messing around with the tape in the car radio.

"Anyway, I wanted this place to be a surprise, but I figured you might be a bit worried about getting in my van and not having your car, so I thought I'd get in your car, and I'll direct you."

He slams a tape in and inspects the one he's taken out, "Huh, still listening to The Pleasure Principal? Or is it like the only album you have…" He says in genuine horror, searching around, opening your glove compartment, and breathing a sigh of relief when he locates a few other tapes.

So you weren't going to tell him you'd been listening to the song Metal repeatedly all the way home, at home and then all the way here. Luckily he hadn't given you time to explain. You also wanted to be mad with him for just going through your things, but there was something so innocent about how he was doing it. You smile and ask, "So where are we going to?"

" I see your game! Trying to catch me off guard. So I let the surprise slip before we get there." He tuts at you and wags his finger.

Impossible to keep under control. Your smile widens, and you laugh a little, "Well, can I at least get some directions, please?"

He smiles back warmly and says quietly, "Witchcraft", then puts on his seat belt, "Ok, so it's right out of here."

The journey is a strange but not totally unpleasant one. Eddie has a minimal grasp on personal space, and his directions come in various formats. Sometimes just spoken word, sometimes hand signals, sometimes both, sometimes last minute when he seems distracted by something, sometimes right next to your ear, which is nerve-wracking, and on a few occasions, he just flicks the indicator for you.

To say you are relieved to finally arrive at the destination is an understatement.

You look out into the night, your eyes adjusting to the darkness as you step out of the car. Fences, buildings, troughs…

"Are we at a farm??!! At night?!!" You say, alarmed but quietly, about to get back in your car.

Eddie rushes out in front of the car, holding the box and his little black lunchbox, arms outstretched on either side of him, looking very pleased with himself until he notices you getting back in the car.

"Hey, hey, hey, what's wrong?" He looks confused, jogging over to you.

"Why are we at a farm at night, Eddie?"

"You don't like it?" He says, looking worried

Now you feel bad. Eddie obviously thought this was an excellent idea for some reason.

You take a breath and try to figure out what is really the problem here. You are nervous, it's dark, and you are confused about why you are at a fucking farm in the middle of nowhere.

You look at Eddie and give him a half smile to try and reassure him, "Maybe I'm missing something, maybe some context as to why a farm, and also why at night?"

Eddie has a moment of realisation, "Yes, it does look weird, doesn't it? I guess I wanted it to be a surprise, but you don't really know me, and we are at a strange place at night…Yep, I can see now that it looks bad…" He ponders his choices for a moment and then quickly adds, "but it's not, it's really, really not. It's good, its…erm…special and fun."

He gestures to the farm, "It's a petting zoo-type farm thing!" He beams at you.

"Ok, but won't most of the animals be asleep now? Or tucked away?"

Another wave of realisation hits Eddie, "Yep, I can see that train of thought, buuuuut, this place has something else, and that is the surprise. So can you trust me until the surprise?" He looks at you, hopefully.

You look back and try to smile through worry.

He furrows his brow, opens up his lunchbox and hands you a small hammer, "There, now you are armed, and you don't need to worry that I'm going to hurt you or whatever it is that you are thinking, and I'll be leading the way so no sneak attacks" he jokes.

You grip the hammer and look over at his hopeful little face. Everything is so bizarre right now, "Ok, lead the way, but one step outta line and you won't play the guitar again for a few months, maybe never again."

He worryingly seems unbothered by your threat and ultimately reads between the lines, "So you know I play the guitar?" He inquired, looking back over his shoulder as you followed him down a dusty path.

"I don't think there is anyone in Hawkins that doesn't know that. You tell everyone," you laugh.

"Nothing wrong with being proud of your talents. Clearly, I am a man of many. Planning dates, for example," he chuckles to himself, gesturing at the farm.

You stop walking for a second, "This is a date?" you ask genuinely.

Eddie freezes, "Er….well…" He clearly had not meant to blurt that out

"You, Eddie Munson, want to take me on a date? After what happened to poor George?" You say in disbelief.

"I don't want to take you on a date. We are on a date. I didn't mean to tell you right now that it was a date because that was part of the date surprise," Eddie says hurriedly, not looking at you.

You smile, "You can stop saying date now, you know", you laugh.

He looks back at you and smiles, then quickly turns back to the path and picks up his pace, "Nearly there. Keep up"

You walk after him, but he picks up speed. You follow his lead until you are basically running after him. He occasionally looks back at you, grinning. Then, finally, he comes to a sudden stop by a chain link fence.

"The thrill of the chase!" He says, winking at you. He runs his hand along the fence, it gives a little, and he pushes part of the fence open for you both.

You find yourself standing in front of what looks like a series of huts, "What is this place?" You ask quietly.

"These animals are definitely not asleep," he says, stepping ahead of you, jumping over a fence and offering his hand to you to help you over it.

You put your hand in his for support, and he quickly interlocks your fingers with his and pulls you to his side, "This way", he says quietly, leaning into you, and guides you to a little windy path that goes around all the enclosures, "Owls" he says finally, "Well there are other birds of prey too, but I'm not sure about their sleeping schedule."

You make your way around the enclosures reading facts about the different owls, admiring their plumage and beautiful eyes. Eddie doesn't let go of your hand the entire time. If he needs to use that hand to point something out, your hand has to go with his.

You get about halfway around the path and have to ask, "Why owls, Eddie?"

"I dunno. I guess they seem bookish to me, " he shrugs, "beats me stealing your snacks at the cinema, right? You can't tell me you've ever been on a date like this before, can you?" He says proudly, trying to spot a long-eared owl.

"Nope, I definitely can't say that, and so far, it's better than someone sharing my snacks without asking" you roll the hammer in your other hand, only realising at that moment you still had hold of it. You offer it back to Eddie. He sets the box and lunch box down on the ground, dragging you down to crouching level with him, as he takes the hammer from you and puts it back into the lunchbox.

He doesn't even mention anything about it. He just looks pleased and continues your tour of Owls.

At the end of the windy path, Eddie leads you to a nearby patch of grass, setting down his lunch box and the mystery container.

He takes his vest off, presumably to put it on the ground, and tuts when he realises he has to let go of your hand.

You look down at your much longer plush coat and pick up Eddie's battle vest, dusting off the patches and handing it back to him. You place your own coat on the ground. He blinks softly at you holding his vest in his hands, and before you can sit down, he's wrapped his vest around you.

He looks over you and straightens the WASP pin a little, "There, better", he smiles.

You look down at the vest and pull the lapels a little, adjusting it and puffing out your chest a little, "Do I look…um…Metal now?" You say, trying to imitate what you've seen Metal fans do with their hands.

Eddie rolls his eyes, readjusts your fingers and says amusedly, "I'm not entirely sold, but I think we're getting there."

" Oh, now I see. I did have to worry about something. I am being corrupted!" You say in pretend annoyance

He raises his eyebrows and nods, "Yep, 100% that is exactly what this was all about. I mean, I could have done it anywhere, but Owls set the tone, you know. Preying on a little mouse in the dark."

He approaches, looks you over, tugs at the lowest hem of the vest, and then raises his eyes to look into your own.

Your heart pounds so hard you feel like the pins on the vest might rattle and give you away. Flight or fight. Part of you does want to run right now. Run back to the safety of the car. Run home away from Eddie. Away from potential heartache. Your mind flashes Trent, and you snap out of it.

You sit down quickly on your coat. Eddie sits next to you, ensuring his arm is pushed up against your own. He hands you the box excitedly and rustles around in his lunch box, "Go ahead, open it."

You open the box, and the sweet aroma hits you immediately, cherry pie. A beautifully crafted one with fine lattice work on the top.

You look up at him. He's already armed with two forks smiling happily. You give him what he wants, "You did good on this one, Eddie," you say softly.

He thrusts the forks alternately in the air in celebration, and you grab at one of the forks, laughing. Then, your eyes meet, and for a few seconds, you are frozen, looking happily at one another. You break first and refocus on the pie, it's so pretty it's almost a shame to tuck into it, but it looks delicious.

Eddie shuffles over to be as close to your side as was humanly possible with the pie box between you both. You get a small piece on your fork and raise it to your mouth to eat it. You look out the corner of your eye, and Eddie stares at you in anticipation.

You quickly but gently grab his chin and push the fork towards his mouth to feed him the first piece of the pie. His face rests heavily in your hand like he collapsed under your touch.

Your eyes follow the fork to Eddie's mouth, but his eyes are only on you, waiting for your gaze to find his again.

"Is it good?" You ask.

He closes his eyes slowly, "Mmmm-hmmm, so good", he says with his mouth full. You laugh softly at him and go to help yourself to a piece.

Eddie fights your fork away with his own, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, "No, no, no! My turn"

Eddie scoops up a piece of pie, cradles your chin with his thumb and forefinger, and feeds it to you.

You aren't sure if it's everything or just the pie, but this might just be the best damn cherry pie you've ever eaten. You close your eyes like Eddie did to block out a sense so you can taste it more.

You feel Eddie's fingers gingerly stretch out and caress your neck, "it's good, right?" He says softly.

You nod your head and slowly open your eyes, "Best damn pie I've ever tasted", you say, making sure to have pie all over your teeth when you smile.

"Jesus Christ", he laughs goofily at you, "Are you trying to kill this mood?"

"Who me?" You widen your pie-encrusted smile and wink at Eddie.

"You think it's that easy, huh?" He grins, moving his hand away.

"I have no idea what you are talking about", you smirk playfully, closing your mouth to lick the pie from your teeth.

"I see your game, Missy!" He says mock scolding you

"I was just eating this delicious pie," you say innocently.

"Mmm hmm, of course, that's all you were doing. Seems to me like someone lost their nerve, but I am nothing if not patient," he says, moving the box from between you and shuffling his legs next to yours.

"You? Patient?" You laugh, "I've heard you lose your temper with people and things more times than I can count."

"Oh, that's just day to day. I'm not really angry, just frustrated," he says, sliding his hand back into yours.

You gesture at him, "You call this patience?!"

He laughs and nods, "Uh-huh, I can sit like this for hours. eventually, you'll make your move again" he flourishes his hand to himself, "I am completely irresistible after all."

"Again?" You say surprised

"Ah, don't play coy with me. You knew what you were doing with that first forkful of pie, but you couldn't handle it when it was returned, so you escaped with humour," Eddie says knowingly, "but as I said, I'm in no rush" he leans into your ear to whisper that last part, and it sends a zap of electricity down your neck.

You were slightly annoyed that you were so easy for him to read, but you couldn't let him know that.

"Oh, you aren't in a rush? Well, I'll just keep this kiss to myself then," you tease. You can't believe those words left your mouth. They just spilt out.

"See, I knew there was one here somewhere. Come on, hand it over" Eddie pats himself down, pretending to look for something, and then points his hand to his own face.

"I mean, are you sure? I've been told it's quite potent," you say, looking at the night sky.

"I think I'm sitting in the dark, surrounded by Owls, with someone I barely know. I went into a bakery today, a fucking bakery, not a convenience store. I went to the library…twice!! I fell off my chair, nearly got in a fight and changed my identity. I feel like I've already been hit by the potency, my dear. I'm just waiting on my antidote," he laughs gently.

His little monologue is welcomed. Anything to take your focus off the sound of your own pulse in your ears.

You take his face in your hand, it would have been hands, but he was still gripping the other one. You look into his eyes, "Sure about this?"

He just nods, staring at your mouth, smiling.

Your kiss is a soft and gentle one. Then, as you tenderly move away, you linger with your lips grazing his for a few seconds before sitting back.

He clears his throat, "You know, maybe I was wrong. I don't think that antidote worked at all. Let me try."

His cheeks are flushed as he brings his face towards yours and kisses you again. Taking your bottom lip between his own. You get lost in his eyes as he moves away.

The pie box crunches.

You shove him playfully, "There is no need for that", you giggle.

"For what?" He says dreamily, looking over your face and coming in for another gladly received kiss.

"The pie!"

"I can't believe you are thinking about pie at a time like this," he says, kissing you again.

"Me? I'm not the one playing with the box the whole time. It's distracting," you laugh.

He stops and looks confused, tilting his head, "I'm not touching the box" it's only then you realise that he can't be. One hand is draped over himself, the other holding your hand still.

You scoop him up in your arms and pull him towards you.

"Oh, hey. Easy now. Give a guy some warning," he chuckles.

"Eddie, if you aren't crunching up the pie box. Then what is?"

"What do you mean?" He looks back over his shoulder.

The pie box is shaking, and bits of cardboard are flying everywhere.

"Eddie, grab your things and let's get out of here, now," you say firmly but in a whisper, "Leave the coat."

Eddie launches for his things and pulls you with him into a full sprint back towards the car. You take a glance back as you run out of there.

"What the fuck, man?!" Eddie pants as you get back to your car.

You laugh, out of breath too, "Probably just one of those weird rats again."

"What? Like from down by the stream?" Eddie frowns

"Yeah," you say matter of factly ", That's what it looked like to me."

You both look at each other seriously.

Something screams in the distance.

You fumble with your keys, hands shaking, trying to get into the car, your eyes wide with fright.

You get in and open Eddie's door before slamming your own shut.

Your hands trembling, getting the keys in the ignition. Your lights blink into life, and in the beams, a group of those things coming down the path. These were not rats. No cute nose. No Eyes. Furless.

"Seat belt now!" You shout at Eddie.

You hear the clicks as you simultaneously buckle yourself in and send your car screaming into the night away from this place.

"They're just rats. Just weird rats," you repeat to yourself over and over.

Eddie has decided to distract himself in other ways by fumbling through his cassette tapes until he picks one up and switches the old one out.

You hear quite possibly the fastest guitar riff you've ever heard, followed by a piercing scream that runs right through you.

You aren't following any directions, in particular, just trying to get as far away as possible as quickly as you can.

You glance quickly at Eddie. He's currently swinging his head up and down, playing an imaginary guitar.

You turn back to the road, "Is this really the time and place for headbanging?"

Eddie laughs, still air guitaring, "I can't think of a more apt situation for that song or rocking out. High-speed fucking chase, baby!" He grabs your knee and squeezes it before returning to his 1 man mosh.

You look down at your speed, holy shit! As soon as you start seeing houses and gas stations, you check your mirrors for any signs of creatures. Once confirming there are none, you slow down to a legal speed.

"Awww", Eddie complains.

Now back in the safety of the town, you breathe a sigh of relief and nervously laugh. Fuck that had been terrifying, but it was so exhilarating at the same time.

"Ok, so what is it that we are listening to?" You enquire.

"This is Slayer, and that was Evil has no Boundaries" he's laughing.

"Well, the title was very appropriate", you laugh. Thinking to yourself, how is any of this even funny, is this hysteria?

"You gonna have to pull over", Eddie says, clutching his stomach.

"Oh shit, are you alright?" You say, pulling up at the roadside

You expect him to launch himself out of the car door to puke town. But, instead, his hand comes flying over to your sweater and grabs you by the collar of it. Before you know it, you're yanked over towards Eddie. His other hand is on your face as he kisses you ferociously.

He comes up for a breath, "Oh my god", you say in alarm.

He repeats the same thing but a little more gently, "Oh my god", you say in a soft moan.

Eddie releases you and throws himself back in his seat, his chest heaving, he looks you over and smiles, "Sorry, I'd normally ask first but….what with the speed and adrenaline, and music….are you alright?"

You are dazed. You've not had that feeling before…an urgency…fear…excitement…attraction…powerfully surging music…a perfect storm.

You shake your head in a no.

"Ah shit, I'm so-" Eddie starts to apologise again.

You turn up the radio, grab his shirt, "Again!" and yank him towards you this time.

Eddie's eyes light up, "You don't have to ask me twice," he says, launching himself at you.

Full fanfic list

[chuckbass-love]

Johnny smut#4

Hello lovely anon. Thank you so much for this request, again, i’m sorry for the long wait but i didn’t want to write this when i didn’t have much motivation and then have it turn out any less than perfect. I hope it’s worth the wait for you and that you enjoy it.

Also a lil A/N for everyone: To everyone who has requested, i’m gonna get back on it and try and get at least 2 or 3 out per week if possible. I lost motivation for a hot minute but i’m back. I love you all so much. Also, part 7 to only love can hurt like this will be up sometime in the next week or so. I’m still working on it but i already can’t wait for you all to read.

Disclaimer: My work is not to be posted anywhere else other than MY Tumblr, Wattpad and Ao3 without my permission. However, reblogs are welcome.

Pairing: Johnny Storm x Fem!Reader

Prompt #4: “You’d better be quiet if you don’t want to get caught”

Warning: Smut, explicit content, sexual intercourse, hair pulling, choking, mouth covering and swearing. 18+

Word Count: 5,160

GIF NOT MINE!!! Credit to @mcustarks go check them out❤️

Best Friends Brother

As your eyes glance around the beautiful garden filled with white chairs either side of the aisle with flower arrangements all the way to the alter. You can’t help but feel utterly enchanted by the scene, it’s stunning. However, you’re in the wrong place right now, Sue specifically asked you to meet her out back to help her get ready but as soon as you turnaround to head there, you bump into Johnny of all people.

To put it simply, Johnny isn’t exactly your favourite person and you’re not his either. Well, that’s a lie. When around others you don’t get along, you don’t hate each other you just don’t really have much to say since he’s always so cocky and you’re his older sisters best friend. But behind closed doors, the sexual chemistry is off the charts and you’ve spent too many nights tangled up in his sheets to count on two hands.

No one knows about your late night rendezvous though, especially Sue. And she can never find out. It would hurt her. You’re her best friend and Johnny is her little brother. So it’s a secret and it will always remain one.

“Wow” his lips curl up into a genuine smile as his eyes take in your figure in the floor length  dark purple bridesmaid dress you have on “you look, great” he says as he tugs on his bottom lip with his teeth, clearly unable to stop those dirty thoughts running wild in his head.

“Just great?” you ask, brow raising slightly before you chuckle and move to walk past him but he grabs your arm just in time to stop you from going anywhere “not just great, but gorgeous. In fact if this wasn’t my sisters wedding then i’d say you were the best looking one here” he turns his head in your direction, his dreamy blue eyes meeting yours, both filled with lust and need. But you can’t do this here. Today is Sue and Reed’s day.

“Johnny” you whisper lazily, the feel of his skin on yours makes you shiver with desire for him to fill you up, kiss you and make you cum around his cock multiple times but that will have to wait. You really need to snap out of this. So you do, you blink and look back up at him before slowly pulling away from “Sue needs me now, i have to go” and just like that he’s behind you, watching as you walk away. Mostly just to watch the way your ass moves in that dress. You can’t say you blame him though, your ass does look good.

The second you step foot indoors you hear Sue moaning about anything and everything to who sounds like Alicia.

“Your saviour is here” you announce and Sue turns around, beaming at you and you can’t help but stare at her. She looks absolutely breathtaking and her dress is the most beautiful you’ve ever seen. She looks just like a princess.  Alicia then leaves to go and check on Ben, leaving you two to it.

“Sue, you look amazing” tears brim in your eyes, drowning out your vision, she spots it immediately, rushing to hand you a tissue “don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry. You’ll ruin your makeup”

You take it from her, dabbing underneath your eyes before taking the eyeliner from her to re do what couldn’t be saved in time “i can’t believe you’re finally getting your big day” you finish zipping up her dress before helping her out with her veil.

“Well i’ve waited long enough” she laughs as you finish up and you turn her round so she can look at herself in the mirror.

“Now, i just need to finish my make-up. Help a girl out?”

You don’t even bother to respond, instead you start helping, picking up her bag of products. Her foundation is done so it’s just her eye makeup and lipstick that’s left to do. You go with a nice subtle smokey eye with a little silver glitter on top. Then to finish it off you apply some nude lip gloss to her lips before leaving her to do her own mascara, you would hate to mess it up after all.

“Oh i forgot to check with you, is Johnny outside?”

Even the mention of his name has an obvious effect on your body and it’s something you’ve never been able to control but instead of letting it show, you put your poker face on, clearing your throat and mumbling a quick “yes” and thank god she doesn’t catch on or say anything. You must have hid it well.

“Right, ladies the guests are arriving now and Reed is helping them all to their seats so are you ready?” Johnny pokes his head into the room and Sue nods, letting out a deep breath.

He glances at you before Sue walks over to him to make their way to the other room in which she’s going to be leaving out of to walk down the aisle, leaving you standing there sighing.

Guess it’s time for you to take your own place too. You follow closely behind them and then you and Alicia wait for your queue to go, she goes first, then you. Flowers in hand, smiling around at all of the guests, every one of them dressed up in bright colours, wedding hats galore. And as you take your place next to Alicia at the side of the alter, you watch your best friend walk down the aisle with pride. She means the world to you and if there’s one person who’s the most deserving of happiness, it’s her.

Reed wipes away tears as she stands next to him and you feel your heart melting, more tears forming. Johnny watches you from across the way, wiping your own tears of joy before his focus shifts to the vows.

Sometimes he gets urges to ask you out on a date but as quickly as those urges form, they fade. There’s not a chance in hell of you saying yes to him and he knows it. He’s just a hookup and he’s no stranger to half platonic relationships. He’s never particularly been one for commitment anyway but something about you changes his mind. Since you’ve been Sue’s best friend for god knows how long now, he’s watched many guys come and go in and out of your life. He’s watched and even listened to the many times Sue has held you whilst you cried and to tell the truth, he’s never been able to fathom why anyone would ever want to hurt you. Why anyone would ever cheat or leave you. He always had the biggest crush on you and it’s never left. 

Hence why one day he made a move, giving you his best cheesy pick up line at a party Sue threw one weekend. But you ignored him, it was only 2 hours into the party and you weren’t drunk enough to be taking him seriously. However, multiple drinks and shots later, he tried his luck again, and he hit the jackpot. You took him up on his offer. Whilst Sue was in the other room trying to clean up after her guests, you were in Johnny’s room, stripping off in-between heated open mouthed kisses.

It’s pretty obvious where that lead and the next day, you were so mad at yourself for letting it get that far. You cursed alcohol and your stupid brain as you quickly re dressed, repulsed at yourself and your actions. That’s when Johnny shot up, trying his best to make you stay, shutting the door as you tried to open it and standing in the way. You made eye contact with the player and he kissed you. You can’t recall anything else other than feeling captivated by him. His lips moved in sync with yours like they were always made to touch and you couldn’t control the way your body yearned for more.

And the rest is history. Since then you’ve been late night texting and meeting up whenever you could to hook up. Johnny eventually got his own apartment too which only lead to more often than not, the pair of you fucking like rabbits.

It hasn’t just been hookups though, as much as you’d love to lie and pretend that it doesn’t mean a thing, it does. You like Johnny, of course you do. He’s actually the only guy that’s ever been able to make you cum. The only guy who isn’t completely selfish in bed. He makes it all about you, every dam time and you feel torn when it comes to him. A huge part of you knows the two of you feel something deeper and more than just sex. You feel something more intimate. It’s definitely not love but it could be, one day.

Before you know it, you’re ripped from your Johnny themed thoughts as everyone starts cheering and clapping. You join in, watching Reed kiss Sue passionately before the two of them walk back up the aisle. You, Alicia, Johnny and Ben all follow behind with the guests joining in.

The reception is just inside and as soon as you all enter, the music begins. The real old school music. You’re The One That I Want from Grease. The DJ really has a way of luring everyone onto the dance floor right away. Usually at weddings, everyone sits down drinking and chilling before the buffet food comes out but not this wedding.

Sue grabs your hand and the two of you re enact the classic Sandy and Danny scene, overly dramatic though of course and unbeknownst to you, Johnny is watching your every move, unable to stop himself grinning like a cheshire cat. It’s very clear you’re having the time of your life and all he wants is to be able to dance with you.

Once the song is over, you walk around the room to look for the table that you’re going to be sitting at until you hear “over here” and you know that voice anywhere. You turn around to find Johnny sat down, a large glass of wine next to his beer. He ordered for you? Why?

“You’re next to me, hope that’s okay” he stands up, helping you into your chair and tucking it in for you before taking his seat again and sliding the glass of wine to you.

“White wine is still your favourite, right?” nerves fill his voice as he keeps his eyes locked on you “yes, it is. You remembered. Thank you” you waste no time in taking a big gulp of it, you can practically feel yourself getting aroused just by sitting next to the man and to think you’re going to have to deal with it the whole day is torture.

You press your thighs together, trying your hardest to stop whatever is happening in its tracks.

“You not going to dance some more?” he asks, sitting back in his chair, one arm draped round the back of yours “maybe in a minute, i’m still recovering from the first one” you giggle nervously, scared of being seen with him. Sure, you were put with him by Sue herself but what if your farce comes apart now, after all, he is being nice to you and the resting bitch face is missing instead a happy expression has taken its place.

Maybe no one will notice since it’s Sue’s big day, that could be the excuse you use if anyone says anything but then again, why should you care to make excuses? If you enjoy his company that shouldn’t be an issue. Maybe Sue won’t care. She’s always wanted Johnny to settle down with someone nice and you’re nice, right? She’s also wanted you to find someone too. But her best friend and brother getting together probably isn’t what she had in mind.

The song Crazy In Love by Beyonce comes on and Sue practically summons you to the dance floor, so you down the rest of your wine before you rush over to join her. Skipping the regular moves, you and Sue both start dancing like it’s just the two of you. No move off limits as you both grind your hips in circles, shaking your asses and laughing your heads off. She is the only person in this world that can make you laugh like that and you feel incredibly lucky to have her and to be here for her big day.

As your moves get more risqué you catch Johnny adjusting his cock in his dress trousers before drinking more of his beer.

The tension is building within you and you’ve never had to fight temptation so much in the whole year that you two have been doing this. You’re usually very good at waiting and making him wait for it but right now, it’s too hard. The next song that comes on is Check On It by Beyonce, again.

The more of the song that you dance to, you notice the lyrics surprisingly match your situation and a wave of confidence drenches you like rain.

If you got it flaunt it, boy I know you want it While I turn around you watch me check up on it Oh you watchin me shake it, I see it in ya face Ya can't take it, it's blazin’, you watch me in amazement

You continue to show off your best assets, making sure you tease and wind him up more before you make any kind of move which is what you usually do. Any time the two of you fool around, you make him wait and earn it, but it’s one of many reasons why he loves hooking up with you, you’re not easy, you know your worth and you’re 100% worth the wait.

The song finishes leaving yourself and Sue breathless almost. Reed stalks closer, handing his bride a drink and you head over to the bar to get another for yourself before sitting back down again. The buffet will be available soon and you’re desperate for something to eat. Peckish isn’t the word.

“Hello again” Johnny beams and you sip some more wine, a rather big sip yet again before you respond “hello. Are you gonna sit here the whole night?” you question with genuine curiosity, he only really danced a little when the Grease song was on but that’s about it and you aren’t oblivious to the other women checking him out.

“No i intend to dance i just need to be drunk enough for it first”

“I see, maybe then one of those lovely ladies will get a chance to dance with you” you say, observing one in particular who has been staring non stop.

“Please, i’d rather dance with you”

Your heart skips a beat and dare you say it, your vagina develops one. He’s such a sweet talker.

“You looked good out there, y’know” he motions towards the dance floor as if you didn’t already clock on to what he meant and you can’t deny the way your cheeks start to heat up as you thank him shyly.

That’s when he leans closer to your ear, his arm round the back of your chair again as he rasps “and that ass of yours in this dress, baby you got me so hard” his breath fans your neck as he returns to his normal sitting position but he doesn’t miss the way your breath hitches at the dirty comment. He knows all too well the effect he has on you and you know the effect you have on him.

In the past all it’s taken for him is for you to bite your lip and stare him down for him to get hard before. You’re his weakness.

Before you can even go to respond to him though, he clears his throat, tapping away on his phone as he stands up “anyway, if you’ll excuse me, nature calls” he slips his phone back into his pocket, walking away towards the toilets which just so happens to be right behind the DJ.

Your phone buzzes and you check to see a message from him ‘You coming?’ the text reads.

And that alone is enough for you to choke on your own saliva. You quickly sip your drink before standing up yourself and making your way over to the mens toilets. Thank God no one saw you.

“Johnny” you whisper yell until one of the cubicle doors opens, the bigger one at the end. He winks at you as he appears in the doorway and you strut over to him, allowing him to pull you in and lock the door. Your body is flush against his as he starts to kiss your collarbone first. If Johnny is anything it’s a man who loves to savour the moment. He hates quickies and loves to take his time with you.

You’re obviously not the first woman to fall victim to his touch but you’re the only one right now and you’re glad that he’s had experience, it’s clearly made him all the more sensational  in the bedroom.

“Oh” you throw your head back on a quiet moan, hoping not to be too loud despite music blasting outside making it impossible for anyone to hear you.

“Every time you dance, you drive me crazy. Shaking that perfect ass of yours in this dress, making me want you so bad” his lips hover over your sweet spot, his breath fanning it just like it did before.

You wrap your arms loosely round his neck as your back arches and his lips attack your neck like a man possessed, everything about this moment should feel wrong and yet it feels so right. The thought crosses your mind that everyone is out there dancing and most likely eating now all while Johnny is playing with your dress, lifting it up to reveal the new panties that you brought for today. Purple lace to match your dress.

“Oh baby” he groans, tugging on his bottom lip at the sight as his fingers wonder down and slip inside. His cold palm cups your sex making you shiver in surprise before he makes you forget all about it by spinning you around so that you’re pressed against the wall. Caged in by his muscular body as he towers over you.

He presses a chaste kiss to the back of your neck and heat starts to rise to your cheeks, you can’t contain the flustered feeling that fills you. He’s always had a way of being so dominant and stealing all control from you in an instant, since you’re so used to the roles being reversed in your life, he was more than into changing that. And to tell the truth, it’s one of the many reasons that you keep coming back. He pushes you out of your comfort zone in more ways than one.

His fingers play with the flimsy material of your new panties, grazing over your clit multiple times until you’re poking your ass out into his hand. “Someones keen, huh?” his low, raspy and taunting chuckle fills your ear sending shivers up and down your spine and causing goosebumps to form all over your hungry body.

“Please, Johnny” you beg pathetically, once again pushing back against his hand in hopes that he’ll get a move on and touch your properly. Which of course he does. You know he can never resist your charm. All the more reason why he’s slipping your panties to the side now so that his fingers can circle your arousal covered hole, almost dipping into your honey pot but holding back.

“Beg for it” he growls, taking your right earlobe between his teeth and biting down lightly “beg like the good girl i know you are” he continues and you gasp before breathing out a quick plea “p-please touch me Johnny, i need it” as your hands find purchase on the wall.

The feel of his knee spreading your legs apart gets you all the more excited for what’s the come and that’s when he gives you all that you’ve been craving, slipping two thick digits inside of you, coating them in your juices as they hit that spongy spot. He’s never had much trouble when it comes to finding your weak spots, he knows your body inside and out at this point and there’s not a time where you don’t cum when you’re with him.

“That good baby? My fingers getting that little cunt ready for my cock”

Your eyes roll to the back of your head in reaction to the pure filth leaving his not so innocent mouth and just as you go to let out a near enough pornographic style moan, throwing your head back too, the restroom door opens making you stop yourself. Footsteps make their way to one of the cubicles that just so happens to be next to the one your in.

Johnny then takes it upon himself to pull his drenched fingers out of you, reaching his hand in front of your face and shoving them into your mouth for you to suck on, using his free hand to undo his belt and now you know that you’re done for. You know exactly what he’s about to do. His cock rests at your entrance, staying there for a second before he slides in. Your walls welcome him in the best way, wrapping around his cock as he splits you open, stretching you beautifully yet again just like he does every time. The all too familiar feeling consumes you.

“You’d better be quiet if you don’t want to get caught” he mutters in hushed tones, switching it up so that his hand is fully covering your mouth, suffocating you as he drags his cock along your warm velvety walls deliciously. Obviously you don’t want to get caught but right now the anticipation of what could happen is enough to make you clamp down around him, earning a hiss.

A noise that obviously catches the attention of whomever is next door to your cubicle since the unsuspecting gentleman speaks up “are you okay in there, man?” shit. It’s Ben. You feel a wave of shame wash over you as Johnny picks his pace up slowly “yeah, everything's fine” he chirps, as if he has all the time in the world to converse when he’s buried balls deep inside of you.

“If you say so” Ben responds before flushing, washing his hands and then leaving the room. Now it’s just the two of you again. Johnny takes full advantage of the alone time by pushing you right up against the wall, your cheek squished against the tiles, his calloused hands splaying across your ass cheeks now and spreading them apart. Only so he can take a good look at the way he disappears into your tight chanel with ease.

“Doing so well baby, taking this cock like a fucking pro” he grunts, wrapping his hand around your neck and pulling your head back with the help of his other hand grabbing a fistful of your hair at the scalp but keeping your whole body pressed into the wall.

Sinful moans escape your mouth and at this point you’re way past the point of caring or trying to be quiet. Unless someone walks in then you’re going to let go and revel in the feel of him. The way his body traps you in makes your clit pulsate, you love being manhandled and you always have but only by him.

Anyone that takes even so much as a look at Johnny, they think ‘player’ and they’d be right but they’d also think he’d never be the type of man to be as filthy as he is in reality. Not only has he got a foul mouth on him but he’s kinky not to mention skilful in more areas than one. Dick and tongue game on point as well as those magical digits of his and the way they dance across your sex both delicately and brutally all at the same time.

You’re certainly not complaining though. 

“Fuck, Johnny” your back arches even more so than it was before as you shakily cry out his name with the kind of want that only he can spur on “what is it baby?”

“Don’t stop, i’m so close” you whimper desperately.

His pace is now rendering on animalistic as he fucks you into the wall with such vigor, wanting nothing more than to feel you come undone all over his cock, something he’ll never grow tired of.

“Come on then baby, give it to me” he eggs you on, keeping one hand wrapped around your neck still, tightening as the seconds tick by whilst his other hand smacks down on your exposed ass cheek, making it wobble a little which earns him a satisfied hum.

The two of you go crazy with you pushing back to meet his thrusts and him spanking your ass, both of you hungry for that release.

All of a sudden though the blaring music coming from outside stops. Making you panic. Johnny on the other hand is so close to reaching his peak and he knows you are too, so he doesn’t bother to stop.

But you hear the faint laughs of the wedding guests before what sounds like the DJ addressing everyone. Fuck. This better not be the speeches. You had one planned and so did Johnny.

He continues to fuck into you, grunting, growling and panting in your ear, driving you closer and closer to that edge. You can feel the coil twisting and turning in your stomach, on the verge of snapping at any second and you don’t think you’ll be able to hold back the noises when it happens.

“Gonna make you cream all over this cock baby and best believe i’ll be filling this sweet cunt up with my cum”

You rest your hand over his around your neck as your whole body starts to shake. You clench around his cock some more and just as you can taste the orgasm, the addition of his fingers pressing down on your clit push you off the edge and your head drops back onto his shoulder. The music starts up again, allowing you to really enjoy this. Your mouth hangs open whilst you scrunch your eyes closed, seeing stars as you fall into a pit of ecstasy. You can feel your legs shaking and threatening to give way but luckily for you Johnny moves his hands to your waist, wrapping around you so he can hold you up whilst he comes close to reaching his own end.

“Fuckkkkk, squeezing me so good baby”

You do it again for good measure and sure enough, he twitches inside of you, his hot cum painting your walls just like he said and a fucked out spent smile forms on your face making him laugh when he sees.

He rides the two of you through your highs before his thrusts come to a halt and he slowly pulls out. He then grabs some tissues, dropping to his knees and pressing yet another chaste kiss to your clit this time before cleaning you up. He can see that you’re struggling to stand so the second he’s done he rises to his feet, pulling you flush against him and then proceeding to push you up against the wall.

The two of you stare deep into each others eyes for a couple seconds, both of your chests rising and falling as you try to normalise your breathing. That was certainly an adventurous, dangerous and thrilling experience, one that you won’t be rushing to partake in again anytime soon. But it was amazing to say the least. The way he’s looking at you right now makes you want to throw caution to the wind and kiss him. So you do. You crash your lips to his, wrapping your arms loosely around his neck and as expected, he kisses back. His grip tightens on your hips, pulling you even closer if that’s even possible.

“What was that for?” he asks as you come up for air and you shrug, not even sure of what it was yourself. But all you know is you like him and this isn’t just some fling to you, some form of messing around until the two of you get bored. There is a genuine connection there, one that you can’t wait to explore some more.

“I don’t even know” you giggle, pecking his lips again.

Silence falls upon the two of you before he finally blurts out “go out with me” as if he’s telling you rather than asking.

“What?” you furrow your brows in confusion.

“Go out with me, on a date”

“I thought Johnny Storm didn’t do dates” you quip back, raising your brows with a smirk to match “i don’t but i’d like to try if it’s with you” and that alone warms your heart. The same heart that’s been crushed and broken so many times before and it’s almost like he’s mending it. Not that you’re complaining.

You take no longer than a second to think before you’re agreeing and kissing him some more. That’s when the music stops and you both look at each other.

He quickly zips up his pants, doing his belt up again and shrugging his jacket back on before turning back to you. With you both now looking decent again, you get him to check your makeup, he wipes the stray bits of mascara that smudged before kissing your forehead.

He lets you leave first whilst he waits an appropriate 2 minutes before he heads out too. No one suspected a thing and now it’s time for the speeches.

This is definitely going to be a wedding to remember...

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

Me and all my hoe personalities after writing this one: 

General Tags: @deadlymistress24 @coffeebooksandfandom @chris-butt @holtzkinnon @mychemicalimagines @llamadelreyx @haus-of-bitch-talk @buckstaybucky @thewinchestergirl1208 @chrissquares @patzammit @dummiesshort @cevans-fics @americasass91 @toni9 @aaliferous @bradfordmyworld @thereisa8ella @kaminorogers @yassspose @randomsevans 

Just Chris & His Characters Tags: @onetwo3000 @persephonequeenofthedead @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @rynabarnesrogers @princess-evans-addict @stxvercgersslut @chris-evanslover @bval-1 @thejemersoninferno @denisemarieangelina @janeyboo @evansphnx12 @whxre4cevans

LMK if you wanna be added to my tag list...

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Wedding crashing, please: Trey stealing the bride (because maybe he was a dense idiot before, idk), with the help of Rook and Tweels.

***Mild spoilers for Trey’s Lab Coat personal stories, and the Ghost Marriage and Wish Upon a Star events!***

“I object to this wedding...!”

Pre-Wedding Jitters

Trey has never understood all the “love” stuff that people gush about, or the heights that it drives them to. You can’t exactly add “love” as an ingredient in cake, and isn’t “love” the whole reason why a ghost bride slapped him? Needless to say, he’s not well-versed in the ways of romance.

As his childhood friend, you’ve always known him to be like this: level-headed and practical. You really look up to him a a big brother figure, someone always keeping you straight-laced and out of trouble.

He was the one that wiped your tears when you scraped your knee while playing, the one that made mud cakes with you after a heavy rainfall, the one you split your profits with after running a lemonade stand for the afternoon. Your best friend, always by your side.

Even when Trey went off to NRC, he’d always keep in touch and make time to visit you on his breaks, a few pastries in hand and a smile to greet you with. You’d lounge under blue skies for hours on end, sharing stories in a field of clovers.

Oftentimes, your stories involve your long term S/O, or how serious your relationship is getting. “I think he might propose soon,” you confide in Trey. He’d respond jokingly with, “That so? Then I’d recommend the Clover bakery to do your wedding cake.”

He graduates and moves back to the Rose Kingdom, taking on a more active position at his family’s business--and suddenly, you’re seeing each other almost all the time again. Your stories become all the more real to him, and you bring your S/O to the bakery a few times.

“This is Trey, my childhood friend. My best friend, in fact! Trey, this is my fiancé.”

“Your... fiancé? When was this? This is the first I’ve heard about it.”

“Oh, you know... Things happened,” you respond with a dreamy blush. “We’re actually here today to order our wedding cake. You always suggested using the Clover bakery for it, right?”

“Right...” (Trey takes your order, but he isn’t smiling about it.)

Later on, he receives an invitation in the mail--an invitation to your wedding. That gnawing sense of unease continues to grow and eat away at him with each passing day.

Finally, Trey can’t take it and ends up venting his frustrations to one of his old classmates and Science Club companion, Rook, over the phone. “I don’t get what’s wrong with me. I should be happy for my friend. Instead, I feel like I just ate Lilia’s... ‘cooking’. It’s strange.”

“Ah, mon amie... It is not strange at all. What you are experiencing is nothing short of love!”

“... Beg pardon?”

Rook talks Trey’s ear off long into the night, pointing out the various little things Trey had never noticed before--how his heart races when he’s with you, how he feels terrible knowing he has grown distant from you, all the time spent together that he cherishes. By the time Rook is done psychoanalyzing him, it’s 5 am, and Trey’s in a daze.

“Okay, okay, you... you’re probably right, but... what good does knowing that do for me now? I’ve realized too late, Rook. The wedding date is already set.”

Trey can’t see the wide smile that unfurls on Rook’s face over the phone. The huntsman only asks for the date and time of the wedding, and for Trey to show up a few hours earlier than its start. “I shall be your marraine fée, Trey-kun!” Rook reassures his friend. “And you, my Cendrillon...! Mark my words, I will see to it that you arrive at the ball at your finest.”

The Crashing

It’s the day of the wedding, and Trey shows up early just as Rook told him to. He’s not sure what he expected, but he certainly didn’t expect to be accosted by Jade and Floyd. Together, the tweels drag him to a spa and dump him into a bath, where Trey is scrubbed and polished until his skin glows.

His flour-dusted apron is exchanged for a beautiful suit and tie, and his makeup is expertly painted on by Rook himself. As the huntsman goes about his work, the twins stand by, snickering to one another as they watch Trey twist in confusion.

“Uh, what’s all of this for?” Trey asks, but Rook tuts and tells him to keep still, or else the eyeliner will apply crooked.

“You must look your best for the wedding crashing, non?”

“Wedding crashing?! Isn’t that a little too extreme of a solution--” He ends up having a coughing fit, for Rook hits his face with a powder puff. “And why are Jade and Floyd here too?!”

“We heard from Umineko-kun that he needed some help busting a party~ Plus, it just seemed like fun!”

“Fufufu... Yes, just as Floyd said, it seemed like fun. That, and... It pains me to see you in such a sorry state, Trey-san. Please, do allow me and my brother to play a role in your happily ever after.”

To Trey’s left is a huntsman in love with the idea of love, and to his right are murderous eels only there to amuse themselves. His stomach lurches, knowing that nothing good can be in store with this formula.

They finish a little late because of their bickering. It’s a race against the clock--the vows have begun, and there’s only so much time left to stop them from being sealed.

When security guards try to stop them from entering late, things get... more aggressive that Trey would have liked. No one dies, but it’s safe to say plenty of guards get squeezed knocked out.

The group bursts into the ceremony with a BAM! (thanks to the twins kicking down the door), drawing all heads to them. Trey mumbles an apology, but he’s cut off by Rook loudly introducing him.

“May I present... Trey Clover.” The huntsman pushes Trey forward, making him stumble towards you.

Your fiancé makes a move to protest, but Jade and Floyd are quick to restrain them (”to keep them from interrupting the ‘romantic’ moment”). Rook stuffs an apple in their mouth to make them quiet.

You stare up at Trey in shock. This was not how you had been hoping to see your best friend on your wedding day.

The Aftermath

“Er... here,” Trey mutters, offering a cherry red food processor to you. “You’re meant to give gifts at a wedding, so I brought you this--even though I’m not here as a guest. This wasn’t exactly my idea, but I got dragged into it anyway.”

You awkwardly take the food processor and ask why he’s here, doing all of this.

He scratches the back of his head and averts his eyes. “... To be honest, I didn’t understand ‘love’ for a long time. I probably still don’t understand it entirely. But if there’s one thing that I do know, it’s that ‘love’ can make even level-headed people do and say crazy things. That’s why I’m here now, crashing this wedding.”

A glance to Rook (giving him two double thumbs up, mouthing, “beauté!”) and the tweels (who seem to be having a little too much fun restraining your groom). Then back to you.

“Oh, and sorry about them. They got... too enthusiastic.”

He shuffles his feet. “I guess what I’m trying to say is... I love you. Your eyes could be grapes, and your veil could be a dish rag, but I’d still love you. That’s what I’m feeling--I was just too dense to realize it before.”

“So... I know this is really late, but...”

Suddenly, you feel yourself being lifted into a princess-carry. You yelp, and instinctively cling onto Trey for support.

“Sorry, but I’m stealing the bride,” Trey announces to the stunned hall of wedding guests. Gone is his usual smile, replaced instead with a cocky smirk.

“Marvelous!” Rook nearly sheds a tear at the beautiful display.

Floyd lets out a whoop of support. “Ahahah! Umigame-kun’s getting with the program now~” Beside him, Jade chuckles. “My, what a surprising turn of events. We should not have underestimated Trey-san.” (He drives the apple Rook had shoved into the groom’s mouth in even harder, smiling pleasantly as he does so.)

Thanks to that, the groom passes out, which sends the guests into a panic. Some start to move to block the door, others shout for security (which does nothing, since the twins already took them out).

Jade, Rook, and Floyd collectively work to clear the way for Trey (... sometimes having to rough up particularly feisty guests).

And so, the wedding closes with Trey marching out with you in his arms... and a trail of unconscious bodies in his wake.

[clairenatural]

Shy Nerd | Dean

Punk | Castiel

[ the world needs more of this]

college au! this ran away from me and ended up 2.2k whoops :’) i hope you like it! (also note i have no idea how motors work i am not an engineer)

There’s an open textbook on his bed, but Dean is ignoring it; instead, he’s scrolling aimlessly through Instagram. He doesn’t really understand Instagram, but Charlie had looked so shocked and dismayed when she found out he didn’t have one that he’d given in. He doesn’t post much—doesn’t have much to post, really, besides his car and LARPing with Charlie—but it sure is a good distraction from his physics work. He sighs and flops down on his back as he taps through stories. It’s a Friday night, so there’s all the usual parties, and clubbing videos, and group dinner shots. He frowns as he taps through Charlie’s story of a few of their friends playing D&D—he’d be there, too, if it weren’t for his exam. His physics final, on Monday, that he should be studying for. Instead of being on Instagram.

Dean is about to close the app and begrudgingly turn his attention back to his notes when he clicks onto one last story.

HELP NEEDED ASAP, it says, white against a black background, in all caps. Someone who is good at engineering. Or building. Or even just welding things. I’ll pay you, it continues, and then in pizza and beer. Please, in smaller font, directly below.

Dean pauses. He likes beer. And pizza. And building things. He could help out this—who posted this, anyway? It’s a name he doesn’t recognize. casanova.k. He taps on the profile picture. His eyes go wide.

Oh.

That guy. That guy from the hipster art party Charlie had dragged him to earlier in the semester, when she was still dating that art girl, and he’d ended up in a dark room thick with smoke, blurry with alcohol, talking to a guy about three levels of cool higher than him about…something he can’t remember. He just remembers hastily exchanging Instagrams as Charlie dragged him out of the party, ranting about her soon-to-be-ex.

And now he needs help.

Dean looks at his textbook. He looks back at the guy’s—Cas?—Instagram. He takes a deep breath and pulls up a message.

i like beer, pizza, and welding things

It’s smoother than usual, and Dean is proud of himself for about 2 seconds before he panics and ruins it: i’m an engineer, i mean. not just a rando with a thing for power tools, haha.

There’s an achingly long pause before Cas likes both messages.

This is how Dean Winchester ends up standing in the University’s metalwork studio, with 24 hours left until his final exam, staring at a multi-eyed, multi-winged, metal…thing.

It’s due next week, Cas had said. I know it’s last minute. The only studio space I could get was Sunday.

And Dean had said yes, like a fool, because he can never say no to boys in eyeliner with pretty eyes.

Now, staring up at the sculpture, Dean lets out a low whistle. Cas, next to him, groans and drags one hand down his face. “I know. It’s—this is why I need help, alright? I think I can still salvage it if I just—”

Dean, who has taken a few steps forward to admire the intricacies, looks up sharply. “What?”

Cas frowns back. “What?”

Dean shakes his head. “No, I mean—I’m not an art guy, but this metalwork is great, man.” He traces one of the welded seams. “You, uh. Obviously have good hands,” he continues, and then winces. Great compliment.

There’s a soft huff and Dean looks up to see Cas watching him, bemused. “My good hands,” he emphasizes it, and part of Dean wishes he could melt like solder. “Make me a good artist. They do not make me good at making things move.”

Dean blinks at him. “Excuse me?” Move?

Cas frowns again, but it’s more out of worry than confusion. His arms are crossed, and Dean tries very hard not to focus on the black ink swirling down his forearm. “I sent you the plans yesterday.” Now he’s chewing on his lip ring, too, and Dean rips his attention back to the steel structure to stop himself from focusing on that, either. He tries to think about these plans. He remembers getting the text, opening them……and immediately disregarding them in lieu of getting as much studying done as possible. Internally, he groans.

Externally, he nods, pretends to know exactly what these “plans” are. “Sure, yeah,” he covers, and hopes it’s convincing.

The metal…thing, because Dean still isn’t sure exactly what it is, has a cluster of wings in the middle—6, to be exact, and they’re poking up around 3 large rings. He reaches out for one of the rings, right between two of its welded eyes, and gives it an experimental push. It creaks, and sways, and Dean winces when he hears Cas suck in a breath behind him. “Sorry”, he mutters, but when he turns back around Cas is frowning at the art piece and not at him.

Dean is expecting to hear either it’s alright or, more likely, never touch my art again, but Cas just hums and steps up until he’s standing next to Dean. “What do you think this is?”

It’s the closest they’ve been since he arrived, and Dean takes a moment to observe the other student from this distance. He’s wearing black boots, black jeans. A t-shirt with a band on it that Dean has never heard of. His nails are black but the rings he’s wearing are silver, and so is the cross hanging around his neck. His hair looks like he either spent an hour on it or no time at all, and his eyes—like at that party, the one neither of them has mentioned yet—are rimmed in black. Dean, in his sneakers and second-hand jeans and faded Batman shirt, has never felt less cool.

“It’s an angel,” Cas continues, and Dean isn’t sure if he’s given up on waiting for a response or if he’d never expected one in the first place. “A biblical one. You know, the ‘be not afraid,’ kind.” He lowers his voice for the angel impression, which Dean didn’t think was possible. He doesn’t know what to do with the realization that it is.

“Don’t think this is what my mom meant when she used to say angels were watching over me,” Dean tries for a joke, and it’s half-hearted, but to his relief Cas chuckles anyway.

“Yes, well. The church preaches them as significantly more…cuddly.” Cas frowns. “It makes praying to them easier to sell.”

The cross around his neck is starting to get confusing.

“And these—these are gonna move,” Dean hazards a guess, reaching out to touch one of the rings again. “All of them?”

“They’re electrons,” Cas nods, which Dean supposes is an answer. “They should all circle the wings together, like the classic atom diagram. But I can’t—” Cas reaches out for the ring this time, hand landing directly above Dean’s. He pushes it, and it sways. Obviously frustrated, he pulls back. “I need it to be motorized, to look right. And I have the motor but don’t know how…to do it.”

And, well. That, Dean understands. He smiles and, in a burst of confidence, claps Cas on the shoulder. Cas looks up at him, startled, but his expression morphs into a soft smile at the look on Dean’s face.

“Let’s get her moving, then.”

He tries not to think about the time slipping away as Cas hauls out the motor, or when he hands Dean tools. He does not stare too long at Cas’ biceps when he’s screwing something in, or when they have to do last-minute welding. They get it hooked up, and it whirs to life, and Dean does not think about how late it is when Cas gives him a hug in his excitement, or when he promises to follow up on his beer and pizza promise at his apartment.

It’s there, back in Cas’ apartment, sitting on his living room floor, both a beer or two in, when Cas finally mentions it.

“You’re the one who gave me that idea, you know.”

Dean stops mid-chew and blinks at him. “Whg—” he swallows his bite of pizza and tries again. “What?”

Cas shrugs and doesn’t make eye contact. He picks at the beer label. “At the party we met at. The one we aren’t talking about, for some reason.”

Dean wants Cas’ ugly, blue, cigarette-smelling shag carpet to swallow him whole.

“You told me you don’t ‘get’ art,” he sets the beer bottle down to do air quotes, and Dean’s shame deepens. “Because you only ‘get’ science. And I told you they were the same thing. And you told me to prove it.”

Suddenly, it clicks, and Dean risks making eye contact. Cas catches his gaze and holds it steady, and he’s calm—not upset, Dean registers, which is a relief. “The atom,” he blurts out, and Cas grins. “Yeah.”

“Art and science.”

“Yeah.”

Dean is sitting up straighter now. “But, the angel—”

Cas sighs and pushes himself up from where he’d been leaning against the couch. He turns until he’s fully facing Dean. “Divinity,” he raises one hand, “and the core building blocks of humanity,” he raises the other. “Art,” he gestures with the first hand, “and science.” With the second.

Dean stares at him. “Are you calling art divine?”

“Art is an expression of divinity,” Cas shrugs. “Science is an explanation for it. But it’s—you know. The same thing.”

Dean wonders how he can say that so casually, so nonchalantly. He wonders what would happen if he crossed the pizza-box distance and kissed him.

“I’m sorry,” he blurts instead, and Cas raises his eyebrows. “The party, I didn’t think—I didn’t think you remembered.”

“I assumed you didn’t,” Cas counters. “But you did. You do. Why didn’t you text me?”

It’s exactly what he expected to hear and it still catches him off guard. “Um—” Dean stammers, trying to think of a good excuse. Cas is just watching him—not staring at, watching—brows furrowed.

With a heavy sigh, Dean settles on the truth. “Come on, man. Look at me,” he scoffs and stares down at his jeans, the already worn knees even worse after the day spent kneeling on concrete. “I’m an engineering dork who plays D&D on Fridays and you’re—” he waves vaguely in Cas’ direction. “You know.”

The frown has deepened. “I don’t.”

“Cool.” It sounds so juvenile to say it out loud.

Now, Cas looks taken aback. “Dean. We met at a party where I voluntarily listened to you talk about string theory for an hour and a half.”

Dean doesn’t know if that’s a compliment or not. He buries any possible blush with a swig of beer. “String theory’s cool,” he grumbles into the bottle.

“Yes.” Cas agrees. “And so are you. Although—” he pauses and tilts his head. “I could have sworn you were in physics, based on how much you talk—”

Dean is so caught up in Cas Novak calling him cool that it takes his brain a second to process the word “physics,” but when he does he nearly spits beer all over the ugly carpet. “Shit,” he swears, already starting to scramble up.

“What?” Cas is following him, frowning.

“Physics final. In—” he checks his watch, “—16 hours. I gotta—” he still has time to water down the beer, study, and get at least 7 hours of sleep before—

“…Why did you just spend all day helping me if you have a final tomorrow?” Dean pauses from where he’s trying to find his other shoe to glance back at Cas, who looks so genuinely baffled it shoots a warmness into Dean’s heart.

“You needed help,” Dean shrugs, finally locating the missing sneaker and pulling it on. “Good luck with the angel, though, okay? If it gives you any running issues, feel free to—”

He’s pulling on his jacket when he feels a touch on his arm and realizes that, sometime in the past 20 seconds, Cas has crossed the room to him. “Dean,”

Dean pauses, and Cas…looks nervous.

“I like D&D,” he offers, and Dean stares at him.

“What.”

Cas levels his gaze. “There is nothing more punk than dragons,” he replies, incredibly seriously.

Dean’s brain short-circuits.

Maybe it’s the adrenaline from the exam panic, maybe it’s the 1.5 beers, maybe it’s Cas’ hand still warm on his arm, maybe he’s still caught up in Cas calling him cool and maybe his brain takes an extra second to load his self-consciousness on its reboot, but—he leans down and kisses him.

Cas makes a small noise but kisses him back almost immediately—but then he’s pulling back nearly as quickly, and he gently pushes Dean back by the shoulders when he tries to follow. Not far enough away to be a rejection, just…enough. “You have an exam in the morning,” he says this like an apology, and the warmth in Dean’s chest grows. “Text me after?”

Dean nods, then pauses, realizes what Cas just said, and nods again. “Yeah, I—yeah, I will.”

“There’s not enough alcohol here for you to pretend to forget this time,” he teases, but he’s smiling.

Dean flushes anyway. “I’m sorry.”

Cas shakes his head and pushes him a bit. “Apologize tomorrow. Go.”

“Okay.” Dean doesn’t move.

“Okay,” Cas replies.

“Okay,” Dean says, and leans down to kiss him again, a quick one, because he thinks maybe he can.

“Okay,” Cas repeats, but his tone is fond. “Go.”

“Okay,” Dean repeats back. But this time, he does.

The next day, after he aces his physics final, he doesn’t pretend to forget.

[xskyll]

@shoutingdeku

Midoriya & Shinsou & Jirou bandmates tddk AU

I probably won't write a full story but these were my ideas!

Midoriya and Shinsou met at the hero entrance exam, where they both failed. They both got hurt and Midoriya started talking while they were waiting their turn to see Recovery Girl, asking Shinsou about what he plans to do. Of course he's going to gen ed and plans on transferring to the hero course. Midoriya says he's going to try for support and is giving up on the hero course; he realized last year that he never stood a chance anyway. He really just took the exam so he wouldn't dwell on what ifs and maybes. He doesn't know what he wants to do with his life. Making support gear for heroes would be nice but he's not confident in his abilities. He veeery shyly admits that he sings and plays guitar and would love to start a band and make a career out of that but he's sure no one would want to be in a band with a quirkless loser. But using what he learns in support to make special effects for concerts and music videos would be really neat!

Shinsou knows how to play the drums and is a little curious. He knows he'll need support gear to be a hero so making a friend in the support course could be useful. He suggests they get together sometime and play something. He doesn't actually think he'll be friends with Midoriya—the plan is more to make a connection and use him to help himself—but Midoriya ends up being the best friend he's ever had. They become ride or die pretty fast.

After the first couple of weeks of school (so after USJ) there's an event for clubs to recruit members. Aizawa tells his class they can join but they have to be mindful. The hero course is rigorous, so committing to a club that requires a lot of time would be irresponsible. Jirou has no intentions of joining any clubs but the entire class checks out the event, just to snoop. Midoriya and Shinsou have a table but no one seems interested. They're freaking bc you need a minimum of four members to count as a club and get a club room and NO ONE is interested.

Jirou has no plans to join but is curious to hear them play. They aren't allowed to play at the event but they knew this beforehand so they shot a video of them playing. It's nothing fancy—Midoriya just hands her his phone—but Jirou hears them and is blown away. They're good and Midoriya's voice is amazing. Right now I wanna say the song they're playing is Favorite Liar from The Wrecks.

She doesn't commit but agrees to come see one practice. She probably won't join though. She'll bring her bass, bc they don't have a bassist, but she definitely isn't going to join.

One song together and she joins.

They need a fourth person though and the deadline is looming! Jirou ends up asking the rest of 1A if anyone can play an instrument or sing. Bakugou plays drums but he isn't about to do her any favors. But Yaoyorozu plays piano! Jirou begs her to join—she doesn't even have to come to practice. She can just be in the band in name and play a little keyboard at a few club events so the teachers don't realize she doesn't actually participate.

What Jirou doesn't know is Yaoyorozu has a crush on her. So yes she'll join and yes, she will come to practice, actually. Maybe. Probably. She's very nervous bc Jirou is talented and cool and pretty and maybe this was a bad idea after all, oh no.

She agrees to come see them practice and brings her bff Todoroki with her for emotional support. He agrees mostly bc being with the Yaoyorozu's daughter is always an acceptable excuse for not going home.

They go to a practice just to watch and Todoroki feels just a little awkward bc no one told him the lead singer of Jirou's band was the cutest guy Todoroki has or ever will see in his life. The band plays and Todoroki and Yaoyorozu are both in love. Yaoyorozu joins the band immediately. Todoroki doesn't but maybe he could come by just to hang out sometimes? Maybe he can just help out? He can lift heavy equipment. So can Shinsou and Yaoyorozu? Well, he can help with other stuff! Anything! Costumes! Makeup! Anything to support his bff Momo, who is definitely why he's here, not bc of the cute boy, no siree.

As the story progresses, Todoroki is having makeup and nail polish application sessions with Fuyumi. He's watching YouTube makeup tutorials. Midoriya doesn't need to know he spent an hour every day for two weeks practicing eyeliner wings. Whenever they get a chance to play for a crowd or they make a video Todoroki gets to do Midoriya's makeup and help him with his clothes (and also the rest of the band but who cares about them?). It's the most wonderful torture. How is he supposed to check how Midoriya's makeup looks without getting lost in his eyes?

Little does he know, Midoriya is having constant internal meltdowns because the hottest guy he's ever met is touching is face. Whenever he wears a choker or necklace Todoroki gets the clasp for him (he doesn't realize everyone else has to do their own clasps). His fingers touch the back of his neck and it takes every once of his willpower not to run away because it seems so intimate and if he isn't careful he'll start hoping bc Todoroki is so nice to him and sometimes it seems like he gives him special attention but that's probably just his imagination, but maybe...? No! Or...aaahhh, he can't handle it!

At some point Ashido wants to see what Jirou, Yaoyorozu, and Todoroki are up to so she stops by. She's super impressed but Midoriya is too stiff! She doesn't officially join but she starts stopping by when she can to teach Midoriya some dance moves and help him with his stage presence and sex appeal. In exchange Midoriya tutors her bc he's basically a genius and she's bad at pretty much all her non-hero classes, like Math and English. Kaminari starts getting curious about what Ashido is doing so he stops by one day and hoo boy is that drummer so super cool! He starts talking to Shinsou and sparks fly (Sparks? Kaminari?? Get it?? Lolol, wow, I am so funny!) Kaminari helps with lighting for videos and shows and also gets tutoring in return (and now Shinsou is also joining these study sessions because...reasons. Certainly not the cute blond guy. He just likes studying...)

Ashido and Kaminari's grades improve! Yay!

And that's all I got. I have no clue how anyone would actually get together, which is why I'll probably never write a proper fic.

As far as the band's genre, they're really all over the place because they want to experiment a lot. So you got some alt rock, grunge, pop, love ballads, power ballads...they definitely do at least one video that is a super upbeat love song with bright 80s clothing and one video where they're all dressed like punks.

So yeah! That's what I got! Midoriya's guitar is probably either red or the same bluish-green his hero costume would have been, in another life. I feel like for the first half his hair is cute and poofy and maybe halfway through the story he gets an undercut. Sometimes he pushes his bangs up with a clip or a band.

[oumaheroes]

All Tied Up

Word Count: 2479

Characters: England, France- FrUK

---

‘What the fuck are those?’

France sighed from where he was hanging up his clothes in his hotel wardrobe, ‘Good evening to you too. Why are you in my room, already, Arthur? I only arrived half an hour ago, couldn’t you let me exist without your presence for just a few moments more?’

He hadn’t heard him come in; France didn’t think he’d left the door to his hotel open. Although, England did have a bad habit of quietly entering places rather too well for his liking, ‘It’s bad enough that I will have to endure so much of you this week.’

‘Fuck off. I was hungry, so I came to see if you’d eaten.’

France turned back to his open suitcase for another shirt, ‘And?’

England frowned at him, ‘And?’

‘And,’ France prompted, slipping his favourite dress shirt onto a hanger. It was wrinkled; he hoped there was a decent iron here, ‘what were you going to do then?’

England huffed at him, as if, somehow, he France was being the difficult one, ‘And if you hadn’t, I was going to go with you.’

‘Could you not ask me to dinner like a normal person?’

England ignored him and nodded his head to the top of France’s temporary wardrobe, ‘Why have you got those?’

France followed his eyeline, stepping back when he couldn’t see anything. A few paces back and beside England he could see there, right at the back and on the top shelf of the wardrobe, were a pair of handcuffs.

‘Bit lewd for a week-long conference, init?’

France raised an eyebrow at him, ‘Do you really think I’d be that crass for those to be mine?’ England said nothing but his look became a lot more pointed. A beat of silence later and France shrugged, ‘Fine. But those ones are not.’

‘Of course.’

‘Why on earth would I lie about that.’

England shrugged, ‘Why do you do most of what you do? I never know.’

‘No, because you’re far too dim.’

‘Dim? Coming from the bellend who takes handcuffs to a NATO summit in Toronto.’

‘They’re not mine- what are you doing?’

England had moved around him and crossed the room towards the wardrobe and was now reaching up to the back to grab the handcuffs. France looked at them in his hands and then around his temporary room in distain, ‘I can’t stay here anymore, who knows what else they missed cleaning.’

France imagined that poor Canada was probably stressed enough as it was hosting this thing and likely didn’t need any additional work, but the idea of sleeping in a bed that might not have been changed was not something that appealed to him in the slightest. If the handcuffs were missed by the cleaners who knew what else they had failed to catch.

England tutted, ‘Don’t be such a baby.’

‘I hardly think me caring about my personal hygiene is me being a baby.’

‘You’ve slept in worse.’ England paused, ‘You’ve left worse.’

France opened his mouth to retort but England made an approving sound, opening the cuff wider, ‘These are pretty good quality, you know.’

France rolled his eyes, ‘Oh, and you would know.’ England turned them over and France sniffed, tucking his hair behind his ears, ‘Put those back, they’re probably filthy.’

‘No, I mean they look like they’re law enforcement rather than… well. Not.’

France stepped closer, ‘No look, they’re too flimsy.’ He pointed to the chain that connected the two cuffs, ‘and those are incredibly out of date- surely your police don’t still use these?’

England flushed, ‘Of course not! But I’ve seen a few of these about recently.’

‘Really? And how many decades ago was that? Twenty? Thirty?’

England waved a hand airily, ‘I don’t know, thereabouts maybe.’

‘You’re a fool.’

France made to take them from him but England pulled back sharply, ‘What are you doing?’

France blinked at his suspicious tone, ‘What are you doing? You’re not going to keep them, are you?’

‘No!’ England’s cheeks burned scarlet, ‘No of course not, but you reached for them so suddenly-‘

‘And what?’ France leant back and put a hand on his hip, ‘You thought I was attacking you?’

England scowled, ‘Well, it wouldn’t be the first time now, would it?’

‘Oh that is rich coming from you-‘

‘What’s that supposed to mean!’

‘You know full well what that means- look, just give them here.’ France lunged forwards, hoping to tug them out of England’s hands but England jumped away reflexively. Maybe he’d judged the angle wrong, or maybe England had tripped him somehow- either way France fell too sharply onto him and England gave a surprised yelp.

Click.

They froze, France with both hands balled in England’s shirt to keep him upright. One of them now had a shiny, very solid looking, handcuff around it.

They both stared at it in silence.

England gave a choked laugh and tried to cover it as a cough, ‘Francis, I swear I-‘

‘You arsehole!’

France shoved himself off and England held up his hands placatingly, ‘I swear I didn’t do that on purpose.’

‘Oh of course you didn’t!’ France held out his handcuffed arm out on front of him and shook it at England aggressively, ‘Take this off! Take it off right now!’

‘Okay okay, calm the fuck down, Jesus Christ.’

‘Calm? Calm? You tell me to be calm? I just got off a nine-hour flight only to be handcuffed by you of all people half an hour after I get in my fucking hotel? And you’re telling me to be calm?’

England, who had gone back to the wardrobe to feel about the top shelf, let out a soft, ‘ah’.

France laughed and shook his head, ‘No. No no, no don’t tell me there’s no key. Don’t you damn well dare.’

England, now that the initial shock of the situation had worn off, was clearly trying to hide that he was enjoying France’s predicament, ‘there’s no key.’

France threw a clothing hanger at him.

----

Two hours later, and things were no better.

France, (reasonably, he thought), refused to leave the room until the handcuffs were off and refused to let England leave the room until he’d fixed the problem that he’d created. England could agree that yes, maybe he had some part to play in all of this, but really it was France’s fault for lunging at him so suddenly and only agreed to stay if they ordered dinner first.

So, aside from a break to eat, France angrily chewing through a delivered meal he’d demanded England pay for in stony silence, they spent the time pulling apart the room and crawling to places France would never admit to crawling just in case the key had managed to slip down into some long-forgotten corner.

They’d both turned everything inside and out, upturning all of the drawers and taking off all of the bedding, but no luck. The wardrobe itself was fixed to the wall with no holes a key could have slipped through, so eventually France had to admit defeat and concede that there was no key to be found.

England, to his credit, did try to hold it together commendably well and had only let a euphoric grin slip through twice, both times of which he’d covered by burying his face behind something and pretending to cough until he’d smothered his glee enough to reappear with a blank expression. However, any time his eyes were caught by the glinting mental hideously shackled around France’s wrist, the corners of his mouth would twitch in a way that made France want to immediately wound him with the nearest blunt object.

Sadly for France, England was his best chance at getting him out of the current situation and so committing assault upon him was not the best resolution to his current troubles.

‘You’re going to have to do it,’ France said eventually after he’d finished rechecking a drawer England had already searched, (one could never be entirely sure that England was taking this seriously- being an almighty annoyance to France was one of his favourite pastimes, after all, and France didn’t want to assume the glimmer of remorse he had seen was genuine.)

‘Do what?’

‘Oh, don’t play the fool; get me out.’

England made a derisive noise, ‘Oh yes, sorry, let me just pull the key out of my ar-‘

‘No,’ France tutted at him and shifted through his suitcase to find his toiletry bag, ‘You may pretend to Australia that you do not know how to pick locks but we both know that you do¸ and seeing as there is no key and I am stuck here I’m sure you can pretend to forget that lie for just the moment.’

England snorted and took a hairpin that France offered him, ‘You have been watching far too many Hollywood films.’

France put a hand on a hip, ‘Can you do it or not.’

England bristled, ‘Of course I can. But hairpins like this aren’t exactly the bes-‘

France interrupted him with a shake of the wrist, ‘Do you see this still attached to me? I really do not care. Get me out.’

Muttering very gruesome sounding things under his breath, England pushed France down to sit on the bed and crouched before him, positioning France’s wrist upturned on his knees.

France nudged him gently with his foot and raised his eyebrows suggestively, ‘You didn’t have to handcuff me to get me here, you know.’

England swatted him away and looked at him in disgust, ‘Don’t you start.’ He bent apart the hairpin and worked it into the lock, twisting it slightly, ‘I wouldn’t want to anyway, you smell like plane.’

‘Oh! Oh, darling do tell me why that is. Hmm? Is it because I haven’t had the chance to shower yet, because I was attacked before I had even finished unpacking?’ He ran his free hand through England’s hair, ‘Why is this so long? Have you not had it cut since I last did it?’

England squinted at the handcuff and didn’t look up, ‘No, I’ve been busy.’ He twisted the hairpin and it made a very hopeful clicking sound, but nothing happened and England went back to jiggling it ever so slightly into different positions, ‘You can do it whilst we’re here.’

France huffed, ‘And what makes you think I can?’

‘You always take scissors with you.’

‘No, I meant what makes you think that I will.’ He brushed England’s fringe back from his forehead, measuring out its length between his fingers, ‘Just because I-‘

They both jumped, startled, as the door to France’s room burst open unexpectedly to reveal America in the doorway, ‘Yo Francis, we’re all going out to- what the fuck are you doing?!’

England’s head popped up and suddenly France could see all too clearly how this scene looked to America’s eyes: France, a fist buried in England’s hair and England crouched on his knees in front of him, head bent close to his lap.

England locked eyes with him, an expression of shock on his face, before flicking to America framed and frozen in the doorway. He held up a hand placatingly, ‘No it’s okay, they’re just handcuffs!’

‘Oh God!’ America clapped a hand over his eyes, ‘No way man, I do not wanna see that! Jesus, what is wrong with the both of you? Have you heard of locking the door?’

‘No!’ England stood up suddenly. He didn’t let go of the handcuff and the movement jerked up France’s arm roughly, causing him to give a cry of pain. England dropped his arm in horror, ‘It’s really not what it looks like.’

‘Okay, sure dude, whatever,’ still with his hand over his eyes, America backed away out into the corridor, ‘I’ll let everyone know you can’t come because you’re both occupied.’

‘No!’ France and England both shouted in unison but it was no use, America slammed the door and they could hear him running down the corridor in the direction of the stairs.

France sighed through his nose, ‘Well, that went well.’

----

England did eventually spring France loose. After turning off his phone and forcing France to silence his own and not touch it (they kept beeping, America worked fast at spreading the news) he managed to work his way into the lock after chewing it into more of a sharp point and bending it into ridiculous angles.

‘There you go, they can’t have been official handcuffs,’ France rubbed his wrist, relishing the feeling of the metal being gone, and picked up the handcuffs to turn them over, ‘police handcuffs wouldn’t be that easy to pick.’

England snorted and brushed down his trousers, ‘Or, maybe I’m rather good at it.’

France did pretend to politely consider this for a second, ‘Or, your police have never had quality handcuffs, which really does make your government’s further reduction of their budget particularly sad. What will they use next, cable ties?’

England scowled, ‘Is that any way to talk to someone who just freed you from handcuffs?’

‘Yes, if that same person put me in them.’

England gave a bark of laughter, ‘I’m sure you’ve done something recently to deserve it.’

France hmm’d and stood up to join him, ‘I’m glad your alternate reality entertains you.’ He stepped up to England, grabbing his wrist and tugging him closer with one hand before bringing the other to rest on the small of his back.

‘What are you-‘

France swiftly kissed him silent, bringing his hand from England’s wrist to cup the nape of his neck and press his thumb gently into the bones. He felt England relax, the tension from his shoulders loosening as he gave into it and France let him have the moment unspoilt for a while. Then, before England could react, with the other hand France pulled him closer, pressing them closer together, before removing it suddenly.

Click.

With a noise of outrage, England bit him, hard, on the lip and France pulled away with a grin as England furiously brought his hand up to reveal a shiny new bracelet.

France laughed, stepping back quickly lest he hit him, ‘There, now I know you have done something recently to deserve that.’

England recovered the distance, hands clenched at his sides, ‘Yes, but mine was a fucking accident!’

France shrugged lightly, ‘Well, it’s a good thing you’re rather good at breaking out of them, isn’t it?’

England pressed his lips together so tightly they went white and France smirked at him, ‘I’m going to have a shower, you entertain yourself there for a moment with that and then we can go out for a drink.’

England sat down with a huff and picked up the now very abused hairpin, ‘You’re paying.’

‘Maybe.’

‘And we’re avoiding the place everyone else is going to.’

‘Oh certainly.’

----

AN:

I was going to write something soft and sweet, or something more serious with a bit of detail, but this came out instead. I’m not mad about it, but I do wish I were able to stick to some sort of plan.

It made me chuckle writing it, so I hope you all enjoy!

[steve0discusses]

Yugioh S5 Ep 19: Yugi and the Only Neck Accessory He Didn’t Really Want to Wear

Been busy! Hopefully stuff will open up soon as I’m taking a hiatus on a different quarantine project and will be finishing painting the entire roof of my car this week? One can hope. Sanding the rust off the whole top of a car takes a long time it turns out?

Also, fun Yugioh fact, I recently painted a book cover for an author who is older so she’s never seen the show, and she looked at my tumblr, saw my Duke Devlin fanart and was like “That’s him. That’s my main character. OMG. You captured him perfectly!” and I was like “Ma’am that is Duke Devlin, hence the single dice earring on his lobes there, but we can work with this.” and now a spiritual Duke Devlin is on the cover of a Wuxia-style fantasy trilogy on the Vella. Had to give him a top knot and delete the eyeliner for Wuxia reasons but uh, that’s just Duke.

So long story short, fanart can get you work, don’t even worry about posting that stuff online because most people don’t even know it’s fanart anyway and older ladies freakin love it.

Back in Yugioh, the team was doing their best to navigate a map through the woods and they do about as well as they normally do.

And inside Tristan lifted up the floorboards and was like “I found the only way out, this is it, this is the only way.”

And they ended up in something that has a color scheme I would actually associate with a jungle. Finally. We have finally left California (in order to go to another Hell.)

Youknow, when we went to California, we visited Hell, and when we went to India, we also took a stop at the nearest death destination. There’s just so much death on this show and sometimes I forget because there’s been a ghost in our party for so freakin long it’s been normalized.

(read more death imagery under the cut)

Joey freaks out at a flock of crows and reveals in this episode something I never realized about him before.

Like I’m not always the perfect observer as I’m sure you’ve noticed, but I love that this is canon for probably only this episode, but I will never forget it for the entirety of this series.

You go on hating birds, Joey.

Bro was like “Maybe it’s a deep cut about Mai Valentine because she’s a harpy lady” but eh...pretty sure we spent like an entire season of Joey telling us that Mai was a good experience? Would be incredibly funny if immediately after all of S4, Joey was like “You know what? Screw Mai, guys.”

So my thoughts...it’s probably just a literal bird experience. Like I had a friend who hated deer because once she went to a petting zoo, got some pellets to feed the deer, but her finger was sticking up, so when the deer came over to nibble on some pellets her finger went up it’s nose by accident. She was so disgusted by this event that was entirely her fault, that she brought up how much she hated deer basically whenever we saw one.

So like...maybe Joey fed a bird wrong at a petting zoo. I can see him getting bit by a parrot because he was too Joey Wheeler.

But now that we’re in a graveyard neighborhood, Pharaoh decides to hop out because there’s a lot of ghosts here and he needs to practice socializing with his peers.

So that’s just a Yugioh monster doing the ostrich dance, right? Like this is a meme from like 2010 but on Yugioh in 2003(4?)

Good to see the Ostrich dance here in the land before Vine.

So they pull out their Pokemon to do some antics, Tea looked like she was about to do something useful, and Yami does a yump across time and space to get her as far away from playing (not)cards as quickly as possible and y’all...sure was a position these animators animated.

Holy crap.

And I was going off about that scene last season where they woke up in the same bed like...

...have these two been together this entire time? Like together together?

They’re like...way more comfortable than you’d figure they’d be considering Yugi nearly passes out every time he gets a hug. But Yami just like....How long has this been going on? As long as Joey’s fear of birds?

Like obviously this show would never cover what the hell Yugi may be thinking about this overreaching move here, because we’re gonna gloss right over that, and just run away up a flight of stairs. No one mentions this ever again. Which is mind blowing for an anime to do. I think in most anime I watch, the kids would be like “ahh ahhhh I bumped into a booooob!” like it does for I want to say every other episode of My Hero Academia. But in Yugioh, they saw that low hanging fruit and they were like “we expect a higher level of maturity out of our audience. Now here’s a fleet of ostrich dancing tree monsters with faces for crotches.”

They decided to sprint up this flight of stairs, and it enough of a slope to deter the monsters who are only unbalanced weird legs.

I want us to take a moment and admire this background painting. I can’t unsee the rocks that are all the same size, just piled on top of eachother. Did Alexander the Great just plop rocks here--or was the mountain made up of tons of similarly shaped boulders?

Like there’s a lot of nice bg’s in this arc, don’t get me wrong, but this one...I’m just trying to wrap my head around the logic of it.

At the top, they meet a pantheon, that is immediately blocked by this wall, because if this arc had a tagline, it’s “Yugi gets inconvenienced every 4 seconds.”

Bro was like “Clearly they would have pushed it over if Tea wasn’t slacking off” and like...she is actually. Look at her. Only used one hand? Slacker.

Joey was disappointed he couldn’t push over a massive wall, and the team decided not to analyze how much Joey Wheeler thinks of his own strength and instead fixate on these statues.

Usually in anthro characters they kinda look birdlike but act human. But what about an anthro that’s just a bird? Like human torso, but can turn his head 180 degrees? Yugioh made me ask this question.

And then Joey was like “wait, there may be a solution that isn’t just to use brute strength!”

Youknow it is a bummer that Kaiba couldn’t witness Joey own a dragon while he himself only has a robot jet dragon. Although, the jet is probably faster, stronger and overall...better than this baby dragon. It would have been great for Kaiba to witness Joey under-utilize this dragon and forget he has it for like huge swatches of the episode.

And then Grandpa pulled some body horror out of nowhere.

Wow.

I mean that is really gross.

I guess Grandpa can’t use Blue eyes, because Kaiba ripped it up, Grandpa can’t use Exodia because Weevil tossed it off a boat, and grandpa can’t use the card that’s just a building because...it’s a building.

So instead Grandpa has a bunch of meat and bones that look like something out of Doom. It’s probably from a more obscure Konami property, but I forget which.

I’ve seen Tristan hold back Joey in this hold, first time it’s been Tea.

So much shipping in this episode, it’s wild.

It’s also wild how low my standards are for what could possibly be shipping when it comes to Yugioh because of how freakin tepid all of these characters are, which as I’ve brought up before, I really don’t mind.

So Yugi decides that because Grandpa was folding his arms like one monster and it made a gem light up or something, to just do the video game thing and use the giant ass statues as clues.

Why was this arc not a video game? Like parts of it really feel like it was meant to be.

So Yugi falls down a hole, where the walls cave in like it’s that dumpster in Star Wars but like...it barely phases him.

Also...Yugi might be able to see in the dark. It’s never been brought up but like...the more I think about it...has Yugi ever struggled to see without the lights on?

After Joey disappoints everyone, he confronts death.

And Pharaoh and Yugi decide to solve the puzzle of “how do I get out of this trap dungeon room” which, honestly, is probably what they’re doing every time they hang out in the brain pyramid.

So they summon their mascot monster, and surprisingly the show decided its ability to fly cannot help them out here.

Kuriboh manages to become enough of a doormat to push Yami up to the stone and they end up in a set of weird cuts that ended in this?

Like seriously it was like flashes of light and then they were just...up here like this.

Hey like...

Alexander the Great, my man...

Were you planning to put that stone in the middle of a exhaust vent hoping someone would touch it? Because there’s no way anyone would rationally have done that. You would need to fly to do it. This is the world’s worst DM.

Like Yugioh pulls a lot of fantasy nonsense but this arc is a lot more like a “it’s a kid’s show, just go with it.” arc than most of them. It’s not a bad vibe, necessarily, it’s just not the vibe I’m used to.

So once I witnessed maybe the most boring conversation I’ve ever witnessed about corn (this was on a twitch stream, by the way, a guy was playing an interesting game, and then a guest came on and started talking about corn and plants for 2 hours) and they would not shut up about how all taxonomy is wrong because there are no such thing as trees and how all animals are labelled incorrectly, and then they started comparing it to like all sorts of mushrooms and phytoplankton as you would if you clearly got a little bit high before dumping your corn knowledge on a twitch stream.

Anyway, after that bizarre experience I suffered so I could learn how to play an obscure video game, I think I can safely say, that while I know everyone here thinks a bird can’t be a dog. If you’re a high biologist: a bird is absolutely a dog. Apparently you can just do that if you’re the most boring biologist alive and no one will argue with you because to do that would involve talking to you. We’ll just say a bird is a dog and no one can fight me or I will talk about the corn book that this guest on this twitch chat was thinking about renting from the library about the different types of corn mutations inherent in freakin Indiana. Therefore, Joey’s fear of birds and dogs is same.

So they use Dark Magician to save them from the statues, and Yugi busts into the pantheon again because they got to open this casket before a time limit that I kind of forgot about, tbh.

And inside the casket, is...this thing!

(enjoy this line on the bottom of the image I don’t feel like fixing it)

And you may say to yourself...it looks like it’s just floating in mid-air, that’s silly, and so I want to introduce you to the next panel where you can see that it is...quite literally...just floating in the air like a video game.

and it just slurps itself onto Yugi before he can be like “nonono.”

Wasn’t there some horror movie where you were stuck in some sort of body brace that slowly tortures you (was that Saw?) This has that vibes. Like man that looks uncomfortable to wear over a jacket and two belts and a collar that is another belt.

That and I...I gotta appreciate that Yugi popped his collar while wearing body armor and chunky necklace. What 00′s fashion appreciation right there.

Bit like...this isn’t breathable, right? Like Yugi’s gonna finally take this thing off and his jacket will just be completely soaked in sweat?

Anyway, that’s it for this post, next week we’ll see if Yugi can walk through a doorway in that thing.

Also, I can’t bring up the ostrich dance without sharing the vines of my generation

[ghostdrew22]

The King || Draco Malfoy

Requested: No Pairing: Draco Malfoy x fem!reader Warnings: alcohol, flufffff

WORDS : 1533

~~~

Song - The King by Conan Gray

"But I'm the only one that can make you feel right. I'm the only one that you think of at night." "You like me, well obviously. So why you trying to leave when you know that I'm the King? Cause I'm supreme, choose me." "And you can have your fun cause I know that it's fake. I know when you're done you'll come running my way."

~~~

Draco Malfoy takes a sip of his drink as he watches Y/N dancing across the room- Ronald Weasley has got his hands on her hips and she's grinding them against him. If this was a few months ago then Draco would have gone mad with envy- he might've even punched Ron in the face- but he's learned his lesson now.

Everything with Y/N is a game- she makes moves and he makes countermoves- because that's the way that she likes it. She will focus all of her attention on Draco for a week or two then she'll move onto someone else until she gets bored of them and ends up in Draco's arms again- he's the only constant in the array of Hogwarts students that she's hooked up with.

"Why are you so obsessed with this girl? She's clearly not that into you." Blaise lectures his best friend as he follows the blonde's eyeline to Y/N.

"You don't know what you're talking about Blaise."

"You need to give this up."

"I'm playing the long game."

He finally decides that he's bored of watching and puts his glass down- getting off the couch so that he can walk toward the pair. Y/N's eyes light up at the sight of Draco and she turns to face Ron so that she can whisper something in his ear. His face drops but he nods and leaves anyway- knowing that this is how things with Y/N always go.

"Weaselbee? Really?" Draco raises his eyebrows as he approaches Y/N. She rolls her eyes- pulling Draco toward her to dance- and groans.

"He's fucking annoying."

"Then why were you with him?" He chuckles.


"Nice hands." She shrugs- not having a legitimate reason for being with Ron.

Draco knows her habits- she finds someone that she wouldn't like under normal circumstances and spends the night with them, then the very next morning she's by his side and complaining again- so the fact that she didn't actually like Ron doesn't surprise him. "Better than mine?" He lowers his hands to her hips and pulls her closer so that their faces are only inches apart.

"You know that no one's better than you." She giggles, "But a girl can dream." She starts to pull away- wanting to sit down or grab a drink, anything that isn't being this close to Draco again. He's like a drug that she just can't seem to give up.

"But why dream when you already know that I'm the only one who can make you feel right?"  He grabs her wrist and pulls her back into his chest with a smirk. "I know that I'm the one you think of at night."

"Cocky much?" She scoffs.

"Am I wrong?" He whispers into her ear as they dance, "Hermione, Ron, Cho, Theo, Percy, the list goes on. But it seems that none of them made you feel right."

"And what makes you think that you did?"

"Because I'm the one that has you in their arms."

"Oh come on." She rolls her eyes. "Why would I need other people if you were enough?"

"Because you're scared."

"Of what?"

"The fact that you're in love with me."

"What?" She laughs and pulls away from him completely- putting space between them. "That's a reach."

"Is it? Because you obviously like me." He smirks and crosses his arms. "You wouldn't keep me around otherwise."

"Maybe you're my boy-toy."

"No, that-" Draco points toward Ron across the room, "Is your boy-toy."

"I can have more than one."

"And I'm included in that?"

"Maybe." She shrugs her shoulders with a grin.

"Oh." He nods inquisitively, "So you have no feelings for me at all?"

"Nope."

"Good to know."

"Why?"

"Because," He smirks and brings his head down till his mouth is right next to hear. "Now I can go fuck Parkinson." He whispers and pulls away before immediately turning away from her and making his way toward Pansy. "Parkinson!"

Y/N feels her throat go dry at the sight of Draco grabbing onto Pansy's hips and dragging her to dance. She watches them intently until Draco lowers his lips to Pansy's ear- the way he'd done with Y/N only minutes before- and whispers something that has her giggling uncontrollably. She decides that she's had enough and walks toward the door so that she can return to her dorm.

~~~

"You're so daft Y/N." Pansy huffs as she stares at the clearly frustrated girl beside her. They'd met in the library for their usual study session and Y/N had refused to look Pansy's way the entire time.

"What?"

"I'm gay." Pansy chuckles and Y/N raises her eyebrows at Pansy- who shrugs. "You never asked."

"Fair point." Y/N mumbles back.

"Draco was just using me to get a reaction out of you."

"Oh."

"And clearly he succeeded."

"No, he didn't." Y/N mumbles.

"You can't say that after you spent an hour staring daggers at me." Pansy laughs again and gives Y/N a soft smile, "The two of you are so clearly head-over-heels for each other, just get together."

"I can't."

"Why not?"

"I.." She sighs, "I don't know."

"I think you do." Pansy mumbles as she gets up and rubs the other girl's shoulder before leaving.

~~~

Y/N marches toward Draco's dorm in frustration- ready to yell galore. She reaches his door and knocks roughly until he finally opens it for her.

"Why are you like this?"

"What?" He asks sleepily- rubbing his eyes slightly to wake himself up.

"Why do you have to be so persistent?" She pushes her way past him and walks into his room, "I keep trying to get you out of my system but it isn't working." 
"Y/N, what-"

"And you're always there! Every time shit hits the fan- you're there comforting me like it's your job. But I didn't ask you to!"

"So you're mad at me for caring about you?" He raises his eyebrows at her in confusion.

"Yes!" She exclaims in an exasperated tone as she turns to start pacing around his room. "I've spent the last few months just waiting for you to move on- like everybody else does- but you keep coming back and I just don't understand why."

"Y/N-"

"Shut up, I'm still talking." She retorts at him and he raises his hands in apology. "It's not something that I'm used to- people caring about me- and it's so fucking difficult for me to accept that you do because I..."

"You what?"

"I love it. I love the way being important to you makes me feel." She runs her hands down her face in frustration. "And I hate that because... what happens when you leave me the way everyone else does? What am I going to do when you realise that you don't want me?"

Silence encapsulates them and he watches her curiously as she stops pacing and stares at the ground- her breaths ragged.

"I keep kissing strangers- trying to convince myself that they're you but it just doesn't work. No one is you."

"I'm me." He breathes out- moving toward her slowly as the tension between them thickens.

"Don't do this, Draco. I don't think I can take it." She takes a step back away from him.

"Do what?"

"This," She says- gesturing between them, "Where you act like this and I have to pretend that I'm not in love with you."

"You're in love with me?"

She laughs coldly, "How slow can you possibly be?" Her eyes pry off the floor and move to catch Draco's in an intense gaze. "I'm head-over-heels in love with you. If I was a glass, I'd be full to the brim with love for you."

"You don't act like it- always finding ways to get away from me."


"Because you touch me and it feels like my skin is on fire, you look at me and I feel like I'm going to melt into the ground. If I don't find ways to get away from you then I'm afraid I'll combust."

"Then come on," He holds his hand out to her, "Let's combust together."

"I can-"

"Merlin," He runs a hand through his hair in frustration, "You just bared your heart and soul out to me and you are still trying to find a way out of this?"

"Dra-"

"Do you think that you're the only one struggling in this? Because you're so fucking wrong if you do." He steps toward her, "I have to watch you hop from person to person- knowing that you're probably fucking them the same way that you've fucked me- and just pretend like I don't want to bash all of their heads in. And I know that it's fake- that you don't actually like any of them- but I still have that fear tugging at me, the fear that one of these people will be enough for you. And it takes every ounce of strength in me to not scream at you to just choose me."

"I'm scared." She whispers as her eyes watch his face warily- worried that her knees will buckle if she stares too long.

"I am too and if this love ends in fire then I will gladly burn down with it." He finally lands in front of her and looks down into her eyes with passion coursing through his veins. "But I'm tired of pretending that we're not meant for each other."

"Okay." She nods and intertwines their fingers with a small smile, "Then let's combust together." She whispers before crashing their lips together.

[antebunny]

family dinner

Modern AU Jin siblings vs. Jin Guangshan (crossposted on Ao3):

Jin Zixuan leans against the side of his yellow Audi and checks his Rolex Daytona watch. Behind his car are the massive white gates of the Jin mansion, a massive complex with no less than four houses, two gardens, one lotus pond, a garage for the rest of his car collection, and a private movie theater in the basement. Normally, he would open the gates and let himself through, but tonight, Jin Zixuan has no intention of going down the lonely, two-lane road to the main house alone.  

The time is 7:18. He has only twelve minutes left, and no one is here. Jin Zixuan shifts nervously in his Stuart Hughes suit (Diamond Edition) and represses the urge to check his watch again. Instead of checking it, he worries until his heart is thump-thumping in his chest and all he can feel is the bitter cold air on his bare fingers. 

He’s twenty-seven years old, with a two year old son, and he’s still nervous about the coming dinner. He would be less nervous if his mother was coming, but she hasn’t been back to the Jin family home since she divorced his father almost a decade ago–long enough to see Jin Zixuan through high school–and he was not about to ask. Instead, he’d asked the rest of his family.

He’s musing on the meaning of family and obligation when the first car pulls up. It’s a white Rolls-Royce, and it carries a single passenger: Jin Zixuan’s younger brother, Jin Guangyao. His half-brother wears a crisp dark cream-colored Brioni suit, and he adjusts the small osmanthus flower tucked into the pocket when he straightens. 

“No one else is here yet?” Jin Guangyao questions, like he can’t see it with his own eyes.

“Not yet,” Jin Zixuan says shortly.

His brother continues smiling despite his terse tone. Jin Guangyao has never been anything but friendly to Jin Zixuan since he came into his life several years ago, which is why Jin Zixuan is half-terrified of him. The other half of him wants to intervene everytime his father so much as looks in Jin Guangyao’s direction, and half of the time he does, so needless to say, they have a rather complicated relationship. 

“I’m sure they’ll be here,” Jin Guangyao offers, still smiling sweetly.

Jin Zixuan isn’t so sure. Realistically, there’s no reason for all of them to come just to support him. The only reason Jin Zixuan is going, beyond the convention of his father’s annual dinners, is because Jin Zixuan is in fact aware of his skills in life. As of the moment, Jin Zixuan is the sole inheritor of his father’s fortune. Despite the number of half-siblings that Jin Zixuan apparently has, or perhaps because of it, he is confident that he will always be the sole inheritor. That is, unless Jin Guangshan decides to withhold the inheritance to remind Jin Zixuan that he is the only way Jin Zixuan can provide for his family. So Jin Zixuan needs the inheritance, no matter what A-Li says.

Which is why he’s standing here, on his twenty-seventh birthday, trying not to look too nervous as his brother calmly locks his car door. 

“Thank you for coming, A-Yao,” Jin Zixuan finally says, forced but sincere. 

Realistically Jin Guangyao knows that he can expect better treatment from his half-brother than he can with Jin Guangshan as the CEO of Jin Industries, but naively Jin Zixuan still hopes that Jin Guangyao has some room for frivolous things like brotherly affection and genuine kindness. 

Jin Guangyao puts his keys in his pocket and walks around his car to the gate. He’s not a moment too soon: a silver car rolls in after Jin Guangyao’s Rolls-Royce, and parks just a little too close for comfort. 

The first out of the silver car is Qin Su, from the driver’s seat. The gold trim and white hem of her floor-length evening gown trails over the edge of the car as she exits, and as she stands up Jin Zixuan realizes that she really went all-out. She’s dressed in white and gold, complete with a pink peony flower, and her hair and face indicates that she spent at least two hours getting ready. From the way she walks up to him in her white high-heels, Jin Zixuan knows that she knows that she’s stunning. If she wasn’t his daughter, Jin Guangshan would probably make a comment about it. He might anyway. 

“The new style suits you, A-Su,” Jin Guangyao says politely.

“Thank you,” Qin Su says, her pretty eyes flashing. “It’s what my mother wore.”

She doesn’t specify when, but Jin Zixuan winces anyway. “I didn’t think you would come,” he says helplessly. 

“And miss a chance to ruin your father’s evening?” Qin Su retorts, and smiles beatifically. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

The last sibling emerges from the copilot seat. “It’s your birthday celebration, isn’t it?” Mo Xuanyu points out. 

He’s wearing ripped jeans, a tank top, and heavy black eyeliner and eyeshadow. Jin Zixuan wisely does not comment. Mo Xuanyu pulls on a black puffer jacket as he speaks, which makes him the only one with adequate protection from the chilly February temperature. He’s also the youngest here; Qin Su picked him up from his university on the way here. 

“Technically,” Jin Zixuan says instead. 

Mo Xuanyu shrugs and jams his hands into his pockets. “Then what are we waiting for?”

Jin Zixuan checks his Rolex again, and the golden watch hands proclaim the time to be 7:24. “We’re still waiting on a few more people who said they’d show up.”

 “Who?” Mo Xuanyu asks curiously, and it’s at that moment that a flaming red and black sports car comes roaring down the road, and Mo Xuanyu’s face lights up. 

The door is kicked open, and Jin Zixuan’s brother-in-law flings himself out. Wei Wuxian emerges in a black Armani suit, now the tallest person in their smallest gathering, and grins. 

“I didn’t know you were coming,” Mo Xuanyu squeaks, and Jin Zixuan holds back a wince. His youngest brother has the most embarrassing idol crush on Wei Wuxian, which is only embarrassing because–

“Mn.” Out of nowhere, Jin Zixuan’s brother-in-law (-in-law?) places himself in front of Wei Wuxian, straightening his white suit coat like it’s even a millimeter out of place. He glares Mo Xuanyu down, and Jin Zixuan goes from feeling embarrassed for his brother to feeling sorry for him. 

“You brought him?” Jin Zixuan complains to Wei Wuxian before he can stop himself.

“Where I go, Lan Zhan goes,” Wei Wuxian retorts. They’re already holding hands. Jin Zixuan hates this. 

Wei Wuxian’s husband levels his icy glare on Jin Zixuan, and suddenly Jin Zixuan is imagining that glare leveled at his father when Jin Guangshan inevitably tries to get world-renown bioengineer Wei Wuxian to work for Jin Industries again. Perhaps bringing him along isn’t such a bad idea after all. 

“It’s lovely to see you,” Qin Su offers, and the glare is gone, just like that. 

“But not as lovely as you are tonight,” Wei Wuxian says smoothly, and the glare is back.

Jin Zixuan pinches the bridge of his nose with two fingers and sighs. He’s so busy sighing that he almost misses the arrival of the last car, a violently purple Jaguar that for once is not racing around at nearly illegal speeds. 

“You’re late,” Jin Zixuan snaps, when the driver’s door opens. 

“I was helping my sister get ready, asshole,” Jiang Cheng snaps right back, slamming his door closed. He straightens the cuffs of his dark purple suit before opening the copilot door for said sister. 

Jiang Yanli ducks gracefully out of the car, and Jin Zixuan’s heart immediately goes gooey in his chest. He’s afraid that his face does, as well, because Wei Wuxian makes a disgusted face at him. 

She wears a layered dress of lavender and rose pink, and the skirts skim over the ground as she steps out of the car. In her arms, she carries a precious little bundle that Jin Zixuan loves with all his heart, and now he knows that his face has gone all gooey with emotions because his wife smiles at him, which really doesn’t help with the emotions. 

Jin Zixuan holds out his arms, and Jiang Yanli places their tiny baby bun in his arms. 

“I’ve finally got him sleeping,” Jiang Yanli says in a hushed voice, and for a moment there’s silence as everyone welcomes the newest, sleepiest, cutest little dumpling to their growing party. 

Jin Ling’s little face is puckered up even in his sleep like he’s thinking hard. Jin Zixuan’s small, sweet bao of a son is dressed in a matching pair of a white jacket and snowpants, complete with a white yarn hat that’s the size of his entire head. 

“It’s good to see you, A-Li,” Qin Su says finally, once the moment of silence has passed.

Jiang Yanli smiles. “You too, A-Su,” she says. “We should get the group back together one of these days.”

Jin Zixuan isn’t sure whether he’s terrified or pleased. Jiang Yanli’s friends from college are a force of nature, and given that they’ve gone on to become a rising neurosurgeon, an environmental scientist, an urban planner, and in Jiang Yanli’s case, a child psychiatrist, they’d be even more a force of nature now. 

“I wanna hold him,” Wei Wuxian says in a stage whisper.

Jin Zixuan directs his best glare at him, holds his sweet little dumpling closer, and prays that his wife won’t cave to Wei Wuxian’s puppy dog eyes. 

“I believe it’s time,” Jin Guangyao intervenes smoothly, swooping in before a fight can break out. 

Jin Zixuan shoots him a grateful look, even though he’s mostly sure that Jin Guangyao didn’t intervene just so that he wouldn’t have to turn his darling baby son over to his brother-in-law. 

“It is 7:30,” Qin Su agrees.

Mo Xuanyu cracks his fingers, grins wickedly, and then puts on a pair of black shades, just to match his black puffer jacket. “Let’s go ruin Dad’s night.”

“Can we not get him to call the cops on us?” Jin Zixuan asks, one step short of begging. 

“My dad is on speed dial in case anyone needs a ride,” Qin Su says, tucking her phone into her purse. 

Of course. The CEO of Qin Industries on speed dial. Though Jin Zixuan supposes that that move is fair, considering that Qin Cangye knows his daughter is going to Jin Guangshan’s house. 

“I think we have enough cars,” Jin Guangyao says.

“But let’s not burn the house down?” Jin Zixuan pleads. It’s true that he asked all of them to come, but please come, I don’t want to be alone with A-Li is not the same as please, I want to pay for damages. 

“No promises.” Wei Wuxian smirks. 

“Nothing that can be proven,” Jiang Cheng adds. Jin Zixuan belatedly remembers that he’d invited them because he knew they would defend A-Li if his father even looked at her funny. Which he might. God, Jin Zixuan hated his family.

“What else is family for?” Wei Wuxian retorts. 

Oh no. Jin Zixuan’s heart is going all gooey again, and this time it isn’t from the adorable sleepy bun in his arms. He furiously tries to force down a blush that heats his cheeks in the cold winter air. 

Jiang Yanli notices, because of course she does, and she steps closer to pat his arm. “He won’t burn the house down,” she says reassuringly. 

Jin Zixuan is privately still dubious, but he doesn’t argue. He turns to the grand white gates. Jin Guangyao stands on his left and half a head shorter, and Jiang Yanli stands to his right. His two other siblings and three in-laws gather behind him. 

Then, with his family dressed to the nines and ready for war, Jin Zixuan unlocks the white gates and sets forth to ruin his dad’s night. 

[girlmeetsliv3]

Lilies of the Valley I

A/B/O!BTS x Reader

Flowers can have different meanings depending on the flower’s shape, color, and method in which they are presented. Lilies are my favorite for such a simple flower can have so many distinct meanings.

Chapter One: Hatred & Pride

“Lilies are considered a beautiful, popular flower but the orange variations actually symbolize hatred, pride, and disdain.”

Release Date: 05/18/20 @ 7 pm

next

 YN stumbled haphazardly into her apartment, as she tried to kick off heels and steer her way into her apartment's small bathroom. In her hand lay a crumpled up business card that scorched her skin, yet she couldn't let go of it. As she reached the bathroom, she flickered the yellow lighting on and stared at herself in the dirty mirror. Mascara and eyeliner were smudged making her resemble a panda, a frown etched between her brows, and colored lips turned downward. It was not her wretched appearance that had her sorrowful, but rather the bite that was visible right where her neck met her shoulder. It looked fresh, harsh red marks that displayed to the world that she was taken. "What a fucking lie."

She took off her makeup and jumped into the shower scrubbing off every trace she could of the alpha. Not wanting his scent permeating on her body any longer, then it would truly prove people's perception of her to be true. A small ding as she was exiting the shower alerted her towards her phone.

           Mark Lee: Sorry about how I acted. I just don't understand, but I don't think we should see each other anymore.

"Great," YN grumbled. There went another one that she'd managed to drive away. It would be a lot easier if she could simply date someone like her - not that it would ever be allowed. Still, there would be less judgment and she wouldn't have to feel like a let down to society or her family every time a holiday passed and she failed to present with a mate. "Fuck society." Though truly it was more like fuck Jeon Jungkook. None of this would've happened if it weren't for the alpha and his hormones. Truly none of this would've happened if his mates kept a tighter grip on the newly presenting alpha, but she couldn't blame the others for his mistake.

           On second thought, fuck them all. Why the fuck are sub-genders a thing anyway? This wasn't the first time said thoughts had filled her head. Presenting as an Omega in a family full of beta's had been difficult, not to mention the events that followed afterward. YN dragged her feet into her bed, thankful for once that she lived in such a small apartment that things were never so far apart. Though her current apartment was about the size of the kitchen in her parent's home, she couldn't complain. Few people rented unmated omegas. She was lucky that her landladies were two female betas with small children. YN doesn’t have anything against alphas but she’s aware enough to know how they perceive her: a means to an end rather than a human being. Or half of one at the very least.

           Her cell phone screen lit up again, but YN was far too tired to check it. Until it stayed on as a plethora of messages appeared. Rolling her eyes, YN grabbed her phone and unlocked it planning to send to hell whoever sent so many messages this late at night.

           Unknown: Please consider it.

           Unknown: I know you blame me for a lot of things and it is my fault, but I’d like to fix things.

           Unknown: or help at the very least.

           Unknown: Please just answer me.

           Unknown: I’m very sorry. You know I am. It was a mistake, I was presenting and couldn’t control myself. Please YN.

           Unknown: You’re my mate.

YN slammed her phone down on her bed with tears in her eyes. She regretted ever going on the date tonight, regretted ever meeting Jungkook, regretted presenting as an Omega. YN regretted being alive. She knew others felt the same way, she'd seen the look in her father's eyes when he had gone to the police station. None of this would've ever happened if she were a beta. YN would be able to get a good education, a good job, a decent place to live. She wouldn't be treated like a third-class citizen because of her sub-gender - she would just be YN. The way she'd been in school before all this happened. The way she spent seventeen years of her life living. Sobs racked throughout her body and she bit into her arm to keep the sound from reaching her neighbors. She didn't want to get into any more trouble tonight.  

           Exhaustion eventually won over and YN slipped into a restless sleep, plagued by the events of her past and the ones that occurred a few hours earlier.

          “So there was nothing you did in high school? No clubs or anything like that?”

YN shook her head, shrugging slightly. "I helped some teachers, dabbled in a couple of things but wasn't like the head cheerleader or class president." Tentatively she reached for her drink, making sure Mark didn't notice her smelling it for anything. It wasn't that he wasn't nice, but one could never be too careful. Mark laughed, "Alright you got me there, but I'll let you know the only reason I became class president is that I promised I'd get us a pool."

           “How did that work out?”

           “Terrible. The school was convinced our stupid asses would drown or something. Can’t say it wasn’t true.”

           YN giggled, taking another bite of her food. Mark was cute and he seemed aware of things, enough to not try too hard. He hadn’t asked to pick her up or asked about exes, he’d agreed to meet at the restaurant and even arrived early. Then again it might also be because they have a friend in between and it was Rosé who’d set them up together. “So YN what school did you go to?” Mark leaned forward resting his face in his hands. The warm lighting in the restaurant cast a nice glow on his features, it made him look more attractive. Or perhaps the alcohol had finally set in.

           “I went to Yeong-gwang Academy.” As soon as YN uttered the name Mark’s eyes widened exponentially. “No way, I’ve heard about that school. Isn’t it like a rich kid central or something? Wait didn’t you go to school with the Kims?!” It was an involuntary reaction the way she shivered whenever she heard that name, but her date must not have noticed. He stood waiting for her confirmation and all it took was a curt nod, for the man to begin rambling about all the rumors he’d heard over the years. It was difficult to keep up with them all, but she did manage to correct a few.

           “Haven’t you guys been ranked number one school in Korea for like thirty years or something?”

           “I think it’s only twenty.”

           “I heard all your sports teams are national champions.”

           “We only really had like five or so.”

           “Don’t you have the largest private collection of flowers in Asia?!”

           “Um, it’s Lilies and I think that’s an exaggeration.”

On and on it went, YN was now beginning to regret opening her mouth. She'd heard of Academy fans before, but it was mainly people who wanted to go there and couldn't or alumni. The way Mark spoke about it made her seem like she was an olympiad or a part of history. The date was drawing to an end, YN couldn't help but feel disappointed but it could have gone worse. Mark could have seen her mark and it would've caused conflict, hearing the boy ramble about her school was the lesser of the two evils.  

           It was when YN lifted her drink to her lips that she sensed it. A hint of musk and the smell of fresh linen, she couldn’t explain how she knew it was him. It was almost instinctual the fear that spread throughout her. As discreetly as she could, YN cast a glance around the room trying to find him almost exhaling with relief when she didn’t. It’s probably a mistake.

           “Hey isn’t that Kim Jungkook right there?”

It was said a little too loudly, just enough that YN knew he'd heard it. It didn't take long for her to feel eyes peering at her, goosebumps rose through her arms. Her bite began to throb and YN could feel her heart skip a beat. Mark's eyes focused on him and eventually crawled up, letting her know the alpha was approaching. Now the scent hit her entirely, shaking her to her core. YN gripped the table to steady herself but found that near impossible when the alpha kept sending his pheromones at her.  

"Does there seem to be a problem here?" His voice had deepened over the years, no longer the voice of a teenager but that of a man.

"Oh sorry, I didn't mean to call your name so loudly. Um, I'm Mark Lee. A pleasure to meet you." Mark turned his attention towards YN expecting her to acknowledge Jungkook or greet him as a classmate. YN couldn't. She couldn't look at him. It didn't help that there was a tense atmosphere between the two, the tension was palpable and it seemed Mark had enough.

           “Aren’t you going to greet him, YN?”

           Greet the man responsible for everything wrong in my life, sure. Yn’s eyes trailed upwards from the table to Jungkook’s face until her warm eyes met his golden ones. As YN parted her lips to speak, she felt it: the heat spreading throughout her body. An uncontrollable feeling that raked throughout her body. The fucker was trying to trigger a pseudo-heat. Instantly YN’s grip tightened on the table, her fingertips becoming white as she fought with nature to keep control over herself.

           “Do you two know each other?” It seems Mark was catching on and truly she couldn’t blame him if he misunderstood. She would too if the roles were reversed. Suddenly Jungkook turned to face Mark, holding his hand out to greet him.

           “I’m Kim Jungkook, her mate.”

"What?! No, he isn't. Don't listen to him, Mark." Her outcry had caused quite a few patrons to turn her way, now all paying close attention to what was happening.

"Uh -" Jungkook quickly interceded whatever Mark was going to say. "Did you not notice her mark? Or do you make a habit of seeking mated people?" At this a few people gasped, Mark looked between the two of them confused. YN snapped, "It's a partial bond. It was never completed so it doesn't mean anything." Her words only confused Mark even more. Whispers from surrounding tables began to reach her ears and it only fueled YN's rage more. This was all a big misunderstanding, but Jungkook was thriving off it. Mark and YN's eyes met as she silently pleaded with him to listen to her.

"Hey beta," Jungkook snapped his fingers together, "look at me." YN should've known she'd lost then and there. As a beta, it was impossible to resist the order of alpha, not to mention one that exuded the stench that Jungkook did.

           “You know who I am right?” Mark nodded, eyes wide as if aiming to please. “Then you know don’t you? You know…” When Mark looked back at her, there was sympathy in his eyes. “I’m sorry YN.” was all the beta said before standing up and walking away. YN had so many things to say, so many more explanations, but they all died in her tongue.

           Jungkook tsked, “What an asshole. Could’ve at least paid for the meal.” That was the final strand for YN, she gathered her stuff and threw all the money she had down on the table. Walking fast out of the restaurant trying to avoid the judgemental stares directed towards her, she swore some people hissed at her under their breaths. Once outside YN leaned against the side entrance of the restaurant trying to steady her breath and stop the incoming tears.

"YN. Hey!" Jungkook raced out the front, staring around panicked until his gaze landed on her. YN tried to walk away, but his long legs gave him an advantage and he reached her in a few steps. "Please YN. I'm sorry, I just- I couldn't control myself." YN rolled her eyes, trying to push the alpha aside.  

           “No please YN look.” His hands gripped her forearms and tugged her close to him. “I’ve been trying to find you, we’ve been trying to find you. But you disappeared off the map.”

           “That’s because of you. I left because of you.” YN tried to get him to release her arms, but his hold was too tight. “Wasn’t it enough for you? Isn’t it enough for you? You ruined my life and my reputation Jungkook. The least you could do is leave me alone.” She was begging at this point, trying to make him see reason.

           “I can’t leave you alone, YN. You’re my mate.”

           “You already have mates Jungkook. Fucking six of them! How could you want more?!”

           “It isn’t like that and you know it. You’re all our mates. You're the pack omega, you just don’t see it yet.”

           This wasn’t the first time Jungkook had tried to excuse his behavior by using the pack bond. Yes, it was true all seven of them shared it but that didn’t mean she did too. “Omega’s don’t have the pack bond, Jungkook. Stop trying to lie.” YN couldn’t see what he gained from this.

           “I’m not lying. It’s rare but it happens, please if you just speak to Namjoon you’ll see-”

           “Leave me alone Jungkook.” YN mustered all her strength and managed to finally push him off. The alpha looked shocked at her display of aggression, YN strongly desired to hit him but knew it wouldn’t end well if she triggered his instincts. “I’d rather die alone than be mated to you.” YN could see the spear driven through the boy’s heart because she felt something similar go through hers. YN let out a shaky breath, she leaned over resting on her knees for fear of falling over.

"I get it. I'm sorry, I ruined your date. I embarrassed you in front of all those people and that wasn't right. I'm sorry YN, I truly am. For everything, I've ever done to you. But it doesn't change the truth. You know this isn't something I can lie about: you are my mate. Our mate."

YN groaned and went to walk away, knowing that there wouldn't be an end to Jungkook's madness. As she walked past the shaken alpha, he grasped her hand placing something in it. "If you ever need anything, don't hesitate, please." YN didn't even spare him a look as she walked away. It wasn't until she could no longer smell him that YN broke down, her body shaking as she tried to hold it all in. She was still in a public place and a vulnerable omega might draw unwanted attention. YN took a deep breath and steadied herself. Heading straight to her apartment and refusing to look back.

           A loud abrupt ringing awoke YN from her sleep, she jumped so high she practically touched the ceiling. Grabbing the phone, she saw Rosé’s contact picture pop-up on the screen. It was rare for her to call, especially since it was nearly six a.m.

           “Hey.”

           “YN? Oh my god.” Rosé’s tone was panicked and YN could hear the way she panted. “Someone broke into my apartment while I was sleeping.”

           “What?! Are you alright?!” YN jumped out of bed and raced to put on pants and hoodie, before grabbing her keys and wallet. “Where are you?”

           “I’m at the police station. I couldn’t see very clearly, but they’re looking at security cam footage from around the area to figure out who it is.”

           “I’m on my way. Did you call Lucas?” Lucas was Rosé’s foster sibling, his husband worked in the police and was certain to make the whole process smoother.

           Rosé hesitated, “He isn't answering. Please come, I’m here alone and I-”

           “It’s alright I’ll be there soon I promise.” YN had managed to wave down a cab and told him to drive as quickly as he could.

The sight of her best friend in tears triggered something innate in YN. She pulled Rosé into a hug and refused to let her go, terrified at the thought of what could have happened to her friend. "It's alright, I'm here." Rosé dug her head into YN's neck using her scent to calm her nerves and trying to muffle her cries. Already she could feel the sympathetic stares of some of the officers. Out of the corner of her eye, YN saw someone approaching his bloodshot eyes, and the tall way in which he stood made it seem like he owned the place.

"I told you to call your mate, not your girlfriend." He remarked voice dull yet mocking. Rosé stepped away from YN turning towards him, "I don't have a mate and my brother isn't answering." Her tone was meek and eyes were downcast, YN knew she wasn't a confrontational person and this event likely further caused her to become more introverted. The cop rolled his eyes, "Where is your mate then?" He turned his attention towards YN, now she could see the name inscribed on his uniform: Officer Hwang. "I don't have one." Her tone was too blunt, YN knew she could see the way his eyebrows raised at it.

           “Don’t lie to me, I can see your mark.”

           “I don’t have a mate.”

Annoyance was now visible in Hwang's tone before his eyes widened. "Ah, now I get it." The officer turned back towards one of his colleagues and called out, "Bo, it seems we have a cat house on our hands." Rosé's eyes widened and YN spoke quickly, words tumbling out of her mouth. "No. You're misunderstanding." Bo had already stood up from his desk and was making his way towards them.  

           “Ladies if you could please follow me.”

The two of them were talking over each other trying to explain the situation, but the officers had made up their minds about what was occurring. YN cast a glance around the room trying to find anyone who could help them, but everyone kept their eyes downward. They'd been titled as prostitutes and it would be difficult to change people's minds. Officer Bo guided them, pushed would've been a better term, towards the basement where the holding cells were.

           “Please sir, you’ve misunderstood.”

           Officer Hwang shrugged, a cruel smirk on his face. “Call your alpha then and everything will be solved.” YN resigned herself as they were dragged downstairs and locked up.

Rosé and YN were separated in different cells while a guard stood watching. Tears streamed endlessly down her best friend's face, whilst YN told herself that hers were tears of frustration rather than humiliation at everything that had occurred tonight. Eventually, as they hit the two-hour mark the guard spoke up, "I'd call your mates if I were you. The boarding house bus swing's by at nine." Both omegas stilled in fear at his words. YN turned towards Rosé, "Ro can't you try your brother?" She was pleading with her friend, but Rosé shook her head. "He won't come." There was something she wasn't telling her, but YN figured now was not the moment to press it.

           “Don’t you know someone who can help YN? What about Mark?”

Mark would be no help, considering everything that went down at the date it would be a further embarrassment to ask him to come to pick her up at the station. If he even answered that is. Unless? No, there was no way. Her pride wouldn’t be able to take it.

            "Thirty minutes, girls."

It seemed as if fate was pushing her into a corner. YN had heard about what kind of things occurred to Omega's who were taken to the boarding house, it was not a nice place. It certainly didn't provide the comfort or protection that was promised to unmated troubled omegas. Hesitantly YN cleared her throat, "Can I please make a call?"

~ Please lmk if you would like to be added to the tag list. Thank you

[subbing-for-clones]

She Who Walks the Line Between Part 2

Maul x GreyJedi!Reader

Word Count: 2729

WARNINGS: pain, mentions of injuries, starting of some light fluff.

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       You led the crimson and black Zabrack past your small crop field, where a large wooden table and a few stumps scattered around it sat. You placed the basket of clay to your side and took a seat, with an open hand motioned for him to settle across from you. He took your que and rested his legs down beneath him unable to sit comfortably on the wood. You folded your hands under your chin, elbows resting on the table and looked into his eyes. He fidgeted in place, uncomfortable by your unblinking gaze. He wouldn't meet your eye for longer than a few moments and stared at the Meiloorun trees that grew not far from where you two sat.

    Following his eyeline you stood and picked a few of the fruits, bringing them back to your half-starved guest and watched as he quickly ravished the purple fruits. While he was otherwise occupied you stood behind him and looked closer where his body ended and the jumbled mess of scrap began. Not just his legs but he was severed through his torso. You reached a hand out and lightly touched the lowest part of his back before the metal formed. He jumped back shocked at the touch and you raised your hands to show him you weren't going to hurt him.

"I can give you your body back rather easily however your mind is fragmented and scrambled. It will be a process but I'd like to restore you to your original form."

He had finished the fruit you offered him and stared at you in disbelief.

"That... that’s impossible." He sat wide eyed. "There's nothing to connect, my other half is... gone."

"I don't mean to reconnect you but to recreate you. That's what the clay is for." You motioned towards the basket.

"How?" He asked shocked staring at the clay and turning back to you with narrow eyes.

"In my distaste for cybernetic bodies I've learned how to regrow limbs and various body parts out of the clay found on this world. It has special properties in it. It will require much physical therapy but it can be done if you allow it."

He thought for a moment, as clearly as he could anyway and looked down at the mess of limbs beneath him. His eyes continued their narrowed stare at you.

"What do I have to do? What do you want from me?"

"Honestly?" You started with a cocked brow. "I just want some peace. That’s why I live here in solitude, the search for peace. But your suffering has reached my mind all the way out here. I figure since your existence hasn’t upset the balance for the entirety of your life, if I put you back together, get you cleaned up, back into decent shape and do something about this." You motioned to his mind. "Perhaps balance will be restored again and I can continue on with my life and my studies. In peace. All you have to do is let me."

    He thought on this longer. All he could vividly remember was his survival on Lotho Minor but the longer he was away from that hell hole, smaller, fainter memories had started coming back. He didn't think anyone had offered him a kindness like this before. Even if it was for your own personal gain, he benefitted greatly as well.

"Alright." He snarled quietly still quite weary of you as you dumped the clay onto the table and started molding it into the shape of legs and hips.

    Once you were satisfied with the basic shape and proportion you instructed him to let go of the energy he was using to keep the scrap under him together. You left for a moment to find a large robe for him. When you returned to your makeshift work station you found him lying on his back, torso touching the clay and staring up at the midday sky. Wispy clouds decorated the bright blue, it was hard on his eyes now accustomed to darkness so he was squinting against it. You frowned at his wince and force pulled an umbrella that sat on your porch over to you, setting it up so it shielded the light but not the view. He looked at you in bewilderment at this small unnecessary kindness to him. You placed the robe down on the stump to your side silently and held your hands one above his body and the other above the clay.

You looked to him for a final approval, "this is probably gonna hurt just so you know." You warned.

He dug his claws into the wood table bracing himself and gave you a final nod.

    He wasn't prepared for what came next. You had closed your eyes and placed one of your hands on his chest, the other on the clay. Your cool touch cut through him like a knife and his hearts started racing. He couldn't remember ever being touched in a way that didn’t draw blood. His hearts pounded against your hand. You moved your hand down, tracing his body lightly until he no longer felt your touch. He fell into the bliss of contact when your hands left the clay and returned to his body. You were running your hands across his body, down to the clay and back up again, envisioning him whole. Urging the force to make him one again. You projected feeling of calm, peace and gentleness through the force unto him as you worked.

    His chest vibrated against his will, creating a purr that rumbled quietly every time you traced him but the purr turned to a growl that turned into screaming as his body seared. It felt like a fire burned violently where he had been severed and the flames licked at the rest of his skin. He left deep rivets in the wood beneath him in an attempt to hold still despite his instincts to run, he endured. As suddenly as the pain came, it left. He felt a breeze on his feet. He opened his eyes to find your back turned to him while holding out the grey robe. He didn't realize why you were turned away until he looked down. It wasn't a hallucination, he had feet, he had two legs that bore the same markings that he suddenly remembered he had. He was once again intact, including to his almost surprise he had his manhood back. He took the robe and quickly covered himself suddenly hyperaware that he lay naked in front of a woman.

"Are you decent?" You asked. You had averted your gaze so he could retain some semblance of dignity.

 "I am covered." Still distracted by the fact that it actually worked.

"Good." You replied turning around and studying your handiwork. His legs looked good; the tattoos lined up from what you could tell, lifting the robe slightly at his hips, keeping his groin covered. They were the same size same length and he wasn't in agony so the insides must be alright.

    You gripped his thighs which caused him to sit up quickly snarling at you. Without letting go, your eyes inches from his you practically whispered "I have to feel them to make sure your bone structure and joints are all in the right places. Let me know if you can't feel my touch at some point or if my touch hurts."

    His top lip curled in reluctance but he nodded. You firmly yet gently massaged his thighs moving up to his hips and down to his knees. You lifted each knee slightly making sure they bent the right way then continuing down his calves to his ankles. They rolled as they should. You spent a few minutes on each foot making sure all those little pieces were screwed in right so to speak. It took everything in his being to keep his eyes open.

"Could you feel me the whole time?"

"Yes." He whimpered slightly.

"Good. Now try to wiggle your toes. Yes, good just like that. Now bend your knees for me; wonderful. Lift your legs a little one at a time. Just try to get your heels a few inches off the table. Perfect. Can you spread and close your legs for me? Just a bit so I know those joints work well too. Magnificent." He grunted with effort but passed all your little tests.

You clapped your hands together. "Good! Wow, I've only ever done single limbs on wounded animals before, this was a job." His eyes widened in horror.

"You didn't know if this was going to work?!"

"Nope! First time for everything but hey it was a success so don't get yourself all worked up." Your hands were on your hips. "Now they won't be able to bear your full weight for a while so take it easy, I'll help you around but now..." you pulled out a large wood file. "I'm gonna take care of those claws and those horns. They are truly atrocious."

    The next three hours you spent carefully shaping his horns to a much more manageable length and rounding them just enough so they wouldn't slice on contact. His claws on the other hand now resembled human finger nails. He sat on the stump while you fussed over him while he ate a whole serving bowl of various fruits from your garden and dried meats. Every time you touched the base of one of his horns his eyes twitched in bliss and rolled to the back of his head.

     When you finished you set the file down and once again studied your craftsmanship. His face flushed with your eyes and mouth so close to him again, starting to realize now that his body was in one piece he had hormones to regulate. Satisfied with what you had done you handed him a makeshift crutch and wrapped your arm around his waist and his free arm over your shoulder.

    For the first time, you led him into your home slowly. He couldn't believe how good grass then carpet felt under his feet and he actually smiled. You made your way to the refresher where a large bath sat prefilled with hot water. You dropped a large sandalwood scented bath bomb into the waters. He watched mesmerized as it fizzled and placed a hand in the water out of curiosity. After verifying that the temperature was good you closed your eyes and helped him slide into the tub only opening when you could sense that he was submerged up to his chest.

“These wonderful little bath bombs have salts and oils that will help heal your smaller cuts and scrapes on the rest of your body as well as clean you.”

    You watched his eyes roll to the back of head and close, a low groan escaping his lips as he enjoyed the water and rubbed his legs together. You smiled at him; it truly did bring you joy to help this poor lost soul. Although he was still rather gaunt and his eyes still blown out with possible insanity, he had quite handsome features. You shook your head to drive the thought away from your mind and without a word you left the room, leaving him to soak in the steamy waters, not before calling over your shoulder, “I will be back with some clean clothes for you soon. Shout if you need anything.”

 ~~~~~

      The water on his skin was glorious. The heat on his body, the smell of the sandalwood and the steam he breathed overloaded his senses and put him in a state of euphoria. He reached up and felt his freshly groomed horns, enjoying the fact that he could touch them without cutting himself. He felt tears welling up in his eyes that he wouldn’t let fall at the thought of everything this woman had done to him, for him today. He had completely forgotten the fear he felt just this morning when he saw her for the first time. Her figure against the grasslands, strong and filled with a purposeful resolve that was also soothing. Eyes simply electric. Her hair, wild with the breeze. He felt something flutter in his stomach and he put the image of her out of his mind to stave it off.

    What did he do to deserve such kindness, such a sweet saving grace in his bleak existence? Nothing he was sure. As he relaxed, more of his memories came back to him as if he never forgot them. His fists clenched as he remembered how he got to this sorry state to begin with and a name rumbled out of his chapped lips almost silently. "Kenobi."

    Before he could fall into his rage, he heard a tapping on the door just before his savior reentered carrying black pants and a black tunic. A sweet and spicy smell wafted into the room and his mouth watered.

"I got a weird feeling when I passed these in the market on one of the populated planets I frequent on my last run so I bought them. Now I know why I got that feeling." His hearts pounded in his chest as she kneeled on the floor behind his head after setting them down on the counter. Using a glass, she scooped up water from the bath and ran it over the top of his head, following with massaging soap and scented oils into his scalp and around the base of his horns. Loosing himself completely he let out a moan. He couldn't see it but she smiled again behind him with a single raised brow.

 ~~~~~

      Once you had rinsed him off you closed your eyes once again and helped him out, allowing him to dry himself and dress while using you as a support until he gave you the all clear that you could open them again. Weary of his shaky legs you led him down a hallway, passing a few doors and back into the great room where a single couch sat facing an array of well stocked bookshelves. The only electronic in sight was a single radio on one of the shelves quietly playing lo-fi. A small table and chairs sat just beyond the couch in view of both the kitchen and the front door.

    After helping him take a seat you dished the two of you large bowls of the meat stew and a pitcher of water for the table. He ate and drank the broth down to the last drop before you had halfway finished. Getting up to serve him a second helping he stuttered "you don’t.. have to do that."

"Please." You retorted casually. "I will be stuffing you full until you're well again. You may have your legs back but you’re underweight for your species and size. You’ll need lots of calories to back to ‘fighting weight’." He ate much more slowly this time until he gathered the courage to speak again.

"I never asked you your name. I think... no, I know. I am called Maul." His eyes never left you as he waited for your reply.

"Well my name is Y/N. I am glad your ship landed here Maul."

"I am very thankful for that as well.. um.. Thank you. For everything."

    The two of you finished your meal in a comfortable silence. Humming occasionally at the savory and rich stew. He had asked to retire after dinner so you aided him to your spare bedroom. It was small only having a single sized bed, a night stand and yet another bookshelf properly filled with writings that he could reach from the bed if he wanted to. After rummaging around some drawers, you found a pair of com links and asked him to use it should he need anything to which he agreed. You placed a hand on his forehead absent mindedly, wishing him a good night before sauntering off. Sleep came slowly to the Zabrack, staring out the window to the field. He could just barely see the goats and a few chickens in the yard but it was you who filled his mental images before sleep finally took him long after the sun had set.

[iclaimedtobethebetterbard]

stars in the sk(eyes)

Fandom: Sanders Sides Characters: Logan, Virgil, Roman, Remus, Janus, Patton Rating: Teen & up Relationships: Analogical, background Intrualiceit Warnings: Language, food, like 1 line that’s maybe suggestive but also said half-jokingly Word count: 5592

Read on AO3!

My writing masterpost

Starlight Universe masterpost

analogical week 2021 start - previous - here - next - masterpost

Summary: Logan has always loved stars. Virgil has always loved music. Maybe they can put those together with a little help from some friends.

Notes: Day 2 of Analogical Week 2021! @analogicalweek Takes place in my Starlight Universe, does not need context to read.  Patton, Janus, and Remus are all nonbinary folks who use he/they pronouns and masculine terms in this universe (but in the flashback scene, Janus is only using they/them); Roman, Logan, and Virgil are all men who use he/him. (I know absolutely nothing about music or concerts or anything, so please don't roast me too hard for any inaccuracies, lol.)

They were only opening the concert; the real attraction was a band from out of town with a midsize following, making a stop on their tour. Not that Virgil was complaining to have landed this gig. It would be the biggest performance his band—the band he, Janus, and the twins had formed a few years ago—had given, by a lot. And that was exciting. Sure, Virgil had absolutely spent hours stressing over how big it was, but he knew how to manage his anxiety, especially when it came to performances, and the anxiety didn’t stop the excitement.

“You’re going to do wonderfully,” Logan had told him earlier that day as he’d been getting dressed, passing his fingerless leather gloves and then holding his jacket for him to slide into. He’d spoken it with a simple, unassuming confidence, as if it were a given fact. It had been more comforting than Virgil thought Logan knew.

With the memory of his husband’s words carefully nestled against his heart, and the jacket Logan had helped him paint rainbow stripes on sitting on his shoulders, Virgil found it easier to let go of the anxiety. Some lingering tension remained as he paced backstage, running through lyrics in his head and triple checking that everyone knew the schedule, but it wasn’t as bad as usual. Most of it, if he was being honest with himself, wasn’t even about the performance—it was about the surprise the band had put together, the surprise Virgil had had to bite his tongue a couple of times to keep himself from thoughtlessly mentioning it to Logan, even though the surprise had been almost entirely his own idea and the others were just helping. But he’d successfully kept the secret, and now Logan was out in the audience, and Virgil was backstage, and there would be no more chances to spoil it.

But Logan was out in the audience, and Virgil was backstage, and the final round of jitters was setting in. And when Logan wasn’t there, Virgil’s jitters took the form of pestering the hell out of everyone in the room, to make sure everything was perfect.

He checked all the instruments, giving Janus’s keyboard a once-over without touching because he knew better by this point. Remus’s drumset was already on the stage—he was drumming with his fingers on the end of the fallout table in the corner—so there was nothing to do about that. Roman was actively tuning his guitar, so Virgil left that alone too and instead checked his bass, just in case it had gotten out of tune in the last thirty seconds.

All of the instruments were fine, great, even, and Remus and Roman were undeniably being productive; Janus, who’d been on their phone in the corner, had stepped out for just a moment, probably to get a drink of water or something.

Things were in order. Which was good. Great, even. But it gave Virgil nothing to do with his restless energy.

“Are we ready?” he asked, jiggling his leg and tracing the pattern of his fishnet tights through one of the large rips in his jeans.

Roman looked up. “Yes,” he said shortly. Roman’s nerves tended to take the form of a very short temper, which didn’t mix well with Virgil’s perfectionism.

“Yeah,” Remus agreed, running a hand through his dark green curls and straightening his denim jacket.

“We all know the order things go in?” Virgil followed up after a minute of tense silence.

“Mmhm,” Remus said easily. Remus, and Remus alone, somehow always managed to remain at ease and unbothered no matter what. Virgil didn’t know how they did it.

Virgil took stock of everyone’s outfits. He himself was wearing fishnet leggings that went all the way up past his waist. Over them he had ripped black skinny jean, and a black crop top splattered with white paint. On top of that, he wore his black denim jacket, which matched the ones the other three were wearing. Virgil’s had the rainbow pride flag painted on the front, all down the lapel area; the rest of the jacket was covered in patches. He checked his makeup, examining the black eyeshadow and lipstick in his phone’s camera; it looked fine. Perfect, even.

Roman was the neatest of the group, made to stand out as the lead singer. He wore the same high-heeled doc martens as the other three, but in white where theirs were all black. He had a tight white longsleeve shirt made of a shimmery material and a matching pair of white pants, and the black jacket contrasting nicely against it all. Roman’s jacket had the aromantic pride flag where Virgil had the rainbow, and the rest of his jacket was painted with red roses all at the ends of long, intricate, thorny stems. His eyeliner was sharp enough to cut, and his curly hair was piled up atop a black headband wrapped around his forehead like a crown.

Janus still wasn’t back, but he’d been on the neater end too, to counter Virgil and especially Remus’s scruffiness. Their outfit was sleek and all black save for a thin white belt around their waist. A black hat with a broad round brim framed their face like a dark halo. His jacket had nonbinary and pan stripes on the front, and thin white squiggly lines running up and down like warped pinstripes everywhere else. (Virgil knew where on the jacket one line ended in a tiny snake head, and where one trailed off into a tail, but you wouldn’t notice unless you knew to look.) They were wearing black lipstick to match Virgil, and winged eyeliner to match Roman, and contour that emphasized the sharpness of his cheekbones; definitely the heaviest makeup of the group.

Remus, sitting in the corner and making noises to themself, was a sharp contrast to his boyfriend Janus’s sleek elegance. His black jeans, splattered with white paint to match Virgil’s crop top, were ripped almost to shreds, open nearly entirely from mid-thigh down to his ankles, with only a few clinging strands of fabric keeping them anywhere in the realm of being pants. The tee they wore—black again, with his own name painted on it in large white letters—was also ripped full of holes, these ones much more deliberate; he’d slashed it carefully with an exacto knife, kneeling on the ground and focusing with their tongue stuck out slightly, until it was exactly how he wanted it and you could catch glimpses of their top surgery scars when they moved. His makeup consisted of dramatic green and black eyeshadow, and his jacket had the trans and polyamorous flags on it—he and Janus, who had nearly identical collections of pride flags between them, had split two and two which color schemes they wanted to use. The rest of Remus’s jacket consisted of a few jagged holes and some incredibly detailed paintings of green tentacles.

The instruments were fine. The costumes were fine. The makeup was fine. What else did that leave for Virgil to fret over as the final minutes ticked away?

“How about the blocking?” Virgil said. “We can go over it again if anyone—”

“I promise we know, Virge,” Roman snapped.

“Come on, kiddo, you know he’s just trying to help!” piped up Patton, Janus and Remus’s other boyfriend, who was suddenly somehow present and sitting in Janus’s lap, his pastel outfit completely out of place amidst the varying edgy styles everyone else in the room was sporting.

“How did you get back here?” Roman and Virgil demanded in unison. Virgil hadn’t even noticed Janus was back, let alone that he’d brought Patton, who was supposed to be in the audience with Logan until the performance was over.

“Oops,” Janus said, not sounding even a tiny bit remorseful as they played with Patton’s dark curls.

“Did you leave Logan alone?” Virgil demanded of Patton, hands on his hips.

“Only for a minute! He’s getting snacks, anyway,” Patton said, wrapping his arms around Janus’s neck. “We both know where our seats are, he’ll be fine.”

“You already have a partner backstage, stop being greedy,” Roman scolded Janus. “Patton, you know we need to focus right now, can you please not distract my horny bandmates until after the show?”

“You sound like Virgil, with all that worrywarting,” Remus commented, snickering.

“Take that back this instant!” Roman demanded as Virgil gave Remus double birds.

Remus only guffawed, looking incredibly amused.

“Seriously, though, uh, Patton, with all the love in my heart: get out,” Virgil said.

Patton wrinkled his nose, but pressed a warm smack of a kiss to Janus’s cheek and hopped to his feet.

“Do I get a kiss?” Remus asked, reaching his arms out hopefully.

“Makeup—” Roman began warningly.

“I haven’t got any on my mouth!” Remus said triumphantly. “Suck it, Jan.”

Janus smiled wryly, fingers rising to but not quite touching their black lipstick that Patton had avoided so carefully. “The prices I pay for beauty.”

Patton giggled, crossing to Remus, clasping both his hands, and leaning down to kiss him sweetly.

“Great, you’re very very cute together but now is not the time, Patton get out and stop distracting your boyfriends,” Roman said, shooing Patton towards the door.

Remus raised an eyebrow. “High strung much?”

“Not all of us possess your—your stupid coolheadedness powers, Remus!” Roman snapped.

Patton paused in the doorway and pointed at Roman, getting out his dad voice. “Hey. Be nice.” The finger moved to Virgil. “Be nice.” His eyes flicked to Remus, then Janus, and his voice shifted to a different tone, half flirty and half joking. “You two be good boys.”

“Oh my god oh my god oh my god, I said to stop being horny!” Roman shrieked, chasing a giggling Patton out of the room and down the hall. He returned moments later, Patton-less and fixing at his hair to make sure it wasn’t too messy. “We had better not have any more alloromantic bullshit from any of you until after the show is over!” he announced. “Okay?” He didn’t sound quite as annoyed as before.

“Homophobia,” Remus accused teasingly.

But instead of snapping back, Roman giggled. “Oh, shut up.”

The twins began joking back and forth, Janus making the occasional amused interjection.  Evidently Patton’s intrusion into the room, although technically unhelpful, had done wonders to break the tension, and Virgil reminded himself to thank Patton later.

Virgil’s phone buzzed with a text from Logan.

Logan: Patton found me, don’t worry. Logan: How are you doing?

Virgil: hahahahahaaaa i don’t wanna think abt it

Logan began typing, then the little bubble went away; a second later, the phone began to ring, Logan’s caller ID plain to see.

“Hi, babe,” Virgil greeted.

“Hello, dear. Would you like to walk me through your plan for the performance, to reassure yourself?”

Virgil let out a small sigh of relief. “Yes, please.”

“I am listening,” Logan assured him.

Virgil took a deep breath and launched into a detailed itinerary, knowing that Logan didn’t mind if he got a little too technical in his terminology because Logan was listening for Virgil’s sake.

“And then that’s about it,” Virgil wound down, carefully leaving off the final item from his explanation. It wouldn’t do to spoil the surprise now. “Oh, looks like we’re getting ready now, gotta go.”

“I love you,” Logan said quickly. “You’re going to do a wonderful job.”

Virgil let out a short laugh. “Thanks, L. Love you too.” He hung up, set his phone down on the table, and picked up his bass.

“You ready?” Roman asked, nudging Virgil with his elbow, as the group finally headed towards the stage.

Virgil sucked in a long breath. “Yeah. I think so. Are you?”

“Oh, you know it!” Roman grinned, a spring in his step. He paused after a second and glanced back to Virgil. “Sorry for being so wound up earlier.”

“It happens.” Virgil shrugged. “Right back at you.”

Roman nodded and put a hand on Virgil’s shoulder. “Hey. He’s going to love it. Just wait and see.”

Virgil looked away, half smiling. “I sure hope so.”

“He will, I know it!” Roman insisted as they climbed the steps onto the stage and emerged into what could practically have been the eye of a hurricane, for all the noise and light that surrounded the stage.

The sky above was fully dark; bright lights everywhere in the area contrasted against it. There was a decent crowd. The venue seemed almost full, as a matter of fact. The observation added a thrill of adrenaline to compliment the goosebumps from the chilly breeze across Virgil’s bare midriff.

Roman stepped forward and spread his arms wide right as the spotlights came up. “Hey, folks, thank you for being with us here tonight!” he said, his smile gleaming in the bright lights and his voice booming in the speakers. “We have some great hits lined up for you tonight! Let’s get it started, huh?”

Virgil waited a few seconds for the cheer of the crowd to peak. Janus began the melody on the keyboard; Virgil came in with his bass at exactly the same second Roman began to sing, and Remus picked up the beat on the drums on cue.

Virgil was quickly able to get lost in the music, all his focus on playing and providing backup vocals, leaving him with no more brain space for his anxiety. This was his favorite thing about music: its ability to keep him in the moment.

They played three songs. Two covers that always went over really well, and one song that the twins had written together about family that always left Roman just a little teary. Normally that would be their closing song.

But tonight was a little bit different.

Roman took a step back, nodding at Virgil; the pair of them traded places onstage, putting Virgil front and center.

“So,” Virgil said, the mic on his cheek picking up his words, “we were thinking we’d let you all be the first to hear our new song. Uh, I wrote this one. And normally Roman does our singing, because—well, you’ve heard his voice. But this song is kind of special. I wrote it for my husband. So. We thought I’d perform it tonight.”

As Janus began playing the melody, Virgil searched the front row of the crowd, squinting against the lights, until he found Logan, sitting next to Patton and gazing up at Virgil with shining eyes. “Lo, I love you so much, babe. More than every star you’ve ever shown me.” He took a deep breath and began to sing.

***

10 years earlier

Unknown Number: Hello. This is Janus. Logan’s roommate

Virgil: how’d u get this number?

Janus: I broke into Logan’s phone after you started dating and saved you to my contacts just in case

[read 3:43pm}

[3:46pm]

Virgil: i Virgil: wtf dude

Janus: Your boyfriend has been moping in his room all day, can you please come fix it? Janus: Roman is starting to mope too for no good reason, but he’s doing it in the living room and at this point it is starting to affect my quality of life

Virgil: yk i literally could not care less abt that part u asshole <3 Virgil: i’ll be over in 15 Virgil: is he ok?

Janus: He won’t talk to me, I don’t know what happened

Virgil: i’ll be over in 10

It was normally a 12-minute walk from the dorm Virgil was an RA in to Logan’s apartment just off campus, but Virgil could walk fast when he was anxious or alone, and in this case he was both. Even taking the time to grab a jacket, he still made it to the building in nine minutes flat.

Janus let Virgil into the apartment almost the second he knocked, relief plain to see on their face.

“You see?” Janus said over their shoulder in a scolding tone. “I had to resort to outside measures to deal with your bullshit.”

“It’s not bullshit,” Roman whined from where he was slumped on the couch, scrolling aimlessly through Netflix on the TV.

“Oh? And what’s this?” Janus demanded, hands on their hips. They dramatically pushed the button to open the microwave door, revealing a limp burrito wrapped in a damp paper towel.

“Lunch,” Roman mumbled defensively.

“You hate microwave food, and it’s four in the afternoon!” Janus snapped.

“I am in a creative slump, Jan! Have some sympathy!”

“No! Get your whiny ass off the couch and stop ruining my afternoon!”

Virgil took a deep breath and pointedly walked in between the pair of them down the hall towards Logan’s room. Roman and Janus’s still-bickering voices faded into the background.

“Hey.” Virgil knocked on the door, which had a piece of printer paper taped to it with Logan’s name written on it in blue sharpie and a couple of stars, both scribbles and stickers, scattered around it. He waited, and when there was no reply, he added, “Are you okay, Lo?”

“I’m fine,” Logan said, in a voice that had obviously been crying.

“Can I come in?” Virgil asked.

“Okay.”

Virgil pushed open the door and stepped into the dim room, closing it behind him. The blinds were closed, and Logan was curled up under a mound of blankets.

“Hey, baby,” Virgil murmured, kicking off his shoes and climbing to sit on the bed beside Logan and stroke his hair. “What’s wrong?”

Logan made a muffled noise of misery into the mattress.

“What?” Virgil said after a moment.

Logan rolled over. “Teacher didn’t like my essay.”

Virgil chewed on the inside of his lip for a moment. “Okay, I promise I’m not making fun of you, but you do know that that is possibly the most stereotypically you thing you have ever said to me, right?”

Logan let out a little huff that was not quite a laugh. “I guess.” He was silent for a moment as Virgil continued to stroke his hair. “And I know it’s stupid. I still got a B+ and my overall grade in the class is fine and I know I’m a good writer and everything. But it sucks. I was really proud of it.”

“I’m sorry about that,” Virgil said, choosing to ignore the squirm in his gut that always happened when grades came up. It was so easy to compare or to worry about others comparing and then to worry about others getting upset over comparisons and—he dragged himself back to the present, forcibly setting the issue aside. “You’re allowed to feel upset,” he told Logan. “About anything that upsets you. Even if you wouldn’t choose it.”

Logan didn’t respond, but after a minute his hand snaked out from under the covers and grasped Virgil’s.

“Do you want to go for a walk?” Virgil asked, struck with the idea.

“Huh?”

“A walk. Get out of your head for a little bit and hang out. We can talk if you want, or just be together.”

Roman’s voice grew particularly loud outside, and Virgil picked out a teary, petulant, “I hate you!”

“Plus it’ll get you away from that energy,” he added wryly.

Logan drew in a breath and sat up. “Alright. Let’s do it.” He pulled out a denim jacket while Virgil put his shoes back on and retied the laces. They made their way out of the apartment, hand in hand.

Roman was on his feet now, releasing an angry tirade at Janus, hands clenched into fists and sounding on the verge of crying, the TV remote cast on the floor beside him. Janus was sitting on the kitchen counter with arms crossed and an intimidating glare on their face.

“Hey!” Virgil snapped, and Roman cut off abruptly. “Eat some food,” Virgil told him on a hunch. Sure, Roman could be a little immature at times, but this was on a whole different level, and a lack of food seemed like the simplest culprit.

Virgil looked over at Janus, to make it clear that they weren’t off the hook either. “We’re going out. You two better make up before we get back. Clear?”

“You can’t tell us what to do—” Roman began stubbornly.

“Janus literally called me in to fix all your problems, so yeah. I can. Also open your windows, it’s gloomy as fuck in here.” Virgil opened the door and held it for Logan, tossing one last glare over his shoulder at Roman, who looked dumbstruck, and Janus, who avoided eye contact.

Logan was quiet as the two of them walked down the stairs and exited the apartment building, hands in his pockets (one still clasping Virgil’s) and eyes on the toes of his slip-on shoes.

“Wanna talk?” Virgil asked.

Logan tilted his head to the side for a moment, his thinking face slipping over his features, and then shook his head.

Virgil nodded. “Okay.” He fished in his pocket for his earbuds and plugged them in. “Let me know if that changes, okay?” He received a small nod and turned on his go-to playlist—a 12-and-a-half-hour-long composition of all his favorite emo songs that he could loop without having to put any thought in.

The two of them wandered through the streets, hand in hand, music blaring in Virgil’s ears and Logan’s fingers soft and warm against his. They made their way towards downtown; their university was in a small city, and it was pretty walkable.

As they walked, weaving around and across different blocks, occasionally stopping to peek into particularly interesting shop windows, the tension in Logan’s shoulders slowly began to relax and his gaze migrated from the toes of his shoes upwards to take in the surrounding scenery. Virgil felt himself relaxing in turn. The subdued, almost sullen look on Logan’s face was beginning to shift back to his typical bright-eyed curiosity, which meant that while maybe not all was right with the world, a whole lot was right with the world.

As the sky began to darken, Logan’s pace quickened with sudden purpose—but he didn’t lead Virgil in the direction of the apartment. Instead, he headed in almost the exact opposite direction. Virgil was lost for a moment as to where they were going, until the park in the center of downtown came into view. Ah. That explained it. He was kind of glad; he didn’t feel ready for the quiet time they were spending together to be over.

A scent caught his attention as they entered the park, and he tugged gently at Logan’s arm, nodding towards the mediterranean food truck. A small smile answered him, and a nod, and the pair of them made their way over. They both ordered gyros—Virgil chicken, and Logan, who was trying out vegetarian food, falafel.

Fifteen minutes later, seated side by side on a park bench and finishing the last of their sandwiches, Logan cleared his throat. “Thank you.”

Virgil bumped his shoulder against his boyfriend’s. “Of course, babe.”

“I am feeling… better,” Logan said cautiously, as if he were testing out the words in his mouth to see if they felt true.

Virgil nodded. “Better is good.”

Logan nodded, eyes moving to the sky, which was now almost fully dark except for a streak of orange sunset leftover on the horizon. The stars were out, at least the brightest ones that could be seen even past the floodlights placed every so often across the park.

“You like space, and shit, right?” Virgil said, scooting closer to Logan and dragging his arm to wrap around Virgil as he rested his head on Logan’s shoulder. It was a bit of a rhetorical question, since he knew Logan had an astronomy minor and was the vice president of the astronomy club and had gone on no less than three eager rambles about space in the last month alone, but one could always do with a conversation opener.

Logan blinked and looked down at him. “I do.” You know this, his tone said, a little puzzled at the question.

“What star is that?” Virgil pointed at a particularly bright one, although he wasn’t paying nearly as much attention to the star as he was to Logan’s face.

Sure enough, Logan brightened, his eyes more interesting than any star. “Oh! That’s not a star at all—it’s actually Mercury!”

“Really?” Virgil asked, grinning and scooting closer.

Logan wrapped his arm a little more tightly around Virgil’s shoulders with an answering smile. “Yes, and it’s actually very fascinating…” And just like that, he was off, words spilling out of his mouth at a breakneck pace, gesturing eagerly with his free hand to emphasize his points.

Virgil listened, doing his best to follow along and asking a few questions whenever Logan started to wind down, but mostly just happy to watch his boyfriend’s lips as he excitedly infodumped, and his eyes, too, alight with delight, the frustration of the disappointing grade all but forgotten as he held Virgil and told him stories about the night sky.

It was nearly ten at night by the time they made their way back to Logan’s apartment, chatting back and forth in quiet voices and giggling. Logan broke off as he opened the door and got a look inside; he glanced over his shoulder at Virgil and put a finger to his lips.

Virgil hushed and followed him in, then saw what the need for quiet was: Janus and Roman were asleep on the sofa, Roman sprawled on his stomach on top of Janus with his limbs everywhere and his face buried in Janus’s chest, Janus with their arms wrapped around him and a throw pillow propping their head up and a worn copy of Crime and Punishment flopped over from where it had clearly been propped up on Roman’s back.

“Precious,” Virgil commented softly as Logan picked up the book, tucked a bookmark off the coffee table into it, and set it down with the tender care he seemed to reserve exclusively for books and Virgil.

Logan smiled. “They are, rather.” He looked down at his roommates. “Sometimes I wonder why I picked the two most dramatic people I know to live with.”

“Sometimes like this afternoon?” Virgil said with a chuckle.

Logan snorted. “Maybe. But then they do things like this, and I remember why I like them.”

Virgil noticed something on the tiny kitchen table. “Or this?” He pointed.

Logan came over to examine what Virgil had found. “Oh,” he breathed, a smile spreading across his face.

A plate of cookies sat on the table, together with a hastily handmade card.

“Sorry :( ❤️” it read in large, expressive cursive, and beneath it in smaller, neater handwriting, “I actually didn’t do anything wrong, but these are for you and I did the dishes, also you’re welcome for the date night.”

Logan laughed quietly, taking a cookie and offering the plate to Virgil, who accepted one cookie—they looked to be snickerdoodles. “Yes. Things exactly like this,” he said. He took a bite of the cookie and raised his eyebrows. “Not bad.”

Virgil grinned and leaned over to kiss him. “Not bad at all,” he agreed, pulling away.

“I literally gave you your own cookie,” Logan whispered, clearly trying not to laugh.

“Yeah, but it tastes better this way.” Virgil winked, mainly for Logan’s reaction—he pressed a hand to his mouth, stifling an amused smile that was still visible in his eyes. “I should go,” Virgil added, glancing at the time. It was Sunday tomorrow, so he didn’t need to worry about how late he was up, but he disliked walking home at night.

Logan nodded, taking another cookie and pressing it into his hand. “Text me when you get home?”

“I always do,” Virgil said, accepting the cookie and a goodnight kiss that still tasted just faintly of cinnamon and sugar.

And he did just that; he always felt a little awkward simply texting “I made it home,” or the like, so he usually tried to come up with interesting questions to send to Logan instead. Tonight, it was:

Virgil: hey Virgil: if u could pick one Thing u always wanted to do Virgil: and get a guarantee that u’d get a chance to do that thing no matter what Virgil: what would u pick?

Logan: Fascinating question! I would like the opportunity to name a star. Logan: I don’t imagine it will ever happen in real life, but I’ve always thought it would be… cool, for lack of a better word.

Virgil: ghfdkjghksdhj i will never be over ur love for space Virgil: u have a Brand and u stick to it

Logan: Well, a brand is important in life. :-) Logan: What about you? What would you pick?

Virgil: i think it’d be neat to be in a band Virgil: idk Virgil: like i don’t wanna be super famous or anything but like Virgil: being in a band would be neat Virgil: yk?

***

Ten years later, Virgil sang the last lines of his song looking right at his husband. “And I don’t even need to look to the skies/Because all of the stars are in your eyes.”

The noise around him didn’t fade away like in the movies; to the contrary, the cheering was so loud it was almost hard to focus. But Logan’s face was absolutely alight—Virgil couldn’t be sure at this distance, but he thought Logan might even be tearing up—and he was looking at Virgil like he was his whole world. Even with the bright lights and overwhelming sounds all around, it was easy to focus on Logan in the midst of it all, Logan pressing a hand to his mouth but smiling too wide for anything to hide it, Logan leaning into the side-hug that Patton—oh, and there was Patton, right beside him—was offering, but never taking his eyes off Virgil. Logan looked so happy, even though Virgil knew concerts weren’t really his favorite type of event, and Virgil was hit right in the chest with a renewed realization that Logan was Virgil’s whole world and damn, Virgil wanted to make sure everyone knew it.

But their time onstage was up, and the next few minutes were a bustle of packing equipment away and cleaning up the space they’d been allotted backstage, and it all went by in a bit of a blur, helped along by the remnants of Virgil’s performance mindset and slight overstimulation—though that was getting better now that he was offstage.

Virgil took a quick break, when the bulk of the urgent work was done, to just stand in the empty restroom and breathe for a moment, the noise of the other band who were now onstage thudding in the background so quietly he could hardly hear it. When he’d fully composed himself, feeling much calmer, he took a deep breath and headed back out.

On his way out, he ran into Roman, pushing a dolly with a box on it. “Oh, good, there you are,” he greeted Virgil. “Can you—oh, for crying out loud,” he broke off, looking ahead.

Following his gaze, Virgil snickered as he saw Remus, leaning against the wall with their hands clasped behind his head, grinning down at Patton, who was leaned forward, bracketing Remus with his arms, looking up at him and speaking, although Virgil couldn’t hear him from here.

“We still have work to do,” Roman said under his breath, but the exasperated gaze he leveled at the pair was altogether far too fond to have much real bite.

Virgil’s mind was on other matters; if Patton was here, that meant—

“Lolo!” Patton’s voice called brightly; he’d seen Roman and Virgil and stepped back from Remus, waving happily at the pair of them. “Virgil’s here!”

At the sound of Patton’s voice, Janus emerged from the room, a little further down the hall, that had served as the headquarters for the band. He bent to give the tiny man a kiss, then turned to Remus for another kiss.

Logan popped his head out just a moment behind Janus. “Virgil?” He brightened when he saw Virgil’s face, and stepped fully out into the hall. He hadn’t changed from his work outfit, still wearing a button down with the sleeves rolled up, a tie, and a pair of jeans, and a smile that he looked like he couldn’t wipe off his face.

He was still the handsomest man Virgil had ever seen.

Virgil looked to Roman. “Permission to get back on my alloromantic bullshit, captain?” he asked teasingly.

Roman rolled his eyes and swatted Virgil’s shoulder. “Go be cute,” he said benignly.

Virgil took off down the hallway to Logan, not quite running; Logan took a few steps to meet him, and Virgil caught him in a hug so eager he actually lifted the taller man off his feet for just a second.

Logan, half-laughing with surprise, grasped Virgil’s shoulders for balance as he regained his feet. “You wrote me a song?”

“Did you like it?” Virgil asked, holding him tightly.

“Virgil, I—” Logan seized Virgil’s face in his hands and kissed him.

Virgil wrapped his arms more firmly around his husband, kissing him back exuberantly and swaying slightly back and forth.

“It’s perfect,” Logan told him, breaking away only just far enough to speak. “You’re perfect.”

Virgil grinned, reaching up to run his fingers through Logan’s neat hair. “Careful, you’ll spoil me.”

“I don’t think I could ever do that,” Logan told him seriously. “It’s not spoiling if you deserve it.”

And really, what was Virgil supposed to do about that except kiss his husband again?

[refinedbuffoonery]

Late Nights

This is 2.5k words of fluff and essentially no plot. Set a week after the events of ICLU. I wrote the first part back in May right after I got the idea for ICLU and have been sitting on this ever since. 

*****

When the letters and numbers on the screen finally blurred beyond recognition, Riley closed the program she’d been working on and put the lab computer to sleep. Her eyes burned. She was horribly behind on developing this program; it needed to start beta testing days ago, but the team’s back to back multi-day ops and her impromptu trip with the Coltons on her supposed day off consumed all of her time and energy this week. 

Posing as a think tank, the Phoenix did have to do think tank-y things on occasion, after all, and every agent was expected to contribute to the organization’s public projects. Including a certain physically and emotionally exhausted hacker. 

Mac sat across from her, fidgeting with spare robot parts. Riley checked the time. 10:58 pm. Everyone else had gone home hours ago. She vaguely recalled Bozer teasing her about not spending the night in his lab again. Pointing at Mac, he’d said, “Good thing he’s just as much of a workaholic as you are.” Riley knew Mac was just there to keep her company—and because they’d carpooled—not because he needed to keep working, but she hadn’t bothered to correct Bozer. 

Groaning, Riley let her head fall into her hands. It felt like some invisible force was squeezing her skull, slowly crushing it like a grape. She needed to go to bed. Possibly forever. 

“You okay?” She glimpsed Mac’s concerned frown between her fingers. 

“Yeah,” she replied, dragging her hands through her hair. “I have a headache, that’s all.” Understatement of the century. “How long until you’re done?” 

Mac looked unconvinced; when it came to her, he didn’t miss much. Mercifully, he didn’t push for a more elaborate answer. “Um, I need a few more minutes to finish this, plus maybe fifteen more to clean up. Bozer will kill me if I leave a giant mess in his lab.” Riley managed a small smirk. Indeed he would. 

Riley figured it would be at least a half hour before he was ready to leave. Just enough time for a nap. “Take your time, Mac.” She stood, hauling her backpack onto her shoulder. “I’m going to take a nap. Come find me when you’re ready to go.” He nodded. 

Sleep beckoning, Riley left the lab in search of a comfy chair. 

*****

Thirty minutes later, Mac found her curled up in her favorite chair in the war room. Knees tucked into her chest, head cradled in the crook of her elbow, she looked breathtakingly peaceful. 

He regretted waking her the moment he gently shook her shoulder. Riley grumbled something unintelligible that might have been his name. 

“Time to go home, Riles.” Mac shouldered her backpack and helped her out of the chair. 

Riley could barely open her eyes. She took one staggering step forward and nearly wiped out on the table she definitely didn’t realize was right in front of her. He knew she was exhausted—he was too—but this was alarming. She was burning herself out on the least important part of her job, and Mac didn’t understand why. A problem for tomorrow, he decided. 

Mac wrapped an arm around her waist, helping keep her upright. “Thank you,” she mumbled. He pressed a quick kiss to the side of her head. 

Mac’s truck sat alone in the underground lot. He was immensely grateful he and Riley had carpooled to work that day. Otherwise, if he hadn’t stayed to keep her company while she worked, she definitely would’ve spent the whole night in that war room chair. 

They drove home in silence. Riley quickly fell asleep in the passenger seat, head resting on the window. 

She was still out cold when he parked his truck in the driveway, and Mac couldn’t bring himself to wake her up twice in one night. He slid his arms around her back and under her knees and carried her inside, and Mac’s heart melted when she snuggled her face into his shoulder. He could hold her like this forever. “Let’s get you to bed,” he murmured. 

Mac laid her on the guest bed and rested her backpack against the nightstand. He quickly unlaced her boots and pulled them off, revealing bright yellow and orange striped socks. He chuckled, imagining her muttering at him to stop laughing at her socks. 

Grabbing a makeup wipe from the guest bathroom, it took him a few minutes to remove her stubborn eyeliner. No wonder, he’d seen it withstand blazing infernos, days in the woods, blood, sweat, tears, everything. 

He tucked her under the covers before retrieving her favorite pajama shirt—an old t-shirt of his—and shorts. Mac left them at the foot of Riley’s bed, so she could change into them whenever she woke up. 

Riley curled into a loose ball, snuggling her face deeper into her pillow, and Mac couldn’t help but worry as he closed the door halfway and retreated to his room. 

*****

Riley awoke in the middle of the night to her bra’s underwire stabbing her in the chest. She blinked a few times, trying to get her bearings. She definitely wasn’t in the war room anymore. 

It took longer than Riley cared to admit to realize she was back in Mac’s guest bedroom—her bedroom for the year she’d lived with him. Mac must’ve taken her home from the Phoenix. 

Riley rolled onto her back, and her underwire stabbed her again. Fuck this, she thought, yanking off her tank top, then her bra, and sighing in relief as the straps fell down her shoulders. Chucking them both on the floor, she noticed the stack of clothes at the foot of her bed, blending in so well with the dark sheets Riley almost missed them. She smiled, silently thanking the man sleeping across the hall, and changed into her pajamas. 

While debating whether to stay or join Mac, Riley stretched her back and hips, joints popping softly. She could be lazy and spend the rest of the night in her old room, or she could go cuddle with her boyfriend, but that would require getting up. But if she got up, she could also brush her teeth. 

Had she even had dinner? Riley couldn’t remember. Her brain was still foggy. 

Ultimately, her desire to sleep with Mac and brush her teeth won out, and Riley hauled herself out of bed and across the hall, feet barely lifting off the ground with each step. 

Mac was a pretty light sleeper, so Riley slipped into bed beside him as quietly as she could. He stirred, but didn’t wake. Sinking into the mattress, Riley knew switching beds was the right choice. Her body relaxed more in Mac’s presence. She’d never realized how lonely exhaustion was, not until she had someone she could freely share with and who could empathize with her. Even so, she’d still lied earlier about how she really felt, mostly for the sake of her dignity. Mac was her best friend, but Riley was loath to outright admit to weakness, even to him. 

She wanted to snuggle into his warmth and tuck her face between his shoulder blades, but that would surely wake him up. And waking Mac up would lead to questions she didn’t want to answer just yet. So, Riley stuck to her side of the mattress, tucked her legs into her chest, and went back to sleep. 

*****

When Mac’s alarm went off, he wasn’t alone. Riley had snuck into his bed at some point and now curled into a tiny ball, facing away from him. 

He wished they didn’t have to go to work today, wished they could sleep in and he could pry some answers from her. But the world wouldn’t save itself. 

He texted Matty. Please don’t send us on an op someone else could do. Riley’s burning herself out, and I can’t figure out why. 

I’ll keep an eye on her, Matty replied immediately. 

Thank you. 

Leaning over to kiss his girlfriend’s cheek, Mac got up and went for a run. 

He did an easy three miles around the neighborhood, letting the cool dawn air wake him up. Mac smiled every time he passed someone else out for a run or walking their dog before the July sun made leaving the house practically unbearable. 

When he returned, Mac found Riley awake and making coffee for them both. Her back was to him, so Mac scanned her body for signs of stress or injury, finding neither. “Good morning,” he said to break the silence. 

Riley turned to him, bleary-eyed and still half asleep, and held out a steaming mug of coffee. Mac accepted, kissing her cheek in gratitude. It shocked him how easy it all was. She croaked, “How was your run?” 

Mac couldn’t deny the way seeing Riley in his clothes affected him—the same way, he realized guiltily, the sight had always appeased some primal, possessive part of his brain, even when they were just friends—but damn it hit differently when she wore a sleepy, lovesick smile and had just crawled out of his bed. Riley had always been his girl, but now she was his girl. 

The whole scene was sweet and domestic and everything he’d ever wanted. 

“Good,” he finally answered. “I even stopped to say hi to our favorite dog.” An elderly couple who lived a few streets away had a mini Aussie, who was quite possibly the happiest being in the universe. She would trot alongside her humans without a leash, but when Mac or Riley appeared, she whined and whined until her owners said “Go ahead,” and she’d come barreling full-force into Mac or Riley’s chest and lavish them with endless kisses. Her name was Freya. 

Riley’s eyes lit up in excitement. “My dog!” Mac chuckled, sliding onto one of the bar seats tucked below the counter. 

Changing the subject, Mac tried to be nonchalant when he asked, “How do you feel this morning?” Worry crept into his voice anyway. 

“Better,” Riley said, the mug hiding her face as she sipped her coffee. “Thanks for taking me home.” 

Of course he took her home. Even if they weren’t dating, Mac still would’ve taken her home and given her his clothes. There was no universe in which he wouldn’t do that. 

“Like I was going to let you spend the night in that chair,” he replied. Riley toyed with the hem of her shirt, her usual lively presence vanishing like a turtle retreating into its shell. Mac probed, “What’s up?” She sighed, still looking down. “Riles?” 

When she finally looked up, Riley’s eyes were heavy with guilt. “Do you know how many times I almost got us killed this week?” Mac waited. “Twice. I led us—led you—right into traps I should’ve seen from a mile away. And before that, I gave you a fucking panic attack that sent you driving through the middle of nowhere to come find me!” Her voice crescendoed. “And now? Now I can’t even get that stupid program to work right! I just want to be able to do one thing right. One thing! Is that too much to ask?” Riley let out a loud, frustrated groan, shoulders caving inward. 

Mac stayed in his seat, letting Riley have her space. He knew she didn’t like being coddled when she was frustrated. “I almost get us killed constantly,” he reminded her. “It’s part of our job. No one is holding it against you, especially not me. And that panic attack was the best thing to happen to me, because without it we’d still be waiting for one of us to find the courage to confess. This is going to sound hypocritical coming from me, but you can’t beat yourself up about that stuff.” 

Riley snorted. “Very hypocritical.” 

“You have to take the small wins as they come, okay? We’re not dead! We had sex! The important stuff!” 

“I see you have your priorities together.” Her tone was snarky, but Mac caught her smile between sips of coffee. 

“If we didn’t have to go to work I’d bend you over the counter and tell you how hot you look in my shirt.” 

Mac impressed himself with how casually he managed to say that; he could only imagine Riley’s merciless teasing if his voice had cracked. 

Riley blushed, even as she cautiously said, “We could do that anyway.” 

The apprehension in her voice hit Mac like a bucket of cold water. He couldn’t just say things like that to his girlfriend of two days. Or maybe she was his best friend and he didn’t care. Mac couldn’t decide. This thing between them was so new, yet it felt like they’d been together forever. The butterflies lasted forty-eight hours, tops, before the calm sense of belonging, of home, washed over them. Mac had never had that happen so quickly in a relationship before. Usually it took weeks or even months, not two days. 

“It’s not like they’re going to know,” Riley added. 

That made the decision for him. “Are you kidding me? If we walk in late together, they’ll absolutely know why. They’re like professional mind readers! We’ll never hear the end of it.” 

“Correction,” Riley said. “You’ll never hear the end of it. Desi and Bozer will just high five me and say, ‘Nice.’” 

Mac frowned. She was right, unfortunately. He finished the rest of his coffee, grimacing at the bitter last sip. Placing his mug in the sink, Mac said, “Seriously though, I want you to feel safe sharing with me when you feel like this, Riles.” He leaned against the sink. “Let me help you.” 

Riley crossed to him, finally closing the gap between them, and wrapped her arms around his waist. “Okay,” she agreed, head resting on his shoulder. She sighed. “I really don’t want to go to work today, but if I get any more behind on that damn project I am going to pull my hair out.” 

Mac pressed a single kiss where her neck met her shoulder. “Your hair is beautiful. Please don’t pull it out.” Gently, he unwound Riley’s scrunchie, letting her hair tumble down her back so he could play with it. 

“Just for you.” 

They stood like that as long as they could, before they really did need to get ready for work. “I need to shower,” Mac finally said, ruining the quiet moment. “Care to join me?” 

Riley raised an eyebrow. “I thought you didn’t want to be late.” 

A very serious shower,” Mac amended. “No funny business.” 

“Right.” Riley kissed him until Mac couldn’t hold back his grin. “No funny business. Now where have I heard that before?” 

Laughing, Mac dragged his girlfriend toward the bathroom.