#between this and joey making grabby hands

[id-rather-be-an-outsider]

Killer Kafé

summary: Ya’ll remember HISHE’s superhero cafe and villain pub? Yea, well… here’s my take on it. Every DBD Killer, one saloon!

word count: 1890

a/n: This was a cracked idea I had randomly and it actually really inspired me, so I hope you guys enjoy it!

Once upon a time, there was a realm within a realm. This realm was where the killers of the Fog were held between trials, lest they try to torture the survivors outside of their allotted period of time. Now, not every killer was happy with this arrangement, but every killer did accept it for what it was — a chance to kick back and have a drink.

Michael Myers kicked the door open as the café went silent, watching him trod over, slumping down into a barstool and slamming his hand on the counter as he waited for the Deathslinger to give him a drink. No one actually knew what drink the Boogeyman preferred, as he didn’t speak, but he must not have hated whatever concoction Caleb came up with, or else he wouldn’t come back in the same exact way after every trial, bloodstained from head to toe.

Freddy joked, “Lose a couple pounds there, Michael? You’re practically silent when you walk.”

Ghostface said, “Actually, practically silent is what most would consider myself - Mr. Myers here is completely silent. You can’t hear him move at all, whereas one might hear my cape floating around-“

“We get it, shut up already.” Frank Morrison, head of the Legion, spit, shoving Jed out of his seat by his face mask.

The Nurse let out a spine chilling gasp in mortification. “Manners, young man!”

Frank grunted in agitation. “Sorry, Miss Sally. Certainly won’t do it again.”

Jed, finally back in his chair after fixing his mask, said, “If I had my knife, I would kill you.”

A sinister laugh erupted from behind the counter, where Caleb was busy making some Irish coffee for Michael. “Read the sign, buddy.” And pointed above himself, where a rusted sign with scrawled letters read: NO WEAPONS IN THE KILLER KAFÉ. The sign used to say ‘in the pub,’ but Caleb went on a rebranding spree when he heard about all the recent horror flick remakes, and he commissioned Carmina to repaint his sign. He didn’t listen to anyone who said remakes only happen for killers with movies already in existence. He had the spirit, at least; not to mention Rin Yamaoka sitting at the end of the bar, sipping on some herbal tea.

“But… don’t YOU have your weapon?” Julie pointed out in confusion.

“That’s because I own the pub — I have to be able to defend myself otherwise any ole’ ragtag crew could come in here and steal everything, from merchandise to money.”

“Like OUR ragtag crew?” Joey observed, with a glint in his eye.

Deathslinger slid the finished drink toward Myers, being careful to move the drink AROUND Joey’s grabby hands, as he confirmed, “Yes, like YOUR crew — and stop trying to get alcohol! I am a man of the law and I will not be breaking it.”

“He says, despite having murdered numerous people to even get to the Fog in the first place.” Julie narrated. She prided herself on being a smart-ass, arguing with the adults just to argue.

“Out.” Caleb pointed to the café door, already having reached his limit.

The three stood up to leave, chuckling to themselves, and a fourth joined them reluctantly. Susie, the only one of the three to be respectful and always ask for chocolate milk instead of alcohol, said quietly, “Have a nice day, Mr. ‘Slinger, I’m sorry about them.”

He tipped his hat at her, offering her a rotten smile and a, “Have a nice day, Miss Lavoie.” She smiled, waved goodbye to the rest of the killers, and chased after her friends.

“What a nice girl!” Sally rasped, clasping her hands together.

“Merrr!” Rin Yamaoka huffed in annoyance at the end of the bar. “She’s not the ONLY nice girl in the world, you know. More chai, please.”

The Killer Kafé suddenly went dark, and what most beings thought were the moans, screams and cries of the Dredge’s victims, were ACTUALLY the moans and groans of the killers at the Dredge’s dramatic entrance to the pub. He teleported into a (locked) locker, scrabbling until he could break the locker door open. The room lightened up again, and the Dredge complained, “I told you to stop locking that thing!”

“You took Maurice!” Jeffrey stood up, his beer belly nearly flipping his table over as he slammed his hands down angrily. Everyone silently nodded along. Even if they wouldn’t say it, making your entrance into the Fog by harming Maurice is wildly unpopular. Nobody hurts Maurice.

Anna, Bubba and Max Jr. trudged in through the back doors, dropping wood down by the fireplace and putting some meat into the prepping fridge. Caleb said, “Thank you for working so hard, you three. I appreciate it.” And nodded his head at each of them in acknowledgement.

“Is that bacon?” Amanda said, and those sitting at the counter pretended to jump. She tried to be stealthy, but everybody always knew when she was coming. It was the squeak of the chair that gave her away, but nobody had the heart to let her down.

Caleb nodded. “Would you like some, Miss Young?” She nodded vigorously, and he slapped some into a pan after grabbing it out of the fridge. Bubba grunted, which typically meant he wanted some, too, so Caleb added more. Caleb heard a hiss and a whine, and when he looked down, he saw that the Demogorgon was sitting at his feet, salivating, and even though it didn’t have eyes, he felt the puppy dog eyes breaking down his defenses. “Okay, fine. Here you go, Demodog.” He tossed a few pieces of raw bacon, and Demo jumped up, catching them in its mouth and chewing them with a loud smacking noise, as if it truly was a dog.

Across the room, Adiris keeled over, puking on the floor and saying something utterly incomprehensible. “Hey!” Caleb shouted, “No more drinks for you!” After which she groaned, swinging her sconce around messily and knocking the glasses on the table over.

Herman stood up from the next table over and said, “I think she just may be sick again, with the plague. Like usual. Would you like a mask, Adiris?” She readily accepted it, as well as the vaccine that Nemesis offered her with a roll of his eyes, as if her illness were an inconvenience to him. Granted, everything that didn’t help him catch Jill Valentine and all those other S.T.A.R.S. was an inconvenience to him.

Trickster stopped his melodic humming and piano playing and said, “I do this for free, you know. The least you could do is not stink up the room with vomit.” He shuddered. “Disgusting.”

Pinhead laughed next to Trickster. “I love witnessing your suffering. How delectable.”

“Shouldn’t your DRINK be delectable?” Trickster asked.

“No. It tastes horrible. That’s why I like it.” Came Pinhead’s response.

The Hag walked through the café doors, and everyone waved at her in greeting. She took a seat at the counter, and right when she opened her mouth to speak, a chime rang out. All she had time to say was, “Ah, shi–” Before she was teleported out of the room. Everyone in the room looked at each other awkwardly, and Pyramid Head stole Hag’s abandoned seat at the counter. Caleb glanced down at the drink he’d been preparing for Hag, shrugged, and handed it over to Pyramid Head. Pyramid Head grabbed the drink, tilted his head back, and immediately poured it all over his face. He sat there for a few seconds, processing what he did. Gently, he set the empty mug on the counter, then dragged his giant knife out of the café with him, the doors swinging shut in his wake.

In the private room of the café, Charlotte’s groans rang out as she banged on the TV, static noise trickling out through the cracks in the walls. “La télé n’est travaillé!” A harsh, grating noise rang out, and Sadako climbed out of the TV. Of course, the TV was still nothing but static, because Caleb didn’t know how to set it up in the first place, but he told everyone a repair man was going to fix it soon. Nobody knew who the mechanic would be, though.

A bell chimed, and a tall being materialized in the middle of the café. “I’m Philip. Heard there was a TV problem? What’s happening to it?”

Sadako eyeballed him warily and said, “It’s never been set up.”

Charlotte’s jaw dropped as she stared at Caleb in disbelief. Caleb’s jaw dropped because it was already broken, and he stared at the Onryo in disbelief. “How did YOU know that I never set it up?”

Sadako shrugged. “Not sure. I can feel it when I pass through, though.” She glanced to the side, then said, “There’s a baby trying to steal your bread, by the way.”

A squeal came from the kitchen as one of Trapper’s bear traps clamped down on Victor, the baby-looking man, while he held onto a piece of stale bread. “You’ll pay for that!” Albert Wesker says, pointing at Victor. Wesker hadn’t had much time to frequent the café as of late – the Entity kept calling him into trials – but he would be damned if a petty thief was going to ruin his first visit in so long. Trapper finally came back from wherever he was, and kicked Viktor, who splattered into nothingness, but reappeared in Charlotte’s chest cavity a few seconds later.

Trapper shuddered at the sight. “Parasite.” He said to Victor.

“Good work,” Blight praised Trapper. “Care for a drink?” Trapper shook his head, rejecting the offer. He’d already spotted the Blight spiking his drink with the golden glowy liquid seeping down through the coffee – it’d be bound to give him more than just an adrenaline rush.

Just then, a loud yell resounded through the Killer Kafé, and everyone looked outside with bated breath. A green aura drifted into the room, and the Wraith said, “I’m out.” He rang his bell and disappeared right as a horn was blown to announce the arrival of the Knight and his loyal army of soldiers. They trudged through the doors, metal clanking against metal and chainmail clinking together, taking a seat at the café counter.

Oni, who had just come back from a trial of his own, reared his monstrous head and roared. He dashed upstairs angrily, muttering about how knights are fake samurai and leaving a red trail of light in his wake. Caleb looked around at The Killer Kafé and sighed. He was proud of his renovations, but it still felt a little gloomy. Everyone was always mad about something, and he couldn’t cater to a consumer base that found a way to be glum about EVERYTHING.

He felt a tap on his shoulder. “Ahem. I see you’re feeling a bit down about your business. What if I bought it from you and made all of your troubles go away?”

He turned and saw that the voice belonged to none other than the Skull Merchant. He threatened her, “Don’t even THINK about trying to buy The Killer Kafé – your money is worthless in this world.”

“Suit yourself.” She said, and walked out of the establishment as if she already owned the place. Caleb was never going to get a break, was he?

[soulsxng--a]

Dakota cups the ancient's cheeks as she rises to the balls of her feet, tipping Lerato's head down so she could press a gentle kiss to his forehead. "...You know we're family, right?" she says softly as she draws herself back, still cupping his cheeks with a warm smile. " — and I would do anything to make sure that you are happy... so if you ever need anything from me, anything at all, don't hesitate to ask. There probably isn't much that I can do for you...but please keep that in mind, okay?"

“Ko…” Lera laughs, voice teasingly put-out even though he immediately leans down when he was tugged on, so he could accept the kiss to his forehead. One that’s returned to the top of Dakota’s head with a warm smile. A hand comes to rest over hers for a moment, before arms come to wrap around her, instead. Hugging her tight. “I know we are…thank you, Ko. You and Joseph gave me a home, and I appreciate that. I’m very happy here.”

Dakota isn’t one to say things that she doesn’t mean– so when she tells him that she would do anything to make sure he’s happy, Lera believes her. Without even a trace of doubt.

“I will. You already do more for me that you seem to think, but if I’m ever in need of anything else, I’ll come to you right away. Make sure you do the same though, alright? Anything you need, just ask, and I’ll do my best to make it happen.” She’s released, and the ancient gives her a few pats on the head, smoothing her hair out before stepping back.

“Now, have you eaten, yet? If you’re not waiting to meet up with Nel, I’ll accompany you.”

[missluckycharms]

You, Me and Harry make three. Part One.

Summary: Joey, Izzy and Harry are in a poly relationship. They're head over heels for one another and they can't seem to keep their hands off each another, even when they really need to.

Harry is the Harry Styles, the man who is known for being so open and lovable. He's nervous to let the world see his girls, what would his fans think If he was dating two girls at the same time? And they all shared the one bed and home? He doesn't want to know, he wants them all to himself.

This small story follows the three and their rendezvous together behind the scenes.

Masterlist.

Warnings: Switch!Harry, Mommy kink, slight Daddy kink, FxFxM threesome, fingering, oral sex f+m receiving, Male + Female penetrative sex, Female + Female sex, spanking, choking, hair pulling, sneaking around (?) masturbation and mentions of it, degradation kink, praise kink, dirty talking, anal play, biting, polyamorous relationship.

Warnings apply to both first and second part!

Word count: 3.6k words.

A/N: There will be a part two, keep your eyes out for it. I also envision the women with Blonde and Brown hair, but you can apply any hair colour you want to this scenario, I just wanted to give a description to people who find it hard to imagine people :)

—

Adrenaline.

It's rushing through Harry's veins as he finishes his last concert of his first ever world tour. His body covered in sweat from singing Kiwi and total of three times and his suit jacket is for a fact dripping from all the dancing he did, his body isn't exhausted, no, it's hyped up and he could go out and perform again if he could.

It's a bittersweet moment ending the tour he thinks, on one hand he has more time to himself, more time for friends and family but on the other hand he doesn't get to do what he loves every night for at least another year, which is perform for thousands of people.

The crew is cheering and slapping him on the back as he walks off, the band following him as they all congratulate one another on completing the whole tour. There's tears, tight hugs and even a champagne bottle popped by Mitch, for someone who seems emotionless he was the most emotional one amongst them all. He basically cried into his champagne flute.

Harry pulls himself away from the crew celebration after an hour or two, his phone buzzing in his back pocket non stop as he tried to converse and have a fair well party with his whole crew — he knew exactly who was texting him, and they won't be happy he isn't responding like he usually does.

His phone is filled with messages, some from Joey and some from Izzy and a few more in the group chat they all have together. Harry is scrolling through them all as he sits in the back of the car on the way to their hotel room. He lets out a shaky breath when he sees two photos — one of Izzy wearing a bright pink lingerie set, her dark hair all around her while Joey wears a dark cobalt blue set, her platinum blonde hair vibrant against the lace.

Izzy is laying down as Joey looks at the camera between her legs, the picture being from Izzy's perspective while the second photo is similar, but this time Izzy's panties are off and Joey's head is nuzzled into her pussy.

If anyone knew what Harry Styles was hiding behind the scenes they would be shocked, he's hiding two beautiful women who are in plain sight for all his fans to see, the pair helping out the crew and makeup department on tours while only the three of them know what they do behind closed doors. It's somewhat thrilling to have this secret, it's spurs them on more and even makes them act out and fuck one another in public places, such as Harry's dressing room or even his tour bus when all the rest of the band is asleep — they all seem to get off on their little dirty secret.

Harry never wanted to hide his girls, he feels guilty for doing so. But to protect them and himself from the hate and backlash they would get for this, he settled on keeping them himself only. Sure, there's times where they'd want to go to a restaurant, hold hands all together and feed one another dessert like couple do, but they have to settle on a professional looking dinner, each spread around the table with a large gap between them all as they try and keep their hands away from one another, cameras flashing outside and update accounts flashing the images labelling Harry to be at a business dinner.

It does take a toll on them, some nights they all cry together and hold one another when one of them has to leave and see family, they all aren't ready to tell their families so when one leaves it's like something is ripped from them, it's like they're missing a piece of themselves. Harry is the one who's away a lot, giving the media to calm down on the speculations that Harry is dating one of them — it's mainly always Joey because she's blonde and seen as "Harry's type" because of that, both of his girls are his type.

They take small vacations together, the three of them locked away in a villa in Italy or even in Spain, their own private space to lounge by the pool together or even show affection to one another more openly around the foreign country — but then cameras show up snd Harry is immediately hurrying the girls inside as he pays off the paparazzi to not leak the photos.

It's tiring, they're all exhausted from hiding, but it's what they have to do.

Harry chuckles darkly as he looks at the photos, his hand sliding down to palm himself through his suit pants as he types out a message with one hand, a lazy smile on his face as the driver doesn't suspect a thing.

Harry: told you both to wait, you know what happens when you disobey me, my girls.

It's not long after he sent the message that he's parked outside the hotel, the driver opening his door as a security guard walks out and helps Harry into the hotel under all the preying eyes of fans and paparazzis who seem to love blinding him every second with their flashes and asking him ridiculous personal questions that you wouldn't even ask someone who is on trial.

His security guard walks him as far as the elevator, Harry saying he can do the rest by himself — but in reality he didn't want anyone but him to hear the sweet little moans that are probably coming from his suite right now.

"Couldn't even wait two hours for Daddy, huh?" He says deeply walking into the room, rolling the sleeves of his shirt up as the two girls both look at him on the bed, Izzy nearly passing out from pleasure as Joey smiles evilly from where she's sat between Izzy's legs.

Izzy makes grabby hands at Harry which he immediately melts at the sight, she's the more submissive one in the relationship, leaving Harry and Joey to be the more dominant ones, and when Harry is submissive it's usually Joey fucking Izzy before him as he watches.

"Feeling good pup?" He asks Izzy brushing a strand of her hair from her face, her eyes glazed over and mouth slight parted as Joey teases her, sucking and nipping at her clit as Harry rests beside them both.

"Yes Daddy" Izzy says softly, licking the thumb that Harry brushes over her bottom lip, he slowly pushes it into her mouth as she takes it in with a small whine and suckling noises are heard from her pretty mouth.

"That's a good girl. You enjoying yourself down there?" He asks Joey more sternly, she loves when he's stern with her, while Izzy loves it when he dotes on her.

"Mmh yeah, such a pretty tasting pussy" she teases him, keeping her eyes on his as she licks a big stripe up Izzy's centre, Harry's cock twitching in his pants at the sight as Izzy keeps sucking on his thumb.

"Hope you've had your fun puppies, because you both know how Daddy hates it when you disobey him" he says with a small laugh, the two girls looking at him as he removes himself from the bed, standing tall as he strips down to his boxers.

"C'mere my girls, wanna feel both of you suck my cock" he says palming himself as he watches Izzy cum on Joey's tongue before they both jump off the bed and into their knees.

"I'm only obeying because tonight is your night, prepare for you to lose all control tomorrow, Daddy" Joey says, Harry already knowing she means what she says as he smiles at her.

"I'll look forward to it Jo, darling" is all he says as he runs both of his hands through each of their hairs, one hand on Joey's head with her hair wrapped around his arm, as the other has Izzy's hair wrapped around it, guiding them both to his clothed cock.

"Take me out, go on, know you both missed Daddy's cock" he moans out when they both palm him through his underwear, their hands immediately pulling down his boxers as he kicks them off, standing tall as both girls look up at him innocently through their eyelashes.

They both flatten their tongues and run them up either side of his cock, Harry immediately tightening his grip on their hairs and throwing is head back a little as he grunts under his breathe at the feeling. They both suck the head of his cock, their tongues in each other's mouths a little as they dance along the slit collecting his pre cum as he nearly buckles under the feeling and view he has of his girls.

"That's it, suck Daddy's cock" he breaths out through moans, his eyes fighting to stay open so he can watch every move his girls make.

The room is filled with heavy grunts and moans, small whines and sucking sounds from them all, Harry throwing his head back as he curses loudly into the air, Joey and Izzy working on his cock fast and messily just how he likes it. He's nearly scent into a frenzy when Izzy focus's on his head and pumps the rest in her hand while Joey sucks his balls into her mouth, dribbling and moaning around them which vibrates through Harry's body sending shivers all over and erupting goosebumps on his skin.

"Need to fuck you both now, onto the bed" he says sternly, taking their heads away as they both whine and try to get back onto him. Gentle slaps to their cheeks cause both girls to scurry over onto the bed, kneeling down and watching as Harry rests onto the bed, back against the head board as he begins to stroke himself.

"Izzy, do you wanna ride Daddy first? Yeah?" He asks and he chuckles lighty when Izzy nods in excitement, crawling onto his lap as he welcomes her into his embrace.

"Joey, sit on my face, gonna eat that pretty cunt of yours while I fuck our darling little Izzy" Joey smiles darkly at this, both of them looking at Izzy who's smiling cheekily against Harry's chest, her petite frame lost in his broad one.

Harry lays completely on his back, Joey coming to sit down on his face, as Izzy teases herself with the head of his cock. Joey faces Izzy, their mouths immediately catching in a sloppy kiss as Harry helps Izzy slide himself into her. She doesn't move, she grinds down a little as Joey's tongue explores her mouth, her tattoo hand holding the petite girls face as Harry holds onto Joey's plush thighs, his face nearly being smothered but he loves it — he wants to be smothered by her thighs always.

"Look at you Izzy baby, taking me all, such a good girl for me" Harry says lowly, looking at Izzy from between Joey's legs as Izzy begins to move, Harry immediately grabbing Joey's thighs and sitting her flush onto his face, his nose resting on her tightest hole as his tongue flicks and sucks at her pussy.

"Ride Daddy's cock Iz, fuck yourself until you cum like a good girl" Joey whispers to Izzy, her hand holding the girl by the jaw as she speaks to her, their lips inches apart as Izzy falls apart on Harry, the feeling sending her into oblivion as she bounces harder and faster, erupting guttural moans from Harry.

"Is he making you feel good Jo?" Izzy asks, her voice a slight tremble as she moans loudly watching as Joey grinds herself down onto Harry's tongue with force.

"Yeah, but you're making him feel so much better baby, hear him? Hear him moan into my pussy because of the work you're doing?" Joey asks as Izzy smiles lazily at her, her words making her go faster and faster on Harry's cock which ends in him meeting her bounces with thrusts of his own.

"That's it, fuck her Daddy, fuck her so good" Joey moans out loudly, grabbing Izzy before she crashes down onto Harry, holding the girl in her arms as Harry fucks up into her with all his strength.

"Fuck, yes right there Daddy" Joey moans out, Harry fucking his tongue into her while he fucks Izzy hard, the two girls holding onto one another as Harry pleases them both.

It's not long before they both cum with screams of his name and a mixture of Daddy between them all, Joey being the loudest as Izzy is barely able to speak or keep her eyes open over how fucked she is.

"Feeling okay puppy?" Harry asks when Izzy is laid out on his chest, his cock slipped out of her as she comes down from her high, Joey beside him as they both cradle Izzy and help her calm down.

"M'okay, just tired Daddy" she slurs out, the two helping her lay down onto the bed, Joey laying beside her as Harry positions himself on top of a smiling Joey.

Izzy turns her head to watch the two, Harry immediately bending down to kiss her softly as Joey kisses Harry's jawline and runs her hands over his bare chest lightly, her fingers playing with his dangling necklaces as her legs wrap around his waist, ankles locking behind him.

"My two pretty girls, all fucked out" Harry whispers as Joey pushes her hips up to him, signalling she's ready as he pecks Izzy's face before pulling away and focusing back down on Joey.

"Eager little thing aren't you? Such a slut for Daddy" he says to her, their lips inches apart as Izzy gasps at his language, Joey smirking and enjoying every last word that drips from his mouth towards her.

"You're also a slut for me Daddy, don't lie" she fires back, Harry shaking his head as he lines himself up with her pussy.

"Right now, you're my little slut, take it all for me, yeah?" He says kissing her chest as he pushes himself in, her moans immediately filling the room as Izzy runs her fingers over the lace bralette on Joey's skin, her head right next hers as they both look up at Harry.

"Come on Daddy, fuck me like a whore" Joey whines out as Harry begins to pound into her harshly, his balls hitting her ass as she sets a fast pace that has Joey's eyes rolling into the back of her head.

"You're going to hard Daddy, gonna hurt Jo" Izzy says nearly crying, Harry immediately bringing a hand to her face and cradling it as the other cradles the back of Joey's pulling her hair lightly.

"She likes it hard baby, she likes Daddy to wreck her pussy and call her his little slut" he says softly and calmly to Izzy who pouts before pecking his lips.

"Harder Daddy, please" Joey moans out, Harry immediately thrusting faster and faster as he holds both of his girls in his arms, Joey's legs wrapped around him as Izzy pecks his bicep every now and then with small giggles.

"Yeah? Want it harder, does my little slut want it harder? Does she want me to fucking wreck her and make her unable to walk for days?" He asks sinisterly as Joey babbles and moans under him, her words slurred and her eyes leaking tears at the intense pleasure she's feeling.

"Wreck my pussy Daddy, fucking ruin me, yes!" She screams out when Harry hits her spot over and over again, Izzy's small fingers now rubbing circles over her clit as the two of them coax her towards an orgasm, which hits her hard and fast.

"C'mere, wanna kiss you both before I cum" he moans out, his hips slowly down as his two girls push their heads together so Harry can bend down and take both of their mouths at the same time, their tongues everywhere as they all moan and grab onto one another.

"Come on Daddy, cum for us" they both moan out, looking up as Harry kneels on the bed over the two of them, their hands on their boobs pushing them up as he strokes himself fast, his eyes rolling back and his body covered in sweat.

"Gonna look so pretty painted in my cum, my two pretty babies all fucked out beneath me" he moans out, their tongues out flat as he finally cums, spirts and ropes of his cum coat their chests and some splashes up onto their tongues as they swallow it greedily, their fingers rubbing through his cum painting them more as Harry watches in awe, completely spent.

"I love you both, so much" he says smiling at them, their faces glowing and their own smiles on their faces as they look at him like he's the best thing in their worlds — which he is.

"We love you too H, right Iz?" Joey asks Izzy who's trying to fight off sleep, her small nod and smile is enough for Harry as he coos over how cute she looks, her cheeks blushing at his complements as Joey kisses her face all over making her giggle out, Harry kissing Joey's as they all attack one another with kisses gently with laughs in between.

"Think it's time for a bath, huh?" Joey laughs out as Harry agrees, Izzy laughing also as they both lay next to one another covered in Harry's release.

"Don't move, I'll be back" Harry says, the pair of girls whistling and cheering him on as he runs to the bathroom butt ass naked, his laugh loud as he wets two wash cloths with warm water.

"Are you two ever gonna not laugh at my ass?" He asks kneeling over them again, one hand clutching a cloth and washing Izzy while the other washes Joey and gets rid of his cum from their skin.

"It's funny! It's so soft and squishy looking when it jiggles!" Izzy laughs out, Joey beside her nearly snorting as she laughs along, Harry laughing and shaking his head as he throws the cloths into a laundry bin.

"You have a cute butt Mr Styles" Joey says kissing his nose as he flops his body down onto them, one of their legs resting on his waist as he rests his head between their breasts, both of their fingers running through his hair.

"We can't stay like this" Joey is the first to speak up in a few minutes, sleep nearly taking over them all before she realises they need to clean up and get ready for bed — Izzy needs to do her skincare routine while Harry needs to drink his nightly cup of tea.

"Yeah, yeah. I know. Come on, bath time" Harry groans, grabbing his boxers and sliding them back on to avoid anymore comments on his bare ass, the two girls avoid eye contact with him as they bite back their laughs looking at one another.

"I can hear you both laughing!"

"We aren't laughing!"

"Yes you are!"

"Nope!"

The three of them have been dating for almost a year now, everyday bringing something new but their love for one another grows by the second. Harry cherishes small moments with them, heck, he cherishes all moments with them. When they step outside together Harry addresses them as part of his crew to not raise any suspicion. But all he wants to do is scream at the top of his lungs that these two beautiful women are his girlfriends.

Just as Harry is filling the bath, adding Izzy's favourite bath bomb and setting out Joey's favourite body wash for her, a shout and a hard knocking is heard from behind the front door to the suite, causing the two girls laughs and conversation to stop.

They look at him as he holds up a finger to his lips, shushing them both as they nod watching as he heads for the door. He opens it slowly, only revealing his head. Jeff stands outside, his hand running through his hair as he jumps when Harry opens the door.

"There's fans outside, they won't leave until you come out. Please just walk out and show your face or something" Jeff says nearly passing out with anxiety, his hands shaking from how nervous he was being bombarded with the fans who are lined up outside the hotel at nearly midnight.

"Okay, I'll be down in a few" Harry sighs, knowing guilt will eat him alive if he doesn't see his fans, but he'll also feel guilty letting the girls bathe alone and be without him for awhile again.

"We heard, go down to them. We'll have a bath and you" Joey says walking over to Harry, Izzy beside her as they hold hands, Izzy shorter than the two as she looks at them softly. "Can bring us all up some wine when you're coming back up, sound good?" Joey finishes as Harry smiles looking at them both.

"Yes Ma'am's"

[multistan-kpopwritings]

Nice to Meet You

➟ pairing(s): Mark & Reader; Mama and Papa Tuan

➟ genre(s): Fluff

➟ word count: 1.4K

➟ warnings: super sweet parents

“Earth to y/n,” your boyfriend called to you.  He waved his hand in front of your face, snapping your attention back to the present.  You looked around and noticed that the plane had landed at LAX.  

“Sorry,” you blushed, “I must have zoned out for the last part of the flight.”  Some time ago you had selected a movie to watch, which needless to say, it was long forgotten.  Your mind had wondered several times that day, making it hard to focus.

You had been dating Mark for about 6 months now.  Things have developed and evolved between the two of you quickly.  With the holidays around the corner, he suggested taking the next steps in the relationship... Meeting the family.  Sure, you’ve spoken to his parents in passing.  A phone call here or there while he was occupied or even a quick “Hello” while he video chatted with them... But this was different!  This was the man you loved and you wanted to make a good impression on his family.  

You both grabbed your luggage from the conveyer belt and made your way to the exit.  You silently ran through all the scenarios in your mind.  Introductions first.  Offer your hand for a handshake... unless his moms steps in for a hug... then hug her.  Do you hug his dad?  What if his brother, Joey, was there?  Did he say if his sisters would be home or were they arriving tomorrow?

“Y/N,” Mark called to you again, “You’re doing it again.”  He laughed and pulled you in for a hug.  You relaxed as he puled you against his chest.  He kissed the top of your head rested his head on the top of yours.  “You need to stop this,” he whispered, “You’re overthinking everything.  You’re brain will catch fire from this nonstop silliness.”  You chuckled into his chest.

“Easy for you to say,” you sighed, “You are Mr. Charming.  Everyone loves you.”  You could feel his body shake as he laughed.  He stroked your hair gently.  Pulling away, you looked up at him.  The look of adoration was unmistakable as he smiled down at you.  You felt a little more at ease with him next to you.  “Did you get a rental or UBER,” you questioned.

“Oh.  Well... About that,” he trailed off.  He bit his lower lip and looked away, not able to meet your eyes.  “My parents... They um...,” he stuttered again.  You furrowed your brows at him, not able to understand what he was saying.

“Spit it out, Tuan,” you ordered.  You tried to follow his line of sight, but still had not idea what he was looking for.  Then it happened.  You heard his name being called from across the way.  He rubbed the back of his neck and smiled at you, meeting your eyes again.  

“Baby,” the woman cried as she wrapped her arms around her son.  She pulled back and admired his face.  “You look more handsome that the last time I saw you,” she doted over him.  She took the time to fix his hair and straighten his shirt.  The older man accompanying her laughed and swatted her hands away.

“Leave him alone, Dorine,” he softly scolded.  He pulled Mark into a hug, patting his back and kissing his cheek.  “We’ve missed you.”

You stood back and watched the exchange between the trio.  It was clear that they were close.  With all the noise around the terminal, you couldn’t make out what Mark had whispered to his mom.  He pulled away from his mom and locked eyes with you, a sly smile on his lips.  Before you could register what was happening, his mom spun around and looked at you for the first time.

“Mom,” he said to the woman in front of him, then looking to his dad, “Dad, this is y/n.”  His mom squealed and made grabby hands at you.  She quickly closed the space between the two of you and embraced you in a hug.  She pulled away and searched your face.

“Oh.  My.  Gosh,” she gushed, “You are more beautiful than the photos Mark sent us.”  She held your face in her hands and kissed your cheeks.  You let out the breath you didn’t know you were holding.  His mom grabbed your hands and tugged you towards his dad.  “Raymond,” she said, “Look at this beautiful girl.”  His dad laughed again at the enthusiasm his wife showed.  

“Hello, dear,” his dad greeted you.  He too, pulled you into a hug.  “I’m glad you were able to make the trip.”  He stepped back and patted Mark on the back again, “We heard so much about you.  It wouldn’t be right if you weren’t here.”  His dad smiled warmly at you.

“Alright, alright,” Mark said, “That’s enough.”  He shook his head and laughed.  “Can we go home now?  It was a long flight and I’m ready to relax.”  He wrapped his arm around your waist and pressed a soft kiss to your temple.  You leaned against his body and smiled.  His mom saw this and made a squealing sound again.

“Come on, kids,” Raymond said, “Your mom made up your room.”  He grabbed your luggage in one hand and Mark’s in the other.  “We parked over here,” he directed with a nod of his head.  With his arm still around you, Mark began to follow his dad.  

You felt a light touch on your arm as you walked away, looking back you was Dorine standing back.  You could see she wanted to speak to you.  Mark stopped and looked between you and his mom.  You smiled and squeezed his hand, gently letting him know you’d catch up.  He gave you a quick kiss on the lips before turning to catch up with his dad.

Dorine stepped closer and smiled.  She took your hands in hers and sighed.  You could tell there was something she needed to say.  Her face was an open book, emotions clear.  She was happy and sad at the same time.  

“You know,” she started, “I’ve had a few jobs in my life.  By far, being a mom is the hardest, yet most rewarding.  When you bring home that new baby, you know that in your heart you will do whatever you need to in order to protect him.”  She glanced over your shoulder at the retreating forms of her husband and son.  “Letting him go to Korea to be a trainee was one of the hardest things I ever had to do.  Time and time again he called about girls he met, and of course time and time again I got calls about how it didn’t work.  Do you know how hard it is to protect your baby from heartbreak?”  She searched your face.  

You tried to talk to her, let her know that you didn’t plan on leaving Mark, ever.  She wasn’t interested in letting you talk.

“I knew something was different when he called about you,” her face softened.  “I’ve never seen him look at anyone the way he looks at you.”  She squeezed your hands and smiled.  “I never thought I would feel the pain I felt when he left for Korea again,” she sighed, “But when he looks at you, I know I’m losing my son.”

“What?  No,” you interjected, “I’m not taking him from you.”  Your eyes began to water.  This is exactly what you feared.  She laughed and shook her head.

“Sorry,” she apologized, “I know he’ll always be my son.”  She wiped away a renegade tear that slipped down your cheek.  “It’s just a hard to let your baby go.  I know that he found in you what every mother wants for her son.  I have to remember he is a grown man, not my baby boy.  One day, the two of you will be married and then I’ll be just ‘mom’, and you will be the woman in his life that he depends on.”  She blinked rapidly, fighting back tears.  “I’m not good at this,” she sniffled, “I’m just so thankful that you are in his life.”  

You couldn’t hold your tears back anymore.  They were flowing freely from your eyes.  She pulled you in for a tight hug.  You could feel that she was crying, too.  

“Thank you,” you whispered.  The two of you stood there for a little.  Nothing needed to be said that hasn’t been already.

“Come on,” she said, gently pulling your hands, “Let’s go home.  The rest of the family is excited to meet you.”

[istheresomebodywhocanimagine]

Everybody Knows (SMUT)

tabseus said: Hi :) First of all, I really enjoy reading your fics! Could you maybe write one with ben hardy x reader where they are a couple and have some kind of fight because Ben overheard reader talking with her girls about hers and Ben‘s sex life. Although all the reader is saying is really positive, Ben does not want them to know about it. Could end with smut maybe :)? (a/n: holy SHIT this only took me 5 years. this is the NYM spinoff piece, where it can be read as a separate piece, but I’d really advise you go back and read NYM if you haven’t!!! i’ll link the previous parts below. this baby is almost 11k, so don’t think you’re in for some light reading rn hehe. get ready for angsty ben and eventual makeup smut bc we all love a good makeup smut)

NYM Part 1 | NYM Part 2 | NYM Part 3 | NYM Part 4

"Yeah, breaker one-nine, this here's the Rubber Duck, you got a copy on me? Over."

"The fact that you have the Convoy theme song memorized so clearly is both impressive and troubling," you teased, letting go of the push-to-talk button and waiting for Joe's response as you sat the walkie talkie down on your counter, reaching up above your head to try and retrieve the bag of white cheddar popcorn. You'd stuffed it in the top of the cabinet after grocery shopping this morning, telling yourself you'd save it for a rainy day and not snack on it all the time.  Alas, your attempt to put it out-of-sight, out-of-mind had lasted less than 12 hours before you were scrambling to pull the bag down and devour it all in one go - Joe had just gotten back from an extended filming period and after napping the day away, he convinced you to come over and get fucked up on some shitty liquor while catching him up on the latest NYC happenings. The white cheddar popcorn craving had happened after the fact, as you were coming down from your brief buzz already - the liquor was shitty enough to keep you from drinking much, while Joe was more than happy to pick up your slack. The walkie talkie remained silent, and you furrowed your eyebrows, pausing in your embarrassing struggle for the popcorn to snatch up the small black receiver and press the PTT button again. "Joey? You alive?" More radio silence, then finally a crackling and a slurred response. "You didn't say over. Over."

Staring ahead at the cabinet for a moment, you slowly closed your eyes and started laughing, shaking your head. "You're a fucking dumbass. Over."

"Well, someone's a bitch. Over." "Who is he calling a bitch?" Ben's quiet, gravelly voice suddenly appeared behind you, and you startled a bit as you whirled around to find a very heavy-lidded, scruffy-looking Ben standing there. If you didn't know any better, you'd say he was just sleepy - but he'd also been over at Joe's getting white-girl wasted, and the rosiness of his cheeks betrayed that very fact as he shuffled forward, wrapping his arms around your waist and enveloping you in a warm hug that trapped you between the counter and him. "I thought you were still over there, I was just going to be a second," you murmured, running your hand over the back of his unruly blonde hair and smoothing it down before letting your hand come to rest on the nape of his neck. He shook his head, mumbling something incoherent as he pressed his face into your neck, nuzzling it gently and making you smile. Such a baby. Taking a deep breath, you let out a long exhale before pressing a soft, quick kiss to the side of his head and murmuring, "He was calling me a bitch." Humming in response, he blindly lifted a hand to reach for the walkie talkie, and when he'd clumsily stolen it from your grasp, he lifted his head just enough to speak into the receiver as he held the button down. His chin pressed into your shoulder as he talked, making you smile and turn to press a lingering kiss to his cheek. "Stop bullying my girlfriend or I'll come back over there and wallop you." "You didn't say over either," Joe pointed out snarkily, and you rolled your eyes as Ben chuckled softly and resumed burying his face in your neck, sitting the walkie talkie down. Returning his hand to your back, his thumb ran light circles across your skin just under the hem of your shirt, making a sharp thrill run through your body due to your still-mildly intoxicated state. As much as you wanted to stay there forever and mooch off of Ben's body heat, you remembered the white cheddar popcorn calling your name - so with some difficulty, you managed to start peeling Ben's arms off of you, giggling knowingly when he let out an unhappy groan. "Go back over there. I'll be back in a minute." Pulling away slowly, he didn't look too pleased and grumbled to himself as he shuffled off to Joe's again with his phone charger now in hand. 

“Love you!” you called after him, which he reciprocated only after shooting you a playful glare over his shoulder. Grinning, you watched as he stepped out onto the balcony and blew you a kiss before flipping you off and disappearing around the corner with the smile.

It took climbing on the counter for you to reach the bag of popcorn in the cabinet, but you managed to get it down and not sprain your ankle getting off the counter, so you took a minute to participate in a victory dance that would have surely been mocked if you were over on the other side of that wall separating you and the boys. A pleased smile played at your lips as you pranced back over to Joe's, only tripping once or twice.  Losing your balance? That was another story. You almost biffed it when you rounded Ben's couch, over-calculating the turn and nearly ending up on your ass. Of course, even sober, you were still just getting used to Ben's couch being there instead of yours. His was nice, a grey microfiber sectional - "For the dog," he'd insisted, even though you told him time and time again that it wasn't a pet-friendly apartment and you didn't have a dog. But he'd brought it anyways, and it had replaced your poor, flaky pleather excuses for furniture. In fact, there were a lot of touches of Ben in this apartment now that he'd moved in. It had been a year since you started seeing each other, and around month ten of Ben constantly being over at your or Joe's place (as in, every moment he wasn't filming), his lease was about up and he was apartment hunting again. Then it hit you - why was he going to get another place if he was just staying at yours all the time? You'd felt so blind, you were almost reluctant to bring it up to Ben in fear that his response might be along the lines of 'took you long enough' - but you had conveniently forgotten that Ben was an even more oblivious dumbass than you were.  Instead of a condescending 'oh, you finally put two and two together?', Ben had looked at you, very obviously shocked, then laughed and kissed your head repeatedly between mumblings about you being 'so smart' and 'such a catch.' Humming to yourself, you pulled open the bag of popcorn just as you crossed the threshold into Joe's living room. Ben was sleeping away on the couch while Joe looked one step away from dead, his eyes glossed over as he stared up at an episode of Big Mouth he'd probably seen no less than 5 times already. The dab pen perched neatly on the end table between the two of them said all you needed to know, and you narrowed your eyes a bit as you chomped on the popcorn, Joe slowly turning his bloodshot gaze in your direction and smiling placidly as you spoke. "Wow. You look fucking stoned, dude." "Welcome back.... I see you've decided not to share your snacks with us. Bitch." "I told you to stop calling her a bitch." Ben's voice was muffled - he barely gave the effort to even move his mouth enough to speak clearly, his face squished up against the couch and eyes not even opening an inch as he reached out in your general direction weakly. His fingers did the grabby thing that made your heart do flips as you padded over to the couch, Ben sitting up just long enough for you to get yourself comfortable on the end of the couch, and then his head was plopping down on your lap again. You felt his cheek press a little harder against your thigh as he readjusted so he was comfortable, and then he was back to practically comatose.  Sitting your bag of popcorn to the side, you used one hand to keep feeding yourself while the other ran through Ben's hair repeatedly, his breathing slowing down until he was fast asleep. Joe kept quiet, only snickering at crass Big Mouth jokes occasionally and never letting his eyes leave the screen. It was a serene night, an oddly quiet one shared between the three of you - usually, at least two of you were yelling, so the absence of noise was relaxing. As much as you hated to break it, you had to, because the pen between you and Joe was making you curious. Multiple questions were dancing around your tongue like they were on hot coals, urged out by the slowly-dwindling buzz making your head spin a bit as you reached out for the pen. "Did you suddenly come down with some shit that requires the healing effects of THC?" Picking it up, you rolled it around in your hand for a second before sitting it back down. "Shit looks fancy." "Fancy? And I got it from Tori," Joe answered without looking away from the screen, his jaw still a little slack as he struggled to focus on you and the show. "She went out-of-state for some fancy art curator shit and came back with it. Knocks you on your ass, it does." "Okay, Yoda," you laughed, Joe rolling his eyes back in his head and trying not to smile before scoffing. "Can't you buy them in the city anyway? "Yeah, but can you buy the stuff for it in the city?" he retorted. He had you there, and you gave him a grin and a shrug before he rolled his eyes and continued. "Are you even old enough to be making Star Wars references, kid?" "Oh, shut up," you dismissed, not wanting to get in a fight with cross-faded Joe. Rolling your eyes when he mocked you quietly, you decided to reroute the conversation again. "So when are you just gonna bite the bullet and make it official with your favorite art curator? You were all about preaching just doing it to Ben and I last year, where's that energy now?" "Where's that energy now?" he mimicked, clearly at a loss for comebacks, and you snorted at his childishness, but a lengthy sigh from him made you think it was less of a 'fuck you' and more of an aversion. The question seemed to trouble him, and he was deathly quiet for a minute before speaking. "This may just be high me speaking, but I think I'm in a rut right now and she doesn't even know it. So I don't want to trap her if it's not going to work out... in all aspects." "Uh oh, has erectile dysfunction finally set in? I heard that when you get ancient, things like that happen." Joe's clear annoyance couldn't stifle your laughter as soon as you finished your sentence, but he waited for you quiet down a bit before he spoke over you. "If I didn't feel like I was melted into this chair like the wax dripping off of a fine soy candle right now, I'd come over there with a fifty-five-gallon drum of ass-whooping and pour it all over you." "Jesus, it was a joke!" you laughed, tossing one of his smaller decorative pillows at him playfully and bursting into another round of laughter when he threw it back at you harder, acting like he wasn't in the mood for your games even though the smile plastered on his face said otherwise. "I'm sorry, buddy, I'll be nice now. Why do you think you're in a rut?" "I just... I don't think I'm doing it for her, you know?" he sighed, his fingers curling up on the armrests as he seemed to melt even more into the chair. Then, an amused giggle escaped him, almost like clockwork, and he grinned in spite of his words. "Like she seems into it, but my brain keeps telling me that every time we're having sex that she's wishing she was hooking up with someone a lot... younger. And adventurous. Like a young Steve Irwin. Mister Danger." Though Joe wasn't too shy about his sex life, you were still shocked to hear him being so open about such a vulnerable part of it - usually, your conversations about your respective sex lives were just complaints and laments. So, it warmed your heart to hear that Joe was concerned about his end of the game - as much as your friend's sex life through Steve Irwin metaphors could warm your heart, of course. Looking down at Ben, you smiled a bit and brushed a stray hair back from his face, his nose twitching a bit and lips smacking together lazily. For a moment, you thought he was awake, but his breathing showed no signs of speeding up, so you wrote it off as sleepy twitches and looked back up at Joe, still running your fingers through Ben's hair soothingly. "As much as I hate hearing you use Steve Irwin as a sexual comparison to yourself... why did you start thinking that?" "Well, the other day, she brought up the fact that we're both Virgos. At first, I thought that she called us both virgins, and I laughed, but... not the same thing," he admitted in a small voice, but you didn't even attempt to muffle your amused giggles, much to his chagrin. Sighing and burying his face in his hands for a second, Joe let out a long groan before shaking his head and dropping his hands to his lap again. "And I don't completely know what it has to do with our sex lives at all, but she mentioned our compatibility in passing and I just... I feel bad. She was reading something about how Virgo women like to communicate how they're feeling, and I really don't think we're communicating like we should be. Or maybe I'm just overthinking it. Which she also said-" "Yeah, that's a Virgo thing. She's right," you cut in, already knowing what he was going to say, and he narrowed his eyes a bit before huffing at the fact you were apparently siding with Tori. "Virgos are supposed to be so good at communicating! What's the hold-up, Mister 'Talk to Ben or I'm gonna go nuts"? You were all about talking it out last year." "I don't know, I think my mind's just fucking dumb and manic- wait no, not manicure. Manuscript? Jesus Christ, what's the word? Mani-man.... Manifested! Manifested. My mind manifested this block on its own. Do you ever do that? Like, just worry that you're just not doing enough and they're too scared or too pissed off to say anything about it? But then you're too scared to say anything because talking about... your sex life makes you nervous as shit? Because what if she doesn't actually want to talk about it?" Nodding along as he spoke, you considered your life in the bedroom with Ben. Did you have that concern? It was a valid question, one that made your face screw up in thought for a minute before you finally spoke, your fingers brushing Ben's hair back again. "Not really. Ben's pretty open about what works for him and what doesn't work for him, I think. Maybe we both are? I guess we just communicate more than I'm used to, but it really works in the long run." Joe stared deadpan at you, not seeming as if he understood a single word you said, and you raised an eyebrow in challenge. "What? Are you fucking deaf?" "No, I'm just... not sure I was prepared to hear about your sex life with Big Ben. It's so different when it's... well, him." Rolling your eyes, you prepared to stand up, already done with this conversation, but Joe was quick to raise his hands in surrender and stutter out an apology amidst delirious laughter. "No, no no, sit back down! I'm sorry- shit, I'm sorry, I just had to get that out. Keep going, I'm listening." "You need to talk to Tori," you replied matter-of-factly, and the familiar sentiment echoed in your brain, reminding you of a simpler time - a time when Ben was just Joe's dorky, fit friend who came around sometimes and made you laugh at how awkward he could be. Now, he was your boyfriend waking you up in the morning begging you to make almond flour pancakes with him just so he could cover his hand in flour and smack your ass to leave a handprint. At least you knew the 'talk to them' advice was effective. "I know it sounds hypocritical, but you need to ask her about what she's into and what she isn't into. That way you can know what gets her going and what you need to steer away from." "What, like missionary vs. cowgirl?" Joe asked incredulously, and you had to laugh at the naiveté of assuming that sex positions alone would be enough. Were you shocked that a straight cis man was saying this, though? Not really. (Ben was a surprising exception, and you were eternally grateful for it.) "Good god, she- oh my god, I'm sorry I'm laughing. I don't mean to be an asshole, it just happens," you giggled, moving your hand to Ben's back and rubbing relaxing circles into it when he twitched in his sleep again. "You're going to have to get real comfortable here because the only way I know how to explain this is to talk about blondie here." "Fuck, hold on," Joe grimaced, looking straight forward out of the balcony door for a second. His expressions incredibly exaggerated from how high he was at the moment, you could see every step in his process of compartmentalizing all the inner turmoil hearing about his friend's sex life was going to cause before finally nodding slowly, not losing the grimace. "Okay, go." "I think first you need to see if she likes to be in control. Like, dominate." "Um, I don't think so? No, she isn't the dominant one in bed," Joe observed, his words slow as he thought-extra hard, probably just to make sure he was right and not just so high he was imagining things. "But I guess I don't know for sure. What do you mean?" "So like, when Ben and I have sex, I'm the dom-" "Hold on!" Joe interrupted, pretending to gag as he lurched forward dramatically, hamming it up while you watched in unamused silence. When he'd finished his dramatics, he waved for you to continue. "Alright, got that out of my system. You're the dominant one?" "Yeah?" you drawled out slowly, unsure how that wasn't the most obvious thing in the world right now. Ben's face was smooshed up against your thigh, his lips slightly parted as his shallow breathing continued. He was unnervingly beautiful like this, a sweet little soft boy aura to him that always carried over into the bedroom very smoothly - his suave, strong-armed facade hardly held up behind closed doors. Smiling a bit in awe of how precious he looked undisturbed, you stopped rubbing his back and reached for your phone, pulling up Chrome. In the meantime, Joe had narrowed his eyes, still dubious and harboring doubts over whether you were just bullshitting him right now or not. "What's not clicking? Are you forgetting that I literally had to make the first move?" "Yeah, but I figured it was just because he was being shy... like, how does he not dominate when he could easily sit on you and suffocate you with his muscles?" Joe flexed for emphasis, but it did little to drive his point home as you were already laughing at his blissful ignorance, pausing in clicking on a Google link about Virgos and compatibility. In the midst of your fit of laughter, though, he gasped and let out a strangled shriek as he sat up a bit. "Does that mean you peg him?" "No!" You almost choked on the ensuing laughter, feeling like your face was red hot from the exertion of trying to catch your breath, and Joe let out an audible, very exaggerated sigh of relief as he sunk back into the chair. "Why would you even ask that if you knew you wouldn't like the other answer?" "Just.... if you ever peg him, don't tell me. Please," he begged, and with a laugh, you agreed.  "Promise. Although I can't promise you I won't suffocate him when I sit on his f-" "Stop! It's gone too far!" Joe shrieked, trying to stand up, but he came to the realization that he was rooted in his place. His eyes widened with absolute fear that his limbs were essentially jello from the concentrated THC ravaging his nervous system at the moment, and you almost couldn't contain your delight as you stifled laugh after laugh. "Oh my God. Oh my Godddd. Fuck. This is my worst nightmare. I'm stuck here listening to you talk about pegging my poor friend." "I'm not pegging Ben, dude!" you refuted, giggling incredulously and pressing your hands to your face in mild exasperation. "I've already told you that. I just... I don't get crazy, but you know, take charge! I subtly control the situation. He's totally a bitch when it comes down to it... and I love it so much! It's not a bad thing." Joe groaned as he sunk deeper into the chair, looking like he wished it would swallow him whole before he reluctantly continued. "So I need to figure out what dynamics she likes." "Yeah, that's the word!" you cheered, feeling Ben stir on your lap a little, and you wondered if Joe's mini-heart attack had awoken him. "Start with that, and then work from there. This website says 'The Virgo male-Virgo female compatibility will include a great love life, if and only if, there is no gap in their communication aspect.'" Pursing your lips, you paused before reading down a little bit and continuing to read out loud. "The Virgo couple has to make sure that they, do not overthink about their problems, are more relaxed, and that they communicate their problems by sharing and accepting each other the way they are.' See? It all comes a lot easier- sex comes a lot easier when you can communicate and be honest about what tickles your fancy." "Please stop talking about tickling anything." Joe's pleading tone was worth a laugh, but you held it back for his sake as you shook your head and grinned widely. "I'll talk to her," he finally resigned, and you felt vindication as you brushed a hand back over Ben's hair, hearing him let out a quiet, happy noise at the feeling. "Damn, this must have been what you felt like when he and I finally got over ourselves last year," you noted, and Joe, though he clearly hated every second of it, nodded slowly. Looking down, you caught Ben just in time to see his eyes open blearily, the glaze over them still evident as he turned on his back to look up at you, blinking slowly. "Hello, Sleeping Beauty." "Hi," he croaked, his voice still gravelly as he offered a smile, and you smiled back before patting his cheek gently, lifting your thigh a bit to coax him into getting up. After stretching a bit, he obliged, sitting up and steadying himself on the back of the couch while you stood up and reached out a hand for him. Helping him to his feet, you let him start shuffling back to your apartment while you turned to give Joe a pointed look. "You better talk to her." "I will!" he whined, crossing his arms grumpily and mumbling a snarky goodbye before letting you usher Ben back to bed, where he passed out quickly, curled up against your side with his head resting on your chest and arm draped across your tummy. A blissful, serene smile was plastered onto his features on into the late morning, where you woke up to find neither of you had moved, and apparently, neither had Joe, according to the texts he'd sent you about an hour ago. jmuzzie: I can't fucking get up from this chair jmuzzie: All I can think about is you pegging Ben jmuzzie: I barely slept. Grinning and shaking your head, you decided to ignore the texts and leave them on your home screen to worry about later, carefully detaching yourself from Ben and crawling out of bed. He grabbed your pillow to snuggle instead, wrapping it up in a tight embrace while you tiptoed to the kitchen to make a quick breakfast - bacon, scrambled eggs, and some coffee to wake up what was sure to be a very sore Ben (which he very much was).  You heard a groan from down the hallway just as you were finishing up the scrambled eggs, and after hearing the bathroom sink faucet run for a moment, Ben appeared in the doorway, his hair sticking up in odd places and clothes frumpy from being slept in. Cooing sympathetically, you put together a plate for him as he somehow managed to pour himself a coffee and sluggishly climb onto a stool at the counter. While you made his plate, he stared off into space, not even giving a simple hello as he seemed to try and will himself to wake up, his cheeks still a bit splotchy and feverish from waking up - he always ran hot, especially during the night. "There you go, princess," you teased, Ben only groaning in thanks when the plate clattered down to the counter in front of him. The noise made him wince, so you decided to keep the conversation minimal while you both finished your breakfast, and you could tell he was already getting sleepy again from the methodical, slow pace he was taking to rinse the dishes off in the sink. "I think I'm just going to stand in the shower for a tick and question my life choices," he finally mumbled once he was wiping his hands off on the dishtowel next to the sink, and with a quick kiss to your cheek, he was off to the bathroom. As he trudged back down the hallway, you elected to pour another cup of coffee to take next door. "Joe said he was up, I'll go check on him real quick. You were both blitzed by bedtime, so I'm sure he's hurting too." Ben answered with an almost inaudible grunt, and you rolled your eyes with a small grin before shifting the mug to your opposite hand and shuffling over to your neighbor's apartment, where you found Joe in the kitchen, apparently over his dramatics from an hour ago. The sliding door squeaked a bit as you shut it behind you, and Joe looked up slowly, his red-rimmed eyes narrowing and lip curling up ever-so-slightly when his eyes adjusted enough to recognize you. "Oh, it's the pegger-" "You really are the worst," you immediately laughed, crossing the living room and holding out the mug of coffee, which he accepted with a grateful noise and sipped in silence while you made yourself at home on his bar stools. "Feeling 10 out of 10 this morning?" "Out of 10? I feel like a Mexican 1." Furrowing your eyebrows, you opened your mouth to question whether that was vaguely racist, but he continued before you could confuse the situation even further. "Because a peso is worth less than a dollar, duh?" "The joke isn't funny if you have to explain it, dumbass." You let out a single, pitying laugh at his poor attempt at humor, though, and reached for your phone only to find that you'd left it over at the apartment. "Shit. Must have left my phone back over there." "I'll text Ben," he sighed melodramatically, pulling out his phone and typing away while you propped your head up on your hand. "He said he's on his way because 'the water won't warm up fast enough.'" When he finally locked his phone and set it back on the counter, you looked at it for a moment before giving him a pointed look, deliberately switching your gaze between him and the phone a few times before he scoffed and rolled his eyes. "Do you have something to say, or are you tweaking right now?... Does your eye have a really bad twitch?" "Sooooo," you drawled out, tilting your head a bit more and shimmying your shoulders playfully before wiggling your eyebrows a bit. He didn't seem to get the hint or want to get the hint, and you let out a huff of annoyance as the skin around his childlike hazel eyes crinkled, taunting you. "Have you talked to her yet?" "At 9 in the morning? Yeah, let me just call her." Picking up his phone, he mimed typing in her number sloppily before raising the phone to his ear, putting on a moronic expression as he did so. "Hey, babe. Yeah, I know it's 9 am, but I was wondering if you want to tie me up and spank me because I've been a naughty little-" "Okay, enough, enough!" you laughed, holding out your hands to shield yourself from the invisible antagonism that practically radiated off of him at this point. "I get it. I was just curious, dickwad." Scoffing again, he gave you an irritatingly condescending look before he reached forward and grabbed the water bottle he'd been most likely nursing since last night, which you assumed from the way a foggy sort of condensation had built up on the inside of the bottle. It went away as he swirled the bottle a bit, then he took the cap off and reluctantly took a swig, wincing at the stale, lukewarm water that he forced himself to swallow. "Ew. How can they say that drinking warm water is better for your health? I think these doctors are a bunch of fucking quacks."  "They probably know a lot more than you do, dummy," you answered in a deadpan, looking around for a moment and furrowing your eyebrows. Ben wasn't there yet, and you wondered what was taking him so long. "He said he was on his way, right?" you asked, and Joe nodded, seemingly unbothered as he carefully examined the bottle he'd just taken a drink out of, his left hand toying with the cap of it absentmindedly and flipping it between his fingers. "Do you think that I could make a bottle flip if I got some practice? I've seen those videos of all the kids doing it from a couple years ago, and I kind of want some good throwback Instagram content." "Joe, you could literally just post a picture with Ben standing in your general vicinity and your Instagram base would lose its fucking marbles." Frowning, you climbed off the bar stool as Joe grunted noncommittally in response, apparently already on one track as he picked up the bottle and weighed his options. As you turned, you heard him let out a strangled cry that barely even registered as you tilted your head a bit, wondering where in the hell your boyfriend was. Had he fallen back asleep? Was he choking on his vomit like that scene from Breaking Bad where Walter watched Jesse's girlfriend die because she apparently had to? Wait, why the fuck would he be throwing up from a weed hangover? "I forgot it was open! Oh my god, oh my god, where's the god damn dish towels?" Joe panicked, and you looked back to see the bottle from before laying sideways on the counter, but your mind was too much of a mess to make sense of why there was a medium-sized puddle of water surrounding it and dripping down to the tiled floor. Joe scrambled around like a chicken with its head cut off and in his panic, you didn't even have to ask - he blurted it out anyway. "I fucking try to do a bottle flip once and this is what I get!"

"Um, Joe, you have fun with that, buddy," you hummed nervously, worry setting in as you decided you'd come back for the mug later - not that he'd give it back anyway, but you'd try. Joe was too busy cleaning up his mistake to pay attention to you already being halfway out the door, hurrying over just to find Ben sitting on the bar stool with his back to you, sipping coffee and appearing to be fine. Letting out a sigh of relief, you padded back into the kitchen where you picked up the now mostly empty kettle of coffee, feeling Ben's eyes on you as you poured yourself another mug. It was quiet, still like last night, but there was an eerie quality to this silence that made a nearly-paralyzing chill trickle down your spine as you poured the last tiny bit of the coffee down the drain, starting to rinse it out. Ben made no attempt to speak even when you peeked over at him to see him very calmly watching you. He wasn't smiling, though, and there was a distant look in his eyes that you recognized immediately. He wasn't daydreaming, no sir. Something had pissed him off royally - you'd seen this look before on rare occasions, and angry Ben was never a treat. He was a true Capricorn if you'd ever seen one, a calculated son of a bitch who could build up a wall within seconds and take days to bring it back down. If you called him out on one single minute flaw in his argument, he'd also obsess over it for hours, either bricking himself in and giving you the silent treatment or snapping immediately and trading in his cool rationale to show you a temper to be reckoned with; a force you'd never seen before. He was never violent - far from it, actually, but if you stirred the sleeping dragon, you were in for one hell of an argument. There was never an argument you hadn't worked through, though, and you weren't about to lose that streak today. So, you turned around and leaned your hip against the counter, crossing your arms as you took a sip of the coffee. "What's up? Joe said you were on your way, what gives?" Ben nodded, sitting down his mug and licking his lips before pressing them together and shrugging. "Changed my mind." "What changed your mind?" you prodded, his body language telling you everything he wasn't saying as he crossed his arms in front of him and leaned over the counter, his shoulders hunching up a bit after he shrugged again. "Ben, come on, don't do this. What's bothering you? I'm not fucking dumb, you know, you're clearly upset about something." "I never said you were dumb," he responded, and the calm, unwavering tone of voice infuriated you so much you lost your taste for the coffee, sitting your mug down on the counter as well and crossing your arms again.  "So are you just going to avoid my question? I really want to know what's upsetting you, bubs, I can't just sit here and guess until you say 'Oh, you got it! Clever girl.' You're acting like I microwaved your tea water, for Christ’s sake!" Ben scoffed, tracing a fingertip around the rim of his mug and shaking his head a bit as you heard the muffled sound of Joe's TV turning on just on the other side of the wall. Your phone vibrated from the counter next to Ben, but you couldn't bring yourself to walk over and go grab it as Ben's annoyingly nonchalant nature perplexed you. "Why do I have to be upset? Can't I just drink coffee in silence with my girlfriend?" "Ben, I live with you, I know your 'looks' like the back of my hand. Can we please just talk about this?" "Talk about what?" Tapping the screen of your phone, which had just locked automatically again, his eyes scanned through the notifications for a second before he smiled sardonically. "Ah, there it is. Yeah, let's talk about it. I get a text from Joe saying you forgot your phone, so I go to grab it and I get to see these beauties. 'I can't fucking get up from this chair, all I can think about is you pegging Ben, I barely slept.'" Leaning forward on his arms again, he gave you a bitter smile and propped his elbow up on the counter, resting his chin in his hand. "Fascinating stuff, really. Apparently, my girlfriend's pegged me and I wasn't even aware of it, and then she's gone and bragged about it to our best friend." Laughing in disbelief, you tilted your head to the side and gave him an incredulous look. "Are you serious right now? You're just going to take that out of context and not even think for a second, 'Hey, maybe there's an explanation to why Joe's-" "Why have you told Joe that you pegged me? You think it's funny? Where do you get off?" "Excuse me?" you choked out incredulously, baffled that he'd even assume that you got a laugh out of this wildly-exaggerated situation as you crossed your arms around yourself, feeling unbearably small underneath his gaze. He was slowly simmering, a single vein in his forehead just barely protruding from the taut reddish skin on his forehead. But there was such a level-headed manner to him it drove you nuts, making you huff softly and press the heels of your hands into your eyes, then shake your head a few more times. "I can't believe this is happening right now, this is ridiculous." "That's fucking rich, considering I'm the one who 'got pegged' and joked about in this situation." Ben's voice was venomous, even, and you shivered again at how easily he spit it back at you, unafraid of whatever he'd say next. "You like telling our friends that I take it in the arse? That really make you laugh, huh? Why are you lying to Joe about our sex life, which is supposed to be private-" "Oh, don't fucking start with me about private sex lives!" you quickly retorted, cutting him off mid-sentence in an impulsive moment of rage. "I've heard you drunk and blabbering on to your fucking 'mates' back in London over the phone about us, don't even start with me!"  Oh. You'd done it now - calling him out on something insignificant was one thing, but accusing him of blatant hypocrisy? You could practically see the steam shooting out of his ears. Something flashed in his eyes, and then he rocketed out of the stool he'd just previously been seated so still on. You followed him as he stormed down the hallway - he yelled over his shoulder as he went. "At least I don't tell my mates that I make you take it in the arse, yeah? Fuck you, Y/N. It's bloody different, especially when it's Joe and you've lied to him about something personal!" "Will you just let me explain?" you called after him, exasperated and ready to pull your hair out as he threw open the door to the bedroom, stalking over to the bed before starting to pace in front of it. He looked caged as he walked back and forth, both of his hands running back through his hair in obvious frustration before he finally let out a loud groan and sat back on the bed, looking at you and trying to mask the anger he clearly felt right now with a forced apathetic expression. "Okay, go on. I'm dying to hear how you'll talk your way out of this one." Recoiling a bit at how unwilling he was to even hear your side of the story, you felt tears welling up in your eyes a bit but you blinked them away, refusing to let him win with such a biting comeback. "Seems like whatever I say, you're not going to care anyways. Is this even worth my time, explaining it to you?" He didn't have a response, and that irritated you even more, making you choke up a bit as you continued. "You're like this every time, Ben, you fucking get this idea of what happened in your head and you refuse to even accept the idea that maybe my side of the story is as valid as yours." "What if I did do that?" He paused and let it sink in, as he was always the actor, and then he was on a roll again. "What if I accepted your side every time, and then you took advantage of that? I'm not a toy and I'm not here to be played with, or used for bragging rights when you're talking to your friends- our friends about our sex life, Y/N, I have feelings too! I'm allowed to feel this way too, and right now, I feel like you're just using me as a- fuck, I don’t know, a talking point or something!" As far as the validity of his feelings, he did have a point (as much as you hated to cede to that), but you still pressed your lips into a thin line and persisted, not letting the subject drop. "I'm not going to take advantage of you, Ben! Stop saying that! Not everyone is out to get you, especially not me, and I hate when you're like this, 'protecting yourself'. You think that by being mean to me, it will get your problems to go away so you can keep this wall between you and the issue, but I'm not going to let you shut me out again. You don't have to shut down every time something goes haywire, damn it!" "I'm not shutting you out or being mean to you!" he yelled back, but you only scoffed and crossed your arms in disbelief. "Then what are you doing?" Your question was warranted, and Ben found himself at a loss for words as he stared at you guardedly. The gears were turning in his head, and you could see from the confusion in his eyes that he was starting to question himself now.  "I- I'm just tryin' to-" "To protect yourself, yeah, I get it!" you interrupted, Ben's jaw tightening as he snapped his mouth shut once again. The tension in his jaw remained unrelieved as you continued. "I get that you want to protect yourself, Ben, but you don't have to be so shitty to me for no reason when you do it! It's fucking mean and it hurts my feelings that you won't even let me explain myself!" That rendered him fully speechless, so you only let up for a moment before pressing one last time. "Can I explain now? Please." Dead silence hung in the air for a moment as the gravity of your words weighed heavy on both of you, Ben's teeth grinding together for a moment as he considered the accusations against him. "Fine," he muttered, yielding to you despite the conflict still going on behind closed doors in his mind.  You could tell it was a raging dumpster fire in there as you approached the bed, tentatively, sitting next to him and wiping away the tears that had failed to escape from your eyes. Between awkward shifts and intermittent sniffles, you explained everything you'd talked to Joe about last night, from Joe's Virgo woes to his mistaken assumption about pegging, Ben, and you. By the end of your story, you'd tucked one leg underneath you and let the other dangle off of the edge of the bed, facing Ben with your hands in your lap despite the fact that they were itching to be running through his hair right now.  You wanted desperately to comfort him, but there wasn't much to be done as you finally quieted to let him process all of this new information, his gaze trained on his legs which were just barely crossed over each other at the ankle, one foot shaking back and forth anxiously. It drove you mad as you hyper-focused on it too, so anxious to know what he was thinking that you nearly didn't register when he uncrossed them. Your head lifted as he stood up off the bed and walked over to the other side of the room quickly, your anxious feelings multiplying when his back stayed turned to you and he came to rest in front of the dresser. However, you vowed not to let it be known how utterly freaked out you were at the moment, so you scooted back on the bed and sat criss-cross as you brought his pillow into your lap, needing something of comfort to latch on to. It seemed like eons before he finally spoke, but it couldn't have been more than a few minutes, and his quiet, gentle words were like music to your ears. "So you didn't tell Joe you pegged me?" "No," you almost laughed in relief, though the situation certainly didn't call for it, and you could see his shoulders relax a bit, though his back stayed turned to you. "I actually told him I never had - multiple times, if I'm not wrong." "He was just joking?" he asked a bit louder, elaborating on his previous question, and you could feel the anxiety crumbling away as he turned to you with a genuinely relieved expression on his face. When you nodded, you could see an incredibly guilty look come over his face, and a little whine escaped your lips as you moved his pillow out of your lap and reached out for him. He gratefully obliged, climbing into bed with you, and you scooted over to make a bit more room as he practically laid on top of you, taking you down with him. "I'm such a dickhead, 'm sorry," was all he had to say, and that's all he had to do to make you start laughing before he began to pepper you with soft kisses anywhere he could. It was hard to breathe as he smothered you in wordless attention, and it took several tries for you to communicate that between breathless laughter and attempts to wriggle out from underneath him before he got the message.  As he turned on his side and let you breathe again, you tried to make sense of what had just happened. So many questions swirled through your head. When had it clicked? Why were you letting this slide? Why was he so defensive about this? But no matter how long you stared at your boyfriend and tried to make sense of it all, it proved fruitless to try and pin down exactly where he had finally got off of his one-track madness. So, you just smiled and saved that deconstruction for later. Right now, you wanted to savor the fact that things had been worked out, and you watched as Ben took your hand so he could kiss your knuckles, offering one more wordless apology with his eyes. His lips sent another thrill down your spine and you marveled at the effect he had on you even when you were both sober and incredibly sleep-worn. Despite him making you incredibly mad at moments, it was so hard not to love this man and everything about him. His green eyes flickered with an apprehensive yet curious look when you smiled widely, squeezing his hand. “Love you, bubs.” A smile spread across his lips, and he kissed your knuckles once more before murmuring his response.

“Love you too. Thanks for calling me out on my shit.” Laughing, you played with his fingers and shook your head, debating your response for a minute. It was your job, after all, but sometimes it was hard, especially when he was a dick about it like today. But Ben seemed to read your mind, and he continued on, relieving you the responsibility of somehow starting another tiff. “I know I suck sometimes, but I’m glad you and Joe can be mean right back to me if I need it. It makes it a lot easier to see when I’m being a knobhead.”

"Speaking of Joe-” Ben groaned before you even got the second part of your sentence out, and you had to laugh at him before you continued. It was like he knew you were about to poke fun at him. “He did say something about being surprised that you haven't smothered me yet," you teased, and Ben reluctantly took the bait, lacing his fingers into yours as he quirked an eyebrow curiously. "Yeah, no, he said something like 'How is he not the dominant one when he could just suffocate you with those muscles?' I think he has a crush on your muscles."  "First off, your Joe imitation is surprisingly poor for having lived next to him all these years," Ben joked right back, albeit in a soft voice. He seemed almost afraid of ticking you off at this point, but he had to roll his eyes when you gasped in mock offense. "Second of all, I'm not surprised that he wishes he could be this fit. And third off, I can be dominant, so I don't know what you were going on about with Joe." "Are you serious?" you laughed, and his attempt at looking dead serious only made you laugh harder as you hid your face behind the hand that was intertwined in his. "Oh, fuck, you're pulling my leg right now! You have to be, right?" The little noise of shock that he let out was genuine, and he moved your hand away from your face as he very obviously tried not to laugh at how hard you were laughing. "Why is it so hilarious? I can be dominant. I've been dominant with you loads of times." "Name one!" you choked out between fits of giggles, and he furrowed his eyebrows as he fell silent at the prompt. 5 seconds, 10 seconds, and then 20 seconds passed with no answer, which made you laugh even harder. "See?" "That doesn't mean that it can't happen!" he offered, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively, but you were still too distracted coming down off of the end of your incredulous laughing fit, so he just whined and gently pressed his lips to your jaw. His kisses were soft and quick as he tried to get your full, undivided attention so he could plead his case, but all that did was make you giggle again, so he laughed with you before rolling on top of you again, one of his legs resting between yours as he continued to trail kisses down to your neck.  His swollen bottom lip dragged over the skin as you snickered one more time, still amused at the thought of Ben genuinely thinking he wasn't the biggest baby when it came down to the wire, and you gave voice to your thoughts. He keened at the impression of your fingers running over his scalp and dragging through his hair, pausing in his kisses for just a moment when he finally heard you speak. "I hate to say it, but I have my doubts. Sue me." You felt a quick puff of air hit your neck as he audibly scoffed, and then he resumed his kisses without any more delay. And really, you had to say that these kisses paired with his roaming hand that had just came to rest on your thigh - it was beginning to do something for you, so you let him continue as you toyed with the hair at the nape of his neck. You could tell from the way his hips rolled against yours subtly that he was getting just as much from this as you were. When he finally pulled away just enough to look at you, for a second you saw Ben in his true form - all smiles and cosmetic charisma, but still just as rosy-cheeked and painfully unsuspecting as the day you'd met.  And he thought he was going to come out the one on top? "As if," you murmured with a shit-eating grin, and then you pulled him into a kiss by the nape of his neck, his lips meeting yours with an eagerness only Ben could fail to contain. For a moment, he'd convinced himself that maybe he could be the one in control, but the way he submitted easily as you rolled on top of him, your thigh brushing up between his legs, said otherwise. You hand snuck up to his jaw, your thumb just casually resting on his chin and brushing over a hint of stubble - it was a subtle move, but nonetheless an effective reminder of who was in charge as it subconsciously prompted him to tilt his head forward eagerly and deepen the kiss. Reaching down with your free hand, you just barely brushed your fingers over the front of his shorts before cupping him through the admittedly-scratchy fabric. His breathing hitched, and then he let out what sounded like the sweetest whimper you'd ever heard as he grinded up against your touch, already desperate for friction and just as predictable as he ever was. Smiling widely against his lips, you broke the kiss and moved your hand away so it was resting just below his navel instead. He groaned unhappily against your lips at the loss, one of his hands finding your hip, and he murmured, "What? What?" as if he didn't want to think about how needy he'd been just moments ago. Letting out a soft laugh, you kissed him deeply once more and roped him right back in, moaning softly in unison with him when you straddled his hips and inadvertently grinded against his growing bulge,  Though it wasn't unwelcome by any means, you bit down on the inside of your cheek as your instincts coaxed you into rolling your hips lazily - suddenly, you were struggling to silence every blazing reminder in your head that you were trying to show him that you loved to love him and wanted to treat him like he deserved, and if that meant dominating the fuck out of him, then so be it! But it was too hard to ignore the desire beginning to course through your veins and cloud your judgment - before you knew it, you weren't only chasing that satisfaction of proving your point. Taking his hand, you wordlessly moved it to the front of your pajama shorts and hummed in appreciation when he took the hint immediately, slipping his hand in between fabric and skin so he could rub circles into your clit. Moaning his name at the feeling, you could sense his pace quicken at bit at the positive reaction, and you rutted against his hand with a serene smile decorating your face.  "Fuck, this never gets old," you murmured, Ben letting out a grunt of agreement, and your eyebrows furrowed in pleasure as he applied more pressure. Managing to pull your shirt off despite barely being able to focus on anything besides his fingers, you hummed in pleasure when you immediately felt Ben's mouth on your chest, kissing and sucking on every inch of skin he could reach. Meanwhile, he slid his fingers through your slick heat, eliciting quiet moans from both of you at how soaked you were. All of your touches and actions became more fervent as things intensified, kisses getting sloppier, hands roaming even further, and clothes coming off in rapid succession until you were completely naked and yanking Ben's shorts to his ankles as you relished in the fact that he'd conveniently forgotten to wear boxers or even compression shorts underneath.  His cheeks were as flushed as ever, and he squirmed a bit impatiently, muscles shifting underneath his skin with each movement and making him look like a marble statue underneath the pale light filtering in from behind the curtains. Proving a point be damned, your boyfriend was hot - and he was very much putty in your hands. Kneeling between his legs, you started to reach out to help him, but he was already there before you could, his hand stroking his cock as he ogled your body and let out short, sharp breaths. When your eyes met his and you raised an eyebrow in question, his hand slowed down almost automatically, his cock twitching in his grasp. The pure lust in his eyes paired with the uneven rise and fall of his chest evoked a visceral reaction, one that made you nearly bite down on your tongue as you fought back the instinctive urge to inhale sharply. Fuck, he was pretty. "I couldn't help it," he admitted weakly, and the appreciation that flickered to life in your eyes only encouraged him as he offered a weak smile, getting himself off as you crawled back up to capture his lips in a quick kiss. Replacing his hand with yours, you continued to pleasure him slowly, each stroke setting off a tremble in his abdomen that betrayed everything you were doing to him despite how hard he was working not to moan into your mouth every other second. "You sound so pretty when you moan like that, baby," you cooed as you straddled his hips, starting to grind down on him again, and he let out a slightly broken noise of delight at your praise while his hands found purchase on your hips. "You like that?" "Yes, yes. Can't wait anymore. Need to fuck you, please," he begged in very obviously fragmented sentences. His head fell back against the pillows in a mixture of frustration and pleasure when you just grinned and traced a finger down the center of his chest, grinding down against him painfully slow.  "Then fuck me." You felt a shiver run up your spine when Ben openly groaned, and you fought the urge to just keep rutting against him until one of you got off - as tempting as it was, you instead let him guide himself until the tip of his cock was pressing against your entrance. "Raw?" he asked incredulously as if he hadn't already done it multiple times before, and you nodded slowly as he began to groan and cover his face with his arm, his head sinking back into the pillow. "I'm going to fucking bust before I even get in," he lamented, muffled by his elbow, and you had to grin knowingly before you finally sank down onto him with a soft gasp, marveling as he filled you up slowly. Fuck, fuck, fuck, that was good. You weren’t sure if you’d said that out loud, but no matter how many times you slept together, it still felt like the first time every time you did it. He bottomed out with a loud groan as you rested your hands on his torso, pausing a moment to adjust. When you finally looked down, his eyes were screwed shut in a desperate attempt to keep himself away from the edge as long as he could. "Baby, look at me," you whispered, and he peeked open an eye only to squeeze it shut as soon as he opened it. Letting out a small huff, he began to curse under his breath until you quieted him with a gentle hum and a quick kiss. "I love you." "I love you so much," he choked out softly, his fingers digging into your hips as you started rolling them tentatively. Humming in euphoria, you finally began to ride him, and he helped as much as he could to guide your hips against his between sweet, yet sinful moans. The two of you moved in unison, pornographic sounds of skin on skin intertwining with mumbled curses and breathless moans.  At some point you couldn't discern in the chaos, Ben had started to meet your efforts in the middle and began thrusting up into you with a wild abandon. If your upstairs or downstairs neighbors hadn't woke yet, they were sure to have by that point - it was no holds barred as you both neared your climaxes, and nothing was off the table at that point. "Oh fuck, fuck, fuck!" Ben gasped when you began to slow down and roll your hips more deliberately, his hips stuttering as he tried to stave off the inevitable. "Keep doing that, please, I'm so fucking close- Shit!" When you circled your hips a certain way, his cock brushed up against your walls at an angle that made your thighs nearly falter from the wave of pleasure it sent rolling through your body. Goosebumps broke out on your skin, and you cursed under your breath as you repeated the motion with a satisfied gasp. "You that close, baby? You want to cum in me?" you asked breathily, the rhetorical question hanging in the air while Ben's fingers dug into your hips as he tried to meet you halfway with sloppy thrusts, his abdomen trembling with the effort. He looked close to tears as you took one of his hands and moved it to your chest, murmuring some breathless command to play with your tits.  Obliging eagerly, he watched with cloudy, lust-filled eyes as you reached down to rub your clit in rapid circles that matched your quickly-deteriorating pace. A fuzziness entered your vision as a combination of touch, sensation, and just the sight of Ben going slack-jawed in his efforts to consciously avoid a surely-close orgasm. "Just let go," you managed to moan out, and holy fuck, did he let out the prettiest sound. His voice cracked as he choked out something between a sob and a groan - it was a noise fit for a porn star, the feeling of him emptying inside of you only that much hotter coupled with the visual of his eyelids fluttering closed. So overwhelmed with sensations, he could barely form a coherent thought as he came. His breaths came out in gasps, hips pressing flush to you as he spilled inside you. It was a mess, a hot one, and the sound that it made as he pulled out with a whimper was downright filthy, but you were too caught up in chasing your own high to think about anything other than the way the last drops of his cum were painting his stomach, his cock twitching as it finally gave way to the last of his orgasm. "God- you're so fucking hot- I'm-" Ben was still struggling for complete sentences when you finally pressed hard on your clit and then you were coming, your head falling back in pure ecstasy as waves of relief crashed over you, cleansing your body of every curse word that came flying out of your mouth following your climax. Ben was there, and then his lips were on yours as you started to come down from the high, a messy kiss silencing any further sins you could have vocalized. His hands slid to your thighs again, and he didn't loosen his grip until you pulled away from the obscenely long kiss, both of you very out of breath and very content with what had just taken place.  After a chorus of ragged breathing from the both of you, you let a sly grin peek at the corner of your lips before you rolled off of him, silently cursing the fact that you'd be washing these sheets ASAP so the cum dripping out of you wouldn't irreversibly stain the fabric. A few tissues you snatched from the nightstand temporarily alleviated the situation, buying you enough time to pad over to the bathroom and grab a towel for the both of you. You could barely catch your breath as you did so, and you wondered if you were getting out of shape recently - the brief thought of going to the gym with Ben more often passed by, and you huffed as you reluctantly considered it. When you returned and tossed the towel to Ben, who was still sprawled out on the bed and pushing a few stray hairs back out of his eyes, you had to smirk. "So what was that about you being dom-" You didn't even get the chance to finish your sentence before Ben was laughing out an answer, catching the towel as he sat up to clean himself off. "Fuck right off, you're just gloating at this point." "You're right," you teased, silently preening at your own sexual prowess as you cleaned yourself up and slipped on some old, oversized t-shirt, ignoring the sweat that gave your skin a light sheen. Looking over, you ogled shamelessly as he threw his legs over the edge of the bed, picking up a haphazard pair of shorts from the dirty laundry nearby. His muscles shifted underneath his skin with the effort, and you noted that he looked just as sweaty as you, causing you to let out an inward sigh of relief. Maybe you weren't as out of shape as you thought you were - the sex was just that good. "Such a show-off," he mumbled, but you could hear the smile in his voice as you looked at yourself in the mirror to fix your hair, and it brought a proud smile to your own face. When you finally crawled back into bed with him, he'd pulled some shorts back on and stripped the dirtied sheets off, leaving just the comforter underneath the two of you. Snuggling up together, he rested his head on your tummy and gave it a gentle kiss as you felt his eyelashes flutter closed, the feather-like sensation against your skin coaxing a quiet giggle out of you. "What's so funny?" he asked curiously, though his voice was barely above a mumble, clearly exhausted from the events of the morning. "Nothing," you answered honestly, running your hand back through his mussy, slightly-sweaty hair before grinning and back-tracking. "Actually, I was thinking about how fucking funny I was in the kitchen earlier. What would you do if I microwaved your tea water?" Ben groaned at the thought, and you dissolved into a fit of giggles as he buried his face into your stomach, shaking his head slightly at your clear amusement with yourself. As you laughed, you could feel a small huff against your skin, and then he grumbled in response. "You're sick, y'know. Truly sick." "I think someone's being a little dramatic," you teased, but Ben only scoffed once more before getting himself comfortable and dozing off into a peaceful mid-morning nap, the soothing warmth and methodical rise and fall of his chest eventually lulling you back to sleep as well. A final thought of 'God, I hope Joe had his TV loud enough' brought a mischievous smile to your face just before you were both out like a light. - taglist - @crosmopolitan @just-ladyme @rogerfxckingtaylor @fourmisfitz @shae-is-not-ok @moreinfinite @fruityfreddie @poachedhazontoast @strawberryfields-forever @imladrs @psychoticobsession @killer-queen-xo @rebelrebelyourefaceisamess @destiel-stucky4ever-loki-queen @brownhardyho @stardvstial @iminlovewith-rogers-car @benyeehawdy @mercurys-bike @mazzelloplots @beaaatle @sunshine112​ @wonderless-screwup @rogers-sweatbands @whowaits4everanyway @sunflower-borhap-boys @bitemerog​ @jennyggggrrr​ @bensrhapsody​ @xiaoqueencava​ @discodeacygotmorerhythm​ @reedusteinrambles​ @extrovertedwallflower @the-next-one​ @nouvveau​ @storiesfrommirkwood​ @spunky-town @brianprobablywill​ @elizabwrites NYM taglist - @aridrowse @radiob-l-a-hblah​ @caborhapch​ @xtrabroll​ @myguardianmailman @ultrunning​ @onceuponadetectivedemigod​ @neckfruit​ @borhapbxtch​ @ixchel-9275​ @mamaskillerqueen​ @queentrashcanfics​ @sam-mercurry-sixx @kimmietea​ @whenthe-smokeisinyoureyes​ @rogmeddows​ @deacyspatronusisacheesetoastie​ @woaholland​ @a-kind-of-magik​ @darling-egg​ @ramibaby​ @orchideax​ @jazzman-19​ @bloomingbetty​ @hannafuckingsucks​ @theprettyfandom @the-run-n-gogh​ @omgitsearly​ @killerqueenunderpressure​ @imnotvibingveryguccimrstark​ @zyanmaik​ @wehavetofearignorance​ @itsryn​ @multisuperbananas​ @stephanie-everlasting @dancingstan @mercurycrowley​ @awkwardangelshezza​ @deadlyaffairs​ @ken-yee-not​ @crazylittlethingcalledobsession @loveandbeloved29​ @devin-marie​ @lieblingsmenzch @standing-onthe-edge @annabananawastakenx2 message me/reply to this to be added to the permanent taglist! REQUESTS CLOSED. if your name is crossed out, i can’t find you/tag you!

[thecozywhaleshark]

Like, Ew

A/n: Maybe I just like Taylor Swift. Maybe I like watching Jimmy Kimmel. Maybe I do this with my friends. Maybe I just can totally see Bambam doing this. And maybe this is way too long of an author’s note. Anyways...

Word Count: 347

Summary: Maybe you and Bambam have watched way to much Jimmy Kimmel. But that’s part of the fun of being in a relationship with your best friend, is it not?

“Ew,” you grimace, gagging at the feeling of the raw meat between your palms as you grab another chunk and roll it into your mothers desired meatball shape. “Ew ew ew.”  

Your best friend and boyfriend, Bambam, chuckles next to you as he puts down his freshly made meatball onto the tray and reaches into the bowl as well, making a face. “Ew.” 

You hold up your hands in front of his face and make grabby hands at him. “Ewww.” 

He squeals, leaning away from you and holding his arms in front of his face to ward you off. “EW!” 

“Oh my god,” you giggle, reaching back into the bowl and grabbing another chunk with your fingers. “this is so gross,” 

“Totally,” Bambam mimics your tone of a spoiled, fangirling middle schooler and dramatically throws his meatball onto the tray. “Like ewh.” 

“I can’t believe you just did that,” you gasp, reaching over and straightening his half-hazardly thrown ball. “Ma has rules. Ewh.”

“Who cares, it’s just an ewwy meatball,” Bambam brushes at his hair with the back of his hand, elbowing you in the ribs his with other arm. 

“Ewh! It’s in your hair!” you point to his head, giggling.

“Oh my god, get it out!” Bambam shrieks, waving his hands in your face. “I have prom in a week! Joey will never ask me out now!” He begins to fake sob, making you choke on your own spit and start almost crying with laughter over the bowl of mixed meat. 

“You guys are freaking weird.” Your brother states, coming in from the dining room and reaching into the cupboards for glassware. 

“Oh my god, eww!” Bambam shrieks, aiming a meatball at your brother. “Does your brother always hang around?” 

“Oh my god, just leave me alone, you freako!” you whine, reaching at your brother with your meaty hands. “Or I'll smear this all over your face okay? Like ew.” 

“EW!” your brother screams, running out of the room to go back to setting the table, leaving you and Bambam doubled over in laughter behind him.

[queenofcats17]

Spangle

@insane-control-room and I wrote out a backstory for the fusion between Johan and Freckle.

Here is the AO3 link. 

Freckle sighed, tapping his fingers against the table in his conundrum.

That being fusion. Freckle had seen a great many other Joeys fusing, and he would be lying if he said he was not at least a little bit jealous. It felt as though he were missing out on something, something big, something special. Although, the fact that he had only really ever interacted with one other Joey might have played a part in his lack of fusions. But that hardly mattered to him, not then. He wanted to fuse and he was going to do it. Nevermind that he had not thought any of this through at all and knew almost nothing about fusions. So, he opened a portal into that one Joey’s dimension, Johan’s dimension, and marched in.

Johan was reading on his couch when Freckle appeared from the portal. He rose an eyebrow and set his book aside to hear whatever Freckle might say.

“Can we talk?” Freckle asked. 

“S-Sure?” Johan gave him a small smile. “I mean, I-I’m not busy.”

“Good.” Freckle nodded and picked Johan up bridal style. Johan gave a small shriek of a gasp, clinging to the man whisking him away. Freckle grinned, watching Johan’s ears tilt back. It was not too hard for him to carry Johan through the portal since the other man was not too terribly heavy.

Once they were through the portal and it was closed, Freckle put Johan down.

“So, um, what did you w-want to talk about?” Johan asked, gaining his balance and turning to face the other Joey. His ears wiggled and he grinned slightly. “I’m all e-ears.”

“Would you be willing to fuse?” Freckle asked. Best to just get it out of the way. “I’ve seen other Joeys do it and, well, I want to do it too.”

Johan’s smile faded slowly.

“C-could you r-repeat that, please?”

“I want to fuse,” Freckle repeated, smiling brightly. “You’ve done it before, right?” 

He and Johan were friends. Good friends. Close friends. Surely it would be fine.

“I-I fused o-once, that’s correct,” Johan stuttered, his cane manifesting in his hands, a soft blue color. His mind scrambled to see what he could say instead of an outright ‘I can’t fuse’. “Um, it w-was very private….”

Freckle stared at him blankly, unsure what that meant. Was it supposed to be sexual? But he had seen Snowy and Gingie fuse before and they did not seem to have any sexual feelings towards one another, nor romantic ones at that. 

Johan shifted uncomfortably.

“I-It’s n-not a, um… thing for everyone,” Johan rambled, trying to assuage his own guilt. “S-sometimes things aren’t meant to be, uh, o-open?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Freckle snapped, his expression darkening. “Do you think I can’t do it?” 

“Th-that’s, um, not what I mean-n to say,” Johan, terribly flustered, managed to reply. “Fusion is a very c-complicated thing, a-and very p-personal, too.”

“I don’t understand what that’s supposed to mean!” Freckle was getting frustrated, waving his arms to punctuate his words. “Is it me? Do you not want to fuse with me specifically?!” That idea hurt him the most. The idea that Johan did not want him. 

“Freckle, p-please!” Johan intoned in a soft and worrisome voice, his hands wringing his cane over and over, trying to focus. He bit his lip, then continued. “It’s not you, it’s that I-I worry that you d-don’t know what you’re asking f-for.”

“Then tell me!” Freckle demanded. “What am I asking for?”

“When you fuse…” Johan took a moment to gather his thoughts. “There is no hiding. Th-the person you fuse w-with, you should-d trust them w-with your very soul, because that… th-that’s what you’re doing. That’s wh-what you’re asking for. For someone to see you, e-everything and anything you’ve ever d-done….”

Freckle immediately tensed at this revelation. He did not particularly fancy the idea of laying himself bare like that. But if it was Johan...

“I trust you,” he said, taking a step forward. Who better to trust himself with than a fellow Joey? They had both done horrible things, seen the worst each of them could be.

Johan stepped back, a strange blank look in his eye, stiffening. 

He swallowed. And then he swallowed again.

Any light in his eyes vanished, and they became dull, emotionless, cold.

“I can’t.” he flatly stated.

“Why not?” Freckle knew he sounded like a petulant child. He knew he was being unreasonable. But he wanted to be able to do the same thing all the other Joeys seemed able to do. He was just as good as them, wasn’t he?

“I just can’t.” Johan’s blank facade wavered, nearly snapping. He is afraid. He is lost. He would love to fuse. Especially with Freckle, the Joey he had such a wonderful brotherhood with. But, “I can’t fuse.”

Freckle’s first instinct was to throw a tantrum, to yell and scream until he got his way. But he was far too old for those (Esther would beg to differ on that front, but she was not there, not then). 

“You fused with Magenta.” He persisted, trying to stay calm and collected. Johan’s eyes widened in shock, and he tried to keep himself from trembling at the mention of the other man. “Was that just some kind of fluke?” There was a hint of vicious sarcasm in his words. 

“M-Mag and I thought we would never see each other a-again,” he breathed, hardly able to talk. “What happened was… yes. A m-miracle. A goddamn miracle….”

“If it happened once, it could happen again.” Gods, what was he even saying? This was ridiculous. He was ridiculous. Why was he so insistent on doing this? Didn’t he see how upset he was making Johan?

“Freckle….” Johan bites his lip again. “Freckle… I… I can’t fuse. I won’t tell you how Maggie and I managed it. I-It’s personal. And not my thing t-to say.”

Freckle sighed, his shoulders slumping. This was going nowhere. He was not going to convince Johan. No matter how hard he tried, Johan was not budging. 

“Can we just...try?” He asked quietly. Johan’s eyes softened. “Just to see if it works?”

Johan inhaled, and exhaled, then nodded.

“W-we can try,” he made himself say, hoping it was the right thing, hoping he was not lying. “We can try….”

Almost immediately, Freckle’s face lit up with a huge smile, Johan returning a tiny lopsided one. He had not actually expected that to work. But it had! He threw himself onto Johan, giving him a big hug.

“Thank you! Thank you so much!” He said.  Johan patted his back, muttering how it was nothing, though it very much was not.

Freckle hugged him tightly for a few minutes before pulling away. Johan’s arms lingered on his own for a few moments before dropping away. 

“So, how is this done?” He asked.

“It depends on each person,” Johan murmured. “I don’t kn-know how we’d do this.”

Freckle frowned, considering how this would go. Perhaps dancing? No no, that was too simple. Maybe a spell. Reciting an incantation? He thought he had seen Snowy and Gingie recite some sort of incantation for their fusion. But what would the incantation be? He began to chew on his lip.

“An incantation?” He ventured. “Or...dancing?” That was a stupid idea. He knew it was stupid. But sometimes the simplest solutions were the best ones.

“I really d-don’t know.” Johan sighed. He and Magenta… melted into one. But Freckle was not made out of ink. Even Joy would be easier to fuse with, being that the little man was at least half ink. Freckle, yes, was partially ink, but… it was not enough. “I don’t actually know a-any magic.”

“Oh, I know some.” Freckle said with a sheepish smile. “I did quite a lot of work researching spells back before my studio...” He trailed off a bit, his face falling. “Well, you know.” He shook his head. “Anyway, I’ve done research involving magic. I can’t imagine what sort of incantation we’d require for this, though.”

“Maybe y-you could come up with one,” Johan ponders. One, one. “Like two might be two b-but two can be one.”

“Oh! That’s very clever!” Freckle grinned. “Yes! Yes, that might work!” He held his hands out, making grabby hands to illustrate that Johan was supposed to hold them. Johan swallowed roughly and complied. Goodness, he was doing this, they were doing this.

“Alright.” Freckle gently squeezed Johan’s hands. “Here we go.” He closed his eyes, beginning to chant. “Two might be two but two can be one.”

He did not know whether this would work. He prayed it would. He wanted so badly to experience this act. Especially with someone he held so dear like Johan. And Johan could feel it. Unlike the last time, with Magenta, there was no smooth passage. It burned. He forced the gasp from rising out of his throat, only tightened his hands around Freckle’s, resisting the urge to push him away to nurse himself into feeling better, anything but the sensation of being forced back within his own mind and body. Yet he held tighter, and kept his breathing steady. He could not allow his trembling limbs to betray him.

There was a sense of elation for Freckle as he felt their two forms become one. He was doing it! He was fusing! But as their consciousnesses merged, he became aware of a searing pain. For a moment, he was not sure where it was coming from. Then it hit him. It was coming from Johan. Johan was in pain. Fusing with him was causing Johan pain.

Johan was in pain because of him.

Freckle began to panic. No no no no no! He could not be the cause of anyone’s pain! Not again! Especially not Johan.

But it was too late to back out then.

Not when they were already breathing as one.

Freckle tried to pull away, but it was no use. It was like squeezing a sponge. They separated just a bit, but were quickly reabsorbed into each other. And Johan’s cry of pain from their shared mouth solidified them. One arm wrapped around them tightly. 

“S-stop, d-don’t!” escaped their lips. “But you’re in pain! It’s fine! No, we need to stop! W-we can’t now…. I’m hurting you! Can’t split fast…. This is hurting you! Gotta be gradual…. I don’t want to hurt you!”

In their mind, Freckle was in tears, apologizing over and over. He hadn’t meant for this. He hadn’t meant to cause Johan pain. He shouldn’t have pushed so hard. Shouldn’t have insisted on this. But Johan clung to him, his face flushed as though in a fever, and shook his head with the smile of an angel. 

“It’s not your fault,” they said, slowly, testing their own voice, finding it creaky but warm. Tears leaked from two of their eyes. A sleeved hand gently dried the tears away, and remained on their cheek comfortingly. Their lips form into a shaky, lopsided smile. “It’s okay, okay?”

Their breath hitched a bit as Freckle managed to calm himself down a bit. Two eyes glanced down at the sleeve that had dried their tears. That was a cardigan. They were wearing a cardigan. Kind of like the ones Esther was fond of wearing around the house. It was a blue-grey color, and incredibly soft. Another one of their arms wrapped around themself, forming a small soft barrier from the terrifying idea of being ripped apart. They would let go in their own steady time. 

“Let’s make this good while we can,” they said, surprisingly, in yiddish.

Freckle felt a warmth at the words. No one had spoken yiddish to him in years. Not since he had left home. The familiar tones brought back that feeling of home. He almost began crying all over again, but Johan noticed and hugged him tightly, their shared left arm mimicking the motion. 

“Stop blaming yourself,” they scolded themself, sounding like a yenta to her grandchildren, especially in the dialect they used so softly. “You couldn’t have known. I wasn’t open enough about it.” They laughed. “You sound like Esther. But...I guess you’re right.”

“It’s not the first time you’ve said that,” they pouted back, but smiled again, their starry freckles pulsing and glowing brighter. They noticed the quop, and held up a hand, noting how the light freckles stood out against their dark skin. Like stars in the sky. A gasp of awe, their four eyes widening. “We’re… we’re spangled.”

Freckle had never been one to wear anything sparkly, but the idea of being sparkly suddenly appealed to him. He felt...beautiful. He had never felt beautiful before, and it was rather… nice.

“D-do you, um… like it?” part of them tentatively asked. Their lips curled up in a soft smile. “I do. G-good. I think it’s who we are. Spangle. What do you think?” As names went, it was far from the worst, but a giggle still escaped them. “It’s wonderful. We’re wonderful.”

They laughed a little, but a jolt of pain scampered through their spine, and they coughed, and coughed, though it subsided after a few moments. A soft turquoise cane snapped into their hand, helping them balance themself on their feet.

Freckle’s guilt resurfaced. He had almost forgotten how much pain this fusion was causing Johan. He should never have let himself be lost in the moment. Johan looked at him with the slightest hint of a frown, then sighed, smiled, and hugged him, pressing a chaste kiss onto his pseudo brother’s cheek.

“We’re gonna enjoy this while we can, right?” They gently rested a hand on their cheek. “No dwelling on that. Not now.” Their expression turned sheepish and they nodded. “Sorry. Of course.”

And so they waited it out. Well, it was more than just waiting it out. They explored who they were now. Or, at least, for the moment. They sang, and walked around, and found a mirror. They smiled at themself, for themself, to themself. Despite the aches and tremors, they overall, emotionally, felt… relief. Surprise. And above all else, happy. Freckle still felt bad for forcing Johan into this, but he was happy to be able to share this with him. Spangle enjoyed being themself.

They enjoyed it to the very last moment being together, when, like a star, they glowed bright and hot and split into a supernova, and out of it, Johan and Freckle split. The two of them found themselves on the floor, facing each other. Freckle was on top of Johan, and they were wrapped in a tight hug. Johan’s big red eyes were exhausted, but he was smiling. 

“Thank you.” Freckle whispered, breathless and flushed.

“It was…” Johan closed his eyes, yawning, sharp teeth glinting for a moment. His teeth always made Freckle think of a cat. “It was good.” 

“I’ll...try not to do that again.” Freckle awkwardly removed himself from on top of the taller man. “Push you, I mean.”

Johan shrugged. “I shoulda been more clear as to what I meant. Hey, d-do you have something to eat?”

“Oh! Of course!” Freckle scurried off to the kitchen. He was not sure what exactly was in his pantry at the moment. He had not gone to the store in a bit. 

Thankfully, he had some leftover pasta in the fridge, as well as some cereal. He returned with the tupperware balanced on one arm, the box of cereal under his arm, and a jug of milk. The milk was for him. Mostly. Johan looked at the food, his pupils contracting, and then expanding, and he grinned. 

“Goodness, what a feast,” he joked softly, pushing himself off the ground to sit at the table like the human he was not.

“I think I have some other things,” Freckle muttered as he put everything down. “But this was all I could carry.” He unscrewed the cap of the milk and started drinking it. In the back of his head, he could hear Esther scolding him for drinking straight from the jug rather than getting himself a glass. Johan did not bat an eye, merely began scarfing down the food the moment he could, the spaghetti vanishing in a matter of a minute or so.

“Maybe I should have brought more.” Freckle couldn’t help but laugh.

“Mmm, it’s enough to keep me going,” Johan hummed, munching on the cereal. “I’ll bother my bees when I get home and steal their honey.”

“You have bees?” Logically, he should have known this. He had seen the pictures done of Johan as a bee. But the idea of Johan having bees was still incredibly exciting. The only time Freckle had ever been close to a bee was that time in elementary school when one of the other boys had found a dead bee on the playground and insisted upon showing everyone. Freckle had gotten to hold it. Then another child had eaten it. 

“Of course I do,” Johan smiled. “I love them dearly. And my garden provides a symbiotic environment for them - I give them food, and so do they for me.”

“That’s so cool.” Freckle leaned on the table, watching him in awe, like a child watching a favorite grownup. Johan finished the box of cereal, and turned it over with a frown, not even getting a crumb. He squinted at it as though it were the source of all his tribulations.

“If you’re still hungry, I think I have some kosher hotdogs from when Rachel and Isaac came over.” Freckle quickly snapped himself back to reality, going to check the fridge. 

“Wait, Freckle, I’m vegetarian!” Johan quickly stopped him. “Well, most of the time, at least. Don’t worry, I just needed to pick up some strength. Spangle really winded me.”

“Well, alright.” Freckle sat back down.

Johan smiled at him.

“I’ll...I’ll try to listen better next time.” Freckle said. 

“Nah,” Johan grinned. “It was fun.”

[shastelly]

Ship that

Pidge: What are you doing?

Lance: *hiding tablet behind back* Nothing.

Pidge: Nothing, huh? *raising one eyebrow before making a quick move and grabbing the tablet*

Lance: *whining* Pidge!

Pidge: *reading* Writing fan fiction?

Lance: Yes, now give it back!

Pidge: YugiOh?

Lance: Quit, I like it, give it. *makes grabby hands*

Pidge: Joey and Seto? Lance really?

Lance: *sigh* Well I mean there’s a lot of tension between them, right? Always fighting? Well couldn’t it be a cover for other feelings? You know like their both just too stubborn or proud and kinda socially opposites?

Pidge: *blink* Um...sure I could ship that.

Lance: Good, now give, and don’t tell anyone.

Pidge: *grinning* Sure, but it’ll cost you...

Lance: *groans* What?

Pidge: I get to read the rest when you’re done!

[hearts-hunger]

His Drunk British Boys

Summary: Joe takes care of his very drunk boyfriends after a night out. Inspired by this ask.

Pairings: Ben Hardy x Joe Mazzello x Gwilym Lee || this is poly, so if you’re not into that, this isn’t the fic for you!

Word Count: 1.2k

Warnings: None!

A/N: Since there’s a tragic shortage of Ben x Joe x Gwil fics, I thought I’d humbly offer up some fluff for those looking for fics with this relationship. Let me know what you think, and I hope you like it! ♡

All in all, Joe wasn’t really that upset that his boyfriends were absolutely, completely, slam-dunk drunk. Sure, it was kind of cumbersome trying to get them both back home - their Uber driver had been kind enough to help steady the swaying tree that was Gwilym while Joe threw Ben’s arm over his shoulder and practically dragged him inside - but once they were in, Joe couldn’t help but smile at them. It was kind of cute to see the usually composed Gwilym and effortlessly cool Ben be so out of it. Usually it was Joe sprawled out on the couch, mumbling something incoherent; Gwil and Ben teased him endlessly about how much of a lightweight he was. But Joe had taken it easy on the cosmos tonight, too engrossed in talking with Rami about the upcoming season of Mr. Robot to drink that much.

Ben and Gwilym had had no such distractions in their way, taking to the dance floor with drinks in hand, white wine for Ben and a whiskey sour for Gwilym. Joe had kept an eye on them, enjoying a bit of ribbing from Rami about what horrible dancers his boyfriends were. He’d had to admit that Rami was right, but the way they held each other and waltzed around the dance floor together with complete disregard to the beat of the music was enough to make Joe’s heart melt. His drunk British boys were pretty adorable. Ben was dwarfed by Gwil’s tall frame and more than once stood on tiptoe to kiss him, leaning against Gwilym’s shoulder and letting the taller man lead the dance.

Gwil still seemed to be in a dancing kind of mood even now that they were back at the apartment, stumbling around the living room, humming something that sounded to Joe like “Somebody to Love”. Leaving Ben on the couch for the moment, Joe went over to Gwil.

“You ok, babe?” Joe asked.

Gwil took a deep breath. “Kind of dizzy.”

Joe chuckled. “I bet. You had a lot to drink.” He put his hand to Gwil’s scruffy cheek. “Do you want to come lay down?”

Gwilym turned his head and kissed Joe’s palm. “I was singing your song. Did you like it?”

Joe smiled. “I loved it, sweetheart. Just like I love you.”

Gwil gave him a kiss, unexpected and kind of sloppy but sweet nonetheless. Joe gently grabbed Gwil’s arm to steady him as he kissed him back.

“Caru chi gymaint,” Gwil said against his lips. Joe gave a soft laugh. It was Welsh, he was pretty sure, but it was hard to tell with how slurred Gwil’s English was.

“What’s that mean?” he asked.

“Love you,” Gwil said dreamily. “So much.”

Joe looked up at his lanky Welsh boyfriend with such adoration he almost couldn’t stand it. “Me too, baby. Come on, let’s get you to bed, hm?”

Gwilym nodded. “What about Benny? Is he coming?”

“In a minute,” Joe promised, taking Gwilym’s hand. “Gotta get you one at a time, honey.”

Gwil let Joe lead him to their bedroom, not protesting as Joe helped him out of his suit.

“‘Kay, Gwil,” Joe said when his boyfriend was undressed down to his undershirt and boxers. “Bedtime.”

“You too,” Gwil said, his lovely blue eyes heavy with exhaustion. “You’re coming too? And Ben?”

“Mmhm,” Joe said, giving him a light kiss as he gently pushed Gwil to sit on the bed. “I’m going to get Ben right now, and we’ll all go to bed together. Lay down.”

Gwilym did as he was told, getting under the covers and laying on his side like he would if Joe or Ben were in bed next to him. Ben was usually in the middle; he was the cuddliest out of all of them, and he liked to be between Joe and Gwilym when they slept. Joe noticed Gwil looked a little puzzled as to how to lay without someone next to him; between the three of them, they rarely slept alone, even if one of them was away for filming or some other work-related thing.

Joe smiled. “Hold tight,” he said. “Ben and I won’t be long.”

Gwilym nodded, content to trust Joe with their boyfriend’s well-being. Joe brushed a hand over Gwil’s cheek before heading back out to the living room, squaring his shoulders as he thought of how best to deal with the 5’10’’ beefcake that was his other drunk British boyfriend crashed out on the couch.

“Ben, baby,” he said gently, going over to him. Ben stirred at the sound of his voice.

“Joey,” he said, making grabby hands towards him like a little kid. “Come lay with me.”

Joe chuckled. “Sure thing, babe, but let’s go lay in our bed so we can lay with Gwil too.”

Ben groaned. “Don’t wanna get up.”

“I know,” Joe said. “But you’ll feel better when you’re not in your suit and you’re in bed, I promise.”

“Can you help me up?” Ben asked, his voice slurred. “Can’t really... room’s kind of spinning.”

Joe smiled even as he shook his head in affectionate exasperation. “Come here, you.” He helped Ben up into a sitting position, giving him a moment to adjust before pulling him to his feet.

“Woah,” Joe said, catching Ben against him as he swayed precariously. “Easy, tiger.”

Ben giggled. “Tiger. I like that.” He made a clawing gesture towards Joe, who laughed outright.

“Yeah, you’re pure sex right now, aren’t you?” he teased. “Drunk and barely upright.”

“You still love me, though,” Ben said. “Even drunk off my ass.”

Joe gave Ben a kiss. “Yes, honey, I still love you.”

“And Gwil too.”

Joe smiled. “And Gwil too. Speaking of Gwil, he misses you and wants you to come to bed.”

“Okay,” Ben agreed, though Joe had the feeling he would have agreed to anything involving a promise of Gwil waiting for him. “Let’s go to bed, Joey.”

“Good idea,” Joe said. He kept an arm around Ben’s waist and undressed him too, leaving both of his boyfriends’ expensive and fancy suits in a pile on the floor. Ben got in bed without any fuss, curling right next to Gwilym who woke enough to give a contented sigh of “oh, Benny” and put his arm over Ben’s waist. Joe added his suit to the pile and got in bed on Ben’s other side, smiling to himself as Ben reached for his hand.

He pressed a kiss to Ben’s neck. “Night, baby.”

“‘Night, love,” Ben mumbled. Joe loved it when Ben and Gwil called him that.

“Joe?” came Gwilym’s sleepy voice.

Joe released Ben’s hand for a moment, tracing his fingers over Gwil’s arm to reassure him. “Right here, sweetheart.”

He felt both Gwil and Ben relax, both of them falling asleep almost immediately now that they were safely in bed, all together as they should be. They’d both be a pain tomorrow with killer hangovers, but Joe was more than happy to put up with some whining and take care of them in return for all the times they’d taken care of him. Right now, though, he was falling asleep, tired out from the party and wrangling his boys into bed, lulled by the sound of their soft breathing and the comfort that always came from being with the two loves of his life. Their hands met on Ben’s hip, three sets of fingers entwined. Just like they should be.

[sunriserose1023]

Pretty Eyes, Pirate Smile

Part 9 of the Cherry Stem Knots saga. I just want to say thank you to everyone for sticking with me through an unexpected, extended hiatus. I think I may have gotten back on track here now. If you want to refresh your memory or catch up first:

1. Cherry Stem Knots 2. Drinkin’ Me Lonely 3. Between the Raindrops 4. Rise Above This Mess 5. Tequila Talkin’ 6. Let Me Let Go 7. Hold Onto Me 8. Nothing

CHARACTERS: Female reader, Jess Moore, Jo Harvelle, Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester, Ash, Benny Lafitte, Cassie Robinson WORD COUNT: 4339 WARNINGS: Angst, alcohol consumption, explicit sexual content, ANGST

Tag list is ridiculous, so it’s at the bottom. I love you guys.

You went on your toes to fix a streamer, going back down on your flat feet and letting out a sigh. You nodded, putting your hands on your hips as you surveyed the bar. You yelped as you were embraced from behind and you smiled, moving one hand to rest on the hands that were wrapped around you. Jess put her chin on your shoulder, and you used your other hand to pat the side of her head. She let out a happy sigh.

“This is perfect.”

You leaned your head on hers.

“That’s what I wanted.”

You shook your head.

“I still can’t believe you’re getting married.” “You? Honey, I keep trying to get whatever this weird thing is off my finger, and then oh wait. That’s right. It’s my engagement ring.”

You laughed, and Jess stepped away from you, linking her arm through one of yours.

“Heard from Dean?”

You shook your head.

“Radio silence. I guess we said all we needed to say three weeks ago.”

Jess glanced down at her hand. Three weeks ago had been the day she and Sam had gotten engaged. The day Dean basically said you were nothing to him. The day your heart shattered into pieces. You’ve been just going through the motions ever since.

The engagement party helped, because you—as maid of honor—wanted to make sure your best friend’s wedding season was the best ever. Tonight, the Roadhouse was closed to the public, but open to anyone wanting to celebrate Sam and Jess. The DJ was already setting up in one corner, some of the tables had been cleared away to make a dance floor, and you could hear Ash and Jo bickering in the kitchen about the food.

“Hey, what are you wearing tonight?”

You shrugged your shoulders.

“I was thinking a long, flowy white dress. Maybe with a train. Ooh, and a veil.”

Jess lifted an eyebrow before she rolled her eyes.

“Ha ha, you’re so hilarious.”

You laughed, then grabbed her hand, dragging her upstairs.

“Come see!”

You let out a sigh as you looked at your reflection in the mirror. You’d gone with wedges instead of heels, giving you a bit of height while keeping the comfort factor. The dress was one you’d stumbled on a while back and kept in your closet for such a time as this. The dress was an emerald green, sleeveless, and hit just above your knees. You reached up to touch your hair, which you’d pulled half up, curling the underside and letting it rest around your shoulders. You sighed again, glancing at the door as it opened.

“Hey, are you … oh, wow.”

You smiled as Jo stepped in, hands on her hips. Her long, blonde hair was down and gently curled, waving around her face. She had on tight leather pants, high-heeled boots, and a button-up white flowy shirt.

“Wow yourself. Hot mama over here.”

Jo raised a hand, flipping her hair off one shoulder. You laughed, and she smiled widely as she stepped in the room.

“This dress … damn, girl. Did we know green was your color?”

You shrugged your shoulders, and Jo walked up beside you, looking at both of you in the mirror.

“Fuck, man. We’re hot as hell.”

You threw your head back and laughed, and Jo grinned as she walked to your dresser, picking up a tube of lip gloss.

“Hey, can I borrow this?” “Does it matter if I say yes or no?”

Jo shook her head, mouth open as she was already applying the lip gloss to her lips. You snorted, shaking your head as you fastened earrings in your ears.

“You ready for this?”

You nodded, making a face as you fought with a tiny piece of flyaway hair.

“Yeah, I think we’ve got it all figured out. Food, drinks, no games or anything, but we’ve got the DJ, and the old jukebox whenever the DJ quits. Dance the night away?”

Jo smiled, then spoke a little softer.

“I meant seeing Dean.”

You sighed.

“I just don’t know. I miss him, but you know …” “Yeah, I know. I’m sorry. But hey, you know I’m always here, and I’ll be down there. Just shoot me a look and we’ll go do shots in the kitchen until you feel better.”

You laughed, turning and wrapping Jo in a hug.

“You’re the best, Joey.” “Eh, I try.”

You pulled away, giving one more glance in the mirror. You nodded, taking Jo’s hand as the two of you walked down the stairs.

The party was a huge success. Jess and Sam were having a wonderful time, mingling with the crowd and stepping out on the dancefloor. Jo dragged you away from the bar to dance more than a few times, and you found yourself slipping out of your shoes and into the pair of flip-flops you kept hidden behind the bar. You fixed drinks and bothered Ash in the kitchen, all the while dutifully ignoring Dean and the glances he kept shooting your way.

You were standing in a corner of the bar at one point, chugging a cold bottle of water. You bent your head and put the bottle at your neck, moaning softly at the feel of the cold condensation on your skin. It was hot as hell in the bar. Maybe it was all the people, maybe it was the three or four shots you’d done. You moved your head, moving the bottle to another part of your neck.

“Rough night?”

You glanced over your shoulder, smiling at Benny.

“Hot.” “Fans are going like crazy.” “I don’t think they’re doing much good.”

Benny smiled at you, leaning over the bar.

“Thanks for inviting me.”

You waved a hand at him.

“Jess loves you. Says you’re just a big teddy bear.” “Yeah, can y’all stop saying that? Bad for my image.”

He curled his arms and bowed up his muscular shoulders, and you couldn’t help but laugh. He smiled at you, blue eyes twinkling, and you tapped your lips with a finger.

“Your secret’s safe with me.”

He winked at you, reaching over the bar and into the ice below, grabbing himself a beer. You shook your head as he popped the top and walked into the crowd.

“So it’s just me you’re avoiding, then.”

You slowly closed your eyes, swallowing the sip of water you’d just taken. You turned around, seeing Dean standing in front of you. He raised his eyebrows, like he was expecting an answer, and you shrugged your shoulders.

“Two-way street, you know? You haven’t exactly been rushing over to talk to me.” “Yeah well, the last time I did that, you ignored all my calls.” “So you didn’t even bother this time? And how pathetic is it that there’s a ‘last time’ and a ‘this time?’”

You stepped away from him, pushing open the doors and walking into the kitchen. Ash turned from the grill, raising an eyebrow at you. He opened his mouth, closing it and going wide-eyed when the doors opened again. Ash turned back to the grill and you turned around, shaking your head at Dean.

“Employees only.” “Oh, like hell.”

You ground your teeth together, and Dean let out a laugh.

“I came over here to apologize, and you’re being such a—” “Are you kidding me?! You come at with this attitude and what were you expecting me to do? Just lay down and take it? No thanks, I’ve done plenty of that in my life.”

You shook your head.

“And if this is you trying to apologize, you suck at it.”

You pushed him out of the way, walking back behind the bar and grabbing the bottle of tequila. It was quickly taken out of your hands, and when you whirled around to see who’d done such a thing, you went still when you saw Sam’s face.

“Please, just … go dance with Jess. I’ll take care of him. Don’t … do this.”

He motioned with the bottle in his hand and you nodded. You turned and walked for the dancefloor, smiling when Jess squealed and jumped up and down at the sight of you, her hands making grabby motions until you slid your hands in hers.

Six songs later, you were exhausted. You and Jo were sitting at the bar, watching Sam and Jess slow dance like they were the only two people in the bar. The crowd had thinned some, but just slightly.

“Look at them. Aren’t they just disgusting?”

You giggled, unscrewing the top from the bottle of water Ellen had all but poured down your and Jo’s throats.

“Don’t be jealous, Jo.” “I’m not jealous.”

You shot her a look and she sighed.

“Maybe just a little bit.” “Where’s Charlie, anyway?”

Jo made a face, moving her fingers over the rim of her water bottle.

“Work trip. She’s a computer genius, so whenever something new comes up, she’s got to go test it out. She, uh … She actually asked me to go with her.” “Seriously?”

Jo shrugged.

“I couldn’t miss this, though. And she completely understood. Next time, she said.” “Jo!”

Jo smiled, cheeks turning red.

“So this is getting serious?”

Jo sighed.

“I don’t know. I mean, neither one of us is seeing anybody else.” “Have you …?”

Jo nodded.

“And was it …?”

Jo closed her eyes, nodding again, and you laughed.

“Oh, Joey. Look at you, with your big girl relationship.” “Don’t put a title on it. We’re just … hanging out.” “Oh, yeah. Sure. ‘Hanging out.’ The way you and I hang out? Because I make that face when we talk about the sex I have with my friends. Oh, wait.”

Jo snorted, reaching over to push your shoulder.

“Shut up.”

You took a sip of your water, then turned to her.

“Seriously, though. I can see how happy she makes you.”

You reached over, twirling a piece of blonde hair between your fingers.

“You need to let her.” “You know how hard that is for me.” “Yes, I do. But trust me. It’ll be worth it.”

Jo leaned over, placing a smacking kiss on your cheek. She held out her hand and you shook your head.

“Please, let me rest.”

She rolled her eyes, sticking her tongue out at you before making a beeline for Jess on the dancefloor. You sighed, finishing off your water and tossing it to the trash can before turning back towards the dancefloor. You blinked as a new song started, filling the bar with a familiar piano riff. Cheers went up from the crowd and you went still.

“Oh, I love this song!”

Dean made a face as you leaned forward, turning the volume knob. No one—not even Sam—was allowed to touch the radio. No one but you. You smiled as you settled, pulling a leg up on the seat with you.

“Blue jean baby, L.A. lady, Seamstress for the band. Pretty eyes, pirate smile, She’ll marry a music man.”

You sang along softly, until Dean cleared his throat.

“You know, I never really understood that song.”

You stopped singing when Dean spoke, and you rolled your head towards him.

“It was the seventies. Songs didn’t make sense back then.”

Dean laughed, flipping on the blinker and changing lanes.

“Ballerina, you must’ve seen her, Dancing in the sand. Now she’s in me. Always with me. Tiny dancer, in my hand.”

You sang along a little bit more, until Dean spoke again.

“My mom liked Elton John.” “Really?”

Dean nodded.

“She used to play his records, but only when my dad wasn’t home. He didn’t like Elton. Said the songs didn’t make sense.” “Well, he had a point.”

Dean snorted, and you watched his throat as he swallowed hard.

“Do you want me to change it?”

He shook his head, knuckles white from where he was gripping the steering wheel.

“Pull over.” “We’ve got to get to Kansas City.” “No, we don’t. Pull over.”

He flipped the blinker on, pulling off to the side of the road. The car was barely in park before he threw the door open, walking around to the back of the car through the dust the tires had stirred up. After a few moments, you opened your door, stepping out and squinting your eyes at the harsh sunlight. You walked around to the back of the car, leaning against where Dean had just recently filled the car with gas. He turned back to you, throwing his hands out.

“I fucking hate this! I hate that I can’t hear a goddamn song on the fucking radio without feeling like I’ve been punched in the gut.”

He shook his head.

“Losing Mom was bad enough. Why’d he have to go and die, too?”

You felt your shoulders sag as he let his arms fall by his sides. You walked over and wrapped your arms around him, holding him tighter when he tried to fight your touch.

“Hug me back, damn it.”

With a huffed breath, he did what you commanded, burying his face in your hair and holding on tightly. You ran your fingers up and down his spine, feeling his hot breath on your neck and the tears soaking into your shoulder. You smiled, swaying slightly, until he was moving with you.

“We’ll just turn the bad into good, okay?” “How?” “Like this.”

He sniffled, not moving from where he was tucked against you.

“Standing on the side of the road?” “Not standing. Dancing.” “Y/N, we’re not dancing.” “Oh, yes we are.”

You felt his eyelashes against your skin as he blinked, before he lifted his head to look down at your feet. You stepped away from him, holding onto his hand, forcing him to twirl you. He rolled his eyes as you came back to him, wrapping him in your arms again as he went back to his space at your shoulder. You let one hand come up to push through his hair, smiling widely when his low voice rumbled against your neck as he sang.

“Hold me closer, tiny dancer.”

You laughed, tightening your arms around him.

“We’ll make this one our song. No one can ever take it away from us. You promise?”

Dean lifted his head, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear.

“I promise, tiny dancer.” “I’m not a tiny dancer, you nerd.”

Dean’s laughter rang out on the side of the road as he stepped back, twirling you once more.

You blinked as your eyes suddenly, quickly filled with tears. You scanned the dance floor, feeling your heart break in two when you saw Dean and Cassie, wrapped in each other’s arms. Green eyes opened, blinking once before locking with yours, and you shook your head, pushing off the barstool, ignoring Ash’s call, shoving open the back door and stumbling into the parking lot. You kept walking until you hit a car, and when you looked down, you lost it.

You screamed through clenched teeth as your fists slammed into the hood of the gleaming black car. She’d never been anything but good to you, but at the moment, you hated this Impala with every cell in your body. You kicked her tires, ignoring the pain that sent up your legs. You gave more than a second thought to busting out the lights, but in the end, you just leaned over the hood and sobbed.

You didn’t hear anyone come up, but at the feel of a hand on your back, you shook your head. The hand was joined by another, lifting you from the car, turning you around and pulling you against a wide chest. Your knees buckled when you breathed him in, but he held you up, murmuring the entire time.

“I’m so sorry. Y/N, sweetheart, I’m so, so sorry.”

You lifted your arms, wrapping them around his neck and clinging to him. Your entire body was shaking, and he ran his hands up and down your back.

“Come on, baby. Please stop crying.” “I can’t do this.” “I know. God, believe me, I know.”

You pulled back and looked up at him. The minute his green eyes met yours, your breath caught in your throat. It was like the entire world melted away, taking everything with it, leaving only the two of you.

Dean bent his head, and you held his face in your hands as he pressed his lips to yours. You felt the stubble on his cheeks bite into your palms, and you slid your hands from his face up into his hair. His hands drifted to your waist, pulling you closer, making you gasp when he suddenly lifted you, setting you on the hood. Your hands moved to push off the flannel he was wearing, and he tore it off, tossing it to the ground behind him. You pushed his t-shirt up, and he reached behind his head, taking hold of the neck and pulling it over his head.

His lips came back to yours, and he moaned into your mouth as your hands drifted over his skin. You gasped as his calloused fingers began sliding up, dipping under your dress and pressing right between your legs.

“Oh, god.”

Your voice was soft, barely reaching Dean’s ears. He leaned back, looking into your eyes, smiling when your gaze met his. You gasped as the warmth from his palm bled through your panties, and you reached up, grabbing hold of his strong shoulders. You gasped again as Dean wrapped his arms around you, pulling you off the car as he unzipped your dress. You wrapped your legs around him and pressed your lips to his neck as he opened the back door and laid you across the backseat.

He was on top of you before you could speak, lips locked to yours again as he tugged down the front of your dress. You groaned as his calloused hands danced over your breasts, and you managed to get his jeans unbuttoned and tugged down some, pulling your legs up as he yanked your panties off.

You gasped as he began to push into you, your eyes locking on his. He never looked away, and you’re not sure if he even blinked, a full-body shudder wracking through you before he leaned down, still staring into your eyes as the tip of his nose brushed against yours.

“I love you.”

You and Dean spoke at the same time, the words barely whispered. He bent to press his lips to yours and you tangled your fingers in his hair, moaning into his mouth as his hips began a steady, deep rhythm. You closed your eyes then, letting your body just feel. You dug your nails into his shoulders, moving your hands to feel the strength in his muscled arms. One of his hands moved to cup your face, bringing your lips back to his, and you felt your entire being shatter. Your mouth was open in a soundless scream, nails digging into Dean’s skin, raking down his back. He lifted his head enough to look down at you, and you blinked, feeling as if you were seeing him for the first time.

You whimpered as your body felt so sensitive, but his movements never stopped. You lifted your hands to cup his face, rolling your fingertips over his nose and cheekbones, tracing your thumb along his full lips and the line of his jaw. His rhythm stuttered and he bent down, burying his head in your hair, biting at your neck gently, making you moan. His hand slipped between the two of you to flick at your clit, and you leaned forward, biting his shoulder to muffle the scream as you came again. This time, Dean came with you, groaning into your hair as warmth filled you to your very soul.

Aftershocks seemed to dazzle through your veins for the longest time. You could feel the thunder of Dean’s heartbeat where his chest was pressed against you, and you couldn’t help but smile. Your fingers were gently carding through his hair, finally beginning to feel your breathing regulating once more. Dean lifted his head and looked at you, and you smiled at him, feeling that familiar double-thump of your heart in your chest.

Dean sighed, a sound that made you feel funny deep inside, and he lifted himself off you and out of the car, pushing his hands through his hair before he tugged his jeans up and buttoned them. You felt cold all of a sudden, and so very scared as you slid your arms back into your dress, pulling it back up around your torso. You slid out of the Impala and stood on shaky legs, watching Dean pull his shirt back on, skating his hands down the front of it to get the dirt and whatever off.

“D—Dean?”

He didn’t answer you, picking his flannel up and shaking it off before laying it on the hood of the car. You licked your lips, swallowing hard.

“Dean, what does this mean?”

He moved to rest his hands on the hood, hanging his head. You bit your tongue, trying your best not to throw up as he stayed where he was, still not answering you. You lifted a hand to cover your mouth, closing your eyes as waves of shame and horror rolled through you. Your voice was barely audible to you when you spoke again.

“What did we do?” “We made a mistake.”

You whipped your head to face him, watching as he slowly raised his head, sad green eyes meeting yours. He shook his head, taking a step forward.

“I’m so sorry.”

You took a step backwards, making him stop where he was, and tears filled your eyes.

“Oh my god.” “Y/N.” “Oh, I feel sick.” “Y/N, please.”

You turned away from him, eyes wide as you stared across the parking lot, the lights of the Roadhouse swimming together as the tears spilled down your cheeks. You flinched away hard when you felt Dean touch your shoulder, and you turned back to him, entire body starting to shake.

“Don’t touch me.” “I was just—” “How could you … I just … oh my god.”

You pushed your hands through your hair, walking away from the car.

“Y/N, just wait.”

You turned back to face him, walking back towards the Impala.

“You said that you loved me.”

He swallowed, and you shook your head, trying to smile.

“You said that you loved me, Dean. We said it at the same time.”

He shook his head, that same sad smile back on his lips.

“It was … a heat of the moment kind of thing.”

You wanted to die. You wanted a giant sinkhole to open up in the parking lot and swallow you, because then you wouldn’t have to feel what you were feeling. You’d made a horrible, awful mistake, one you could never, ever take back, and now everything was ruined. He didn’t love you. You loved him with every atom in your body, but he didn’t feel the same. He’d gotten caught up in the moment, and you were nothing more than …

“I’m a whore.” “Y/N.” “I am. Oh my god.” “Y/N, can I just—”

You shook your head, pressing a hand to your mouth to keep from throwing up. You closed your eyes, listening to Dean’s boots crunch through the gravel as he walked towards you. You shook your head and surged forward, wanting nothing more than to be anywhere but here, anywhere but near him. He jogged behind you, calling your name, and you came to a hard stop as the kitchen door burst open. Jo stepped outside, dragging a bag of trash behind her, going still when she saw you.

“Hey.”

You looked to her, eyes wide.

“H—hey.” “What’s wrong?”

You shook your head, feeling your body start to tremble. Jo looked over your shoulder and saw Dean push his hands through his hair.

What’s going on?” “No—nothing.” “You suck at lying. Are you okay?”

You shook your head and Jo stepped forward, one eyebrow raised as she looked at Dean.

“What did you do to her?” “Jo, listen.” “Jo, go back inside, please.”

Jo shook her head, moving to stand closer to you, putting a hand on your shoulder.

“Y/N, if …”

She leaned back, moving her hand, slowly taking in a breath. She blinked, then moved to stand behind you.

“Your dress is unzipped.”

You closed your eyes as she zipped your dress for you, clearing her throat as she walked to stand between you and Dean. She crossed her arms over her chest, then nodded to Dean.

“Cassie was looking for you.”

He closed his eyes, running a hand over his face again. He started towards the Roadhouse, stopping when Jo let out a whistle. He glanced over his shoulder and she motioned with her head towards the Impala.

“You might want to get your flannel. You’ve got … scratches on the back of your arms.”

You buried your face in your hands as Dean jogged back to the car, yanking his flannel off the hood and sliding his arms through it before he walked inside. You lifted your head when you heard the door shut and you looked at Jo, seeing the disappointment on her face. You couldn’t stop the tears then, and Jo sighed.

“Y/N—” “Don’t. Please, just …”

You sobbed, putting your face back in your hands and Jo blinked back tears of her own, walking to you and wrapping an arm around you.

“Come on. Let me go get rid of everyone.” “Jo, I—” “I know. We can talk when everyone else is gone.”

You hung your head and Jo wrapped you in a hug, making you cry even harder.

“It’s okay, honey.” “No, it isn’t.”

You sucked in a breath, sobbing again as you shook your head.

“I’ve fucked it up for good this time.”

PART 10: Wrong Again

TAGS: @mrs-squirrel-chester, @charliebradbury1104, @b-enfield14, @nerdflash, @onlygodcanjudgeme-sh, @mrswhozeewhatsis, @deansdirtylittlesecretsblog, @effie-wreads, @growningupgeek, @a-pancho-universe, @moonlitskinwalker, @zanthiasplace, @profkmoriarty13, @sandlee44, @aprofoundbondwithdean, @fandommaniacx, @deandoesthingstome, @mangasia, @cass-xxo, @feelmyroarrrr, @busybee612, @eyes-of-a-disney-princess, @nitelotus, @gaysmutstiel, @allinhishands, @allthatsupernaturallife, @lovemydean-o-saur, @sex-in-cars-with-boys, @sevendevilsinmyimpala, @callmesweetheartifyoumeanit, @sdavid09, @rizlowwritessortof, @charred-angelwings, @escabell, @supernaturalblogging, @shameless-danni, @waywardjoy, @iateglitter, @thinkwritexpress-official, @kindnessalwayswins89, @dontcallmebabe-ok, @love-me-some-pie21, @wwecrazed2010, @amazinntay, @arikas5744, @mrstheorossix3, @faithlovesupernatural, @kydamyankee, @summersol1415, @melonberri, @loudpup, @babydanixox, @perpetualabsurdity, @julia-fucking-winchester, @butiaintgonnaloveem, @lynnebla, @calicat79, @for-the-love-of-dean, @winchesterenthusiast, @winchesterswoonathon, @apple-pie-na, @atc74, @grey-stardancer, @jayankles, @waywardafbabygirl, @thegreatficmaster, @noworriesfitness, @sidebysideinsilence, @kittenofdoomage, @mamapeterson, @manawhaat, @taljav, @mega-mrs-dean-winchester, @goldenolaf25, @dreamersparadise46, @kaylynnw428, @imweirdandobsessed, @jarpadandjensenaremyheroes, @avaunderthesea, @ive-been-told-that-im-fangirling, @moonstar86, @writergirl909, @adaliamalfoy, @spn-junkie, @anokhi07, @bkwrm523, @fashiondiva88, @littlegreenplasticsoldier

If your name looks like this, Tumblr won’t let me tag you.

[adobe-outdesign]

Miscellaneous Sammy Headcanons

(This got super long because I don’t know any better)

He’d make a decision within 5 minutes of meeting a person as to whether or not he liked them. If he disliked someone, it was virtually impossible to pull themself out of that ditch.

He likes Susie fine. He does not like Wally. Wally has generally learned to stay clear of him.

He has very little patience when if comes to incompetence (which is part of the reason he doesn’t like Wally).

Heavily religious Christian. Keeps a copy of the Bible in his desk and will happily loan it out if asked (provided he likes you). Can quote scripture off the top of his head. Using the Lord’s name in vain is a good way to get on his dislike list really fast.

Needs complete and utter concentration and as much silence as possible to work. He gets irritated very easily if interrupted and it takes him a long time to get back into his zone.

Signs he’s irritated over an interruption: Sighing, leaning back in chair, rubbing temples, moving to a different room, saying that it’s not a big deal but then making it very clear that it is

He can play a variety of instruments, but he has a soft spot for the piano.

Sees this job as mostly a stepping-stone for bigger, more prestigious work. He was planning to interview for a professional orchestra as soon as an opportunity opened up.

Likes the orchestration and background music for the episodes fine, but isn’t fond of writing the actual songs for the characters, feeling it to be childish and a massive waste of his talent.

Started out viewing Joey as a fine employer, but gradually grew more and more irate with him as his behavior got more and more erratic.

Towards the end of the studio’s run, he would often hear and see many demonic hallucination-type visuals. He was in denial of this for a long time due to the stigmata of mental health back then, though it began to wear on his faith and sanity after a while.

It was never clear to him if they were legitimate demonic messages or just a sign of his declining mental health. At the very least he believed them to all be legitimate post-ink, hence why he calls himself Bendy’s “prophet“.

These hallucinations are what eventually caused him to switch to Satanism, especially because he never once felt like God had spoken to him and he gradually started to doubt his existence. However, he had glimpsed Bendy in person and been spoken to in his “visions“, convincing him that Bendy would free him.

He doesn’t believe in Bendy out of pure love so much as seeing him as a way to be freed. Strip that away, and he’s actually pretty terrified of him.

The sheep song was in the episode of the same name, but with a much different ending and an upbeat tune. It gradually warped into it’s current form as he sung it over and over again.

It’s not uncommon to hear his singing drifting up from the lower levels. It’s unnerving.

He often crouches down by puddles of Searchers and preaches to them about his new visions and how they’ll all be free soon. He’ll reach out and hold their hands if they start getting grabby, though he’ll also slash them if they’re getting a bit too intense (seeing as they can’t die anyway).

The Searchers clawing at him and trying to drag him down with them is how his mask got so torn up. He doesn’t get a new one as he doesn’t want to destroy another “sacred object”.

Travels faster through ink than on land, but he has to take a few minutes to reform after getting out as there’s really little divide between his body and the other ink. This is generally painful, so he avoids it when possible.

Can also heal by dipping missing areas into excess ink, though it takes a while before it forms back into something resembling a human body.

He generally sticks to singing instead of playing instruments, as many of them have been rendered inaccessible. His four-fingered hands have made it particularly hard, though he’s gradually figured out ways around that.

Demonic-based powers include:Teleportation in areas with pentagrams, knowledge of various satanic symbols and what they do, and some  grasp of other languages (namely Latin, which he uses in his sermons occasionally).

He’s not fond of removing his mask, as he doesn’t have anything resembling a face. (It’s also sacrilegious to him, as the mask is meant to symbolize his devotion to his “savior”.)

Considers the writing on the wall to be his prophecies. He has a fondness for how permanent ink on wood is.

[ask-manda-of-the-6]

Hey, Manda! :D Do your best impression of Dadford and the Commandy one! Pretty please!

Manda grabbed Coyote’s sunglasses and struck a pose. “In Soviet Russia: Coyote carry Rex!”

"Hey I do NOT sound like that!”

“Vodka! Vodka! Vodka!”

“Oh sorry, EH.” Coyote snatched Manda’s glasses and put them on. “I’m Manda!” He dropped to his knees to emphasize the shortness, “Please excuse m’eh while I go feed everyone donuts and maple syrup. Snow Snow Snow!"

“Actually that sounds pretty good right about now.”

The recruit and the ranger both burst out laughing, before continuing their shenanigans on the remaining squadmates. That is, until Hightower returned from his bathroom break.

"Oh hey, Joey!” Manda cleared her throat to get ‘in-character’. “I mean: Hey~ sexy thang!” She snickered, giving her boyfriend a pair of finger guns and winking.

“I DON’T SOUND LIKE THAT MANDA!"

“DO TOO!”

“Oh look at me~ I’m Mandaaaa!” Coyote threw himself at a very confused Hightower, hand over his forehead, “le swoooon!”

“What the fuck is going on?!” Hightower was tempted to drop Coyote.

“Oh Manda!” Coyote’s face lit up. “How does Joe sound?” 

Manda giggled, running up and grabbing her boyfriend’s goggles. She put them over her forehead and then posed, flexing her arms.

Coyote laughed his ass off and Joe facepalmed because here was his dorky girlfriend still wearing Coyote’s sunglasses *and* his goggles. 

The pink-haired soldier gently picked Manda up, taking his goggles back and handing Coyote his sunglasses. Coyote didn’t miss a beat, shoving Manda’s glasses onto Hightowers’ face. 

"What about you Joe, how would you imitate Manda?” 

There was a stunned silence as the grenadier blinked to adjust his eyes to the glasses. Manda and Coyote looked at him expectantly.

Slowly Hightower leaned back and bench-pressed Manda entirely, "Give me your gun, I know where to put it away. No- no, I don’t need help! I could lift you if I wanted!”

Manda giggled in his grip. “Nailed it!” She smooched him on the cheek when her face was close to his. 

“Thanks!” Joe winked and returned the kiss on Manda’s lips, blushing vividly while Coyote whooped in the background.

When Joe had set her down, Manda made grabby hands at Coyote for his sunglasses. "No wait! I totally got it!” Coyote obliged, handing over his shades as Manda posed victorious. “I’m Coyote and I love love! Love gettin’ it, love givin’ it, and love makin’ it happen!" 

"YOU NAILED ME!” Coyote smiled brightly, hopping up and down. “Now do one for the Commander and Central!”

Manda blinked, returning the sunglasses to Coyote. “Wait- both of them? At the same time?” She hummed in thought. “Okay!”

Taking a long swig of her peach schnapps, Manda settled for a somewhat serious look over her face, pressing one finger against her cheek.

“Commander! The aliens are making too much progress on the Avatar Project, if we’re gonna stop ‘em we’ll need to move fast!”

She switched to having her other finger across her nose, standing from the bar stool and looking determined.

“What are you doing with your fingers?” Coyote cut in.

“What?” Manda looked back at him. “It’s their battle scars! Right?” She demonstrated by switching between the two.

“Ohhhhh...”

Manda cleared her throat resuming her ‘Commander’ impression. “Yo chill out Babe-ford I got this! I’m the woman with the plan!”

“Commander, you’re just filling out a grocery list for your sandwiches.”

“Hell yeah I am! What more could a mighty and powerful Commander need?! I need that brainpower food for as much energy as possible!” Manda wiggled her eyebrows. “And for other activities if-ya-know-what-mean.”

“Commander, please!”

A loud snort of laughter from the doorway of the bar stopped the recruit dead in the middle of her impersonation. It was clear that Central and the Commander had been watching from the sidelines for a long enough.

Manda made a noise somewhere between a choking sound and a muffled scream, her eyes wide. “NO MORE SCHNAPPS!” She pointed to Alex, who was tightening the lid on the bottle after returning from her short break.

“Sheesh,” Coyote rolled his eyes, watching Manda sputter out apologies and begging their superior officers not to fire her before Hightower gently dragged her off to bed. “How much did she even drink?”

Alex chuckled, “barely grazed a third of the bottle.” The redhead shook her head, putting the peach schnapps away somewhere safe in case Manda wanted her present once more. “We’ve all got that one poison that drives us a little crazy.” She winked to Coyote before turning her attention to Central and the Commander, serving up their usual drink orders.

“Umm...” Coyote leaned forward, a concerned look crossing his face, “you didn’t punish her, right Commander?”

“Of course not,” the older woman laughed. “It was hilarious!”

“Besides.” Central added. “If our intel’s right, tomorrow morning will be enough punishment for her.”

“True and true.” Coyote chuckled, folding his arms over his chest.

Alex the bartender (c) @girugin

Central Officer Bradford (c) Firaxis Games

Recruit Manda (c) @ask-manda-of-the-6

Everyone else (c) @commanderplease

[avecorviidae]

Fic: Aubade - Chapter Nine

Fandom: Mob Psycho 100 Rating: M Relationship(s): Kageyama Ritsu/Suzuki Shou Word Count: 3151

Ao3 Link

Ritsu’s lit. analysis class is at eight in the morning because he hates himself, and Shou is still awake at six in the morning because he is, presumably, a masochist, so it’s a happy happenstance that they manage to have breakfast together on the first day of classes.

He’s slumped on the sofa with his terrible, awful, bland granola flake cereal, making an unpleasant face and thinking unpleasant thoughts, because it’s really best to get his morning sulk in before he leaves the house. Better for appearances, anyways; it’s going to be a long day – long semester – of smiling, introducing, chattering, ingratiating, appeasing, socializing.

Shou wanders into the living room with a bowl of some colorful cereal Ritsu hasn’t had since he was six, and says, “Someone piss in your bran flakes?”

“Your face pissed in my bran flakes,” He mumbles, because it is six in the morning, and Ritsu is not legally awake yet.

“There’s nothing you can prove!” Shou replies cheerfully, plopping down next to him. Ritsu’s cereal sloshes around sadly in its bowl. Ritsu hates it, deeply. Why does he buy healthy cereal? Why does he do this to himself? Was it to spite Shou’s bad nutritional choices? To make some psychological ideal of his mother proud? Was it a manifestation of his profound and extended period of self-loathing? All of the above?

“Ah, it won’t be that bad,” Shou offers, with a commiserating smile that is entirely false and betrayed by the sadistic glee in his eyes.

Ritsu grouses, “I have to pretend to be people. All day.”  The cashmere sweater is making a reprise today, pushed up to the elbows, paired with khaki slacks – for fuck’s sake, khaki slacks. Next to Shou, decked out resplendently in ratty boxers and a faded anime t-shirt, Ritsu feels like a show pony. A sweaty, grumpy show pony.

He manages, though. He always manages. Shou sends him off at the door with a surprisingly genuine, “Good luck, don’t kill anybody,” and then the week’s started, and it all blurs together. Sit down center-left in lectures, phone away, planner out. Polite eye contact with professors, nodding and smiling, quiet laughter at bad jokes. Ask a relevant question about the syllabus, then shut up. Agreeable but not obnoxious. Complimentary but not kiss-ass. Figure out who’s going to be a battle and who’s going to turn into a letter of recommendation.

It’s normal.

It’s exhausting.

-

“What classes do you have tomorrow?” Shou asks, snapping Ritsu out of a daze. He looks up from the book in his lap, notices he’s left his fork dangling halfway between the bowl and his mouth, and shoves a bite into his mouth. Carbonara tonight, apparently not traditional to the true Italian dish since it’s got garlic, and bacon instead of pancetta or guanciale, but it’s fucking delicious, so Ritsu’s not complaining.

“Uh...” he has to think for a moment, try and remember what day it is. “Lit. analysis in the morning, psych in the afternoon.”

Shou frowns, pouting comically. He’s sat cross-legged on the floor, bowl in his lap, close enough to the new TV that Ritsu wants to channel his mother and warn him about his eyes. “Aw, you never come back for lunch when you’ve got stuff in the afternoon.”

Ritsu shrugs. “It’s just easier to stay on campus than catch a bus there and back again. Besides, I’m usually busy between classes.” God, is he busy. Meetings with advisors, meetings with study groups, meetings for group projects, tutors and guest lectures and events, it’s a fucking nightmare. He scrubs a hand over his face, sighing. He’s only a few weeks in, it shouldn’t be this bad already.

“Lit. analysis, huh?” Shou says, cutting through Ritsu’s train of thought immediately, because Shou’s got this way of saying things just so, so that Ritsu knows some shit’s about to go down. He finds himself smiling before Shou’s even said anything particularly ridiculous yet.

“Yep,” he replies, hefting the book, “Hence, the Poems of Doom.” The reading schedule for the lit. analysis class had very rapidly become completely unmanageable, hence why Ritsu is going cross-eyed trying to read thirty poems the night before class.

Shou shoves his bowl to the side and leans towards the sofa, making grabby hands at Ritsu. “Please. It’s my favorite thing, you have to let me–”

“No!” Ritsu laughs, holding the book out of reach, “I have to take it seriously, I’ve got to talk about this shit in class, you can’t ruin it for me–”

“Just one poem, please, Ritsu–”

“No!”

“Yes!”

“Suzuki!” Ritsu gasps as the book goes flying out of his hands and shooting straight into Shou’s. Shou is on his feet in one bizarre, fluid motion, book held open in one hand, scrutinizing the poems held within. Ritsu watches, bemused, as he paces the floor of the living room, the book held aloft, arm outstretched, chin up, every bit a Hamlet preparing to lament Yorick.

“A- hem,” Shou coughs, pausing mid-stage, glancing up at Ritsu expectantly.

Obediently, Ritsu straightens in his seat, puts on a veneer of mild interest, raises an eyebrow to say, at your leave, Hamlet.

With a great deal of solemnity and gravitas, Shou begins.

“Piggy to Joey, Piggy to Joe. Yes that’s what I was – Piggy to Joe.”

Ritsu’s already snickering at the delivery, the overlong pauses between lines, the great lamentation in Shou’s eyes, his voice, the slight, not-quite-European accent on every piggy, but then begin the stage actions, Shou throwing his arms up, wretched as he continues,

"Will he come back again? Oh no! No! No! Oh how I wish I hadn’t been… Piggy to Joe.”

He bows with a flourish, and Ritsu golf-claps accordingly, breath coming in short gasps between laughter. He is completely fucked if this poem comes up in class tomorrow. He kind of hopes it comes up in class tomorrow.

-

He wanders into the kitchen zombielike, putting on the coffee machine and wandering over to the fridge, fully prepared to stare blankly into it for a couple of minutes before realizing nothing’s ever appetizing to him this early in the morning and giving up, resigning himself to chugging coffee on an empty stomach and getting pizza at the dining hall later.

He pulls open the doors and comes face to face with a tupperware sitting front and center, a post-it stuck to it reading in Shou’s impossible scrawl, ‘TAKE LUNCH TODAY’. Ritsu blinks at it for a few moments. It’s the carbonara from last night, definitely. Shou probably didn’t leave the note for himself, because one, he’s just recently gone to bed and as such won’t be up to go anywhere for lunch, and two, because the rest of the leftovers are in a big, clingfilmed glass bowl on the top shelf of the fridge. So that must logically mean that the tupperware is intended for him, which is…

The coffee machine beeps. Ritsu’s not awake enough to deal with the logistics. He grabs the tupperware and shoves it in his bag.

-

TO: YOUR FAVORITE ;) Hey, thanks for the sack lunch today

FROM: YOUR FAVORITE ;) thumbs up emoji

TO: YOUR FAVORITE ;) Wh Why would you not just send me the thumbs up emoji. Why would you type it out like that

FROM: YOUR FAVORITE ;) couldnt be bothered to switch keyboards

TO: YOUR FAVORITE ;) You are inexplicable. I hate you. Anyways thanks for lunch. I heated it up in a study room microwave and stank up the place with garlic, everyone hated me

FROM: YOUR FAVORITE ;) worth it tho

TO: YOUR FAVORITE ;) Oh, absolutely

FROM: YOUR FAVORITE ;) sparkly heart emoji

TO: YOUR FAVORITE ;) Stop

-

It’s normal, and it’s not.

He settles into a schedule, a routine, quickly, and it’s a little disorienting how mundane it all feels. But then again, that’s what life is; it’s just stretches of mundanity broken up periodically by monumentally life-altering events.

He’d read a list once, of the most stressful events human beings can experience. Deaths, natural disasters, divorces, injuries, illnesses. Other stuff too, marriages, pregnancies, changes in routine.

Ritsu’s problems tend to be so extreme, shit like, oh, my new best friend burned down my house and his dad’s trying to kill us all, shit like, every time my big brother has strong emotions it’s a geological event, that it feels like his perception of what’s normal and what isn’t has been warped.

Starting school was on that list. Moving houses, too.

The move was fine, though, is fine. Finding the apartment was the worst of it. After that, it was just learning how to be in a space with another person, and he already knows how to be with Shou, knows the particulars and intricacies of how he operates, and Shou knows him just as well, well enough that they don’t set off each other’s pet peeves, for the most part.

As Shou’s proclivity for cooking had shown, however, that didn’t mean there weren’t surprises.

Case in point:

Here’s something Ritsu would never have known about Shou without living with him: he owns a t-shirt for every day of the year, and about four pairs of underwear.

“Ritsu-kun,” he says, comically demure in the way that says that Ritsu’s going to hate whatever comes out of his mouth next. Ritsu glances up from the sofa, sees that Shou’s wearing nothing but a towel, and decides just to silently raise his eyebrows.

“Now, see, here’s the thing,” Shou says. “I have not done laundry this week.” “I’m shocked.” “I may – hey – I may be running short on, uh. On undies.”

“Shou.”

Shou throws his hands up defensively. “I thought I had enough, but my last pair had a big hole in them! Look, I don’t wanna go commando, it’s uncomfortable! Whatever, I’ll just reuse yesterday’s–”

Ritsu’s up in an instant, shaking his head. “No, no, nope, gross, fucking fine, I’ll lend you a pair.”

He goes digging in his drawers, throws a pair of old briefs at Shou’s head, who promptly gives a peace sign and disappears back into the bathroom.

“Jesus fuck.”

-

Other things, tiny things.

Ritsu tries putting on classical music to concentrate, and Shou wanders around the house conducting it, flourishing a pencil, spinning and waltzing and directing an imaginary orchestra, inevitably distracting Ritsu more than whatever he put on the music to drown out.

After far too long sitting in the Corner of Shame in the living room, they finally decide that Ritsu’s books cannot sit on top of a box containing an unassembled bookshelf all year, and attempt to build it. They get the shelves down alright, and then manage to attach the legs to the side of the shelf instead of the bottom. Shou declares it modern art and walks away to make dinner. Ritsu’s too tired to argue; he just puts his books on their sad, sad shelf and calls it a day.

Shou sheds, which as someone who has had sleepovers with the guy, was not news to Ritsu, but it becomes apparent and stunning just how thoroughly Shou’s hair has invaded every aspect of their lives. It’s in the shower, in the sink, on the sofa cushions. As Ritsu’s about to leave for class, he notices a red hair on his sweater, and holds it up for Shou’s inspection. Shou snatches it out of his fingers, says, “Wow, rude, I was looking for that.” Ritsu sighs, gives up, and decides to buy a lint roller.

The apartment is small, the kitchen especially is not built for two people to be in it at once, and Shou, in chef-mode, has this brisk nature about him, always gives these brief ‘passing behind you’ touches to Ritsu’s back if he’s moving around him. Ritsu, if he’s willing to admit it to himself, is becoming weirdly attuned to the touches. It feels like his skin knows before it happens, starts to prickle and stand to attention, and they always linger after Shou’s moved away, his aura clinging, vibrant and fluid against him.

It’s these times that he notices, really notices Shou’s aura, but it doesn’t feel foreign so much as more intense, but always familiar, always there, sunlight twisting around his fingertips. He can see it when he squints.

Your aura always looked a little like your brother’s, Shou had told him, once. Like, similar because you’re brothers, yeah, but I figure both of you living in the same place for so long, you just rubbed off on each other, it got all mixed.

It does feel different, now. Ritsu’s and Shou’s both. It hovers around Shou’s shoulders like a blanket of static, purple and a hundred other colors, runs through his hair and dances between his legs when he walks. He wonders if Shou feels it too.

-

They hit autumn proper, and Ritsu gets a few days off. Without having to worry about getting enough sleep, he ends up staying awake with Shou, gets dragged off into the city in the dead of night to satisfy Shou’s wandering tendencies. After the summer of the Sauna Apartment, it’s nice to be able to bundle up, even if Ritsu’s not the biggest fan of the chill pricking at his cheeks, making his nose start to run. Shou, as ever, seems mildly ignorant of the temperature, throwing on a thin jacket seemingly for aesthetics more than anything.

When they’d gone for walks in Seasoning, even in the middle of the day, it was never a busy affair. Honestly, Seasoning might’ve had more spirits in it than it had people.

Grain City was a much different affair. They lived close enough to GCU that they were well within the bounds of ‘college town,’ so all of the main streets had a sleek aesthetic, the buildings new and flashy. Urban vegan marketplaces, cute little coffee shops, clothing boutiques, the sorts of places him, Shou, and Mob get dragged to by Teru for ‘double dates’. They’re nice, but not the kinds of places Ritsu would go of his own volition, not when he could be elsewhere, in private, without the stress of performing being alone in public. And it is public, even at this time of night; the street is well-lit, most of the storefronts still open, ready to entertain the night owl crowd.

Shou, after a brief ogle at the bright lights, promptly ignores all of this and starts wandering down back alleys, turning at random into residential areas, climbing over low walls and crossing through deserted parks. For the first few blocks, it unnerves Ritsu, trying to keep track of what direction they came from, roughly where their apartment building is. Back in Seasoning, they didn’t often venture into the city-proper, but on the outskirts, they knew the territory like the backs of their hands. Here, it’s uncharted land, and they’re well outside of Ritsu’s comfortable knowledge of the route from the apartment to the bus stop.

Shou is infectious, though, and Ritsu’s nerves never last long in the face of him, utterly carefree as he trots from streetlight to streetlight. He stops paying attention to the direction, gets caught up in the conversation, stories they’re still managing to tell each other because they talk every day but even stupid shit starts to sound like something he wants to share, his “Oh, did I tell you about the time in this one class–” matched by Shou’s, “So I never told you about this one dude I met in–” , part of the running competition they’ve had since they were thirteen to make each other laugh like absolute idiots.

They’re on some dead-end street, surrounded by mostly warehouses and run-down storage buildings, Ritsu leaning against a street light pole to catch his breath through the laughter, Shou snickering at him, and it strikes Ritsu suddenly. It’s the coalescence of everything – his cheeks aching from the smiling, Shou hovering at his side, close enough to touch, the fact that he’s always close now, just another room over, in the kitchen cooking, in the shower singing–

“God, I missed you,” Ritsu says, with more feeling than he intended, voice rough in a way he didn’t expect, but he means it.

Shou falls silent, swaying on his feet, his expression slowly morphing into a sort of dumbfounded awe, and Ritsu’s so caught up watching his face that it takes a moment for him to realize that he’s not cold anymore.

He barely even has to concentrate to see the way Shou’s aura is moving around them, dripping from his skin like liquid sunlight, enveloping Ritsu in warmth, in the welcome pressure of Shou’s pure joy.

He’s at Ritsu’s eye-level all of a sudden, and when Ritsu glances down, sure enough, Shou’s hovering, toes barely grazing the ground, and Ritsu takes a sharp breath when he realizes this is something else they’ve not had since Shou left, one more thing he took for granted until it was gone. His stomach is already turning in protest, but he holds out his hands to Shou, palms up.

“Alright,” he says, “Take me up.”

Shou blinks at him, says, “You sure?” but he’s already moving to grab Ritsu, hands on top of his, wrapped loosely around his wrists. Ritsu tenses when he feels himself start to float, buoyed by Shou’s powers around him. He wobbles unsteadily, tightening his grip on Shou to keep himself from lurching forward, glaring when Shou snickers at him.

“Let’s go, asshole.”

Shou doesn’t respond, but Ritsu feels a rush of pressure at the soles of his feet, and then they’re up, ears popping with the rush, colder up here he can tell but can’t feel it, can only feel the warmth bleeding into him from Shou’s hands on his skin. They’ve started laughing again at some point, the sound of it hysterical to Ritsu’s ears, and they’re clinging onto each other for dear life as they shoot up, closer and closer, foreheads pressed together, hands grasping, and Ritsu missed this, this thing he only ever has with Shou, the ridiculous adrenaline rush and the lightheaded glee, forgetting about everything else, just having this.

They stop dead and he rocks back, looking at the city sprawled below them. It’s all lights and sounds in miniature, even the skyscrapers dwarfed by the height, and it seems comical from up here, fictional, unreal. Like it doesn’t exist, like none of it exists, while they’re up here.

Shou lifts a hand to his forehead, squinting as he scouts the terrain. “Oh, hey!” he says, grinning, “I can see our street! That’s good, because I had no clue how we were getting back.”

Ritsu snorts, deigning not to mention that they both have phones with GPS. Just slides his fingers into Shou’s, squeezes once. “Alright, lead the way, Sunshine. Let’s head home.”