#but honestly i think this laptop is on its last legs

[sadlazzle]

managed 2 get my laptop to let me in but it is absolutely straining itself just to stay on u can hear the fan from a bastard mile away holy hell. i think im gonna wipe it all clean if im honest. i’ll save what i can but i think a lot is gonna hav 2 go

[on-a-lucky-tide]

Nik being strong enough to pick Price up when he's in a bad mood and just put him on the bench of his workshop.

Price is in air jail and now at the perfect height for when Nik tugs the zipper of his flight suit down to reveal that fluffy chest, those burly arms, that glorious belly and happy trail that leads to the weapon between his legs.

Honestly I don't think John could work those cargo pants off fast enough, maybe Nik forgoes that entirely and cuts a neat hole right in the crotch and rips to get at his prize.

Price is walking (Maybe a little bow-legged) out of there a hell of a lot happier than when he walked in.

The lads chip in for a nice takeaway for Nik for helping them out (Dealing with Price's shitty mood)

Nik uses his dick as a captain tamer.

cw: anal sex, mild brat taming, a little rough.

John’s temper was nothing new. Nik had experienced it in its various permutations through the years. It was like a hurricane; loud, destructive, and indiscriminate in the damage it caused, taking out friends and foes alike. But it eventually ran out of wind; surviving it was simply a case of moving out of its way until the inevitable conclusion. And, just like a storm, it wasn’t personal, but a natural byproduct of all the pressures and stresses weighing on John’s shoulders. He was only human.

Sometimes, however, the bad mood would fail to wear itself out and John would become more cantankerous as time wore on and his frustration built. If he was particularly tired, stressed, his body wound tight, feeding his brain a continuous flow of cortisol and catecholamines, then his grizzly mood was liable to last for days. A dark cloud hanging over the base and Task Force, suffocating.

It was day three this time and Nik’s patience had worn out. It was time to give the feral bastard what he needed. The lieutenant called it ‘a good seeing to’ and the sergeants, while not quite brave enough to say it to John’s face, said he was always a bit more human after he’d been stuffed with cock. Nik had worked out it was the act of having control stripped out of his hands, his mind emptied of all but pleasure, and his body flooded with endorphins from an orgasm. It stopped the spiral in its tracks. Even if it was only a reprieve to simply clear his head, it was often enough to give him the breathing room he needed to resolve the problem. He would deny it, of course, but John surrendered every time.

Nik finished the maintenance he’d been performing on the Black Hawk’s main rotary engine and washed his hands clean in the workshop sink, careful to remove the grease and grime from his cuticles. It was late. Most of the base had either retired to the barracks, gone home to their local residences, or headed out to the pub, but John was still here, huffing and growling over the laptop on the nearby workbench. “I can’t fuckin’ believe they’re takin’ Simon for another trainin’ seminar, puts him out for three fuckin’ days—“

Nik had invited him in to discuss some intel, citing his need to continue maintenance to stay on schedule as the reason for the location and, ever diligent, John had arrived on time with his laptop in tow, unknowingly sliding right into Nik's trap. Nik turned off the taps and returned briefly to his heli to dip into his duffle bag for the lube before he approached John at the bench. He slid his hands around John’s waist just as he closed his mouth over the soft skin beneath the hinge of his jaw, sucking a mark into soft skin.

“Ah, fuck, Nik—“ John went rigid in Nik’s hands, almost knocking the laptop off the workbench as he span to face him. “You randy bloody bastard, ‘ve got work t’ finish."

Those fierce blue eyes, the stern set of John's face, they would have struck quivering fear into the heart of many a man. But all Nik saw was the stress, the tension, the bone deep exhaustion, all locked up tight behind a safety valve that needed a practiced hand to release it. “Nyet, you are done for the evening.”

“Oh fuckin’ reall—“

He didn’t finish. Nik leaned forward and swept the laptop to the side, before grabbing John’s narrow hips and lifting effortlessly him onto the bench. He shoved his way between John’s knees, not letting him clam up, the expanse of one big hand staying at the base of John’s back to keep him from wriggling away.

John wrestled with him, fists bunching in his flight suit and shoving against his chest, their first kiss more teeth than tongue or lips. But as the heat of Nik's body enveloped him, their crotches pulled flush, chests together, John stopped thrashing in Nik's arms. Nik took it as the first defeat, drawing back to nuzzle John's beard.

"Lemme up, ya muppet."

"Nyet " Nik straightened a little, creating a gap between them even if he remained between John's legs.

"Nik," John growled his warning, but it was a hollow threat.

“You will do as you are told, captain. Good boys get rewards.”

Nik knew the low rumble of his voice, the manhandling, it stirred something primal and receptive in the back of John’s mind. He watched those bright baby blues widen before they dropped to Nik’s hand, following it like a hawk tracking a mouse as Nik grasped the zipper of his flight suit and tugged it down, deliberate in the glacial pace of its progress.

John’s mouth dropped open as curls of black chest hair emerged between parting metal teeth, Nik’s dusky nipples peaking in the cool air, and John’s greedy hands slid across the heat of newly revealed skin, following the firm contours of his tits. Nik leaned forward to kiss John’s neck again, encouraging his touch, and this time his captain relaxed, his legs spreading a little further apart as his hips tilted. He was begging to be fucked. Nik would take John here as planned, and then he would take him to his bed to exhaust him into complete surrender.

Nik tugged his flight suit open to its fullest extent, his cock arching up in readiness where he hadn't bothered with underwear knowing his intentions with John that evening. He popped a few of John's shirt buttons to kiss the furry perk of his pecs, smiling against John's skin as he squirmed, opening his belt and fly with practiced ease. "Oh, fuck, Nik, no, not here..."

"Da, here," Nik replied, listening to John's tone, his body, rather than his words; the way he gasped so desperately and arched into Nik's heat screamed please, please, please. He didn't resist when Nik slid his arms beneath his thighs and grasped his waistband, lifting his arse for a moment to yank his Carhartts and boxers down his thighs.

John hissed as his flushed skin settled back on the cold surface of the workbench, eager for the return of Nik's palms around the upper curve of his cheeks and the dip of his tailbone. John had an exquisite arse; firm, muscular and round. Perfect for bouncing on a cock. Nik kneaded the top of it as he nipped along the edge of John's jaw to his ear lobe, relishing the powerful body writhing enthusiastically in his arms. Who was Nik trying to kid? John was perfect in every way, even with his penchant for sulking.

Nik earned his first needy moan when he let the tip of his cock kiss the tight furl of John's hole, the slightest pressure rubbing his wet slit against the fluttering muscle in an insistent tease. He nuzzled John's beard as he fished the lube out of his pocket and flicked the lid off with his thumb. John's hands pushed beneath the fabric of his flight suit to grip his shoulders, one looping behind Nik's neck to play in the curls at the nape of his neck. John flinched when Nik squeezed the lube onto his balls, the tube clattering on the workbench when it was cast aside. "Bastard..."

Nik smirked, smoothing warm fingers gently down the seam of John's sac to his taint, circling, teasing his rim with little tugs at the opening. When the first finger dipped inside, Nik swallowed John's groan with a kiss, tongue licking into his mouth when it fell open in a shock of pleasure. John didn't need much coaxing, his body opening eagerly around one and then two probing fingers. Nik crooked them up, John's cock flicking as Nik's fingertips rubbed over his prostate. John panted, his head falling back, the filthy noise of Nik's fingers squelching into his hole accented by his soft whimpers. Blunt fingernails dug into Nik's skin as John clung to him, his leaking cock fully hard against the unblemished milky softness of his inner thigh.

"Ah, ah, Nik... Mm, fuck... Ah..."

"Da, solnyshko. Just a little more and I will give you what you need."

Nik could make John come like this, but his balls ached and there was only one place he wanted to empty them; to watch John unspool on his cock was a privilege he deserved. He pulled his fingers out slowly, his thumb tugging down at John's slick, puffy hole as he smeared lube and precum over his crown and down his shaft, tongue between his teeth as he groaned at the sweet anticipation of what awaited. He was so hard, cock throbbing in his grip, balls already tight, and he took a moment to steady himself before sliding his arms beneath John's thighs again, John's booted feet dangling either side of his back, his trousers bunch just shy of his knees.

His fingers pressed into the flesh of John's hips to keep him still as he ground the tip of his cock over the slick skin of John's taint, lower lip between his teeth as John shivered in his grasp, hips tilting again, urging, begging with his body. Nik's tip notched against his hole and Nik held him firm as he thrust inside, John's body gaping wide around the flare of his crown and thick shaft. John quaked in his arms, thighs trembling, his soft, tortured noises nursing a primal delight deep inside Nik's chest.

Nik kept going, sinking into John's body, inch by aching inch, even as it bore down around him in desperation.

"Fuck, Nik, Nik!"

"Da, my love. Surrender to me as you yearn to..."

It wasn't simply the act of sex. Penetration itself was not surrender and John had ridden Nik's cock from above many times, in complete control as Nik ceded, leaning back into the pillows with his eyes closed. But this act, of letting the tension and frustration melt from his body, of giving in to the pleasure of sex with a man who knew how to pluck every string, of finally letting his mind empty and his muscles relax. That was surrender.

Nik pressed deeper, achingly slow, clutching heat struggling with the girth and length. Every time John's channel fluttered, pulsing between relaxing and gripping, Nik seized more ground. John's eyes rolled back as Nik nestled in his guts and finally bottomed out with a satisfied groan, John's stretched hole pressed against the dark curls of his pubic hair. Nik kissed trembling, spit slick lips, rocking gently, staying deep as he hollowed out his place in John's body. "Mm, detka. You are so tight. Relax, breathe..."

"Nik, ah, fuck, Nik. I'so much, hng."

"Ssh, I know, but you are... mm, taking me so well. All you have to do is let go."

Nik didn't give him any choice. He drew out until John's body sucked on his tip, clenching around it in greedy throbs, before he thrust his full length back in. John bit out a soft, startled cry, back arching as his nails bit into Nik's shoulders. Nik leaned into his lover's neck, the downy curls of his chest hair pressing to the warm swells of his firm chest as he clutched his hips tight to pull them into his cock. The next thrust was just as firm, just as demanding, shaking the table on which John sat.

Nik picked up a bruising pace, forcing John's body into submission with each deep thrust, wet skin slapping wetly as the table rattled under the force of Nik's hips pounding against John's arse. John clung to him, unable to find purchase anywhere but Nik's shoulders as he was fucked hard, Nik's palms providing a softer cushion for him to be pressed into, keeping him from being shoved away so that he was made to take every thrust to the hilt at an angle that sent relentless curls of pleasure arcing up the length of his body.

John shook apart so beautifully, his first orgasm was dry, triggered purely by the insistent, relentless drag of Nik's cock over his prostate. Nik felt the first tremors of it and leaned in to coach him through with whispered encouragement, "da, John, such a good boy, let it happen..."

John's body milked him in tight pulses and Nik watched in awe as John's pleasure unspooled through him, his limbs shaking, broad chest heaving in rattling breaths through loud, high-pitched whines, completely overwhelmed at the full body experience of coming on Nik's cock. It was like a molten heat that burned away the last of the tension and left him pliant and open in Nik's arms.

John's hole relaxed, sloppy with lube and wells of precum, the perfect sheath for Nik's cock, still sucking hungrily on Nik's length every time he withdrew before slamming back inside. Nik chased his high, growling into John's neck, nipping at his hammering pulse to taste the sweat on his skin. His climax crept up his spine, a vine of tension pulling him tight, and he nipped John's ear. "Touch yourself, detka."

John grabbed his cock obediently, pumping down its slick length in furious jerks that matched Nik's pace, his moans reaching a crescendo as he was trapped between two pleasure centres. Nik felt John tighten again, another orgasm, and it teased him over into his own. His hips jerked, stuttering against John's arse, as his cock pulsed its first load deep in John's body. John followed him over the brink, the flood of heat inside him making his eyes roll back as his cock painted his hand and shirt in thick ropes of cum as he was filled with it.

Nik's vision greyed, the force of his own pleasure leaving him breathless as his cock twitched in John's channel. He hadn't realised how pent up he'd been, his balls offering a seemingly endless breeding. He panted hot breaths against John's skin, the tip of his nose resting in the bristles of his beard, lips placing soft, fleeting kisses as his body finally finished. When he finally gathered enough coordination to draw out, the filthy noise of his cock withdrawing made him growl with pleasure, his seed welling at John's hole to drip down the curve of his arse to the floor.

When he lowered John's feet, his legs shook, and he lifted him off the table by the hips. "Go to your room. When I get there, I expect to find you naked in bed," Nik said.

John might have argued if he hadn't been completely spaced, his eyes soft in post-orgasmic bliss. Nik helped him right his belt and trousers and then watched him hobble out of the workshop. Once his captain had disappeared from sight, Nik turned his attention to tidying his tools, a little jelly-legged as he strolled about his workshop.

Nik would find John showered and snoozing, naked and warm beneath his blankets, about an hour later. He washed himself, removing the grime and sweat of the workshop, and slipped in beside him to rub his back and shoulders. John roused slowly, content to let Nik ease his aches, legs spreading when those strong fingers slid between them for a second round, his hole buttery soft, eager for Nik's touch. He was impossible to resist.

[suh-core]

𝖒𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖞𝖚 001

warnings: 18+, minors dni, unprotected sex [be safe!], cumming inside

[17:14] "Babe, why don't we play a game?" Mingyu randomly proposes. "Is this another gma about clinginess you found online?" you chuckle, seeing his lips turning into a line. "Got me" he admits, "you get stuff like that so easily, it's not fair". Both of yours love language is physical touchand you usually wouldn't care about showing it as much as you can and desire. And that would continue as much as you could, even publically, nothing would stop you. So Jeonghan being the menace he is, suggested that you two play those fun games to strengthen your relationship. In all honesty it was hard yet fun, You both struggled to keep your hands to yourselves.

"So what version of the game are we gonna play today?" leaning your side towards the counter of your kitchen you were both into at that time. "So the rules are simple. You touch or kiss, you lose a piece of clothing" he says smirking, "I'm so gonna win this time" you scoff at him, knowning that's more likely to lose and then ask "and what happens to the person that gets naked first". Another smirk appears on his face as he can't hide his excitement, "that's simple, they give oral to the other person"

"Deal!" you say "let's see how long you'll last baby… You're already wearing less clothers than what I'm wearing anyway" and then he looks at himself. A white comfy tank top and gray sweats and some home slippers. He doesn't react much already knowning how he'll end up. "Then are you ready?" he says suddenly getting closer, bicep flexing as he also leans towards the counter as well, putting his weight on that hand. Your hand moves ready to trace the muscle as you always do, stopping midway as you remember the game. He's smiling, a face full of joy as he sees you visibly struggle, "we just started baby, you';'re finding hard it seems" he says. "You wish" you say and go to your laptop to search for new series to watch.

"Leaving that early?" he says very close to your ear. "You might be missing a really good chance of getting head darling, I thought you really wanted that" he whispers and you can clearly hear the smirk he has on his face. "You already said I'll lose the game, so come back and let me lose in peace" he says and turns back into the place he was before. He sits down and taps on the place in front of himas you turn around. You sit down thinking of a way to win. Before you have a chance to actually think what to do, he places his arms in front of his legs, his face coming closer to yours as he flexes his muscles.

This time you can't help yourself and touch his forearm and when he smiles you come back to your senses and pull yourself back. "Doesn't seem like it'll be as easy to win as you thought it would, right?" he says as you sign and take of your shirt, revealing the sport bra you wear at home. "Bra at home?" he says kinda dissapointed. "Told you I have more layers on than you do", you smile starting to do exactly the same pose as he did before, pushing the top of your body forward, creating a nice for him. He licks his lips, and a hand comes right at your side, stroking its way upwards.

"Eager, aren't we?" you say and he gives up "Fuck that game, let's go". He takes off his tank top and picks you up, leading you both to the bedroom. "Well, it seems like the game is over" you laugh, "Yeah, I honestly never thought we'd last even that much to be honest" as your back hits the matress.

Head in the crook of your neck, lips sucking and licking the spot there. His hand stroke your side until they reach your thigh, squeezing it. He really can't keep himself composed, eagerly taking off your bra. Big hand go arounf breasts, playing with them, thumbs circling your nipples. He makes eye contact as his mouth goes around one, tongue flipping it oh so nicely, it sends tingles down your spine. You can't take it anymore and try to touch yourself, he, however has other plans and pulls your hand above your head. "Let me take care of that" he says with a smirk

He hurriedly pulling your pants down along with your panties, pushing his knee towards your bare pussy. A moan leaves your mouth as your area touches his skin. You wish for nothing more that for his tender touch, the fire that ablazes in your chest when you are one, together as one piece, moving your bodies in harmony.

"Put it in… Or at least touch me, I know you're eager for it too" you say pointing at his precum-stained boxers. "I wouldn't want to wait another moment sweetie". He pulls his boxers down and his hard on, springs free, shiny from the precum and not being touched till that moment. He rubs his length along your folds and then softly pushes it in. His head drops back, a groan leaving his mouth, as he feels around him, that familiar but never not satisfying warmth around him. He starts picking up his pace, brows furrowed, as he pushes your legs closer to your chest, a moan with each thrust.

"Not gonna last that long you know" you matter softly, a moan leaving your mouth right afterwards. "I'm not going to as well " he says, hand stroking your stomach as it travels lower, flicking your clit. You bit your lower lip, head thrown back, as bliss overtakes your body, happy to be filled by him, touched my him. He doesn't take too long, the pulses from your pussy driving to the edge as well, filling you with his cum.

His back touches the mattress as well, trying to catch his breath, a smile on his face. His hand touches yours, turning his hand towards you, "you know... we should play more games like these".

[bobwess]

Ao3 is down for a hot sec

As per tradition, here is one of my one-shot fics to tide y'all over~

2,398 words (Now that Ao3 is up, here is the link to mine~)

--

Dean tried unsuccessfully to focus on the mug in front of him. Rubbing his eyes just triggered a yawn. He looked ruefully at his watch; Maybe he needed more than four or five hours sometimes. He absently turned the spoon, cereal dangerously close to sloshing out of the bowl.

When he heard the footsteps behind him he turned to see if it was Sam or Cas.

"Hello Dean."

"Mmh." Dean said, fighting through a yawn. He cracked his neck. "Mornin' Cas." He closed his eyes for a second and suddenly Cas was sitting at the table next to him. He had to remind himself that it was just 'being tired', and not 'Cas could suddenly fly again'.

"Have you or Sam heard anything?"

"What, itching to get out of here already?" There was something different. Something was… his thoughts weren't quite up to the task of figuring it out yet.

"No." Cas said, "But I would like to help."

"If it's a case you want, we can kick a few rocks, see what falls out." The picture wasn't right… that much he could tell.

"I would like that."

Oh.

Cas was wearing his shirt.

Cas was not wearing a suit.

"Sounds like a plan." He heard himself say. No tie, no dress pants.

"Thank you."

A week ago Cas' tan coat finally met a stain it couldn't part with. Dean offered to take Cas on a hunt for a new one, but Cas wasn't interested. 'I think it is time for something different.'

Dean had gone out that evening and grabbed Cas a few things to start his 'something different'.

Cas was sitting here in a pair of jeans, a white tee and what was definitely his shirt.

Probably.

Was it?

Dean continued on. "It's been a while since we stretched our legs. Could be good."

He would have remembered getting Cas a flannel shirt. Wouldn't he? He was a little drunk when he was putting the things in Cas' closet. But he wasn't drunk when he was buying them.

Why would Cas be wearing your shirt? He wouldn't be.

Honestly it suits him. Being un-suited.

Dean couldn't help the grin that accompanied his own perceived hilarity. He shook it off, unnoticed.

Maybe he borrowed it from Sam?

Dean finished the last of his coffee and regretfully dragged himself to his feet. "Alright. I'll grab my laptop and meet you in the library."

He watched Cas head out of the kitchen and he frowned. It wasn't very often he saw Cas out of his normal get up. The last week had been jarring on its own, seeing him in only a suit.

He did look good though.

Mmh. Not important.

Dean walked his mug to the sink, washing it out and drying his hands before heading towards his room to find them a case.

.

Those were his jacket and jeans. He was sure of it this time.

Dean had just bought those jeans… black, and tighter than he usually wore, and right now noticeably tighter than Cas usually wore. The jacket had been in the back of the closet for a while now, but it had been in his closet.

This would be the fourth and fifth item this week that Dean recognized from his own wardrobe. Trouble was, it was too late to call him on it. One of those things that felt like he had missed the window where it wouldn't have been awkward to ask. Now he felt obligated to sort of sit and wait it out.

That jacket never looked right on me. It looks right on him.

Dean continued to pull things out of his bag onto the motel bed, trying not to make it obvious that he was looking over Cas' outfit choices.

He tried to reason out when the hell Cas had time to get into his closet. He never had caught Cas at it yet. For a while he figured he was just grabbing things out of the laundry. Maybe Cas grabbed the jeans from the laundry room but that coat definitely hadn't been out of his closet in months.

At least it's getting some wear.

On top of that, Dean had to admit the jeans worked for Cas. He hadn't quite gotten up to wearing them out. They weren't skinny jeans, but they were… very fitted.

A fact that was very apparent right now.

He couldn't stop looking. Maybe it was just because he had known Cas in exactly one outfit for years, with a few notable exceptions that were just as jarring as this.

The coat, the suit… he hadn't ever thought they looked bad. If he was honest with himself, he liked that tan coat. But it was easy to forget that Cas was more than that sort of box of clothing.

Dean watched Cas turn and walk out the door.

Very fitted.

Dean felt the heat rise in his face and he forced himself to focus back on shoving his stuff back into his bag.

.

Sam was leaning on the map table, scrolling through his laptop when he heard his brother walk in, and he nodded a thanks when a hot mug of coffee was slid in front of him.

Dean carried his coffee over to a small cart in the corner, opening a bottle of whiskey and adding a splash to his mug.

"Dude, it's like noon." Sam protested.

"Coffee and whiskey. Think of it like brunch."

"Brunch where?"

"Ireland."

"You're not Irish."

"I am today."

Sam rolled his eyes as Dean sat across the table. "How's Cas settling in?"

Dean took a sip of his coffee, pausing for a second before a brief nod of approval. He stretched before finally acknowledging his brother's question. "Fine, I think."

"You think?" Sam asked, incredulous.

"Yeah, I mean. He seems to be making himself right at home." Dean muttered.

"You still bitter he took that Metallica shirt?"

Dean threw him a glare. "It's not just 'that Metallica shirt', it's a crew shirt that I got on their tour in Mexico city-"

"That you got by sleeping with an usher."

"That's besides the point." Dean huffed.

"Dean, that shirt is old enough to drink."

"It's vintage. And now it has a coffee stain I have no idea if I'll ever get out."

Sam rolled his eyes again. "I think you'll live."

"Yeah." Dean muttered sullenly.

"You know you could probably just tell him to stop raiding your closet."

Dean sighed, his disagreeable expression melting into a somewhat resigned but more sincere look. "I feel bad."

"The coat wasn't your fault."

Dean fidgeted with his mug in his hands. "I should have told him to let you wash it." He ignored Sam's indignant look. "It was soaked in blood after that case."

"I think it was a goner even before the bleach."

"I thought he just…" Dean gestured vaguely. "You know, angel magicked it clean or whatever."

"You-"

"He's done it before!"

"I don't think he can do that anymore." Sam pointed out. The last time he saw Cas pull off a miraculous clothing change, Cas had his wings.

"I didn't know he was gonna dump a bottle of bleach on it and leave."

"You couldn't have. And you got him some new stuff."

"I think he's trying to find his own style."

"Right now I think he's trying to find your style."

"Mmh." Dean said with a noncommittal shrug. He took another long sip of coffee before he choked, sending it sputtering, whiskey burning his nose and throat as he struggled to get control.

Seemingly oblivious to almost killing Dean, Cas walked through the library.

"Where the hell did he get those?" Sam mused, mostly to himself, watching Cas disappear into one of the other doors.

"I don't know." Dean lied, voice strained. "I should uh-"

"Stop him before he tries to go out in those?"

"Yeah." Dean agreed weakly. He stood and gathered his mug, hastily making his way towards the kitchen to drop it off and try to follow Cas. He wandered the halls in the direction he saw Cas heading towards, finally hearing the sound of the water coming from the garage.

Dean froze in the doorway.

He wasn't sure exactly what Cas was doing, but for the moment it didn't matter. His eyes flicked down to the shorts, feeling a hot flash across his cheeks. A stubborn oil stain had ruined the jeans, and he had decided to try and cut them off. He didn't actually own any shorts.

He cut them way too short.

He had tried them on once before he pushed them back into the closet, probably for good.

Dean had forgotten they were even in there.

Whatever Cas was doing, he was absolutely drenched already. Water was dripping down from his torso over his legs and pooling near the drain on the garage floor. Dean's Led Zeppelin t-shirt was stuck tight to Cas' chest and biceps, and the shorts were stuck tight to his everything. And he-

The thought was cut off as he suddenly got a face full of water. He thrust his hand in front of his eyes, trying to shield himself at all from the spray as he hurried over to take the hose from an increasingly distressed Castiel. He unhooked the latch keeping the sprayer locked on, dropping it back to the ground once it was off.

Dean was soaked through, his gray robe clinging to his calves and slippers squelching with each slight shift of his weight. He looked up at Cas, eyes wide and body frozen with his arms slightly out as he felt the water running off him. "What-" He swallowed. "Are you doing?"

"Washing your car." Cas answered easily.

"You're-" Dean shook his arms, trying in vain to dry them a little. "Why?"

"I wanted to thank you."

"For what?"

"Allowing me to borrow your clothing."

"For…" Dean stopped, the pieces slotting into place. "Sam told you to raid my closet for whatever you needed." He guessed. That little shit seemed so innocent earlier.

Cas nodded. "It was generous. I was trying to think of a way to show my appreciation, and I decided on this. It was… less successful than I hoped."

"You think?" Dean asked, flatly. He couldn't help the smile forming though. "You're supposed to aim the hose away from you, you know."

"It slipped." Cas lamented, looking down at the hose like it had done it on purpose. "I am sorry I have gotten you wet."

Dean swallowed. "Yeah." He said weakly. He shrugged his arms out of the sodden knit, tossing the gray robe over the tool box in the corner of the room. Walking noisily back, he took a second to be thankful he was at least wearing pajama pants.

Though he'd be in good company.

Cas turned and Dean was reminded that he had cut them even shorter in the back; There was not an insignificant amount of cheek visible.

Not that I'm looking.

Dean took a deep breath, taking it in.

It's just they're so…

"Dean?"

"You look good." Dean's mouth betrayed him before his brain fully caught up. He choked a little, covering it with a cough. "I mean, the… you've been picking good stuff. The-" Dean gestured vaguely in Cas' direction. "The shorts… you… it's not bad."

Cas tilted his head slightly, working through the rambling. "Thank you." He finally decided.

"You're welcome." Dean said blankly.

"I would still like to do this for you."

Dean looked from Cas to the hose on the ground, trying to remember what exactly Cas meant before he remembered the car. The static in his mind cleared and he took a deeper breath. "Let's compromise. We do it together and I can show you how to do it properly."

Cas gave a small smile. "I'd like that." he said, leaning down to pick up the hose, the bottom of his cut-offs lifting up precariously. He handed it to Dean.

Dean held it for a minute before he closed his hand around the handle, blasting Cas full force in the face.

Cas threw his hands up in a futile attempt to block any of the water. When it stopped, he just stood there, blinking back at Dean. "That was fair." He said at last.

Dean threw his head back in a laugh. "Damn straight it was." He reached forward, unthinkingly ruffling his hand through Cas' hair, pushing it up from where it was flattened and back into its normal somewhat unkempt state.

Cas' eyes never left his. "You have good clothes."

"What?"

"I like your clothes." Cas continued.

"Thank you?" Dean frowned. "Or you're welcome?"

"You look good."

"I look like a drowned rat."

Cas reached up, copying Dean and pushing up Dean's short hair.

Dean caught his hand before Cas could pull it away. He froze, just holding it to the side of his face, feeling everything he had been pushing aside hit him at once, his heart hammering in his chest. "You really do look g-"

Cas bridge the gap, pushing their lips together before he could finish. Dean blinked, eyes widening at the kiss, his thoughts grinding to a halt. He didn't move, entirely caught off guard.

Cas pulled away quickly, expression an even mixture of regret and longing. "I'm sor-"

Dean yanked him back, deciding that thinking could wait until later. Right now was time to just act without a plan. This time he closed his eyes and leaned into it fully. He threw a wet arm over Cas' shoulder, fingers working their way into his sopping wet hair.

Dean pulled away, looking directly in Cas' eyes, forcing himself to quell any panic for the time being and just live in the moment. "You should keep the shorts."

Cas just tilted his head.

Dean coughed slightly, his cheeks flashing a bright red. "The uh… let's…" He cleared his throat, turning the hose nozzle over in his hand, looking back between Cas and the impala. "Let's wash the car."

Cas looked at him carefully, trying to get a read on the hunter. "Dean, are you okay?"

Dean hesitated for a moment before a small smile worked its way onto his face. "Yeah… I am." He walked over to the bench, picking up a soft towel and tossing it to Cas. "Let's get to work."

[pagegirlintraining]

✂️🎵 for dancing through life pls? 💜

Thank you Lia 💜 it’s been ages since I’ve gotten to talk (or honestly think much) about DTL. So answering this ask was such a nice throwback.

I’ll start with the shorter answer, which is ♬ THEME SONG: pick a fic and I’ll share a song that reminds me of it (and why!):

There are so many possible songs for this one, simply because of all the routines. But one that isn’t directly involved in it but still reminds me of it is “Power” by Spinall, because the original plan for the epilogue was to let them perform a street dance choreo to this song. Obviously in the end I went less ‘fuck the monarchy’ and more ‘dreamy, fluffy boys in love’. But I still think they’d have killed that choreo.

As for the deleted scene, I picked the moment Simon learns about Wille’s obsession with the ship edits people keep making of them. Featuring Erik being a shithead of course 😁 this is set in chapter 11, during the night of their dinner where Simon first meets Erik as Wille’s boyfriend.

The sound of laughter coming from the saloon made Wilhelm stop, his hand halting its movement right above the door handle in favor of listening for a moment.

It wasn’t like he’d necessarily been worried about leaving his brother and his boyfriend alone for the five minutes it had taken him to use the bathroom. Still, having this audible proof that they were getting along splendidly without him flooded his chest with so much warmth, he had to give himself a moment to process it. To really dwell in this feeling of pure, utter love he felt for the two men whose laughter had morphed more into a series of giggles on Erik’s part and several snorts on Simon’s now. Only then did he let himself press down the handle.

“You need to see this, baby,” was the first thing out of Simon’s mouth the moment he clocked Wilhelm’s presence, an outstretched hand waving Wilhelm over in a gesture so entirely adorable, he thought for a moment his heart was going to entirely melt inside his chest. Erik made sure to prevent that from happening.

“Oh, don’t worry. He’s probably seen all of these already”, he was saying, and from the devilish gleam in his eyes, Wilhelm knew instantly that that couldn’t possibly be a good thing for him.

“What are you watching?” he asked, unable to fully suppress an air of apprehension. In response, Simon simply repeated the same gesture with his hand, and this time, Wilhelm followed his request, stepping over to the sofa holding him and Erik, his hand immediately finding Simon’s shoulder, thumb brushing the side of his neck as he peered over it and onto the laptop screen on Simon’s legs.

He was only mildly surprised when he found a picture of his own face there, an official one that the Let’s Dance Instagram account had used to announce his and Simon’s partnership on the show, albeit airbrushed in a way that made it seem like he was exuding a white glow. There wasn’t much time to wrap his head around this, since his gaze was caught quickly by another face beside his own, this one Simon’s, just as ridiculously airbrushed. He had also clearly been cropped out of the original photo in order to stand closer to Wilhelm, in a way that left them both smiling right at the camera, their photoshopped temples nearly touching.

“Vote for #TeamWilmon” the caption above said, with a whole rainbow made of hearts and two crowns behind it. Yeah, he definitely knew why Erik had been laughing now. And knowing his brother, the next few minutes, if not hours, were bound to be majorly embarrassing for Wilhelm.

“It seems people have decided that we have a team name now,” Simon was saying, clearly oblivious to his inner turmoil, “There’s a whole hashtag and it’s apparently been trending on and off over the last few weeks.”

“Oh. How, uh, supportive of them.”

“They’re really creative, too”, Simon continued, apparently too engrossed in this new discovery to notice Wilhelm’s abysmally hidden embarrassment. “This one person made a compilation of you tripping in practice and told people to vote if they wanted to see the monarchy fall.”

“That… that’s actually pretty clever”, Wilhelm got out, feeling himself relax a little bit. He could handle Simon potentially teasing him about falling down in practice. Lord knew he was already doing plenty of that, and eight times out of ten, Wilhelm got a kiss or two as an apology afterwards. So honestly, he didn’t mind that part in the least. What he was much more nervous about was Erik tattling on him and telling Simon how he’d been actively watching different kinds of videos about himself and Simon lately. So much so that his entire for you page was now basically one big collage of ‘Wilmon’. Because yeah, people were very creative when it came to putting together different combinations of clips of the two of them to all kinds of dramatic and sometimes cutesie music. And sue him, but a lot of times, that combination really worked for him.

Any tentative hope of getting out of this mostly unharmed was crushed the moment Erik cleared his throat, adding a low chuckle eight after.

“I’m surprised you haven’t seen any of these before, Wille. Then again, you’re more partial to the couple montages, aren’t you?”

“The couple montages?”

Of course, Simon would’ve jumped right on that. Wilhelm’s eyes squeezed shut in a pained expression all by themselves. When he opened them again, Simon had shifted on the couch, now fully turned back to face Wilhelm.

“You’re making couple montages?”

And okay, with how not at all weirded out - and maybe even slightly excited - Simon sounded asking this, Wilhelm suddenly felt almost bad that that wasn’t what he’d been doing.

“Not, uhm… not exactly.”

“He’s binging ship edits of the two of you. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’d made a fan account himself at this point.”

Yup, leave it to his big brother to ruin his life.

“You’re completely exaggerating”, he claimed, trying to come off as somewhere between amused and nonchalant rather than as panicked as he suddenly felt. Because what if Simon thought that was a ridiculous, or even creepy thing for him to be doing? What if he disapproved of the whole ‘shipping real people’ aspect of it all and would get mad at Wilhelm for not actively opposing it?

“Oh, am I?“ If anything, Erik’s grin had widened since Wilhelm’s last comment, which kind of made him regret not simply keeping his mouth shut. “So you’re saying if I were to check your Tiktok likes right now, there wouldn’t be anything from, say, last night, when you insisted on going to bed early only to then proceed to watch videos without your headphones until way past midnight?”

“Fuck off, Erik. I was watching a movie and fell asleep in front of it.”

It wasn’t even a lie. He had put on an old comedy for background noise that he’d ultimately ended up dozing off to. There was no actual way for Erik to know that he’d been more focused on the compilation of their rehearsal packages he’d been watching on his phone at the same time.

“Sure, stay in denial”, Erik told him now, his tone of voice making it very clear that be wasn’t actually planning on letting Wilhelm stay in denial about this. And really - “I just thought your boyfriend should know how big of a fan you are of your rela-“

That’s as far as he got before Simon surprised both of them by asking, “Do you have a favorite?”

It took Wilhelm a moment to even grasp the meaning of the question. When he did, he still felt like he needed to check again.

“You mean, like… a favorite edit?”

“Exactly.”

To his utter surprise, Simon was smiling up at him warmly, one hand coming to cover Wilhelm’s on the back of the couch, thumb beginning to draw slow patterns onto the back of it.

“I’ve only seen some of the ones that Rosh has sent me, but I’d love to know which ones you like. You know, just for, like, inspo, if I ever miss you and feel like checking some out.”

His cheeks had started to take on a slightly pink tinge toward the end, but just like the incredibly brave man Wilhelm knew him to be - god, he was so much braver than Wilhelm himself ever would be - he didn’t seem to even think about averting his eyes, or playing anything off with a stupid joke. No, his loving, wonderful boyfriend was looking right at Wilhelm with a soft smile and eyes that sparkled with open curiosity. And holy fuck, Wilhelm was so completely gone for him.

“I’ll show them to you later if you want,” he offered, and suddenly, it was the easiest thing. Because why not own the fact that he liked watching clips involving him and his beautiful boyfriend if it made Simon so obviously happy, and even a little bit giddy?

“”I’d love that”, he was telling Wilhelm now, smile deepening as he continued to stare up at him, their gazes irrevocably caught in one another.

“Urgh, you’re no fun”, Erik groaned next to them, but Wilhelm didn’t even need to look at him to know that he, too, was suppressing a genuine smile, even as he continued, “If you’re gonna keep doing whatever this is, I think I’ll call it a night now.”

“Night, Erik”, Wilhelm quipped without once taking his eyes off Simon, whose hand had now started to travel over his wrist and up his arm, leaving a string of goosebumps in its wake.

“Unbelievable,” he heard Erik mutter, but couldn’t find it in himself to mind the teasing he knew this would lead to in the future even a single bit.

I hope you like it and it feels in tone with the story. It really has been so long since I tried getting into DTL Wilhelm’s head (and writing him as Wilhelm. The amount of Wille’s I had to change in this one, rip me 😂) Anyway, thank you so much again for the ask, and giving my hectic brain something to be nostalgic about today 🥹💜

[nopainnowhump]

Cracks in the glass Pt.8

(TW): Graphic depiction of illness, Emotional distress, Non-consensual touch, Power imbalance.

The hallway buzzed with more activity than usual when Thomas arrived. Staff moved in and out of her cell, their hurried movements and clipped conversations making it clear something was off.

Anna was stationed by the glass, her clipboard pressed against her side. Her pink scrubs were a stark contrast to the tension in the air, but her furrowed brow said it all.

“What’s going on?” Thomas asked, his voice steady as he approached.

Anna turned toward him, her usual warm demeanor tempered by concern. “She’s been sick all night,” she explained softly. “Vomiting, low-grade fever. We think it might be the flu—probably picked it up from one of the aides.”

Thomas’s gaze shifted to the cell. Through the glass, he could see her curled up on the floor, pale and trembling. Even from here, the exhaustion and discomfort radiating off her were unmistakable.

“Did you give her anything?” he asked.

Anna nodded. “We managed to get some anti-nausea meds into her earlier, but she’s still pretty agitated. Right now, we’re giving her space to rest and monitoring her fever.”

Thomas ran a hand through his hair, frowning slightly. “Alright,” he said. He glanced at Anna. “Anything else I need to know?”

“She’s sleep-deprived,” Anna added. “And still not eating much. Honestly, she’s just... miserable. But we’re keeping an eye on her. For now, it’s best to let her be.”

Thomas stepped closer to the glass, his expression softening slightly. He knocked gently, his knuckles brushing against the cool surface. “Hey,” he said, his voice calm and low. “I heard you’re not feeling great.”

Inside, she stirred faintly, lifting her head just enough to shoot him a weak glare. Her face was drawn, her eyes glassy with fever. For a moment, it seemed like she might scream at him, but instead, she turned away, curling back into herself as her body trembled with nausea.

“Yeah,” Thomas murmured. “Rough day.”

He didn’t leave. Instead, he lowered himself to sit cross-legged on the floor, his back against the glass. “Well, same as always,” he said, pulling a tablet from his bag. “We can just hang out. No pressure.”

She didn’t move. Her body remained tense, her head resting on her knees as she fought the nausea.

Thomas powered on the tablet, the glow of the screen casting soft light through the cell. “Figured I’d put on another movie,” he said casually. “You seemed to like it last time, even if you pretended not to.”

There was no response.

He adjusted the tablet on the stand, angling it toward her. She didn’t look at it immediately, but her breathing slowed slightly, the faint sounds from the movie cutting through the heavy silence.

Thomas leaned back, pulling out his laptop and balancing it on his knees. He began typing, his fingers moving rhythmically over the keys.

Minutes passed, and her body remained curled on the floor, but her head shifted slightly, her eyes flickering toward the screen.

Thomas glanced over, hiding a small smile. “Take your time,” he muttered under his breath. “We’ve got all day.”

The movie played on, its soft hum filling the space. She didn’t speak, didn’t scream, but she stayed still, her focus drifting to the tablet. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to ease some of the weight in his chest.

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

The fever burned through me, a relentless fire under my skin. My body trembled violently with chills, the cold air against my sweat-drenched skin making it worse. Every breath was shallow and labored, my chest rising and falling in uneven gasps. My head pounded with a dull, throbbing ache, and the nausea never left, twisting in my stomach like a cruel knot.

I could barely move, my limbs limp and useless as the room spun in a haze of heat and sickness.

The door hissed open, and I didn’t even have the energy to flinch. Kyle’s boots clapped against the tile, each step deliberate, followed by the doctor’s quieter, measured pace.

“Goddamn,” Kyle muttered, stopping just inside the room. “You look like hell.”

I managed a faint whimper, turning my head slightly, but even that small motion made the nausea spike.

“She reeks,” Kyle said, waving a hand in front of his face theatrically.

The doctor ignored him, his eyes scanning me clinically as he checked the clipboard in his hands. “Her fever’s climbing,” he said. “We need to cool her down.”

Kyle grinned, too wide, too eager. “Oh, I’ve got just the thing,” he said, pulling the thin sheet off me roughly. “You’re getting a bath, sweetheart. Aren’t you lucky?”

“No,” I whispered, barely audible, my throat dry and raw.

Kyle leaned down, his grin sharpening. “No? You don’t like the sound of that? Don’t worry—it’ll be refreshing.”

I tried to pull away, but my body barely responded, my muscles weak and trembling.

“Come on,” Kyle said impatiently, grabbing my arm with one hand while motioning to the doctor. “Help me move her.”

They lifted me together, their hands rough and unkind, ignoring the weak protests I couldn’t even vocalize. The cold metal of the stretcher sent fresh shivers through me as they laid me down, the chill biting into my already burning skin.

The hallway lights blurred above me as they wheeled me out, their voices blending with the squeak of the stretcher’s wheels. My head lolled to the side, the pounding in my skull making it impossible to focus.

When they stopped, the first thing I noticed was the tub. Gleaming white and empty, it sat like a trap in the center of the sterile room.

Kyle’s grin widened as they positioned the stretcher beside it. “Time for your big moment,” he said, clapping his hands together.

The doctor pulled cuffs from a nearby tray as Kyle leaned over me. “We wouldn’t want you thrashing around and hurting yourself,” he said mockingly, snapping the cuffs onto my wrists and securing them to the sides of the tub.

I whimpered weakly, tugging against the restraints, but my body was too weak to resist.

Kyle crouched in front of me, his face inches from mine. His breath was hot against my fevered skin, making the nausea rise again. “Relax,” he said, his tone low and mocking. “It’s just a little water. You’ll thank me later.”

The doctor turned a valve on the wall, and the sound of rushing water filled the room.

The first splash of icy water hit my legs, and I screamed, the sound raw and broken. The cold stabbed into me like thousands of tiny needles, shocking my overheated body and stealing the air from my lungs.

Kyle laughed, the sound sharp and cruel. “What’s the matter? I thought you’d appreciate the relief. Isn’t this what you wanted?”

The water rose quickly, each wave lapping higher against my body, soaking the fevered sweat from my skin but leaving a different kind of torment in its place.

My teeth chattered violently as the cold seeped into my bones. “Please,” I choked out, tears spilling down my cheeks.

“Please?” Kyle mocked, standing over me with an exaggerated look of pity. “Oh, honey, I didn’t know you could say that word. Too bad it doesn’t mean shit here.”

The water reached my chest, and I gasped, my lungs refusing to take in the freezing air. My convulsions grew worse, my body fighting against the restraints as the cold consumed me.

“Stop whining,” Kyle snapped, leaning down to press a hand on my shoulder, forcing me further into the icy water. “You should be grateful we’re even bothering with this.”

The doctor glanced at his watch, his tone detached. “Five more minutes.”

Kyle smirked. “Plenty of time.” He crouched again, his voice dropping to a venomous whisper. “You remember this. Next time you think about messing up your bed or puking all over the place? Think about this bath. Because trust me, sweetheart—it can get worse.”

Tears blurred my vision as the water stung my skin and every breath felt like knives.

Kyle stood, brushing his hands off like he’d just finished a chore. “Enjoy your spa day,” he said, his voice sharp with sarcasm. “We’ll check on you later—if we feel like it.”

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

The nausea hit hard and fast, a familiar wave of heat and discomfort rising from my gut. My body reacted before my mind could catch up, and I staggered toward the small toilet in the corner, desperate not to vomit on myself.

The retching came violently, ripping through my throat as I clung to the cold porcelain. My head swam, my body trembling with each heave. Tears blurred my vision, mixing with the sweat dripping down my face.

A gentle hand touched my back, and I jerked away instinctively, a strangled gasp escaping me as I spun to look.

“Hey, hey,” Thomas said, his voice steady, a soft edge to his usual firmness. He held his hands up slightly, a non-threatening gesture. “It’s okay. I’m just here to help.”

I spit the sour remnants of bile into the toilet, my breaths coming in short, ragged gasps. He wasn’t supposed to be here—not like this. Not without guards or drugs pinning me down.

“Don’t hurt me,” he said evenly, not moving closer but not stepping back either.

I stared at him, searching his face for any trace of malice, but all I saw was calm patience. My legs buckled, and I let myself sink onto the floor, the cool tile pressing against my fevered skin. I was too tired to care anymore.

Thomas moved carefully, kneeling beside me. His hand returned to my back, slow and deliberate, tracing small, soothing circles.

“Guess this is a record,” he said lightly. “You didn’t even try to kill me while I’m in here.”

The joke caught me off guard, and for a moment, the tension in my chest eased. I didn’t laugh—I couldn’t—but I felt myself lean into his touch. Everything about it screamed wrong, screamed at me to pull away, but I didn’t.

He glanced at me, his voice softening further. “Why don’t we get you back to bed?”

I nodded faintly, unable to summon the strength to argue. He helped me up gently, his arm steady around my waist as he guided me back to the thin mattress. My body sagged against the bed as I collapsed onto it, too exhausted to do anything but stare blankly at the ceiling.

Thomas sat down on the floor beside me, his presence oddly grounding. I turned my head to look at him, still trying to process why he was here—why he was being... kind.

“I’ll be right back,” he said, standing up. True to his word, he returned moments later with a water bottle, a blanket, and a small bag of chips. He placed them on the floor beside the bed.

“In case you start feeling better,” he said casually, his tone almost teasing.

The kindness hit me like a punch to the gut. Tears welled in my eyes, and I couldn’t stop them. I buried my face in my hands, shaking as the sobs broke free.

Thomas knelt beside me again, his movements careful as he slid his arms around me. He lifted me gently, settling onto the bed and pulling me into his lap.

I should have fought it. Every part of me wanted to recoil, to scream, to push him away. But I didn’t. I let myself sink into his hold, the warmth of his body strangely comforting.

“You’re okay,” he murmured, his hand stroking my hair in slow, rhythmic motions. “No one’s going to hurt you. Not here.”

His words unraveled something inside me, and the tears came harder, shaking my entire body as I clung to his shirt. I didn’t know what scared me more—the fact that I believed him or the fact that I wanted to.

His hand never stopped moving, his voice low and steady. “You’re okay,” he repeated, his tone unwavering. “I’ve got you.”

And for the first time in as long as I could remember, I didn’t feel entirely vulnerable.

Pt.9

[chanshoesunite]

IMAGINE: Domestic Chan getting turned on by his girlfriend undressing

Content: Chan sees YN's bruises and thinks about the time her knees were roughed up by him fucking her doggy style. So he does it again.

Warnings: dirty talk, safe sex

"What happened to your knees?"

You glance down, stopping your process of undressing momentarily. You are just about to hop into the bathtub for a rare but thorough soak to ease your soreness after last night's challenging dance class; Chan is already lounging on your shared bed with his laptop, but currently sneaking a glance at you undressing, dirty boy that he is. Your knees, you see now, are bruised, likely from the floor work you did in said pole dancing class. "Oh, it's just from dancing," you say, brushing his concern off, continuing to pull one of Chan's hoodies that you like to borrow off of you.

Chan, wearing only sweatpants like the human radiator that he is, leans forward on the bed, though, as if he wants to see the marks more clearly. How sweet, you think, what a caring boyfriend I have!

"It reminds me of that time we moved in and I fucked you doggy-style on the hardwood floors. Your knees were pretty fucked up, then, too."

Oh. Yeah. Caring boyfriend your ass. More like horndog boyfriend.

You swallow. You remember that time well. How you spent the first two days in your first shared flat basically fucking on every available surface.

You make a non-committal sound as you try to ignore the way your nipples harden at the thought of the delicious burn of having fucked one too many times but not being able to stop. Knowing that from now on, you can do this every day, in your shared space, felt so sweet, and it still does today.

From the way Chan throws his laptop to the side and leaps off the bed you know he's not buying your nonchalance. As you're standing there in your underwear, Chan pulls you against him, hands on your hips, your panty-clad ass against his erection - honestly, how quickly does that man get hard?!

"I wanna do it again," he rasps into your ears as one of his hands comes up to cup your breast and tease it through the fabric. "Not on the floor, because I don't want you to be in pain. But I want to get on the bed and take you from behind. Right now."

You nod, because what else is there to do? This sounds heavenly. Chan makes to unclasp your bra before he kicks off his sweatpants. Your panty is discarded into a distant corner of the room, unnoticed, because now his lips are on yours and it's magnetic, this pull between you, how he cannot be close enough, how you need him everywhere - on you, above you, inside you. The kiss is messy, lips and tongues and teeth and it's desperate, rushed, utterly perfect. You tumble onto the bed, and his hand is between your legs, and the groan he releases when he feels you is almost guttural in its quality. "Fuck," he curses, "how are you so wet already?"

"It's you," you gasp, thrashing below him as you feel his fingers sliding into you again and again. "It's always you, Channie. The things you do to me-" You cut off as his palm grinds against your clit deliciously. "I needed you inside me, like, yesterday," you pant, pushing him off so you can turn around. You don't have a pillow beneath you, but the bunched up blankets will do. You can hear your boyfriend grabbing a condom and putting it on while you wait, the seconds feeling entirely too long (but safety first!).

Chan lies on top of you, covering his body with yours, his hard cock sliding into you easily thanks to all the wetness. You sigh - the stretch is delicious, the angle perfect, and the extensive skin contact makes it feel comfortable and intimate at the same time. He interlaces his fingers with yours. "Okay?" he whispers into your ear.

"Go ahead."

He withdraws before pushing into you forcefully, burrying his face in your neck as he groans in pleasure. His weight is partly on you, and so you're held in place as he pushes into you again and again, whispering sweet little nothings into your ear, how good you feel, how tight you are, how beautiful you are, how much he loves you, how you still take his breath away every single day. It's hot, but not as intense as the aforementioned fuck that gave you bruises, this is much more cuddly and loving and maybe that's what makes it so perfect. You lie there, taking everything he gives you, enjoying the feeling, the closeness - oh, and getting fucking railed by a big cock.

"I'm gonna come soon, sorry" he pants, his thrusts becoming faster, "but if you think I'm gonna let you go into the bathtub without sitting on my face first, you're sorely mistaken."

You chuckle. "And here I thought this was a quickie."

Chan bites your neck. "It's going to be a long night," he rasps before coming with another hard thrust. As you hold him while he catches his breath and then feel him moving to part your lower lips with his tongue, you feel like the term "kiss it better" has just gotten a whole new meaning for you... Maybe you should thank your pole dance instructor next time.

[heyidkyay]

I guess I’ll take this pain, instead of your name |

Part Twenty-One

A/n: Hey! Another part... my w key on my laptop is bugging and being very annoying, but only for the past half hour or so, so editing this has been >:| Anyway, hopefully you enjoy this next segment!

Summary: In life, things changed. The boys you'd once grown up with were men now, and famous ones at that. The type that toured the world and had millions of adoring fans.

The five of you shared a shit ton of history. But you also shared a lot of mixed emotions for one of them in particular, a certain drummer.

Warnings: Eating, swearing, mentions of injury and anxiety, ANOTHER BAD attempt at Spanish...

Masterlist

--

I didn’t know if I was dreaming, making things up, or if he was actually there.

Everything else seemed to be real. The sheets that scratched at my exposed legs, the continuous beep of the monitor stationed beside me, the pounding in my head.

It must’ve been him. 

Still, I had to ask. “Am I still asleep?”

He looked at me for a long moment before he shook his head.

“Am I dying then?”

His lips pressed into a very hard line at that, but he couldn’t quite hold my gaze.

“Then why are you here?” I choked out next, that burn that often tingled its way up the back of my throat and licked at the skin of my cheeks was back again, but I couldn’t cry. I wouldn’t let myself.

George hesitated for a split second then took a step inside. I saw him swallow, throat bobbing, before he made a gesture towards the door. I nodded numbly in reply, not even aware of what he’d been asking for exactly until he closed it behind him. 

The shut door seemed to isolate the noise outside, leaving the two of us in this precarious little bubble that was sure to soon pop. He took another step closer, then one more, but halted by the end of my bed.

He opened his mouth to speak, but couldn’t. So I stared at him and waited. I’d been waiting long enough, what was a few more minutes?

Apparently it was just long enough for Matty to come barging back into the room, frowning down at the metal handle as the door swung open before him. 

“Did I shut that?” He asked out loud with a furrowed brow when he entered, shaking his head lightly as if trying to recall whether or not he really had. It was in that next second that he glanced upwards, I watched the way his bemused expression shifted entirely when his eyes focused on George. 

I could only assume that he was just as surprised as I’d been.

“What the fuck?” Matty said almost on instinct, confusion evident in his tone.

He froze mid-stride to gape at the tall drummer, who looked very out of place in the small hospital room, and blinked half a dozen times before he seemed to come to his senses. But Matty didn’t react the way I thought he would. I honestly figured that there’d be a lot more screaming involved, sort of similar to that of George’s last hospital visit.

“How’d you get here?” Was the first thing Matty asked and, although valid, was the last question I’d expected from him.

“Um,” George cleared his throat and my eyes shot away from Matty’s stilted form and over towards him, he was a tad bit twitchy, nervous almost. “Boarded the first plane I could. Was with Ross when you phoned.”

His voice only proved to ache me further and I had to focus very hard on simply breathing, seeing as though my eyes had already stopped functioning properly, like they were too scared he’d disappear if I dared even blink.

“You phoned Ross?” I heard myself ask, hardly even aware that I’d done so, too concentrated on the man stood before me, the exact one I’d been doing my very best not to think about for the last few weeks. Which had been hard enough after my short trip to Delia’s the other day. 

“‘Course I did.” Matty answered me and I forced myself to spare him a glance, fighting against the urge to simply ask George to come closer so that I could make sure he really was there. So I could just reach out and touch. “Messaged him and Hann to tell him what’d happened, then the ugly fucker phoned me. Though, he did talk me down from a fucking panic attack, so I rescind that previous comment.”

I couldn’t even muster an amused smile for him, head too heavy, mind too busy.

Matty turned to George then, “No one said you were coming though.” He scratched at the back of his neck and then proceeded to look between the two of us. “Do you, uh, do you want him in here?”

I finally blinked when I realised that the awkward question had been directed towards me and the face George pulled upon hearing it told me he obviously hadn’t thought that far ahead. Whether I’d be willing to have him here, even after he’d travelled over two thousand miles to see me.

Was that all it took then, I wondered, an ocean to separate us and he’d come running?

The thought made me feel far too many emotions at once and so I silently played Matty’s question over once more. Did I want him here? 

For the longest time I’d always felt like I’d put George through the ringer, during the time we’d spent together as friends as well as when we’d become something more. But looking back at our relationship, I’d never forced him to stay, to commit to all the baggage that appeared to trail behind me on the long rope which belonged to the noose I’d long since tied around my neck. He’d done that himself. He knew what he’d been setting himself up for.

I’d carried the guilt and the shame of my past for far too long, to the point it had seemed to affect the people I surrounded myself with, it made me put them on a pedestal, in a position higher than myself simply because they’d stuck around long enough, or hadn’t walked away when things had gotten tough.

But that was only because I’d never thought much of myself.

I’d always been confident, sure, quick to pick a fight and stick up for myself, knowing no one else would, but that was just a front. A facade I’d overused to the point where every one believed I wasn’t insecure, or lonely, or struggling. Because I was all of those things and more, I’d always been. I’d just been rather good at hiding it.  

And the way George had treated me, not just after things had ended between us, but when I’d fought to keep him in my life after the fact, and that night I’d gone round to his, as well as the time I’d spent in hospital with him having left me alone to ride there when I’d been hurt. Vulnerable. It spoke volumes.

So even though I had a million and one questions I wanted to ask him, I also had an answer for Matty.

“No, I don’t.”

—MATTY’S POV—

It was fucking depressing.

Not only had he been forced to spend even more time in a place he utterly despised, he'd also had the luck of the draw by having been chosen to babysit his giant of a drummer, who had yet to even utter a word since he’d been all but kicked out of Y/n’s room.

So now they were both stuck sat in a waiting room, listening to the ambience of the bustling hospital around them. Both of them in foul moods.

Matty huffed, unable to keep up the silence much longer. “You good?”

He was met with a minute scoff, but that was it as George continued to stare blankly at the white wall ahead.

Sucking in a breath through his teeth, Matty allowed his body to flop further into the uncomfortable chair he’d been sat in for most of the day now.

“Well, what did you really expect, mate?” He said after a stilted minute had passed, “I mean, you’ve been a prick to her for months now. Can’t really blame her for not wanting to see you now that you wanna talk.”

George shot him a dark glare, one which was quickly replaced with a remorseful sort of frown. He looked almost pitiful- it was proper sad. “I know.” He murmured, voice hoarse and quiet enough that Matty had to lean a little nearer towards him to hear better.

“Can I ask, like,” Matty prompted, “What was actually going through your head when you got on that plane?”

The drummer shrugged helplessly, then dragged a lazy hand down his face. He looked worn and tired, twice his age under lights that were clearly on the brink.

“Her.” George replied, “All I could think about was seeing her. I fucked it last time, I know that. But I was just so fucking terrified, mate. And when Ross got that call- I just had to see her. I couldn’t not.”

Matty nodded slowly, he could sort of understand it. George had fucked up, big time, yes. And he’d be paying for those mistakes for the rest of his life, but maybe he could make up for it now?

All these fucking maybes…

He exhaled heavily and just decided to bite the bullet, “You finally gonna tell her then?”

George’s shoulder sagged in a defeated shrug. “If she even lets me.”

Matty tried not to let his surprise show, even as he dipped his chin in a nod again. “Just have to wait and see then, ey?”

—

Me: Did you know?

Ross: Why hello to you too sunshine Ross: Glad to know you aren’t actually dying

Me: Ross. Me: George is here. In fucking!! Spain!!

Ross: Ah

Me: So you did know he was coming then

Ross: Tried to talk him out of it Ross: Figured it might be a bit.. weird? Him just turning up out of the blue but he was fucking frantic

Me: Yeah well now I’M fucking frantic Me: Why now??? After everything??

Ross: Only he can tell you that love

Me: You’re not helping. AT ALL.

Ross: What else did you expect from me?

Me: Idk Ross! Some sympathy at least, I almost died Me: Again.

Ross: You fainted Ross: But if ur gonna make a habit of it I reckon I can tone down the sympathy a bit Ross: You know how much I’ve spent on fuel since ur first visit??

Me: Wow so it’s come down to money huh?? Me: Still a stingy bastard even now you’re loaded

Ross: Uh how do you reckon I stay that way? Ross: Can you fuck off now and just go talk to G Ross: You want answers, he’s where you’ll find em

Me: :(( Me: I can’t

Ross: Why not?

Me: I’m not ready yet

Ross: Or are you just scared?

Me: Rude of you to call me out like that Me: Can’t someone just sedate me again??

Ross: Voice of reason here Ross: Just give him a chance to explain, he might surprise you

Me: You know something I don’t MacDonald?

Ross: 🤷‍♀️

Me: >:///

Ross: Glad ur ok tho x

Even with everything going on, Ross still had a way of driving me insane whilst also managing to make me smile. It was nice to know I could always count on him to be an A-Class prick (though charming in his own way) during the most difficult of times.

A rapid knock rattled then and I turned my phone off just as I looked up. Blinking at the sight I was met with, I was more than dazed by the person who stood there gazing down at the clipboard they held in their hand. 

I couldn’t help but silently question whether anyone else was going to magically appear in the doorway to my hospital room anytime soon… Or if it was merely just a coincident that two of the people I’d least expected to show up, actually did.

“Alvaro?”

It appeared that the handsome stranger I’d met at the bistro earlier in the week wasn’t just the handsome stranger who had charmed his way into sitting at my table and conversing with me over a love of literature, he was also a doctor. My doctor, or so I could only assume.

Alvaro’s piercing eyes swept up to find me at the sound of my voice and for a second I almost didn’t expect him to recognise me in return, but then he said my name. The surprise I felt was evident in his face too.

“Wow, this is-” The doctor begun.

“Unexpected?” I chuckled lightly as he slowly approached, he looked the same as how I remembered him but different somehow too. Maybe it was the white coat?

“Sí, aunque me alegro de verte.” Alvaro quipped back with a smile, he looked at me for a moment longer before he spoke again, seemingly realising just why we were remeeting. “This has never happened to me before,” He added with a tiny chuckle, slipping his clipboard under his arm.

“Really? Guess I must be special then.” I teased and made myself sit up a little further when he rounded the bed, “So you’re a doctor? How did this not come up before?”

He grinned when I did but then gifted me a small shrug, “You did not tell me what you do either.”

And I supposed that was fair, I acquiesced with a sly smile.

“So, is there any news? I’m feeling a lot better than I did when I first woke up.” I told him honestly and he glanced down towards his clipboard, thumbing at the few pages.

“They told me that this is your second time,” Alvaro mentioned, eyes flicking across the paper before they made their way back to me.

I nodded at him, “I was in an accident, back home. Um, just with a car. I hit my head then too, the wound is still fairly new.”

His lips pressed together, as did his brows, to create a displeased frown. “The old wound is fine. There was no need for any stitches this time around as well, but your friend told the nurses that you did hit the floor hard. Did you feel any symptoms before that?”

I thought about it and then recalled to him the dizziness I’d felt, as well as the exhaustion, but at the time I’d put them both down to the long day I’d had. 

Alvaro was seemingly in flat-out doctor mode now, re-asking questions a nurse from earlier already had, then shining a bright light in my eyes, humming as he looked things over. 

“Your tests have come back okay, there is no swelling on the brain, just a scalp-injury. Which is good. It’s what we were hoping for really.” He told me pleasantly, “But the fainting, that’s the issue.”

I chewed at my lower lip, mind flickering back to the room I’d spent weeks in, the same room they’d relayed to me everything that had gone wrong. My eyes casted themselves down to my cast on impulse and when I glanced back up, the expression on Alvaro’s face told me that he’d finally gotten that answer to the question he’d been asking just before Matty had interrupted us all those days ago.

“Post-concussion syndrome.” Is what he said next.

I frowned at him. “What?”

“That’s what we believe you are experiencing.” Alvaro clarified, he took perch on the very end of my bed, his white coat wrinkling as he turned to face me. “You told us about the headaches you been having, the drowsiness and weakness, the issue you have with your ear. It all leads to post-concussion syndrome.”

“Right.” I swallowed, thinking it over. “And is that… bad? I thought concussions lasted, what? A couple of days at most.”

Alvaro dipped his head once at me, “Typically they do. But head injuries they are strange and recovery is not a linear line. It does not happen quickly and is very different for everyone. When you had that accident, you suffered a lot of trauma to your head and the brain is a very fragile thing. This diagnosis is not bad, just something that had not been anticipated. It’s why you fainted, it is why you may faint again in the future, or experience the headaches and dizziness, as well as the ringing in your ears. You may even feel some anxiety and have issues with other things, like sleep, concentration, memory, and controlling your emotions.”

If I hadn’t felt broken before, I sure did now.

I must’ve looked a little out of it I supposed, because Alvaro placed a careful hand on top of mine and I peered up at him with stinging eyes.

“It won’t last forever. Just a little while. All you need now is rest and hope. ¿Sí?”

—

“Was that who I thought it was?” Came Matty’s baffled greeting as he stumbled into my room, casting greedy eyes at the back of the doctor who had smiled at him and trailed out the door just as he’d arrived. “Please tell me it was.”

I snorted softly, but conceded with a nod. “Mad, right?”

“You’re shitting me.” Matty muttered back, he shook his head before his attention zeroed in on me, “Did you two just have sex in here? Is he into role-play, were you playing his poorly patient?”

With a deadened expression I threw the closest thing I had to me in his direction. Matty squeaked and ducked just before the plastic cup could touch him, though the remnants of water that had lined it did catch the side of him. I grinned wickedly in retaliation whilst he gritted his teeth at the sudden dampness. 

“Almost looks like you’ve pissed yourself.”

Matty scowled and reached for a paper roll, violently ripping away so that he could dab at his shorts. “Haha, what are you, three?”

I shrugged with a forced smile, “Don’t say shit like that then.”

“What!” Matty squawked at me, bewildered. “You can’t expect me not to! He’s your flaming doctor! It’s insane.”w

With a roll of my eyes, I relaxed back in bed before shooting him a tiny smirk, one that had him making his way across the room to shuffle in beside me.

“What the fuck did you two say then? Bet you shit yourself.” He commented as he kicked his legs up over mine. “I’d’ve killed to have seen your reaction.”

“Trust me, I almost did shit myself.” I replied around a huff, “I mean, first George, and then him? Feels like a fucking revolving door.”

Matty snorted, falling further into my pillow so that he could turn his head towards me. “Love Island more like. Only, it’s just you three, and there are a few more braincells involved. It’s a lot more fucking interesting too.”

I swatted his arm lightly with a faint chuckle before I sighed. “Alvaro isn’t like that. He’s my doctor.”

“Alvaro, huh? Forgot he had a sexy name.” Matty hummed playfully, I tried to bite back a smile. “What did Alvaro want anyway?” 

Any amusement I felt flooded away and my gaze fell to the hands sat in my lap. Matty noticed, because he always did, and shuffled closer to take one hand in his.

I released a heavy breath, “They reckon I have post-concussion syndrome.”

“Right. And what’s that?”

“Just means it’ll take me a lot longer than we thought to heal. ’S why I fainted, why I might faint again. Why my hearing’s so fucked and why I either sleep too much or not at all. It's why I have migraines and get dizzy. Basically the reason why I feel so fucking shit all the time.”

Matty’s hold tightened a fraction before he decided to just wrap me up in his arms. “It’ll be alright, love. We’ll get you better, then put all this behind us, ey? Til then, we follow what the doctors say and do their fucking heads in.”

I gifted him a wet chuckle, “By doing what?”

“By annoying the fuck out of them until they let you leave this shit-hole.” Matty told me, quite seriously too, but then he could never seem to help himself, “Preferably with that fit doctor of yours’ number, yeah?”

I cackled and elbowed his side. He relented easily but was still smiling away whilst the two of us continued to talk about the most randomest of things, instead of the ghost who still lingered outside in the waiting room.

— 

I had actually fallen asleep, but hadn’t gotten much of it, seeing as throughout the night either Matty or a nurse had woken me up hourly to check on me.

So by the time the sun had risen I was bleary eyed and just itching to get out of the stuffy room, I was tired but hardly feeling the affects of it. There was too much anticipation over whether or not I could leave before our trips end for me to linger too long on it.

“Ah, and how is my favourite patient doing this morning?”

I glanced over towards the door with a smile for Alvaro, thanking the stars for Matty, who had sent George back to the villa to pick me up some clothes and other essentials. I’d’ve hated to have felt so disgusting in front of the young doctor, yesterday had been a fluke thing, no adonis of a man would be seeing me that way again. Not if I could help it.

“I’m good, tired but excited to leave this place.” I replied in truth.

Alvaro gave me a mocking frown in retort and placed a hand over his heart. “You wound me, corazón! Y aquí estaba yo creyendo que esa sonrisa tuya era mi sol!”

I hid my rapidly colouring cheeks from the man behind a hand and laughed, “Nothing to do with you! I’m just really tired of hospitals.”

He hummed, eyes twinkling as he gifted me a gorgeous smile. “You’re in luck then! You are allowed to leave-” A tiny squeal, which erupted from me, cut him off and made him chuckle, though he was quick to finish his sentence, “But! You have to make sure you rest, okay? Take things easy. I have some medication to prescribe, but other than that I only wanted to talk to you about your stay here.”

My head titled on its own accord. “What about it?”

“When are you meant to fly home?” He asked me and came to sit in the wooden chair opposite from where I sat crosslegged on the bed.

“Um, tomorrow night.” I told him, a tad bit confused. “Can I ask why?”

Alvaro smiled, “Nothing too bad. Just with your injury, it may be safer to wait a few more days before you fly. Or perhaps use another mode of transport.”

He must’ve seen the muddled frown I wore because he shifted on the chair, elbows coming to rest on his knees as he leant forward.

“With a small head injury it is typically okay to fly after a couple of days, but due to your previous accident I don’t want to risk anything. It is not only about the concussion, but your hearing also. The high altitudes increase cerebral blood flow to the brain which is why patients are advised not to fly straight away, it can increase pressure and worsen symptoms.”

“Okay.” I said slowly, swallowing as I thought things over. I had my next checkup in three days time. Matty had band rehearsals. He had meetings. Places to be. Events to attend. I had… my checkup.

“Is that manageable?” Alvaro’s question broke me from my whirling thoughts and I snapped my head up towards him. His eyes were on me, their colour rivalling the warmth of late spring.

I licked at my lower lip and didn’t miss the way his gaze trailed after the motion. “I have to talk to Matty about it, my friend.”

Alvaro dipped his head in understanding, “That’s fine. I can too, if it would make things easier?”

My eyebrows lifted up in surprise and I found myself nodding away before I could really stop myself. “Um, that would probably help a lot.” I released a hollow chuckle, but smiled a little more genuinely when our eyes met. 

The doctor mimicked the second gesture easily, “Then consider it done.”

Alvaro left shortly after our chat and Matty returned to the room a little while after with breakfast bags full of MacDonalds in hand, precariously balancing a tray of drinks on the crook of his elbow as he tightroped his way through the door. 

I was practically all ready to go, only waiting on my release forms now. I quirked a brow at the curly headed frontman just as he placed the food down on top of the moving table that hung over the end of my bed.

“Did you order everything on the menu?” I asked him, moving closer. I peered into one of the bags whilst Matty released an over exaggerated sigh.

“Had to, it all looked too good and haven’t had a maccies here since last tour.” He told me, grabbing at the closest latte available, “Plus, it’s like our last day here so I had to make the most of it innit.”

I grimaced into the face of a McMuffin. “About that…”

Matty raised a brow at my choice of words but didn’t look too bothered by them as he threw himself into the bed I’d previously made. I wanted to scowl at the action but couldn’t, too anxious about what would happen once I'd told him.

But before I even could, George appeared and my mouth quickly snapped shut. I cut a sharp glance over towards Matty, who avoided my gaze by staring up at the ceiling, tongue toying with the straw of his drink. I closed my eyes for a split second and took a breath. A very necessary one.

I looked over at George again, he was stood toeing the line to the door, as though he was scared he might go up in flames if he dared even cross it. I huffed and reluctantly shoved one of the brown paper bags across the table at him, “You gonna dance about there all day, or do you want some food?”

George’s surprise was noticeable but he hid it quickly, then made his way further inside, doing his best not to get too close as though he was afraid it might irritate me further. It did, but I was adult enough to breathe through it, turning my attention back over to where my so-called best mate laid spread out on the thin sheets.

“You two plan this then?” I asked out loud and Matty looked to me then with a faux expression of shock.

“As if our two single braincells could put something as brilliant as this together!”

I hummed sarcastically, “Don’t play stupid, Matthew. It suits you, but you’re better than that.”

George snorted at the quip and I did my best not to look his way, though I could hear a bag rustling just behind me.

Matty pouted but brushed the comment off, “Oi, G, toss me that tortilla, would you?”

A wrapped tortilla went sailing over my head, straight into the hands of the skilled musician and Matty grinned. 

“Cheers.” He said then took a victorious bite before looking at me expectantly, “Anyway, what were you saying, you know, before?”

“Oh.”

I gaped for a nanosecond, then just before I could come up with something to say, Alvaro waltzed back into the room. Only he wasn’t in his usual white coat and scrubs, no, in their place was a pair of pale green tailored trousers and a tan linen shirt, which he’d paired with a light jacket and some sleek trainers. My fish-mouthing was for a whole other reason now.

“Alvaro!” Matty cheered, grinning broadly as he waved the Spanish man in further.

Alvaro stepped inside, chuckling at his warm welcome. “Matty.” He greeted and then turned to me with a sincere smile. The only show of acknowledgement he showed George’s presence was a short dip of his head. “I was actually hoping to speak with you.”

Matty’s forehead furrowed briefly but he shrugged, “Yeah, ‘course mate. What’s up?”

Alvaro's gaze darted to me, apprehensive.

“Did you get a chance to mention it?” He asked me and I shook my head in return.

“They just got here.” I told him honestly, fiddling with the wrapper I held.

“Ah, okay. No worries, querida.” The doctor then pivoted back to Matty, “My office is just up the hall, would you be okay to speak there?” He also looked back to me just to make sure that it was fine with it too. I smiled.

Matty’s inquisitive nature had him jumping up off the bed and wolfing down what little remained of his tortilla without thinking it through, and he took his latte with him. “You gonna be okay?” He asked me quietly as he passed, a hand brushing my shoulder. I nodded mutely, feeling two sets of eyes on us.

Matty nodded too and went to make his leave, Alvaro paused before he followed though. “Are you still okay with it?” He questioned me and I was grateful for his cautiousness, his need to make sure he wasn’t overstepping. 

It was new. Something I hadn’t had much experience with in life. Having known the guys for as long as I had, there weren’t many boundaries you could set. How much you could or couldn’t tell them. We’re all just constantly in each other’s pockets- or at least we used to be.

Having that safety net there to catch me when I felt unsure, only validated my agreement to let Alvaro speak to Matty about it first, explain it properly. It definitely eased my anxieties around the matter. About putting Matty out, or having to face the fact that I might have to stay in a foreign country all alone. Prepared me a bit.

“Thank you, again.” I murmured to him just as he went to exit, and he merely gifted me a smile in return before he wandered after Matty.

Then it was just George and I. All alone.

The last time we’d been alone was out in that hospital hallway back in the Uk. He looked better now than he had then, but not by much. Nowadays he just looked like he hadn't been eating as much, leaner than he’d been since we were teenagers. His choice of clothing had changed somewhat too, it was darker now, grungier almost, than what I was used to.

“So what’s with Julio Iglesias?”

George’s snarky comment had me shooting him a narrow-eyed glare, but instead of retorting in the same manner, I simply reached for the iced coffee Matty had brought me and took a long sip.

I watched as George worked his jaw over, screwing his empty wrapper into a ball and tossing it into the bin nearby as he walked his way over to the window beside the bed.

“Why’re you still here?” I asked him, not unkindly, just curious as to what his answer would be.

His hooded eyes snapped over towards me, he had a palm splayed against the windowsill, leaning himself against it. The morning sun trickled over his stoic features.

“Why am I still in Spain, or here with you?” He retorted.

I looked at him, it had been a while since I’d even had the chance to. “Both.”

George shrugged one shoulder, the one he wasn’t using to bare the brunt of his weight with, and looked back at me. His brown eyes were so familiar, but still, they held so many secrets. “There are a lot of worse places I could be. And, you’re here, so I am too, I ‘spose.”

I couldn’t hold back the scoff I made. 

George sucked the inside of one of his cheeks against a row of teeth and nodded once. “Guess I deserve that.”

“And more.” I muttered, unable to help myself.

“If it helps at all, I hate me too. And I am sorry, for everything that went down, for everything I did.” He spoke, gazing at me even as I looked away, eyes concentrated hard on the sky outside. “You deserved better. Always have.”

I swallowed back the bile that climbed its way up my throat. “What I deserved was answers.”

George nodded. Both knowing it was the truth.

“But I won’t get them, will I? Even now.”

He was quiet a long while before he spoke up. “I want to answer your questions.” He inhaled slowly, “I just- back then I wasn’t in the best state. Even now, I’m still a mess. But I’m… trying.”

I couldn’t lie and say that his words didn’t affect me, or make me curious.

“You went to Delia’s.”

I decided to start off easy, figuring that it wasn’t something that would set off any alarm bells, a subject that could be breached here and now without much emotional hassle.

That, and I’d been intrigued about it. Agonising over it really since I'd heard.

George didn’t appear very shocked when I said that. Like he’d already known that I knew. “I did.”

My eyes panned between his own. “Why?”

He turned his focus outside, giving me a glimpse of his strong nose and jaw.

“I wanted to feel useful. I wanted to help you in the only way I felt I could at the time. Delia, she’s nice. She recognised me and let me stay. Didn’t ask questions and only offered up conversation when she started a brew.” George divulged, fingers tapping against wood of the sill. “She spoke highly of you, it was like you were there, even when you weren’t.”

I ground my teeth and drew in a breath.

“But I wasn't there, I was in a hospital room waiting for you to show up instead.”

George’s chin dipped at my words, his eyes shut as though he was struggling with some sort of inner turmoil. “I know. I let you down. I know that.”

“You let me down long before that, George.”

“I know that too.” He agreed willingly and the sincerity he spoke with hurt my heart.

I had no reply for him, not one that would prove useful now, and so I was thankful when Matty and Alvaro trailed back in, the former practically buzzing with excitement whilst the doctor tried to withhold a grin.

“Ten more days, baby!” Matty hollered loudly, beaming as he scrambled his way over to me, missing the tension I wore like a cape. He kissed my forehead rather dramatically and grabbed hold of my shoulders, shaking them. “I know I had a go at you for fainting on me, but now I’m almost glad you did!”

“Matty.” Came George’s bewildered rebuke, and I had to chuckle, even as Matty shook me lightly.

“You’re okay with it then? Alvaro told you everything?” I questioned him, glancing over at the doctor briefly before Matty was nodding away aggressively in front of my face.

“‘Course I’m fucking okay with it! Ten more days where I don’t have to do fuck all? Sign me up!”

I giggled lightly at his excitement and the anxiety I’d been feeling loosened its restrictive hold around my chest. “Good.”

“Why, did you reckon I’d leave you here?” Matty joked, still grinning madly away.

My tight smile must’ve been a dead giveaway because Matty tutted and shoved my arm gently. “Don’t be a div. As if I would. Besides, already got a plan, haven’t I?”

I frowned back at him, confused. “What do you mean?”

“Figured the rest of the band could come join us.”

Part Twenty-two>

[pebblysand]

Hey there. Just wanted to say thank you for sharing Castles with us. I was 16 when I stumbled upon this masterpiece. I turned 18 a couple of months ago. I came of age with this fic. Whenever things got too much, Castles was what I'd find an escape in. It has taught me so much, taught me how the world's never just black & white and how life can be messy yet worth living. Castles has been a safe place, really. I cried, laughed, mourned and loved along with the characters. Your writing has made me feel so much so deeply, and I'd feel those heartaches all over again in a heartbeat. The female characters especially are so strong, so nuanced, their beauty lies in their imperfections which you've portrayed with so much care . As we reach the end of this road, I hope you are proud of yourself. I hope you know that this fic of yours has left a lasting impact on me.

Oh and I've been meaning to ask, how are you feeling now that it's all out?

thank you so much. that means more to me than you can imagine. ❤️

as to your question... how am i? pfew. i don't know. as i write this, i am now in france, enjoying the riviera's setting sun on my mum's terrace, with my thirteen-year-old four-legged baby sleeping underneath the table. there are palm trees and bougainvilleas. she's just woken up to bark at the airbnb neighbours next door.

how am i? exhausted. like, bone-deep. i don't know how to explain. the exhaustion of having published 82,000 words in two months. of having written 403,000 words in four years. of having made a thing. i made a thing. i could sleep for ten years, i feel, but i'm also wired. from the excitement and the adrenaline. i woke up every hour last night. i woke up at four o'clock this morning and couldn't get back to sleep. i now have two weeks of holidays and beach days to hopefully let my brain recuperate.

i am... terribly unfit lol. i'm the heaviest i've ever been, but it's not really about that, it's about the fact that i've been eating absolute shite for the past four/five months (with the above-mentioned exhaustion, i couldn't be bothered to cook), and honestly don't feel i could walk 10,000 steps without being out of breath. let me tell you that spending your days working in front of a laptop for your big girl job and all your evenings and weekends writing makes your life very sedentary. but that is easily fixable. my mum's building has a pool, so we'll be going every day and doing laps and going for walks and exploring the world again and recharging, and hopefully we'll feel better in a few weeks.

i am also... in absolute disbelief. i think it will take a while to truly sink in. i am incredibly proud of myself, proud of this story. proud of having told it. proud of not giving up on it. i came so close, this time last year. but i hung on. i owed it to myself. and, frankly, i owed it to lily, to tell her story. how lovely that i can finally say that without spoiling. she deserved someone else to hear.

i am... immensely honoured. beyond belief. i think for a long time, i blocked out and minimised the kind comments and the things people would say about how much this story meant to them, not out of rudeness but more to preserve myself from the pressure. it can be difficult - petrifying - to write a story that means a lot to people. but now, i have seventy-two comments (and counting) in my inbox and i am slowly realising that maybe, people weren't just being nice when they said these things. maybe it was true. and that means more to me than words could ever express.

i am... grieving. a little bit. i think, reading all of your messages and comments, a lot of you seem to feel that too. a bittersweetness of a four-year adventure ending. i think this emotion is already a bit on its way out for me, because i've been grieving castles for a while now, and have slowly come to terms with it ending. but, still. i would be remiss if i did not mention that the immense sense of pride and satisfaction and fulfilment that i feel ending this project, also didn't come with a bit of grief.

and, finally, i am very much looking forward to the future. i am excited for a lot of travel plans i have set up in the autumn. i am excited for my birthday in six days. i am excited for what the future will bring in terms of the stories i will inevitably tell again. fanfic or original.

and, i am immensely grateful to all of you. so thank you ❤️

[hazbinshusk]

Heyo, I've been curious for a bit because you're really consistent with the fanfictions you write (which I'm so thankful for, it leaves a bunch for me to catch up on my days off) buuuut how long does it usually take you to write? How does the planning process go? And any advice you'd give to writers?

You've been doing lovely lately with the kinktober fics, your words are nom nomable 💜

hello, my love!

honestly, the idea that I'm in anyway consistent now is still mind-blowing to me lol. I think right now, it's just a combination of the hyperfixation still going strong, having people who actually interact with me about my writing which gives me motivation to write, and not having the energy to go anywhere on weekends lol.

in truth, I just had two weeks off work, and I wrote about 15 of the fics for kinktober in those two weeks. It's definitely going to be slowing down again soon now that I'm back at work and tired all the time because of it.

it depends on the fic - I tend to write smut faster (not really sure why), so if I get stuck on the dialogue in the lead up, then a fic could take me longer. Once I start the smut, it's much quicker. I'm also a massive procrastinator, even on stuff I enjoy, so while a fic might only take me a few hours all together, that could be spread over a few days. I get the bulk of the writing done on my weekends - during the kinktober writing there were some days where I could knock out three or four fics in a day because the motivation was flowing. Other days I'll sit in front of the laptop and I can barely get a few sentences out.

In terms of planning, I don't really have big plans. There's a husk fic I'm cooking at the moment that in my head has some legs, but the 'plan' is just a tab on the sticky note app with a list of kinks that serve as what each chapter would be lol. I have one saved away for another fandom that has, like every chapter planned out as a dot point, some with dialogue ideas, and transcripts from the original text to work in where needed (and I haven't touched it in months).

For the oneshots, sometimes I'll have a few dot points of stuff I know I want to have in there, but it's mostly just write and see what comes out - if I'm trying to fit a mould I've made, sometimes my asshole of a brain decides it won't be able to fit thoughts into that mould and I end up screwing it up for myself.

In terms of advice, the best I can say is write for yourself? the minute writing begins to feel like a chore, I lose the spark. It's why I'm trying to be really open about requests not having any time frame - my last fandom I overloaded myself with requests and it ended up feeling more like work than fun. Pairing that with the fact that I would write requests for people and they wouldn't reblog or like or let me know if they even liked it... it sucked. But now, it's for me, most of all. I love all of you so much for enjoying it and taking time to do things like this and I wouldn't trade it for the world, but I need to keep in mind that I am, first and foremost, writing for me.

maybe not the most practical or helpful piece of advice, but its what came to mind :)

[littlemisssquiggles]

LittleMissSquiggles’ Summary of Art 2023

Honestly folks, I don't got much to say about this year. This might just be my shortest art summary to date since I don't have much to comment on this year's events.

2023 was a general mix of highs and lows but overall, not a bad year. You could say that this was the year I was more work-oriented.

I focused more on work especially during the early half of this year, between January and July and therefore didn't spend much time on personal projects; specifically 3D. That being said, I did end up getting back up to my art. Since I've been more focused on 3D for the past two years, I chose this year to get back into my 2D art doing illustrative work since I missed it.

More than that, I took this year to spend some well needed time improving my drawing skills, using tools and techniques from my 3D workflow in an attempt to improve my illustrative work and needless to say, I think it worked out great, even if the end results wasn't much.

---

Some squiggly good accomplishments I achieved in 2023:

Started the year employed and while I had to juggle two job opportunities which had its fair share of ups and downs in more ways than one, at least it allowed me the chance to earn the funds I needed to obtain my new workstation: a Lenovo Ideacentre 5 Gaming PC.

Learned about the almighty power of networking and remote desktops thanks to my contract job which allowed to me to transform my current setup into one that fully connects and maximizes the full use of all the devises in my arsenal. Basically I figured out how to connect my previous laptop to my new PC so now I work with a setup where my laptop acts as a third monitor for my PC while I'm able to access all my files from my laptop from my PC. Ontop of that, I also learnt how to connect my PC to my Ipad Mini, not just for transferring files for art but for also using it as a proxy computer device to remote into my main PC workstation. This may not seem like a big deal to most but for someone who didn't know a thing about most of this stuff up until this year, it makes a huge difference to this squiggle meister.

Gained a new four-legged member to the squiggle meister family household. A playfully mischievous yet adorable Husky-mix pup fittingly named Alaska or the "Wee Las" as I like to call her.

Experimented a lot with my art this year and while I may not have shared all of the fruits of my labour to social media, I have been making quite a few strides. ---- I spent the last couple of years pushing my social media presence and while I have benefitted from it from time to time, I missed out on just taking some time to myself; getting back to indulging in other activities that brought me joy; particularly the ones that involve truly honing my craft.

I hope to maintain this type of vibe moving forward towards the new year.

Even if my social media activity won't be as frequent as previous years, I do hope that those who have been following and supporting me and my work over years still continue to do so, even if it's to simply just check in from time to time.

To conclude my post, as always, I'm wishing everyone all the very, very best in their respective lives and daily endevours for the upcoming new year.

Let see what we got in store for 2024! Happy New Year folks!

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♦  PREVIOUS ART SUMMARIES  ♦

2013 | 2014 | 2015 | 2016 | 2017 | 2018 | 2019 | 2020 | 2021 | 2022

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LittleMissSquiggles (2023)

[bcbdrums]

For the Headcanon ask board, can you do number 3 and 5?

Thanks for the ask and sorry for answering so late!! Uhhhh.... Uhhhh... You gave me tricky ones!

3. Romantic headcanon for fave ship.

Okay so my fave romantic ship is actually SoMa. You probably were hoping for another pair from me though heheh so I'll do two for this one.

I'm realizing that I'm not good at thinking of romantic headcanons for SoMa, because I see them as kids and not getting too romantic till post-canon... So I guess these are more just...intimacies? I like the idea that Soul helps Maka on and off with her boots. Look at those things... They are HEAVY. And I honestly can't tell without going back to look at screenshots but it looks as if the metal? Is an external thing, kind of like the spikes you put on snow boots to walk through ice? It looks like the metal may be its own thing altogether that she wears just for combat's sake. Which...well man, her legs must be strong. But yeah... I feel like Soul helps her on/off with her boots. Which is quite a personal thing. And then Maka, I feel like she does Soul's laundry and specifically hand-washes his head bands for him. Rich boy don't know how to do laundry when he first comes to the academy, fight me... And rather than make fun of him, Maka just...helps. And with the head bands specifically she takes that extra care because they're important to him, to the look he's after. And she never says a word about it, and he probably only shyly and guiltily tells her thanks every other week or so. They don't talk about it. It's just something she does. And then...I like to think he lets her hear him play. Like if he's sitting in his room, writing a new song on his guitar... She creeps up to the door to listen, peering in the crack... He left it open to let her know she's welcome. And she just sits there silently listening to him compose, knowing that in itself is a gift. And he lets his soul be seen in that way, cuz that's so deeply personal.

As for Spirit and Stein, which is who I assume you were really asking about... Shockingly I prefer them platonically, but on the romantic side... And this is all post-canon thoughts for me, for these two, btw.

I think they're actually absurdly gentle with each other, when it comes to physical things. Too much past baggage for both of them individually and together, so they are extremely cautious together and make no assumptions. And if ever things heat up they take a step back and make sure they're both okay. They take things at their pace, neither rushing ahead of the other. Also, Spirit is the one in charge lol. Also I think they spend a lot of quiet time together. Spirit reading some deep book about the history of witch-kind, Stein next to him on the couch studying weapon soul anatomy on his laptop. Till one of them falls asleep against the other, and then oh well trapped forever now guess it's nap time. Just...quiet intimacies like that. They've been together so long that words aren't that necessary; just being together is enough. They already know what the other is thinking. Apparently I'm not creative with romance lol.

5. A crossover related headcanon.

Ho-boy. I don't care for crossovers, lol. But here we go...

Guess I'll pick Kim Possible because it's the thing I have spent the most time in for the last four or five years. (My gosh who let me do that oh it was me oops.)

Mental image of Stein looking at Dr. Drakken, the two sizing each other up, noting each other's similar scars... (my gosh I have a type and that type is mad scientist apparently) and Stein privately thinking to himself... Why is this guy blue? Why's his girlfriend green and have these crazy powers that def aren't soul wavelength? Gotta "befriend" these people and then dissect them.

Meanwhile Dr. Drakken is looking at the screw in Stein's head like, boy you got a screw loose for sure if that's in fact real and how are you still alive? Are you a zombie? Feeling a little scared of him.

Until. Spirit just de-transforms out of Stein's hands and Drakken is like....human weapon??? Okay time to "befriend" these people and figure out how to get my own human weapons.

Basically, mad scientists figuring out how to manipulate the other toward their personal goals.

I'm not creative lol I'm sorry. Crossovers are just not where my thoughts go. Hope it was entertaining enough anyway.

Thanks for the ask!

[lou-blooms-bitch]

diary entry

idk why i made the title rainbow i just remembered i could and thought why the fuck not

but today i did fuckall whats new. well no i didnt really do fuckall, i woke up at around 10 i think then took a nap at 12 until about 1:20ish then took a shower sometime at 2 then did what i needed to do like shaved my legs and whatnot, i made my bed after too (i put my bedsheet on AMAZINGLY btw. very very proud of how i did it even tho i was embarassingly out of breath afterwards...) but getting into a clean bed while clean with freshly shaved legs is FUCKING HEAVEN !!!!! if only i had more silk sheets instead of just one smh.. in fairness tho this one is still kinda silky just softer ??? idk.. cuz yk the way some bedsheets are cotton but like fuzzier cotton ?? this ones like a less fuzzy cotton in a way. but yeah i didnt really do anything else.. i never painted my nails either i couldnt have been fucked, ill have to do them tomorrow or if i cant sleep tonight do it then.

im nearly finished my game too !!! honestly a little sad about it cuz i love this game so much its so nice and calming.. oh powerwashing simulator how i love you... i also was kinda pissed off cuz i found out that i was using the second best nozzle in the game instead of the best one.. wanna know why ?? I DIDNT FUCKING KNOW THERE WAS ANOTHER ONE !!!!!! i was so pissed cuz at that point i was like halfway through the last cleaning session and i was just like sitting there thinking this couldve been 10x easier for me ??? but i was just an idiot ?!?!!? either way it doesnt really matter cuz the game is still enjoyable either way. but still fuck me.

my friend just texted me, were talking about our tattoos for tomorrow.. yk i love her, shes a great girl. sometimes i feel like she hates me and doesnt actually like being around me or shes like just plotting against me.. not like PLOTTING against me but like waiting for me to fuck up rlly bad so she can just say how much she hates me and dip. i get scared about that a lot, i get it with like everyone i know. im pretty sure thats just my mentality tho.. i think its a thing where like i hate and think so badly of myself that i cant imagine someone genuinely liking me. it fucking sucks being like this.

oh i also spilled makeup remover on my laptop today. was NOT happy at all... i covered my face in sudocream like a face mask cuz apparently it helps your skin or whatever and i got it too close to my eyes and it was burning so i got cotton buds and put makeup remover on them cuz it was easier to take the sudocream off that way and when i put makeup remover on cotton buds i like squeeze the bottle to do it quicker and get it like wetter, when i was doing that my hand slipped and sprayed my makeup remover ALL. OVER. MY. LAPTOP. the keyboard and the touchpad started having a fucking mind of their own and i was getting really scared cuz at the moment my entire life is my laptop, all my friends are here, all my games are here, like everything.. it ended up being fine tho thank all the fucking gods. some of the keys were a bit fucked up so i just took the caps off and got some tissue and rubbed the shit out of the underneaths and then got my hair dryer and blew it all over the keyboard and now its fine !!! the girl is okay !!!!!!

as im typing this my cat started scratcing the inside her little box lol, shes so cute.. i went over to look inside and catch her during the act but she stopped and purr/meowed at me it was really cute. i lifted her up and started kissing her but she didnt really like that.. i held her a little weirdly too so im scared i hurt her a little but i think shes okay, she was most likely just uncomfortable. i didnt hold her for long anyways cuz i 1. dont want her to be upset 2. dont want her to scratch me and 3. dont want her to be mad at me

im not sure if i have anything else to talk about but im really excited to get my tattoo tomorrow, really fucking nervous tho... i really feel like the guy doing it will be a creep. he just randomly texted my friend and stuff and he wass like oh ill keep the shop open for you blah blah blah, like it just seems a bit weird. i hope hes okay tho, even if hes a little weird its alright i guess. i suppose if anything ill bring something just incase i need to defend myself, i have a horrible feeling about him.. like a SICKENING feeling about him. like when i think about him i start to feel my chest and throat get heavy and it feels like my throat is closing up. i think thats just my nerves tho, cuz yk hes a man who the fuck would trust a random ass man ?????

but yeah i think im gonna go now, probs gonna paint my nails and go to bed sooooo

there is cats fighting outside the little babies :( be friends please !!!!

well im gonna go the cat fight noises are making me really sad cuz i cant help them

goodnight tumblr

[bronwyns-art-locker]

chatterbox

another short story i wrote for class. kinda gimmicky. i still like it.

--

[8:38pm] veronica_is_cool: Can we take a break? :3 I wanna hear about your day!

[8:38pm] xlincoln_logx: sure! u first tho

I’ve been talking to this Veronica roleplayer for about 3 months now. We met in one of those open role play rooms on ChatterBox. We ended up talking for hours that night, so we decided to make a private room for the two of us. It’s pretty rare to find anyone roleplaying Veronica these days in the Magical Arrival community, especially since they killed off her character last season. I guess one could say the same about my character, Lincoln. He’s not necessarily a protagonist, but he’s a recurring character that I really related to. That’s really the beauty of roleplaying online – even the most minor characters can be fleshed out by the fans in whatever way they want. 

[8:40pm] veronica_is_cool: My day was fine I guess! Today at school some kid tried snorting salt during lunch so that was weird xD!

[8:42pm] xlincoln_logx: thats insane lol i was out from school today tho so i just spent most of my day doom scrolling online as usual 

In the 3 months since we’ve started talking, I've gotten really close to her. When we stop role playing we just talk like regular friends. She told me her real name is Lili. She loves to draw, write short stories, and role play Magical Arrival online. What’s cool is she’s the same age as me – or at least I assume so. The thing about online friends is that you can never really discern if they’re telling you the truth about their lives. I took what I could get, though. She still listened to me and treated me like a real friend. Honestly, she was the closest friend I had at the time. But I had never seen her face. Or heard her voice. 

[9:16pm] veronica_is_cool: I’m just really shy, Max. Plus, how do I know that when we video call there’s not gonna be some older creep staring at me through me screen ;P (just joking). 

[9:18pm] xlincoln_logx: nah i get it, im rlly shy too 

[9:21pm] veronica_is_cool: I’m just worried you won’t like what you see.

More than anything, I just wanted her to say yes one day. I wondered what she was so afraid of.

[9:25pm] veronica_is_cool: Max, do you ever feel… out of place sometimes?

[9:25pm] xlincoln_logx: yea like all the time

[9:26pm] veronica_is_cool: How so?

[9:27pm] xlincoln_logx: i mean i dont rlly have friends at my school if thats what u mean. 

[9:28pm] veronica_is_cool: Not really. I mean like, do you ever feel out of place in your own body? Like you wish you could just be born different. 

[9:30pm] xlincoln_logx: i cant say that i have. why, is that how u feel??

[9:31pm] veronica_is_cool: Sometimes. 

I failed to come up with a reply. I had never heard her express something like this before. 

[9:45pm] veronica_is_cool: Sometimes I just look at myself in the mirror. I look at my body, my face, my hair… and I don’t feel like I’m me. I have, like, this picture of myself in my brain of how I want people to see me, but I know that will never happen. Really, the only person who sees me the way I want to be seen is you. 

[9:46pm] veronica_is_cool: I guess that’s why I’m so afraid to show you my face. I’m sorry. 

I didn’t know what to say or what to think. I didn’t know how to interpret what she was trying to say to me. Had she been lying to me about who she was this whole time? I felt a strange anxiety creeping up my body. It started at my legs, and made its home in my stomach. I couldn’t look at my screen for too long or else I’d just fixate on her words and get more afraid of what she was hiding from me. For the first time in a few hours I looked away from the bright glow of my laptop, and let my eyes wander around my room. 

I looked at my bed sheets, then my unfolded laundry. I got so deep into talking to her that I forgot to at least clean my room. Then I glanced at my mirror, and held my gaze longer than I expected. I examined my face; my expression. I looked tired, but not unlike myself. I guess I could stand to get a haircut, because it was getting a little long. And I needed to shave the rat-stache I had been growing since 8th grade. I definitely had an awkward appearance, but that never bothered me. I didn’t feel like a stranger in my own body – not at all like Lili said she felt. I looked away. 

My eyes then landed on the Magical Arrival poster hanging on the wall across from me. It featured all of the major characters standing at a bus stop together in poses that represented their personalities. On the far right stood Veronica. She was staring down at her shoes with her hands in her coat pockets, acting just as shy as she usually was on the show. As I studied her figure longer, I realized that I actually had a face I’d picture when I would think about Lili. 

[10:03pm] xlincoln_logx: we’re friends right lili? 

[10:04pm] veronica_is_cool: I’d like to think we are. 

[10:05pm] xlincoln_logx: you mean a lot to me. you’re someone i want to stay friends with for a while. 

[10:05pm] veronica_is_cool: I feel the same way. 

[10:06pm] xlincoln_logx: then would it be too much to ask that you dont keep anything from me? 

[10:08pm] veronica_is_cool: It’s not… 

[10:09pm] xlincoln_logx: do you trust me enough to show me what ur afraid of? 

[10:10pm] veronica_is_cool: It’s not that simple. I don’t think you get what I’m trying to say.

[10:11pm] xlincoln_logx: i think im starting to get it. can we just try and figure it out together? 

She didn’t reply for a while. I was afraid she had left entirely. I was afraid I scared her away. 

[10:45pm] veronica_is_cool: Okay. Let’s do it. 

That anxiety I felt earlier had found its way back into my body. Instead of being in my stomach, it found its way up to my chest and my arms. I was breathing manually now, and I felt a subtle tightness in my shoulders and on the sides of my ribs. My arms felt like they had 20 pound weights on them. I nervously opened up Skype and typed in her username. It felt like the ringing lasted forever, until she finally picked up and all I saw was her profile picture: a drawing of Veronica. “Sorry,” she mumbled, “I’m turning on my camera now.” Her voice sounded strained, like she wasn’t speaking in her natural register. She finally turned on her camera. 

It was my friend. For the first time since I met her, I finally saw my friend’s face. She had pale skin, and some acne on her cheeks. Her wide lips were contorted into a nervous smile as we stared at each other, just examining each other’s appearance. Her hair was long and slightly unkempt. It reached the tops of her shoulders, and was a deep brown color.  Her blue eyes hid behind thick, rectangular glasses and in the reflection of them I could see myself on her screen. I was surprised to see that she was wearing winehouse style eyeliner, and it was neatly done.  Draped over her body was an oversized “Deftones'' t-shirt; her favorite band. She looked undeniably nervous. Her eyes were shooting around the room, trying hard not to look at herself on her own screen. The more I looked at her the more I thought about our conversation. I thought more about why she was afraid to show herself to me. I thought about how much courage it must have taken to do this video call at all. I thought about the trust she put into me to reveal this side of herself. I needed to break the silence. “You know, you look just like her, right?” I said.

“Who?”

“Veronica.”

[wizardofderpiness]

Alright. So, got lightly scolded by my mom. Not for being paranoid because this really IS happening, but because these are some burying myself in the sand things, especially for myself. The wayback machine already exists and whoever can already scrape whether i want them to or not, internet being forever type of deal. That and really it was me trying to erase myself to hide behind a mask because that was safer. And erasing myself in that particular way would have killed my sense of self.

This isn't to say we're in safe times where its fine to not lie about who we are as people. Whether that be be poc, queer, neurodivergent, furries, anything that won't be liked by assholes who as previously seen WILL attack you for it. I've been told that this is a bit of rehashing gen x stuff (the times where they were told to hide under desks because that'll *totally* save you from Russia bombing you!, and letting aids be rampant to kill people they don't like, and having weed be illegal so they can arrest people and make sure they can't vote), and that because of this rehashing of un-safeness, it's... probably going to be unsafe for a while. And that you should choose which battles you're willing to fight for, actually fight for. Maybe not directly, because as my mom put it, not everyone is a social justice *warrior*. She's, as she puts it, a rouge. And I have to figure out how I can fight too, because otherwise I WILL just put my head in the sand.

She recommended some things to learn how to do now, and things to do before trump gets put in office. Now is a good time to learn how to pay rent when your bank gets frozen, how to write your name on your leg incase you pass out at a protest, how to bake bread if internet goes out. She's also pushing me to finally get my drivers license before January, because there is a very good chance that getting one later will be harder. A state ID is for poor people who they can oppress and they can't get out because they need to use a bus to leave. Maybe you can't get a drivers license, but figuring out what you can do now might be important. An up to date passport. Figuring out what things you need incase you need to leave NOW.

(I use a backpack and those clothe packing squares. I have two sets of clothes packed in cubes (two shirts, two underwear, two pants, two sock sets), my laptop ready to be packed, I know where my social security & birth certificate are and have a folder to keep them safe in my backpack if needed, and I have my purse of IDs bank cards and money, and I have a water bottle attachment incase I need to carry it with me. If you have anything you CANNOT leave behind, figure out a way to make it something you can take with. If it's information, have it on a flashdrive & on a cloud. If it's a teddy bear, decide if you need to carry it or figure out a way to keep it on you. If it's stuff for your pet, make a separate carry-able bag that you keep nearby to pick up. Decide, IF YOU NEEDED TO LEAVE RIGHT NOW WHAT DO YOU NEED TO CARRY. Whether you need to leave because of natural disaster, an unsafe home/neighborhood environment, *whatever*. Write it down on a list on things you need to do if you haven't already.)

I don't know exactly what to do to make sure I don't kill the part of myself that's me and human to be safe. It's honestly a habit/safety mechanic/whatever-it's-called that I picked up from living with an abusive parent. I'm going to need to keep check on myself to make sure I'm not destroying myself and that's going to be hard because my motivation cycle lasts two weeks. I have a list of things I think I'll need to be doing to even remotely feel like I'm fighting and not giving up to die/brown nose/be *just fiiine* with everything happening. Those being figuring out when I can leave where I live now (and making a wishlist of things to do when I'm out of there), figuring out what I need to do so I can get a drivers liscence pre-January, making this post for multiple reasons***, downloading more of those videos I want to make sure aren't deleted and making a neocities page to put them up, and writing out some tutorials out on my neocities incase the easily accessible ways to learn those things are taken down/hidden.

I probably need to edit this whole post later to make it more easily readable (bullet points, summarize better, etc) but I know I needed to write this all out now this way, because otherwise I'm going to stop my energy ball from rolling and it won't be easy starting it back up again.

Good luck everyone, I love you and hope you can take care of yourselves the best that you can. stay safe, but please don't destroy yourself to be safe. We might not be in full Hitler-nazis time yet, but we're definitely on Ronald Reagan time.

*** to remind myself, to make a promise to myself, to start pushing myself forward, to write my thoughts and feelings so other people can think about these things too

My ma made a good point about social media stuff. She was posting some stuff onto facebook and had a post-warning-limit thing that only popped up only when she tried posting some political things. She decided that it's not safe there and moved to bluesky, but has also decided to clear out some things from Google-owned platforms.

I'm not gonna nuke any blogs I had or anything, but I think I'm gonna scour through my yt playlists, download anything I think is gonna get deleted/removed, and remove any things that'll obviously get me flagged. (ie anything about pirating, things that can be flagged as a convenient reason to keep an eye on me?)

I'd recommend taking the time to go through your youtube and downloading stuff you might be worried that might be pulled off of youtube. Or things you especially like, since anything that could go through youtube to strike stuff down might act like the copyright claim system and make like. A lot of accident flaggings?

I think I'm also gonna start looking over any n/sfw stuff I want to keep too, since that might be nuked too (with how much the internet's been trying to wipe n/sfw stuff off of the internet, Trump's finally going to make the final push on that). Maybe think about it like the Tumblr n/sfw purge?

[sluttyminghao]

summary: minghao doesn't think he's a brat. his show's viewers would vehemently state otherwise. cue minghao trying to prove he's not a brat while also being the biggest brat in the world on camera in front of hundreds. word count: 2.4k pairing: camboy!minghao x afab!reader genre: smut warnings: sub!minghao, dom!reader, handjob, minghao is a brat, slight asphyixyation, use of body paint a/n: I should've posted this like last week but ya know...life and such anyways this was fun and also killed me so enjoy! i might make a part 2 for this if there's enough interest :) this fic is part of the svthub collab, you can find the masterlists for the hyung line and maknae line here. make sure to give them all your love and support!

For the last two years, you had been your roommate's videographer and editor. It wasn't anything crazy, but he paid you a substantial amount for the job and you got to see him naked, so it was a win-win for you honestly. If you were going to be completely honest with yourself, seeing him naked three times a week for over an hour had its advantages.

“I’m getting ready for my show tonight, babe, are you going to be okay to film me?” Minghao’s face popped around the doorframe of your bedroom, a smirk appearing on his features. You hum and nod in reply to his question, glancing up from your laptop and almost choking on your saliva.

He had just come out of the shower, and small droplets of water were cascading down the lines of his body. He had wrapped his towel around his waist, the fabric hanging low enough for you to see his faint v-line. Whenever you got the opportunity, you admired his body. It was like he was sculpted by the Gods and he knew it and would flaunt it at any opportunity he possibly could.

“Oops,” your roommate’s voice breaks you out of your trance and you shake your head, bringing your focus back to him. Although, it was useless trying to focus back on his face when your eyes drifted down his v-line once more and noticed the towel wrapped around his waist had slipped, exposing more of his deliciously soft skin. 

“I’m ready whenever you are,” his voice drifts down the hallway as he strolls back to his room, dropping his towel in your doorway. You feel your heart rate quicken and your body moves on its own to grab your camera and your phone. It was normal for you to feel excited before Minghao went live on SVTHub, but tonight felt…different, and you weren’t sure why.

And when you walked into Minghao’s bedroom, you couldn't even suppress the surprise that was inevitably written all over your features at the setup he had created for tonight's show.

He had shifted his bed to the wall and laid a white tarp down on the floor, as well as taping a small tarp upright on a lamp where you presumed he would be sitting so there would be none of his belongings in the video. On the tarp, your eyes drift to a small palette with various colours and some tubes of paint tossed to the side.

Your eyebrows furrow together in confusion before you begin connecting the dots and your jaw drops in realization, and the camera almost drops from your hand. 

“So, I figured I would try something a little different tonight, the viewers mentioned using some body-safe paint in a previous stream, and I figured it would be a good idea,” Minghao speaks up from his position on his bed, robe wrapped firmly around his waist. He looks up at you with a mischievous glint in his eye and tosses his phone on his pillow, before uncrossing his legs and sauntering towards where you still stood, coming to a stop in front of you.

“I want you to help me with this show, are you comfortable being on camera?”

The question almost seemed to wind you as the words left his lips, a smirk edging its way onto them when he sees your flustered state. Somehow, in your muddled mind, you managed to nod and he hummed in approval, before turning his back to you and undressing himself until his bare back was in your eyesight.

God, his back muscles were so beautiful.

You finally recomposed yourself and set the camera up in front of where Minghao had set himself up, now only in his plain black boxer briefs. He sits cross-legged on the tarp and sets himself up in the camera’s line of view, and does his pre-stream ritual of a quick breathing session and shaking his upper body, before turning to you and smiling.

“I’ll tell you when to come in, and I won’t instruct you or anything, just go with the flow,” he speaks softly, almost as if he wanted to make sure you’d be okay with this. You nod and give him a thumbs up in reassurance, before setting the camera to record and Minghao is beginning his stream.

Within 5 minutes of Minghao being live and just chatting with the viewers before he even began, he already had well over 500 people watching him and tipping him. One thing you noticed when Minghao went live for his streams on SVTHub was that his persona completely changed to how he was off-camera. On camera, he was shy, bratty and a touch condescending when he wanted to be.

Although he would never admit that he was being bratty, ever.

“Okay I think we can probably start the stream now, but I want to explain a little about what I’m doing first. Recently, one viewer mentioned that they thought it would be hot if I used body paint in one of my live streams! So, here we are, and I’ll have a sexy friend giving me a hand today, you’ll meet them later,” he leans over and winks at you before picking up the paint on the palette and showing it to the camera.

While he explained briefly what was going to happen throughout the session, your mind couldn’t help but wonder what he exactly wanted you to do on camera with him. Were you going to just smear paint on him? Suck him off? The possibilities were endless, but you had no more time to think about them, as he gestured for you to move into the frame so he could introduce you.

“This is the person behind the camera everyone, they will be helping me tonight by doing whatever they want to me, with this paint,” Minghao grins at the camera, which morphs into a smirk when he turns to face you and hands you the palette. You look down briefly at the few colours he had hastily spread on it before the show, your mind racing with ideas on what you could do.

“Come on sweetheart, we don’t have all day,” Minghao begins to sound impatient and rolls his eyes at you brattily, and you stare at him in shock. He’s never acted this way towards you before, but maybe that’s just how he’s acting. Nevertheless, you decide to go along with his idea and smirk before dipping your fingers into the red and blue paint.

“You’re right, we don’t have all day, so remove your underwear and sit back,” you order as you swirl the paint with your fingers, feeling a wave of dominance flow through your veins. He seems shocked at your response but moves quickly to remove his boxers and reveal his half-hard cock into view. You hear the number of tips increase once he has his boxers off and smirk before you let your fingers graze across his chest, reds and blues tracing behind.

He tenses at your cool fingertips grazing his skin, but closes his eyes and loses himself in the feeling. At first, he finds he enjoys the feeling of your fingers on his skin, probably a little too much, the occasional shudder from you grazing a particularly sensitive spot on his collarbone. But then, he finds himself enjoying it too much. 

Minghao can feel his cock beginning to twitch when you dip your fingers into the crevices of his abs, when your fingers graze a little too long against the side of his neck…he thinks he might go insane. He opens his eyes and is met with a huge surprise; you had stripped yourself down to your bra and underwear and had created some kind of abstract art on his chest and stomach.

You take a moment to admire his body and beauty; the way the colours morph together into new ones on his pale skin, how you can see his breath beginning to stutter as he grows more desperate for touch, and best of all, how your touch has seemed to affect him. You can see precum leaking from his cock, now angry and red from being neglected. 

“You seem to like this a little too much, don’t ya?” You tease, and you can see Minghao’s features shift into a frown.

“I just like the feeling of the paint, nothing else,” he counters, his breath hitching when you circle his nipple with a dark shade of green. At that moment, he wasn’t even thinking about the stream and wasn’t thinking about how many people were watching. All he could think about was you.

“Nothing else?” You query, and you watch his Adam’s apple bob nervously as your hand drifts down his body, dangerously nearing his v-line and pubic bone. He can feel precum beading on the head of his cock, he just has to hope you don’t see it. He glances to the side and can see from the small computer screen that his tips and donations had doubled in 20 minutes and he had made more in this time than any of his streams previously.

Minghao’s attention is brought back to you when he hears you place the paint palette down on the tarp and you smirk at him, almost menacingly. He sits completely still as you use both hands to smear the paint all over him, running your hands up his arms and down his torso, before coming up and settling on his neck, squeezing the sides of his neck teasingly.

You can hear Minghao gasp at the sensation, so you try again and squeeze slightly harder. His eyes are rolling and he’s grasping weakly at the tarp below him. A smirk crosses your features when you let go of his throat and instead move your hand down to his angry and red cock, your fingers skimming across the pulsing vein on the side.

“F-fuck,” Minghao’s voice had never sounded so whiny and you couldn’t say you weren't affected. You were sure your panties were soaked and you could feel your cunt throbbing, but you had to stay focused on the task at hand. His cock is warm and heavy in your hand, and you begin to stroke him slowly.

“I want you to mix the paint on your body with your fingers while I give you a handjob, make yourself feel good,” you purr, your free hand coming up to draw a small blue heart on his cheek with some leftover paint on your finger. If you weren’t mistaken, it seemed like he was leaning into your touch almost, but the feeling was gone before you could say anything, and he turned his face to you with a frown.

“Why should I? This is my show, I can do whatever I want,” his reply is sassy, but you know exactly what to do to have him folding within your grasp. You let your thumb graze over the fat head of his cock and press lightly against the slit, watching his body buck up and his whines increase in pitch with the smirk growing on your features.

“This might be your show, darling, but right now I’m ruining you and there’s nothing you can do about it,” you punctuate your sentence by leaning in and kissing behind Minghao’s ear gently, and you can feel the shudder go through his body. When you lean back and get a look at his face, you find yourself getting more turned on.

His eyes are screwed shut and his mouth hanging open slightly, and his hands are balled into fists at his side. Your hand is pumping steadily along Minghao’s cock, and with the way he’s twitching, and his soft sounds beginning to grow louder, he is getting close to his high.

“G-gonna cum,” Minghao stutters out, his breath hitching and his body squirming as you continue pumping him quickly. You don’t say anything but only speed up your actions as he moans louder and louder, until white ropes of cum are shooting out of his cock and landing on his chest, stomach and your hand. 

He relaxes into your shoulder with a sigh as he comes down from his high, while you grab the camera and quickly pan in onto the smeared paint on his body mixed with his cum. You bid a quick farewell to the now thousands of viewers, and Minghao raises one hand weakly to wave goodbye before you cut the stream and focus your attention back on him.

Once you had packed up the camera and laptop, you make your way back to where Minghao was still sitting cross-legged, seemingly dazed but smiling regardless. He glanced up at you and patted the spot beside him, a spot that wasn’t covered in drying paint. You quickly sit next to him with your legs splayed across his, his eyes going down to your near bare chest before travelling back to your eyes.

Typical man.

“I loved this idea, it was really fun with you joining in with me! I think the viewers loved it too, I seemed to have so many more viewers and got at least triple the tips and donations I get in a show normally…maybe you should join in more often,” he teases, but there’s a lining of hope within his voice that you can’t quite shake.

You go quiet as you think about this proposal with your roommate. It was a fun experience in your opinion, and it seemed like he enjoyed it. You smiled at him softly and let your hand come up to move some of his hair out of his eyes.

“I’d love to join you again, Minghao, you know…we are both pretty sweaty and covered in paint right now, why don’t we host another stream in the bathroom?” Your question has his eyes almost bulging out of their sockets, and you can almost see the gears turning in his head at the possibilities before he’s shooting you a wicked grin.

“Let’s go then, and this time I’m going to make you feel so good that you’ll be the one seeing stars,” Minghao comments, standing up and offering his hand to you, which you accept gladly. He doesn't forget to bring the camera and his phone though, he has some new tricks up his sleeve he wants to try.