#chat he jorked it

[thefandomsfervent]

Viktor x Reader Personal Pigments(Part 17) - Prussian Blue

This is a jayvik x reader fic now but it'll still be labeled as a Vik Fic until it's fully implemented. Ft. JayVik and wine, drunk Jayvik, it goes 18+ here (masturbation). Find my imagine that inspired it here. Previous and next chapter will be linked at the bottom. It's late, I was on a roll, and I didn't proofread this a whole lot, I'll edit it later.

Planning on writing as much as I can this weekend to post in bulk before Christmas week, I'll be traveling a distance away and can't bring my laptop with me.

stay tuned and Thank you for reading <3

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It only took you thirty minutes to find your way back to the lab. Although, those first few minutes had you stressed and embarrassed. You and Mel had spent almost two hours walking and talking and you thought she had taken you all over the Academy, but she really had you both walking laps. You were closer to the dining hall than you thought, from there you were able to find your room, and then the lab. Just as you walk up to that heavy door it swings open. 

“Zlato, please, use your feet.” It’s Viktor, doing his best to keep Jayce above the floor. You rush forward without thinking and get under Jayce’s other arm to prop him up. You have to drop your pouch and your sketchbook. It gets kicked behind you into the lab once you’re able to stand taller. 

“What happened?” You’re asking as you shift Jayce between yourself and Viktor. He’s laughing to himself at the situation. “Oh my gods. He was drunk. Jayce Talis sensible golden boy was drunk.” You remember the wine that Mel had gifted them. But it had only been two hours. Three and half maybe? 

“The wine was stronger than we thought.” When you look at Viktor you see his hair is tousled, his cheeks red from exertion or his own drinking you aren’t sure. 

“Did he have the whole bottle?” You’re laughing and trying not to. The shaking of your shoulders makes it hard to keep Jayce up straight. “Hun you have to help us help you okay?” 

“Mmm you’re both warm. ‘S nice.” You were not letting him live this down tomorrow, if he wasn’t suffering a raging hangover. 

“He had four glasses, too close together I think.” Viktor is adjusting his cane straighter with one hand and moving his shoulders around to get a better grip on Jayce’s back with his other. 

“And you?” 

“I also had four, but I am much better with alcohol than he is.” He thinks back to the first time they had drank together. Some whiskey that was spiced heavily at a cocktail lounge many many months ago. Viktor had enjoyed it, nursing a glass for the first thirty minutes. But Jayce? He slammed it and immediately gagged. Coughing and sputtering. That one drink alone had almost knocked him clean on his ass ten minutes later. He’s laughing at the memory. Especially when he remembers that Jayce made the exact same mistake another ten minutes after drinking a seltzer and they had to sit on the curb outside nursing water. Since then Jayce had learned how to pace himself, learned that he preferred drinks that did not burn his throat and were easier to sip on. Wine was hit or miss. “The wine was sweet, so he was not as cautious as he should have been.”

“WE ARE CELEBRAATING!” The sudden input from Jayce surprised you both. Despite his jelly legs his arms are strong, squeezing the two of you closer. He wasn’t yelling, as much as he was whisper screaming.

“Oh! Congratulations, a new development?” You’re following Viktor’s lead as you take patient steps down the hall. Viktor looks down to Jayce, whose face is flush from all the wine, who has a smile so bright it could be seen in the dark, and who is actively starting to fall asleep in their arms. They needed to move him quickly before he was dead weight. At that point it would be impossible to move him even with your help. There was no time to explain what they were celebrating.

“Yes, a new development.” He can’t help the gentle grin growing on his face. It was so warm. This endearment blooming in his ribs, the wine finding its place throughout his body, feeling your arm against his as you help him haul Jayce down the hallway. He can see their rooms. His was closest and Jayce’s was a couple doors down. There were many reasons he was thankful for the proximity of their moved rooms, but now more than ever. His hand using his cane was starting to go numb from the pressure, a pain shooting up his arm into his shoulder. “Here, to the left. Can you get him to the wall?” Jayce is heavy but you manage to move him to the wall by yourself, needing a breather as you slump against it with him. 

He looks sleepy. Eyes struggling to stay open, his mouth parted, his usually perfect combed back hair disheveled.. “Pretty boy indeed.” You’re brushing it out of his face when he leans into your hand. He’s smiling, white teeth and happiness blinding even in the dim light of the hall. “You alright?”

“Neveerr betterrr.” It’s a slurred breathy reply and he slots his head against your shoulder. Viktor is glancing at you while also fiddling with a ring of keys. The clinking sound of metal against metal echoing in the hallway. He finds the one for Jayce’s room and starts unlocking the door. He nods at you to try and get Jayce to his feet. 

“Hey big guy, you ready to get up again?” Jayce just hums, pushing the back of his head against the wall now. “Don’t you want to lay down all cozy in bed?” 

“Mhmm.” 

“Okay then I’m going to get up and I’ll need you to come with me. Can you do that?” Jayce gives another hum of agreement and Viktor watches how gentle you are with him. Helping him stand gingerly, holding onto his waist with one arm, and pulling Jayce’s arm over your shoulder again. Intertwining your fingers with his golden partner’s as you try your damndest to get him through the door. He watches as you give Jayce affirming words and praise for just moving forward with you. It pulls at his core, at all the things him and Jayce had discussed tonight. At all the moments that have been shared. “I’m a sappy drunk,” he thinks as he directs you to Jayce’s bedroom. Viktor pulls the covers back on the bed and lets you set the man down before he sits with him. Helping him take off his shoes. 

“Thank you for your help. I am sure he will apologize tomorrow.” Jayce is leaning against Viktor, whispering something you can’t catch. 

“I can’t say I won’t give him a hard time.” You laugh at the thought, then again when Jayce’s hand is slapped away from Viktor’s tie. It almost dies in your throat when you watch Viktor’s slender fingers work at Jayce’s. You know it’s to help Jayce get ready for bed, but after all that you’ve seen today it was an image you weren’t sure you were supposed to be burning into your memory like you are. “Goodluck. I’ll be in the hall if you need help.” Viktor just nods, trying to get Jayce to sit still as you leave.

You can hear Viktor talking to Jayce, instructing him as you close the bedroom door. Jayce’s apartment is neat but lived in. It smelled a little of oil? And baked spices. A jacket tossed over a couch, shoes neatly lined by the front door. A table with notes and blueprints that looked similar to how he kept his own room. Stacks of books filled with sticky notes. There are a few plants around. A guitar? So much information about a person in one space. It made you wonder about Viktor’s room. If it was neater than this knowing that he barely spent any time there. As you make your way into the hall you remember that Viktor had a key, on his own key ring, to Jayce’s place. So intimate, the care they had for each other. So sweet in its normalcy. A feeling brews in your chest as you wait by the door. Overwhelming and unknown, something akin to wanting. 

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“You are drunk Jayce.” Viktor is trying his hardest to not laugh at the man in front of him, struggling to unbutton his own shirt. 

“ ‘know that.” An irritated huff, an uncommon sound for his partner. “ ‘m trying.” 

“I know you are, let me help.” It takes a few minutes to get Jayce set up for bed. Viktor leaves him in his undershirt, let’s Jayce take care of his pants despite the struggle. There’s a want brewing in him. He wants to stay here, to hold him til he sleeps, be there with water and maybe a pain reliever when he wakes up. But he doesn’t. He ignores the whine in Jayce’s throat when he goes to the kitchen to get his partner water. When he returns Jayce is out cold. Snoring softly under the covers. He leaves the water on the bedside table, watching the even breathing that moves Jayce’s chest. A hand moves to cup his cheek, rubbing a circle into the apple of it. Viktor’s heart swells when he feels the weight of Jayce push into it unconsciously. 

He joins you in the hallway shortly after. You were staring at the wall in front of you, zoning out when the closing of the door snaps you out of it. 

“Hey, he alright?” You’re leaning forward, hands by your side as you face him.

“He will be fine. Embarrassed, but fine.” Viktor was tired, the wine making him sleepy and warm. He starts walking towards his room and you follow. 

“Didn’t think he’d be a lightweight. It’s kinda-” cute. You don’t finish the sentence but it seems like Viktor agrees with you, laughing softly as his cane taps against the floor. 

“Unexpected. I did not know either when we first met. He will deny it though, if you ask it. Blames it on anything else.” He likes hearing you laugh. He likes knowing he caused it. He frowns when he realizes how short the walk is to his room. You would be leaving now. “Goodnight Ms. L/N. We shall see you in the lab tomorrow, yes?” 

“Yes. Goodnight Viktor.” Your voice is so soft, so sweet. Viktor watches as you walk down the hall, flipping through all the keys he has before finding the one for his door. He hadn’t gone to bed this early in a long time. It wasn’t even ten o’clock and he was already in his room getting ready to shower. Discarding clothes, finding ones for tomorrow. Brushing his teeth as the shower heats up. 

When he steps in it fogs up the window over his sink. The warm water soothing the aches of his body. He goes over today’s events as he lathers a shampoo through his hair. How Jayce’s teasing of you led to teasing him. And now they were… together. Officially. Finally declared as two parts of a whole, and that they both wanted you. He thinks about the wine. How it was sweet and rich and strong. How it was sweeter on Jayce when he kissed him again. How pliant Jayce was in his hands, the heat of those broad shoulders in his palms. The sounds of their kissing, teeth clacking, lips hungrier after every glass. 

He should be rinsing the soap out of his hair, he should be washing his body. The routine of putting soap to a washcloth, rubbing it between his hands to form suds lingers in the back of his mind as he continues to think of those kisses. How he could taste fermented fruit and cinnamon and Jayce. A different familiar memory cuts through the haze, much stronger this time. Of release, of teasing touches from past lovers. His imagination taking over. When Jayce tried to bed him would he touch him the same way? The shower is getting hotter, the wine on his breath despite having brushed his teeth. When he tried to bed you, would you react like he did? Would you feel the same that he and Jayce did, would you want them together? 

His hand was moving lower, lower, lower. He could feel it happening, the blood moving down, the water against it but he is surprised at how hard he is. When he moves his hand down, the tip moving past the opening of his fist he imagines your lips. How would they feel on him,  would you be experienced enough to wet them before starting. The image of you on your knees alone has him moving faster but then his thoughts wander. Would you start slow or would you try to take him all at once? Could he fist both of his hands in your hair and hold you there so could he fuck your mouth.  Or would you take the lead,  bobbing your head up and down. He imagines your hands holding it or maybe braced on his hips, fingers digging into the flesh. Would Jayce talk you through it once he knew what worked for Viktor?

He can feel it building, all too quickly.  It's been a while since he indulged himself like this.  A raspy breath falling from his chapped lips. You were so soft. Sweet. Your voice. Quiet and gentle. Would it be honeyed with a returned lust or would it be strained? Dazed like that morning he woke you? "Viktor?" It’s your voice. It’s Jayce’s. The intensity almost knocks him off balance, free hand bracing on the tiled wall as he finishes. Shooting forward onto the handles of the shower. A long burst followed by several short ones as he slows his hand. Twitching when he lets himself go.

And then the only fog he's left with is the steam of the shower. He felt faint, the shower water was too hot and he hadn't been taking full breaths. He turns a handle to make the shower cold and his hand is sticky with his release. Shame. Regret. Oh. What did he just do? He wants to blame it on Jayce’s teasing today. On the glass of wine that warmed his chest. But he knows that's not it. That it's his own depravity.

Well, he could blame all of those things. Embarrassment burns his cheeks more than the water, more than the wine. He hadn’t indulged in that in so, so long. And the realization that there would be something with Jayce in the future settles in his chest. That Jayce wouldn’t be upset with him for this. He takes a deep breath. 

More thoughts for later. Exhaustion is deep in his bones now, it had been a long day despite coming to his room early. He needs to sleep, to clean up. He lathers the rag on the hook and enjoys the rest of his shower. Tomorrow will be a new day. A good day. 

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--.·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙-Part 16-.-Next Part will be linked here.·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .--

------------‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ♡ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙· Master Fic List *̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ♡ ‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊--------------

[spazoutloud]

"I peed, chat. Calm down. I'm not jorking it."

[suiana]

u need to expand on yan viewers and streamer reader pls 😭

(yan! viewers x gn! streamer reader) (calc is short for calculator btw)

"okay chat i'm gonna snipe this watch-"

ynslefttoe: i bet u cant do 5 x 1000

ynslefttoe: i'll give u 100 dollars if u can solve it without a calculator

after quickly sniping the random newbie, you glance at your screen before clearing your throat. you didn't wanna sound like a huge nerd now but you always saw yourself as a little smart...

"ahem! the answer is 5000."

silence.

what the sigma? this dude was lying to you about the money? chat let's ban-

ynslefttoe: what!!!! you must be using a calc

ynslefttoe: calc is short for calulator btw

ynslefttoe: NO cheating

um...

"bro that's literally so easy it's just 5 x 1000."

you respond to the commenter, laughing slightly before going back to the game. oh well, if he wasn't gonna give you money that gave you a good laugh at the very least.

...until it wasn't.

"bro what are you guys on??? are you guys genuinely okay? how are you guys allowed on the internet? this is basic math!"

you stare at your screen in concern, watching the barrage of comments that were flat out refusing to accept the fact that you could do basic timestable.

this had been going on for... ten minutes now? ten minutes of your viewers fighting with you over the fact that you could solve what 5 times 1000 was.

they have even asked several variations of it, 5 times 100, 5 times 10000...

noticemeyn: i didnt know u were smart like that bae

handsomesquidward: bro got me geeking out and jorking me peanits... heh...

ynsrighttoe: can u shake ur ass while answering the questions

ynslefttoe: stop using ur calc i can literally see u using it

ynslefttoe: calc is short for calculator btw, for all the new viewers

you weren't even using anything! your hands were held up in a surrender pose and you were standing up!

"ugh, are you guys dumb or something? these questions aren't even that hard!"

you groan at your stream, face twisted in annoyance as you jut your lower lip out. god damn it! you couldn't even play your game! and now these weirdos are holding you hostage on your own stream to answer some math questions???

he wasn't even giving you money!

ynslefttoe: come on bruh these questions can only be solved like geniuses n stuff or with a calc

ynslefttoe: calc is short for calculator btw its slang

hvynjin (MOD): our lord and saviour is just smart like that guys, remember to subscribe to them btw! weekly free pics will drop in the feed if you subscribe

hotnrichfridgedoordaddy: they're so pretty, i'd like to make them my sugar baby.

ynsfuturehusband: yn can u twrli for me pls u look so prtety

okay what if you kill all of them >___<

[morgansman]

Part 1 : Does John Marston have a daughter?

dude u gotta be so fucking dumb to debate abt this HE MENTIONS IT 😭😭😹

Part 2 : Arthur bathed with copper??

yes he mentions it in a deluxe bath I got that chat thing 😔

Part 3 : Why Dutch flirting with Mary-Beth is disgusting as FUCKKK ( JeruldForward from Reddit made this )

For those who don’t know, there are two random events where Dutch flirts with Mary Beth, telling her she’s a romantic and that she’s becoming quite a woman. He tells her she doesn’t need to work because he’s “not Grimshaw.”

We all know the infidelity is bad enough, but the worst part is you know that’s how it started with Molly. He charmed her, turned her into his pet, then abandoned her to lose her mind.

What disgusts me is that he was going to do the same to Mary Beth. He’d have her living in his tent and not working. He would have alienated her from the rest of the other women, then when he ditched her she’d have no one to confide him. Who knows, maybe she’d have been shot too.

Mary Beth is the sweetest, most innocent member of the gang, and the idea of her sharing Molly’s fate is heartbreaking.

Plus, given his paternal role within the gang, it borders on grooming. What a sick man!

Part 3 : Jacks ending is bleak

It really is.

Part 4 : Red dead Redemption isint a good title.

My friend said this and I shit myself, the story is about them redeeming themselves??

Alright I'll add more parts later for ur bbcs to jork it to

[dirkdaveyaoimaster]

I DON'T CARE WHO INTERACTS I BLOCK FREELY!!!!!!!!!!

If you hate I WILL get off to it btw 😂 (jork master for evaaa!!! ❤)

INTROOOO!!!

Yo I'm konner

I'm a DID system (OSDD-1b)

He/him + depends on who's fronting

I have a lot of interests

For example: true crime, homestuck space and the sea are my main interests!!!

I'm profic and tcc (antis dni pls..)

Uhhh idk I'm cool asf and remember chat DNI GOES BOTH WAYS I DON'T INTERACT WITH ANTIS THEN I DON'T INTERACT WITH THEMMMM!!!!)

Ok bye love y'all kiss kiss mwah mwah!!!

[magicalus-godslayer]

So, I've discovered Miraculous character maker by @ididntseeyoucomein and had so much fun with it! I used it to create my Miraculous OC. She doesn't look exactly like I imagine her, because I couldn't accurately recreate her costume and hair with this maker, but I'll still like how she turned out.

This is my Ladybug Miraculous holder from my Avengers Assemble crossover AU, that I have in my head. Her superhero name is Ladyluck, and she is Polish living in New Jork. As a superhero she looks a bit intimidating with her red eyes with black sclerae, but is optimistic, friendly and always wears a smile on her face. But it's only a facade to hide her identity. In reality she is gloomy, has a paranoia that someone will discover her identity, and is full of barely contained anger on evil Butterfly Miraculous user, who terrorizes New Jork. The Ladyluck at some point joins the Avengers team (but does everything she can to keep her identity a secret), and becomes a bodyguard to Doctor Doom (instead of Captain America) during the action of "The Ambassador" episode. The two of them start as enemies (since Doom has bad blood with Avengers, and also because he wants to get Ladybug Miraculous for himself to use it with Black Cat Miraculous to bring back his dead mother with a wish), but they learn to respect each other and eventually have a secret romance. Ladyluck eventually gets akumatized and there is a lot of drama and destruction, but Doctor Doom with Avengers saves her. I also think that he eventually gets the Black Cat Miraculous at some point, because I'm a sucker for Ladybug/Black Cat Miraculouses holders romance.

I don't know, if Ladyluck would ever use Black Cat Miraculous, but if she did, she could look like this:

Her superhero name would have be Blackfur.

If she would have ever combined Ladybug and Black Cat Miraculouses, her name would have heen Blackluck. I did my best to mix options in the maker to create her look:

I also made Ladybug and Chat Noir!

[his-strange-eyes]

Jork Sick Fic!

[alt-text image description: a boy with mid length hair lays on a couch sleeping. He is dressed in day clothes and had his arms wrapped around himself. He used his jacket as a pillow.] Davy struggled to wake up, his body was cold and achy like garbage that had been frozen then left to thaw on the kitchen counter. His head pounded and throbbed. Micky had left the curtains open and sunlight assaulted Davy’s eyes. In his head he cried and shunned about being awake, but he threw his legs over the side of his bed and looked around an empty room. It must have been late if Micky was already up.

Feeling woozy, he stumbled down the stairs, chills breaking over his skin like waves. He clung onto the railing as the tight spiral of the stairs made him feel sick as he descended.

Micky and Mike were leaning against the counter with mugs of coffee, Mike leaning the small of his back against it with his hands curling over the edge, Micky propping his hip against it as he watched Mike wraptly as they chatted. Peter sat at the piano, plinking around on the keys and humming to himself.

Maybe Davy would feel better if he got something to eat. Leaning around Mike, he put the kettle on then crouched to retrieve the cereal. His whole body ached and protested. Davy rested his forehead against the cabinet door for a moment, forgetting what he’d opened the cabinet for.

“Alright there, Dave?” Micky asked, tucking his chin to his chest as he looked at his smaller friend.

“M’fine.” Davy snatched the cereal and stood, rolling his neck and shoulders. “Just a little under the weather.”

Mike put the back of his fingers (usually warm, but cold now) to Davy’s check. “You’re awfully pink and warm. Maybe you should go back to bed.” His signature concerned frown hung over his deep eyes. He watched Davy closely as he sipped his coffee.

“Thanks, Mum.” Davy said sarcastically. He poured a small bowl of cereal and opened the fridge to get the milk. They were out, so he turned back to his breakfast, picking a couple flakes up with his fingers and popping them in his mouth. He crossed the too bright room to the piano, placing his bowl on the top as he faced Peter.

Peter sat rocking, his shoulders hunched around his ears as he played and hummed, working out some time or another. Davy reached out and tapped his head to get him to look up. When Peter did, Davy put a spoonful of corn flakes in his mouth. As he put the spoon in, Peter was already changing the melody, playing “When I’m 64” by the Beatles. He laughed around his mouthful and sang “Will you still need me? Will you still feed me? When I’m 64?”

Davy couldn’t help but chuckle too. He ruffled Peter’s lovely hair and collapsed backward on the couch feeling like he wanted to peel his skin of. Could he not get warm? He wrapped a blanket around himself. Around this time the kettle whistled. He saw Micky moving to prepare his tea and spring up to make it himself. It was no offense to the others, but they couldn’t make a good cup of tea to save their lives. Davy seriously hoped that that would never have to come up in their crazy lives.

Davy retrieved the earl grey from the nearly bare cabinet overhead. He stood on his tiptoes, trying to reach Peter’s herbal, but couldn’t reach. He hated when the others put stuff on the top shelf.

Micky reached up and got the box of tea down. “Need a hand there, shorty?” His face contorted in pain as Davy kicked him in the shin. “Ooh ow.” He hopped around on one foot, clutching his assaulted shin.

As he prepared his tea, Davy felt Peter stroke his hair as he slipped in beside him to prepare his own cup. They stood quietly preparing their tea. Davy juggled the sugar and the blanket around his shoulders. A wave of chills hit him even as he could see his arms flushed with fever. He closed his eyes against the bright room. He could hear Peter moving beside him, picking up the mugs and nudging him.

“Come on, David.” He butted tue top of Davy’s head with his chin like a cat before crossing to the sofa.

Davy trailed behind Peter, not realizing he was shivering. When he sat, Peter pulled his into his side saying something about always wanting a cuddle when he wasn’t feeling well. Micky murmured something to Mike, mentioning Davy’s name, his whispy voice carrying but too quite to be understood fully.

Davy wasn’t sure how long he’d laid on the couch wishing he could fall asleep. Eventually Peter got up and Davy swallowed the space where he had been, smooshing his face into the cushions. The others must have gone outside because the pad was mercifully quiet. He drifted off.

Davy woke the work was dark all except a light on in the kitchen. He groaned and sat up, rubbing his bleary eyes. At his feet he saw Peter, asleep on his arms at the foot of the couch where he was propped resting his head and arms on the cushion as he sat on the floor, face turned towards Davy.

Smiling, Davy gently slid off of the couch, careful not to disturb Peter, and padded into the kitchen. Mike was there, brewing his first cup of coffee. The clock read 5:30 am. Davy rubbed his eyes again and gave a sleepy nod to Mike.

“He been there all night?” Davy asked, nodding toward Peter. His voice was soft a croaky from sleep.

“Yup. Trying to look after you.” Mike nodded then fixed Davy with a serious look. “You be careful with Pete.” There was a low level of warning in his voice. Mike knew how much Peter cared for Davy, and he wasn’t going to allow anything to happen to make him unhappy. Mike was fiercely protective of Peter. He was tired of watching the world hurt him.

Davy nodded. “I will be.” He said softly, not looking away from the sleeping boy. His shoulders slumped as he looked, he trembled slightly. How could Peter be so gentle? Why would he even look twice at Davy? Davy didn’t know, but was grateful to have such a friend. Well, friend didn’t feel like the right word. Davy didn’t know quite what they were, but he didn’t much care, he was just glad to have Peter for as long as he was allowed. Davy crosse back to the couch kneeling by Peter. He ran a hand through his hair and down his h Sh eek. “Peter, wake up. Time to go to bed.”

“David?” Peter’s voice was cracked and tired.

“Yeah, Pete. I’m okay now. Time for you to go to bed.” Davy smiled softly at Peter in the dark and put an arm around him, leading him upstairs. Though his head still swam and throbbed, he smile as he tucked Peter into bed. “Good night, Sweet Pete.”

Peter hefted a sleepy sight and closed his eyes, rubbing the fabric of Davy’s shirt between his fingers before his arm fell limp to the bed.

Shaking his head, Davy crawled to his own bed, still shivering a little, but allowing himself to watch Peter as his chest rose and fell. Davy counted the breaths until he fell asleep.

[haruoshimu]

boyfriend admitted he jorked it to the times we slept together before we started dating today chat

[aswegcalong]

I Know What I Know (Jork)

Title: I Know What I Know Pairing: Jork Rating: R for language, G for content Warnings: emotional as all fuck Summary: while on a break from recording Good Times, Peter thinks back on all the good times he shared with Davy Jones and all the memories he holds close to his heart. Word Count: 1.9K  Author’s Note: I cried all over my keyboard while writing this, it’s so emotional but so good. The pain none of us asked for. 

Wattpad ao3 Twitter

Everything was going swimmingly for the boys as they recorded Good Times. They’d all put in so much time and effort to make sure this album was everything they wanted it to be and more, they couldn’t let anyone down, not after fifty years of having been a band of long-haired weirdos.

“Hey, I’m gonna record this track real quick, you guys can listen but the backing tracks are already laid down for it,” Mike told Micky and Peter as they set down their instruments, gathering their music and things as they prepared for what was next.

“Sounds good,” Micky replied for the both of them as they stood up from their seats, both men making their way out of the vocal studio and to the listening room as Mike gathered his things for this next track.

Micky and Peter each grabbed a set of headphones to listen as Mike settled down for the track and once their producer gave the nod, they were ready to go. Mike laid down a beautiful track, having told them before that the title was I Know What I Know but not having told them much about it. There was emotion, there was power, it was so raw - unlike some of Mike’s previous songs he’d written for the boys.

Within minutes, the track was done. In a usual Nesmith fashion, Mike nailed it one take and had requested no layering on the vocals, it was meant to be gentle, soft, raw, full of emotion - it meant something to him.

“Sounded spot on, Nez, nailed it. How about we all take a long lunch and we’ll return later to finish today’s tracks?” The producer offered the boys, all three of them nodding in agreement at his offer.

“That was a trip Michael,” Micky said softly as they all gathered in the tight hallway, “I loved it. I felt every moment of it.”

“Good, that’s what I was going for. See yous all later,” The tall Texan said as he turned on his heels and left for his car.

“I’ll catch you later, Mick,” Peter said softly before turning and heading in the opposite direction, looking for an empty studio to gather his thoughts in.

Something about I Know What I Know stirred something deep within him, something he hadn’t let himself feel in years. Longing, emptiness, loneliness, loss, everything he felt at the funeral of his longtime friend David Jones.

Peter sat down in the booth once he’d found an empty one, enjoying the quiet and stillness of the room as the lyrics he’d just heard rang through his mind.

I know what I know And what I know Is I know nothing Without you

“I know nothing without you here, David,” Peter mumbled softly as he let his head hang in his hands.

Sure, they’d fought a few times. Nothing was easy on the set of The Monkees, but despite their age gap, they’d bonded quickly. Peter took Davy under his wing to teach him things Davy had no concept of knowing as a 19-year-old boy fresh to “The Colonies.”

I know what I see And what I see Is I see nothing Without you

“I miss you every fucking day,” Peter mumbled into his hands, hyperaware all of the sudden that the “first official” anniversary of Davy’s death was coming up soon. The leap year date make things wonky, leaving Peter to not really dwell on it for too long when it late February/early March came around every year, but this year, February 2016, gave him more than enough time to think about it, even forgetting his own 75th birthday to help plan a remembrance party for his favourite Manchester Cowboy.

Alone I am With waiting heart Alone I am A world apart

Peter wasn’t quite ready for his own death, his youngest child being 19 herself and he wanted to see as much of her life as he could, yet the thought of going on without Davy - especially when they were recording a track of his today - was more than enough to make him consider that 75 was long enough to have lived. He no longer had his friend, his companion, his lover.

I know what I have And what I have Is I have nothing Without you

It was their little secret, their little moment between them. Their moments of experimenting with one another in ways forbidden by those around them. Sure, Peter’d been with more than enough girls in his lifetime to satisfy any carnal hunger deep within, but he and Davy did more than just fuck, somehow, for two friends experimenting with each other during their times with drugs and their times between shows, they’d loved. Peter really did feel like he had nothing without Davy in his life, he couldn’t just call him up and chat for hours like they’d enjoyed doing, he couldn’t just hop on a plane and go visit his longtime friend, he could only hear what was left of his voice when he’d take a trip down memory lane and listen to one of the old albums, Pool It! being one of his favourites to look back on for Davy’s voice, he had his body in old music videos, romps and photos, but he couldn’t hug his friend again. He had nothing.

I know what I feel And what I feel Is I feel nothing Without you

“I feel nothing, I see nothing, I’ve grown numb to all of this bullshit,” Peter mumbled to himself as he let the tears flow freely down his cheeks. He didn’t bother trying to hide it anymore - he knew he was alone in here and he knew he had plenty of time before anyone would come looking for him - he let himself hurt. With a wet face, tears falling into his grey/white stubble, he thought back on their first and only physical fight.

He rubbed the tips of his fingers over his left cheekbone, feeling the ghost of the bruise Davy had landed there with his “nutter.” He laughed softly, trying to hold himself together as he remembered the next day, the way Davy kissed his cheek softly and whispered sweet apologies when Peter was the one that had done the most damage. He thought about how Davy had promised to make it up to him and he declined, knowing nothing would ease the guilt he carried for sending his near-on best friend and lover to the “A&E knock off bullshit” for stitches.

Alone I am Unspoken words Alone I am Unseen, unheard

He was in a soundproof room, he could cry as hard as he wanted to as he remembered David Thomas Jones, remembering all the good times he’d shared with the younger lad.

He let himself truly go, letting out full sobs as he longed for Davy back in his life. He longed to hear Davy’s inarticulate Manchester accent tell him all about the horse show he’d just been to that past weekend, he’d longed to hear about how he’d celebrated his 70th birthday back home with all his family in England, he longed to hear “Pe-tah!” shouted one more time across a room as Peter did something off or goofy.

My heart is my heart And it is my heart That is hopeless Without you

He thought about the first time Davy had come to him, the first time Davy had really come on to him. He hadn’t believed it at the time - it took him days to wrap his head around it - Davy Jones, the teen heartthrob, wanted him, dummy Peter Tork.

Every touch, every caress, every gentle movement between them, it was cherished, it was full of love, it was everything Peter had looked for in a wife but he had never truly found again as much as he did love his wives and lovers when they were in his life.

He’d never tell anyone, the boys, his children, his wives, or future lovers about the times they shared, and he was hopeless, hopelessly in love with a man who was taken from the joy of life far too soon for anyone’s liking.

I love what I love And what I love Is I love all things About you

Everything about Davy had been wonderful. He was too kind for his own good. They said that Peter was kind to a fault, but those people had never spent enough time with Davy.

“I wish I’d told you, one last time,” Peter mumbled, his voice broken and thick as he spoke through the sobs, “I love you, David, I always have loved you.”

Davy was the kind heart that helped him realise his drinking had gone too far, the kind heart that helped him see that the amount of grass he’d smoke wasn’t good for him and that a rail of white was nothing but an addiction fuelled by loneliness and money. Davy would call him up, would check up on him, would encourage him to find healthier habits, help him remember all the good times they’d shared without copious amounts of drugs in their systems, and when Davy’s wife wasn’t around they’d mumble about their moments alone.

Someone alone Always dreams of The perfect one Someone in love

“Someone in love, I’m just a lovesick fool,” Peter near on whimpered as he let the sobs rack through his body.

Davy was the perfect one, the perfect man. His wives hadn’t seen it until it was too late, and he’d failed to notice it soon enough in life to stick around longer around the scene. Their own demons had torn them apart for years, causing band fueds and unnecessary hate and anger to pull them even farther apart.

“The perfect one, the perfect one,” Peter mumbled over and over to himself as he thought about Davy.

I know what I know I see what I see I love what I love It’s you that I love

“It is you, it is you that I love,” Peter mumbled, throwing his head back towards the sky as if Davy’s spirit could hear him.

It was rare for Peter to show this much emotion, he was good at masking tragedy behind warm eyes and a tight embrace, but this time he was alone, he was on his own, he couldn’t tell the boys where he’d gone off to this lunch break. How do you explain yeah, sorry, I just went off to have a good cry over our old pal Davy Jones, nothing abnormal, just a normal Thursday no need to worry about me guys.

With nothing but good memories and regret coursing through his body, Peter let it out. He let himself feel, he let himself miss his favourite Manchester Cowboy, his favourite Capricorn, his favourite friend, his world, his everything. He pulled out his necklace, wrapping it tightly around his fingers as he held on to the one physical piece of Davy he had with him - a set of love beads Davy had gifted him Christmas of 1969.

They’d shown up in the mail, nothing extravagant, but something just the same and they meant the world to Peter. He’d worn them almost every day since 1971 under every shirt he’d ever worn to remember the memories he shared with his former bandmate.

“It’s you that I love, I know nothing without you. I miss you every fucking day. Hope you’re thriving out there in the beyond, spending time with your Dad and prancing to Daydream Believer like it’s 1967 again and we don’t have a care in the world. I love you Mr Manchester Marauder,” Peter whispered to the ceiling as if Davy was right there next to him to hear it.

And what I love, is I love all things about you...

[monkees-on-the-line]

Hey could you do a headcannon list of jork and dolenzmith on a road trip??

Yes! I would love to! Thank you for requesting! 

They’ve been planning on a road-trip on and off for what seemed like forever until one day Micky just decides that the time is now. 

“Everyone cancel your plans, I’ve decided we’re doing this!”

Peter has a friend who has a friend who has an old Volkswagen van he can borrow.

 Mike insists that he be the one who drives. More specifically, the only one to drive. He is one of those people that feels the most comfortable when they are behind the wheel.

Micky sits next to him, in the passengers seat, and controls the radio. 

Peter somehow is the one who gets to hold the map. He circles all the places each of them want to go because they really don’t have a specific destination. Peter personally wants to go to all the kitschy places.

Peter brings his camera to take pictures and ends up taking a lot of Davy. 

The road-trip itself is not very planned out. Considering it was spur of the moment. But they plan to be gone for about a week. 

Micky feels the need to go into every Gas Station they stop at & get some sort of little object. All four of them now have their names plastered in glitter on their very own key-chain.

They stop at a really cool rest-stop for food that looks over the road below at the end of day 1. While Davy & Peter are distracted and a drowsy Micky has his head on Mike’s shoulder, Mike switches their key-chains so he’s got Micky’s name and Micky’s got Mike’s.

He loops his around his finger and kisses the top of Micky’s head.

Davy gets bored being in the car for so long and Micky gets a little fidgety. So Mike makes sure they get out and stretch their legs often. 

They can’t really afford continuous hotel rooms so they sleep in the van. It’s pretty roomy anyway. However, Davy isn’t a fan.

One night, Davy and Peter stayed up and listened to the fireworks they could hear from outside and they talked about their future. 

Davy basically sleeps on top of Peter every night. 

Mike likes to sneak off in the middle of the night and stand against the head of the van. Just to think about life or something. 

A very sleepy Micky usually comes out to join him eventually. Mike loops his arm around him and they chat for a while, about the trip and where they’re gonna go next. 

Micky knows it’s time to go back to bed when Mike kisses his temple. 

There is no fooling around in the van. 

Sometimes when they’ve been walking around a place for a while, Peter will carry Davy around on his back. At least until he’s tired. 

Sometimes Mike drives with one hand on the wheel and Micky holds the other. 

Davy points out every time he sees an animal. Peter loves to see them. 

The trip is really fun & they plan to go on another very soon! 

I hope this was ok!!! 

[aswegcalong]

Glad You Found Me (Jork)

Title: Glad You Found Me Pairing: Jork Rating: R / NC-17 Warnings: slow burn into hot men having sex Summary: Peter and Davy run into each other in a bar years after The Monkees have gone their separate ways and thanks to a little alcohol they end up back at Davy’s LA flat.  Word Count: 2.9K Author’s Note: this is my first Monkees fic in almost years. I’ve been writing but other ships / aus so this might not be the best, but an honest attempt was made. Expect more to come! 

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The Monkees were over. Done, no more. Davy and Micky had given it their best efforts with the final 1970 album Changes but it wasn’t enough, they couldn’t keep it up. The people didn’t want them anymore, the people were moving on.

Micky had his directing openings that he ran with, doors opened after The Monkees door closed and Davy was more than encouraging for him to take the positions - it was his life dream after all. Davy, on the other hand, was a fish out of water in LA, it wasn’t where he really wanted to be. Sure, it had fulfilled his acting dreams, but he wasn’t a club goer, he wasn’t the kind to really go for the bright, upbeat places that Mick and Pete frequented.

On a whim, Davy decided to go out tonight, hit a small little club that might not carry the teenyboppers that would gawk over him and make his night louder than he was looking for.

What he didn’t expect was to find Peter already there, at the bar sipping on what looked like whiskey and coke while making idle conversation with the bartender.

Peter had been oblivious to the world around him while he was sitting at the bar. He was three drinks deep and though that wasn’t a lot for him these days, it was enough to loosen him up, enough that he might spill too many of his secrets if left with the wrong person for too long. The real Peter Tork was nothing like the character he’d been known for on the show, and though he had tried to show a little more of himself during the second season, he hadn’t been allowed to really be himself. So, now that he was free, he would come to these places, spend a little more than he needed to on drinks, and hope no one would come up and ask him too many questions.

“Hey, Peter,” Davy said softly as he sat down next to the blonde, hopping up onto the stool next to his old bandmate.

Peter gasped loudly, nearly choking on his drink as he heard that soft Manchester accent he hadn’t heard in years.

“Oh lord, hi David,” Peter said once he’d stopped choking, laughing softly at his own expense as he turned to face the younger man.

“Never thought I’d run into you here,” Davy said softly after ordering his own whiskey and coke, “I always expected you to be closer to the party scene.”

Peter took a long sip of his drink as before replying, another chuckle leaving his soft lips, “some nights I love to party, other nights I just really love being where nobody knows me, now one can take advantage of me, no one can use me for publicity or catch me out doing something stupid. It’s just me, my drink, and a few other lonely men at this place.”

Davy nodded as he took a long sip of his drink, “it’s been a lonely kind of night, I miss home.”

Peter held up his drink in a kind of cheers, “I’ll drink to that. I’ve never missed the Atlantic more than this.”

“Cheers to that, babe,” Davy said as he clinked his glass with Peter’s, taking another long sip of his drink, feeling like they were both in the same mindset tonight.

Both boys didn’t know it yet, they had much more talking to do, but they were in the same state of mind at the bar tonight. As they talked, caught up, reminisced, laughed, poked fun at, and just chatted, they realised they were lonely. Both of them had wanted to get free from the show, there was something universal there that their Frankenstein of a television show would be the death of them in some way or another.

“Have you visited ‘The Pad’ since we called it?” Peter asked softly, thinking about all the memories they’d created on that set, some better than others, but all memories together just the same.

“Nah, they never let us back since 33 and a third,” Davy responded, waving to the bartender for another round, “we did music and tours and then after Changes and it didn’t groove with the kids, they ended me and Mick’s contracts and left us out here on our own.”

Peter nodded in understanding, having followed them since leaving. He didn’t hate the boys, he was just so tired and needed to be free. It was fun, sure, but wasn’t what he wanted from his life.

“Any birds in your life these days?” Davy asked out of the blue, wondering a little more about what Peter was up to these days.

“They come and go but usually I only know them for a night,” Peter answered with a shrug, knowing there was probably plenty of wanting girls back at his pad but he didn’t feel like going.

“That’s more than I’ve gotten lately,” Davy laughed softly as he and Peter grew closer to each other.

They had never talked about it, but during the tours and sometimes behind the scenes, they’d experimented with each other. Davy was curious and Peter was established to be comfortable with men and when they had the chance they tried new things.

“I miss the old days,” Davy said ever so softly as he set his empty drink down on the counter, turning on his stool to gaze over at Peter.

“All the time,” Peter said before taking his last swallow, “why’d you think I was here tonight?”

Peter turned to face Davy, their eyes meeting as they both realised they were fuelled by alcohol, longing, and old desires as they started to stand up from the bar. Both of them set down more than enough cash for their drinks before they started heading for the door.

“My flat or your pad?” Davy asked softly as soon as they’d stepped out the door.

“Yours, please. And, how about we walk so we can walk some of the drinks off?” Peter answered as they turned down the sidewalk.

“Dig,” Davy replied as he followed in step next to Peter.

Though it had been about 3 years since they last truly interacted with each other, the way they walked together was as if nothing had changed. No time had passed as they walked down the road, their feet in sync as Davy guided them down the sidewalk to where he was currently staying. They made idle chat, somehow having more than enough to talk about that they didn’t dwell on the past, it wasn’t all about the boys and the show, it was about where they were off to and what they were doing these days.

Once they made it to Davy’s flat, the tone changed. The air between them soon shifted from casual to lustful as they stepped into the small living place. It was so Davy, girl’s headshots from the show still all up on the walls, like filming had never ended yet Davy could only seem to look at Peter.

The way he carefully pulled his slippers off and set them down next to the welcome mat, the way he stood back up, his eyes closed as he stretched and steeled himself. It was a side of Peter he’d seen before, the side of Peter that was about to give himself wholeheartedly to the younger man.

“I’ve missed you,” Peter whispered as he opened his eyes, showing warm chocolate eyes as he took a step closer to Davy.

“I’ve missed you, too,” Davy replied as he closed the gap, his arms finding their way around Peter’s waist with no trouble.

“Your hold is still tight as ever,” Peter said softly as he melted into the smaller man, his head falling into the mop of brown hair he’d not seen for so long.

“You’re softer than before,” Davy commented softly before nudging Peter’s head up, looking him deep in the eyes before he leaned himself up, brushing their lips together ever so gently.

It was a test, a gentle but silent ask to see if they were on the same page. Peter parted his lips in a soft gasp at the ask and brought his lips to Davy’s, silently answering the question with a yes, yes they were 100% on the same page.

The kiss was gentle and soft, just like how all their old ones started. It, again, was like no time had passed by the way they both knew exactly what to do to wind the other up.

Peter remembered to grind his hips against the younger, causing Davy to jump in gentle surprise before he settled into a matching rhythm, their hips moving together in perfect sync.

Just like their past, their high difference made it a little awkward, since they way they ground together did not cause their ever-growing erections to meet. Dave was quick to fix that problem, breaking the kiss and pulling Peter by the shirt down to his bedroom in a lustful daze, not knowing why he knew what to do, just remembering what he should do.

Before Davy had shut the door behind them, Peter had whipped off his shirt, letting it drop to the floor before he grabbed Davy by the shoulders, spinning him around and reconnecting their lips.

Peter thanked whatever gods he could think of as he quickly unbuttoned Davy’s shirt, grateful for the current ���top buttons undone” fad that the hip men were partaking in.

“You’ve gained muscle,” Peter commented in between kisses, their mouths begging to grow sloppy against each other as they both worked to be closer to what they really wanted.

“So’ve you,” Davy mumbled back as his hands moved to Peter’s oh-so-tight pants, working his way down the 4 buttons before pushing them down the elder’s hips, his mouth watering as he saw Peter’s gorgeous cock, getting flashbacks to how much he enjoyed having it in his mouth.

“Slow down there, man, you look like you’re gonna cream your pants,” Peter laughed as he mirrored Davy’s actions. He was a little gentler getting Davy’s pants off, pushing them down with ease and hiding his hunger to devour the younger man.

“Staying the night or shall I leave tonight?” Peter mumbled softly as he placed open mouth kisses to Davy’s bare torso, working his way down until he was on his knees in front of the Manchester marauder.

“Please, stay the night. No one will come by, it’s just us,” Davy whined out softly, his voice sounding pained as Peter was right, he was ready to cream his pants.

Peter was like magic, somehow being able to look completely innocent while having a cock all the way down his throat, and it was a trait Davy found dumb sexy while softly endearing.

“Then I’ll save a little of the fun for tomorrow morning,” Peter mumbled as his brought his hands up Davy’s thighs, his fingertips brushing the skin as he trailed until he had Davy’s cock in his fingers.

With a swift lick of his lips and a twinkle in his eyes, Peter took Davy down to the root, not hesitating for a moment before he engulfed the whole gorgeous member with his hollow cheeks and open throat.

Davy choked on what little air he had left as he watched, Peter moving with skilled ease, using flicks of the tongue and swallowing techniques he hadn’t know back during their last fling on the set of Head.

“Fuck, you’re good at that,” Davy moaned out softly as he brought his hands into Peter’s hair, looking for something to hold on to as he was slowly brought to the brink of madness.

Peter hummed in content in the back of his throat, his own cock jumping at the praise he received from Davy. It was a slurry of words he hadn’t heard in what felt like decades but it brought him right back to everything he adored about Davy, making it oh too easy to kick it into overdrive and hit all those magic spots that drove his lover crazy.

“Stop stop, I’m close and I wanna fuck you tonight,” Davy quickly spluttered out as he felt his muscles tighten up, signalling he was close to orgasm.

Peter pulled off, a trail of spit hanging off his mouth and Davy’s cock as he leaned back on his heels, looking up at Davy with a pout in his lips and yet another twinkle in his eyes.

Davy kneeled down on his own knees in front of Peter, throwing his arms around the elder’s shoulders as he worked to catch his breath. He knew if he wanted to last more than 15 seconds with the blonde boy he needed to calm down and quickly.

“You’re gorgeous,” Davy whispered, almost soft enough for Peter not to hear.

“You’re one to talk,” Peter countered with before he connected their lips.

This kiss was soft, much more gentle and loving than their first few. They knew where they were headed, there was no longer a rush to get to the end. There was the bubbling and burning of old feelings within both of them but neither of them were going to break the moment to say anything. That conversation could be held later. Right now it was about getting to the end of what they started.

“Bed, please,” Peter whispered against Davy’s lips as his knees started to ache, having forgotten what it was like to give head on a hardwood floor.

“You lay down, I’ll get the lubricant,” Davy mumbled back, placing one last, gentle kiss against Peter’s lips before letting them both get up.

Both of them quickly made it up from the floor, Peter taking his position on his hands and knees on Davy’s bed while Davy stopped at his closet to grab the bottle of personal lubricant he had stored there.

Peter craned his neck to watch Davy come towards the bed, already pouring a generous amount onto his hands and warming it up to use to prepare the elder. Without having to speak, they fell back into their old routines.

Davy started slowly with one finger, pushing it in ever so gently as to give Peter time to adjust to the feeling. Once he got the nod from the blonde boy, he would begin to pump it gently until he received yet another nod, the telltale sign Davy could press in a second finger. It was the longest few minutes of their night yet there was something so intimate about it, something so sweet and gentle in the way Davy took his time to make sure Peter was prepped and ready before moving on.

“Slowly, please, until I say,” Peter asked softly once Davy had pulled three fingers out of him.

“Of course, baby,” Davy replied, the smile on his face audible in his voice as he rubbed the remaining lubricant on himself, coating his cock with more than enough before he lined up with Peter’s ass.

He took his sweet, sweet time as he pushed in, having to hold himself back from jackhammering right into his lover as he moved. Peter was letting out the softest mix of gasps, cries, and moans as Davy moved, letting him know he was doing it exactly right.

Once Davy bottomed out, he stayed still, his hands tight on Peter’s hips and his breathing slightly ragged as he waited for Peter’s go-ahead.

“Please, move, please,” Peter half begged once everything in his body has shifted from uncomfortable to pure pleasure.

Peter had forgotten just how perfect Davy was at this, just how wonderful he was at giving Peter exactly what he wanted. His cock was the perfect length to brush his prostate with every thrust and thick enough to stretch him out in all the right ways.

They both quickly fell into gasping, moaning, blubbering messes as Davy pushed his hips faster and faster, leaving them both teetering on the edge of orgasm.

It had been far too long since they’d been together, far too long since they’d share such intimacy and both of them were aware of just how powerful they were about to finish.

“Ah, close,” Peter whined out as he buried his head in his arms, feeling the world start to spin around him as he lost all control of himself.

“Me too,” Davy mumbled back as his hips grew more and more erratic, his thrusts growing short as he worked to bring them both to their highs.

And like magic that only pornography seemed to experience, they came together, Peter shooting white, hot ribbons across his chest and the sheets while Davy filled his tight ass up with his own load. For both of them, their vision flashed white, unable to focus on anything as they could only concentrate on the feeling of euphoria that washed over them.

They rode out their aftershocks together, Davy giving a last few feeble thrusts before he pulled himself out, reaching for the box of tissues on his bedside table before he near-on collapsed down onto the bed.

With their breathing heavy and their hearts racing the worked to clean themselves up, making it a much more comfortable experience to lay down together. Once they were cleaned off enough, Davy threw away the used tissues and moved the box back to its rightful home before pulling the sheets up and gesturing for Peter to climb under.

They quickly found themselves cuddled up together, Peter the small spoon, just like the old days, and Davy holding onto him like letting go would cause the world to explode.

“I’m glad I ran into you tonight,” Davy mumbled against Peter’s neck in between featherlike kisses against his soft skin.

“I’m so glad you found me,” Peter replied, squeezing Davy’s hand gently as he spoke.

Before they knew it, they’d fallen asleep together, just like those few and far between nights they’d gotten back during the show, the nights only they would ever know about and the nights that they now might be able to bring back. Morning afters, too.