#fucked up little dude that chews your furniture :)

[hotvintagepoll]

Charles McNaughton (Treasure Island)—he is such a weird little weird pirate in this movie!!!! the whole movie is creeEEEEeepy at this point, weird characters showing up at the bar FREAKING jim hawkins ass out, but charles mcnaughton's black dog (the first of many weirdos) takes the cake for me.

Dwight Frye (Dracula, Frankenstein)—he's my babygirl please please please please please i want to baby bird feed him flies and spiders and pick him up and make glitter edits of him and give him gross forehead kisses like he's my cat. in dracula he was so incredibly creepy that he was typecast as madmen for the rest of his life and he fucking hated it but by god if he didn't do a fantastic job. he steals the show every time he's up on screen just because he's so fucking deranged. i need him

This is round 1 of the contest. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. If you're confused on what a scrungle is, or any of the rules of the contest, click here.

[additional submitted propaganda + scrungly videos under the cut]

Charles McNaughton:

Link to the entire movie of Treasure Island [1932]—McNaughton comes in at 12:02. I haven't seen the whole movie in a long time so go forward with caution for content warnings!

Dwight Frye:

He absolutely owns the entirety of Dracula (1931). Compared to the novel, his part is massively expanded and it's clear why. He's magnetically unhinged and his facial expressions are pure scrungle. And in Frankenstein, he begins the archetype of Frankenstein's assistant even if the character's name there is Fritz. He'd still go on to play other scrungly guys in later Frankenstein movies. But he's kinda the archetypal and progenitor of the scrungly lil guy.

The scrungliest guy ever to scrungle. He's pretty much the blueprint for every mad scientist's assistant, and he's the best part of every movie he's in. He manages to make you feel sorry for the creepy little dudes, even when he's eating spiders and crawling across the floor.

[editor's note: content warning for the "hunchback" stereotype and "madness" in the clips below]

the "Rats" soliloquy:

I saw him in Dracula and frankly he has me bewitched. I could watch him do his silly routine forever. The gay tension with Bela Lugosi onscreen was frankly unparalleled. Kirk and Spock levels. I am chewing on the furniture

Played the weirdo little guy in Dracula AND the weirdo little guy in Frankenstein in the same year. Iconic.

I honestly think it would be a crime to ignore Dwight Frye's scrungle factor. He played two of the prototypical creepy little henchman as Dracula's lackey Renfield and Dr. Frankenstein's hunchback servant Fritz, and I believe that his excellence in these roles absolutely shaped the future character tropes of the "Igor" type as much as Bela Lugosi and Boris Karloff shaped the future understanding of Dracula and Frankenstein's monster. He's got it all from the looks, to the manic energy, to the crazed laugh, I'm telling you right now that I think he could win the entire tournament.

The scrungles to end all scrungles! There's a reason why this man codified the manic vampire's familiar and the hunchbacked lab assistant for generations, because by God can this man be feral and scrungly: Whether he's soliloquizing about rats as Renfield, scurrying around Frankenstein's lab like a spider as Fritz, or skulking around dark alleys (and scaring the hell out of little baby me) waiting for a fresh heart to steal as Karl, if you want a scrungly little man for your classic film, Dwight Frye is your man. He has the range to play varying kinds of scrungle, with his wide eyes, his manic smiles, his soft, breathy voice, he is truly an undisputed scrungle master.

[beetlebug-bii]

Feral Child MC Arrives

Part one? Let me know if you want more feral child MC with their older brothers. Felt bored so have this funky little crack prompt.

Notes: Gender Neutral MC, slight cussing, written for fun, enjoy!

okay so moving to the Devildom was a whole choice you made

Like yeah you were an orphan

and like maybe- MAYBE YOU WERE A LITTLE UPSET WITH MISS VELA THE HEADMASTER OF THE ORPHANAGE OKAY

MAYBE SHE SHOULDN'T HAVE LET THE OTHER BRATTY KIDS COME AND JUST STEAL YOUR ONLY PAIR OF SHOES LIKE WHO DOES THAT??? YOU ONLY GOT ONE PAIR??? THAT WAS A TARGETED CRIME.

so maybe in response you didn't tell anyone that you- yes YOU got accepted into a ROYAL ACADEMY.

Steal my shoes? fine whatever, guess who gets to go to ROYAL SCHOOL

NOT YOU LOSERS

HA

your face is probably already on milk cartons...

Rest in peace MC you can already hear those shoe stealers saying while wearing YOUR FUCKIN SHOES

But then like you actually showed up

And you aren't sure if you were met with like

Instant Karma for being petty or-

Anyways you're kind of sort of in hell

Whoopsies

It's okay though because you absolutely won over the highest demons in the Devildom

...wait actually thinking about it that really doesn't sound like a good thing-

Whatever

You're here, they love you!

You have been slaying since you arrived.

You walked into the student council room day one, a pair of sunglasses and a mocha latte from Starbucks in hand

You stole that latte too, like you were in the hall and just snatched it from this loser with white hair-

oh shit

Heyyyyyy

You were quick to find out

The demon you stole from was actually Mammon, the avatar of greed and your babysitter.

Let's just say Mammon wasn't especially happy about being a little thiefs babysitter

Which may or may not have received the MOST bombastic side eye from his five other brothers.

Aside from that though, how did your arrival go you may be wondering?

Lucifer just sat with his head in his hands, so upset that they have two children in this program- but damn at least one of them was an angel, then there was you- only comparable to a small glass rodent

Levi was sitting dreading having to move all his collectibles and games and- you know what?? maybe he will just invest in a security system...he so doesn't want to be a babysitter...whatever its Mammon's job..........fuck he was gonna have to be the babysitter!!! Mammon never does his job!!!

Satan could have cared less if you were three or eighty-seven, you're just some human and he was so ready to ask so many questions (unfortunately for him you're kind of a little sarcastic shithead / affectionate. he ain't getting any reasonable answers but he doesn't know that yet shhh let him be happy for like three minutes before he realizes.

Asmo? Asmodeus. My dude. Was so. Fucking. Excited. He was immediately squeezing you and pinching your cheeks and taking pictures of you in your little sunglasses. It's been FOREVER since Asmo has had the chance to absolutely coddle a little sibling. He was the first to just accept that yeah, this human is ours, we aren't giving it back. He was already planning to take you shopping for new clothes, and new furniture, you are going to be the most spoiled kid in the universe...and all you have to give in return is like any sense of privacy. Now smile for the camera!

Beel. Sweet sweet beel. Was also so quick to accept you. Not quite as part of the family, but as a new little friend. He was a bit worried to get close because you're just so tiny, but he quickly found out you were feral when he went in for a handshake and you just...bit him. For why? Why would you do this? Like he's fine, he barely felt it, but like...does he taste good? Did you want to be picked up? You were like a smaller Belphie with more energy...that thought made him smile

Your first day with the brothers was quite flabbergasting for everyone involved

You stole from Mammon, bit Beel, scampered around the floor, chewed on Diavolo's jacket, escaped for a while

By the end of the day the brothers were exhausted from chasing you

Its been too long since a kid has been around

They are far too out of practice

Mega L for them, while they're sleeping you're gonna make pancakes

Do you know how to use the stove?

Nah

Are you confident regardless

Unfortunately yeah

Good luck to the brothers

They're gonna need it...

...both for technically kidnapping you and because they have to deal with you-

[ebbpettier]

apparently it is wednesday my dudes

had to take spend a few days in limbo this week because i came down with a case of the HorrorsTM, but it gave me an opportunity to work on Deadweight a little bit more! i ended up writing almost 2,000 words that i didn't even end up using and i'm still a little bit cross with myself over it, but i got a solid chunk drafted oTL

(thank you @artsyunderstudy for the tag)

Baz tilts his head and drifts down to kiss me, but I pull back with a sluggish grunt. His brows knit together in the middle in that guilty, fretful way, so I quickly shake my head.

“My breath���s minging, you don’t have to do that,” I explain, and he rolls his eyes. 

“So?”

“So kissing me will be minging.”

“You’ve snogged me with half-chewed food in your mouth, I’ve grown desensitized to all of your detritus.” He leans in again.

I grimace and lean away, pressing my fingers over the seam of his lips. “It’ll be gross!”

That was definitely a trap; he gives up the ghost and quickly redirects his attention to my palm, reaching up to tangle his fingers with mine and pin my hand against his wandering lips.

“I’ve.” Kiss. “Built.” Kiss. “An immunity.” Kiss.

He’s so fucking good. And I’m so greasy. Baz watches me dryly over my knuckles, pressing a chaste kiss to the middle one like he’s charming a debutante. (I always thought that was the sort of thing he did before I knew he was gay; charm debutantes and laze around with posh girls at expensive old-family parties, draped over all the furniture like a french model. Or a really well-dressed panther.)

“I’ll still kiss you when you’re gross, Simon,” he promises, “And when you’re ill. And when you feel like you don’t deserve it.”

AND A BONUS CROPPED SNIPPET OF THE AGORA PIC BECAUSE IT'S THE FIRST THING I'VE DRAWN IN ALMOST A MONTH:

(@stitchyqueer and @shrekgogurt YOU'RE IT)

[star-mum]

Hello darlings 💘 welcome back into my dark little batcave, for more delicious (I'd say delightful but I'll probably ugly cry during this so 🤷🏻‍♀️) Titans Content 💚❤️

“I have to believe that this dude we fought alongside - my friend - he’s not all bad.”  goat line to start with, this is THE jaygar moment

"Jason needed to come home" *inhuman screeching*

" Dick kept telling that it would be okay - that he just had to believe in himself, blah blah" KSKSKSKKSS THAT EXACTLY WHAT HE SOUNDS LIKE TO ME !!!! ALL THE TIME !!!!

"the typical leader speech jargon that he used to convince people to do dangerous things" GET HIS AAAAAAAAAASSSSSSSSSS

"‘nerd shirts’ with logos that he had no clue about the meaning behind, and band tees with logos for bands that he couldn’t stand the loud, angry music of" *screaming crying throwing up* me when the Opposites Attract

"Moment when he prayed that he would never see Jason again - because he never wanted the blood in his mouth to belong to Jason" sunny i am outside your house 🔪

"but Gar never truly felt like he was living on the same earth where Jason was not" also because not getting to see Jason (even if it was a closed casket service) makes it so much harder to comprehend he's gone

"Jason’s eyes flickered down and locked on Gar’s chest, or rather - fixated on his shirt" ... he can focus on two things at once

"It was almost like he could smell the fatal yearning coming off Gar" I SURELY CAN

"All that glee was slashed when he caught Jason in his old bedroom, packing a bag" 🔪 sunny I am outside DC headquarters (Im assuming this is also what he did in canon)

"but Gar would have run away with him. Jason didn’t have to be sentenced to solitude" if no canon in the world gets me, I know Sunny's Canon got me

I've been listening to the Titular Bitchlar song on loop this whole time by the way and YEEAAAAAHHHH THAT'S PRINCE BABYYYYY !!!! i love 80s music so much, it has such a distinct energy to it, and it's SO GOOD with the fic Obviously

"He knew Gar cared about him. Of course he did. But that was why he had to run. He couldn’t let Gar risk his place with the Titans for a murderous piece of shit like himself" I am clinking both of your head together like your my childhood lesbian barbie dolls

"he couldn’t fully blame Jason for Hank’s death. He knew that it was all a part of Crane’s plan. He knew that Jason was sorry" i know Gar is Extremely Biased and YES Crane was to the definition of the word Grooming Jason to do all his fucked deals but the way this is worded ia so fucking funny to me KSKSKSK like Jason is a misbehaving puppy and who chewed furniture "i know he blew up our mutual friend but he said he's sorry, look at him, he's just a little guy"

"And there had been something more there (something more between Dawn, and Hank, and Dick)" YESSSSSSS !!!!! THE DICKxDAWNxHANK TRUTHER !!!!!!!

" - Jason slipped a tee shirt over his head, and Gar couldn’t ignore the glaring shade of green" :3 nice

"He gripped the hem of the green shirt and didn’t hesitate to yank it up over Jason’s head" : O nooooooo "You can’t just take everything that belongs to me" WHAT THE FUUUUUUUUCCKKKKKK

"You’re a fucking hypocrite. This is mine" 🫣 is it safe to come out now ? PLEASE I HURT

"If he had been a fly on the wall, perhaps he would have bowed at Gar’s feet, thanking him" and hey since you're down on your knees alrea-- *gunshots*

"Get your fuckin’ pants off. I know you’re not shy about stripping down, ya damn nudist" KSKKSKSKKSS this is the man I've chosen to love (he's not wrong tho)

"And if Gar wasn't mistaken Jason’s cock was bigger?" funniest effect the resurrection could've had honestly

It made a bit more sense when Jason frantically unzipped his would-be getaway bag - Lube" who do you fuck in the city when I'm not there? 🤨 YOU DON'T NEED THAT LEAVE IT AT THE MANOR, YOU WHORE"

"He almost added on: ‘I was thinking about you when I did it" good thing you didn't tho, cause that would've put Gar outta comission sksksksksk

Usually he was a motormouth during sex. was spitting out ‘fuckboy’-esque promises" cheers to that 🥂

"Missed this dick" is it tmi if I say this kinda shit absolutely destroys me, body and soul? "missed this dick/pussy" and I'm in the astral plane

"This was coming home" ✨💫

"Gar would give him all of those things, and he fucking will - but he couldn’t concentrate on that and delivering a quality fuck at the same time" KSKSKSKSK in it goes another one into the jar for lines that are comedic for no reason other than Fun 🩷✨

"Cum on my cock. Show me how much you missed me" ... i guess we have a tmi jar now 😌

"There was still so much worry plaguing him" sit your ass down

"a particular part of his brain nagging at him - telling him that technically, he was still single. He shouldn’t get so attached to Gar anyway, because it would only hurt them both later on" just saving this... for no reason (this section of season 2 is always fucks me up when thinking of the on going self insert, it's good to be able to pick at their brains like this 👀)

"“I’ll come with you.” He said instead. “Hot shower sounds nice right about now" 😮😮😮😮😮 DAAAAAAAAMMNNNN ALRIGHT ALRIGHT

"So this surrender didn’t feel like a stain on his record - didn’t feel too much like giving up, after all" 🥺 i like them a normal amount (😩 waaaaaahhhh)

When Doves Cry

Jason Todd x Gar Logan

How can you just leave me standing - alone in a world that’s so cold?  So cold.  Why do we scream at each other?  This is what it sounds like: When Doves Cry.

This fic is dedicated to a husband who has never given up on me. 

Love is infinite, patient, and always welcomes you home.

Summary:

At Dick's insistence, Jason comes back to Wayne Manor to help the Titans end Crane's deadly plan. Jason doesn't want redemption or forgiveness - he's done believing that he's worthy of those. Once Crane is back at Arkham where he belongs, Jason plans to disappear, never to be heard from again.

But Gar - someone who never stopped loving Jason and never stopped believing in his goodness - has other plans.

Jason Todd x Gar Logan. Friends to Lovers/Lovers Reunited. Smut and Emotional Angst. Set during Season 3, Episode 13.

Word Count: 11,100

DC Titans Masterlist | AO3 Link

Detailed warnings and author's notes below the cut.

Warnings: this is a character x character fic - no reader character here; this is M/M; emotional angst - Jason's self deprecating inner monologue; Jason being emotionally constipated; mentions of Jason's past trauma - including being kidnapped by Deathstroke, and his canon suicide attempt; canon level violence (mentions of guns/gun violence, mentions of killing/mentions of Jason killing people); mentions of Jason's death and resurrection; mentions of Gar mourning Jason's death; mentions of Gar's canon trauma - being forced to murder people while under Cadmus' mind control, having brain surgery performed on him to achieve that mind control; implications of Dick/Hank/Dawn being in a poly relationship because I literally cannot help myself; mentions of Jason being injured from the confrontation that goes down at Wayne Manor in 3x13 (which is canon) - the injuries are vaguely described as 'bumps and bruises'; mentions of Jason's substance abuse - including the Anti-Fear Gas (which yes, even though it's fictional, is still substance abuse), alcohol, and implications toward other unnamed drugs; there is mentions of Jason/Rose - but in this version of things, their interactions were one single kiss and Jason never had any true feelings for her; because of his attraction to Rose - Jason is very much bisexual in this, and though it's not mentioned that Gar has been with a woman (or anyone aside from Jason lmao) - I always headcanon him as bi and write him as bi just so you know; mentions of Gar and Jason having a previous sexual relationship during their time living together at Titans Tower (but that relationship was purely sexual and not romantic); implications that The Pit changed Jason's body somewhat, including making his dick bigger; smut - M/M smut; biting/marking kink (from Gar toward Jason) - at one point, Gar bites down hard enough to draw blood; wet ?? humping/grinding; mentions of Jason and Gar masturbating; passing mention of sex toys (a dildo); anal sex with lots of (real!!!) lube; unprotected sex - they don't use a condom (but there is no mention of STDs and technically they are monogamous even if they didn't discuss it, but irl you should always use one!! don't be like them); Jason bottoming while Gar tops; scent kink - Gar and Jason both really like the way that the other person smells; Jason is a power bottom at first and then becomes more submissive; Gar is very possessive/animalistic during sex; some dirty talk; emotional/passionate sex; creampie kink - Gar cums inside of Jason and they both really like it; a warning for literally licking wounds - Gar licks a cut on Jason's forehead that he has from the fight (this IS NOT blood kink - it's about him caring for Jason because his animal instincts are telling him licking the wound will make it better/soothe it) (btw I am not shaming those with a blood kink, I have written blood kink before and I love it - I just wanted to clarify the tone of the moment); this fic does have a happy ending if that makes you more motivated to read it. I believe that is actually, finally it.

A/N: In case it's not already clearly labelled - there is no reader character in this fic! It is very different from what I usually write, but I felt very inspired and the request that @nctzenkane gave me was just too good not to write. Jason and Gar have so much chemistry in the show, they are such an obvious ship, and they never even got to say goodbye to each other. (The writers make it so convenient that Gar is just not in the room during Jason's pivotal moments - sigh.) Anyway - I love JayGar as a ship and I feel like this fic sums up everything I love about them, as well as giving them the ending they should have gotten. They should have ended up together and Jason should have gotten forgiveness from the Titans family. I hope you guys enjoy this fic even though it's not like my typical stuff, and if you sit this one out - please know that this one did wonders for my creative flow as a writer, and I will be back with more amazing things later. Also, I know that this fic is gonna make my Top Ten Favourite Fics of the year when I make that list for 2024. I was not at all expecting to write this fic but I absolutely love it so much omg. Also - even though I started my taglist a little while ago, I decided not to use the taglist for this particular fic because it's so different from my usual stuff. But the taglist will be used for all upcoming fics.

...

“I have to believe that this dude we fought alongside - my friend - he’s not all bad.” 

Gar purposefully put emphasis on those two words, trying his hardest to remind Dick of what Jason was to them. At least, what he should be. A friend. Even if Dick wanted to deny it, Jason had been a Titan once. He had been part of their family. Even if Gar was the only one who still remembered that; even if he was the only one who still remembered Jason’s good side. Even if Gar was the only one who had ever truly loved him - the others needed to remember what being a part of that family meant, and what their obligations were to Jason because of it. 

No matter what Dick claimed, Jason hadn’t turned into some evil villain overnight. He had his own reasons for what he was doing, and that meant he could be reasoned with. (Gar knew that it was difficult to reason with Jason - but he knew it could be done.) 

Dick’s silence was deafening. Maybe he didn’t want to tell his tender-hearted friend what he really thought of Jason now; those tiny streaks of things that he had been secretly thinking for a long time. Or perhaps - Gar was really getting through to him. 

Jason needed to come home. Despite what everyone else believed: he could be saved. 

… 

All of it was Dick’s idea. Gar still wasn’t even entirely clear on half of it, but the bulk of it involved using his newly acquired - still very undeveloped - ability of turning into a bat so that he could fly up to Jason’s unlocked bedroom window and breach the house’s security system undetected. 

No matter how much Gar stressed the fact that he can’t fly, Dick kept telling that it would be okay - that he just had to believe in himself, blah blah. The typical leader speech jargon that he used to convince people to do dangerous things. Gar felt like he shouldn’t have been so easily convinced, but he knew that a lot was on the line - he knew that Crane needed to be stopped. So he put aside sense and transformed, and flew off toward the window even though he barely knew how to control himself in this state. 

He was so damn dizzy when he landed. He could taste vomit swelling up inside his mouth and he forcefully pushed it back down. The world was spinning around him in an utterly cruel way and he could barely comprehend anything - he was naked and he needed clothes, so grabbing Jason’s shirt off the floor was nothing but pure instinct. The smell of Jason’s stupid strong cologne - so entrenched in the bedroom’s walls, mixed with the natural musk of sweat in the bedsheets - it should have made Gar even more dizzy and nauseous, but instead, it grounded him. It made him feel safe. 

Dig, if you will, the picture of you and I engaged in a kiss. The sweat of your body covers me.  Can you, my darling - can you picture this?

It was one of the only things that gave him a true, firm center while the world was spinning so damn hard, still undulating under his hands and knees while he dug his fingers into the expensive carpet, gritting his teeth with how much he absolutely hated the sensation. 

Gar and Jason have always been the same size. 

It was something they found out days into living together at Titans Tower, when Jason got out of bed and put on one of Gar’s favorite hoodies without a word. He never apologized for getting milk chocolate on it and letting it stain. From that point on, their wardrobe easily blended into one. Jason wore ‘nerd shirts’ with logos that he had no clue about the meaning behind, and Gar found himself wearing more black and more band tees with logos for bands that he couldn’t stand the loud, angry music of. 

After Dick had confessed everything that had happened with Jericho, Jason pulled away on the screeching tires of his motorcycle, and ended up taking some of Gar’s clothes with him. This left Gar with the pain of accidentally pulling something out of his drawer that still smelled like Jason - sleeping in sheets that definitely still reeked of that strong cologne. In fact, Gar had been wearing one of Jason’s black hoodies on the night that Cadmus had stormed the Tower - on the night his life had forever changed. 

In the present, when Gar left Jason’s room dressed head to toe in Jason’s clothes, it felt natural. It felt natural to be surrounded by that scent. It gave a certain kind of unconscious comfort to his overwhelmed instincts during such a chaotic time. It wasn’t even something he had put that much thought into. Instead, he was far more focused on using the remote Dick had instructed him to grab in order to disarm the alarm system - a task he was incredibly worried about getting right. 

With Dick in his ear giving him instructions to defuse the alarm, even with the terrible itch of anxiety creeping down his neck - he felt a certain sense of safety from being wrapped in Jason’s clothes. Even when the sound of gunfire came from down the hall - something that nearly paralyzed him with fear, part of him still foolishly felt bulletproof because of that familiar shirt on his back. 

When he rounded the corner, the first thing that truly made him freeze up during all of this was actually seeing Jason for the first time in so long. 

It was a true shock to his system. 

After all the talk of Jason - a death that he barely had time to mourn, so heavy in his heart and barely processed by his mind. After finding out that the person behind Red Hood’s mask had once been his best friend, somehow stolen from the morgue and woken up from what should have been a permanent sleep due to the treacherous waters of the Lazarus Pit. After spending all that time talking Dick’s ear off, trying to convince him to let Jason come home, where he truly belonged; after feeling so damn fruitless in doing so. After tracking down Molly, trying to stand united with one of Jason’s last true friends in an effort not to see him hurt. 

After all of that, everything Gar had been through over the past few weeks, actually seeing Jason in front of him - it was like having ice water poured down his back. 

He froze up standing there, and he knew that the expression on his face must have been that of dumbstruck delirium. 

He hadn’t expected their reunion to be anything like this. 

When Jason had first stormed out of Titans Tower, Gar had imagined that he would come back. Even after he had screamed at the top of his lungs, telling Dick to fuck off, and followed that up by screaming at Rose not to touch him when she had tried to grab his arm in some poor attempt at ‘comfort’, daring anybody else not to follow him - Gar had thought that it would be only a matter of hours before Jason came back. 

At the time, he had texted Jason after everyone else scrambled out like cockroaches fleeing from the light, and he had told Jason that it was safe to come back because they would be alone together (save for Conner’s unconscious body). He had expected that statement alone would cause Jason to eagerly come running back. 

He thought that it would be a predictable reunion. 

Jason would come back puffy-eyed and stinking of booze, stumbling, furiously denying that he had even been upset, saying that he would never let Dick Grayson get under his skin. Slurring his words while also denying that he had been drinking and driving his bike - because he didn’t want Gar to ‘narc’ on him about it. 

Gar would put him in the shower and douse him in cold water to sober him up while trying not to scold him about the potential of crashing the stupid speeding death machine due to being drunk. They would go to bed together and Jason would fall asleep holding onto him for dear life. And he would still make Jason the best hangover breakfast that vegan soy substitutes can offer (and Jason would complain about Gar not cooking with ‘real’ bacon, but he would still clean his plate). And Jason would sneak a kiss over the sudsy dish water that would turn into soapy grab-ass, and he would have wanted to fuck Gar across the kitchen counter just because nobody else was around to complain about it. 

(Maybe that last part was just a fantasy Gar cooked up with his hand on his cock in his bed at the Tower when he was missing Jason a bit too much. But still, it felt like something Jason would do.) 

When the days passed and Jason still hadn’t responded to him - still hadn’t come home, Gar tried to deny that he missed the mouthy asshole. He tried to weed those shirts out of his laundry so that he could stop being constantly reminded of Jason. He tried to keep his crying limited to the shower, or muffled into his pillow at night. 

And then, he didn’t have to worry as much about that stuff, because he got distracted and busy when Conner woke up. Introducing the clone to the world, teaching him to be a Titan. 

When he got his brain scrambled, between the taste of blood in his mouth and the distant sound of a done drill - memories of Jason flickered in front of him, and when he was present enough in reality, he knew that Jason running far away was a good thing. It meant that Gar couldn’t hurt someone like him. Someone he loved who didn’t have any meta powers to defend himself - someone who was only flesh and bone with no way to defend against a six hundred pound uncontrollable tiger pouncing on him. 

There were moments of mental clarity, tiny little moments when Mercy wasn’t humming in his ear. Moment when he prayed that he would never see Jason again - because he never wanted the blood in his mouth to belong to Jason. 

After Rachel helped him gain back control, he still wondered if he was capable of hurting Jason, even by mistake. He was almost glad when Jason rode away from Donna’s funeral in the opposite direction. (Almost.) Because that feeling of missing him came back harder than ever days after the funeral, when the dust had settled. When he realized that he was fully in control of his powers - working well as a Titan, and the only thing missing from the picture in his mind was having Robin right there by his side, working as the perfect duo Jason always knew they could be. 

When Gar found out about Jason’s death, he felt numb. It had never felt real. Sure, denial is the first stage of grief - but Gar never truly felt like he was living on the same earth where Jason was not. He felt like the world should have stopped. Or at the very least - he should have gone down with Jason. 

He kept imagining that someone would wake him up from the nightmare - that someone would shake him and he would wake up in his bed months earlier, with Conner still in a coma, only to find out that everything that had happened at Cadmus had been one big horrible dream. He would open his eyes to find out that Jason was still alive, waiting to sneak out and get veggie burgers with him at three in the morning. 

But no. There was a grave in the backyard of Wayne Manor with his name on it - even if Gar had seen it empty after Dick had dug it up in a manic state. Just to make himself feel like he wasn’t totally crazy, Gar had searched through Bruce’s files and found Jason’s morgue paperwork, wanting to fully confirm that Jason had even died in the first place. After seeing the attached photos of Jason’s bashed-in skull caused him to lose his lunch, he knew then that it was very much real. It wasn’t just a horrific dream. 

Jason had died and somehow been brought back from that. 

Even then, Gar imagined their reunion to be very different from this. 

But here he was - standing in one of the many hallways of Wayne Manor, staring Jason down like a deer in headlights, his heart pounding while his wide eyes fixated on the person he thought that he would never get to see again. Someone covered in bumps and bruises from a fight, looking much more worn down by the world than the guy who used to laugh at Gar’s shitty puns. 

Dream, if you can, a courtyard- An ocean of violets in bloom. Animals strike curious poses. They feel the heat - the heat between me and you.

Jason’s eyes flickered down and locked on Gar’s chest, or rather - fixated on his shirt. Jason’s shirt that Gar was wearing. In a moment, he felt more naked than he ever did when he stripped down in public to transform. He felt so fucking caught. Of course Jason knew that Gar was wearing his clothes. Gar could have claimed that it was out of pure convenience, but somehow, as if he was part animal himself - Jason’s pupils dilated and his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed thickly. It was almost like he could smell the fatal yearning coming off Gar, everything about him that said: ‘I love you, I missed you, I need you’. 

“Jason-” Gar croaked out. 

There was no chance for conversation. 

A streak of movement behind Jason’s heavily armored shoulder realigned Gar’s priorities in a snap. 

“Look out!” He shouted, pointing sharply behind Jason before he ducked for cover himself. 

Jason didn’t hesitate - he fired his gun, taking the enemy out. He did a visual check of the hallway to make sure that nobody else was coming before he turned back to Gar - who was crouching tightly against one of the divots in the complex design of the old house. 

“I’m here for you.” Jason said - finding that he felt far too naked in his own way with how utterly vulnerable this sounded. 

Especially when Gar’s lips quivered, almost as if desperate to cry out for him, to thank him for coming home - something. 

“I’m here to help. Dick sent me.” He quickly amended, attempting to clarify that this was all business. 

Even though, with Gar’s large, glassy eyes staring him down - he couldn’t be sure that’s what it was. 

He didn’t have too much time to grind through the details of it, though. They had to get through the business aspects of it or there wouldn’t be any personal details left to untangle because they would all be dead. 

They split off, following a plan that Dick had carefully laid out, and Gar was proud when Tim and Dick led Crane out of the Batcave in shackles. 

With the relief of knowing that they had won, Gar quickly set about finding Jason once again - to thank him, to ask him what their next move was, to kiss him - he wasn’t quite sure yet. But he felt gleeful. 

All that glee was slashed when he caught Jason in his old bedroom, packing a bag. 

He had stripped out of his Red Hood armor from the waist-up, and Gar was met with the shocking sight of bright purple welts smothered across the broad of his back. It made Gar’s natural urge toward sympathy ache, especially when it came to Jason. But that feeling conflicted with nothing but boiling anger at the sight of him furiously stuffing things into a duffle bag he had placed into the middle of his bed - clearly trying to rescue everything he could from his old life on the way out. 

How can you just leave me standing alone in a world that’s so cold? So cold.

He was running away. Again. 

“Going somewhere?” Gar asked, trying to sound tough when his voice was trembling at the very thought of Jason leaving him again. 

If he was less mature, he would have dropped to the floor and thrown a catastrophic toddler fit, flailing his limbs and screaming at the top of his lungs. He would have demanded that Jason stay, telling him that he simply wasn’t allowed to leave. 

He knew that it was selfish, but it just made Gar feel so disposable. The fact that Jason came into his life, made him laugh, made him smile, fucked him like they were in love, made him care - and then he wanted to run away like Gar meant nothing to him. He knew that Jason had his own issues - a list of problems and past traumas longer than his arm, but Gar would have run away with him. Jason didn’t have to be sentenced to solitude. 

All these thoughts caused a sheen of tears to form in Gar’s eyes - the sadness battling with the anger inside his chest. He was threatening to spill those tears by the time Jason whipped around - partially startled, partially angry that his plans to disappear again had been disrupted. 

Jason mirrored back his own wet eyes at seeing Gar so upset, but quickly blinked the tears away. 

“I was never here.” He quietly croaked. “I can’t-” 

“You can’t ‘what’?” Gar barked back, cutting him off. 

This was the most cruel way that he had ever spoken to Jason, but he was fed up, to say the least. All of the emotions that he had been politely festering with now boiled over. The grief, the mourning, the loneliness - all of it spilled over at once. 

“You can’t stay?” He asked, raising his voice in anger. “You can’t admit that someone actually cares about you for you for once in your fucking life?” 

Maybe I’m just too demanding. Maybe I’m just like my father - too bold.

Jason’s face quivered at this. 

He knew Gar cared about him. Of course he did. But that was why he had to run. He couldn’t let Gar risk his place with the Titans for a murderous piece of shit like himself. He threatened to break into sobs and he forced himself to become steel. Without Crane’s drugs running through his system, he felt even more weak and chaotic - but he couldn’t let Gar be the drop of water that broke his dam after all these weeks. 

“I can’t stay.” He said solemnly, his eyes glued to the floor, refusing to look at Gar. “I - I can’t… stay.” It hung in the air for the moment as the words truly sunk in for him. He had been so busy packing in order to flee that he hadn’t even fully realized why. Now it was even more painful. “They won’t let me.” 

The realization pierced through Gar’s heart like a knife. 

This wasn’t just about him. Of course it wasn’t. 

The thing that he had been fighting for, fighting against all this time - the idea that Jason wasn’t even worthy to come home because he was some crazed killer. Gar wasn’t the only one who got a vote. Gar wasn’t the only one to claim love for him or deny him. 

If Gar’s love for him was the only thing that mattered, then the whole thing could have been smoothed over weeks ago. Maybe Jason wouldn’t have left in the first place. Maybe Jason wouldn’t have been balanced on the edge of a roof about to jump off while Gar had been sleeping. 

Gar wheezed out a harsh breath - almost as if the pain of the realization had literally pierced his lung, and he was having difficulty breathing because of it. 

“Stay.” Gar begged, hardly realizing that he was crying openly now. “I’ll talk to Dick, I’ll-” 

Maybe you’re just like my mother: She’s never satisfied.

“I can’t.” Jason said bitterly, entirely defiant. “You know I can’t. Not after everything that’s happened. Especially not after Hank.” 

There was a careful kind of mourning in Jason’s voice when he said the name - and potently, he flipped back around then, unable to face Gar after bringing it up. He continued to pack his bag as Gar stared at his back, his throat tightening harshly around everything that he had to say in reply. 

Gar loved Hank as a friend - as a mentor, someone to look up to. But even now, he couldn’t fully blame Jason for Hank’s death. He knew that it was all a part of Crane’s plan. He knew that Jason was sorry. Before, that fact was something he had based solely on his knowledge of Jason - but now he could base it on Jason’s very clear guilt towards the situation. 

Gar knew that if he told Dick that he forgave Jason for Hank’s death - it would put them on bad terms. Dick had known Hank for longer. And there had been something more there (something more between Dawn, and Hank, and Dick). Something that made that scar extra tender for Dick. 

Gar had to find a better way to explain it. Perhaps tell the team that he had once been a pawn himself - he had been to Mercy Graves what Jason was to Crane. And he knew that if she put him alone in a room with Hank and told him to kill, he couldn’t have been sure that his sterling morals and his willpower alone would have held up against everything that she did to him. 

Why was the situation with Jason any different? 

Why were they so determined not to forgive him? 

Out of the corner of his eye, something broke up his contemplative thinking - Jason slipped a tee shirt over his head, and Gar couldn’t ignore the glaring shade of green that said it was one of his. It caused a possessive streak to roll through him - he had a difficult time holding back a feral growl as it flared up in his throat. 

It made him only able to focus on one thing. 

“What about before?” Gar croaked out, disappointment apparent in his voice. 

Jason looked over his shoulder with gentle confusion, and he felt the need to clarify. 

“What about everything that happened before Hank?” Gar rephrased the question. “Doesn’t that matter?” 

Why do we scream at each other?

Jason wanted to say - yes, of course it does. 

But it felt so much more complicated than that. 

“Gar-” He barely choked the name out before he was cut off. 

Gar couldn’t stand to hear more excuses - more reasons as to why Jason was going to cut and run. He reached a hand up to Jason’s neck and pulled him into a kiss before anything else could come spilling from his mouth. 

It felt like trying to desperately claw his way into the front door of a home he once knew - a house that was now cold and abandoned as Jason stood stalk still, purposefully not kissing him back. Jason wasn’t letting him in - not giving him a single sign that there was any love left there. That there had even been love here in the first place. 

Deep down, Jason was terrified. If he gave in and kissed Gar back - he would be done for. He would be opening himself up to a world of hurt that he once thought he could erase with doses of Anti-Fear Gas. 

Gar was used to playfulness; teeth nibbling on his lips, laughter in the air. He was used to a hand reaching for the tie on the front of his sweatpants while that cocky voice muttered lustful ‘threats’ against his mouth - something about how he was ‘going to get it’ - when in actuality, Jason was always the one who ended up a moaning mess on his cock. 

Tears spilled hotly from the corners of his eyes and a sobbed choked out from the back of his throat when Jason was completely still against him. He was being so coldly denied - Jason was like stone, fighting off everything he had missed most from Gar because he still felt like he had to run, and this was nothing more than a distraction from that. 

“Please.” Gar wept against his mouth. 

It was one of the hardest things he had ever done, but - Jason didn’t move. 

This is what it sounds like: When Doves Cry.

Gar pulled back harshly then. When his wet eyes fell to the Triforce printed in the middle of Jason’s chest, further signaling that it wasn’t his shirt (because he likely had no clue what the symbol meant or what it even was) - Gar felt a wave of rage overtake him. He gripped the hem of the green shirt and didn’t hesitate to yank it up over Jason’s head. Rather than the typical heat that this action would lead to, there was nothing but bitter tension in the air as Gar waved the ball-up fabric in front of Jason’s face. 

“This is mine.” He choked out, barely holding back a wave of sobs. “So - so if you’re leaving, you can’t take it with you. You can’t be that much of an asshole. You can’t just take everything that belongs to me.” 

Gar choked on his own words, holding back more. 

They both knew that the words held a dangerous double meaning. If he was going to run, he would be taking so much that belonged to Gar - so much more than some fabric that they had once blissfully shared. 

He would be ripping Gar’s heart out of his chest and taking it with him. 

Jason looked at him with tears now leaking from his eyes. Oceanic blue swimming in bloodshot red - not a pretty sight, by any means. He took in a heavy breath, but his stomach was visibly trembling where he was holding in his own sobs. 

He wanted Gar to tell him to stay. He didn’t want Gar to be okay with him leaving - he wanted it to be such a fight that he couldn’t just walk away. 

Touch if you will, my stomach.  Feel how it trembles inside.  You’ve got the butterflies all tied up.  Don’t make me chase you - even doves have pride. 

Gar - still feeling the need to comfort Jason, even stewing in all his anger toward this man he called lover, enemy, or friend - dropped the shirt on the floor and reached out, smoothing his hands over Jason’s hips. He leaned in and laid the most feather-light butterfly kisses across Jason’s shoulder, and Jason choked on another sob. 

Gar smoothed a hand over Jason’s stomach, and under the intense heat of Gar’s large palm - his muscles calmed. Any cries of anguish died off inside of him and he was able to gather enough breath to speak as Gar laid a gentle cheek on his shoulder. 

“You - you can’t do this.” Jason whispered, the weakest protest he could have come up with. 

Gar only hummed in response. This close to Jason, he could almost feel that thing inside Jason, yearning for him, crying out to him. 

He knew that Jason didn’t want to leave. He knew that if he was patient, Jason would crumble to the need as much as he was. 

He already felt as though he had won. 

“You’re a fucking hypocrite.” Jason added on, his words slightly steadier now. He curled his fingers into the fabric of the shirt Gar was wearing - the one he had picked up off of Jason’s bedroom floor when he had landed. “This is mine.” 

Gar wanted to make some sarcastic jest about how he wasn’t planning on leaving while wearing it - but he became choked up at how the words sounded. As though Jason was truly claiming him - something he had been waiting to hear for so damn long. 

He lifted his head to ask if it was true - if Jason would stay for him or if they could flee together - but Jason caught the back of his neck and slammed their lips together, stealing any words that Gar was planning to speak. 

There was a certain fierceness that followed next - a battle of stubborn wills that was as stiff and tense as their words. 

Passion and love and anger are spears all lined up on the same fence, all equally sharpened - Gar was still angry with Jason for leaving in the first place and never coming back. He still blamed Jason for all those months of bitter loneliness that he had felt, for being left there in the Tower with no help when Cadmus had attacked. Deep in the back of his mind, there was a fantasy of the night they attacked - of Beast Boy and Robin operating as the perfect team to snub out evil. 

Jason was still mad at Gar for not chasing him, for not asking him to come home. Mad at him for not making more of an effort, for siding with Dick on seemingly everything. 

He had no clue how hard Gar had fought to bring him home. How much Gar’s voice had burrowed into the ears of the others, especially Dick, being the only remaining one to speak up, vouching for Jason’s good side. If he had been a fly on the wall, perhaps he would have bowed at Gar’s feet, thanking him. 

But instead - these lopsided views created a bitter stubbornness. Something that made the kiss feral and angry - gnashing teeth and hot, hard breaths as they grabbed and groped at each other, battling with their own anger and swelling up with that love they tried so hard to deny. 

Why bother staying so angry with someone if you didn’t care about them? Why take that much time and effort to be pissed off if you wouldn’t just forgive the person out of love at the end of the day? 

Jason ripped off Gar’s shirt - the borrowed shirt that only further reminded him of everything he had missed out on, the home he couldn’t come back to. He threw it to the floor, trying his best to forget about it - but this only made way for Gar’s hot skin underneath his own, forcing more temptation as they made more skin-on-skin contact. 

He let out a kind of wounded sound when Gar gripped the back of his head and swept down, his mouth tracing along Jason’s neck, digging his teeth in. He was still unsure if he was trying to claim Jason in that animalistic way and make it impossible for him to leave or if he was just taking that anger out on him, trying to cause a little bit of pain - trying to make Jason feel a fraction of what he had felt. Either way, his teeth were savage and frantic on Jason’s skin, and Jason’s nerves screamed pleasurably with the full effects of it. 

“Fuck,” Jason moaned out as Gar sunk his teeth in harder. “Fuck you.” 

Gar was about to make some clever reply - the typical ‘you should’ or ‘I’m trying to’. 

But he was caught off guard, silenced when Jason put a hand in the middle of his now bare chest and shoved him back toward the bed - causing him to sprawl beside the bag that Jason had been trying to steal away with. He poofed out across the luxurious, expensive mattress; there was a worrying second as he looked up at Jason when he believed that Jason might just pick up that bag and run. 

He could use this as his opportunity to flee. 

But instead, Jason eyed him up and down heavily - lustful eyes casting a thick gaze over Gar’s body. Looking over every inch of him carefully, from his now ruffled hair, down across his heaving chest, to the place where Jason’s borrowed pants were hanging low on his hips - the thickness of his hard cock very apparent between his thighs with no underwear on underneath them. 

Jason knew it was temptation. Fondness. 

At the time, perhaps he considered it ‘one last hurrah’. But in truth, it was the breaking point - the point of no return. The point at which Gar had truly hooked him in and reeled him back. Between those big, beautiful brown eyes staring up at him with a combination of intense affection and fear at the possibility of him leaving and that fat cock practically calling to him - Jason was done for. 

Jason reached for the button on his own pants, and Gar remained frozen for a moment. 

“Well,” Jason said impatiently. Gar still didn’t move, unsure what was expected of him in that moment. “Get your fuckin’ pants off. I know you’re not shy about stripping down, ya damn nudist.” 

Gar felt the tension leave his body with a stiff exhale. He wanted to make some smartass comment, but found himself lacking. Instead, he became distracted by rushing to get the pants off and watching the flexing of Jason’s muscles while he worked to get his own pants and boots off. 

All he could muster up was: 

“You - you’re an asshole,” Gar chuckled out, throwing Jason a genuine smile as he kicked the fabric off his ankles, leaving himself wonderfully bare in the middle of the bed. 

Gar’s eyes traced over Jason’s naked body - he seemed more thick and muscular than the last time Gar had seen him. Had he been training harder in the time that he’d been gone? Though his overall build was still much the same - matching Gar in stature, though Gar’s muscles were leaner and softer compared to Jason now. And if Gar wasn’t mistaken, Jason’s cock was bigger? Though that seemed more like a trick of the eye. (Though, it was still a good two or three inches smaller than Gar’s, which Jason often called ‘monstrous’ and joked that he could barely walk after taking.) 

Gar didn’t have too much time to admire Jason’s nudity before Jason was on top of him, bumping their cocks together as he climbed onto Gar’s lap. 

Gar let out a harsh growl from deep within his chest at the feeling of his sensitive dick being touched by someone else for the first time in months - for the first time since Jason had stormed away from the Tower in a fit. Since then, he’d had nothing but his own hand and distant memories of Jason fueled by the fading smell on the clothes he’d left behind. 

Even then, it’s not like he had the opportunity or even the desire to touch himself all that often - not with the chaos going on in his life. So having a warm body in his lap again - the warm body of someone he had missed so fucking much - it reignited the fire inside of him like poking holes in a gasoline tankard and lighting a match. 

“Fuck, Jay.” 

Gar reached up and tightly, possessively grabbed Jason by the ass, pulling him closer instinctively. This caused the echo of a whimper from within Jason’s throat as he bent down to take Gar’s lips again. Jason’s hands planted firmly on the hard muscle of Gar’s chest and Gar kept that needy grasp on Jason’s ass - wanting to keep Jason as close to him as possible. 

The touch quickly turned into moving Jason on top of him, grinding Jason’s body on top of his so that their cocks were gyrating together - a perfectly filthy clash of hot skin that fit together so well after they had been apart for too long. 

They moaned into each other’s mouths and Jason forced his tongue past Gar’s sweet, pink lips - as if he was still trying to put up that fight, still trying to show that he held some power over the man underneath him. Gar’s cock was leaking furiously and soon the slide of their two cocks became wet and glossy while Gar’s bright pink cockhead was continually nudged against his stomach, making a mess against his abs and staining slickness all over Jason’s eager, throbbing dick. 

“Fuck. Fuck, man.” Jason hissed, pulling away from the kiss, a new urgency pumped into him. 

Gar felt a slight streak of disappointment when Jason looked away from him - like a fictional pixie, fading away for the slightest moment without Jason’s attention. The feeling was doubled when Jason took the touch of his chest. He actually found himself whimpering like a pathetic puppy as he wondered what Jason was doing. 

It made a bit more sense when Jason frantically unzipped his would-be getaway bag - rifling through the pockets, ripping out spare underwear and - fuck, of course, more of Gar’s bright green shirts that he had stolen - until he came back with a bottle in hand. 

Lube. 

Of course. Of course that would be something Jason considered to be an essential to travel with when he was stealing away into the night, never to be seen or heard from again. 

Gar would have made some kind of joke about it, but he found his mouth dry, and he was far too horny and mesmerized, his blood pumping through him at top speed as he watched Jason. Who uncapped the bottle and squirted some onto his fingers - then his hand disappeared behind him while he tensed his thighs and hiked his body higher up onto his knees, clearly with the intent to finger himself open in preparation for Gar’s cock. 

Gar huffed out hot breath. 

It had been so damn long. 

He felt his cock pulse with fierce need and spurt out more pathetic spurts of precum, making his stomach even more shiny as it began to pool inside his belly button. He rubbed his hands lovingly over Jason’s thighs as he continued to watch with the utmost rapture, his eyes drinking in every single inch of the beautiful body in front of him - the flexing muscles, the sharpness of Jason’s hips, the thickness of his thighs, the way his perfect, modest cock bobbed between his thighs while he worked. His plump, pink bottom lip snagged between his teeth while he tried to contain his moans. Something that turned the sounds into the most beautiful little grunts that Gar had ever heard. 

After a few moments, Jason pulled his fingers from himself with a sinfully wet sound, and then he reached for the bottle of lube again. Gar was surprised though when he went straight to pouring the shockingly cool liquid across Gar’s cock. 

Typically it took them a lot more work to get Jason ready to take Gar, seeing as he was a bit longer than nine inches, impressively thick - and though he tried his hardest to be gentle - when Jason begged him and nagged him with purpose, he could sometimes get carried away. (Jason claimed that he liked the feeling of soreness afterwards, but Gar sometimes felt guilty for letting go of self control and pounding into Jason like an animal.) 

“You - you want more help?” Gar choked out. 

With Jason’s hand on his cock, spreading the wetness, he was already pushing his orgasm down past the onslaught of sensations - the lube warming under Jason’s hot touch, the purposefully loose grip that Jason had on his dick that just made him itch and made him want more. 

Jason grunted in reply. 

“I fucked myself this morning.” He said, distinctly not making eye contact with Gar. Instead, continuing to stare at his own hand as he picked up the bottle and poured more wetness around his grip on that impressive, thick cock, and then spread it around. 

He almost added on: ‘I was thinking about you when I did it.�� 

But somehow, even now - that felt too emotionally vulnerable. 

Gar quickly became swallowed up by heated thoughts of this. He became consumed by the visual image of Jason splayed out on a bed somewhere, (wherever he had been staying since he had left), fucking himself with his fingers shoved deep inside his well-lubed hole while his other hand moved frantically on his cock. Or even better, pounding a toy inside of himself like the one Gar had found snooping through his room while looking for anything he could use to help Jason against Crane. 

He would look so fucking good like that, spread open on the unforgiving thickness of the silicone, desperate whines and moans coming from his lips because it was good, but it just wasn’t right. It wasn’t enough. It wasn’t perfect like having Gar’s hot body on top of him while Gar’s big cock carved out a spot deep inside his guts- 

While Gar was distracted by these thoughts, Jason took the opportunity to line up the now well-lubed dick with his prepped hole and sink down onto Gar without another word. This caught Gar off guard, stealing his breath in the best way. It was smooth and slick and he didn’t waste a second before putting his entire body weight onto Gar, letting his ass rest flush with Gar’s pelvis so that Gar’s impressive cock was fully inside of him. 

“Jay - oh, fuck.” 

Gar let out a chest-rattling moan and quickly became dizzy, and it didn’t even occur to him that Jason had skipped putting a condom on him. So, this was the first time that he was bare inside Jason, absolutely no barriers between them. He couldn’t mentally comprehend it, and all he could think was - of course it was hotter, of course it felt better - he hadn’t seen Jason for so long, he had forgotten how perfect Jason felt around him, he had forgotten that it felt this fucking good. 

“God, fuck, Gar, your dick-” Jason mumbled out, clearly lost in a haze of pleasure himself. 

Jason didn’t waste a second - with Gar too pleasure-numb, Jason simply took what he needed. He planted his hands on Gar’s chest while Gar’s hands rested dumbly on his thighs, and he began frantically bouncing up and down on Gar’s dick, impaling himself on that beautiful big cock, quickly creating a good rhythm. He watched with awe and swelling adoration as his eyes locked on the man below him. 

Gar looked so perfect like this. 

His body was a sculpture of perfection, like Adonis himself, carved from marble. Every single time Jason got him naked in bed, he wondered how the hell he had gotten so lucky. With his pink lips parted as increasingly loud moans escaped him and his brows creased with pleasure, bits of that distinct green hair stuck to his forehead from the efforts. His stomach fluttering and flexing every single time Jason slammed his hips down and took Gar back inside him fully, Gar’s body glistening with sweat, slick from their encounter so far - he was a picture of perfection, not a single flaw that Jason could pick out.

And while his hole was tingling with the pleasure of having Gar inside him again and his cock was throbbing as it danced between them, beginning to sputter out precum now - he was beginning to ache with a brand new need. 

He was chasing a sexual need, of course, but he was also growing frantic with an emotional need that he had pushed down for so many months. He had missed Gar so fucking much. So much it hurt - and he had used so much to try and forget about it - the Anti Fear gas, the intense focus on Crane’s mission, the booze, the distance. 

But now it was all right here in front of him - those moans he had missed so much, that green hair, the smell of someone so distinct that he had tried huffing off clothing like a drug that he couldn’t buy anywhere off the street. He swallowed thickly and tried his best to hold back tears, and was only reminded of this more when Gar’s fingers dug into his hips - a firm but loving grasp that only more deeply reminded him of who he was fucking. Reminded him of what he had missed out on. 

“Dammit,” Jason huffed out. “Fuck - your-your cock is so good,” 

Usually he was a motormouth during sex. He was infamous for never shutting up until his orgasm hit him like a truck. If it was spitting out ‘fuckboy’-esque promises that he never could keep because he usually wasn’t the one fucking Gar’s brains out (but rather, mindlessly taking a cock), or horny blabbering as he begged for more - his tongue was constantly sputtering out something while Gar touched him. 

So he thought that talking would be a good distraction from the horrible knot in his gut - from this thing that he was feeling. He didn’t need to deal with those stupid fucking feelings right now. He just didn’t. 

“So fuckin’ big.” Jason whined. “You feel so good inside me.” 

Gar grunted in return, taking a tighter hold on Jason’s hips and helping more now. He helped Jason slam down harder, causing a harsher collision of their skin each time - a sharp, wet slapping that sounded absolutely sinful in the room. It made Jason feel fuller somehow, and he let out a downright whorish sound, struggling to get out his next words. 

“God - I - fuck -” He whined. “Your cock - Gar - you feel so-” 

“Yeah.” Gar breathed back in reply, encouraging him. “Yeah, Jay.” 

With another hard slam of Gar’s hips up into his hole, Jason’s mouth was knocked loose. 

“Missed this dick.” He breathed out. “Missed this - missed this so much. Missed you.” 

It was a stubborn admission that even the world’s harshest torture couldn’t have pulled out of him. But the feeling of Gar’s cock deep inside of him, those fingers digging into his flesh like he owned Jason - that was enough to have his tongue loosening around his secrets and have him spilling into vulnerability like it was his fucking job. 

Jason didn’t have enough time for the sting of regret to settle over saying the words, because something inside Gar snapped. The mourning in Jason’s voice, knowing that Jason has missed him just as much - he went from dumb and lustful as Jason bounced on his cock to swelling with that passionate anger once again. He had missed too much time with Jason, and he needed to make up for it. He needed Jason to know that he couldn’t just run away - that he mattered. 

He became filled with the determined need to show Jason that he couldn’t leave - he could never leave, because Gar had missed him too. 

Gar loved him. Gar needed him. 

They needed each other. 

Gar grabbed him around the waist and with a deep growl that was truly bordering on animal this time, he flipped Jason over onto his back. His cock slipped out of Jason, slick from the lube, causing Jason to make a startled, disappointed noise as he suddenly felt far too empty. When Gar leaned over Jason and felt Jason’s getaway bag brushing against his knee, a swell of offense came over him. He reached for the bag, shoving it off the bed without a second thought - spilling clothes and other random items across the floor out of the open zippers, something that neither of them paid any mind to in the following hours. 

“Please, Gar-” Jason breathed out, and from there, anything else in the world was shut out for him and Gar. 

Maybe what they had done before could never be considered making love - but they certainly had their moments. Times when Jason would kiss Gar’s forehead after making him cum, before getting out of bed without a word. Times when Gar grabbed both of Jason’s hands and interlocked their fingers while he rocked his cock deep inside of him. But for the most part, they fucked filthy and horny and desperate. They fucked like two guys in a race to get each other off - and it worked for them. 

But this felt different. 

As Gar slipped his cock back inside of Jason, he locked eyes with the man below him and a spark ran through him that said this was different. This wasn’t turning to the closest warm body out of convenience or boredom. This wasn’t just a friendship with some very particular, spectacular benefits. This was the intense gaze of a lover, locked into a stare that said the rest of the world was locked out, completely forgotten just because Gar was touching him. 

This was coming home. 

This meant that nothing else mattered - no past transgressions, no supposed mistakes, no demanding corrupt figures that had used them as pawns in their own games - none of it could even be seen as Jason locked his knees around Gar’s lower back, holding him tightly in place, silently begging him not to go too far. 

A quiet: please, don’t leave me, I need you. 

I need you just as much as you need me. I swear it. 

Gar held back more tears, and his next huff of breath turned into another low growl - a sound that had Jason whining quietly and clenching down on his cock. That hint at his more animal side had always been something Jason had liked - especially knowing that Gar was the most tame ‘beast’ he had ever met. Ironic, considering that Gar could turn into a six hundred pound tiger and he could shred people with his teeth at will. But Gar was the most gentle person Jason had ever known - someone he trusted with his life within a day of knowing him. Someone better than his own blood relatives and shitty foster ‘families’ who had tossed him out onto the street without a second thought. 

Gar was never a beast, no matter what he was capable of. 

“Please.” Jason begged, his voice slightly choked and breathless. 

He held on tightly to the side of Gar’s face, the other hand straying around to grip the back of Gar’s shoulder - and though Gar’s cock was already throbbing and threatening to blow far too early, he knew he couldn’t deny Jason any longer. 

Gar pressed his forehead into Jason’s neck, unable to stand the piercing interrogation of that gaze - looking for atonement, looking for validation, looking for love. Gar would give him all of those things, and he fucking will - but he couldn’t concentrate on that and delivering a quality fuck at the same time. Jason deserved that, too. He deserved to cum in a spectacular and satisfying way. 

With his concentration a bit steadier, Gar began to fuck his hips forward - fucking into Jason in slow, smooth strokes. 

“Jay, fuck,” He moaned out. “So fucking good. You’re so fucking good.” 

Jason let out a high whine in return and Gar sped up his hips - fucking into Jason faster, but nowhere near as fast as Jason had been riding him. It was still so tender and slow, deep and firm as the thickness of his cock truly made a home inside of Jason that reminded them both exactly where he belonged. 

Jason’s voice warbled - becoming nothing but a nonsensical echo of weak sounds dispersing into the air. Gar couldn’t help himself; he kissed a trail from the middle of Jason’s chest up his neck once again, taking the time to lay a few more possessive bites across Jason’s neck before he reached his face. When he felt roughness under his lips, it truly sunk in that Jason had been hurt - he had picked up a few injuries while fighting to defend him and the other Titans. Jason had put his body on the line for them. 

How could Jason ever be bad if he was willing to get hurt in order to protect his family? 

A swell of passion and possessiveness streaked through him again. 

His tongue sneaked out of his mouth and he licked over the cut above Jason’s eye like a cat trying to lick the wound clean, all of his instincts heightened with the lust pumping through him. Something in his lust-drunken brain was screaming at him that Jason needed this care, and nothing more than the saliva from his tongue would make Jason feel better. 

He did this, kitten licking across the cut, while he continually ground his hips deeply against Jason’s, stuffing his cock ever deeper into Jason’s needy hole. It made for a breath-taking combination of care, attention, and heat that made Jason’s stomach curl. 

“Gar-” He gasped out. “I - ah - fuck!” 

Gar gave another little lick and then moved to grab both of Jason’s hands, entwining their fingers on both sides as he had done in the past. Previous times Jason had laughed about it or called him cheesy, or even suggested that Gar use handcuffs instead if he truly wanted to pin Jason down. But this time, as Gar brought the grip of their tangled hands up above Jason’s head and continued fucking him so deeply. Jason only let out another shuddering gasp and looked Gar in the eyes with a glassy look that said he was truly gone. 

He had surrendered everything to Gar now. 

He couldn’t have run from this if he tried. 

“Come on,” Gar grunted, slamming his hips a little harder, a little more determined - pulling back a bit more, going a bit deeper. It was a motion that pulled louder sounds from Jason, that made him tremble. 

“Cum for me.” He breathed into Jason’s ear. “Cum on my cock - so good for me. Cum for me, show me how much you missed me.” 

Gar kept Jason pinned by their joined hands and by his hips holding Jason tightly to the bed. With his cock slamming into Jason in fierce, heavy, hard strokes - and with Jason’s cock jostling between them, brushing against Gar’s impossibly hot stomach - it was difficult for him to deny the order. With those words spoken in that perfect voice, floating in his ears, the orgasm shot through his body like his soul awakening - like he was truly feeling himself for the first time since he had woken up after The Pit. 

“Shh - shit! Ah! Fuck!” 

He gasped and struggled to get air into his lungs, and Gar cloaked his mouth over Jason’s gaping lips, fucking him right through it. Jason’s cock jumped and jolted between them, painting both their stomachs with his cum while his hole tightened and clenched around Gar - while he shook beneath Gar and tightly grasped Gar’s hands. 

It was utterly perfect. 

“Please, please, please-” Jason gasped, frantic. 

He needed Gar to cum, too. He needed the feeling to be complete. 

Gar let out another growl, shoving his head into Jason’s neck, taking a healthy whiff of his sweat as he fucked his hips hard into Jason. 

“Mine.” He growled possessively into Jason’s skin. “Mine, mine, mine-” He punctuated each slap of his hips into Jason’s ass with the word, his mind filled with this as though it were the one true thing in the world. 

“Mine.” 

A final pathetic dribble of cum escaped Jason before Gar’s cock began pumping into him. As he came, Gar’s teeth latched onto his neck once again, biting down hard enough to pull blood this time - creating a twinge of copper under Gar’s tongue and wringing even more inhuman sounds out of Jason. 

Gar pressed his hips as deep as possible into Jason, making them both utterly high on the feeling of his cum fucking deep into Jason for the first time. Jason feeling it so warm inside of him and having it pool and leak down over Gar’s balls - it only further reminded them how utterly close they were, how deeply Gar had marked Jason, how Jason was cursed to return back to Gar because he needed this - it was a deep reminder of how Gar was his home. 

Tears leaked from Jason’s eyes and Gar licked them away, grinding his hips deep into Jason - causing stray whimpers and aftershocks of pleasure while his cock began to soften. 

“God, oh-” 

“I know.” Gar replied, his voice more ragged than he imagined it should be. 

When he pulled out, it felt like a shock to both of their systems. Too empty, too distant - even still so close to a warm body, too cold. 

Jason’s first instinct was to get up and go to the bathroom to clean up. Especially feeling the stickiness and the mess all over his body as he came down from the high. But Gar rolled onto his back and put a tight arm around his back. 

“Sleep now.” Gar told him, puffing out an oddly cute little yawn. For someone who had just fucked his brains out - he now resembled a sleepy little house cat. 

Jason found that he couldn’t really argue with that. 

… 

Even though Jason was exhausted and hadn’t slept much in the past few weeks, he woke up long before Gar did. 

There was still so much worry plaguing him. 

Oddly enough, Gar’s snoring was more of a comfort than it was a disturbance. It reminded him of sharing a wall with Gar when their bedrooms had been so close together; when he had laid awake at night after scurrying out of Gar’s bed at top speed after they had fucked, wondering what it would have been like if he had decided to stay. 

Back then, it felt like the end of the world to open up to Gar. But now, he couldn’t help but to wonder if it would have saved him in the long run. 

Titans Tower was never the perfect place for him. It only ever felt livable because Gar had been there. They grew so close so quickly - at the time, Jason had tried to convince himself that it was just friendship. That it was the delusion of being stuck in close quarters. Gar was convenient - he was a good fuck, close by, and he was hot. He was someone Jason could get off with while Dick and Bruce had him locked up. And most of all, Gar was pleasant to be around. He didn’t look down on Jason like he was just some street rat, and he didn’t expect Jason to perform miracles just because he had taken on the mantle of Robin. 

Gar treated him like an equal. At the time, that was the best that Jason could ask for. 

Jason didn’t think there were any possible downsides to being close with Gar, and letting himself have some sexual relief in the process. 

Until Deathstroke. 

If he had any feelings for Gar, he had been suppressing them, and then - Gar argued with him about going out to hunt down Doctor Light. He felt betrayed. He felt like Gar didn’t understand him anyway, like Gar would always side with Bruce’s favorite - Good Old Dickie. The one thing he had been putting Gar on a pedestal for - treating him as an equal - was slashed away within seconds. 

Back then, Jason couldn’t think rationally. He felt like he needed to capture Doctor Light and bring him in to get back in Bruce’s good graces, to show the Titans what he could do. He had no clue that Gar was scared for him; that he was acting out of fear, trying to protect Jason. (Something he would continue to do no matter what, apparently.) 

At the time, Jason was insecure and stir crazy and he let it get to him. 

And then, he was blindfolded, strapped to a chair, stabbed, and beaten, and all he could think of was how much he was going to disappoint Gar. How much he was going to hurt him. Bruce, Dick, and the other Titans were the farthest thing from his mind - all he could think about were the last time those soft lips had been on his, the flash of green hair. The utterly disappointed look Gar had given him when he had declined to call Dick for back-up before going into the train tunnels. 

Gar thought Jason was stupid. But Gar was so damn soft-hearted. And Jason couldn’t stop thinking about how much he was going to hurt Gar with his idiotic antics. How much he was going to take from someone who didn’t deserve it. 

As he was strapped to that chair, watching Deathstroke sharpen the sword, all he could think about was the look on Gar’s face - the tears he was going to cry when he was eventually told about Jason being sliced open. Especially because he knew that Gar would blame himself for not saving Jason, for not calling Dick sooner - and it was all Jason’s own stupid fault. 

When he got back, somehow unscathed, he kept his distance from Gar. It hadn’t happened then, but the day would come when he would bring Gar a lot of undue pain - and if he started severing their ‘friendship’ now, then he could eventually soften the blow. At least, that was his line of thinking. He kept far away from Gar’s room when he needed that comfort more than ever, thinking that it would both do them better in the long run. 

When a knock came on his door, he was surprised that it was Rose, and not Gar - and he was pissed off and annoyed more than anything. She was persistent and he was tired. 

When she barged her way in, he found a particular part of his brain nagging at him - telling him that technically, he was still single. He shouldn’t get so attached to Gar anyway, because it would only hurt them both later on. Maybe it was because he didn’t want to be attached - he wanted to know that he could run at any time. He needed to know that he wouldn’t get hurt. More importantly, that he wouldn’t hurt someone soft and caring like Gar. 

He wanted to be able to say that everything going on between him and Gar was just sex. 

So he let himself kiss Rose. 

And he felt absolutely nothing. 

When she told him: ‘Don’t be stupid and maybe it’ll happen again.’ 

He wanted to bark out: ‘It won’t.’ 

But he didn’t want to lay it all out. He didn’t want to tell her of all people that he was in love with his best friend and that’s why he wasn’t available. He wasn’t ready to say it out loud - and that’s why he settled for simply telling her to loudly fuck off as he stormed out of Titans Tower, determined to be alone. Especially when Gar did nothing more than stare him down with sad eyes, not moving a muscle, making no efforts to chase him. 

He was meant to be alone. Or so he thought. 

It was very clear that Gar had other plans. 

Gar - who was currently snoring beside him with the presence of a slumbering lion. Perhaps Gar had skewed his idea of what it might actually be like to sleep beside a lion - wholly warm, downright hot, with heat radiating off his skin like a furnace, utterly soft and cuddly even though he was so muscled, someone who slept with his mouth agape and snored loudly - but in a pleasantly rhythmic way. He was a perfect, quaint, slumbering beast. 

He made Jason feel safe. 

It was not a luxury Jason had often in life. Maybe it was the thing that kept him coming back to Gar, again and again - that precious feeling of safety. It truly was better than any drug. 

More and more presently by the minute, Jason was reminded of the mess - the unpleasant drying cum between his cheeks and on his lower stomach, leaking out of him and no longer pleasantly warm. It made him want a shower. He didn’t want to scare Gar by having him wake up to an empty bed, but he also didn’t want to wake him, steal sleep away from him when he clearly desperately needed it. 

Jason nudged his way to the edge of the bed, trying to sneak away to the bathroom - but when he heard a harsh snort from Gar, he knew him well enough to know that this had signaled the end of his sleep; a harsh jolt awake. 

“Where are you going?” Gar mumbled tiredly, not even having his eyes fully open yet before he frantically looked around for Jason. 

“I was just gonna go shower, crawl outta my ass.” Jason hissed back, still feeling a bit raw and defensive. 

He knew that Gar would sacrifice anything for him, but he still felt unworthy. Like a puffer fish growing big in defense, Jason was spitting out sourness in a last-ditch attempt to get Gar to change his mind - to shift his thinking last minute and suddenly see the truth: to find him unworthy. 

Jason was almost shocked when Gar smiled. 

Gar held back a clever quip about how he had made a home inside Jason’s ass and he wasn’t going to change that now. 

“I’ll come with you.” He said instead. “Hot shower sounds nice right about now.” 

“You should stay and sleep.” Jason told him, still teetering on the edge of the bed. “You’re clearly tired.” 

“And you’re not?” Gar probed back. 

There was a moment of tense silence. Jason didn’t offer up a reply. 

“Come on, what’s this about?” Gar asked, fully opening his eyes now, propping himself up on one elbow to stare Jason down. 

“After I get dressed, I have to go and talk to Dick.” Jason declared. 

The words were heavy in the air. 

The admission that he no longer felt the need to run. That he wanted to make an effort to stay, that he actually wanted to ask for his place back with the Titans. 

Gar wanted to squeal with glee. Naturally, he held himself back. There would be a few more bumps in the road before Jason was officially home. 

“Not by yourself.” Gar told him sharply. 

Jason’s jaw clenched. He was afraid to admit that he needed the help. It was something he had been afraid of for a long time. 

But he knew that without Gar’s help, without Gar vouching for him in Dick’s eyes, the conversation would likely only go one way. 

And he needed to come home. He needed to stay. 

Jason felt weak, and his voice was quiet when he finally mustered it up. 

“Okay.” 

It was a weak surrender. But things between him and Gar had never been that kind of battle. Not the kind of battle that he had with Bruce, or with Dick, or even with himself. There was never any true hatred there. Just the kind of fierce anger you feel when you love someone so much that you fear losing them. 

So this surrender didn’t feel like a stain on his record - didn’t feel too much like giving up, after all. Not when the picture he ended up with had him and Gar in the same frame. It was something that made him feel more content and less defeated when Gar poorly concealed a smile in response - and then pulled him in for a kiss before getting up to grab towels for their shower.

...

A/N: This is a standalone oneshot, so please do not ask for a second part or a continuation. If you are going to comment, please comment about the body of work that has been written.

Also, typically, I don't write character x character fics, so if you randomly found this in tags and you really like it - I apologize, because the rest of my masterlist is not like this and I won't be writing anything else like it anytime soon. I do write a lot of Titans fics and I have a lot more of them on my masterlist, so if you enjoy my style of smut or if you really enjoy my characterization of these two, then you should definitely check out the other things I have written - particularly No Place Like Home, which has a lot more JayGar scenes in it.

If you do really like my writing style and you want to see Titans x Reader fics (which is what I typically write), then you can follow me and sign up for my DC Titans Taglist by replying to this post asking to be put on the taglist or sending me an ask about it. Anyway, glad you enjoying the fic if you read this far, thanks for reading!!

[pallasperilous]

Piledriver

Dean/Castiel 1815 words Post-Episode: s15e18 Despair Coda, Fix-It (sort of), Grief is a weird and protean beast, Second Person POV, but also Dean POV, I realize what a tall order that is y’all but I swear it’s mad judicious {AO3 version}

You’re not really sure when you started doing it.

That’s a fucking lie. 

You started doing it ten, maybe twenty minutes after. 

Not as a conscious thing, not like those snappy comebacks you think of the next day, or like those speeches you practice in your head and then never get the chance to deliver. (Although it seems like other people have better luck in that regard.) 

It’s more like a tic — like the way Sam used to pick at his hand, or your mom used to hum the same little bit of Stairway to Heaven offkey. (Which was kind of a trip since she’d come back from, you know. There.)

You think: I love you, too. 

 It’s just a drumbeat of syllables running in the back of your head. Might as well be shave and a haircut. Which you could use, incidentally.

It eases off a little, after the universe ticks over. You’re so fucking relieved that you basically revert to a lower life form for awhile — you’re like a jellyfish, or a fungus, or a Yankees fan. For a few minutes there, things are pretty sweet.  

Then the clock starts running again, and you and Sam are faced with the frankly fucked-up necessity of needing a hot meal and somewhere to pee. 

It kicks back in then — during the peeing, specifically, because goddamn did the dude never get over what a fucking nightmare it is to have a bladder. Like it actually made him mad. Even after he got his batteries back and was once more able to, like, effervesce fluids out of his body or teleport them to the surface of Mars or whatever, he never stopped giving you pitying looks whenever he got up to use the can. On the road he’d ask if anybody needed a bathroom break at every single freeway exit. You chewed him out once that you in fact were not a four year-old or an Alzheimer’s patient and could therefore hold it for more than twenty minutes at a time, and he looked at you with such bottomless patience and empathy that you could’ve thrown him out of the fucking car. I love you too.

Instead of a heartbeat, it’s like a piledriver hitting the ground ten feet away.  

I love you too. It rattles your fucking thighs as you wash your hands in the gas station bathroom. None of the other dudes do because dudes are fucking disgusting. This attitude was maybe part of the problem.

I love you too. You come out and the car’s moved and you have a hot second of freakout, then you see Sam’s just pulled it away from the pump and parked in the lot and honest to God (go team!) you almost burst into tears. What the fuck.

I love you, too. 

That night you do your absolute best to lobotomize yourself (not to obliterate yourself, which is a sign of progress and for which effort you absolutely deserve a round of applause from…somebody), but the piledriver just keeps on pounding away and you realize that it’s either piledrive or get piledriven. Sam’s asleep six feet away after his own inpatient procedure but you’re really fucking starting to panic so you say it out loud, anyway. 

I love you, too.

And something gives, eases off like a gas bubble turning a corner in your gut, and you pass out.

So you lean into it. You make it your thing. You figure you can either be losing your mind, or practicing, so you choose practicing. You’re showing the powers that be that you’re keeping the faith. You’re holding a torch.  You’re being the change you want to see in the world. You’ve talked to coma patients before and you’ve prayed to this asshole before and this isn’t any different. Isn’t it?

Washing the dishes: I love you, too.

Checking the oil: I love you, too.

Swinging a machete and hitting that sweet spot between vertebrae where the head just pops right off, like a Lego dude: I love you, too. 

Pulling on socks: I love you, too.

Burning that fucking jacket: I love you, too.

Not out loud, or at least, not where anybody can hear you. That would be weird.

And you know, you know, that he doesn’t hear you, either. You know that, worst of all, he didn’t even need to hear it. You’ve heard a lot of shit about unconditional love, but it’s never had any goddamn appeal to you because, what? Somebody loves you the same no matter what fucked up shit you do, no matter how you feel about them? 

That’s either (a) some seriously poisoned Kool-Aid or (b) so huge it’s useless, like giving somebody a galaxy for their birthday. You want unconditional love? Get a fucking dog. 

I love you, too.

Lately you’ve been swapping in phrases that have the same rhythm or meter or whatever, so you can say them out loud without worrying anybody more than usual. The rain in Spain does some heavy lifting for a couple weeks, then ba-DUMP-bump, tissshh! followed by the king of beers for about half a particularly shitty afternoon and then closing out with you bet your ass, which is a much better fit for your lifestyle. 

So fine, great. Life goes on. You were the subject of his unconditional cosmic love-boner whatever and getting that off his chest was all he needed to go happily fucking off into the abyss. And you’re still down here (up here? over here?), drinking coffee and hating Mondays. Awesome. I love you, too.

This is around when you discover the best match for both meter and tone yet, one so close that it doesn’t even feel like a placebo for the real phrase. It’s a whole different drug, actually. It makes you feel like a million bucks, it’s absolute rocket fuel. If the original is whiskey, this shit is meth. You turn a whole nest of ghouls into one big ghoul smoothie and then at the bar later somebody nervously informs you that you were yelling it out loud the whole damn time. 

The phrase is: go fuck yourself.

You imagine it at night, lying in the empty bed, your pulse hammering in time: him standing there, one big cow-eyed khaki rumple, and you yell: Go fuck yourself. You asshole. You bastard. You smug piece of shit. Go fuck yourself. How many times have we done this, and every fucking time you find a way to make it worse. Go fuck yourself.

I love you, too.

After a few weeks it loses its edge. You kinda knew it would, having some experience with the limits of amphetamines and your own rage-juice glands. It downgrades from a battle-cry to a slur. At some point you realize you’re not even saying it to him anymore. You’re saying it to you. Go fuck yourself.

You try to imagine him saying it instead. Go fuck yourself,  in that nutso Sam the Eagle voice that he must’ve gotten out of a box of Cracker Jacks, because it sure didn’t come complimentary with Jimmy Novak’s dry-ass mouth.  Go fuck yourself, Dean.

Somehow it’s still the nicest thing anybody’s ever said to you. 

So you go back to the OG version, and this time it feels like it settles in. You do whatever the psychological equivalent is of buying it a dog bed and a food dish and a leash, and you take it out for walkies whenever it starts to chew on the furniture. I love you, too. 

You get so used to its presence that sometimes you even forget it’s there. You’re joking around with Sam, eating sandwiches at some picnic grounds on the way to Sioux Falls for a social visit, and you say some dumb thing to him, who knows about what. Sam rolls his eyes and shakes his head in disgust as required by the kid brother certification board and snorts “I love you, man,” in the way that means how are you even allowed to exist, and you answer “I love you, too,” in the way that means I love you, too.

Sam has seen a lot of wild shit, but the look on his face after that is a brand new one to you. 

“Checkmate, asshole,” you say, in case he’s worried you’re gonna off yourself in the bathroom or something.

 You do get to say it, eventually. 

Like most things in life, it happens after you’ve totally given up, and then totally given up giving up, and have achieved the spiritual equivalent of that shrug emoji Claire sends you sometimes. When the phrase is well past thinking about, when the words don’t even carry any meaning anymore; they’re like the thought version of blinking, or swallowing. A background process, until something flies into your eyeball or you try to breathe a tortilla chip.

So the tortilla chip shows up one day. Don’t worry too much about the details here, just take it for granted that it either required a heroic effort of years that nearly broke you, or that he just showed up unsolicited on the porch like a copy of The Watchtower. Or maybe you’re both dead; seriously, who cares, because regardless — he’s there, and you’re there, and for awhile other people are there too, but eventually they go away. 

And it’s him, and it’s you. And if you hadn’t absolutely digested this thing in advance, if you hadn’t broken each word down into its atomic particles and cut and pasted them into your DNA so that 45th century forensic anthropologists from Mars could extract it from a fragment of the the mummified marrow of your left ass-bone, you might’ve said something else. 

You said: “I love you, too.”

You realize, in the moment after you say it, that you have reached the limits of your preparations. You’re a samurai with a single move; you’re the cannon in the 1812 Overture; your photo’s in the dictionary under one-trick pony and you’ve got frosted tips and you’re blinking. 

You say it again, and then a third time, and a lot of times after that. You keep saying it, for years, in varying degrees of franticness and horniness and happiness and honestly still-fucking-angriness and whatever else is on special that week. You say it to his face and to his dick and to his back and to the mere concept of him well after he’s left the room, left the state, left the dimension. Eventually you stop bothering to say anything else to each other. There are maybe half a million words in your native language, according to Sam, who uses them all, and with everybody else you keep on using the two hundred or so you feel confident about. 

But with Castiel, you make do with just the four.

I love you.

I love you, too.

[troubatrain]

sober - m. barzal (pt. two)

a/n: part two every body give it up for reposting part two!!

One - Three

The sounds of skates on the ice at the Rangers practice facility were becoming almost therapeutic at this point, you close your eyes basking in it for a moment while you edited a video from a charity event the team hosted the week before. You had a makeshift desk in the hallway that led to the locker, trying to get as much work as you could none so you could try and wipe your memory of everything that had to do with Mat Barzal. You knew you shouldn’t have let him win, because men that smug don’t need an ego boost, but you did. Mika’s voice on the other side of that bathroom door was the wake up call you desperately needed. Mat Barzal was a gigantic mistake, and you had to just forget he ever existed. But, his contact was burning in your phone, Mat with a blue and orange heart just to piss you off a little bit more.

“Alright, what’s wrong?” Chris huffs out, his large frame towering over you and leaning on your desk. His eyebrows were furrowed, he’d seen right through, something was off.

“Nothing Kreids,” You roll your eyes, trying to cover up the fact that you were thinking about Mat’s mouth on your pussy in that bar bathroom, “Seriously, I’ll get over it.”

“This is about a guy isn’t it?” Chris questions, grabbing the chair across from you and sitting in it, “Spill.”

“I’m not diving into my dating life with you,” You snap back, catching yourself before your tone gets too harsh. It wasn’t that Chris wasn’t your friend, because he was, it was that you didn’t want to get caught gossiping when you were supposed to be working. Charlotte would have your head on a stick, and everything you’d been working for since you got the job would just be for nothing, “I’m fine seriously, I have a date tonight.”

You did. The night after you last saw Mat, you’d gotten bored enough to open up Tinder on your phone. A couple of swipes later, you had a date with some finance bro from Murray Hill you weren’t going to call the next day. If you wanted to get over somebody, you were just going to have to get under somebody else. Plus, in a city this big, the odds you’d ever run into Mat again were probably slim.

“Like a real date or a rebound date?” Chris asks, a humorous tone to his voice. Chris was a romantic, but you knew Chris Kreider’s were few and far between. So while you were young, you decided that it didn’t matter if you fell in love, you could do that later. For now, you were going to work hard and play harder. 

“A rebound date,” You smirk, watching Chris roll his eyes at you, “Don’t slut shame me Chris or I will-”

“I didn’t even say anything,” Chris defends throwing his hands up before you really got into it, “Just call me if he’s a creep or something, please.”

“Okay dad,” You snort, laughing and directing your attention back to the video you were supposed to be editing.

***

Maybe you should have listened to Chris. The man sitting in front of you did nothing besides talk about himself, his job, and he was unbelievably rude to your waiter. You should expect this, as if some random dude you met off Tinder would be some sort of gentleman but you thought maybe, just maybe, you’d be wrong. Unfortunately for you, you were just reminded of one thing - men are trash.

“So what do you do?” Chad asks, which could very possibly actually be his name but you’d forgotten while you were trying to block this entire night from your memory.

“Oh, I work for the Rangers,” You shrug, it wasn’t that you weren’t proud of your job. But the questions that came after were always the same, and if you were right, Chad would have the same answer.

“They must love having a pretty little thing like you around,” The words were sleazy, and they left the same icky feeling in your stomach that they always did. You didn’t want to be some pretty little thing that was around for someone’s amusement. You were an adult who had a pretty important job and you liked to be respected and in the little bubble you lived in at MSG, you were. But, no one outside of 8th and 33rd seemed to agree.

That was the moment when you realized someone’s eyes had been on you the whole time, stopping you from chewing out your date in the middle of the restaurant. Mat Barzal was seated across the restaurant, a girl who looked like a supermodel in front of him. You roll at your eyes at his cocky smile, the girl paying no mind that he wasn’t even listening to her. You pull your phone, letting Chad ramble on about how nice your gig with the Rangers must be.

stop staring at me barz

i can’t when you look like that angel

pretty sure the girl in front of you should keep you busy

pretty sure the guy in front of you is a douche, sneak out of here in 5?

in your dreams

i’ve had dreams about you, they’re pretty fucking filthy though

You stop, rubbing your thighs together subconsciously. You were on this date to forget Mat ever existed and going home with him would be an enormous mistake. One more time couldn’t hurt? Right?

call the uber loser

You watched Mat’s face light up, practically slamming cash down and saying goodbye to his date, before he skipped out of the restaurant. You shake your head at his obviousness, excusing yourself to go use the restroom and thanking whatever higher power that it was close to the exit. The second you stepped out, you could feel an arm wrap itself around you - pulling you into a broad chest.

“I like this little game we’re playing,” Mat smirks, pecking your lips while you wait for a car to pull up. You raise your eyebrows at him, waiting for an explanation, “You know, where you pretend to hate me because we’re supposed to but in reality you can’t stay away - you know how these movies end.”

“I can go back inside,” You threaten, pointing to your date who is still sitting at the table.

“Why? So you can hang out with some dude who you know can’t get you off like I can,” Mat scoffs, his ego getting bigger by the second.

“Maybe I’ll just steal your date,” You smirk, taking notice of the way Mat’s face lit up, “You’re a pig.”

“You’re not a ray of fucking sunshine either you know,” Mat scoffs.

“Your ego’s huge, I’m just keeping you humble,” You tease, pushing his arm off of you, he didn’t get to claim you like that.

“It’s not going to humble me when you’re at my apartment screaming my name,” Mat smirks, and you roll your eyes.

***

Mat’s apartment was a vague memory from the night you had spent. But, you remembered enough to point out every reason why you hated it. It was a bachelor’s apartment, filled with overpriced dark furniture that you know someone else picked out - or even worse, it came with the apartment. The view was immaculate, the floor to ceiling windows lived in the dreams of your own ideal place. The decor was typical, a few jerseys framed on the walls that you most definitely should have noticed when you left his place.

“You can say you hate it,” Mat chuckles, wrapping his arms around your waist while you continued to take in the apartment, “I’m sure it’s not up to your standards.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You ask, biting your lip to suppress the moan that was trying to escape with Mat was nibbling at your ear lightly.

“It means you know you’re better than me,” Mat whispers, “But I know there’s one thing I’m better at than you and that’s why you’re here. I can fucking ruin you.”

“Mat,” You sigh, elbowing him in the stomach while he smirked against your neck, “I’ll ruin you first.”

Mat let out a dramatic groan, “You’re such a brat.”

Before you could defend yourself and chirp him back, Mat had his large hands on your thighs while he carried you into his bedroom, dropping you on the bed. His mouth was sucking at your neck, and you knew you were going to have to invest in a new concealer if you kept this up. Well, at least he finally shut up-

“You’re so fucking sexy,” Mat whispers, his hands exploring your body, “You going to remember it this time?”

“Shut up,” You whimper, trying to let out how good Mat’s hands under your shirt actually felt. They were huge, and the rough skin against yours made your pussy flutter. Mat unclasped your bra, smirking to himself when he got it on the first try, “I’m sure you’ve had plenty of practice.”

“I have that’s why I know I’m good,” Mat smirks, climbing down your body while you shed your clothes. Mat slips his finger under your jeans, pulling your panties off in one swift motion, “Fuck, I think you know it too. Are you this wet for little old me?”

You didn’t have words for his stupidity, instead you kicked his back with the heel of your foot. You heard Mat’s laugh while he pressed open mouthed kisses to the inside of your thighs, “You’d be a lot cuter if you were nicer.”

“You’d be a lot cuter if you didn’t laugh like a hyena but here we are,” You chirped, sighing when you feel Mat’s finger slid up your folds.

Mat Barzal’s oral game was, in all honesty, immaculate. Were you going to let him know that? Absolutely not. Were you going to let him milk for every orgasm you had left? You might.

“Mat, fuck,” You let out a breathy moan, a real one trying to escape you. Mat had made you cum twice already, and his mouth was well on his way to a third before his dick even touched you.

“Let me hear you Y/N,” Mat halts his movements, curling his fingers to see if he could just get it out of you.

“Faster,” You moan out, your hips lifting to try and get his fingers to start moving again. Mat smirks, finally satisfied before his tongue swirled your clit to send you over the edge. Mat finally pulled away, wiping the sides of his mouth that were glistening from you.

“Ready for me?” Mat asks, a smug smile on his face. You nod, watching while he reached over into his nightstand to grab a condom.

“That box is awfully big,” You joke, not able to stop yourself from making fun of Mat. In reality, he probably wasn’t any better than you were, but that didn’t mean for a second you didn’t think he needed to be knocked down a few pegs.

Now, it was Mat’s turn to roll his eyes, “Because you’re such an angel.”

“I’m not, I’m the devil,” You smile, biting your lip while you watched Mat roll the condom over his cock. This part you may have remembered vaguely, but you didn’t remember how big it really was.

“Tell me if I’m being too rough,” Mat groans, entering you slowly so you could adjust to him. At least he isn’t a total douche.

“I thought you were going to ruin me Barz,” You tease, “I’m sure you know better than to talk a big game and not deliver.”

Mat’s eyes went a shade darker, a smirk on his face while he snapped his hips back and slammed back into you, causing you to let out a moan that was so loud you were positive his neighbors heard. His pace kept up, the sounds of his skin slapping against yours filled the room. You grab into any skin you could find while Mat continued to pound into you, your legs practically shaking from the feeling. Your nails dug into his skin, only boosting Mat’s confidence that he was good.

Mat gave you one more orgasm before he finally let himself go, his hips stuttering and a string of curse escaping his mouth. He stayed for a minute, trying to let you both bring yourselves down before he finally slipped out of you.

“You can stay if you can’t walk,” Mat jokes, his nude frame walking back into his room with a warm towel to clean you up. You didn’t peg him as much of an aftercare guy, especially for someone who probably got laid more than the average person.

“I’ll crawl back to Manhattan before I sleep in this bed with you,” You say while you pull yourself up from the bed. You gather your clothes, getting dressed while Mat watches you from his bed.

“So…” Mat starts, his hands behind his head in a way that was just so masculine you didn’t know if you wanted to go another round or punch him square in the face, “Did I make the team?”

“We can’t do this again,” You say, trying your hardest to keep your cool. If you were being honest, you probably would have done it again.

“We can,” Mat suggests wiggling his eyebrows, “It’ll be our dirty little secret, that’s hot.”

“Barz...”

“Y/N...”

“I’ll call you.”

“So I made the cut?”

[iamvegorott]

A New Life Ch. 9

Work Chaos

Yancy stuck to Illinois’ side as they followed Wilford into a very large room, the door opening to the sights and sounds of organized chaos;

The room only had a long table and a few couches as furniture, the decor was just different kinds of maps and marked clocks on the walls, showing the layout and times of everywhere in the world. 

Wilford made his way over to one end of the table where JJ, Yandere, Bim, Jackie, and Chase were at. Wilford gave JJ a kiss on the cheek and grabbed one of the many guns and started looking over it. Yandere giggled as she talked in a soft voice to Bim, casually sharpening a knife that was almost as big as her face. Bim was doing the same with a much smaller blade. Chase and Jackie were chatting as well. Chase was loading bullets into a gun while Jackie wrapped the handle of a blade with dark tape. 

“Hello!” JJ greeted as Yancy and Illinois walked over to the table as well. 

“This is...a lot,” Yancy commented.

“This isn’t even half of it.” Wilford laughed. “We have a lot more and scarier in the armory.” Wilford handed the gun he was looking at to Yancy. Yancy made a face and gave the gun to Illinois, who had no discomfort with holding it. 

“We also have more fun stuff.” JJ placed a hand on top of the bowler hat he was wearing and took it off, twitching his hand and blades popped out from around the rim. 

“The fuck?” Yancy curled while Illinois titled his head. 

“Everything’s a weapon.” Wilford winked. 

“Are you guys like the weapons department or something?” Illinois asked with a little laugh. 

“You could say that,” Jackie answered with a shrug. 

“Everyone’s got their own gig,” Chase added. 

“Look around, check it out, you’ll end up somewhere.” Wilford went back to work. 

“They’ll probably be in Mare’s group,” Bim said with a point towards the end of the room where the maps and clocks were. Mare, Mad, Phantom, and Marvin stood together, split into two groups while Mad and Marvin looked at the maps, and Phantom and Mare glanced at the clocks while they wrote. 

“What makes you think that?” Illinois asked. 

“Yancy is all about schedules and you know how to explore new places.” Yandere said bluntly. 

“Why does everyone think-” Yancy stopped himself. “Whatever.” He huffed and walked away. 

“Do you want this back?” Illinois held the gun towards Wilford. Wilford chuckled at himself and took the offered weapon. Illinois nodded before following Yancy. 

“They’ll need to be sent first if they want the cover of night to help,” Mare said. “Oh, hey guys, you have fun talking with my brother’s boyfriend?” Mare said the last part with a look at Phantom. 

“Not my boyfriend.” Phantom stated and took the paper Mare was writing on, adding his own notes to it. 

“How is he not?” Mad joined the conversation, Marvin tacking along to enjoy the gossip. “You two were very close this morning.” 

“We’re friends, Mad.” Phantom tore the paper out of the notebook and handed it to Marvin. 

“You were really touchy for just friends,” Marvin said with a giggle. 

“You can fuck and not be dating.” Phantom rolled his eyes. “It’s called friends with benefits.” Mad blinked and turned his head to watch how Illinois and Yancy reacted to that. Yancy looked down at the ground and rubbed his arm while Illinois kept a neutral face but Mad would feel that he was having almost the same thoughts as Yancy. Mad took note and stepped away to actually write it down. 

“I give it a month,” Mare said 

“A week.” Marvin corrected. 

“I’m getting some, that’s it, nothing more.” Phantom blew a raspberry. 

“So, what are you guys doing?” Illinois asked, wanting a change in conversation. 

“We help with the whole mapping out the locations and making sure times line up,” Mare said. 

“We prefer to do things in the night and night is at a different time around the world,” Marvin added. 

“And there’s trouble.” Mare laughed as Robbie and Blank walked over to them, both holding the ends of a plastic bag.

“Paper pickup!” Robbie said with a loud giggle.

“You guys working hard?” Mare rubbed the top of Blank’s head, messing up his hair. 

“Daddy!” Blank squealed, using his free hand to swat away Mare’s 

“We work very hard!” Robbie puffed out his chest. 

“Good.” Marvin did the same thing to Robbie’s hair by added a little kiss. 

“Papa!” Robbie wiggled in protest. 

“Papers for the shredders.” Phantom plopped a pile of paper into the bag. 

“Thank!” Robbie perked up. “Gonna go ask daddy for more.” He added to Marvin before he and Blank took off. Yancy and Illinois watched the two rush off to Chase and saw that CJ and RJ were with Dark, who was sitting at the head of the table with Host, holding a bag just like Robbie and Blank were. 

“I think I got this,” Illinois said. “Robbie, Blank, CJ, and RJ are in charge of shredding any documentation you have.” 

“Anything paper really,” Mare said. “They want to help and it’s the safest thing for them to do since we rarely ever send them out of missions.” 

“Marvin is Robbie’s papa, Chase is Robbie’s daddy, Mare is Blank’s daddy and Mad is…” Yancy was counting off his fingers as he spoke, letting his voice trail as he looked at Mad. 

“I-” Mad just went stiff. 

“He’s just Mad,” Mare answered for him. “I made Blank long before we were a thing.” 

“Wait. Made him?” Illinois caught the phrasing. 

“It’s compli-.” Mare caught himself. “Long story I can tell later.”

“I need to actually start writing all of this down,” Illinois said. 

“My brain’s gonna explode.” Yancy started to chew on his cuticles. 

“Oh!” Mad went over to a bag and pulled out what looked like a large red Lego. “Here.” Mad gave Yancy the Lego and Yancy found that it was solid. 

“What?” 

“It’s a Chewy.”

“What?” 

“It’s something you can bite on to help with stimulation, anxiety, or nail-biting habits.” Mad reached down the collar of his shirt and showed he was wearing a purple one as a necklace. 

“Oh...thanks.” Yancy flashed a polite smile. 

“What does Dark and Host do during this?” Illinois asked.

“They just make sure everything is in order. We’re kind of working in separate groups and they check that we’re all on the same page.” Marvin said. “Technically Chase, Mare, and Google should be with them, but often forget.” 

“Is that a diss to me, Google, or your husband?” Mare asked.

“Yes.” Marvin’s response got a loud laugh from Phantom.

“I think Henrik and Edward are making med-kits.” Illinois pointed as he spoke, the two he had mentioned sitting together on one of the couches, organizing bandages and gauze into packs.

“Interestin’.” Yancy hummed. 

“So that just leaves Google, Bing, and Anti,” Illinois said. 

“Does King not do any of this stuff with yous?” Yancy asked when he noticed his gym buddy wasn’t here.

“I’m shocked you know who he is.” Mare chuckled. “But no, not really, he’s not the biggest fan of this but does help if asked for specific things.” 

“I’ll ask him about that,” Yancy said and went towards the last little group, not seeing the look of confusion Mare made. Illinois just ignored it and joined Yancy. 

“Tech stuff?” Yancy asked, standing next to Bing. 

“Hey, dudes!” Bing greeted. “And yeah! We got the tech stuff. Googs does a lot of the hacking, I take care of the social media stuff and Anti helps out with both.” 

“So...what kind of ‘missions’ do you guys actually do?” Illinois finally asked. 

“Depends on the pay.” Bing shrugged. “Assassination, reputation ruining, framing-” 

“You guys kill for hire?” Illinois felt like he should have seen it coming but it was still strange. 

“It’s one of the things we do.” Bing was too casual for Illinois’ taste. 

“Yancy’s killed before, this should be nothing,” Google stated.

“No, no, no, what I did wasn’t this.” Yancy gestured with both arms. “I was a kid, I was defending myself.” 

“Whatever helps you sleep,” Google said.

“Googs.” Bing nudged Google with an elbow. “Not cool.” 

“Not cool?” Google repeated and chewed on his lip, thinking about what he had said. 

“We got a hit.” Anti finally looked away from the laptop he had been typing on. “We have to move now or we miss it.” Anti saw Yancy and Illinois. “We’ll talk shit about Google together later.” He said with a wink before disappearing and reappearing beside Dark. 

“Wrap up and head out,” Dark called out and he stood. “Yancy, Illinois, you may leave and continue with your day.” 

“I need to work out,” Yancy grumbled and walked off. 

“You just need to never talk to him.” Illinois scoffed at Google and left as well. 

“I need to reread their files,” Google said while Bing rubbed his arm. 

“You need to not be a dick,” Bing said with a little smile. 

“I’m not trying to.”

“I know, we’ll work on it.” 

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

Tag List: (let me know if you want added or if your name has changed) 

@rainymae523 @m0th-goo @windymischeif @voonespelle @ashywasteland93@madallice329 @sophiefrye22 @its-miinty 

[thephantomofthe-internet]

Read Into Me Chapter Two: The Importance of Being Earnest

Steve Harrington x Reader

Catch up on the series HERE

Word Count: 2,030

Warnings: Swearing, death illusion

Author’s Note: This chapter is a bit shorter than I’d like, but I promise that the next one is longer! Also, some of the tags aren’t working for some users, so I’m so sorry if you aren’t getting notifications for this series! If you know how to fix this lemme know!

Tags: @divinity-deos @thecaptainsgingersnap​  @wolfish-willow @scoopsohboi @herre-gud-nej​ @clockworkballerina​ @maddie1504​ @i-am-trash-so-much-its-scary​ @banjino-in-the-whole @buckysarge​ @wildcvltre​ @stanleyyelnatsiii​ @t0rment0 @10blurredsmoke10 @unussuallchild10 @n3wtscaseofniffler5​ @alwaysstressedout @peterparxour @linkispink1995​ @asharpknife @a-big-ball-of-idk​ @used-avocado​ @mochminnie​ @sledgy14​ @lilmissperfectlyimperfect​

Steve was so very fucked. He’d been sat at his desk since he got home from school and could not think of a single fucking thing to write. He’d had his notebook open, his typewriter loaded with paper, pen uncapped and waiting to be used, and the most work he’d done was chew on its blue cap. He just couldn’t think.

Writing was not his thing. Reading was not his thing. School was not his thing. He had lines of trophies on his nearly empty shelf-swim meet, track and field, basketball, and baseball for one summer in fifth grade. He could understand how to play a sport. That was competitive, improvisational, and had a core outcome-you won, lost, or tied. The same three outcomes with a million ways to do it, a million variables to get in the way. Math and science were the same, he could swing Cs and Bs in those classes, but English was the opposite. There were too many opinions. Too many options. When he managed to read one of the assigned books for class and not merely the Cliff’s Notes, he found he had nothing to say about it. Everything the author said felt true, even when his teachers were telling him to look for specific things in the narrative. Sure, if someone told him that the conch shell in Lord of the Flies meant something, but if you asked him what he wouldn’t know. And he would believe you if you said that the conch shell didn’t mean anything. His essays were all crap.

He thought about calling Nancy. Nancy would know exactly how to help him, she always did. But Nancy was with Jonathan now and he wasn’t confident that they were still friends at all. If they were ever friends. He didn’t think that they were. They weren’t really friends before they dated. Still, his hand hovered over the egg shell white rotary phone on his desk, a gift from his eleventh birthday. He lifted the phone off its hook, dialling the number off by heart. It took three rings for someone to pick up.

“Eleven?” Mike Wheeler’s frantic voice came through the other end. Steve couldn’t help but roll his eyes, the boy was far too attached to that girl, it was honestly concerning.

“Nah dude it’s Steve, your sister around?” he asked, leaning back in his chair.

“She’s out with Jonathan.” Mike’s voice dropped into one of boredom. “You know, her boyfriend?” he was such a little shit sometimes.

“Yeah, I know dipshit, you wanna tell her I called when she gets back?” Steve huffed back.

“If I remember.” With that, the call went dead. Steve groaned, rolling his eyes as he slammed the receiver back onto the hook. What a fucking waste of time. He’d never hear back now, that kid didn’t like him from the start and would do whatever he could to keep them from being friends.

What was to be done now? He didn’t have anything to say about his spring break! Mr. Lawrence was a bastard for even asking him to write about it. Nothing happened! His parents went to Miami Beach to rekindle their marriage for the hundredth time and left Steve at home alone. He tried to throw a party but almost got busted by the cops with a fake ID at the Pick n’ Save and Tommy’s brother wouldn’t give them any weed to supplement what would’ve been a pretty dry party. He cancelled the party after that and sat at home alone. Nothing much to tell about and definitely wouldn’t fill a page, even if he used the longest words he knew.

Steve stood from his desk, looking through his shelf till he found the heavy yellow pages he’d put on the bottom of his shelf to weigh the sucker down so it wouldn’t fall over as fast. He flipped it open, searching through the numbers till he found what he was looking for, lifting the receiver off its hook again.

Across the street, you were sprawled out on your rose printed bedspread, your head in your hands with Samantha sat on your desk chair, laughing at your pain. “You know it’s not that bad, right? You could’ve gotten stuck with someone way worse.” She said, mindlessly digging through the black jewellery box sat dusty in the corner of your desk. Your mother had sent it from Spain and had filled it with different things she found across Europe. You didn’t care much for the stuff yourself but you kept it on your desk to show that you used it, not that she was ever home to seemed to notice.

Your bedroom was clean and stark white. It used to be pink, to match the rest of your white iron rod and pink padded furniture. You didn’t like the pink that much, and you didn’t adore the white, but you could hide it behind the art you tacked to the wall. Every portrait, still life, and landscape painting you’d been proud of hung proudly in your home gallery. You’d done recreations of your favourite album covers, and splatter art with balloons, and a few charcoal drawings of your grandparents and your father. You’d painted clouds and stars on your ceiling when you were in middle school, and while they had a lot of room for improvement, you left them above your head as a comfort to you. Your father had helped you scrape the popcorn ceiling down flat and helped paint the ceiling sky blue. It was your last project together.

“Oh yeah totally…” you said through your hands, refusing to look at her, focusing instead on the yellow sun spots floating under your eyelids.

“I mean, you could’ve gotten stuck with Tracy Lords again, she’s in that class.” Samantha replied easily, pulling out a green sea glass bangle from the top drawer, running her fingers over the red velvet interior of the box. Tracy Lords was a menace to productivity, at least she was according to Samantha. They had issues, which meant that you did too by association, but she’d done nothing to you except glare and pop her gum at you.

“At least she does her work!” you sat up, letting your feet dangle over your bed. “I don’t think he’s ever done his work on time, he’s always late with stuff!”

“That’s not your problem; as long as you do your work then Lawrence won’t care.” She flashed the bangle in front of your face “You should wear this more it’s nice.”

You shrugged “You can have it if you want.” You didn’t really care about what your mother sent you, it didn’t change the fact that she didn’t care enough about you to be home for more than a month out of the year. Besides, where on earth were you supposed to wear any of it? Your mother loved to spend your father’s riches on random, useless crap and you hated the idea of showing off the money your father died for. It wasn’t anything to brag about.

“Nah, not my style, it won’t match any of my stuff.” She put the bracelet back, closing the box with a metallic thump. “But anyway, you’ll be fine. Steve’s completely harmless.” You weren’t exactly sure if you believed her.

The phone on your desk blared loudly. You begrudgingly jumped off the bed, pulling it off the hook. Your grandmother was still at the hair salon and if you didn’t answer, one of her little friends from the old folk’s home might think that she died again.

“Hello?” you asked, motioning for Samantha to move over a bit, closing your white curtains closed again, your eyes scanning the streets with a bored expression.

“Hey is this Y/N?” Steve asked cautiously. He couldn’t quite remember your voice but he had double checked your last name in the year book and the phone book.

“Yeah, who is this?” dread filled your stomach the second he spoke, you were hoping against hope that it wasn’t Steve. You could see him pacing his window from across the street.

“Hey it’s Steve from English?” Fucking hell. You wanted to slam the damn receiver onto its hook. But if you did that, Samantha would think that you were crazy and you didn’t want to seem like such a baby.

“Oh hey what’s up?” you asked cautiously. Samantha was pulling at your sleeve, mouthing ‘Who is it?’ at you. You pulled your arm away, pushing her chair away from you with your foot.

“Oh nothing much, I was just wondering how your paper’s going?” Steve didn’t really know why he called you, he wasn’t certain that you’d even help him if he asked. He hardly knew you, he couldn’t name two things about you. But you seemed smart, you could be of some help if he had the balls to ask for it.

“Oh um…it’s fine. How’s yours going?” your hand came to the back of your neck, rubbing it awkwardly. You wanted to run away, to utterly disappear into another dimension. You didn’t like strangers, especially the whole small talk part. You didn’t feel like you had anything interesting to say about yourself and you hated silence. Your mind just didn’t come up with questions to ask.

Steve’s face burned. He couldn’t admit that he was stupid now; he was hoping that he wasn’t the only idiot in the class. “Oh um it’s good! I’m almost done.” He said, mentally cursing himself for saying that he was anywhere near finished.

“Oh cool. Do-do you want to switch them off tomorrow?” Now you had no idea what this phone call was even about. In the back of your mind, you assumed that he just had a question about the essay, but now you had nothing to grab onto.

“Yeah sure, that works for me.” He said, looking to his empty paper.  He was so totally screwed now. He couldn’t admit that he was an idiot to you, not when you already had everything so clearly understood. You spoke so confidently, it made him feel small and pointless.

“Okay…I’ll see you in class then.” You said. Steve bid an awkward goodbye and you both hung up unsure what the hell had just happened.

Samantha was on her feet, jumping on your mattress “Did Steve Harrington just call you?!?” she cried, following it was it a giddy scream. You hushed her, rolling your eyes.

“It’s nothing to freak out about, you weirdo!” you countered, turning to face her fully with a sullen expression. Your heart was still pounding hard in your chest, adrenalin pumping through your veins.

Samantha landed on her knees, looking up at you incredulously “What? He’s cool! That’s cool! Boys never call you!”

“Way to rub that one in.” you scoffed, crossing your arms over your chest. Talking to people wasn’t your strong suit, and while for the most part you were okay with not having many friends, you lack of experience with relationships made you very insecure. “You crushed one of your spikes on my ceiling.”

Samantha reached up and touched each individual black spike with the tips of her finger, finding the dented one at the top of her head. “It’s true! God, I’ve got more guys calling me and I’m a lesbian.” She lowered her voice at the mention of her sexuality. You both knew that your grandparents wouldn’t be kind to her if they knew, their homophobia a mark of their small mindedness.

“Yeah, well, the guys at this school are all idiots.” You looked back to your paper, pulling your red pen out from behind your ear and crossing out a word on your essay.

“You didn’t think Jonathan Byers was an idiot.” Samantha replied. You cheeks flashed cherry red. It wasn’t fair of her to even mention him. He was a dickhead and Samantha knew it.

“Yeah, well now I know that he’s just as big of an idiot as everyone else is.” You muttered, pulling your desk chair over and taking a seat once again.  You didn’t have the time for stupid boys, anyways. You had work to do.

[illdesigns]

20 for Magnus/Charles? :D

20. Kissing in a stairwell, giving them an artificial height difference.

ohh, thank you for this one! this was so fun :D

The recording space wasn’t what Charles would call cozy. Far from it, it had more of a dank, dungeon-y sort of quality to it - the wallpaper a retro burned orange that seemed to have darkened and yellowed in some spots due to nicotine, a green carpet that had a few mystery stains on it, furniture that sagged, equipment that didn’t work. But it’s what he was able to swing with the budget that he had and by God they were going to get this demo cut. There were just a few other things that were keeping them from doing this in a timely fashion.

“Fucks you!”

“No, fuck you!”

Charles barely raised his head from his book, enough to peek over his glasses, following the sound of boots stomping across the nasty carpet, the door to the little studio slamming and muttering in Swedish. Nathan paused the chewing of his burger, the ash of Pickles’ cigarette fell on the carpet and Murderface still snored in a chair in the corner. Skwisgaar sat in the booth, setting a white Explorer next to a black Les Paul that was missing its owner.

“That fuckings crybabies!” Skwisgaar snapped as he shut the door behind him, looking at Charles with some kind of pleading look. It made him feel like a school teacher. “I just suggests that he tries to frets like he’s got some fuckings fingers, and he does this!”

“Calling him a mitten-handed moron was a little rude, Skwisgaar,” Charles offered calmly. He sniffed, rubbed his nose that was irritated with dust they were constantly kicking up, and stood. “But, ah, I’ll go talk with him.”

Magnus was sitting on the stairwell, head in his hands, a burning cigarette precariously close to flyaway curls. He looked up when he heard the sound of Charles closing the door behind him and took a drag, the pull so aggressive it made an audible popping when the cigarette parted from his lips. He exhaled through his nose harshly and Charles couldn’t help but think it made him look like a cartoon. So mad steam was coming from his nose and ears.

“I can’t deal with this, man,” Magnus mumbled as Charles sat down next to him. He stretched long legs down the steps below him to allow him the space, handing his cigarette over as if it were habit. “I can’t...dude. It’s so fuckin’ frustratin’. He…”

Charles’ hand found the small of his back, snaking under fading and well-worn denim to find his skin. His fingers played over the memories of moles and freckles and dipped in the divet of Magnus’ spine.

“He got a goddamn guitar teacher, but can’t read music. I taught myself how to read music, goddammit. My music education was a fuckin’ duduk, and I taught myself how to play fuckin’ guitar. With the wrong hand!” Magnus always loved to tack on that addition, but always refused the suggestion of restringing his guitar so he could play it left-handed. “If his ego can’t be taken care of-”

“I have five egos I take care of,” Charles said, taking a small drag from the cigarette before offering it back to Magnus. A gentle reminder that Magnus’ own ego had been part of the cause of the fight, and the nursing of it Charles had to do was holding up production. “But I know. When you’re done with your cigarette we’re gonna go in and you two are gonna have a talk. And you’re gonna kiss and make up. Right?”

“You wanna watch us kiss?” the little smirk and eyebrow raise was reassuring. Showed Charles that the mood was already calming. “Didn’t know that about you.”

Charles moved his hand from his back to nudge Magnus in the side with his elbow. Head resting on Magnus’ shoulder, they sat for a moment longer. Charles kept an eye on the door but his vision ended up drifting a bit and his eyes wandered to the curls of cigarette smoke. Magnus finished it by rubbing it against the metal steps and flicking it further down the stairwell, the trash disappearing into the dark of the already dirty building.

“Comin’, Charlie?” Magnus asked, clapping his knees with his hands and standing with a soft grunt. He was already down a few of the steps before he stopped and paused to look at Charles. “Well?”

With a heave, Charles pulled himself to his feet. And looked down at Magnus. An interesting view to have of the man, considering how Charles always had to look up at him. They stood in silence for a moment until Magnus reached out for Charles’ hand, offering his palm upward as if he was helping him down from a carriage.

“Is this what you see?” teased Charles as their fingers thread together. “All the way up here?”

“Dunno. Is this what you see, down here? With the ants?” teased Magnus back.

Charles couldn’t help the little laugh that escaped him. Magnus always had a way with how he teased Charles for his height that didn’t make it seem like mockery. Maybe because it was easy to tease him for the same thing back. Charles descended a single step, the two of them closer, almost eye-to-eye for the first time that he had ever known him. Magnus’ spare hand found the lapel of his suit jacket, tugging it to pull him closer.

“Mag,” it was a soft little warning, almost playful in the way he said it. “We need to head back. And not get distracted.”

“A little distraction isn’t bad, is it?” Magnus said as the smirk on his face grew. The kiss was quick and Charles knew what it was. The quiet reassurance of physical affection, the comfort of Charles’ reciprocation, the knowledge that his little bursts of emotions wouldn’t chase him away. “See? Doesn’t hurt.”

“Doesn’t hurt at all,” Charles chuckled. “But we’re gonna be missed soon. Come on.”

[sounds-like-humpty-dumpty]

The Affair (Part 1)

Summary: y/n and Van meet for the first time at a party. Chemistry is instant and they find themselves spending the night together.

Ya'll this is filthy af, so read at your own risk, k? Smut smut smut. Van x Reader 1 of 3

Note: ok so I wrote this a while ago and wasn’t sure if I should publish this. But then I remebered that I also enjoy a bit of smut every now and then. So i decided I’m just gonna put these three parts out there, inwardly cringe a little and the move forward.

ok, that’s all. enjoy at your own risk.

----

The first time they met:

It was at a party. A friend of a friend of a friend or something. Y/N had no idea whose party it was, but she didn't really care either. All she knew was that Sebastian - Esther's new boyfriend - invited them. Esther was Y/N's flatmate and became one of her closest friends since living together for three years.

But back to how they first met, Van and Y/N. It was at this aforementioned party:

The party was held in a house somewhere in a fancy neighbourhood in North London. One could see it was fancy by the cars that were parked on the streets, everything from Land Rover SUVs to Porsches. But this also meant that whoever hosted the party had money; money that would be well spent on alcohol and snacks, which instantly guaranteed the party to be a full success.

When Y/N first entered the house and saw Van, her heart skipped a beat with excitement. She knew who he was, had heard of Catfish and the Bottlemen, and even went to one of their gigs once. He was standing and talking to a group of people a little aside of what was later to become the dance floor in the lounge. He wore all black and had a beer in his hand, smiling and nodding along to the conversation he held with the people. He didn't look like the rockstar she remembered on stage. He looked like a normal dude at a party and yet there was something mesmerising about his presence.

Y/N didn't arrive with Esther and Sebastian because her workplace had her working late, not that she minded. She loved her job. But it meant that she arrived at the party in a stranger's house without knowing where her friends were. The fact that Van McCann was at the same party didn't make things any easier. She just got more nervous. She tried to find her friends in the kitchen first, and while she was already there, poured herself some of the expensive-looking vodka and mixed it with O. Of course, they weren't in there. She never had been that lucky, so she made her way through the hallway and back towards the open-spaced lounge. The house was massive and she feared she wouldn't be able to find her friends at all.

She sipped on her drink and stepped around people, smiling when her eyes met theirs. She didn't have to search long though. Her eyes -which were automatically glancing in the direction of where they last spotted Van when she first entered the house- suddenly found the messy mop of Sebastian's honey blonde hair right next to the lead singer himself. He definitely hadn't been standing there before.

Y/N's heart began pounding rapidly. This meant Sebastian somehow knew Van. And it meant that if she went towards their group, she would be introduced to him and, maybe, the rest of the band. She gulped down half her cup of vodka and O and made her way to the group. Esther, who was standing next to Sebastian, squealed with joy when she saw Y/N coming their way. "You made it!" she hugged her close and pulled her into the circle of their group. "This is Y/N. The best flatmate anyone could share a flat with, I swear!" It seemed like Esther was already slightly intoxicated because she seemed way more excited about Y/N's arrival than it was necessary, making Y/N blush and take another sip from her cup before awkwardly replying "Hiya". The guys in their circle of conversation introduced themselves as Larry, Johnny Bond ("but Bondy is fine"), Van and Benji. They were discussing something Y/N had no idea about. She didn't mind though. This way she could muster them all a little closer. When her eyes landed on Van and remained on him for a little longer, his eyes met hers. She smiled shyly and he smiled back, instantly causing her smile to become wider. That's how their connection started and as the hours of the night progressed, so did the number of drinks that Y/N and Van were downing together. ...

She somehow managed to end up outside in the back garden, sharing a joint with Van. They had to do it in hiding because Y/N, bolder thanks to the booze in her system, had been pick-pocketing the joint from some drunk German dude who had been boasting about it prior. It was a miracle that no one had found them yet since they were unable to stop themselves from snickering and laughing while smoking some German guy's weed. When they finished their smoke, eyes glassy and slightly red-rimmed, and Y/N was about to make them get up and go back inside, Van decided to make his move: "wanna ditch the party and go back to mine?"

Y/N could feel herself blushing but she smiled knowingly, bit her lip in a flirty attempt and nodded coyly. So an Uber was called and a quick "bye" was exchanged with their friends.

Van's flat wasn't all that far away, it took them about 25 minutes till Van opened the front door to his one-bedroom flat. It was... minimalistic. It had the necessary furniture in it, some black and white prints, a couple of guitars leant against the wall, and a stereo with a turntable plus a tower of records next to it, but other than that it was completely devoid of any decorations. "It's... nice." Y/N grinned at Van, fully knowing he knew she was lying. "Yeah well, I'm gone most of the time anyway, innit? And when I get a coupl'a days off I'd rather spend them with me family up north, so this really is just for when the lads and I 'ave to be in London for work, see." Y/N grinned at his need to justify his crappy flat and instead of replying, placed her arms on his shoulders and around his neck. Van instantly relaxed into her suggestion and placed his arms around her waist, pulling her closer. Y/N could have sworn he was able to feel her erratic heartbeat, but if he did, he didn't acknowledge it. He slowly moved his head down to hers and she closed the space by tilting her head up and letting her lips meet his. He had been chewing gum on their drive back and Y/N mentally kicked herself for not asking for one too. He still tasted minty but had spit it out into the bushes before they made their way up to his flat, so that she could taste a bit of him too. Their lips moved together like they were made for each other and when she felt his tongue grace her lips she broke the kiss and whispered "bedroom?" He ushered her into his bedroom which was just as bare as the rest of the flat. Instead of turning the big light on though, he went to the bedside table and turned on the little lamp while Y/N went back into the hallway to turn off the lights there. The bedroom was cast in a warm but dim light and Van began unbuttoning his shirt while kicking off his boots. He made it all the way to the first three buttons when Y/N stilled his hands by grabbing his wrists and pulling them away from his shirt. "Let me," she said and began to slowly unbutton them for him, revealing more and more of his chest hair and necklace, and then the little happy trail vanishing under the band of his boxers that were peaking out of his jeans. When she unbuttoned it all, she pushed the fabric off of his shoulders and marvelled at the sight in front of her. She was really going to have sex with Van fucking McCann. Van, however, wanted to see her out of her clothes too. So he took hold of the hem of her t-shirt and pushed it up, signalling her to lift her arms, which she did. One swift move and she was standing in front of him with her lacy black bra. She was so fucking glad she had shaved and put on her good undies this morning. Hoping something like this would happen, not knowing it would be with a rockstar.

Next were the pants, however both Van's and her's were tight so they both got out of them without help from the other, taking off their socks in the same movement, until they stood in front of each other in only their underwear. Van was looking her up and down which made Y/N a bit uncomfortable, so she stepped forward and pulled his head down with one of her hands on the back of his neck to kiss him. This way he wouldn't be able to ogle her and all her imperfections. He obviously took this as a sign to move things along and grabbed her waist to pull her hips flush against his. She could feel the bulge in his boxers and with the other hand, she reached down and stroked him through the fabric making him moan a little into her mouth. He sat down on the bed and took her with him so she was straddling him. She moved her hips into his, causing friction between their sexes, and provoking them both to breath heavily into each other's mouth.

"Fuck" she gasped as Van's hand reached into her panties and began to spread her wetness along her entrance. He hummed in satisfaction. His movements were slow but electrifying and Y/N tried to push herself onto his hand. He withdrew his hand however and moved her fully onto the bed and crawled above her. His golden necklace dangled in front of her face. She slung her legs around his hips and her arms around his neck and pulled him down, on top of her. His lips found her neck and began licking and sucking the skin there, making their way down to her collarbone and then to her breasts which were still covered by her bra. She noticed and arched her back so she could reach and unclasp it. One swift move and her breasts were free and available for Van to explore further. His lips kissed their way to her left nipple and she could feel his teeth scrape her skin. She moaned and arched her back into his touch. She wanted more; more Van, more touch, more of his skin on hers. She bucked her hips into his and tried to free his bum from his boxer. He got the hint and helped her push his underpants off. He leaned above her again then and opened the drawer of his bedside table to grab a condom. No ten seconds later he had opened it and pushed it over his erect penis. All the while Y/N had removed her panties in eagerness. Van positioned himself over her again but before he moved to push himself inside he asked: "are you ok?" Y/N smiled, glad he was making sure she was still on board, and then nodded. He pushed himself inside and she gasped at the sensation. He stayed like this for a couple of seconds, letting her adjust to him and then slowly moved halfway out and then back in. He went slow at first, letting them get a feel for each other.

When their breathing began to synchronise Van bucked his hips into her faster and faster. His pubes rubbed against her clit with every movement and she could feel herself building up. "Van" she moaned simply because she could. She clutched his back and Van's movements became even faster and more erratic, both their breathing picking up speed. "Fuck. Fuck yes, Van." she panted. He reached down and began rubbing her clit with his fingers while drawing in and out of her relentlessly. "Van! Shit, Van, I'm gonna cum" she screwed her eyes shut and moaned as she felt herself falling over the edge of her orgasm and convulse around him. The contracting muscles and moans of her orgasm were bringing him over the edge too. He came, thrusting a couple more times to milk both their orgasms. Stilling his movements and pulling out, he collapsed on the mattress next to her. After a couple of moments of silence in which they both tried to catch their breaths, he removed the condom and carelessly dropped it onto the floor next to bed.

They didn't say anything, the silence continued and she wasn't quite sure what to do. Should she stay or leave? How much longer should she wait till leaving? Did he expect her to leave now? She turned around on her side to face Van, who was still facing the ceiling. When he heard her shifting however, he moved his head to look at her. "I'd better be going, right?" She asked but didn't make any preparations to do so. Van turned his body to fully face her too and brushed a strand of hair from her face behind her ear. "You don't have to, I wouldn't mind if you stay. Maybe have a second and third round later?" Y/N couldn't hide the relieved smile crossing her lips and Van moved to pull the duvet, that was laying crumpled at the end of the bed, over their naked bodies. She snuggled herself into his arm that he had draped behind her head and placed her arm on his stomach and chest, feeling his chest hair between her fingers, ignoring the necklace that sat on his collarbone. It seemed too holy for her to touch.

Her heart was beating faster than ever, every fibre of her skin that was touching Van's seemed to be ten times more sensitive. She draped one leg over his and could feel his leg hair brushing against the skin of her inner thigh. They lay there like that for some time, not moving except Van stroking her back occasionally with the hand that was draped around her, and Y/N drawing patterns into his chest hair.

She must have fallen asleep because the next time she opened her eyes the room was dark and Van was lightly snoring next to her. For a second she thought about grabbing her clothes and leaving, making it less awkward for them in the morning. But the bed was warm and the thought of stumbling around in the dark room and potentially waking Van anyway kept her put. She carefully felt for Van's body. He was sleeping on his side, facing her, as her hand found his waist. She gently moved her hand upwards, feeling his arm, then shoulder until she reached the nape of his neck. That's when she heard him sigh in his sleep. She was careful not to move her hand and wake him, but it was too late as she felt him move beneath her touch. She felt his arm wrap around her torso, pulling her into his body. As he moved his head and nuzzled it into her neck, she could feel his hot breath on her skin. It gave her goosebumps and sparked new lust between her legs. When he lazily began kissing the skin of her neck, she removed the hand that was resting on his neck and moved it southwards. Down his back, over his shoulder blades, along the spine, over his buttocks, and then reached between their bodies to take him into her hand. She could feel him take a sharp inhale when she grabbed him and started to stroke him up and down, teasing his tip with her thumb. He was quickly getting hard and she moved to drape one leg over his hips, guiding his penis over her wetness. All the while Van's head was still nestled on the pillow close to her neck so she could feel his breathing change with pleasure. Needless to say that round two was much more gentle and slow, both of them being slowed down by darkness and their previous exhaustion.

In the morning, Y/N was woken by Van's hand caressing her waist. She was laying on her side, facing away from him and when she turned around to face Van, he was already gently and tiredly smiling at her. His hand found its way between her legs and she gasped when he found her clit with ease and started circling it with his finger. She scooted closer to him, wanting to be as close as possible. She began to move her hand towards his penis just to find it already erect. As soon as she grabbed it, Van slipped a finger inside her and a moan escaped her mouth. She lifted her upper leg to allow Van more access and to wrap it around him, but Van wouldn't have it, he pushed it away and in the same movement manoeuvred her to lie on her back. He climbed on top, ready to push himself inside when he suddenly realised that he was missing a condom, in fact, he remembered he was missing a condom during the second round in the night too. Y/N noticed him halting and looked up at him to find his face contorted with worry. "Everything ok?" she asked. "We didn't use a condom." Van breathed out and let himself fall face first into the mattress next to her (making sure his hips were facing sideways though, because that would have been painful). Y/N observed his discomfort and moved to lie on her side again, head propped up by her arm and elbow. She drew a random pattern on his back with her index finger and said: "I'm on birth control, and last time I went to the gynaecologist I got tested and came out negative. No STD's, no AIDS... If you are worried about that." Van moved his head to look at her. "You are not freaked out then?" He asked and after seeing that Y/N was completely calm, turned his whole body to face her again. She shrugged as good as she could in her position. "If you can promise me you don't have STD's or AIDS either, I'm not freaked out." She replied. Van shook his head, "No STD's that I'm aware off, have never been tested for AIDS though." Y/N trusted that he was telling the truth and leaned forward to press her lips onto his, signalling him that it was ok for them to continue without a condom.

For her, it didn't really feel any different without it, but for Van, it felt way more intense, the awareness of being inside her heightened. When he came and collapsed onto her, panting, he kissed her gently. He didn't pull out right away, instead, he savoured the moment, knowing that this was the last time.

They wouldn't see each other again. This was just a one night stand, although one of the best he ever had.

When he rolled off of her with a satisfied sigh and lay back on the mattress, facing the ceiling, eyes closed, Y/N took that as her cue to get going. She rolled out of bed, collected her clothes from the floor and vanished into the only door she hadn't entered yet in the hope it was the bathroom. She got dressed and tried to comb through her hair with her fingers. When she emerged from the bathroom fully clothed and entered back into the bedroom to get her shoes, Van was still lying in bed, duvet draped over his lower half, giving Y/N one last delicious view of his torso and upper body. He didn't stop her, just watched, as she sat on the edge of the bed to tie her shoes. When she was done and ready to leave, she stood up, faced Van and said: "Well then, was nice meeting you." She smiled slyly, knowing very well that the phrase was a massive understatement. Van's lips twitched into an amused smile as well as he answered "Likewise". Y/N turned around then and left the bedroom and seconds later the flat, as Van heard the front door open and close and steps vanishing down the staircase.

[vannahfanfics]

Hanta Sero and the Goddess of Fun

Category: Friendship Fluff

Fandom: My Hero Academia

Characters: Hanta Sero

Hey, everyone! Here today with a story for two of @bnhabookclub​‘s events! I’m combining the prompt “Pillow Fort” from the Bingo Event with the prompt “Violence is not the answer”/“Yeah, but it is an option” from the Celebrating Sero event. How could I not write something for our lovable Tape Hero’s birthday? Happy reading! :3

Sero’s eyes were lidded as he sucked absently on a popsicle stick that he had long since cleaned the mango sherbet from. As he drew it from between his lips with a small “pop,” he glanced up at the ceiling fan slowly rotating above his head. His black eyes traced the blades around and around with dull interest, which quickly dissipated into boredom. With a loud groan, he slumped down onto the couch until his shoulders rested against the couch cushion and his legs scrunched up. This blows. I could be out having a good time right now, but… he complained as he began chomping on the popsicle stick like a hamster. He’d imprinted his teeth into the malleable wood by the time Mina came strolling in from the kitchen. 

“Aw, Hanta, you look bored out of your mind,” she tutted as she draped herself over the back of the sofa to smile pityingly down at him. 

“So glad of you to notice,” Hanta droned. He continued to bite down on the popsicle stick, finding some grotesque level of satisfaction from chewing on it. Mina hummed empathetically and bounced around to perch on the arm of the sofa. “I’m so bored!” he exclaimed and chucked the popsicle stick onto the coffee table, no longer entertained by the novelty. Hanta threw his arms up behind his head and pouted at the empty television screen displaying his warped reflection. He rolled onto his side to bat his eyelashes at the pink girl. “O, Goddess of Fun, please bless me with an activity to perform before my brain jellifies and oozes out of my ears,” he pleaded. I need a distraction! Mina giggled and kicked her legs a little in delight. 

“‘Goddess of Fun’? You flatter me, Hanta.” She patted her pursed lips with the pad of her index finger as she contemplated. She then gasped and clapped her hands together. “I know! Why don’t we build a pillow fort?” At her suggestion, Hanta sat up with raised eyebrows. 

“A pillow fort?” he repeated. As he pondered the notion, a grin slowly spread across his face. “Yeaaaahhh… Yeah! That sounds like fun!” As he confirmed, Mina’s fingers flew across her phone screen, sending a message to their class group chat. Mina’s tone of voice would be bubbly, but participation would be all but required. The ceiling thumped with footsteps as the students slowly meandered out of their rooms with pillows and blankets in tow. Mina and Hanta hopped up to wrench the cushions from the sofas. As they pushed the coffee table out of the way to create an ample open space for their creation to come, Ochako came bouncing down the stairs; her arms were laden with blankets and pillows, and her eyes sparkled with unbridled delight. 

“I’ve never made a pillow fort before!” she gasped. When the brunette scampered over to dump her contribution onto the rug, Mina tutted and embraced Ochako, pressing her face into her chest and patting her head. 

“Our poor ‘Chako, so deprived of life’s great joys,” she crooned. Ochako blinked, her response muffled by the fabric of Mina’s tee-shirt smothering her mouth. Hanta grinned at them as he built the fort wall with the cushions and furniture frames. Ochako blinked again when Mina thrust her away and dove down to retrieve the pillows. “This is gonna be so much fun! ‘Chako, will you make some popcorn? We can stay up late watching late-night anime re-runs!” The brunette saluted the pink-haired girl before trotting off to the kitchen. The smell of butter and the sound of popping kernels soon filled the air of the living room. 

Hanta grinned at Mina as she began laying the pillows out on the floor to construct a large, bouncy layer for them to lay on. 

“It’s been a long time since I’ve done something like this. It makes me feel like a kid again!” he laughed as he dragged a floor lamp into the center of the room to drape the blankets over it and make a circus tent-like structure. Mina nodded amiably from her perch on the floor. 

“It’s good to be in touch with your childhood!” Before they could say anything else, there was a yelp followed by the distinct series of thump indicative of someone falling down the stairs. 

“Ah!” came Eijirou’s voice. “Midoriya, are you all right, dude?” Hanta peered over the back of the couch. Izuku sprawled on his back at the base of the steps, cushioned by a mass of blankets and pillows. The only way that Hanta knew it was even him was Eijirou’s comment and the shock of pine-green hair peeking out from underneath a four-foot plushie of All Might. 

“Yeah,” the boy whined, shifting the gigantic stuffie to smile shakily as the redhead descended the steps with his pillows tucked under one arm and his blankets draped over the other shoulder. “I tripped over one of the sheets…” 

“Why the fuck do you have that ridiculous thing?” Katsuki scoffed, leaning over the banister of the steps to sneer at the green-haired boy. Izuku defensively hugged the hero plush as he sat up and pouted at the blond who was now rounding the landing. 

“It’s a pillow fort, Kacchan! I can bring my All Might if I want to!” 

“Oh, it’s so cute!” Ochako laughed delightedly as she strolled in with two buckets filled with popcorn. She set them down on the displaced coffee table so she could crouch down and admire the adorable rendition of the former number-one hero. “So big, too! How much did you pay for it?” Izuku’s cheeks turned red, and he began to mumble under his breath. At some point, he must’ve uttered the price because the color slowly drained from Ochako’s face, and she began to wobble from side to side in a fit of wooziness. Hanta frowned with a raised eyebrow. Those things can run for hundreds of dollars… No wonder it’s given Ochako a conniption fit. Izuku squeaked as Ochako stood and slowly staggered away, looking like her soul had abandoned her body from the shock. 

Izuku continued to clutch the large plush as he toted his mess of blankets and pillows over to Hanta. Once Mina arranged the pillows, Izuku plopped down in the corner, reclining against the plush and looking like an overjoyed toddler in a candy store. Katsuki had denounced Izuku’s plushie, but Hanta caught the blond staring intently at it like he was impossibly jealous. 

“Ah! It already looks so fun, everyone!” Momo called from the landing as she glided down the steps, her nightgown swishing around her feet and her massive down comforter stretching behind her like a bridal train. Hanta grimaced at the gargantuan blanket, sure that if he tried to drape it over the furniture, it would collapse. Momo trilled delightedly as she strode over, whirling the heavy blanket around with a girlish giggle. “Here, Hanta, will this do?” she asked as she piled the giant piece of fabric into his arms. He slouched down as his unprepared shoulders suddenly bore the weight, and his knees wobbled as he struggled to remain upright. 

“Hehe, yeah, Yaomomo… Thanks…” Momo clapped her hands together, clearly pleased, so Hanta absolved to find someplace for the gigantic comforter. The girl scampered off to assist Ochako in the kitchen, spouting something about finding a tea that goes good with popcorn. Hanta decided to stretch the comforter out on the layer of pillows; the down blanket was stupidly soft, and felt like a cloud under his bare feet. As he knelt amongst the pillows and blankets, he nodded approvingly; their pillow fort was coming together nicely. He smiled up at Mina as she bounced across the fluffy pillows to him. “This was a really fun idea!” 

“What can I say? I am the Goddess of Fun,” she snickered matter-of-factly. She stood beside Hanta, draping the sheets over the furniture to begin forming their tent. “Though, I’m surprised that you’re stuck here tonight. I would’ve imagined that you’d’ve gone out with your family for your birthday.” Hanta’s cheeks suddenly burned painfully hot. He wildly glanced around to make sure no one heard, then tugged Mina down by her arm. She yelped as she was forced down into a squat, but he clapped a hand over her lips to keep her noises from arousing suspicion. “What’s the big deal?” she hissed when he removed his hand. 

“I didn’t want anyone to know!” he complained in a harsh whisper. Mina blinked confusedly at him, and Hanta grimaced uncomfortably, rubbing the back of his neck. “Me and my folks had plans, but they fell through. It happens; I’m not upset about it.” The melancholy look that overcame his face told another story, so he forced a nonchalant smile on his face to prevent Mina from noticing. “I didn’t want it to be a big thing, okay? You and Denki are the only two who know about my birthday, so please, just don’t make a big deal?” he pleaded. Mina stared at him with lidded eyes as she contemplated the request. 

“All right. I won’t say anything,” Mina promised after a brief silence. Hanta sighed deeply in relief as she stood up to greet Tsuyu and Tooru as they came down the steps. Frowning, Hanta reclined back on his hands and stared down at the ornate stitching decorating Momo’s comforter. It wasn’t that he didn’t like big fancy parties or didn’t want his friends to know about his birthday. Hanta’d been really bummed out when the plans with his family had fallen through, and so he knew that if his friends did anything, he’d just be a killjoy because he wouldn’t be able to think about the fact it was the first year he couldn’t celebrate the occasion with his family. I’d only ruin their fun. It’s much better this way, he reasoned glumly. It was logical, but it didn’t alleviate the dull ache in his chest. 

He forced a smile on his face as Tooru skipped over to dump an entire bin of stuffed animals into the center of the pillow fort floor. I’d only ruin their fun, he repeated hollowly. 

~~~~~~~~~~

Twenty minutes later, the students were sprawled out underneath the tent of sheets stretched over the furniture, feasting on popcorn and snacks with their eyes glued to the flickering television screen. A blue glow enveloped the spacious tent, providing just enough light to see. They’d already had to duct-tape Mineta to the leg of one of the sofa’s because he’d tried to cop a feel on Momo. He’d kicked and screamed for a while, but soon contented himself with fantasizing over the two-dimensional girls running around the screen- so they’d duct-taped his mouth shut too. 

Hanta lay flat on his belly with his legs kicked up and his ankles crossed over his lower back. He watched the anime with mild interest with his mouth pressed into his forearm as his black eyes reflected the flickering images on the screen. He could dimly hear Katsuki griping at Izuku to get the giant All Might plushie out of his space and the boy struggling to maneuver the giant stuffed hero without collapsing the tent. Suddenly, the screen flicked off, and a series of affronted groans rang out in the small space. 

“Relax, relax, I’ll turn it back on in a minute!” Mina huffed as she crawled to the front of the pillow fort. “I have an important announcement.” Hanta sat up on his elbows, raising his eyebrows suspiciously at the pink girl. What is she planning…? He wondered. He jumped violently when she procured a party popper and burst it open, spilling streamers and confetti all over the place. “Happy birthday, Hanta!” 

“Happy birthday!” the group chimed, and the pillow fort rang with more exploding party poppers. Hanta flailed in shock as the metallic streamers and confetti bits rained down upon him, lobbing a few pillows around and tangling himself up in the blankets. The lamp pole clanged as he banged his hand against it, and as it wobbled precariously, the sheets dipped in a little. 

“Wh-what? Mina! What’s going on?” he whined as he rubbed the aching bones of his fingers. Mina giggled and waved the empty party popper at him. 

“Did you really think all of us didn’t know about your birthday? We were going to surprise you tomorrow, but considering the circumstances, I thought a little change of plans was in order.” Hanta blinked as Denki draped himself over his shoulders from behind to grin brightly at him. 

“Sorry that your plans with your folks fell through, dude- but did you really expect us to let you just sulk about it?” Hanta smiled sheepishly and shook his head. “Righto! Bring out the presents!” Hanta whirled around as Tsuyu and Fumikage began dragging small wrapped gifts from underneath the sofa. 

“What the-? When did you-?” 

“It’s all about misdirection!” Tooru giggled as she hugged one of her pink llama plushies. As they piled up the presents beside Hanta, the flap to the fort suddenly opened, spilling yellow light into the fort. 

“Am I late?” 

“Aizawa-sensei is in on this too?!” Hanta exclaimed in shock as the scruffy dark-haired teacher crouched down in the entrance to the fort. Mina clapped her hands excitedly. 

“Sensei, sensei, come on in!” The teacher slowly inspected the pillow fort stuffed with his students, debating his dignity. He then shrugged and shambled inside, dragging his sleeping bag with him, which made Hanta believe he was totally intending on crashing in the pillow fort to begin with. He wormed inside the sleeping bag and tossed a gift card onto the pile of gifts before zipping himself up. 

“What’re we watching?” 

“Gifts first! Come on, Hanta, let’s go!” Mina demanded ecstatically, crawling over to drop a present into his lap. Hanta laughed lightly and picked up the gift, shaking it experimentally to rattle whatever was contained within. He then paused to smile brightly, a few tears prickling in the corners of his eyes from how thrilled he was. 

“Thanks, everybody. This is the best birthday I could’ve asked for.”

“Stop being sappy and open the damn present!” Katsuki cried and whacked him in the head with a pillow. As Hanta doubled over, laughing and holding his head, Ochako began to scold him. 

“Violence is not the answer!” 

“Yeah, but it is an option,” Denki grinned devilishly. He caught Ochako by surprise with a stuffed llama to the face, making her fall over onto her back and accidentally slap Momo in the forehead. The black-haired girl cried out and grabbed a pillow to whack both Ochako and Denki upside the head. 

“Stop it! We’ll collapse the fort!” 

“PILLOW FIGHT!” Mina yelled, completely ignoring Momo’s sentiment. Suddenly pillows and stuffed animals were flying everywhere, and all thoughts of gifts were abandoned. Aizawa had retrieved the remote and was now watching the anime with much interest, completely ignoring the carnage. As Eijirou whacked him in the face, Hanta fell onto his back, cackling as he held a pillow defensively over his face. 

Mina landed on her belly beside him, face red with breathlessness and exhilaration. 

“Not bad for the Goddess of Fun, huh?” she mused, ducked as Izuku crawled after Katsuki, who’d absconded with his precious plushie. Hanta laughed and nodded. 

“Yeah, not bad at all!” Not bad at all, he repeated silently as a serene smile graced on his face. He then gripped his pillow and dove into the fray with a war cry. What better things did he have to do on a Friday night, anyway?

Enjoy this oneshot? Feel free to peruse my Table of Contents!

Tag List: @deliathedork​ @simplybakugou​ @lovelusional​ @wesparklebitch​

[bees-aus]

HLVRAI ROLESWAP AU

[ Main tag: #SWAP AU ]

Roleswap AU is just like it sounds- an AU where everyone's roles are switched! However, what causes this AU to stand out from the rest is that roles may be swapped... but species and personality, in most cases, are not! In this AU, Gordon + Benrey are swapped, G-Man and Tommy are swapped, Coomer and Bubby are swapped, Forzen and Darnold, and Joshua and Josh (who works at Gamestop) are swapped!

Gordon Freeman

[ he/him ] [ Reference image ]

Gordon is a college dropout who had a dream of becoming a scientist, but really couldn’t handle it. In some cruel twist of irony, he ends up with a job at Black Mesa… as a security guard. It had great benefits and you didn’t really seem to do anything, so… why not? Sure, he’s a little bitter, but it’s steady, easy, has decent wages, and he at least gets to hang out around scientists. And at least he’s forced to keep up a workout regimen, which is probably the biggest thing he has going for his mental health. Also streams games in his free time. He’d been working there for quite a while when he suddenly got shifted to a different division- something about a big project needing heavier guarding. That’s when he met Benrey- who he thought was fishy as hell. And maybe he was excited to actually be able to do something once in this damn job. Of course, shit immediately goes wrong. Despite everything going to shit- Gordon is sure that his bosses will pull through and fix everything, so he does his best to try and do his job and make sure Benrey doesnt go anywhere he’s not supposed to. Benrey proceeds to completely ignore him, and use his inhuman powers to completely thwart every attempt Gordon makes to make the man listen. Ends up unwillingly becoming the final boss because of Tommy’s thwarting, and hes to be killed by science team, and then manually saved by Gman, Benrey and Tommy.

Benrey

[ they/them + he/him ] [ Reference image ]

Just like canon, Benrey is very much not human and a pain in Gordon’s ass. He’s the head test subject for all of the Xen projects, since his inhuman status prevents him from being killed or injured by most radiation and xen lifeforms that would kill humans. Doesn’t really care about his job, but Tommy roped him into it and he owes him one. Plus, the pay is decent to get things for his son, Joshua- who definitely takes after his dad. When the game starts, he starts playing it for funsies. However, it becomes a lot less fun when he realizes the game is becoming all too real. He hadn't worried about his arm getting cut off- not until it didn't grow back, due to it being a scripted event. Not only that, but Tommy lets him know that when the game ends... they all might die. So he helps bounce ideas off Tommy of how to stop it- with some consequences. They end up causing Gordon to be roped into being the final boss, and has to save him with Tommy and G-Man's help.

Joshua

[ he/him + ??? ] [ reference image ] 

Just like Benrey, Joshua isn’t human- and appears even moreso, since the kid has no interest in trying to appear human. Which Benrey at least tries, for his coworkers sake. About 6-8 mentally, his physical age isn’t really disclosed. He’s currently in his “molting phase”, as Benrey calls it; causing him to shed everywhere and try and itch himself on everything. As well as chewing. And hissing. And clawing the furniture. Despite that, they’re surprisingly well behaved when prompted, and listen to Benrey… decently well. Has an interest in Gordon, though that interest seems to half be trying to chew on all of Gordon’s clothes. Mainly watches Westerns at home or hangs out with Tommy or G-Man while Benrey is working. Has a strange love for cowboys. Calls Benrey “Bany” or “beedee”, Gordon “Hoofs”, Tommy “Eggs”, Gman “Chicken”, Coomer “Murphy”, and Bubby “Packy” as their main nicknames. Can’t read, but is a master Heavenly Sword player, amongst other games. Loves Minecraft in particular.

Tommy Coolatta

[ any pronouns ] [ reference image pending ]

Tommy is the son and successor to one of the more influential interdimensional buisnessmen, G-Man. When his father decided he was done, Tommy stepped up to the plate and took over the business willingly for several reasons- including simple pursuit of knowledge. He met Benrey long even before he took over the business, which is why he trusted him to help him with his project and appointed him to Xen experimentation- with pay, of course. He became self-aware when the "game" started, and though he tried not to interfere much, he got scared when he realized that when the game ended... they might all go with it. So, he decided to confide in Benrey- as they'd been friends for a long time; before Tommy had even taken over his fathers' position. Together they came up with a plan to try and delete the final boss- and it was this that caused Gordon to glitch and take over the role.

G-Man

[ he/him + xe/xem ]

After his son decided he was ready to take over the family business, G-Man decided to retire. He'd never really had time to simply... not do anything before. So he decided to indulge and start learning about more specifics instead of being involved with everything in a broad sense. One of his personal projects was creating a pet for himself- the "perfect" cat, a black oriental shorthair named La Croix. Though he claims she's perfect, she's... well, completley evil. But don't tell him that. Anyway, one day Tommy called him up and asked him for a favor- a client wanted Black Mesa to develop portaling technology to Xen, and he didn't really have to time to teach the humans. So, begrudgingly as a favor to his son, he posed as a scientist hired by Black Mesa to help fund and lead the research team. Much to his chagrin, that also involves working with Benrey, who he never really cared for. When all hell breaks lose, he's forced to accompany the rest of the team through the game for Tommy's sake- and because he actually decently likes the Coomer and Bubby fellows.

Dr. Coomer

[ he/him ]

Coomer is on of Black Mesa's experiments on creating the perfect security and scientist hybrid- if they could just have one person in both roles, it would be so much easier! Unfortunately, their testing didn't go so well. He's the most successful of his batch- and successful he is! He's got the brains of a scientist and the brawns of... well, certainly a lot more than your average security guard. Plus the psychokinesis. Really, he's the perfect package... if only they could properly replicate him. They decided to place him in the Xen department due to his multi functional abilities, and the fact that he got along rather well with the lead scientist there- G-man. Also, he's the only one who can really keep Bubby in check.

Bubby

[ they/them + he/him ]

Another one of Black Mesa's experiments- this time, in cybernetics. He was originally purposed to be withstanding of Xen atmosphere and basically work as a living space probe, but the idea was quickly scrapped. Still, they had a perfectly good brain, so... they simply stuck him in the scientist department instead. Though he's rather small and frail, he's by no means any less dangerous. A good portion of his body is advanced tech; a whole arsenal of tools store and hidden away in his body. Like a living swiss army knife of doom. Some of these features include giant, insectoid blade legs, a mini flamethrower, lasers, science tools... you get the gist.

Darnold

[ he/him ]

Darnold was Gordon's roomate back in college. Though he wanted to graduate in mixology- when Gordon dropped out, he got a new roommate, and things started to go south from there. Long story short, he decided to join the military for help with college and getting his degree. Unfortunately, Darnold is not a brave man. He did not want to be on this mission. He doesn't know why he ever even thought of this. This was a horrible idea. Oh fuck, oh no- But it's a bit too late now, once he's separated from the rest of his squad in an alien infested laboratory. When he finally meets the rest of science team, he quickly surrenders and dips out- but unfortunately, gets taken hostage by an evil cat named La Croix. Once G-Man manages to calm his pet, he books it, escaping the facility, quitting the military. Fortunately for him, Black Mesa's hush money (that Tommy provided, of course) was more than enough to let him get any degree he wants.

Forzen

[ he/him ]

When Darnold and Gordon both dropped out of college... Forzen was the one who decided to pick up the open dorm, and also the empty spot in Darnold's mixology class. Turns out, he was pretty damn good at that. Good enough that he decided that's what he wanted to do instead of join the military- fuck those guys. He went on to get a full, successful degree, and get hired as the official Black Mesa Mixologist. Though he's still a huge, buff, brute-looking man- he passionately works making his elixirs (all of which are lovingly named after beyblades, of course). He's pretty annoyed when a bunch of weirdos come knocking on his department, but he obliges because he has the perfect elixir to test on whatever the one-armed dude is- though they all quickly leave after a pretty heated discussion about TF2.

[kinkstuffig]

Try Guys Sandwich

Keith had nearly finished his assignment for the video was to eat every item from taco bell. Obviously, he didn't eat all of each item, only a bite. Even so, his stomach was bloated and churning. He reeked of sweat, sauce, and beans. When he had signed up to work for Buzzfeed, this was not what he had expected.

At first, Keith had tried to hold in the gaseous emissions. This had resulted in him overheating and getting cramps. When the others realized this was the cause of his discomfort, Zach and Ned assured him that they were good enough friends and mature enough to sit with him in a room while he ate an immense amount of beans. After that, it was smooth sailing with Eugene filming, Zach encouraging Keith, and NEd being on cleanup duty.

Keith swallowed his last bite and burped. “I’m so glad this is over. I feel like I’m going to explode.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you eat that much,” Zach remarked, gazing at Keith with slight astonishment. 

“Oh, I have.” Keith thought back to those lonely nights in highschool and college but quickly recovered.

“What are we going to do with all this leftover food?” Zach asked, as Ned began wiping down the table. 

“Each of us could take some,” Ned suggested. Zach was ok with this idea until he realized that some of the ingredients would interfere with his medication. Ned remembered that Mexican food made his wife nauseous. Keith was too full to think coherently. They all turned to Eugene.

Throughout the filming, he had been unusually quiet, only commenting when necessary. “I… uh… I’m going vegan for a video. Sorry.” He walked quickly out of the room.

“Did anyone else think that was weird?” Zach asked. Keith moaned and all attention returned to him.

“This was such a bad idea,” he mumbled, closing his eyes. 

“Fuck.” Ned turned to Zach. “I think we maxed him out.” 

Zach bit his lip, worried. “He has to go back to his desk till the end of the work day.” Ned left the room to find Keith some sweatpants.

Zach knew how to help a bit. He’d been with Keith on some of his milder bad nights. Gently he unzipped Keith’s jeans and pulled them off, which was a struggle. Keith’s belly, given more freedom, expanded, until it looked like Keith had swallowed a pumpkin. Pulling the fabric of Keith’s T-shirt up over the globe of his belly. Zach brushed his finger against the taut skin. Keith moaned again, from pain or pleasure he wasn’t sure. Lightly, Zach ran his hands over the bulging belly, massaging out cramps as much as he could. Eventually, his fingers reached the edge of Keith’s boxers. They slid under the waistband, pressing into hairy flesh. 

The door opened and Ned returned with the sweatpants. Zach flushed and stood up quickly but ned hadn’t seen anything. They helped Keith into the sweatpants and then took him to a filming room that was being unused. They laid him down on the couch, hoping his stomach wouldn’t take too long to settle. As they were leaving, Keith winked at Zach, being his true food-drunk self. 

Eugene paced back and forth in the men’s room. Do not throw up, do not throw up, do not throw up. Suddenly, he dove for a toilet, spewing pink tinged  vomit into the white bowl. Arms wrapped around his middle, he hoped nobody would see him. His stomach ached and his throat burned. Fairly sure he was finished, he flushed the toilet and pulled himself to his feet. Rinsing his mouth at the sink, he splashed water on his face. He wasn’t dizzy at all. His swaying reflection laughed at him.

Eugene stepped out of the bathroom and returned to where they had been filming to retrieve the camera. Ned looked up from the tupperware he was packing the leftovers into. “Dude, are you feeling alright? You look really pale.”

“Mmm.” Eugene rubbed his face and reached for the camera before he realized this required and answer. “Totally. Yeah, I’m fine.” Ned remained skeptical but Eugene had already left. 

The Try Guys eventually all returned to their desks. Ned looked fondly at the picture of his wife that he had as his phone’s background. Keith rubbed his stomach, trying to pay attention to the files he was working on and less to the nausea building inside him. Zach watched Keith, while trying to look like he wasn't watching Keith. Eugene took some aspirin. His head was pounding and staring at a screen while he edited footage wasn’t doing him any favors either. 

3 Days Later

Keith, Ned, and Zach had definitely noticed something. Eugene wasn’t known for pouring out his feelings or being sweet and fluffy, but at least he was an extrovert at least 30% of the time. He’d been acting weird lately. He barely spoke to anyone in the office and there were bags under his eyes. He hadn’t eaten lunch with them for at least a week. Even in videos there was a difference, though less detectable.

It was Saturday and the boys were going out for drinks. Eugene arrived at the designated meeting place (Ned’s house) 20 minutes late with messy hair and a few keyboard imprints on his cheek. This was a new low.

Ned sat everyone down around his table. “Eugene, what is going on?” 

Eugene stared blankly for a second. “What?” 

“There’s obviously something wrong, either with you or in your life. We’re your friends. You can tell us anything. Please let us help.” “Honestly, I have no idea what all of you are worried about. I was up late and i fell asleep at my computer. Sorry for not being my usual punctual self. I promise I’m fine.”

Everyone at the table knew, this was bullshit but they also knew that if Eugene didn’t want to tell them, he wasn’t going to tell them.

In a strangely quiet mood,  they all climbed into a taxi that was taking them to a club. Zach told a funny story to get everyone back in the mood and then everything was back to normal. Dancing ensued as soon as they arrived.

Eugene was panicking. He had to act normal. They knew something was up. This was too embarrassing to tell anyone, even his closest friends. The room was really hot. There were too many people. He needed to get outside. Eugene stumbled toward the place where he thought the door was but the room began to spin. Then it went dark

“Oof.” Zach got the breath knocked out of him as Eugene ungracefully collapsed onto him. Zach had followed Eugene, seeing how unsteady he looked. Catching him unconscious was not what he had planned. “Ummm, a little help?” he called. While a strong and wiry man, Zach could not lift Eugene. Keith and Ned found him, more from the path the dancers left around him, than his calling. 

“So there’s definitely something wrong with Eugene,” Zach said, handing the unconscious man to Ned, who picked Eugene up bridal style. The barman showed them to a back room where they draped eugene on some furniture. Slowly his eyes fluttered open. 

“Dude, what the fuck?!!!” Ned was angry. Eugene looked around at the faces above him. They wouldn’t understand. He turned away and closed his eyes again, hoping they would leave. This did not improve Ned’s temper so Zach took him out to try and calm him down. Keith stayed. He put a hand on Eugene’s shoulder. 

“Please,” he whispered. “We just want to help. We really do care.”

Eugene sighed. “I know.” He felt something hot and wet on his cheeks. “I’m just afraid that you will all look at me differently if i tell you.” that was more emotion that he’d shown to anyone in a very long time. Keith struggled to hold back his own tears. He couldn’t understand why someone wouldn’t want the support of their friends in whatever they were going through.

“Can you at least tell me why you think you passed out? We need to make sure you don’t need medical attention.”

Professionalism. This was something that Eugene could do. “It might have something to do with me only eating a toaster waffle today.”

“For breakfast?”

“At all.” 

Keith was incredulous. “How are you so calm about that?”

“Should I not be? It’s become sort of a routine.” 

Keith turned his back and muttered under his breath, trying to stay calm. “I’m going to bring you some sandwiches and you are going to eat them. Do you understand?” Eugene nodded. He was too tired to argue. He would have much rather stayed asleep with his face on the keyboard than gone out anyway. Keith got some sandwiches from the bartender and explained the situation to Ned and Zach. It took awhile to actually get the sandwiches into the room because Keith had to help Zach restrain Ned, who was furious, and keep him from chewing out Eugene.

Eugene took the plate of sandwiches complacently, but didn’t take a bit out of one of them. Instead, he took the top off the top of one, ate the lettuce and tomato, before laying the rest aside. There were 3 sandwiches of average size. Eugene ate all the vegetables and then put the plate down, preparing to leave. Keith stopped him. “You didn’t finish.”

“Vegan, remember?”

“Bread is vegan. Besides, there are eggs in toaster waffles. Now sit down.”

Obediently, Eugene sat, picking at the bread and turkey. He would pinch off a piece, chew it slowly, swallow, wait what seemed like an extremely long time, and repeat. He kept asking, “Can I go now?” 

Keith’s only response was “Finish”. He looked tired and drained, unable to bear seeing his friend like this.the others were let into the room but told to stay quiet. Finally, Eugene finished. He felt massively full and he was sure every person on the other side of the door should be able to see just how round his belly was. He burped uncomfortably. The 3 men stared at him.

“Well, now that I am finished, can i go?” No one tried to stop him so he stood up and left. Ned, Zach, and Keith looked at eachother. What were they going to do with him? They went back out and tried to enjoy themselves, all the while one always staying within catching distance. 

Eugene seemed like he was alright, dancing and flirting like his usual self. He also drank quite a lot. As the night dragged on, his dancing got slower and less vibrant until he stopped, with his arms wrapped around his middle and his head bent down. 

Zach was, again, the closest. “Are you ok?” He asked over the blaring of music.

“I don’t feel very good.” One of Eugene’s hands moved from his middle to be over his mouth. 

“Fuck.” Zach grabbed Eugene. They made it to the men’s room just in time, Zach waiting outside, sure that Eugene would want some privacy. Even so, he could hear the wretching from outside. 

“All done?” Zach asked. Eugene made a non-committal sick person noise so Zach came back in. He found Eugene sitting on the dirty floor with tears streaming down his cheeks once again. Zach knew lt beside him, rubbing his back. 

“I’m sorry,” Eugene whimpered. “I tried so hard.”

“It’s ok,” Zach said, trying to be comforting but also very confused.

“I didn’t mean to make you all so upset. But i couldn’t keep it in. i’m sorry. It’s better this way.”

Zach wasn’t sure how to respond. “This way?”

“Out. it feels better out. Nothing feels right in me.”

Zach put his hand on Eugene’s middle, trying to see if he could ease any paint his friend might be experiencing. Immediately, Eugene tensed his whole body, sucking in his stomach as far as it would go. Then Zach understood. Wrapping his arms around Eugene, he hugged the taller man, throwing him off guard. “Eugene, you’re perfect. All of us love you just the way you are. You don’t have to change or try to look different, even if you think your public will like you more if you do.” He squeezed harder. “It’s not safe. We worry about you.” Zach kissed the back of Eugenes neck. Eugene finally leaned back into Zach’s arms, letting go the flood of tears he’d been repressing. Zach left early with Eugene, texting his friends the important details.

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #269

“why aren’t you scared of me, why do you care for me, when we all fall asleep, where do we go?”

What’s your sexual orientation? Bisexual. What are you obsessed with right now? lol y'all know my staple stuff I'm always obsessed with, so two recent ones are Skillet (I've been binging soooo hard) and drawing again! What piercings do you want? A lot, jfc. More than any, I want collarbone dermals once I lose enough weight to where they're prominent. I've been on a goddamn weight loss plateau for two years. What’s your favorite show to binge? None. I generally don't enjoy binging too much. Do you watch porn? No, not interested. Do you have a secret sideblog? lol this survey blog. Do you have/would you get your nipples pierced? No. I very briefly considered getting one pierced, but I won't. Are you angry with anyone right now? Not like... actively. But passively it's there. What tattoos do you want? I refuse to die until I'm P A I N T E D  F O R  T H E  G O D S. Do you like paper books or ebooks better? Absolutely paperback books. It feels more "real," something to dive into, and it's easier to see and understand how far you're in. We talked about this in Writing once, was an interesting convo. Plus the smell of books, aaaaaahhhhh. Do you still have feelings for any of your exes? Yes How many followers do you have? On here? *checks* 265. Do you read erotica? No, I'd feel SUPER uncomfortable. That's why 50 Shades has never appealed to me. Have you ever gotten into an accident with you parents’ car? No. Ever thought of just picking up and moving far away? Oh yes. What’s the wallpaper on your computer? My lock screen is the Halo of the Sun from SH, and my actual desktop wallpaper is my favorite closeup of my late pup Teddy. What is the last thing/person you took a picture of? Probably a stupid Facebook meme to show Sara or something lmao. Name a band/artist you like that isn’t that popular. Otep. Can you lift your significant other (your best friend if you’re single)? I'm sure I could. What is the first vehicle you recall your parents/guardians owning? Mom had a blue/greenish van for most of my childhood, while Dad had this old tan thing that he nicknamed "Frida the Cheetah" lmao. He had that damn car forever. Have you ever seen counterfeit money? Not knowingly. Have you ever lost a pet you were attached to? Well of course. I grew up with tons of pets. What was the most rebellious thing you’ve ever done? Probably texting back "fuck you" to Mom when she was being really shitty when I was having a breakdown. Pick one: laundry, dishes, or vacuuming? I'd pick vacuuming over the others any day. Have you ever moved and had to change schools growing up? No. You are forced to move out-of-state. Where do you go? I literally want to move to Canada. The highway and back roads take you to the same place; choose your route. Back roads, probably. You’re going to be a mom/dad; what do you think/do? Have a fucking panic attack. Are you more likely to give up or persist when you’re having trouble? It really depends on the seriousness of the situation, but in most cases I've actually faced, give up. Do you resemble one parent more than the other? I don't think so. Your best friend needs a kidney to survive; do you give them one of yours? If we're compatible, yes. Name a big life event that has taken place for you within the last 2 years. Nothing because my life is incredibly monotonous and stagnant. Name one difficult lesson you’ve learned. Life isn't fair, and life doesn't care. Name one thing you look forward to as you get older. Hey, let's hope I can be a functioning adult before I'm 70. Do you use your hands when you talk to emphasize what you are saying? Yes. Will you usually admit it when you’ve made a mistake? Yeah. Does stress ever affect you physically? If yes, how? Oh, yes. My stomach will absolutely hurt and I sweat more than normal (I say "normal" because I have hyperhidrosis). Did you have a money box as a kid? What shape was it if you did? I don't remember... I know we didn't regularly get an allowance or anything like that, but maybe I'm sure I stored money I was given somewhere? Has kids TV ever frightened you? As a kid, I both watched and feared Courage the Cowardly Dog, lol. Do you have any potted plants in your house? No. If you were born outside of your era, when would you want to be born and why? Early '80s! What a time for music, metal fashion, and fun. If you ran a store, what would you sell/have? IF I was more knowledgeable on more species, probably reptiles and more proper care materials and give advice that's not shit. Places like PetSmart and Petco just... disgust me. What part in a movie would you love to play? If I was confident in acting, probably the maniac lmao. I've experienced enough Crazy for that. What's the oldest article of clothing you own? I don't really know, but I do know Mom has a lot of my and my siblings' shirts as we've grown up to knit together a blanket one day. Fuckin cute as hell. What piece of furniture have you replaced the most? The couch. What instrument do you wish you could be more than great at? Guitar, with that electric twist anyway. What’s the best part of your favorite movie? When Simba roars atop Pride Rock in the storm and all the lionesses join in FUCK I get goosebumps out the WAZOO. What do you think is the most over-rated candy ever? Twizzlers, disgoosting. If you could only debate two topics the rest of your life, what would they be? LGBTQ+ rights is #1, then... hm... probably the pro-choice argument. Or just women rights in general. Out of your friends, who would you say you are most jealous of, artistically? Oh man, my friend Mini. She drew pretty well when we were young, but her skill like... increased exponentially with time. She doesn't draw in a *style* I'm envious of, but that growth tho. Most jealous of….intellectually? Girt. What is broken that you have, that you wish was fixed? My brain lmao. A famous person you have met? Nobody. Who were the last five people to text you? Dad, Sara, Ashley, Mom, and my grandma. What is your favorite book that you had to read for school? The Outsiders. Think of the last two people you kissed. Who was more fun? I've explained the "idk if *I* ever actually kissed Girt" before, but just for the sake of the question, I'll just count him. I tbh hated it only ever because why were your lips always wet, sir???? The latest person was Sara, and she kissed fine. If your house was burning down and you only had sixty seconds to grab one or two things, what would you grab and why? Roman and Venus because they're family and I adore them. Out of all the concerts you have been to, which band/singer was the best performer? Alice was great! When was the last time you went miniature golfing? For Jason's and my second or third anniversary, so a long time ago. What’s a song you like from a genre you hate? I always answer this question with a country answer, so let's go rap. Hm. OH, probably a Post Malone song. I actually don't mind him. If you had twin girls what would you name them? Alessandra indisputably, and then the other... maybe like, Josephine. Especially as twins, I'd want two gorgeous, less-heard names. What kind of condoms do you use? I don't use any because I'm not sexually active. Do you say years young or years old [ex: 16 years young or 16 years old]? Man, I miss the days I could confidently say "years young," lmao. Do you have any personality disorders? Avoidant, yes. I'm pretty convinced I have dependent PD, too. Do you shave your arms? Armpits, yes, but not my entire arms. What do you dip your fries in? Ketchup or honey mustard. Has one of your good friends ever moved away? Damn, yeah. I particularly remember this girl from elementary school in I think the 5th grade that I was very close with, yet I don't remember her name now. What color car are you when you play The Game of Life? Dude idr the colors at all. Which hair color do you find the ugliest? I've seen it be pulled off, but generally, yellow. Would you date a guy that wears more make-up than you do? Hell yeah man you fuckin strut that shit. Did you ever play M.A.S.H. when you were little? Ah, I remember that! Sure did. If you were getting married, who would be your maid of honor? My mom. If you have any pets, were they adopted from the humane society? No, but I would of course. Do you like home design, like picking out paint colors and furniture? Not any more than the average person. Do you chew gum on a regular basis? No. List all of your features that you have ever got compliments on: Do you mean just physical? If that's the case, hair, eyes, smile, uh... I feel like that's it. WAIT I can't remember who but someone once called my nose cute. Have you ever been in a hot air balloon, and if not, would you ever want to go in one? No; yes. What type of computer do you have? It's an Acer Nitro 5. Is anyone else in the room with you right now? My snake. Do you whiten your teeth with crest white strips? Not Crest, but a different brand, yes. I hate my teeth. Do you listen to local bands? Not really. I will sometimes listen to an old friend's band, at least bits of what they post on Facebook. Nova Mortis, check 'em out if you like pretty heavy metal. Do you have a pool in your back yard? No, but damn do I wish. Do your parents fight? Do they even talk at all? That's why they're divorced. They, especially Mom, avoid doing so whenever they can. Do you drink alcohol on New Year’s Eve? Usually. Do you wear rings? Just one, a friendship ring w/ Sara. Are there any restaurants in walking distance to your house? It'd be quite a long walk, at least by my standards. What was the last picture you uploaded to your Facebook? A picture of Mom and me. Have you ever listened to the same song on repeat for hours on end? YES. When I find a song I really like, I become VERY obsessive. Like I will play it and play it and play it for days. I in general have an extremely obsessive personality. Do you like staying in hotels? I don't have much of an opinion. It's a nice change of space, though. Are musicals interesting or boring? They're cheesy to me. What is your favorite scent of incense? (If you burn it) Okay, HEAR ME OUT. There is legit a kind called "monkey farts" that smells SO FUCKIN GOOD. Jason used to burn incense in his room all the time and that was my favorite one, so I use it now. Where do you normally hang out on the weekends? At home. I'm always at home, regardless of the day. Can you tune a guitar by ear or do you need a tuner? I never could. Do you like love songs? Generally, yes. They're sweet. Would you rather drink 7Up or Sprite? Fun fact: Sprite used to be my FAVORITE soda as a kid. I even had a fuckin Sprite shirt. Now, I hate it. I haven't tasted 7UP in forever. What is your favorite song as of right now? I'm seriously digging Halocene lately, esp their cover of "bury a friend." Have you ever sex texted? This is gonna sound so stupid, but I'm actually not *totally* sure what that is? Just like, dirty talking or like, virtually RPing sex? The former I did when I was fuckin 12 like a goddamn idiot, but not the latter. When's the last time you went out of state? A year and a half (I think?) ago to visit Sara. What was your favorite TV show last year? I didn't *really* have one, at least not actively. Like I didn't devoutly watch anything. Would you know who to talk to if you wanted weed? HAHA I sureeeee do. I wouldn't want any, though. What is your favorite Beatles song? "Hey, Jude." If you could kiss anyone right now, who would it be? I don't want to think about this. What is your favorite energy drink? I don't like energy drinks. Way too intense. Have you ever been to Hooters before? No. When's the last time you tripped? (Literally or, you know) HA, funny I take this survey today because my left foot is either broken or I seriously tore a ligament in it because I fell yesterday. I had to go up a dose on my medication that helps my nightmares, but it's notoriously for lowering your blood pressure, and mine is naturally low. I got up to go to the bathroom and grab breakfast and many times nearly passed out from being so dizzy until I finally fell and my foot bent forward. I couldn't even walk by myself yesterday and am still really struggling today. Our family friend brought the boot she wore when she broke her foot over just a while ago, but if this doesn't help, Mom's demanding I go to the ER. Can you touch your toes? I don't know HOW I can, but I can, I guess from when I did yoga daily and I could pretty much go under my feet. What would you say is the best feeling in the world? Being in love and knowing they're in love with you, too. Have you ever “spoken” to any celebrities via Twitter? No. Do you like croissants? YESSSSSSSSSSS. Do you get a lot of traffic outside your house or not? Yes. Mom explained to me why one day because I'd asked, but idr what she said. Do you eat cereal bars? No, I'm a granola bar person. Would you consider yourself healthy? Uh no. Assuming you could speak and understand the language, would you ever study in a foreign, non-English speaking country? Sure, for like a year or so! Doing that in Germany would be amazing. Are you on any prescribed medication? A lot. Do you know any immigrants? I know an illegal one that got deported. I probably know others. Have you ever lived in university or college accommodation before? No. If you haven’t already, are you scared of leaving home? If you have, do you like it? Very scared. I'm just very dependent and ignorant on how to be an adult. If you could only eat one vegetable for a year (not including potatoes) what would it be? Broccoli. Do you have a certain routine in the bath or shower? What is it? Shave, shampoo, facial scrub, this exfoliating brush for your feet, and then body wash. Is there anything that you loved a year ago but just can’t stand now? Hm. I don't really know. What’s the weirdest meat you’ve ever eaten? I took the SMALLEST bite out of it because I couldn't stomach eating it, but after a lot of convincing I tried a microscopic bit out of deer jerky. If you smoke, what brand of cigarettes do you smoke? If you don’t, have you ever tried? Don't smoke and don't want to. Do you like dried fruit at all? what’s your favorite type? NOOOOOOOOOOOOO.

[bandpreferences15]

My Brother’s in the Band (Part 2)

Tommy x Reader

Read Part 1 Here

Masterlist

Summary: Your brother catches you in a compromising position with one of his bandmates and now you have to deal with the aftermath....

Warnings: Swearing, drinking, creepy dudes, Vince being a little shit

Taglist: @sighsophiia @divaanya @evrsncnewyork @itsametaphorbriansblog @inthebackofmycarlaytheirbodies @shamelessobsessions @thanks2pete @killer-queen-ofrhye

The atmosphere in the green room was nothing like you’d expected to find before a show, but then again, it wasn’t every day that your brother caught you in a heated makeout session with his new bandmate. You and Tommy sat on opposite ends of the dirty green room couch, the aforementioned piece of furniture vibrating slightly as a result of Tommy’s knee bouncing up and down nervously. Mick paced quietly in front of you, every once in a while stopping to open his mouth as if he were going to speak before shaking his head and resuming his conflicted walking. You spared a glance at the lanky drummer. He had slouched back against the ragged cushions, chewing on his thumbnail. He looked terrified. It was adorable. 

You knew your brother wouldn’t actually hurt him. Mick was never one to take out his frustrations on someone else. He would much rather lock himself in a room and compose a mean guitar riff. Nikki sat cross-legged on one of the vanity tables, nearly bouncing with joy. He couldn’t wait to see how this one turned out. The awkward silence in the room was broken when a whirlwind of blonde hair and leather pants stumbled into the room.

“Sorry I’m la- well hello.” The singer’s eyes landed on you, turning up the charm. 

“I wouldn’t go there, Vince....” Tommy mumbled, earning a smirk from you.

“You don’t get to talk!” Mick pointed at Tommy, the threatening look returning to his eyes.

Vince looked over at Nikki who was currently motioning between you and Mick and mouthing ‘sister’. 

“Oh shit! this is your sister?! Well, man, I guess we know who got the looks in that family!” Vince stated, prompting a laugh from everyone but your seething brother.

“She’s off limits, you fucking child. Seeing her with one of you was quite enough. I have no desire to witness anything of the sort ever again!” Mick yelled. Vince looked confused as he turned to Nikki, raising an eyebrow.

“Don’t look at me. This one’s on Tommy.” Vince smiled, leaning forward to  clap Tommy on the shoulder.

“Good work, Tommy boy! You know, if you’re up for sharing...” Vince wiggled his eyebrows, jumping back as Tommy swung at him.

“Shut up, man. It’s not like that!” 

You barely had enough time to stand from the uncomfortable sofa and place a firm hand on your brother’s chest before he attacked the smaller blonde. There was fire in Mick’s eyes and you thanked every higher power there was for the backstage worker who came in to announce they were ready to begin.

“Um, sorry to interrupt, but we’re ready for you.” The man clutched his clipboard to his chest protectively, almost looking like he was ready to use it as a shield in case anything was thrown at him. 

You patted Mick reassuringly.

“Go get your guitar and kick some ass.” You smiled at him.

“Yeah I know whose ass I’ll be kicking...” he said under his breath. You glanced back at Tommy, who had strategically placed himself between Nikki and Vince in the line to get out of the room. You gave him a small smile, desperately hoping that your brother hadn’t scared him off. Granted, your meeting hadn’t been the conventional type, but there was something different about him. 

--After the show--

The boys returned to the green room in a haze of sweat and cigarette smoke, the vibe in the building still buzzing with the hype of the new band. You were beyond surprised when you were lifted into a sweaty hug and spun around. Tommy placed you back on the ground quickly stepping away, his hands up as the smile dropped from his face.

“Sorry, fuck, I’m sorry. I didn’t-” You were about to tell him that it was fine, that you were proud of them when -

“Y/N!” Your brother wandered into the room, thankfully having missed Tommy’s affections. “What did you think?” he asked nervously. You’d known Mick your whole life, he was your big brother...the brave one. This was a side of him you’d rarely see. He was seeking your approval. You pulled him into a hug, not really surprised when he didn’t reciprocate. 

“I’ve never seen anything like it, Mick. You guys really are something.” you said as you pulled away, not missing the slightest of smiles that passed over your brother’s lips. “I’m gonna go get some celebratory drinks! You guys clean up your stuff and I’ll meet you at the bar.”

“I think I’m gonna have a smoke before we start. Back in a flash.” Tommy said, that megawatt smile back on his face, clearly happy with how the show went. You wandered out of the room into the small back hallway that lead from the green room back to the main bar room. You fanned yourself slightly with the band flier you brother had given you that morning, the stuffiness in the air getting worse as you entered the room full of people. 

Squeezing your way up to the bar, you were attempting to flag down the bartender when you felt a hand on your wrist. A glance behind you provided an unsavory view of a clearly drunk man flanked by two others. The one who now had a firm grip on your wrist, smiled menacingly, the drink in his hand sloshing out of the glass as he swayed on his feet. 

“What’s a pretty thing like you doing here alone?” he slurred, tugging you closer, your elbow now bent painfully as he held your wrist against his chest. 

“I’m not alone, now please let me go.” You said calmly, though your racing heartbeat would have given you away if anyone could hear it. 

Surprisingly, he released you as the bartender came over to take your order. You’d assumed that he’d gone, but after the bartender placed the tray of shots in front of you, you were yanked backward, the creep’s hand on your hip, slowly sliding around your stomach. You struggled in his grip, trying to stomp on his foot in an effort to make him let go. 

“Hey! Ass wipe! Get the fuck off.” Tommy’s raised voice echoed despite the crowded bar. A few people around you stepped back as Tommy shouldered his way to your side, no doubt hoping to avoid being caught in the impending brawl. You could smell the cigarette smoke and night air on his T-shirt as he sidled up next to you, grabbing the man’s hand from your waist and shoving him back a few feet. The creep stumbled back, his glass crashing to the ground as his friends caught him. 

Tommy gently took your hand in one of his, the other reaching around you to pick up the tray of shots from the bar. You’d nearly made it back to the hallway door when you heard a booming voice behind you.

“Isn’t it past your bedtime, boy? Why don’t you go on home and let the adults play. I’m sure the little whore wouldn’t mind sticking around.” Tommy dropped the tray of shots on a nearby high-top table, rage clearly boiling in him. He let go of your hand, gearing up for a swing when you caught his wrist.

“Tommy, don’t” He look at you in utter confusion.

“This son of a bitch called you a whore. That’s not fucking okay!” he yelled, trying to shake you off. You kept a firm grip on him. You could see the smallest amount of softness return to his eyes as he sighed.

“Don’t.” you repeated. The man and his friends laughed. Tommy’s jaw clenched as he reached to pick up the tray once again, looking over his shoulder to make sure you were following him. His eyes widened in shock when he realized that you were not in fact behind him, but instead stalking toward the man who’d just been harassing you.

“Ah. See! I told you she’d be ba-” the large man stumbled backward as your fist made contact with his nose. You stretched your fingers, trying to shake the pain from your hand.

“Fuck, that hurt way more than I thought it would.” you mumbled.

“Jesus chr-” Tommy dropped the tray, his long legs taking him the few steps he needed to get to you. “Are you insane?!” he grabbed your arm, ushering you back to the green room. You snatched a shot from the tray, downing it quickly in an attempt to numb the pain in your hand.

You’d just opened the double door leading back to the green room hallway when you found yourself face to face with your brother. Tommy’s hand immediately dropped from the small of your back.

“Listen, Mick before you go all ‘crazed big brother’ on me again, don’t blame Tommy. He was just-”  

Mick held up a hand, effectively silencing you. He smiled, like, actually smiled.

“Nice punch.” You stared at him, open-mouthed in shock. 

“Why don’t you take that in to the boys. I’m sure they’re more than ready for a drink. He nodded toward the tray in your hand. You nodded slowly, making your way into the green room where you were rushed by a smiling Nikki who happily nicked two of the shot glasses from your tray. 

“Hey, sweetheart. Do you mind? I’d get up, but...” Vince’s wicked smirk looked up from the couch, the two women draped across him making you scoff. You placed two shot glasses on the small coffee table in front of him.

You were about to hand one to your brother when you realized he wasn’t in the room....and neither was Tommy....

[lesbianfreyja]

41 + 66 please

66. If I die, I’m neverspeaking to you again.

-

(sequel to this)

“Dennis, please comehere.”

“I don’t want to. I don’t seewhy you need me — this was your idiotic idea, sweetheart, so it just feelslike—”

“Because I have two hands! Ionly have two hands!” Mac kicked at the bottom of their bedroom door again. “Dennis,get out here right now!”

“Alright, Jesus. Jesus Christ!”When he finally yanked the door open, Mac fell back a step. Dennis was glaring.“If it will get you to stop yelling. What’s the plan?”

“The plan is,” said Mac, and heran a patient hand down the head of the puppy currently squirming in his arms, “Ikeep a hold on the dog, and you go grab Psycho Killer and keep her calm whilethey meet each other. I think she’s in the bathroom cabinets.”

“Why would you let her in thebathroom cabinets?” Dennis sighed, storming past him to go rifling underneaththe sink. “She could get trapped in there!”

“It’s not my fault!” said Mac.He drifted across the room toward him. “You were supposed to be watching herwhile I was out picking up the dog! As soon as she saw it, she spooked.”

“Well, that’s why I told younot to get a goddamn dog. Cats and dogs, they don’t like each other. Theyaren’t friends. Besides, we live in a goddamn apartment. The dog’s gonna growup and be too big.” Dennis stood up, setting his hands on his hips. “She’s notin here, Mac.”

“Well, I don’t know! Go findher!” Mac drifted back to let Dennis pass. He scratched behind the puppy’s ears,murmuring to her while she gnawed on one of his wrists. “Dennis is gonna likeyou, don’t worry about that. He just needs some time to get used to you first.”

“I found her!” called Dennisfrom the spare room. “I’ve got her, she crawled into the closet.”

“And you’re not gonna be toobig either, so don’t take that personally either,” Mac said. The puppy turnedto chew on his other arm instead. “You’re gonna be a perfect size, because you’reperfect.”

“Her claws had better not comeout while we’re doing this, dude,” said Dennis as he reappeared in the livingroom, holding their terrified-looking cat at arm’s length. “If she scratches meand I bleed to death and then I die, I’m never speaking to you again.”

Mac rolled his eyes.

“Don’t be dramatic, bitch. Justget ready to hold Killer in the dog’s general vicinity for a couple minutes. Showher it’s okay.”

Dennis sniffed. “Fine. But if Killerdoesn’t like it, we’re getting rid of the goddamn dog. She was here first.”

“Uh-huh. If you kick this dogout, then I’m going with her.”

Dennis squinted at him. After amoment he said, “Just put the fucking puppy down, Mac.”

Mac sighed. He dropped to asquat, letting the puppy’s wriggling feet hit the ground but keeping a tightgrip on her body so she couldn’t scamper off. He scratched her head again, whisperingencouragements and compliments. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Dennis getto his knees in front of them, holding Killer out near the dog.

They stayed on the floor wavingtheir pets in front of each other for a couple of minutes.

“This is going great,” Macsaid, grinning at him.

“This is so goddamn stupid,”said Dennis. “They’re just sniffing each other, Mac.”

“They’re getting used to eachother’s scents,” he explained. “Once they’re familiar with it, they’ll know they’refamily now. Trust me.”

“That’s never going to work,”said Dennis. He sighed, sitting back on his heels. “I think we gotta let themgo, dude. Come on, now they kind of trust each other a little more. Let’s letthem hang out for a while.”

Mac bit his lip. “I don’t know…”

“If you want, we can sit back andwatch them for awhile. Make sure they’re okay.”

“Well…I guess that would be okay,”Mac said after a minute. “Let me let her go first.”

“Fine. Whatever.”

Mac released the dog. Thesecond he did, she plodded forward — Killer drew back as much as she could inDennis’s hands — and the puppy skirted right around the cat to sniff at Dennis’sthigh.

“Not me. Don’t pay attention tome.” Dennis poked her in the ribs. “Get back, mutt. Go say hi to the cat.”

Mac was grinning.

“She likes you, babe.”

He scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Well,obviously.”

“Come here,” said Mac, snappinghis fingers at the dog. She didn’t even look at him. “Come over here.”

“Play with the cat,” Denniscoaxed. She pushed her wet nose under his shirt, nudging him in the waist.Dennis laughed and shoved her off of him. “Okay, I’m just gonna put Killerdown, and they can work it out themselves.”

“Okay. Do it.”

Dennis set Killer on theground; Mac thought she would dart off the minute she was free, but she didn’t.Instead she put a tentative foot forward and sniffed at the puppy. Mac carefullygot to his feet, trying not to make any sudden moves and draw the animals’attentions away from one another.

“Come here. I think they’reokay,” said Mac in a low voice. He held his hand out to Dennis, helping him offthe floor. “Let’s sit down. They’re getting to know each other.”

Edging backwards without takingtheir eyes off their pets, they felt their way safely to the couch andcollapsed down in the middle of it. Mac let go of Dennis’s hand to wind an armaround his back.

“So how big is this dog supposedto get, exactly?” said Dennis after a while. Mac looked over at him. Dennis reachedto fiddle with some of his hair.

“She’s supposed to be medium-sized,”said Mac. “She was a stray so I don’t really know. I wanted, like, something reallyhuge who could roughhouse with me and shit, but the guy said I shouldn’t gobigger than her if we’re gonna keep her in an apartment.”

“So what? Like, fifty pounds?”

“Probably closer to thirty,dude. She’s on the small side of medium.”

Dennis gave a noncommittal humand went back to playing with his hair. Mac rubbed his back while he watchedthe pets tiptoe in circles around each other, occasionally darting forward topress their snouts into each other’s fur before the other flinched away. Theyseemed to warm up to each other the longer that they all stayed there, and thecat didn’t even flip out when the puppy’s tongue flicked out and licked her.She didn’t love it, but she didn’t run away either.

“So what do you wanna name her?”Mac asked, nodding at the puppy. “I have some ideas—”

“What about Eve?” Dennis interrupted.

Mac stared at him.

“What made you just think ofthat?” he asked. “Although — You know what, that is biblical, so I’d actuallybe—”

“No, never mind,” Dennis saidquickly. “I don’t wanna hear you talk about that all the time. What about, uh…”

“Oh my God!” said Mac. “Baby, Ihave the perfect fit! We can finally use the name Murphy!”

Dennis sighed. “Are you stillon this? I thought we talked about this already when we got Killer.”

“Come on, Dennis, look at her!”He slipped his arm out from behind Dennis to jab a finger at her. “She lookslike a Murphy, her ears are all floppy. Plus, you only said you didn’t wannaname Killer that because she was too sweet, but this dog is badass, dude. Also,you don’t even give a shit, because you didn’t want the dog in the first place.”

“But if I’m gonna have to takecare of her anyway, she’s gonna be mine, and I want a say in—”

“Murphy. Murphy. I wanna nameher Murphy. Murphy, Dennis. Murphy, Murphy, Murphy, Murphy—!”

“Fine!” Dennis screamed overhim, and the animals jumped apart from each other down on the floor. Killer skatedback a few steps, her eyes wide as she stared at Dennis. The dog sat. Mac,looking at neither of them, quieted down and curled into a smile. “We can usethe fucking name. Goddamn it.”

“Yes! Ha,” said Mac.

He reached to cradle the sideof Dennis’s face in one hand, holding him still as he pressed his lips againsthis cheek. Dennis rolled his eyes, patting at Mac’s thigh, while Mac scatteredmore thankful kisses across the side of his face before finally turning him bythe chin and planting one on his mouth. Dennis leaned into him with a littlesmile.

“This is gonna be great,Dennis, trust me,” he said when they pulled apart.

“It won’t be great,” saidDennis, shaking his head. “She’s gonna piss on the floor for months before we housebreakher. We’re gonna have to take her out for walks all the goddamn time. We’llhave to actually kennel her when we go on vacation—”

“Yeah, but look how fun thisis.” Mac pulled away from him, leaning forward and clapping his hands on hisknees a couple times. “Hey Murphy, come up here.”

“Don’t invite the — Not on thefurniture—”

Too late; she saw Mac talkingto her and scampered across the floor, and when she got close enough Macscooped her up and cradled her in his lap. He cooed at her while he scratched herbelly, and after a minute, Dennis reached across reluctantly and rubbed herbehind the ears.

“I guess she is pretty cute,”he conceded.

“I told you,” Mac said smugly. “You’regonna love her, dude, just wait until you see how nice it is to cuddle up withher before you go to sleep—”

“Now, hold on,” said Dennis,brandishing a finger at him. “She is not sleeping in our bed with us.Absolutely not, that’s where I draw the line.”

“It’s gonna be so cute,” said Mac,ignoring him completely.

He picked Murphy up, rubbingtheir noses together. When she licked him, he laughed and pulled her away,holding her against his chest. Dennis sighed and reached out to pet her again.Mac turned to look at him for a while, watching him smile as he petted the dog,as he started to murmur to her as well.

“Hey, Dennis?” he asked, quiet.Dennis’s attention flicked to him. “I love you.”

Dennis’s eyes rolled, even ashis cheeks got pink.

“It’s just a dog, Mac,” he muttered.

Mac just grinned at him for along moment before turning back to Murphy, cuddling her close while she turnedand began to teethe on his forearm again. Dennis curled closer, settling againstMac’s side and reaching over him to play with her too.

“Oh, you know what?” saidDennis after some time. “We can finally get some of the bigger toys from the petshop! You know those big squeaky cones?”

“The plush ones?”

“Yeah!” Dennis said. “Thosewere way too big for Killer, but this dog will be perfect for it. And Isaw some of these weird, like, bones in there the other day too, they werefilled with peanut butter or some shit? I don’t understand the technology ofit, but I’d bet she would love those. We can finally use the tug-of-war rope,too, Killer never gave a shit about that.”

Mac nodded dutifully as Denniscontinued to map out the toys he wanted to buy next time they went to PetSmart.From there he branched into what dog food they should buy, because he didn’twant to waste too much money spoiling her with gourmet garbage, but he didn’twant his refined puppy to be chowing down on cheap store-brand shit either.

Mac settled closer to him,smiling as Dennis talked. He’d been so worried about getting another pet, butMac didn’t see what the big deal had been except that Dennis liked to make afuss. They were gonna dad the shit out of this dog so hard, Mac thought smugly.She wasn’t even gonna know what hit her.