#he was so happy and it was infectious man even though the screen like it was glorious

[onlyzhuyilong]

“I think this is a real adventure for me. To get together for this film (Land of Broken Hearts) and take risk and to keep challenging things. I feel so blessed to be able to join such a wonderful crew, and wonderful musicians. This (song) is about romantic sunsets and getting tipsy. I’m a little tipsy right now, so if I make mistakes it’s because I am tipsy.” - A free unrestrained dragon enjoying his little beach concert. X

[baekhyunsbestie]

expanding on baekhyun beating it to his so's pics to say imagine him facetiming her in the middle of it cuz he needs to really see herrrr and ur like hi bby wait why is ur face so concentrated and also why is ur arm moving up and down underneath the camera and OH o_o

omgggg i can picture this sooooo vividly it hurts 😭😭😭😭 i literally had to write about it!!!!

18+/MDNI!! | wc: 1.6k+

you and baekhyun have each other’s locations shared, as couples and loved ones often do these days. he’s currently out of the country for a packed schedule and won’t be back for a few more days. you’ve both adjusted to the chaos of his life, as hard as it can be. but the bond you share? unshakable, no matter the distance or time apart.

tonight, though, he’s lying alone in his hotel bed, missing you more than usual. he knows you had plans with your friends, a rare night out you’ve been needing for a while. he checks the time: 11:30 p.m. back home. too early for you to be back, and he knows it.

still, he can’t help himself. he checks your location.

still at the bar.

he exhales, sinking deeper into his pillow. he doesn’t want to bother you. you deserve this—an escape from the stress that’s been weighing you down. he’d rather you enjoy yourself than feel guilty for being out late.

so instead, he unlocks his phone and opens instagram, likely to doom-scroll through endless posts, letting the minutes slip away as he waits for you to get home safely and for the comfort of your nightly goodnight call.

but then, your story flickers onto the screen, pulling him in, a sudden spark in the otherwise dull scroll.

the first post is a mirror selfie: hair falling just right, effortlessly perfect, makeup soft yet glowing, and that simple black dress—one of his many favorites—clinging to your curves in all the right ways. when he notices the timestamp, a smile tugs at the corners of his lips. you sent this to him first. it’s a small gesture, but it makes his heart swell.

the next slide is a quick clip of you and your girls, all glammed up, drinks in hand, raising your glasses with laughter as the music blares in the background. your happiness is so tangible, so infectious, and it warms him to see you this carefree.

then, there’s a repost from your friend. it’s a grainy but adorable video of you and her dancing, swaying in sync with the beat. the way you playfully twerk on her, both of you giggling uncontrollably, is far from suggestive—just two besties reveling in the moment.

but baekhyun is a man. and men? they think with their dicks.

his mind wanders, lingering on the way that dress clung to you, the way your body moved. and now, no matter how much he tries to focus on how happy you look, he’s suddenly cursing the miles between you, wishing for the kind of proximity that doesn’t involve a screen.

he checks the time again: 11:37 p.m.

the urge to reach out to you—text, call, anything—burns hotter with every passing second. he’s jittery, restless, the kind of edgy that leaves his leg bouncing uncontrollably. would you even answer if he called? the thought gnaws at him. god, he misses you. he misses the nights you’d stumble out of bars, dialing him with drunken, slurred words. how you'd insist you weren’t done drinking because the only thing left on your menu was him.

shit. the memories alone have him stiffening in his bed, blood rushing south faster than he can stop it. the sound of your drunk giggles, your uninhibited honesty spilling out between hiccupped words. the way your hands would roam without permission, needy and brazen. he exhales a shaky breath. the ache in his boxers is unbearable now.

he can’t take it anymore.

his fingers unlock his phone, navigating to the photos app to access the hidden folder only you know about. his secret stash. a digital gallery of you: alone, with him, under him, and on top of him. his free hand drifts to his leaking cock as his thumb swipes through the memories.

you knew about this folder, of course. you had your own—filled with matching treasures. you both had this shared indulgence, a mutual obsession. pictures and videos from every angle: your hands clutching the sheets while he buried his face between your thighs. you straddling him, his camera catching the perfect view of your curves. shaky, raw footage of backshots, his hands leaving fiery-red imprints on your skin as you moaned his name into the mattress.

you needed these to survive the nights apart, a remedy for the distance that stung like a wound that wouldn’t heal.

truthfully, even if you saw each other every day, you’d still keep these folders. you both had a thing for cameras, for the thrill of capturing your rawest moments together.

his fist wraps around his length, the other clutching his phone as he presses play. it’s a video of you riding him, your hips grinding against him in a slow, torturous rhythm. the camera shakes slightly—it’s shot from his perspective, the faint tremble of his arm betraying how badly he was already losing it then.

his lips part, breath hitching, and his heart pounds loud enough to drown out the rest of the world. but it’s not enough. it never is. he needs more.

he needs you.

he taps the screen, fingers shaking as he hits 'facetime.'

you answer on the second ring.

it’s 12:55 a.m.

your face comes into view, filling the screen with a teasing smile as you nudge open the door to your shared penthouse. the faint hum of city lights spills in behind you, but all your attention is on him. one glance is enough—his brows are knitted together, lips slightly parted, the cool glow of his phone illuminating his face and glistening off his glossy lips. you know exactly why he’s calling.

“hi, baby,” you slur, voice syrupy with just enough bite, “i miss you so much.”

“i miss you too, my angel,” he exhales, his voice barely more than a whisper, chest rising and falling in measured, aching pulls. from where you stand, you see everything—the way his shirt clings to his body, damp in all the right places, the faint quiver of his lips holding back words he’s too desperate to say. the sound of his breath, uneven and needy, fills the air between you. his gaze burns, molten and consuming, pouring his hunger into every inch of your skin.

you giggle, a sound light and teasing, as you saunter toward your shared room. "i can tell, lover."

his smile is shy, almost boyish, but not enough to stop the slow, steady stroke of his hand over his aching length. "home already?"

you nod, a quiet hum slipping past your lips as you step into the closet, the soft shuffle of your feet muted against the carpet. your fingers trail over the familiar fabrics until they find your favorite pajamas. as you pull them from their place, you cross the room to the dresser, propping your phone against its edge. the glow of the screen bathes the space in muted light, capturing him on the other side—his hand moving with practiced rhythm, his flushed face a picture of unguarded bliss, every gasp and twitch drawing you deeper into the moment.

"ya looked so beautiful tonight. fuck—" his words falter, the shaky gasp making your thighs press together. "y’know i love that dress on you. can’t believe i wasn’t—hah—there to fuck you in it."

you grin, a wicked curl tugging at the corners of your lips. “i could keep this dress on a little longer for you if you’d like me to, baekhyunie,” you purr, your voice a delicate weave of honey and innocence, teasing just enough to leave him craving.

his breath hitches, a sharp exhale breaking free as his head falls back, throat exposed in a display of surrender. “hah— fuck, s-say that again,” he rasps, eyes clenched shut like he’s bracing himself against the tidal wave you’ve unleashed. his hand moves faster now, the slick sound of his strokes filling the space between you.

you tilt your head, feigning naivety, your eyes wide and sweet like sugar dusted cherries. “huh? say what, baekhyunie?” your voice lilts with mock innocence, the act so it’s almost cruel.

as you shift, the delicate strap of your dress slips, baring your shoulder and collarbone—a canvas of temptation. soft, lickable, and oh-so-bitable. baekhyun's gaze sears through the screen, his mind unraveling with reckless fantasies, aching to bridge the distance and claim you, over and over again, losing himself in you until the sun rises.

the sight of you, the way his name drips from your lips—it’s his undoing. his rhythm falters, the once-steady motion of his hand becoming erratic, desperate. he’s unraveling, and you can see it in the furrow of his brow, hear it in the staggered cadence of his breath. you lean closer, your voice dropping into a sultry whisper.

“gonna cum f’me, baekhyunie?”

the way your voice softens his name, rolling off those plush lips, breaks him into pieces. the sensation crashes over him, an overwhelming rush that leaves him shaking, the heat of his release spilling in thick, white streaks across his toned stomach, splattering his shirt in wild, chaotic lines. your name escapes him in a breathless murmur as he rides the last tremors of his high.

you smile, satisfied with the mess you’ve made of him, the power you wield with nothing but your voice and a knowing glance.

as he comes down, his chest heaving, baekhyun peels his ruined shirt off, using it to clean himself up. when his face reappears on the screen, there’s a glint of mischief in his eyes, a wicked curve to his mouth.

“your turn, sweetheart,” he murmurs, voice still rough with pleasure.

[hollybell51]

In this timeline

Navigation

Trevor Holden (0115) x Philip Pearson (3326)

Travelers (2016)

Word count: 11.5K

Summary: Philip has made some bad decisions. This isn't one of them.

Content: Smut, hurt/comfort, bit of fluff (I guess?), Philip is horrendously down bad, Trevor is too, making out, hickeys, hand jobs, blow jobs, anal, fingering, dirty talk (like a tiny bit dw), Trevor calls Philip "man" during sex, top Trevor/bottom Philip in an attempt to avoid Trevor's accidental twinkification (I fear this may have backfired), (there are honestly switchy moments too so idk if I'd label it as anything other than a healthy flexible dynamic), Philip's hallucinations, the age gape is mentioned but just in passing, implied/referenced drug use (guys c'mon it's Philip), everything canon typical. This takes place after s3 e3. I may have missed some things so lemme know if I should add anything xx

Notes: Happy valentines day! What even was season 3 honestly these two are so fucking whipped for each other it's stupid. How can anyone look at them and see anything but a married couple who are deeply, disgustingly in love with each other. Honestly. I'm so upset that this got cancelled (even though I lowkey liked the ending) so my insufferable ass is probably gonna deal with that through taking matters into my own hands. Also side note this is the first time I've posted m/m so don't be too mean I actually don't really know how men work so... yeah. Shit's been rough lately, breakup and car crash in the space of two days so I actually haven't proofread this sorry (there might be mistakes but that's ok because to err to be human <3) and also I’m literally a (queer) girl and I know nothing about gay (man) sex and it shows. You have been warned.

Philip had woken that morning (morning? Or afternoon? He can’t remember. It doesn’t feel like it had been morning when he’d finally swum up out of Marcy’s sedative) with Trevor in his bed. Well, it wasn’t Trevor, not really, but it was still nice. Not Trevor was smiling at him, wriggling closer, his hand finding Philip’s and pulling it towards his chest. Philip had blinked and he had shimmered, dispersed into light, reformed. He’d blinked again and Not Trevor was gone, and then the real world was flooding in and he half wished he hadn’t woken up at all. 

It’s been happening more and more often lately. Philip looks up from the computer screens and Not Trevor is already smiling at him. Not Trevor interrupts him with a kiss as he walks past. Not Trevor pads barefoot with a towel wrapped around his waist out of the bathroom and winks as Philip watches him go. Philip kneels next to the couch to pick up a ball bearing he’d knocked off the table from under its edge and when he looks up Not Trevor’s legs are either side of him and he has his head tilted back, shirt discarded and he’s panting hard. Philip has no doubt what that particular version of himself had just been doing. On the flip side, he pushes his chair back to take a break and Not Trevor grins up at him from between his legs, he leans over Philip from behind and slides his hand down his front, braces himself against the shower wall, tells Philip to turn around and get on his hands and knees and a million other things and Philip curses the update because none of those images are ever going to leave his head. 

Philip’s not too proud to admit when he likes someone. He’s human, after all, even if some days he doesn’t feel it, and Trevor is beautiful. It’s not just his host, either, although it probably helps to have been blessed looking like that, but there’s something about what 0115 and Trevor Holden have become — Philip’s Trevor, the team’s Trevor, 0115’s own Trevor — that pulls Philip in like a magnet. His joy is addictive. His enthusiasm for life, while it sometimes grates on Philip’s considerably less enthusiastic nerves, is infectious and maybe what people say about opposites attracting each other is right. Not even opposites, really — Philip doesn’t think they’re opposites, but he knows they’re not so-called twin flames — but something about Trevor balancing Philip. Pulling him out of those particularly dark little holes he knows it’s all too easy to get stuck in. Hell, he fell into one last night.

So Philip’s been peeking into other timelines and it’s been fueling the Trevor thing and now he’s waking up and half wishing that what he’s seeing is real. He wants to reach out and grab Trevor and never let go. He wants to stay in this bed with him and never have to do another mission again and just be and let humanity save itself. But, he tells himself firmly as he swings his legs over the side of the mattress and pauses, letting his body stabilise and adjust, that is not going to happen. No amount of wishing will make it. 

Carly and Marcy have explained, as best they can, and he really does feel bad for pulling that kind of shit when they’re all under stress, when nothing feels like it’s going right for anyone and they all have their own bullshit to deal with (he knows all about that, thanks to the update), but Aleksander’s face is still on the computer screens and Philip also knows Mac and Trevor will follow through. And that is where his brain snags for the second time today. Trevor, who found him on the floor and called Marcy over, “panicked” is the word the medic used, and then took off to kill a kid — to help Mac kill a kid. Trevor has faith in the Director, in the Grand Plan, Philip knows that as well as anyone, but he still cringes at the thought of what his roommate — because calling Trevor friend doesn’t quite feel right when he’s seen what he looks like when Philip is not going to complete that thought, they’re past coworkers, and he doesn’t feel like the other guy’s teammate anymore — must be thinking and feeling and doing right now. 

But then, after a few hours of Marcy and Carly doing their best to help him and Philip doing his best not to scream or break something or walk out the door and never come back, the Messenger comes through and just like that it’s all ok again. Marcy and Carly are relieved. Philip is relieved. A massive weight has been lifted off all their shoulders, so why does he still feel so heavy? 

He walks through erasing Mac’s memory like he’s walking through a dream, manages not to stare too long at the insubstantial vision of Trevor’s hand on his knee as they take their leader back to his house and (not uncarefully) deposit him in his bed. They leave. They drive back to ops. Marcy asks if he’s alright and he nods, doesn’t miss the way she says something too quiet to make out to Trevor as she heads back to David. Carly stays for longer, cleans a gun, then makes her exit with a firm hand on Philip’s shoulder and a tight smile. Then they’re alone, and Philip is staring at the screen with a cup of something (he thinks it might be tea, but it’s not hot anymore) he doesn’t remember getting in his hand.  

He doesn’t even hear Trevor approach until the engineer sighs, settling himself next to Philip’s shoulder. 

“The mother even speaks Romanian,” he says, steaming mug cradled in his hands. 

Philip glances at him and he shrugs. “Well that’s great, I’m obviously happy about that.” And he is, he really is. The woman smiling in the photograph looks like a kind person. She doesn’t have the sharpness about her eyes that Aleksander’s previous foster parents did, and maybe the familiarity of the language will help. He knows it did when they rescued the boy in the first place. The word rescue, even just in his mind, leaves a bitter taste in his mouth. He could have avoided the whole mission — putting Trevor and Mac through that — if he’d just stuck to what he was supposed to. There’s no way that this wasn’t some sick lesson. But still… “Why didn’t we start there?”

Trevor pauses before he answers, eyes still locked on the computer screen, brow furrowed. “That wasn’t the path he was on.” 

Sometimes Philip forgets how old Trevor — 0115 — is. He doesn’t act like an old man, as much as the others (Philip included) call him that and joke about it, as much as Trevor himself is open and just as willing to talk about the fact. But there are moments like these when Philip can see 0115’s plural lifetimes of experience and knowledge and wisdom poking through that barely adult face, and it catches him off guard. He’s not put off by Trevor’s age, Truth be told, he’s not sure if anything could put him off Trevor, but it can still be a little unnerving. 

“You don’t need to explain that part to me.” Philip tries not to sound annoyed, because he isn’t. Not really. “What I'm asking you is why we didn’t get a mission to change his path in the first place.” 

Again, Trevor shrugs, and on anyone else the gesture would look flippant. Not him, though. Nothing’s ever flippant with Trevor unless he wants it to be. “Maybe we did. The Director has to thread the needle on billions of possibilities happening to billions of people in a billion different places all over the world. If it seems hard to understand the steps that lead to a particular outcome, it’s because it’s literally impossible for any of us to understand that.” 

Philip can feel Trevor’s eyes on him, but he doesn’t look up. “I hate that.” 

There’s a pause, and he feels Trevor shift infinitesimally closer. “Yeah,” he says. “But you can’t argue with the results.” 

This time Philip does raise his eyes from the screen, turning in his chair to face his roommate. The other guy is perched on a filing cabinet, and Philip has the distinct urge to tell him to just get a chair. He looks a little ridiculous; elbows on his knees, feet resting against the desk (he really wants to tell him to get a chair), cup in his hands and that look that’s so sincere he’d laugh if he saw it on anyone else. It’s so… him and Philip can’t look away. 

Trevor sighs, leans forward and sets down his cup, his feet slipping off the desk as he twists to face Philip. “It wasn’t your fault,” he tells him. 

Philip shakes his head, looking away. He wishes he could believe Trevor, wishes he had just an ounce of his conviction. “It was. By definition, Trevor.” 

“You were trying to save him.” 

“And I made things worse. The Director was teaching me a lesson, I know it was. I know… I know I shouldn’t have tried to interfere.” 

“Hey, hey.” Trevor’s hand is firm and warm on Philip’s shoulder. “You tried to do what you thought was right. And yeah, it didn’t really work out, but it’s in the past. We can’t change that.” He stops, as if realising the irony of his words, then, “Nobody blames you, Philip.” 

“They should.” I do. 

Trevor is close enough that Philip can see the evening sun gilding the tips of his eyelashes, and his voice is so gentle it hurts. “What good is it gonna do now, huh? How is holding onto all that shit and dishing out blame and responsibility gonna help anyone?” 

Philip doesn’t have an answer for that, but he’s not sure if that matters. Not sure if he could speak even if he wanted to, because Trevor is still touching him and Philip must have slid his chair closer because he doesn’t remember the gap between them being this small. Trevor is searching Philip’s face, and he can practically see the cogs ticking behind his eyes — which, up close, never fail to suck Philip’s focus like a vacuum. 

“It’s not your fault. It was never going to be your fault, Philip.”

Philip swallows hard, tongue darting out over his lips. It’s too quiet and too loud all at once, and he wants to look away and he never wants the moment to end. The world is blurry, all he can see is Trevor, his skin is too tight and Trevor’s simultaneously too close and not close enough and then he is leaning the last few inches and all Philip can think is that this has to be another timeline. Things like this don’t happen to him, at least not this him, and—

Oh. Oh. 

Trevor’s lips are soft against his own, the hand that had been resting on his shoulder sliding up to hover almost hesitantly at his jaw. Philip can feel his own heart beating at a million mph, his blood rushing in his ears, and without even realising it he’s kissing Trevor back, tilting his head and pressing closer, Trevor’s skin so warm against his. 

The thing about what Philip sees — hallucinations, illusions, visions, whatever he calls them — is that he doesn’t feel it. He didn’t process the warmth of Not Trevor’s hand when it had been resting on his leg in the car or against his own that morning. He hadn’t felt the press of Not Trevor’s shoulders between his thighs, hadn’t felt the rush of breath over his skin when Not Trevor had laughed and kissed his cheek. And he certainly hadn’t felt the slick softness of Not Trevor’s tongue brushing over his lip. 

Oh, is all Philip can think again as he lets Trevor part his lips, the barest hint of his tongue sliding against his. A question. A warning. A test. Of course, the answer is yes. Philip knows in his soul that the answer will always be yes for Trevor, no matter what timeline they’re in. He feels himself sinking, floating, and when he pushes back against Trevor and slips his own tongue into his mouth, he can taste the tea he was drinking. Trevor is warm and sweet and Philip has never tasted anything so good and now his hand is moving, fingers tangling in Philip’s hair and if it weren’t for the rushing in his ears he could have sworn that Trevor gives a pleased little hum.  

Philip wants to stand, wants to crowd closer and take Trevor’s face between his hands, stand between his legs and feel the press of his body against his own. He wants to feel Trevor’s skin on his, wants him under him and on top of him and everywhere he can think of. He’s pretty sure that Trevor’s knee is blocking him from getting any closer, that and the fact that he’s still sitting in his chair. 

So, as much as it pains him to do so, Philip pulls back from Trevor’s mouth and pauses, heart still thundering, breathing hard, and looks at him. Trevor’s lips are kiss swollen and still parted, his eyes dark and locked on Philip and Philip alone. His hand doesn’t leave Philip’s hair, thumb moving in a tiny arc over the skin under his ear and he knows that even if he wasn’t a Historian, even if he wasn’t hardwired to remember everything, this moment would be ingrained in his brain forever. 

“Are you…?” Trevor starts, watching as Philip pushes himself to stand, his eyes following his every move, head tipping back. He wavers, and for a moment he’s shirtless and sweaty and his cheeks are flushed pink. Not Trevor tilts his head to the side, teeth digging into his bottom lip, and Philip blinks. His Trevor is still watching him, a hint of concern marring his face. 

Philip just nods, watching Trevor’s hand trail down over his chest, coming to rest right over his heart. He wonders if he can feel how hard it’s beating. He looks so serious and sincere, and Philip still can’t believe that this isn’t just because of the update. This is real. This is happening here and now. 

“Philip,” Trevor murmurs, voice thick. God, Philip could listen to that all day. 

He dips his head, and he’s sure that Trevor is smiling as their lips meet again. Philip is painfully aware of where his legs aren’t quite touching him, just resting either side of his hips, but that doesn’t matter because Trevor’s hand is sliding down his torso to sit feather light on his hip, not quite on the waistband of his pants but close enough that Philip feels blood rushing quickly downwards. He places  his own hands firmly either side of Trevor’s face, feels the muscle there twitch momentarily, the mechanism of Trevor’s neck and jaw sliding smoothly like well oiled machinery as he kisses him deeper, harder. His fingers curve perfectly around the back of Trevor’s neck, and this time he’s sure when he hears the little sound slip from the engineer, muffled by his own tongue. It is going to drive Philip insane. Trevor is going to drive him insane. He already is. 

“Philip,” Trevor says again, and Philip really can’t help but push closer. The edge of the filing cabinet is hard against his thighs, the metal cold through his jeans and somehow that is what brings Philip’s spiralling, out of control, too-much-too-fast brain back to the present. And then it clicks, and a stone sinks deep in his stomach. Trevor is distracting him, taking his mind off a truly terrible day because Philip did something stupid last night and Trevor found him this morning. He breaks away, breathing hard for an entirely different reason now. 

Trevor’s hands stop him from going far, his eyebrows furrowing into that familiar concerned frown. “You alright?” 

“I…” Philip stops, takes a breath, swallows. Yes, he’s alright. He’s more than alright with Trevor kissing him, with kissing Trevor. But here and now… Philip isn’t sure how to voice that. He knows Trevor wouldn’t judge him, not after Jenny. Trevor isn’t someone from the 21st, where sex is currency and intimacy is a completely separate thing. Trevor, like most from their time, knows that there’s more to it than that, he knows about Jenny because Philip has told him about Jenny and that whole mess and he trusts Trevor not to ignore all that. But…

“Hey, I’m sorry,” Trevor says, and Philip unfreezes. “I didn’t think it through. I know it’s been rough, and I don’t wanna rush you or—” 

“Are you trying to distract me?” 

Trevor stops, his frown deepens and he shakes his head. “Not really. Maybe a little.” He sighs. “I mean, I didn’t kiss you to distract you. But if I am… is that a bad thing?” He takes a deep breath, his fingers curling on Philip’s hip. “Do you want me to stop?” 

“I don’t…” He isn’t sure what he’s supposed to make of that. It’s not what he wants to hear, but it's not what he doesn’t want to hear either. Truth be told, he doesn’t even know what that is. All he knows is that Trevor means more than 21st century sex and he is in way too deep here. 

Philip does not consider himself brave. He knows people in the future who would say he is just for being here now, but the truth is, they don’t know what they’re talking about. He is not brave, he simply exists. He is a piece in a machine and there is nothing brave about that. But this is different. This is Trevor, and Trevor has always made Philip feel like more than that. Like he’s a person, and more importantly, like that person is worth something. And no, Philip doesn’t want Trevor to stop. He would be happy to live in this moment forever, and that’s the problem. Philip swallows. He will be brave. 

“I don’t want you to be a distraction.” 

Trevor draws back, a tiny wrinkle forming between his eyebrows. “What do you want me to be?”

Philip almost curses, swallows again, looks at his hands. “I want you to be you. You… You mean something to me, Trevor. I want this to mean something.” 

Philip isn’t brave enough to look back at Trevor, but he doesn’t have to be. The other guy’s hand is on his cheek, tilting his face back towards his, and when their eyes meet all Philip can see is the familiar warmth and understanding and joy that Trevor somehow carries within himself no matter what. “It does,” Trevor whispers, and kisses Philip again. 

This kiss tastes different. It has to, Philip supposes as Trevor inches forward on his perch, gripping his shoulders, his arms, his waist, his hips. Trevor really does mean something to Philip, more than he ever would have guessed he could. It’s not because of the visions, and it’s not because Trevor is kissing him now. It’s everything else. It’s Trevor bringing Philip a fastfood meal after he’d been shot. It’s the wordless hands on his shoulders when he’s the first to arrive at the garage and the last to leave. It’s the undiluted wonder and awe in his face when he looks outside. It’s the insistence that he’ll come with Philip, even if it’s because he doesn’t fully trust him — because whatever the reason, Philip likes that he doesn’t feel alone. The reminders that Philip is human, just as human as Trevor, because sometimes that is the hardest thing to remember. 

And Philip really does feel like shit for this morning. For last night, when he’d seen the mission come through and he’d sat there, frozen, and debated calling out Trevor’s name just to see another face and hear his voice, feel another person touch him and remember. But he hadn’t been brave last night. He’d run, and had left Trevor to find and clean up the mess he’d made. He feels his chest tearing apart, ripping violently right down the middle. 

“I’m sorry,” he gasps, tearing himself away from Trevor’s mouth. 

“What for?” Trevor frowns. 

Philip swallows. “Last night. This morning. All of… that.” 

The understanding is so clear in Trevor’s eyes, followed quickly by sadness that hits Philip like a punch. It resolves and shifts, and Trevor’s lips twitch into something that could be called a smile. “You scared me,” he says. 

“I know. I didn’t mean to.” An eyebrow raise at this, and Philip goes on, “I wasn’t trying to. I just… I don’t even know. I was going to tell you when it first came through but I just… I just couldn’t. You know?” 

Trevor nods, and Philip knows he means it. This is the guy who interrupted Grace Day’s TELL, for God’s sake. He doesn’t blame Philip for Aleksander. Things might get murky and complicated sometimes, but at the end of the day Trevor understands when it matters. “I wish you had,” he tells him. There’s no blame or resentment in it, just a statement of fact. “We could have worked something out together.” 

Now it’s Philip’s turn to raise an eyebrow. “Worked something out?” 

“Ok,” Trevor concedes, “maybe not work something out. But you didn’t have to be alone. You don’t have to be alone, Philip. That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you.” 

It’s so much. It’s too much, and Philip is too heavy for this. So he just nods, watches as Trevor slides off the filing cabinet and stands before him. Philip lets him put his hands on his face and can’t stop himself from leaning into the touch. It doesn’t matter how small it makes him feel. Doesn’t matter that Trevor’s breath hitches in his chest when Philip keeps going and kisses him again, doesn’t matter that he can’t even begin to express what’s swirling in his update-addled, over-full and under-nourished brain right now. They’ve got time. Philip can untangle it all later. 

He pulls Trevor closer, so close he wonders if he can feel the beating of his heart against his own. He can feel his breathing, the expansion and contraction of his lungs and the rush of air on his cheek, the heat of his body and oh, yeah, ok, Trevor’s hard. The thought of that alone has Philip aching, hips pressing into Trevor’s, their jeans hard and rough between them. Something just this side of a moan slips from Philip as Trevor presses back, his hands once more finding Philip’s hair and commanding him to kiss him harder, kiss him longer, kiss him deeper. Philip is only too happy to oblige.

Trevor hums into his mouth as Philip reaches between them, fingers skirting the hem of his shirt. Trevor gives him an insistent nudge and that’s all Philip needs to slide his hand under the fabric, run it over the hot skin of his hip and the planes of his stomach, bunching his shirt up like it’s nothing. Philip wants to map out every cell of Trevor’s body, commit every curve and dip and hollow to memory like he’s memorised every TELL and candidate and major event. He passes his hand over Trevor’s ribs, up the centre of his abdomen, higher to his sternum and back down again to grip his waist. Touching him isn’t enough. Philip needs this man. 

Trevor’s grip on his hair tightens momentarily when Philip’s lips move from his own to his jaw, down the column of his neck. These kisses are wet, open mouthed, not quite careless but hardly neat, and if he goes any harder he’s going to leave marks. He isn’t sure if that’s something Trevor wants, but the other man’s head is tilted to let Philip continue, so he sucks — oh so lightly — at the spot where neck and shoulder meet. 

“Fuck,” Trevor hisses, fingers curling, hips grinding against Philip’s. Philip can literally feel his brain emptying of all thought except that he needs to make Trevor do that again. 

“Hm?” he asks, just in case (just in case what? He doesn’t know), and Trevor nods. So Philip does the only rational thing and sucks again, moves his head and does it to another spot, and now that he can see the darker patches of skin on Trevor’s neck, he never wants to stop. 

“Philip,” Trevor whispers, voice cracking. His throat moves as he swallows, hard, and Philip pointedly grazes the spot with his teeth. He tastes like the cheap soap they keep in the bathroom, and even though it’s the same one Philip uses day in day out, on Trevor’s skin and up this close it is somehow more. It’s Trevor, and Philip isn’t sure he’s ever going to be able to casually use the stuff again without this moment flooding his overly accurate historian brain. As desperate and insane as he knows the thought is, even as he has it, Philip wants to lick every trace of that soap off Trevor. But his shirt is still bunched around his chest and Philip can only reach so much of his skin around it. 

“Off,” he murmurs, pulling back just enough to see Trevor’s tongue dart over his lip, his eyes dark.

His voice is husky and raw when he speaks. “You too.” 

“Here?” The realisation that they’re still at the desk seems to strike Trevor the same moment that Philip fully processes it, eyes darting around the room. 

After a moment, Trevor shakes his head. “No,” he says, untangling himself from Philip enough to take his hand. “No, come on.”

Philip has never been led into his own bedroom. He’s never watched someone else’s hand pull at his, met someone else’s eyes over their shoulder, stumbled to keep up with someone else through his own door. Never been pulled onto his bed by someone else. He’s been pushed, which was exciting and fun and hot at the time, and he’s done the leading, and the looking back and the steadying at the inevitable stumble, but this is new. If Philip is completely honest, it’s a little unnerving. 

But then Trevor is facing him, reaching for his shirt and pulling it over his head and all Philip can think is holy shit because all that football pays off. Trevor’s mouth curves as he steps towards him, like he knows exactly what Philip is thinking. Which wouldn’t be that hard, since Philip isn’t exactly trying to keep a straight face. 

“You tryna catch flies, Philip?” Trevor asks him, and Philip feels his cheeks heat. He hadn’t even realised his mouth was open. 

“Sorry,” he mutters, eyes locked firmly on Trevor’s face. His smile. The collection of red marks dotting his neck. 

Trevor just shakes his head, stepping closer. “Don’t be.” His hands settle on the hem of Philip’s own shirt, his fingers barely brushing Philip’s skin. “But,” he goes on, “this isn’t fair.” 

“Oh, fair,” Philip echoes, raising his eyebrows. But he’s already taking over from Trevor, shrugging off the shirt and dropping it like it’s nothing (and it isn’t really, not when he has Trevor standing before him like this). “Better?” he asks. 

Trevor looks away from his face, and Philip can almost physically feel his eyes sliding over his torso, stopping at his chest, lifting back to his face and gleaming with something that he can only describe as incredulous excitement. “What’s that?” he asks, as if he doesn’t know. 

“Piercing.” Because that’s what Trevor’s looking at, and if Philip’s completely honest, he feels a little… proud? He’d had his doubts when he’d first discovered the ring through his nipple, and had been more confused by it than he had by the ear and nose piercings. He can understand jewellery where people are going to see it. He’d done his research on piercings and tattoos outside of the training on 21st century behaviour they’d all taken, at the same time as he’d taken a deep dive into tattoo symbolism (he’d been suddenly consumed by the fear that his host’s tattoos meant something he should know about, which hadn’t really been the case but Philip still thought that it was better to know than not). He hadn’t found much to convince him that the solitary ring through his nipple of all places was a particularly groundbreaking way to modify the body, but now… Now he thinks he might get it. 

Trevor is shaking his head, eyes still glued to the little piece of metal. “That’s so…” 

“Weird?” 

“No, it’s—” He stops, laughs, grins at Philip. “It’s really hot.” 

Philip can feel his eyebrows shooting up his face. “You think?” 

“Yeah, I… I don’t know why.” 

“Oh, ok.” That’s… unexpected. Philip knows that his host isn’t bad to look at, and he knows that some of the reasoning behind piercings is for attractiveness. He’s studied the face that he now calls his in the mirror a thousand times, he sees the body that he now inhabits every day and as far as 21st century guys in their late twenties go, it’s really not bad. Of course, there are the track marks and the occasional (lately more frequent) shadows under his eyes, stubble if it’s been a particularly rough few days (Trevor’s newly almost-permanent presence helps with that, even if he doesn’t know it), but hey, if Trevor’s standing here right now he knows he’s got something going for him. But the look in the engineer’s eyes when they meet Philip’s again makes him feel like a damn artwork. 

Trevor’s grin broadens, and before Philip can even begin to reconcile what that’s doing to him Trevor’s lips are on his once more and he’s being pulled hard against him, skin to skin, heart to heart, Trevor’s hands roaming over his shoulders and his back and his waist and his ribs and his chest and Philip is moaning into the kiss like… he doesn’t even know what. 

They’re moving, almost tripping over each other and it’s a miracle either of them can keep their balance, but then Trevor’s knees hit the edge of the bed and they’re half falling onto it, a little uncoordinated but does that really matter when Trevor is still pulling Philip close, smiling even as his tongue dances alongside Philip’s? He’s all too aware of where his body is, where his leg presses between Trevor’s and his arm is locked, holding his weight off the other man. 

Trevor, however, has both hands free. Gooseflesh prickles across Philip’s chest and stomach as he trails his hands over his body, electricity sparking when his fingers skirt the waistband of his pants. He feels Trevor smile again, and his breath hitches in his throat. Shit, he’s never going to be able to kiss anyone else again. He doesn’t even want to kiss anyone else. Ever. 

“Do you want this?” Trevor murmurs against his lips, the tips of his fingers just dipping below his waistband and oh fuck he hadn’t realised just how badly he wanted that. 

Philip nods, then groans when Trevor palms him because even through his pants his hand is a million times better than his own. The other guy curses, does it again, and Philip’s teeth dig into his bottom lip. His eyes are dark and sincere, flicking between Philip’s own and where his fingers are curling gently around his clothed cock. 

“Can I?” Trevor asks. Philip has never nodded faster. He’s not even entirely sure what Trevor’s getting at, but he’s happy to let him touch him however he wants, wherever he wants, and he trusts him completely. Of course he already knew that — you kind of have to trust your team, after all — but he’s only just realising that he’s trusted Trevor as more than a team member for quite some time. Probably right alongside everything else that’s become more than a team member with Trevor. 

Philip isn’t wasting time philosophising, his attention fixed firmly on Trevor’s hand which is back at his pants and oh that’s what he meant. He helps out, shoving his pants down and off with less grace than he’d like, underwear following suit. The air is cool on his hot skin, and for a moment he feels oddly exposed. Then Trevor is pushing at his hip, tongue darting over his lips again and there’s almost an urgency to his movements. 

“C’mon, just— Hold on a second—” he says, still attempting to manoeuvre Philip. 

He almost laughs at his eagerness. “Trev, give me a second, man. What’re you tryna do?” 

Trevor pauses, his thumb running in a tiny arc over Philip’s hip bone — he’s not sure if he’s even doing it consciously. “Swap.” He nods to the mattress, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. Maybe it is and Philip’s just lagging behind. 

“Oh, ok.” He shrugs, half climbing and half rolling sideways. “You could’ve just said that.” 

“Yeah, I know, I…” He sighs, rubs a hand over his forehead. “I keep getting caught up. Sorry.” 

Trevor getting caught up in him? In Philip? He doesn’t quite know how to respond to that, so he just shrugs again. “I’m that irresistible, huh?” 

The look Trevor shoots him is anything but joking. “You have no idea.” 

Philip opens his mouth, shuts it, shakes his head in awe. Who would have thought? “C’mere,” he tells Trevor softly, and the gravity is lifted as he smiles and practically bounces down beside him, pressing his lips to Philip’s. They’re getting better at this. Not that they were bad, of course, but they fall into the easy rhythm of each other much more quickly now. There’s no fumbling or searching or exploring, it’s familiar and Philip never wants that to end. 

Trevor’s hand is resting on Philip’s chest, warm and firm and now Philip is sure he can feel how hard his heart is beating. He stretches up, chasing Trevor as the other guy pulls away, but he can only do so much. Trevor smiles and gives him another quick kiss, almost chaste, the kind that Philip definitely doesn’t imagine he’d give him when their day to day paths cross in the garage. When he leaves to get food. When he comes back again. 

But that thought is wiped away before Philip’s mind can snag on it, because Trevor is spitting into his palm and wrapping his fingers around Philip’s dick, gentle and slick and warm and Philip curses softly. It’s almost almost perfect. 

“Like this?” Trevor asks, eyes fixed on his face. 

Philip swallows. His voice sounds odd even to his own ears, husky and strangled. “Uh, little harder.” 

Trevor squeezes, and it’s all Philip can do not to fall apart right there as his grip tightens and his hand moves. “This?” 

He feels the breath catch in his throat. “Yeah. Fuck Trev, that’s perfect.” And it is. It really is. There’s only so much his mind can come up with, he thinks as he takes in Trevor’s strong arm and large hand moving rhythmically over him, feels the heat of his body where it presses against his own and listens to Trevor’s breathing and soft hum of appreciation in response to his own moan. No matter what the update lets him see, no matter what he manages to dream up by himself, it won’t compare to this. 

Trevor is leaning closer, and Philip shivers as his breath hushes over the skin of his shoulder, his neck, then practically gasps as Trevor kisses the hollow under his jaw. He makes to turn his head, meet the other guy half way, but Trevor doesn’t let him. He kisses his jaw again, nudging him away and Philip just lets him. He even turns his face, just a little, but Trevor notices and his chuckle sends molten heat shooting straight down his spine. Trevor’s lips are moving, up over the muscle of his neck, tongue darting out to taste his skin. Philip gets it now, and then Trevor is whispering “this ok?” and he’s nodding (how could it not be?). 

“Fuck,” he breathes as Trevor sucks at the spot, and Philip really gets it. It’s not like hickeys are foreign to him, but this is something else altogether. Trevor’s hand is still moving firmly on his cock, maybe a little slower than he himself would go but damn is it good, and now he’s working his way down Philip’s neck to his chest. The tiny burst of almost-pain followed by the soft heat of Trevor’s tongue has Philip arching towards him, hips jutting shamelessly into his hand as he does his best to stop the embarrassingly desperate sounds he’s on the verge of making from escaping him. 

“Philip,” Trevor murmurs to his clavicle. 

“Hm?” Philip answers, lifting his head enough to meet his gaze. He half wishes he didn’t, another blazing hot spark of pure need rushing through him.

Trevor either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care. He presses his lips to Philip’s skin yet again, gentle and oddly tender given that he’s still jerking him off, looking at him through his lashes (Philip wonders if he’s doing that deliberately. If he knows what it’s doing to him). “You don’t have to be quiet,” he says softly, and there’s another kiss. Lower this time, on his pectoral.

“I’m— I’m not—” Philip breaks off in a rush of air when he feels Trevor’s teeth graze his skin. 

“Not what?” 

Philip doesn’t even know what he’d been getting at, but it sure isn’t important. “Doesn’t matter,” he breathes. 

“You sure?” 

“Mhm.” Then, as Trevor’s thumb slides over the sensitive head of his cock, “Fucking hell, Trev.” 

“Is that—” 

“Yes. Yes, oh my— Fuck—” 

Trevor’s mouth has found his nipple. Maybe it’s a little weird, but Philip is hardly in any condition to be thinkin about that. Trevor’s tongue is flicking over the ring cautiously, gently, and it feels really good. Better than it has any right to.

“Ok?” Trevor asks, kissing the sensitive spot. 

“Yeah.” Philip swallows, bites down on a moan and then remembers Trevor’s words. You don’t have to be quiet. 

This time, when Trevor’s hand tightens and moves over his aching cock, he groans, and feels Trevor’s body shudder against his. Philip brings his hand up to run across Trevor’s strong shoulders, down over his spine and back up again. He hums, and his hand speeds up every so slightly. 

“Oh fuck,” Philip moans, “fuck, Trev, keep doing that.” 

“Yeah, don’t worry.” Trevor’s voice is low and rough, his chuckle little more than a breath of air. “I’m not… I’m not stopping.” The engineer raises his head, his teeth digging into his bottom lip as he studies Philip’s face like he’s trying to memorise it. Philip is torn between holding his gaze and looking away, heat coiling low inside him, and again he jerks in Trevor’s hand. Trevor laughs again, moving hard and fast and if he keeps that up Philip isn’t sure he’ll last another minute. 

“Trev,” he gasps, gripping his shoulder hard enough that he almost feels bad. “Fuck, fuck.” Yeah. Philip’s really articulate when he chooses to be. He wants Trevor inside him, wants to be inside Trevor. He doesn’t care where, exactly, he just knows that he needs to be closer, deeper, needs to feel their bodies blur into one, but right now he isn’t spending particularly long dissecting that thought. He’s got time. 

“‘Salright,” Trevor murmurs, as if he knows exactly what Philip’s thinking. “I got you, man.” 

Philip feels himself tremble and tip, bliss rolling up through his spine. He might be saying Trevor’s name, might be cursing, or the sounds might be just that; wordless and primal and torn from deep within him. Trevor works him through the high, and as the electricity coursing through Philip cools to static, his hand slows and finally withdraws to rest on his stomach. They don’t speak for a moment, their breathing and the ticking of the clock the only sounds in the room. Philip doesn’t look down, he knows his stomach is a mess, and chooses instead to turn towards Trevor. 

The engineer grins, then drops his eyes pointedly to Philip’s stomach. He feels his cheeks heat, but before he can say or do anything Trevor is bending and sliding down the mattress and Philip thinks he knows what he’s about to do but he doesn’t know what he thinks about what Trevor is about to do. Then his tongue is flicking over Philip’s abdomen and his skin is twitching, a small sound that’s half shock and half pleasure catching in his throat. Problem solved, he supposes. 

“Alright?” Trevor asks as he withdraws. 

Philip just nods, pushing himself to sit up. Trevor smiles and leans closer, his lips soft and gentle against Philip’s. This kiss is almost chaste, reassurance and a kind of confirmation (of what, Philip isn’t sure) all at once. He’s only too happy to reciprocate, his body pleasantly warm and heavy and buzzing with Trevor, Trevor, Trevor, whose chest is pressing against his own. 

Philip pulls him closer, hands sliding over the smooth muscle of his arms and shoulders, cupping the back of his neck as he slips his tongue into Trevor’s mouth. He can taste himself on the other guy’s tongue, a thought that has his brain spinning excitedly out of control and his stomach launching into an olympic level acrobatics routine. Does Trevor like the warm saltiness still clinging to his tongue? Is that what Trevor would taste like? God, Philip wants to find that out. 

Gently, he shifts and nudges at Trevor’s shoulder until he gets the message (faster than Philip had earlier) and lets him push him onto the mattress. His legs fall apart easily when Philip pushes his own between them, and when he moves and his thigh comes into contact with Trevor’s crotch he practically arches off the bed. Philip stifles a laugh. 

“Something funny?” Trevor asks, eyebrow raised when he ceases his assault on his mouth to look at him. But he’s smiling. Flushed, eyes dark and shining, lips swollen and pink and still parted as he breathes hard, but smiling. Philip can feel his brain going into overdrive to store that image perfectly. 

“No,” Philip shrugs, letting his eyes trail lower over Trevor’s torso (the guy has actual abs, which Philip is going to be thinking about for a long time). 

“No? What’s that look for?” 

He debates it for a moment, then, “I’m memorising.” 

Trevor frowns. “Memorising what?” 

Philip presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth, “You.” He pushes his leg firmly in between Trevor’s, basking in the breathy little moan it draws from him, “That.” 

“Fuck, Philip,” he whispers as Philip moves his hand down his side to his hip, across the faint V under his belly button to skirt the waistband of his pants (why the fuck is he still wearing pants?). Philip isn’t even sure if he means to do it, but Trevor’s grinding against his leg and looking up at him like he’s the only thing he’s ever wanted. He thinks he might just cum again, right here right now. 

“Can I?” he asks, already dipping his fingers below the line of fabric. 

“Yeah, yeah sure.” Trevor seems almost surprised by the suggestion, as if it’s the last thing he expected. 

Philip pauses, frowns. “You sure?” 

This time, Trevor’s voice is firmer. “I’m sure, Philip.” 

Philip nods, breath hitching in his throat. Trevor’s eyes are fixed on his hands, but he can’t look away from the engineer’s face. He gets Trevor’s pants undone, pulls them down, finally tears his gaze from Trevor’s flushed cheeks and wide eyes and parted lips and— 

“Jesus, Trev.” There’s a sizeable wet spot on Trevor’s underpants, the outline of his cock clear and hard and fuck, the dude is big. Philip’s mouth waters.

Trevor doesn’t seem to know what to say to that (which is doing things for Philip that he doesn’t want to even begin to address), but it doesn’t matter. Philip eases his underwear off, and, softly and with plenty of opportunity for Trevor to stop him, wraps his fingers around his length. 

“This ok?” he asks, watching Trevor’s face carefully. 

“Yeah—” Trevor’s voice cracks, and he tries again. “Yeah, that’s… that’s good.” 

“This?” Philip moves his hand, ignoring the little thrill that goes through him as his fingers come into contact with the moisture already gathered on Trevor’s tip. 

“Yeah.” 

“How about this?” Philip squeezes, watching Trevor’s teeth sink into his bottom lip and his head fall back as he whispers something that sounds like a “yes”, and holy shit has he got a jawline. He’d almost be jealous if he wasn’t so caught up admiring Trevor like this. If he wasn’t so far gone on him. If he wasn’t busy sliding down Trevor’s body, his face now level with his hand. 

“This?” 

“F—fuck,” Trevor gasps as Philip licks the tip of his dick, head whipping up to stare at him. 

He pauses, waiting. “Ok?” 

“Yeah, yeah that’s… that’s fine.” Trevor’s throat moves as he swallows. “You don’t have to, though.” 

“I want to,” he shrugs. “Do you want me to?” 

Trevor nods fast enough that in any other situation it would be comical, and Philip can’t help but smile. He bends, places a soft kiss at the junction of Trevor’s hip, then licks him again. 

Trevor moans, his hand drifting up to wind through Philip’s hair. 

Philip just smiles and flicks his tongue over the sensitive slit. 

“Stop teasing,” Trevor whispers. 

“I’m not.” 

“You are,” he protests. “It’s not fair.” 

“Fine,” Philip shrugs, and before Trevor can say anything else he’s opening his mouth, relaxing his tongue and taking Trevor as deep as he can. 

“Oh fuck,” he says, his fingers tightening momentarily in Philip’s hair. “Oh, you— Jesus.” 

The room could collapse right now and Philip wouldn’t notice. His senses are narrowed and focussed to the hot weight of Trevor’s cock in his mouth, the smell of his sweat and skin and his own spit (not pleasant, not exactly, but addictive nonetheless), his half stifled moan and the faint saltiness of precum. His hand works what doesn’t fit in his mouth, slow and firm and sliding easily with his makeshift spit-lube. His tongue swirls around Trevor’s cock, mapping every curve and ridge and vein. 

Philip raises his eyes as he hollows his cheeks and sucks, relishing the almost-whine that slips from Trevor. Again, he sees the engineer as he had been on the couch — chest heaving, gleaming with a light sheen of sweat, head tipped back and eyes closed. But this is better, because this Trevor — his Trevor — is already looking down at him, biting his lip, the unfairly defined muscles of his stomach tense and moving in time with his rapid breathing. A groan reverberates through his chest, and it’s all Philip can do not to smile. 

“Wish you could see yourself,” Trevor whispers, the hand that isn’t tangled in Philip’s hair twisting the sheets. 

In lieu of speech, he raises an eyebrow. 

“You’re a fucking wet dream, Philip,” he pants, and that is not what he expected to hear. It catches him off guard enough that he falters, his own surprised half moan making Trevor’s hips stutter up against his hand. His mouth. 

“Shit, sorry,” he says quickly, but Philip is shaking his head. Don’t worry. It’s ok. He gives what he thinks is a reassuring suck, his free hand settling on Trevor’s hip — as if he’d be able to do anything if he decided to face fuck him. As if he’d want to. 

Trevor curses again, softly, his eyes not leaving Philip’s face. He’s trying to be gentle, Philip can tell, and he feels something inside him melt because of course he would. Even as he whispers “fuck” like that and moans like that he’s still trying not to hurt him — as if he ever could. Philip doesn’t even know if he’d really care at this point. 

“Hm?” He doesn’t stop, moisture pricking behind his eyes as he relaxes his throat even further and practically swallows Trevor’s dick. His hand is sliding so easily now, slick and a bit messy and maybe it should be gross but nothing is gross with Trevor, who was licking Philip’s cum off his stomach just before and has seen him at his worst and has clasped his shoulder and pushed him through. He moves faster, a little harder, and Trevor’s hips buck up again. Before he can apologise, Philip’s thumb moves in a tiny arc over his hip. He hopes Trevor understands. 

“Fuck, fuck, yes,” he gasps. “Please, Philip, I—” 

He can’t stop himself from moaning, an embarrassingly desperate sound. He could listen to Trevor forever, feel him like this forever, replay the movement of his body and the rough crack of his voice and the delicious tension of his fingers still gripping his hair until the Earth stops spinning. He wants to, future be damned. It’s a feedback loop, Trevor’s body jolting towards him as he tips his head back, Philip’s own need surging hot inside him, and he’s gripping Trevor tighter and taking him deeper, revelling in Trevor’s moans and gasps. 

“Hold on,” he says suddenly, and Philip freezes.

“You alright?” he asks, withdrawing with a wet “pop,” his hand still resting on Trevor’s hip. 

He nods quickly, his hand slipping from Philip’s hair to rest against his jaw. “Yeah, I’m fine. Better than fine.” 

“Ok,” he frowns, “then what’s…?” 

“Do you…” He pauses, thinks, swallows. Tries again. “Do you want to go… further?” 

Philip feels his heartbeat quicken, mind racing with the possibilities. He’s never taken that particular step, but if he wants to with anyone, it’s Trevor. And hell yes he wants to, wants to go as far as is humanly possible and never come back. He’s seen so many variations of further now, he can’t pick what this could possibly be, and not knowing is oddly thrilling. 

“We don’t have to,” Trevor is adding hastily, his hand sliding down to clasp Philip’s shoulder. “It’s ok if you don’t—” 

“I do,” Philip interrupts. “I really, really do, Trev.” 

Trevor nods, shuffles backwards before pushing himself to his knees. Philip follows suit, steadying himself against Trevor’s shoulder. His hair is falling into his face now that Trevor’s not holding it back, and he half wishes he had an elastic band with him. Even if Trevor seems to like putting his hands in it. 

“It’s hot when you do that,” the engineer says as Philip pushes his hair out of his face. 

He arches an eyebrow. “I think you’re biassed.” 

“Maybe a little,” he shrugs, “but I’m not wrong.” 

Philip really needs to learn how to respond to this kind of thing, because at some point simply kissing Trevor isn’t going to be sufficient. But it’s working for now, so he’s got time. Trevor hums softly when he pushes closer, his skin hot in all the places it’s touching Philip’s. Philip cups Trevor’s neck gently but firmly, his tongue sliding easily between Trevor’s parted lips and he wonders if Trevor can still taste himself in Philip’s mouth the way Philip can. He shifts, electric heat surging through him when he feels Trevor’s hardness press against his hip, blood rushing downwards in sympathy. 

Trevor moans, grinding lightly against Philip, the kisses rapidly descending into something too messy to be called a kiss at all by any stringent definition. It’s more like Philip licking into Trevor’s mouth, Trevor licking into his, a whirl of tongues and teeth and lips that somehow has Philip moaning too, striving to get closer to Trevor in any way he can. He knows exactly what he wants now, and, as if Trevor is reading his mind, his hand is sliding down his side and around his hip to rest on his ass. 

“Is—?” 

“Mhm.” Philip gasps as Trevor squeezes, just gently, but God he wants his hands everywhere. If Trevor touches every inch of his skin, he thinks, it still won’t be enough. But damn, this is a good start. 

“Turn around,” Trevor murmurs against his lips, drawing back enough to make eye contact with Philip. 

He doesn’t waste time, as much as it pains him to break away, but when Trevor’s voice is that low, that husky, that raw with want, it’s worth it. Trevor’s hand doesn’t leave his hip, half guiding him as he faces the headboard. 

“Holy shit,” Trevor says, and Philip glances over his shoulder to see the other guy’s eyes locked on the tattoo sprawling across his shoulder blades. “I didn’t know there was more.” 

“Uh, yeah,” he laughs. “Neither did I at first.” He shivers as Trevor runs his hand across the inked skin, tracing the points and whorls of the design. He’d actually forgotten about it, as he does most of the time (until he has to do a double take when he catches sight of it in the mirror), but something about the awe and fascination tingeing Trevor’s expression makes him think that that’s not going to be a problem in the future. 

“Fucking hot,” he proclaims, bending to kiss right between Philip’s shoulder blades. He does it again at Philip’s sigh, then again, then lower. He traces the line of his spine with kisses, fingers curling over his hip, and Philip’s not sure who it is who moves close enough that Trevor’s erection presses against him. Either way, it doesn’t matter because Philip is definitely the one who pushes further back against him, and Trevor is the one who pulls him to do it again. 

“Fuck,” he breathes, because now that he’s feeling the hot hardness and the size of him against his ass, Philip isn’t sure if the spit still coating Trevor’s dick — copious though it may be — will actually be enough. 

“You alright?” Trevor asks. 

“Yeah.” 

“Philip.” Trevor rubs his shoulder, gentle but insistent. “Why’re you so tense?” 

Philip sighs, rolls his shoulders, forces them to relax. This is Trevor, who is not going to hurt him, and who he trusts with his life. More than his life. “I’m fine,” he says, “I just… haven’t done this bit before. And you’re kinda big.” 

Trevor chuckles at that, shuffling around so he can see Philip’s face. “That’s ok,” he assures him. “We don’t have to—” 

“I want to.” 

“Then I’ll go slow.” 

That… is actually really reassuring. The tension leaks from Philip, and he offers Trevor a smile. “Ok. Thanks.” 

“You’ll tell me if you wanna stop, yeah?” 

Philip just nods, then Trevor is moving again and he has to twist over his shoulder to catch his smile. He leans into Trevor’s touch as the engineer’s hand skims his arm, his shoulder, his back, up his side and down again to his ass. They move together, slowly and carefully, and Philip feels the last vestiges of his nervousness slide away. 

“Can I?” Trevor asks, fingers slipping lower. His voice is soft, but Philip doesn’t miss the way his breath catches when he nods. Trevor’s fingers are wet with spit, and when he pushes one inside Philip there's only a little resistance. “Ok?” 

Philip nods. It’s an odd sensation, and he isn’t entirely sure if he likes it yet, but he trusts Trevor. He makes himself relax, focusses on Trevor’s free hand where it rests on his hip because he knows he likes that, and lets him move. He doesn’t mind it, he decides, especially when Trevor bends and kisses his shoulder. There’s a bit of pressure, a slight burn and stretch, and now there are two fingers inside him. 

“Ok?” Trevor asks again, and again Philip nods. He’s starting to think that he might like this, and Trevor’s still going slow but now his fingers are curled and yeah, Philip likes this. 

“Yeah,” he says. “That’s good.” 

“You sure?” Trevor whispers against his skin, and this time when he pushes into Philip it really is good.

“Mhm,” he breathes, teeth digging into his bottom lip. Almost involuntarily he rocks his hips back onto Trevor’s hand, and feels the other guy smile. 

“Alright.” He continues for a moment, and Philip’s more than happy with that, but then when his fingers withdraw they go all the way and Philip actually misses the feeling. Misses Trevor inside him, even if it’s just his fingers. He hears Trevor spit, another sound he’s all too familiar with, then something bigger than a finger is poking him and his heart skips a beat. 

“Ready?” Trevor asks. 

Philip swallows and nods for what feels like the millionth time today. “Yeah.” 

Trevor pauses. “Ok, bend over a bit? And maybe…” He pauses, then, “Do you wanna, uh, hold onto something?” 

That’s probably not intended to turn Philip on this much, but it does. He does as Trevor says and leans forward, bracing his hands on the wall, spreading his legs when he feels the pressure of Trevor’s hand between his thighs. “Like this?” he asks. 

Trevor’s voice is husky when he answers. “Yeah, perfect.” Then he’s pushing gently into Philip, who presses his lips together because Trevor feels bigger than he looks. It’s not really painful, and he’s going slow, and the spit lube helps, but it’s still more than his fingers and Philip can’t help the way his breath catches in his throat. 

“I’m alright,” he assures Trevor before he can ask. 

“You sure?” 

“Yeah, just… gimme a second.” 

“Tell me when.” 

Half of Philip wants to turn around and kiss Trevor for that, the other half wants to shove himself backwards and just take it from there. But he’s got enough of his brain left in his head to know that that would be a terrible idea, so he breathes deeply and waits until the faint burn fades and all that’s left is the pleasant stretch and fullness. “Ok,” he says after a moment, “you can, uh, keep going.” 

He half expects Trevor to do just that and push deeper, but instead he feels him pull out. He spits again, and this time the slide is easier, softer, further. Trevor curses softly, does it again, and now they have a rhythm. It’s slow and measured, careful, and Philip finds that it’s easy to relax into the movement of their bodies, to let Trevor rock into him and just brace against the wall — which is not even bracing anymore, more like stabilising. 

“Fuck, you feel good,” Trevor murmurs, the words sending Philip’s mind spinning. 

“So do you,” he replies and revels in the tightening of Trevor’s hand on his hip. This time, when Trevor thrusts into him, he does push back and meets him halfway, something between a gasp and groan falling from his lips. 

“Alright?” Trevor slows just a little, concern clear in his voice. 

Philip thinks he might melt on the spot, but instead he smiles. “I’m fine, Trev. you don’t have to be so… careful.” 

“You sure? Cause I don’t mind. I said I'd go slow.” 

“Well…” Philip pauses, glances over his shoulder. “Can you go a bit harder?”

“Yeah,” Trevor answers, and maybe it’s Philip’s imagination but he sounds a bit breathless. “Sure. Tell me what feels good.” 

Then he’s moving again, pushing deeper than before, and Philip is telling him that that feels good and Trevor is doing it again. It’s not much faster, but it’s somehow more, and Trevor’s gripping his hip damn hard now. Philip hopes he’ll have bruises. 

“Fuck, Trev,” he moans, arching into it, dimly aware of the bedframe squeaking faintly. “Fuck, that’s— that’s fucking great.” 

“Yeah? Not too — ah — fast?” 

“No,” Philip assures him. Then, “Faster?” 

“Shit, ok.” Trevor speeds up, and now he’s hitting something deep inside Philip that has him stumbling over Trevor’s name and pulsing with need. Before he can do anything about that Trevor’s strong arm is sliding around his torso, pulling him back against his chest and his hand is wrapping around Philip’s dick for the second time today as he continues to rearrange his guts. Philip knows he isn’t going to last long. 

“Fucking hell, Trev,” he gasps, because that’s really all he can do. He’s surrounded by Trevor, the engineer’s mouth warm and wet on the skin of his shoulder, his hand firm — just how Philip likes it — around his cock, Trevor’s own cock stroking what feels like every inch of his insides, his warm chest damp with sweat and pressed to Philip’s back. If he died right now he’d go out with a smile on his face, because he’s pretty sure it doesn’t get better than this. 

“Oh God,” Trevor groans. “You feel like fucking Heaven, you know that? You’re Heaven.” 

Philip didn’t know that, but he probably could have guessed from the desperation of Trevor’s combined fist and hips. He feels the words against his shoulder, feels Trevor’s warm breath stirring his hair and it must be all that damned football because he hasn’t faltered once. Philip can’t wait to make him. “You’re talking,” he manages, but any impact it might have had is lost in the unsteadiness of his voice. Maybe he’s still sensitive from his earlier orgasm, maybe it’s just that this is so much more intense, but he can already feel the tight coil of pleasure building low inside him. 

“Yeah, I’m — fuck, Philip — I’m talking.” He gives a particularly hard thrust, and it’s all Philip can do not to collapse right then and there. Trevor is going to be the death of him, and he’s going to say thank you when it happens. 

“Don’t stop,” he pleads — fucking pleads. “Shit, Trev, don’t stop.” 

“‘M not,” Trevor pants. “Don’t worry, I’m not fucking stopping.” And he isn’t. If anything, he’s going harder. “I’m— shit, fuck, fuck, Philip I’m gonna— Philip, where do I—?” 

Oh, is all Philip can think. “In me,” he blurts, because protocol 4 isn’t going to be a problem and this is the 21st century. 

“You sure?” 

“Yeah, I’m sure. Fuck, Trevor I’m so— I’m gonna—” 

Trevor is groaning deeply, spilling hot and thick inside Philip and with that, white hot bliss explodes through his body. He’s dimly aware of Trevor’s chest heaving against his back, his own name being chanted like a prayer, an incantation, and Philip’s never loved the sound of it more than he does right now. Right now it really is his name, and he knows he’s never coming back from this, and that he doesn’t want to. He thinks he says Trevor’s, too, over and over and punctuated with curses, but how is he supposed to do anything else when it feels like this? 

Trevor’s movements slow eventually until they stop altogether, the only sound in the room their ragged breathing and the rustle of the sheets and Trevor pulls out and flops onto the mattress. Philip mourns the loss of the feeling of fullness for a moment as he adjusts to the sudden emptiness, forcing his arms to unlock and relax, his legs to shift — he hadn’t realised they were shaking, but now that he has he can’t stop it — and collapses next to Trevor. 

“God, Philip,” he whispers to the ceiling, then raises his head and smiles. 

“You alright?” Philip asks. Idly, he traces a circle over Trevor’s heart. 

“I am so alright,” he sighs, breathes a laugh, turns to lie on his stomach and looks at Philip over the muscle of his arm. “You?” 

Philip smiles too, his whole body heavy and satisfied. “So alright,” he echoes softly, and if he wasn’t so completely boneless he’d lean over, press his lips to Trevor’s, soft and careful. Instead, he stretches out alongside Trevor. He can feel his cum leaking out of him, and the rational part of his brain says that’s gross and he should clean it up — along with the mess on his stomach. The irrational part of his brain that had his heart speeding up when he watched Trevor lick him clean earlier says it’s hot. Either way, Philip is not getting out of this bed any time soon. 

“What?” 

He blinks, jerks out of his thoughts. Trevor is frowning, still turned towards him and close enough that when Philip extends his pinkie finger it meets warm skin. “Nothing,” he says. Then, because he’s not brave enough to say what he really means, “Do you wanna stay?” 

The wrinkle disappears from between Trevor’s brows and he pretends to think. “Do I wanna get up, get dressed, walk up the loft stairs and try to go to sleep by myself while I know you’re down here?” He scoffs like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, and maybe to him it is. But he still asks, “Do you want me to?” 

“I just want you,” Philip breathes. It doesn’t quite sound right and he’s not even sure if it’s really what he wants to say, but it’s close enough.

“You just had me.” 

“No,” he sighs, “I mean this. I want this.”

“Oh.” Trevor’s face softens. “Right. Well, you’ve got it, Philip.” Slowly, he wriggles his hand close enough to lace his fingers with Philip’s and pulls their hands towards himself, lips brushing his knuckles. Philip thinks his heart is going to burst, and since when is he such a sap? Must be something about Trevor that makes his brain fly out the window. 

He slips his hand from Trevor’s to run it down the curve of his spine like he’d wished he could this morning, mapping every vertebrae as if the world is depending on it. And maybe his is. He watches the smooth motion of muscle and bone and ligaments and skin as Trevor shifts infinitesimally closer, mesmerised by the simultaneous complexity and simplicity of the movement. The dying light cascades over Trevor’s back and neck, glancing off his hair, pooling on his cheek, catching on his eyelashes as he blinks and suddenly he understands artists. 

Philip has always appreciated art in a practical sense (if there is one), as a historian, admired the richness and depth of the maker’s mark on the world, their cry to be seen and remembered. But in that moment Philip understands the need to capture and render, share, immortalise. For the first time, he doesn’t know if his memory is enough to hold Trevor as he is now, smiling softly and extending his arm, his own hand sliding over Philip's torso. He blinks and the feeling fades enough that he can move to accommodate the engineer as he shuffles across the space between them and drapes his body over Philip’s, lips pressing oh so gently to his pulse point before he lays his head over his heart. Philip knows he’ll never be able to capture this, and for a moment he wonders if how much is lost is equal to how much is preserved. If it’s greater. If it’s less. He swallows, turns and kisses Trevor’s temple, decides it doesn’t matter. He has this now, and he is determined to take it for all that it’s worth. 

“Memorising?” 

“What?” 

Trevor shrugs, shifting closer still. “Are you memorising me again?” 

Philip can’t begin to explain, but Trevor’s on the right track so just smiles and says, “yeah,” sliding his arm around his shoulders and holding him close. 

“Me too.” The engineer's body jerks with a soft chuckle, but he presses against Philip anyway, his breathing deep and even and his arm heavy across Philip’s chest. Then, “Can’t believe you’ve just been walking around with this.”

Philip cranes his neck, looking down at where Trevor is staring at his chest. Or rather, his piercing. He almost laughs because of course that’s what Trevor’s stuck on. 

“Doing missions with a ring through your nipple,” he goes on. “I can’t believe I didn’t know.”

“That’d be a weird conversation,” he snorts. “‘Hey Trev, wanna see this random bit of metal through my fucking nipple?’” Because Philip is aware that it’s weird, and that’s part of the reason he hadn’t exactly shown it off. Not that he would have had any excuse to, or wanted to, but still. 

Trevor tsks. “Yeah, but… I don’t know. Does it hurt?” 

“Uh… no?” He thinks for a minute, frowns. “Sometimes, a little. Sometimes I forget it’s there and it gets stuck on stuff.” 

“Jesus. 21st century, man, I’m telling you.” 

“Yeah. I know.”

There’s a beat of silence, then Trevor’s lips are pressing against his chest and he’s whispering, “I still think it’s hot as fuck,” and Philip, despite himself, is smiling. Whatever he sees in other timelines, and whatever else happens, he’s glad he exists here and now. He’s glad he woke up, and he’s glad he’ll wake up tomorrow — and this time it won’t be to an illusion.

Note: guys I'll be real for a sec I have no idea if this is any good. It feels ok right up until butt stuff gets involved so maybe this is a sign that gay porn specifically isn't my calling and I should just stick to YN shit (which is so sad cause I wanna write destiel smut and I wanna write more about these two silly little dudes). I wrote this originally where Philip just sucked Trevor off and they called it a day but it just genuinely did not feel right and it would not leave me alone and it just kept playing out in my head (something) like this so I wrote it and I'm not feeling the itch anymore but what I am feeling is really unsure. Any feedback at all would be so so appreciated (I feel like that ant with the bindle)

[heliosthegriffin]

Shadow Knight and Magical Girls XXII

A03 Link

Chapter 22

There was an aura of malaise across the Museum, and It spread relentlessly that afternoon, becoming heavier and more infectious by the minute. Moving around the building like an oozing river of filth, its odorous presence repulsing anyone and everyone that was in the building. Well, most everyone, anyway.

The overwhelming majority of the visitors of the Museum, though, were hit by an invasive feeling of tightness in the chest with a sense of incredible tension hanging over them, as if some disaster was patiently waiting behind the curtain to play its role. The vast majority couldn’t take the feeling, leaving the historical site en masse. The moment they stepped through the door, they were struck by a feeling of immediate relief, like having some long term debt finally be paid off.

Most were all too happy to forget such a feeling existed. With only a minority of a minority that were overtaken with curiosity, wondering, speculating, guessing what could possibly throw that many people into a flight on such a nice evening? They stared at the building, still basking in relief, however none dared even think about stepping back inside.

Not one among them possessed the bravery to find out the answer. 

----

Security couldn’t believe what their eyes were seeing, as an orange-haired man made a mad tear through the building. Going from victim to victim, leaving what could only be called monsters in his wake. A gut-deep feeling of dread rose the longer they watched, as they saw him move like something out of fantasy. This was not something they were prepared for, or were willing to risk their lives to face.

An attempt was made to call law enforcement, as several of them exchanged glances until one of them finally stepped up, dialing up the police. They are the ones that should handle this, right?

The call opened up, as a younger security officer made the call, finally spoke. “Hello, Vale’s Emergency Services, what is your situation?”

Holding his phone with shaky, numb hands, the guard had trouble getting the words out of his mouth. “Hello? Is there anyone there?”

“...Yeah.” The guard said after what felt like days. “W-we, I work at the Museum, a security guard, and we have a situation.” He finally managed to stumble the words over his lips.

“I see which Museum, Sir?’

“It’s the Historical One, the one that has all the old weapons, armor, and relics.”

“That one, ok. What is the nature of the emergency?”

The young guard looked at the screen, watching that man with orange hair tear people apart with his bare-hands, a sense of dread sank into his stomach. The feeling was so intense that it made him want to fall to the floor and ball up like a frightened child. He hadn’t felt like that sense saw his childhood puppy get hit by a car right in front of him.

He didn’t realize he had been stuck staring at the screen, until one of the other guards shook him. The lady on the other end didn't stop trying to communicate with him.

“Sir?”

“Sorry.” The words that he said weren’t sincere, he didn’t want to be here anymore. He wanted to flee. “There’s a man here killing people like animals, and he did something to their bodies…” On another screen, two lanky things were mauling people, splattering blood and limbs everywhere. “They're getting back up and killing people.”

He didn’t stop paying attention this time, the operator stopped trying to talk to him for a full five seconds. “Are you sure? You’re not under the effects of any illegal substances are you?” He looked around at the other guards. “Even if I was, I don’t don’t have enough for everyone here to be imagining the same thing.”

“I see, is this armed assault?” There was a plea in her voice.

“Only if you count him killing people with his arms.”

He heard a crack in her voice. “How many would you estimate-”

“Is this really the time?!” The young guard broke. “Just send the fucking cops already! People are getting killed! This isn’t something that we can handle, so fucking- ” He stopped when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

“Sir, how many?”

“I don’t know, at least twenty? Probably more.”

“When did the attack start?”

“Ten minutes ago, maybe? I don’t know, he just appeared and started killing people, we’d have to rewind the footage to know for sure.”

“Don’t touch the footage.” The operator warned. “I’m going to send you to a different line now. For what it’s worth, I wish you all well.”

“Thanks-”

“Here’s what you're going to do.” A strong, deep voice spoke to him. “You’re going to shut down any cameras that are recording, you're going to patch me into the Curator, then you’re going to walk out the nearest exit, and forget everything you saw.”

“What?”

“Do I need to repeat myself?” He asked calmly.

“No, it’s just-”

“Do as I say, and you get to walk out of here without any trouble, try and do anything funny, and I’ll make sure you never have a moment of peace again, Xavier.”

Xavier, the young guard, froze. “How-”

“There’s only so many security aids at the Museum under thirty, Xavier, and on shift, it wasn’t hard to figure out.” The man on the other end breathed out slowly. “Now, I don’t want to do that, but I will if you make things harder than they have to be. So, call your boss, tell him to pick up the fucking Scroll, and then you can go home, alright? We can even make sure you get paid for the whole week, and at double time, considering what’s about to go down. Sounds good?”

“...Yeah,” Xavier swallowed. “I’ll do what you say.”

“Good man.” Then the call ended, and then Xavier called the Curator. “Mr. Stone, you need to pick up, it’s from -”

“I know. Just, go home, son.” The call ended. Xavier watched as his co-worker filed out like a demon was chasing them. Soon, it was only him left in the office, the rest having left him to shut down the cameras.

His fingers fidgeted as took a step towards the cameras, watching as two young men were being closed in on by those monsters. Xavier stared for a moment, watching with disbelief, as a flame of rebelliousness rose up inside of him.

----

A call over the intercom would help sooth the visitors as they left, offering an explanation to soothe their minds. 

‘Attention visitors, a Gas-Leaks has been identified in several points in the building. Please, in a calm and orderly manner, find the nearest exit and leave. If you hold onto the receipts for your tickets, we will refund your entrance fee at a later date.’ The sound that came over the intercom was the voice of a pleasant, artificially polite young woman. ‘If you feel dizzy, light-headed, nauseous, or the symptoms of a panic-attack, please seek medical attention. If you cannot seek medical attention on your own, please wait in the courtyard, the City of Vale has been alerted to the situation, and medical experts are on their way.’ 

That was the explanation. Anything that seemed weird was just the gas playing tricks on the senses. The Gas was the reason for the disquiet, their instincts warning them about the toxic air. Everything was fine, and this would all be sorted out in due time. No, there was nothing wrong with the Museum; they were leaving due to a gas leak. 

Those people that were moving oddly, watching them as they left, those were just people that needed medical attention. The attack that had happened? Probably just a man having a violent-outburst as a side-effect from inhaling the Gas. Anything else was hysteria!

Those who left made sure to remind anyone who brought this up, that they were misremembering, and needed to move on. It was just an unfortunate incident that no one was prepared for.

 It was easier to forget than to change.

-----

 Attack!

Trained reflexes spoke before conscious thoughts could. Ren unconsciously catches something out of the corner of his eyes, as a shadow moves, clawing towards his head. It was only just slightly lighter than the shadows around it, so seeing it move was jarring enough to draw attention.

No words came to Ren’s mind, as his body acted ahead of his thoughts. There was no time to make a plan, or strategy, as they were attacked. He was numb to the world and himself, as a group of strangers suddenly set upon them. Something drawled out across the loud-speaker, it sounded alien, as Ren fell into the motions of combat.

A long, dark arm swept at his face in a wild, but unsubtle swing. Ren stepped back, it seemed to crawl across the inches over his skin, feeling the wind rush across his face from the force, and allowing him a detailed look at the heavy claws that almost rent his skull in two. Five claws of differing lengths and widths, covered with what looks like black-colored plaster. He had enough time to realize they weren’t very sharp, and if they hit him, they wouldn’t cut, they’d rip into like dull meat hooks. Painfully.

It had come at him from the left. He stepped back in, turning to face his attacker; they had yet to recover from missing the swing, allowing him to snake a jab through a non-existent guard across their jaw.

It landed solidly, and despite Ren’s fists being well-conditioned from his long training, it hurt.  It felt like he had struck concrete instead of flesh, and his opponent didn’t seem affected despite hitting them dead-on in the jaw, it should have knocked them out cold. He could see them turning to swipe at him again, and Ren snuck another jab in on the head, and followed up with a cross, the first hit knocking the head back, and the last knocking it off balance.

Ren snuck his leg behind his opponents, then pushed with a palm strike to its off balance torso, sending it tumbling down onto the ground. Where it writhed, trying to get itself off the floor, allowing him a chance to see what he was fighting, and it came with the grim realization that he was not fighting a person. There was no way it could be.

It was like someone had been molded out of black clay, and given a pair of beady, red eyes. It’s arms nearly dragged across the floor, and it’s legs looked almost short by comparison. Its head seemed swollen and round, like a snowman made of black earth. Small pieces of white bone seemed to appear at random across it’s sinister body.

With that good look, it was clear that he hadn’t done any damage to it, or not at least to a meaningful degree. It was rising back up, slowly getting it’s limbs under it. Ren fought back his disgust watching it. He needed to finish this.

Looking inward, he found his center, and let it flow out through his core. Stepping forward, he made a motion that defied human limits for a brief instant, as he kicked low at the head of the creature. There was a brief pink flash of light as the arch of his left foot caught it across the center of its head, there was a slight amount of resistance, and then there was none. Only a disturbing glob of red and black matter across the wall behind the creature.

He stood there staring at the scene, as his awareness expanded outward as the focus of combat evaporated. What in the world was that? What had just happened? He looked down at the steaming black matter beneath him. Ren was struck with a sense of dread and dis-ease at the sight. Confusion followed as his thoughts fell into chaos, trying to make sense of what just happened.

The sound of a body falling to the ground behind him stirred his mind back into action, ‘Jaune!’ What if he was being attacked too? He wasn’t going to leave his friend to fend for himself! Turning around, he moved to intercept anything coming towards the blonde, only to have to stop himself.

Ren stared at the sight of his friend, standing over two of those things, their bodies brutalized beyond identification, breathing steadily, calmly, holding one of things by the head and a stanchion in the other. He let the last one drop to the floor, before clubbing it into a pile of black mush.

Jaune looked at him, meeting his eyes, and Ren took a step back unconsciously. His eyes were empty and entirely focused on him, his face blank, cold even, as if this was nothing of note to him. His body told a different story, as it seemed ready to spring into motion at any second, like he was about to strike at any moment. 

Then light came back to his eyes. “Behind you!” Ren sidestepped, just in time to avoid what would have been a killing blow, as a clawed hand swept past him. He peered out of the corner of his right eye, seeing a new one of those things appear. He slid behind it, and kicked it forward, sending it stumbling towards Jaune, who swung down with Stanucion on its head. Black fluid flying everywhere.

Ren and Jaune stood there for a moment, taking each other's measure. 

“You ok?” Jaune broke the tension.

“Yeah, I think, how about you?”

“I’m good.”

“I didn’t know you had gotten so adept at … handling things.” Ren observed the mess on the ground.

“Yeah, uh, you do pretty good yourself.” Jaune peered around for any more challengers. “I think we’re good for now.”

Ren’s eyes lit up. “We need to find the girls. Now.”

Jaune nodded. “Agreed, let's get going.”

The two took off sprinting down the hall, with the drinks they went to get, now left behind in the mess of battle behind them.

----

“Ah!” Ruby jumped, as a hand reached out from the shadows behind her. With a quick slap that glowed with a silver light, it was sent away back to it’s hissing owner. As Blake stepped out behind her.

Ruby looked at her embarrassed, opening her mouth to apologize, but Blake cut her off. “Not now! Bigger things are at play, and we need to get the other girls together.” Ruby tried to respond, but Blake’s shadows moved faster than sound, as they drew over the both of them. Leaving an empty space where they just were.

A sensation that was like being stretched, shrunk and pulled through a tube the size of an atom hit Ruby all at once. It wasn’t painful, but it was disorienting and uncomfortable. It wasn’t any different from being stuck in a space too small for her, just that it didn’t damage her, or give her time to panic. Judging by the series of yelps and sounds of surprise, she wasn’t the only one, as all of them, aside from Pyrrha and Blake, tumbled onto the floor.

“We have a problem.” Blake led with. 

Weiss scowled up at her, as she rose on shaky legs. “It better be a big one.”

“It doesn’t get much bigger than a General of Grimm.” Blake’s face was set and firm. “I saw him and he had a magical presence unlike anything I’ve met, and he was very clearly controlling some kind of Grimm that he was attaching to people.”

“Oh,” Weiss took a step back, the information hitting her like a sucker-punch. “I should have known the power here would have drawn him in.”

Pyrrha seemed tense, stuck between shame and anger.

“Wait, what was he doing to people?” Ruby asked, eyes wide and alert.

“He was putting masks on people, they were… I’m sorry, but If it didn’t kill them instantly, It did by now.” Blake let that sink in. “We need to stop him from doing it to anyone else, and more importantly, stop him from getting the Power that’s building up here.”

“Why didn’t you stop him?!” Ruby’s words were like a sledgehammer.

Blake subtly looked away from Ruby’s bright silver eyes. “There was nothing I could do, and he had already attached the masks.” She looked towards Pyrrha. “And, considering she couldn’t defeat him on her own, I didn’t want to take any chances.”

“You didn’t even transform!” 

Blake forced her eyes back at Ruby. “I have enough targets on my back as it stands! I’m not going to have another one forced upon me by transforming in public!”

Rubys eyes glowed brighter, but Blake didn’t back down this time. 

Yang, surprisingly, stepped in. “Not the time, girls.” She sighed, fire beginning to engulf her, as the transformation began. “The longer we wait, the bigger lead this Grimm Creep gets to kill people and do what he wants.”

Pyrrha had finished her transformation. “Agreed, we need to stop him swiftly and decisively.”

As the transformation finished in the secluded room, Red stared at Blake. “Before you take us to him, just tell me. Did you see Jaune among them?”

A faint sense of dread fell among Yellow and Crimson, while White and Black looked at her in surprise. “He’s here?”

“Yeah, with Ren at least, so did you see them?”

Black thought carefully. “No, not them, but the longer we wait, the more in danger they will be in. A regular human like him, or Ren? They don’t stand much of a chance against a Grimm General, not even the previous generation allies like Dragonfist, or Harbinger would be able to beat him, much less the Shadow Knight.”

Red looked at her fiercely, eyes glowing like the full moon. “Then get us there, yesterday.” 

----

It was at the intersection of hallways that led to different exhibits that the two highschool boys came upon the next encounter. As several Monsters took turns slamming against a utility closet and making good progress on knocking it open. Everytime one of those things slammed a long arm against the door, the sounds of panic leaked out.

It took Ren several moments to notice that he was running alone, he looked back to see if Jaune had tripped, or been attacked, only to see his longtime friend having charged straight into the pack of those things! What was he thinking?!

Ren had a half-second to process this, conflict boiling up inside him. He couldn’t just leave the girls alone, every second he waited was a second that could get them hurt, or worse. But, he also couldn’t just leave Jaune. He was felt torn in half by two different priorities, internally damning the people who were stuck behind that door, and Jaune too was he was at it!

Cursing under his breath, he dove into the fray. Just as a monster was creeping up behind his friend, Ren called on his center again, sprinting forward, he leaned back and kicked high, aiming at the neck of the monster. A flash of pink light shone across the impact site, a small shock-wave rolling out across its body, as its neck cracked and shattered. It fell down limply.

The fight didn’t last long between the two of them working together, the two of those things lying broken on the ground and not getting back up. Jaune went to knock on the door. Ren grabbed his wrist, breathing deeply. “What just possessed you?”

“What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean!” Ren hissed. “You almost got yourself killed! We need to go and get to Nora and Velvet! We can’t be playing heroes!”

Jaune looked at him with heavy eyes. “And, what if Nora and Velvet are behind that door?”

Ren didn’t have an answer.

“Even if they aren’t, I’m not going to walk past a person in need.” Jaune knocked on the door, as he called out to the utility closet. “You’re safe! If you want to follow someone out of here, you can follow us.” There was a soft conversation from behind the door, as a young couple opened the door meekly.

They stared in awe at the sight before them, and Ren had to admit he was flattered. Still the urge to find Nora and Velvet, to make sure they were ok, was eating him up inside. He flashed a look at Jaune, urging him to get a move on.

Jaune returned a look at him, a very heavy and dutiful one. A message was passed between them. Ren was free to leave, but Jaune wouldn’t abandon anyone he could see was in need of help. Ren wanted to curse him, and run looking for their friends.

If not for the thought of, what if it was Nora behind that door? What if by abandoning these people, he lost Nora in the process, if she was one of them? 

Jaune snapped a quick order to the couple, to grab anything they could use as a weapon in there and quickly, they needed to make a move on. While the couple was searching, Ren turned to Jaune. “And, if it gets you killed, what then?”

“I won’t die, not if someone that I can help is in front of me.”

Ren looked at the blonde, then shook his head. “I swear, you make me want to believe you.”

 A couple seconds later, the couple had returned, the man holding a heavy-duty wrench and the woman a pair of pliers duct-taped to what used to be a broom.

Their pace took a hit, as the couple was unathletic and couldn’t keep up with the sprint that Ren and Jaune had set beforehand. However, they didn’t need to wait long as they heard the sounds of combat and yelling up ahead, one that sent Ren’s heart swelling as he could have recognized it anywhere.

Running faster than he thought he could, they entered the dinosaur exhibit, where Nora stood on top of a t-rex’s skeleton wielding a petrified femur and bashing it across the heads of anything that got too close, while Velvet hid behind her, making a squeaking whenever one of those long-limbed things got too close.

“Yeah! Who wants another of Mama’s Nora’s asskicking special! You or you or you! Or how about you!?” She screamed wildly as they climbed up, only to get knocked down from a series of chaotic headblows.

Wasting no time, the two boys launched into an assault on the gathered monsters. There were seven of them gathered around the skeleton display, trying to climb up and get to the pair of girls. One already almost at the top, which had to deal with Nora clubbing it over the head, over and over, until it fell down.

Jaune went to work grabbing the monsters and throwing them to the ground, with Ren making critical blows that left them, if not dead, crippled enough for the couple to come along and finish them off, with much effort on their part.

When down to the last one there came a scream from above as Nora jumped down holding the femur over head, smashing it into the smooth inky head of the monster, splattering it into uncountable pieces that would leave a forensic scientist incredibly frustrated.

“Nora!” Ren cried out, catching her just after she smashed the monster to pieces, barely keeping himself tripping as he caught her.

“Hello!” Jaune looked up at Velvet who was still stuck up on the T-Rex. “I need help, please!” 

Jaune looked at Nora and Ren, then at Velvet. “I’ll be up in a second.”

“Please do! I don’t have the courage to jump!”

It wasn’t long before he climbed up and to Jaune’s surprised Velvet practically bonded to his arm, shaking. Not that it was much of a problem for him, as he easily carried her down. He noticed that Ren was still carrying Nora, as he got back down.

“Hey, hey Rennie, I’m fine, thanks to you hunky lads!” Not that she didn’t appreciate the closeness, as she pulled him closer. 

Ren didn’t let go for a long moment, he opened his mouth, he couldn’t think of any way to put the whirlwind of thoughts and emotions in mouth and turn them into proper words. He had so many things he wanted to say, but no way to say them.

Nora felt the tension around him, slowly rubbing his back. “It’s fine, I’m fine.” 

Ren squeezed tight, then let go. “Please, keep close.”

Jaune watched the two, a sense of guilt weighing over him, something compounded by the shaking faunus attached to his arm. He should have never agreed to this. All the if’s in the world hitting him, on how this could have been avoided. Like he was suddenly dropped in a pitch-black room with white letters crawling over the walls, spelling out all the ways he could have stopped this.

None of them spelled out what to do now. He was at a loss, and honestly, just wanted a damn break for one day. He looked at Velvet, still holding onto his arm like a raft, completely out of his depth on how to help her. As the Shadow Knight he never really had to worry about helping someone's mental state. It was more, that he killed what was distressing them, and moved on.

“H-how?” Velvet whispered so low that Jaune barely caught it.

“Yes?”

“How are you so calm?” Her eyes darted around the room, her rabbit ears alert and looking for danger. “I feel like my heart is about to implode.” Jaune nodded, he could feel her thudding heart with how tightly she clamped against his left arm.

He smiled dryly. “Am I?” Velvet looked at him in disbelief. “I don't feel that way, it’s just that, if I started going crazy and acting afraid, it wouldn’t help anybody.” 

“You’re afraid?” Velvet asked, disbelief in her every syllable.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Jaune answered tiredly. “My friends, myself, and a bunch of strangers are stuck in a Museum crawling with weird, tall monsters, with who knows what worse things waiting around the corner? It’s natural to feel fear, and I’d be insane to not be afraid, even if it was just the tiniest nugget of fear in the world.”

“D-do you always feel fear?”

Jaune laughed, it was both bitter and sad, but with a hint of pride. “Everyday, Velvet. Not a day goes by without me being afraid.”

“Everyday?”

“Yeah. It’s always something, something to be worried about, and it’s not about me either. I’m not just afraid for myself, but for my friends, my family, and sometimes, complete strangers. I just can’t help myself, fear is my oldest and strongest emotion.”

“How do you live like that? It must be unbearable. You’ve always seemed like one of the strongest people I know, if you live like this, then how does anyone live like this? Is that just what life is, going from one fear to another until you die?” Her ears drooped. “Why live at all then, if it is going to be so miserable?”

Jaune didn’t answer back for a moment, gently, but firmly, grabbing her hand. “I think other people are why. Life might be full of fear and uncertainty, but it’s also full of people, good, bad, and in between. They might make you feel fear, anger, jealousy, and all these other emotions, but at the same time, they fill in the spots of your life that you didn’t know were empty. I think that outweighs the grief lifes brings upon us, simply by having these connections that make life so meaningful. It won’t always be that way, but the fact we can lose it, well doesn’t that just make it worth something? 

“It’s what makes fear valuable too, as you know what you have to lose, it’s necessary evil. It can paralyze at times. Not just physically, but in the head too. But, other times, well, it can make you do things you never knew where possible. Go beyond your limits simply due to fear of losing your life, a friend, or even something simple like your favorite piece of junk, it’s a power all on its own. But, most of all? It’s something that everybody can understand, it’s a universal experience. All it comes down to at the end of the day is the person who’s feeling it,” Blue eyes met brown. “And how they chose to use that emotion.”

Velvet's eyes regained some as light as she stared at him and digested his words. Jaune softened his grip, realizing that he grabbed her in the first place, slowly letting go of her. “That’s how I look at things. It may not be healthy, or rational, but it’s how I live. It’s how I’m going to keep living.” He looked at her, searching her for a response. 

She looked away. “I just need a minute.” Her ears twitched, brown eyes darting to look at him for a moment, then shying away. “Not that you did anything bad! It’s just, I need to reassess my thoughts.

“Okay. Take all the time you need.” He looked at Ren and Nora, with the two of them giving him sly smiles. “Those two are there if you need them, I’m going to make sure that our other two party members are doing ok.”

Nora sped in as soon as he left, with Ren joining him over to the young couple they saved. “So, Nora’s fine?”

“I needn’t have worried. She was having a blast.”

“Just shows how much you care for her.”

Ren smiled. “More than she can imagine. Velvet?”

“I don’t know, she’s not in the best of states.” Jaune bit his lip, thinking of how to put his words. “It’s up to her how she wants to handle this. I’ll do my best to protect her, for whatever that’s worth.”

Ren ran his eyes up and across Jaune’s body, from his feet to his hips to his shoulder then met his eyes. “Enough. More than enough. I’d say.” He paused looking at Jaune’s hands, looking at the calluses. “You’re more than skilled enough to protect a person or two.”

Jaune smiled. “I appreciate that.” He looked up. “It never feels like it’s enough.”

“What does?”

“My skills. Experience. My ability to fight. It never is.” Jaune stopped talking, remembering who he was talking to. “I must have taken a hit to the head. I don’t listen to me.”

Ren gave him a thin smile. “Never stopped me before,” He looked relaxed, but his eyes were alert and discerning. “Though, I think your real problem is, you’ve had too many late nights. Maybe, you need to start living in the daylight?”

Jaune paused, looking at Ren, measuring him and his words. “If it was that easy, I would. Days are short, and nights feel so long.” He looked across the exhibit, there was a trio of standing stones on the other end of the room. For a moment, he thought he saw a shadow move. Ren caught his attention.

“They don’t have to be. Good company can make days long and nights short.”

His eyes drawn back to the standing stones. The shadow was gone. “You’re right about that. If only there were people fit to be out so late.” Jaune looked at Ren in a very meaningful manner.

“Is that so, would that imply you are?”

“I’m still standing aren’t I?”

Ren chuckled. “Barely. But, your point stands.” He sighed. “We’ll continue this at a later date and time, hopefully we'll not be fighting for lives then, too.”

Jaune cracked a broad smile. “That’d be great, wouldn’t it? … and I suppose I don’t have a choice do I?”

“No. You do not.”

“Pardon me.” The two of them turned to face the young couple. They had been talking in front of them for a little bit now. “Have we got a plan to get out of here?” The man asked, holding a heavy wrench in his hand anxiously, his partner/girlfriend/wife(?) was looking at them, hopefully holding a make-shift spear.

Jaune looked at Ren, then back at them. “Yeah, don’t worry.” He didn't have a plan, other than kill everything in a line from A to B till they were out of here, but they didn’t need to know that. “Just follow our lead, and we’ll have us out of here in no time.”

Ren nodded. “Yes, we have already discussed with each other the minute details down to the letter, with back-up plans in place as well. It is already in motion as we speak, and can’t give great details as they will become apparent as we come into them, just know you are already doing your part as you follow Jaune’s order,” Jaune looked at Ren, since when had he been put in charge? “Everything will become clear, and work as intended, as you will understand your roles and importances as irreplaceable assets in Jaune’s plan.” Jaune’s smile wavered. “Over time, you will understand how you slot into the spaces needed to fill the very important roles you two will have, along with any other survivors. Any questions?”

The young couple looked thoroughly lost by Ren’s intentionally vague explanation, but also oddly proud and secure in knowing that someone knew what was going on. The two turned to Jaune with looks of amazement that someone had a plan of action. “N-no, I think we understand. By the way, I guess we should introd-” The young woman tried to speak, but was cut out.

“HEY!” Nora called them over, cutting off the couple mid-introduction. “Velvets got a brainy-plan thing!”

“Nora, please!”

“But, you do! It’s a good one!”

That quickly took precedence over any introductions, as they gathered around Velvet expectantly.

“Look, it’s just a simple idea.” She tapped her foot quickly, not committing to looking at anyone. “We should arm ourselves, I think.” She almost backpedaled, but remained steadfast. “It’s just,” She looked at the couple with the make-shift weapons, Ren’s bare hands, Nora’s club, and Jaune’s stanchion. “I think the Museum won’t mind us using something for its historical purpose, with circumstances as they are.” 

The blonde stared at the faunus, a broad smile on his face. “I like it.” He looked around. “Any opposed to us arming ourselves in the midst of a life or death situation?” No one seemed to. “Alright, let's arm ourselves.”

Quickly the group left, unaware as behind them, sitting on the top of the standing stones and kicking her feet into the air, was a girl with mismatched eyes watching them with amusement. Dropping down and following as the group left the exhibit for anything that would weigh the odds in their favor.

Omake: The Stealth Arc(h)er 

The Shadow Knight looked at his horse, and then on the ticket on its forehead, then back at his ticket. 

“What do you mean he’s not street legal?” He looked at his stallion. “I thought they’d be more concerned about all the horse crap, but I guess not.” The knight scratched his head. “Oh well,” He looked at the boot they put on his horse. “That’s just cruel.”

The stallion snorted. 

“Yeah, I figured you agree.” A few minutes of fiddling later, his horse was free. “Alright, go back home. We’ll figure this out another night.”

He snorted. 

“Of course you’d say that, if you bring any mares back, put a horse-shoe on the stables or something.”

The stallion went over and nudged Shady with its bulky head. “Ok, fine here.” He handed over a sack of apples. “There, go impress some lady horses.”

The equine nudged his head against him again gratefully, then trotted off into the distance. “There goes Buckeye, oh well. He’ll be back.” The Knight looked at his bow and quivers. “Well, I don’t have the time to go and change out equipment, let's make this work on foot.”

Walking into the nearest alleyway, a Grimm seemingly materialized out of the shadows, yet to notice anyone, peacefully existing between bouts of murder.

Also materializing out of the shadows, unnoticed, was the Shadow Knight. Who then crouched, holding his bow in a very awkward manner, fired an arrow that struck true. The Beowolf died instantly, its body rag-dolling across the alley way, despite only barely sinking into the head.

The Knight looked at his bow, then at the still rag-dolling Grimm. “Ok?” He looked at the Grimm whose limbs were stretching out and flying all over the place. He fired another arrow, launching it into the night sky. Where it zoomed past a quintet of magical girls, who flinched as it passed by.

“What was that?!” Yellow cried.

“I don’t know!” Red responded.

Shadow Knight looked at the now long gone Grimm. “Huh, that was easy.” Several dozen red-eyes closed in on him, only for him to crouch and the pack of beasts to be left looking vaguely confused. At least until a storm of arrows hit them, sending them to meet their kin in outer space.

White stared in horror as several black and white meteorites flew towards them. “Oh, Dear Oum-”

[calciumdeficientt]

I know I already asked you for headcanons, but could you do some headcanons with my OC Mary and Gord? 👉👈

This is so perfect!!! I was about to make a post of Mary hcs anyway so I’m going to kind of co-opt this ask to kind of do some solo Mary hcs but dw Gord will be here!

MARY BROWN HCS (FEAT. GORD)

SOLO MARY HCS

Shes the most kindhearted prep, it really shows. She does her best to act cruel and snobbish but she just doesn’t have the heart to do it, she’s so genuinely nice that it kind of rubs off on everyone around her. It’s pretty infectious, even though most of the preps don’t want to be infected. This endless kindness does get her in everyone’s good graces. It sort of acts for a force field, especially on bullies. There’s nothing that a small gift cannot solve, its not TECHNICALLY bribery if you don’t actually want the service the other party is providing, right?

Her interest in drama leads her to join the school’s drama club. She has every right to use her power and influence as a prep to buy her way into lead roles but she thinks its unfair, so she auditions the same way everyone else does. In the drame club, she got to know Trent a little better, he’s usually the leading man, and that energy follows him offstage too. He’s a pretty cool goy once you get past all the borderline torture he puts other students through and a good friend of Mary’s too

Comes from a good, loving family who despite admitting they’re not fully on board with her dreams of being an actress they’re more than willing to pay her way into it. They just want to see their daughter happy, and if she feels more comfortable in front of a camera than she does behind a jeweller’s desk than that’s the way it’s going to be. They moved from Cambridge to Bullworth when Mary was a baby, but she retained the accent because all their house staff moved to America with them. Nannies, maids, chefs. Everyone Mary interacted with in her formative years had a southern English accent.

Cares for Bif after tough fights. They have a good sibling relationship going, so if he’s particularly down or injured, she likes to take him out somewhere for coffee or yknow… to the emergency room. Mary comes to every fight, she makes time specifically to come and watch the fights, she’s not got a great stomach when it comes to violence, she likes to let Bif know he’s supported whenever he fights. Even if he’s just sparring. It’s a real testament to her incomparable niceness. She comes, despite her hatred for fighting, to support her friend.

Started and funded their first Bullworth festival with the help of Miss Phillips, every student can make any film they like (with a few restrictions, no snuff films, no nudity -tasteful or otherwise- and no profanity unless its absolutely VITAL to the plot) they have six weeks to write, film and produce their films and then at the end of that time the films are submitted, screened and a winner is voted for by the student body. The winner receives a shitty plastic Oscar dupe, 20 bucks each and an instant pass on all art and photography classes for the semester. It’s a good morale booster, and almost everyone gets involved. To avoid any clique wars, there is one final rule that Mary introduces… each film cast/crew must contain a member from at least one other clique or the film is disqualified. It makes a difference around the school for like a month before everyone forgets and starts fighting again.

GORD X MARY HCS

Gord and Mary are very much a picture book couple, they’re so happy together. There’s never been a moment that they’ve ever fought, or even frowned at each other. They’re very happy, very healthy and so in love. It’s almost poetic, its the kind of thing any kid dreams about. They assume that they’ll marry their childhood sweetheart and live a good life, usually in a castle. Well for Mary and gord who’ve been playing happy families since they were tots, its their reality. They took a small break through middle school and the start of high school but there’s a very good chance that even during those years, their minds were still on each other.

Shopping dates are an absolute must. Gord prides himself on his fashion taste, so one thing he really likes to do is style outfits for her. They go out and he gets busy creating outfits for her based on what’s seasonal and trendy. Gord really has his finger on the pulse of fashion, a fact he’s really not modest about, so Mary always looks stunning and chic. Not one to miss out on any fashion fun, Gord buys matching outfits when he can, and complimentary outfits when he can’t.

Gord is too sentimental for his own good. He remembers every single milestone possible, and he gets Mary gifts for every one. Wether it’s the day they held hands for the first time, the day they first kissed or the day they both said i love you, a slew of fancy gifts is crammed into her dorm. It’s a little much, but it really proves to her that he cares about her.

Both of them are allergic to flowers, so Gord has to get creative. Her uses anything from his limited crochet skills to dried flowers, if its an important event Gord will usually get some bespoke flowers made. For their 1 year anniversary he commissioned a French artist to make a bouquet of roses out of blown glass and solid gold. They’re absolutely beautiful and as a bonus, he even had a vase made or them.

They have tea dates in Harrington house, an event that requires the rest of the preps to clear off. It’s more intimate than a fancy dinner or a night being paraded around at a gala. They light candles and sit around Harrington house’s smallest dining table to drink real tea, and spill metaphorical tea. If the preps weren’t so worried about hearing something about themselves they’d rather have not known, they probably would linger dunring these dates.

[ddejavvu]

u and James r dating (the dream) but haven’t said the L word yet. ur in bed completely conked out just absolute deep sleep in the middle of the night and say it, james OBVIOUSLY says it back even tho he knows ur literally fuckin unconscious rn but in the morning is like :)) hi bug :)) u um :)) u got anything you wanna tell me :)))) or tries to do lil things/actions for you where you’d end up telling him or smthn

James isn't sure if it's the best thing that's ever happened to him, or the worst. Well, it definitely can't be the worst. There's nothing terrible about the three sweet words that tumble from your sleepy lips, face mashed into his chest as his thumb bends over the screen of his phone. What's terrible about it is the timing, that you say it while you're sleeping.

The grin that grows over his face is so bright that he's surprised it doesn't light up the room. Now, saying it for the first time (to your face, not in the mirror pretending his reflection is yours), his heart soars, he's over the moon, and.. and you're asleep.

You nestle further into his pec, completely unaware of how you'd just singlehandedly created the best moment in James Potter's life. Your breath fans out over his neck as if you hadn't just made his day- no, year. No, century. You've got him set for another hundred years.

He thinks that if he dies here and now, he'll be a happy man. But he chooses sleep instead, sure that his dreams will be filled to the brim with sugary sweetness.

--

He wakes up with a grin on his face. You're not sure how he does it, but when his eyes flutter open they're dancing with joy. They land on you immediately, and you try to pretend you weren't staring.

"Morning, love," He rambles, raspy in the haze of waking up, "How are you?"

"Good," You hum, curling tighter against his chest, "How'd you sleep?"

"Good," He mimics you, then, "I loved it."

"Fantastic," You let out a slight giggle into his chest, befuddled by his drowsy word choice, "I love that you loved it."

"Oh, really?" He drags his arm up your back, hoisting you out of his chest and maneuvering you so that you're nose-to-nose with him, "You love that I loved it? Do you happen to love anything else?"

"James," Your brow furrows, "Did you take expired allergy medicine last night?"

"Not by more than a year," He shakes his head, grin infectious even though yours is plagued with confusion, "I just think that we should love more. Like, we should talk about what we love."

"Right," You laugh cautiously, "I love when you make sense?"

"Of course. I happen to love when my girlfriend talks in her sleep."

Your expression darkens, "What did I tell you?"

"Not where you've hid the body," He assures you, a light eye-roll accompanying his teasing, "But you happened to reveal how much you love a certain man..."

"Oh no."

"Who has curly dark hair," James presses on despite your growing horror.

"James-!"

"And wears glasses," He continues.

"Don't!"

"And is in this bed with you right now!" You're certain if you hadn't been weighing him down on the mattress, he'd have leapt to his feet to point accusatorily at you. Instead, he leers over you, face entirely too bright for the humiliation you feel.

"I'm sorry," You whimper pitifully, face flying like a magnet into his chest to hide your grimace, "I didn't mean to say it this early."

"This early," James marvels, "Darling, early?"

"It's only been a few months!"

"I told you I loved you on our first date, Y/N."

"Yes, James," You huff, pulling back to look him in the eyes, "After I told you I liked Queen. That wasn't real."

"Wha- That was real to me!" James's eyes blow up to the size of saucers, "You mean you didn't know I loved you?"

"I knew," You conclude cheerfully, tracing the line of his jaw, "My good old-fashioned lover boy."

[marvelouspeterparker]

all worth it

pairing: tom holland x interviewer!reader

summary: tom is an actor, doing interviews is a part of his job. but there’s just something about you that makes him feel like the stress that comes with press tours and interviews is all worth it.

warnings: none, just fluff

notes: literally got this idea from looking at an onward interview gif (the one where he recites the lines from back to the future, iykyk) also imagine the pandemic never happened in this jfskgh

so tom loves his job, obviously

he gets to be his number one favorite superhero, make people happy, do what he loves, and more

but that doesn’t mean that there are no downsides to his career

there is actually a lot of stress that comes with being in the limelight and that includes people constantly watching your every move, being critiqued, questioned and put on the spot

and the perfect time for all this to occur? during interviews

now some of the time, interviews are nice, sometimes they’re even fun

but unfortunately a lot of the time, the same questions are asked in each and every one, one after the other, for hours on end and it honestly gets very boring and very draining very fast

so to be quite frank, he wasn’t expecting much when he walked into the next room for his last interview of the day

but when you walked in, he couldn’t help but perk up a bit

you were pretty and you seemed very nice as well, greeting everyone, including the crew as you made your way over to tom, jacob and zendaya

some of the interviewers would just walk straight to their seat and start the questions almost immediately, no warmth in their manners––but you, you were different

you shook each of their hands, smiling wide as you said hello

you couldn’t really contain your enthusiasm, you were a big marvel fan, and a fan of each of them, so you couldn’t tame your smile even if you wanted to

your energy was infectious and tom was more than grateful for it

when you reached him, he looked into your eyes deeply and you had to snap out of your daze before you made a fool of yourself

‘hello darling’ he licked his lips as he looked up at you, a gracious smile on his face and you blinked a couple times before responding

‘hi it’s––so nice to meet you, i’m a big fan.’ you turned to look at the others, ‘of all of you, really.’ 

they all ‘aww’ed and accepted your compliments, thanking you as you took your seat

when you were given the green light to start, you gave a curt nod to the crew behind the cameras and started right away

you were professional and good at your job, making the cast feel welcome and at ease after a long day of work

you told jokes, asked interesting questions that others hadn’t and since you were a marvel fan, you were able to ask specific questions that showed your genuine interest in the comics, the films, the plots and more

tom could feel himself getting more comfortable as the interview went on and the smile never left his face throughout the entire thing

when it ended and they turned the cameras off, you all felt a bit disappointed that you would have to say goodbye so soon, you were all having a good time and genuinely laughing so hard that your cheeks hurt 

you thanked them all for their time and jacob was quick to wave you off

‘no thank you––i think we can all agree that we saved the best for last today.’ he looked to his friends and they nodded along

zendaya chimed in ‘for real, this was fun.’

you smiled, honored that you managed to make their day a little better and tom spoke up quietly, making you turn to look at him

‘yeah this, this was really great. thank you y/n.’

you could feel your cheeks heating up but you nodded, smiling as you tried your best to calm your raging heartbeat ‘my pleasure’

tom would have loved to speak with you more afterwards honestly, but unfortunately as soon as he exited the room, he and his friends were being ushered towards the next location for the day, preparing for the long week they still had ahead of them

though you had hoped to see more of tom, you only had one interview with him, so you wouldn’t be seeing him any time soon

or so you thought, anyway

your boss surprised you with a chance to go to the premiere, and interview some of the cast and other actors on the red carpet of course (since you were there for work)

you honestly thought that if tom did see you, he would only give you a small wave, maybe a slight head nod at best since you’d already interviewed him, but to your surprise, when he saw you, he smiled immediately and made his way over to you, swerving away from his entourage (which consisted of his brothers, assistant, and others you didn’t recognize)

‘hi love, how are you?’ 

his eyes were shining under the bright lights on the carpet and there were hundreds of shouts and conversations going on around you, but he somehow managed to make you focus only on him, from his voice and presence alone

‘good! how are you? you excited? nervous?’

he laughed, tilting his head, ‘both, but you know, i’m really proud of this film and i’m ready for people to see it’

you didn’t have much time to talk since there were plenty of other interviewers, journalists and on top of that he had to take pictures so you wished him good luck and he thanked you genuinely

‘i have to run, but be sure to tell me what you think of the movie afterwards, yeah? i know you’re a marvel fan, wanna see if it lives up to your standards’ he winked and you stuttered for a bit, agreeing as he walked off 

you were shocked that he wanted to hear your opinion, but granted there was a camera on you both, which you might have forgotten about while you were talking

but you couldn’t help but think, was that flirting? does he really want to know what i think?

you tried to push the butterflies down and focus on the film as you watched and honestly, it was easy to forget about everything else once you looked at the screen

the film, the plot, tom––everything was so captivating and entertaining, you couldn’t look away even if you tried

it wasn’t until after the film had ended, and you’d stayed for both end credit scenes that you realized you had no way of contacting tom

surely he would have things to do after this, after parties maybe? so you most likely wouldn’t see him outside

and it’s not like he followed you on instagram––he probably wouldn’t even see your dm if you sent one

as you were on your way out, thinking about all this, you felt a hand tap your shoulder and you turned, a smile on your face

but soon realizing it wasn’t who you’d hoped, you tried to not let the disappointment show on your face but as you looked clearly, you realized the man looked familiar

‘hi’ he smiled, ‘i’m tom’s assistant’ you nodded, greeting him a little confused

‘tom’ he started, pulling a piece of paper out of his pocket, ‘wanted me to give you this’ he handed you the paper and you opened it, feeling your stomach jump when you realized a number was scribbled on it, signed -tom ;)

without even realizing, you stared at the ink on the paper for a few seconds silently before his assistant snapped you out of it

‘he wanted you to know that he’s not a dick and he would have come if he could’

you laughed and looked up at him

‘honestly he felt really bad he couldn’t come himself, trust me.’

you nodded and put the paper in your bag, ‘thank you, i’ll be sure to use this’ you smiled

he smiled too, ‘tom hopes you will’ 

you had a feeling that tom would be busy that night, and probably hungover the next morning, so you waited a couple of days before contacting him

and during those two days, tom was honestly freaking out inside...and outside

were you not interested? was he too forward? did he do something wrong? did you get the wrong idea of him?

he was even texting harrison, jacob and zendaya about it in their group chat

tom: i’m an idiot aren’t i

zendaya: yeah but we already knew that

tom: 😑

harrison: i’m sure she’ll text you, maybe she’s just busy

jacob: yeah man, you’re a total catch

jacob: and anyway if she doesn’t want you, i’ll have you 😏

tom: thanks babe 😘

zendaya: i’m just gonna go––

tom: but anyway, i don’t think i’ll ever shoot my shot ever again because this is just embarrassing

not even a full minute passed before the he send the next text 

tom: nevermind she just texted me

tom almost dropped his phone when he saw the message pop up

maybe: y/n: hi tom! this is y/n :) i’m free to give you my thoughts on the movie when you are

you felt like you were going to be sick when you hit send on the message––you didn’t want to bother him, it’d been several days, what if he changed his mind? 

and you––nevermind he responded immediately

tom: hi darling :) i’m glad you used my number 

tom: i’m free to talk now actually, we could facetime if that’s easier? only if you want, of course

you paused when you read his text, luckily you had showered and gotten dressed today so you didn’t look a mess but you opened the camera just to check if you looked alright

were you really about to facetime tom holland?

when you finished fixing your hair, smoothing down your eyebrows and licking your lips, you swallowed your nerves and replied

y/n: sure, i’d like that

he took a deep breath and hit the call button, eagerly waiting for it to connect when you answered

when you both came into view, you smiled, greeting each other shyly

‘was a little worried when you didn’t call me that night’ he admitted sheepishly

your brows raised, surprised ‘oh i just––i assumed you would have been busy you know, after parties and all that’ you laughed and he joined you, a small smile on his face

‘darling even if you called me during the party, i would have left just to talk to you––missed hearing your voice honestly’ 

when you paused to answer a blush coated his cheeks and you couldn’t help but think how cute he looked

‘sorry was that lame?’ he laughed nervously and you shook your head, biting your lip to suppress your smile

‘no––that was, really sweet actually. i––like talking to you too, it’s really nice’ 

soon you get to talking about the actual movie and you couldn’t stop the praises from flowing

‘honestly it was incredible tom, you were incredible, i loved it’

‘thank you love, i’m really glad you enjoyed it, i was hoping you would.’

and the way that tom smiled bashfully and blushed, even pointing the camera away from his face to hide at one point had you swooning more than ever

after that, you and tom texted here and there, sometimes even facetiming, and he wouldn’t hesitate to compare you to his other interviewers and even tell you about it

‘had an interview today, can’t even compare it to yours, love’ 

you just rolled your eyes, a smile on your face ‘oh shut up, tom’ 

you talk often but due to both of your busy schedules, months go by before you see each other again

you run into him at red carpets for other marvel movies, and there’s never a dull moment between the two of you

‘‘there’s my favorite interviewer’ his smile was wide as he walked up to you. ‘you excited for this one?’

you scoffed, fully having a conversation with tom as though you weren’t on camera ‘of course i am, it looks amazing’

‘even better than my movies?’

you raised your hands in surrender, ‘legally, i can’t answer that’

he put a hand to his chest, acting dramatically offended ‘wow well, i guess it’s time for me to go then’

‘at least save me a seat?’ you joked

‘you know i will’ he smirked

by the time ‘the devil all the time’ press came about, you hadn’t told tom that you were assigned to interview him, honestly it was a last minute schedule change 

honestly, he’d gotten good at hiding his bad moods from the public, but you’d known him for enough time now to be able to see when he wasn’t at his 100%

which is why you could see him visibly brighten up when he walked into the room and saw you

‘what are you doing here?’ he asked, clearly (pleasantly) surprised as he hugged you 

‘uh, my job?’ you joked, ‘you didn’t actually think i only interviewed for the mcu did you?’

he blushed, ‘well i uh––no, obviously not’ he said unconvincingly but you brushed him aside as you got ready for the interview

once you started, tom couldn’t help but smile as he watched you, you were just really good at your job and he enjoyed being with you, even when it was for work

‘so obviously audiences are used to seeing you as peter parker, a rather lighthearted character, despite all the hardships he’s had to face––would you say approaching a character as dark as this was challenging in any way? mentally, emotionally, or just in regards to the fact that the public would be seeing a new, more sinister, villainous side to you?’

‘i mean it was a little daunting, definitely. but i was excited to sort of branch out mentally and challenge myself emotionally for this role––the story was fascinating to me and i was just so proud to be a part of this project, i tried not to think of any downsides.’ 

he paused and licked his lips, a glint in his eyes. ‘and honestly, we all have a little bit of a dark side, don’t we?’ 

you paused. of all times to flirt––

‘well hopefully not to the same extent of your character,’ you joked and thankfully the conversation smoothly transitioned elsewhere

now the fans took notice of your bond with tom

they noticed that tom seemed to smile the brightest and laugh the loudest during your interviews, even jumping into other conversations and answers to questions that were directed to his costars

there were dozens of videos, hundreds of edits––

‘tom falling for his interviewer for 9 minutes straight’

and you’d seen them––it was sort of impossible for you to not

you’d been tagged in so many of them, even your friends sent them to you

i mean you weren’t blind, tom was attractive and he did make your heart flutter but you assumed that he didn’t want a relationship since his career was only progressing, skyrocketing either––it would probably be difficult to maintain a solid relationship, or maybe he just wasn’t interested in you so you said nothing

it wasn’t until he had a break from filming that he asked you to hangout, and still you thought nothing of it, until he asked what time he should pick you up

you paused, and he even thought that you froze when really you were just processing what he said

‘like a––date?’ you asked hesitantly

he smiled, scratching the back of his head nervously, ‘yeah? yeah i––like a date.’

you smiled, ‘i would love to tom. but aren’t you worried about pictures spreading online? headlines and all that? i wouldn’t want to add any more stress––’

‘i promise love,’ he interrupted your worried rant, ‘you make it all worth it.’

[gubler-me-up]

Is that Code? (MGG Request)

Request(s): hey i was wondering if you could do an mgg x interviewer. you can add whatever you want but some ideas i had were like a handjob under the table/desk they’re sitting at and maybe a quickie during commercial break. lots of degrading too. lol thanks :D

hi idk if ur still taking requests but can u pls do a mgg and interviewer one please like theyre just flirting back and forth and it ends in smut PLS IDK HOW TO REQUESTS THESE BUT PLS TELL ME U UNDERSTAND 😅

A/N: Thanks for the first request, @bigjuicygrape​ and thanks to the anon who sent the second request! This seems to be quite a popular request if it had to be requested twice LOL I hope it’s everything you ever wanted from this idea and more! Enjoy le ~interview smut~ 💕

Couple: MGG/Fem!reader

Category: Smut

Content warning: Swearing, degradation, mention of oral sex (male receiving/giving, female receiving/giving), unprotected sex, penetrative sex, hair pulling, handjob

Word count: 2.1k

————-

You were finishing the last touches to your makeup as you waited for Matthew to come on set. Your boss had been delighted by the chemistry you two had during your last interview, so she allowed you to interview him again. She also gave you a nice promotion for being such an outstanding employee, so it was a win-win for you.

The last time you interviewed Matthew, you two had a lot of interesting topics you discussed. Of course the main topic was Criminal Minds and how he felt about the series wrapping up. He was a joy to interview. He had endless energy, exquisite manners and was a natural sweetheart. You didn’t fail to notice how extremely good looking he was in person either.

Your first interview with him was the best interview with a celebrity in your few years of being an entertainment interviewer. The way he talked was magical, you couldn’t take your eyes off of his lips. He had noticed. He had smiled at you and made a joke about how your mind was somewhere else and how he’d like to be there with you.

His wish had come true when after the interview he was eating you out in your dressing room. His tongue running up and down your folds was an indescribable feeling you yearned to feel again. You didn’t leave him unsatisfied as you returned the favour by giving him a blowjob. The feeling of his cum dripping down the back of your throat still lingered in your memory and you wanted it again.

“Gube’s on set,” your cameraman said.

You immediately looked up from your compact mirror to see Matthew walking towards the table you were seated behind. You smiled as you stood up to greet him with a huge hug. He outstretched his arm for you to fall into. You wrapped your arms tightly around him. His arms wrapped around your waist and he made sure you were as close to him as possible.

“Has my dirty interviewer been good?” He whispered into your ear.

“The best,” you whispered back.

He eased up from the hug but didn’t let you go just yet. Without making it obvious to your cameraman, he looked you up and down. You bit your bottom lip as he examined every inch of your body. You knew he was having thoughts of all the things he would do to you right then and there if he could. He then looked back up at you with a smirk.

“Hope your mouth still works,” he said.

You chuckled. If you could you would have dropped to your knees and blew him. You kept your composure though and played off his comment.

“It only works when you’re here.”

“Good to know. Should we get started?”

You nodded your head. He finally let you out of his grip as he followed your lead to the table. You took your seat and he took his seat next to you. You looked over at your cameraman to give him the thumbs up. He nodded and counted down from three with his fingers. When he got down to one he gave you a thumbs up to start.

“As promised we have the eccentric, Matthew Gray Gubler, with us today,” you announced.

“Thank you, thank you. I’m happy to be back here with you and Sean behind the camera. You’re amazing, Sean,” he said as he gave Sean a thumbs up.

Sean smiled and gave him a thumbs up back. You giggled at how cute he was and how infectious his energy could be. You smiled at Sean as you too gave him a thumbs-up.

“My right-hand man,” you said.

Sean chuckled as he waved his hand to stop the compliments from coming. You giggled and focused your attention back on Matthew. He had already focused back on you with wandering eyes following the curve of your body from top to bottom.

“I should probably ask how you’re doing now that Criminal Minds is over? I still can’t believe we won’t be seeing your beautiful face on screen anymore,” you said.

He chuckled. “As long as I get to see your beautiful face, I’m not upset. Wait, if I’m not on the show anymore, does that mean you’re going to boot me from your interview list?” He asked.

You shook your head. “Of course not. If anything we can discuss more about you than the show.”

“That sounds like a good time to me,” he said

You placed your hand on his lap. Not obvious enough for Sean to notice or for the camera to even pick up on it but Matthew was the only one who knew what you were doing. He smirked as he placed his hand on yours.

“I know all about good times,” you said.

“Oh? What’s a good time to you? I want to know if I should join the party or not,” he said as he inched your hand closer to his zipper.

You giggled as you made an over-exaggerated thinking expression as you unbuttoned his pants and slowly undo his zipper. You placed a finger from your free hand on your lips to up your exaggerated look. He chuckled as he watched you put on a show for the camera as your hand was sliding into his underwear.

“A good time for me is a relaxing evening home with a glass of wine and a rom-com playing in the background,” you said.

You pulled out his dick a little to make your strokes easier to perform. He didn’t take his eyes off of you. He just stared at you with lust-filled eyes to avoid any attention being brought to what was going on underneath the table.

“That sounds amazing. I think I’d do the same thing but with a horror movie though. What’s your go-to rom-com?” He asked.

“My Best Friend’s Wedding,” you said.

“I love Julia Roberts. I think Pretty Woman’s my favourite rom-com of hers,” he said.

“I think we should star together in a rom-com one day,” you said as you increased your strokes.

“I think I’d rather make a different kind of movie with you,” he said.

You stopped stroking his dick as soon as he said that. You looked at him wide-eyed as those memories from the last interview came flooding back. You stuffed his dick back in his pants before turning your attention directly to the camera.

“We’ll talk more about movies and future plans with Matthew right after this break,” you said.

Sean looked at you with a raised, questionable eyebrow. He stopped recording regardless. You stood up from your seat before giving Sean a head signal to leave.

“You can grab something quick to eat if you want, Sean. I know you didn’t have lunch today,” you said.

“No need to tell me twice. I’ll be back in a sec,” he said before leaving.

When he walked out the door, you looked over at Matthew who had already gotten up with his zipper and button done up. You pouted as you looked at his crotch. He walked up to you and cupped your face in his hands.

“Are you too horny to continue the interview?” He asked.

“Maybe,” you said.

“It seems as if you’ve become my little slut interviewer,” he said.

“Only if you’ll have me as your little slut interviewer,” you said as you stuck out your tongue.

He pulled your head closer to him so he could lick your tongue before embracing you in a quick nasty kiss. He didn’t waste any time you two had left to mess around before the interview had to start again. He pushed your head away. He grabbed your arm to drag you in front of him before slamming the front of your body onto the table.

“I think we should practice for that movie. What should we name it?” He asked as he pulled up your skirt and moved your underwear to the side.

“Slut interviewer gets fucked,” you said.

“Gets fucked by who?” He said as he ran his fingers down your soaked folds.

“Gets fucked by big cock actor,” you said.

You felt the tip of his dick pressing against your hole. You moaned as you thought about how amazing it would feel to finally have him rail you. You had been fantasizing about the day ever since the last time you two had encountered each other.

“You nasty, nasty whore. You’re going to break code for some dick? How would your boss feel about your actions?” He asked.

“I don’t care. I just want you to fuck me,” you said.

He grabbed your hair and forced your head to look up. “Say that into the camera.”

“I want to get fucked,” you repeated.

“Move back on it if you’re a real whore for dick,” he said.

You didn’t hesitate to move back and engulf his dick inch by inch into you. Your mouth gaped open as you felt just how big he was. You made it all the way back so your ass was touching his abdomen.

“You are a whore for dick. Are you a cum whore as well?” He asked.

“Yes,” you whimpered.

“I love a good, filthy cum whore,” he said as he took it upon himself to ram himself into you.

You let out a loud gasp before biting your lip. Your legs could barely keep still as his dick went in and out of you with steady speed. All this time you thought his dick belonged in your mouth when in fact it belonged in you. Every single inch belonged in you.

“You’re…you’re so…big,” you moaned.

“The slut interviewer can’t handle my dick, huh? That’s not what I want to hear. I want to hear how you want to be my cum whore,” he said.

“I want to be your cum whore,” you said.

“Well, act like it. Tell me you’re a dirty slut,” he demanded.

“I’m a dirty slut,” you said.

He increased his speed when you said that. You gasped as you tried to balance yourself by stabilizing your hands on the table. You couldn’t stop your legs from shaking any longer and let them wobble under the feeling of him railing you.

“Tell me you’re a cum whore who loves to get creampied,” he said.

“I’m a cum whore who loves to get creampied,” you said.

“Keep repeating that until I cum. If you stop, you don’t get anything, whore,” he said.

You did exactly what he said and continued to repeat what he wanted to hear. You tried to say it as softly as possible but every time he rammed his dick into you it was as if your voice was going up an octave with every stroke. It didn’t seem as if he cared though. It was what he wanted to hear after all, so why would he want to stop you?

You must have done a good job in obeying his every word because he came in you and you heard a sound of satisfaction leave his mouth. You too let out a satisfied sigh as he pulled out of you. You felt him open up your folds to probably admire his cum dripping out of you.

“You make a good cum whore, Y/N. I knew you could take it from the first time I met you,” he said as he pulled down your skirt.

“You should have known from the last time I swallowed your cum,” you said as you turned around to look at him.

He smirked as he zipped up his pants. “I should have. Maybe we can make that movie after all.”

You chuckled. “Tell me where and when and I’ll be there.”

“I’ll definitely let you know.”

You both laughed as you both took your respective seats to find your composures again before the interview restarted. Sean walked in not too long after you two had taken your seats. He gave you two a thumbs up and you both gave him two thumbs up back. He counted you down from three and then gave you the thumbs up.

You smiled. “Welcome back to our interview with Matthew Gray Gubler from Criminal Minds. During the break, I convinced him we should do more interviews more often and I think he agrees we should.”

He nodded his head. “I love being interviewed with my slu…My slumber party partner in crime, Y/N.”

You giggled. “Yeah, exactly that.”

—–

Tagged: @shadyladyperfection, @slutforthegubes, @pinkdiamond1016, @spencerreidsthings, @itsmyblogandillreblogifiwantto, @slutforsr @bxtchboy69, @fallinallinmendes @haihappen5 @mgg-theprettiestboy @siltuz-png @ptrs-prkrs @tclaerh @agentadhd @alexmarie29 @closetedreidstan @mac99martin @blxckhearthood @jesspavlik0vsky @katexrichardson @keniaasf @reidbuck @corishirogane3 @thegoddamncrazycatlady @keniaasf @pastelbabygirl19 @shadybagelsludgecolor @bootycrackraisinjuice @vintagebeauty1496 

MASTERLIST

[t-o-m-hollands]

Summary: It’s the late summer of 2004. You are set to travel across the country for university and your best friend Tom is staying behind. You spend your last night together before you leave. 

Themes: Friends to lovers, love confessions, first love. 

Warnings: Drinking beer. One mention of smoking weed. Mentions of parents fighting and also implied neglectful parents. Smut (+18), two spanks?? otherwise pretty tame.  

Word count: 3,4 k

Notes: I don’t know, this might be a bit different? Or it might just feel that way to me. It’s very reminiscent of teenage years and first love and nostalgia. Please let me know your thoughts, I’m genuinely not sure what to think about this one. 

Massive thank you to @augustholland​ who read through it and very kindly reassured me that it wasn’t bad 💖

Also, this fic was inspired by the Phoebe Bridgers song. I’ve never actually listened to it but it keeps showing up in my recommendation and i like the title of it so this is what i imagine that song is about. Mostly I listened to Harry Styles - Fine Line while writing this.

You finish up early that afternoon. Wayne, your old boss, tries not to cry as he hugs you goodbye. He tells you to take care in a gravelly voice close to breaking, as he avoids looking at you. It’s your last shift in the greasy bar, where for the last two years you’ve been selling cheap beer and watered down whiskey to weary old men and rowdy students who come in for a game of pool. It hasn’t paid much, just a few pounds an hour; just enough so that on each thursday you and Tom have enough money for movie tickets at the local cinema. It’s your tradition. Like a religious man goes to church each sunday; you spend your thursday nights with Tom’s arm slung around your shoulders, watching whatever new film they have on, sharing a bowl of popcorn between you. Afterwards you'll have burgers at the fast food joint across the street; talking about the movie long into the night, sharing a bag of fries. 

When you were younger and hadn’t been able to afford to pay Tom had sneaked you both into the cinema anyway.  Your hand in his, he had led the way into the movie theatre when no one was looking. Sitting in the back row he’d sneak you Fruit Polos to snack on, his arm slung around your shoulders, as you watched movies you were way too young for.

Last week was your final movie screening; some light-hearted American comedy, and the entire way through it you fought the lump in your throat, forcing yourself not to cry. Tom hadn’t laughed either; had just held you closer than usual. 

Tomorrow you are set to leave the small seaside town behind you, the place where you have spent most of your life, for a drive all across the country; to start university in a city you’ve only visited once before. You’re not sure when you’ll return.

Thus lately everything has been laced with goodbyes; childhood having reached its end.

Just two days ago there had been the last bonfire where you had watched the Holland boys fight each other while playing football as his parents looked on and laughed, grilling sausages over the open fire. 

It was on the same rocky beach where you have spent many summer days; grilling food on the open fire and throwing back cheap beer with your friends from school. You have scraped your knees on these rocks, burned your skin from both the bonfire and the sun there; have had your heart broken over and over and over again during your school years as you watched Tom kiss whatever girl he was dating at the time by the fire during summer night parties.

Maybe you had broken his heart a few times as well. 

As the afternoon light turns everything golden you drive through the main street in the small town where  everyone knows everybody, and has done for generations. You watch the people as you drive them by. You know everyone’s name, know each crack in the pavement; can find your way home in the dark. 

God knows how many shoes you’ve worn out over the years walking down these streets. 

The radio plays a blink-182 song you know by heart as you follow the road out of the city, through the woods and up to the coast. At the end of a muddy track, on the border to the forest, stands a shabby old caravan. It faces the beach and above the door christmas lights are lit up all year round. 

The Holland family legend says that Tom’s great uncle had won the small patch of land in a bet. Unable to build a large house he had bought a caravan and put it on the lot. The old man had lived in the Shed for the rest of his lifetime, before passing it on to Tom; the youngster of the family, his younger brothers having yet to be born. When he had turned seventeen he moved out of his parents larger, more comfortable house, and into the Shed. His mother had agreed on it on the condition he took on the apprenticeship to become a carpenter that he had been offered. 

You remember when he had told you of his decided future, one late evening as you sat on the driftwood by the beach, smoking weed and watching the sun set over the horizon. It had felt right somehow, you had been able to  imagine him working with his hands, skillfully forming and bending wood to his will; his long and slender fingers knowing just how to fix things. Tom has always been good at mending things. It had been three years now and he was a full time employee at the JBT Carpentry Services. He says it doesn’t pay much, but he’s happy; and that's all that matters.

As you park the car outside the Shed Tom comes out. Standing under the colorful christmas lights he grins widely as he sees you, his eyes crinkling at the sides. The most genuine smile you know. He’s tanned from a summer spent on the beach, his hair a wavy mess; as if he’d just woken up from sleep. It’s a warm august day and the world seems sunbleached somehow; but in the afternoon light Tom looks golden. 

You are painfully aware that it is the last time you’ll see him like this for many months to come.

Walking up to him and he gives you a bear-hug; his warm, hard body pressed against yours, holding onto you tightly. With your face in the crook of his neck you breathe him in and discover that a faint trace of bonfire smoke still lingers on his skin. It all feels achingly familiar and safe. So heartrendingly unlike the uncertain life at university that lies in front of you.

Tom is your safe place.

Your parents had always fought like cat and dog and sometimes when you were younger and  they’d argue you’d climb through your window and walk all the way over to the Holland household. You were always welcomed there and his parents didn’t ask any questions, no matter how late the hour; instead they fed you, treating you like a member of the family around the dining table with gentle teasing and reminders of homework that needed to be done, letting you sleep over when needed. No questions asked. 

With the years the fighting at home got worse. When Tom fixed himself a beat-up old Land Rover and moved out to the Shed you’d call him from the payphone down the road. He’d always answer, telling you to pack up; and that he was on his way. He’d pick you up by the end of the street, a duffle bag with schoolbooks and a change of clothes slung over your shoulder. He’d take you back to his place to sleep. His caravan only had one bed, so you used to curl up next to each other in bed. On the nights when you were crying he’d hold you, and in the morning he’d make you breakfast before you both went off to school. 

Your parents never noticed your temporary absence. 

Tom lets go of the hug, but with an arm around your waist he leads you into his home. There’s a lingering scent of fried food in the air and the boombox is playing the 3 Doors down CD he’s been obsessed with since you bought it for his birthday. You tread the cherry wood veneered flooring with your battered tennis shoes, feeling more at home here than anywhere else on earth.

 “Fancy a beer?” Tom asks, leading the way to the kitchen area. “Warn you though, it's warm. Just got back from the store so they haven’t had time to cool”.

Everything is warm today, and the caravan is no exception. The ancient AC had given in years ago and Tom could never afford having it fixed. You heave yourself up on the countertop, replying a simple “sure” to his question. 

He opens a Stella and hands it to you. He isn’t wrong, the beer is tepid. Yet you drown half the bottle in one big swig; happy just to have something to do with your hands when he’s standing so close to you. Gulping down on the liquid and you cannot help but notice Tom’s eyes on your throat as you swallow. He opens a bottle for himself and takes a swig. 

You smile at the ancient gray t-shirt he’s wearing. At one point there had been a band logo on it, but it has long since been washed out. He notices you smiling at him and as if it's infectious a smile broadens on his face as well. “What?” he asks, leaning against the small counter across from you.

“Nothing” you say, smiling wider. “Just wondered how many times I’ve seen you in that shirt. I mean, it has to be near a couple of thousand times by now”.

“You don't exactly love buying new clothes either” he says, a teasing smile playing at his lips as he looks at your washed out jeans shorts. “I know for a fact that those aren’t new, darling”. His eyes linger on your legs for a moment too long before he looks away, taking a swig from his beer. 

“So, when are you leaving?” He asks, and you can tell that he’s trying to sound relaxed, but leaned against the countertop, his arms crossed in front of him, head bowed; holding onto the bottle of Stella he’s nursing with a tight grip. He looks tense and on edge. 

“Tomorrow morning”

He takes a swig from his beer. There’s nothing more to say, not really. Everything that happens now is just aftermath; you might as well have already left. 

“I’m nervous” you admit, biting your lip, trying hard not to et out the tears you’ve been holding in for days now; embarrassed that your voice trembles on the last word. 

His head snaps up to look at you. Pushing off the counter he takes a step forward, placing himself in between your legs. 

“Hey” he says, with a voice a low and gentle as a whisper, his hand cupping your cheek. You look up at him; long dark eyelashes framing his beautiful brown eyes, his thin lips slightly parted and across his nose freckles are spread out, the result from a summer spent in the sun. His calloused hand strokes your cheek. “You’re going to take them by storm, Pebbles”.

You smile, despite your fluttering heart. He hasn’t called you Pebbles for a long time. It had been his nickname for you when you first became friends, the reason behind it long forgotten. He was the only one to ever call you it, and the name had lingered long into your late teenage years. 

“You took me by storm,” he admits. 

You blink up at him through wet eyelashes. Your family had moved to the town when you were ten years old. This was the kind of small town that strangers seldom came to and inhabitants rarely left; and so the new addition to the small local school had everyone talking. You had felt like an astronaut shuffled into space on your first day, trying to find gravity in the unfamiliar school corridors. You had felt the pull of gravity in form of the brown-eyed boy sitting next to you in english class. He had given you a warm smile as you sat down next to him. He had made you his friend, listened to you and confided in you; had made you laugh until your stomach ached. You found further gravity in his home; surrounded by his family and their endless squabbles and laughter, sitting next to Tom at the dinner table.

It hadn’t taken long before you and Tom were an inseparable item; your names always linked to one another in the mouths of others. 

“You’ve worked so hard for this scholarship” he says, and the corners of his mouth tugs up into a smile, “I mean, I’m pretty certain you’re the only reason I even finished school”.

You had helped him write most of his essays at school. He’d struggled with reading a lot and found the assigned novels difficult. There were evenings where you’d spend hours laying on the bed; twisting the phone cord between your fingers, as you read the books out loud for him. 

Sometimes, in order to be left alone from his parents and younger brothers, he’d walk down to the end of the street and to the payphone there, where he’d spend all his pennies listening to you reading. You had talked and talked until your voice got hoarse; until he ran out of pennies. Yet when he hung up you always felt a tug of longing in your chest, knowing you wouldn’t be able to see him until the next day in school. 

“Well,  I heard you’re doing pretty good as a carpenter” you say, smiling up at him. “I always knew you’d be good with your hands”. 

As soon as you’ve said it you can feel your face heat up. You had heard the rumours at school; Tom Holland is a stellar fuck. Once, while you were in the bathroom stall, you had heard a gang of girls discuss it as they reapplied their lipgloss in the mirror. One of them told the story of her one night stand with Tom, how he had made her come several times over with his hands and mouth; how he’d fucked her so long and so good. You had stood in the stall, your heart in your throat; feeling sick to your stomach, but unable to stop listening.

There were girls that reached out to you in school, knowing you were Tom’s closest friend, and asked you in hushed but awed voices if it was true. If he really that good in bed.

He looks you dead in the eye, an unusual seriousness to his warm eyes. He knows what you’re thinking, knows what thoughts have made your cheeks flush with colour. Letting go of your cheek he places his arms on either side of you on the counter; caging you in. 

“There’s never been anyone but you, Pebbles. Not really.” His tone is heavy with meaning and you feel light-headed; both oddly detached from your own body and painfully aware of the closeness of his. Your heart is beating hard in your chest. 

This is a line you’ve never crossed before. 

“I know I’m ruining everything by saying this, but you’re leaving tomorrow and I’ve been walking around with this secret lodged in my chest like a bullet since i was ten years old; I love you, Pebbles. I’ve always have”.

You should speak. You should tell him that you’ve known for a long time how he’s felt. That it’s been evident in the way his eyes keep lingering on your legs, in the way his arm usually finds its way to rest around your waist. In the way he’s always been there for you. You should tell him that you understand why he hasn’t been able to voice his feelings for you; because you haven’t done it either. Too scared of losing him. But your breath has caught in your throat and all you can focus on is those caramel eyes on you, and how hard your heart is beating in your chest.

“I love you too” you say, voice hardly louder than a whisper. You swear there was music coming from the boom box but all you can hear is the blood rushing through your body. 

He kisses you.

He takes your mouth slowly, kissing you thoroughly until you can’t think straight; can’t remember any other kiss than his. Then his lips move over yours with more fervour; more urgency, one hand around your throat and the other tangled in your hair. He kisses you until you're both moaning and gasping for more. 

This is it. You’ve crossed the invisible line between friends and lovers; and there is no return, no going back from here. When you leave tomorrow you will leave knowing what his mouth feels like pressed against your.

You dig your hands into his soft hair, runs them both up his chest, realising that this is what your hands were made for. He lifts you off the counter and you wrap your legs around his waist. He moves you both across the caravan and into the bedroom. It’s baking hot in there and you can already feel sweat forming at the low end of your back. The room, just big enough for a bed to fit, is lit up with sunlight. His bed is a mess of rumpled white sheets and the walls are the same cherry wood colour as the rest of the caravan. 

You kiss and lick his jaw, his neck, his throat; anywhere you can reach you stroke him. You tug at his hair, kiss his soft lips, and nib at his ear. It’s like the gates have been opened, because even though his arm has always been a comforting presence around your waist; and even though you’ve slept in the same bed more times than you can count, his body curled up next to yours, forming himself like a question mark around your body; he’s never been yours to touch before. Not like this.

His breathing is accelerated, his chest rising and falling in rapid speed, and so is yours. There’s a heat to his eyes that tells you he’s just as turned on as you are. You pull at his shirt before he’s even laid you down on the bed; impatiently craving all his warm, suntanned skin pressed against yours. It’s an almost feverish frenzy, and in the back of your mind you know that you should take this slow. You don’t want this to end too soon, because this might be all you get. But the sun hasn’t even set yet and through the old white-washed curtains you helped put up and light shines through, bathing you both sunshine. 

Outside the waves keep crashing against the shore and in the kitchen his boombox keeps playing songs you’ve heard a million times before. It is like it always has been at Tom’s, except that for laying on his sofa and talking he’s removing your clothes; kissing his way down your body. Wet, opened mouth kisses that leave a trail of heat in its wake that have you bucking your hips up for more. His hands are everywhere, exploring your legs. He’s looking at your skin with wide-eyes adoration. With his body in between your wide spread legs he kisses the soft inside of your thighs. 

“So soft” he groans against your skin, “and so sweet”.

You feel overheated and breathless; aching all over from wanting him. Perched up on your elbows you observe him; his dark hair brushing against the low of your stomach as he kisses the tender skin of your hip bone. He bares his teeth and bites the sensitive flesh. 

His hand cups your cunt. You’re wet and aching and as you presses his thumb to your clit, gently but steadily moving up and down, you feel like you’re going to combust. His strokes are soft at first, before speeding up, making you moan wantonly, spreading your legs wider for him.

“Glad you like that,” he says, a satisfied smile spreading on his face. “Do my fingers feel good on you, darling?”

All you can do is moan in response, arching and moving your hips up to meet his hand. His movements are fast and slippery and it doesn’t take long until your close, so close, so close; on the brink of tipping over and then - 

A sharp slap on your pussy, leaving a stinging bite, and it is like the world splits into two. 

“God” you moan, voice hoarse. You’re shuddering all over; moanes falling freely from your lips. 

He looks up at you from his position in between your legs, his dark eyes sparkling. He kisses the soft inside of your thighs again. “You have any idea how long I’ve wanted to kiss you here?” he asks. “I bet you do, torturing me for fun in those short jeans shorts”. He spanks your pussy again and you couldn’t have stopped the moan falling from your lips even if you tried. “How long I’ve wanted to taste you here?”. And he places a hot kiss on your wet slit. You can feel his soft hair pressed against your thighs; his warm breath against your skin.

His lips part and he covers you with his mouth, his tongue moving over your opening; touching you, stroking you, tasting you. A guttural moan leaves him. He looks up at you through tassels of hair, caramel eyes glued to your face.

You fall back against the mattress, “more” you demand, in a voice that sounds a lot like begging. “Please, more”.

It is as if he’s been unleashed. You have never felt anything like it, but he laps you up, tastes you; his fingers moving inside you; pressing against the place that has you seeing stars. You can’t even look at him now, you’re eyes shut; too overwhelmed by the stimulation. Both aching for more but not sure if your body can handle that kind of pleasure. Your thighs are shaking, and something in your stomach grows tighter and tighter by each flick of his tongue against your clit.

“I’m coming” you cry out breathlessly “fuck I’m coming”

And you do. Hard. He keeps kissing and touching you through it; both grounding you and dragging out the intense sensation. 

His hands, now familiar with your thighs, make their way up to the soft swell of your breasts, as you struggle to regain your breath. He’s cupping them in his hands, pinching your nipples in between his fingers, kissing them with ferveor. Hungry hands move over your breasts, your stomach, your face; cupping it so that he can kiss you with the sort of yearning that comes from years of unanswered desire. 

Your hands move over his body as well, moving over his abdomen chest and arms, defined from long hours of hard work. You kiss his throat and collarbones, kissing at the skin; licking, sucking and biting until you hear guttural moans coming from his throat. His lips are slightly parted, and his glossy dark eyes are fixed on your face; his fingers loosely tangled in your hair. 

He presses you down onto the mattress again, until he’s face to face; his arms on each side of your face, holding himself over you.

“You sure?” he asks, voice hoarse, panting slightly. 

“I want this” you answer him, voice low but clear, “I really, really want this Tom”

He smiles, breathing out the breath he’d been holding and moves away from you, reaching for the side of his bed and to take out a condom from the drawer. 

He places a quick kiss to your lips, your cheek, your belly button, before he sits up. He removes his underwear and you can feel your face heat up again. Because this is Tom, your Tom, whom you’ve been in love with for half your life. But being with him, both naked as the day you were born, feels right. You know everything about this man, all his preferences and secrets; his favourite movie and how he likes his food and why he skipped class every day for a month in year nine. And he knows everything about you. It feels right that he should know this as well; know each curve of your body and the way you like to be kissed and what has you moaning and begging for more. 

He unwraps the foil package and puts the condom on with firm fingers. Leaning over you again he lines up against your opening. His eyes glossy with lust, damp hair falling over his face; his mouth swollen and wet from kissing you.

Then with a sharp thrust and a groan he’s inside you. 

All coherent thoughts go out the window as he starts moving in and out of you. The only thing that exists is his strong, sweaty body above you, moving in and out of you with slow, deep thrusts. He’s so hard where you are soft and you can’t stop touching him, dragging your fingers over his back, pulling at his hair, kissing his arms. It’s like the wires in your brain have crossed, sending out sparks of pure pleasure in your body. 

He hits a particularly tender spot inside you and the groan that leaves you is almost animalistic.

Tom nearly halters in his pace, before collecting himself again. “Fuck” he moans out, kissing your neck. His movements become more frenzied and you roll your hips under him, meeting his movements; trying to get him deeper inside you. 

He pushes himself up onto his hands, pulls back slightly; and pushes in. Starting to really fuck you. 

You can’t stop looking up at him; naked body damp with sweat, muscles moving as he works; arms flexed and cheeks flushed. His eyes are closed pleasure now. Your hands are on his hips helping him set the pace as he fucks into you with fast, hard thrusts. Without warning you clutch around him in pleasure and he groans loudly.

“How the fuck does your cunt feel better than it tastes?” he asks, panting for air. “

He presses a hand over your heart, letting it rest there. You wonder if he can feel it pounding for him. You feel like you’re dissolving into a thousand tiny pieces as you come around him with a choked scream. 

He’s so close and you can practically feel it; aching for him to have it. You want him to come; in you, on you, over you. 

And then he does, his brows furrows; like the pleasure is so intense it hurts him. The sounds he makes when he comes are guttural; almost whimpering. 

As he falls down on the bed beside you he pulls you close, has you pressed against his body, an arm firmly wrapped around you. The sun has set now, but the ocean waves still crash onto the shore, the sound of it the only thing to fill the silence part from your laboured breathing; the music having gone quiet in the other room. 

Neither one of you say anything. You knew the end to this when he kissed you. You’ve regretted nothing that has happened here, and you know that he doesn’t either; but tomorrow you are leaving to drive all the way across the country and he cannot follow. You don’t know what will happen now, and he doesn't have the answer to that either. And so you just let him hold you; wishing with all your might that you could stop the morning from coming.

***

Please let me know your thoughts, genuinely don’t know what to make of this one. 

[wayward-dreamer]

A Man of Action

Square/s Filled: Intercrural Sex (Kink Bingo), Director!Jensen (AU Bingo)

AO3 Link: Read Here

Pairing: Director!Jensen x Female!Actor!Reader

Word count: 6,516

Rating: Explicit - 18+!

Summary: While directing his episode of Supernatural, Jensen and Y/N, the female guest star of the week, can’t hide their attraction for each other any longer. A little fun in his trailer is nearly over before it starts, but they find ways to keep each other satisfied.

Created for @spnkinkbingo​, @spnaubingo​

Warnings: Swearing, Dirty talk, Smut: Oral Sex (Male and Female receiving), Intercrural sex, ‘Sir’ kink, Implied protected sex in the future.

A/N: My first Jensen one-shot! *cue nervous laughter*... A HUGE thank you to my sister from another mister, my twin @downanddirtydean​ for being beta on this one! I love her to bits and she really helped me get over my lack of confidence in this one-shot. I hope you guys like it! Happy reading and enjoy! :)

Dividers by @talesmaniac89​

Y/N lightly bopped her head along to the slow melody playing from her earphones, as she flicked the page of the book she was reading. Crossing one leg over the other, she steadied the folding tall chair she was sitting on. Glancing up from her book, she smiled as she looked around at the set, waiting for the signal that they were ready to resume.

Y/N watched the crew, hard at work as they fixed lighting, checked the sound and redressed parts of the bunker. Her eyes scanned over the many people who worked tirelessly to make this show, feeling grateful to be even a small part of it herself.

This was her second time on the Supernatural set. She had guest starred in an episode last season, with Kim Rhodes who played Sheriff Jody Mills. Kim had quickly become a great friend, showing the ropes of the set, as did everyone else. She laughed as she remembered messing up her first scene with the stars of the show, Jared and Jensen, and how they quickly reassured her that she didn’t do anything for them to be mad at. They loved to have a laugh as much as the next person and were more often than not the ones who did most of the messing up of takes on purpose.

The first time was quite civil, but considering this was her second episode, Y/N was no longer off limits from the guys’ antics. Jared in particular was a giant goofball, doing everything perfectly on his coverage, and then purposely being bad on hers. Jensen was a little subdued this time around, as he was the director for this episode, but that didn’t mean they hadn’t had any fun.

There was an attraction between them. She felt it from the moment she laid eyes on him when she walked onto the set the year before. He was incredibly kind and absolutely hilarious, and not to mention insanely good-looking. They had talked and laughed about so many things in those 8 days, and she felt herself beginning to feel things for him she probably shouldn’t have. This time around, he may have been directing, but they still talked a lot. He showed her different parts of the stages during lunch breaks, walked her to lunch every day for the last 7 days, and made her feel so welcomed.

Y/N sensed that maybe the attraction wasn’t one sided as she often caught him looking at her, but she couldn’t be too sure and didn’t want to make a fool of herself in case she was wrong in her assumptions.

Y/N smiled as Frida, one of Supernatural’s assistant make-up artists, approached her. Her make-up bag, as well Jensen and Jared’s, were all hanging off of her as she returned a genuine smile to Y/N. She took out her earphones and closed her book, shifting in her chair to face Frida properly.

“Touch up time, already?” she asked, pushing her hair back slightly.

“Yep, we’ll be good to go in about 5,” Frida replied, taking out a brush and running it lightly through some powder. She applied it to Y/N’s face and then worked a little on the touching up the eye make-up. “Looking forward to it?” she added with a laugh.

Y/N cringed, lightly shaking her head. “Dear god, give me strength to get through it.”

“Get through what?” she heard a familiar voice ask.

Y/N’s eyes flicked up to look at Jared as she sat down in his chair, next to her. “To get through your unrelenting need to ruin my coverage.”

Jared laughed, clapping his hands. “It’s just too easy.”

“I know how Misha feels now,” Y/N laughed, closing her eyes as Frida worked on her eyelids.

Frida laughed along with her, nodding. “And Alex too.”

Trish, the head make-up artist, came up behind Frida and took Jared’s bag, getting him ready for the next scene.

“Pretty sure he’s still scarred from that time everyone was out to get him to crack, even Misha,” Trish added, chuckling.

“We’re up and running in 2!” they heard one of the assistant directors call out.

Frida finished up with Y/N as Trish finished touching up Jared’s make-up, allowing Y/N to get up and walk over to the war room set. She walked past crew members and smiled at them, a quick ‘hey’ to each of them as she did. She loved this set more than any other she had worked on. It was only her second time here, but it felt like home, with everyone always welcoming her back with open arms. She didn’t think she would be back a second time, but she was incredibly glad that she was. She loved her character, Lyla, so much and she was over the moon to explore her again.

Y/N felt the butterflies in her stomach erupt as she spied Jensen, in a deep conversation with Bob Singer as they looked over some of the dailies on the screens in front of them. He looked amazing, dressed as Dean in his black t-shirt and blue jeans, the white and black flannel draped over a chair close by. He was frowning but nodding along as Bob explained something to him, his scowl making him look even hotter if that was possible.

Suddenly, Jensen turned and walked towards her, his frown immediately morphing into a genuine smile as he approached her. She felt her heartbeat pick up, but she tried to calm herself down as she turned to face him.

“Okay, so we’re getting your coverage first, then Jared’s. I know he’s meant to go first, but making him wait tends to make him cooperate,” Jensen informed her, laughing lightly.

“Going easy on me, huh?” she joked, smiling up at him.

“A little, but you’ve handled it pretty well so far,” Jensen said, folding his arms across his chest. That gesture had killed her every time he did in the last several days, and this time was no different.

“Meh,” she shrugged, laughing. “I can throw it back at him if and when I need to.”

Jensen gave her nod, smiling with an approving look. “I won’t even try to stop you.”

She laughed as she shook her head, Jensen’s relaxed laughter joining hers.

She cleared her throat as she calmed herself, looking up at him. “Do I look okay, Mr. Director, sir?”

Jensen looked into her eyes, finding himself getting lost in Y/N’s beautiful features. He certainly wasn’t good at hiding his feelings for her, not the first time he met her and definitely not now. She was stunning, but she was also open and generous, kind and a total badass. He really wanted to ask her out and see where things went between them, but considering they were in their last day of filming, and she was more than likely leaving the next day, he knew he had missed his chance.

“You look great,” he told her, honestly and hoping she’d see how he meant it as more than just a director approving of her look for the episode.

Things moved pretty quickly from there, as Jensen left to sit behind the screens at video village, the cameras turned on and framed Y/N in the shot with the rest of the war room behind her, Jared stood to the side making sure to hit the mark and be in her right eye line. Everyone buzzed around them before José came in with the tail slate and called the take.

“Action!” they heard Jensen call out.

Y/N instantly fell into character, looking at Jared as ‘Sam’ and smiling. “How does Dean feel about this?”

Jared didn’t move considering the camera wasn’t on him, but he delivered the next line. “It took him a while to get used to the idea of Jack, but he got there eventually.”

Y/N nodded, staying in character. “You know what you’re doing, teaching Jack the ropes of this life… that’s amazing.”

Jared scoffed. “It didn’t exactly work though.”

“He’ll come back, Sam. He will. He just has to figure out what’s going on with his powers and he’ll come back to the bunker.” She finished the line but frowned, thinking it over. “Wait, sorry. Is it “come back to the bunker” or something else?”

One of the crew members quickly looked over the sides, and then shook their head. “It’s ‘come back home.’”

“Fuck, okay,” she groaned, annoyed with herself. “Sorry.”

“You’re fine, Y/N. Just take it from the same line,” Jensen reassured her, and she took in the patience in his voice. He was so damn good at this and she felt incredibly safe with him as a director and as an actor. She recalled how many times someone was awful to her just for messing up slightly, and how crappy she felt afterwards. She had never felt that on the Supernatural set, and she was so thankful for that.

“Let’s keep rolling,” Jensen informed everyone. “Y/N, when you’re ready.”

She nodded. Waiting a few seconds, she then continued. “He’ll come back, Sam. He will. He just has to figure out what’s going on with his powers and he’ll come back home.”

“It’s ‘to the bunker’,” Jared said, trying to be serious as he tried to mess her up.

“You’re an ass,” she laughed, shaking her head.

Jared laughed that mad laugh she had actually come to love very quickly, and she joined in. They descended into a fit of giggles, knowing full well it wasn’t that funny, but it somehow got to them anyway.

Jensen watched the screen in front of him, his eyes never leaving Y/N. Her laugh was infectious, and she looked even more beautiful when she did, making his heartbeat wildly in his chest. Knowing he had to break up the laugh fest, regretfully, he stood up from his chair.

“Alright, we’re good on Y/N’s coverage. Let’s move on and then we can break for lunch,” he announced.

The bell sounded as every present crew member hurried around the set, getting set up to shoot Jared’s coverage.

Y/N looked up and saw Jensen glance over at her. He smiled that smile she found herself wanting to see every second of every day, making her feel lightheaded and the butterflies flutter in her stomach again. He truly was a sight to behold and she only hoped that something more came of her time on Supernatural.

They managed to get through Jared’s coverage pretty quickly, Y/N doing off-camera dialogue for him as he had done for her. The bell sounded again, and Jensen called lunch. Everyone walked towards craft services, chatting about different parts of their lives. Jensen was talking with Bob, but after quickly making some decisions, he moved away and walked up to Y/N.

She looked up at Jensen as she felt him next to her, smiling brightly. They walked side by side through the lot, past all the pick-up trucks, SUVs and large trailers that housed the different departments of production. For the last 7 days, this had been a regular occurrence, him walking her to the lunch tent. On the 8th and final day of filming, it was no exception. She could feel the attraction between them, and a part of her hoped that he might ask her out, but she would even settle for a casual hook-up at that point.

“Ah, fuck,” he muttered, as he suddenly stopped short while looking down at his phone. “My phone’s about to die. Mind if we make a quick detour to my trailer so I can charge it up?”

“Lead the way,” she said, smiling as she gestured for him to go ahead. She followed him to his trailer, stepping in behind him.

As he looked around for a charger, she turned to every angle of the trailer, taking it in. It was big and spacious, with a large flat screen and comfortable couch, a bed at the other end and a nice kitchenette, but that was it. There was nothing outlandish and unnecessary in there.

“Nice to know there’s no aquarium in here,” she laughed, folding her arms.

Jensen scoffed a laugh as he shook his head. “Yeah, they really went overboard with that one.”

Finding a charger, he plugged it in and put his phone on charge. He turned to her, arms out as he brought attention to the trailer.

“So, this is it,” he said, his hands coming down and straight into his pockets. “As glamorous as you pictured, right?”

“Oh, much more than I was expecting,” she said, pretending to be serious. They looked at each other and laughed, as she shook her head. “I like it. It certainly doesn’t scream lead of a TV show slash on and off director.”

“What does it scream then?” he asked, looking down at her as she moved closer to him.

“Just a regular guy underneath all that star power,” she replied, her hand coming up and softly grazing his covered bicep.

She looked at him, her eyes never leaving his. It was clear to both of them that there was something between them. The minute she stepped onto set earlier than week, Jensen knew he was done for.

“Can I ask you something?” he wondered, his tongue darting out and licking at his lips, nervously. That little gesture had nearly sent her to her knees so many times that week, and in that moment, she felt like she would if he did it again.

“Shoot,” she told him.

His hand came up and took hers, his fingers intertwining with her delicate ones. “When can I see you again?”

“I don’t know. I’m leaving at noon tomorrow,” she said, moving closer to him and taking in the smell of his cologne.

“I can’t stop thinking about you,” he whispered, his head dropping forward to rest his forehead against hers. “Tell me I’m not fucking insane, and you feel something for me too.”

“You’re not,” she whispered in return, shaking her head against his. “The only thing fucking insane is that we didn’t do anything the minute we met.”

That was the only in Jensen needed. His hands cupped Y/N’s cheeks and pulled her face up, his lips pressing into hers in a rough but sensual kiss. Her hands roamed his chest, fisting his black t-shirt in her hands, trying to bring him in closer. They pulled away for a brief moment, breathing into each other heavily as they tried to catch their breath. They quickly stripped out of the clothes they were wearing, careful not to tug harshly as they were the costumes they’d have to put back on. Cupping her face again, he smirked as he moved them over to the couch.

“On your knees,” he instructed.

She huffed a laugh as she grinned. “Yes, sir.”

He quickly unbuckled his jeans and pulled them down, sitting back on the couch as she moved down to her knees in front of him. She tugged at his boxers and pulled them down, his hard cock springing free. She gasped as she smiled, her hand slowly wrapping around the shaft.

“Put my cock in your mouth, baby,” he demanded, his hand coming up to her hair and wrapping into it, tugging her closer.

She hummed as she moved closer, her tongue licking a stripe up his shaft. “You gonna direct me, sir?”

He groaned as he bit his lip, smirking. “Yeah, and if it’s anything like it is on set, I know you’ll hit your mark.”

She sucked at the tip of his cock, her tongue circling the head before she moved down, taking his length into her mouth. She bobbed her head, her spit coating his cock as she built up a rhythm.

“Fuck,” he growled. “Your mouth’s so fucking perfect, Y/N.”

She looked up at him, taking him deeper into her mouth.

“Hold still, darlin’,” he muttered in his sudden Texas drawl, his hand gathering her hair into his palm, the other cupping her face.

She stilled her movement, as he began thrusting up into her mouth at a fast pace. His cock hit the back of her throat, causing her to moan each time it did.

“Fuck, baby,” he groaned, looking down at her. “Look so good with my cock between your lips.”

Her saliva covered his cock, the glugging sound loud as he slipped in and out of her mouth. She looked up at him, her eyes glistening from the pressure of his hard cock against the back of her throat. His hand pressed down on her head, making her take his length into her mouth all the way to the base, holding her in place. She moaned to avoid gagging, thankful she didn’t have a gag reflex. He pulled her up, his cock leaving her mouth with a wet pop, a harsh breath leaving her lips as air came back into her lungs.

“Can’t wait to fuck you,” he said, cupping her face in his hands and bringing her lips to hers.

He lifted her up and carried her to the bed, throwing her down on it. She squealed as she bounced on the mattress, a naughty smile on her face as she looked up at him.

“God, you’re so fucking hot,” she muttered, as her eyes raked over his body.

“I should be saying that about you,” he smirked, getting onto the bed and holding himself up above her.

He leaned down, kissing her passionately, before trailing down her jaw, neck and down to her breasts. His flicked his tongue over her nipple, his hand coming up to roll the other between his fingers.

“Fuck,” she moaned, as his felt his other hand move down her body.

He smirked as he sucked her nipple, feeling the slick between her legs. He released the nub and looked down at her, his fingers running through her folds and finding her clit. She moaned loudly, forgetting where she was for a moment, as she felt his fingers circle the bundle of nerves.

“Shh, baby,” he whispered, as he looked down into her eyes. “Can’t let the crew hear us.”

“Jensen… fuck me,” she whimpered, as she cupped his face.

Taking one of her hands off her face, he pinned it to the bed above her head. A chill ran down her spine as she looked into his eyes, now dark with arousal.

“Say it properly and I will,” he ordered, his voice gravelly and demanding.

She gulped but smiled tentatively. “Please fuck me, sir.”

“Good,” he said, before he leaned down and kissed her lips, once then twice.

They continued their passionate embrace, Y/N’s arms wrapping around Jensen’s neck as one of her hands combed into his short hair at the nape of his neck. Their lips moved against each other’s roughly and sensually, as they became desperate to feel more of each other. He held his cock and ran it along her folds, her wetness slicking his shaft and a clear sign that she was more than ready for him. However, his movements suddenly stopped as an unfair realization came to him.

“Shit,” he muttered, pulling his lips away from hers. He looked down at her as an annoyed expression graced his face.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, suddenly worried she had done something wrong.

“I just remembered… I don’t have any condoms,” he replied, grimacing as he held himself up above her. “I don’t do this… well, ever. So, I don’t have anything.”

Her frown matched his. “I’m not on the pill right now, either.”

He nodded, trying to smile reassuringly and hide his disappointment. She knew that he was though, because she was too. She was desperate to feel him against her and inside her.

“I guess we better get to lunch, then,” she muttered softly, pushing herself up on her elbows. Her face was close to his, causing her to lean over and kiss his plump lips, softly.

“I just want to feel you,” he whispered against her lips, leaning in.

“Me too,” she said, in an equally hushed tone before his lips claimed hers again.

An idea suddenly came to him and he just hoped that she would be okay with it.

“Trust me?” he asked, softly as he looked into her eyes.

She smiled up at him, nodding slowly. “Yes, sir.”

He smirked as he helped her lie down on the bed again, bringing her legs up to rest her ankles on his shoulders. He shifted back until he was standing, her behind now on the edge of the bed.

Jensen smirked as his eyes darkened, taking hold of his cock and slapping it over her mound a few times. He moved Y/N’s thighs closer together, until they met around his cock. Slowly, he began to thrust, sliding his cock between her thighs in a gentle and sensual pace. She moaned softly, the new sensation of feeling his shaft against the skin of her inner thighs awakening something within her. He groaned, biting his lip at this new found arousal as he continued to move between her legs.

“How do I feel, sweetheart?” he asked, looking down at her.

“So good,” she moaned, looking at him. His ‘sweetheart’ gave her Dean vibes, which was definitely something she was adding to her list of kinks.

He picked up speed, his thrusts between her legs now a moderate pace. He gripped her thighs tight in his hands, which would no doubt leave bruises that she would get to admire later.

“Fuck,” he growled, his jaw clenching as he felt the pressure around his cock. “You feel so fucking good, baby.”

“Shit,” she hissed. A small laugh left her mouth as she shook her head. “If this is anything to go by, I can’t wait for you to fuck me.”

He chuckled as he nodded. “Can’t wait to fuck you either, Y/N. Can’t wait to feel you around my cock, taking me so well.”

“Jensen,” she moaned softly. She remembered to keep quiet in case of wandering ears of crew members.

His hand came up and back down on her thigh, smacking her hard enough to make her yelp and get her attention. He looked at her with his darkened eyes, stern and somewhat frightening, which only aroused her more.

“Last time I checked, I’m still your director,” he groaned, grasping her thighs tight. “Touch yourself.”

She moaned as her hands came up to her breasts, her fingers tweaking her nipples as she looked up at him. He grunted as he watched her, one of hands slipping down between her legs. His fingers found her clit, rubbing them in tight circles around the swollen nub.

“Fuck! Jensen,” she moaned, breathlessly. “Make me cum.”

He chuckled as he shook his head, his fingers slowing down to a torturous pace. “Not yet, baby.”

“Please,” she begged, her chest heaving with her shallow breaths.

“You have to ask better than that, Y/N,” he informed her, the smirk still on his face.

“Please,” she whimpered. She moved one of her hands down, trying to touch her clit but he smacked it away, not giving up the control he had in that moment. “Please, sir… please make me cum.”

“Let’s make a deal, baby,” he suggested, an eyebrow raised as he continued to thrust between her thighs. He groaned, knowing he was close to his own release. “Make me cum first between these perfect thighs, and I’ll let you cum… all over my face.”

She moaned loudly, nodding frantically. The idea of his mouth on her where she wanted him most was too much to bear.

Pressing her thighs together firmly, Jensen’s thrusts became quicker and erratic, getting closer to falling over the edge. He growled as the pressure around his hard cock built, feeling it pulse with his impending release.

“Fuck,” he groaned. His hips faltered as he gripped tightly at the flesh of her thighs. He threw his head back, as he let go of her legs, and grasped his cock in his hand. He pumped his hand along his shaft, biting his lip as he looked down at her spread out on his bed. She sat up on her elbows, smiling up at him as she moved his hand away, taking over for him as her hand moved up and down along his cock.

“Oh fuck, Y/N,” he let out a guttural moan as her hand picked up speed. Ropes of his cum spurted out of his cock, landing on her stomach. She continued to pump him, making sure he gave her everything he had, relishing in the warmth of his release against her skin.

He breathed heavily, his hand cupping her face as he smiled at her. “Your turn.”

Moving his hand to her shoulder, he pushed her back lightly, smiling as she laughed. He got down on his knees, grasping her hips and pulling her to the edge of the bed. Y/N laughed as she slipped down, moving her hands up to her breasts and pinching her nipples. He smirked as he looked up at her, his tongue licking a stripe up her folds. He moaned at the taste of her, feeling how wet she was already from just fucking her thighs.

“Oh fuck,” she moaned loudly, as she felt his stubble against the inside of thighs. She bit down on her lip, trying to keep herself quiet as he continued to run his tongue along her folds, the vibrations of his moans running through her.

“Taste so fucking good, Y/N,” he muttered against her mound, looking up at her. “So perfect.”

He moved his mouth to her clit, moving his tongue in tight circles around the nub. Her hands came down and grabbed his short hair, clenching tightly as she pressed her lips together. His hand came up, slowly inserting a finger into her wet entrance, moving it in and out of her. He added another finger and began to thrust them back and forth, the pads of his fingers hitting her g-spot every time. She whimpered as he picked up speed, his perfect mouth sucking at her clit as he continued to move his fingers.

He released her clit from his mouth, kissing her inner thigh as he moved up her leg.

“So fucking beautiful,” he muttered against her skin, placing small nips along the inside of her thigh.

He looked at her, the smile never leaving his face. She pushed herself up on her elbow, her other hand still in his hair. Leaning up, he kissed her roughly as he continued to thrust his fingers into her. She moaned into his mouth, tasting herself on his tongue. She felt the familiar feeling of her release approaching, the coil winding tighter and tighter.

“You ready to cum for me, sweetheart?” he asked, his breath fanning against her lips.

“Yeah,” she gasped, nodding as she looked into his eyes. “Make me cum.”

“Make me cum… what?” he asked, his voice gravelly. A deep rumble erupted from his chest as he laughed with a mischievous grin.

She whimpered, gripping his hair harshly. “Make me cum, sir.”

“Good girl,” he praised, moving his head back down again.

Jensen moved his mouth back to her clit, his fingers picking speed as he hit that sweet spot inside of her with precision. Y/N looked down at him, still leaning on her elbow to give her a better view. She held his head in place, fearing he’d move if she removed her hand. He licked at her clit, the sounds of her wetness and his ministrations reaching her ears and causing a string of soft moans and whimpers to leave her lips. His mouth sucked at her, his tongue moving around the nub tightly and his fingers thrusting, faster and faster. She bit down on her lip, nearly drawing blood as the coil in her belly snapped. A harsh, strangled whimper of his name left her lips, as she came hard on his tongue and fingers. He lapped at her folds, taking in her juices before he moved his head away, smiling at her.

With a quick kiss to Y/N’s thigh, Jensen got up and fell back on the bed next to her. She breathed heavily as she looked at him, trying to catch her breath. Turning his head, he looked into her eyes. He turned onto his side, moving closer to her. His lips hovered close to hers, his eyes flicking between all the features of her face. She moved in the rest of the way, kissing him softly. Their lips moved passionately against each other’s, not wanting to let go. As much as he didn’t want to let go, he knew they had a schedule to keep today before they wrapped later that night.

“We only have 20 minutes left,” he mumbled, regretfully against her lips.

She nodded, sadly. “We should go.”

They both got up from the bed, cleaning themselves up and getting dressed again in relative silence. The only sounds were the rustling of fabrics and shoes on the floor of the trailer. Y/N fixed her hair as much as she could in the mirror, her eyes continuously flicking over to Jensen as he did the same, fixing the mess she had made of his short locks. With one last look at each other, Jensen opened the door of the trailer and looked around, letting her out first when he saw that no one was around. They walked to the lunch tent, receiving a few questions on their whereabouts. Jensen was quick to tell everyone he took Y/N to see some of the fan favourite props of the show, and Y/N was glad that people believed him, for the most part.

They ate quickly, both of them silent as they sat across from each other. Y/N didn’t know if they weren’t talking because they are was awkwardness after what happened, or whether it was because he didn’t want to accidentally say something about it in front of the crew. Quite frankly, she was fine with not talking about it just yet. She wasn’t sure where they go from here. Did Jensen want to see her again? If so, would it be just to sleep together finally, or did he want more?

She didn’t think she wanted to know the answers to those questions. Not yet anyway.

Little did she know, the same questions were running through Jensen’s head. He enjoyed what happened back in his trailer, but sue him if he didn’t want more with her. He wanted to go the full home run with her, but if he was being completely honest, he wanted to see her again and again. He wanted to ask her out and see where they go from there.

He knew he had to take a leap of faith and ask her before she left town, because who knew when she would return.

They were back on the bunker set, this time in the war room to shoot the last scene Y/N would be in. It was interesting that Y/N’s character leaving at the end of the episode was the second last scene they were filming, but that was where it happened to land. It was like it happened organically, which was rare for their set during filming.

Jensen was standing at the head of the map table, Jared next to him as Y/N stood across from them. Video village was set up at the other end of the library, giving them more room in the war room for lighting and boom mics. Things were quiet as they fell into their characters, Y/N slinging the duffle bag over her shoulder, as the assistant director called ‘action’.

“Thanks for your help. We really owe you one,” Jared said as ‘Sam’.

She smiled at him, shaking her head. “You really don’t.”

Jensen gave her that signature ‘Dean Winchester’ look, the one that said he was thinking about how to approach a subject. “You know where to find us if we do.”

“You’re buying the six-pack next time,” she said, chuckling slightly.

“Done,” ‘Dean’ said, smirking at her. She smiled at Jensen, finding that her genuine smile to him seeped into the scene.

“See you boys around,” she said, nodding at them. She turned on her heeled ankle boots, walking towards the staircase. With one glance over her shoulder, she gave them a small wave which they returned. She took the stairs all the way up, hearing the AD call ‘cut’.

“Alright, let’s see,” Jensen muttered as he walked over to video village.

Y/N walked down the stairs and over to the map table and placed the duffle bag on it. She waited to hear whether they would have to do another take or not.

“Alright, check the gate! Moving on!” Jensen called out. “That’s a wrap on Y/N Y/L/N!”

He quickly came out from behind the screens, walking over to her and Jared. All the crew around her clapped, as she gave them a small curtsy, laughing as Jared came over and hugged her.

It wasn’t the usual treatment of guest stars, as they usually came in and did the work and then left but considering there was buzz that her character might make a return, they wanted her to feel at home with all of them. They were kind to people with even the smallest of roles, so Y/N always knew she’d be in safe hands with the Supernatural crew.

Y/N hung around to say goodbye as they shot the last scene between the boys. In that time, she sat with her laptop, hoping she could change her flight to leave in a few days. With luck, she managed to find one leaving Vancouver in 5 days’ time, giving her plenty of time to stick around and explore these feelings she had for the handsome green-eyed actor. She couldn’t wait to tell him.

Given that Jared and Jensen had such a great shorthand with each other, they worked quickly to get the work done. Jensen called a wrap on the episode, and they all congratulated him on the amazing work he did. Everyone began to pack things up, the make-up ladies heading to their trailer as Y/N walked with them. She removed all her make-up, freshened up and then got changed into her clothes she wore to set that morning.

Y/N said her goodbyes to Trish and Frida, followed by the rest of the crew and Bob Singer. Jared swooped in for another big hug, nearly breaking her in half with the pressure of his arms around her.

“Jesus, you don’t know your own strength, you know that?” she said, cringing in slight pain as she turned and twisted, trying to get feeling back in her body.

“Hey, not my fault you can’t handle it,” he laughed, patting her back. “Alright, I’m out of here. I hope I’ll see you soon.”

“Me too,” she smiled, as he enveloped her in a softer but still warm hug. She decided to leave out the fact that she wasn’t going anywhere just yet, wanting to tell Jensen first.

Jared walked towards the parking lot, heading for the SUV that Cliff was waiting by. They were no doubt waiting on Jensen, who had been finishing up some paperwork after wrapping the episode. Y/N slung her bag over her shoulder, walking towards his trailer in search of him. Reaching the door, she knocked a few times and waited. The door opened, a tired but smiling Jensen greeting her.

“Hey,” he smiled, leaning against the door frame.

“So… I have some news,” she told him, a smile playing at her lips.

“Oh yeah?” he asked, his eyebrows raised as he folded his arms across his chest. His arms were exposed thanks to his black t-shirt, and she suddenly felt like her skin was on fire. She tried not to show her disappointment when he put on his jacket and grabbed his backpack, shutting off the light in the trailer as he closed the door.

She nodded, stepping down from the stairs to the trailer and turning to him. “I changed my flight. I’m leaving in 5 days.”

Jensen felt his heart skip a beat with that news. He nodded, the smile growing bigger on his face. “Well… you want to come over tonight? We can pick up where we left off.”

She bit her lip, nodding slowly. “I’d love to.”

Keeping up the pretence that there wasn’t anything going on, Jensen went back home with Cliff driving him to his apartment. Y/N called an Uber, knowing that if she had joined them Jared and Cliff would question what was happening. She and Jensen hadn’t spoken about it, but they both knew that there wasn’t anything to say to anyone until they figured it out themselves. For now, she wanted him in ways she’s never wanted anyone else and she was more than ready to see what he was capable of.

Reaching Jensen’s apartment, Y/N went up to his floor and down the hall, knocking on his door, noting that it was the right one from the text he had sent while she was in the Uber. The door swung open, and she grinned as Jensen smirked at her, letting her in. She took in the apartment, with its beautiful view of the city lights twinkling at night, a large screen TV and comfortable couch, and his guitar on the wall closest to her. However, as nice as it was that wasn’t where her mind was in that moment.

Turning around, Y/N looked at him, his eyes reflecting the same things she was feeling. They moved towards each other, their lips meeting in a rough, but sensual kiss as they wrapped their arms around each other. Pushing and pulling at each other’s clothes, their lips continued to move against each other, not wanting to stop.

“Thank god you changed your flight,” he mumbled against her swollen lips. “I can’t wait to fuck you.”

“Then what are you waiting for?” she asked, grabbing his shoulders and jumping up, wrapping her legs around his waist.

His hands immediately supported her as he carried her off to his bedroom.

By the time they came up for air, the sun was rising, and Jensen had to leave to go to work for the first day of the next episode. With a promise of returning later that day, he told Y/N to stay at his apartment, telling her she could use whatever she wanted before he had to leave.

As she stood on the balcony and looked out at the view with her morning coffee, she had never been more thankful to a job she had taken. She made some great friends already, there was a buzz that she may come back for more episodes, and she had met the most incredible man who she couldn’t wait to explore more with.

She found herself repeating Jensen’s words from the night before as she smiled into her morning cup of caffeine.

Thank god she changed her flight.

-x-

If you’re crossed out, I couldn’t tag you :(

Tags: @deanwanddamons @winchest09 @downanddirtydean @jensengirl83 @wonder-cole @that-one-gay-girl @flamencodiva @ellewritesfix05 @roonyxx @akshi8278 @hobby27 @michellethetvaddict @spngirl05 @kyjey @halesandy @440mxs-wife @stoneyggirl @deanswaywardgirl @redbarn1995 @marianita195 @babypink224221 @deans-baby-momma @parinarain @thoughts-and-funnies @mandalou29 @jerkbitchidjitassbutt @superaveng @supernatural-love14 @vicmc624 @prettyboyswow @lunarmoon8 @supernatural-bellawinchester​ 

[keitthen]

- the dorm heads with a significant other who boops their nose and runs away soon after.

─ first work for twst! i hope you like these!

this is a really cute idea, and please note that the reader is gender-neutral. please enjoy!

He's flustered and dumbstruck. Oh my, just what did you do?

He's not very used to acts of affection, so he is extremely flustered when you are affectionate with him.

When he heard you call out to him, he thought that you needed something, but is extremely surprised when you boop his nose and run away.

It takes a while for it to sink in, but he'll grow as red as the roses he grows, and will definitely yell after you.

It's quite endearing, and the next time you find him, he'll pout cutely at you and boop your nose back.

It's just really adorable.

“Riddle!” he hears your voice call out to him. He was just thinking of coming to you, but you appeared in front of him. Not wanting to waste the chance of spending time with you, he turns around, wondering what you required of him, and opens his mouth to ask you whether you would like to spend some time with him, when he finds your face right in front of his. He is very startled at the sight, and he moves back in surprise, and you take it as the chance to carry out your task. Quickly booping him on the nose, you let out a string of giggles and run away from him. He stands there, frozen in his place, mouth open, when realization finally hits him. His face grows scarlet, and you hear his scream even down the corner of the hallway, laughing even harder.

“(NAME)! COME BACK HERE!”

He thinks of it as a game.

When you first do it, he's visibly confused, but comes to the conclusion that it's just a way you show your affection.

The next time you try to do it, he'll do it to you.

The few times you do boop his nose before he can boop yours, he will chase you around the dorm, playing around with you.

He finds it really adorable, and gives you a kiss after it.

“Leona~” you sing to yourself. Quietly tip toeing, you make your way to the sleeping dorm leader, who's currently having his nap while basking in the gentle sunshine. He looks so peaceful, and you almost don't want to do this, but the word to press emphasis here is almost. You are going to do it, and you will succeed. His face comes closer and clearer in view, and your grin grows wider. Feeling a shadow blocking his sun, the boy stirs from his slumber, and you take it as your opportunity to strike. Quickly booping his nose, you make a run for it, with laughter echoing from behind you and footsteps following soon after. His amusement is contagious, infecting you with his liveliness, as you begin to laugh along with him. Strong arms wrap around your waist, and pull you closer as he boops you in revenge, and your laughter grows. Smiling gently at your enthusiasm, he places a soft kiss on the crown of your head, feeling you relax in his embrace.

Azul is very confused.

Is this a good thing? Were you teasing him? What are you doing?

He just doesn't get it. So, he asks you about it.

When you tell him that it's a way people show affection to each other, he grows very flustered, but is also very thankful.

Does it back to you when you aren't paying attention, and gives you a sweet smile.

Azul was working and looking at a few brand new contracts that the tweels had gotten him, and being completely unaware of your presence. You had been waiting for him to notice you, but it had already been half an hour and he had not yet glanced even once in your way. Puffing your cheeks out, you had enough of him being drowned in his work that he didn't even notice you, and decided to take matters into your own hands. You walked up to his desk, and stood in front of it. “Azul,” you called. The third year looked at you surprised at your sudden appearance (actually, not-so-sudden, it's just that he didn't notice), when you leaned in. His face grew red at the close proximity, screwing his eyes shut, when he felt a light touch on his nose. His eyes open, and he finds you grinning at him. “What are you doing, (Name)?” he asks you, confused. Hearing you chuckle it grows even more. “It's a way to show affection~,” you tell him. Oh, he thinks. He grows red again, but this time he gives you a sincere and loving smile.

Kalim doesn't understand it at first, but giggles soon after.

How could he not, when you're being so adorable?

He immediately boops your nose back, giggling right after. Jamil only sighs at your cute behaviour, but you're blinded by Kalim's smile because it's so bright and brilliant.

It becomes a regular thing between the two of you. He does it to you all the time, so do you.

The two of you were studying together in the Scarabia dorm (more like you tutoring Kalim in the various subjects Night Raven College specialised in), when the thought struck you. You look at him, and seeing Kalim being engrossed in his studies made him only more adorable in your eyes. His tongue stuck out the corner of his mouth, as he concentrated on solving the problems and questions you had given him. Waiting patiently until he had finished his worksheet, you sat in your seat, watching him with a mischievous smile. He turned towards you, and handed you his worksheet to evaluate. Quickly finishing the corrections, you called him. “Kalim,” you began. “Please come here.” The dorm leader, although confused, came towards you as you had requested, when you did it. His ruby eyes widened in momentary surprise, after which he began to laugh. Finding his happiness infectious, you laughed along with him, when you felt him boop your nose. “I've got you too!” he giggled, pulling you into a bear hug.

Vil is taken aback, but then immediately asks you what you were doing.

When you tell him, he smiles at you.

Then while you're blinded by his beauty, boops you back!

Secretly films you doing it, and when he uploaded it to Magicam, he started a trend for couples, for which he gave you a soft and sweet kiss.

Now does it on a regular basis because he finds your laughter adorable.

“Vil~” you draw out the syllables of his name, promptly taking his attention away from whatever you were doing. “What does my dear potato require of me today?” he gives you a lazy grin. You only smile with a glint in your eyes, one that he immediately picks upon, having seen it in the tweels' eyes many times when they were upto something mischievous. He slowly backs away, only resulting in you widening your grin. “Potato, what are you doing?” he asks you, fake fear in his expression while his voice holds an undertone of his own mischief. Giving him a bright grin, you quickly lean in, and boop his nose. He's taken aback, not expecting it, but quickly regains his composure. When he sees you running away, he chases after you, laughing along. And when he catches you, he boops your nose in retaliation, reveling in your joy as he places a few kisses all over your face.

Now, Idia is a otaku, so he probably knows it.

But doesn't expect anyone to do it to him, other than Ortho.

So when you do boop his nose, he's very surprised.

But quickly recovers, and then blushes and turns away from you. Sometimes, he does boop you back, but most of the time he just pulls you into a hug to hide his blazing face.

Probably wonders how he can surprise you with nose boops, and does it at the most random of times.

But he really loves it though.

You watch as Idia clicks away on the keyboard, random numbers appearing on the screen that don't make sense to you, but definitely do make sense to him. “Idia~” you say, momentarily drawing his attention away from the screen. He looks at you, his eyebrow quirked up, silently questioning you. “Pay attention to me~” you whine, to which he just shakes his head. “Give me a few minutes,” is all he says to you. You wait for him to finish, and when he finally shuts down the computer, you throw your hands around him, pulling him into a tight hug. “What are you doing, (Name)?” he asks you. “Hugging you,” comes your reply. Exhaling softly, he pulls you closer, when the idea hits you. “Idia,” you call. The boy looks at you, when you boop his nose. He sits there, silent as one can be, after which his face explodes into a bright red. “H-hey! G-give me a-a w-warning befor-re you d-do that!” he exclaims. You laugh at him, and he buries his face in the crook of your neck, only pulling your frame as close as he can, giving you a thankful squeeze.

If you thought the others were confused, he's even more so!

Was his little human trying to tell him something? Did they need something? Did they require affection? What's happening?

The confusion is visible as day on his face, and it makes you laugh, which confuses him even more.

After you calm down, you explain to him that it's a way of showing affection, he finally understands.

Then immediately boops you back, sending you into another fit of laughter, this time with him joining you.

Does it whenever he finds you especially cute, and Lilia always gushes over it, while Sebek always yells at you when you boop him back.

Now wonders if there are other ways that his little human shows affection with.

“Malleus!” he hears your voice from behind him. He turns around, watching as you run up to him, and place your hands on your knees as you catch your breath. “Do you have something that you require, child of man?” he questions you. Seeing you nod, he wonders what it could be that you require from him. You gesture at him, asking him to bend down to your height, seeing as he was much taller than you were. The fae lowers himself to your height, as Sebek and Silver gasp and Lilia laughs in the background. You look at him seriously, and just as he was about to ask you about what you had needed, you boop his nose. He just stands there, and when you immediately run away, he looks towards Lilia, who's bent in half laughing until there's tears in his eyes. He tilts his head in confusion, which Lilia catches onto, and gestures him to go after you. He quickly catches up to you, and pulls you into his larger frame. “What is that, child of man?” he asks you. “It's a little way to show affection!” you reply. He softens at the answer, lifting you up with much ease, and pulls you as close as possible. He leans in, and then, boops you back! You're taken aback, but then burst into laughter, which he soon joins. Keeping a tight hold on you, he walks back to the Diasomnia dorm, your mixed laughter echoing in the hallway.

─ and that's it! thank you for reading, and requests are open, even if I will be a little slow in completing them!

love,

ria.

[karasimpno]

I’m trying this again because the tags are being weird but this is for the lovely and patient anon who requested #43 w/ Oikawa!!

Omg I’m so angry this got deleted and I had to start over 😭I’m so sorry it took SO long - I tried to make it a little longer to make up for it, I hope you like it!!!

“What happens if I do this?” - Oikawa x Reader 1.9k words | warnings: established relationship, fluff, a liiiiittle nsfw

You were coming up on the end of the semester and already cramming for finals. You were determined to do better than last semester and had committed yourself to cracking down on notes and outlines at your desk every night for the last two weeks.You felt kind of bad for Oikawa, though. He had graduated last year and, ever the dutiful boyfriend, always came over to see you after he got off work. Sometimes he surprised you with onigiri or something pretty that made him think of you. Sometimes you would get to eat dinner together before you reluctantly returned to your studies. He would just wait patiently on the couch, watching tv or scrolling through his phone, hoping you could eventually join him or that he’d at least get to snuggle you to sleep.

This past week though, the gifts had become more frequent. It coincided with your growing stress but you weren’t sure if that was the reason for the influx in attentions or if he was just missing you. He had bought dinner the last three nights in a row and had even made you blush when he slipped a pretty new pair of underwear into your palm after you’d finished studying one night. You were too tired to do much more than kiss him before falling asleep in his arms, though. You sighed half-awake apologies and he pulled you closer, understanding.

Tonight though, your eyes were straining on your textbook and you felt yourself almost going crazy when he waltzed through the front door, twirling his spare key around his index finger. “Babe!” he called out.

“Bedroom!” you replied, not looking up from your reading.

“I know,” he teased, the slightest edge in his voice. You glanced over your shoulder at him, standing in your doorway, hair windswept and looking devilishly handsome as ever. A grin instantly spread across your face, the mere energy of his presence infectious. You sighed and swiveled your chair around. He had your favorite takeout in his hand and you felt yourself melt a little.

“Tooru...” you sighed. He closed the distance between the two of you, setting the bag on your desk and taking both your hands in his. The corner of his mouth was pulled up in a flirtatious smirk. You took a deep breath in, relaxing and soaking up the presence of your biggest source of happiness. “And how are you today my love?” he asked, releasing one of your hands and tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. You caught his hand as it skirted around your cheek and held it there, leaning into his touch. “Better now,” you hated to admit, feeling a little sappy and knowing he would make fun of you for it.

“Is that all it takes? Your big strong man coming home to save you from your studies? Well then I guess I didn’t need to pick up this-” he teased, picking the bag back up from your desk and turning on his heel with a glint in his eye. “No - Tooru - wait!” you called after him as he rounded the doorway. “Dinnertime!” he sang, and you got up and trailed him to the small kitchen, the smell of cooked food making your stomach growl.

He had set the bag on the countertop and was cleaning off the table. You reached into the bag and pulled out the plasticware and a paper box. In an instant, Oikawa was by your side, slapping your wrist. “Put that back! We’re having a proper meal tonight!” he reprimanded, pulling plates out of the cabinet. You huffed and put your hands on your hips.

“Does that mean you’ll be cooking then?” you smirked, receiving a glare from him. “No,” he retorted, mumbling about his cooking skills as he properly set the table, proceeding to snatch the bag away from you. You folded your arms across your chest and watched him serve up dinner for you, trying to keep the glowing feeling in your heart from cracking your teasing exterior. He even brushed past you to steal a candle from your room, lighting it between the two place settings.

“What’s all this for?” you asked, slightly bewildered, but beaming at this romantic gesture.

“It’s Thursday,” he said simply, standing across from you with an adorable smile on his face. You grinned, slightly shaking your head at him. You stepped towards him and wrapped your arms around his neck, pressing your chest close to his. “And you’ve been working so hard....” his voice lowered, gently tracing a thumb over your cheekbone and looking down at you. Your heart felt so full as his eyes gazed into yours. “I love you so much,” you said, and pressed your lips against his. It was a sweet kiss, the both of you melting into the other’s touch. “Thank you for dinner,” you whispered with a content smile.

“Not to mention it’s hot to have such a smart partner!” he said, pulling away and giving you a hard smack on the ass, eliciting a surprised yelp from you. He chuckled and sat down, the two of you beginning to catch up about your long day.

By the time he had cleared the plates – he had even bought dessert – you were bending down to plant a kiss to his cheek, begrudgingly needing to get back to your studies. He caught your hand as you moved away, holding it fast and keeping you from retreating to your room. He wasn’t looking at you, just holding you in place. “Babe...” he started, and there was something different in his voice, something ragged. He interlaced his fingers with yours and you instinctively wrapped your other hand around your clasped hands. He pushed his chair back and moved in close to you, his nose hovering above yours. He used his index finger to pull your chin up. “I miss you,” he breathed. You felt yourself inhale and loll your head to the side with guilt, knowing exactly how he felt and what he meant. This week he’d been pulling out all the stops on his other love languages – acts of service, gifts, even words of affirmation when you got frustrated with your work. But quality time and physical touch, your two shared most important ones, had sadly slipped away this week.

“I know...” you whispered. “I just...really need to do well this semester.”

“I know” he pressed, the guilt and need intermixing in his voice. “But you’ve been working so hard. It’s almost the weekend. Take the night off with me,” he was practically begging, though his pride would never let him admit it. You sighed and pressed a kiss to your enjoined hands.

“Just let me get through a few more practice sets,” you bargained. “An hour or two, tops.”

“One hour,” he insisted, sighing. He reluctantly let your hand go as you winked at him. He smacked your ass again as you turned to go, making you jump and shoot him a wicked glare. He just chuckled and offered up his signature smirk again. You couldn’t help your grin as you turned back, his attentions fueling the first half of returning to your work. By the time an hour had passed, however, you had become overwhelmed by your studies and your brow furrowed at your computer screen again. Before you had even noticed the time, an hour and a half had passed.

Your nose buried in a textbook, you began to hear a soft humming coming from behind you. You groaned, checking the time. “I’m sorry babe... I just can’t seem to finish this,” you said. Tilting your head back in his direction without taking your eyes off your work.

“Mmm well that’s too bad...” he crooned, suddenly behind you, his hands melting down your shoulders. You sighed, your fingers sliding off the keyboard as you leaned back into his touch.

“Why’s that?” you asked him, your head tilting, exposing more of your neck. “Because...” he whispered, taking advantage of your exposed skin with his thumbs, working presses down your neck. His lips were suddenly by your ear as he began massaging your shoulders. “I had such fun things I wanted to do to you tonight,” he spoke. You groaned again, letting your head fall against his temple. “Well if I let you do everything you wanted to do to me, Oikawa, I would surely fail my classes,” you said, pointedly, but still feeling yourself melting into his touch. Your heart rate had picked up slightly and your face was growing hotter.

“Well,” he said, “what happens if I do this?” he exhaled, teeth grazing over the shell of your ear as his tongue darted out between them. Simultaneously, his hands began wandering over more of your body, the flats of his palms firmly making their way down your chest, your nipples hardening at even the briefest of touches.

“Mm, Tooru...” you moaned, weak at his touch already. You ran your fingers over his forearms, your skin prickling with heat, and something inside of you snapped. Tired of your studies, absolutely spent from days hunched over your books, away from his touch, working yourself silly, you decided you’d had enough. You pushed his hands off of you and spun the chair around, throwing your arms around his neck and eagerly beginning to suck a tender spot below the corner of his jaw. He let out a surprised little laugh and wrapped his arms around your lower back. You pulled away for a moment. “Then I guess we’ll just have to see,” you whispered, your eyelids half-closed, answering his question. You squeezed his shoulders and jumped, wrapping your legs around his waist and crushing your lips into his, as the two of you had done many times before. He caught you with a low gasp and traced a hand up your thigh, turning you toward the bed. You could feel him grinning against your lips, and you pulled back for a moment, resting your forehead against his.

He crawled onto the bed with you still wrapped around his torso, letting you softly drop onto the mattress below him. You could practically feel his body vibrating as he began pressing kisses from your mouth, down your neck, down your clothed chest, to your stomach, where he lifted the fabric of your shirt and planted a sweet kiss ever so lovingly to your exposed skin. Looking down at him, you ran a hand through his beautiful hair, thinking of all the times he’d pulled your pants down with his teeth. It made you smile, growing a little more aroused at the thought. Nothing had ever quite done it for you the way this man’s love for you did.

“I guess tonight was a good night to try out that new pair of underwear you got me,” you said with a smile, your chest heaving at the sight of the corners of his lips turning upwards at your tone. “I love you so much, Tooru,” you sighed, your hand still toying with his hair, thinking about what a wonderful boyfriend you had. “Thank you....thank you for everything this week, for the dinners, the gifts, your patience....thank you –” he swallowed the rest of your sentence with his lips. Pulling back to hover with a smile above your lips. “I love you too, baby,” he grinned.

You found yourself continuing to say thank you many times that night.

[chitsangenthusiast]

good afternoon i bring with me a (slightly rough) wip of zuko getting to see his daughter for the first time after she's born <3

(featuring some zuko teasing bc the gaang can't help it even at his daughter's birth, and sokka also getting to hold her!!)

—

She’s born in the middle of a scorching summer, under the gaze of a shining moon and on a bed covered in caribou-hare pelts.

Zuko knows when she’s arrived; he’s already crossed the length of the reception room by the time the clamor behind the separating screen abruptly cuts into a breathless silence, and his heart beats in expectation when Suki pokes her head out. She’s exhausted, she’s excited, and she’s dragging him in before he can even fathom any kind of thought.

He comes in just as the midwife finishes in clearing her nose and mouth, to reveal a tiny face and the full sound of his daughter’s fair wail.

Daughter.

Zuko stumbles.

A bubble of absolute glee spills from his mouth as he’s pushed into a chair next to the bed because, from here, he has an even better view. Poking out above her little arm is a head covered in a wet smattering of dark hair and already full eyebrows, with impossibly round cheeks showing off pouting lips and red gums while she cries. She’s loud, she’s announcing her presence, she’s so small.

Zuko chokes on an exhilarated gasp. That’s his daughter.

He reaches out, then falters. As he watches her settle into the soothing warmth of bare skin, all he wants is to fall forward to her, to tuck her into him and rest his hand on her small back to feel how she lifts the entirety of her body as he cries and breathesin her first moments. But he’s not sure who he can touch or even what he can touch on the bed, and he instead throws an absentmindedly desperate hand out to stop himself from grabbing at the furs as he works to remember how to properly take in air.

Someone grabs it—Sokka, he can tell by the calluses on his fingers—and directs it down. Instantly, instinctively, Zuko splays his fingers to cradle her head and strokes his thumb over his daughter’s ear.

His hand curls perfectly around her, and he chokes on another exhilarated sob.

“Katara—”

“She’s beautiful,” Katara immediately returns. Her eyes flit up to Zuko’s, just for a moment, before sliding back down to the baby resting on her stomach. She’s holding a tiny fist in her own hand, running tired fingers up and down a forearm, and she can’t look away either. She’s crying, Zuko realizes, tears just like his own, and she shakes out little relieved sniffles when he and Sokka quickly clasp her heaving shoulders. Katara’s head falls back to the pillows—from the exhaustion, from the relief of their touch, from those strong, healthy cries—and her hand joins Zuko’s on his daughter’s head as she lets out a breathless laugh. “Oh wow, she’s really perfect, Zuko.”

“Thank you,” he gasps out, and then no other words come. His face is a reservoir of open gratitude even when he can’t get anything else out, he knows Katara understands him when she lightly runs a thumb against his hand in response to his spasming grip on her shoulder.

Thank you.

Aang is let in shortly after, buzzing out of his body as he rushes to Katara’s side, with Azula jumping at the chance to barrel inside too. He’s been through this before with Bumi, but his hands still shake slightly as he cups her face and leans down to kiss her forehead with a long, deep inhale. Katara reaches out a free hand to hold onto him, and just smiles at the comfort of his happiness.

Her other hand is still in Zuko’s grasp. He hasn’t been able to bring himself to let go just yet, even after moving to the other side of the bed so that his good ear could better pick up her murmuring, or after her careful transfer of his daughter into his his bare arms, and now together they hold onto an exposed arm left out of the blanket.

Snatches of conversation happen around him, slight jostling occurs as everyone works on the after care, but Zuko is captivated only by the bundle in his arms. Their eyes are locked—she looks up at Zuko, and he stares right back. When Katara has to let go, he takes over to admire his daughter with his thumb, tracing it across her plump jawline, smoothing down the soft hair on her head and over her eyebrows.

Toward the end of the pregnancy, when Aang and Katara came to stay at the palace to prepare, Zuko used to sometimes stare at her. It was hard, trying to imagine what a child between them would look like, and a niggling thought that circled in the back of his mind—quietly, in a determined attempt to not let it fester too much—had him wishing, hoping that his daughter would have more of Katara in her than him. Beyond possibly gold-tinted eyes, what worth did his ancestry have to offer in the face of so much goodness from Katara’s?

(He got scolded for ruminating over this, then given an extremely long hug, and then scolded again for his incessant doting over a Katara who did not need to be doted over, much to Aang’s cackling amusement and Zuko’s embarrassed chagrin.)

But his daughter looks so much like him, and in such a breathtakingly sweet way that leaves him stunned. He can see the small flicks of her eyes moving as they roam over his face; they’re so light in color, tawny almost like how Azula’s were when she was born, and he wonders if they’ll be bright like his or darken into a strong amber like Uncle’s. She also has his nose, a wide little thing that he can’t help but bop a finger against, and her cheeks may be big but Zuko thinks she has his chin.

“It’s crazy how alert she already is,” Aang says, smiling as he peeks down at her across the bed. “I hope her cries get louder though, she needs those firebender lungs so she can shout like you can, Zuko.”

“Don’t do that to me,” Azula instantly scoffs, taking her place next to her brother, then smirks at his lukewarm glare. “I can only handle one loudmouth at a time, and Zuzu is plenty already.”

“Hey—”

Sokka snorts, and responds faster than Zuko can continue. “Well, when she’s right, she’s right.”

Suki overtakes their snickering with a bright burst of laughter, and his daughter’s head rolls toward the noise. “I thought blessings for babies by airbenders were supposed to be good-natured?”

“Oh, sure,” Aang laughs as he takes a cool cloth from her to wipe at Katara’s neck. “She will have a loving heart, an inquisitive mind, and a steadfast head on her shoulders that will push her through anything she sets herself to achieve. But I also hope she gets a set of good strong lungs, just so Zuko can see what we’ve put up with over the years.”

“Can you all be nice to me for five seconds,” Zuko grumps lightly. “I’m literally holding my child right now.”

“I think Aang’s gonna be right too,” Sokka happily jumps back in, dropping a heavy hand on Zuko’s shoulder as he leans over him to coo into her space. “She’s already got his frown.”

“Sokka!” Katara chides, but her laughter is still the loudest above everyone else’s at the falsely disgruntled scowl they receive—which is indeed replicated perfectly on that little face. “You know you can’t say things like that, or she’s going to end up looking like you!”

Sokka just chuckles, and the happy sound thrums through Zuko’s nerves. He’s pulled back already, giving him room to curl around his daughter like she’ll be able to protect him from the teasing—and Zuko forcibly swallows down the heavy desire to pull him back in.

“If that happens, it’ll only be because we look like, Katara.”

“Alright, move over punks!” Toph is as gleefully brash as ever when she steps into room with Lin on her hip and Iroh following close behind her, but Zuko can see the excitement lighting up her face as she beelines over. “Stop hogging the kid!”

Suki makes quick work to take Lin from her while Aang moves to pull Bumi from Iroh’s arms, and the four of them maneuver themselves onto the bed around Katara. She grouses lightly, but still looks incredibly contented to now have her son within arm’s reach. Iroh moves to take up residence on Zuko’s free side next to Sokka, and rests his hand on Zuko’s other shoulder.

“Oh, nephew,” he breathes out in deep admiration, and Zuko can feel his elation all the way down to his bones. “What a remarkable little beauty you have there.”

“Do you want to hold her?” he asks, after Iroh has showered Katara with a slew of his own sincere appreciation. Katara shies a little at the praise, but her smile remains firm even as her eyes droop slightly, and Zuko has a feeling Aang may soon kick them all out into another room to let her sleep.

Iroh’s steady joy though is infectious, and the room alights with an even more blanketing warmth from it. He reaches out eagerly to gingerly take her into his arms, and his eyes shine as he coos down at his granddaughter.

“Welcome to the world, little one,” Iroh hums, “There are great things in store for you here, just you wait and see.”

Azula gets to hold her next. Not for as long as their uncle, too nervous to hold something so tiny yet also noticeably too unwilling to give her up, and Zuko feels his eyes start to prick as sheer happiness crashes over him at the sight.

Sokka is the third one, composure fully cracked and delighted tears flowing as he wetly hiccups between stunned laughter.

“What an awesome little kid,” he says, his watery grin is as wide as his eyes. He then carefully cradles one of her hands into his palm, and welcomes her with a gentle handshake.

“Hello, Izumi,” he murmurs, and Zuko’s heart sings. “It’s so good to finally see you.”

Zuko doesn’t have anything to say in response, burstingly overwhelmed.

Instead, he quietly marvels at how well Izumi fits into his arms as he brushes a finger over one of her eyebrows. He glances up, to commit to memory the full picture of them together—their eyes catch, and his breath hitches at the deep adoration he spies in those blue eyes.

Sokka shakes himself a beat later, and looks back down at Izumi with a blazing grin.

“Man, you really do look just like your dad, don’t you, little princess?”

She does, but she undeniably has pieces of Katara in her too. Her complexion is slightly darker, and there’s already a slight wave to her hair that Zuko idly traces in amazement. He’s somewhat certain she has Katara’s lips too, and she hasn’t smiled yet but the thought that she could also end up with that same spirited smile makes his chest ache in private joy. It’s thrilling, the notion that even when his friend isn’t around, Zuko will still be able to see her signature grin light up the Fire Nation.

Zuko glances back up while Sokka continues to look down at his daughter.

He allows himself a moment to stare.

And carefully, very carefully, he thinks about how Katara and Sokka have the same smile.

[shhhlikeme]

Can I request hcs for Oikawa, Ushijima and Kenma reacting to when their S/O calls them "daddy" as a joke in front of their team 😂😂

ANON, ARE YOU AWARE THAT I’M A WHORE FOR USHIJIMA AND KENMA OR DID YOU JUST RANDOMLY REQ THEM? I won’t be writing Oikawa because tbh I don’t like writing for him, he just doesn’t do it for me —sorry!!! Lmao, either way, I hope you enjoy b/c this might be my favourite story so far: 

A reminder that ALL CHARACTERS ARE AGED UP!!! They’re GROWN grown, aight?

(slight NSFW)

————————————

Ushijima Wakatoshi | Kenma Kozume | Reacting to Their S/O Calling Them “Daddy” In Front Of The Team!

—————————————————————-

Ushijima

“Hey, daddy?”

Ushijima stops immediately when he hears it

You were on a team outing at a poppin nightclub and you pretended to be a wee bit more drunk than you were so you could get away with saying it

In Tendou’s private bottle service booth, the team wanted to explode when they heard you, all of them turning to their captain

especially Tendou who let out a childish ‘oooooooooooooooooooooooooo’ and wiggled his arms

Toshi, calm as ever, just looks you up and down in your skin tight club dress and says in his deep, panty-dropping voice:

“Yes, baby?”

even though it was a joke trying to get your statuesque bf to crack in public you’re the one who almost rips his clothes off

He is sooooo FINE

And not fazed at all that you’d called him that in front of his friends

It made you HOT, like you were burning up

Toshi is the type of s/o that honestly wants you to do whatever you want as long as you were safe and happy doing it, so he didn’t mind in that sense that you called him daddy in front of his team

Issa whole man girl. Fuck you thought?

The team felt and embraced Ushijima’s infectiously calm energy, just like they do on the court, subconsciously convincing themselves that what you just said wasn’t a big deal

This was Wakatoshi’s strategy and inside he was pleased when his team went back to taking shots out of the bottle and dancing

The team felt that it wasn’t a big deal because Ushijima didn’t make it a big deal. Simple math

But although your boyfriend didn’t appear like it, let it be known that to him: what you said was a very big deal.

Toshi made sure that all his teammates were back to partying and not paying attention to him when he pulled you closer and used one big hand to squeeze your ass in that dress

He knows that’s your weakness, and you squeal as quietly as you can, hiding your face in his chest

Ushi leaned down smoothly, pressing his lips to your ear as he said quietly,

“Listen. Are you listening?” His deep voice vibrated through his chest which meant it vibrated on your boobs that were pressed to his chest. When you didn’t answer fast enough Toshi squeezed your ass again, making you moan. Luckily, the music in the club drowned you out. You nodded.

“You begged me to come here when I didn’t want to, Y/N. And now I’m here. You said you want me to stay until it closes but if you call me daddy again I’m carrying you back home without a second thought.” Ushi leaned away from you to happily clink glasses with drunk Tendou who was yelling at everyone to cheers. Your man was so well disguised. If his teammates were paying attention they probably thought he was telling you his favourite tv show with how calm his demeanour was. When Wakatoshi felt that no attention was on him again, his lips suddenly returned to your ear and he moved his hand to squeeze your other ass cheek. You moaned as you could feel your panties soak. Your hubby sounded calm as ever in your ear,

“And if that happens, Y/N, I’ll unintentionally have you walking with a limp like I did on our honeymoon. I will not be able to control myself. Am I understood?”

You nod, wanting him inside you so badly. Conjuring up some liquid courage you lifted your head from his chest to look him in the eye. You two held each other’s heated gazes for a minute before you mouthed:

“Yes, Daddy,” because he never said anything about inaudibly saying it.

“Hm.” Grunted Wakatoshi, his eyes darkening in the nightclub. He tugged the bottom of your dress down a little so that no other guys could see your private parts as he roughly lifted you over his shoulder with one arm.

RIP to your limp-free walk for a week or two b....definitely two

sorry not sorry

He warned you and you tried it

wish I was you

Kenma

Your boyfriend was being anti social as usual.....at a 5-year Nekoma Volleyball Team reunion in Lev’s mansion

He was the best boy you’ve ever met, and you rarely had issues with him, but sometimes you did want him to interact with your friends instead of standing in the corner playing video games.. just a little 👌🏾

While chatting and laughing with the other girlfriends, you watched out of the corner of your eye as Kuroo talked to your boyfriend in the corner, no doubt trying to get him to join the actual event and mingle

You could see your blonde baby shake his head while staring at his game thing like he always did, and you sighed

Kuroo turned to you and pretended to hang himself, his way of telling you that his attempts didn’t work

Of course not, smh.

When Kuroo walked past you he leaned down to say that if ‘Kenma won’t go to the party then the party would go to him’

Not knowing what that meant, you just nodded before excusing yourself from your girlfriends to meet up with your boyfriend.

From behind, you wrapped your arms around his waist and rested your chin on his shoulder.

He jumped but soon relaxed knowing it was you getting into your favourite position.

The two of you didn’t say anything, having a silent conversation instead

You two just stared at the screen and Kenma upped another level, he was so into it and you could tell.

“Kenma.”

No answer.

“Kenma.”

Still no answer. You used your other nickname for him.

“Kay? Hell-o?”

Still no answer. Smirking, you tried using your ”other” nickname for your boyfriend instead. The one you used when he was anything but shy like how he’s acting now.

“Haven’t you already beat that game, daddy?”

Even if Kenma’s ears didn’t hear you, his dick definitely did. Unfortunately, at the same time that the naughty nickname exited your lips, you heard a collective gasp. You and Kenma both snapped your heads up, seeing Kuroo and the team had just walked over, and heard you.

That must have been what Kuroo meant earlier when he said he’d bring the party to Kenma.

Kenma closed his eyes, biting his lip then sighing loudly.

You laughed nervously. “Whoops. Did I say th-that?”

“You totally did.” Exclaimed Lev with a huge smile on his face.

“I heard it!” Yamamoto raised his hand like this was class time and the teacher just asked who’d like some candy.

“You’re so awesome, Kenma.” Praises Yaku. “You have a hot girlfriend, and she calls you—??” Kuroo clasped his hand over his old libero’s mouth, knowing that Kenma was sure to leave if they kept mentioning what they just heard like this.

“Hey Kenma, we are about to go inside and play some video games in there in Lev’s home theatre. Why don’t you come?”

Kenma opened his eyes, hearing immense comfort in his favourite thing to do. He could not turn down surround sound video games. You still had not released your arms around his waist. Kenma nodded to his best friend and told them to go on a ahead and that he will meet them there in a second.

Tetsuro ushered them all away like the true captain that he is, even after 5 years.

When they walked away, Kenma turned so that he was facing you. You looked at him with your cute ‘I’m sorry’ face that your boyfriend was literal putty for. He sighed when he saw you making that face, and all the anger he had toward you for saying that aloud dissipated.

“Y/N, that was really embarrassing.” He said in his normal dry tone.

It was your turn to shut your eyes in embarrassment. “I know, Kay, I’m so sorry. I promise I didn’t know they were there! I was too wrapped up in the game. I’ll never call you the d word again—“

Kenma watched you, his beautiful girlfriend, practically begging for his forgiveness. He didn’t like it. “I know you’re sorry, don’t worry about it.” He kissed your forehead. He looked around to make sure no one was listening. “And wait—you mean you’ll never call me the d-word again in public, right? Or ever?”

“Ever.” You said quickly. “I’ll embarrass you-“

“No.” Kenma said sternly. “Please keep calling me that in private. I love it, Y/N.” he told you he loved it very quietly, you could hear his voice drop with seduction. Kozume was thinking about all the times you called him that when he was having the time of his life between your legs and it turned him on. Kenma pulled you flush against him so you could feel his hard-on and you almost fainted. You loved when he was hard. It signified that pleasurable times were to come. You wanted him so bad.

But, you were at a party, and Kenma never let himself get carried away sexually in public.

Well, until today.

He pressed his boner harder against you.

“I’m telling you. I love it. So keep calling me daddy when we’re having sex. Or just whenever we are completely alone. Please.”

You gulped.

“Okay, Kenma.” You whined, wishing that you weren’t stuck at this reunion party anymore but writhing under your man at home in your shared bed.

A thought hit you and you reached in your pocket to feel for your set of keys. You remembered that you drove here, which only meant one thing: one really, great thing:

there was always the car..........

[alternateafterthought]

Arcane

Ø  Meaning: Secret, Mysterious, Understood only by few. MAGIC

Ø  Pairing: Panther Hybrid Min Yoongi x Reader

Ø  Summary: Some secrets are kept for the good of people. Some secrets are kept for abuse or power. Yoongi had been a victim of abuse and power, and he wasn’t going to let anyone else use secrets for that purpose. So, when Y/N comes into his life with secrets, he doesn’t want to fall into that rabbit hole again. He doesn’t want to give all his trust to someone who will abuse their power over him. But maybe Y/N’s secrets are a good thing.

Ø  Genre: Hybrid!au, fluff, angst, eventual smut

Ø  Warnings: None

Ø  Word Count: 1897

Ø  A/N: Hey guys… this is my first Min Yoongi fic!! After finally finishing my first ever BTS fic, GOLDEN TIME, I started working on this one!! If you haven’t noticed, I really love Hybrid stories and I seem to love writing them just as much!!! So, I really hope you guys love and support this fic like you did with GOLDEN TIME!! If you want to be added to a tag list, message me or leave a comment or ask!! Thank you so much!!

NEXT

Training a house dog was one thing. Walking around parks and seeing them full of dogs playing and learning to sit, come, stay, roll over was something rather cute.

What wasn’t cute was walking past those same parks to see full grown adult hybrids learning the same tricks as dogs. They may have animal genetics, they may have eats and a tail, and some attributes of their animal counterpart. Yet, it gives no proper reasoning as to why hybrids needed to be trained to sit, stay, come, roll over for a treat like they were lesser.

Hybrids might have been part animal, but they were also part human. A small detail lots of humans seemed to miss themselves.

Y/N walked through the park, having slipped away from her overbearing parents 30 minutes ago, loving being by herself. Even though it was loud, children running and playing, their parents running and shouting after them, hybrids playing with children, dogs running around. There was so much noise, so much around her, and yet it was the most at peace Y/N had been in months.

She was never allowed this type of freedom, not since she was a kid, and so she basked in the walk alone. The rays of the sun warming her up as she stood in the middle of the grassy area, head raised to the sun, eyes closed. The light cardigan over the dress she wore in the summer breeze moved as she looked around, happy to be alone, even for a while.

“HEY, I SAID SIT YOU STUPID ANIMAL!”

A rather loud, high pitched shout caused Y/N to open her eyes. Y/N blinked a few times, her eyes adjusting to the bright light of the sun, only to catch the ending of a tall woman hitting a hybrid.

From where Y/N stood she could make out small golden ears on top of the hybrids head, the same colour of the mop of golden hair on the hybrids head. A long golden tail wrapped around the hybrids own thigh as the hybrid curled in on themselves, their hands moving up to cover their face.

The hybrid was obviously scared, and it was even more obvious that no one was going to help the hybrid. Human and hybrids alike just looked as the woman punished her hybrid for not listening to her before looking away. Y/N noticed some hybrids, the closer ones and younger ones looked at the hybrid sympathetically, but the whole world knew that no one could help the poor hybrid. Like Y/N, all they could do was watch, before turning away herself.

Moving off the grass, Y/N followed the path to the edge of the park, joining the crowded streets of people. Y/N only had so much time to herself before her parents found her again, and that was an argument she could wait for. After all, this was the reason she had convinced her parents of this trip to the city, having planned the whole trip out.

Checking her watch as she moved across the street, Y/N only had 3 more hours before she had to meet her parents back at the hotel. She was already setting something up that would undoubtedly give her parents some type of heart attack, the least she could do was be on time.

Well as on time as a daughter can be in adopting a hybrid without her parents knowing she would.

Following the GPS on her phone, Y/N finally made it to the shelter, quickly opening the door. She was welcomed by a lively room, what was obviously once white walls were now covered in pictures of hundreds of hybrids. Some playing by themselves, some obviously posing for the camera and some with the biggest smile and humans, just having been adopted. The people in the room seemed to be just as lively, smiles and laughter coming from everywhere.

Y/N could tell who worked at the shelter, the purple shirts with the words “HOPE Sanctuary” on the back told her just that. It seemed there was a small family who had just happily adopted a dog hybrid, from the looks of it the young hybrid must have been the same age as the son he currently played with. There was also an elderly couple who had just adopted a cat hybrid, the younger feline standing next to the elder woman who gave the hybrid such a warm grandmotherly smile.

“Excuse me?” A voice spoke from behind Y/N. “Can I help you?”

A young woman stood next to Y/N; the purple shirt she wore matched the purple hair she sported. She was beautiful, the smile on her face was infectious, the soft dimples making her look that much younger. Y/N could tell she enjoyed working here, it was always good to see that there were humans like her that only wanted the best for hybrids.

“Hi yes. I called a few days ago about adopting a hybrid?” Y/N recalled the conversation she had with a very cheerful man.

“Ah yes, the older hybrid, right?” The woman’s eyes seemed to spark something. “If you would just take a seat, I will go get the owner.”

“Oh okay, thank you.” Y/N bowed her head  before moving to sit in one of the chairs.

Sitting on one of the free chairs, Y/N’s phone buzzed, reaching into her handbag to check the screen. She breathed a sigh of relief, thanking every god she could think of it wasn’t her parents. It was just a reminder, a needed reminder, but just a reminder to take her medication.

It was a simple enough task, one she did willingly, taking the small tablets then the water in the bottle she always carried around. She may not like it, she may not like the effects of them, and she may not like how her parents treated her like some child. But at 24 years old, she knew when to argue about something, and when to accept her fate and do as she’s told.

“Hello, Miss Y/L/N?” A familiar voice made Y/N look up as she screwed the lid tightly on her water bottle. “I’m Jung Hoseok, but please, J-Hope is what everyone calls me. I believe we talked on the phone.”

“Yes, Mr. Jung…” Y/N caught his eyebrow raise before laughing a little as she stood, taking the man’s hand in a handshake. “J-Hope.”

“Would you follow me to my office?” J-Hope gestured towards an office door, and with a nod they both moved towards it. “Can I just say, when we got your call that you were interested in one of our older hybrids, I just had to take your case personally.”

“Oh?”

“It’s nothing to be worried about, trust me.” J-Hope smiled widely, letting Y/N know he was excited. “It’s just when it comes to hybrids, people normally go for the younger children or even teens. I worry about the older hybrids, and unfortunately any hybrid over the age of 21 is considered old.”

“Really?” That was news to Y/N, her eyes wide as she took a seat opposite J-Hope.

With a sad nod from J-Hope, he moved some paperwork around, obviously finding the right stack; “So when you said you had interest in older hybrids, I just knew it was a case I had to take.” He finally found the right stack of paper with a small sound of approval. “We currently have 6 older hybrids here and I would love you to meet them all. Though with 2 of them unavailable you will only be meeting 4 of them.”

“What species of hybrids are they?” Y/N sat up straight in her chair, intrigued and happy. “The ones I’ll be meeting at least.”

“Two dog hybrids, a fox hybrid and a cat hybrid.” J-Hope looked up and smiled as he handed over 4 files to Y/N. “These are everything about them, you can read them first or you can meet them first, which ever you choose first.”

Looking down at the 4 files, she quickly flipped through them, a picture on the front of each yellow file. All 4 hybrids were males, first was a golden retriever hybrid, sandy blonde hair, the same colour as his floppy ear. He had a boxy smile, large eyes that shone brightly and he seemed to have been playing in mud as the picture was taken. Mud covered his clothes, parts of his face and hair had muddy stains, he seemed to be having a great time, even in the picture.

The second was a German Sheppard hybrid, large ears stood tall, tan and black, his head was tilted to the side. He looked to have been caught off guard, a book sat on his lap, his mouth opened slightly. He looked tall, even sitting on what looked to be his bed, his large hands looked like they wanted to move up to block the camera from taking his picture. There was a small note on the front of his file “Would be best suited for someone who lives close to the outdoors.”

Third was a very handsome hybrid. Anyone could tell that hybrid or not, he was truly very handsome, his black hair matched his shorter black ears. His eyes bore into the camera it seemed, welcoming anyone who looked at the picture. His smile was almost childlike compared to his eyes, his lips looked so soft and pink and honestly Y/N could stare at them all day. Y/N saw that he was the oldest of the 4 hybrids, and yet he could easily be mistaken for so much younger than his age.

The final file was of the only feline hybrid in the pile. A hand covered most of the view of the hybrid, but from what she could see was a pair of intense eyes. They looked almost black, his hand covered one of them, but still they drew her in, if not making her shiver. His hair was jet black, as were his small ears, in the light of the photo there was almost purple streaks. There was a small note left for him too; “If he is not adopted in the next 6 months, he must be signed up for the breeding program.”

“Um… could I meet them maybe?” Y/N lifted her gaze up from the feline hybrid. “I just… I think I would feel a lot better if I was able to meet them before making a decision.”

“Of course, you can. Would you like to meet them all together, or one at a time?”

“I think it would be better one at a time.” Y/N moved the files to sit on her knees.

“Perfect choice.” J-Hope stood. “Follow me and I’ll take you to a meeting room.”

Soon J-Hope had set Y/N up in a room, large windows that completely illuminated the room, two comfortable looking chairs and a table between them. J-Hope had left to go get the first hybrid as Y/N paced a little around the room. She was scared to meet them, but she was more scared of walking out of the shelter without a hybrid.

It was the one thing in her life that she truly needed right now, she needed independence. A hybrid would give her that. 

NEXT

Tag List

@ariana-winchester95​ | @haven-raven012591​ | @gracehiii​ | @larenelizabeth​ | @legazix​ | @jiminot7​ | @narcissism-iskey​

[aleator]

written in the stars (thor/tony)

A belated birthday gift for @cupcakeenigma​! Love u bb. ♥

“What do you mean you don’t know your birthday?”

Propped up on one elbow in bed, Tony stares at Thor, his usual lazy, post-coital spell broken by this news.

Thor runs a hand through his messy hair, sweeping it back from his face. “Not on the Midgardian calendar. Time works differently between the realms. I suppose I could calculate it based on--”

“No!” Tony exclaims, nearly startling Thor with its intensity. He hadn’t realized this was such a dire topic. “Don’t waste this.”

“Waste what?”

“You can pick your birthday,” Tony says, eyes shining brightly as he sits up the rest of the way. “We have to make it good. I’m thinking...Leo.”

Thor takes a moment to rack his brain as to what Tony could be referring to, but he’s not sure what an actor has to do with any of this so he assumes that’s not the case.

“You refer to…?”

“The zodiac sign?” Tony raises an eyebrow at him. “You’re clearly a Leo.”

“I didn’t think a man of science would believe such things,” Thor teases, reaching over to rub his hand over Tony’s side. Jane had been adamantly anti-astrology from what he recalls.

Tony shrugs. “I don’t. Astrology is totally fake. But you’re definitely a Leo.”

Thor laughs and gives Tony a playful squeeze of his hip.

“Well, either way I cannot just pick my day of birth,” he says, wrapping his arm around Tony’s waist and pulling him in to cuddle him against his chest, which distracts Tony from his plotting for a few moments. “If you wish to celebrate, I can find the Midgardian day it should be. But I’m used to not celebrating so you don’t have to worry.”

Tony pouts a bit but eventually concedes. “We’ll still have to celebrate,” he says, not willing to give up that much, and Thor nods, not wanting to upset him. Perhaps he can introduce Tony to some Asgardian traditions surrounding birthdays in the process.

Tony keeps him in bed the rest of the morning and into the afternoon, though Thor has no complaints about that. Eventually they have to get up and go their separate ways to get some work done, but Thor kisses Tony heartily and promises to be back in time for dinner.

Thor forgets about the conversation for a few days, the matter not an urgent one, until he overhears Rhodes telling Tony about some niece’s birthday party. Curious, he gathers a few star charts and calculates the exact day of his birth on the Midgardian calendar.

“August 1st,” he announces to Tony later that day.

“Hm?” Tony replies without looking up from the thousand-piece jigsaw puzzle that’s been occupying the coffee table for the last week.

“According to the positioning of both Asgard and Earth on the day I was born, my birthday is August 1st,” Thor says. He sets down the tablet where he did the math in front of Tony, but Tony doesn’t even look at it.

“I knew it,” he crows, grinning up at Thor. “A Leo.”

“It’s concerning you have the dates memorized,” Thor says, deadpan, as Tony hops up from sitting on the floor and grabs onto Thor’s arm.

“This is good though, we didn’t miss it yet this year. We can have a big party and everything.”

Tony’s excitement is infectious, and Thor smiles and wraps an arm around him, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. “I don’t need a big party, sváss. I’m happy just to celebrate with you.”

“We’ll discuss it,” Tony concedes, leaning back to look up at Thor. “I’m still getting you presents, though.”

“Of course,” Thor says with a nod. He knows how Tony likes to show his affection and even though he hardly needs Midgardian trinkets to know that Tony loves him, he’s long since learned to just let Tony buy him the novelty socks or whatever he’s set his sights on this time.

“You know, I’m a Gemini,” Tony says, letting go of Thor and picking up the tablet from the coffee table. “We should look up our compatibility.”

“Oh--” Thor reaches over to try and pull the tablet away from him, but it’s too late.

Tony pauses, staring down at the screen, then bursts out laughing. He’d closed Thor’s calculations to bring up a search browser only to find that Thor already had several pages on Gemini-Leo compatibility pulled up.

“Well? What’s the verdict?” Tony asks between bouts of laughter, not even resisting when Thor huffs and snatches his tablet back from him.

“Very agreeable,” Thor mumbles, locking the screen so it goes dark before he sets the tablet back on the table. “Apparently we have high sexual and emotional compatibility.”

Tony snorts. “I could’ve told you that already,” he says, looping his arms around Thor’s neck and drawing him down for a kiss.

Thor settles his hands on Tony’s hips and gently pulls him closer, capturing his lips for a hungry kiss. Tony’s right, like he usually is. They don’t need the stars or some false soothsayer on a questionable website to tell them what they already know--that they’re perfect for each other in every way.