#i am pretty sure i can actually Feel the thing they found in my neck and if this Is it um. it feels pretty solid to me teehee

[megumismyhusband]

your phone buzzed, the screen lighting up in the dim glow of your room. It was a familiar sight—a text from toge.

toegay: “hop on val” you: “it’s almost 2:00 AM. don’t you sleep?” toegay: “what a hypocrite. ur up rn” you: “stfu. im up cause im thinkin' bout how u owe me $20”

this was your routine. late-night texting and gaming. you didn’t think much of it—this is just how things were with him. best friends since forever. but recently, something felt different. the way his texts lingered in your mind, or how you caught yourself wishing that each notification on your phone was from him.

you two were just friends though.

“who are you texting?” panda asked, leaning over toge’s shoulder as they sat in the common room.

“no way—it’s y/n/ again, isn’t it?” maki smirked, catching a glimpse of the chat. toge slammed his phone facedown, a faint blush creeping up his neck.

“oh my god, you’re so down bad,” panda laughed, earning a halfhearted swat.

“fish flakes” toge says defensively.

“yeah, sure. the 24/7 texting says otherwise.” maki rolled her eyes but grinned. “just admit it already. you like her.”

toge froze. did he? sure, he cared about you. missed you when you weren’t around. found himself smiling at his phone more than he’d like to admit. but… it wasn’t like that. right?

a week later, the group chat buzzed with plans.

maki: “let’s hang out tmrw. movie night?” panda: “yessss. y/n, you in?” you: “i wishhh im busy tho :( sorry!”

Your phone buzzed again—this time, a private message from Maki.

Maki: “you suuuure? inumaki’s gonna be there”

a warm blush spread across your cheeks. before you could respond, another message popped up in the group chat.

toegay: “oh well, I’m actually kinda busy tmrw too, so idk if I can make it.”

Seconds later, a new group chat was created—without toge.

maki: “DOWN BAD.” panda: “HE IS SO OBVIOUS.” maki: “just confess already, y/n. ur into him too, aren’t you?”

you stared at their messages, heart pounding. were they right? you thought about the way toge always made time for you, the way his texts brightened your day, the way he somehow felt like home.

oh...you liked him.

the next night, you found yourself standing outside toge’s room, nerves bubbling in your chest. when he opened the door, his eyes widened slightly in surprise.

“y/n?” he signed.

“hey,” you said softly. “can we talk?” he nodded, stepping aside to let you in.

“i, um…” You fiddled with the hem of your shirt, your heart hammering in your chest. “i think i like you.”

toge blinked, his mouth opening slightly as if to respond, but he quickly pulled out his phone instead.

toegay: “You mean it?”

you nodded, a small smile forming on your lips. “yeah. And, judging by the fact that maki and panda have been spamming me nonstop, i’m guessing you might feel the same?” toge groaned, running a hand through his hair, but the smile tugging at his lips gave him away.

toegay: “maybe a little.”

you laughed, and the sound made his heart do a little flip.

“well, good,” you said. “because I’m pretty sure i’m down bad for you too.”

toegay: "if it helps u forget bout the $20 i owe, i really really like you too." toge smiles

"dickhead" y/n mutters as she shakes her head, a smile on her face

[risaonda]

I am so fucking angry. teehee

[nonotnolan]

Rush Week

You develop a special sort of bond with a guy when you've swapped bodies and you're touching each other's dick. It's the justification that Sigma Epsilon Chi gave for their partnership with Cuerpo Inc. during rush week, and I had to admit it makes sense. More to the point, Sig-Ep is THE frat to be in, so I knew I was going to do whatever it took to become a member, hazing be damned.

My face has never been much to look at-- my ears have always been huge, my hair is hopelessly curly, and I think my features are more rugged than handsome. I certainly don't have legacy money or family connections. I pledged with the hope that my muscles or my vibes would get me a ticket in, and I was so relieved to get that offer letter.

They said the house would swap bodies at random for the weekend, but I know that the machinery they use allows you to specify certain swaps and randomize others. I was convinced one of the upperclassmen will be taking my body while I ended up in some twig body for maximum embarrassment... and I wasn't wrong.

Henry is... he's a good guy, honestly. His parents are loaded and he can eat damn near anything and it doesn't affect his figure. I've never been fashion forward, so having access to his closet has been wild. The guy actually owns a sewing machine! He's also one of those guys who is never seen without product in his hair-- he actually left me instructions on how to take care of it. I can only imagine what he's gonna do in my low maintenance body-- all I own are tank tops and gym shirts. I'm half-expecting to come back to a new wardrobe and a manicure. But holy hell, the dude is thin and lanky in ways I didn't think was possible. I hope he enjoys having some actual meat on his bones.

The biggest thing is that Henry is gay. Which, you know, that's totally cool by me! More chicks for the rest of us. But once I was put into his body, seeing all of my fellow bros roaming around shirtless and feeling up their new muscles... I don't know how Henry can wear these skinny jeans all the time. I was rock-hard within minutes and it physically hurt to have my new eight inches constrained by denim. I almost feel guilty, giving him the shorter end of the stick.

I'm pretty sure Henry is an insatiable bottom, so all of that size seems wasted but... what can you do? Anyway, we're allowed to hook up this weekend as long as we use condoms and... when else am I gonna have this opportunity, you know? If I don't take this chance, I'm gonna be consumed by the 'what if's forever. Also the part where I'm horny as fuck in his body.

Lucky for me, whoever ended up in Joey's body was giving me the side-eye the whole time we were at the opening mixer, so I don't think it will take much effort to get my dick wet. His body has the type of smooth skin I've always envied, and I'm honestly jealous at how handsome his face looks. He's got a dirty blonde dye job that plays into his charm, and his muscles are... well, they might be bigger than mine. My real muscles, anyway.

"You wanna head upstairs to my room?" Joey asked, grabbing my bulge in his hand. He flashed a dazzling grin, and I could feel myself swooning from the confidence. God, I wanted him so bad. But Joey was just a Sophomore, which meant he still had one of the smaller bedrooms.

"My room," I said, shaking my head. A thought crossed my mind, and once again I figured I may as well follow the impulse. I threw my arms around Joey's neck and jumped into his arms. He stumbled a bit, but pretty soon his arms were hooked underneath my body to support my weight. So many of my friends back home did that all the time, and now I understood why they found it addicting. I leaned in close enough for him to feel the heat of my breath as I whispered into his ear, "I want you inside me."

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

"I really needed that," I said, putting some clothes back on after the most intense session of my life. "Can't say that I had ever imagined getting fucked by a man before, but, uhh... I enjoyed it, it was good. Hopefully that was good for you, too?" I could feel myself starting to blush. "I've never been a gay man before, but I think I got the hang of it there at the end."

"Bro, you were great, don't even worry about it," Joey said, resting a comforting hand on my shoulder. "But, uhh... what do you mean, you've never been a gay man before?"

I paused, trying to figure out whether or not he was messing with me. "I mean... I'm in Henry's body right now? It's me, Matty. I'm not actually gay. But, you know... when in Rome."

He just laughed at me. "Bro, that's not how it works. Attraction is all in the brain. Like... yeah, the real Henry is out and proud, but you being in his body doesn't make you gay. If you were into that, you've always been into dudes. You were just too afraid to admit it."

His face was all smiles, but his words felt like a punch to the gut. "Wait, but... I can't be gay, I've had girlfriends, I..." I tried to come up with some sort of defense, but nothing came to mind. I thought I was caught up in what other guys looked like because I was jealous. Was that just some warped form of attraction? "Are you sure the swap works like that?"

Joey wrapped me in a warm hug. "I'm sure. Sorry, bro. Didn't mean to give you a existential crisis. I thought you knew. You may not be gay, if it helps? You might be, like... Bi or Pan instead. And no one's gonna make you pick a label right away. Take your time, see what feels right."

He had a point. Being attracted to dudes wasn't limited to just gay men. And anyway, it's not like being gay would be a bad thing. I just... I didn't think it was me. "Hey, thanks bro," I said, hugging him back. "And... sorry if I sounded insulting. There's nothing wrong with being gay, I just didn't think... well, I'll definitely have to figure out my, uhh... my truth, I guess."

I started lowering my hands back down to his ass, and pretty soon we were making out again. "Hey, are you sure this is what you want?" Joey asked, pausing as I started to strip again. "Feels like you're moving fast, and I want to make sure you're not, like... pressured or whatever."

"Yeah, I'm sure," I replied, smiling at him. "You're the one who told me to see what feels right. That was my first time having sex with a dude, and it felt pretty good. So I think I'm gonna have sex with a guy for a second time. See what happens."

He smiled back, and I could feel myself melt. I don't know who's in Joey's body right now, but I hope it's someone hot. There's no way we aren't hooking up once we swap back.

[sharksnshakes]

Night Out - Tim Drake

image source: batboyblog on tumblr

When out at a dive bar with your friends, you step outside for a breath of fresh air and run into the Red Robin. For some reason, he seems... familiar?

AN; writers block is brutal and disgusting and horrible. also. i am suffering from batfamily brainrot so expect more of this (part two can be found here!)

Wordcount; 787

TW; some cursing, mentions of drinking

It's a damp spring night when you meet the Red Robin. You're out with your friends at some college dive bar on the East Side. The area's a far cry from Gotham U's campus, but with free entry and cheap drinks, it's worth the elevated risk of mugging.

"Besides," one of your friends had declared on the way to the bar, "It just means we're more likely to see Nightwing's hot ass."

You're pretty sure the dark-haired vigilante operates exclusively in Bludhaven these days, but you're not a party pooper.

The music was good, the crowd was fun, but a small room of drunk co-eds had a way of heating up quicker than Firefly's flamethrower, and so you'd retreated out the side door for a breath of fresh air. You weren't stupid; you'd taken your small can of mace with you. This was Gotham, after all.

The alleyway was blissfully empty, save for a dumpster--quite the relief, seeing as the last time you'd been here, you'd stumbled upon a couple deep in the throes of a heated make out session. Taking a breath, you leaned up against the cool bricks in the alleyway and let yourself decompress.

"There's definitely better places to hang out around here than dark alleys," a voice says from somewhere behind you.

Living in the city has taught you many things. Most importantly, how to turn off potential predators by acting downright crazier than they do.

You spin on your heel and hold the mace like it's a pistol, coming face-to-face with none other than--

"Holy shit, you're Robin," you gasp, eyes widening.

Thank god you didn't actually mace him.

"That I am," he says, warily eyeing the can in your hand.

"Like... the Red Robin," you continue. You're blinking at him, openly gaping, and it occurs to you that you should probably stop pointing the can at his eyes. You stow the makeshift weapon in your back pocket. "I'm so sorry! I thought you were a mugger or something!"

"Hey, it's fine," he chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck. "If it's any consolation, you definitely would've scared the shit out of a mugger."

You laugh, but it's mostly in disbelief. Red Robin is standing mere feet away from you, domino mask and yellow cloak and green pants and all, and you're suddenly very thankful you'd gotten dressed up to go out tonight. For a split second, you swear you see him give you a quick once over. But no, there's no way Robin's checking you out.

He glances around the alleyway for a moment, almost awkwardly, before speaking again. "...Any reason you're out here?"

"I'm out with my friends," you say, motioning to the building behind you, where the bar's logo is printed in peeling white vinyl. "Needed some air. Somehow, smoke and asthma don't make a good combination," you joke.

"Can't imagine why," he grins, and holy shit Red Robin thinks you're funny.

"You got any fun, exciting plans tonight?"

He hesitates.

"Wait, you don't have to answer. I know, top secret Batman stuff--"

"Nah, not that secret." It's dark in the alleyway so maybe you're not seeing things right, but you swear you can see a hint of color rising to his cheeks. "Just patrolling. Y'know. Keeping an eye out for muggers and mace-wielding asthmatics."

You laugh. "Sounds boring."

"Definitely could use a drink." He glances at the side door with an unreadable expression.

"Rough start to the night?"

"You could say that."

A brief silence stretches between the two of you. Traffic and the faint pounding of the bar's music fill the space, and for some reason, despite never having met Robin and likely never meeting him again, it feels... almost familiar.

"Hey, if it makes you feel any better, you're not the only one stuck at work tonight. One of my best friends, Tim, had to bail last minute since he's got an exam to study for. So, like, you're not suffering alone!" you add, thinking back to the guy you've kind of been maybe having romantic feelings for lately.

Robin chokes.

"Shit, you okay? Need me to, like, slap you on the back or something?"

"Nope," he says, voice raspy.

"You're sure?"

"Positive." He gives you an awkward thumbs-up.

"I should probably let you get back to work, then," you sigh, turning back to the side door and grasping the handle. "And I should get back in there. Don't need my friends worried about me."

When you turn back around, it's just you and the dumpster.

"Fuckin' impressive," you mutter to nobody but yourself. "See ya, Robin."

You step back inside. The door closes behind you and... fuck.

You forgot to ask for a picture.

[threepandas]

Bad End: Trust

"Meet your new mates, cargo! Get breeding!"

I didn't understand the bellowed noises at the time. It was just incoherent gibberish. Heaped on top of what was likely a concussion, mixed with what ever drugs they had pumped me with. Thrown into a cell, roughly, and hitting the ground hard. I couldn't have caught myself if I had wanted too. My limbs, unresponsive and dragging meat, that I could barely FEEL.

Please, god, I had thought. Don't let me be paralyzed. Not on top of everything else.

They'll kill me.

Behind and around me, the weeping cries of sorrow and fear rang out. Screams of violence, born of desperation. Countless races, bound together, suffering in this hell. Newly enslaved. I didn't... I couldn't understand. Shaking and struggling to remain conscious, laying on the blood stained floor. The world swayed violently. It was all I could do, to barely keep from passing out.

It was so cold. The air, the floor, the deep and clawing despair, sinking like knives into my gut. Those furry... things, had grabbed me while I was alone, before I could react. W-would anyone notice? Could anyone DO anything? I wanted to get away from the door. Curl up in a corner and... and cry. But I could not move. Like a doll, dropped thoughtlessly on the floor, I could not... could not move.

Tears I likely could not afford, threatened to choke me.

I... I was scared.

Then, deeper in the hovel that was my new home, movement. The heavy clink of chains. Shifting, slow and careful, followed by the drag of metal. A warm hand. Fingers, calloused but careful, checking my neck. My pulse, for injury perhaps, I couldn't tell. But... god, i could have sobbed in relief. They... they felt human.

How terrible of me. That I was GLAD not to be alone. T-That it was relief, to have another person here. Someone who might know what's going on. What to do. To.. to stick with. I... I should wish it was just me, right? That they captured no one else? But... oh god. O-Oh God, I can't! I'm scared. Please. P-please...

I'm so scared.

The person checking me hummed low and soft. Their voice crackling like an old radio that's been left sitting on a shelf too long, unused. How.. how long has it been? Since they last had anyone to talk too? They sounded male, but.. but I didn't want to presume. Could just have a low voice. Throat injury. Might be Trans. I didn't care, couldn't care. I was pretty sure? We were all we had now.

They... no, He, found nothing alarming enough not to move me. Shifting into view as he gently slipped his arms under me. Enough to pick me up and carry me away from the door. He was... is... pretty handsome.

Okay, REALLY handsome.

Horrifically enough? I could see WHY they grabbed him. Athletic as hell, TV ready, really smart. If you were going to ignore ever bit of decency and morality to ever exsist? Might as well go for the best, I guess. Don't know why they grabbed ME, but I guess? They need a stand in or something? Or my predecessor is dead.

(God, I hope she's dead. The alternative...)

Pretty quickly became apparent, though, that one of the main problems (of so, SO many)? Was we don't actually speak the same language. Which... I mean... Well, shit. That's, putting it mildly, "less then ideal". Being unable to communicate with the only other person nominally on "My Side"? Kinda bad! But, I AM learning. And I am teaching him english! So there's that.

We have nothing but time, after all. It helps distract from the suffering just outside. The weeping and screams. The sounds that must be begging, in alien dialects. All the mercies they do not find.

(Is it terrible? That I am glad I can not understand what they are saying? Their cries for help? I can't help them. It hurts. Helpless to even save my self. God, I'm sorry. Please... I'm... I'm so sorry...)

Food gets shoved in. Lights flipped on. Lights shut off. The timer odd, but probably standard for somewhere. It's like being told to go to sleep halfway through the afternoon. Yanked awake before full nights are done. I struggle to adapt, even a little, following my fellow prisoner's lead. Or, well, trying too. There's a lot of charades at first.

Then, practicing our languages. Taking what naps and cuddling for warmth we can. Harsh lights be damned. It's cold, we're tired, but we have to keep our strength up. Right? Throughout it all, I try to ignore the weird smells they pump in. Still not used to getting random scents blasted at my head from above, from the air vents in the walls.

Day in, day out, rinse and repeate. The weird gasses smells like people have had sex, to be honest. I think? But don't quote me. They might be trying to get us to "mate", like animals, so they can sell our kids. Induce some nonexistent human heat cycle or something. I've kinda started to worry, not gonna lie, about what they'll do... you know, once they finally get frustrated. Figure out, we don't work like that.

Or... more relevantly, might not even be? Compatible?

Cause Azenari is DEFINITELY not a human. They fucked uuuup. Cause if he is? There is some probably serious divergent evolution going on. He did NOT get nabbed from Earth. HE got nabbed from his SHIP(as in, yeah, a fuckin Space Ship). Because HIS people are space faring! The man has pointy ears for fucks sake! Some seriously fangy canines. And while, yeah, seriously kinda cool? No idea if our species are related, or... you know...

So yeah, The Fur Covered Slaver Bastards are apparently Humanoid face blind, on TOP of being just generally terrible. Or dumb! Might be dumb, honestly. Wouldn't put it past them. Banality of evil and all that. But recently? There was a... tension. Something was coming. The Bastards seemed twitchy.

"Not long now, beloved. We're two stops from the extraction ambush." Azenari murmured, from where he was tucked loosely around me as I watch the latest patrol pass, one arm cradling me tight. Even as, with the other hand, he sleepily stroked my back. "You'll look lovely in proper robes. You deserve finery, my love."

I couldn't understand most of the sentence. Normally he simplified for me, since I was still learning. He seemed... pleased? Smug? The more tense and twitchy the Bastards got, the more darkly amused he seemed to become. As though he knew exactly why. As though he was laughing inside.

"My magnificent darling, you'll belong to me in everyway that matters. I'll take safer jobs. No more slave ring stings. I promise."

Oh. I think I got it. Azenari though of me as family! Yeah, that tracked. Trauma bonding and all. I did too. Couldn't help but smile, hugging him back, much to his clear delight. Yeah. We were in this together.

I'm glad I had someone I could trust. The universe was big and I would be pretty much alone without him. All but thrown at his feet and told I was his, Azenari had every chance to hurt me. But he didn't. He was a good man. Solid and stable when everything when frightening, warm and there when I needed to hide.

Really, it was only a matter of time before we would be chatting like old friends!

"You are NEVER going to escape me, beloved."

"I Love You."

[vllergy]

strawberry scones

s/tar/d/ew v/alley, 2.6 k, s/am allergy fic my farmer has the fetish because i said so, sam/seb/farmer are some kind of polycule also because i said so sorry to call u out directly but just want to note the text messages and dynamics are directly inspired from @bestwhumpist's fics because i'm obsessed with the way you write the 'one partner with the kink and everyone else around them' dynamic and you inspire me xoxoxoxoxoxoxo ty

goblin destroyer + milo abigail: r we still practicing today?? seb: we were supposed to…. abigail: ???  seb: sam might still be dying sam: IM GOOD! IM FINE! i took my allergy meds sam: we’re still on >:|  seb: uh huh sam: im serious! im much better sam: 4pm at my place be there or be lame sam: milo, you in? c: 

The glare from the sun made the surface of his phone near impossible to read at first. Angling his hat forward, Milo let the brim cast a shadow over the screen until the group chat became legible. And when it did, his throat immediately went dry. Nervous heat fluttered in his chest despite the still crisp early spring air and his thumbs became clumsy as they hurried to type back a response. 

milo: you know it!!! i’ll bring snacks

He was about to pocket his phone and resume tending to the bed of soil in front of him when another message came through. A private one, outside the group chat. Milo swiped back to read it and his heart dropped into his stomach.

sebastian: ur so fucked lol 

Upon first arriving, it seemed as though Sam’s insistence on his own well-being was actually genuine. He greeted Milo at the door with clear eyes and a beaming, slightly crooked smile. Feeling like a delinquent for doing so, Milo gave a cursory glance at his nose and found it not even the slightest bit red or raw looking. He tried to temper his disappointment in favor of relief. This was good, actually. If Sam’s allergy meds really were doing their job, this was going to be a lot easier for him to sit through.

Sam threw a lean, muscled arm around Milo’s shoulders and guided him inside. He smelled like fresh laundry and sunshine and was already talking a mile a minute. 

“I think you’re really gonna like the new stuff, Sebastian’s been working on some lyrics that really brought the whole ting together--” he glanced at the tote Milo had clutched under his arm, “Oh shit, you really did bring snacks! I could kiss you, dude.”

They entered Sam’s room—always surprisingly clean for a man so full of boundless energy—and Abigail snorted. 

“Ugh, save it for when I leave,” she muttered, “The three of you can make out on your own time.”

Milo blushed dark red, the freckles on his cheeks nearly dissolving into the pools of color as the heat crawled up his face. Just as his step faltered, Sebastian appeared at his side and snaked an arm around his waist. He pulled Milo free of Sam’s golden aura and cocooned him in his own: velvety and dark and every bit as distracting.

“It was a figure of speech, jeez,” Sam’s cheeks went a little pink too, much to Milo’s delight. The blonde palmed the back of his neck sheepishly while he kicked off his shoes. 

Out of the corner of his eye, Milo caught Sebastian smirking. He never quite knew where the lines between them all existed. He and Sebastian were dating, he was pretty sure of that. But Sam and Sebastian had a thing all of their own too. And for their part, Milo and Sam always seemed to get tongue-tied around one another, a phenomenon Sebastian relentlessly encouraged. 

The only one who could clock all of them from a mile away seemed to be Abigail, who rolled her eyes and snatched the tote away from Milo before retreating back to the couch with it. Cracking open the lid made the room fill with the sweet scent of fresh baked scones. Abigail’s eyes went wide.

“Milo, you outdid yourself,” she gasped.

Milo, who’d just stopped blushing started right up again, and raked a hand through his dark curls.  

“It’s a new recipe.”

“Oh hell yes! Gimme one!” 

Sam darted past and snatched one out of the bin, jamming nearly half of a scone into his mouth with glee. Both Sebastian and Abigail rolled their eyes, but Milo merely watched with unmasked affection. Sam never did anything elegantly. It was all wide-toothed grins, exaggerated movements and unapologetic mirth.

By contrast, Sebastian was more delicate about the whole ordeal. Taking a scone for himself, he held it between his long, pale fingers and inspected the glaze. His dark eyes flickered to Milo.

“Strawberry?” he asked.

Milo nodded, “Picked this morning.” 

Sam had already demolished his first and was onto his second as he stooped down to his guitar case. Scone in mouth, he snapped the latches with his hands and shook hair out of his face like a dog. Milo’s chest squeezed. So cute.

En route to the keyboard, Sebastian stopped and placed a soft kiss on Milo’s cheek. “Thanks, farmer.” His hand strayed to his hip as he passed and pinched at the bone playfully. Milo almost yelped but managed to keep his reaction from emerging. 

He whirled an accusing gaze on Sebastian who merely gave a pointed look over at Sam who now held a half-eaten scone in one hand and was furiously rubbing at his nose with his other.

—

Abigail used to joke that Milo was a captive audience for these practice sessions. But the truth was, there was nowhere in the world Milo would rather be. As music filled the room, Milo sank back into the old couch Sam had dragged in and pushed against the wall.

He couldn’t hold a tune to save his life and he’d never learned to play an instrument, so the best he could offer was a pair of listening ears for Goblin Destroyer’s new material. He tended to think everything they did sounded great, but he at least pretend to offer varying opinions. He mostly just liked being a part of it all. Plus, watching both Sebastian and Sam in their element had a kind of hypnotizing power over him. 

Unfortunately, not hypnotizing enough to distract Milo from the losing battle happening before his eyes.

Sam turned his head against his shoulder and rubbed his nose against his shirt. With both hands occupied by his guitar, it seemed to be his only option, and one made effortlessly casual at that. It was over and done with in a second, having not missed a beat for his efforts, and it seemed Milo was the only one who’d noticed. It could have been a fluke. 

But of course it wasn’t. 

A few moments later, Sam sniffed hard. The sound was lost behind the music but Milo could see it happen clear as day. The bridge of his nose crinkled a few times and then the tip wriggled as he tried to assuage an itch without actually scratching it. Milo squirmed on the couch, wondering what it might be like to help him. To reach up and rub his nose for him while he played, or run his fingers along the bridge of his nose to try and coax out— 

Sam sneezed without warning. A tightly controlled thing, just one bob of his head and a brief shuttering of his expression. It was impossible to say if he’d made any sound or not given the volume of the music, but Milo doubted it. For as inelegant as Sam could be, he’d been suffering from his allergies for long enough that he’d gotten good at suppressing them. Normally he didn’t bother, at least not around them, but Milo supposed these were different circumstances. There was a certain veneer of professionalism here.

Sam sniffed hard enough to wrinkle his nose again and continued playing, unbothered. But Milo knew where this was going. And he was certainly bothered. 

Sam’s fingers never missed their mark on the neck of the guitar as his eyes fluttered and his head snapped forward once, twice, and then a third time with completely suppressed sneezes. His mouth was shut in a tight line, his expression pinched. He shook his head after the third as if to clear the sensation and arched his shoulder to wipe under his nose as he played. 

Milo felt the room turning to molasses around him. Heat crawled up his throat. Worse still, Sebastian had caught that last outburst. A tiny smirk played on the keyboardist’s pale features as he continued to play, his eyes flashing almost wickedly as he met Milo’s gaze. 

His expression seemed to say Told you. 

There were a few moments of peace. Milo tried to will himself not to look at Sam again but his eyes were pulled there like a magnet. He could tell the fit was getting away from him. Sam’s eyes closed and this time his hands paused their rhythm on the guitar as the tickle distracted him. He tilted his head toward the light, a lock of blonde hair falling limp across his forehead, and then whipped to the side after a brief pause. 

“—tiiew!” 

Milo only caught the tail end of the sound over the music, and the resounding-undoubtedly wet-sniffle was swallowed up by Sam falling seamlessly back on beat. He blinked a little groggily as he continued playing. Then, he must have noticed Milo staring, because he grinned sheepishly and shrugged his shoulders at him. 

That slight acknowledgement of it all went right to Milo’s dick. He somehow plastered on what he thought was a convincing smile in return and then had to cross his legs. His heart began jackhammering in his chest. Fuck, was he really about to have to sit here while this happened? Maybe he really was a captive audience.

Sam struggled in vain to keep playing but his nose had other ideas. Surrendering to the tickle, his hands went slack against the instrument again and his upper lip curled over his canine. Milo couldn’t hear the uptick of his breath but he could imagine it well enough, watching the plane of Sam’s chest swelling against his t-shirt. Hh—hh? Hh?

Sebastian stopped playing. And the pause between Abigail’s drumming was just long enough for the first, clear sneeze to strike through the room crystal clear.

“h’h’JIISHZSHh’huu!” Sam gripped the neck of his guitar and angled away from it. Milo couldn’t tell if he was worried about sneezing near it or just using it as a point of stability. He gasped and let his head snap forward with a second, wet, “hh’tiiISChiew!” 

Abigail stopped playing too. Silence descended, to which Sam quickly shook his head. He turned to the others even while his head bobbed between sneezes, eyes struggling to open during the quick cadence.

“N-no, don’t—nNNCH!—stop, I’m—hNGT!—fiii-nnGXT!—hGNT!—I can keep—tschh! TSCH! Going!”

Sebastian raised an eyebrow, “Yeah, you sound like it.”

“You know when you hold them in like that it only just makes it worse,” Abigail scolded him.

Milo felt like the walls were closing in on him. He quickly angled himself towards the arm of a couch and placed one of the pillows on his lap as strategically as he could. 

Sam lifted the collar of his shirt over his nose and mouth as he geared up for another. “h’Hsshhh-ue!!”  "Bless you," Milo said, his mouth dry.

“I thought you took your allergy meds,” Sebastian sighed.

Sam remained under the cover of his shirt, eyes cinched shut. He gasped wildly and ducked down, “HHh’uPSCHh’ue!” A watery, pathetic sniff followed and Milo could think of nothing else besides the wet mist most likely spraying his own chest. 

As Sam emerged, his nose was pink, nostrils an angry shade and twitching. “I did,” he groaned, “God, I fucking hate sp-sprhiing.” 

Lifting up his shirt again, he pinched the fabric around his nose and shuddered into another, “hh’eSCHh!” 

Milo couldn’t help but notice the slight spot of dampness now forming on the shirt. "Bless you," he said again, trying to keep his voice steady. His eyes were apt to roll back into his head if he wasn’t careful.  "Thagks," Sam sniffed hard.

“Maybe sit this one out,” Sebastian suggested as Sam pawed at his nose, “Abby and I are the ones who have to learn the run anyway.”

To anyone else, it might have sounded like something a concerned friend might say. But Milo could hear the edge of playfulness to it. The slight lilt of teasing that was meant for him, and only him as Sam nodded glumly, shrugged out of the strap of his guitar and made his way over to the couch. 

Milo stiffened, eyes going wide. Sam flopped back, completely oblivious, one arm going behind him around the back of the couch. He dropped his head back, gave a liquid sniffle and groaned. Milo could feel the heat of his arm near his shoulders and chewed on the inside of his cheek so hard he could taste blood.

“Just don’t sneeze all over Milo,” Sebastian warned. 

Milo gave him a desperate look. It must have been really desperate, because Sebastian even laughed and managed to appear a little apologetic. 

“Or the scones,” Abigail added.

Sam gave them both the finger even while turning his face to the side and half-stifling into the open air. The frame of the couch shook softly and his knee brushed against Milo’s as he released it. “hH’NGXtssh!”  He groaned and shifted back. Sam hardly ever looked grumpy, but he was absolutely pouting now. He seemed to be on the verge of saying something else but his arm quickly retracted from behind Milo so he could lean forward. He ducked beneath the safe haven of his shirt again, head dropped and hair falling over his brow as he buried his nose into the fabric. "hh'tscHH!! hhi'zESHhhiyew!"

Milo instinctively reached for him, his hand smoothing over his spine. Sam startled at the sudden contact and bit down the next series of sneezes seemingly on instinct, folding into himself further with each quick set.

"hH'nNNT! nnGSST! nnGXCH!"

"Sorry!" Milo said hurriedly, retracting his arm.

Sam tried in vain to shake his head through and speak through the last of the tickle, "No, my ba-haa'aSScHIEW--bad! Sorry, hh'tssch!--fuck! There."

He'd thoroughly soaked the front of his t-shirt now. Sniffling wetly behind the cover of it, he lifted his gaze with no small amount of bashfulness. A hoarse, weak laugh escaped him. "Bless you doesn't seem to cover it," Milo said, breathless for entirely different reasons.

"Sorry, sorry," Sam continued to apologize, sluicing the moisture from his nose with his shirt.

"Do you not own tissues?" Abigail balked. "My house, I can sneeze where I want," Sam sniffed again before standing up and unceremoniously stripping out of his sodden shirt. Milo blinked, stunned, and could do nothing but stare at the lean muscle on full display as Sam walked towards his dresser. Sebastian cleared his throat and when Milo caught his eye, he was practically grinning. He couldn't remember the last time he'd seen him look so happy. Milo sank further into the couch and forced his eyes to the floor. "Okay, I think the worst's over," Sam declared as he grabbed a fresh shirt. Though Milo caught his profile just as the telltale hitch of his breath followed the statement. "Hh? Hh!"

His long, blonde lashes fluttered as turned to the side, eyebrows lifting in expectation. Milo watched his bare shoulders swell softly as he inhaled, muscles along his ribs flexing. Sam sniffed and seemed to ignite the tickle fully, directing one last tired sneeze towards his elbow. "hH'tishew!"

The exhausted nature of it did something irrevocable to Milo. His mind went completely blank as Sam sniffled through tossing his new shirt over his head and eventually returned to his guitar.

Music started up again but Milo barely heard it. He was lost completely, shoving strawberry scones in his mouth one after another to have something to focus on other than Sam's delightfully pink nose.

[thegettingbyp2]

It's Really Happening

Summary: Elvis comes back home to you after meeting about the Comeback Special and celebrates with you

When Elvis came bursting through the front doors to Graceland, you were pretty sure that you hadn’t seen him looking so happy in a long time. He seemed lighter and the excited glint that you saw in his eyes when they found you told you that something had just gone very well in his meeting.

‘There she is,’ he said, making his way over to where you were curled up on the long sofa, reading a book. He sat down next to you, pulled the book from your hands, making sure to set it on the coffee table and gathered your face in both of his hands to kiss you.

‘You seem happy,’ you said when he pulled away from the kiss, looking at you with a big grin on his face. ‘It’s nice to see you like this again,’ you added softly, lifting your hand to cup his cheek, smiling when he turned his head to place a kiss on the inside of your palm.

‘I am happy, baby,’ he replied, speaking in a low tone even though it was just the two of you in the room. ‘I’m coming back.’

‘What do you mean?’ you asked, your brows furrowing ever so slightly, the smile still playing on your lips.

‘I’ve just been and had a meeting with these two guys who are going to let me record a TV special but it’s not going to be like this Christmas thing the Colonel wants me to do. These guys are going to let me sing my old stuff, gospel, anything I want!’ he explained, his grin growing as he spoke.

‘That sounds amazing!’ you exclaimed, finding his excitement infectious. ‘How did you get the Colonel to sign off of it?’

‘He doesn’t know, I think it might be time to call it quits with him. If these guys are going to actually let me do what I want, I need to work with them.’ You watched as Elvis lowered his eyes to where both of your hands were intertwined in his lap and you knew that he was feeling guilty for thinking of leaving the Colonel when he was the one who had been with him for pretty much his whole career.

‘It’s probably for the best, baby,’ you agreed, never having liked the Colonel in the first place.

‘It’s really happening, baby,’ Elvis said, his eyes focused on you, ‘everything’s going to get back on track and I can stop doing those stupid films. Everything’s gonna be good again.’

‘Hey, I like those films,’ you protested, causing Elvis to yank you into him until he had you straddling his lap, your hands resting on his shoulders before sliding down to his chest, making him hum happily.

‘You have to say that,’ he murmured, his eyes trained on your lips.

‘I really don’t,’ you replied before closing the gap between your lips. Elvis’ arms tightened around you as your lips parted against his, allowing him to deepen the kiss. Elvis hummed happily against your lips and he let one of his hands drop down to your thigh, squeezing softly underneath the fabric of your skirt.

‘I wouldn’t be able to do any of this without you, you know,’ Elvis murmured against your lips, smiling against you.

‘Yes, you would,’ you disagreed, pulling back and running your fingers through his hair, tugging lightly which made Elvis groan quietly and buck his hips into you, making you bounce in his lap.

‘It wouldn’t be as fun, though,’ he replied cheekily before sliding his hand to the apex of your thighs, his eyes darting up to meet yours when he realised that you weren’t wearing any panties. ‘What’s this?’ he asked, raising his eyebrows at you as a smirk grew on his lips.

You felt your cheeks flush with heat as you buried your head in his neck, breathing in the familiar and comforting scent of your boyfriend. ‘Wanted you,’ you mumbled into his neck.

‘Yeah? You gonna ride me, pretty girl,’ he asked, pulling your head out of his neck to rest his forehead against yours. You nodded quickly, making Elvis grin at you before he lifted your skirt around your waist and slid a finger into you.

Elvis’ arm wrapped tightly around your waist as your hips began to buck against him while he thrusted his finger into you, his thumb coming up to rest on your clit, rubbing tight circles on the sensitive bundle of nerves. Your arms draped over his shoulders, holding yourself close to him and breathing him in while you tried to move against the vice-like grip he had on your waist.

His finger moved slowly, keeping you on the edge of your orgasm as he listened to your whimpers and whines, smiling to himself at the knowledge that only he could pull these sounds from your lips. Pulling his finger out of you, he quickly undid his belt and pushed his trousers down just enough to free his cock, chuckling when he felt your body jolt as the tip of his cock, hit your clit.

You pulled yourself up onto your knees, still straddling his lap as he lined his cock at your entrance before helping you slide back down until you were seated in his lap once again. ‘You take me so well, baby,’ Elvis muttered when he felt you clench around him as you tried to adjust to his size.

When you began to grow impatient you lifted yourself up a couple of inches before letting yourself slide back down, pulling moans from both of you as you started up a rhythm of bouncing up and down in his lap, Elvis’ hands resting on your waist guiding your movements.

Due to him keeping you on edge, you found yourself hovering over your orgasm in no time and your whines and the way your fingers clenched on his shoulders told him as such. ‘You close, baby?’ he asked, smirking at you, knowing that you were.

You couldn’t speak so you replied only with a broken moan and a shaky nod, feeling your legs begin to give out from where you’d been bouncing on him. Elvis was quick to wrap an arm around your waist and slide his other hand up your back, keeping you steady as he planted his feet on the floor and began to thrust up into you.

From his angle he was continuously hitting that spot inside you that had you seeing stars and the only word you could utter was Elvis’ name as you let yourself tip over the edge, trusting that Elvis had you. While you were still floating in your post-orgasm haze, you felt Elvis thrust into you three more times before stilling, his forehead resting on your shoulder as you felt him fill you up.

You both stayed in the same positions for a few moments before Elvis lifted his head up to look at you, a hazy smile on his lips. ‘You okay, Satnin?’ he asked softly, moving one of his hands to your cheek, pulling you in to drop a soft kiss on lips.

‘Of course I am,’ you replied, looking at him fondly. ‘And I’m so proud of you, you’re going to be amazing in your special.’

‘Thank you, baby,’ he said, pulling your arms back around his neck and kissing you deeply.

[babyleostuff]

Omg your Minghao soft hours absolutely have my HEART. If you’re up for it, could I request a PT.2? Maybe reader wakes up in the morning feeling a bit better and gives Hao kisses as a thank you?!

the thought of kissing or making out w hao and having puffy pink lips after will forever drive me i n s a n e

kisses for hao | xu minghao

a little extension of this soft hour thought

genre | fluff [is a bit suggestive]

author's note | blonde hao is so fucking pretty, i just want to run my finger through his hear and kiss his pretty lips, god help me

Your eyes fluttered open, as the rays of the morning sun seeped through the curtains, warmth grazing your exposed shoulder, which Hao’s shirt failed to cover. You couldn’t  remember the last time you woke up so content, but you were sure that the body pressed to your back had something to do with it. 

Slowly, as not to wake the sleeping man next to you, you rolled over to your back, so you could fully take in the figure of your boyfriend, who looked as happy as you - even in his sleep. It wasn’t often that you got to wake up next to each other, your crazy schedules, his tours and endless flights made it almost impossible. 

His newly dyed blond hair made him look like an angel in the morning light, contrary to his toned upper body and perfect arms that the bedsheet failed to cover that made you think of anything else but angelic things. 

You carefully swept back the hair that fell onto his face, gently threading your finger through the soft strands. Almost as he could sense your featherlight touch, Minhgao stirred in his sleep, his perfect lips letting out a content sigh. 

“Good morning, bǎobèi,” he murmured, his eyes still closet, but with an evident smile on his face. 

“Mmm, it’s definitely a very good morning seeing you like this,” you giggled at how fast he opened his eyes, immediately noticing how most of his body was uncovered. 

“Isn’t it too early to think about how perfect I am?” You couldn’t believe you actually had this man in your bed, the annoying smirk on his face with a body out of your dreams. 

“It’s never too early, Hao,” you laughed, and put your hand on his chest, scratching lightly the expanse of his naked skin with your nails. He giggled as if you said the funniest joke ever, something you could listen to 24/7. 

“Thank you for last night. Thank you for taking care of me,” you said in a more serious tone, looking him deeply into his golden brown eyes. “You have no idea how much I needed that.” 

“I’ll always be there for you, darling. No matter where I am, you can always count on me,” Minghao said, his tone mirroring yours. As he raised his arm, his fingerstips grazed your arm, sending shivers down your back, only to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. 

“I know, but-,” before you could finish your sentence, Minghao suddenly lunged at you, crushing you with his entire weight, making you let out a genuine laugh of joy. 

“W-what are you doing?” you asked, feeling his wet kisses all over your collarbone and neck, as his hands found their way under your (his) shirt. 

No matter how many times stuff like these led to sex, there was nothing sexual about it now - you were like two idiots in love, grateful that you could finally spend a perfect morning together, exchanging not so innocent touches and kisses in the comfort of your shared bedroom. 

“I should be the one kissing you,” you kept on laughing, as his kisses neared your lips. 

“Why?” he smiled at you, placing another one on your cheek, this time more gently. “Because of what you did for me yesterday,” you said, placing your hand at the back of his neck. “I don’t know what I would’ve done if you weren't there.” 

The way he smiled could light up even the darkest days, you would never find the right words to express how grateful you were for him, so you hoped that at least your kisses could convey a small part of it. 

You lifted yourself on your elbow, and pulled him closer to you with the hand that held his neck, as he placed his own on your cheek, stroking it with his thumb. You took a second to admire his face now that you could be near him, noticing all of his imperfections that made him so perfect. 

“I love you,” you whispered against his mouth, placing a sweet kiss on his perfectly plump, pink lips, that you’d never be tired of kissing. “I love you even more,” he whispered back. 

For a second, as your eyes met, the world around you seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you, tangled in your bedsheets, in your own little universe. With a gentle, almost hesitant approach, you leaned in closer, sealing your lips in another heartfelt kiss. 

Your mouths moved together in perfect harmony, and the taste of morning lingered on your lips - a mixture of crisp air and the promise of a new day.

taglist (if you want to be added, check my masterlist): @weird-bookworm @sea-moon-star @hanniehaee @wonwooz1 @byprettymar @edgaralienpoe @staranghae @eightlightstar @itza-meee @immabecreepin

[urfavoritedcwhore]

Idea for Henry Marchbanks Winter fanfic: He gets extremely jealous. Maybe even a break up? And getting back together … could be wrote in multiple parts!

love this idea

break//henry winter x reader fanfic

a prelude to my “phone sex” fanfic.

warnings: swearing, drinking, slight mention of being sick.

not proof read//reminder that english isn’t my first language, sorry if i mess up<33

lowercase intended

i wrote this at 4am so please bare with me.

henry is almost always jealous. Whether, I am helping Charles cook or helping Bunny with his literature assignments, just little harmless things really. He always has a “stern talk” with me about it afterwards, in which i explain myself and everything goes back to normal. it’s almost comedic how often it happens. let’s talk about what’s happening right now. i’m half drunk, holding henry’s arm as he and bunny bicker drunkenly over….well actually im not sure. all i’ve been doing is giggling and watching henry’s reactions to bunny’s words. we’re all at charles’s and camilla’s apartment as of right now. dinner went well but perusal, everyone has had too much to drink. i think camilla and charles are in the kitchen, i can hear francis and richard behind me on the couch, and of course bunny stands in front of henry and i. i’m watching them and giggling when i feel a hand on my shoulder. i turn around with a chuckle as i half expecting it to be camila coming to watch the quarrel with me. instead i turn to see a drunk richard stumbling on one foot down to the other. he’s smiling boyishly at me, “come dance with me.”, he says nodding to the open space in the living room. faintly from the record player i can hear Valerie Delaney’s, “Six Gnossiennes: Gnossienne No. 1”. i twist my mouth to the side before looking up at henry, who’s still bickering with bunny. i shrug and release my grip on henry’s arm as i turn back to richard, “why not.”, i say before stumbling to the open floor space in the living room. i giggle softly, (something i’m very prone to doing after having a few scotches), and stumble as i look at him. “what kind of dance are you suggesting?”, i ask. he stumbles back a bit and grabs my hands, interlocking his fingers with mine and shrugging as he gives me a drunken smile. he pulls me close as he moves our hands to the sides of us, allowing our bodies to press against eachother. we both stumble for a moment and laugh before we eventually find the rhythm and sway to the music. now listen and understand me, i am in no way attracted to richard papen; hell, i’m pretty sure he’s gay. so in my mind dancing with him, is not different then if i were to dance with francis or even camilla. it’s friendly. when his fingers disconnect from mine and his hands find there way to my hips i simply drape my arms around his neck and continue swaying to the music. not even a full minute later a sharp voice calls out from behind me, “that’s enough y/n. let’s go now.”. i look over my shoulder and see henry standing in the same spot he’s been standing, but now facing richard and me. i’ve always found it a bit eerie how fast he can sober up when it’s time to leave. i chuckle and disconnect my arms from around richard’s shoulders as his hands fall from my hips to his sides. i walk, correction, i stumble towards henry and call over my shoulder back to richard, “that was fun old man, let’s do it again sometime!”. fuck, i need to stop being around bunny so much. i’m beginning to adopt his vocabulary. when i approach henry’s side he drapes his arm around my waist tightly and turns us around. he walks, practically pulling me with him. as we get to the door he calls out his goodbyes and drags me out into the hall before anyone can even reply. i chuckle drunkenly as he walks us down the hall. his grip on my waist doesn’t wavier at all. he keeps his eyes forward as we walk and mutters something to himself. i look up at him, “huh?”, i ask as he continues to pull me along while i stumble. he keeps his eyes forward and his tone steady as he repeats himself, “i said, ‘there are two reasons for evil deeds, one is illness, the other is wickedness.’”. as we get on the elevator my face scrunches slightly as i think. i finally shift my eyes back up to his face as the elevator door closes, “Dante’s inferno. Canto 11, Dante discusses the nature of sin and the motivations behind evil deeds.”, i state realizing what he’s quoting. he keeps his eyes pointed towards the closed elevator doors and nods once.

when the elevator doors open my drunken mind is still confused, “why are you quoting Dante to me?”, i ask as he drags me out the building’s doors and into by the parking lot. he doesn’t answer. instead he continues to walk to his car, not even bothering to open my door for me when we get to it. i narrow my eyebrows before opening my own door and joining him in the car. as i sit and close the door his head snaps to me, his tone is calm but his eyes suggest he’s upset with me. “so which are you y/n? are you ill or simply wicked.”, he asks like he’s asking me the simplest question in the world. i sober up slightly from his words, my body almost flinching from the harshness of them, “excuse me?”, i ask baffled. he looks forward as he starts the car and backs it out of the parking space. he responds as we pull out of the parking lot, his eyes still on the road and his tone still calm, but his fists are clenching the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles have gone white; “i’m asking did you dance with richard and embarrass me because there’s something mentally wrong with you, or did you do it just to be wicked?”. my eyes widen as i look at him bewildered, “are you joking?”, i ask greatly offended. he only scoffs and continues to drive. i reply back angrily with my head still turned towards him, “he’s homosexual henry, good God.”, i say shaking my head. “so there is something mentally wrong with you then. you don’t see the way he looks at you all the time? y/n he practically salivates over you.”, he says with the slightest bit of either annoyance or anger in his voice. i furrow my eyebrows and shake my head in disbelief. i turn my head and look back out the windshield. we’re driving towards campus? why are we going to henry’s apartment? i turn my head back to look at him, “why are you driving to campus?”, i ask genuinely confused. his eyes stay focused on the road.

“i’m talking you to your dorm.”, he answers as if it’s obvious. my heart sinks, “why, why aren’t we going to your apartment?”, i ask with my anger wavering and a small feeling of dread in my stomach. to my surprise he sighs. he doesn’t answer until we pull into my dormitory buildings parking lot, “i need to not be around you right now y/n”, he says as he finally looks at me. he’s eyes are hard to read, but i see a flicker of something. anger? disgust? resentment? hurt? “i don’t want to go to my dorm…i want to go back to your apartment with you.”, i say in almost a whisper as my eyes meet him. he closes his eyes and rubs his temples, “i think it best if we spend some time apart. i cannot continue to be constantly worried about you going off with another man.”, he says in a sigh. immediately i feel my cheeks burn red and my eyes grow with tears, “what do you mean by ‘time apart’?”, i say back trying to keep my voice steady. “are you breaking up with me?”, i add on but this time not able to conceal the shakiness in my voice. he opens his eye quickly, “if that’s what you need me to call it than i suppose. though i would rather just call it a break for right now.”, he says in a calculated tone. my eyebrows furrow as i try to process his words. i feel a lump forming in my throat. don’t let him see you cry, don’t let him see you cry. i nod once, quickly wiping a small tear off my cheek that escaped my eye. “fine. if that’s what you want.”, i say trying my best to sound indifferent. he looks back to the front, “it is.”, he says matter-of-factly. i allow myself a momentary pained expression while his eyes aren’t on me, but i quickly wipe it away as i unbuckle my seatbelt. “fine then.”, is all i say before opening the car door, getting out, and slamming it shut. i don’t allow myself to look back at the car once im out, i simply walk forward towards my dorm building. i don’t even realize im full on sobbing until i get into my dorm room and look in my mirror. fuck fuck fuck fuck. i pace around for a moment before i feel utterly sick. does he truly think i would betray him? does he truly think i could ever love someone else? i throw myself on my bed, but i know, i wont be sleeping tonight.

A/N: thank you for the request! if you all want i can write a fic about how the week during the break<33

[mashiraostail]

Me sitting sooooooo nicely

Could you possibly do “you can sit on my lap” from the prompt list with Fatgum? As NSFW as your heart desires, but I loooooove how you write him! (Ngl your depressive episode reader fics got me through some tough times here and I treasure them with all my heart)

omg thank you for sitting nicely!!!!

A quiet day in seemed to be exactly what you needed, it was all the more delightful that Taishiro was there. You were glad he'd found the time to spend with you, even moreso to spend it lolling around your. place together. You'd ran a few small errands during the day but ultimately came back together in the afternoon, content to enjoy each other's company. You're sitting on the couch, watching some silly television program when you decide to start washing up. You announce it as you stand.

"I'm gonna wash my face and stuff, maybe put on some PJs."

"PJs?" Taishiro sounds excited, "maybe I'll follow your lead."

You grin and stand in front of his seat, "we can't go to bed too early."

"I know, I know, I wanna spend as much time together as possible too, but we might as well be comfy while you tell me all your work gossip. I swear I'll stay awake, and if I don't I owe you big time....but I will stay up."

You laugh at that, a quiet lilting sound that Taishiro feels like he's always chasing. His hands rest on the back of your thighs and he leans his head into your stomach, "go on, I'm excited to talk to you some more. You're leaving me with a crazy cliffhanger with that HR lady."

"She works in finances." You chuckle as you kiss his brow, "but sure."

You make fast work of washing up it wasn't anything major, just washing the oils from the day off your skin and changing into a comfy set of shorts and a teeshirt. You didn't look when you reached into your pajama pile, and the shirt you produced was a bit smaller than your average bed time tee shirt but it wasn't too tight or restrictive and you figured it would be nice to have some more exposed skin for Taishiro to brush his fingers against anyway.

When you emerge again Taishiro looks surprised.

"Woah-"

"What?" You prickle, "you know I don't have any matching sets or-"

"No it's good, a good 'woah.'" And he's being honest, all of your newly exposed skin looks equally tantalizing from your thighs to the sliver of your belly showing over your shorts. He realizes how close you'd been all day and how little he's actually be able to touch.

"Come here," he eggs you on, "don't torture me now, I'm just a man."

You go to him, no real reason to deny him popping up in your immediate thoughts. In fact all you can thing of are reasons to indulge him.

"You look pretty as a petal." He's smiling, grinning impishly at you, "'re you gonna let me touch you?"

You flush, surprised at his change of mood but not at all displeased, "of course I am."

"Lucky me." He huffs out a quiet laugh, "come on, you can sit on my lap." The motion is so practiced and easy, you'd dare call it muscle memory.

"That's perfect." He's already sliding his hands into your shirt, the devil.

"Is this what you've been waiting for this whole time?" You laugh a bit, unable to even feign anger with him.

"Oh no," He assures you, "I was just...listening to you talk with that pretty voice of yours all day, watching you play with you hair, and smile at me like you do." His hands are gliding up your back pulling you closer to him easily.

You don't mind the direction this is going in, you indulge him, maybe a bit selfishly. You kiss him, hands holding on his shoulders and sliding down his chest. You enjoy the feeling of his lips wandering down your jaw and neck, and his hands sneaking lower to your belly then your thighs. You don't mind taking off the pajamas you just put on, and he certainly doesn't mind undressing and shifting his own clothes to get as much skin to skin contact as possible.

For all intents and purposes you liked being in his lap, you felt surrounded by him, and something about the idea of him watching you, egging you on along the way lit a fire inside you. And watch you he did, he liked having you on his lap just as much. He could touch and guide you but also leave you to your own devices and he could watch. He liked to let you set the pace, especially at a time like there where he would just like to ravish you with attention from all fronts. For now he'll huddle you close, and follow the roll of your hips while he continue to kiss around your lips and jaw. When you work yourself up to a climax he'll welcome you, slumped over into his chest, and he'll stand, taking you with him. He'll clean you off and bring you to bed and you won't have to say a word if you don't want to. He'll huddle you even closer under the covers and rub circles in the nape of your neck until you doze off for the night.

[crsssie]

from one admirer to another : top holiday in your opinion?

pairing: leon kennedy x reader || masterpost: from one admirer to another

synopsis: from one admirer to another, an online penpal service, allows for two people with common interests to write to each other without ever revealing their actual address! Luckily for both you and Leon, you get matched up! What do eggs and Christmas even have in common anyway? sure hope it's that modeling business and NOT that Ada Wong addiction.

featuring: reader as scrambled eggs // leon as christmas

Hi Christmas!

What an interesting name. I don't think many people on this service actually use something that creative. I, for one, just really enjoy having eggs so I'm called scrambled eggs. Though, sometimes the doctor tells me to go easy on them since the cholesterol in the yellows of eggs is HEINOUS for my blood tests. So, alas, I am coping through naming myself all things eggs.

I love Ada Wong. She's my beloved, and if I say I'm her second biggest fan, no one can say they're her first because I am her day ONE you hear me? DAY ONE. I AM HER DAY ONE— okay, I'm sure you're not convinced, but a person can dream. Come on. I've literally already read glhf <3 on ao3 so I'd say we're pretty neck to neck. Also, that fan event and the sticker? Thank you. Going into my phone case like right now.

As for her helicopter shoot, what Ada stan DOESN'T feel some way about it? I, for one, went manic when it came out. It was so bad I was begging for her signature on my magazine and yelled a little when she signed it. No, don't rob me. I live in an apartment with my friend and NO it's not an option to climb to the 17th floor.

History about me... I wonder? I don't do much. Well, a little bit like you, I model a little on the side as well, but only because I'm nepotism-ing my way into the industry through connections. I'm not interested in it as a full-time job, but it's kind of nice being on set and watching how it all goes down. Maybe I'll become a manager? But that's too much work. Honestly, I'd rather just be some weird form of sugar baby except not to an old man and to the people who are trying to get me into the industry. I'd love to just be their bestie who shows the bts of everything. That sounds FUN.

Hm, to speed-answer your questions, my favorite way of having eggs is actually in a nice cheesy omelet or an egg benedict, my favorite holiday (call me biased bc of my bsf) is the dragon boat festival only because those sticky rice zongzi are actually the chinese's greatest gift to man, and I write in my freetime (don't ask what. I know a degen when I see one, and YOU my friend, are no different from me).

Now, to ask you a couple of questions back. What's your favorite way to have eggs? Your fav holiday? Surely it's Christmas? All jokes, of course. How about some life updates? We can be like... besties, except not besties because we don't even know what the other person looks like and for all I know you could be some 60-year-old man who's faking everything through the letter. Just kidding! I'm not lying, so I'm sure you're not either.

I'm attaching a small Ada print I found on my table while digging for pens to write back to you. I hope you like it. I think it's signed by her? But I'm not sure. I think I had her sign two that time... or something. I don't remember.

hope to hear back ? scrambled eggs

You finish the letter and sign, print slipped in as Ada steps out from the shower, towel around her neck as she raises a brow.

"Oh, is that the model penpal service?"

"Yeah." You seal the letter and write in the PO box, humming. "Did you ever use it?"

"No. I only know it because Wesker insisted that I know that the penpal service wasn't actually for finding friends, but getting to know who else in the company shares a passion for the same things. I have you, so I don't need to worry much."

"MARRY ME!" You sob, crying into your hands as Ada rolls her eyes.

"I'm your roommate. Also, that contract you signed as a small-time model prohibits dating."

"I said marry me, not date me." You raise a brow. "Also, I made them scrap that part since I wasn't planning on becoming famous. My contract has a lot more leeway compared to yours."

"I know." Ada sits at her vanity, plugging her hairdryer in as you step behind her, helping her out. "It's a shame you didn't want to become famous."

"There's no point in being famous unless it's for the money. What of that do I need to care about if you're legally obligated to provide for me?"

"Really sucks to be best friends with you." She rolls her eyes, pulling out her phone. "Did you update that chapter yet?"

"No, I was going to update it after your hair."

"What did you write about this time?"

"I'm not telling you because I gotta lock myself in my room when I post it."

"You didn't even ask me any questions this time around." She huffs.

"Mainly because I was gonna write angst again and you hate it when I do that."

"God, you're insufferable."

"Thanks, love you too."

prev letter : masterlist : next letter

[thestarrynightslover]

The Day You Finally Caught a Break

Pairing: Jay Halstead x Reader

Word count: 1,574

Warnings: FLUFF. Mentions of sex crimes and crimes involving special victims (all very slight).

Summary: After living in a boring routine, the detective (y/n) (y/l/n) catches a lucky break with her colleague Jay Halstead.

Disclaimer: I don’t own any of the One Chicago shows, or its characters, also not associated with it in any way or know anyone involved with it.

A/N: So, this is my first fic in a while and I am aware that it is very cheesy but I just felt like writing something cheesy. Anyways, I hope you like it!

(y/n) = (your name) (y/l/n) = (your last name) (y/n/n) = (your nickname)

| masterlist |

The day started just like any other would: waking up earlier than necessary, going for a run, doing some yoga, reading, and finally getting ready to go to work. Sure, to a lot of people that might have been a great morning, having all that time to do all that stuff… The only thing was: you’d been running on nothing beyond routine — one that had become quite boring, to be honest — for a couple of years now. Which made you that weird cop who actually enjoyed the worst cases just because it gave you some sort of purpose, some sort of change. Holding that thought, you were supposed to feel lucky once you and your team got deeper into your current case. But, even with the most boring of lives, a person — a decent human being — couldn’t feel lucky for even knowing something like that happens in the world, much less for having to know every sick and twisted detail of a case that involved sex trafficking, pregnant women, all sorts of assault and child abduction.

After it was “over”, around midnight, all of Intelligence seemed to silently agree on staying as long as necessary to finish their reports. Everybody thinking the same way: finishing this today, I can get outta here, get drunk, and put it in a box in the back of my head — where it’ll stay forever. As soon as someone would finish the paperwork, they’d grab their coat, mutter something resembling a goodbye, and rush out of there like the room was on fire. Molly’s wouldn’t be open anymore and none of you really wanted to spend time with each other to risk having to talk out what had happened. And then something strange happened.

Instead of just leaving like your partner Kim and his partner Kevin before her, Ruzek just stood at the door frame, waiting. For Upton. What? He kept looking at her desk so it was pretty obvious but the confirmation came when the detective got up saying: “Hey, Jay, I’mma get going now. You okay if we do our thing some other day?”

By the time Halstead looked up, she was almost reaching Adam which shocked the shit out of you but didn’t seem to faze him much, who only answered: “Yeah. Sure. Night, guys.” And then there were two—the only two Intelligence members who never exchanged more than a couple of polite measures.

Nevertheless, your gossip-starved soul got the best of you, who ended up blurting out a “They’re together?” to no one less than Jay Halstead. For a minute or so the other detective just looked around the room, as if expecting someone to jump out of nowhere and answer your question. But, after your eyes eventually met, he decided on answering.

“Eh… I don’t really know”, he started, while scratching the back of his neck, “I mean, it’s not like I’ve asked, you know?”

“Ah…” Was all you found to say after he stopped for a moment, but he continued.

“That’s just not really how it works between us. But the other day he did show up at her place late at night, which was suspicious. To say the least.” The words just flew right out of his mouth, surprising both of you, who started chuckling awkwardly at the recognition, “this is the first actual conversation we’ve had after all this time working together, isn’t it?”, he asked, ultimately.

“Yeah, I think it is,” you said, now full-on laughing. “God, I can’t believe that the first time I worked up the courage to actually talk to you was to ask for gossip!” You exclaimed, knowing that your cheeks were probably burning up with embarrassment.

“To be honest, I kinda needed to share that with someone. Especially after this moment here.” He confessed, making you laugh and forcing himself to laugh a bit more to try and hide the fact that he couldn’t stop staring at you. It just went wrong when his mouth betrayed him by saying: “You look so damn cute right now!”

"Well, it isn't every day that one finds out that the detective Jay Halstead is a gossip. Which makes me wonder who the cute one really is…"

"Oh, so that's where you're going with this?" He asked with his eyes twinkling. "Because I can prove just how not cute I am…"

"Oh?" You replied simply wondering what kind of proof he could provide against that.

"In fact, I have just the perfect idea, but, for that, you'd have to agree on going out with me first." Jay himself couldn't believe he finally managed to invite you out.

"Ooh, as in a d- date?" Who were you? Stuttering? C'mon!

"A date, yes." He answered, making you feel relieved and nervous again all at the same time.

"Yeah, I, uh, I wouldn't mind that at all. We can try and think of a date that works for both of us…" You suggested.

"Well, on Wednesday I'll be off, how about you?" Jay asked quickly.

"Oh no, that day I have somethings Platt wanted me to do. How about next Monday?"

"That's a no for me, 'cause I'm pulling doubles next week.*

"Damn…"

“Maybe this is a crazy idea but have you finished your report yet?” He asked quizzically.

“Uh, hitting the send button right now. Why?

“Then what if we do it now?”

“The date thingy?” You asked shyly, afraid that had been just a momentaneous thought that came out of his mouth too fast.

At that, he looked at you in awe, mesmerized by how adorable you were. “Yes. The date thingy.”

A million thoughts crossed your mind, including the one that that was a lifetime opportunity and that you should be better dressed, but figuring that saying something like that would only make you miss the opportunity, you settled for asking: “But where would we go? Like, it’s past 1 a.m., Jay, I don’t think there are a lot of places open…”

“Well, I might have a few ideas… Do you trust me?” He asked, holding his hand out to you, who grabbed it at the same time as you grabbed your jacket and purse with your other hand.

“Do you really need to ask that?"

And, like that, some time later you found yourself pulling up to the address Jay had texted you, which was in Canaryville, and it turned out to be an old movie theater that apparently was doing a week of classics with sessions at all times of the day. How Jay knew about that, though, was a mystery to you.

"Hey!" You heard him calling as he crossed the street. "You made a better time getting here than I did!"

"Yeah, well, my car might be faster than your old one," you replied, shrugging innocently.

"Haha, very funny," he deadpanned.

"Hey, this is a cool idea but how did you know it is happening?" You asked, genuinely curious. "I mean, you just don't seem a lot like a movie nerd to me."

"Well, there are still many things you don't know about me. But this one specifically is because I grew up around here and the owner is a friend of my family, so he always lets Will and I know about what's going on with the place."

"Hmmm, that explains it!" You exclaimed with a tad of satisfaction for not being too far off about him.

"But I do enjoy movies, okay?" You made a face of disbelief at him. To which he replied with: "It's true, alright? I'll admit that these days I haven't had much time for it but when I was growing up around here, this place was practically my second home!"

"Oh, so you've brought many others here, I'll assume!" You teased, suddenly feeling more comfortable and consequently more confident.

"Don't! Don't assume that! Growing up I wasn't very successful with the ladies and after that changed I haven't come here often…"

"Ooh, so that means that I'm your first?" You mocked, putting your hand to your heart, "Wow, I'm truly touched now!"

"Yeah, sure, have your fun with me all you want! All I really care about is the fact that I finally managed to get you to go out with me, so I can only hope you'll enjoy yourself." Him saying that, while gazing so intently at you, was making you weak on your knees and got you blushing a bit as well. So you tried to get the attention off you.

"Okay! Then let's pick a movie and watch it already, 'cause tomorrow's probably not gonna be any shorter."

A couple of hours later you and Jay were walking down the street towards a Waffle House while chatting and laughing about the movie like two best friends, which felt really nice but also made you a little confused about the being a date of that date the two of you were on. But, after you both had cleaned your plates at the diner, Jay came onto your bench to clean the corner of your mouth with a napkin, and next thing you knew, you were kissing very passionately in public like a couple of teens, forgetting about the rest of the world altogether, which made you realized, once more, how dull and colorless your life was previous to that moment so you held on to it and you held on to the man behind it.

[destinygoldenstar]

"But Pomni just couldn't do it. She considered the possibility of facing Ragatha. Admitting she had abandoned her for the exit after she promised to get help. She might be abstracted for that. And in such a crazy world, why had she taken that risk? All because she believed this was a dream? They would think she was crazy."

"And then something occurred to Pomni."

"'Maybe' she thought to herself, 'Maybe I AM crazy. My entire identity blinking completely out of existence in a single moment for no reason at all?' None of it made any logical sense."

"And as Pomni pondered this, she began to make other strange observations. For example: Why did her skin feel like rubber? Why did doors punch her in the face whenever she opened them? And for that matter, these rooms were starting to look pretty familiar. Were they simply repeating?"

"'No!' Pomni said to herself, 'This is all too strange this can't be real!' And at last, she came to the conclusion that had been at the tip of her tongue. She just hadn't found the words for it. 'I'm dreaming!' She yelled. 'This is all a dream!'"

"Oh what a relief Pomni felt, to have finally found an answer! An explanation! That circus wasn't actually real! She didn't lose her identity! She wasn't crazy after all!"

"...and then perhaps the strangest question of them all entered Pomni's head. One she was amazed she hadn't asked herself sooner."

"Why is there somebody out there rewriting a monologue from Stanley Parable of all things? Now the text was describing her own thoughts and dictating what she was doing and thinking. It was particularly strange."

"'I'm dreaming about a monologue of someone else's thoughts explaining my exact thoughts as though they were my thoughts even though they weren't originally my thoughts' she thought."

"And when she thought it all very odd and wondered if this was something other people did and thought in their dreams, the truth was that of course, this was not a dream."

"How could it be? Was Pomni simply deceiving herself? Believing that if she's asleep she doesn't have to take responsibility for herself?"

"Pomni is as awake right now as she's ever been in her life."

"Now knowing how this monologue ends was quite a shock to Pomni. After all, she knew for a certain beyond a doubt that this was in fact a dream! This face, this name, these thoughts, they were her own too! SURELY! SURELY, IF SHE COULD JUST-"

"She would prove it. She would prove that she was in control. That this WAS a dream. So she drifted away in a daze, and invited herself to wake up."

"She felt the calming warmth of her skin, the tickle of her hair on her neck, the fresh air of a world outside this one..."

"'Let me wake up.' She thought to herself. 'I'm through with this dream. I want it to be over. Let me go back to my life. Let me be myself again. Please. It's all I want. I want my home. And my body. And my name. All I want is who I am exactly the way I've always been. My life is normal. I am normal. Everything will be fine. I am okay...'"

"..."

"Pomni began screaming."

"'PLEASE! SOMEONE HELP ME! MY NAME IS POMNI! I HAVE A NAME! I HAVE A LIFE! I AM HUMAN! PLEASE JUST SOMEONE TELL ME I'M HUMAN! I MUST BE HUMAN I MUST BE! CAN ANYONE HEAR MY VOICE?!'"

"WHO AM I?!'"

"'WHO AM I?!'"

"And then it was dinner time."

[according2thelore]

I’ve been devouring your ES/LS verse tags, and you know what i can’t stop thinking about? How purely ESdean loved ESsam. Like. My baby bother can do nothing wrong. You killed that guy? Guy must’ve done soemthing it’s ok. And how that was absolutley ripped away from Sam by season 4, and he never actually got it back. Not from his POV. In Sam’s mind I’m pretty sure he knows Dean loves him- but it’s part obligation, part history and pattern, and part *in spite of* all the shit. Not the same kind of absolute devotion he grew up with until Dean died (of course it is, but not to Sam). It can’t be. Not after he didn’t save Dean from hell, the demon blood, the voicemail, Lucifer, the amulet, soulless Sam, purgatory, etc etc.

And now. Now. He’s gone esDean right THERE. A Dean that still loves his Sammy the way lsSam thinks he’s lost forever. And lsSam didn’t even know how much it hurt to lose that until he’s looking at it. Like he’s been bleeeding out for decade about it and n it even really noticing. A brother who loves him- absolutley- is back. Is right there. Is looking at him the way he used to. Before Sam ruined everything.

Holy shit how bad does that fuck up lsSam. I don’t see how he wouldn’t become obsessed with esDean. And I mean obsessed. Wanted to be around him all the time. Just soaking up what he thinks he doesn’t have anymore and can only have fire little while as a reprieve. I cannot emphasize the obsession.

To the point where lsDean notices. Like. Really notices. Because he never actually stopped being devoted to his brother, and Dean? He’s never experienced Sam being obsessed with someone else. Not ever. He thought he had- Stanford or ruby- but that wasn’t the same. That wasn’t this. That wasn’t Sammy staring at someone with all the love he has for Dean and soemhow even more stars in his eyes. It has to drive lsDean insane. Insane insane. He grew up to be a mean sob, and this is pushing every Sam button.

I caaaaaaant. An insanely depressed and fucked up laSam being based with the younger Dean, while lsdean froths at the Mouth.

Chefs kiss.

GAHH!!!!!! this is beautiful!!!! everyone stop what you're doing and read this!!!!!! i love the way you phrased this @bickbickbarnes, and i am frothing at the mouth reading it over and over again!!!!

i wrote just a little thing about this--i hope that's alright!! your (totally on point) description of their dynamic really captured why i love LS!Sam/ES!Dean sm!!

AN: i fucking lied this thing is 1.3k words...i hope you like, lol!

-lizzy

"woah!" dean shouts, and sam jumps a little. he whirls around, and younger dean is running up to him, eyes wide. his arms are thrown open, machete dangling casually from his grip. he punches sam in the arm when he finally catches up to him. the smile on his face is blinding. "sammy what was that, man?"

sam drops his own machete to the side. he's still heaving for breath, having just decapitated a vampire that ran at him. older dean and sam are standing off to the side, and sammy notices his younger self gawking at older dean with something...heavy, something hot, in his eyes as dean hauls one decapitated body over his shoulder to start the pyre.

"what?" sam asks, looking back down at young dean. he looks down at the body and nudges it a little. did dean think he didn't cut all the way through the neck? the body jiggles.

"that was so fucking cool." dean crows, and sam turns back around to look at him, taken aback. dean is grinning so wide that it closes his eyes. he shakes sam's shoulder. "grandpa!" dean calls, and older dean looks over with a scowl. "that's how you do it."

"oh." sam's chest feels tight, and he feels hot creep across his cheeks, up his neck. "thanks."

dean is still patting him on the back, and sam hasn't been praised like this for taking out a vampire since they first found out they still existed. sam jostles under dean's arm.

"'thanks'--" dean repeats, scoffing, and raises an eyebrow at younger sam, who's scowling. "humble, too."

"whatever." sam spits, and stalks off. sammy doesn't take dean's arm off of him, expecting him to move it, but he doesn't. not for a minute.

~~~

"i knew you could do it!" dean snatches the book out of sammy's hands, and sam's chest feels weird--tight--as dean beams down at the page. they'd been researching werewolves all afternoon, and sam finally found a passage in urdu that mentions the strange scales they've been finding at the murder sites. dean squints at the words like he can read it at all, and nods. "my geeky little brother never loses."

dean states, dismissive, a sarcastic grin on his face like he's mocking him.

"uh--" sam starts, trying to find the footing in this conversation. the praise is casual--purposefully degrading--but it's praise. older dean hasn't blinked at sam finding a clue--in any language--for...god, years probably. they've just gotten that good.

dean peeks a look up at him, and sam is stopped by the strange look in his eyes.

"tried to strangle the inner nerd with those things--" dean gestures at sammy's arms with a casual hand and a raised eyebrow. "--but you couldn't." dean looks up, and his smile is quiet and softer. his tone is admiring. "man."

dean shakes his head and looks back down at his own book--written in english--with a bottom lip cushioned around a pencil.

sam folds his arms, conscious of them again. that's been one of the biggest sticking points for younger dean: sam's size. strangely, sam suddenly wishes he was smaller. small enough that dean--this dean--could do...something. sam can't put his finger on it.

it had been a long time since being with dean felt like this, since the tension was full and heavy and warm. it feels like long drives and quiet silences and shitty whisky passed back and forth under the table.

sam's breath catches when he realizes...it feels like home.

being with dean always feels like home, but this feels like sitting back down in the childhood bedroom that sam never had and letting the mom he never knew pet through his hair and tell him it was always going to be okay.

the world is so strange and terrifying and smaller than sam had any right to know, but dean--this dean--nudges his foot under the table without thinking about it.

he loves him in the way that children love things--without equivocation, without years of betrayal and revenge and torture and nightmares.

it's dean.

sam nudges his foot back, and greedily drinks in the pinkness on the top of dean's ears.

~~~

older dean wipes blood off of his jaw, and sammy helps younger sam off of the floor. the kid is fine, but younger dean immediately takes the burden of him, sliding under his arm like he's always been there.

sammy notes that older dean's eyes track the kid, too, and sammy rolls his eyes. he's fine.

the cave they're in is dark, and sam can feel the damp like a cool sweat on his skin.

dean clears his throat, "okay we need to split up, i say--"

"i'll take dean," everyone--including sammy--is surprised, when he speaks up first.

sam shifts his arm over dean's shoulder, and pushes sweaty bangs off of his forehead.

"don't you think we should split experience levels--" he starts, but sammy cuts him off with a finger.

a finger pointing at the man under his arm.

"i meant dean," sammy says, and sam straightens, shocked out of the performance of needing dean to stand.

"yeah," younger dean says, straightening too. his eyes are bright, and his smile is so satisfied that sammy finds himself smirking, too. "he meant dean," dean says, glaring at older dean. sammy pats him on the shoulder, hard, and dean obediently follows after him as they split up.

"don't worry, i'll protect you." dean says, after a while, young voice echoing over the cavern walls and reverberating in sam's skull. sam wishes his internal voice sounded like this, instead of...sam shakes his head to clear the thoughts.

he looks down at dean, whose chest is puffed up. it's all play-acting, and they both know it. dean looks up at him, and gives him a slow once over that makes sammy have to swallow, hard. "don't think i could human shield you, but...i'll do my best." dean smirks.

sam punches him in the shoulder, and then has to kneel on the ground as the hit takes dean to the floor, apologizing profusely.

~~~

"shit, man," dean hisses, and squats down so he can press a rag to sam's head. sam freezes, shocked by how close he is.

sam is forty. this kid is twenty-seven, but he pats at sam's cut and coos sympathetically like he's tending to a child. sam knows his head wound must gush again, because all the blood in his body rushes to his face.

sam had been cut by a piece of glass but it was shallow, and the slice had been clean.

"that was nasty. are you okay?" dean asks. sam stares at him.

dean's eyes are green, and his freckles stick out on his skin. fuck, he's gorgeous. he's so fucking gorgeous.

his lips are plump and pink, and his eyes are soft and round. it's disney princess shit. sam blinks up at him, and feels like he's fourteen again, and this boy could fix every single thing that's wrong.

his mouth is dry.

"who was the centerfold model in the '89 playboy i kept in my bag?" dean asks.

"reneé tenison" sam mutters automatically, dazed, and dean's face splits in a shit eating grin.

"i always knew you read it after me." dean crows. but he still pats sam's cut like he's porcelain. "dirty bastard."

sam nods. fuck. he'll be anything.

"let me help you up." dean sits back on his heels, and sam obediently raises his arms, palms up. he's being babied. he's being babied.

~~~

"dean--" sam leans back, book open in his lap, and older dean looks up. his gaze softens when he catches sam's eye, having been glaring and muttering down at his record player for the last hour and a half. he's gutted it on the table, and is fiddling with wires because he's not going to pay some some man-bun yuppie $700 to tell me what i already know.

"yeah?" he asks, clearly relieved for the reprieve.

sam winces.

"no, sorry, dean--" he points at younger dean, slumped over the couch in the library, flipping through the hunger games with a rapt expression.

he snaps to attention, dropping the book on the floor and denting the cover. "oh! yeah?"

sam holds up the book in his lap--a catalogue of the weapons storage room.

"i found it." he grins.

dean scrambles off of the couch, almost sliding up to sam like someone slides into home plate.

"DUDE!" he snatches the book out of sam's hands and reads it rapidly. he looks down at sam, beaming. "your brain scares me." he gives sam the book back, and tries not to look interested as he asks, slowly. "do you think we could--"

sam looks down at the open page. the kitsune death sword. it was said it could peel the skin off of people that looked at the gem on the hilt.

dean's excitement is contagious, though, and sam can feel his own grin spreading. he looks back up at him.

"it's on the fourth floor."

dean is already running out of the room, and sam scrambles up to follow him, the distant "fuck yeah!" of dean making sam sputter with laughter.

he doesn't notice the expression on older dean's face when he leaves.

~~~

"GAH!" dean almost drops the ladle into the pot of mystery soup on the stove. sam leans in the doorway of the kitchen, having been observing his quiet puttering for a few minutes. "jesus. sorry. you're big. i mean--" dean holds out his hands, dropping soup on the floor due to the ladle still clenched in his fist. "you're here. WHICH IS GREAT. sorry, you're big."

his cheeks are bright red, and sammy tries to arrange his facial features into sobriety.

"yeah, i am." sam says, somber. "big and great."

dean sucks on his teeth, pink up to his ears, and leans back over his soup, muttering.

"brat." he admonishes, and sam snorts. he walks the few steps into the kitchen to lean against the counter next to him.

"what're you doing?" he asks. the soup smells okay, but sam can see cut hot dogs swirling in it. his stomach churns.

'i found a recipe book from the 40s and they have something called a 'triple meat sundae.'" dean says, holding up the card for sam's perusal. sam takes it from him, and reads the truly terrifying recipe list.

"that is...horrific." sam replies. marshmallow creme and barbeque sauce??

"figures you're still a snob." dean rolls his eyes.

"a snob with functional arteries." sam reminds him, putting the recipe card back by his elbow.

dean is silent for a long second, looking at him with warm eyes.

"bitch." dean says, tentative. hopeful. it almost sounds like a question. fuck. sam hasn't heard that in a while. in a long time. not since dean wore that necklace everyday like it was the best thing to ever happen to him.

sammy's eyes fall to it now, the mark of ownership clear to him in a way it had never been before.

"yeah." sam says, chest full of loveyesmine. dean's face falls, slightly, and he's quick to correct. "oh--sorry--jerk."

dean nods, hiding his grin behind the ladle of his radioactive soup.

~~~

"you didn't come to bed last night."

sam sits up, and sees dean--older dean, sammy's dean--looking down at him. there's a cup of coffee in his hand, and he puts it down next to sam's elbow. sam takes it gratefully.

he's been sitting at the war table all morning, and realizes his shoulders ache.

"hm?" he takes a sip of his coffee, and tries to un-kink his spine. dean is wearing just a henley today, and sammy admires the way it pulls across his chest as he crosses his arms.

"you didn't come to bed." dean says again. it takes sam's brain a second to process it.

he had been sneaking into dean's room--their room, really--for the past week, as sleeping alone had become irritating and exhausting. his own room had become dusty and felt barren in dean's absence.

they'd been trying to sleep separately for the sake of their younger selves, but agreed that what they didn't know didn't hurt them, as long as they didn't do it every night.

"oh. yeah. sorry--dean wanted to watch the sopranos finale. we couldn't find you or sam so we watched it in the dean cave." sam snorts, remembering the look on his face. "you should've seen him, he--"

"i know." dean cuts him off abruptly. "we watched that finale together in 2008. remember?"

sam looks at him again, brought up short. dean looks...

"oh. yeah. sorry." sam mutters, leaning into dean's leg because the sudden emotional distance has him on uneven ground.

"sam and i were in the archives. like you asked us to." dean says, lowly, and it has a bit of rasp from clenched teeth. sam sits up straight. oh fuck. he had asked them to find the file on that norse battle axe, hadn't he?

"oh, shit." he puts the mug down, and wraps a hand around the back of dean's knee. he rubs a hand over his own face. "sorry, it's been...a lot."

there's a hand in sam's hair, and sam leans into it shamelessly, relieved that he's been forgiven for this, at least.

"yeah." dean says, but his voice is still tense. "i know."

~~~

the door is closed. and both sams are in the library. so no one is there to see it. or hear it.

but if someone was walking past the door to storage room 14C, this is what they'd hear:

"--back off." the voice is tense. low.

"back off? you sound like the old man." a scoff.

"i'm only telling you once. we can't fix this shit yet, but you gotta stop hanging around him all the damn time. he's not your sam."

"why? you feelin' threatened?" a taunt. "your dick not workin in your old age? sammy want--"

a slam. a crash. something gets pushed to the floor, and things scatter across tile.

"i'm telling you. to back. the fuck. off."

"you can't hurt me." the words are choked.

"i can't kill you. there's a difference." rubber soles on a concrete wall, like someone is kicking at it. fabric rustling as a body is pushed up a wall. "it's a biiigggg line. huge." the voice is a growl, but the threat of violence is gleeful. excited.

something drops to the ground. heavier this time, and someone gasps for breath. footsteps walk to the door and almost exit, when--

"i can tell you i'll stay away all i want. can't stop him from coming to me."

~~~

older sam takes great care to ice younger dean's knee that night, and coos over his black eye. younger dean won't tell him what happened, but leans out of sammy's gentle touch when older dean walks by and asks what happened.

older dean fucks sammy through the mattress that night, so deep sam feels like he's going to choke on it. and sam wears the bruises for days.

he loves it.

[asherlockstudy]

Wait is Bleak Creek gay? I've been putting off reading it because I honestly didn't think it would be any good.

Bleak Creek is for me honestly one of their best creations. It's not Dostoevsky obviously but it is a decent book that can be read quickly and easily and for me it was honestly fun. Now, Bleak Creek is much like other R&L works in the sense that a red herring is thrown in - in this case it's the character of Alicia Boykins for whom both their characters Rex and Leif have feelings - and then there is a gazillion of their usual allegories and symbolisms and insinuations.

What I found so compelling in TLCOBC is that through the medium of a text, a book written by them, you get a better chance to draw an accurate picture of their thoughts and emotions. A lot of what I actually use in my opinions and theories is informed by what I read in TLCOBC. I think it allows a deeper insight. It's also super interesting to explore the themes and how dark these themes seem to be inside their hearts and the allegories they come up with. For example, I am pretty hugely convinced that the villain of the whole story, which is like teen horror, is downright inspired by Rhett's father. Like, not even a single doubt. And all those things say a lot, you know?

Then, even though the book was mostly written by Rhett with the assistance of a professional writer, there is huge input of Link in it. Either Link also wrote a lot or he told Rhett exactly what he felt and how he wanted his character to be approached and explored and Rhett adhered to this 100%. What I am trying to say is that even though this is an easy quick young adult / teen read, there is still introspection and very intriguing symbolism / allegory in it. It is a autobiographical work turned into teen fantasy horror.

And because you asked specifically how gay, Rhett once in a promo interview said that Alicia did not symbolise a real person but it symbolised who "they truly wanted to be". This does stand on its own if you read the book but I think what Rhett also meant is that Alicia was also given the traits they both see and love in each other that they can not reveal in their platonic context. There are too many to mention but a very appropriate example right now would be... did you - Anon and anyone else reading this - see that answer I posted a couple of days ago about the " I am dead" move in which when they used to fight as kids and young adults, Rhett had a habit of falling on top of Link and staying there until Link calmed down?

Well, in TLCOBC Leif reflects on his pretty serious crush for Alicia thoroughly and one of the things said is that because Alicia is a tomboy (of COURSE) they would often physically fight for fun (much like real Link would wrestle with Rhett) . Alicia was always able to pull the "Full Nelson" move on Leif, like Rhett always pulled the dead move on Link...... And then Leif reflects on how he had to keep his crush a secret at any cost (because Alicia was a best friend to him and he thought he would destroy their friendship if he revealed his feelings as he was sure she did not return them... like honestly what else do you need, here Alicia serves as a red herring for Rhett) and he allowed himself only to savour the moments when she would pull the full nelson on him and he could feel her hair on his neck when she had him like that... And here's the full nelson:

So Alicia was on his back or on top of him, like Rhett was when he did the Dead move....

he’d convinced himself that he could carry his hidden crush around with him while still enjoying her presence, savoring the moments when she playfully put him in a full nelson, her hair brushing up against the back of his neck

Like... what else does this man have to say...

So, you get a lot of insight through the book, even in the form of parallels, that you do not get in their videos as easily. That is if you read the book as a symbolism and not at face value, in which case it's just a pleasant teen horror. But it's really hard to overlook the symbolism and I believe if you read it, a lot of the things I write here would fall into place better or make more sense.

I actually started a series of metas once, intending to analyse all TLCOBC chapters through a Rhink lens but then I realised that very few of the currently active fans have read the book so I stopped. Here's the only two posts I have made anyway:

Heavy Rhink implications in TLCOBC #1

https://asherlockstudy.tumblr.com/post/614244392916697088/warning-the-lost-causes-of-bleak-creek-spoiler

I also have these links in my One Story Masterlist because TLCOBC is one of the most fundamental points of reference for the One Story.

Long story short, this is one Rhett and Link product I fully recommend.

[pipipyuni]

hii! could i request a lo’ak x fem!metkayina!reader who like just absolutely LOVES his hands. like, will just hold his pinky whenever he feels bad about it, and genuinely just thinks it is the coolest thing? (bit strange ik but anyways 😇) <33

With These Hands, I'll Give you the World

wc: 1105

gender: fem

cw(s): none! all fluff

pairing: lo'ak x metkayina!reader

an: shimmy shimmy yay shimmy yay shimmy ya--anyway, i love lo'ak!!

content can be read below the cut!

All Lo’ak wanted to do was help out a little around the village, really. What he wasn’t expecting was to run into you, the pretty daughter of a fairly well-respected fisherman, much less for you to ask for his help.

He’d seen you around before, sure, but he never really got the chance to actually, well, talk to you before. Between his swimming lessons and other misadventures, he hadn’t found much time to explore the village.

So when he finds you struggling to pull in what seems to be a fishing net, he can’t help but want to offer his assistance.

“Need some help there?”

Your head jerks toward him, eyes wide with shock as your mouth hangs open dumbly. With flattened ears and a downcast gaze, you offer him a small nod, moving over to make some room beside you on the net.

He finds the evident blush on your cheeks adorable despite his own cheeks being set ablaze. It’s only when you turn to him questioningly does he clear his throat and turn his gaze back to the heavy net.

Three tugs is all it takes for the two of you to pull the net from the water. It’s full of flopping fish and the occasional seaweed, but your eyes sparkle with joy nonetheless.

“Thank you so much!” Your smile is blinding, rendering Lo’ak almost speechless if not for the small choked hum of agreement that falls pathetically from his throat. He raises one of his hands to bashfully rub the nape of his neck–a habit he picked up from Neteyam in their younger years.

Your gaze follows his hand, and you gasp once your eyes land on the extra finger. He freezes at the sound of your gasp, trailing your line of sight back to his hand. He can feel his jaw clench as shame bubbles deep within his gut. 

He didn’t choose to be born different, and if he did have the choice, he sure as hell wouldn’t have chosen to have extra fingers of all things.

Though, he can’t help but feel sad at the thought of losing yet another potential friend.

Stupid fucking pinky. What kind of name is that anyway?! Who in their right mind–

“No wonder you’re so strong!”

What…? He snaps his scowl away from the sand only to find you beaming and practically shaking from excitement. Your eyes are so wide with curiosity and bright that he feels as though even a thousand suns pale in comparison.

“That’s so cool! Sometimes I wish I had an extra finger… It would help with weaving, I think? I don’t know. Maybe it does, maybe it doesn’t. Do you weave? I like weaving, it’s relaxing! Especially nets, they’re my favorite. They’re just so easy–oh, Great Mother, am I rambling again? Father says I have a problem with talking too much when I’m excited.”

Upon noticing his silence, you bring your hands to your mouth in order to stop yourself from uttering another word. 

Oh no, had you offended him?! That wasn’t your intention, truly. How inconsiderate of you! The poor boy has probably heard enough about his hands, and there you go, most likely furthering his insecurity!

Through your admittedly dramatized inner monologue, you fail to notice the slow flick of his tail, or how his ears flatten against the side of his head, coated with the same purple hue that dusts his cheeks. 

“You think they’re cool?” His voice is barely above a whisper as if he’s afraid to ask–like his ears had lied to him, or something of the sort. There’s a glimmer in his eyes that you can’t quite place.

Infatuation? Adoration? 

Regardless, you nod fervently, smiling brightly despite your flushed and strained cheeks. Lo’ak watches your reactions carefully, the shame in his gut blooming into something lighter—something that catches his throat and clenches his heart painfully.

Cute. The thought returns at full force at the sight of your smile. His mouth parts, a small smile unintentionally tugging at the ends of his lips. He brings his hand from behind his neck, flipping between his palm and the back of his hand.

“Yeah…I guess it is.”

Your giggle is a symphony to his ears, and for once, Lo’ak feels seen as more than the boy with demon blood, or Toruk Makto’s son.

Before you part, the net of fish carefully thrown over your shoulder, Lo’ak catches your free wrist.

“I, uh, never caught your name,” he unintentionally tightens his grip around your wrist as he waits with a bated breath.

“[Name]… My name is [Name].”

—

Bonus:

Alone, and in the safety of his family’s marui, Lo’ak finds himself staring longingly at his pinky fingers. 

“...Lo’ak!” Kiri stands in front of him, her hands planted on her hips as exasperation paints her features. Seeing her brother finally look up from his hands, Kiri lets her hands fall limply to her side, softly sighing as she takes a seat by her brother on the floor. “I’ve been calling you for at least two minutes, skxawng.”

She looks down at her hands, inspecting them, just as Lo’ak had been doing just moments prior. There’s nothing off about them, to her, at least. With pursed lips and furrowed brows, she turns her gaze back to her brother. Once again, she finds him staring longingly, though, this time it’s out a window. 

Kiri smirks knowingly, “So, who’s the unlucky person?” She grabs his shoulders, shaking him lightly. Lo’ak brushes her hands off, a scowl pulling on his lips as he hisses at his sister. Kiri’s smirk falls into a soft smile at her brother’s sudden bashfulness, pulling at his downturned cheek, earning yet another hiss from him.

Swatting her hands away, Lo’ak blushes, “No one!”

“No one, huh?” She points outside the window at someone. At you. “Then why were you staring at her, skxawng?”

There’s a beat of silence between the two before Kiri stands, stretching her arms above her head before ruffling Lo’ak’s hair, “I was going to ask if you wanted to swim, but it’s clear you’ve got things to sort through on your own.”

“You aren’t as slick as you think, little brother.” She winks, snorting slightly at his wide eyes, “Buut, if you want my advice, I say go for it. I’m pretty sure I heard Tsireya talking to her about a crush…”

“You were eavesdropping?!”

She leaves promptly without answering his question, sticking out her tongue playfully one last time before she’s fully out the door.

Once again alone, Lo’ak stares at his hands.

…Maybe his extra fingers were a blessing in disguise.

©pyuni 2022 — do not copy, steal, repost, or translate any of my works on tumblr or any other site

[masterlist]