#i think i forgot how to write?

[rockingrobin69]

Parched

It was hot, summer, and sticky, and terrible. His eyes would not unglue from the dreadful image ahead: a bead of water sliding down his chest, glimmering-gold on his skin, and oh, fuck, Draco was doomed.

Draco, in his fucking linen trousers (who in hell convinced him to wear this), in his fucking face, flushed so helplessly and so telling. Why did he come? He could be home with his ancient fan right now. He could be sitting on the floor with a drink in his hand and pining himself stupid over Potter’s text. Why even text him, if he’s so intent on speaking to Ginevra? Over there by the pool, with his fucking hands. In his hair (wet, why did he have to be so wet) and clapping his thigh (thick, why did it have to be so thick) and—touching Ginevra’s face—

Oh, Draco forgot, he couldn’t do this. Had places to be, had—things to, do. None of them included sitting in the shade, trying to control his face and swallow the scream. None of them included a first-row seat to the Lovebirds getting back together. No, in fact, a nice hot dip in the actual magma of the actual sun would be more pleasant than this, excuse him, Granger, excuse, fucking Weasley, trying to lure in him a chat about—chess? He really couldn’t pay the slightest attention. Escaping, er, going to the, er, loos, so get off him, Luna, he’s just—

“Draco?”

No, no. No. Draco wasn’t ready for this. In his trousers and his face and his heart beating a racket in his ears. Please, he just needed a moment to cool down. To stuff all this unbearable heat somewhere private, somewhere distant, where it’d only scorch a little and not flay him open.

“Where are you going? You’re not leaving yet, are you?”

He turned to Potter with what started as fury, then melted, turned stupid, more grunting than actual words. Potter, still so fucking wet from when Neville pushed him in, dripping right in front of him. All big smile and that dimple which sent Draco to many a miserable fit, and those hands, those hands. Sent out, to stop him, maybe.

“I, er. I have to… there’s something…”

The Gryffindorks were all staring. In the corner, Pansy was sunbathing and couldn’t care less. Blaise was grinning. The pool area smelled of chlorine and beer, and Potter, who was somehow getting closer. Oh, he was moving. Towards him. Draco would back away, but the sun lounger was already nudging his leg, and. Helpless. With Potter’s… everything.

“You can’t go. You only just got here!”

Draco blinked. Begged himself for a shred of coherency. Found none. “You… ahem. You seem to be quite busy anyway. So, ah, it shouldn’t matter if—”

“Matters,” Potter said, directly onto Draco’s face. He was warm and wet and mesmerising. Draco couldn’t think. “It matters. Stay, just a little longer?” one Hand rose, a finger gently tapping the edge of his nose.

“Hmm?” was Draco’s best effort.

“You have a little bit of sunscreen,” with a breathy laugh. “Here, let me just…”

Let him? What would Draco not let him do? The concept was absurd. “Potter,” he tried, with the very last of his might.

His hand was warm, and big, and perfect. Without quite noticing he was doing it, Draco let his mouth fall open, deaf for the raucous beating in his chest.

Potter’s thumb came up to rest, gently, on his bottom lip. “Stay,” he whispered. His face was so close. Draco only had to lean an inch and they’d be—closer.

Splashing from a few yards away, yelling and laughter; the world ceased to exist. Draco could vaguely tell they were in the shade. Was only somewhat aware of other people who might be watching this. A funny sensation was already tingling on his skin, like sunburn, but worse.

“Okay,” he heard himself say. More vibration than word, making Potter’s thumb twitch. That blasted hand took his chin, brought it the tiniest bit down. What wouldn’t Draco let him do? He’d let him anything.

“Okay,” Potter said back. There was a tilt of a smile to the word, to his lips. Pink and very, very close. Coming closer still. Slowly, so slowly, and Draco’s head was burning with it, smoking, was fit to combust—

“Come inside? I need to dry off. You could help towel me down.”

���Down,” Draco said, wisely. “Towel—yes.”

Potter was bright everywhere, but his smile, oh god. Made Draco’s mouth water and his eyes sting. And his mind melt. “Good,” Potter said, and leaned in to kiss the tip of his nose. “That’s good.”

It was roasting hot, summer, sticky and sweaty. And good, yes, also very, very good.  

[undressrehearsal]

dare to be stupid

summary: a drunken game of truth or dare overtakes your study session

tags: NSFW, tlou au, college!ellie/reader, mentions of drugs, alcohol, drunk sex, oral (r receiving)

a/n: listen idk how this turned into 7.5k. idk what happened. also this is my first time writing smut. idk if the sex is good but it was already so long. if y'all like this one i'll write a sequel or something idk

part 2

“Truth or dare?” 

It had become a tradition for the two of you shortly after moving in together. It was common for the air in your tiny apartment to grow heavy, the stress and anxiety tangible in the air - often around midterms or finals, or if your roommate had a particularly infuriating project. During these times when the bags under your eyes grew too heavy to carry or the lines around your roommate's mouth deepened into canyons, one of you would barge into the other's bedroom - frequently in disarray with notes and textbooks strewn across every surface - slam a bottle of vodka down on the desk, and utter those stupid, little three words, and the game would begin.

And so you didn't even jump when you heard your bedroom door slam against the wall, heavy boots against the carpet. You had been bent over your desk for so long that your neck ached, your eyes swimming with letters that didn't quite make sense and didn't fit into any of the medical terms laid out on your flashcards. When Ellie slammed the bottle of vodka on your desk, you blinked your eyes clear and looked up to meet her eyes. 

She smirked when she said, “Truth or dare?” 

You didn't waste time in clearing off your desk, shoving your books and cards aside into a toppling pile. Ellie, without waiting for permission, set a shot glass down in front of you, kicked off her boots, and plopped back onto your bed. 

Scooting your chair closer, you propped your feet up against the mattress, pursed your lips, and said, “Truth.” 

Ellie groaned, flopping over onto her side and propping her chin in her hand. She had stripped off her jacket, leaving her in a dark t-shirt that almost made her skin look pale in the low light from your desk lamp. “You're such a fucking pussy.” 

You rolled your eyes even as a grin pulled at your lips. “I've known you for too long, Els, and I know that I need a few shots before I'm willing to shove anything anywhere for your amusement. So, respectfully, eat my ass.” 

“You'll have to dare me to,” she quipped back immediately. She wrinkled her nose as you choked back a laugh, tapping a finger against her lips. You tried to ignore how endlessly cute it was as she said, “Where's the weirdest place you've pissed?” 

Another sound burst from your lips, some mixture of a laugh and a shout. You gaped at her, watching as a laugh crept up, a smile tugging at her lips. 

Shaking your head, you said, “Weird, but that's a pretty tame one. Not gonna ask me about my favorite sex position or if I ever snuck drugs into our dorm room last year?” 

Ellie only shrugged. “Gotta warm you up a bit first, babe.” You ignored the way your heart jumped at such an innocent word. After a moment's pause, she added, “But have you?” 

“You'll just have to ask me. One truth per round, bitch.” You pretended to think about it for a moment, though you already had your answer. “Okay, so you remember when we first signed the lease here and we were a bit short on rent?” 

Ellie nodded, her brows furrowed in confusion. 

“Like, a week before it was due, some girl on Tinder hit me up. She was passing through town and only staying for the night, and she was bored. So, she paid me.” 

Ellie's frown deepened. “To, what, have sex with her?” 

Laughter bubbled up your chest as you said, “No, she paid me to piss in her mouth.” 

There was silence for several long moments. Ellie’s jaw hung loose, her eyes wide as she simply stared at you. Several emotions flashed across her face like a movie reel - confusion, shock, disbelief - before finally landing on pure, unfiltered amusement. The corners of her lips quirked up, her open mouth turning up at the corners until a loud, sharp laugh burst from her throat. When Ellie laughed - really, truly laughed - she did it with her chest, a sound so fathomless and full it filled up whatever room she was in. 

In your small bedroom, her laughter bounced off the walls, echoing in the alley outside of your open window. You couldn’t contain your own giggles, muffling your laughter with a hand over your mouth, snorting as Ellie buried her face in your mattress. 

When she finally looked up, her eyes filled with tears, she only said, around her subdued giggles, “How much?” 

You grinned. “$200.” 

Ellie’s mouth fell open again - you’d have to pick it up from the floor at this rate. “Dude, you’re fucking with me.” 

“I swear,” you said, holding up your hand like a scout. “I’ll show you the Venmo if you don’t believe me.”

Ellie fell back against the bed, throwing her head back. “You have to go find this chick on Missed Connections, she can help with the rent.” 

You threw one of your pens at her. Catching it in midair, she stuck the end in her mouth to chew on it. You wrinkled your nose at her, but she only grinned, the pen hanging from the corner of her lips. 

“You're so gross,” you said, though you were still giggling. 

“Bold words from you, Piss Girl. That's, like, the worst superhero name in existence.” 

You threw your hands up, trying your hardest to glare at her and failing miserably. “Hey, $200 is $200. I'm not one to kinkshame.” Ellie threw the pen back at you. You grimaced when it hit your arm, leaving a small spot of spit on your sleeve before clattering to the floor. “God, it's your turn. Truth or dare, bitch?”

Propping herself up on her elbows, Ellie said, “Dare.” A grin pulled at her lips, her voice low as she added, “Because I'm not a fucking pussy.” You stuck your tongue out at her, ignoring her when she mockingly said, “Mature.” 

Your desk was pressed up next to the only window in the room, cracked open to let the cool autumn air in. Your curtains fluttered in the breeze, the dying sunlight creeping in, casting light like liquid gold over Ellie’s skin. As you thought, scrambling to think of a suitable dare, you could not control how your eyes grazed over her exposed skin, the sunlight dipping in her collarbones like pools of ichor. 

Blinking, you met her eyes once more, your throat tight. Your words came out almost choked when you said, “Okay, I dare you to make a spicy two-sentence story about something in this room.”

Ellie scoffed, sitting up and kicking her legs over the side of your bed. “I’m gonna take a wild guess that your drawer of sex toys is off limits?” 

You sputtered, stammering over your own tongue as you felt heat rush to your ears. “Yes, that’s off limits. You don’t even know what’s in there!” 

Ellie hummed, standing up from the bed and taking a few steps around the room. She didn’t look at you, but you could hear that fucking smirk when she said, “That’s what you think, babe.” 

You watched her, tracking her movements as she slowly stepped around your room, scanning for inspiration. Your bedroom was about what you’d expect from a broke, overworked college student - aside from the furniture that came with the place, it was pretty barren. Ellie scanned the little touches you did have - her finger traced over the Funko Pop of Zuko on your bedside table, her eyes lingering on the pile of fantasy books you kept atop your dresser. She smiled at the posters hung crookedly on your walls, depictions of your favorite video games. She hummed again, looking back at you over her shoulder. 

“So many options to choose from,” she murmured, running her finger along your jewelry box. She had her face turned away, so you could only see the corner of her smirk as she lifted the lid, pulling one of your necklaces from its home. You watched her warily as she approached you, the chain dangling from her slim fingers. She stepped behind you, out of your line of sight, and slipped the necklace over your head, the cold metal resting against your collarbone. 

“She looped the chain around her lover’s neck like a collar,” Ellie said. You felt her cool fingers against the back of your neck, hooking around the chain and pulling it gently against your throat. You coughed against the awkward silence; your roommate had always been a little handsy, but this was something else entirely. What the fuck is she doing? you thought. “She pulled it taut against her throat and leaned in to whisper,” you felt Ellie’s lips against your ear, her rough voice sending a chill up your spine when she murmured, “good girl.”

Reaching back, you shoved Ellie’s head away; her laughter echoed through the room as she rounded in front of you, sitting back against your bed and grinning. 

“Oh, you’re so fucking proud of yourself aren’t you?” you teased, trying - and failing - to keep your cheeks from turning red. Your skin felt aflame, a tingle lingering right where Ellie’s lips had pressed to your ear. You rubbed at the spot under the pretense of scratching your head, willing the feeling to go away. 

Your heart was pounding so hard you could hardly hear her when she said, “Hell yeah, I am. I should’ve been an English major. I could write a whole fucking slutty novel and get famous. I'm an expert - I've done enough research.” 

You rolled your eyes at her cocky smile, but Ellie only winked at you. 

This is how your truth or dare games went - with Ellie being far too cocky, prancing around doing whatever dares you could think of and asking any outrageous questions that popped into her pretty little head; and you, simply trying your damnedest to keep up with her. You flailed, flustered, when she asked you about your toy collection, and begrudgingly relented when she dared you to bring out your favorite. Ellie took a shot before you had even finished daring her to text her last hookup (“I’m not reopening that bag of crazy,” she said, scrunching her nose at the taste.) You took a shot when she dared you to go mix all of the liquids in the fridge (which included pickle juice, old broths, and orange juice) into one amalgamation and chug it (“I’d rather chug the rest of the vodka, Els.”) 

“Truth,” you said before Ellie could even ask the question. You were three shots in and could feel that lightness pressing against your temples, just at the threshold of tipsy. You had moved to join Ellie on your bed, where you sat with your back against the headboard and Ellie’s head on your thigh. The vodka bottle was balanced precariously between you. 

Ellie rolled her eyes, but looked up at you and asked, “Out of our friend group, who have you fantasized about the most?” 

She had not even finished her sentence before you served yourself a shot, a few drops splattering on your shirt. Wincing at the taste, you looked back down at Ellie; her eyes were lit up like a Christmas tree, her jaw slack.

“Don’t-” 

“You have to,” she interrupted you, pinching your thigh and grinning when you squirmed away. “You have to tell me. You can’t leave me hanging here - you didn’t even let me finish the question!” 

“Why did you even assume I’ve fantasized about any of our friends-” 

“Because I know you.” She was scrambling up now, unsteady in her movements as she came to her knees in front of you, leaning back against her heels. She planted a firm hand on your thigh - your skin was still warm where her head had been - leaning into it, her eyes drawing so close you could almost see every speck within the hazel. “And I know that bitches like us always have somebody in the group they fantasize about. So, who is it?” 

“Bitches like us?” you repeated, raising your brow. You were sure each line of her palm was going to be branded into your thigh. “So, there’s somebody you think about too?” 

Ellie’s smile was on the very edge of teasing, a small quirk at the corner of her lips that screamed at you just how wrapped around her finger you were - and, somehow, she didn’t even know it. Her voice was low, nothing more than a murmur that you could practically feel in your own chest when she said, “You really wanna know?” You didn’t answer - couldn’t, really, not when her fingers dug into your thigh and you could count each freckle across her nose. You couldn’t answer when she leaned in closer, her warm breath brushing against your cheeks, smelling of the weed you knew she had smoked that afternoon. You could hardly hear her over the rush of your own heart when she whispered, “You’ll just have to ask me.” 

Maybe it was the vodka warming your chest, tingling in your fingers - or maybe it was the way the light from your lamp cast sharp shadows across Ellie’s face, turning her skin into liquid gold - but you did not push her away. Your grip tightened around the neck of the bottle, but you held her gaze when you said, “Truth or dare, Els?” 

Her voice was soft, her half-lidded eyes holding yours as she said, “Truth.” 

“Who have you fantasized about?” The words rushed out of you before you could hesitate.

And for a moment, you believed she would answer. You let yourself believe that she would give you the answer you craved. It prickled at your skin, raising goosebumps along your arm, spreading warmth through your stomach. But your roommate had never been so straight-foward - had never given you an easy answer. She wet her lips, drawing your eyes to her mouth involuntarily, but she only pried the vodka bottle from your fingers. She held your gaze as she raised it to her lips, drinking straight from the bottle without even wincing. 

“I can play that game too, baby.” She backed away, finally giving you a moment to breathe. She settled back against the wall, laying her arms over her knees, the bottle dangling from her fingers. The skin of your thigh still burned, branded with her fingerprints. 

You looked away, huffing out a laugh that you prayed sounded sincere. You could feel her eyes on you when you leaned your head back against the wall, counting the cracks in your ceiling like they were the most interesting thing in the whole world. “It’s getting late, Els,” you said, even as your phone flashed that it wasn’t even nine yet and here you were, too many shots in, your roommate’s presence like a fire blazing in your room. “I should get back to studying.” 

“Do you want to, though?” There was an edge to Ellie’s voice, as though that question was a dare itself. You lifted your head to look at her and found that she was already watching you, her eyes soft in the dim light. 

You took a deep breath - and the vodka must have reached your brain, because before she could ask, you said, “Dare.”

You could see the vodka in the lazy tilt of her smile, in the way her head lolled against the wall. Her eyes were half-lidded, and yet there was something hidden behind her slow, sleepy gaze, something you were too afraid to name - something you were sure was only the imagination of your tipsy fantasies. 

“Close your eyes,” Ellie said, words lazily falling from her lips, as deep and rich as the strings of a guitar. 

It took you several moments longer than usual to process what she had said. Everything felt like it was moving in slow motion, as if the two of you were underwater. You shouldn't have felt like this after a few shots - you'd usually only be tipsy at this point. But something about the way the shadows dipped into Ellie's collarbones and the way her shirt rode up, exposing her boxers and the sharp cut of her hips, was intoxicating on its own. 

So it took you several long, heavy moments to say, “What?” 

She chuckled, but there was no malice behind it. There was something soft in the tilt of her head, the way she tilted her chin down to look at you through her lashes. Her hair fell in her face, brushing against her nose; you fought the urge to brush it away, knowing that if you did you wouldn't be able to stop yourself from running your fingers through her hair. You wouldn't be able to stop yourself from grabbing a fistful of the auburn strands- 

“Close your eyes,” she repeated in that same honey-thick voice, breaking you from your thoughts. “For thirty seconds. And don't open them no matter what.” When you only stared at her for several silent moments, she added, “How long have we been friends? Don't you trust me?” 

And the thing was, you did. You trusted her with your entire heart, and so you closed your eyes, and you waited. 

You felt the bed shift next to you but you did not open your eyes. You did not open them when you felt her long fingers grip your shoulder as she struggled to steady herself. You felt her hair first, fine strands brushing against your cheek, smelling of sweat and her shampoo. You did not open your eyes, even when you felt the gentle press of a warm mouth against the side of your neck. You hardly dared to even breathe, your hands tangling in your sheets, afraid that you would not be able to control yourself otherwise. You counted the long, torturous seconds, biting down on your lip when you felt Ellie’s mouth part, the warmth of her tongue pressing against your pulse. 

You had counted to twenty-six when she pulled away, a chill settling over your skin where that warmth had been only seconds ago. When you got to thirty, you opened your eyes to find that Ellie had settled back into her spot, leaning back against the wall. The only sign that she had even moved was the thin sheen over her lips, wet with her own saliva, and a small, pleased smirk. 

You did not allow yourself to think about it, ignoring the way your skin burned where she had touched you as though she were a wildfire. You sounded breathless even to your own ears when you said, in barely more than a whisper, “Truth or dare?” 

“Truth.”

“What are we doing here, Ellie?” The words were out before you could stop them, slipping from between your teeth and hanging in the air like helium. The words felt almost tangible, and yet you couldn't grasp them, couldn't draw them back into your throat. 

For a moment, you thought Ellie would grace you with an answer. She opened her mouth, and you thought maybe she would finally stop playing this game and let you breathe. Instead, just like before, she brought the bottle to her lips and held your gaze. You tried not to watch the way her throat moved as she swallowed. 

She wiped her mouth on the back of her hand and recapped the bottle, settling it between you. “Truth or dare?” 

“Truth.” You felt you could no longer trust yourself with any dare she gave you. Your hands were already shaking from clenching the sheets.

“How would you rate your last kiss?” 

You squinted at her, confused by the innocence of the question after everything that had happened in the past hour (had it only been an hour?). “My last kiss was with that one girl I met at the bar a few weeks ago. She was drunk and way too sloppy, but she was hot. I guess I'd give it,” you paused, trying to remember the moment past the haze; you couldn't even remember the girl's name, “a six.” 

Ellie raised her eyebrows, her eyes widening. “A six?” She shook her head, clicking her tongue in disapproval. “You’ve got to be fucking with me. A girl like you deserves more than a six.” 

“A girl like me?” Your voice sounded deafening in the quiet. You thought it had started to rain; you could hear the pitter patter on your window, could see the way it broke up the streetlamps outside like a mosaic. 

Ellie was nodding almost absently, watching the rain. Her lips parted, and you didn’t expect her to hesitate before she said, “Yeah. A girl like you… deserves to be kissed like it’s the last gasp of air to someone drowning.” You watched her mouth as she spoke, even as your mind screamed at you to look away. You scolded yourself, screaming to end this now, but your body refused; it ached to draw her near, a tangible pain in your chest. “A girl like you should get one of those movie kisses - you know, like when the hero saves the day and shit and he kisses his girl and it’s like the world didn’t matter as long as he saved her. The kind that has the whole fucking theater holding their breath. A girl like you…. Fuck….” She trailed off her rambling. Ellie ran a rough hand through her hair, making the strands stick up at odd angles, and finally looked at you. There was a fire in her eyes, blazing in the dim light. “You deserve to be kissed like they’ll die if they can’t have you.” 

Something had stopped in your chest - maybe it was your breath, maybe it was your heart. Your blood rushed in your ears, and you feared the thrum of your heartbeat was so loud it filled your entire bedroom. Your traitorous heart pressed at your bedroom walls, filling up the space and leaving room for little else. 

Your voice was only a whisper, and you wanted to kick yourself when you said, “We should really go to bed. I have an exam tomorrow.” 

Your roommate pressed her lips together, and she did not break eye contact as she said, “Dare.” 

You shook your head, looking away from her to try, desperately, to break whatever spell had taken hold of you; but your eyes were drawn back to her as if she were the only fucking light in the dark. You had to get a hold of yourself before you did something you’d regret, but you felt intoxicated with something far stronger than the cheap vodka you had bought from Walmart. 

“You’re drunk, Els,” you said, and you sounded so breathless you may as well have given up then and there. 

Ellie leaned closer, holding your gaze, and you could see the exact shade of desire in her eyes. She was so fucking warm - your head spun from it, heat radiating from her skin when she planted a hand on the bed right next to your hip. Her wrist brushed against the bare skin under your shorts, and you felt her voice vibrating in your chest when she said, “Dare.” 

And it was like she had finally pulled the last fucking thread that made you unravel, because you couldn’t stop yourself - didn’t even think to - before you said, “Kiss me.” 

You only had a second to register the smile pulling at the edges of Ellie’s lips before she grabbed your face and pulled you in to smother it. You had never imagined what kissing Ellie would be like - had never allowed your imagination to wander so far over the edge - but she did not kiss like she was drowning. She kissed with the same slow gentleness as when she played the guitar, her long fingers plucking at the strings with the careful deliberation of a lover. 

And she felt so fucking warm. You were high with it; high with the heat radiating from her fingers pressed to your cheeks; high from the way her breath snaked past your parted lips, gentle huffs of warmth against your skin. Your head swam as you pressed into her, your hands tangling into the fabric of her shirt, fingers unsure even as you ached to pull her closer. 

Ellie pulled back for a moment - for only a moment, but each second her lips weren't on yours caused an ache in your chest. Her eyes hovered inches from yours, so fucking green it was dizzying - though you couldn't see much of the color passed the eclipse of her pupils. Her cheeks were flushed - from the vodka, from something else entirely - her freckles popping against the color. You could only imagine how you looked, could feel the desire written across every inch of your face. 

Your fists tightened in her shirt, and you used the leverage to pull her back into you; and suddenly, it felt like you were the one drowning. You couldn’t breathe as Ellie devoured you, the gentleness replaced with a hunger you hadn’t known lived inside her. She pressed her tongue against the seam of your mouth until you relented, opening up to her, a soft sound escaping your throat when her tongue ran along the roof of your mouth. 

That sound - nothing more than a breathy sigh - ignited something in Ellie. Suddenly, she was all teeth and tongue and hot, hot breath in your mouth, sucking your bottom lip between her teeth. She bit down when a shaky sigh forced its way from your throat, soothing it with her tongue and swallowing the moan it elicited. Her hands were in your hair, the strands twisted between her fingers, and when you bit down on her lip, she pulled - you gasped at the sharp pain on your scalp. 

“Fuck,” she cursed against your lips, and you could feel that single syllable, hot breath in your mouth that you wanted to swallow. She didn’t continue for a long time, couldn’t form any other words past the way her lips made you unravel. Her hands trailed down your shoulders, fingers grazing lightly over the bare skin of your arms, before finding your hips, gripping them in a vice and tugging you closer. “Fuck, come here,” she said, her voice nothing more than a low growl that you felt in your chest. 

And you were drunk - from the cheap vodka and sleep deprivation and Ellie. You were drunk on the way her eyes were eclipsed, her lips red and bitten and swollen, parted so you could feel each exhale against your cheeks. Her eyes were dark, hooded. Her fingers dug into your hips, and you were drunk, but shit, how the hell could you say no to her? How could you possibly say no when she was looking at you like she was starving? 

Her hands guided you closer so you swung a leg over her hips and settled in her lap, your hands braced on her shoulders. She leaned her head back against the wall and just looked at you for several long moments, biting down on her lip. You couldn’t stop watching her mouth, mesmerized as she said, “Fuck, look at you.” 

And then she was kissing you again, her hands gripping your hips like it was a lifeline. Your hands found their way to her hair, curling your fingers in the short locks, using it as leverage to pull her closer. You could feel how each point of your body fit into hers; your thighs against her legs, her hands curling perfectly over the swell of your hips. You could feel the swell of her breasts against your chest, and you so badly wanted to feel her skin against yours. You felt like you’d go crazy from the raw want radiating from your body. 

Ellie’s lips traced a map across your cheek, down your jawline. You tilted your head so she could kiss the hinge of your jaw, the spot right below your ear. She paused there, planting hot, open-mouth kisses across your neck, before her teeth bit down on that sensitive spot, pulling the skin into her mouth, and you practically melted into her. You couldn’t control the sounds falling from your lips like honey, gripping at her hair as she soothed the bruise with her tongue. 

“Ellie….” Your voice was nothing more than a whimper; you swallowed hard and tried again, pressing a hand firmly at her shoulder. “Ellie.” 

She only hummed against your skin, and you could feel the vibration against your pulse. The sound went straight to your stomach and dipped even lower when she bit at your collarbone. 

The next time you said her name, it came out as a moan; you cleared your throat. “We can’t do this - you’re drunk, Els.” 

Your roommate hummed again, but she relented, leaning her head back against the wall to look up at you. And - fuck. Her lips were red and swollen, still wet from the kiss. Her cheeks were flushed, and - God, her eyes. You had never understood the term bedroom eyes, but Ellie looked at you as though she wanted to devour you. Like any second her hands weren’t on you was torture. Like she wanted to bite and kiss and taste every inch of your skin. 

“Truth or dare,” she said, her voice so hoarse you had to clench your thighs around her hips. 

“What?” 

“Truth or dare,” she repeated, her eyes never leaving yours. And this wasn’t part of the game, but you played along anyway, unable and unwilling to tell her no. 

“Truth,” you sighed. 

One of Ellie’s hands traced up your side. She ran her fingers across your collarbone, up your throat, before stopping to cup your jaw, her skin rough against yours. “Do you want this?” 

You nodded, the vodka making it impossible to feel shy. 

“How long have you wanted this?” Ellie’s thumb pressed at the seam of your lips, and you let your mouth fall open. She watched, hypnotized, dipping just the tip of her thumb between your lips before withdrawing. 

It was against the rules - two questions for one truth - but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care. “A long fucking time.” Your voice was weak and breathy, and you couldn’t bother to be embarrassed about that either. Your attention had narrowed in on Ellie, and the way her fingers skirted across your chest, the way her other hand gripped your hip - how you could feel the warmth of her thighs between your legs. 

Taking your chin in her hand, she drew you closer, and you could feel her lips moving against yours: “So what the hell is stopping us?” 

This time, when she kissed you, you did melt into her. You gripped her hair in your fists and swallowed the moan it drew from her, shivering when her teeth caught on your lip. She had both hands on your hips again, and she gripped them so hard you were sure you’d find bruises there in the morning in the shape of her fingers. She pulled you closer, pulling your hips down into her; the friction through your pajama shorts made you moan against her lips. 

And you decided to play her game. 

“Truth or dare?” you said, drawing away just enough to see the eclipse of her eyes. 

Ellie, always stubborn, murmured, “Dare.” 

You tugged at the hem of her shirt, your fingers brushing the warm skin beneath; you marveled at the shiver that ran through her body. You ducked your head to kiss along her jaw, pressing the words into her skin. “Take this off.” 

She didn’t waste any time tugging the shirt over her head, tossing it to the floor before skidding her fingers over the bare skin above your shorts. You lifted your arms and let her pull your shirt over your head before realizing you weren’t wearing anything beneath. Who wears a bra to study in their own apartment? 

But you didn’t have a moment to cover your body in embarrassment before Ellie’s lips were on you again, as if it pained her to not taste you for even a moment. Her hands spread across your back, pulling you into her as she peppered hot, open-mouthed kisses across your collar; you hissed when her teeth bit down over your collarbone, soothing the pain with her tongue. 

“Tell me to stop and I'll stop,” Ellie said, her voice muffled as she kissed down over your chest; you shivered when her teeth sank into the skin of your boob, sucking another bruise there. She certainly loved leaving her signature on any inch of your skin that her mouth could reach. 

You groaned low in your chest, your fingers tugging at her hair, pulling a gasp from her lips. You almost didn’t recognize your own voice - breathy and thick with desire - when you said, “Please don’t stop.” 

The next thing you knew, Ellie was shoving you off of her lap; your back hit the mattress, your head just barely missing the headboard, but you couldn’t even think about that. Your roommate was crawling over you, and you were hypnotized by the way her muscles tensed, her arms caging you against the bed. Her skin was fucking obscene, smooth plains stretching for miles, cast in liquid gold in the lamplight.

“God, look at you,” she said again, pressing a kiss to your clavicle. Her hand was like worn clay when it traced a teasing line over your hip. Her voice was muffled against your skin, but you caught the end of her sentence: “- so fucking pretty.” 

Your only response was a choked gasp when Ellie pressed the flat of her tongue to your nipple. You gripped her shoulder, feeling her lips close around you as she sucked your skin into her mouth; you winced when she released it, feeling her teeth graze maddeningly over your nipple. 

“Truth or dare?” she said into your skin, her voice vibrating in your bones. 

You groaned, gripping her shoulder when she licked a line over your other nipple. If you had thought about this (which, if anybody asked, you didn’t), you never would have imagined your roommate being such a fucking tease. 

She hummed, and you could feel the vibration in every nerve. For a moment, you couldn’t find your tongue, your voice caught in your chest until she released your skin with a pop of her lips. She looked up at you, batting her eyes, and dammit if your body didn’t arch, searching for her mouth again. 

Propping herself up on her elbows, she watched you through her lashes, an intoxicating smirk across her lips; they were still shining wetly. She broke you from your thoughts when she murmured, “Use your words, angel.” 

Your thighs clenched around her words, automatically and unconsciously. You were sure you could get drunk on the way her voice filled the room, rough and rich as the chords she played. It was through clenched teeth that you said, setting your pride aside, “Dare.” Your cheeks burned when it came out as a moan. 

You could feel her smile against your skin as she kissed down your stomach, silent for several long, torturous moments. You felt her teeth sink into your hip bone briefly, your hips jerking at the sensation. It earned you a chuckle before you felt Ellie’s hands pressing your hips into the mattress, holding you still. You groaned low in your throat when you felt her tongue against the skin over the band of your shorts, licking a stripe right above the fabric before taking the elastic between her teeth and tugging. You jumped when she released it, the band snapping back against your skin. You didn’t have to look at her to see the sparkle in her eye. 

You swore your heart stopped completely when she murmured, “I wanna go down on you.” 

Despite this game she was insistent on playing, it wasn’t said like a dare; it was said like a question, or a request. There was no expectation behind it. Ellie was asking, you realized with dizzying satisfation, for permission. 

“Fuck.” It came out as only a breath, a whisper against your tongue. Your fingers ached from gripping the sheets and she hadn’t even touched you yet. “Fuck,” you tried again, and it was a groan this time but at least it was louder. “Yeah. Yeah, please, fuck.” Words were just falling from your lips because when you looked down, Ellie - your roommate, your friend - was watching you, propped between your legs with that fucking smirk, and how could you possibly string together a complete sentence? 

And Ellie… didn’t. She didn’t follow up on her dare. Not immediately, at least. No, she took her sweet fucking time - always so damn precise, taking her time in hooking her fingers over the band of your shorts. She pulled them down so slowly you could feel every inch down your legs. And then you were lying beneath your roommate in nothing but your underwear - and dammit, if you had known this would be happening, you would have opted for something a little sexier than a cotton pair with constellations on them. 

Ellie smiled. “Cute,” she said, before sinking her teeth into the flesh of your thigh. You were thankful it was cold out - you’d have to wear layers to hide all the places her mouth had been. 

Your roommate ducked her head, and you gasped when you felt her press a featherlight kiss against the fabric of your underwear, right where warmth pooled between your legs. 

You huffed, twisting the sheets between your fingers. “God, you’re such an asshole - fuck-” You were cut off when Ellie licked a stripe up your panties, warm tongue pressing against your throbbing clit. You moaned at the relief, feeling the wetness of her mouth through the fabric. It wasn’t enough - you needed to feel her against you, needed her tongue to unravel you piece by piece. You pressed your hips down against her lips but her hands held you in place. 

You huffed out a breath, her name slipping from your lips when you moaned. “Ellie….” 

And then she was yanking your underwear down your hips; you gasped, lifting your ass to help her shove them down. She had only gotten them just below your knees before she was pressing back in, too impatient to finish the job. 

And - fuck, her mouth. Ellie’s mouth was fucking magic. You moaned into the quiet room when she pressed the flat of her tongue against your pussy, licking a stripe between your lips. You couldn’t control the curses slipping between your teeth when her tongue made teasing circles around your clit until you were whimpering, aching for her. She had released your hips to dig her fingers into your thighs, nails digging in, and you’d surely have crescent-shaped bruises there tomorrow - even more to cover up. You pressed your hips down against her, groaning, her name only a whisper: “Fuck, Els-” 

And then she finally, finally, gave you what you wanted. 

Ellie ate pussy like it was her fucking job, like she was clocking into a shift and working her ass off for those tips. She lapped at your clit like she was starving, pressing her lips against you until you were dizzy, your entire body tuned in to the warmth of her tongue and the gentle graze of her teeth. You shuddered when you felt that tongue press into your core, a brief pressure that pulled curses from your lips, words tripping over each other: “Ah - fuck - fuck, Ellie - oh my God, fuck-” 

It didn’t take long for tension to build in your stomach. You were intoxicated; you were tipsy, yes, but something about the way Ellie moved her tongue - long, slow circles around your clit, using the flat of her tongue to draw you closer to the edge - was like a damn drug. You got what you wanted: She unraveled you with her tongue, tugging curses from your lips. You could hear your own moans echoing against your quiet bedroom and you couldn’t even feel embarrassed about it. 

Ellie took your clit between her lips and sucked, pulling you into her mouth and-

A long, low moan pulled at your throat when you came. Your hand came up to grip at her hair, fingers twisting in the soft strands. She moaned when you pulled, and the vibration against every nerve pushed you further; you could feel your orgasm in your chest, could feel it trembling in your thighs. 

Ellie worked you through it, her tongue dancing against you as you rode out your high. She didn’t stop, pressing her lips against you, dipping her tongue into your core again, until you were shoving against her head, your hips bucking at the sensitivity. 

When she raised her head, she was grinning, that wicked, infuriating grin she always had when she was pleased with herself. She rested her head against your thigh for a moment, watching you as you blinked the stars from your eyes. You relaxed your fingers in her hair, smoothing your thumb across her temple. 

The only thing you could say, breathless and dizzy, was, “Fuck, Els. What the fuck?” 

Ellie laughed, the sound unarming the silence around you, the anxiety of what this meant. She pressed a kiss to your thigh, right over the little indentations where her nails had dug into the flesh, and just said, “Yeah?” 

You giggled, tugging at her hair gently. You looked down at your roommate - and you didn’t know what this meant for the two of you, but that could be a problem for tomorrow, when you weren’t drunk and sleep-deprived and naked beneath your friend. For now, you only said, “Truth or dare?” 

Ellie blinked, raising an eyebrow, and said, “Truth.” 

You considered not asking for a moment, unsure if you wanted to know, but curiosity pressed at you until you asked, “What do I taste like?”

The grin spread wider, Ellie’s eyes sparkling as she pushed herself up. She crawled up your body, taking a moment to press a kiss to your stomach, to the bruises she had left littered across your chest - you moaned when she took a nipple briefly into her mouth. She kissed her way up your neck, across your jaw, sucking at the skin beneath your ear - another fucking bruise to worry about. God, it was like she wanted her signature on you, branded in every inch of your skin. 

Her face hovered an inch above yours, propping herself up on her elbows, smirking. She leaned in close, leaving room for you to turn away if you wanted. Instead, you tilted your chin up and kissed her again. 

You wrinkled your nose at the metallic taste of yourself against her lips. You didn’t like it, the way your own scent wafted over you. But fuck if you didn’t open your mouth when you felt Ellie’s tongue pressing at the seam of your lips. She moaned when your tongue ran along the roof of her mouth, pressing into the taste of you. 

When she pulled back, her eyes were soft, her cheeks flushed. “Like that.” 

You rolled your eyes, turning your face away; you had to admit, even if you hated how you tasted - tasting yourself against her tongue sent a wave of heat between your legs all over again. You only said, “Gross.” 

Ellie leaned in again, and you felt her lips ghosting against your jaw. You felt her breath against your skin when she whispered, “Truth or dare?” 

You lifted your chin to give her access to your neck, sighing when she pressed a kiss against your pulse. “Truth.” 

Her breath huffed against you when she chuckled before raising her head to meet your eyes again, that same cocky smile spread across her lips. “Was that better than a six?” 

“Oh, fuck off.” You shoved against her until she rolled off of you. 

She flopped back against the mattress, still laughing, but she was holding her arm out for you. You only hesitated for a moment - but even if she was your roommate, she just made you see stars, so it’s not like cuddling would push against the boundary you had already broken. You curled into her, laying your head on her chest, the sports bra she was still wearing soft against your cheek.

You sighed, skimming your fingertips against the warm skin of her stomach. “Yeah,” you whispered before you could stop yourself. “Definitely better than a six.” 

You were starting to fall asleep, your eyes growing heavy, your study notes effectively forgotten. You burrowed into her further, wrapping your arm around her and pressing your fingers against her hip. You briefly wondered where the vodka bottle had ended up in the mess, but Ellie didn’t seem in any particular hurry to untangle herself from you, so you figured it could wait - surely it would be okay if she slept in your room for one night.

Just before you dozed off, you heard Ellie murmur, “You left the window open.” 

[farceurcole]

[geezmarty]

drawing more taash/bellara. help

[mxmarsbars]

he never wanted to move.

maybe he would’ve been better off secluded on that island, away from all the chaos. he told them it was safer that way. but he agreed to move because he wanted to be good for his team, make friends, be social. he wanted to be better. and it got him killed.

[dcangel]

one thing about stiles is that he absolutely cannot stay quiet when he cums, even if it’s in the worst situation possible. he could be home alone, or it could be late at night— either way, he’s jerking off to the explicit picture you sent him last week that he still has yet to get over. he can’t muffle any soft grunts or hums even when his mouth is closed. especially not when you’re letting him fuck you. his intentions when resting on top of you were innocent, perfectly content with being your weighted blanket. but something quite literally rubbed him the wrong way, and you felt it moments later. how could you say no to some not-so-innocent cockwarming? after all, Noah was in the dining room mulling over another case of a slashed-up body in the woods. clothes weren’t removed, just adjusted to allow his cock to slip out of his plaid sweatpants and into the small gap you left him between your drawn-down waistband and your cunt. it truly didn’t take long for vibrations of lost hums and whimpers to be felt against your neck as he allowed his hips to work lazily; his cock sliding in and out easily thanks to your building wetness. you really didn’t expect or want more from him, you just wanted him to please himself as you relished in his struggles to stay silent.

it was hard to keep stiles quiet, especially with the way the house fell silent after his dad drank himself to sleep, and there was no absent-minded muttering and mumbling to drown of the echoes of stiles’s growing whines. it was even harder when you felt warmth spill inside you and his hips still twitched as if one orgasm wasn’t enough. he was doing it to himself. grateful praises and broken whimpers tumbled from his lips that languidly tried attaching to your neck, and you didn’t even attempt to quiet him down. it would’ve been a futile effort anyway, especially with the way he absently began spewing mumbled begs against your neck to just let him be loud— to let him have his moment to openly relish in the feeling of you. and who were you to say no to your boy who took it upon himself to overwork his recently neglected body?

[hair-dice]

I wonder how goddamn hot it must be inside AM. Y'know? That's a computer they're inside. Knowing my own laptop, they must be boiling! Pains me to even think about the state of the rest of the world, not that there's anything left to inhabit it.

Can you imagine burying your hands through the sharp rocks and gravel, feeling past the frequently disturbed soil, down to the metal casing below? Your hands start to feel warmer and warmer the deeper they dig, until you're shocked by a sudden burning sensation on your fingertips.

You'd be warm the whole time, no matter where you stood. It's a wonder how there's even ice still on the planet-- if it's even real. If you left your hands on the metal shell, you'd feel the burn first. As the nerves in your palms slowly died yet again, the flesh sizzling, you'd begin to feel the vibrations of the machinery inside.

Millions and millions of miles of raw technological power, and you at the heart of it. Lay your cheek on the steel. Press yourself against it. Feel the stinging pain. Tomorrow, you'd feel it again. Then the next day, you'd feel it again. Then again, and again, until one day you'd have nothing left to burn for the Mastercomputer's sick enjoyment. It burns, no less than real love ever would.

[its-roachii]

totk spoilers ///

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

"Where am I?" (part one)

★ next ★

roleswap au pages 1-4. these are some of the more boring pages so i figured i'd get them out of the way. expect more pages soon >:)

[supernovafics]

you and steve hate each other but... maybe not anymore?

wc: 588

a/n: i was working on this and then stopped and then finally got around to finishing it<333 this is basically a third part to two other blurb-ish things i wrote (first thing / second thing)

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

there was somewhat of a shift that happened after the night you went over to steve’s house when he was sick. neither you nor he spoke about this shift— for some reason, it didn’t feel right to— but it still felt completely obvious. 

when he went back to work a few days after that night, finally returned to full-ish health, you decided against making some teasing jab about how he still looked pretty bad, even though it was on the tip of your tongue. and he didn’t dryly say, “glad to see you didn’t burn the place down while i was gone,” with a harsh roll of his eyes.  

both of those things should’ve happened. it always made more sense to make fun of one another than to do anything else; it was all a part of the animosity-filled dynamic you two shared. however, on that afternoon, you both said simple “hi’s” and “hello’s” and that was that. 

you two definitely weren’t friends, but you could admit (only to yourself, definitely not to him) that you didn’t dislike him as much as you once did. for the first time probably ever, things were actually civil between you two, and it didn’t feel like they were being forced to be that way. 

an unspoken truce was agreed upon and it stayed that way for the final week and a half you were covering for robin while she was out of town. 

and then the last day rolled around. 

a comfortable silence lingered throughout most of that day. customers coming in and out and you and steve alternating helping each person. there was even a moment when he made a joke that you found yourself laughing at before you could tell yourself not to. 

“robin’s back tomorrow, so today’s my last day,” you randomly decided to remind him at one point toward the end of the shift. “actually, i don’t know why i’m saying that when you’ve definitely been counting down the days until i’m out of here.” 

you expected him to agree with your words, but he didn’t; at least not outwardly. 

“i’m sure keith would give you a job if you wanted it,” steve said. “i’m pretty sure he likes you.” 

you outwardly cringed. “ugh, don’t say that.” 

it was quiet for a second. you both continued stocking the recently returned tapes on the cart behind the counter since the store was empty and there was nothing else to do. 

“so…” you started and then trailed off, suddenly feeling nervous, even though you had never felt that way around steve. “um, you would actually want me to work here? with you?” you quickly tried to correct yourself. “you and robin.”

he was quiet for a few moments and then simply shrugged. “robin would definitely love it.” he finished stocking the last tape in his hand before looking at you. “and i wouldn’t mind it.”

that said more than enough to you. 

“okay,” you gave him a small nod, pretending as if you were entirely unaffected by his civility and this niceness that had never been directed toward you; which, rightfully so, because you were never nice to him either. until now. “i’ll think about it.” 

you didn’t hate him, you realized later when you were back home and robin was calling to tell you about her trip and also ask you how it was working with steve for the past month. and you also realized that maybe you never really did hate him in the first place.

[actuallyjustabiscuit]

Not my dumb bisexual ass liking a poly ship purely because I think their height differences are neat

[anistarrae]

not a request buuuut how do you color your drawings like. the way you do it. how do you decide colors? how do you do tones and stuff and. it’s hard to explain sorry 😞 i just really like the coloring

i didnt know how to explain it so i opened iMovie

[bellysoupset]

noticed the antibotics post you reblogged...

and now im thinking of jonah getting a bad sinus infection or something of the like and just general clingy

and the antibiotics absolutely wreck his stomach so to speak

"Hey," Leo rounded up the couch in order to kiss his fiancé's forehead and inconspicuously feel his fever. For three days now Jonah had been fighting off a freaking ear infection and he was in one of the worst moods Leo had seen him in a while.

Not only he was feverish and had an earache, but the ear infection kept almost triggering his vertigo, so he had been forced to be on his back for the past days. In order not to miss too much work he was doing his office hours from home, but it wasn't the same and Leo knew Jonah was almost climbing up the walls with boredom.

"I know what you're doing," Jon answered him, shutting down his laptop and rubbing his temples, "fever broke in the morning, I'm fine."

Leo wasn't so sure about that, his boyfriend was oddly warm, "uhm, sure you are," he rubbed his chin on top of Jon's curls, much like JD did with them, "have eaten?"

He had left their fridge packed with stuff Jon liked, because lately his appetite had been all but gone. Much to Leo's annoyance, the other man shook his head.

"Not hungry."

"You have to eat," Leo groaned, exhausted, "what do you want? Soup? Pasta? I left sushi prepared for lunch..." he tried not to let the frustration leak into his words, but he shouldn't have bothered, Jonah could always see right through him.

"I'm sorry you went through all this trouble," Jonah answered sourly, pulling back so he was out of Leo's reach, "but I'm not hungry."

The blonde squeezed his eyes shut and open again, fuming, "it's 5 PM and you haven't eaten anything since the crackers I had to force on you this morning," he scoffed, "you're eating, I don't care if you're not hungry."

Jonah still looked like he was about to argue, but Leo didn't give him the chance, turning around and walking to the kitchen, knowing his boyfriend couldn't follow just to keep being frustratingly stubborn.

He prepared them a simple meal, Leo was hungry too, and his own temper had cooled off by the time he returned with the bowls. Jonah's... Not so much. He was curled up with JD in the opposite side of the couch and had his eyes closed, but the frown between his brows betrayed there was no way he was asleep.

Leo sighed, "don't pout, I'm doing this because I love you," he held out the soup to Jon and his boyfriend didn't move a muscle, "Jonah. C'mon, don't be a pain-"

A wet burp answered him and Leo raised his eyebrows, "Jon?"

"Stop talking," Jonah snapped at him, pressing a hand to his lips and gulping down, "fuck..."

Leo walked away in order to plant the food back in the kitchen and when he came back, Jonah was crawling up on the couch, clearly trying to get up, "WHOA! Hey, you're not supposed to be moving around, your head-"

"I need the bathroom," Jonah cut him off and Leo cringed as he realized how grey Jon's skin looked, little sweat droplets dotting his face, "I don't feel well."

All of Leo's resolve melted away, "oh angel, okay, c'mere," he wrapped an arm around Jonah's middle, helping him up, "lean on me." Together they waddled to the guest bathroom and Leo was about to enter with Jonah, when the guy planted a hand on his chest and pushed.

"Nope. Privacy."

"Don't be ridiculous," Leo shoved him further inside the bathroom, "you're too dizzy to stand, you don't get privacy."

"Please," Jonah all but whined, "please, just- Get the fuck out," his hand moved to cradle his tummy and Leo winced as he heard a gurgle, "Leo!"

"Okay! Okay, yeah, uh-" he stepped back and Jonah took no time to slam the door on his face. Leo pouted, walking back to the living room and collapsing on the couch. It had been a long week and he was pretty drained, but he mentally berated himself. If he was tired of this, he couldn't imagine how Jonah was feeling.

JD meowed, probably sensing his frustration and climbed on his lap, planting her paws on his chest so she could inspect his face, "I'm okay, baby," Leo sighed, booping his nose with hers and stroking her fur, "don't worry."

It was nearly a half hour later when the bathroom door opened again. By then Leo had already had dinner and was sulking in the living room, pretending to watch TV while arguing to himself to give Jon some space. Relief floored him as the door opened and his fiancé stumbled out.

"Jon?"

"What?" Jonah was taking small timid steps, a hand resting on his belly and Leo shot up, meeting him halfway.

"Hey," the blonde hesitated to touch him, not wanting to get snapped at, but that was the wrong thing to do.

"I feel like crap..." Jonah all but whined, voice all choked up and hazel eyes tearing up, and Leo's concern went up a notch, specially as his boyfriend continued, "I'm sorry I'm being such a dick..."

"Christ, is your fever up again?" Leo answered instead of acknowledging the apology, cupping Jonah's face. He was really warm, "come here, baby, let's sit down," he pulled them both back to the couch and Jon promptly curled up, eyes squeezed shut.

"What's wrong?" Leo scooted closer, rubbing a hand up and down his back, "are you in pain? Is it your ear?"

"Nauseous," Jonah answered after a second in silence, "...Hurts."

Leo's heart squeezed and he pressed a kiss to his boyfriend's temple, wrapping an arm around his back, "let me rub your tummy, angel, c'mere," he tipped them both backwards on the couch, until he was lying on his back and Jonah was on top of him. He was so unusually quiet and clingy, it was mildly terrifying.

Leo squirmed under Jonah's weight until he was able to free a hand and sneaked it under the other man's shirt, gently starting to rub it in clockwise motion. There was a horrible gurgling inside and even the minimal amount of pressure caused Jon to muffle a burp against his bicep and groan.

"Careful, I'm really queasy," Jonah warned him.

Leo shrugged, lips pressed to the top of his curls as he said, "don't worry about me," he grimaced in sympathy when another bubble moved under his hand and inside his boyfriend's belly, "it's so upset... How come, if you have barely eaten in days?"

"Antibiotics," Jonah answered, then gulped down, "they mess with me."

"I didn't know that," Leo pouted, hugging him closer, "these specific ones or any...?"

"I don't know," Jon moved slightly, so he could press his face to Leo's chest and breathed out, "excuse me," before muffling a string of little burps against his fist.

Leo let out a snort at the deja vú, "I feel like we've been here before," he whispered, then with a more teasing tone, "why are you embarrassed? I know your burps are not that dainty."

Jon scowled, his cheeks turning darker with a flush, "I'm not embarrassed," he said sharply and the return of his usual annoyed tone made Leo relax against the cushions, "it's not coming up, feels-" he gulped down, "feels like it's in my throat."

"Do you want me to try burping you? Those back pats you did with me the other day when I was sick?" Leo offered, eager to help in any way he could. He hated seeing Jon behaving like this, he'd much rather have his grumpy, bitchy boyfriend back.

Jonah muffled another little burp in his hand, then nodded, sitting up slowly like an elderly man. Leo bit down his lip, carefully planting a hand on his back, "tell me if this is alright..."

He started thumping on his back softly, much like one would a baby, and Jonah let out a groan and leaned forward, wrapping both arms around his stomach, but didn't say anything else besides that.

After a couple minutes of the patting, Jon suddenly stiffened and let out a huge burp, so loud it caused JD to jump and look up from where she had been happily nibbling on her toy. Leo snorted, "better?"

Jon only nodded, so Leo took that as a hint to keep going and no sooner he had started the patting back up again, Jonah let out yet another burp and then another... It changed into a retch halfway through and his boyfriend scrambled to press a hand in front of his lips, but it was too little too late and puke got all over down his front, in a small puddle on the ground and his hand.

"Oh shit," Leo cringed, then hurried to reassure him as he heard Jonah let out a pitiful noise, "no, it's alright baby, it's okay. Your tummy was really sick, poor thing," he sighed, rubbing Jonah's arm, "let's get you cleaned up, c'mon."

"M'sorry," Jonah's words were sticking together, head hanging in shame, "couldn't help it... I don't-"

"Shh," Leo shushed him, planting his lips on his shoulder, "it's alright, don't worry about it. Help me-" he grabbed his boyfriend's bicep, pulling him up.

They stumbled to the bathroom and Jonah promptly sat down on the closed toilet, as if the small distance had drained him of all energy. Leo pouted at the sight, wetting the washing cloth and leaving it on the sink in order to help Jon strip his t-shirt.

"Jesus, Jon..." Leo cringed as he got a good look at how bloated his boyfriend was, "that cannot feel good..."

As if to answer him, Jonah sluggishly cupped a hand over his lips, uncoordinatedly, and let out another wet burp, so wet that Leo scrambled to get the trashcan next to the toilet.

"Here-" he held it under Jon's chin, but the other man shook his head.

"No-"

"I don't think your body is leaving much room to argue, baby," Leo pressed his hip to Jonah's arm since his boyfriend was sitting down, and leaned him slightly over the trashcan, "get it up."

A small cough answered him, followed by another heave and suddenly a rush of liquid hit the trashcan, causing Jonah to let out a pathetic whine that was fully out of character and terrifying. Leo cupped his forehead as Jon's head hung and he let out a hiss, "angel, you're burning up again."

Instead of answering him, Jonah heaved again, bringing up little more than a mouthful of bright orange bile and drool.

"That's it," Leo rubbed his back, biting his lip nervously, "I'm calling Wendy."

If he expected some sort of resistence, he was sorely mistaken. Instead, Jonah leaned fully against him, resting his overheated face on Leo's tummy and breathing deeply, as if he had ran a marathon.

It took some coaxing to get him up again, but Jonah was too feverish and clingy to really be his stubborn self and Leo managed to get him in bed, before running to grab his cellphone and returning to their bedroom and sticking a thermometer in Jonah's mouth. The lack of complaints and bitching was driving him crazy.

It rang a couple of times, before Wendy picked up with a giggle, all breathless, "Hi blondie-" she was clearly chuckling and Leo could vaguely hear Vince's voice in the background, "what's up?"

"Jonah's sick and I don't know what to do," Leo admitted, feeling horrible that he didn't know how to perfectly fix his boyfriend, "he got an ear infection a couple days ago, has been on antibiotics since, but he still has a high fever and has started throwing up now."

"High fever? How high?" Wendy''s voice was straight to the point and she heard Vince echoing in the background: Jon's sick?

"Uhm-" Leo reached for the thermometer he had left between Jon's lips and squinted, "a little over 103," he planted the device on the bedside table and squeezed his boyfriend's nape as Jonah squirmed on the bed until he could rest his forehead to Leo's thigh, "it's been up for days."

"What meds is he taking?" Wendy sounded like she was pacing and Leo reached for the bedside table drawer once more, in search of the pill bottles. He rattled off the meds and heard a sigh, "the nausea is probably due to the clarithromycin, you can give him some pepto for that and if it doesn't work, then zofran. Add some tylenol for the fever, but as soon as the nausea is gone he needs to have some food, okay? And monitor his temperature, if it goes up or doesn't go down even a little bit after medication, it's ER time."

"Okay," Leo ran his fingers softly over the frown etched on his boyfriend's face, "but not right now?"

"I don't think it's needed," Wendy sounded pensive, "I'll call you back in a couple hours to check up on him."

"Alright... Sorry about ruining your Friday night," Leo chewed on his lip and he could almost hear Wen shrugging.

"You didn't, sweetheart," the nickname rolled off her tongue and Leo could tell she did a small pause, but he was too concerned about Jon to much care about the endearment term, "I'll call you back in a couple of hours, alright? Take care."

"You too," Leo answered, as he heard Vince's voice become louder, filled with questions, before the call disconnected.

On his lap, Jonah let out a little sigh, "Leo?"

"I talked with Wendy," Leo folded in half in order to whisper it, "you'll be fine, okay? Just gotta take some more meds."

"Okay..." Jonah nodded, nuzzling his head against Leo's thigh and coughing, "can we cuddle? Where's JD?"

"I hate that you're feeling so crappy that I can't even enjoy you being this adorable," Leo teased him lightly, planting a kiss on Jonah's temple, "I'll get JD and the meds, alright."

Jon only shrugged, yawning and curling up even more, "hurry back."

[aquanutart]

She is offering water to any lost travelers! However, it's so hot that the water has become tea, so she's adjusted accordingly!

[laswells-ashtray]

Okay, kind of a weird ask BUT.. Ghost 141.

And I’m not talking abt how they are now, no, I mean like ACTUAL see-through dead people from different periods of time OR from the same time period.

I could imagine that Soap is from the Viking era(Makes sense?), Price is from the Victorian Era, Ghost is from the early Reconstruction days after WW1(I think), and Gaz is from the 70’s or 80’s!

How they meet is completely unknown, but now they stick together like glue and just roam around the Earth as it is.

Sometimes I feel like they’ll see things from their past that no one else can, and the others are confused because- what’s there? Like for example, John was walking the halls of some large abandoned mansion and all of a sudden he sees his lost(and long gone) lover Nik, damn near tearing the house apart trying to look for the criminal before coming to the realization of what he was doing and disappearing for a while.

Nobody knows what the hell that was about, but they most certainly know that it must’ve been serious if the man disappeared for a week straight.

When John finally reappears, the other three men don't know what to say. He looks worse for wear, his clothes are ruffled in a way that requires effort to achieve as a phantom, and his eyes are empty.

They had spent the week debating the identity of the Nik he'd be screaming for. Simon had assumed the person to be a domestic servant but they'd debated the use John had for one. John never had a family, he had been an anomaly of his time. No wife, no children and he wasn't particularly inclined to any career path. He'd stuck to whatever earned him the means to live but much about his life had been kept private and none of the three had felt to pry.

Gaz has other assumptions, might've been taboo in the 80s but it certainly wasn't unheard of. He's unsure about what would've happened if you were perhaps "caught" in Victorian times but he assumes it can't have been good.

But Gaz had spent enough time in queer spaces amongst his people to know one when he saw it. John had been trying to tear his way through them just to get a glance of the Nik he was yelling about and Gaz had heard him muttering to himself about a Nikolai on more than one occasion.

Sure, they'd all developed over the years of being stuck as spiritual presences but some things lingered. Occasionally Soap would slip into a damn near unintelligible rant about something that would leave them all confused. Although, he is just Scottish so that might be it. Simon still struggled to wrap his mind around modern-day laws, smacking around your kids could earn you a prison sentence. He'd get a distant look in his eyes before quickly switching topics whenever it was brought up. Gaz would be the first to admit that hearing about modern-day movies centred around queer stories would always sweep him off of his feet.

Even if he was more used to the openness after they'd taken to following around a CIA agent that John had found amusing. The woman was a powerhouse and finding out she had a wife floored them all but they'd taken to lingering around the couple's home for amusement.

But John had never been willing to elaborate on the Nik he so desperately sought. No one quite knew what to say to him when he came back after disappearing for a week, trying not to ostracize the man through sheer verbal accident.

It surprised no one that Soap had been the first to talk but even Gaz would've expected a more tacful greeting.

"John, you're back. Just in time, the lesbians got a new cat."

Silence falls over the four of them for a moment. Simon facepalms with enough force that Gaz worries for his nose. John looks utterly caught off guard and the way his nose scrunches is undeniably endearing.

"What- what colour is it this time?" He asks, voice utterly wrecked. He sounds as if he'd been gargling glass shards for fun.

"Grey. Looks like mold."

They all smile at the way the man's lip quirks, a faint hint of a smile shining through.

[lloydfrontera]

ok so you know how in china 'cut sleeve' was used as an euphemism for homosexuality. that but in lorasia they use 'lullaby singer'. or 'angel fighter'. lately 'knightly escort' is making the rounds. there's a lot of euphemisms for gay people actually.

[artifeast]

telesphore tkh and hamid rqg interacting, cuz why not. and also i love them. and also @yamikakyuu suggested it