#it just my lame duck ass!

[tilebytiles]

till you tell me to leave - a.t.

summary: alex would probably let you stay at his house for the rest of your life, right? word count: 3k warnings: making out so a little suggestive, major fluff otherwise a/n: this was SUPPOSED to be a short little drabble but quickly turned into a whole self-indulgent thing bc cowboy!al is very special to me. smiles cutely settle for a draw

the first time you went to Alex’s farm, you were immediately reluctant to leave. you were situated on Twilight’s saddle, ambling along behind Alex and Lizzie and barely past the front gates that he’d just opened before already trying to cook up some lame, half-assed excuse for your parents so you could stay another day. or two. or maybe for the rest of your life. he had a lot of land to his name; the fence around his property stretched on for a while, and the path that led to his house was a bit of a long one, although not unbearably so. to your immediate right was a little pond and — were those fucking ducks?

“you alright?” he asked, his low chuckle snapping you out of your momentary mystification. you gripped the reins and nudged Twilight around so you could face him, watching as he pushed the gates shut. you did, admittedly, watch the way his arm muscles flexed in the sunlight for just a little too long to be considered normal.

“you have ducks,” you said, as if that explained everything.

“that I do.” Lizzie’s reins in hand, he approached you and your steed, peering up at you from beneath the rim of his hat. if you didn’t know any better, you would have reached over and snatched it from his head to put it on your own. unfortunately, you did know better, and your relationship with Alex was nowhere near the level that you felt was appropriate for riding a cowboy.

the dirt shifted and was kicked up beneath his boots and your horses’ hooves as the two of you made your way down the path to his house. the silence that settled in the air was comfortable, although you did still try to search for things to say. finding none, you opted to look around the property some more, now that you weren’t so distracted by the ducks. the area immediately surrounding his house and, consequently, the farm had been cleared of trees, although there were trees closer to the perimeter, making the fence almost imperceptible. you could hear birds chirping in the distance, and one of the ducks quacked. scattered throughout the grass were flowers of different kinds. the sun was out, but it wasn’t uncomfortably hot; just bright. you felt like you’d stepped into a scene out of a fairytale, not your boyfriend’s farm.

ah. boyfriend. that term still felt weird to use.

although he’d given you his phone number and texted you regularly (you remembered the smile he’d given you when he said “I’m not good with phones, but f’you, I’ll try”), your relationship with him hadn’t been solidified until the last time he’d dropped by your house for a quick visit. it wasn’t intentional — neither of you had planned to bring it up to your parents, but when you’d sat down for dinner, your father chewed his food and eyed Alex for several seconds before saying, “you want my blessin’, boy?”

Alex nearly choked on his water. he coughed a few times and set his glass down, spluttering, “what?”

“hon, what did I tell you about scarin’ him like that?” your mother scolded, lightly swatting at your father’s arm.

his resolve was stronger than steel, though. “you think I’m blind?” he pointed his knife accusatorially at Alex. “I’ve seen the way you look at my daughter. I might be old, but I’m no fool. I’ve seen it all, boy.” he lowered his knife to carve another piece out of his steak. “you’re pinin’ after her the same way I pined after m’wife.”

you dropped your fork and buried your face into your hands. “papa, please,” you groaned.

“your … wife.” Alex’s foot nudged yours beneath the table, a silent plea for your help. you all but kicked him, making him hiss under his breath. he was on his own.

"don't pay him any mind," the wife in question said, waving her hand dismissively at her husband's words. "he's jus' grumpy 'cause I didn't let him have his nightly beer."

"right." Alex didn't seem to buy her reassurances — he might've looked a little more panicked, actually — but he certainly wasn't about to dwell on it. he glanced over at you then, setting his fork down. "marriage wouldn't be ... so bad."

"Alex!" you hissed, kicking his foot again. he winced. you glared at your father. "no more marriage talk. I'm not even twenty-one yet."

later that night, as Alex laid beside you, arm draped over your waist and fingers drawing lazy circles against your back, his expression grew contemplative. "I meant what I said earlier, y'know."

you opened your eyes. you'd almost fallen asleep. "what do you mean?"

"about marriage. I think I'd like t' marry ya someday."

you were sure he could make out your blush in the darkness. "well ..." you let out a small huff. "that's not for a while."

"no, I s'pose not." silence, then, "can I at least call you mine?"

and that was that.

Alex’s home was quaint; not too big and not too small, it was constructed of wood and had a porch with stairs that led up to it. on the porch were two rocking chairs, as well as a table with a lantern. one of the chairs had a blanket draped over its back; you wondered how much time he spent out there. with his help, you hopped off of Twilight and followed him up the steps to the front door. late nights were etched into the wood that surrounded you, and when he saw you eyeing a small stain beside one of the rocking chairs, he said, “Nick spilled his whiskey there. was never able to get rid of that damn stain.”

his keys jingled as he pushed one into the knob and unlocking the door, swinging it open. he turned to you with a soft smile, the kind that made your heart flutter every time. “go ahead and make yourself at home, alright? I’ll take the horses ‘round back an’ bring your stuff in for ya.”

“okay.” he freed his keys from the doorknob and stuffed them back into his pocket, then turned to retrieve the horses, but not without giving you a quick peck on the forehead first. affection had become easier between you two over time, as natural as breathing. every touch, every soft utterance, felt like hot chocolate on a bleak winter’s day. the affection he held for you — you weren’t sure yet if it was love, and frankly, the L word was a scary one — never failed to set off fireworks in your head, momentarily putting your neuron pathways on halt as every cell rejoiced.

the walls of the home were painted a creamy white — briefly, you wondered if he’d built the home himself, but while Alex was a lot of things, he was most definitely not a carpenter. the floor was comprised of wooden planks that were polished and shiny, and the sight of it reminded you of sliding around your house in socks as a kid. the door that led to the backyard was situated beside a large brick fireplace. in the living room, different photographs sat framed on the walls, some of landscapes and others of Alex and his friends. he had a couple of guitars hanging by the fireplace, and they made you wonder how serious of a hobby playing was for him. did he know any other instruments? could he sing? you’d have to ask him at some point. there was a sofa and an armchair, and a giant rug sprawled out in the center of the room. there were bookshelves, too, and they were filled to the brim with novels, biographies, and the like. they hosted random trinkets, too. there was even a potted plant in the corner.

you made sure to slip off your shoes and leave them by the door before venturing any further. despite appearing quite rustic on the outside (and on the inside, to some degree), the interior had clear modern touches. one of these was the partially open floor plan, with a wall that spanned from floor to ceiling but not wall to wall and served as a barrier between the kitchen and the living room — it had a window installed in it, offering a glimpse of the kitchen. behind the wall sat the dining table; it was a paler wood than you’d seen so far, as were the chairs. the kitchen walls were painted the same cream color, and there were a couple of photos here, too, including some held up by magnets on the fridge. the sink and dish rack were both clear of dishes — Alex must have cleaned up before he left to get you. the ceiling fan overhead had a light bulb in its center, protected by a small glass dome. the microwave sat above the oven, and there was a door that led into the pantry.

wandering back into the living room, you headed for the stairs next. there was a closet built underneath the stairs that didn’t house much, likely due to its size. you quickly ascended the staircase, which opened up into a hall on the second floor. both sides had two doors, and there was another door at the end of the hall. opening the first door on the right revealed another closet; the second door led to what you assumed to be a guest bedroom. the first door on the left was the master bedroom (where Alex slept), and the second was the bathroom, which was connected to the bedroom. the door at the end of the hall led to a bigger closet than the one downstairs.

the room you were most interested in was Alex’s. it wasn’t as decorated as the living room, which surprised you. one of the only photos you saw sat idly on the nightstand, right beside the bedside lamp. there was a book on the nightstand, too; you guessed he was in the middle of reading it. the window provided a nice view of the front of the property, and you peeked through the blinds to see if you could spot Alex below. he was nowhere to be found, though. his bed was neatly made, and you wondered if that was a regular habit of his or if he’d only done it for you. his closet was full of jeans and button-down shirts — typical for a cowboy, you thought. he had a fair number of shoes, too.

“if you wanted to wear my clothes, you coulda just asked.” you jumped and whipped around, spotting Alex in the doorway. he leaned against the frame, arms crossed, and cocked an eyebrow at you. he was smirking, too. you wanted to punch him.

you refrained, though, and smiled sheepishly. “I was just looking.”

“well, the offer stands as long as you’re here,” he said, approaching you. he stood beside you and peered into his closet, as if it, too, was his first time seeing his own wardrobe. “I think you’d look real cute in one o’ my shirts.”

you flushed and looked away. “I’d probably look kind of weird. they’d be too big on me.”

he snorted. “yeah? that’s why you’d look cute, doll.”

deciding you needed to end this conversation before you combusted, you quickly asked, “where’d you put my stuff?”

“in the other bedroom.” he jerked his head back towards the hallway. “figured we can jus’ move it in here later an’ get you properly unpacked.”

“you want me to stay in here with you?”

he threw an arm around your shoulders and pressed a lingering kiss to your temple. “what kind of prick would I be if I left my girl to sleep on her own?”

his girl — you liked how it sounded coming from him.

•••••

“Alex, that’s cheating!”

“it is not! Y/N, I swear on m’life, I’m not tryin’ to cheat!”

the two of you were sat in the middle of the living room floor, engaged in an intense game of uno. you hadn’t even planned to play at first, but after having dinner about an hour ago, you’d found the pack of cards on one of the shelves (one of his friends had left it after a visit). your first round, which was a practice round, was comically short-lived (“I’m rusty,” he’d said after losing in less than ten minutes). the game you were currently locked in had lasted about half an hour and showed no signs of stopping soon; each time one of you approached victory, the other took it away.

“I have to be able to see all of your cards,” you huffed. “it’s cheating.”

Alex sighed, rolled his eyes and made a dramatic show of fanning his cards out further, revealing the card that had been hidden behind another. “I wasn’t trying t’ do it on purpose,” he grumbled. “why does it even matter?”

you put down a yellow 7. “because it’s the rules, alex.”

his tongue darted out to wet his lips as he set down a draw four card. “blue. I didn’t expect you to get so worked up over this, y’know.”

“the aggression is a staple of uno.” you drew four cards and swore under your breath when none of them were blue.

he planted his hand down on the floor behind him and leaned back, eyeing you over his cards. “it’s not like you.” a beat of silence, then he said, “I like it.” he dropped a blue 5.

that made you pause. “you like it?”

he hummed in response, his gaze dropping to your cards as you mulled over what to put down next. “you’re attractive when you’re frustrated.”

ah. that was what he meant. you set down a green 5, hiding behind your hand as heat rushed to your cheeks. “you’re just saying that.”

“yeah? just to get under your skin and tick ya off?”

“yeah.”

he sighed and plucked a green 6 from his hand, dropping it into the discard pile. “my mama didn’t raise a liar, so I’ll say it again: you’re hot when you’re mad, sugar.”

you looked up at him, only to find him staring right back at you. you both remained silent for a few seconds, although you were the first to speak up. “um ...” you looked away again before setting down a green draw two. "thank you." I think, you muttered internally.

he cracked a grin and set his cards down beside him, then motioned you over. “c’mere.”

you set your own cards down and maneuvered over the discard pile, being careful to not knock or scatter any cards. once you were within reach, one of his hands went to your waist and the other to the nape of your neck, pulling you in for a bruising kiss. your home quickly became his lap as you straddled him, and your hands found purchase in his hair in a desperate bid to maintain as much contact between the two of you as possible. although you had kissed like this before, it had only been very occasionally, and the way he pressed himself to you made you feel warm all over.

his teeth grazed your lower lip before his tongue plunged into your mouth, rehearsing its usual dance with yours. a quiet groan crawled out of his throat, muffled by your lips on his, and the hand that had been at your nape moved down to your ass, giving it a light squeeze. you yelped and broke the kiss, practically panting as you stared down at him. a faint string of saliva remained as the only tether between your mouths, although it quickly snapped. you were sure your face was redder than a firetruck, and you dipped your head down to hide it in his neck. his chest rumbled beneath you as he chuckled, his arms wrapping around you and keeping you tucked against him. "so shy all of a sudden," he teased.

you rolled your eyes and nipped at his neck. "shut up."

"I don't think you want me to."

you chose not to satisfy him and turned your head, looking down at his cards on the floor. you squinted. "you had a yellow 4 this entire time?"

he hummed. "that I did."

"you cheated!"

"Y/N, you didn't even notice!"

after you (rightfully) called him out, the two of you decided to wrap it up for the night and head to bed. although your belongings had since been moved into his room, you opted to steal some of his clothes for the night instead. you were right — his shirts were too big on you. his shorts were, too, and they sat low on your hips. he thought you were absolutely adorable, though, and couldn't help but take pictures with his phone when he thought you weren't looking.

as you settled down for the night, he turned to lay on his side, staring at you amidst the darkness of his bedroom. "you should come over more often," he mumbled, almost as if he was talking to himself.

you turned to face him; there was hardly any space between you now. "I was kind of hoping you'd say that," you quietly admitted.

even in the darkness, you could make out his smile, soft and lazy and reserved for only you. "maybe I should kidnap ya. keep you here forever."

"I don't think my parents would like that."

he scoffed. "if I kidnapped you, I wouldn't give a damn 'bout your parents, sweetheart. wouldn't even bother with a ransom, I'd just keep ya all for m'self."

you giggled softly. "I don't know how much I'd complain if you did that, y'know."

he cocked an eyebrow. "you wanna be kidnapped?"

"that's not what I mean, Alex, and you know it."

you both grew quiet after that, and you could feel sleep tugging at you, begging you to succumb to its siren song. you were a breath away from doing just that when he spoke up again. "I really oughta marry you someday, Y/N."

you really hoped he would.

tags: @elexnorislingtxn / @edandmollydeservebetter / @sagegreensimmr / @billyseye / @supernaturalandpain / @not-a-big-slay

[icarusredwings]

Rewatched Deadpool 1. Took notes.

WARNING: Discussion of mental illness topics, ending yourself, trauma, violence, etc.

Civil debate/ conversation welcomed. Sorry its super long. I think a lot.

Notes:

You know what? We see Wade coloring a lot. What's our status on just giving him cartoons snacks and coloring books? He needs it.

I think we all forget how actually impressive this man is. I just watched this cancer having fucker do like 50 flips.

Whatta man is so Logan Howlett coded.

"Bad deadpool" "good deadpool!"

Deadpool has been helping kids for a while. He terrified a little creep while he himself was a huge creep.

Missed up his words and Vanessa smiled at him. With that "aw hes cute" kinda thing.

When talking about their childhood (whether he's lying or not, hes not about the uncle) and he outdos her so much that she giggles.

The first date he takes her ducking skiiballing instead of yk prostitute stuff

Hes so romantic oh my god.

Theyre giggling and joking like all the time. Personally thanksgiving is my favorite scene before he proposes with a fucking ring pop.

I shouldn't laugh but the way he said "wtf" when passing out

Vanessa instantly jumping to "what can we do? There has to be something" makes me instantly respect her as a chronically ill person myself. Partners who medically defend each other make me so happy because a lot of people divorce their partners when they get "too sick" let alone dont show up to specialist appointments.

Him accepting death so quickly is a sign of mental illness, and you can see him be confused on why shes so upset. Shes crying and hes sitting here like "why do you care if I die or not?" He physically feels so unloved that he just doesn't get it.

"I dont know. Might further the plot. " Oh, so you know about wades little mental tv show he puts on in his head as a coping mechanism?

Also... Weasel.. YOU KNOW WHO ELSE IS A WEASEL!? Shit sorry wrong movie.

Its not until now that hes crying because he realizes if he does then no more vanessa. We already know hes very co dependent and many people only care about themselves BECAUSE of other people. Which is also considered a sign of wanting to ☠️ self.

The whole "superheros are all lame ass teachers pets" thing is so funny if you think about how much beef he has with the xmen when in reality I have a feeling Wade would love charles in a "Ugh im in trouble with Daddy wheel chair again." COUGH "old bald heavens gate looking mother fucker" COUGH

"Thats not nice" No. But wade is genuienly not nice either.

"This is embarrassing. Please stop, " Colosus said what we all were thinking.

Bro literally cut/broke off his own hand and didn't whine a single time. If you ever. EVER hear this man express pain it is 99.9% his own choice to let you know that it hurts.

During his changing process, Francis says "the only thing that doesn't survive is a sense of humor" wade says "we'll see about that" and smirks.

What also makes sense to me is that he did NOT break easily. They did test after test after test and this man still wasn't breaking. His spirit is incredibly strong and as much as we enjoy joking about how stupid he is, Wade is extremely resourceful.

Its like he has created an alter ego of humor and kindess in order to keep up with the fact he DOES understand how fucked up this world is and whats happening/happened around him but refuses to acknowledge it until he has too. Ussually for survival.

Ive seen theories that he has DID or a type of Scizophreania and the voices in the comics are obviously in his head. I have mixed feelings about it because even his thoughts have thoughts of their own in some cases. Talking to no one is often a sign of abadonment, esspecially in children who are school age and get lonely when taken from their families to attend school. Its almost as if wade never lost his and hes subconsiously talking to himself to keep himself calm/ from panicking in high stress situations.

"But then how does he know hes in a movie" thats the thing. He doesn't. Hes pretending to cope. Main charaters cant die and until he dies he has this mental show/movie going on to keep himself from realizing all of this is true. That this is reality.

Cunningham mentions breakfast for his kids and suddenly, wade wakes up. Hes not joking anymore. This is a "oh shit... I wanna make breaktsst for my kids too... with my wife vanessa" moment.

"So whats wrong with him?"

Diiiiiddd we all forget about scout master kevin? Uncle? Dad? That fact that the oxygen was physically taken from his brain and was given Co2 poisoning over and over? For multiple days? This is the same man who blew himself up just to escape because they told him he wasnt going to see vanessa again.

And then he fought a guy naked, survived the entire building burning down, and now is so insecure about his looks that he thinks he made the baby cry in the street.

Theres people staring at him, flinching away, called names, people see him and cross the street. (So when he tells Logan that he knows his pain when it comes to public settings, hes not lying)

Blind Al is literally the reason deadpools suit is what it is. Why the idiot thought white was gonna be a good idea- See above. Unlike Al, who could smell the blood/ bleach.

I really love al. She's like the adult Toph.

"I hear everything in this duplex." OH, you poor thing.

"The guy that turned me into this freak-"

Al: *bitch im blind face*

As far as she's aware, he looks normal. Which is beautiful when you think about it, but it's funny when you think about the fact that he's so insecure about his face that he purposly found a blind room mate that couldn't judge him.

And they cuddle while he gets dating advice from grammie 🥹❤️

I really like how the entirety of Sister Margaret's School for Wayward Children (HellHouse in the comics) stood up for Weasel. They're murderers. But they're family.

What they did to vanessa was straight fucked. Her fiance up and leaves without notice, youre just trying to work and live your life, you get kidnapped.

Negasonic is so cool. I love them.

Dopinder (The cab guy) is so cool too. I love him too. Kill that guy in your trunk. "Mr. Pool" reminds me of Tom holland spiderman.

"It is not boy band >:(" Suurreee it isn't.

"Wheres your duffle bag?" You mean his dollar general store tree hello kitty book bag filled with guns?

"Cue the music" *no one even gives a fuck at this point when he talks to the imaginary cams*

Negasonic mid battle: Hold on- "Hey Yukio, yeah I just gotta fuck shit up real quick, ttyl?"

"Sure thing! <3 You go baby!"

I dont know anything about negasonic but she reminds me of Gambit with her energy powers.

Like I said. Hes smart when its a serious situation because he immediately threw his katana into the glass so vanessa could breathe, only to immediately turn sappy and childish again when he sees her stab francis with it. Heart hands, is hallucinating because theres a knife in his brain (literally), sex joke. Etc.

Colossus shut the fuck up. Let this man kill him. He's hurt Soooooo many people. A bullet costs less then a dollar. His amount of therapy alone is going to be like *checks calculations* 80 billion.

"Not the nethers" Wade can and often does show proof of hurting but hed rather cut off his hand then let vanessa punch him in the balls. "Ow- owie 5000"

Hello Hugh Jackman.

After not seeing each other for so longer they instantly go back to the fibbing. "I live in the house with 12"

"You live in a house??" Funny guys get the girls. I should know. My wife says im super funny (yes im in therapy)

Pinky promises really matter to him.

Hes such a silly billy he brought out the phone with their song on it. God what a romantic idiot.

[darcydarlingdabbles]

Tantalizing Television

RadioApple with a side dish of static - Hazbin Hotel

Explicit: Teasing, jealousy, Vox kinda gets cucked, secretly!est RadioApple, (switches/verses.)

4.5k

//Just so happens I was gonna do this anyway, now it's radioapple week. So it's meant to be right XD first time writing these characters and this ship...and I decided to make it harder on myself. Inspired by an IG Reel by akrcos. So naturally the song is Neon Medusa by The Midnight//

In one of the far wings of the Hazbin Hotel, a translucent form flickered to life in a plush red room. 

The hologram glimmered and Vox smack a hand into his screen. “C’mon ya piece of shit, work.” The overlord grunted, his projected body covered with blue static as it tried to stay solid. 

His flat eyes blinked, before his trademarked grin spread across his square face—Alastor’s dark hotel room finally becoming clear. And Vox was finally inside it.

Technically.

“Let’s see what the pompous ass is hiding.” 

Vox’s projection drifted forward, his half-corporal boots making no sound on the plush crimson carpet. His feet tangled in something on the floor—because he was still getting used to walking without feeling his footsteps—and because the place was a damn mess. 

“So much for a fastidious freak.” Vox snickered to himself, only to hiss out more garbled curses as he reached out to a dresser drawer. His translucent cyan fingers passed through the handle once, twice, before he focused on solidifying just enough to grasp it. 

Thinking he just might spare the projectionist demon who sold him this janky spell, Vox rummaged through the drawer. Looking for anything embarrassing—or juicy—to hold over Alastor’s head. 

Instead, his hand closed around something small and rubbery. 

Vox pulled out a bright yellow duck. 

“What the hell…?” He muttered, in utter confusion, as he uncovered an entire collection of rubber duckies.

The TV demon let out a grunt of frustration, squeezing one of the blasted things in his fist, making his hologram flicker as the toy let out a shrill little squeak. 

“Well well well, what do we have here?” A mocking lilt startled Vox, causing the duckie to go bouncing across the floor. It landed right at the high-heeled boots of the King of Hell himself. 

Lucifer was leaning casually against the four-poster bedframe, arms folded, and a devilishly smug grin on his lips. 

“Ah! Y-your Majesty!” Vox panicked, nearly backing into the dresser drawer he’d just opened. He’d been ready to kick some ass, now he had to prepare to kiss some.

Damn projectionist told him he was going to the room where Alastor spent the most time, not the archangel’s bedroom! 

“An Overlord reduced to snooping through drawers?” Lucifer clicked his tongue, his smile nearly as sharp as Alastor’s. “My my hell really has gone downhill with you guys in charge.” 

Vox felt his signal glitch with panic. 

“Now, I know you’re not stupid enough to try to sabotage my daughter’s hotel with me in it, right?” Lucifer took a few steps forward, and Vox wished his hologram could just vanish into the wall, but he was stuck until the spell ended. 

“No no no Your Highness, I’d never!” Vox said plaintiff, throwing a hands to play up his innocence. “I was just looking for Alastor, you know, old rivals. Messing with each other…ha ha.” 

The truth sounded like a lame excuse when he was saying it to Lucifer. 

“Trying to find him in my room is a little under the belt, don’t you think?” 

“Below the belt…you mean?”

“What did I say?”

“You said this was your room, sire?” Vox demanded, his flat screen head snapping around. “Fucking projectionist piece of shit.” 

The fallen angel’s yellow eyes narrowed on Vox’s form. “You’re using a projectionist, are ya?” Lucifer grinned. “Oh, that’s an old school trick—I with an old weakness.” The angel raised his hand, and snapped his fingers.

“Shit!”

Glowing golden ropes materialized, binding Vox’s projection from chest to ankles, before a flick of the blonde’s wrist sent him flying into the plush chair by the rumpled bed. 

Vox thrashed against his restraints, his shape lagging and distorting where the binds held him. But even his real demonic body would be nothing against pure angelic power. 

“Sir! I mean, I’m doing you a favor.” Vox protested, unable to help himself but trying to gab his way out. “The projectionist—he sent me where Alastor spends the most time in the hotel.”

Lucifer raised his eyebrows, his black lips suddenly pressed into a line—like a toddler with a secret. Vox was too busy pleading to notice. “You realize this means Alastor must have been spying on you, right? So so I’m letting you know! No need to get your feathers in a fluff!” 

“I decide when to fluff myself!” Lucifer snapped back, before making a face. “That sounded wrong, didn’t it?”

Vox opened his mouth, only to have it filled with static.

“Yes, darling, it did.” When a shadow stepped up from the half-lit room.

“Well now, Vox. You’ve gotten yourself into quite a conundrum, haven’t you?” The radio demon’s eyes burned with amusement and his sharp grin grew impossibly wider as he took in the scene. “Delightful to see you stooped so low as to rifle through my rival’s chambers.” 

“Hold the fuck up.” Vox’s screen flashed red. “You’re calling him your rival now?” 

Alastor and Lucifer glanced at each other, the angel’s face giving away more than the radio demon’s ever-present grin. 

Vox was too outraged to notice. “We’ve been at each other’s throats for fucking decades and suddenly this guy waltzes in!” He thrashed against his binds again. “And you’re making enemy goo-goo eyes at each other?!”

Alastor’s glee was practically luminescent. “My my, I did take you for the jealous type. But this, my good man, is a new low.” He leaned forward, arms folded neatly behind his back as the light of Vox’s screen glinted off teeth—and he twisted the knife in. “Though I hardly need to look to the king of hell to find a more interesting company than your static-filled nuisance.” 

“You smug son of a—” Vox leaned against his restraint, ready to bash his monitor into Alastor’s face—when the radio demon was suddenly a safe distance away. 

Lucifer stepped in front of Alastor and stuck a sharp heel squarely into the captive demon’s chest. The hologram flickered, but somehow held, tied in place by the divine rope lashed around him. 

“Watch your tone, buddy boy.” Lucifer gave a contemptuous sneer, about as much as his diminutive form could manage. 

“Now, now. Where are your manners, my friend?” Alastor chided, practically gleaming with sanctimoniousness. He loomed just behind the angel, his red-tipped fingers curling over Lucifer’s shoulders in a way that was almost…no, it couldn’t be. This was Alastor. And Vox knew damn well the radio demon didn’t invite contact. 

“I do adore it when you are ruthless, Your Majesty.” Alastor’s voice had gone smooth, almost purring. 

Vox’s screen flashed, like his circuits couldn’t compute an obvious flirtation from Alastor.

Even if Lucifer’s answering chuckle and the tilt of his head towards the smiling demon brought their faces closer than Vox had ever seen a living being get to his old nemesis. If they were still alive.

“Well now, Alastor, you old dog,” Vox taunted, seeing Alastor’s ears flick with irritation. “If I didn’t know ya better, I’d say ya needed the King of Hell to fight your battles for you now.” 

The radio demon straightened up, stiff as a rod, and Vox knew he’d dug under Alastor’s skin. Lucifer bore his heel further into Vox’s chest. If this projected body could bleed, he might be already. 

“As ever, Vox, I am more than capable of handling you myself.” His smile twitched. “But why get my hands dirty when I can watch the master at work?”

“He’s your master now, huh? Is the untouchable Alastor cozying up to the big boss down stairs?” Vox snapped.

Radio static burst through the room. Alastor answered to no one. And no one would imply otherwise. But, before he could put the demon in his place, the angel in front of him had to go blustering and bleeding heart.

“Listen here, you big piece of shit!” Lucifer glowered, his red pupils disappearing in a terrifying radiance. “Say anything like that again, and I will personally ensure that you spend the rest of eternity in Hell’s deepest, darkest, shittiest sewer. Got it flat face?” 

The angel yanked the captive demon forward, until his projected form was glitching all out of shape. Lucifer, the sweet fool he was, looked up at the smiling demon like a cat that had presented him with a half-dead mouse.

Unfortunately, Alastor loved cats. And dying things.

He had to regain control somehow. And that meant reigning in the devil himself. 

“You say the sweetest things when you’re threatening my enemies.” Alastor’s slender fingers gripped Lucifer’s face, curling deftly around the angel’s chin, and pulling the blonde’s gaze back to him. 

It worked like a charm, perhaps too well. 

Lucifer leaned into the touch, his cheeks impossibly redder, and his eyes fluttering closed for a moment. When he opened them again, they were filled with an emotion that even Alastor could not be prepared for. 

Leaving him unguarded for what happened next. 

Lucifer, the sweet fool that he was, surged forward to kiss Alastor. Right in front of a gaping Vox. 

The radio demon should be livid. He made it clear their personal lives were not for public consumption—in any form.

Only for the petite archangel to hold nothing back in his gaze every time their eyes met.

So, why was Alastor melting into the press of lips, regardless of who was watching? 

A shiver ran down Alastor’s spine, taken in by the fierce protectiveness in that kiss. Misguided, clumsy, foolhardy, and vowed to shield him from harm with everything he had.

Which would be just lovely, if Alastor didn’t have to consider the crumbling reputation he’d just glued back together.

But, when his red eyes found Vox, already wearing a brilliant smile like he meant to expose this level of affection all along—he saw something he should have expected. 

The television demon’s eyes widened in shock, circuits buzzing with disbelief. His screen went blank like he’d overload, until the color blocked test pattern displayed the words ‘please stand by.’ Like his entire system had to reboot. 

He’d stunned the picture box—and that, the radio demon could work with.

“What the fuck, Alastor?” Vox crackled, outrage written over his features. “You don’t like being touched! Isn’t that your whole damn shtick?”

Crimson eyes slid to Vox with barely concealed loathing. Alastor tutted, lips curling in a mocking sneer. Soaking in that glorious, irrational, jealousy.

“Oh, I don’t.” Alastor said simply, turning a softer smile to Lucifer, knowing the Overlord was watching with wrapt attention. “Not by just anyone, and particularly not by you, Vox.” 

Vox’s screen fritzed again, eyes flashing with fury. 

“Oh-ho, I know that green-eyed monster when I see it~” Lucifer taunted in a sing-song voice. His hand tightened around Alastor’s waist. 

“This all started with your silly little obsession, did it not?” Alastor mused with a dark chuckle. And the radio demon, utterly amused with this revelation from his rival, leaned in to the assumption. “When did you realize your propositions to have me on your team turned into utterly pathetic advances?”

“Cocky fucking bastard!” Vox’s voice distorted and crackled. “Don’t act so high and mighty! You just found a higher power to whore yourself out to!” The Vox hologram rocked violently against its bindings, wild with jealous rage, somehow even more deranged and unhinged without a corporeal form to ground it.

Static burst throughout the room, lights flickering and shadows distorting. As Alastor’s smile stayed perfectly in place. 

The radio demon leaned forward, teeth glinting with pure malice as he tapped his microphone against Vox’s screen, making the cyan distortion appear again.

“If you think it wise to spread gossip about me, by way of blackmailing Our King…on your head, be it.” He said in a sadistic purr. “No one will believe a thing you saw here.” 

Over his shoulder, he felt his shadows banished. Lucifer had his back with a flash of divine light and power. 

And nothing felt better than rubbing salt into Vox’s wounded ego.

Alastor reached out a clawed hand, pressing the tip of a nail into the hologram’s chest. The projection wavered and warped under his touch, but still provided a just hint of resistance. 

“Then again, this isn’t really you, is it?”

He felt Lucifer’s hand tighten at his waist. “It’s a hell projection dear, “ he explained, his voice amused. “Meant to torture sinners by allowing them to touch, but never be touched in return.” 

“Oh.” Alastor’s ears perked up. “How inspiringly cruel.” 

He straightened up, shooting Lucifer a wicked smile, before he grabbed the shorter man by the lapels, and shoved the angel back into Vox’s lap. 

Both men appeared completely taken aback.

Vox’s screen glitched between showing his two-dimensional eyes wide with excitement and indignation.

“Al, you sure about this?” Lucifer’s face was painted with the same shock, but with a bit of delight curling his lips. Wondering if the radio demon was serious. 

Alastor caught his eye with a smirk. His long nimble fingers making quick work of the buttons, revealing the scarlet dress shirt and black suspenders underneath—shedding his coat entirely and tossing it onto the bed. 

Vox had never seen Alastor in a scrap less of clothing before, and those slim shoulders and narrow waist made something hot and hungry twist in his gut. 

Lucifer was already reaching for the demon, knowing this was the signal that his partner wanted to be handled. 

  Alastor moved to straddle the King of Hell with his long legs, caging his rival overlord as well, while he captured the angel’s mouth in a searing kiss. 

Lucifer groaned against his lips. 

“I can still fucking see you sick perverts!” Vox snarled, face burning with humiliated fury. 

Vox was having a conniption. Since when did Alastor let anyone touch him, let alone paw at him and his immaculate clothes? But here the radio demon was, sitting astride Lucifer’s lap, and kissing him like he wanted to devour him. 

Alastor tsked, wagging a chiding finger as he nuzzled against Lucifer’s cheek with a rumbling purr. 

Vox watched Lucifer’s hand slide down the demon’s waist, gripping his hips to pull him in even closer.

Alastor’s low chuckle met the gesture, that clawed hand grabbing the chair behind the other demon’s head. As he lifted his hips and rolled them against Lucifer’s. 

Through his eyelids, Alastor could see Vox’s screen flashing and flickering, a sound of disgust—and abject envy hitting the deer demon’s ears. 

Though his delight at Vox’s outrage was shriveling in comparison to the familiar delight of Lucifer’s hands on him. He’d never wanted for touch, never felt so starved without it, until the first time he’d felt the angel’s lips on his own. Now, he was always famished.

“Get off me, you sick fucks!” Vox snarled, struggling against his bonds as he tried to buck them off.

With a sharp intake of breath, Lucifer pulled away from the kiss. A sly grin played on his lips as he cast a fleeting glance at the flat screen mounted behind him. “Voxy might not really be here.” he purred, his hands sliding up along Alastor’s torso, hooking into the black suspenders he wore, and the demon let himself be pulled forward. Just to see the TV glitch. “But I can feel him getting hard.” 

The television behind Lucifer flashed a brilliant, blushing red and Alastor laughed at this tantalizing little tidbit. 

He leaned in, his forehead pressed to the angel’s as he murmured. “What a shame I cannot be recorded…” he taunted, his lips drawn over the angels with pure want and sweetness that he gave to no one else. “I suppose you shall have to commit it to memory.” 

“Fuck you both,” Vox growled, his projection flickering with impotent rage. Practically frothing at the mouth. Because beneath the anger and the jealousy—was the shameful desire. The longing to be touched and wanted by Alastor the way Lucifer was. 

“Oh, you wish chatter box.” The angel snorted, only to have the radio demon’s claws pull his attention back. 

“No, I—” Vox couldn’t even get the protest out of his mouth. It was…he couldn’t be jealous of Lucifer? Or Alastor…Or…both. 

He didn’t know anymore, and that was the greatest torture of all. 

The two seemed too lost in each other to give much of a damn about him. 

“Darling~” Alastor purred, moving to stand with as much grace as he could manage in this state. Causing two breaths to hitch. “I think…we need some privacy. Don’t you?”

“Mm, couldn’t agree more.” Lucifer’s eyes sparkled as he stood and ran his hands up Alastor’s chest, finding his tie and undoing it with deft fingers. Before pulling his collar to bring him back nose to nose. “I want you all to myself.” 

A full-body shudder rippled through the lean demon at the intimate words and touch. They’d been playing a game of teasing, hardly doing anything more heavy than petting—but it seemed Lucifer was ready for more than just a little light handling. 

The angel’s fingers slipped into Alastor’s hair, tilting his head back and leaving a searing trail down his neck, popping open the collar of his shirt in his wake. 

Exposing more of his skin than Alastor intended. 

“P-Perhaps we shouldn’t give our...captive audience too much of a peep show,” Alastor managed, static crackling around the words. 

Lucifer pulled back, reading something through Alastor’s stiff smile. “Oh, Al—!”

The demon pressed his pointed fingers to the angel’s lips, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. Clumsy as ever, but affectionately honest. And Alastor wanted to kiss the apology off of his lips.

“You can’t just leave me here!” Vox’s screen flickered and glitched, his useless hands clenching at his side. “While you go off and—”

Vox couldn’t even finish the thought, his mind rebelling at the images that flashed before his eyes. Alastor and Lucifer, tangled together in the sheets, their bodies moving as one. Alastor’s head thrown back in ecstasy, Lucifer’s name falling from his lips like a prayer.

The real men in front of them were leaning into each other again, like they couldn’t surface from each other long enough to care that Vox was here. 

Alastor nipped at Lucifer’s ear, voice dropping to a conspiratorial murmur only they could hear. A thrilled laugh spilled from the fallen angel at whatever filthy suggestion was offered.

“You’re a singularly wicked thing,” he praised, squeezing Alastor’s hip meaningfully. “Wouldn’t dream of denying you.”

With a casual flick of one hand, the glowing angelic bindings holding Vox constricted suddenly, forcing his projection into an awkward, hunched position on the chair. 

Alastor smirked at the muffled noise of frustration.

Alastor sauntered over to where Vox’s bound projection fought against its ethereal bonds. He tsked in mock disappointment, crouching down to meet those twinkling electronic eyes, seeing how they darted to the open collar of his shirt. 

And how the rope criss-crossed his screen, gagging Vox at last. 

“Such unbecoming behavior from an esteemed colleague,” he chided, all velvet and menace. “Though I can’t say I’m surprised—you were always dreadfully uncouth.”

Vox’s screen flashed furiously, the test pattern barely holding. Alastor watched the frantic display with undisguised relish.

“No witty comebacks? No desperate pleas?” He feigned a pout. “Disappointing. Then again, you always are.” 

Straightening, Alastor’s microphone staff materialized in one hand with a crackle of static. He gave it an experimental twirl, grinning madly.

“It’s just a shame you won’t be able to feel yourself burning in the lake of fire.” With an oddly graceful sweep of the staff, a swirling vortex sparked to life at their feet—a hellish portal yawning open. Searing brimstone fumes billowed forth, carrying the roar of raging flames. 

“Do enjoy the sight of your flesh melting though, ta-ta!” Alastor gave a teasing wave as Vox’s projection was lashed with his shadow tentacles, and dragged into the fiery pit itself. 

Lucifer watched the whole display with rapt amusement from the bed, crimson eyes glittering. As Alastor turned back towards him, snapping away the vortex with a casual flick, the fallen angel reclined with unabashed hunger written across his handsome features.

“I do love it when you do you evil, Al.” The angel grinned, popping onto his boots. “It’s hot as hell.” 

Alastor rolled his eyes at the terrible pun, but couldn’t help the little laugh that escaped him. The man wore his heart on his sleeve to an embarrassing extent. 

What made Alastor find it so inexplicably pleasing?

“Then you must be perpetually hot and bothered. Sounds like a terrible state of affairs to be in.”

“Not one you can relate to, huh?” Lucifer grinned, wrapping his arms around Alastor’s tapered waist.

The taller demon ducked, smirking only broader when he stayed just out of the reach of the Lucifer’s lips, to the King’s visible frustration. 

“I may relate, as of late.” 

That was all the shorter man needed to reach up and grab Alastor in for another kiss. 

“I can help with that.” Lucifer offered sweetly, pointed fingers curling into the radio demon’s hair to demand a deeper kiss.

Lucifer, with a level of gracelessness that was miraculous for an angel, pushed Alastor back onto his rumpled bed.

The slender radio demon's body relaxed into the mattress, his long legs splayed indignantly—so he thought. Though there was no hint of mirth in his lover’s yellow eyes.

Lucifer was already on top of him, forked tongue sliding past his lips with desperate need.

Alastor felt Lucifer's sharp teeth glided along his jaw, marking a trail of small kisses down his length of neck.“Impatient, are we?” Alastor attempted a tease, but his ever-practiced voice faulter under the angel’s undaunted enthusiasm.

“Oh, honey. I know how getting one over on someone gets you going.” He lifted his head, only to waggle those damn eyebrows. “Do you want me to slow down?”

Lesiurely, Lucifer made a scorching path down the demon’s chest and torso, pushing apart his blood red shirt inch by inch.

“Fuck you.” Alastor gripped at his golden blonde hair, trying to shove his head down further.

Lucifer resisted the force like a tiger swatted by a house cat—sending another thrill down the demon’s spine.

The angel was pausing to swirl his tongue into the grooved indents of lean muscle and hipbones. Lucifer’s clever mouth worked lower still—until finally he freed Alastor’s hard cock and enveloped him in the welcoming heat of the angel’s mouth.

The radio demon arched up from the bed with a strangled cry of static, clawing at the crimson sheets as Lucifer’s mischievous skills swiftly robbed him of breath and higher cognition. Alastor’s legs fell open wider as debauched sounds hissed from between his teeth. 

Lucifer hummed his approval around his mouthful, that damned tongue of his flicking ceaslessly as he sucked Alastor down.

The demon was already trembling under him. Too damn easily.

Only when Alastor’s sounds reached a true crescendo of desperation did Lucifer finally pull back with a filthy pop.

“My, my...it seems the great Alastor turns quite tame with just a little bit of attention,” Lucifer purred, sinuously licking his lips clean.

“Consider yourself fortunate that pride flatters you, darling.” Alastor snarled hoarsely, eyes burning crimson and fangs bared as radio noise crackled around him.

With a snap of Alastor fingers, their clothes vanished, only to appear folded neatly on the nearby chair.

Lucifer quirked a brow as Alastor reached down to hastily prep himself. The radio demon’s long fingers deftly worked, slicking himself with conjured lubricant.

“Don’t keep me waiting,” Alastor growled out the demand. 

Lucifer’s grin stretched wider, all too eager to oblige.

He surged up to capture that snarling mouth in a hungry, devouring kiss. Pinning Alastor’s wiry body back against the bed, careful to align perfectly with the demon’s entrance—before snapping forward in a brutal thrust.

Alastor threw his head back with a guttural groan of blissful torment.

Static discharged in a blistering wave, scattering signals and causing lights to flicker in their room. The radio demon’s slender fingers scrabbled for purchase, digging into Lucifer’s back as his legs wrapped vice-tight around the angel’s powerful body.

Lucifer leaned in close, to the constant rumble coming from the demon’s stretched lips.

“Growl for me all you like, my dear,” he purred darkly. “I know exactly what you need.”

Lucifer set a punishing pace—plunging into Alastor’s willing warmth over and over.

The demon keened brazenly beneath him. Clinging with a desperation that belied centuries of scheming and solitude, finally crumbling to primal need.

Their power swirled and clashed in wild waves.

Alastor’s shadows swirled and snarled, his eyes burning bright in the room's dark as he fought to keep them open, his teeth gnashed together.

Lucifer’s vast angelic grace responded—six resplendent wings unfurling in stark juxtaposition—keeping Alastor’s demonic power in eclipsed beneath him.

The angel groaned deep in his chest at that exquisite sight his tightly buttoned partner made when he finaly let go. He drank it in with reverence.

And that undeniable dominant power shattered the last strand of Alastor’s restraint.

He came with a harsh cry, clenching to the angel’s cock as he came. Making a mess of them both, knowing that was exactly what Lucifer wanted before he was spent inside Alastor.

Lucifer panted harshly, sweat beading his brow as the pleasure rolled through him.

For long moments, they simply clung together, chests heaving and hearts pounding violently.

Lucifer nuzzled into the crook of Alastor’s neck, relishing their closeness, the scent and taste of his lover’s bliss. He felt utterly sated, lethargic in the most delicious way.

Alastor panted still, almost silently, arm thrown over his face as he attempted to compose himself. Hiding his mouth as he drew ragged breaths.

But when at last Lucifer made to pull away, shadowy tendrils lashed around his waist, refusing to let him go.

Alastor whimpered faintly as he drew the fallen angel back down atop him, long limbs winding around Lucifer to keep him nestled close.

The blonde chuckled, the sound warm with fond amusement as he happily settled in the circle of Alastor’s embrace.

Trailing reverent touches along those deceptively delicate features, he murmured, “My sweet little deer demon...”

A ragged growl vibrated low in Alastor’s chest at the endearment. But there was no real threat behind it as he clung to Lucifer—soaking up every caress, every brush of affection in still, sated bliss.

When Lucifer’s fingers carded through his disheveled hair, he even leaned subtly into the intimate touch like a cat being stroked.

“Hush now,” Lucifer purred, placing a soft kiss to Alastor’s brow. “Let me take care of you...”

Alastor’s only response was a halfhearted grumble as he tucked his face into the curve of Lucifer’s neck, content to let the former archangel dote on him.

Just for now.

[jeanie-g]

86 and JackNico please!

so, my actual #86 was lame so i did 8+6 instead! Gave me much more to work with lol. um, this is very nsfw btw.....i mean, it's a song about masturbation, what do you expect.

[#14] Guilty as Sin? (Taylor Swift)

My bedsheets are ablaze, I've screamed his name / Building up like waves crashing over my grave / Without ever touching his skin / How can I be guilty as sin?

• It started as a fluke. Jack, a hand on himself, almost there but not quite, needing just a little more to push him over the edge. Out of nowhere, Nico popped into his head, and in an out-of-character fit of horny desperation, Jack pictured his hand being the one jerking him off. It only took three more strokes before he finished, a whimper nearly leaving his lips. When Jack came back to himself, he stood and stared at the shower wall for three whole minutes, his fingers pruning up under the spray of the water.

• Afterwards, he wrote it off as a weird, one-off accident. He was already close; he could've thought of a Gatorade bottle and still have his brain tint it in some nonsensical, sexed up light. Nico only popped up because they were supposed to go for bagels in an hour. (And if Jack looked away when Nico spread his cream cheese, that was unrelated.)

• When it happened a second time, Jack was drunk, so obviously it didn't count. He'd had this weird, anxious energy all night, and when he stumbled into his bedroom at home, was so unexplainably horny that he had to jerk off immediately.

• As he put a hand on himself, he closed his eyes, flipping through various mental images to act as aids. He'd danced with a hot blonde at the club, and his mind drifted to the feel of her hips under his hands, the hotness of her breath when she whispered into his ear.

• It didn't take long for the images to change, though, because right beside the girl was Nico, dancing with her brunette friend. His tee shirt stuck to his back, sticky with sweat and beer, and his styled hair was becoming loose from the humidity. He was smiling so wide, Jack remembered. His hand was on the brunette's ass.

• And like his mind was running out from under him, suddenly it was Jack in the brunette's place—Nico squeezing his hip and draping an arm on his shoulder. Jack could picture it so clearly, and as his hand sped up, he could feel that familiar coil tighten in his gut.

• Distantly, he heard his brain scream, What are you doing? That's Nico! but it felt too good for Jack to care. The fantasy played on, and right when Nico ducked to capture Jack's lips, Jack snapped his eyes open and came all over his belly.

• (And when he woke up the next morning, hungover and ashamed, he blamed the alcohol and didn't jerk off for a week and a half.)

• But what's that thing people say about the rule of 3? This time it was in Carolina, Jack spent (and very much sober) after an 8-2 loss to the Canes. He was frustrated—with himself, with the refs, with the team. They weren't together out there, and with every loss, Jack had to stop himself from mentally tallying how many points they needed to still make playoffs.

• He needed a distraction. He tried watching whatever was playing on TV, but every show or movie annoyed him. He scrolled on his phone for a while, but messages from friends and family commiserating the loss made his attitude sour even further. He even tried to go to sleep early, but he was too restless.

• So, really, it was only as a means of calming himself down that he brought his knees up and stuck a hand down his pants. With his free hand, he picked his phone back up (now on Do Not Disturb) and opened PornHub. Some of the thumbnails alone had him chubbing up, but nothing was scratching that itch that Jack felt creeping along his bones. Until he saw one that made his stomach swirl and his toes scrunch up.

• It was a video of two young men, the taller one draped over the shorter's back as he penetrated him. And—Jack had watched gay porn before. He was curious if nothing else, but he rarely indulged himself. Right now, though, it's like his head was filled with static as he selected it and pressed play. And as he watched, the taller one's head popped into view, and—

• He had black hair and a mustache, and dimples when he smiled. It wasn't Nico (because of course it wasn't) but the resemblance was enough to get Jack's heart pounding in his chest. And because he always had to self-sabatoge, he immediately imagined what Nico would be like in bed. If he'd be the one on top, manhandling whoever was below him, and pounding into them so hard the bed frame shook.

• Because Nico pulled; he never made a show of it, but he never hid it either. It always made Jack's skin simmer in a way he could never identify. And it was simmering in a different way now, Jack bucking his hips to fuck his own fist as he let himself imagine it while he watched—Nico fucking that brunette from the club, or that redhead from Dallas with the big tits.

• But it wasn't a girl the guy was fucking in the video. It was another guy. And like clockwork, the fantasy morphed until it was Jack who was under Nico, taking him shamelessly, panting while Nico muttered sweet nothings into his ear and lit him up from the inside out.

• "Nico, fuck," Jack whispered, fist flying, tears welling up in his eyes. "Shit."

• The video man's hips stuttered to a stop, and with a groan, the other man finished, too. Jack wondered what noises Nico made when he went over the edge, and then Jack was coming so hard his ears rang.

• It took almost a minute for Jack to catch his breath. The video ended with a freeze frame of the bottom's chest glazed with sweat and come, and Jack slowly put down his phone. He lied back and stared at the ceiling, post-nut clarity hitting him hard. He just jerked off to the thought of his teammate—his captain—fucking him. That couldn't be good, right?

• Jack felt his phone vibrate, and picked it up to check.

• Nico: Can't sleep. Wanna watch a movie?

• Jack let the phone drop to his chest. If this was some sort of cosmic punishment, Jack thought that maybe he deserved it.

[waywardangel-wilds]

Sharing more unfinished drafts woohoo!!

In other news for anyone who’s into my silly little corporate office working Katniss / HR rep Peeta ficlet —> it will be moving to ao3 once it has complete chapters. Here’s some more! Let’s call this part 3:

“—so if you want, I can give you his number, I know he’s only twenty but—“

“Oh my fucking god,” I dropped low to the ground at the sight, my heart very much falling to my ass. “Rue! Get down here!”

“What? Are you even listening to me? This is child neglect, you know.”

“Shut up! Duck!” I yanked her down to my level, huddling behind a stiff cardboard cutout of Robert Pattinson. A teenaged couple walking by took a very important moment out of their date to stare at us.

“Why are we hiding?” Rue whispered to me, pushing her face close to my own and covering me in the shea butter I put in her hair. “Is it your mom?”

“Shh! No, it’s just some guy from work.” I pointed. “See?”

“Katniss! Why are you so weird? Let’s just go say hi!” Rue went to bounce up but I yanked her right back. An elderly woman caught my eye and tsked.

“No! No! Oh god, can’t you see he’s on a date? How lame would it be for us to interrupt right now? I’m literally hanging out with a random twelve year old.”

Rue reared back from me with a hurt expression and I immediately felt awful.

“No! That isn’t what I meant! It’s just, listen, in adult world I’m kind of a loser, okay? And that has nothing to do with you! Just—“

“Katniss?” My heart sunk. Peeta had spotted us. “Is that you? Are you okay? Why are you on the floor?”

Link to part 2

Link to part 1

[sunny-lounge]

We got matching Christmas sweaters. (Ch 2/2)

Relationship: Sami/Jey (SamiJey)

Rating: Teen — feelings and emotions, fluff, Christmas, a kiss, fun and silly, ugly Christmas sweaters, slight possessive feelings, established relationship, secret relationship, relationship reveal, family

Summary: Jey and Sami have matching ugly Christmas sweaters, it's a secret. Until it's not. Part 1 - how Jey and Sami got their matching sweaters Part 2 - how the others found out.

Word count: 2,667

Ao3 link - Ch 2 / Ch 1 here. / *Other Fics*

A/N: I said I'd write something lighter this time so here it is, and I wanted to try something different. I didn't have a lot of time to write this because I wanted to get it out before Christmas. But hey, even if one person out there enjoys it!! 🥰 HERE’S PART 2!

MERRY CHRISTMAS!!✨❄️🎄🎁🎅🏻🎉☃️✨ I hope you enjoy this! 🌸🌺

[— Again: I'm not a "writer" SO... Comments/Feedback would really really be appreciated (comments sec; tags; or asks- anon or not), to really just actually, and quite genuinely gauge how good or BAD this is. So I know for myself 😁. And obviously I'd really love to know if you enjoyed it! - comments are so wonderful and so motivating as well! Thank you again for reading! 🩷]

Tagging: @afterdarkprincess @fantasyismyonlyrealescape @imabillyami

——

He knows he's being ridiculous. The others won't care right? Maybe they won't even notice that it's part of a set, after all, Sami isn't scheduled to come in today. So Jey's confident he can get away with this.

And, really where would Sami even wear his 'Christmas' sweater, he doesn't actually celebrate the occasion...Jey thinks they're safe.

Walking into the locker room dropping his bag down Jey spots Jimmy immediately, grinning at his older twin. It's hard not to, Jimmy's always had that ability to make him smile, big smile, always been able to no matter what else is going on around them, no matter how bad or how chaotic, Jimmy always puts a smile on his face without even trying, seeing his face is enough to.

Jimmy's wearing a holly-green sweater that's looking extra soft and fluffy. At the top, "BITE ME!"— shiny silver sequins bordering it's glittering red letters, a large gingerbread man cookie dancing at the midsection one leg up in the air twirling, complete with a glitter candy cane in its hand being swung around, icing embroidery outlining its features, and the most gaudy obnoxious looking pompom buttons known to man going down its front. It looked like someone had thrown up a mix of different colored glitter in random patches all over the remaining parts of his sweater.

All in all it is hideous. His brother Jimmy has hit the brief of "ugly" Christmas sweater to perfection, he's understood the assignment and executed it to the highest standard. Jey is not one bit surprised...that Jimmy excelled at this.

“Ain't you all 'sweeet'  lookin' today, Uce,” croons Jey, leaning in with a smirk. Jimmy just grins at him like he's pleased with himself, throwing a candy cane at his head, which he manages to duck last minute.

“You so lame, Uce. 'Sweeeeet'!?  Really? This early with them lame ass puns?" huffs out Jimmy, laughing. "But, I am lookin' damn 'sweeeeet' aren't I?" he smirks, wriggling his eyebrows.

"I'm jus' learnin' from the best, Uce," quips Jey, shooting him a toothy smile. "Yea, you just soo...sweeeeet lookin', Uce, my teeth all gon' fall out."

He can see Jimmy gearing up to reply, but before he can, Solo's walking around the corner and giving Jey a stoic once-over. “Nice,” he nods, and continues on his way. 'Well, if that isn't the highest compliment coming from Solo..,'  thinks Jey. He's glad once again that he changed his mind and chose to wear this sweater.

The Wiseman already seated to his right is dressed in a purple sweater with a spectacular looking golden menorah on its front, orange flamed white candles resting in it, and immaculately detailed tiny multi-colored dreidels delicately embroidered all around the hem and ends off his sleeve. Classy.

“Wiseman! Lookin' good!” says Jey, a little too loudly, sue him, he's a little surprised with the holiday spirit and enthusiasm being shown, as he himself is feeling it. Seems like everyone's getting into it, he'd forgotten the Wiseman was Jewish.

Looks like Jimmy was right after all, he really is starting to feel an extra sense of camaraderie and togetherness already.

“Figured I'd join you rather than fight it," says the Wiseman, with a shrug, "I knew I was out numbered...,” trailing off, sighing. Looking and sounding down and defeated, if not for the slight smirk gracing his lips.

Always a sly low-key shit-stirrer...but that's what made him so unique, that's what makes him the 'Wiseman'— One minute he's showing off his brilliant and intellectual mind, the next he's strategically taking down their opponents with his hidden expertise. But, on the other hand, he's also cleverly busting your balls, and half the time you don't realize it till it's too late. They appreciate this side of him too, it's one of the reasons they all got on so well.

Solo's sweater is more subdued, a dark deep red with little white snowflakes embroidered around the collar, the midsection, hem and his cuffs, little shiny threaded brightly colored hollies in-between them. So Jey makes it a point to tell Solo, "You look nice too, Uce."

Solo's made the effort and that matters, and Jey wants to let him know it, it shows that Solo still underneath it all wants to be a part of the "family", to somehow even fit-in, in his own way, even if he sometimes acts otherwise.

"He does, don' he, Uce," adds Jimmy, cheesing at them from the other side. "You look nice, dawg!"

And of course, Solo responds with his single stoic nod, because that's what Solo does. And, it's the best they'll get from him, but they're used to it. And, it's okay, because that's their baby brother.

Just then the door opens and in walks Roman, announcing Sami will be dropping by soon to go over their tag team match together; it's unexpected, but he's excited to see Sami, just like he always is and he silently wonders if this feeling will ever fade. It's like he's perpetually living in the 'honeymoon' phase of theirs, just over and over, on and on, never completely escaping. Ever since, well, ever since the beginning, really. So, he's looking forward to seeing his boyfriend especially when they'd thought they would be spending today apart.

They've been in plenty of work situations since they've become boyfriends, and nothing's changed. Jey isn't worried about that.

'Boyfriends' it still feels weird saying it because it's such a foreign concept to Jey. And he's not sure, if he'll ever get used to the swarm of butterflies he feels that comes along with it. His stomach in chaos every single time, another occurrence that's completely foreign to him, every single time making it fluttering like crazy when he realizes that Sami is now—his boyfriend.

It hasn't caused any trouble yet, both of them being able to remain professional. Even though he's finding it harder and harder to stop himself from jumping Sami, and trapping those sweet pink soft delicious kissable...damn..he could go on...lips between his whenever he sees them, like they were always demanding to be taken—and really, he'd just be taking what's now his. The possessive bastard that he is, constantly wanting to come out and play whenever Sami is around. Something else he's never experienced, this constant need and want for someone, for them to be his and only his in every way, never until Sami.

“Told Sami we're wearin' Christmas sweaters, so he don't feel like a damn fool when he shows up,” shares Roman, walking past. And amused murmurs of agreement rise, from Jimmy and the Wiseman, waiting to see what the 'honorary Uce' will turn up in.

Roman himself is wearing a sweater that's a rich royal deep red, almost bordering on maroon, tight and fitting, an intricate extremely detailed golden snowflake carefully woven with fancy shimmery gold thread featuring right in the center, tiny white and silver snowflakes scattered around, the illusion of snow falling from the sky. Completing out the look of a magical, royal and regal Christmas—just like Roman.

So far, it looks like it's three for three. Three very decent, nice, and put together Christmas sweaters worn by Solo, the Wiseman and Roman. And, three 'ugly' Christmas sweaters worn by, Jimmy, himself and...

And, then it hits Jey. Now he's a little worried, because he knows Sami only owns one Christmas sweater—the one that matches Jey. The one he's currently wearing.

Jey is quickly running through his options, his escape plan, his excuse...

He's hoping maybe he'll get called out, by management or the crew for something that needs to be taken care of. Or, he can pretend he is sick. Maybe, pretend this is all just a big coincidence, and they just happened to have matching sweaters, he's fairly sure no one's going to buy that though. Or, he could just take his sweater off.

And, none of which would solve anything because everyone's already seen the sweater. At the very best he'll be able to avoid their reactions for a while, but what's the point, he's going to have to face them eventually and avoiding it will only make them rib him even harder. And, he can't find it in himself to leave Sami all on his own to face these bunch of brutes he calls family.

As though fate has been listening in on his lamenting, his inner dread, it is at that precise moment that Sami casually strides into the locker room.

Jimmy notices first, guffawing out a high bubble of laugher. “Jey, you and Sami matchin'! Man, I thought you 'n me was twins, dayoneish!”

Jey can't really focus on Jimmy, shifting his gaze a little, away from his twin now training it on Sami, wearing the matching set of their pair of sweaters. Sami just gives him a sheepish rueful smile in return, messily running his fingers through his hair, a nervous gesture of his. Shrugging, with a 'it is what it is and I'm going to run with it' motion.

Jey is stuck for a second, not knowing what to say or how to react, but he doesn't need to.

“I’m surprised by your taste, Jey. Nice ugly sweater you're wearing by the way,” grins Sami, with a wink, smirking like nothing's wrong at all.

'That smug cocky red-headed menace,'' thinks Jey, adoringly, still unable to say anything helpful as he hears Jimmy let out another bout of laughter, watching Sami heading towards Roman waiting on the other side.

Jey stealthy grabs his phone typing out a quick message to his boyfriend.

- - 'Shit. I don' know if I wanna punch you right now or kiss that damn smirk off your face. You enjoyin' this too much Sami...'

He watches as Sami, still listening to Roman going through all the possible scenarios of their match and how to strategically counter them, read the message. Sami's eyes widen just the slightest, you can barely notice it, almost like Jey is seeing things, eyebrows rising just a touch, again not noticeable unless you're really looking. He sees Sami's tapping out a reply, face blank again still appearing unbothered and nonchalant as ever to everyone around.

But, Jey knows him better than that, he can see Sami's body barely keeping from reacting, coiling tense in anticipation, something simmering at the surface.

- - 'Then do it, Jey. I’m game if you are.'

Jey's staring at the message, he stares and stares, dumbfounded mildly disbelieving what he's reading. Is Sami joking? So he looks up again and almost flinches, Sami is looking right at him, dead in the eyes with a seriousness so intense that it sends a shiver straight down his spine.

He didn't think Sami would ever go in for such a bold move, he'd have thought if it had been one of them suggesting it, it'd have been him—suggesting this, to kiss in front of everyone, in the middle of the locker room...but Jey can't deny that he really wants to. He wants his family to know how happy he is, he wants everyone to know just how lucky and complete he is, and he wants to share this. He wants to show Sami off. And, it looks like Sami wants to do the same.

Roman and Sami seem to have finished discussing their move for their upcoming match, vaguely hearing Sami agreeing with the plan they've come up with. And, they say their goodbyes. Sami says his goodbyes to the rest of them as well, each in their own unique way, a handshake, a hug, a nod, or a combination.

And as Sami turns to leave, Jey calls out for him. “Hey, Sami?”

Sami turns around with a questioning look on his face.

Jey ignores it stepping forward, wrapping his large hand around Sami's shoulder holding him in place, softly sliding it up the back of his warm slender neck, and slowly pulling him in and kissing him—open-mouthed, long and hard, possessive and hungry, licking right into his mouth chasing the taste of him. He's putting on a show, claiming Sami in front of them, marking him as his.

Jey can feel Sami's sweet grin of acceptance and complete surrender under his lips, mapping it out with his own, and he's sure Sami can feel him smirking right back, he hears his twin whooping and wolf-whistling in the background, and he's pulling away with a laugh, huffing out a little breath.

Resting his forehead against Sami's, they're breathing a little hard, Sami with his eyes closed and Jey with his open. Sami savoring the moment the still phantom feel and taste of Jey on his lips, while Jey is savoring Sami taking in the beautiful blissed out man before him.

They probably didn't need to kiss for that long or with so much intensity. But, now there isn't a single doubt in anyone's mind as to who Sami really belongs to. He might be part of the Bloodline, but he's Jey's.

And, there's a pleasant prickling, a tingling against his skin at the thought of it. He knows he's become a possessive bastard, and now his family knows it too. He's just made it very clear, there's no doubt in anyone's mind. Sami belongs to him. He belongs to Sami.

He keeps looking at Sami and he wants to taste those reddened plumped up swollen lips in front of him once again, in front of everyone once again, the ones that he caused to look that way.

"We still on for tonight?” asks Jey, going for casual, acting like the last few minutes didn't just happen.

Sami just grins at him all teeth, dopey looking fully gone on Jey, with that twinkle in his hazel eyes that's so distinctly Sami, the one that Jey can't ever look away from. “Of course, Jey.”

Sami ducks his head a shy smile now gracing his kissed-out lips, face still flushed still looking slightly dazed as he leaves, making an obviously quick escape while he can, in these precious last few moments of silence when he has the chance to.

Jey slowly turns back to his family and catches Solo passing Jimmy a $50 note. Roman and the Wiseman solemnly doing the same. He hears Roman distinctly mumble something like 'He couldn't have waited another week?'

“You knew?” Jey asks Jimmy, as casually as he can.

He's surprised, but he's also really not to be honest, more like a little affronted if anything, he could never really hide anything from Jimmy—his twin, the one person who sometimes knows him better than he knows himself, knows his own thoughts even before he does, his own feelings even before he can comprehend them, his dayoneish.

“Course, Uce! You know you ain't hiddin' nothin' from me. Don' know why you even think to try. 'Sides we be blind not seein' it,” says Jimmy, rolling his eyes grinning, and Solo is doing his stoic nod in agreement next to him.

He looks to the others, at Roman and the Wiseman and they too are giving Jey the 'you really think we didn't know? Do we look blind and stupid to you?—that's sad...' look.

Jey just shakes his head not knowing whether to feel a little put out by the whole thing or rightfully elated by their reactions, and sits back flopping down. All the tension and anticipation leaving him, his body loosening up and relaxing. They finally did it. He and Sami had done it, and the world hadn't ended, Sami had been right all along, Jey had just been over thinking it all.

Jimmy is still giving him that stupidly large and wide grin of his, and for all it's worth Jey can't help but return it in equal measure.

His attention turns to the pinging of his phone and he scoops it out of his pocket opening it.

- - 'I love you.'

Another ping rings.

- - 'I've got dessert waiting for you 😏'

——

Thank you for reading! Hope you enjoyed it! 🩷

[late-to-the-party-81]

Needy

Request: Or, or! Lately, I have been plagued by the thought of a pouty, needy Thor 🥺❤️

He just wants to stay in with his girl, but she’s got errands to run and places to be, so Thor just sits around pouting, and waiting for her 😔

He goes from straight up begging her to stay, possibly in his knees, to sending her some ~spicy~ videos and pics while she’s gone, trying to lure her home again 😈

When she finally gets home, the big, soft bear that he is, he just envelops her, grabs her and holds her 🥺 Maybe he sits her on his cock, rubbing against her like a cat and purring, and refusing to let go until he falls asleep ❤️

AN: Thank you @lauratang - I’ve tackled your second suggestion first. I hope you enjoy the neediness… I’ve decided this is the same pairing as in my Kinktober 22 fic, Food for thought

Beta’d by @flordeamatista

Dividers by @firefly-graphics and mood board by me.

Masterlist

Summary: Thor is a needy menace.

Relationship: Thor x Agent!Reader

Word Count: 1.7k

CW: Needy Thor, suggestive language, sexting, masturbation, dirty talk, cock-warming, fluff

“But I want you to stay…”

Oh god, the pathetic way those words came out of his mouth. It was both amusing and endearing at the same time. Unfortunately you didn’t have the time to indulge him, no matter how much you might want to.

“Thor. Stop it, you big baby. I told you. I have a shift to do and, because you keep eating me out of house and home, I need to stop at the compound store on the way in because there is nothing for me to take for lunch.”

He at least had the good grace to look chagrined at your retort, but it didn’t lessen his pout any.

“I will go to the store for you, Skatt. Just stay here with me and I will buy you all the jaffa cookies…”

“Cakes…”

“...Jaffa cakes you like. I will peel them and feed them to you.” He stalked closer to you, blue eyes narrowed, and you giggled as you stepped back, trapped against the hall wall. He lent forward, arms braced either side of your head, his hair swinging in both your faces. “I’ll even do that thing you like…”

With a giggle you ducked under his arm, and gave a slap to his ass.

“Cool it, hot stuff. There’ll be time for that later. I have to go.”

Your giggle turned into a full on laugh when he grabbed your hand and dropped to his knees in front of you. He pushed up your top and pressed his face to your stomach, littering it with kisses.

“But I might be dead later. How do I go on living without you here? I need you, little one. There is no air without you.”

“Okay, cool it, Shakespeare.” Leaning over you pressed a kiss to his mouth and the another to his forehead, somehow extricating your hand from his in the process. “I’ll be back before you know it. Now, sit. Stay.”

You slipped out of the door, shaking your head with a smile on your face. 

Your God of a boyfriend was so sappy sometimes.

You were in the middle of a meeting, your team leader droning on about mandatory refresher training, reading aloud from their sloppy powerpoint presentation, when you felt the buzz of your phone in your pocket.

Surreptitiously you pulled it out and glanced down

Thor: I miss you, kjære. What are you doing?

You weren’t really in a position to answer him, so you turned your phone over and rested it in your lap under the table.

Buzz

Stifling a sigh you flipped it over again.

Thor: I’m so lonely without you 🥺🥺😭❤️

Buzz

Thor: When do you get home?

You decided to risk it, and started tapping away, glancing back up every few characters.

You: in a meeting. Home at 4. Read a book/have a nap. Speak later. xoxo

You turned the vibrate alert off and slipped your phone back in your pocket, turning your attention back to the meeting. Supporting the Avengers in keeping the earth safe definitely wasn’t all glamour and parades. Sometimes it was lame Powerpoint presentations…

When your meeting finally finished you were glad that it was lunch time. You’d managed to pick up an overpriced packaged salad at the store on your way in and were looking forward to tucking in, but first you needed to go to the washroom.

After you dried your hands, you remembered your phone so as you exited the washroom, hand on the door, you pulled it from your pocket. The screen lit up as you touched it, showing a litany of messages. You rolled your eyes and stopped in the hallway outside the washroom, leaning on the wall as you opened your texts… and then immediately pressed the screen to your chest, looking around furtively to make sure that no-one had caught a glimpse of your screen. Luckily the corridor was empty.

With more aplomb than you ever thought you’d had, you made your way down the hall to the closest empty conference room. You bolted inside, turned the lock and pulled the window shades so you couldn’t be observed. Your body sank into one of the conference chairs, and with trembling hands pulled your phone away from your shirt.

First was another text.

Thor: I tried to sleep, min skatt, but being on the bed made me think of you.

Then, under that was a picture. It was of Thor’s torso, from the waist down, naked apart from a tight pair of boxer briefs that did nothing to hide the bulge within them.

Thor: I need you to come help me. I ache for you.

The last message was followed by a video thumbnail. Underneath the white play symbol in the middle of the image was Thor’s torso once again. You could feel your heart racing, and your mouth was dry as your thumb inched towards your screen and tapped it.

“I need you, little one.” Thor’s deep voice sounded over your phone speaker, laden with desire and you squeezed your thighs together at the sound of it. He had the camera pointed at his tented briefs, and then his other hand came in shot, stroking and groping over the soft cotton, a light tease. “How could you leave me alone so cruelly, when you know I ache for you every minute of every day? How am I supposed to survive this torture?”

His hand slipped under the waistband of his shorts to take hold of himself, and you watched, transfixed as he started to jerk himself, the tip of his cock poking out of the top of the fabric. Fuck! You could even see a pearl of precum forming in his slit. 

With each stroke he exposed more and more of himself to the camera, moaning wantonly and talking dirty to you from behind it.

“Norns, if you were here, kjære, I’d worship you so. I would feast on you, over and over, just to hear you calling my name  so loud that all of Midgard and Vahalla would know who was pleasuring you. I need to feel you around my cock. I need your warmth. Your wetness. Hurry home, love.”

The video came to an end and you just sat there, engulfed in a state of confused arousal. 

When had Thor learnt how to sext? And how on earth were you supposed to continue with your day knowing that he was waiting at home for you like that? How were you supposed to just sit in the canteen to have your lunch with your pussy pulsing in your now sodden underwear? 

Curse Thor! 

Curse the handsome bastard to Jotunheim and back.

Somehow you made it through to the end of your shift, although you were obviously distracted, and twice you snuck off to the bathroom, now with your earbuds, to watch the video again. You also managed not to message Thor back, not wanting to give him any reaction that might make matters better worse. 

You practically jogged through the main doors and reception of the accommodation part of the compound, swiping your card to access the private elevator and sending it straight to the floor where you stayed with your Asgardian boyfriend. When it stopped, you stepped out, ready to give him a piece of your mind for teasing you all day, but immediately found yourself caught up in a pair of burly arms.

“You’re home! At last!” He pressed kisses all over your face, before capturing your lips. 

You squeaked as he hefted you in his arms, his kisses overwhelming your senses. 

Before you knew it he was pressing you down onto the bed, his hands shedding you of your clothes. It was when his flesh came into contact with yours that you realised he was already naked. His cock nudged your thigh as one of his hands spread your legs apart, cupping your pussy and teasing your entrance.

“So my little message to you did have an effect.” 

You snorted. “Of course it did, you bastard. I was working, not dead… oh fuck!” Your sarcastic retort was cut off as he pressed two fingers into you, stretching you out. As he did so, he continued to kiss up and down your neck, nuzzling into you. You moaned, your lust and arousal overriding your need to chew him out for his antics. Your back arched as you sucked air into your lungs, your body so tantalisingly close to the edge.

Then he pulled his fingers away and you whined.

“Thor!”

“I know, skatt. I know. It’s how I’ve felt all day. But I’ll make it better, really soon.”

He rolled the pair of you onto your sides and hooked your upper leg over his hip, opening you to him, and your eyes rolled into the back of your head as he pressed his thick cock inside you. His arms wrapped around your body, ensuring there wasn’t even the slightest gap between you. His lips brushed your hair, your temples, your eyelids, and then he kissed your mouth again. You opened to him like a flower in bloom, eager for his impassioned love-making, but when you tried to roll your hips he held them still. 

“Relax, little one. You’ve been at work all day. You must be tired. Have a nap, my love.”

Your jaw dropped. “But… but… you… all day… I thought…” A roughened finger covered your lips, silencing you.

“I’m right where I want to be. Where I need to be. And I’ll still be here when you wake up. Then, kjære, I will worship you as I promised. But just give me this, let me enjoy you. Besides, you’ll need your energy for later.”

He continued with his soft kisses and caresses, his cock buried deep within you, and despite your scepticism about your ability to go to sleep with him like that, you soon felt your eyes closing again, your body going lax as slumber started to encase you. 

The last thing you heard before sinking into the soft depths was Thor’s voice, gently rumbling in your ear. “I love you, min skatt. You are the most precious treasure in the nine realms.”

Tag list: @jobean12-blog @tuiccim @sidepartskinnyjeans @krissy25 @bodeckersdiamonddoll @goldylions @luxeavenger @wheezy-stucky @doasyoudesireandlive @chemtrails-club @peaches1958 @pono-pura-vida @writing-for-marvel

[chunkymamatam]

oh dear first of all i am sorry for your loss and i hope you feel better.

secondly i want to thank you for sharing your experiences with ace and deuce.

ace pulling that "we sharing a bed?" line made me cringe badly...what in the-

deuces line "you mean im about to be suspended because you couldnt leave her alone?" made me giggle

i would certainly love to hear more. nothing specific, just whatever you feel like sharing.

thank you for taking the time to read and respond to my messages, have a nice one :)

Thank you for your condolences. I'm feeling better since then. Last night sucked though because I had to go through my aunt's (Thats who died) clothes and picked out a few things. They still smell like her and me and my cousin had a good cry about it. Love that little girl so much.

Anyway! You're so welcome. I love talking about those two. They're ridiculous lmfao. Because why tf did I have to sit there and explain the birds and the bees for chickens to Deuce's grown ass. I love him but he's a little dumb sometimes (/pf /aff)

Ace will run to me every time he's in trouble with Riddle lmfao I don't protect him half the time so idk why. Wouldn't be surprised if its just a lame excuse to touch me ngl cuz every time he does he ducks behind me and touches my side. He should be careful I'm very ticklish and will start swinging if it surprises me enough lmfao

Those two are always trying to plot against my wallet tho. Cuz why are you always trying to manipulate me into buying your lunches??? Get a job hoes

I can't wait for them to figure out that I'm hanging out with Malleus and he's one of my best friends. Its gonna be hilarious to witness in person haha!

[thewritingofspencerrose]

M.Hughes Masterlist

First Day on the Job

It's chilly in the arena when we enter, hand in hand, for my first day.

Only a week into living here and I still don't fully think this has all set in.

I may be working on a medical team, but I'm going to be the first stop of all injured players as soon as they're off the ice.

It's all on me.

"Hey, what's going on in there?" A physical knocking on my forehead brings me from my thoughts, Trevor's smile being the first thing in front of me, mocking and coy.

Part of me wants to just smile and say I dazed off, but this is Trev, he's my partner in

"What if someone bleeds out? Or worse, what if everyone hates me?"

"What's the worst scenario?" Jamie questions from our side, not even attempting to save his laugh, Trevor pulling me closer to his body. "Everyone hating you?"

"You do realize everyone loves you right?" They're tag-teaming my nerves right now, and honestly I'm not even sure that'll be enough.

No exam prepared me for the nauseous anxiety that starting a lead job would bring.

"They don't know me!" It's a lame argument, but valid all the same as I pause just outside the locker room door. I know I'm allowed in. It's where I've been instructed to meet Coach Cronin and introduce myself to the boys.

"We have all heard literally everything about you, I'm pretty sure I could tell you things about yourself that you don't even know, Mags," his words are meant to be assuring, but assuring isn't loading properly right now.

"Then what if I don't live up to their idea of me?"

Even if I hadn't already been on the edge of a breakdown, the look on Trevor's face as he takes my shoulders, his shoulders slumped and eyes downcast.

"The boys already love you because I love you, and that's never going to change. So we're going to march your cute little ass into this lockerroom and wow everyone with all that Latin-anatomy-nonsense that we studied the last four years, got it?"

Sorry Dad, you better be saving for a wedding.

I just smile though, small and wide while he returns my look. But Jamie's groaning, moaning on about something involving us getting a room, and I can hear the sound of staff coming down the hall.

"Okay, let's get this over with so I can go home and rant about it with Q."

The boys both laugh, but Jamie is the one to open the door, Trev taking ahold of my hand with one of his, his other covering my eyes as he leads me into the loud atmosphere.

"Okay boys! Put 'em away! My girls here and unless you break 'em I want them nowhere near her eyeline!" Nevermind on the wedding, I may just kill him here and now.

"Trevor Zegras!" The team laughs loudly, oohing and ahhing while I pry Trev's hand off, and I can't help but laugh as I look out around me.

These boys are going to make me cry. Correction, I am crying.

"You guys-"

Trevor's hands wrap around my waist, chin resting on my shoulder and I can feel his smile. "Welcome to the team, Baby."

"And welcome to the team from the rest of us," the one I know to be Mason greets, everyone around clapping. "I'm not going to call you baby, because I value my life, but we're all really glad you're here, Margaret."

"Maggie," I correct softly, Mason's smile growing as Leo jumps up like a happy puppy.

"We get nickname privileges?"

There's a joy throughout the room as I take in his smile, the banner saying CONGRATULATIONS in Ducks colors, balloons and all sprawled about.

How could I not give these boys nickname privileges when they seem just as excited to see me as they would an old friend. It's like they're seeing Trev or Jamie after a long break.

"Of course you do, as long as y'all keep from getting too beat up," I offer, sticking out a hand. "Deal?"

"Deal to do our best," Leo accepts, shaking my hand as some of the veterans laugh.

Gudas just chuckling and shaking his head as he watches us both. "She's going to run this whole show."

[tonberry-yoda]

Pineapple Flip Flops - A One Piece Modern AU - Chapter 2

notes - Here's chapter 2!!! I had a lot of fun writing this one because Ace is my canon boyfriend and I get to brag about him through my writing tee hee. Also, Luffy is 19 in this AU :) word count - 818 summary - Luffy wakes up to his brother Ace and they make food together while considering college.

“Hey, doof-ass, wake up.” Ace smacked Luffy’s forehead with a rolled up magazine and Luffy woke right up, sucking in a line of drool.

“Huh?” Luffy looked around the apartment in confusion, but his face lit up when he saw his brother in front of him. “Yo! Ace, Ace, look!” He shoved his foot in Ace’s face and Ace just laughed, pushing his foot away.

“Nice foot, Luffy.” Ace rolled his eyes with a laugh and walked to the kitchen.

“No, no, look!” Luffy ran after him and slipped off his flip flops, which made him trip over his own feet and fall onto the floor. That didn't stop him though and he was able to show Ace the design on his new shoes.

Ace squinted and then laughed out loud. “Are those new?”

“Uh-huh! I lost my pineapple ones today.”

“Damn, bud, that sucks. Those were my favorite ones.”

“Me too.” Luffy pouted and sat at the dining room table, splaying his arms in front of him.

“Well, I dig the rubber ducks.” Ace stared in the freezer. “Want pizza?”

“PIZZA!” Luffy threw his arms in the air.

“Pizza it is.” He pulled out two frozen pizzas and laid them on the counter, preheating the oven. “Really sucks that Sabo isn't here. Neither of us can cook actual food.”

“Yeah,” Luffy chuckled. “You always almost burn the house down.”

“Shut up.” Ace laughed and sat across from Luffy.

The two sat in short silence for a little while just randomly scrolling on their phones. But Luffy got bored pretty quickly and started drumming on the table. He just wanted the pizza right then and there and was hoping to kill at least a little bit of time.

Ace looked up from his phone and smiled. “What did you do today, Luff?” he asked. “Other than lose your shoes.”

“Just rode my bike all day.” He laid his head down on the table and turned it over, making his cheek squish and voice muffle. “You?”

“Just work. I helped with some field trip for another school and then started doing after school activities again.”

“Where was the field trip?” Luffy asked hopefully.

“Just some little pool. It was crowded as hell.”

“Lame.”

“It was fun though. And no one drowned,” Ace chuckled. “So that was good.”

The oven was done preheating, so Ace got up and put the pizzas in there. He then leaned against the counter and stretched, doing some overdramatic yawn. “When are you planning on going to college, Luffy?” he asked mid-yawn.

Luffy looked at Ace in the kitchen with disgust. “Never.”

“You can't mow lawns forever.” Ace scoffed.

“I know. But I am not going to college. Shanks didn't, and he’s doing really good.”

“I know, buddy.” Ace sighed and walked back to the dining room. “But you’re Luffy, not Shanks.” He poked Luffy’s chest. “There’s still time to apply if you wanna. Plus, I think you’d like my major.”

“But I don't wanna have to take a math class!” Luffy groaned.

Ace laughed. “Neither do I.”

Ace majored in outdoor activities where he got the opportunity to learn a lot and travel a lot. The things he got to do were always fun: rock climbing, hiking, nutrition, etc. But – as said earlier – there were its boring parts, like having to take math in order to graduate, but that's what Sabo was for whenever he was around.

Ace had only been in college for a year, but he would always come home with a smile and a story. Luffy loved these stories – even getting jealous some of the time – so Ace figured that Luffy would love college. But he insisted he would rather explore the world on his own and figure the rest out himself.

Ace understood Luffy, but as his older brother, he couldn't help but worry a little also. The world wasn't built for people like them and that sucked big time. It was surprising they even made it out of high school.

The timer on Ace’s phone went off, signaling that the pizzas were ready, and Luffy jumped up with a smile.

The two brothers ran to the kitchen and collected their pizzas, sighing knowing that they had to wait for them to cool.

“Speaking of college,” Ace said, trying to cool down his pizza by fanning it with his hand. “I have to go get some financial aid stuff figured out tomorrow before classes start in the next couple weeks. Wanna come with?”

“Only if I get food.” Luffy said with a mouthful of pizza already.

“Yeah, we’ll go get some lunch.”

“Then sure, I'm not doin’ anything better.”

Ace smiled and ate his own pizza, just barely burning his tongue in the process.

It was getting lonely without Sabo, but it was nice to know that Ace was going to have a day out with his favorite little brother.

~~~~~

one piece masterlist | one piece modern AU masterlist | pinned post | ko-fi

2023 @tonberry-yoda– do not repost or claim ANY of my work as your own! likes, reblogs, and comments are not only welcome, but appreciated

~~~~~

[stayarmytinyzenmoa-l]

NCT Spooky Season [Day 7]

Mischief Managed

TW: Language, Ghosts, dead bodies, gun use, break-in-and-enter Genre: Comedy Pairing: Liu Yangyang x Reader YN Pronouns: Not specified Word Count: 1.0K Prompt: “Who says I can’t be a sexy ghost?”

[NCT Masterlist] | [NCT Spooky Season Masterlist] | [Yesterday] | [Tomorrow] | [Part 2] [Ao3 Link] | [Wattpad Link]

Notes: I can't ever write Yangyang as not your Bestie okay Prominence ruined me Disclaimer: Please remember that this is an AU and a work of fiction, obviously the idols mentioned/written about in this story would never partake in these actions. The idols mentioned in this work are meant to be seen more as face claims rather than the actual idols themselves.

Feedback is greatly appreciated!! Thank you for reading!

"I still can't believe that of all the people I'd be spending a whole eternity with... it's with you," you watched Yangyang phase through walls repeatedly, changing his expression each time he came back and even once changing his whole outfit.

"Wasn't this the plan anyway?" He asks after finally settling down.

"I mean... I guess, yeah," you shrugged, looking down at your non-living body. "Still, though, I can't believe I died with you."

"And in such a lame way too," Yangyang tries to kick his own non-living body, but his foot just phases through just like with the wall. "Do we even know that guy?" He points at the burglar rummaging through your drawers. You shrugged.

"First of all, why the hell would I know him? Second of all, fuck you," you looked at him, "in comes a burglar with a gun, what do I expect? Best friend to pull me out of the way but no, he ducks behind me and I get shot first, then before he could move he got shot too so what's the point?!" You groaned.

"Yeah, fair, sorry I used you as a living shield," Yangyang floats over to the window but, when he tries to exit, he is thrown back into the flat.

"And we can never leave?! What kind of bullshit-"

"Hey! Okay, hold on, it can't all be bad," Yangyang floats over to you and wraps an arm around your shoulder, "how about we do some silly ghost stuff?" His eyebrows wiggle and you roll your eyes.

"Deal."

~

"The fuck?" The burglar pulls your desk apart. "These bitches don't have anything! Fuck, they really lived like this," he pulls your textbook out and rifles through the pages, he looks back at your motionless body. "You should thank me for putting you both out of your misery," he snickers. Then he hears something fall behind him and, when he turns back around to the desk, he noticed that he cup holding your pens and pencils had toppled over. "Huh..." he puts it back up and, once he does, he hears something else fall behind him and his head whips back, finding a sheet now thrown over the bodies as well as the lampshade toppled over. The burglar pauses and stares at the sheet before looking at the lampshade, which was still rocking back and forth from the impact of falling.

"Wack," the burglar shudders and goes back to ransacking your apartment, until he hears the dresser drawers fly open behind him and he walks backward until he hits the desk, grabbing onto it's edge for support, while clothes were thrown out of the dresser and into random parts of the room, and as soon as the nightstand fell over the burglar screamed and ran out of the apartment.

Meanwhile, you and Yangyang were losing your shit. Both of you were laughing your asses off like it was the funniest thing you'd ever seen, and to be honest it kind of was.

"Yo, Yang, quit rummaging through my clothes.

"I've been looking for this shirt," he pulls it out and, for a brief moment, it stays in his hold before it fell to the ground.

"Well, you found it, too bad you can't wear it anymore, dude," you shrugged and Yangyang groans.

"Oo... what's this?" He digs a little deeper and you walk toward him to see what he found and, in seconds, he pulls out the lingerie set and, if it could, you were sure your face would've heated up. "All for me?"

"Hell no," you groaned and, once you tugged it out of his grasp, you heard the sound of a thread snapping and the lingerie set fell to the floor. But, strangely enough, you were still holding the set, only this time a more ghostly version of it.

"How'd you do that?!" Yangyang tries to find his favorite sweaters now.

"It ripped and now I'm holding it? You held the set to your chest and looked in the mirror. "Ooh, Yang, maybe I can be a sexy ghost?"

"Found it!" He pulls a shirt out and hands it to you. Once you grabbed it, he took his side and yanked on it, causing the shirt to rip down the middle and allowing Yangyang to pull up a "dead" version of it. “Look at us! Let’s scare the shit out of whoever moves in next.”

“Oh, shit, here comes DJ,” you watched Xiaojun walk in and near scream his head off.

“Fuck, I forgot I invited him over,” Yangyang sighs. “Sorry, Dejun,” he folds his hands and you sat next to the spot Dejun fell over at.

“That idiot…” Dejun was in disbelief.

“I know,” you make a sorry attempt at consoling him.

“He was only supposed to kill Yangyang.”

“What?” Your hand lifts.

“What?!” Yangyang’s shout was louder.

General Tag List: @stopeatread @bat-shark-repellant @raeincitizen @umbralhelwolf @yangsrose @kazooms @sadcoffeecritic 

NCT Tag List: @cherrylovr @minjiville 

If you want to be added to either tag list or removed just send me a reply to this post, and ask, or a DM and I’ll add you as soon as possible!

[beyourownanchor6]

thanks for the tags beloveds @disasterbuckdiaz @wikiangela @honestlydarkprincess @spotsandsocks @wildlife4life @giddyupbuck @hippolotamus 🩵

—look at me, posting on a friday 😃 so i may or may not have started a new wip last night, so here have some of it. not sure how i feel about it yet, so tell me if it sucks firjenssk

Dragging his shoes across the floor, Buck walked back out onto the field, scrolling through his phone, looking for some music to help drown out the doubt. He squinted up at the sun as he passed the bleachers, Buck reaching up and taking his hat off. Running his fingers through his sweaty curls, Buck replaced the cap onto his head, but this time backwards.

“Hell of a run you had.”

Buck squinted against the sun once more as he searched for the voice, his eyes landing on a brown eyed beauty. He couldn’t be sure the boy was talking to him, Buck standing there a little in shock for a moment. The boy arched a brow at him, Buck quickly clearing his throat and adjusting his stance.

“Uh thanks.”

Buck had no idea how to respond, the boy in front of him too stunning for words. The guy wasn’t wearing anything spectacular, just a warn pair of shoes and jeans, topped with a raglan shirt; it was something Buck wore all the time, and yet, this guy looked—well he looked incredible. Way out of Buck’s league if he were being honest.

“You gotta good stance. Nice hit too.”

Buck shrugged. “I didn’t even make a homerun man.”

The boy studied him for a moment, looking Buck over with a tilt of his head.

“Coulda fooled me. From where I was sitting, I saw those long ass legs of yours hit every base.”

Buck felt himself flush. He quickly ducked his head down and brought a hand up to the back of his neck where he rubbed there nervously. When he managed to face the other boy again, he was still stood there, looking down from the bleachers right at Buck.

“You uh, you were watching me?”

The guy smiled down to him then with a shrug of his shoulders.

“Well, I was watching the whole team, but I tend to focus on the best players.”

Buck cleared his throat again, more nervously that time. Was this guy flirting with him or was Buck completely losing his mind?

“You um, you come to many games?”

It was lame, but all Buck could come up with. He was used to doing the flirting, not the other way around.

The boy chuckled, a deep warming sound, Buck instantly wanting to hear it again.

“This was my first one. I’m new here, just started this week.”

Oh. Well, that made sense. What didn’t make sense was how the hell Buck had missed this guy for a whole ass week.

tagging: @loserdiaz @redlightsandicedtea @onward--upward @monsterrae1 @buddierights @eddiebabygirldiaz @barbiediaz @cowboydiazes @wh0re-behavi0r @spaceprincessem @transbuck @thewolvesof1998

[amateur-selfshipper]

Tumblr if my S/Is were Canon

💙 dewey-devito Follow

“We need messier ships-” You guys can’t even handle Playmates

( 113 notes )

🦈 shook-shark Follow

What if I wrote an essay about Ice Duck Cometh’s Ozlem parallels? Haha jk- unless?

🦈 shook-shark

Update: I am now 704 words in 😳

#this is getting out of hand fam

( 35 notes )

🌅 cathedaisy Follow

“If I had a lame ass boyfriend I would hype him up so much I would make him wait outside so I could go in first and be like, ‘Get ready here comes the most specialest boy ever if you don’t cheer and clap for him I’ll fucking blow this whole building up.” - Catherine, talking about Rocky

#Incorrect Lackadaisy Quotes #Catherock #Catherine Korzhenko #Rocky Rickaby #source: Twitter

( 72 notes )

🧼 kermit-spring Follow

I’m on my knees Juanda L’Orange is some of the best tomboy rep we ever got and no one even REMEMBERS HER 😭

#Juanda you will always be famous #Baby Butch Icon #Juanda L’Orange #MDTAS

( 5 notes )

💜 ex0t1c-butt3rs Follow

So was anybody going to tell me that FNAF was the franchise to give us Ukrainian American representation, or was I just supposed to find out from the game trailer?

💜 ex0tic-butt3rs

Me recognizing the Sirko and the Wolf allusion while western FNAF fans are oblivious:

#They don’t even KNOW #Steel Wool you have saved our lives we are eternally grateful #Sirko Daley #FNAF

( 15 notes )

🦉 drugdealingowl Follow

THEY FUCKED IN THE DARK RIDE???

#OH MY GOOOOOOD #Freaky Playmates COMFIRMED #I can’t believe we got a Garfield Dark Ride reference oh my god #Holy Shit #Playmates #The Amazing Digital Circus Spoilers #Wendy #Jax #The Amazing Digital Circus

( 27 notes )

🌌 starl1tsky Follow

Honestly I can’t even blame Jinx for catching feels for Vox like if I watched a savvy business man go completely soft and adoring for sharks I’d be in love too

#Jinx/Vox #Jox #Vinx #Vonx #? #Seriously what is their ship name???

( 50 notes )

🥭 fruicy-juit Follow

Obsessed with Jolt. He’s like if a sitcom character had an existential crisis. He got sent to Hell for ThoughtCrime. If someone is bothering his friend his immediate response is offering to kill them. He’s 23. He’s an electrician. He has such a low sense of self worth that he suggested blowing his brains out like an old Looney Tunes to make people laugh. He should be in the club. He’s banned from the club for biting people. He is five foot three. He somehow befriended the cannibal who straight up doesn’t even like other men. He killed Exorcists with an electrified crowbar.

🥭 fruicy-juit

#And he’s dating a porn star 3 feet taller than him

And he’s dating a porn star three feet taller than him!!!

( 33 notes )

[writer-of-various]

Drownin' In The Rain

Chapter II / Tank

A heavy sigh left the young boy's lips once he stepped into the small apartment he called home, his eyes landing on the numerous beer bottles and cigarette butts littering the stained carpet. He expertly maneuvered around the trash, careful with the broken pieces of glass as he practically tiptoed to his room, setting his backpack down on his bed before walking back out and grabbing the broom and dustpan. He cleaned up the mess with an empty expression, taking the full trash bag out of the trashcan and about to tie it to take it out to the dumpster when the front door slammed open and his already drunken out sauntered in, her dark, glazed over eyes landing on him with disgust.

"I always forget I have someone waiting at home for me." She slurs out, looking behind her and the boy straightens up, his blood running cold when a really sketchy guy walks in after his aunt, his eyes immediately falling on him. "Roy, this is Tommy, my nephew. Don't mind him, he won't disturb us. Right, Tommy?"

Tommy swallows the lump in his throat and gives a curt nod, "Yes ma'am."

His aunt smiled, something predatory, "Good boy. Take that out, then go to your room, I don't want to see you out here again."

"Yes ma'am." Tommy repeats, quick to leave the apartment and he feels pathetic when tears sting the edges of his eyelids, wishing he can just run away from the horror that was about to unfold. But he couldn't. His aunt Jenny needed him, and he had nowhere to go. Sometimes he wished he could blame his parents for getting themselves involved in serious crime, but he knew they did it for him. They had no money, they were trying their hardest to give him a better life and he's thankful. He could only pray to them tonight once again, hoping they'll hear him and save him from another night of abuse.

"Faggot." That name, the way Lev Kravchenko stared him down with a gleaming glare, like that bastard knew what went on at home. He didn't. Tommy never wanted any of this.

××

The next morning, Tommy weighed his options. Go to school, or do what every other teenager does and ditch. The latter option sounded better, he wanted to ditch because his body ached and he felt embarrassed to show up at school wearing his aunt's sunglasses to cover the marks he couldn't hide with makeup. But he's team captain of the football team, and ditching can cost him that title. He couldn't risk it, being put as team captain really saves his ass. Although he couldn't help but feel guilty, his best bud, Peter, had gotten a severe injury after a game and he won't ever be able to play again. Tommy would admit he cried a lot that day, Peter's family always took him in and Peter was just...he was there for Tommy when he needed him. They've been friends since elementary school, and Peter always protected him. But he moved after the injury so he can live closer to all the doctors he needed and Tommy had cried a lot that day too. He could feel the warmth Peter radiated, his charming smile as he embraced Tommy and promised to visit the soonest he can, the promise that after high school they can finally be free.

It's been six months, and Tommy can't help but feel like he's been played. It wouldn't have been the first time it happened, but Peter felt different, he was the only person he could trust.

Somehow, Tommy found himself in front of the high school and rolled his eyes, walking inside and forcing himself to relax as he walked into his second hell. He saw Kravchenko and cursed, instantly ducking into a random classroom and started to close the door when a deep voice spooked him.

"What's got you so jumpy?" Tommy turns around and sees a tall boy staring at him, a large history book in his hands as his piercing blue eyes try staring into his soul. Tommy averts his gaze, suddenly feeling very small and vulnerable and even more embarrassed.

"Nothing. I just thought this was my class..." He knew the excuse was lame, and the other boy knew that too, but he played along and gave him a small smile.

"I can help you find your actual class if you want," the boy offered and Tommy nodded, exhaling shakily as he moved out of the class and watched as the boy set the book down on the empty teacher's desk and walked out into the hall with him. They walked in silence, Tommy feeling eyes on him but for some reason, the presence of the other teenager made him feel...safer. Too bad it won't last for long, when the boy stops in front of his math class and gives him that same smile, but it seems to reach his blue eyes this time.

"I'm Nikolai Belinksi," He reaches out and Tommy flinches, his mind screaming at him when Nikolai frowns and retracts his hand carefully. "It was nice meeting you officially, Tommy." With that, he leaves Tommy standing alone with his intruding thoughts. Fuck, he screwed up bad this time.

×××

"Hey Tak–"

"Whatever you're going to ask, no." Takeo Masaki gave him a look, once that had Tommy frowning and sitting across from him.

"Hey man, you don't even know what I was going to ask you!"

Takeo made a noise, "That's the point, Tank. Why are you wearing those...things."

Tank, such a strong and brave, albeit silly, nickname that Peter gave him during middle school and it has stuck since then. It made Tommy feel better about himself, although lately he was anything but a tank.

"These things are sunglasses, even if fugly. I didn't get much sleep last night, some asshole's dog wouldn't shut up." Tank says with a shrug, purposely avoiding the look of disbelief his best friend gave him but he also chooses not to say anything either, knowing the other teen would refuse any "allegations."

"Are you ready for Mr. Monty's test?" Takeo asks, and Tank groans, slumping in his seat and shaking his head.

"Fuck no, man. That dude wants us all to fail!" Tank complains and Takeo nods, face suddenly solemn.

"He's not the best teacher. But even if I fail this, I am still a disappointment to my family." Takeo mumbles, and Tank sits up and scoots closer to his friend, patting his back comfortingly.

"Hey, screw your family, Tak. Just because you don't want to join the military doesn't give them the excuse to treat you like shit. You have your own life to live, we're entering the 21st century soon, man! Things ought to change, for us. We can't be in the shadows anymore." Takeo smiles and nods, nudging Tank gently.

"Do you tell yourself that?"

Tank thinks for a moment, and when he opens his mouth to lie, Takeo gives him that look again. "No...I don't."

"Then I'll tell you, screw your family. You don't have to be burdened by them forever, you're smart and strong, you should never do something you don't want to do."

Tank gives him a smile, something small that reaches his eyes, trying to ignore the way his heart pounded against his chest as he imagined himself running away from this hellhole. To be free.

"I heard you punched Kravchenko," Takeo speaks up after a moment of silence, and Tank nods. "We should leave then."

"Wh–" "Dempsey!" Before he can react, he's forced out of his seat and slammed against the table, his already bruised abdomen screaming at the pain. He sees Takeo stand, yelling at Kravchenko to leave him alone or else, but two other guys come up and surround him, warning him to not get involved.

Tank is turned around and he glares up at the quarterback, squaring his shoulders as he prepares himself for a fight.

"You fucking thought you can get away with this? You're fucking trailer park trash, Tommy." Kravchenko spat and Tank growls, moving to punch him when the bigger teen grabs his wrist in a bone crushing grasp and punches him in the jaw, the force knocking his head to the side and forcing the sunglasses to fall. He hears everyone gasping, he can heat the chanting, even with the ringing. He doesn't hear a familiar deep voice, he barely registers being freed and he doesn't fucking see Nikolai Belinski beating the crap out of Kravchenko. He grabs his bag and runs out of the cafeteria, shock eating at him as the same thing runs through his mind like a broken record.

Everyone saw the bruises. Everyone saw how weak and pathetic he is. Everyone fucking saw.

He can't go to the apartment, he has nowhere to go. He walks out to the field and goes to the bleachers, throwing his bag on the ground and letting his tears fall as he grabs his hair harshly.

"Fuck fuck fuck fuck!" He whispers, his blood running so cold it feels like he has no skin or muscle to protect his blood vessels.

"Lev Kravchenko is a sorry excuse for a man." A soft voice speaks behind him and he whips around, eyes widening at the sight of a pretty girl he recognizes from some of his classes. "Here," she tosses a cloth to him and a water bottle, but he can only hold the items and stare at her with confusion. She sighs, motioning him to sit and he does so, her figure kneeling in front of him and taking the cloth and water. She pours water on the cloth and wrings out the excess water, holding it up to his face and staring into his eyes.

"Can I?" He nods, and she gently presses it against the corner of his mouth, frowning as he winces from the sting. "Did you get him back worse?"

"Uh...no. I don't know what happened...it was all so fast."

"There you are. Lilja, thank you," Tank looks up and sees Nikolai standing there, out of breath and holding his left hand close to his chest and Tank sees the bloodied knuckles and immediately looks down, guilt eating at him.

"I take it you got him?" Lilja turns her head to look at the other boy and Nikolai gives her a charming grin.

"Of course, I've been waiting to fuck him up for a while. Tommy, do you need to see the nurse?" Nikolai turns his attention back on him and Tank shakes his head, giving Lilja a thankful smile when she nods her head and puts away the cloth.

"No, I'll be fine. I just...I just don't know what to do now. Wait– where's Tak? Is he okay?"

"Of course I am. You worry too much," Takeo comes out from the other side of the bleacher and Tank smiles, his face heating up at the last sentence.

"The staff will be looking for us." Nikolai murmurs, that grin slipping from his face upon realizing that they can get in trouble. He shares a look with Lilja, who shrugs and grabs her backpack the exact time the bell rings.

"I wasn't involved, Nikolai." She says, her eyes staring down at the older teen and he nods, grabbing her hand and holding it.

"Thank you for helping. I'll make sure you aren't mentioned," He looks at Tank, who nods and makes a zipping motion in front of his lips.

"Mine are sealed."

Lilja nods, "Good. I'll see you later."

She walks off without another word and Tank watches her go with a smile, oblivious to the look Nikolai gave him as he turns his attention to Takeo.

"Remember how I said screw your family?" He says, and Takeo nods. "Let's ditch, man." He turns to Nikolai and holds out a hand, "You in too?"

Nikolai and Takeo share a look before grinning, patting Tank on the back as they race over to the fence at the end of the field and hopping over it.

Screw everyone, Tank Dempsey is going to be free one way or another.

[total-drama-takes-takes-2]

tti episode 19

“Last time on Total Takes Island: we scared our remaining campers half to death in a horror-movie themed challenge. Ass sacrificed their “friend” Julia, and horror-nuts Bonnie and Patrick were also the first to go, but not before meeting up with a few old friends along the way. In the end, Michael sacrificed herself for Max, who then sacrificed himself for her, taking the walk of shame so she didn’t have to. Will the campers survive another evening? Will Staci ever go bald? Find out now- on Total! Takes! Island!”

The remaining campers walk out to the grassy knoll by the docks, where they’d been instructed to meet this morning. It’s mostly silent, aside from McLovin’s occasional sneeze and sniffle from the small cold he caught during the overnight horror challenge. 

Staci and Bonnie- even Julia and Patrick- and occasionally Ass look back to Michael sulking behind the group, looking tired and dejected. Bonnie bites their lip and looks at the ground nervously. 

---

BONNIE: “I usually try to avoid empathizing with people, but... I know what it’s like to have your only friend taken away from you when you need them most.”

---

“I’m going to go talk to her,” Bonnie says, chewing on a fingernail. 

Patrick raises an eyebrow. “You sure that’s a good idea? She was almost sent home last night. Fraternizing might put a target on your back,”

“No. Besides- if I can get Julia first, then we can collectively vote Ass out next time,” they say. “No one likes them, anyway. At least Michael is nice.”

He shrugs and rolls his eyes, and Bonnie slows down to walk backwards from the rest of the group, stopping and resuming walking forward once they’re side by side with Michael. 

“How’re you holding up?” they ask, placing a hand on her shoulder. 

She sighs. “Not well. I still feel really guilty,”

“Hey, Max volunteered to quit. That’s not on you. Honestly, I wish Caesar or Courtney had chosen to leave instead of being voted out by that witch,” Bonnie offers. “And he did it for you. That must mean a lot, huh?”

“Yeah… it just feels unfair to him,”

Bonnie sighs. “Listen… I don’t like to extend offers for this, but if you ever need to count on someone’s vote, I’m open. It's the least I can do,” they pause to look at Ass and Julia, who are walking arm-in-arm. “And I think I can guess who you’d go for next.”

Up ahead, a large wooden cage falls over the group of campers. Bonnie and Michael stop, watching the scene as their fellow contestants shout in annoyance, and then a large net is thrown over them as Chris steps out holding a beaver. 

“Good morning, campers! Ready for today’s challenge?” 

“Um- what’s with the prison cell, McLean?” Ass asks, hands on the wooden bars. "What is this, the Shaw-lame Redemption?"

Julia rolls her eyes.

---

JULIA: "That's not even clever!"

---

“There are only seven of you left on the island, as I’m sure Michael is well aware,” Chris smiles. Michael glares at him. “After tonight- six! We’re nearing the end, kids! So, today’s challenge is a Canadian favorite- trapping!” 

“What?” Bonnie asks, squinting at him suspiciously. 

“You’ll be trapping wild animals and bringing them back to the campfire. They must return unharmed,” he says, staring at Ass. They roll their eyes. “The reward for winning today’s challenge is a meal of epic proportions!”

The campers' eyes widen and they look between each other. 

“Real food?” Julia asks. 

“Real food. Your favorites, in fact,” he chuckles. “Made on the house by master cook, Chef Hatchet!”

Chef waves from the kitchen with a smile. The campers gasp. 

---

ASS: “Okay, so we have to trap a few wild animals. So what? I’ve been brushing up on my zoology since I returned to the island- I’ll just catch a dragonfly or something easy.”

---

“Ooh, a little bounty hunting, how scary!” Ass smiles, crossing their arms. 

“Glad you think so, Natalie,” Chris grins, holding up a bucket. “Time to choose your animals!”

Bonnie steps up first, pulling a piece of paper from the tin and smiling. “Duck. Okay, not bad,”

Michael goes next. “Deer? Oh, man,” Bonnie places a reassuring hand on their shoulder and tries an empathetic smile. 

Ass rolls their eyes and shoves them apart, reaching into the bucket and rifling around for a good card for at least three minutes while the other campers watch in annoyance. 

“Just pick the damn card already!” Patrick shouts. Ass turns to shoot him a glare and he whimpers. 

They pull out a slip of paper, smirking back at the crowd. “How hard could it be- probably just trapping squirrels- Oh,” their smile drops as they read their card- bear. Chris chuckles. 

“Ooh, me next!” Staci says, rushing up and grabbing a card from the pile. “Beaver! Aww, they’re cute.”

The Canadians in the group wince at her. “What?”

Julia gets a frog- McLovin gets a chipmunk (much to his relief)- and Patrick gets a raccoon. Chris leads them out to the boathouse to gather supplies. 

“You get 60 seconds to grab all the things you might need to trap your animal,” Chris says, gesturing to the boathouse. “Then you’re off! Oh, and loser gets to clean the communal bathrooms.”

The campers gasp and run into the boathouse, digging through it frantically. Ass drags Julia in and forces her to carry out a few crates, dumping them on the sand outside. Michael scans the room, thinking to herself before spotting the deer outfits from earlier that season. Bonnie finds another net, but Patrick snatches it before they can. 

“Ooh, almost got it,” he taunts before running outside. Bonnie rolls their eyes. 

---

BONNIE: “I like Patrick. I do, honest. He’s really funny, especially when he trips on stuff and then cries about scuffing his fancy leather shoes. But he’s definitely not what I’d call ‘friend material’.”

---

“Here,” Michael offers, holding up a purple tin of duck bait. 

Bonnie’s eyes widen. “Oh, nice find!” 

“Coming through!” Staci yells, barrelling into the boathouse and grabbing everything she can in a flash of pink. Before Bonnie can even accept the duck bait, it’s gone from Michael’s hand. 

---

STACI: “I know nothing about beavers besides those cute little informational brochures from the petting zoo. But I do know that now that I’ve lost my chance to be first boot, go bald, and I keep forgetting stuff about my family tree, it’s time to focus on winning,”

---

Bonnie leaves the boathouse empty handed and sighs as they see Julia and Ass digging through a few crates of supplies that they’re hoarding like dragons, hissing at anyone who gets close. 

Patrick walks away with his net, smirking back at the crowd as they dig through what they found. Michael walks in the opposite direction, holding the deer gear and a box of sugarcubes. She stops just before she leaves, seeing Bonnie empty-handed, and backtracks a little. 

“I know you work alone and all, but I could probably help you get a duck, it's the least I can do,” Michael offers. 

Bonnie shrugs. “Fair enough. But let’s deal with you deer problem first,”

“Ugh, all of this is useless!” Ass says, throwing away a shovel. “How does Chris expect us to trap a bear with this junk!”

“Um, us?” Julia almost laughs, picking up a bucket and a tin of live bait.

“Yes, us. This is what friends are for, remember?” They snap. Julia has no reaction. “Okay, fine! Go trap your dumb frog and meet me back at the mess hall in thirty minutes.”

Julia shrugs and walks off. 

Staci sorts through their pile of goodies, humming to themselves as they set off a few wooden planks to the side. Ass leaves, making them the only camper remaining at the boathouse. 

“Um, dude, you better get going,” Chris says. “Everyone else left ages ago- don’t you have a great-great-great-whatever trapper in your family?”

She rolls her eyes with a smile. “Probably. But I don’t know anything about that, I’m an engineer,” she holds up a hammer. 

---

McLovin stumbles through the woods, looking around for any sign of life. He doesn’t seem too worried about his assigned animal- after all, it’s just a chipmunk. Instead, he takes his time, swinging around the plastic pail and dragging the garden hoe he’d picked up from the boathouse while whistling a tune. 

After a bit of walking, he steps into a clearing. “Perfect,” he says, and drops his supplies. 

---

Michael and Bonnie sit in a tree branch somewhere in the woods, swinging their legs back and forth and chatting idly. No animal has come by in some time, but the two have already forgotten about the challenge anyway. 

“And I guess I was just like, so desperate to escape my crappy home life that I just threw myself at anyone who gave me attention, good or bad,” Michael says, plucking a leaf off of the tree and running her thumb over the smooth surface. “I got lucky with Max, but I dealt with a lot of nasty people along the way.”

“I’m like, the complete opposite. I was so against the idea of making friends that when Caesar came along, it took me completely by surprise. It’s why his elimination was so hard for me- I hadn’t even fully processed having a friend at all, let alone was I prepared to lose one so suddenly,” Bonnie sighs. “I’m trying to be more open, though. And like, nice, I guess.”

Michael smiles. “You have a lot of internal walls built up, huh? Avoidant attachment style?”

“I have no idea what that means,”

She shrugs. “I don’t really, either. Max throws around a lot of psychology terms I don’t fully get. It’s kind of cute,”

“I personally don’t see it, but whatever makes you happy,” Bonnie says. “At least it’s not that pool noodle everyone else is drooling over.”

Michael goes pale for a moment, and then laughs nervously. Luckily, a rustling from the bushes below puts a halt to the conversation and they both look down as a deer steps directly under the tree to get to the pile of sugarcubes below. Bonnie nods, and Michael stands on the branch before jumping down onto its back. 

It huffs and begins bucking its hind legs, throwing Michael around. She tries to hold on for a few minutes, but it eventually throws her off. Bonnie winces and hops down as the deer runs away, helping Michael up from the bushes. 

“Okay, ow,” she says, picking a few thistles from her skirt. “That was harder than I thought it’d be. I’m not getting out of here alive.”

“Hm,” Bonnie thinks for a moment. “I’m not super great at offering advice, but when I’m in a tough situation, I like to ask myself what Caesar would do. So… what would Max do?”

Michael sighs. “I’m not sure if that proverb is applicable here. Max would probably get so frustrated he’d start crying. But… maybe you do have a point,”

Bonnie watches in an awkward confusion as Michael closes her eyes and clenches her fists. “I want to win. I want to win. I want to win,”

She takes a few deep breaths and then opens her eyes again, smiling at Bonnie. “I think I have a plan,”

---

Julia steps into a swampy, muddy area, bucket in hand as she scans the area. She delicately steps around the large puddles of dirty water and mud to avoid getting her shoes wet. 

She has no way of checking the time, so she’s been counting down the seconds in her head. “One thousand two hundred and four, one thousand two hundred and three, one thousand two hundred and two…”

---

JULIA: “Okay, so I hate Natalie, and I hate their stupid "too cool for school" attitude. But look at who’s left- goth thing, terminally online, that green haired freak, the most pathetic man I’ve ever met, and McLovin, all of whom are gonna come for me first if I lose this alliance.”

---

“One thousand one hundred and eighty seven, one thousand one hundred and eighty six- hey!” Julia shouts in delight, spotting a frog embedded in a mud puddle nearby. “Piece of cake.” she smirks, creeping up to it, bucket overhead. 

She slams the bucket down, but just before it can hit the ground the frog leaps onto her face, sending her backwards and splashing her in mud. 

“Oh, great! This was my last clean shirt! You’re gonna pay for this!” Julia snaps, standing and chasing the frog as it hops away.

---

Patrick steps into an unfamiliar part of the forest, far from camp and far from where any raccoons might live. He sighs, folding up the net and slinging it over his shoulder as he walks, cupping his mouth to shout. 

“KITTY!” he yells. “KITTY!”

Nothing besides a flock of birds flying away in the nearby trees. He sighs again, slicking back his hair before brushing off a flat-ish boulder and taking a seat, crossing his legs and waiting in silence. 

After a few minutes, a skittering noise catches his attention and he smiles as Kitty pops up from the underbrush, shaking off a few roaches and ants like a dog. 

They stand on two legs and take a seat next to him, folding their hands in their lap and smiling. “Hiya!” they say. 

Patrick pats their head like one might a dog. “Hey, Kit. Happen to know where I could bag a raccoon?”

“Oh, yeah, they’re all over! Here!” Kitty drops to all fours again and rushes off into the woods, Patrick standing and following in close pursuit. 

---

Ass checks the time on their watch- it’s already been forty-five minutes, and nothing. They huff, kicking a rock and walking out of camp, grumbling about that no-good Julia. 

As they storm through the forest in search of their ally, they hear a faint giggling from behind a few bushes and curiously poke their head into a clearing. In it is an odd combination of items- a tiny pebble-lined path, an acorn, a garden hoe, and a bucket propped up with a stick. 

They raise an eyebrow. “Hello?”

Someone gasps in surprise and stands up suddenly, hitting their head on a low-hanging tree branch and groaning. Seconds later, McLovin stands, rubbing his head. 

“Oh, Ass. Hey,” he says. 

“Hi, MC. What’s this?” 

He looks around at the setup and then smiles confidently, crossing his arms over his chest. “My trap. Built it myself,”

“Okay… um, how exactly is this a trap?”

McLovin ducks out from his hiding spot and walks over to Ass’ side to navigate them through the course, pointing out the various fixtures. “Here’s the idea- the chipmunk will walk into the clearing, right? He’ll see the acorn and he’ll walk down the path I made trying to get it. When he has it, he’ll be so distracted eating that he won’t notice the hoe- when he steps on it, it’ll hit him in the face and he’ll either pass out, or get dizzy enough to trip and fall into the bucket, knocking over the stick and trapping him! It's fool-proof!”

Ass blinks.

---

ASS: “Look at who’s left- those two “alternative” things, crybaby Pattie, miss “thinks she’s sooo smart”, the pink chick and McLovin, who’s only still here because no one hates him enough to vote him out. He's kind of like the pet of the group. I’m honestly shocked he hasn’t died of tetanus yet,"

---

Ass smiles. “Seems like you’ve got things figured out here. Wanna take a break and help me out for a sec?”

McLovin raises an eyebrow. “What about Julia?”

“I gave her the day off, she’s been working so hard, you know? But I could really use some help,”

“Hm… well, if you’re sure! No way any chipmunk is getting out of my invention!” McLovin smiles confidently. “I’d love to help!”

---

Michael slowly backs out of the woods, tail and antlers on and palm full of sugar cubes that she’s methodically dropping. Bonnie watches from afar as a small doe follows her, trailing the snack. 

---

MICHAEL: “Okay, admittedly, I don’t know anything about deer, so I just kinda thought, how would I trap McLovin? He’s fragile and easily frightened, so I’d have to give the impression of safety. Secondly, he loves candy, so if I wanted to bring him somewhere, I’d have to offer a sugary reward. Third, he’s scared of loud noises and sudden movements, so I'd have to be quiet and predictable. Easy enough,”

---

“Open the cage,” she whispers to Chris as she approaches the wooden trap at the campfire pit. “Open the cage!”

The host shrugs and opens the door, allowing Michael to toss the rest of the sugar cubes inside and slam it shut. “Yes, yes!” she whisper-shouts. “I get the dinner! I won!”

Bonnie catches up with her, and the two high-five. “Okay, now let’s go get that duck,”

---

Staci hovers over the entrance of a beaver dam, holding a surprisingly complex trap made of wood, scrap metal, and netting up by a rope. By now, she’s been waiting for a few hours for the beavers to swim out from their underwater grotto, and so far she’s still patient and quiet. 

A small crunching of twigs has them hold their breath as a large beaver swims out of the hole- Staci drops the contraption into the water, covering it, and pulls out a remote with two large buttons. She presses one and a glass floor slides out, concealing the box. 

Staci pulls it out of the water with the trapped beaver inside, smiling. 

---

STACI: “I’ve learned a lot about myself on this show, honestly. Like, was the original Staci a mechanical genius? No, but I am! And that’s fine, I don’t need to be just like Staci to feel like myself. I can be a little bit of everything, even if that means just being another version of Staci, a mix of passions and interests and family history that makes me both!”

---

Staci jogs off into the woods back to camp, contraption and beaver in hand. They smile proudly as they run, giving a reassuring wave to the beaver inside. “Don’t worry little guy, I’ll have you back home in-”

They bump into something and stumble backwards, their heavy box causing them to drop onto their butt. “Hey!” they say, looking up to see Patrick and… someone else. As their eyes adjust to the contrast from the figures and the sky, they gasp. “Kitty?”

“What’re you doing out here?” Patrick asks sharply. There’s a sleeping raccoon in Kitty’s arms. 

“Patrick, how long have you known Kitty is still on the island- and- have they been helping you?”

Patrick glances at Kitty, then back to Staci. He sighs, taking the raccoon from them and shaking his head. “I was hoping no one would find us yet,”

Kitty starts stalking up to them, smiling. Staci’s eyes widen. 

---

“No hard feelings, right?” Patrick grins as he and Kitty walk back into the woods, leaving Staci hanging upside down from a tall tree branch in a makeshift trap. Their beaver cage hangs beside them, the creature inside chittering nervously. 

Staci glares as the two walk away. 

---

Julia grumbles, walking through the woods with a croaking frog resting on her mud-covered head. She’s coated in dirt and brownish water, soaked and caked in scum as she sulks down the trail back to camp. 

“Hey! Hey!”

Julia stops, looking around the path for a few moments before realizing the sound is coming from above. She looks up to see Staci, still hanging from the tree. “Um… got caught in your own trap?” she laughs. 

“Patrick put me up here. He’s been lying to everyone- he has a secret ally!” 

She raises an eyebrow. “Who?”

“I’ll tell you once me and Dawn are down!”

Julia blinks. “You named your beaver?”

“She needed a name. She’s an animal, not a prisoner,” Staci snaps. “Now help us down!”

Julia puts her frog in her pocket and begins scaling the tree. “Alright, alright,” she reaches the branch after a few moments of struggling to climb, untangling Staci from the trap and helping her and Dawn down. 

Staci takes a moment to regain their balance after being upside down for the past twenty minutes, and then immediately begins running back to camp. “Come on, we have to get there before Patrick!”

“Jeez,” Julia says, running after her. 

---

JULIA: “Okay, admittedly I haven’t been paying much attention to the more… sanity-challenged campers, but what happened to the cute and silly Staci?”

---

Patrick arrives at the campfire pit, Kitty gone and raccoon in tow. He opens the door and tosses in, but groans angrily as he sees a deer already inside. 

“Sorry, man, but at least you’re not cleaning the bathrooms,” Chris smiles. “Oh, and here comes Julia and Staci!”

Patrick blinks as he sees the two running up with their animals, both glaring at him. Chris opens the door, Julia setting her frog inside and Staci pressing the other button on their remote, opening the door and allowing the beaver in. “Both of you are safe from communal bathroom scrubbing!”

“OPEN THE DOOR! OPEN THE DOOR!” a distant voice shouts. Chris does as he’s told (for once) as Ass and McLovin come running, bear in close pursuit. The two manage to jump out of the way just as it runs inside, and Chris slams the door behind it, chuckling as Chef tranqs it with a dart gun nearby. 

“Wow, that’s a first. How’d you do it?” 

McLovin groans and collapses. Ass smiles. “Live bait,”

“Coming through!” Michael yells as she and Bonnie run up to the campfire pit, both trying to hold a very angry duck. It snaps and quacks at them until they toss it inside with the rest of the creatures, both panting. 

“Bonnie, looks like you were the last to get your animal inside the cage…” Chris says. Bonnie’s face drops. 

“...Is what I would say if I saw a chipmunk in there, which I do not. Which means McLovin will be on bathroom duty tonight.” 

McLovin’s eyes snap open. “My trap!”

---

Somewhere in the woods, a passed-out chipmunk lies beside a half-eaten acorn and a garden hoe skewed to the side. 

---

“Sorry, dude,” Chris chuckles, handing him a broom and dustpan. 

---

The inside of the mess hall is lively with chatter as everyone who Michael invited to join her dinner eats and talks over the amazing food Chef prepared, completely fish-free. 

Ass and Julia smile as they walk up to the door, but they’re promptly stopped by Michael blocking the entrance. “No way. This is a friends-only function. You two would be lucky if I consider giving you the leftovers,” 

Ass glares. 

---

ASS: “Okay, so, normally, I’d be convincing everyone to vote off Julia after what happened today. But I still need an ally and frankly, that Michael has been posing a big threat since losing that dweeb suddenly made her competent.”

---

“Okay, changed my mind,” Ass huffs, grabbing Julia’s wrist and dragging her behind them. “We’re not voting Patrick tonight. I say we target Michael.”

“But no one’s gonna vote for her. They’re all inside chumming it up,” Julia insists, jabbing her thumb backwards. 

“Not quite. We just need two votes to win the majority- McLovin will side with us no problem, he’s pretty easy to manipulate. Maybe we can convince Staci, too,”

Julia shakes her head. “Staci’s voting Patrick, like I promised I would, too. But maybe… maybe we can get him on our side…”

“Finally, a good idea from you,” Ass smiles. “I’ll go talk to him.”

---

Patrick knocks on the cabin door before entering without waiting for a response, looking around to make sure his targets are there. 

Sure enough, Michael and Bonnie are sitting on the bunks, talking amongst each other. They both raise an eyebrow as Patrick comes in. “What now?” Bonnie sighs. 

He smiles. “We’re voting Staci tonight,”

“Um,” Michael stares. “Says who?”

“Says Nattie out there, who’s rallying everyone to vote for her,” he points directly at Michael. “They’re not exactly happy about being snuffed, and they’ve already got Julia and McLovin on their side. I said I’d vote with them, but I have… bigger problems right now.”

“How is Staci a problem?” Bonnie asks, squinting at him. 

“It’s complicated. Point is, if you want to stay, you’ll need a tie. Staci’s already voting for me. If I get your votes, you and her will be even,” Patrick says. “Do we have a deal?”

Michael frowns for a moment, looking to Bonnie, who sighs. “Fine,”

“Excellent. I’ll try to, um, persuade McLovin to join our side, just in case,” Patrick grins, walking out into the night. 

---

“Most of you did a good job trapping your animals today- most of you. Some of you did a good job cleaning the bathrooms instead!” Chris smiles. McLovin’s head hangs. “But only one of you is going home, and oh, boy, do we have quite the show for you. Normally, I’d keep things anonymous, but the votes are juicy tonight, so I’m going to read them out loud!”

The campers look around uncomfortably. 

“Alright- let’s see…” Chris says, holding up a sheet of paper and putting on a pair of fake reading glasses. “Ass voted for Michael… Julia voted for Michael...” Ass smiles at Julia. “JMichael voted for Staci…”

Staci rolls her eyes, not surprised in the least until Chris continues. “Bonnie voted for Staci… Staci voted for Patrick… McLovin voted for himself…”

Patrick and Ass both turn to McLovin and glare. He seems to shrink in size as he cowers. 

---

MCLOVIN: “I was going to vote for Michael, I swear, but then Patrick came in and said all this scary stuff about twisting my limbs into knots. But Staci is still my friend, and I-I just couldn’t choose a side!”

---

“And the final vote from Patrick is for…” Ass returns to smiling confidently while Julia frowns slightly. “...Staci. Michael, you’re safe… for now.”

Staci sighs, standing. Patrick waves goodbye merrily as she begins walking to the docks. Ass stands and storms over to him, hands on their hips. “You no-good, backstabbing little worm!”

He shrugs. “Make crappy allies, win crappy prizes, your majesty,”

They growl before turning to McLovin. “And you- grow a goddamned spine already!”

McLovin winces as they storm off, dragging Julia behind them. 

---

STACI: "Okay, so, that sucked, but I guess I should've seen it coming. I have no idea how I made it this far in the first place! But I did learn, like, a lot about myself, and now I don't even need to bring up my relatives, or even the original Staci- I mean, I've eaten literal garbage, I invented a humane automatic beaver trap (which I'm totally patenting before this airs, by the way), I've competed in death-defying stunts and met some crazy people. And those experiences are mine, not Staci's, not my relatives or friends. They're Alex's, and you know what? I'm proud to be myself just as much as I am proud to be Staci." they cross their arms with a smile as the footage cuts out.

---

Chris pops up. “Who’s going home next? And who will pathetically wriggle their way out of making hard choices? Find out next time, on Total! Takes! Island!”

[totallyexhausted]

Sick Sasaki with caring Miyano (Aged-up fic) with Flashbacks...

Just small notes on one of the ff’s in case my computer deletes the files again (so I have like a triple backup)...

(Just random-ass notes for right now to have a back-up back-up for myself) - feel free to comment or motivate me lol jk brb crying....

Title: You’re So Cool (Yeah, You Are)

It started with a dull ache behind his eyes as he helped his mother knead dough for whatever the daily pastry was. The familiar action digging into his knuckles as his fingers cramped, and he winced as the dull ache traveled up his arms; and over the course of the morning, through the rest of his body.  

His mother had told him to go home several times; his sister even threatening to shove him out the door if he didn’t at least take off early. Towards the end of his shift however, the threats were no longer empty-handed nor needed because Sasaki left willingly. He’d tried to power through the rest of his shift, but the smell of bread, cookies, and other sickly-sweet pastries he normally loved, was overpowering, nauseating; and he was pretty sure Satoko was going to punch him if he stayed longer…

The walk home had been a blur for the most part. A quick train ride that resulted in him jolting awake as the doors dinged open, his stop echoing over the loudspeaker, and whispered chatter from too many people, from too much noise. Sasaki never really registered he’d made it home until he pushed past the threshold of his and Miyano’s one-bedroom apartment, tripping over the white-haired cat as she tangled herself under his feet with a loud meow.

The 21-year-old exhaled loudly as he collapsed face-down against the couch. He pressed his cheek against the crappy blue material, hoping the rough fabric would provide the same cool relief the train window had; his left hand ghosting the wooden ground as the cat nipped at his fingers gently. He shifted, his left leg falling from the couch; his right foot knocking some BL books from the end table.

The couch was way too small- or he was too tall, or both. Miyano could barely stretch out on the discounted furniture, but Sasaki? Sasaki was 6’2… so finding something he didn’t have to curl up on, something he could fully lounge on, was difficult. Being 6’2 was difficult. He was always ducking down, hitting his head, towering over people his age. Intimidating. That’s what Hirano had said once; tall people could be intimidating. A sentiment Sasaki had found ironically hilarious as Kagiura was quite a few inches taller than he; towering over Hirano more than Sasaki did.

           The cat meowed again, pawing at the 21-year-old’s fingers before biting his hand, and Sasaki ran his fingers through her white hair tiredly. He inhaled softly, “Hi, Wasabi.”

           The cat had been his boyfriend’s idea. A lost kitten found wondering aimlessly outside their university. Needless to say, a stormy night and one look into Miyano’s big brown eyes, and the cat had wormed her way into a loving home. It wasn’t that Sasaki wasn’t a cat person because he was- he just preferred dogs more. He’d been surprised when Miyano brought home the small white ball of fluff, both him and the cat shivering from the rain pelting down outside because it was either carry the kitten or an umbrella. A few days later Sasaki couldn’t imagine their apartment without a cat; just like he couldn’t imagine his life without Miyano.  

           Sasaki groaned loudly as his phone vibrated in his pocket, and he shifted again, his foot knocking something else from the end table. He needed to stop moving, or at the very least, pick up the objects he’d knocked down. But he was so tired, and the idea of moving from the couch, of sitting up, bending down to pick up manga left out or papers disregarded, seemed like too much of a task. Too exhausting. Too much effort. I’m so lame…

           Wasabi meowled, jumping onto his back, rubbing her face in his orange hair and purring loudly. She was probably hungry. She was always hungry… but she’d have to wait because there was no way Sasaki was getting up right now. His head hurt too much; the sun filtering through blinds halfway shut, the cool Autumn air wafting through windows left open, and the noise of children playing outside was enough to make everything feel somewhat wrong and off-kilter. Everything seemed off-kilter. Distant, and yet, so very close; so very loud, and hot.

           The 21-year-old’s phone vibrated again, and Sasaki wondered if Miyano was texting him. He’d be in-between classes now, and Sasaki knew his sister had probably texted his boyfriend the second he left the bakery, if not before. Satoko probably had the 20-year-old on speed dial, ready to call his boyfriend to come pick up her giant mess of a brother if he hadn’t left when he did. She’d always been that way; overprotective, and so goddamn stubborn.  

           Sasaki cleared his throat, pulling his arm back on the couch, tucking it under his chest as he shivered. Something clattered to the ground as he tried pulling his leg back on the tiny futon, and Wasabi scattered from the room as the 21-year-old cursed softly. He really really needed to stop moving before he broke everything in the living room. Sasaki huffed as he let his foot slam against the floor again and closed his eyes.

           He probably could have crashed in the bedroom; at least there was less stuff for him to knock on the ground there, and it was darker. But it was too far away, and he needed to get up soon; he needed to cook dinner. It was Tuesday which meant he was in charge of making food. It was one of his boyfriend’s busiest days, just like Thursdays and Saturdays were his; besides, Miyano cooked every Thursday; hell, he cooked most of the time since they started living together last year, so the 21-year-old could at least take care of Tuesdays. He could at least do that for him because it felt like Miyano did everything else. Sasaki was just so useless sometimes. So damn useless.

           …His fingers were so cold; fingertips tracing the warm flesh painted on Sasaki’s chest, and the 19-year-old held Miyano’s gaze. He couldn’t look away- he didn’t want to… Miyano, I love…

           He opened his eyes and shifted to his back, grimacing at the small action as nausea coursed through him. He put a hand on his stomach slowly as the ceiling above him spun. He’d barely eaten anything today, but with how he was feeling now, he’d probably forgo dinner. Maybe he’d make something simple; something easy; something he didn’t have to put a lot of effort into, so Miyano could at least eat. As long as Miyano was okay, as long as he was taken care of, then the rest didn’t matter. Nothing else mattered.

           Wasabi reappeared, jumping up on the futon again as Sasaki let his right arm dangle off the couch, smacking it against the leg of the coffee table. He pulled his legs up so his feet rested against the end of the couch instead of the now free end table. It was cramped. He was cramped, but at least the room stopped moving; and the nausea subsided.

           The 21-year-old groaned, swallowing as children screamed in the alley below. He closed his eyes again, sighing as the white cat cuddled between the crook of his neck and the back of the couch, licking at his piercings. Sasaki turned his head away from her, hoping she’d get the message and stop, but Wasabi was a cat- so what was he really expecting?

           She meowed noisily in his ear before licking at the piercings again. They were shiny. Small. Distracting. And Wasabi was either trying to be affectionate or trying to eat them; her two moods; either cute and cuddly or the devil disguised as a 4-pound ball of fluff.

 He just needed to rest his eyes for a few minutes…    

 ………………………………

             The second time he’d gotten drunk, he’d been 19. The first on his 16th birthday which was an accident on his mother’s part, unaware of the percentage of alcohol in some foreign sweet drink she’d gifted him… But the second time? The second time had been all him.

           It started as a misunderstanding on Sasaki’s part. His stupid impulses and selfish attitude. His lameness. He’d thought Miyano was breaking up with him; after all, they’d gotten into an argument. Something stupid and unimportant. But an argument, nonetheless. And Sasaki had told him he loved him. For the first time. Out loud.

Hirano and Ogasawara had tried to help; had tried to cheer him up, but they didn’t help much. Neither did the alcohol, despite there being a lot of it. Honestly, he hadn’t meant to get as drunk as he did- after all, he hated the taste of alcohol… but, Hirano and Ogasawara had Sake, which was sweeter; and the easiest way to get over his own stupidity, was, in the 19-year-old’s mind, to get drunk.

           Whatever he and his friends had done that night, Sasaki couldn’t remember. Well, most of it, he couldn’t. He did, however, remember fireworks. Ordering enough Sake to satisfy a small village. A convenience store with way too many snack choices. Several drinks with names too serious for its size. An old man threatening them. Ogasawara arguing on the phone with his girlfriend while him and Hirano made fun of him. Vomiting. Hirano drunk dialing Kagiura. More fireworks. Cheap beer. Some guys shoving him against a wall before Hirano tackled them. A window breaking. Running from the cops. Falling off some swings. Taking way too many train rides to God knows where. And finally, Hanzawa basically carrying him to his apartment which was weird because he hadn’t been with them to begin with. But everything else in-between or figuring out how those events connected together or in what order, was anyone’s guess.

           He’d woken up the next morning in his sister’s room when she threw a bottle of water his direction demanding he drink it since the 19-year-old had apparently stumbled through the door, puking up bitter-tasting Sake and cheap beer on her floor, before passing out on her bed, crying over Miyano.

           That’d honestly been the first time he’d ever sought his sister for comfort, and the first time she’d openly known about him and Miyano. It wasn’t like Sasaki had hidden it, but it wasn’t like she’d asked either. Or maybe she didn’t really care; or figured her brother would tell her when he was ready. And evidently, at 3am, drunk off his ass, he was ready.

           It wasn’t a fond experience in Sasaki’s book, mainly because he spent the day after powering through a shift with a headache from hell and stopping every half hour so he could step into the alley to vomit, but it was nice to see his sister cared enough to be there for him; after calling him the biggest idiot she’d ever known. She’d called Miyano when his shift ended as the younger had been texting non-stop since Sasaki had stormed out of his room the day before; but the older teenager had been too afraid to glance at the messages scribbled across his phone.

           Sasaki hadn’t known Satoko had called Miyano until he slid down the side of the concrete building of the bakery after taking the trash out and throwing up the last of the foul-tasting alcohol souring his stomach. He held his head between his knees as someone nudged his foot, and Sasaki glanced up, squinting against the sun hanging high in the sky towards Miyano standing over him, holding out one of the sweet peach drinks he liked. Honestly seeing him, the older thought he was going to puke again, but he accepted the cold beverage.

           Miyano slid down next to him, sighing loudly as Sasaki felt his breathing catch, his heart racing. He didn’t really want to see the younger teen, mainly because he was too afraid of his answer; too afraid he’d reject him. Too afraid he’d end it. Just like Hanzawa and-

           “What are you doing here, Mya-chan?” He asked softly, opening the drink, taking a few tentative sips before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He swallowed loudly as the younger sighed again, “You weren’t answering. I was worried about you… and your sister called me.”

           Sasaki clicked his tongue; he told her he didn’t want to see Miyano, that he couldn’t talk to him right now, but she called anyway. Typical. Brat.

The 19-year-old smacked the back of his head against the wall, glaring towards the sun as he took another slow sip. He clenched his other hand against his thigh as the thought of running invaded his mind. He wanted to leave because that’s what he did. When things got too difficult. Or too upsetting. Or too much. When his emotions felt like too much, and he didn’t know how to deal; he left. He always left. Because he was more afraid of what would happen if he stayed. If he hurt someone. Again. Like he’d hurt his sister a few years ago… Perhaps that’s why Satoko called Miyano when she did, because he was trapped; he was forced to talk to the 18-year-old; forced to deal with his emotions…

“Look, Miya,” Sasaki whispered, his voice low and shaky, “I’m sorry about yesterday. It was selfish when I-”

“Wait. Sasaki, I think you misunderstood. Sometimes it’s hard to find the words- to get the point across…” Miyano cut in softly, “I wasn’t telling you I didn’t- I wasn’t saying we should break-up. Honestly, I’d hate that. I mean, I don’t know- that would suck. It’d be horrible because…”

Sasaki swallowed again, his breath hitching as he took another drink, drowning the anxiety sitting in his stomach, the sick taste of sake haunting his throat. Every movement Miyano made, every breath he took, every syllable, becoming the older teenager’s only sounding board as cold fingers intertwined with his shaking ones pressed against his thigh. Sasaki felt like he couldn’t talk, he couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t think. He didn’t want to do or say anything that would fuck this up; he didn’t want to move the wrong way, say the wrong thing, express anything wrong, impulsive, selfish… and yet…

“I-I, yesterday, I was trying to,” Miyano paused momentarily, glancing towards Sasaki, “I want us to move in together- if you want to, and if you need some time to think about it, that’s okay. I love you, and I don’t want to pressure you; I mean you waited so long for me to-”

Sasaki choked on his drink, coughing loudly as the words hit him, and he put the bottle on the ground, wiping away the sweet liquid dribbling from his chin before turning towards Miyano. He felt his heart lurch as he pressed his hand against the 18-year-old’s cheek, cold fingers meeting warm flesh, and he pulled the younger boy towards him; his lips ghosting over Miyano’s before Sasaki breathed and pulled away sharply. He lingered before dropping his hand, letting it rest against the younger teenager’s chest, his heartbeat strong and fast. Matching the fast-paced breath leaving Sasaki’s lips, matching his heart pounding against his ribs.

“S-sorry,” he muttered, looking around sheepishly as the impulsive action left him, “I didn’t mean to do that- I- my mouth probably tastes disgusting right now.”

Miyano hummed, his fingers grasping harder at Sasaki’s still pressed against his thigh. He shifted as Sasaki dropped his hand from his chest and snaked his own fingers up the older teenager’s neck, his hand stopping at Sasaki’s jaw line as the 19-year-old glanced in his direction. Miyano moved closer, pulling the older towards him as the sweet smell of bread that clung to Sasaki’s clothes everyday reached his nose, and he smiled.

“I don’t care. I love you,” Miya whispered as Sasaki hesitated, his lips hovering over Miyano’s before the younger teenager pulled him the rest of the way towards him…

 He didn’t need to open his eyes to know it was dark now. The sun that had pierced through his clenched eyelids a few mere hours beforehand, no longer present; the soft chirping of crickets hidden in patches of grass littered along the alley, and the soft breeze of an imminent rainstorm blowing through the open windows, made everything clear. So no, Sasaki didn’t need to open his eyes to know a significant amount of time had passed. Nor did he need someone to tell him that the reason Wasabi was angrily attacking his foot as his right leg hung off the couch, pulling his body dangerously towards the floor, was due to the fact that he’d missed feeding her. Her loud mewling and harsh bites were more than enough to get the message across. He’d fucked up in his fatherly duties towards her.

           He did, however, flinch when he felt cool fingers press against his forehead, and cheek, before running through his sweaty hair. He groaned loudly, leaning into the soft touch as he tried to think of who else would have a key to his and Miyano’s apartment. His sister? His mother… She wouldn’t care enough to come over. Hirano? Ogasawara? Although Ogasawara had never once been this gentle towards him even when he was feeling off or had broken bones; and Hirano coming to their apartment without knocking a million times would be weird. Hanzawa would come over, but Sasaki was pretty sure he didn’t have a key… he was resourceful though…

           The 21-year-old groaned as he pried his eyes open, wincing as the dusky moonlight hit his eyes, making the room spin in a multitude of greys, blues, and pale browns. He swallowed as he tried moving his arm over his head, to shield his eyes despite forcing them open, but his movements were weak and feeble. Clumsy and stupid. He felt clumsy and stupid. It was annoying.

           Fingers paused at his hairline, brushing away bangs matted to his forehead, and Sasaki blinked. He turned his head slightly, his hand pressing against his stomach, and he yelped as sharp teeth bit into one of his toes, jerking his leg away as it slammed against the end table, and something shattered to the ground. There was a shushing sound before a cold hand pressed against his cheek gently, turning his head, and Sasaki blinked again as his eyes slowly met the blurry image of his boyfriend.

…soft material pulled over his orange hair and thrown against the wooden floor. Sasaki held his breath as Miyano pushed him back against the comforter… No one’s going to be home for at least another hour, you know, we could test that theory… His fingers were so cold, and yet so… Miya, are you nervous?

“Hey, Mya-chan,” Sasaki slurred softly, a smile toying on his lips as cool fingers continued to thread through his hair. He sounded drunk. Maybe he was. He’d only been drunk twice in his short existence on this planet, and neither time felt like this, but then again… Words were too hard to form. Exhaustion hung heavy in his eyes, making the world hard to see; a dull ache deep in his bones, riding the piercing headache throbbing through his temples and up his neck. Everything was too warm right now, so nauseatingly warm, and the thought of having to move from his semi-comfortable spot on their too short couch, made Sasaki’s head spin.  

“Hey,” Miyano whispered, running his fingers through his boyfriend’s soft strands, “Are you not feeling well, Sasaki? I think you have a fever.”

A fever? The 21-year-old closed his eyes as he tried to process the information. A fever didn’t sound right. He was too cold for that. The night air that pricked against his skin, eating away at the cold sweat plastered beneath his red t-shirt, and tan cardigan he had haphazardly draped over himself in order to keep Wasabi from gnawing at the black bracelets wrapped around his wrist, told him he was cold. Not hot. Besides, he just had a headache… and he was nauseous. And tired… maybe sore from work. But a fever? No, that didn’t sound right.  

“I’m fine,” Sasaki hummed, twisting to his side, bringing his knees to his chest slowly as Miya shifted and the couch dipped slightly as the 20-year-old moved to sit on the edge. Sasaki turned further, burying his head against his boyfriend’s thigh as Miyano pressed a steady hand against his back, brushing some sweat-soaked hair away from the latter’s neck. He bit his bottom lip, carding his slender fingers through the older’s hair again before placing a firm hand between his shoulder blades, his fingers cold and worried against warm sticky fabric.

Silence evaded the small living space as thunder clapped in the distance. Outside leaves dragged across the street as wind bustled through the open window, the curtains dancing freely against the breeze. The distant smell of rain lingering on the air, chilling the breath wisping past Sasaki’s dry lips as he pressed his face further against Miya’s thigh. You have to be more mindful, Shuumei, otherwise, if you’re not careful, you’re going to hurt someone you really care about...  

“Well, why don’t we check,” The 20-year-old cooed, “I’ll be right back, okay?”

Wasabi meowled loudly as Miyano exited the small living room, and Sasaki ran a hand over his face, trying to rub away some of the exhaustion plaguing his body, trying to will himself to feel better. It was a useless task. And the fact that he had slept so long when he was supposed to make dinner before his boyfriend came home, wasn’t helping his current situation.

He really needed to get up. This was so lame. He was so lame. Sasaki groaned loudly as he uncurled himself, grasping at the arm of the small futon as he forced his body to sit up. The room shifted violently, and the 21-year-old let his head flop against the back of the cushions, sweat trailing lazily past his temple. He grit his teeth, closing his eyes as nausea washed over him, and he put a firm hand against his stomach as he concentrated on the rain beginning to fall. It hit the windowsill softly, clinking against the metal frame before sliding down the rest of the open glass, soaking against the wooden ledge.

Sasaki swallowed. His breathing noisy and congested as he held onto the sound of the rain, the thunder looming in the distance, and Wasabi weaving between his legs. The room around him felt thick. And cold. And any movement he made or tried to make, made his headache worse; made the blood rush to his head, the air dizzy and light. It sucked. He sucked. Great, he was feeling sorry for himself now… How pathetic.

“Hey! Sasaki! Are you okay? Is it worse?”

Nervous footsteps followed by a soft smack against his side, and Sasaki opened his eyes against the warning nauseatingly coursing through his veins, the black dots eating away at his vision, and the headache crawling up his neck, pulsating behind his eyes. He smiled slowly as Miyano pressed his hand against his chest; his mind drifting to the first time. His first. Theirs…

…Miyano’s fingers sliding over his bare chest, sliding down… down… down… He’d been so gentle, and yet, so clear about what he wanted… so dominant- Miya had been surprisingly assertive… it was nice… His cold fingers warming against Sasaki’s back, pressed against his spine, feeling his heart pounding through his chest… fingers…  

“Shuumei?”

“I’m fine,” The 21-year-old breathed, or at least, tried breathing through his nose as he ran a shaky hand through his sweaty orange hair. He really needed to get a handle of his current situation because this was weak. He was cooler than this. He wished he was cooler than this. He swallowed again, meeting his boyfriend’s gaze, “I’m sorry about dinner, Mya-chan…”

A small smirk crossed Miyano’s face as he laughed softly, “I’m not worried about it. Your sister said you didn’t look well, so I grabbed something after my 3rd. I just wanted to see you; I was worried about you.”

Sasaki felt his breathing catch, his hand unconsciously moving from his stomach towards Miyano’s pressed against his chest, over his pounding heartbeat. His warm fingers ghosting over the back of the 20-year-old’s hand before he caught himself, recoiling carefully and let his hand drop to his side. He exhaled slowly, forcing himself up further, his whole body protesting the action. He didn’t go to his evening classes… Why. Why would he do that…

“Why? Why wouldn’t you go to your evening classes? They’re important,” Sasaki whispered, blinking several times, clearing the dizziness washing over him as he tried focusing on the emotion present on his boyfriend’s face versus the sick feeling aching in his stomach. Miyano ran a gentle hand through Sasaki’s hair, his hand trailing to his cheek. He grimaced as his fingers met the uncomfortable warmth sitting under the older’s flesh. He cleared his throat, “Well, isn’t it obvious? You don’t feel well. And I wanted to take care of you… I wanted to see you. You’re more important than missing a few classes.”

The 21-year-old let his head gradually drop against Miyano’s shoulder, hoping that the heat he felt crawling up his neck, flushed against his cheeks and ears was due to the fever he supposedly had. His orange hair falling over his face as he tried so damn hard to keep it together. Everything was getting to him right now. Miyano’s touches, his concern, his love; his own emotions washing through him in uncontrollable waves as he fought to keep himself together. But everything was starting to feel like too much. Again. His anxiety, his depression, his weak-willed mind threatening to break against the love he felt for Miyano and the love he was willing to return. Too much… it happened; more so when he felt like shit… when he had a harder time keeping himself in line… Man, Miyano. What you’ve done for me- What you do for me. I like it all, and I-I’m so anxious, so nervous I’m going to fuck it up. I’m going to mess this up… I’m so scared I’m going to ruin it… ruin you… I’m terrified I’m going to hurt you…  

Cool fingers against his cheek again, dusting under his chin, pulling his head up, and Sasaki found himself blinking towards his boyfriend; concern etched into his big brown eyes. Miyano cocked his head slightly; thunder echoing outside as the curtains whipped past the open window, rain pelting harder against the sill. Wasabi scattered from the room as lightning hit the roof across the street and a car alarm blared in the distance.

“Let’s see if you have a fever, hm?” Miyano said softly, his hand steadily tracing over Sasaki’s shoulder blades as the older leaned against him, his head returning to the younger’s shoulder. Silence evaded them, filing the small room in an uncomfortable stillness.

  that was usually foreign- even Wasabi’s soft pitter patter or purring….

“38.6… You do have a fever,” The 20-year-old confirmed, his voice wavering under a sad tone that hadn’t been there a few minutes before. Sasaki exhaled loudly, turning his head further against Miyano’s shoulder. Sitting up was getting to him. The rain beating against the windowsill was getting to him… he was getting to himself. Everything. Was. Becoming. Too. Much. You’re a big guy… You have to be more mindful, Shuumei… otherwise…

 Sorry about that

Sasaki wasn’t really sure what else to say. Hell, he wasn’t even sure if that was the right thing to say, but words were getting difficult to process.

….

  You’re a big guy. You’re stronger than you think. You have to be more mindful, Shuumei, otherwise…

  “We should get you to bed,” Miya whispered…

  A month after they’d moved in, Miyano had suggested a 4-day trip to the coast to celebrate the end of his first term in university. A small vacation since they’d both been stressed, both dealing with the strain of exams, late-night studying, and their hectic schedules they could never seem to sync-up despite living together. It had been a nice idea considering neither one of them had ever been to the beach; and relaxing in the water, discussing the types of BL fantasies Miyano could come up with while laying in the sand together, their fingers intertwined, sounded nice.

The problem was, Sasaki got motion sickness easily, and meds didn’t always help. The train ride to and from university (like in high school), he could usually handle; but taking one that lasted several hours, was torture. He didn’t remember much about the ride except he tried sleeping through most of it; his head leaning against his boyfriend’s shoulder, his fingers intertwined tightly with Miyano’s, and Miyano running his thumb over the outside of his hand in order to offer a small comfort as Sasaki tried keeping down the constant wave of nausea through passing countryside. For the most part, he did well- only vomiting the second he stumbled from the train, and the constant dull ache of sickness pitted in his stomach a few hours after. The ride back had been a completely different story though.

Despite the meds Sasaki had crammed down his throat before the train left the station; a majority of the scenery passed by in a nauseating blur of apologies, and Miyano’s soft touches grounding him in the hellish reality he was trying so hard to black out. Five hours. Five hours pitted against a cool glass window of greens, blues and tans; five hours where every 10 minutes, Sasaki was trying to puke up his stomach lining; five hours with no relief, no form of exhaustion strong enough to rip him from the motion of the giant steam engine powering down unfamiliar tracks. By the time they’d reached their apartment, Sasaki was nothing more than a towering mess of apologies and fatigue. Honestly, it broke Miyano’s heart, and made Sasaki feel weak and lame.

They had barely made it over the threshold before Sasaki collapsed, and Miyano could no longer support his boyfriend’s weight. Despite Miyano standing at a comfortable 5’9, Sasaki was taller and bigger than he was; that made it harder for the younger to help the way he wanted- to care for him the way Sasaki could for him. Needless to say, they’d spent the next few hours sitting in the cramped hallway; Sasaki leaning against Miyano, nodding off between quiet conversations and desperate attempts to stretch his lanky form against a confined space.

 I love you, Yoshikazu. I-

This can’t happen, Sasaki.

What?

I mean, I’m graduating next month, and then we’ll both be in university, and I don’t know how much time we’ll have to see each other outside of-

Stop it. … Uh, Sorry. I should go. (leaves)

  Miyano.

 His voice. Echoes whispered around him in a confusing fashion; hard to grasp as words he couldn’t really make out, a conversation he couldn’t follow, pushed around him.  

 “…really sick…”

“…can’t keep anything down…yeah, A&E…”

“…40.9…”

“He’s… scaring me…”

 He’s scaring me.

  “Yoshi…ka…zu…”

Sasaki’s pretty sure the name didn’t make it past his lips; dry heat shoved against aching flesh, pain nauseatingly eating against his cheekbones, running behind his ears, his eyes, down his neck- making every movement, every thought so damn difficult to process. Something was wrong- something felt wrong, off… so very off. He felt-

Cold fingers running through his orange hair softly as he tried repeating the name; hoping, praying that somehow the syllables crawled past his chapped lips; his mouth heavy and dry, moisture sucked through air that was hard to breathe. He groaned loudly as he opened his eyes, biting back the wince that rose up his throat as the dim light hit him; the room spinning in a multitude of sickening colors, his body wavering against stilled sheets, dizzy and nauseating. And. So. Fucking. Hot.

Miyano’s face filled his vision, concerned alarm plastered on pale features, and Sasaki swallowed slowly. He clenched his eyes shut again, the bedroom twirling in a mess of dimly lit pounding, and hot breaths shakily panting past his lips. His breathing was sporadic, harsh, hard to fully take in as air burned against his throat, his lungs, his heart racing, matching a pitch he couldn’t breathe, and he tried to move his hand only to find the task difficult and useless. He was useless. Sometimes. So damn useless. He’s scaring me… I’m afraid of you, Sasaki…

…Fingers pulling his shirt from his body, pulling it over his orange hair before throwing it against the floor, and Sasaki glanced at Miyano as the younger pressed his hand against his bare chest, shoving him back against the older boy’s comforter. The 19-year-old held his breath, letting the younger have control… letting him control the situation, too afraid he’d ruin it, too afraid he’d mess it up.

Miyano fumbled with Sasaki’s belt, his legs on either side of the older boy, and the 19-year-old let his fingers hover before he gripped the 18-year-old’s thighs; his fingertips cold and nervous as he trailed up his body, resting at the hem of Miyano’s white shirt…

Something gripped behind his shoulders, pulling him up, and the 21-year-old whined pitifully as the world shifted, his body forced into a sitting position. He opened his eyes before shutting them as the room moved violently, and he gagged harshly as he let his head fall against someone’s chest; their heartbeat echoing around him, aching against the migraine embedded in his temples. Gentle fingers gripping again at his shoulder; words- words he couldn’t make out, and someone gripping again, trying to move him, trying to get him to move despite Sasaki’s pathetic attempts to curl in on himself.

“Sasaki, please, you need to get up!”

Miyano’s voice reaching his ears, and the older whimpered…

  He was so weak and lame. He was lame… Miyano was always so cool… Sasaki never understood why the younger boy felt the need to hide himself because to him, there was no one more cool than Miyano. Nothing the younger ever did, or could ever do, would embarrass Sasaki.

Sasaki is not subtle.

Sasaki liked sweet things, and Miyano was by far the sweetest. His favorite.

 Sasaki was panting. The breath forced past dry lips and rough mouth as he tried licking his lips, but no moisture …

 Miyano was talking but Sasaki didn’t think it was to him. The conversation, well the bits he could grasp, seemed one-sided at best.

  Bed

Puking

nightmare

Shower

Fight scene?

Waking up next to Miya…

Sasaki sees bruise on Miyano, and it triggers him because he thinks he hurt him- he didn’t- crying…

Talks with Hirano because he’s dealt with Kagiura being ill a lot, and he knew he’s been to the A&E several times…

             Miyano had called Hirano in a panic.

“Look, here’s what you’re going to do. You’re going to get him up. I don’t care if he doesn’t want to. Get him up, throw him in the shower or the bath- it doesn’t matter. You need to try and cool him off. He might struggle- Kagiura always does with high fevers, but you need to keep him in the water- he’ll stop fighting you after a few minutes. Check his temperature in 10 minutes- if it hasn’t started to drop, even a little bit- take him to A&E or call for an ambulance. You got that, Miyano? 10 minutes.”

 “If it looks like his fever’s starting to drop, keep checking every fifteen minutes or so until you feel comfortable with the change. Keep pushing fluids but try to do it slow enough that he doesn’t puke it back up… if he does, it’s not the end of the world. But if his fever starts dropping, and he still can’t keep anything down or his mood hasn’t changed like he’s still lethargic and stuff, call me back or take him to A&E. Clear?”

Water washed over him and for a ---- leaning his head against Miyano’s chest in the shower, his shirt gone, Miya’s heartbeat strong against his spine…. Water-

 Sasaki is terrified of hurting Miyano--- sisters words echoed in his head. You’re stronger than you think. You have to be mindful, otherwise if you’re not careful, you’re going to hurt someone you really care about.

 “Yoshik-”

“Shh, shut up, Sasaki. Just relax…”

 “We need to check your temperature,”

40.6. It was going down. Not significantly… but it was still going down, nonetheless.

 “You need to drink,” Miya said softly, pressing the bottle to Sasaki’s lips again, tipping it slightly, hoping the older boy would accept it this time. The older boy groaned, his head lolling against Miyano’s shoulder weakly before the 20-year-old tried again….

 “Shuumei, please, drink,”

 “I’m sorry, Miya. I’m really sorry.”

 “Let me help you- I want to help you.” You don’t feel well. And I want to take care of you. To make you feel better.

  Miya dominating was always surprising… but then again, Sasaki wasn’t exactly dominant.

 Although Miyano never reached Sasaki’s height, he still rested at a comfortable 5’8…

 Sasaki wouldn’t let him help him…

Please, let me help you. I want to help you!

Don’t w-worry, Mya-chan; I got it.

 “Hey, you’re shivering. Are you cold?”

Sasaki flinches when Miyano goes to touch him, and M pulls back. Instead he goes over the other side of the bed, sitting next to him…

“Can I touch you, Sasaki?”

“Is this okay?”

 “Isn’t it obvious…”

 Sasaki wasn’t as cautious or self-conscious as Miyano was. He was braver… cooler… Sasaki was protective over Miyano, so it was nice that Miyano could return the favor despite their current situation. Truth was, Miyano was better at caretaking than Sasaki was; the older boy tried, sure- and for the most part, Sasaki always went out of his way to make the younger feel better, but with Miyano- it just came naturally. He didn’t overthink it. But his mother was more nurturing than Sasaki’s was… his parents were more involved than Sasaki’s…

 Shuumei ()

 Sasaki stumbles, basically falling on top of Miyano

“Miyano!” Sasaki thrws himself against the wall, the pics against his weight, “Did I hurt you?”

“No! Sasaki! It’s okay, it just surprised me- It’s okay!”

 “I might be smaller than you and a little shorter than you, but I’m not fragile. I’m not made of glass… and I’m not going to break –

 I love you, Shuumei.

Again. Please…

    It caught me off guard.

Man, I wish I were cooler….

             His last month in high school, Sasaki had gotten into some trouble. Some serious trouble that almost cost him his graduation. Some trouble that made others in class, especially the younger classmen, afraid to approach the 18-year-old… because of Miyano. Because Miyano had done something stupid. Because he had acted stupidly.

Miyano had gotten into a fight; or at least, tried to break one up between four younger classmen. He hadn’t meant to get involved, honestly; but he’d been waiting for his boyfriend when he saw the fight break out. Three pitted against one. Against someone smaller than them, someone Miyano knew from one of his classes; quiet, reserved, kind. Someone that reminded him of himself… it wasn’t a fair fight. And the 17-year-old had tried to stop it. Had tried to help.

Maybe he thought that if he showed his face as their superior, their upperclassman, the bullies would fear disciplinary action and take off running. Or maybe he thought that because he was bigger than he’d been the previous year, taller, broader, he could help; step in line, shove the other kid away and tell him to run… something. But that’d been stupid. Idiotic.

He didn’t remember getting punched. Nor did he remember blacking out. But he remembered waking up on the ground, ringing in his ears as he fought to turn his head against the black dots eating away at his vision. Everything blurry, slow, out of focus; hard to piece together in one confusing fashion. His head hurt, the sharp ache lining his jaw, crawling up his cheekbone and landing, harshly, against his eye.

           He had tried sitting up, only to be pushed back down gently, someone telling him to stay down; the sharp ringing echoed through his head as he slumped against the wall, bringing a slow hand to his face. The movement was numb. Alien. Disorienting. He felt disconnected from himself, like his brain was lagging, taking longer to process what his body wanted.

           Red coated his fingers as he pulled his hand away, and he remembered throwing up. The harsh sound piercing through any blackness trying to pull him under, and Miyano winced as he dragged a dazed hand across his chin, smearing blood across his fingers and wrist. He felt strong hands pressed against his shoulders, yelling around him, screaming; slow movements of people crowding before him... and then…  

           His mind had caught up.

Everything hitting him with an overpowering realization as Ogasawara’s yelling reached his ears; Hirano’s panicked voice as he urged Miyano to stay down, saying something to Kagiura a few feet away. A blurry mass of upperclassmen; Ogasawara running behind Hirano, pulling someone up, shoving them away harshly; shouting something that Miyano couldn’t grasp yet.

 It took him a few seconds to register that Ogasawara was yelling Sasaki’s name; that he was telling him to stop…

 Sasaki had the boy by the collar, pinned on the ground, his knuckles bloody and busted as the older boy continued to beat the underclassman; Ogasawara wrapping his arms around the 18-year-old trying to pry him away from the barely conscious teenager, trying to pull the red-haired off him but Sasaki shoved him off, Ogasawara stumbling back, smacking against the wall.

 Sasaki wasn’t one to pick fights often; according to Ogasawara and Hirano, he wasn’t great in one. He could hold his own, sure, but he wasn’t great… and when he saw Miyano go down from across the yard, he just… lost it.

 He shouted something towards Hirano who turned, flying to his feet as Kagiura put a steady hand against Miyano’s shoulder. Hirano …. Pulling Sasaki away from him.

 Ogasawara

           Apparently when Miyano had gotten punched, he smacked against the brick wall, hitting his head, splitting it open. 17 stitches and a mild concussion.

             That’d been the only time Miyano had seen Sasaki lose control; had seen him as impulsive, selfish----

  Nightmare-

I-I’m scared of you, Sasaki. You scare me…

 Please, Mya-chan… don’t go…

You could never scare me, Shuumei.