#just gently squirming against their hug as I fail to keep up the tough guy wall aghdsdff eeee

[sensitivegoblin]

Ngl I'm not even craving tickles I'm craving the teasy talk

Abhfssff eeeee oh my gosh I just love the tickly giggly feeling I get when I get voice teases from friends like abjfssfff AHH

I'm such a sucker for verbal stuff it's why I can't brat, a voice just immediately makes me submissive and sensitive abhfsff🫠✨🦋

[debiteful]

Hey, when you’ve got time, think you could write a story about a predator, through inebriation, swallows someone about a third their size and don’t remember, and the story’s mostly about the prey’s attempts to get the predator’s attention over the course of a week while hijinks ensue? Preferably anthros, nonfatal, if possible?

Content: soft vore, safe vore, unaware female anthro owl pred, trapped male anthro dragon prey, drunk pred, struggles, exhaustion, minor belly bulge, pred in discomfort, descriptive internal, food in with prey, multiple stomachs, awkward end, secondhand embarrassment

Graffa woke up with a belch. She stretched and wiped drool from the corner of her mouth. She couldn't remember a single thing about last night. Well, that wasn't quite true. She remembered taking someone home with her- a dragon! The little fella has been an absolute hoot at the party.

She rubbed her eyes with clawed hands, then scratched a feathered forearm. She looked around, her head turning more than 180° thanks to her owl anatomy. Well, he didn't seem to be here now. She got up to get ready for the day.

Despite appearances, Herbert, the dragon, was still there. In a bashful, daring gambit he had convinced the far from sober lady to eat him whole. She had been clumsy about it, hands fumbling to stuff him past her beak and down her gullet. He had helped as best he could, wriggling in and not fighting the waves of contracting muscles.

From there he had slid into her first stomach. Its small capacity was stretched to its limits around his scaly body. It had made lovely gurgles and threatening growls as it filled with fluids which gushed around him. They stung his nose and eyes a little, but they couldn't do much else to his tough hide.

He could feel her patting or pounding at the bulge he made high in her abdomen. The repeated blows helped move him along, deeper into her digestive tract. One short squeeze through a sphincter sent him into her gizzard. This was much more spacious, the tough, smooth walls bulging only slightly around the little guy.

Suddenly he was squished firmly from one side. It felt like a tight hug, but in reality she had flopped into bed and passed out. When he tried to wriggle into a more comfortable position, the stomach walls flexed around him. Muscular folds clenched around a limb or his head, only to slowly release it after a.few moments. The entire gizzard shifted as the walls tried to grind him with little success. They relied on the enzymes to soften what came through, and those had failed to affect him.

It was there, in her second stomach, that Herbert now lay. After a restless night of a churning stomach, he was drowsy and limp. When he felt her move, he was startled into alertness. Now was his chance to get out! He squirmed weakly, legs kicking and sinking feet into squishy muscular walls.

She burped again, just a small one this time. She had gotten changed into clothes and was headed to the kitchen for breakfast. Oddly, she didn't feel too hungry. In fact, now that she thought about it, her stomach felt really strange. Was her gizzard doing backflips inside? 

She gave it a firm rub. He felt it- it was rather nice- and pushed out against where he felt it. Yes, she was noticing!

Graffa frowned as she felt her gizzard move. It sure felt firm. What had she eaten last night? If only she could remember- then she could avoid it. Whatever it was, it was making her awfully bloated. Fairly unappetized, she settled on a piece of fruit for breakfast. 

While she thought, her small meal made its way to the gizzard. Herbert didn't feel the food so much- it was all the same warm body temperature- as he felt the stomach respond. The entire thing clenched around him and began to grind at its contents. He groaned and tried to relax, not daring to resist the muscular organ's will as it squished him this way and that. Slowly but surely, whatever she ate became a paste. Then it easily slid into the next portion of her digestive system, unlike him.

She went over to the couch and flopped down. She smoothed her ruffled feathers and rubbed her aching belly. Maybe some TV would help.

While she relaxed, Herbert was finally able to doze off. It seemed the stomach was satisfied with her meager offering.

She changed position a few times, and eventually it jostled him awake. She was on the move again, this time getting a snack. Resting didn't seem to be helping, and eating hadn't hurt.

As mushy chips joined him, Herbert was now energized enough to cry out. "HEY! YOU! Uh- Graffa!" 

When he was only met with silence he wriggled his head closer to the outer wall and yelled, "You big feathered beaut! Let me out! I'm still in here!"

Between flesh, feathers, and a TV turned up to beat the sound of her crunching, he didn't stand a chance of being heard. He shouted and hollered until his voice was hoarse. The humid air trapped with him tasted slightly of salt.

He tried a few more times throughout the day with similar results. By evening he was reduced to whines and whimpers, "Please Graffa… hear me… let me out of here, I don't want to be a midnight snack…"

He coughed weakly. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't form a single word. So much for that.

The day after the next day, the owl was still feeling bloated. It was like a bowling ball had settled in her gut. No amount of rubbing or snacking or medication could soothe it for long. Whatever she had eaten to do this, she would certainly avoid it like the plague- once she figured out what it was.

She considered calling in to work briefly. Remembering the big meeting with her supervisor's supervisor ended that line of thought. Graffa knew she had to go to work. The drive was uneventful, and that heavy feeling in her gut didn't fade.

When she got there and sat down in the board room, she absently rubbed at it a bit.

When her boss' boss arrived, and the meeting began, trouble started. Herbert had finally gotten a few winks of sleep during her drive, but the movement to get into the building and sit down had brought him back to wakefulness. How had she not noticed him? It was time to make her notice.

The doll sized dragon kicked and failed as best he could. Her stomach reacted immediately, pushing back and growling. The more he moved, the louder her stomach noises got. Surely this would draw her attention. It might even make her stomach release it on its own.

He was not so lucky. Beneath her feathers she blushed hard as her stomach imitated a whale with its rumbling sounds. It was clear the boss had noticed, though he had the professionalism to say nothing. Maybe it was her place to?

During a lull in the conversation she cleared her throat, "Sorry about the ah- noises. Stomach's been feeling off all day."

"Well thank you for coming in anyway. I'm incredibly busy, as you know."

She nodded. Speaking didn't make her feel much better. Thankfully the meeting moved on from there. Even better, Herbert had exhausted himself. She made it through the rest of the day with little incident.

The unfortunate prey had a lot of time to think. How could he gain her attention? He certainly didn't want to live in here forever! Even if it was warm, and soft, and the walls embraced and just about massaged him. Whenever he thought about the nicer points, he found himself stroking the nearest fold of flesh. In different circumstances this would be a fantastic stomach.

It took him a whole day to think of another way to vye for her attention. As she sat down to supper, he wriggled into position.

She still hadn't found her appetite. As a result, meals were small and snacks were frequent. It was almost like something was taking up her stomach space rent free. She ate slowly, doing it more because she knew she had to than because she felt hungry.

As the sludge joined poor Herbert, he was jostled by the stomach walls. He squirmed to keep his position. His hand slid along the undulating wall beneath him until it found the place where the mashed food left. He plugged it with a hand. He yelped in surprise as it sucked in his arm a bit. All the better to keep the food out, he mused.

Graffa felt a cramp low in her belly as it clenched around his arm. She groaned and pushed at it, trying to move whatever it was along. Her probing rubs squished the walls against his arm and face, and she did succeed in pushing his arm deeper.

He yelped, "Hey! Careful! There's someone in here!" But the stomach drowned him out. All she heard was loud gurgles which rumbled across her abdomen.

Terrified of being sucked in entirely, he struggled to get his arm free. His free hand pushed and slid at the shifting walls while trying to brace to pull. The trapped arm wiggled back and forth. When he tugged on it, it pushed himself down against the bottom of the stomach.

The continual downward strokes from outside the stomach did nothing to help his cause. He struggled vainly for quite some time. At last, he was too tired to fight it anymore. He couldn't stop whatever would happen. He was almost too tired to feel terror at that prospect. Almost.

After making her way to bed much earlier than usual, Graffa belched. She grimaced as her gizzard cramped and another burp came up. The movements jerked Herbert upward, freeing his limp arm. They weren't enough to send him all the way up like he dared to hope.

Relatively free, he settled curled up inside her stomach. His numb arm was cradled gently against his chest.

They both drifted off to sleep with difficulty.

After the failure of his last attempt, Herbert was stumped on how to make her notice him. For days he just lay curled up in her belly, letting it churn around him. Nothing had worked. Maybe he would be stuck like this forever…

His salvation was a phone call.

One of his friends had been asking around when he didn't answer his texts. The sleuth had figured out that at last weeks party his pal had gone home with Graffa. Mutual friends of friends were able to get him her phone number.

Graffa answered the phone, "Hello? Graffa speaking."

"Hi. I'm a friend of Herbert's and I've been really worried about him. Do you know when he left your house? Assuming he made it there," he added grimly. He had had too much time to over think.

"No, I'm not sure actually. I haven't seen him since-" A memory of holding the little dragon in her hands popped up. She trailed off. Eyes slowly sank to her own belly. "Oh- I'll call you back maybe. I might know where he is."

"Wait can you-" She hung up.

With a grimace she poked at her belly, "Herbert..?"

His name rumbled around him. Heart leaping to his throat, he struggled hard, "Yes! YES! In here!"

Her amber eyes widened. At least- well, at least he was alive.

She scurried off for a towel then let him up and out with great effort. She rubbed him with the soft, dry towel while not daring to look at him.

He inhaled deeply, savoring the fresh air. His cheeks were hot, unsure if he should be explaining what happened. She felt much the same way.

They both awkwardly started, then cut off at hearing the other. He spoke up again, "I guess I should be going…"

She nodded mutely. As he tracked down his things from where they had been tucked out of sight, she just stared at the floor. Belatedly she remembered, "Hey, let your friend know you're okay- I assume you're okay?"

He nodded and left without another word.

[coffeeandmonbebe]

Stay

this is my first time writing for BTS so please be nice :( Yoongi’s my bias and I just watched a rude af fanmade music video of him and it made me feel things lol)

Synopsis: Yoongi comes and goes from your apartment throughout your secret relationship, but this night feels different. 

Characters: Yoongi x Y/N

Genre: smut, fluff, angst ish

Word count: 2,811

A/N: this is pretty lengthy idk why i got so carried away. I’m also pretty new to writing smut and I’m not used to writing rlly explicit content but I tried going over my comfort zone for this one. I’m super nervous about posting this but I HOPE YOU GUYS ENJOY!! 

He had just arrived from his lengthy tour in America. Another big hit song, another set of repetitive interviews with repetitive questions, another string of long, tiring, grueling nights. But meeting his fans was always a highlight. He smiled as he remembered his fans and their happy, bright faces. He always wondered and doubted how or why his presence could bring that much happiness and adoration. How did he get himself this far, and what his place was in the world besides being part of one of the biggest Kpop groups at present time. Sometimes he would feel lost amongst all the praise and fame. Sometimes he just wanted to get away from everything, away from the scrutinizing gaze of critics, his managers, and the media. In times like this, he would go to you.

               You hadn’t expected him the same afternoon of his flight back to Korea. It had been a while since the two of you have seen each other. It was always discreet, secret, hidden from the rest of the world. It was a dangerous game that the both of you were willing to play. For company? For warmth? For sex? Who knew. But you two couldn’t last two months without seeing each other at least once before the routine of his schedules, practices, and your relentless work hours took over.

                You heard a knock on your door. It was nearing midnight, and you opened the door a crack to see who it was. A familiar hoodie and a familiar pair of eyes startled you.

               “Yoongi?” Your brows furrowed as you stepped aside and let him in. He pulled back his hoodie and smirked, something you hadn’t seen in person for such a long time that your heart started to beat faster. “You just came back, how could—“

               He interrupted you with a hungry kiss, his arms already enveloping you like a cage you wouldn’t mind being trapped in. His lips tasted like mint and coffee, and your hands grasped his shoulders and the soft fabric of his jacket.

               “I’m sorry.” He almost whispered against your mouth in between kisses. “I couldn’t wait.” You felt his hands cup your cheeks as his tongue parted your lips and met yours. You pushed him away and glare at him, confused and panting.

               “Yoongi, you should tell me before you visit. Wasn’t that what we agreed on?” You lean on your table to steady yourself, nearly tipping over the mug of tea you just prepared, the steam steadily rising from it. “Why did you risk it, Yoongi? That was so stupid of you.”

               You knew the consequences of having a fling with someone of Yoongi’s status. You knew you had much more to lose than he did. And you knew that if a single hint of your relationship was discovered, the both of you would be over.

               Yoongi was taken aback, but shrugged and leaned against your front door, as if he anticipated your reaction.

               “I know…” he said, the guilt settling in his tone. “I know, Y/N. But I just…” He paused and searched for something to say. Some explanation behind this reckless decision. He knew it was out of character for him to do something so impulsive. He always made it a point to bring himself up as a collected, cool, calculating, and tough guy. That’s what he was known for. But the thought of you the second his plane touched down took over any voice of reason. He walked across the room and sat on your bed, clasping his hands together and leaning forward, elbows to his knees. “I don’t know what came over me.”

               You couldn’t settle for that answer and you stood still. Looking down at him from where you were. He knew how frightening this situation was for you. He should’ve known.

               “Come on.” Yoongi started to lean back, his arms wide and inviting you to embrace. “Come here.”

               You reluctantly moved closer, sitting next to him on your bed. Turning to him, you felt a lump on your throat as your emotions took over.

               “What if you got caught?” You hugged yourself and started to cry. His face didn’t relent, staying somber, his eyes looking into your teary ones. He didn’t move for a while, watching you as you sobbed quietly, letting the tears drip from your chin and land on your thighs.

               Finally, he moved forward and kissed away your tears, placing his lips all over your cheeks, your nose, and the corners of your mouth. “I’m sorry, Y/N.” He made you face him as his thumbs wiped away remaining tears. “I can leave right now if you want me to. I shouldn’t have…” His eyes move away from you, not being able to take how he was the reason behind your crying.

“I just missed you so much, Y/N. Every day, every fucking day I just wanted you. I couldn’t stand it all. I was so fucking tired, I was so done with everything. Shit…” There was emotion growing in his voice as it raised. He turned to face you again, his eyes locked on yours. “I just wanted to see you.” You felt your face get hot as you couldn’t keep your gaze away from his face, and he was frowning slightly in his frustration with himself. But his expression softened as he edged closer to you.

               “I wanted to touch you.” His hand slowly slid across your waist while the other brushed loose strands of hair behind your ear. “I wanted to kiss you.” He carefully leaned closer to you and your eyes fluttered shut, the anger, frustration, and fear melting away. His lips met yours again and kissed you gently. He felt you kiss back and you felt him smile as he lay you down, setting himself on top of you. He nudged your legs apart with his knee as he kissed you harder, your hands on his, pinning you down.

               “Still want me to leave?” He said as he pulled away from you, a teasing smirk showing his more playful side that you loved.

               “Shut up.” You fail to hold back a smile as you pull him down and kiss him passionately.

               You missed the taste of him, the taste of his tongue as it danced with yours, his breathing getting more ragged as you felt his heart beating faster through his sweater. You wrap your arms around him possessively as you kissed his neck, knowing very well it made him moan. He grunted and pulled your shirt up in a matter of seconds. You had nothing but an oversized shirt and panties on, and your exposed body met the cold air making you shudder. He grabbed hold of your breasts as he kissed your neck in return, teasing your nipples. He lowered his head to get a mouthful of your chest, making you squirm as you wrapped your legs around him tightly, already wanting more and feeling your underwear slowly soak in lust. Yoongi takes his hoodie off and he’s now topless, your arms coursing over his bare skin, your nails digging deeply into the back of his shoulders as he buries his face into the crook your neck, leaving wet sloppy kisses that would definitely leave marks. Outside your window, lightning flashes and you hear the sound of rain getting stronger.

               “Hips up, baby.” Yoongi’s voice is low and almost raspy as he kissed down your stomach and goes lower until his face is hovering above your sex. His fingers toy with the band of your underwear. You comply and raise your hips upward. He smirks and bites his lower lip, pulling your underwear down your legs and tossing it somewhere leaving you completely naked. You smile shyly as you look down at Yoongi’s piercing stare, his mouth centimeters away from your wet core. He smirks and shakes his head slightly, as if denying your needs, kissing your inner thigh instead of where you wanted him most. You moan in frustration, your hand reaching for his hair and gripping it. He continues to tease you relentlessly, his mouth and tongue everywhere around your inner thighs and outer lips. You couldn’t take it anymore, your legs locking around his head.

               “Alright, alright.” He chuckled as he lowered himself more, his arms wrapping around your waist as his mouth finally met your clit. He started licking you, making you throw your head back in pleasure and whimper. His eyes look up at you to watch your reactions and you look down at him, his penetrating stare almost too much for you as you felt his tongue enter in and out of you. He kissed your core, then your clit, licking it and setting you on edge. His grip on your hips tightened, his tongue moving your clit in ways he knew would make you come. But as he felt you were close, he stopped, smiling up at you. You sigh, your legs shaking from the intense sensation of being so close.

               “Not yet, baby.” Yoongi’s smirk disappears into your core again as he continues to eat you out. One of his hands slides under you and you feel two fingers penetrate you as his tongue moves to your clit. His two fingers curl up to the spot he knew so well. You yelp and grip onto Yoongi’s hair, prodding him to keep going. Yoongi looks up at you once again, your lust-lidded eyes meeting his.

               “This,” he gives your clit a kiss as his fingers thrust into you harder “this is all mine.” He sits up and keeps his eyes on you, his fingers getting faster and deeper. “Remember that.”

               He grunts as his fingers curl inside you once again and thrust even harder, making your moans louder. You grasp the sheets tightly, feeling your muscles tense up as he got you closer and closer to the edge. Seeing that you were getting close, he quickly bent down and licked your clit. You released, coming and letting out a cry as he pulled his fingers out of you and into his mouth. His nose down to his chin was wet with your arousal. Embarrassed, you sit up.

               “Your face…” you said softly.

               “It’s all you, baby. All you.” He smiled as he wiped away your juices and kissed you, tasting yourself on his lips. As he lays you down and caresses your side, he removes his pants and boxers, the both of you completely naked against each other. His dick was already hard and you pump it against your core.

               “I can’t take it anymore.” You whimper into his ear, your hips colliding with his. “I need you.”

               Yoongi pauses, another playful smile towards you as he slides the head of his penis along your drenched slit, up and down. You whine and keep your hips up. You kiss him hard and feel him slowly slide into you. The both of you moan, as you adjust to his size inside you. It had been months just thinking about feeling the sensation of him going into you again. You remembered lonely nights daydreaming about making love to him, the thought alone getting you off. And now he was here, kissing the life out of you as he thrust inside you slowly. You clung onto him wanting to be as close to him as possible, as if it were your last chance to ever grasp onto his strong back, the last time you could ever taste his mouth. Yoongi thrust even deeper, sitting up and grabbing your thighs on either side of him, his pace getting quick. You almost scream, his dick hitting the spot and setting you on edge again. He slowed his thrusts and kissed you.

               “Quiet. People might hear our dirty secret.” His whisper is low and his breath tickles your damp neck. He forced his fingers in your mouth as you moan into them, him pumping away and making you come for the second time. Your legs are up his shoulders, and he shudders and moans in the feeling he missed so much.

               “Ah, Y/N” sweat dripped from his hair to your nose. “You’re so t-tight. I missed that feeling so much…” his breathing begins to hitch as he thrusts his whole self into you. “It feels too good, ah…” He loses control of himself and groans, pulling himself out and flipping you over in one swift movement, making you gasp.

               “Go on all fours baby.” He whispers as you feel his body over your back.  You follow his order, bending over. He enters and begins pounding into you, the sound of skin on skin clapping and echoing in the room. Your moans turn into screams and he covers your mouth with his hand whispering sweet nothings behind your ear and kissing your back. You collapse not being able to take in the intensity of his thrusts, but his hips follow yours and continue to pound even deeper into you. He reaches in front of you and plays with your clit, making you release once again. He kisses your back and grips onto your waist.

               “Ride me, Y/N. I miss that.” His voice is shaky now, his panting sending shivers down your back. His grip on your waist is hard as he pulls you up and makes you sit on him. You kiss passionately as you slide down his length. The both of you moan at the same time. You rock your hips into his and he wraps his arms around your back, kissing your breasts and sucking purple marks into them, decorating you. You start feeling a bit stretched, having not made love to him in a while, and it felt so new. The pain felt good in a way.

               “Are you okay?” Yoongi pauses and caresses your cheek, all tensed up. You smile and kiss him.

               “I’m fine… I just feel a bit stretched. It’s been that long I guess.” You kiss his collarbone but his face is still somber with concern. You reassure him by kissing him again. His expression softens.

               “You’re so beautiful.” He whispers shakily as his hold onto your hips are firm. He thrusts upward and you gasp, you could swear you were seeing stars at this point. His thrusts upward start to pick up in speed, and you cling onto him for dear life. Your moans echo in the room, his name the only thing you can shriek. He kisses you to soften your moans. You gaze into his eyes as they gaze back, overwhelming emotion welling up your eyes. Yoongi’s thrusts grow rougher and harder. He groans and you feel him coming inside you. The both of you pant and ride out your orgasm. His hands slide up and down your arms tenderly. You slide down onto his chest, resting your head on it and feeling the rise and fall of his breathing, like coming in waves. He folds an arm under his head as the other is around your shoulders. You wish you could stay like this forever, the warmth of him something you prayed for every night. Like a sanctuary of some sort. You wish he felt the same. The look he gave you as you admired his face made you think that maybe, just maybe… he did.

               “Stay.” You said softly, holding onto his shoulders. But you knew the answer to your request. Whenever you asked this he would sigh, sitting up and putting his clothes back on, an apologetic smile as he explained why he wanted so much to stay but couldn’t. It was practice scheduled the next day. He was away for too long. Suspicion could rise. You would nod sadly but smile back, watching him open the door and give you one last look before leaving your small apartment. You gave him an expectant look, awaiting the two words he would always say back—“I can’t.”

               He turned to look at you, a look of tenderness and something like love all over his face. You felt yourself blush. He was supposed to be getting off the bed by now, stumbling over his shoes, slipping into his hoodie and buttoning his jeans. But he wasn’t.

               His thumb brushed through your lips and he kissed you. He was supposed to be muttering about his schedules and the pockets of free time he would be getting to be able to squeeze in a text or a quiet call for you, gulping down a glass of water while heading towards the door. But he wasn’t.

               “I love you.” He said, his intense stare prompting you to say “I love you” back. The two of you embrace, the warmth of his skin on yours comforting against the rain that started to grow softer and softer. The mug of tea lay still and cold on your table. He was supposed to be leaving by now. He was supposed to be looking at you one last time, sadness and regret in his face. He was supposed to be saying he’ll be back soon knowing that soon meant in a few weeks, maybe a month or two. But he wasn’t.

               “I’ll stay, Y/N.” Yoongi placed your head gently onto his chest once again, his eyes closing in comfort. “I’ll stay.”

[pippytmi]

eons late with a request from anon for baby playdates + supercorp, ft. single parents & bffs james and kara and their cute kids mike & marcus. (it’s mostly baby fluff)

"I'm—"

"Running late," James finishes. He sounds amused over the phone, and Kara can picture his wide grin he always fails to hide when he's trying to be mock-serious. "Hi to you too, Kara."

"Sorry, sorry," Kara sighs, shoving diapers and wipes into her bag and trying to figure out where she left Mike's pants. "It's been a crazy morning. Hi. Am I too late?"

"You are never too late to come by," James promises. "Marcus is still up. I know he can't wait to hang out with Mike again."

"And he will get to," Kara says. "Just let me—um. Wait. I'm still in pajamas."

James laughs. "It's okay. Playdate or no, you're always welcome. Even in your pajamas."

"I will not be wearing pajamas when I meet your boyfriend," Kara insists, finally realizing that Mike has been gripping his pants like it's his blanket. "Is he there yet? I wanted to be there before he got there!"

"Winn's not here yet," James says. "He got stuck in traffic. It's just me and Marcus."

"Good," Kara groans, picking Mike up and taking him into her room. He whines in protest when she sets him down in his crib, so she lets him chew on a teddy bear while she sets her phone on speaker and throws on some jeans. "Should I bring something? Wine?"

"To a playdate? They're a little too young for that, Kara."

"For Winn! I want to make a good impression." Kara tugs a T-shirt over her head and looks over at Mike. "What do you think, Mike? Too casual?"

He drools on his chin and Kara takes that as a yes. Unfortunately, she's loud enough that James hears her over the phone too.

"Kara. It's a playdate," James says. "It's supposed to be casual. It's just going to be us and Winn. Unless Lena's coming?"

"No, she's been—she has a huge case. She and Jess have been camped out at her office. She didn't even come home last night, you know. Mike missed her." Kara leaves off the part where she missed her, too. That's pretty much a given. "So should I bring something else? Potstickers?"

"I'm already ordering pizza."

"Perfect! Pizza and potstickers will be awesome. Right, Mike?" Kara clicks her phone off speaker and smushes it between her ear and shoulder as she scoops her son up out of his crib. "Okay, we are officially good to go! I'll call you when I get there?"

"You know where to find me," James jokes.

By the time they actually hang up, Kara has just been able to lock up and get to her car. Mike cries the instant she buckles him up. Even after the car starts up, he refuses to be calmed; Kara tries to give him his pacifier when they stop at a red light but he spits it out and continues to scream. Kara has to endure the stares of strangers in the parking lot for the Chinese food place when she unbuckles him and takes him out.

Of course, he decides to go quiet when she carries him into the restaurant. Then he's all smiles to the employees, giggling when they tickle his chin. He doesn't even want to sit as Kara waits for her order; she stands him up on her knees and he half-bounces, half-just-bends-his-knees, shrieking excitedly whenever people smile at him.

But when she gets her order and carries him back outside, he gets cranky again. Kara doesn't know if he's sleepy or hungry or something but it makes no sense because she fed him an hour ago, right after he woke up from a long nap. Maybe he's just restless with the heat; it is, after all, one of the hottest days of the summer.

He's still crying in the backseat when Kara finally gets to James's house. He latches onto Kara as soon as she picks him up, burying his face into her shoulder and sobbing pitifully. Kara is barely able to balance the bag of potstickers and the diaper bag, so she is unable to call James and let him know she's here.

She rings the doorbell and runs her fingers over Mike's back soothingly. She wishes she had called James because they stand there for a minute and he doesn't come to get the door; maybe Marcus needed a diaper change. She debates the pros and cons of reaching into her pocket for her phone, but at that moment the door swings open and Mike perks up.

It's not James. Kara takes a moment to look over who must be Winn, the boyfriend of three months that Kara has heard so much about. He has a nice, easy smile, and slightly messy hair that looks like he's run his fingers through it. He's dressed in a plaid shirt and khakis, definitely more put-together than Kara is, but he looks much more nervous.

"H-hey," he finally stammers. "I'm Winn. James's boyfriend. And you must be Kara! Right? Or, um," he swallows and asks, "Lena?"

"Kara," Kara says, beaming. She likes him already; anyone worried to impress James's best friend is a keeper. "I'd shake your hand, but I'm a little tied up at the moment."

"Oh, here, let me help you out," Winn says, scrambling to take the diaper bag and the potstickers. "That can't be light. And hey, this must be your son! Hi, little guy," he coos, slouching over so he's face-to-face with Mike.

Mike immediately spits in his face. Kara's horrified.

"Mike! We do not spit on people! I'm so sorry," Kara apologizes, embarrassed enough that heat creeps up the back of her neck. "He's not usually so....rude, I swear."

"It's okay," Winn says, wiping at his cheek and smiling wryly. "Tough crowd, am I right?" He doesn't seem upset. Slightly charmed, though, that's a possibility.

Kara follows Winn inside into the living room and sets a wiggling Mike down onto the carpet where Marcus, James's son, is already playing. James lights up when he spots Kara, immediately going to pull her into a hug.

"You made it!" he exclaims when he lets go.

"Yeah, late," Kara groans. "I was supposed to get here before Winn."

"You're here now and that's all that matters," James assures her, smoothing his hands over his shoulders and grinning widely. He looks so happy that Kara can't help but squeeze his arm somewhat giddily. Even though Lena's not here and Mike's fussy, Kara's mood always brightens when James smiles.

They sit down on the couch to watch the kids to play. Mike and Marcus have always had a close relationship; Marcus is a month older, adopted by James at that age around the same time Mike was adopted as a newborn, and they've essentially been raised like brothers. That also means they fight like brothers, because Marcus's way of greeting Mike is to snatch a toy out of Mike's hands.

"Marcus, buddy, you need to share," James says gently, taking the toy and handing it back to Mike. They're both unbothered by this new development; Marcus crawls away and Mike drops the toy and reaches for another.

The extent of their playdates is usually ignoring each other or fighting. But it's a time Kara loves, because she gets to hang out with James. And usually Lena, when she's not stuck in her office. Lena's been so busy lately it feels like Kara hasn't seen her in ages. Logically, Kara knows Lena is a hotshot lawyer and she has cases to deal with, but Kara also knows that she misses her terribly when she's not around.

Winn rejoins them shortly after bringing out the pizza (”Only one, I think the pizza guy cheated us out.”) and potstickers, which they set on the small coffee table. Mike crawls over and insistently holds his hands out until Kara picks him up and sits him in her lap, letting him lick the pizza sauce off her slice. Marcus is content to keep playing, but Mike is oddly clingy today.

"He probably just misses Lena," Kara sighs. "She's usually here on the weekends."

"Oh," James says. "She's not off yet? I texted her and told her you'd be here, if she got off early."

"Probably not," Kara says. "She called me this morning and said it was a pretty wild case."

Mike squirms, obviously wanting to be held, and James scoops him up. "Hey, who wants to go exploring?" he announces, hoisting Mike up on his shoulders. Mike screams excitedly, kicking his legs as James carefully walks off with him.

"Marcus does! Right, buddy?" Winn says, picking up Marcus and mirroring James's actions. Marcus is less excited to be up so high, eyes wide and panicked as Winn follows James out to where they're exploring the kitchen.

Kara rests her cheek on her hand and laughs, watching them. Mike loves it, stretching his arms out to touch cabinets. Marcus eventually starts to cry, so Winn lowers him and carries him around instead.

Then the doorbell rings.

"Hey, maybe it's the pizza guy again!" Winn calls. "He totally forgot one of our pizzas. Domino’s is more cutthroat then I thought.”

"I'll get it," Kara says. She takes out her wallet, intending to pay for the forgotten pizza as she swings open the door. "Sorry for the mix-up, I'm—" her words die off when she actually looks up, the twenty-dollar bill in her hand fluttering to the floor. "You're not the pizza guy."

Lena looks exhausted. Her makeup is smudged and her shirt is wrinkled but the real giveaway is her eyes; she looks like she's about to fall asleep on James's porch. "Sorry to disappoint," she says. "Do you want me to go get a pizza?"

"No way." Kara pulls Lena into her arms and sinks into the embrace, burying her face into Lena's neck even though her glasses press uncomfortably against her face and she knows they're pressing hard into Lena's skin.

Lena doesn't seem to care, though. She hugs Kara back tightly, so tightly, like she's going to slip through her fingers and disappear. "I missed you," Lena murmurs against Kara's cheek. "Is that dumb?"

"I missed you too," Kara says. "So then we'd both have to be dumb."

"I saw you yesterday," Lena says. She eventually lets go of Kara, but it's just to run her thumb lovingly over Kara's chin, still so close that their foreheads are almost touching. "But it feels like it's been longer."

"Yeah," Kara says. She wants to add that that is a little dumb. They're not even in their honeymoon stage anymore. They've been dating for almost a year now and they should be used to being apart but it just hasn't worked. Even in the early days—when Kara just adopted Mike and their relationship was tentative—they found it hard not to be together.

"I should go home." Lena bites her lip, obviously worried. "I haven't been there in a few days."

(Is that true? Has Lena essentially moved into Kara's house at this point?)

"Right, your apartment," Kara says, nodding. "Your plants are going to die."

"I don't have any plants."

"And all the flowers I get you? They count!"

"They're already dead," Lena laughs. Her laugh is the most beautiful sound in the world. (Kara's biased, but she knows beauty when she hears it.)

"Well if your flowers aren't dying," Kara says, "you should come in so you can sleep. Have you slept at all?"

"I slept...a little."

"That didn't even sound convincing."

Lena looks like she wants to argue, but she lets herself be led inside anyway, intertwining her fingers with Kara's and trying to look mad. The look melts away the second she spots Mike, though, because then she's near tears and Mike spots her and shrieks, stretching his arms out and nearly squirming out of James's grip.

(Kara watches her girlfriend tenderly cradle her son and knows she's going to marry that girl someday. It's just a given.)

[holisticdeductions-blog]

I saw a text post about Dirk refusing to let the Blackwing people take his Mexican Funeral shirt and I wrote this

"Not now." The auburn haired man groaned, as his eyes met those of the new face of Project Blackwing. He bit his lip, as the other man hadn't moved yet, he just stood and smirked. Dirk had to decide if he was going to run, and he had to do it quick. Without much more thought, the holistic detective took off into the opposite direction, and just as suspected the CIA agent was quickly on his tail. It didn't take long for Friedkin to catch up to Dirk, and he grabbed the lankier man. "I don't have time for this today, please leave me alone." He almost begged, trying to get out of the stronger man's grip. The agent just laughed, and half dragged him down the sidewalk. The holistic detective felt his heart rate increase, he was terrified, he didn't want to /ever/ go back to HQ, especially now. "Todd! Farah! Anyone!" He yelled, still attempting to squirm away from Friedkins' hold. The CIA agent chuckled, and Dirk felt the barrel of a gun poke his ribs. "If you don't shut up, I will not hesitate to shoot you." Friedkin mumbled, just loud enough for him to head. The psychic gulped and nodded. Friedkin then held Dirk against the van, easily cuffing his hands behind his back. "Ouch." He mumbled, as the agent pushed him into the back of the van. He heard a click, and his cuffs were attached to the wall. "Guess these guys are rouge wall enthusiasts." The holistic detective chuckled to himself, earning weird looks from the other two agents who were sitting in the back with him. Friedkin got up in the drivers' seat, and they were off. Dirk could feel panic bubbling inside his body, but one of the things being a detective taught him that freaking out isn't a smart move, he held back the urge to completely lose it, stuffing old Blackwing memories back into the basement of his brain. Maybe if he was annoying enough they'd let him go. "You know this is a mistake." He began, and cleared his throat. "The universe isn't going to be happy with you, it'll send you bad karma." Dirk added, in his best attempt to sound tough and assertive. The van took a sharp turn, he yelped and fell back on his bum, and he didn't bother to try and reposition himself. "When my friends notice I'm gone they'll call the police, cause you bloody wankers just hauled me off the street! Yeah that's right, they know about you. I have no secrets with them." He said, then remembered that these guys are CIA so that wouldn't actually work, but they didn't need to know he bluffed. His stomach twisted and turned with anxiety, but he had to keep it down, and continue being assertive. "You know, taking people into vans against their will is a huge turn off to ladies." He laughed, and gave himself a high five through the cuffs. Dirk saw Fridkin's eyebrows rise from the rear view mirror. "Oh my god do you ever stop talking?" He half growled. "Um no not really, you're not the first person to ask me that." The holistic detective replied with a chuckle. Friedkin gave one of the other agents a look, and they nodded. The female agent took out a roll of duct tape and quickly placed it over Dirk's mouth. "Much better." The agent driving laughed. The psychic's body began to shake, he was now disarmed. Flashbacks that he had managed to push away for sixteen years came flooding into his brain all at once, and they fought for a feature. Images of Dirk's past at the HQ flashed into his thoughts. He knew he couldn't panic, especially since they were almost back. He had to look and feel courageous, so that once he was armed again, his weapon of wit was ready to fire again. He felt a lump in his throat. /c'mon Dirk fight back./ He thought of Amanda, Farah, switching Lydia back, escaping a burning house, hugs, laughter, playing music., crawling in windows... Todd. This time going into Blackwing, Dirk Gently wasn't alone, and he knew that his friends would come find him, and get him out of that hell hole for good. Dirk felt his anxiety decrease, though it wasn't fully gone. He felt the van stop, and two sets up hands dragging him out of the vehicle and up on his feet. Friedkin ripped the tape off. "Ow, do you enjoy hurting others?" The holistic detective asked him, as the agents lead him towards a door. "You're just a wimp." The 'macho' agent scoffed in reply. "Am not." He pouted. "I honestly feel bad for Riggins, cause he got stuck with you." The female agent laughed. "You're a funny man, Icarus, but Riggins is no longer with us." At that, Dirk felt his stomach drop. If the old man wasn't leading the project, than who was? "How many times do I have to tell you, that's not my na-." He was cut off by the opening doors. His blue eyes scanned the area, and his body started shaking again. The bad memories Dirk has been working so hard to erase all came back in a storm of furry. He tried to break away from the agents, but they just held him tighter. It was useless. He then came face to face with a woman. "Hello, welcome home Project Icarus." She greeted with a grin. Dirk shook his head, this place was and never will be his home. "It's hardly a welcome or a home, and my name is Dirk.... who are you?" He tried to keep his voice from cracking, but he failed. The strange woman smiled in response to the lanky male's fear. "Yeah whatever Icarus." She completely ignored what Dirk said. "I'm Wilson, and I'm now in charge of this project." All of a sudden, the holistic detective felt like he was shrinking. "Wilson please, this project has failed and I'm not causing any harm, just let me go." He fell into panic mode, and was holding back tears. "I can't do that." The boss replied with a smirk, then nodded to the agents and they dragged Dirk towards a cell. When he got out sixteen years ago, he was under the impression that he'd never have to see this place again. "Let me go! I'm harmless. Please, I have friends now! And work to do! I have a life! Let me out of here!" His cries were useless, and the agents took off his cuffs, and pushed him into a cell, locking it quickly. Dirk was terrified, he hasn't felt this scared in sixteen years, even when the Rowdy 3 used to feed off his psychic energy, or all the times he almost died during the Lydia Spring case, or when Todd said he didn't want to be friends anymore. He sat on the bed, and brought his knees to his chest. "You'll be okay Dirk, it'll be fine." He told himself between sniffs. "Look at little Icarus all alone." Wilson taunted, looking into his cell. "Where's your group of stupid weirdo friends now?" She laughed, and ran a hand through her hair. "They'll find me, and destroy this place once and for all." He replied, his voice a mixture of yelling and crying. "No they won't!" The boss answered in a sing song voice. A pair of clothes that looked like something a hospital patient would wear dropped from an opening in the ceiling beside him. "Since you're staying for a while, you might want to get comfortable". Wilson laughed. Dirk shook his head, there was no way he was changing out of what he has on. He's wearing Todds' old band shirt, and it gave the psychic an odd sense of comfort and hope. "No." He replied, and tried to look the evil woman in the eyes. "Or else." Wilson chuckled, and grabbed some kind of metal pole thing. She clicked a button, and bright blue sparks came out of the top. The holistic detective gulped, he's already been thrown around enough today. He sighed in defeat, and took off his pants, jacket and shirt. He was now standing in his boxers and undershirt. He put on the other clothes, and looked in the mirror with a sigh. "Good boy." The boss smiled, and in a moment of anger, Dirk gave her the middle finger. /something he learned from Amanda./ "I'm a human, you wanker." He spat. Wilson gasped. "You can't throw such gestures and speak like that to me, Icarus." A vacuum from the ceiling sucked up his clothes, but he just grabbed Todd's shirt and held onto it tightly. "Let it go Icarus." "No." "If you don't, I'll..." "I don't care. Dirk moved away from the vacuum and sat on the floor. His eyes filled with tears again. Blackwing had already taken him away from his new life, he wasn't about to let Todd's shirt, the one thing that gave him an odd sense of comfort and hope, be taken too. "Okay then, I didn't want to do this the hard way but." Wilson said, and Dirk's cell door opened. Two muscular security guards came in, one grabbed the holistic detective by his waist and the other tried to pry the shirt out of his hands. "Stop please, I need this." Dirk felt weird saying that he needed an old shirt, but if he was to keep his weapon (his chatter and wit) full of amo, he needed this hope and comfort. The guard shook his head, and kept pulling on the shirt. He didn't care that tears were falling, or that the guards and Wilson are witnessing him cry. He wasn't about to give up this shirt without a fight. He kicked the guard. "You'll. Have. To. Take. This. From. My. Dead. Body." He sniffed. The guard quickly regained a hold of the shirt and it ripped. "You cock!" Dirk cried, as he used all his strength and energy to try and keep the guard from taking the other piece of Todd's shirt. Wilson and Friedkin were watching from the other side of the glass. "What's with Icarus and the shirt?" The boss asked the agent. "It's his friend, Todd Brotzman's." Friedkin answered. "Todd Brotzman huh? Interesting." Wilson chuckled, and with that they went to her office, while Dirk was still panicking and fighting for the old band shirt.