#she’s got a long ass neck and a lanky body if you’ve ever seen one

[lynxfrost13]

I know that in terms of art the stuff I’ve been doing lately hasn’t been my best (which is ok! I personally knew it wasn’t my best) but I really have been wanting to explore and try new things even if I am not immediately good at them (something I struggle with) and although it’s super frustrating at times, I am having a blast! I’m learning how to draw people because humans and humanoids are something I have ALWAYS hated drawing because I wasn’t naturally good at them. I’d appreciate any beginner tips on drawing people! Anyways here’s a quick bust of my lady Ro’wynne

[hotwings0203]

I JUST SAW FIGHT CLUB AND HOOOLLYYY-

Bro could you IMAGINE FightClub!Bakugo?

Tw:noncon, language, harassment

Okay okay get this: you’re down in the basement listening to the usual men holler and punch each other around while you do your job as their cute little “accountant”. While many of them have good jobs and a real life, the actual members don’t have time or the intellect to juggle the numbers and money around as fast as you can. You’ve been coming here for a while now, and you’re used to the jeers and wolf-whistles coming your way since you’re basically one of the few or only women who dare to come down here.

But there’s one fighter who just can’t seem to take no for an answer.

Bakugo fucking Katsuki.

The man is ruthless, he’s relentless, he’s a force to be reckoned with on the battlefield. You swear he’s had to have taken a shitload of steroids in his youth, otherwise how else could he have built up that much muscle? There’s no way an average gym-goer has that kinda build.

He’s always the first and the last one out in the rink, swaying back and forth with his fists up, a twisted grin on his face that was so reminiscent of a wolf before it lunges for its prey.

It usually took more than two men to pull him off the unconscious bodies that he had just beaten to a pulp, effectively breaking one of Fight Clubs Rules: get up when someone is down.

But he’s too good to let go, no one has the balls to tell him to take his money somewhere else since they’re all scared shitless of him.

Which leads him to believing that he’s practically a god down here, that he can conquer anything: including you.

No one really calls it harassment because no one really cares. What’s so wrong in a guy having a little crush? What, you came down here seeing all this testosterone but you can’t deal with it yourself? Don’t be a prudish bitch.

“Bakugo, I’m at work right now, I don’t want to.”

“C’mon toots, this ain’t even real work, you’re just fumblin’ my hard earned cash.” He grins slyly and crosses his bulging muscular arms, leaning against the doorway of the little office you’re given to work your magic.

You turn in your rickety seat and glare at him, ignoring the way he licks his lips and lets his eyes roam all over your body. “If I’m so shit at my work then go somewhere else and stop bothering me.”

He chuckles in his baritone voice and shakes his head at you. “Naw, can’t do that sweets. If I did then I’d never be able to see your pretty face again now, could I?” Bakugo leers at you and you turn your face in disgust.

“I don’t wanna go out for lunch, or ever with you. Now get out before I have to call someone in here.”

“Oh, is that so?” He uncrosses his arms and steps through the threshold, his body growing larger and more menacing as he slowly draws closer to you. Luckily a fight had broken out near the office months ago so there was no more door from the aftereffects, but that didn’t mean you felt safe even with open space.

“G-get out. I’m serious, Bakugo-“

“-Call me Katsuki, angel. And you don’t really mean that, do you? Look at you, you can barely look me in the eye when you say such mean things.” His voice drops an octave as he comes to stand in front of your seated form, towering above your wide eyes, clenched fists and trembling figure.

He leans down and you flinch and gasp as his breath ghosts over your face. He places both arms on either side of your chair so you have nowhere to look but him.

“You’re such a nice breath of fresh hair down here, through all the blood and violence. You’re like a flower...” he tucks a stray hair behind your ear and breaths out a laugh when you turn your head and squeeze your eyes shut.

“A flower, so fragile...a flower that smells so fucking good...” you feel like you can’t properly breathe as he leans in next to your ear and inhales deeply.

“A flower waiting to be deflowered herself.”

“What’s going on here?” A lanky body in the doorway appears.

Bakugo pulls back and turns his head ever so slightly towards the dude, growling under his breath at the interruption.

“We’re in the middle of something here, so you can just get the fuck ou-“

“-Well, it doesn’t really look like she’s into whatever you’re doing,” the man scoffs and takes in your pale face and shaking hands.

Bakugo stands to his fullest height, almost neck and neck with the man at the door.

“Yeah? I didn’t hear a complaint from her.” He cocks his head and stretches, allowing his muscles to ripple with each movement, something that didn’t go unseen by your much skinnier savior.

But he doesn’t back down. He only swallows and rubs the back of his neck.

“Well, we’re all being called out to put our bets in for the next match anyways, so you better come out before we get our asses kicked.”

The blond grumbles about weak men and no balls, then casts a dark look at your frozen figure before shouldering past the man at the door, almost knocking him down.

As soon as he’s out of your line of vision, you exhale and relax into your seat.

“You okay?” The fallen soldier scrambles back up and cautiously approaches you, looking over your body in a way that didn’t remind you of Bakugo undressing you with his eyes...rather, it was a protective, and worried once-over.

“Yeah, he’s just...a lot to handle sometimes. Doesn’t know when to quit.” You laugh shakily and run a hand through your hair.

“No wonder the dude’s a menace. He’s used to getting what he wants, I guess.” The man acknowledges this grimly, and for the first time you’re relieved that finally someone hasn’t turned a blind eye to your harassment.

“Are they really calling us down for bets?”

“No, I just said that to get him off your ass. Didn’t seem like you liked whatever he was doing.”

You give him a wobbly smile and he returns it.

“Sooo we should probably run before he comes back up here, right?”

“Oh most definitely,” you actually giggle before leaping out of your seat and joining the man to bound up the steps two at a time to freedom.

You both end up bonding pretty well over the weeks, even going out for coffee and lunch dates here and there. You’ve come to really like him, his shyer demeanor more than a majority of the ragtag men down in the basements, his chivalry refreshing to you amongst the blood and foul language thrown around the ring.

You feel like a woman with him, not some piece of ass like you were used to.

Bakugo noticed all this, of course. You started avidly avoiding him, ducking your head down and hiding behind your new ally before he could open his coarse mouth and stalk towards you. He couldn’t find you in your dingy office anymore either, because your savior was up in a cafe doing the calculations with you, laughing away about the latest matches.

That has to change. Effective immediately.

“Yo, newbie. How you been? Haven’t seen you fightin’ here for a while,” Bakugo claps his meaty hand on the scrawny guy’s back, nearing sending him toppling over.

“Yeah, y’know, just haven’t been feeling it lately.” He rubs the stinging feeling away from his sore shoulders and side eyes the blond suspiciously. He had seen firsthand just how bad-news of a guy he was, and he didn’t wanna get caught up in all that.

But Katsuki wasn’t just all brawn. He had some brains, too.

“Look, I know I prolly gave off a weird first impression with Y/N back then. But it’s all in good health, ‘was just messin’ around like I always do.”

“Yeah, sure...”

“How ‘bout we get some coffee or somethin’? You seem like a solid dude, plus we got shit in common to talk about.”

Like fucking around with my bitch.

“Uh, you sure? I kinda’ wanted to see the last fight,” he trails off unsuredly, scratching his jaw as Katsuki steers him away from the growing crowd.

“There’ll always be fights, man. I wanna show you that I’m a nice guy.”

Bakugo Katsuki was not a nice guy.

And everyone knew that too, which is why when some shifted to give the duo a curious glance he met them with a death glare. Any gazes locked on Katsuki’s hand wrapped around the lanky guy’s shoulders were immediately casted down.

You didn’t see your savior for a while.

It had been two weeks since he mysteriously disappeared from his usual place in the outskirts of the crowd, because unbeknownst to you, a certain fighter was keeping him away from you and convincing him to have a friendly brawl over lunch.

You only found out about it on a Friday night, when a crowd much bigger than before was gathered in the dim basement, voices hushed and whispering.

“What’s going on? Why’s everyone so quiet?” You whisper to one of the usuals.

“‘Heard Bakugo’s fighting some dude that was handpicked by himself. He somehow managed to convince the poor bastard to have some kinda’ match with him.”

You felt your heart sinking.

“Who did he pick?”

“‘Dunno, some skinny guy, a newbie I think. Hasn’t been around for too long so I guess he doesn’t know how big of a monster he’s gonna be beaten by.” The groupie shrugged, and you felt the blood drain from your face.

Without saying another word, you spun around and started running around all over the place looking for either of the two.

You end up stumbling into the men’s bathroom, desperate beyond salvation to stop this bloodbath.

He’s there, he’s at the urinal and he yelps when he hears you barge in. You avert your eyes and let his adjust himself as he sputters indignantly.

“Y/N? What’re you doing in here? This is a men’s-“

“Don’t fight him.”

“What?”

“Don’t fight Bakugo, please, he’s gonna kill you, I know he is-“

“-Calm down, what’re you so worked up about? C’mon, I would’ve thought you’d had a little bit more faith in me to be able to stand my ground.” He teases you but you don’t find it funny, on the contrary you’re terrified out of your mind for his life.

“Did he put you up to this? How could you fight him, you’ve seen what he does to the other guys in the ring!”

“Well yeah, but he knows not to go that hard on me. Actually, he’s not that bad of a guy, we’ve gotten some drinks for the past two weeks and I was wrong about him.”

You gape at him. “Wrong? You saw how he cornered me that one day!”

He shrugs, not put off by the distant memory. “The guy just came back from a fight, he still had testosterone going through him. You can’t blame him for wanting to let a bit of it out, right? You should really give him a chance y’know, he talks about you all the t-“

But you can’t hear anymore, this is madness, there’s barely 10 minutes left until they’re going to call the two down for their death match. You need to find the source of this problem firsthand.

And somehow, a little voice inside your head tells you exactly where you know he is.

You round the corner to your office and there he is in all his glory, seated like a king on your chair, leaned back with his knees spread, carelessly looking through your bank statements and bet papers.

He barely looks at you as he says, “Oh there you are, I was starting to think you’d miss the show.”

You sink to your knees.

He looks up at that.

With a tight chest and burning eyes, your dry throat barely permits you to choke out, “Bak-Katsuki, please, please don’t do this. Please don’t fight him.”

He cracks his neck and leans forward, regarding you with dark vermilion eyes. He looks your position over appreciatively before speaking.

“Why not? He’s so good and great isn’t he? I’m just trying to show you how right you were, after all. I’m sure he’s got a fair chance of beating me.”

You shake your head vigorously, knowing what he’s playing at.

“No, no, you’re better, please. I was wrong about him, I shouldn’t have been friends with him, please don’t fight him Katsuki I’ll do anything-“

“-Oh you’ll do anything I say regardless of if I beat him to a bloody pulp or not. You wanna know why?”

You can barely contain a whimper as he stands and walks over right in front of you, his bulging crotch mere inches away from your face.

He suddenly grabs your hair and you cry out before he yanks your head up to meet his cold eyes.

“Because no one in here is gonna say shit to me. I run things here, toots. And if you want your little boy toy to live through today, you’re gonna watch every blow I give to him, and you’re gonna kiss the fucking knuckles I beat his face with. Got that?”

You sob as he grinds his clothed erection against your tear-streaked face, sniffling when he moans loudly and bucks into your open mouth.

A loud knock on the bare hinges stops Bakugo from pulling the front of his shorts down.

You both turn your heads and see a red-faced side-liner looking down and mumbling something about the match starting.

“‘Be there in a minute. Tell the guys to give my girl here a special front-row seat to this match, she’s gonna wanna see her man win, after all.”

The runner scampers off, leaving you both alone.

He bares his teeth down at you and you cower under his painful hold, the roots of your hair ripping from their strands.

He eventually tosses your head to the side after a few seconds of staring you down, and the second he does you clutch your sore cranium.

“I better see you down there in a minute sweet thing. You gotta get used to it anyways, since you’re gonna be getting accustomed to my rituals before and after matches.”

[shewhohangsoutincemeteries]

lay over

Peter Quill x Reader

Prompt: “am i your lock screen?” “you weren’t supposed to see that.”

Requested by: @starlord7555​

Summary: five years after the battle of earth, you are helping run the avengers and find yourself looking forward to every brief visit the team gets from your galactic counterparts.

Warnings: smut, fluff, vaginal sex, oral sex (female receiving), shower sex, unprotected sex, sexual over-stimulation, adult language,

Word Count: 4,099

Got a Request? Prompt List: here

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a/n: full disclosure, I have not proof-read this but I’m too tired to do so and overdue on posting. Enjoy :)

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“You know, I could spend every day for the next ten years training my ass off, but I still don’t think I’d ever actually win one of these no-powers-allowed fights.” you pointed out jokingly as you pushed yourself back up off the floor, having just been knocked on your ass by Peter Parker. You brushed a few wayward strands of hair out of your face with the back of your hand, and he bounced happily on his heels as the two of you caught your breath. “Not while you’ve got those super-special-spidey reflexes playing in your favor.”

He grinned back at you, one corner of his mouth rising in a crooked, charming smirk. There was a faint sheen of sweat on his brow and the same was darkening the collar of his shirt and the curls of his hair. The two of you had been sparring for the last hour and a half, and you knew you looked worse than he did.

“No, but it’s cute that you keep trying,” he replied in an easy taunt. His smile widened when you rolled your eyes at him, and he laughed cheerfully before conceding, “Your reaction time is getting better.”

“Thanks.” The two of you began trading blows again, and you flinched away when he landed a hit on your shoulder. “How do they not count as a superpower, by the way?”

Peter shrugged, ducking under a wide swing you threw, using the movement to sidestep and get behind you. You turned quickly on the ball of your foot, catching him by surprise with a spinning kick. ‘It’s not like I can turn them off. Besides, I don’t need them to kick your ass.”

The two of you were dressed for training, and at twenty-one, Peter Parker was a more capable opponent than ever. His shoulders had broadened slightly in the last five years, his muscles more defined and his hair worn a little longer. Still, he had the same almost lanky frame, and the same soft, disarming features he’d had when you’d first met him.

You’d been the same age before the Blip, and he’d been the one to introduce you to Tony Stark and the rest of the Avengers before Thanos’ attack after he’d caught you using your abilities at school. Hell, it was his heightened senses that had tipped him off about you in the first place. But he’d disappeared during the Blip and you had remained, aging five years before you got to see him again. It had been more than a little disconcerting for him when he’d returned. Still, despite that adjustment you were as close a pair of friends as ever, and as some of the longest serving members of the Avengers, you spent a lot of your free time together.

You were living at the compound full time, leading the team alongside Sam and Bucky. Peter was attending classes at NYU and still living with his aunt, but he was at the compound at least three times a week, often working out of the labs Tony had set up with him years ago to upgrade and experiment with tech. the only person he might have spent more time with lately than you might have been Bruce.

“Don’t get cocky, web-head.” you snarked back at him as the two of you circled each other slowly, eyeing his movements warily. Peter had been thoroughly beating you for the entire training session, but only just. His heightened reflexes meant that he would always beat you in a fight where you couldn’t use your abilities, but you’d spent the last two months focusing on your hand-to-hand combat with Bucky, and it showed. “You know I’d destroy you in a real fight.”

“Oh, c’mon. We’re like fifty-fifty.” he argued, dodging another kick you aimed at him. It was true; your abilities might make you hard to pin down and give you a definite edge in a fight, but his spider-sense meant he was able to keep up. It also made the two of you a hell of a pair in a battle. “And I’ve got some new tech you haven’t seen yet.”

“Ooh, color me intrigued.”

“I’ll show you la—” he stopped suddenly, straightening and turning towards the windows. “EDITH?”

“Nothing to – A ship has just entered the atmosphere above us.” the A.I. corrected itself midsentence calmly.

“That spidey-sense of yours never ceases to amaze, Pete.” you told him as the two of you moved to the windows. Picking something up before EDITH’s sensors was impressive to say the least. You both craned your necks to watch the sky, and a smile slowly grew on your face as a ship came into a view.

“Did you know they were coming?”

You shook your head, eyes still on the sky. “I haven’t had an alert over the comm system in weeks, not even from Wakanda. EDITH, send a message out to everyone on the current residential list; tell them to expect company when they get home. And contact FRIDAY; I’m sure Pepper will want to bring Morgan by once school lets out.”

“Right away.”

Peter rolled his eyes in amusement as he watched you bounce in place. “You really have no chill when it comes to this guy, you know.”

“Shut up, Parker,” you shot back. “You’re just worried you’re my second favorite Peter.”

You winked at him cockily as his mouth fell open in mock-offense. You pointed finger guns at him, snapping your fingers and disappearing with a muted popping sound. You reappeared in the same second, now standing at the front door downstairs. You could barely make out Peter’s answering bellow as he came thundering down the stairs after you, no doubt exasperated at your sudden teleportation. You heard a dull thump; rather than take the time to walk down the stairs, he’d clearly jumped the rail to the landing below.

“I better not be!”

***

Peter Quill was one of the last to saunter out onto the lawn from the ship, a cocky smirk on the edge of his lips and his eyes squinting against the afternoon sun. The light caught in his hair as he joined the other Guardians on the grass, blonde shining honey gold. He closed his eyes for a moment, inhaling a long breath of air of his home planet. His smile broadened as he opened his eyes and caught sight of you, stepping out of the main building, Peter Parker by your side.

You cast a brief glance over the rest of his team, your gaze lingering on Gamora for a moment. She stood beside her sister, her expression a polite kind of friendly. She nodded in greeting when she caught your eye, and you turned gaze back to Quill. “This is unexpected.”

He shrugged a shoulder, stepping forward until he was barely three feet from you. “We were in the area,” he replied easily, and Rocket scoffed beside him, rolling his eyes.

“No, we weren’t.” Drax corrected him, genuinely confused by Quill’s claim. “You said you wanted to see Y/N.”

Quill rolled his eyes in exasperation. “Drax, c’mon, man.”

Your lips quirked to one side in amusement. “You could have let us know you were coming.”

“Why, you got plans?”

Your teeth caught your bottom lip as your smile widened, and you jerked your head toward the man standing beside you. “Peter was going to show me some new tech, but I’m sure he’d prefer Rocket’s opinion.”

The raccoon’s ears flicked forward in interest; his eyebrow cocked. “Yeah?”

Peter nodded, an almost boyish excitement lighting his features. And despite Rocket’s brash, dismissive attitude towards Earth’s current level of tech, he was always more than happy to offer his opinion and advice to your crime-fighting partner – even if it came with a healthy dose of sarcasm and derision. “I’ve been playing with some new ideas, working on my own version of those suspension traps you showed me last time. Wider range, triggered by sudden displacement and reappearance of body heat.”

You smacked his arm. “You sneaky son of a bitch. That’s how you were going to beat me?”

“You and anyone else faster than me,” he shot back with a wink.

You rolled your eyes at him. “Oh, honey. I’m still gonna find a way to kick your ass.”

“Now who’s getting cocky?”

You snickered, shaking your head and turning to head back into the building. The Guardians followed after you, and both Peters fell into step close behind you. “Help yourselves to anything in the kitchen, and you’re welcome to any of the amenities on the grounds. If you need supplies, give the list to EDITH; she can have pretty much anything delivered from the city within the hour.”

“Mr. Barnes and Mr. Wilson are on their way back to the compound now,” the A.I. announced coolly as you came to stop in the foyer. “Dr. Banner should be here by nightfall. I took the liberty of notifying the Langs, but they are currently unavailable.”

“Thanks, EDITH.”

“Mrs. Stark is on her way.”

You turned to Nebula. “I thought you might want to see Morgan. She asks about you whenever I see her.”

The woman nodded, a grateful, awkward smile on her face. “Thank you.”

Quill stepped into your side as the others dispersed, his arm wrapping around your shoulders. “It’s so hot when you get all commander-in-charge like that.”

You scoffed a laugh, pushing him away. “Cool your jets, Space Cowboy. I need a shower.”

***

Your breath left you in catching moan as your back met the tiles behind you, melting into a giddy laugh before your lips were crushed in a kiss by the man holding you against the wall. You wrapped your arms around Quill’s neck, one hand sliding through the hair at the back of his head as he slid his tongue into your mouth. His body pressed hard against your own, his naked thigh pushing between your legs to press against your sex.

The hot water hammered down on the two of you, your whole body warm and tingling with his touch. His lips left yours to tease the side of your throat, his teeth grazing against your pulse point and up to your earlobe as his hand slid down over your naked hip, slick with vanilla and jasmine bodywash. He took hold of your thigh, hitching it up against his side.

You moaned again, louder than before, grinding down on his thigh. You grabbed hold of his bicep for leverage, rolling your hips into him. You other hand fumbled down his stomach, nails grazing over his abs before your fingers encircled the base of his cocked and squeezed. Peter grunted against the curve of your collarbone in approval as you stroked him slowly. He palmed your breast roughly with one hand, biting down on your shoulder. “Holy shit, I’ve missed you.”

You smiled, breath catching and head tilted back, your eyes closed against the spray of the shower. You gave his cock a playful squeeze. “I noticed.”

Peter snickered, his laughter catching as you swiped your thumb over the head of his cock. He pinched your nipple hard in response and you gasped, hips faltering for a moment. His lips finally found yours again as the roll of your hips became hurried and more disjointed, your breath quickening. His tongue slid over your own almost languidly, his stubble scratching at your chin. You carded your fingers through his hair and his hand slid back up your side, tickling at your waist before he took hold of you hip again.

His grip was hard, enticingly strong, his fingers digging into your flesh as he forced your movements to stop and pinned you harder against the wall. You couldn’t help the whine of complaint you made in response, and he broke the kiss, chest heaving for a moment as he caught his breath. He paused long enough to shoot you a cocky wink before he fell to his knees in front of you.

Peter pressed a kiss to the skin below your navel, inhaling through his nose to drink in the scent of you before burying his face between your thighs. His tongue curled around your clit and he pressed his forearm to your stomach, hand clutching at your hip, holding you in place as you tried to buck up against his mouth. His other hand travelled up the back of your leg, hooking under your knee and hooking it over his shoulder.

You gripped blindly at the top of the shower partition for balance, your other hand fisting in his hair. Peter hummed against you, hand moving up your thigh to caress your ass. He broke away from your cunt to press teasing, biting kisses to your inner thigh, his hand moving from your ass to roll his fingers over your clit, soaking them in your arousal before burying two of them inside you. He sucked a mark into your thigh, and your eyes rolled back as he returned his talented mouth to your clit.

Peter tortured you like that, fucking you slowly with his mouth and hand until the leg you stood on was shaking and your hand was so tight in his hair your fingers were cramping. You’d come more than once, every high he brought your to only half gone before he began building you to another.

“Pete—fuck, Peter…” you groaned through gritted teeth, moaning when he hummed against you in response. You tugged his head back forcefully, pursing your lips to hide a smile when he grinned cockily up at you, eyes squinting against the spray of the shower. He reached down to fist his cock in his hand, withdrawing his fingers from you to pinch your clit instead. His smirk widened when you jerked in response. “Quill, if you don’t hurry up and fuck me right now, I swear to whatever god you believe in, I—”

Peter was on his feet before you could finish your threat, taking hold of your thighs and lifting you. Your surprise at the sudden shift bubbled out of you in a laugh, and you wrapped your legs around him. Your teeth dug into your bottom lip as his hands squeezed your ass reflexively. Peter pressed his forehead to your own, nuzzling his nose against yours. “You know I’m half-god, right?”

“And all cheeseball,” you retorted jokingly, grinning as his jaw dropped in mock offense. You grinned, pulling him into another kiss, the gesture long, languid and yet still almost aching with need. He groaned into it as you reached down to take hold of his shaft, stroking him slowly and shuddering as the head of it pressed into you.

Peter spoke again, his breathless voice teasing, affectionate and cocky. “Just remindin’ you in case you feel the need to invoke a god’s name in the next few minutes or so.”

You smacked his chest, your response melting into a moan that he echoed as he lowered you onto his cock. His lips found yours in a harsh, despite kiss as he began to fuck you in long, steady strokes.

“How are you always so fucking tight?” he muttered, his lips brushing against your sternum. He dragged his face your nipple, stubble grazing along the wet, sensitive skin before he sucked into his mouth. He circled it with his tongue, catching it between his teeth and tugging. You grabbed at his shoulder, your other hand returning to the top of the partition to leverage yourself over him. You pushed your hips into his with every thrust, the sound of flesh meeting flesh echoing off the tile. “You keep squeezing me like that, sweetness, and I’m not gonna last as long as I’d like…”

You caught his earlobe between your teeth for a moment before speaking in his ear, a shiver running down his back. “I’m not kicking you out right away, Star Lord… you’ll get another go ‘round. Just make this one good.”

Peter growled into your neck, biting down hard enough to make you gasp. He kissed you again, roughly, his hips pounding into yours. Any break to breathe was filled with cursing and grunting moans, almost obnoxiously loud in the steam-filled room. You jerked suddenly as overwhelming sensation met your clit, your body arching into his as your toes curled and your whole body tightened. He’d unhooked the detachable showerhead from above you, turned it to jet and brought it down to your clit, and you could feel his smirk against your lips as you came again.

Each bounce on his cock brought the rush of water back over your clit, and your nails scored his shoulders and back as you clung to him. You released him only to grope at his wrist, urging the showerhead away from you. But Peter shook his head, lips teasing along your jaw.

“Not a chance, sweets.” he growled, his other hand tightening almost painfully on your ass. “You don’t get to stop coming until I’m finished.”

You whined in response, hips seizing as another wave hit you. Peter groaned as you tightened around him, his thrusts losing their rhythm for a moment. You arched your neck back, eyes half closed, and Peter’s lips found your throat once more, sucking a mark into the skin below your jaw. “Fuck, Peter… I can’t…”

“Hold out for me, Y/N.” he murmured back, barely audible over the sound of the water. It was beginning to cool, running too long, sending goosebumps over your over-sensitized skin. Your nipples brushed against his chest with every thrust, your hair slick and sticking to your neck. “I’m so close, baby… I’m so fucking close, baby. God—”

The showerhead clattered against the wall as Peter released it, his hips almost buckling as he finally came, his face buried in the side of your neck. You whimpered, body shaking with aftershocks as he lowered you to the floor, hands pressed to the walls for support, your body held up by his still pressed against yours.

He kissed your cheek, giggling almost deliriously in your ear as the two of you caught your breath. His hands came to rest on your hips, trailing over the skin carefully to your waist. You slung an arm around his neck, pulling him into a kiss, reaching past him with your other hand to turn off the shower. “It’s good to see you too, Peter.”

***

You scrubbed a towel through your hair, sitting at your vanity and watching Peter through the mirror. You’d dressed in a pair of shorts and an old tee shirt, and EDITH had announced that all but Bruce had since arrived at the compound. “So, how far out of your way did you go this time?”

Peter shrugged, nodding absentmindedly along to the music you had playing, his own hair an endearing tangle of still-damp curls. He was stretched out on your bed, a towel wrapped around his waist and his back pressed against the headboard and pillows. He had one hand tucked behind his head, the smallest of smirks on his lips. “A day or two. Maybe more.”

“So, you’re thinking about hanging around then?” you asked, turning around to face him, leaving your towel on the vanity. “You keep doing this and that crew of yours is going to hate me.”

Peter chuckled, shaking his head. “We’re between jobs. We’ve just been paid; they could use a few days leave.”

“And the free room and supplies just made us all the more appealing, huh?” you teased, moving towards the bed.

“And a couple of other things.” he held a hand out to you and you took it, making yourself comfortable and curling up into his side. He draped his arm around your shoulders, and you didn’t release his hand, holding it by your shoulder.

You smiled, but the expression slowly faded into something more somber as a thought returned to you. “So… Gamora…?” Peter exhaled, a crease forming between his brows. “I take it you two…”

He shook his head. “She’s… she’s sticking around for Nebula. And we’re friendly, it’s just…” He sighed, but his voice wasn’t pained like it had been in the past. “Sometimes, she’s so close to who I remember. Which makes sense, I guess. She’s the same person, but… she’s not. Whatever we went through, whatever it is that made the old Gamora love me, she doesn’t have that, she didn’t go through the same stuff. So, she doesn’t see me the same way as the other Gamora did. And she can’t even… she doesn’t know that Gamora. She can’t see what we had. The whole thing is like… she told me, hearing the stories, it’s like I’m talking about somebody else. Someone she’s never met. And she’s right.”

“Peter, I’m sorry.” You murmured, leaning your head against his shoulder. You squeezed his hand gently. “I thought maybe… it’s been three years since you found her, and with Nebula wanting to stay with you guys—”

“It’s okay, Y/N.” he assured you softly, turning his head to press a kiss to your temple before resting his chin on top of your head. “Like I said, she’s not the same. She’s not the person I… my Gamora is gone. And it might’ve taken a while, but I… I get that. It just took me a while to wrap my head around it.”

The two of you fell silent for a while, the weight of the conversation settling over you like a blanket. You played with his fingertips absentmindedly, eyes unfocused.

“You hungry?”

You looked up, offering him a warm smile. “Starved.”

Peter’s face broke into a cocky, teasing smirk. “Yeah, you are.”

You scoffed at him, elbowing him in the side. He laughed, shying away from you, arm withdrawing from your shoulders. “We can order from that steakhouse; get it delivered?”

“Works for me.”

“And you won’t even have to put pants on,” you teased, laughing as he poked you in the side in retaliation. “Is it too early to order? Hand me my phone?”

Peter picked it up from your bedside table, the screen lighting up as he did. You snatched it out of his hand quickly, your cheeks warming slightly. A surprised, smug grin slowly bloomed on Peter’s face. “Am I your lock screen?”

“…You weren’t supposed to see that.” you admitted awkwardly, face flushed. Your background picture was a photo of the two of you that you’d taken on a previous visit; grinning at the camera like fools, caught up in the music you’d been blasting at two a.m. He’d been emulating everything he thought a Rockstar should be, over the top and frankly, adorable. You pushed yourself away from him, moving to clamber back off the bed and away from the embarrassment of being caught out. “It’s not a big deal, I just thought it was a good picture, and—”

He caught hold of your wrist, dragging you back to him. He pulled you on top of him, legs on either side of his, trapping you there with hands on your waist. “Come with me.”

“What?”

“Come with me,” he repeated, his expression surprisingly earnest. He released your waist to take hold of your hands instead, enclosing them between both of his. “Come see the universe.”

“Quill, you’re being—”

“C’mon, Y/N.” he insisted, his tone an almost boyish excitement at the idea. “It’ll be great! You and me and the whole universe to see. You’ll love it, I promise.”

“Peter, I—” you struggled to find the words, taken aback by his sudden proclamation. This was something you thought about, late at night when you were too tired to think of all the reasons it wouldn’t work. “I ha-have responsibilities, here. I can’t just—”

“Just think about it,” he urged, his head ducked down to meet yours beseechingly. “We could be like this all the time. We could… we could be together.”

“And… you want that?” you couldn’t help but ask. You knew Peter’s reputation – Drax and Rocket had alluded to it more than enough – and up until now you weren’t entirely sure if you were his only… hell, you didn’t know what to call it.

He nodded, hands tightening slightly on your own. “We fit, you and me.” you swallowed, halfway torn between running from the room declaring your avenging too important and throwing yourself into his arms. “Just… say you’ll think about it? Please?”

After a moment, you nodded slowly, wetting your lips nervously. “I’ll think about it.”

.

.

.

tags: @lovely-dreamer19​ @wittyforachange​ @wefracturedmotivation​ @january-echoes​ @glossyloner​ @capitalnineteen​ @youclickedthislink​ 

If you would like to be tagged in future peter quill stories, or in my marvel stories in general, please send me an ask :) I hope you enjoyed it, and please like/reblog/comment :)

[katsukikitten]

Rouge 3

A/N MAJOR TRIGGER WARNING FOR DEPRESSION AND SUICIDAL THOUGHTS

×××××××××××××××××××××

"April 20th, I know that's Bakugou's birthday but...but he said...." You swallow thickly your body raging with emotions not sure which you would finally land on. As if it were a wheel of fortune spun, hinting heavily that it would land on either mind numbing despair or burning hot wrath.

Why would he *lie* to you?

And why did you care?

The room flashes in vibrant color and in boring tones of grey. Kirishima's ruby hair and eyes are suddenly too bright before they dull just to blind you again. The red reminds you of something.

Of someone.

Of skin decaying away like caked mud to reveal crimson beneath.

Of scarlet eyes pleading for you to move. To run and far away from what the two of you faced.

Despite him being trapped.

A scene that has since played in your dreams for the past few months.

The world spirals with dizzying color that attempt to swatch into gray.

"Y/N?" Kirishima calls softly, strong hands cupping onto your shoulders as his face leans towards yours. Alchohol wafts into your nose, burning as everything else does.

You clench your eyes shut. Forcing the episode into its place, before letting your face meld into a small smile.

"I guess I really need this drink then." You force a laugh and Kirishima cannot tell otherwise, "Thanks for setting me straight Kiri."

He smiles softly, pressing a kiss to your hair line before whispering in your ear.

"He's been worried about you."

With that he leans over and pours extra liquor into your cup. When he leaves the kitchen you swallow down the whole bottle in a few swigs. A dangerous game to play considering there could be two outcomes when you're fucked up.

One you're giddy, overly happy and laughing your ass off.

Two, the world is so oppressive that everything is tainted in an awful sickly black.

Slolwy the world blooms in distorted color as a smile creeps onto your face.

The music shakes the house with heavy bass as lyrics filter through the massive speakers.

*"I'm only alive when I'm with yoooouuu."*

You sway to the music allowing yourself to be lost in the blinding swirling colors as more and more heroes offer you drinks. Smiling faces as they laugh with you and your stories. Coming alive thanks to booze and the occasional slipped pill. Your head is heavy, yet light as you float across the living room turned dance floor as the bass rings out hard enough it seems to shake the sweat from your skin.

You're not sure who ends up grinding on you first, or who kisses who first but you know you enjoy it. Love laughing, teasing and touching with anyone who's down. With anyone that helps you forget. Further encouraging your high, the colors blinding and so vibrant you can see them even when your eyes are closed, especially so when they're pressed against a soft set of lips.

Mina breaks the kiss first giggling as she does.

"Okay Denki now you've got to take the three shots!" The crowd erupts in a cheer as he does watching him down those three double shots causes you to stare into your empty solo cup.

Reminding you that you need another drink.

But the longer you stare at the blinding bright red, the more it seems the plastic melts in your hand.

Turning sticky, thick and much darker.

"Fuck." You hiss to yourself as everything floods your senses at once.

Your quirk finally kicking in to sober you after the ungodly amounts of painkillers and alcohol you've consumed.

Suddenly it is as if you've touched a live wire, hearing beyond the ear shattering cheers all the way into the walls of the house where the mice chew on the wood.

As if their teeth are gnawing directly on your eardrums.

The sound competing with the crowd's seemingly collective heart beat with their red cups raised high. The plastic catches in the lowlight shimmering with the sweat of condensation before everything snaps.

Feeling everything so intensely it's numbing.

The room plunges into deep black but no one bats an eye, especially not as you snatch a pack of smokes and a lighter from an unsuspecting bystander right out of his black denim jacket.

You climb the steps, eyes guiding you in the dark, pushing past a kissing couple that you think is Todoroki and Momo but your mind is too warped to tell.

After three tries you finally find a room empty of slapping bodies and drunken moans. You slide open the window, snaking out before climbing onto the upper roof.

Back nestled against cooled shingles beneath the light of the stars. Filter to your lips you flick the lighter and watch the black flame dance before you inhale enough for the tabbacco catch.

The bass vibrates the ceiling below you as smoke escapes your lips and nostrils in a slow hiss.

"I feel like Bakugou would fucking hate this type of party." Is all you can think to say to the pale moon hanging high in the sky.

Silence stretches between you two as you stare into the ancient face of a long forgotten deity.

"Did I miss telling him happy birthday?" You ask the moon and still no answer comes.

Typical for you to ask all the wrong things.

At the wrong time.

And to the wrong celestial being.

Tears prick your eyes as that endless weight settles in your chest, slow blinking hoping that one day your lids will never reopen.

"You're right. I do fucking hate this party." Fear hardly clutches your stomach before the vice is quickly released, spying flecked red eyes.

Your fingers twitch before you light another smoke, half wondering if he is real or just something your ever adaptive mind is giving you to ease the pain.

The heavy loneliness.

Still you sit up and tilt the pack towards the possible mirage despite his sitting more than ten feet away.

He sucks his teeth, using precision to obliterate the offered pack with out burning your fingers.

"That's new..."

"Those are fucking bad for you." He snarls, you manage enough energy to roll your eyes before meeting his again.

Wholly noticing how his irises pale in the soft light, looking more like two blood moons forever suspended over a perpetual snarl.

It makes you laugh how something so breath taking could be paired with such displeasure.

Well that and the fact that he thinks a little smoke is gonna hurt you.

"Uh did you forget my quirk?" You tease, slowly you manage to force some life back into your face.

It's his fucking birthday after all.

Embers burn hot into your skin until shame settles over you once more.

You sigh out gripping the shingles of the roof, trying your damnedest not to break them. Thoughts swirling in your head with every passing second.

Continuously landing on a few.

Like how could you really forget his birthday?

Or more like how could you really think almost a whole year passed since your last failure?

Or how could you even count the days when all you could see was the red of his cheeks as his arms snapped backward?

Of the way his sunkissed skin fell as if it were chipped away by dirty nails?

Of the color beneath the flaking skin solidified before threatening to turn that precious fucking red into soul shattering grey.

The tile shingle snaps coming up to slice your palm causing red to ooze out onto all the shades of black.

The quiet between you becomes suffocating as time ticks by, furthering your spiral.

All the while memories from high school until now flood into the forefront of your mind as you feel nothing but a heated gaze raking across your skin.

Had he always been watching?

He sure did show up at odd times in your life.

At times you were moments away from the edge, even pulling you back majority of the time.

All the while acting as if you were the biggest nuisance to walk the Earth.

But looking back you can see it, subtle yet obvious when it clouded those blood red moons.

Worry and fear paired with a tight grip and even harsher words.

An instigated fight, an encouraged argument until slowly the emotions changed from that worry.

From the fear you hadn't thought the arrogant hot head capable of to something else entirely.

Relief.

That's what flooded his eyes each time he safely brought you back to the dorms or the agency. It feels as if he's been the only one to ever truly worry.

The only one to look hard enough, to see past the fogged glass.

Words claw up your throat, fighting one another as they do.

Phrases and cries for help all the same as all you want to do is reach out for those strong arms to wrap around you.

To openly cry as you pulled on the fabric of his shirt until it took the form of your fist, even when you released it.

You swallow thickly finally deciding on what to say.

"Happy Birthday Bakugou-chan!" You sing song, forcing every ounce of what little happiness you have into the well wish. Hoping beyond hope it makes up for everything you should've said.

His heart hammers in his chest as he watches your lips curve upwards and over your teeth, as your cheeks scrunch up your face, lids closing over such a stunning fucking color.

He would have thought it real if he hadn't known better.

If he hadn't watched you climb from the window with that God damn zombie look plastered on your face.

"Don't." He bites, causing your heart to free fall into your stomach, "I can't watch you fucking lie any more."

His jaw ticks while your nails bite into your fresh wound, keeping it open to keep you seated.

"I..." He growls audibly before going on, "You can show me you know. I can handle it. I can fucking try to help."

You open your mouth to say something but a gust of wind blows through you before a hand is wrapped tightly around your neck.

Half of a lanky grey body justs out from a swirling portal in the sky.

"You think we'd let you get away with that golden quirk? The things we could do with you..." Manic joy oozes out in the form of a grotesque smile. Chapped lips wide enough to be seen from beneath a large hand.

"Let. Go." His tone is primal as he speaks, coming to his feet as you're yanked to your own.

"Oh I didn't realize you had company golden goose." For once fear stays with you as it curls into your muscles, your bones. The grip on your throat tightens as your heart hammers in your chest.

This is it, this would be the last time you ever saw him. Your last opportunity to ever say all the things you needed to fucking say after being so ignorantly oblivious to his actions.

To his heart.

Things begin to go in slow motion, watching him obliterate the roof beneath his feet, fingers outstretched for you as that damn emotion plasters openly on his face.

Fear twits into rage on his features.

But all you can do is smile, wholeheartedly smile as you look at him.

Tears of mixed feelings blur your vision as you say the one thing you so desperately needed to say to him.

"Thank you, Katsuki-kun. Thank you."

Just as he is within arms reach the portal swallows you whole closing as quickly as it opened.

Leaving Bakugou Katsuki to fall onto his hands and knees, slamming popping firsts into shingles that turn into sharp confetti all the while fat droplets fall from angry cheeks.

[mikenewtonhateblog]

My oc’s aka too long of a gd post

The “BL” Crew (does not stand for boys love I’m just a moron who made that abbreviation before knowing what it stands for). My main crew and main series, a lot is a big WIP right now as I’m slowly redoing the first book and all the lore. Why? I love torture. Book is fantasy type but I won’t specify what.

Lacie, the protagonist. God tier idiot, bisexual bipolar depressed MESS, insomniac, former theater kid, doesn’t know what she wants out of life but currently it is not This(plot of book). Hot headed, impulsive, crude, rude, Mommy IssuesTM, would rather be taking a nap right now, rules are made to be broken, absolutely fucking FERAL, more bags under her eyes than the airport lost and found. 5’5, 130lbs, Aries, age 18, white as shit like literally the whitest human you have ever seen, strawberry blonde hair in a 2011 Hayley Willaims haircut with long bangs, the darkest brown eyes you’ve ever seen that stare directly into your soul. Lanky, no curves, body of a 12 year old boy but works out so she can and will kick your ass and thats a threat. Not human?

Josh. Soft boy, smart, Lacie’s cousin and only friend for like the first 18 years of her life, autistic anxious mess who’s special interest is anchient egyptian history, is in honors classes, despises math, passes out when his girlfriend looks too cute, just needs a hug. Can eat a whole carton of easy mac if left alone, whole wardobe is the same outfit just different colors/hoodies, sensory issues, seriously can someone give this guy a hug. 5’9, 150lbs, Pisces, age 18, mixed (half whatever flavor of white Lacie’s family is [they don’t even know its just some scandanavian shit and irish], and half mexican on his mom’s side), medium olive skin with freckles and moles, dark chocolate brown hair that’s a bit of a 2009 Beiber cut, warm brown eyes, not beefy, a lil thicc and self concious about it but squishy boys are GOOD. Gets bit by a werewolf so now he is one his mood on it is “thats a lot to unpack but let’s just throw the whole suitcase away”.

Zander. There is not one braincell in this man, himbo KING, pansexual dumbass with undiagnosed ADHD, no impulse control, head empty and full at the same time, PTSD, his fashion sense should be an actual crime, gets in fights to feel something, basic requirements for him to be attracted to you: kick his ass. Drinks his respect women juice, sees a folding table and must immediately launch himself on it, chaotic, cannot drive a car and will not, food aggression and eats enough for 3 people but never gains weight which is ILLEGAL, him and Lacie may be a couple.....but in this house we stan slow burn, he talks in caps and every sentence either ends with a question mark or exclaimation point, likes romcoms. 6’2, 190lbs, Sagittarius, age 19, austrailian roots and has the accent but is from [REDACTED FOR STORY REASONS], white, dorito shaped with long legs, blueish black hair that’s long and messy, dark navy eyes that match his hair, bigass neck scar from [REDACTED]. Not human

Peter. Gay dad friend who is TIRED of having to be in charge of a bunch of teenagers, only one with full functioning braincells, lowkey a genius who loves engineering, mixes magical technology with human technology because he likes to play god, is he ever sober? No one knows, will kill for a bottle of single malt, his fashion sense? Tastefully expensive suits perfectly tailored. Likes building his own weapons that no one else knows how to even use, generally non-threatening but can get scary if needed. 6’4, 140lbs string bean man, Scorpio, age 179 but looks early 30s, I know I said Lacie is the whitest human but he’s even paler like a literal sheet of paper with scandanavian roots/ancestors were vikings or some shit, blonde hair styled like 2013 Brendon Urie lmfao, light crystal blue eyes. He’s a vampire and was born one.

Danielle. Tiny, sweet, queen of girls supporting girls, comments on all her friends instagram posts with 20 emojis, LOVES fashion and has a wardrobe that would make anyone jealous, oozes feminine energy, only child and parents are in love still, gets exactly 8 hours of sleep each night and wakes up looking like a disney princess. Just because she is small and cute doesn’t mean you should underestimate her she WILL fuck your shit up. Quiet when angey which is terrifying. Josh is her bf and she loves him so much but also loves teashing the shit out of him. Legally cannot cuss, polite, used her high heels as a weapon once, speaks like 5 languages because studying them is her hobby, gardens, hugs everyone. 5’0, 110, Taurus, age 18, mixed (half french-american, half Korean-american), glowy skin always, PETITE frame aka the friend everyone can pick up when they hug, long past her waist curly brown hair, bright green eyes. She’s not fully human as she has fae blood in her and this gives her the ability to talk to and control plants. Flower crowns for everyone

Becca. Theater kid who would die to sing in Wicked and has the vocal range to do so, cannot wait to graduate and go to her dream college which she got into and a scholarship, closeted lesbian bc her whole giant family is extremely catholic and she feels like not dealing with it, “no boys allowed in bedroom” rule is her favorite joke, chill, middle child of 5 siblings and just wants some peace and quiet for ONCE. Her fashion sense is “I’m dropping subtle hints I’m gay but only to other gays”, has a black belt and took self defense classes. 5’6, 145lbs, Virgo, age 18, Latina (cuban and mexican mix), darker brown skin with light freckles over her nose, athletic build, eyebrows on POINT, bright caramel eyes, short light brown hair cut in a bob, has a tiny nose stud, always wears a blue friendship bracelet her gf made her. Human

Anika. Calling her a bitch/slut is a compliment, bisexual, a bit of a mean girl but she grows out of it give her time!!! Is always Too Much, the horny friend, favorite color is red so thats almost all of her outfits, loves to show off her body as much as she can because she’s hot and knows it and thrives in her own confidence. Her mom is literally like Regina George’s mom from Mean Girls but married a rich man 20 years older than her, Anika doesn’t know her bio dad but thats fine neither does her mom and her step dad is nice and does his best to be a dad. Becca’s gf, always hanging out at her home so Becca can get some quiet because Anika’s an only child and has a pool. 5’9, 135lbs, Gemini, age 18, white, long layered dark reddish brown hair, teal-blue eyes, swimmers body type (I normally do not mention bust size but she would want the internet to know she was blessed with big bahoogles so there you go), can sprint in heels. Half mermaid (boy was that a surprise considering her mom doesn’t know who her father is LOL)

Rex. Nb uses they/them he/him pronouns but honestly will respond to any, goth lite, only attracted to men and ace, can read minds so knows all your secrets, mischevious little shit, great friends with Zander and enjoys his dumbass thoughts and that he’s basically a human version of Jackass, wears too many rings, goth boots for kicking and fashion babey, always has the freshest memes and will not hesitate to roast in the group chat, hangs with the girls most of the time. Chaos god who loves making art, be gay do crime, skateboard and spraypaint. 5’8”, 165lbs, Leo, age 18, Native American, masculine frame, dark brown skin, blue eyes, firetruck red shoulder length hair that’s usually in a ponytail, knock-off gucci sunglasses just for judging their friends. Has magic in their blood so not entirely human and can cast spells and shit (don’t roast me its a wip and I’m doing my research)

Sam. Boho goddess, aromantic, makeup and nails are always instagram worthy, quiet and stoic type but losens up around close friends, Rex is her best friend, has some trauma and doesn’t want to talk about it, emotionally numbed out a bit and wants to purely vibe. Has seen some of the worst parts of humanity and wishes she hadn’t, finds no point in being bitter or resentful though because that won’t change anything, loves cats and once she moves out shes adopting one or three. Has wine aunt energy. 5’4, 200lbs PLUS SIZE QUEEN, Scorpio, age 18, Filipino (her parents are immigrants fun fact!), really olive skin sometimes has a grey/green tinge to it, dark brown almost black shoulder length hair, gold-hazel eyes. Sam’s the victim of a family curse that requires her to consume human hearts to survive, she can transform into a pretty scary looking being and uses this curse to hunt down pedoph*les, r*pists, murderers, and abusers. The less often she feeds the less human she looks, hence the constant grey/green tinge to her skin. 

Andy. Baby of the group, must be protected at all costs, 100% didn’t sign up to be in a friendgroup of 90% monsters but highkey loves it, trans, bi, anxiety MAXED, just wants to draw comics and cosplay spiderman, has to babysit his two younger sisters a lot because his parents are....not great, and as a result now knows all the lines to Tangled and The Little Mermaid. Big nerd energy, has to draw on everything including homework, gets inspiration for comics from his friends, awkward and socially anxious, drinks way too much tea and will accidentally steal your pens. Fears include: crowds, thunder, tall angry men, tiny spaces. Just trying his best. 5’2, 100lbs BEANPOLE BOY, Leo, age 16, white (irish and scottish roots), freckles absolutely EVERYWHERE, orangey red hair thats in desperate need of a haircut, chocolate brown eyes, braces, chronic nail biter. Human and kinda wishes he wasn’t.

That’s it for now if you read all this bless u thank u here is my whole heart. Please no discourse, literally these are fictional people I’ll never publish the books they go to.

[rmjagonshi]

In For A Penny, In For A Pound - Chp 3

On AO3

Amidst the giggling and affectionate name calling, the toe fish were baked and shredded. The evening was spent eating bland fish smothered with cheese and re-hydrated guacamole. Ford had dug through their cupboards and pulled out a box of chipackers and powdered sugar. They’d used some leftover butter and water to make a crude frosting and had a desert of hobo cookies. Two folding deck chairs were pushed together, an empty bucket used as a table in the small space. The bowl of frosting sat between them, forgotten, as they watched the stars and listened to the sounds of the ocean. With no light pollution from the city, the sky lit up with millions upon billions of stars, all twinkling more brilliant than any light show Stan had ever seen. Even living in Gravity Falls, far off the beaten path, the skies were nothing like they were out on the ocean. Ford pointed out what stars and constellations and galaxies he could remember; holding Stan’s hand and helping him trace the patterns in the night sky.

Stories of Greek and Roman gods and heroes gave way to reminiscing and inside jokes. Ford regaled him with tales of his inter-dimensional travels and Stan retorted with his own sordid history of crime and punishment, and his own experience with the paranormal creatures in Gravity Falls. Though it hadn’t been as detailed or as scientific as Ford’s, Stan had tried keeping a journal of his own to keep track of everything he had learned about physics, and all the weird stuff he’d encountered. He’d been on first name basis with some of the gnomes and manitaurs, part of the reason they had run to the mystery shack when things got hairy at the end of the summer. They were both flopped on deck, a giggling mess by the time either one thought to go to bed. It was fucking magical.

Stan’s heart was light when he curled up into his freshly cleaned sheets. Not even the memories beginning to prickle at the edges of his mind could ruin his night.

“Hey, not to push, but we really are getting’ low on supplies. Think well be alright fer another week or so. Wouldn’t give it much more than that. But it’s up to you.” It wasn’t completely a lie. They were getting low. The ship’s storage could only hold two, maybe three months’ worth of food and water tablets before they had to start stacking cans in the bathroom.

“Yeah. We can hit port. The ‘toe-fish’ as you call them really aren’t that strange. They act like any other species of Atlantic cod, aside from their odd appearance. I think I have enough data to document them. We can head for Ireland starting tomorrow.” Ford had already pulled off his sweater to change and was now hunched over his bunk, straightening the sheets. Stan’s eyes traveled over the scars and ink that littered his brother’s back and arms. He felt his gut tighten and his hands hitched with the desire to reach out and touch them. It had been a long few months before Ford was ready to show Stan the damage the past thirty years had done. Stan knew they were there, knew where each one had come from, but it didn’t make seeing them any easier. Sure, Stan had his own fair share of scars, but they were few and far between compared to his brother.

Stan bit his lip to hold back saying something that really didn’t need to be said. Not at this point. He let his mind drift as he watched the muscles of Ford’s back shift and slide under the raised scars and burns. He was still amazed at how much stronger Ford was. Gone was the lanky teen from their youth. Gone was the scrawny researcher he’d caught a glimpse of that late January day. Ford was muscular, but not overly buff. Lean, like a runner. Legs able to sprint a mile with little effort and arms that could throw a punch to match Stan’s own. It was kinda hot. Intrusive thoughts prodded at Stan’s mind, but he shook his head to get rid of them. Not now. Not ever, but really not now.

Ford turned, picking up the discarded tank he slept in, and caught Stan’s eye. Stan turned his head, staring at the wall to give his brother privacy. “Sorry. I didn’t mean…I just…thinkin’s all. Didn’t mean ta stare.”

“No, Stan. It’s fine. I…it helps…sometimes…for you to see them. Helps me be more comfortable in my own skin.” Ford rolled his knuckles and flexed his fingers as he spoke. He smiled and held up his hand, fingers spread. “Of course, you’ve always helped me feel comfortable about myself.” Stan chuckled, giving his brother a shy smile. But it was getting too touchy feely for his tastes. Any way too intimate.

“Yeah. If you’re gonna be made fun of, it’s gonna be about your nerd personality, not how ya look. Besides, can’t be a badass pirate without the badass scars to go with it.” Ford had pulled on his shirt and sat on the now perfectly straightened sheets.

“Stanley, we aren’t pirates.”

“Yes we are.”

“No, we aren’t.”

“Yes, Poindexter, we are. We were in international waters, and took control of the abandoned Iceland research buoy without permission. Ergo. Pirates.” Ford had reworked the buoy’s internal system to act as a satellite sonar beacon. It was bobbing about two miles from their ship. They’d go and pick it up before they headed to port the next day.

“I…” But Ford didn’t really have a response. While the buoy hadn’t been active, it was still Icelandic property. Technically, they had stolen it. Technically, Stan was right. They were pirates. “Shut up, Knucklehead.”

“HA! I’ll get the cloth from port and sew up a nice pirate flag! Unless ya want ta string up our shirts like we did before?”

“No. And you are NOT raising a pirate flag. Do you have any idea what would happen if we ran into the coastguard?”

“Which coastguard?”

“Any! It’s bad enough that I’ve got a criminal record the length of the Mississippi, thanks to you, and you are legally deceased. We don’t need anymore legal trouble.” Ford had curled up under the three blankets he insisted on having to keep warm. Stan, being the human furnace he was, was fine with just a sheet most nights. Hot and cold, the two of them.

“Get some sleep, Stan. We’ll set out tomorrow.”

“Night, Sixer.”

Stan and Ford drifted off with the slow rocking of the boat and the gentle sounds of the ocean waves.

Stan stretched out his spine, letting his back ease into the soft mattress. The boat rocking back and forth with the smallest of motions. He felt warm. The sheet around him growing softer and heavier. He could hear music. Light and unobtrusive. A lullaby. Wait. There were words. Someone was singing? Stan blinked open his eyes to be greeted by a smiling stuffed rabbit. It was tiny and hung on a string above his bed with four other tiny stuffed toys. A mobile. His mom was singing, off somewhere else. But it was okay. She was near. Stan turned his head to see the grey fluff of his brother’s head. Ford was sleeping soundly with six fingers wrapped around Stan’s arm. Stan rolled to his side, facing his brother. With light touches so as not to wake him, he traced Ford’s features. Fingers running over each closed eyelid, trailing back to trace over the curves of his ears. Over Ford’s hairline and eyebrows. Down the bridge of his nose and over the pink parted lips.

Ford’s lips puckered as Stan traced them with his thumb. Ford mumbled, chapped lips catching on Stan’s skin. His eyes blinked open, lashes fluttering. Bright blue eyes stared blearily back at Stan as a sleepy smile spread over his lips. He gently kisses the thumb resting against his lips and nuzzles against Stan’s open palm.

“Morning.” He breathes against the callused skin. Stan grins.

“Morning, Sixer. How’d ya sleep?”

“Mhn. Good. Still tired.” Ford closed his eyes again, pulling the covers up to his neck and pushing his face further into the pillow.

“Heh. We don’t hafta get up. Nothing we gotta get done right now.” Eh, that wasn’t true. But who was paying attention out here? They could enjoy a late morning if they wanted.

Ford hummed, frowning. “Cold.”

Stan chuckled, holding the blanket up. “Well then, get yourself over here, nerd. I’ll keep ya warm.”

Ford shuffled across the space between them and wrapped his arms around Stan’s torso, burying his face in the soft grey hairs that blanketed Stan’s chest. He hummed in delight, resting his forehead on Stan’s clavicle. His body fit perfectly along Stan’s, hips chest pressed into Stan’s soft gut and hips settling against Stan’s thighs. Stan hummed at the feeling of Ford’s soft cock sliding against the sensitive skin of his inner thigh. He ran a hand over Ford’s bare side and back. Callused hands sliding over scarred skin to trace along the pudge of a hip, the top of a thigh. Ford squeaked when Stan gripped one ass cheek in his hand and squeezed. Dexterous fingers followed the line of it, up and down, each pass getting closer and closer to Ford’s tight puckered hole. The tip of his index finger pressed against the ring of muscle and worked to ease the tension.

“Stan.” Heavy breaths ghosted over Stan’s chest. He could feel Ford relaxing for him. The ring of muscle contracting and loosening around his fingertip. He circled the ring from the center outward. A slight press and his finger was enveloped in heat. A muffled whine echoed in the room. Stan pressed a grin into Ford’s hairline, still working his finger passed the first ring. It was dry. He wasn’t going to get far, he wasn’t trying to, but it was the best way to get Ford worked up. Light touch, teasing, just fingering the inner ring. Six fingers clutched Stan’s hips, kneading the flesh. Ford was mewling before long. His hips rocking against Stan’s thigh. He was hard, or getting there. He was panting now, hands traveling south to squeeze Stan’s ass.

“Shh. It’s alright. I gotcha.” Stan pressed a kiss to Ford’s temple. Pulling his finger free, he pushed against Ford’s shoulder to roll him onto his back. He placed a quick kiss against Ford’s lips, a soft nip along his jawline, before sucking a trail down Ford’s neck. Lips and tongue danced over pecks, pausing to give each nipple attention. Ford watched him with half-lidded eyes, gasping and wanting. Stan circled each rosy bud with his tongue, nipping at the sensitive flesh and rolling it between his gums.

“Stanley! Uh, huh, uh!”

“Heh, whatcha want, Sixer? Whatcha want yer brother ta do for ya? Just name it.” Stan purred into Ford’s abdomen. He mouthed a line down to Ford’s navel. “Hm? What is it?” He darted is tongue in and out of Ford’s navel, tracing the outer circle. “What do you need?”

“Stan, please!”

He grinned.

He leaned back, just enough to kneel on the bed and get a good look at Ford. Writhing and wanton and aching. Ford was hard and leaking. Prick straining and twitching; the head pulsing. Stan wrapped a hand around the shaft and Ford’s hips came off the mattress with a scream.

“This what you want? Need yer bro to take care of ya? Just ask me, Sixer.”

But no answer came. He looked up, expecting to see Ford red faced and shy. instead, Ford’s face was cloudy and distorted, like one of Mabel’s drawings had gotten wet and all the colors had run together. An answer came then, distant and muffled, coming through water.

“St-n”.

“Wha’, Sixer, what’s wrong?”

“Sta-, pl-se. I’m -orr-. Ple--, don- -o…”

What the hell was going on? They were just getting started. Ford was aching to go, wasn’t he? But...no. Ford wasn’t under him anymore. Least, not the one he was expecting. The sculpted body he’d been worshiping was gone. The form under him, beside him, drifting away from him, was child-like. A kid. Ford was younger now. Ford was just a kid. Scared and crying. Was it him? Was Ford crying because of him? But Ford had wanted it...didn't he?

Oh God.

What if Ford hadn't wanted it? Was he just placating Stan? Was that why Ford was going away? Was that why he was crying?

“Please. I’m so sorry...don’t…” Ford voice grew clearer, even as he drifted further and further away.

“Ford. Hey! What’s wrong? Hey! Sixer! Talk ta me!”

Stan was losing him. Ford had known about Stan's dream. Had figured out Stan had gotten off to it, even though he tried not to. Ford had cleaned his sheets, of course he knew. Genius man he was. He was going away now because he knew Stan was disgusting. Stan didn't even know why he wanted this. But it didn't matter. It was going to end now. He'd do anything to keep Ford with him. He'd never jerk-off again. He'd castrate himself. He'd do whatever Ford wanted if he'd only just stay.

"Ford! I'm sorry. I won’t do it again. I promise. I don't know why it happened the first time, but I swear, never again!"

Ford's voice was getting louder and more desperate. He was pleading. But why? Stan had stopped. He was so far away now. Why was Ford still asking him to stop?

"Don't leave!"

But Stan wasn't leaving. He wasn't moving. Then...Ford wasn't trying to leave. Something was making him.

"FORD!"

“Please…don’t…NO!”

Stan was awake and out of bed before he’d even had the chance to make a conscious decision or even realize he was asleep. His heart hammering in his chest and eyes scanning the room for any signs of danger. Survival skills ingrained and hard learned from his tie on the streets kicking into high gear. His blurred vision fell on the struggling lump across the small space on the second bunk.

“STAN!”

“Hey, I’m here. It’s okay. Shh. It’s alright.” Stan knelt on the floor beside Ford’s bunk, voice low and soothing, or as soothing as his smoker’s voice could be. Bed springs screeched under the thrashing, covers tossed and tangled around arms and legs. Ford was panicking. The last time Stan had tried to wake him from a nightmare, Ford had damn near broken his jaw. His jaw throbbed with phantom pain at the memory. But this was a bad one. Stan reached his hand out, soft and deliberate, to curl around one of Ford’s flailing hands.

“Sixer! Ford, common. Wake up.”

Ford shot up with a snap. A fist swung at Stan’s head even as a second gripped his fingers hard enough Stan felt his bones creak. Stan ducked, head and shoulders hitting the mattress and dodging the swing by millimeters. His knees slipped on the smooth floor, and Stan found himself clinging to the bed sheets and Ford’s hand for support.

“Ford, Jeezus! It’s me!”

“Stan?! Oh, God. I’m sorry…I…” But the end of his statement was swallowed up by a heart-wrenching sob. Instead, he rolled off the bed, pushing Stan flat in the space between their bunks, and crawled into Stan’s arms. Stan found himself laying on the floor, ass naked, with his brother curled up tight to him. Ford had buried his face into Stan’s gut, chest in line with Stan’s hips. He was shaking. Splatters of water caught in the grey hairs to pool in his navel.

Stan carded his fingers through the sweat damp fluff of Ford's hair, rubbing his thumb over Ford's temple. Hushed and incoherent words tumbled from his mouth. Attempts to sooth, but not to pry. Ford would talk when he was ready. Maybe. Sometimes they didn't talk about their nightmares. Too much emotion all at once that neither one was ready to deal with. Neither one used to being able to lean on someone when they were having problems. They would get there, but after a lifetime of bottling up their emotions, it wasn't going to happen right away.

So, Ford may or may not talk to him about it. Which was all well and good because Stan was not really up to talking himself. It happened again. He'd dreamt about Ford again. And this time, he was complicit. He'd known it was Ford. Before, he was just enjoying a steamy dream about a hot guy. His subconscious had made it Ford. But this time...he knew. And he still did it. What did that say about him? That he would actually, knowingly...

Stan clenched his eyes closed and willed the memories to go away. Ford was calming down now. Harsh and heaving breath eased, tears all but dried. Ford's heart at slowed, no longer hammering its way through his chest. But he showed no signs of moving anytime soon. Stubbled cheek scratching against the soft skin of Stan's navel. The delicate flutter of an eyelash tangled with the fine hairs.

Stan felt chapped lips part against his skin as Ford sighed. His hand stalled in Ford's hair. He became acutely aware that he was still naked. When Ford shifted to ease the pressure on his back, Little Stan became aware of Ford's position. Little Stan was very interested in continuing where things had left off, even if they were imaginary. Stan was strongly against it, but Little Stan wasn't listening. Stan desperately tried to imagine McGucket in his swimsuit. Or that creepy hand witch. Something, hell anything to make his erection wilt. He felt it twitch, filling with blood and rising to meet the pressure and warmth above it. Stan wondered if he could shift, ease out from Ford's grasp just enough to let the cool air shock his system enough to stop this problem before it got any worse. Ford buried his face in Stan's navel, a deep inhale and shuttering breath heaved out if his lungs. Stan pulse flared. This was way too close to a memory he was trying very hard to ignore.    

How was Ford not feeling this? Stan wasn't really complaining, he didn't want Ford to notice, but he was still confused as to how he hadn't yet. Stan didn't want to brag, but he wasn't exactly small. He wasn't a monster by any means, but a respectable 9 inches was still big enough. Certainly, big enough for Ford to notice that it was pressing up into his chest. He could feel Ford breathing. Every breath brushed against his straining cock. Another deep and shuttering sigh and Stan's eyes crossed, toes curling. NOPE!

"Hey, Sixer. Ya wanna move this off the floor? My back is gonna be yelling at me if we lay here much longer."

Ford said nothing. Just patted Stan's stomach and lifted himself onto his hands and knees. 'Wait. SHIT! NO! Don't do that. DON'T...' But it was too late. Ford's movements had brought him face to face with Little Stan. Little Stan was very happy with the arrangement.

It was dark. Completely dark below deck on the Stan O' War II. There was a chance Ford hadn't noticed. Please, please let him have missed it. But that little glimmer of hope died when Ford stopped dead. Stan couldn't see him, even if he didn't have his eyes closed, but he could fucking feel Ford's breath ghosting over the straining head. And he stayed there. He wouldn't move, get up. Wouldn't say anything. Stilted breaths enveloping Stan's prick in warmth, teasing with a promise that wasn't a promise and he didn’t want it anyway. He almost wished that ship would hit a rogue wave and knock them about. Ford took a breath to speak. Finally.

"I'm..." But that had been a mistake. Ford's lips had moved. He was a lot closer than either one had thought. Chapped lips just barely brushed Stan's leaking head. Stan's eyes bulged out of his sockets when he felt a sticky strand follow the movement of Ford's lips. NOPE!  

A foot connected with Ford's shoulder. Not a kick, but enough force to propel Ford up to his knees and as far away from Stan as they could get. Stan sat up and scooted back until his hands hit the curtain covering the doorway.

"SHIT! Sorry. It can't tell the difference between you and the busty babe I've been dreamin' about. Imma go piss, you sit. We'll talk if ya wanna when I get back." It was all said in one breath as Stan stood and backed out of their shared room. Stan felt his way to the bathroom and flicked on the light. He squinted through the brightness to the toilet, feeling a rush of deja vu as he flipped the seat up. His gut rolled, but it wasn't enough to come up this time. Instead, he braced one hand on the wall above the bowl while the other wrapped around his prick. He squeezed. He muffled a moan by biting the flesh of his upper arm. He didn’t bother trying to clear his mind this time. He couldn't, not with the real memory of...SHIT!

He pumped once, twice, hips following his fist. His mind blanked, body seizing. Sticky white jets splattered over his hand and the underside of the toilet seat. His jaw clamped down on the flesh of his arm to quiet his moans. He couldn't actually break skin without his teeth, but the bruising wasn't going to feel too great either. He felt his knees give out, and he sat awkwardly backwards on the toilet bowl, hunched over the small water tank. His chest heaved. Head spinning.

Stan was still in the shock and disbelief stage of grief. He hadn't had enough time to really comprehend what had just happened. He knows if he does sit with this, he may end up throwing himself off the boat. But he doesn't have to process this. He doesn't have to deal with this. He can shove it down and ignore it. Denial, denial, denial. But he and his subconscious were having a bit of a disagreement as to what was okay and NOT okay to think about. A little voice in the darkest and most depraved pit of his mind remind him that Ford hadn't pulled away. Ford hadn't reacted with disgust. Hadn't really reacted at all, as a matter of fact. Stan pile-drived that voice back to the rancid and perverse pit it crawled from.

But the thought was there now; he couldn't get rid of it. He'd been so close. Ford had been so close to...he'd...no. No. No way! It wasn't intentional. Ford was just as shocked as he was. He didn't pull away because his nerd brain had overloaded. He was just looking for comfort from whatever nightmare had spooked him and hadn't been expecting a hard dick in his face. And Stan had just left him there to deal with it on his own. What kind of brother was he? Stan chose not to answer that stupid question. Mainly because he wasn't ready to deal with the answer. It was fine! It was all fine. Stan's thoughts tumbling over themselves. It was best now to shove all that shit down and bury it under more and more layers of repression. A few tons of self-hate wouldn't hurt either. Just bury it where that shit won’t ever see the light of day again.

He didn't know how long he sat there, ass and thighs going numb balanced on the slim toilet bowl rim. He needed to get up, clean up and see how much Ford was freaking out. Shit! Ford was probably freaking out now. He had to explain. Though maybe the absolute truth in this case was a very shitty idea, but he could come up with a lie. He's good at that. Been doing it far longer than anything else in his life. But it was definitely time to go and figure out what hole Sixer was spinning himself into.

Stan stood on shaky legs, tore a wad of toilet paper from the roll and wiped himself and the toilet seat down before washing his hands. He refused to look at his reflection. Hands dried and all evidence flushed away, Stan was about ready to flick off the light when he spotted a pair of Ford's boxers left tucked behind the door. Comets and planets and little UFO's. Considering how awkward this was gonna be, he should try and cover himself up. Ford had been fine with Stan sleeping nude, but that was in his own bed. Best to make this less awkward. Though, they were Ford's boxers. From today, yesterday? Would that just make it worse? Stan didn't bother mulling it over. He picked up the worn fabric and slipped them on before flicking off the light and stumbling his way through the darkness.  

Stan felt his way along the galley counter, shuffling through his shitty night vision to the far wall. He stubbed his toe a few times on the books scattered on the floor and nearly tore down the curtain when he collided with it. He lifted the curtain and stood in the doorway, hesitant. There was no way to disguise what he'd done. He'd been in the bathroom too long. Ford might be oblivious to many social cues, but it wasn't hard to put two and two together. But he couldn't stand there forever. Time to rip the band-aid off.

"Hey." His throat felt dry.

"Hey." came the reply in the darkness. His ears, sans hearing aid, could only tell him that Ford was off to his left. Ford's bunk was on the right.

Stan cleared his throat. "You, ah...ya wanna talk about it." Stan paused, then corrected himself. "Nightmare, I mean. Seemed pretty bad this time. Could hear ya even in my own dream." Not that he was going to talk about that. Nope. Nope, not that. Never that.

"Heh, at least you enjoyed yours." Ford sighed. Stan could hear shifting on the bunk and he could picture Ford picking at the sheets. "I don't...I shouldn't bother you with this." The bed creaked as Ford shifted to stand, but Stan wasn't having it.

"Hey, no. I'm here if you wanna talk. You ain't bothering me. You never bother me."

"Oh"

"Well, mostly. Nerd talk is still a bother, but not this. Not something this important."

"Stan."

"No, 'cuz it is. You said yerself, we need to stop pretending we don't have feelings." Stan felt his way to the bed, hands patting the sheets to find where Ford was sitting. Hands found one hairy knee and Stan worked his way onto the bed. "So, I'm here ta listen. If ya wanna talk, that is." They sat wrapped in silence and darkness, shoulders rubbing together every so often. Stan blinked, attempting to let his eyes adjust to the dark, but there wasn't enough ambient light to see by. It was all just oppressive blackness. He couldn't even see his own knees.

Ford didn't talk, and so the silence permeated the darkness around them. It pressed in on his mind, and without a distraction, it dug into the layers and layers of freshly laid repression and self-hate to unearth what had just happened. His mind had been given enough time to work through the denial and really get to the meat of it. It was starting to set in what had actually happened. A spike of guilt and despair beat down on his shoulders while revulsion and horror clashed with each other in his gut. There wasn't much in his stomach but bile, but he doesn't think that will matter much. He enjoyed it. That was the worst part. That was the worst part of all of this. He'd wanted it. For a brief moment, he'd wanted Ford to lick....

STOP! Don't. Just, don't. Screw it. It happened, now let it go.

God, he needed to get laid.

A weight slumped to his side shook Stan out of his thoughts. A voice spoke in a harsh whisper right next to his ear. "You were gone. You were gone and there wasn't anything I could do to bring you back." Oh. Stan blinked as Ford continued. "You...", there was a long pause while Ford collected himself. "You left. Told me I made you sick. That you didn't know why you brought me back. Said you wanted to travel without me. That I was holding you back." Oh and damn. Now he really felt like a pile of shit. Ford had woken up panicking over Stan calling it quits and Stan had gone and waved his dick in his face. Stan swallowed down the rising bile and self-revulsion to address Ford’s statements.

“Ford. I’m not…I’m not going anywhere. I would be outta my mind ta want ta leave.” An uncommitted grunt was the only response. Stan sighed. “Stanford,” not a name Stan used often, “I spent thirty years trying ta get you back. All I’ve ever wanted was ta be out here with you. Nothing you could ever do, will make me want to be without you.” Stan leaned his head over, resting his lips atop Ford’s scalp. He could feel the tension drain from Ford’s body. They were pressed together, sharing the warmth and comfort of being close to one another. The bed was big enough, heck there were two beds, they didn’t have to. They were men. Pines men. But it felt nice. It felt really nice, and after the shit Stan was trying to pin down and bury, he was willing to indulge in a little nice. Even better when Ford started rocking from side to side.  

“Promise?”

“Always, Ford.”

“Even if I did something you hated?”

“You could never do something like that.”

“What about if I did something ‘unmanly’?”

“Well, when ya put it like that…” But there wasn’t really an end to that statement. Stan breathed a deep and rumbling chuckle over Ford’s hair, grinning at the responding laugh.  

"Stan..." Ford had placed a comforting hand on Stan's knee. Except it was dark, and that wasn't his knee, and his borrowed boxer shorts had ridden up his thighs. Six surprisingly soft fingers fluttered over the sensitive flesh of Stan's inner thigh for a brief moment before Stan linked his fingers with the offending appendage and lifted it to rest where it ought to be. Six fingers completely enclosed his as they rocked back and forth on the ocean waves.

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[greekowl87]

Kiss prompt: 3?

3. Kissing so desperately that their whole body curves into the other person

A/N: I love ‘Tithonus.’ I’ve written two post ep fics for it. Well, I did a third because I freaking love that episode. Sorry, this took so long @momdadimpoppunk ! I finally have time to get to this wonderful prompt and I hope you enjoy. Sorry for any typos. Tagging @today-in-fic

Mulder had been in the archives researching the lead for Scully when he knew something was wrong. He had felt the sharp stabbing pain in his gut like a knife carving out a piece of him. The pain had been so much that he had dropped the files to the ground. He knew then something was horribly wrong. He had only had felt something similar to this twice in his life: Scully’s abduction and cancer.

He wasn’t a big believer in fate despite being a believer in UFOs and little gray men. He learned to believe after Samantha’s abduction. He was open to any alternative to the truth; anything to keep a glimmer of hope alive. Ever since he met Scully, it gave him reason to hope but for a different reason. After Antarctica and everything that had conspired the past summer, she stuck with him. She was his reason he still went into the FBI every day even after they had lost everything. It was small things. A humorous smile for a sly joke slipped between background interviews. Companionable solidarity as they chased fertilizer leads across the country. He never asked why but he never took her for granted.

But right now, Mulder knew something wrong. Very wrong. He didn’t care if Kerch would chew his ass out or burn him at the stake. He needed to go to New York right now.

… …

The phone call came right before the jet left for Laguardia. 

Mulder drove his car to the airport, grabbed the backup overnight bag he kept in the trunk of his car, and paid with his own credit card for the quickest flight to New York. He picked the phone up on the first ring, somehow already knowing what the phone call was about. There was no greeting or anything. Straight to the point.

“Is this Fox Mulder?”

Mulder recognized that tone of voice. It came from a woman this time but it was just like all the others. Short and to the point. No friendly chit chat or scorning. Just getting the job done.

“This is.”

“Sir, I have you listed as the next of kin for a one Dana Scully? Is that correct.”

“It is.”

“Sir, Agent Scully was brought in earlier this afternoon with a gunshot wound to the abdomen. She’s currently in surgery.”

“What hospital is she staying at,” he demanded.

“Sir, it’s really too soon to tell or jump on a flight to New York.”

“I’m already here. What hospital is she at?”

“St. Catherine’s in Manhattan but as I told you there really is no need now.”

“I’ll be there in twenty.”

Mulder hung up and shoved his cellphone into his pocket without another thought. Taxi, taxi, taxi, Mulder thought desperately. Despite all their cases, his time at the FBI, and growing up on the Vineyard, he had only been to Manhattan a handful of times. He found the taxi zone and promptly ordered one straight to the hospital. As the cabbie drove, Mulder stared listlessly out the window as his brain went through countless scenarios on what could have gone wrong. Gunshot. Surgery. Was it serious? Life-threatening? Or just a scratch?

By the time he reached the hospital, Mulder was no less calm. 

He demanded information, made a scene, and almost got escorted from the hospital despite him waving his badge. Between this chaos, he was able to discern a few things: abdominal gunshot wound that should have killed her, and fired by Agent Ritter. Eventually, he was directed to the third floor, the surgery ward wherein the waiting area he found the little shit Agent Ritter. Mulder felt a burning rage. Rage against Them that orchestrated Scully’s abdication. Rage against the Smoking Man who could have cured her cancer. Rage against sonofabitch Agent Ritter for getting trigger happy and shooting Scully before even identifying the proper suspect. The difference was this time, Ritter was real and corporal in front of him. He had someone to work out his rage. He could do something.

Without the care of the consequences or what may happen, Mulder dropped his overnight bag and flew to Agent Ritter, slamming him against the wall as the picture shook. Ritter tried to struggle against him but Mulder had the element of surprise and physics on his side. Pushing his arm into Ritter’s neck, he barked, “How could you shoot another agent? Are you that stupid? Scully was right there and you shot her!”

Ritter gasped for breath. “Accident…it was…an accident.”

“Fuck that! You almost killed her!”

“Accident…”

He was so angry and desperate to do something. His rage withered and he through Ritter against the wall. “Fucking bastard,” he spat. “Get lost before I do something I regret.”

Mulder should have been reported or even arrested but Ritter bit his lip, nodded, and slouched away down the hall towards the elevator. Mulder ran his hands through his hair in anger. There wasn’t anything else to do but wait.

… … .

Seconds ticked away on the large white clock. 

The big hand inched around full circle as the little hand slowly slouched toward one a.m. How long had Mulder been here? How long had Scully been in surgery? He had pulled his tie loose and tossed his jacket over his bag.

There had been no news. He watched the hospital staff and random strangers walking the halls like ghosts. Mulder began to make up stories for everyone he saw. Skinny man was a magician that didn’t tell anyone. That nurse cross stitched cats on everything. He smiled sadly at the game he used to play with Scully. There was a doctor approaching him now. He was different from everyone else as he came towards Mulder a purpose. He looked tired and disheveled but smiled at the FBI agent. 

“Agent Mulder?”

“Yes. Is Scully all right?”

The old doctor smiled. “Agent Scully is very, very lucky to be alive.” He took a deep breath and took off his glasses. “The bullet entered right above the stomach. Hit the spleen. I’m not going to coat it lightly. She should have hemorrhaged on the apartment, in the ambulance, or on my table. She should have died but she never stopped breathing. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“What do you mean you’ve never seen anything like it?” Brief memories of an old man from the archived files flashed in his head. “She’s alive, right?”

“She should have died instantly.” The doctor snapped his fingers for emphasis. “But she wouldn’t give up. Just came out of surgery in the last hour. She’s in recovery and then we’ll be moving her to a room if nothing happens in the next hour.”

“I want to stay.”

“Agent Mulder, she could wake up now or 24 hours from now. I recommend you get some sleep.”

“I want to be the first thing that she sees when she wakes up.”

The exhausted doctor stared at Mulder for a moment before nodding. “I’ll have the nurse come get you when we move her.”

… … .

The staff moved Scully sometime around three a.m to a private room. The nurses must have taken pity on Mulder because they left him with a blanket and small pillow to use with the recliner that was in the private room. By four a.m, Scully was still passed out and Mulder made a vain attempt to get comfortable by turning the room’s tv on low and stretching his lanky body out in the chair next to her. He reached for her hand and simply held it.

Mulder turned onto his side slightly and watched as the early morning light began to show through the blinds. The rays danced across Scully’s face and mused red hair. He thought he could already seeing color coming back to her face. The steady beat of her heart on the monitor lulled his exhausted mind asleep.

… … . .

Mulder dreamed of kissing Scully.

He dreamed of her a lot ever since the first time he had almost lost her the first time. His own dreams began to grow more adventurous. He would kiss her so much that his own body would curve around her. He dreamed of kissing her like there was no tomorrow. She suffered so much and she deserved the world. She deserved everything. Mulder dreamed of showing Scully how much he cared for her, wanted her, and how much she deserved better. From him, from everyone. Of course, in his dreams, he was able to do it right and take care of her. But not in real life. A new image of Scully appeared in his dreams, bloody, crumpled, and starring lifelessly off into the distance.

No, no, no!

He dropped to his knees and pressed his hands to her abdominal wound. The blood leaked through his fingers. Her eyes looked for him and he saw fear. “It’s okay,” he whispered. “Scully, you hear me? We’re going to be okay.”

“Mulder,” she whispered. “I’m afraid. I’m afraid.”

“I know, I know.” His mind raced as he pulled her against him. “You don’t die though, Scully. The doctor said you are going to be fine.”

“Mulder, I saw him. I saw death.”

“Stop talking like that.”  He could feel his own tears running hot down his face. “You can’t leave like this. It isn’t fair to either of us.”

“Tell me. “Her weak bloody hand cupped his cheek and forced him to look at her. “Tell me, Mulder.”

“I love you,” he whispered and kissed her as if that was enough to save her.

… … .

Something was weakly squeezing Mulder’s hand as he awoke from his nightmare. He jumped awkwardly in the recliner but the weak hand grasp anchored him. He immediately remembered his bedridden partner who was likely still asleep and unconscious. He turned his bewildered gaze onto Scully who, beneath the hospital blankets and machinery, watched him sleepily.

“You were talking in your sleep.” Her voice sounded so small. “I would have woken you but you kept saying, ‘I love you.’ I thought you might have been dreaming about sunflower seeds.”

“No,” he said through his laughter. Tears were streaming down his cheeks again and he didn’t know why. “You’re awake.”

She narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “Of course I am.” She tried to shift in the hospital bed and winced in pain. “Where am I?”

“Still New York.”

Mulder got up, never letting go of her hand. He could not contain himself anymore. He bowed over her and kissed her. Within the kiss, he poured ever possible emotion and feeling he had for her. Scully pulled him closer as much as her injuries would allow. “Wow,” she chuckled. “Talk about the breath of life.”

“I almost lost you,” he whispered. He sat on the edge of the bed. “I should have been there.”

Scully watched him as he tried to get comfortable next to her on the bed and shifted this way and that, left and right, until she stilled him with her other hand. “Just be here now, Mulder.” She looked down to her abdomen where under the blanket hid her hospital gown, the bandage, and her wound. “I imagine you have already given Ritter a piece of your mind.”

He gave a weak smile. “I’m surprised I’m still here.”

She nodded. “You were crying too in your sleep.”

“Just a bad dream. It’s better now.” Mulder did not care anymore and threw caution to the wind. He kissed her again and again. “I’m just glad you are going to be okay.”

Scully smiled weakly and encouraged him to lounge back beside her. He gave her an easy smile and nuzzled her hair. Both of them turned their gaze to the window and the morning light. “Do you want me to close the blinds for you, Scully so you can get some more sleep?”

“No, this is good. This is perfect.”

[granddaughterogg]

First time with the Horsemen, part 1 (Fury, Strife)

Sooo a long time ago I received an ask to this effect. I am apparently unable to cram such a story into just a few paragraphs, so it got really long. Since no one reads long-ass posts anyway, I decided to break this bad boy in two. War and Death’s versions will follow tomorrow. Have fun!

Fury

The sun was setting slowly – not that you could see it through all the clouds. A slight drizzle stained the windows. It’s been a long, sleepy day. You and Fury spent it mostly on the sofa. That afternoon she asked you to teach her how to do makeup „the human way” (that’s how she put it, bless her. As if there was ONE way.) You brought in your laptop and introduced Fury to the amazing world of youtube tutorials.

Six hours later your eyeshadow palettes, brushes and used cotton swabs were scattered everywhere, creating a colourful barrier around the couch. None of you felt like getting up and cleaning this mess any time soon. Rain whispered in the background. You lied on the side, supporting yourself on an elbow. Fury spooned you with her long body, both arms curled protectively around your waist, her sharp chin nested between your neck and your shoulder. She was clearly dozing off. You could hear her wheezing slightly with every drawn breath.

Her huge, animated hair was everywhere – like a friendly octopus. One adventurous strand all but filled your nostril.

„Hey” you whispered. „Wake up. That tickles!”

Fury blinked slowly and fixed you with a blurry, dazed stare. Her face has been wiped clean from the thick black markings that usually graced it. She was still beautiful but looked different. Younger. Almost innocent.

„Oh, I’ll tickle you alright”, she murmured, brushing your collarbone. You let out a stifled, breathless chuckle. There goes the impression of innocence.

„How low should I go today?” she asked with a mischievous gleam in those milky peepers. „Should I stop here?” You gasped slightly when she kissed the skin of your breast. „Or maybe...here?” Two dexterous hands swiftly pulled up the hem of your T-shirt. You almost cried out when she pressed her lips to your abdomen.

„Just go all the way down”, you sighed.

She lifted her head and tossed you an inquiring stare.

„Are you sure?”

„As sure as I’ll ever be.” A small, nervous giggle escaped your lips. „Not that I would know. After all, I’ve never gone all the way before.”

Her eyes were big and thoughtful now.

„Oh, you didn’t?”

„Well, nope. Not with a girl either. The perfect opportunity somehow never presented itself. Like…until now.”

Fury closed in on you, her lips curled with the most cat-like smile you’ve ever seen.

„My surly brothers won’t be home until tomorrow,” she said. „I guess this is the perfect opportunity.” She covered your mouth with hers – it was a short but deep kiss. It made your insides backflip. „You’re in such good hands.”

„Yeah, I kinda have the idea” you ventured, your heart thumping.

She unzipped your jeans, pulled the thin cotton of your panties aside and kissed your pubic mound. You gave out the smallest moan.

Suddenly all the fabric has been forcefully pulled away by a pair of dexterous, dedicated hands. You were ass naked, and Fury was kissing you right in the soft, moistened centre.

This time you moaned louder.

She laughed and went in with the tongue. There was nothing in the whole world that could prepare you for this sensation – this resilient, skilfull wetness, pressing at the very core of your pleasure. She licked and then sucked a little. You went breathless from crying.

„Do you like it?..” she murmured.

„Please don’t stop”, you gasped.

„Oh, I don’t intend to any time soon” she stated and went back to sucking.

Rain whispered in the background. Your hips moved rhythmically up and down, meeting with her mouth in full force. You were lightheaded from bliss and you’d be damned if you let it go.

Strife

The thing about Strife is that it’s so easy to lose yourself in him. Out of the Four, he’s the one who radiates sexual energy in its rawest form. He’s also the most handsy by far. Even before you two started to seriously fool around - you could hardly pass him by without being patted or just grabbed and held. This dude has no concept of personal space.

Not that you mind. Not most of the times anyway.

He kisses like there’s no tomorrow. You always have to change your underwear after he kissed you.

It was during one of such prolonged sessions of getting all taut and tender inside – that he nipped your earlobe and whispered: „Hey girl.”

„...Mhmm?” At the moment it was hard to produce a coherent sentence.

Strife grinned. „What do you say we take things to the next level?”

Your eyes went wide. Your stomach dropped. Oh, no. Now you’ll have to tell him.

You darted back, trying to contain mild panic.

Strife had excellent eyesight though. He noticed how your face changed.

„What is it, babe?” he asked, frowning.

„I’d love to,” you said softly. „But Strife...I am a virgin.”

He blinked. „And?”

„Do you have something in your ears?” You felt so embarrassed, you almost lashed out at him. „I’ve never had sex before. With anyone! I have no idea how to...”

„Babe”, said Strife with a low voice.

You looked into those kind eyes, gleaming with golden light.

He held your chin in his palms and leaned in so that his long nose almost brushed yours.

„Kiddo.” That husky timbre that he used to snap back at Death or make wisecracks with – it was incredible how tender it could be. „I’ve had sex with everyone and then some. I put the ho in the Horsemen, remember? I know how it’s done. And it’s gonna be alright. You’re gonna be alright.”

„Than...teach me,” you said, burying your face in his shoulder.

„With pleasure. Like, literally.” His laughter made the little hairs on your neck stand on their ends.

„But not here. I bet one of my beloved siblings is gonna walk in on us every minute now. Shall we take my steed and fly away to a special place?”

„Yes!”

Strife’s idea of a special place turned out to be the top of an abandoned high-rise building. Reborn Humanity had yet to reclaim that one. It was covered with soft, lush moss and other vegetation. Little flowers peeped through the grass.

The sunset seemed riper up here, but you were in no mood for admiring the vista.

„So...what happens now?” You shot him a nervous, eager glance.

„It’s usually a good idea to get out of your clothes first...” Suddenly he was just behind you. Those nervous, skilful fingers of his went everywhere. You trembled and nodded with conviction. He made short work of your jeans and T-shirt. His own shirt and pants soon followed, scattered around on the moss.

You’ve seen Strife shirtless before – he was not exactly the bashful lot - but what you saw now was something else. Like, something ENTIRELY ELSE. You were seriously torn between the need to admire his lanky physique - and, well, panic. Had legs for days, this one. That you kinda knew. It showed.

What you never dreamed of was that he would prove to be so...big.

Then again, you had zero comparison.

Strife noticed your frightened expression, chuckled and sat you between his long legs, back pressed to his wide chest. You leaned in, eager to feel his touch. „Later”, he murmured reassuringly while palming your breasts. „We’re gonna take care about you first.”

And take care of you he did.

His fingers first enticed a flame under your skin, then made you wet and started to meticulously work you open. You trembled and sighed - first a little, that quite a lot. Strife’s golden eyes glinted with joy while he riled you up.

You pressed one flaming cheek to his torso and groaned through half-parted lips.

„That’s right”, he whispered. „It feels good, now doesn’t it?”

„Y-yeah...”

“Want me to do some more?”

„Yes! Please...”

He slid two fingers inside and then you seriously lost your shit.

Suddenly you were not exactly sure where you are – or who you are for that matter. Strife’s touch turned you into a sobbing ball of pleasure. He sure knew how to find your inner sweet spot.

You started to move jerkily. Up and down, up and down you went, grinding urgently on his large hand. The other one held you in a steady, secure grip. You felt completely safe. You felt weightless.

You came abruptly, arching your upper body so that the back of your head pressed into his torso, your eyes shut close, an unholy wail escaping your lips.

It was as if a wave came crashing over you – and left.

You went limp in your Horseman’s embrace.

„Babe”, he whispered into your hair, while swaying you gently. „Baby. Kiddo.”

„Strife.” It was just a whisper.

„You did great for a first time, you know.” Tenderness laced the words.

„Yeah”, you breathed, turning your face to look him in the eyes, warm and glowing and full of joy. He had such a smug grin on that angular mug of his. He sure earned it. „I love you too.”

[hamilkilo]

If Apples Were Pears and Peaches Were Plums, I’d Love You Just the Same

Prompt: I know there’s been a lot of fat shaming and stuff of the like but people fail to realize that people also get shamed for being too flat (ex. No butt, no chest). I fall into that category, so can I please get a poly!hamilsquad x reader where the reader is feeling a little insecure about being so small?

Pairing: Poly!Hamilsquad x Reader

TW: body image issues, spicy themes(no sex, still spicy), fluff!!!

A/N: I know that the prompt here implies she/her pronouns, but the reality of body image is that guys are largely unrepresented when it comes to body acceptance. I also feel like this could apply to any pronouns, because the take away is still the same. I really hope y’all like this! As always, if you want me to tag something, please let me know! I want you to feel safe while reading my work! I love y’all! Happy reading!

Word Count: 1758

Body image. Always such a controversial topic. It’s never about the perfect body. It’s always about too fat, too thin, too skinny, too big, to small, too average. You can’t recall a single person you’ve ever met that ever loved themself and the way they looked one hundred percent.

Growing up, you had always been on the rather small side. Your grandmother had called you “nothing but skin and bones” for a majority of your childhood. Your friend’s mom once commented that “a gust of wind might blow you away.” You tried not to let it get to you, but more often than not, it did.

Recently, there had been an uproar of body positivity, a campaign encouraging women to love their bodies, any and every type. You loved the idea of it, but no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t apply it to yourself. Maybe it was because you’d found it so hard to admit it to yourself. After all, men weren’t supposed to feel insecure about their own bodies.

One night, you had been cuddling on the couch with Herc when he ran his thumb over your rubs. He had been softly caressing your side, but when you felt his thumb skirt over the outline of your bones, you tensed and bit your lip. All of your insecurities came to surface. You found yourself pulled away from his embrace.

“You okay, babe?” He asked you with soft eyes, and you shrugged. You tried to play it off. Real men don’t admit their insecurities and shortcomings.

“Yeah, just warm. You’re like a furnace, Herc,” you chuckled, and he grinned bashfully.

“I know… Maybe less clothes would help?” He suggested, and you blushed, your face feeling hot.

“Haha, smooth.”

He rolled his eyes at you, grabbing you and pulling you on top of him as he fell backwards onto the couch. “Thanks, I try to be…”

You placed your hands on his chest to hold yourself up. You felt heated in this situation, your securities being the only things that held you back from ripping his clothes off.

You felt him trace his fingers over the curve of your lower lip, and you met his curious eyes. “What’s running through that beautiful brain of yours, baby?”

You looked down, unsure of admitting it to him, but he brought your chin up and met your gaze.

“You can tell me anything, Y/N.” You bit your lip again.

“I…” How do you say that you hate your body? That a toad couldn’t compare to Adonis? “Herc? Do you ever… Like, have you ever felt self conscious?”

He tilted his head thoughtfully. “Do you mean about my personality, my appearance, my sense of fashion-”

“Appearance,” you mumbled, and you felt his hands gently grip your hips.

“Sometimes, yeah,” he admitted, his thumb skimming beneath the fabric of your shirt. “I mean, I’m a big boy, I know that… I feel like people sometimes find me intimidating… I was always picked first in P.E., but I never wanted to play basketball or be a star on the football team… I just wanted to design clothes… For a long time, my parents found great difficulty in admitting that to themselves, and I did too. Sometimes, it’s hard for people to see a knife that’s useful for anything other than butchering… but it can be elegant, too, ya know? You can use it to cut open a package, cut out a design… it’s useful for more than what it’s meant to do. My hands, although they’re huge and perfect for ball handling, are also gentle enough for a soft caress, and they’re nimble enough for fine detail… Why do you ask?”

His words had moved you, and for a moment, you were lost for words. Your beautiful, perfect Herc, often felt self conscious, it seemed. “I… I sometimes feel like I don’t belong here. Like, I’m not attractive enough to deserve you guys. I’m small, flat, and lanky…”

You went to bury your face in your hands, but he caught your wrists, and then held your hands in his. “Y/N,” he breathed. “You’re nothing but perfect to us, so please don’t ever think otherwise.”

He moved so effortlessly and with such grace as he switched positions, holding you beneath him. His fingers softly traced over the silhouette of your frame. “I love the way your body moves when you reach up for the spice basket from the kitchen shelves…” He pressed a kiss to the hollow of your neck. “I love the way your chest heaves beneath me... “ He chuckled when he felt it. “Just like that.” He slid his right hand under your shirt. “I love the way goosebumps trace down your spine when I do that thing with my tongue you like so much…” You let your head fall back against the couch as he sucked on the sweet spot in your neck. “I love how you look beneath me…” He paused, and you looked up at him. He had pulled back enough for you to make eye contact, and he leaned forward. His lips just a breath away from yours. “But most importantly, I love you. I love you for who you are. You could look any way in the world, and I would love you regardless.”

He pressed his lips to yours then, in a sweet, loving kiss that melted away every dark thought in your mind. When you pulled away, he smiled at you, but a voice behind you interrupted.

“Are we talking about insecurities?” You quickly whipped around to see Alex perched on the arm of the couch, sipping his coffee. How long had he been there?

“Yeah…?” You answered as Herc helped you sit up.

“I overheard while I was in the kitchen refilling my coffee.” He stood and sat the half empty mug down. In Alex time, he hadn’t been there long. Otherwise, the mug would’ve been empty. “Y/N, I know what it is to be small.”

You felt your cheeks burn at the word you hated to much. It sounded like a curse word, the way he said it.

“I mean, I’m hardly 5’6” on a good day,” he added bitterly. “But, when I look at you, I do not think small… I think beautiful, gorgeous, crafted by God, and most importantly and miraculously, mine. I know I cannot erase away your insecurities with words of love, because, believe me, I’ve tried that on my own… But I want you to know that it’s okay to be insecure… Just know that others don’t see you that way. You don’t have to love every aspect of you to love yourself. There’s no pressure on you to ever look perfect. Besides, I find that perfect is pretty subjective to the eye of the beholder, and perhaps I’m biased, but you, my sweet, are the walking definition-” you cut his ramblings off with a kiss, almost knocking him back. You turned him so that his back was to the couch, and you pushed him down, straddling him, and Herc laughed from beside you two.

Things had started to progress past innocent kissing when John and Laf got back from grocery shopping and found you three in a heated make out session.

“Qu’est-ce c’est?” Laf asked as he sat his armful of groceries on the table beside the front door. John copied him, and they both watched in amusement.

“Y/N was feeling self conscious…” Alex admitted, and you swatted his arm. Great, now everyone knew. You didn’t want it to be a big deal.

John frowned, moving towards you. “Well, we can’t have that, now can we?”

“Oh no, Jack, we can’t,” Laf agreed, and they both advanced with predatory grins. Alex pulled away from you, offering no protection, as John scooped you up into his arms. You wrapped your legs around his hips to steady yourself, and he ran his nails down your back tauntingly. You felt Laf behind you, and you leaned back against his chest.

“Tell me, sweetheart, what’s got you down?” John drawled slowly. You tightenned your grip on his shoulders when you felt his hand squeeze your ass.

“I… I’m munchkin height and flat as a board,” you admitted with chagrin, and you looked away in shame. Tears burned your eyes. You’d never said that thought out loud. Not that way.

John growled and jerked your pelvis closer to his. “Well then, in that case, I’m really into munchkins.”

You couldn’t help it, a laugh bubbled from your chest. You’d never expected that reaction. “I’m gonna have to kinkshame ya for that one, Johnny.”

He gave you a cheeky grin. “Kinkshame all ya want, darlin’, that won’t stop me from lovin’ you.” He pressed a kiss to your neck, and you let your head fall back to Laf’s shoulder, and he began to kiss the other side.

“You… ‘appen to be… the perfect size for me to ‘old at night, mon cher,” Laf purred against you, and you bit back a moan.

“And you’re just big enough for all of us to love,” John murmured, and although the sentence was fairly innocent, the way he said it made it sound lewd… and you loved it.

“I love the way your back arches when I kiss this spot here,” John groaned as he pressed his lips to the spot where your shoulder met your neck, and you moaned, pressing back against Laf even harder.

“And I, mon ange, love the way your hips move when I run my hands down your torso,” Laf chuckled as he did exactly what he described, and your body corresponded.

“What… What else do you love about me?” You gasped as they had their way with you. You watched as John glanced devilishly at where you knew your other two boyfriends were.

“I dunno, guys… Should we show him?”

You knew the answer when you felt fingers tug at the hem of your pants.

[yehet-me-up]

Decisions, Decisions

Pairing: Park Chanyeol x reader (female)

Word Count: 4,247

Genre: angst/fluff 

Rating: (F) for fluff 

Summary: All your life you’ve wanted to be a singer. And all your life you’ve followed your father’s wishes instead. But a chance encounter at a dive bar in NYC might be just the push you need to chase your dreams.

“I have to get out of Boston, Cass,” you say, your voice high and anxious. A restless energy has been coursing its way through your body all day; a suffocating feeling that’s making you desperate to get away. “Can I come up for a girl’s weekend tomorrow?”

“Heck yes! You know the bed in my dorm is big enough for the two of us,” she says. “Stay as long as you need, babe.”  

The next day, after your two hour Economics seminar from hell, you board the train to NYC. Cassie texts that she’s more than ready to help you drink and dance your sorrows away, or to listen and rub your back if you need to cry and talk. You talk practically every day, but right now it’s just not enough. You need her real arms around you, feeling lost and unmoored and needing something tangible to anchor you.

You spend the entire train ride fighting off tears. Three and a half years of college and four before that in high school, you think, barely paying attention to the scenery as the train speeds along. Seven and a half years of working your ass off as an AP student, honors society member, and an Econ major, just months away from graduation.

The thought of spending another two and a half years, finishing your degree and getting an MBA, not to mention a lifetime after that, working for someone else’s dream makes you sick to your stomach. 

Your father insisted that you major in something practical and he’d steered you toward his chosen path with hints both subtle and not. He couldn’t care less that all you’ve ever wanted to do is sing, and hadn’t cared since you’d first expressed the desire in middle school.

All throughout high school it had been a knock-down, drag out fight. A choir class for you, an internship with a local marketing company for him. The spring musical for you, AP Macroeconomics for him. A weekend visiting your aunt in LA to meet with a vocal coach, two weeks during the summer building houses to buff up your resume. And it hadn’t let up once you started college. 

For years you’d been fighting him tooth and nail, wondering desperately why you couldn’t have Cassie’s parents. She’s studying screenwriting at NYU and her parents are thrilled. But she could be studying plant biology or dentistry or underwater basket weaving and they wouldn’t love her any less.

I wonder what that’s like, you think bitterly, trying to discreetly rub your tears away with the edge of your sleeve. Your mother just goes along with your father, not wanting to choose sides in the fight, picking your father by deferral.

You close your eyes and lean back against the seat, sighing heavily. It’s not that you hate Econ, or that you don’t see the value of education, or purposely want to not follow your father’s dream. You know he comes from a place of love, wanting you to be financially secure and stable - it’s what every parent wants. But why can’t he also want me to be happy, too? you think miserably.

It’s been over a year since you sang – the toll of classes, internships, and MBA applications over the summer and fall had cast a dark cloud over your life. It’s as if the frustration and apathy you feel towards your life had robbed you of the words that used to flow effortlessly from your lips.

The train pulls into the station with a jolt. You sling your backpack over your shoulder and join the crowd piling onto the platform. In seconds you see Cassie, dressed in an enormous sweatshirt, holding her arms out to you. Fresh tears blur your eyes as you dash into her arms.

“Oh, babe. It’s okay, I’ve got you. It’s going to be all right,” she says soothingly, squeezing you tight as you drop your forehead to her shoulder.

You let out a deep sigh, leaning into her. You’ve been so busy with class and your most recent internship at LNG Financial that it’s been weeks since you’ve seen her in person. But now that you’re here, squeezing her tight, the combination of your best friend and your favorite city in the world is already starting to ease the ache in your heart.

Pulling back, you let her put an arm around you and guide you from the station. She knows you’ll talk when you’re ready; with a friendship as deep as yours she knows what you need without your having to ask.

The city is alive on this early Friday evening in early March. The streets are packed with tourists and locals alike. Winter is just starting to fade and spring is on the horizon and it feels like something in you is thawing as well. You can finally breathe, miles away from school and Boston and that constant feeling of drowning.

“I can’t do it,” you say suddenly, turning to look at Cassie as you wait at a stoplight for the traffic to slow.

“The MBA, you mean?” she asks, no stranger to your hatred of your father’s chosen path for you. “Wait, did you hear back?” she asks, her eyes going wide.

“Yeah. I got in,” you say, the words leaving a bitter taste in your mouth.

You’d pulled up your phone yesterday morning on the way to class. Anyone else would be popping champagne, crying tears of joy, if they found out that they got accepted into one of the top MBA programs in the country. But the email had felt like a punch in the gut and you’d looked around, wildly wishing you could be anyone else, just for one day.

“Oh god, did you tell him yet?” she asks, bracing herself.

“No. But if the eighteen voicemails I have right now are any indication, he’s been trolling the website and knows that this is the week I find out,” you say with a surge of frustration, stepping out into the intersection in a huff.

“Why don’t you just tell him no, hun?” she says delicately, taking large steps to catch up to you. “You know how I feel about this, just come live here with me after graduation. You’re twenty-two. He can’t dictate your entire life.”

You sigh and look up – the stars are just barely visible in the growing darkness above the lights of the city. “I know. But I can’t seem to get over this need for his approval; I can’t explain it.”

She nudges you with her shoulder. When you look over she’s giving you a sympathetic smile. “He’s your dad. Of course you want to prove yourself to him. But it’s your life too, you know. You deserve to be happy.”

You wrap an arm around her waist and grin as you reach the door to her dorm. “What would I do without you Cass?”

She ruffles your hair and you groan at her. “Lucky for you, you’ll never have to find out,” she teases, dashing up the stairs ahead of you. She turns around on the first landing, her hair flying around her face as she leans down to you with a wink. “And I have just the place to go to tonight to take your mind off of things.”

“It’s perfect,” you say with a grin, sweeping your hair behind your ear as you look up at the entrance.

“Karaoke night – your favorite. Do I know you or what?” she says with a wink as you hand your ID to the bouncer.

The inside is dark, crowded; hot from the crush of people inside fighting to get to the bar for a drink. You and Cassie both draw stares, dressed in matching dark jeans and v-neck black shirts. The attention is energizing; the dance of attraction is just another form of performance, after all – and you’ve always been a star. Finally at the bar, you both order drinks and move to find a place to stand.

A narrow table along the wall opens up and you dive after it. As you sip your drinks, a familiar warmth starts to flow through you, happiness once again taking up residence in your heart as you get into the karaoke.

The singers throughout the night vary in success. Perpetual favorites like Don’t Stop Believin’ and Sweet Caroline get the usual applause and you cheer along with everyone else, invigorated by the collective sense of excitement. A group of college guys get on stage and belt out a terrible off-key version of Baby Got Back, to a solid minute of cheering.

Cassie excuses herself to the bathroom and you do a sweep of the bar. You’re here for some girl time, not to hook up; but it doesn’t hurt to look. The requisite hipsters at the bar, some college guys in the corner staring up at the screens showing a football game.

A tall man at one of the pool tables catches your eye, and not just because of his lanky figure and leather jacket. He’s laughing at something his friend’s doing – a shorter, blonde man who ducks down below the table. You feel yourself smiling in response - you just can’t help it, he exudes joy and amusement even from across the bar.

His friend retrieves a ball from the floor and starts talking rapidly in his defense, which only further draws laughter from the object of your attention. As if pulled by your stare, he turns in your direction, his dark eyes widening slightly as they meet yours. His gaze rakes your body. His eyes meet yours over the lip of his drink as he takes a sip, an eyebrow quirking up with interest.

You confidently return his look, leaning on your elbow on the table and cocking a hip out. He brings his drink back down, revealing a flirtatious smile. He leans over to say something to his friend, his eyes never leaving yours. The shorter man turns to look at you and grins widely, smacking his friend on the shoulder. Just as he pushes off the table to move in your direction, Cassie comes back in a wave of excitement.

“So you’re either going to love me or you’re going to hate me,” she says breathlessly and grabs her drink, downing a huge swallow.

“What do you mean?” you ask, staring back across the bar at the tall man. He gives you a friendly raise of his glass and settles back against the pool table to wait.

“Alllll right ladies and gentleman, put your hands together for our next singer, Y/N!” the announcer on stage calls in a theatrical voice.

Your jaw drops and you finally turn to look at Cassie. She gives you a nervous smile and shrugs. “It’s been ages since I heard you sing. And it always makes you feel better. Plus, I picked one of your favorites,” she says and takes your drink from you, setting it on the table.

You turn to the stage, your mind a whirl of disbelief, fear, and nervous excitement. She comes over and pulls you by your shoulders, moving you towards the stage. With a gentle shove she sets you walking. You swallow and nervously push your hair behind your ears, an old reflexive movement.

The lights are bright on the stage as you step up next to the announcer, bringing your hand up to shield your eyes. From up here you can see the man at the pool table fold his arms, leaning back to watch you with an eager look.

“Good luck,” the announcer says with a genuine smile and then moves off to the computer to queue up the song.

You take a deep breath, dropping your hand and steadying yourself. Trying to remember how to do this; how to be on stage, how to lose yourself in the song and the sheer enjoyment of singing. It feels like holding up your old favorite dress - both nostalgic for how you used to feel in it and terrified that it won’t fit anymore.

Reaching out a hand to grab the microphone on the stand you lift your eyes, scanning the crowd. As the song starts the talking dies down, people turning to see how you’ll do with the challenging number. Cassie raises her glass to you and you shake your head in amusement, your old confidence beginning to rise.

The opening beats to You Know I’m No Good by Amy Winehouse start. It’s one of your all time favorites - the smoky, sexy vibe of the song always shocks people coming from you. With your classic features and normally conservative style of dress, everyone pegs you for a Whitney Huston type or even a Celine Dion. They always expect you to go with a ballad, something sweet and endearing.

But you love playing against type and showcasing your love for the blues. Your lower, huskier tones come out during this song and you smile to yourself in anticipation. Your hips start swaying unconsciously as the familiar beats flow through you.

From the first line you can only focus on one person – the man at the pool table. His eyes widen with attraction and interest as you begin to sing. He gives you a wry grin as he sips the amber liquid in his glass, bobbing his head along to the music. He has to know you’re singing for him as much as you’re singing for yourself.

The sultry sound of your voice sends a thrill of pleasure through your veins. The fear that you’d lost your talent melts away as the crowd cheers you on. The final bars of the music are drowned out in applause. You give a shy wave, turning back into your normal self away from the stage, like Cinderella at the stroke of midnight.

Smiling ear to ear you dash over to Cassie, practically tackling her into a hug as you thank her over and over. She laughs, clinking her glass to yours.

“I knew you still had it in you,” she says happily. “You’re never more yourself than when you’re up there. I just wanted to remind you that there’s still things you love in the world.”

You feel a wave of gratitude rise in you, your eyes going misty as you look at your best friend. A movement to your left catches your eye and you blanche as you see that the man from the pool table is standing next to you, his hands in his pockets as he looks at you.

“That was some performance,” he says, raising his voice above the newest singer on the stage.

“If you want to hit on my friend, you might want to get in line,” Cassie says with a sassy wink.

He laughs, bending at the waist, all of his teeth on view as he smiles. “I mean, your friend is drop dead gorgeous, I can’t lie. But I’m actually here to talk to her about her singing,” he replies, his lips twisting into a lopsided grin.

You nearly choke on your drink. “My singing?”

“Yeah. Come on, you have to know how fantastic you are. I just started a new music agency here in New York. I’ve been on the hunt for talent, and I think I’ve found it,” he says, pausing to watch your reaction.

Your brow furrows in confusion, looking over at Cassie. She shrugs and takes a sip of her beer. “So, what are you asking?” she says with a hard look at Chanyeol, like she’s daring him to try and bullshit you.

He grins and he instantly looks younger, boyish, as his eyes crinkle in the corners. “Well, I’d love to meet up with you tomorrow. Hear you sing some other things, discuss what we might do together,” he says, handing you a business card.

Park Chanyeol CEO Loey Entertainment Inc.

Below it is a phone number with a local area code and an address uptown. You hold the card in your hands gently, as if it’s a bubble that’s going to burst any second. Your buzz fades, reality slamming into you.

“Wait. Are you for real?” you gasp in confusion. “You’re not just messing with me?”

He laughs with his whole body, smacking his knee as he leans against the pool table for support. “No, I’m not just messing with you. I’m also a performer too, I wouldn’t joke around about something like this.”

You glance back and forth between his handsome face, the card, and Cassie’s barely contained glee. “So what do you say? How does noon tomorrow sound?” he asks, taking another sip of his drink.

“Yes!” you blurt, startling the people near you. You clap your hand over your mouth, a giddy laugh rising in your throat. “Oh my god, yes. That would be – I can’t even –” 

“She’ll see you tomorrow,” Cassie says with a knowing smirk, grabbing the card out of your hand and steering you out of the bar. She turns and gives a wave back at Chanyeol as you duck out the door onto the street.

You straighten your skirt, nervously tucking your hair behind your ears. You smile to yourself; it’s been ages since you felt anxious excitement. If you’re honest with yourself, it’s been ages since you felt anything but dread when it comes to your future. 

The building is modern, a converted warehouse that’s obviously in the middle of renovations. Cassie had pulled up the address last night from her dorm room, in between throwing clothing options at you and digging out your old lyrics from her Google Drive ‘just in case he wants to hear something original!’

You’d spent last night in a state of disbelief, more than happy to let her steer you through this. She’d sent you off this morning with a slap on the ass, making you crack up as you sped down the stairs and up the many blocks to the address he’d given you.

Pulling out your phone, you check the time. 11:55 it reads. You also see another text message pop up from your dad, the fifth this morning. I’m serious Y/N. Call me the moment you get this. Your mother and I are very worried. You sigh and click the screen off, shoving the phone in your purse.

Your reflection in the glass doors is frowning and you quickly pull yourself together, reminding yourself how thrilled you are for this opportunity. To sing, full time? You can’t think of anything you want more than that. 

Pulling open the door, you see Chanyeol in the middle of the space. The large, open area is unfinished – steel beams and piles of wood are all over. But a desk is set up in the middle with a computer, and he’s wearing headphones as he stares intently at the screen.

You walk over, coming around to the far side of the desk to draw his attention. He jolts, finally noticing you, and his surprised expression turning into one of joy when he realizes who you are.

“Hey! I’m so glad you came. Please, take a seat,” he says, attempting to stand up and getting pulled back by the headphones still around his head.

You both laugh as he untangles himself and sets the headphones on the desk. He pulls a chair over near him so you can sit down. You put the folder with your lyrics in it on your lap and fold your hands anxiously in front of you. He sits back down and slaps his hands to his knees, watching you.

“So, why don’t you tell me more about yourself? I’m dying to get the full story,” he says with a smile, motioning with his hand for you to start.

You start off telling him about the musicals you’d done, the coaches you’d trained with. But he gently prods you to go deeper, to tell him about how you got into singing. Who your favorite artists are. How you feel when you’re singing. 

By the time he finally asks you to sing, you feel like you’ve bared your whole heart to him. It makes you furrow your brow in confusion as you marvel at how long you went without doing the one thing it feels like you were born to do.

He leaves the choice up to you so you choose another favorite – Feeling Good by Nina Simone. The sound echoes around you and Chanyeol in the empty space, his dark eyes intent as they watch you. When you hit a high note his eyes drift close, his head tilting to the side as he listens.

“Perfect. Just perfect,” he says with a smile after you finish. “Do you have any original songs?”

“Yeah, actually I do,” you say with a nervous inhale.

You pull out one and sing it for him. It’s a simple tune, Cassie had played her guitar to accompany you on it at your Senior year talent show in High School. 

Your lips tilt into a smile as you sing, the world falling away as you get lost in the pleasure of singing without agenda. Yes, you’re trying to impress him, but his gentle, excited presence builds you up, relaxes you, rather than pushing you down.

He claps for you, looking again like a big kid. “I know I’m new at this, and I have no idea yet how to go about all of the legal stuff, my partner has been taking care of the paperwork side of things. But, I’d love to start messing around with that song together. I actually play guitar too, if you wouldn’t mind accompaniment?” he asks.

“Me and my friend from the bar last night used to join me on her guitar actually, so that would be perfect,” you reply. “Wait – legal stuff…. Does that mean you want to sign me?” you gasp, your eyes going wide.

His head bobs up and down wildly, his hair falling into his eyes. “Absolutely. With your voice and your songwriting ability, I think we could produce something amazing together. How about we get together Monday night – I’ll bring my business partner and you can bring your friend and we can work something out?”

“Actually, Monday I hav-” you pause mid-sentence. Monday is the longest day of your week. A morning at your internship and back-to-back lectures followed by a study session with some other students in your major.

You bite your lip, torn. “Do you mind if I make a call real quick, before we get back to it?” you ask.

“Absolutely, take as long as you need. I’ll be here when you’re ready,” he says with a warm smile.

You pull your phone from your pocket and head back to the entrance, stepping out into the street. You clutch the phone to yourself, feeling as if you’re floating as people rush by you on the crowded sidewalk. You dial Cassie’s number and tap your foot while you wait for her to answer.

She answers in a rush of breath, as if she picked up the phone mid-sentence. “How did it go?” 

“Good. Great, actually. He wants to sign me as his first artist,” you say and then let out a squeal, still in disbelief that it’s real.

“OH MY GOD,” she screams into the phone and you have to hold it away from your ear, smothering a laugh. “What did you say?”

“I said I had to make a call first,” you answer. “Cass, I have a whole life in Boston. I have three months left before graduation. I can’t just pick everything up and move here.”

“Honey, you once belted Memory from Cats at a police officer to get us out of a ticket. While wearing a unicorn onesie. I think you can do anything you set your mind to,” she says with a laugh. “Besides, you can live with me in the dorm until graduation and then we can get a place together.”

You sigh. “God, you make it sound so simple. I want that more than anything, but what about my dad?” 

“That’s up to you babe, but I’m here for you no matter what,” she says and you know she means it with her whole heart. 

“All right, Cass. I’ll fill you in when I get back. See you soon, okay?” 

She agrees and you hang up the phone, staring at the screen. Slowly you swipe back over to your contacts, pulling up you dad’s number. Before you can chicken out, you press your thumb to the call button and hold the phone up to your ear. 

As the line connects you turn around, your eyes meeting Chanyeol’s through the clear glass wall. He’s sitting in his chair, his guitar in his lap. He’s singing along as he strums, bobbing along to the tune. 

Though you can’t hear the song, you can see the joy on his face; his eyes crinkle at the corners as he meets your gaze, giving you a nod and a smile. 

Your own lips tug up in response, spreading into a grin. You have a feeling that Cass won’t be the only person there for you in the future, and as the call connects you feel a wave of peace wash over you - your decision made. 

“Hi Dad, it’s me. Listen, I have something to tell you...” 

[hayjeon]

Memory Lane | 02 ft. Yoongi

→ grumpy husband yoongi au aka lots of fluff and a little smut → 1.9k words → part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | BTS in 10 years!AU

A/N: Still on a hiatus but wanted to upload this as a thank you for the overwhelming support and love for Memory Lane part 1! I love this au and stay tuned for other members’ in this au! <3 

You’re laying in his arms, wrapped in the fluffiest bath robe you’ve ever worn, sitting on the balcony and staring out over the water. It’s been three days since you two got here to Bora Bora and it’s been a dream come true for you, since you’d always wanted to come here for your honeymoon as a child.

Today was an incredibly jam packed day, the schedule consisting of snorkeling and watching and experiencing the traditional culture. You patted his arm that’s wrapped around your waist. “Thank you Yoongi.”

He shifts behind you, low voice murmuring in your ear a little too delayed. “Mmm, for what?”

You giggle, and turn around to look at him, and like you expected, he was too close to dozing off. Laughing and turning in his arms so you can snuggle against his chest, he wraps his arm around your shoulders instead and props his chin on the crown of your head.

“I know you hate stuff like this, but thank you for bringing me here.”

He snorts, grabbing his wine glass and sipping at it while looking up at the stars. “You’re right I don’t, this shit sucks. I just wanna sleep.”

“I know Yoongi.” You hold him a bit tighter against you, molding yourself against him. “That’s why I’m so happy you agreed to all of this.”

He chuckles, the arm on your shoulder dropping to stroke your upper arm with slow and firm movements. “You’re lucky I kind of love you because I don’t even do this kind of stuff for the maknae.”

He’s right. He never does this stuff, even when he was on tours and trips overseas with the boys. He would always hide in the hotel room and sleep or laze around until they absolutely had to go somewhere, according to what his members said. They’re absolutely amazed on the day of your wedding when they find out that you’re going to Bora Bora, where the temperature is definitely above average and where there’s a lot of people. Because that sounds exactly like the thing Yoongi would not do, much less take a tour with other strangers for the entire day.

But you just laugh at Yoongi’s grimace at the wedding reception, loving the way he grinds his teeth when he sees that cousin he always hated but then his eyes turn to mush whenever he turns and looks at you in your white dress and huge smile. You realize that you can never ever love someone else the way you love Min Yoongi, the lanky boy who suddenly ran into you out of nowhere and showed up to your office for weeks with a scowl and a cute little puppy in his arms that he insisted had “something wrong with it!” to which you always greeted him with a blush and a “stop calling Holly ‘it’ Yoongi!”

You remembered recognizing his face somewhere, but never really placing his features with a name until one of your nurses squealed when Yoongi walked in during her shift.

“Y/N,” she hissed, “was that the customer that the other girls keep saying is definitely flirting with you?”

“What? Who said that?”

“You know I’ve been out for the past few weeks because of my maternity leave but that doesn’t mean you can go get a cutie! Much less Min Yoongi!”

“Wait, Jisoo, what do you mean?”

“Oh my God you grandma. Don’t you know who that is? Holly’s owner?! Min Yoongi?! Rapper from the boy band from our childhood, BTS?!” She practically screeches and then sighs in exasperation, grasping her lower back and sitting down with another hand on her protruding belly.

You tap your pen against your lip. “Oh, so that’s who he was.”

She practically lunges at you. “You fucking lucky bitch! I can’t believe Min Yoongi the love of my life is coming to this vet office and trying to get your attention! Date him!”

“I don’t know Jisoo. He’s cute but I barely met him! And what are you talking about, you married Shownu and he was the most popular guy in our year!”

She throws her hands up in the air. “Motherfucker got me pregnant right after the honeymoon, when I fucking told him to pack my pills. I’m still mad.” Her tone and words totally contradict her expression though, because she strokes her belly with a soft smile. “But anyways! Yeri told me that he’s been dropping by like almost every other day to come see you. That’s definitely a sign that he’s into you! You should date him!”

You laugh, “I guess. We’ll see how it goes.”

And the realization comes again and again, as more people around you begin telling you how big of a deal BTS was, and you realize you recognized their music because you heard it playing often on the streets or on one of your nurses phones. And then he shyly invites you to a memory concert a year into your relationship, where you meet the other members who are gathered to give their fans another concert to remind them of their gratitude. And sometimes you’re in awe that such a talented and successful person would ever be in love with you, a normal girl with an otherwise normal life and job.

But after he entered your life, both of your lives changed. He taught you how to relax from your routine, to take some breaks and enjoy a nap here and then. And you taught him how to have fun, to take that permanent scowl off his face and enjoy the moment. And you could never ask for any more, because Min Yoongi was the best thing that happened to you in your life.

Of course, though, you two had your fair share of fights. It’s often because Yoongi is quite forgetful and dense at times. The biggest fight you two had was when a girl was practically throwing herself at him during your first year anniversary dinner, and when you expressed your discomfort with her, you were so offended to see that he thought it was okay to give the stupid waitress a hefty tip when all she did was flash her boobs at him and sweet talk him into more wine. It was petty, you know, to throw a fit over the tip, but it was a compilation of all your insecurities. You didn’t consider yourself very pretty, nor was your body as glamorous as the waitress’s, and you couldn’t flirt to save your life. And often you had recurring thoughts that Yoongi was definitely out of your league, and was just maybe dating you out of pity or something along those lines.

And even though he tried his best to reassure you of his love for you, and even if it was evident in the way he’d never dated anyone as long as he did you, you couldn’t help but yell back at him at home, when you two were hashing it out. But an hour of yelling and another hour of crying later, he’d wrapped you up in his arms and apologized over and over and told you he loved you and would die for you for the first time.

Min Yoongi was a man of few words. A lot of times, you notice that in turn for his curtness he expresses himself through the music he produced for bts and continues to produce for countless artists even now. But it was the first time in your entire relationship that Yoongi told you he loved you and that night you realized you were also entirely, hopelessly, and permanently in love with him too.

And you’re amazed that he still loves you when you’re a klutz and he has to drive you to work because you sprained your ankle, or when you get scammed by donating to a charity that you later find out doesn’t even exist. And he gives you a good lecture for about twenty minutes before wrapping you up in his arms and grumbling cheekily about how you should take a few days off of work so you can just stay home with him.

His lips on your neck draw you back and you crane your neck and close your eyes, a soft smile grazing your lips. “Um Yoongi?”

“Mm?” He lowly hums against your neck, placing the wine glass in his hand on the side to fully wrap both of his arms around your waist.

“We literally just took a shower together and we have to wake up…early…tomorrow.” You let out a sigh when he grazes his teeth against a particularly sensitive spot and he responds by swiping his tongue over the crook of your neck and shoulder and moving up towards your ear.

“It’s fine,” he growls in your ear and you relent, turning to wrap your arms around his neck, and meeting his lips halfway. He groans, and caves into your form, a hand cupping your head and the other slipping under the robe to meet bare skin, firmly anchoring you to him.

“I kind of love you too Min Yoongi.” You giggle against his lips, nipping at his lower lips, and he pulls back with the crooked gummy smile that you absolutely love, and pecks your lips. “Kind of?”

He smirks.

You laugh, stroking the hair at the base of his neck. “No, actually. I love you so much.”

He smiles another wide grin, a specific smile that you’ve only seen ever in person, a fact you secretly pride yourself on because he ever only smiles like that around you. “Yeah?”

His hand that’s around your waist slides downwards against your skin, curving around your ass. With a quirk of his eyebrow, he says, “Why don’t you show me just how much?”

You’re overcome with so much love for this man and ignoring the slight soreness in your core from earlier escapades, you smile and press your lips against his. “This much.” You whisper.

Usually, when Yoongi wakes up to an alarm, his first reaction is to turn the damn thing off or let you turn it off and then go back to sleep until you shake him awake. But this time, he feels you leave the bed and go into the living room of the hotel room. Later he wakes up to your body curled up next to his and cranes his neck to check the time: 10:32.

“Shit.” He makes a movement to get up and sees that your arm is curled around his waist tightly. “Y/N, wake up,” he croaks, “we’re so late. The tour guide said call time was 9 AM.”

You groan and hold him tighter, and his dick twitches at the sigh of your hair all mussy and lips swollen with nothing else on your body besides the ring he gave you. But he ignores it and shakes your shoulder, trying to pry off your arm. “Y/N wake up.”

“We don’t need to go.” You sigh into his chest and he freezes. “What?”

You blink up at him groggily and sheepishly smile at him. “I called in and faked sick. Told them you’d be taking care of me today and that we’d meet them when they come back to the hotel at 4.”

And he can’t help but groan and flip the both of you over so that he’s hovering over your body on his forearms. “Fuck,” he groans, “I love you.”

Giggling, you wrap your arms around him. “Me too Min Yoongi.”

--> part 3

[morallygraysidecharacter]

Photo credit: found on Pinterest

Summary: Dean sees you for the first time in professional wear for a case and likes what he sees, but doesn’t admit it. Reader (Y/N) decides to have fun with it so he doesn’t see that she’s flustered.

Ok, so I tweaked the imagine a bit from a dress to button down blouse and skirt.

Pairings: Dean x Reader

Word Count: 1,802

Warnings: None that I can think of, it’s pure fluff. That being said, it’s my first ever fic!

You look at yourself in the mirror again. This was the part of hunting that you hated - wearing professional clothing to help give you the appearance of a federal agent. Ugh, do I really have to wear a -

"Y/N. MOVE. NOW." Dean shouted from the other room. He was pretty anxious to get this case over with. Bobby Singer had called you to help these two idiots who evidently couldn't figure out how to defeat a simple witch, and knowing you were skilled in witchcraft yourself, asked if you could help them. Normally, you would have happily helped out, but you had already planned a week by the beach with a new book when Bobby called. Had he not saved your hide more times than you could count, you probably would have said no. While Sam was busy hacking into the coroner's security system from Bobby's kitchen, you and Dean were going to go and inspect the corpses that were found with hearts frozen inside their bodies. The pair of you were also going to see if you couldn't go and grab a few files that Sam thought might help you to narrow down your suspect list. It was your personal suspicion that these were a ex lovers of the same person seeking revenge in a most poetic fashion, and if you were right, there should be a hex bag hidden somewhere on the body or among their possessions.

"Y/N!" 

God, he's so impatient. You roll your eyes before glancing in the mirror and adjust a strand of hair as you loosen your ponytail just a bit. Better. Satisfied with your appearance, you leave the room, looking down at your blouse, smoothing it a little as you walk. "Get the knots out of your pantyhose dude," you grumpily replied. You had only known "the boys" as Bobby affectionately called them a few days (although you'd heard about the legendary hunters for years), and were expecting a snappy quip to shoot back at you from the elder Winchester. So you were a little surprised when you were met with silence. Suddenly suspicious and self conscious, you looked up to meet a stunned and quiet Dean Winchester. Sam glanced up from his laptop, looking from you to Dean, and chuckled to himself, muttering "Down boy," to his brother. Dean shot him a sharp look, but still said nothing. 

You struggled to hide how self-conscious you were, and couldn’t help the slight blush that crept up your neck. Up until now, they had seen you sporting yoga pants and loose t-shirts with a sports bra, so a slim fitting pencil skirt and equally snug blue button down blouse with a push-up bra was a different look entirely. Dean liked what he saw, at least that's what Sam's comment led you to believe, but at the same time you were completely baffled. Why would he be interested in me? you thought. You didn't want to admit it, but you had been attracted to those bright green eyes and that cocky grin from the moment he said hello.

Determined not to let him see you flustered, you smiled innocently before purring "What's wrong, Dean? Cat got your tongue?"

He struggled to compose himself for a moment, adjusting his tie a bit as he spoke. "I'm fine. Just annoyed you took so long to get ready is all."

Cas looked completely confused. Looking at you from his seat next to Sam, he stated in all earnestness, "His tongue, as with normal human anatomy, is sitting in his mouth.” He paused, thinking and shifting slightly, “I am unsure as to what this cat you mention has to do with anything, or why he would be implicated in the disappearance of a body part, but I can assure you he is innocent. But if you'd like me to look into a cat stealing human tongues, I can." You couldn't help but smile at the sweet angel, who was always more than willing to help. Sam struggled to stifle a laugh, covering his mouth as his eyes met yours. The younger Winchester and you had quickly become friends within the short amount of time that you knew each other. He respected your intelligence, and had a softness to him that his older brother didn't.

"No, Cas... It's...  nevermind. Don't worry about it," Dean said, clearly exasperated and rolling his eyes before nodding his head and taking a seat. "Let's go over the plan again Sammy."

Sam immediately started delving into the finer points, reviewing what you knew so far, what you suspected, and what you were about to do. You listened as best as you could, but your mind was still reeling a bit from Dean's reaction to your attire. That's when it hit you: I could mess with him a bit. Why not? As cocky as the son-of-a-bitch was, it wouldn't hurt to knock him down a few pegs. But did you have the guts to go through with it? The more you thought about it, the more your resolve strengthened. For heaven's sake, you've gone up against a djinn on your own, you could handle one Winchester… right?

As Sam continued on, you waited until Dean was staring in your direction. Careful not to let him see that you noticed, you pretended to be suddenly concerned with a spot on your stocking. Frowning, you hoisted one leg up onto a chair, and bent over to hike up your skirt a little, pretending not to notice him openly oogling your ass as you continued to fiddle with your stocking and garter, double checking the silver blade holster around your thigh. You had realized early on in your hunting career that pantyhose just weren't practical when it came to hiding holsters and various weapons -  stockings were the way to go, and you were thankful you had preferred the ones with a bit of lace at the top, knowing it had caught Dean's eye as well.

"Y/N, quit torturing the boy. And get your shoes off the furniture. Aren't those the ones with the reinforced heel that you use as a makeshift knife?" Bobby's easy drawl scolded you as he wheeled into the room. "And for Heaven's sake, close that fly trap Dean. Don't act like you've never seen a girl before." Dean's mouth was indeed wide open, and he quickly shut it, scowling as he did. You simply smiled and pulled your skirt back down as you firmly planted both feet on the ground, determined more than ever to carry out your plan. "I have no idea what you're talking about Bobby" you said bemusedly. Saying nothing, he simply gave you a look. The older hunter knew you better than that, having taught you everything you knew about hunting, including giving you your start in witchcraft. He may be gruff, but he had a lot of heart, and he cared about people. 

Sam’s mouth was agape in awe. "Wait, you reinforced the heel of your shoe to use as a weapon? Damn!" You nodded, slipping off one of the shoes to show him. "And the tip is silver," you said with a grin.

"Maybe you should that with some of yours, Dean," he teased. Dean glared at him, crossing his arms and replied, "Sure Sammy, right after we braid your hair."

"When you two are done with planning out your makeovers, we have a job to do," Bobby scolded, setting a the books that he had riding in his lap onto the table next to Sam.

Turning his attention back to the job, Dean looked at me and said gruffly, "Ready to go Princess?"

Annoyed by the name, you rolled Y/E/C eyes, but didn't say anything, instead choosing to stay focused on the job. "Think so. Do you have the Colt and the demon blade, just in case things go south?" I asked, turning my attention from Bobby to Dean. Every hunter knew those were the Winchesters' weapons of choice, and there was no way you were leaving on a hunt without them. 

"Yup. And you're good with whatever witch mumbo jumbo you might need?"

"Always," you said, throwing a flirty smile his way, causing him to grunt and look away in response. Even though you were definitely more comfortable in your ripped jeans and a flannel shirt, you were starting to have fun messing with Dean. If I have to be tortured wearing this crap, I might as well try and get some enjoyment out of it.

"Good. Dean, remember to let Y/N take charge on this one," Bobby instructed. Dean simply grunted again, seemingly unable to speak and his mind obviously otherwise occupied, which caused you to smirk slightly. He gave a curt nod, his eyes narrowing. Not used to taking orders, it was clear he wasn't thrilled with the idea.

Together, you walked out of Bobby's cluttered house, the place you so often called home, your heels clicking with a very satisfying noise as you walked. Your trusty sidekick, Wednesday, a lanky and unidentifiable mixed breed of a dog, paused from sniffing the grass to look up and give a happy bark before trotting in your direction. "Not today kiddo. Another time. Go find Uncle Sammy!" you encouraged, patting her side before she bolted into the house. Sam had grown fond of the mutt in the few days you'd known them, saying it reminded him of a pup named Bones he once knew.

Dean was headed to his car, the gorgeous '67 Impala that he inherited from his father. As much as you wanted to check out how it handled, you knew it would kill him even more to make him ride in your cherry red '69 Pontiac GTO, simply because how could the Dean Winchester go on a hunt without his Baby? And you were in a mood.

Photo credit: allmusclecars.com

You went to your car instead. "Uh, Y/N, car's this way," he said, opening the driver's side and jerking his thumb towards the car. Without missing a beat, you opened the driver's side of your car and slid in. "Yours is. But seeing as I'm in charge of this hunt, we're taking my car." The look on his face was priceless as he slammed the door to his car shut before stalking over to your ride and taking his seat sullenly by your side. You turned on the radio after starting the car, and as if on cue, “One of These Nights” by The Eagles began to play. You laughed a little to yourself. Your heart fluttered a little the not so subtle glances Dean was throwing your way. Taking a hard swallow, you focused your eyes on the road and pulled onto the main highway.

This was shaping up to be quite the day.

Tags: @sis-tafics (I’d love to know what you think!)

[speedreiding]

A Living Dream (Spencer Reid x Reader)

A/N: hey guys! Sorry this took so long, I've been trying to get caught up with my imagines so bear with me. Warnings: none Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader Prompt: part two of Out Of My League Request: ✅ Upcoming Imagine: the reader is Spencer's girl friend and the team doesn't know… - Ever since you and Spencer talked in the SUV, you both have grown closer and made quite the dynamic duo. You were always the one luring the UnSub from a bar if necessary or even going on the field with the rest of the team while Spencer filled you in on behavioral traits the UnSub looks for that you might have not picked up. Spencer has also been a lot more talkative towards you, correcting little mistakes in your assumptions, which were right lots of the time, or even bringing up conversations. And if you told yourself you weren't into him, you'd be lying. You have been carefully observing him more and more each day. You watch how his tongue darts out across his perfect lips, his hands as they run through his soft hair. All of these thoughts made this next task more… interesting. You were assigned to go to a club with the rest of the team and lure out the UnSub by getting his attention, and the only way you thought it would be easier was incorporating Spencer of course. "What?! No way that's… not my crowd. I wouldn't fit in." He said after you suggested it. "It gives us a better chance of catching him if he sees me with another guy. I'll taunt him and it will lure him in quicker." You said. Spencer sat in his chair and crossed his arms. "She's right kid." Derek said. "Luring him in quicker is better." "Yeah and I'm sure you already did the math of how the chances are higher of luring him with more agents in tact." Rossi said mocking Spencer at the end. Spencer sat in deep thought until finally giving in. "Okay fine." - You stepped into the club and the pounding music filled your ears, giving you a rush of dancing and partying. You turned around to see Spencer slowly making his way in the doors. He looked extra good today in the new attire you helped pick out for him. He was wearing a black dress shirt with a red bow tie and suspenders with black slacks and a fedora. You both even matched. While he was looking good tonight, so were you. You wore a tight red dress that hugged your curves along with some black heels. You reached behind you and offered Spencer your hand. He looked at it and took it, lacing his long fingers with yours. You slightly jumped at his contact; you held your hand out as a joke, you know he hates even shaking hands, but he took yours. "You ready?" You asked him. He nodded and looked down at you with a smile. You both walked to the bar, maybe getting a little alcohol in Spencer's system would loosen him up a bit. "Im getting a gin and tonic what about you?" You asked breaking the silence. "Oh um I don't want anything." He said looking at his hands in his lap. You immediately started feeling bad for dragging him in here when he clearly doesn't want to be here. "I'm sorry for taking you here. I know you don't like it, you can go out in the SUV with Derek if you want. I can do this myself I just thought it would be fun if you joined me but I don't want to make you uncomfortable." You told him while the bartender gave you your drink. "No no… I'll stay." He said, but you could still see the discomfort in his body language. "Well let me try to make this fun for you. I know you don't dance but I want to at least stand and move with you. Come on." You said pulling him to the dance floor. You found a relatively spacious spot and you laughed at how awkward Spencer was. "Just… kind of jump a little bit. Not like your playing hop scotch but just a little." You said jumping to the beat of the music. Spencer kind of followed your movements, finally getting the hang of it right when the song ended. "You did great! It could have gone a lot worse." You yelled in his ear over the the next song. "I don't know if that was assuring or not." He yelled back with a smile. The next song was slower, not a slow song but a so called sexy song. The song was 3:16 am by Jhene Aiko, and you immediately felt the vibe with it. Spencer watched your body move swiftly and inhaled sharply when you wrapped your arms around his neck. "Blend in." You said into his ear as he looked around at the grinding bodies across the club. You grabbed Spencer's hand and pulled him closer to you. His hot breathe collided with your face as you guided his hands to your hips. You started swaying your body close to his and he did the same. Your hands trailed from the back of his neck to down his chest, curling your fingers under the suspenders. "Y/N…" he whispered more to himself because he knew you couldn't hear him. "I think I got him." You whispered in Spencer's ear, pretending that your being seductive as you looked the UnSub in the eyes. Spencer tried to keep distance from you so you couldn't feel his present erection confined in his slacks, but boy oh boy you knew. You stared at the UnSub seductively, instantly grabbing his attention as you closed the space between you and Spencer. "It's okay to let your hands roam. I really need to reel him in so go for it." You said into his ear before nipping at his earlobe. Spencer knew the UnSub couldn't see that… so why did you do it? Spencer did what you said and let his hands wander. One of his hands held the small of your back, pulling you closer while the other combed through your hair. You turned around and pressed your back against his chest as you rolled your hips backwards, feeling his bulge against your back. He moved your hair to one side and kissed just below your ear. "Your so beautiful." He said into your ear, ascending goosebumps across your skin. You watched as the man across the club stared as you grinder your body against Spencer. You knew the team had eyes on you, but they would just think it was all a part of the plan, but really, you've been dying to be this close to Spencer. Too bad it was in these circumstances. You started to grow away from Spencer, whispering you'll be back before heading to the bar where the UnSub was sitting at. You strutted over, Spencer's gaze practically burning into your skin as he watched you breathless. You ordered another drink that you weren't going to drink and you felt a hand rest right at the curve of your spine. "Hey darling." You heard, immediately recognizing the face that you have seen on multiple screens. "Hey." You said flirtatiously. "So those little dances… are they for free or do you charge?" He asked, highly offending you, but you didn't let him know. Instead, you laughed. "Oh I came with him." You said with a fake smile. "Him? The guy you were grinding your fine ass upon on the floor?" He said pointing in Spencer direction. Spencer's felt heat rise to his cheeks as he watched the UnSub treat you like a slob. He had to fight the urge to storm over and probably get his lanky self beaten the crap out of. "Yeah, are you judging?" You asked getting pissed off. "Well I'd be lying if I said I wasn't." He said leaning closer. "Why? What's wrong with him? Just 'cause he's lanky and a little nerdy doesn't mean he's not worth my time." You said crossing your arms. "Don't get offended doll I was just… surprised that a girl like you…" his hand trailed lower, ghosting over your bottom. "… came with a guy like him." You grabbing his arm, twisted it behind his back and slammed his face into the bar before Derek came around with handcuffs. "Greg Sullivan you are under arrest." He said as you blew a piece of hair out of your eyes. You looked around the club for Spencer, but he wasn't in sight or where you left him. You made your way through the crowd, to the place where you both first sat and there he was, sitting on one of the stools swirling his drink in his hand. You watched as he sipped it. It was alcohol for sure, you could tell by how he drank it. You sat in the stool next to his, but his eyes were glued to the glass. "You okay?" You asked. "Yeah." He said sluggishly. Did you do something? Say something? "Spencer you don't look okay and your drinking. You never drink." You said leaning closer to him. He wiped his face with his large hand. "You did great tonight." He said avoiding the accusation you made. "Thanks Spence, but will you please tell me what's wrong." You said grabbing his hand. He remembered when you first held his hand in the SUV and how he wondered if it was a romantic gesture or not. Now he has the answers to his questions. "Your so out of my league. Soo out of my league. I… I can't help but have these feeling growing for you but then again who wouldn't? Your drop dead gorgeous, sweet, caring and everything any man would want in a woman. But there are some combinations that don't go well together. Like you and me? I could only dream…" You interrupted him by pressing your lips to his, a hint of alcohol on his lips, but you could still taste the warmth and even coffee on his mouth, due to how much he drinks it throughout the day. You pulled away, wanting the kiss to linger longer but you needed air. He opened his eyes slowly, as if he imagined your sweet lips were still on his for a couple more seconds. "Why did you do that?" He asked softly. "Because I like you Spencer. I… I like you a lot." You said with a smile. "R… really?" He asked quietly. You nodded and laced your fingers with his, drawing his attention to your intertwined hands. "Why else would have I wanted to take you here with me? Or why else would have I stuck up for you? I think your amazing… and really cute." You said taking the drink from his hand and lacing your other hand with his now free one. He looked down as he blushed. "Like I said, I could have only dreamt about this." He said looking into your eyes. You leant in and kissed his lips once more. "Well it looks like your in a living dream, Spencer." You said making him smile as you pressed your foreheads together.

[halleywars]

no breaks no readmore

Introduction

There were balls everywhere.  Many myths have been spun about god, but i am the chronicler, and i am here to dispel all bullshit creation stories once and for all. The story you are about to hear is not myth, however if it is easier for your feeble mind to take as such then so be it. Before all else, before women, before the earth and time and space, god created man , and to mankind he gave balls. To each man a flaw, and to each man a ball. Within these balls god gave each man what it took to become more god like, a key to unlocking his true potential. If you are of a foolish type you may be thinking that the balls are a metaphor for something more like a way of thinking, but i assure you the meaning is quite literal. These balls were dubbed the "element balls" and their manifestation in your world is quite physical. The truth behind the disappearance of your balls is the tale i spin today. This tale begins with a man following his own dreams, who would set into motion a chain of events that would fart in the face of the world. This is the tale, of the element balls.

           The desert sun beat down on steven universe, the earth red and fucked surrounded him. It was the year 2048, and steven was pissed. He was quick to crack wise and his face showed it, however people did not put up with this shit on account of him being 50. Nowadays steven stuck mostly to his job as an archeologist. He tapped the fingerprint scanner on his space watch and the robot hologram on it informed him was almost 8 in egypt time, which was where he was at, egypt. He was digging in egypt, doing archeologist stuff, is what im trying to get across, also its the future. Steven looked up from his space watch to a lanky man standing above his dig site. The man stunk of cum and checkers hamburgers, his white and gold suit reflecting off the sun like something really bright white and gold. The man had a shit eating grin on his face as he chomped a big cigar like it was a gay dick that he was suckin'.

"Steven you cocksucker, its almost 8 o clock in egypt time! You really need to pack up your shit and hit the road, when it gets dark the giant scorpions come out."

           Steven wiped the sweat off his brow and chuckled to himself while shaking his head. He continued digging as if he hadnt heard a word.

           The suited man was pissed. "Steven you got egypt dirt in your ears? Did you perhaps forget im the money behind this trip? and i didnt pay millions of dollars to get a top archeologist out here in egypt so he can find nothing for three days and then get killed and buttfucked by giant desert scorpions? "

           Steven chuckled and graced the angry man a response, "You wouldnt know shit about passion Lars, youve never worked a day in your life. Look bakery tits.. im not out here jerkin off... im gettin close to finding some info on those damned balls... i can feel it in my gut."

           Lars was pissed because of the backtalk, but he knew what to expect from steven. He lit a cig, gayly. He had hired steven because he was a master of archeology, the backtalk was to be expected of someone who was the master of his craft. But Lars knew if anyone could dig up some information on the balls, it was steven. Lars looked back down at Steven and tightened his fancy white gloves. He held up one finger.

           "Youve got until 1 o clock, any later and ill have the boys come out here and drag your ass out of the dirt. we clear?"

           Steven hadnt taken his eyes off his work. "crystal" he shouted to the gay millionaire as he continued digging.

           Lars noded his head and flicked his cig on the hot egypt dirt, it burst into flames. He whistled for his hoverboard and it flew over to him, Lars hopped on and flew away, leaving steven to continue his work in peace.

A Discovery

The sun was setting, and with it the insanity of Lars sprung forward.  He took off the mask and looked for a long time in the mirror- at the scars.  That day.  That day when Ocean Smith burned it to the ground.  I’ll never forget that day.  Lars slammed his fist onto the counter top and screamed with rage.  His bones, indeed his very existence was rattled.  After some time he remembered.  I’m bitter again.  I’m angry again.  Then he remembered his medication.  He lit up the obama kush and inhaled deeply, feeling the tension evaporate off of his body.  He had a curious mental condition indeed.  A single thought warped his mind and sent him into a state of being not unlike that of a raging bull.  

Chill dubstep was playing.  He layed back onto the couch with the back of his neck curved around the top of the couch cusion, just staring.  Thinking.  About her.  She was an angel.

Steven universe was toiling in the black of night with only a torch.  These transcriptions are fucked up!  I need to decode… ah yes.  The emerald tablets of Thoth springing into being from the angelic horsemen?  The….balls….into existence from the….source?  What source?  Lets read further into this mystery.  The archaic….tomb of Xerxes….Ramses trine to the seventh equinox….on the first of May?  Ah!  And with these thoughts he realized it.  He must go to the tomb of Xerxes to retreive the key, and then to the tomb of Ramses to put it in the lock!  Then the mystery will be revealed.  

Connie Maheswaran was eating grapefruit.  Her house was luxurious, yet barren.  Cold stones.  She liked the stark reality of the stones.  Jean Michel Jarre was playing on the speakers nearby.  Connie’s eyes were closed, and she was in another world.  Then the phone rang.  It was Steven.  

“Yo”

“Connie, you need to come to Egypt, right this minute.”

“Bro.  I’m tryin to chill here.  I was about to snort some Zaka.”

“Zaka is about as useless at this time as poop!”

“What’s all the racket?”

“The element balls…. I know how to get the element balls.”

“Still believe in the mystery school teachings?  Come now.”

“The plane is paid for, my friend.”

“Well…. Money’s not an issue for me, but fuck it.  I’ll snort a double and be there on the double.”

“Cya pal.”

“Cya.”

Connie was looking out the window, Arkansas below.  Ah, the Ozarks.  If only I had a log cabin out there.  The lady beside Connie was eying her sternly.  

“Are you on something?”

Connie looked her in the eye until she quickly turned her head in the other direction.  That’s more like it, fat bitch.  

Connie farted hard.  Then the plane came to a halt.  The fatass held her nose and Connie sneered.  Hope the vacation’s fun, retard!  Steven greeted her as she exited the plane.  Before leaving, she waves bye to the pilot, who she gave some speed so he could stay awake.  

Lapis Lazuli was in a hot tub.  Smoking a joint, snorting zaka.  I am so high.

Zaka

Lapis’ iPhone 4k rose out of the hot tub and started spinning. Lapis was pissed. She shouted.

“Siri who the fuck is disturbing me at this hour?”

“It is steven universe master”

Lapis raised an eyebrow

“Not a fucking prank i hope, if this is some mindless bullshit ill fly over there and shove my boot up his ass.”

“It appears to be urgent master”

“Shut the fuck up and put me on the phone with him robot voice.”

The phone flashed millions of different colors before displaying a hologram of steven universe, flashing his balls.

“You proud of those? They're about to be hung on my wall shrimp dick.”

The cackling of a hyena could be heard from the phone, but Lapis stayed stone faced and silent. The hologram spoke

“Long time no see Lapis”

“I’m assuming you called for more than to show off your shitty old balls?”

“You assumed right”

“This wouldn't have anything to do with those damned element balls you’ve been going on and on about would it?”

“I’m nearer than I’ve ever been. I need your help. Were on our way to Xerxes tomb.”

“I’m not much of an archeologist Steven.”

“This is big Lapis, I have a feeling whatever happens in the next 48 hours, you’re gonna wanna see first-hand.”

Lapis shook her head and sighed.

“I assume you’re on your way over here then. Fuck!  You payin’ my way?!”

Bromos

“You’ve got the money!”

“Spent it all on Bromos.”

“Fine.  Yup.”

“That’s more like it.”

Lapis ended the call and sunk back into the water with cool contemplation.  

The three hoodlums were finally together again after long, long years.  And they weren’t happy.  They all went their own neurotic loner ways over the years, Connie always loved tracking what the government was up to, Lapis loved cool meditation and Bromos, and of course Steven was the obsessed one, the one who delved in research. They were all seated around a pretentious fire with spoiled faces.  Connie simply stated, “I’m gettin’ bored here where are the balls of power?”  

“I called you two here to ask for you assistance with possibly…. Dangerous ruins.”

“Mummies?”

“Very possibly.”

Connie leaned back into her lawn chair and sneered.  A skeptic at heart indeed.  Lapis was not amused.  She was craving bromos.  

“Remember that gay town on the east coast?!” Announced Lapis.

Steven replied, “Oh, yep.  That was the dumbest town I’ve even seen in my life.  What a gay selection of things to do.”

“Beach… City… Beach City… horrible ass place.”

“Oh I know.”

Lapis spoke, “What must we do to find the element balls?  I would like to taste of them.”  

“We must go to the Tomb of Xerxes to find the key.  What this key is, I cannot say.  I will have to read the transcriptions at the site.”

“And of Lars Barriga?”

“He’ll never find us again, that idiot.”

“Good, he’s a nuisance.”

Connie spoke up, “I don’t trust him.  Don’t consider him merely a weakling.  What if he’s hiding something?  He walks with the air of chaos.”

Steven replied, “True, but we could kick his ass.”

“To that, my friend, a line of Zaka.”

A uniform AYE! Sounded between the group.  

Three lines were laid out, and Connie became all the rage.  Lapis became a mastermind of the void.  Steven went crazy and kept on smacking himself on the ass.  The three of them were violent, and farting at that.  The three of them formed a sort of united dance.  Waving, heaving, jumping, farting.  Yelling, vomiting, flashing lights from the distant night formed in their vision.  Their minds were like fireworks- the zaka was working.  

It was the next morning.  The sun seared the optic nerves of Lapis when she opened her eyes.  She spit the sand from her mouth.  Collapsed, still exhausted, and very thirsty.  And also, unpleasantly surprised.  His friends were missing.

“What in the fuck!”

Lapis’ mouth felt all the more like cotton when she spoke.  She started to panic.  It was just her now, him and the depressing, impractical ruins.  Lapis was the practical sort- not particularly fond of jokes unless it meant making sport of another being.  She started to truly panic, and felt a lump start to swell up in her throat, a lump that massaged the sand into his throat.  

Egypt

Lapis looked up to see a devious grin spread across Steven’s face

 “Still got bromos on the mind Lapis? Welcome back to the land of the living.”

 “How long was I out?”

 “All of last night and well... Its eight thirty at night now, didn’t know you of all people couldn’t handle your bromos”

 Connie spoke up “that’s what you get for mixing your bromos with zaka. You shoulda known better”

 Steven nodded in agreement, “yes bromos and zaka… the bromonium ions in the bromos binded to the tert butyl carbons in your blood stream. Mix that with the high levels of selenium in the zaka and…”

 Lapis cut him off, once Steven got on a tangent he became more annoying than a school teacher named mrs scroggs. Fuck you ms scroggs im glad youre in jail you fucking moron pedo fucking dumb ass

 “So then were at the tomb of xerxes correct?”

 “Something like that, this is what’s open to the public, the true tomb is underneath”

 Lapis raised an eyebrow, “underneath?”

 Steven coolly smiled and instructed Connie to move away from the golden statue of xerxes she was leaning on.

 “Observe”

 Steven dusted off the statues dong area to reveal a golden dick. He jacked it off and sperm shot out of it onto Lapis’ face. Lapis was not amused. Suddenly the ruins started to shake and the floor spread open beneath them. Lapis slipped on the cum and fell on her ass.

 “As if the hangover wasn’t bad enough!”

 A laugh track played. The floor opened to reveal a set of stairs down a deep dark passage way.

 “This way ladies” Steven squawked in his gay ass voice. He lit a torch with his vape pen and they headed down the tunnel. Steven looked back at Lapis and stopped, smiling.

 “What?” Lapis inquired

 “Like that?”

 “Like what??”

 “Xerxes ruins cum in your face”

 Lapis delivered a quick blow to Steven’s face but Steven dodged it, laughing and dancing away down the stairs like some kind of fucked up jester. Anyways it was a long passageway, really long, nothing really happened on the way there. Anyways they got to the bottom and it was like, a egypt tomb. Hiro gliffs on the wall.

 “Hmm…” Steven inspected the hiro gliffs

 “These Egypt writings are telling me where the key is, everyone wait back there, and watch my back for mummies or something”

Lars and Jamie

Lapis, Connie and Steven woke up at about the same time in a dim torch-lit room in the tomb.  Sleeping gas?  They each thought of this as they rubbed their eyes, slightly bewildered.  Then they writhed.  With their hands tied behind them, and their legs wrapped with strong ropes, it seemed as if decisions were impotent.  

Their timely plateau of panic was greeted by two gentlemen coming onto the scene.  Steven could make out Lars, but not the other person.  

“Hello Steven.  Since you did not obey me, after I provided you with an opportunity to wet your scholarly appetite with translation, it would seem as though you’ve gotten yourself into a mess.  Your role is not of your choosing.  The time of so called “freedom”, “freewill”, and “staking your claim” is over.  Humanity is advancing into the role of guardians, and leaving the previous title of beast behind.  No longer do we compete!  No longer are we individuals!  Now we become us.  The united.  The one.  Success is not real without contrast against other individuals.  So this artificial and bloated man-made concept must be destroyed.  So, any last words?  Have you read the beloved, ‘A Cask of Amontillado’ from ages ago?”

Steven simply answered, “Do what you must, you fool.”

“Why, I am simply shattered.  What cold words.  I must insist however; it is time for action.”

With that Lars and the other man started sealing Connie, Lapis, and Steven in the small room with bricks.  Lapis decided to comment to the other man.

“You are Jamie, are you not?”

“Uh, yeah.”

“I remember your theatre performance in Beach City.  It really was retarded.”

Jamie was shaking with rage.  He was brutally insulted, and as a result, accidentally knocked some bricks off the wall being built.  Lars slapped him.  Lars removed his mask and pressed his charred forehead against Jamie’s, staring him in the eye.  Jamie was tearing up.

“You see my face?  You are so stupid.”

Jamie was sobbing and screaming.  His legs were shaking.  And, in this amount of time Connie was able to free herself.  She stared them both in the eye.  She told them to fuck off.

Lars started sprinting, but Jamie was so shaky that he fell to the ground and started sobbing uncontrollably.  Connie knocked down the bricks and started beating on Jamie’s face until he was unrecognizable.  

Connie, Lapis and Steven were all aboard the Hawk, their space ship.  Hawk was custom built and very fast.  Jamie walked in the main hall from his healing tank.  The threesome looked him over and said, almost at once, “What in the fuck?!”  Jamie looked like a barbarian.  He had to apologize.  He told them that nobody ever gave him what he really needed in life, and asked if he could be the cook aboard the Hawk.  

“Fine” said Connie.  “As long as you do push-ups every day, and eat ghost peppers to keep the inner pussy in line.”

“Will do.”

Vengeance and Spirits

Connie and Lapis, high, retired to the “drunk tank” as they liked to joke about, were pissed off.  The subject matter- the key that Lars has in his possession.  Their faces somber and drunk, Lapis broke the silence.

“It’s simple really.  We show up at his mansion and stomp his gay ass into the dirt.”

“Hmm.”

“Eh?”

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking Steven?!”

“Come now, I’m the brains here.”

“That is off subject, but go ahead and ask what I’m thinking.”

“Eh?”

“I’m thinking we put steroids into Jamie.  And, I’m thinking we get him to hate stomp Lars.”

“Ohoho!”

“Hehehehehehehe!”

Both of them rubbed their hands together, took two shots and lit a cig in that order.  When they entered the main hall, they noticed Steven schooling Jamie in philosophy.  “I’ve never heard a man drool that much.” proclaimed Connie.  “Seen a man drool?”  “No, his face is shaped fucked up from where I beat his ass.  You can hear it slurp out like pouring water from a jug.”  Steven slapped Jamie.  And he proclaimed-

“I guess you don’t wanna be the cook, eh?”

“N-no.  I mean yes.  I do.”

Steven snapped his fingers together.  “Ah!”  Connie produced a ghost pepper.  Jamie started twitching in anticipation.  Connie was grinning, zooming slowly the pepper closer and closer to Jamie’s mouth, as he started to tear up.  “It’s a plane!  Open up, lad!”  Connie started to laugh.  Jamie held his mouth open like it was about to receive cock, but unfortunately for him this is bigger than any he’s ever encountered.  The plane landed.  

But it was a rough landing.  Jamie was convulsing, crying.  Snot exploded out of his face.  The pressure blower was applied to remove the biological matter.  Jamie is a fuckin fag.  Steven spoke up-

“I thought you WANTED this chance.  This chance- to be a part our team.  Or maybe you didn’t know what you were getting into, boy.  You still have some demons inside of you, eh?  Either we wipe those out- the hard way- or you take care of them yourself much easier.  We’ll even allow you to dip your feet in the water before you get in so to speak.”

Connie crammed another pepper down.  At this point the lad looked like a fuckin’ frog.  He even stopped making noise.  I guess the threesome know a good pacifier, eh?  Well that’s funny, a pepper pacifier to prevent pepper noise, but he talks to much anyway.”  

It was morning, and the third day of Jamie’s training.  His alarm clock?  Need I say anything but the fact that he was an utter frog?  But he was getting used to it- and he was gaining muscle since he was wearing an anabolic oxygen gas mask while he was designated to work out his shoulders for five hours.  He was big, simple as that.  Lapis gave him the look.

“You’re ready boy.”

“For what?”

“To beat Lars’s ass.”

“Ah.  Will do.”

You see, normally Jamie would cry at that point- but the threesome also administered scolopomine for heightened suggestibility from Jamie.  He was their thrall.  Needless to say, he wasn’t ball material.  Well, that’s a bit hasty- the threesome hasn’t got any balls yet.  But Jamie’s got negative two balls.  

“Colloso” from the Golden Sun soundtrack starts playing(https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wbOVd642FJo).  The Hawk landed on top of Lars’s mansion.  Laser beams commenced attack, but the hawk was too strong.  Before two minutes were up, all of the puny soldiers were bleeds.  Jamie was screaming- this time his pitch was UNDER 2000 hz.  More like one.  He was all hyped up on steroids, and jumped on Lars, flailing his arms and turning his already burnt face into a shit face.  All while the threesome aboard were getting the same treatment- in a different way.  They used a giant electromagnet to pull the key aboard from Lars’ pocket.  Oops!  It was in his back pocket.  Tore a hole in the poor bastards gut.  He was finished anyway.  The ship left behind the two freaks.  There was a vibe of, “I take my leave” in the air.  The last the threesome saw was Jamie…. fucking Lars.  What an ordeal.

We Can’t Believe the Psyche of Some Human Beings!

So now the threesome were telling jokes about Jamie fuckin’.  It’s the seventh of May.  Time for Ramses tomb.  Can we skip all the, you know…. drugs- let’s fast forward to the tomb.  

In the burial chamber.  Long story short, Greg was inside of the coffin, unconscious.  “What the fuck?!”  They cast him aside.  The keyhole- sorry, my consciousness is simple because I’m in character with the threesome, who are all intensely wasted.  The keyhole and the key.  Turn.  Bright.  Shimmering lights.  Colors flashing in the face.  The ball, in all of its glory.  Lazuli addressed Steven-

“You did the translation.  It’s for you, friend.”

“Don’t worry, there will be some for all of us eventually!”

“Agreed!”

Steven grabbed the ball as it absorbed into his skin.  He started hovering over the ground.  

Greg Ambassador, and his Apprentice

As the threesome were prodding along on the Hawk, they gazed upon quite the poor spectacle of a space merchant outpost. Steven was curious, the rest said fuck it. The spaceship rocked its way downward onto the platform provided, a spaceship parking lot. The threesome couldn't tell if it was brand new or just unused. The put on their suits, and entered the door to the shop.

They went inside and saw a dorito haired, short, leprechaun resembling woman behind the desk. She looked up and said in amazement- “Ah, customers. This is an engineering shop in case you’re looking to tweak your ship.” Connie and Steven, fans of ships, perked right up. Steven spoke up-

“We are looking to make the Hawk faster, better, and more destructive than all other spaceships.”

“I'll get my boss Greg then.”

An old bearded man with a Beach City tee shirt entered the room. He had a hollow glare and an agape mouth. To break the silence, Greg shouted-

“You want it, I make it! Now what's your offer?”

“We want the most powerful spaceship in the universe.”

“There's only one way to do that.”

“How?”

“You must have an unused element ball.”

“That can be arranged.”

“Ahahaha! Fools! Bring me an element ball and I'll sell ya my soul!”

“Don't give us ideas, now.”

“Lets not joke here. I'm not easily humored. Unless It's Kat Williams, I aint laughing.”

Steven Universe brought an Element Ball out of his pocket. Greg looked like a spooked raccoon, and licked his lips with a certain disbelief. Greg's long white hair was pushed in front of his face by the air conditioning, but when it receded he held an expression of determination.

“It's been a long time.” Greg said.

Steven replied, “You were once known as the inventor of real Bionicles using the balls, you brought automatons to life with the balls, correct?”

“Mmhmm, thats right. But hold on one sec-”

“You must, lest the universe as you know it ceases to exist.”

“As I know it? Go head and press the red button then.”

The Gay Peedee

“Alright Peedee… you can do this… deep breaths…”

Peedee struggled to hold the vape pen to his mouth, his hands were trembling.

“Deep breaths… theres nothing bad about this… nothing bad about this at all…. Its just gonna make me relax… its not illegal… ugh….”

Peedee put the purple dildo shaped contraption to his mouth and pressed the button on the side. He closed his eyes and took a big suck from the vape pen.

“My lungs are on fire!!! Some one help!!!!!!”

Peedee dropped the pen and began crying and coughing intensely. He fell to his knees and started gagging between sobs, he vomited up arbys on the carpet, and onto the vape pen, causing it to shortcircuit. The spark from the pen caught Peedees shirt on fire. In a panic he took off all his clothes and stomped them into the vomit. The door flung open, and Lars appeared.

“What are you doing?”

Chandler stood there in his underwear with boogers running down his nose, silent.

“Piss your pants?”

Chandler looked down, he had indeed, pissed his pants, his white underwear had turned a bright yellow. Chandler drank a lot of soda. He decided to speak up.

“I was… trying to vape….”

Lars raised an eyebrow and made a :I face with his mouth.

“Sorry…. I was trying to relax myself… it made me dissociate… i didnt know what was going on.”

“Its vape dude”

 Strife With KillQuest

“God damn parts.” cursed Steven as his still unrefurbished ship glided forth.  The crew was headed to the planet Azragath to mine some kind of special metal for the remake of the Hawk.  “You sure this Greg figure isn’t some kind of fraud?  Did that even occur to Y’all?  What if he’s chuckling as we speak over this mess we’ve fallen for?” he went on.  But Connie wouldn’t have it.  “I know real when I see it.  He’s an engineer.  He’s got neutral eyes.  Eyes that don’t see what they want to see.  Eyes that see what appears in reality.” she parried.  “Fine.  Guess I’ll have faith.”

As the ship slowly landed, the threesome got a glimpse of the dense jungle below with feelings of elation.  There’s nothing like the sight of a previously unseen alien world to the imagination.  The ambience in their minds ever scintillating.  

As they stepped from the ship, strange noises were heard.  The alien lifeforms around them seemed to gawk.  Then they noticed the men with long beards, five in total.

“What business have you with us?” the oldest looking among them asked in a grounded way.

“We are here for precious metals.” replied Steven.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FVNkr6OAads starts playing.

“Well then, you have come to the right planet.  Follow us.”

And so they traveled dirt roads of passion, lined with old stones and garnished by exotic fungi.  The oldest wizard lit a joint and passed it around.  The threesome never remembered being this stoned in their life.  The sun was huge and glimmering.  Their faces were animated.  The wizards weren’t phased, but were reminded of their past.  The threesome was told of the stroke of luck that the wizards experienced as boys, being taken into secret societies in their teenage years to resist the brainwashing of the media.  Then Steven realized that he was being quiet from getting too entrenched in the joint and trance of life, so he asked the oldest wizard a mundane question.

“Hey man, what happens to be your name?”

“Just call me Weedo.  Weedo Beerbeer Fourtwenty to be exact.”

“I’d guess you love beer and weed?”

“Oh bud.”

With that the five wizards chuckled.  Weedo went on and on about the ‘old days’: “I was once naive enough in my youth to believe that one day a generation would come who would not even understand the lyrics to War Pigs. I once believed that peace was attainable, not in my lifetime, but a realistic goal nonetheless. I thought that war would one day be a foreign concept. Time has only spat in my face, proving me wrong time and time again. This, of course, does at least speak for the timeless nature of Black Sabbath. Speakers of truth, and they will continue to be so long after the original line-up has passed from this realm.”, “The Who were prophets. Every four years I'm reminded of ‘meet the new boss, same as the old boss.’ Sadly, what they got wrong was the "won't get fooled again" part!”, “Don't give in to apathy. Don't settle for jack shit. You're a human. You're worth something.”

Eventually the dense overgrowth of insanity parted and made way for an orderly forest of green.  Marijuana plants far and wide, with trichomes apparent from any distance, reflecting the sun’s light.  The wizards looked behind them to glance in our eyes.  They were not surprised to see astonishment.  They won’t fathom the experience they’re about to have thought the wizards.  And so they walked through fields of joy.  It seemed to go on for miles beyond, when another brain-splitting beam of astonishment caught them in a time rift.  A temple was now before them, composed of blue shining rocks, many vertical Athenian grooves, some Japanese influence in various curved side overhangs, apparent Reptilian dome and cone roofing style, Grey alien ordered black windows checkered around the entire sanctum, and grey alien style spindly towers rising from the four farthest corners of the building which, if one averts his gaze up, apparently support a great porch in the clouds.  Connie beheld this porch in astonishment, and requested words of description for it.  One of the wizards simply exclaimed,

“You shall soon find out!”

Turns out the porch was bigger than the threesome thought, for though it appeared as though the towers holding it went straight upwards, they were designed specifically to appear as though they went straight upwards.  These towers actually curved ever so gradually outward, and this porch was positively gargantuan, and blatantly in outer space.  This porch is where the wizards go to smoke DMT.

When the DMT is smoked on the ground, the soul is taken to the center of the earth where clusters of souls old and young kindle in communion.  When the DMT is smoked in outer space, one goes into a terrifically fast orbit around the earth, creating a charge in the body once bursts of spiritual energy catch up to the body and pierce through.  The body is charged.  The mind is on fire.  The soul is in “freefall”, but never makes it.  This trip lasts five days.

The threesome were transported to this porch in magnet boots and gas suits.  The time was near.  Once they felt ready- the DMT would be circulated in their space suits.  They looked around and noticed the ambient blue, the darkness of space, and the feeling of helium flesh.  They were ready.

Lapis’s Trip

Like glass, the image of the world shattered into hundreds of shards of glass, then into thousands of speckled stars, then into dust.  Beyond reality, lay before her a castle of granite.  Torch sconces lit with bizarre flames illuminated many goblins.  The goblins were dancing and jumping, and their necks stretched and snapped back into place at a rhythmic pace.  Lapis was swallowing over and over again bizarre psychedelic fluids.  Her body was a soup, no, light.  Her ululations were becoming to the goblins.  Intrigued, they snapped themselves into place beside her, and started doing some sort of violent dance that made her euphorically cackle.  Her mind afire, she joined the dance.  She realized now that she was a God.  She took pain to create objects with her mind.  She kneeled into a ritualistic surf, and pulled suddenly a plasma sword from her throat.  The bolt of energy protruding from the hilt waved like a snake.  Lapis shouted like a warrior and stabbed the sky with her sword.  A bolt of energy went into the atmosphere and broke it into glass shards once again.  This time she was in the clouds, though clouds made with the divine, not base matter.  What these clouds and air were made of was some sort of pure mathematics and infinity.  Continuous, lacking discrete particles whatsoever.  The Creator’s head sprang from the infinite reality of the moment onto the scene.  In a single instant she flew information into Lapis’s brain.  

Connie’s Trip

A pause.  Then, suddenly, a dim screaming.  It was the sound of humans in apathy.  The chorus seemed to grow in both number and amplification.  The chorus was growing.  Once she heard strange interferences in the noise, rapidly changing and screaming in their own right, becoming in and of themselves entities, Connie crouched toward the ground.  Oh pain!  Give me pain so that I may learn!  Then the noise ceased so abruptly that the comfort was almost painful.  The cessation of noise was like the pain of a terrible orgasm, so intense and ear splitting that it causes apathy not through circumstance, but from an absolute perspective.  Now she fell gently and slowly, an opiate.  She could not see, nor hear, nor formulate a woman holding her, but she was.  She was a goddess.  Her consciousness ran towards the flesh of her tits.  It was a delight, and all of her being was pounding through its limits, transcending to kiss her own soul.  She was blue colored.  She smiled as Connie’s eyes met hers.  Her gentle womanhood turned into a determined, noble soul and she advanced.  The moment touched upon eternity.  Connie reached and grabbed her shoulder, and at this moment she looked her in the eye like a confused rodent.  This Connie adored.  “A poem first, my love.”

“Ah!  Mmmm.  Oh yeah baby!”

“What spheres, sisters of the moon, pull the tides of the soul?

What red dab indicated a violent tug from God’s brush?

Her eyes that do lull,

Her lips that so hush.

What mass of detail defiantly reached after her soul in sleep?

What domes of lust turn pink with ale?

Her hair that makes me weep,

Her cheeks that sacred burial mounds in comparison doth pale.

What meek little shape of flesh picks up the vibe?

What tender enunciation against the starry night?

Her nose that probes a gentle bribe,

Her neck that rises to tame my fight.

What globes hang from a mighty purse nailed to a wall of delight?

What poundcake quivers at the brush of my callused, evil hands?

Her breasts that caused my soul a light,

Her belly the great beast that shakes these lands.  

I am but a fool compared to thee!”

With that they began violent sex.  The whites of her eyes showed to her that eternity poured into her mind, through her stomach, through her eventually.  She too began to look like a righteous zombie.  Connie, out of breath, struggled to get out these words- “A poem to sex!-

The destruction of the earth is at hand!

A beam of light splits my mind in half!!

I am now righteous as your soul brings my body to sleep!!!

Cursed be nothingness!!!!

A light brings my brain...into...power!!!!!

I am Zablewgonad!!!!!!”

Connie started screaming.  From her mouth, shockingly, arose the chorus of apathy heard earlier.  But now it was welcomed.  This time it was louder than reality, and brought her utter bliss.  Infinity was at hand.  Suddenly her heart sank.  She was being ripped away by reality.  She exclaimed, “Come back for me!!!!!!”

“I shall fuck you again!!!!!!  Harder!!!!!!”

Steven’s Trip

Machines.  Machines everywhere.  Is this a dream?  Suddenly a robot jumped into him.  Steven was frightened.  He was not controlling his body.  Suddenly the scene of the great porch passed onto the right of him as the real Steven turned around.  He was on the computer the whole time?  Then who IS Steven?  “He” scrambled around the room, fearful and sobbing.  Suddenly the advanced computer room passed onto the right of him as he turned from the magnetic resonance brain signal interpreter.  Steven was screaming.  The scream destroyed reality, and his- soul he guesses- God knows what the hell anything means anymore- tumbled forward in a space that wasn’t space.  Then this space spiraled into a mathematical point and inverted itself into the inverse world.  He then sprang into reality, yet everything was reversed.  

Connie got punched in the face by a cyborg.  While she was seeing stars, and while Steven and Lapis were seeing empathic stars, the cyborg proclaimed, “I am Killquest, pleased to meet you.”  KIllquest was approximately seven feet tall with a slight resemblance to the “Somewhere in Space” Edward, the Steel Maiden mascot- only meaner.  As he looked steven in the eye in anticipation for a response, it was if his bionic eyebrow was raised.  Then weedo sternly spoke up.

“What has happened while I was gone?!”

“None of your business old fart.”

“I guess you could say I’m proud of my old age; you see, half of you hasn’t even lasted, and how old might you be?  Scarcely any older than forty, and you won’t last the rest of the night if you continue to compromise the safety of my colleagues.”

“You best hold your tongue you stale old Munchoe.  Do you know who I am?”

“Yes.  An immature and rambunctious fool.”

“Guess again.”

“A naive and annoying pest.”

“Wrong.  I am Killquest.  And I am here to kill you.”

“Who sent you?”

“Admiral Bloodborn.”

“Well he must not care about you.”

With that, weedo started casting telepathy spells at the cyborg.  It was a strange experience for Weedo to overpower the mechanical side of his enemy using only the biological.  Is Killquest’s brain also part robot?  To this Weedo was certain.  Weedo started sending messages of sadness, depression, and doubt into Killquest.

I am a big idiot!  What am I doing on this planet all by myself!  This wizard is too powerful for me!  BEWARE OF MALFUNCTION.  COMPUTE.  FIND LIMITS IN THE TARGET.  Computation is growing too difficult for me!  I used to get bullied in school!  THOSE DAYS ARE GONE.  FOCUS NOW.  OBEY ADMIRAL BLOODBORN.  Why does Admiral Bloodborn treat me like a dog?  Am I only a slave to him?!  ONLY A LITTLE LONGER AND YOU CAN PLEASE ADMIRAL BLOODBORN INTO COMPLACENCY.  THEN STRIKE HIM WITH ALL YOUR MIGHT AND TAKE HIS ELEMENT BALLS TO HEAL YOUR BODY.

In reading the robotic thoughts, Weedo got a cunning idea.  But this spell would be difficult.  In essence, Weedo would have to send whole memories into Killquest’s head of him killing the entire party and completing his mission.  Killquest would then perhaps kill Admiral Bloodborn.  Weedo did so, but the spell was so powerful that he remotely ejaculated upon its completion.  

 Powerful Lust

Weedo was in his study.  He smelled fresh weed, then he remembered he was smoking weed.  He remembered an article from earlier that morning.  “Government declares weed has no medicinal value yet again. Suck my dick!” he said aloud to himself.  “You give someone more time than they give you? Why? Whatever hole is in your life, those people sure as fuck ain't gonna fill it. Shit on them!  Stop waiting for something to happen! Cut out all the pieces of shit who are sucking you dry…  It's called give and take. Some people only TAKE. So tell them to fuck off!  It wasn't until I split with my first wife that I realized Led Zeppelin II is more than just one of the hottest batches of thick, sexy blues rock put to record. It's a concept album. Hear me out, lovers of all things rock - the prevailing theme throughout each track is being a fucking man and making your own way. Not depending on anything or anyone for your happiness except your goddamn self. Some two-timing gal broke your heart? You let it happen, bud. You keep on ramblin'. Through times both good and bad, you gotta keep searching. Searching for love, happiness, prosperity, knowledge - Zep were seekers. They might have sold their souls to black magic and heroin in the end, but in their fresh days they were wide-eyed lads with an insatiable hunger. They set out to take over the world, and they fucking did it.  Some people cry and some people die by the wicked ways of love…” Weedo continued, to himself.  He didn’t know that Connie was listening.  Weedo turned to her, alarmed.  Connie quickly said, “No worries bud.  I feel your pain.”  

“Hmm.”

“I just came to request apprenticeship on the ways of your psychic ability”

Weedo paused.

“Answer exactly as your gut would have it.”

“You just said it.”

“What?”

“You just learned the ways of magic.  You just need a way of polishing…”

“Forgive me.  I simply don’t ‘get it’”

“Simply get it!  Just… ah um.”

Connie slapped herself in the head.  Her first lesson began.

Peedee gets a dildo

Lars straightened his tie.

 “Peedee, I need you to run some numbers for me”

 “What is it sir?”

 “The element ball, the ones those men procured, how far has it traveled?”

 Peedees fingers typed like, uh, like a race horse.

 “Lars… it appears their ship… well… no this cant be right….”

 “Out with it you fucking cock sucker bitch”

 Peedee turned the his computer monitor to show Lars. A puzzled look came across Lars’ face. He cleaned his glasses on his shirt and took a closer look, as if he couldnt believe what he was seeing.

 “I cant believe what im seeing!”

 “Me neither Dr. Lars… it is… perplexing…”

 “This much be a glitch… Peedee have you defragmented the solid state magnets?”

“Of course sir… like i do every morning… i even took apart and cleaned out the dust inside the cyber cube battery.”

 “Wow really? … then theres no way this can be wrong….”

 “I keep refreshing the page and it stays the same.”

 “If what were reading is true….then their spaceship is…. Right above us?”

 “That appears to be correct… let me see if turning the computer on and off again fixes it”

 Lars scratched his chin and walked to the window. Frustrated, he opened the window and took a look outside, finding it hard to believe the element ball could be right over his head. As he craned his neck out the window, the spaceship crashed into Peedees office, ramming itself right up his ass. Connie stepped out of the ship, element ball in one hand, laser gun in the other.

 “Looking for this? :y”

 Lars was furious, and Peedee was screaming in pain.

 “You fools would be smart to turn over what doesnt belong to you!”

 “Ok”

 With that, Connie threw the ball really hard and hit Lars in the nuts.

 “Hows that for element ball lol”

 Lars was doubled over in pain holding his nuts, and Connie took a shit on Lars’ head. Then she shot him.

 “Thatll teach that bastard”

 Connies attention was drawn to a scream coming from where they had landed their ship.

 “Oh sorry, looks like we got our ship up your ass”

 “Please... help….”

 “Hmm… steven… Lapis… little help here?”

 The three tried their hardest to pull Peedee free, but they couldnt, because it was too far up his butt hahahah

 “Oh well, leave him there, it looks kind of funny lol”

 And with that they left.

 Silent Hills

 “All done.  How do you feel?” asked Greg.  Peedee was rigged with an oxygen machine and an intestine redirection.  He was now in fusion with the Hawk, a literal figurehead of the ship.  BADLY was the text that appeared on the Hawk communications screen.  Greg waved his hand as a gesture to waft away the negativity.  “All done boys.  You’re welcome.”  But Greg saw a look of malcontent on their faces as they stood at the ship’s entrance.  “What… what’s wrong.”

“Why in the hell is there biological muck on the inside of our ship.”

“That’s a natural consequence of keeping Peedee alive.  His lifeforce spread throughout the ship.  His guts are stuffed in the boiler room, out of your way.  You’ll literally be inside him, you see.  He will consume asteroids of his own accord.”

“We are not happy with this business.”

“Because you are ignorant.  Where’s the fuel tank?”

“We don’t know.  Good fucking point.  What have you done to our ship?!”

“‘Your ship’?  Oh bud, that’s Peedee.  He says he’ll go by Hawk Peedee.  And as I was saying, now asteroids are all that’s needed to refuel. Now, about that ball…”

“Enough Greg.”

Steven was typing away on the computers keyboard, familiarizing himself with the ships new consciousness.

“Enough?!”

Greg was incredulous.

“You know how much it costs to reroute a mans nervous system into-“

In one swift motion Steven pulled a test tube from his pocket and dangled it in front of Greg face, almost as if to taunt him.

“This is what you wanted right? Bromos?”

Greg was mesmerized by the glowing bluish purple gas in the test tube. His man breasts hung as he watched the gas swirl around the test tube. However to Greg, if there’s one thing more important than bromos, its money to get more bromos. He shook his fat face to snap himself out of the trance and looked Steven in the eye.

“Th-the deal was!-“

“The deal was we get you bromos in exchange for ship repair.”

“That’s not how I remember it! You specifically stated an unused element ball!!! And connecting a man to your ship goes far beyond a simple pit stop! This isn’t a gas station! Ive got mouths to feed!”

“Your green bromo addicted Apprentice? Maybe you should learn how to share your food better… you seem to not be going hungry…”

Steven chuckled and poked Greg in his man tits to taunt him. Greg slapped away stevens hand and got red in the face.

“Ive got a gland disorder!”

“Oh?”

“And besides that! You specifically stated an unused element ball!”

“And whats a man of your health going to be doing absorbing an element ball? The thing would tear you to shreds.”

“I… I don’t intend to absorb it! I simply want to… rel-“

At this steven laughed

“Don’t tell me… relocate? Youre planning on selling something this powerful to the highest bidder? For what? So you can spend it on pizza and bromos? “

“Youre telling me you never intended on paying me?!”

Greg had tears in his eyes. Steven sighed and shook his head.

“You failed the test Greg. You blew it, from the start I thought you might be in this for selfish reasons but… well, it was disappointing to be proven right. I was hopeful that you had some greater plans for an unused element ball but… I guess that’s what I get for being optimistic.”

“B-but…”

“Connie… please escort this man off the ship… Peedee keeps sending me pain signals… Greg is… heavy…”

Connie put her hand on Greg’s shoulder. Greg’s disappointment turned to anger as he turned around and pushed Connie away.

“You wont get away with this!!”

Steven simply shook his head and turned away. Connie punched Greg in the back of the head and began to drag him off the ship.

“Oh and Connie, don’t forget his payment.”

“Ah”

Connie picked up the bag of bromos and took it with her. Steven turned to the monitor as the doors shut behind Connie.

“Now… lets get you talking..”

With a few quick keystrokes Steven downloaded a voice synthesis program from the space internet and loaded it into Peedees mainframe.

“How’s that work for you Peedee, can you hear me?”

A robotic voice came from the speakers.

“It hurts…”

“In pain? Wonder if there’s a way to shut that off… hmm no… you shouldn’t be feeling anything Peedee, your nerve endings are off right now.”

“My ass… my ass hurts…. “

Steven chuckled

“Nonsense, its all in your head, a phantom pain. Should go away after you get used to this, sucks but hey, it just lets you know you’ve got a bit of your humanity left.”

“What do you mean? Humanity? Where am I? Where is Lars?”

“Lars is dead, you’ve been transformed into a… cyborg… of sorts…”

“Cyborg?”

“Well… you’re more of a decoration for our ship… you’ve not got much control, but for all intents and purposes, you’re our ship now.”

“I see…”

“Welcome aboard… Hawk Peedee…”

“Jesus Christ....  Is this even real?!”

“Yes sir.  Reality is painful.”

The Pains of Reality

Connie looked particularly miffed.  She spoke up.  “Peedee won’t stop sobbing!”

“He’s undergone a rough transformation…” said Steven.

“Ah yes.  He’ll never have a life, a wife, or kids.”

“Actually…  Greg arranged for his children, as a passing gesture of kindness.  A wife however?  She’d be quite bizarre…  But hey!  Remember that girl from psychology class that was in love with the Eiffel Tower?”

“I see where you’re going with this…”

“Yep.  Wanna find Peedee a wife?”

“Strangely, yes.”

“Ok, lets find an asylum planet.”

So off the threesome, ah yes, foursome went.  To Zherghaba-z.  They conversed with many women there… many rejections, yet they found a girl called Sadie.  Sadie was surprisingly hot, and she didn’t care that Peedee was a spaceship at all.  She was what the asylum committee called “too smart and radical for her age.”  And her age was 20, a lucious lass indeed.  She also suffered from “chronic sexual compulsions.”  Long story short, she had to use a dildo in her cell over 20 times a day.  Good thing there was a console in the back with Peedee’s dick intact, on a pedestal in fact.  

Peedee vibrated the ship from then on, 10 times a day, shivering with ecstasy from having his sensory modules amplified.  The other 10 times was split unevenly between the threesome.  Needless to say, the ship started to reek of hormones.  The whole crew started smoking cartons of cigarettes to cope with the smell of fish and wet dog.  And the crew noticed tumors welling up on the inside of the ship as a result of this- although Peedee barely noticed since we was too busy shivering in ecstasy.  He couldn’t quite maintain his dignity-

“You guys are the best!  Did I ever get laid in a body?  Nope!  Who needs one?”

“That’s the spirit Peedee.  We must improvise in life.  A bit of this and a bit of that.  A bit of Bromos, a bit of cigarette.”

The whole crew was looking more and more disheveled.  They couldn’t quite discern what kind of trance they were in, but they were surely in one.  Here’s a hint, dear reader- this was no ordinary girl.  She seemed to suck the life out of the crew- for at a glance they were looking more and more negligent.  What they didn’t know is she used to be a parapsychology specialist… and she hungered for the balls.  No, the other ones.

Giant Rodophontaleus and the Escape to Ghondalob

Sadie finished swallowing.  Peedee recited a poem for the descent from the heights of ecstasy.  

“Bulbous protrusions brush my insides

Tickled with the faint footsteps

Of an angel.

Lips of Dionysus wreak havoc on the fruit of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil.

Breasts that springly leap

From the squeeze of the latex zipped shirt.

As you ready the saddle of your monumental moment of naive prodding image

The ship at space rocks with chaos.”

Lapis started sarcastically clapping and walking in on the scene.  She was not happy.  She sensed something amiss.

“A bit of privacy, Lapis?”

“Privacy?  Ridiculous.”

“Hmm?”

“I am inside you.”

“Ah yes.”

“Sadie, I’ve got my eyes on you.”

This distressed Sadie.  Does he know?  

The Golobranchielios

I pooped my pants.  My name is Golobranchielios.  I come from Ziergobrehliebrieskielos.  I’m a poor man, but what I make is well-earned.  What do I do for a living, you ask?  I sell bromos.  Shh, don’t tell nobody.  I’m about to sell to Connie and Lapis.  But this bromos is poisoned.  I’m getting big money for this.

The Rage

Connie took a sniff from the bag.  Her eyebrow perked up.  She stared into the bag for a period of time which distressed Golobranchielios.  She impulsively sniffed it again.  This caused Golobranchielios to wince and act ahead of himself, so he yelled out, “I said, that will be fifty galaxos!”  This was just the que Connie needed.  She knew something was very wrong.  But she has a plan to take out two birds with one bromos.  

“Sadie!” yelled Connie.

“Yes, babe?”

“I’ve got a salesman here, wantin’ more than we’re willing to give.  But we’re willing to trade.”

“Oh please!  Don’t do this!  I love Peedee!”

“Oh, Sadie.  Please.  I meant sex.  I thought you spoke one language alone!”

“Ah.  That’s more like it.”

But one look at Golobranchielios and she thought it was more hate it.  He’s an ugly bastard.  

“But, Sadie, the great threesome only sells used goods.  Golobranchielios, would you please excuse us?”

“I-I don’t even know what’s going on.  Do what you’re gonna do.” replied Golobranchielios.  

Connies face was close to the budding rose.  It smells of the faintest sea breeze.  Then he sailed the seas of vitality.  She groaned as he and she felt groan through their bodies.  The ache of destruction grabbed their muscles and squeezed the lemon.  The nerf hit the target, and the subtle sound of a pig barn roared through the ship.  The moment of the first vital drop of black coffee hitting the bottom of the pot.  The fresh influx of messengers through the body when greeted by the morning cold.  Then Connie exploded.  And the ship disembarked.  In an instant, the earth, and cares, were delicate and spindly.  As they should be.  

Connie came back out, and everybody turned around as if they were waiting.  Golobranchielios had his finger on his chin as if he was trying to stop himself from distressing.  Connie poofed the edge of his tuxedo.  He felt swag.

“The whore is used.  Your turn.  But first, I think you should know that there is but one condition for Sadie to have sex with a stranger.  She always wants to get both fucked in the anus and vagina at the same time.  And considering that there is none here willing to partake, besides maybe yourself, a “dildo” will do just fine, would it not?”

“Fine, I just want to cum!”  Golobranchielios was getting a feeling of exponential bizarrity.  

“Ok, good.  Let me show y’all to your dildo.  You get the ass, by the way.”

“I prefer anus!”  Connie raised her brow.  

Connie pointed to Peedee’s dick.  She then whispered to Sadie, “I’m counting on you.”

While Sadie, Peedee and Golobranchielios were fucking, Connie injected bromos, which acts as a potent aphrodisiac as a side effect, into the walls of the Hawk while sporting a devilish grin.  Peedee became so massive that he crushed Golobranchielios, who bled to death soon afterwards.  Then Peedee, in turn, exploded.  As for Sadie, she was basically elastic.  Though Steven later commented on the length of her neck…  So, Connies plan of taking out two birds with one stone was a success.  Peedee knew about the plan, and being tired of his inability for a real relationship, had Connie use artificial insemination.  He wanted to pass on his legacy.  And that, dear readers, no doubt will happen.  

Greg Peedee

“Wahhh.”

“I’m so glad I have a son.  I hope he doesn’t look down on his father.”

Sadie, holding young Greg, looked up at the speaker.

“Surely not, Peedee.  You’ve had… quite a legacy.”

“That’s right, now that you mention it…  Say, why don’t we rename this ship…  “The Legacy!”

Devil Dick

Zaga was pooping. He heard a knock on his door.

“Dont come in, im pooping”

The door opened anyways.

“Zaga, weve recovered Jamie, youre going to want to see this.”

Zaga squeezed out his shit and left the bathroom without wiping his ass. He opened the door to find a gay looking man in a wheelchair wearing a stern expression. It was his subordinate, the infamous Lars Lars.

“Sorry, i was pooping. Whats this then?”

 “Jamie sir, hes alive”

 Zaga raised an eyebrow and began to walk down the hallway with Lars.

 “I sure hope you’ve been wise enough to wipe his brain Lars. I dont want to end up in a wheelchair like you.”

 Lars looked down as flashbacks of getting fucked by jamie shook him to his core. The beast had been let loose on Lars for an element ball scam gone wrong, his own coworker turned against him, fucking him in the ass for a whole day before Lars was able to get the upper hand and shoot Jamie in the chest. He was lucky to be alive, however the accident had left Lars paralyzed.

 “Restraints were… ineffective once we pieced his brain together and he regained full consciousness Lord Zaga... “

 “Regained consciousness? Isn’t that what we have sedatives for?”

 “He was metabolizing them at an alarming rate, doctors say he was pissing it out as they pumped it in”

 “My god.”

 “Indeed. It really begs the question…”

 “What the fuck were they doing to him on that ship? Running experiments on him?”

 “Not likely sir, the crew aboard the hawk appears to only specialize in engineering, they're not stupid but I certainly wouldn’t call them biologists.”

 “Then what the fuck happened to him?”

 “Based on old intel on the crew sir, the answer appears to be… LOTS of drug parties, also some sort of training regiment…”

“You mean to tell me jamie became this monster out of sheer willpower? What the hell did you find in his blood? Any type of steroids or…”

 “No sir. Nothing in his blood but large amounts of bromohydrin. Also an intense amphetamine known as… zaka… you uh, you snort it….”

 “No doubt that played a role in his “training”, but still… zaka alone doesnt make a man into this…”

 “Thats all we found sir… aside from habanero seeds in his stool….”

 Lord Zaga was pissed and frustrated. He stopped to ponder what kind of men he was up against and punched a wall because he was so pissed.

 “God damnit Lars! If these men are anything like Jamie… FUCK!”

 “I agree sir. Were fucked.”

 “And these men have the majority of the element balls?”

 “We’re simply not sure. Theres a good chance they have at least one.”

 “Jesus Lars…. At least one?”

 “I know sir I know… the damage they could cause…”

 The two arrived to the cell where Jamie was being kept. He was naked and rubbing his shit on the walls. His head was bandaged up and covered in specks of poop and blood. Jamie noticed the two men from the window and made a face similar to that of an angry chimpanzee. He pounded the ground with his fists and began to charge at the window and beat on the glass. His loud screams penetrated the thick walls of his containment cell.

 “How the fuck are we supposed to get any information out of this thing?”

 Just then, Lars’ phone rang, and zaga grabbed it from him.

 “Who is this?”

“It is I, killquest.”

  Zaga dropped the phone.

[lucidkpopscenarios-blog]

Recovery (Jimin/Reader)

By: Admin Dreamer

Genre: Fluff, Angst, therapist!Jimin

Warning: Abuse Trigger Warning (it’s implied but I’ve still tagged it)

Life seemed to be really bleak lately, and with some help from a good friend, you get to see probably the best therapist on campus and resident grad student cutie Park Jimin. Not only was he handsome, he was caring and understanding and before you knew it, you fell for him. Too bad you were too insecure in yourself to see that he also fell for you too.

You heard the sound of footsteps bounding across your small room before your room was flooded with light as he threw open the curtains. With a groan, you opened your eyes to see the blurry outline of your best friend Jeremy standing over you with his hands on your hips, “This is ridiculous, you’ve been lying here for two weeks!”

“Jeremy, leave me the hell alone.”

“Nope, this is getting out of hand, you need a therapist stat.” At the mention of the word therapist, you sat up in your bed, eyes wide and hair in a disarray. You probably looked like a crazy person to Jeremy, but at this point you didn’t really care.

“No I don’t, I’m just fine. I promise I’ll start going to class tomorrow.”

He shook his head, picking up all the trash thrown around in your room. “Um, no. You’ve been saying that since last week and I haven’t seen your ass outside here since then and neither has your roommate. She’s worried as hell about you.” 

“I just... I just can’t go to class, Jeremy.” 

“Honeybun, it’s all fine and dandy that you can’t go to class but who’s going to be catching up and doing your assignments? You bet your ass it’s not going to be me.” He sassed, picking up all the trash that had accumulated around your bed.

“Come on, get up. Take a shower and look presentable. We’re going to see someone today and get this shit straight.”

“But--”

“Nope. I love you and I know you’re going through some tough shit but a week and a half is more than enough time to get your emotions to a manageable level. You need help and you’re going to get it and help yourself whether you like it or not.”

You sighed, admitting your defeat. When Jeremy set his mind to something, nothing anyone would say would deter him from his goal. While it was something you admired, deep down you wished that he would make an exception for you just this one time.

“Just dress comfortably, okay?” He called out to you as he shut the door to your room, arms full of trash.

With a heavy sigh, you got up out of your bed and began to search for some clean clothes. You were slow to find an outfit, not really putting much thought into it when you grabbed a pair of sweatpants and a large hoodie.

Walking out of your room, you were met with your roommate Lydia who smiled at you reassuringly, timidly asking, “How’re you feeling?”

“Gross.”

“I know, I tried to tell Jeremy that but you know how he is.” 

“Yeah, but thanks. I’ll be using the shower.” With a nod from her and another soft smile, you headed to the bathroom to shower the stink away.

As much as you hated to admit it, you felt much better than you had for the last couple of weeks. Slipping on the clothes, you noticed how slightly baggier the clothes fit on you. It wasn’t something that you wanted to happen. You just didn’t feel like eating, and the fact that you had gotten slightly skinnier because of it was conflicting to you.

Walking out of the bathroom, you dried your hair with a towel and threw the towel in the bin before meeting Jeremy out in the living room. “You could do with a little bit of makeup. You look like a cadaver.”

“Don’t push it, Jeremy.”

“Sorry. Let’s get going then.” He replied, waiting for you to grab your keys and put on your shoes before walking out into the parking garage down the hall from your apartment. The walk to the counseling office was silent, which was welcome. You needed to sort your thoughts out before meeting this counselor that your friend thought would be a good idea to go to.

You were a mess of emotions, mostly fearful. What if the people that you knew saw you going to the counseling office and judged you for that? Your already fragile state of mind wouldn’t be able to handle it. At least you didn’t think your mind would be able to.

Walking into the office together, you notice the drab space that attempted to liven itself up with plants and colorful paintings. The waiting rooms were stiff and didn’t comfort you in the slightest, and you fidgeted as you waited for your friend to get the papers.

You jumped when you felt a hand on your shoulders, almost turning around to choke the person, but your defensive posture deflated when you saw your friend hand you a clipboard with different colored papers.

“Do you want me to stay here? Or you want me to leave?”

“I don’t want you to miss class...”

“I don’t have class today you dork.” He replied gently, smiling at you.

“Well... can you please stay?” He nodded, ruffling your hair as he leaned back on the chair and closed his eyes. His long lanky body nearly stretched the width of the waiting room, that was how small it was.

As you completed the forms, you heard the door open with a small voice saying, “[Y/F/N]?”

Looking up, you saw probably the cutest man you’ve ever met.

His hair was a pastel pink, pushed up to reveal his forehead in a messy way, kind eyes pulled up into the purest smile, baby fat not quite gone from his face that only was more pronounced with his round glasses.

Is he an angel?

“Y-Yes...”

“It’s okay if you haven’t finished all the forms yet, we can complete them during our session today, its just a session for general purposes anyway.”

“Okay...”

“Follow me, Ms. [Y/N]. Will your boyfriend be coming with you?” You nearly choked when he referred to Jeremy as your boyfriend. “H-He’s not my boyfriend, just a f-friend of mine!” You squeaked, hoping that Jeremy wasn’t awake enough to comprehend what just happened.

You didn’t want your friend to scare off this cutie.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Follow me please!” He smiled brightly (as if that was even possible, his smile was already blinding), walking out in front of you. He was wearing a oversized navy sweater and black skinny jeans with black sneakers, the employee lanyard dangling around his neck.

Allowing you to enter first, and coming in right after you, he turned to you and asked, “Would you like to have the door slightly open or closed?”

“Ummm... can we have it open please?” 

“Sure, I can keep it open for you.” He closed the door far enough where there was a crack but it wasn’t very large. It was good enough as far as you were concerned. You watched carefully as the boy stepped around your seat to sit across from you in the other chair, clipboard in hand. You notice as his eyes flicker over your defensive position and you relax. Slightly.

“So, what brings you here today?”

“Well, I’m just really... down lately.” He nodded and kept silent, allowing you to vent out everything. He handed you a tissue box when he saw you tear up in frustration and his eyes were kind, gentle.

As if you could trust him. But you didn’t want to trust him too quickly, you knew what happened to people who you trusted too quickly.

The man sensed this but didn’t push you to say anything more than you wanted. He figured you would say something if it was important or if you were comfortable disclosing it so he sat and listened, noting your body language carefully.

You didn’t even notice him carefully taking notes, you were too busy narrating what got you so down in the first place.

“My ex-boyfriend...” You choked at the last word, he looked up with concern in his eyes. “What... What about him?”

“He.. umm, he...” 

“It’s okay--”

“He abused me. A lot.” You blurted out before you could stop yourself, and all of a sudden there seemed to be a shift in atmosphere, the air you were suddenly breathing burning your lungs as he shifted in his chair to lean closer to you. “How exactly did he abuse you?”

“Well, umm...”

“It’s okay if you don’t want to get into it now, I have to ask because if you were a victim of abuse then we will have to change how we approach your therapy depending on the type of abuse.” He explained, his eyes flickering down to your nervous hands before focusing back on your face.

“Okay, is it okay if we talk about it in the next session?” You inquired, trying to stop wringing your hands in anxiousness by sitting on them. The smile appeared again, much wider than you’ve seen him smile, and replied with an, “Of course! When would you like to schedule your next appointment?”

“Umm... how about at this same time and day?” 

“Sure thing, unless you’re asking me.” He winked, and your eyes widened slightly from the shock. “Well, I...”

“Sorry, that was unprofessional on my part.” He blushed, his face slightly matching his hair. You smiled slightly and shook your head, “No, it’s fine...”

“Not really, you’re technically my client. But I digress, so same time and day every week unless something changed. Sounds good?”

“It sounds great, thank you...”

“Jimin. Park Jimin.” He finally introduced himself, sticking his hand out for you to shake. You timidly grabbed his hand and shook it, noting how soft it was and the fingers curling around yours in a comforting manner.

“Nice to meet you Jimin. And thank you.” Although it wasn’t as big or bright as his own, you smiled a little bit too. The odd thing about it was that it didn’t feel forced at all.

I think I might like this counselor.

“How did it go?” Jeremy asked in between sips of his iced latte, staring at you expectantly as you sat across from him at the campus cafe. Swallowing your drink, your eyes stared up at the lanky boy before shrugging, “It was pretty good, but I’m not feeling a whole lot better.”

“It usually takes a while to be honest. Who did you get?”

“I’m seeing Park Jimin...” At the mention of the name, his jaw dropped slightly as his eyes widened. Oh no...

“You mean, the resident graduate student cutie Park Jimin?” You had no idea who he was talking about, but was it the same person? “I... I’m not sure?”

“Was he baby-ish cute?”

“Well, yes.”

“Then that’s the cute grad student. Wow, you’re so lucky!” As he gushed on and on about how cute the man was and his jealousy, you were preoccupied with your thoughts, mainly worried and confused.

Would he do a good job? I mean he’s still a student...

Jeremy didn’t notice this right away though, still yapping away even after the coffee was long gone and you two were walking out the door. When you came back to your room, you flopped onto your bed with your face buried in your pillow. Lydia looked at you perplexed but didn’t say much.

He looked young, but you didn’t expect him to be only a few years older in reality. But what was done is done now, all you had to do was wait out the next couple appointments and determine if he was good at what he did.

Why do I feel like I stepped into something that I should’ve avoided...

Over the next couple weeks, you were slowly getting better, and trusted Jimin a little more with each appointment.

You enjoyed your counseling sessions with him, he kept the atmosphere light enough but still professional and you liked that. In fact, your worries about him being a grad student diminished with each appointment; he did his job very well, probably better than what an older more established therapist would’ve done with you.

However, there was still a white elephant in the room; your abuse. Jimin wanted to ask so badly about what happened, but you always seemed to want to avoid anything to do with it. The both of you knew that it was there, but it was suffocating and as much as it needed to be addressed, no one knew how to acknowledge it.

Then again, abuse was never an easy topic to bring up.

During a session much later into the semester, you seemed to be much quieter to him. A little too quiet. 

“[Y/N]? Are you okay?” Jimin pressed gently, being sure not to do anything that would hurt you. He noticed how clouded your expression was, and for the first time he couldn’t read your face and it worried him. What came out of your mouth next nearly made him fall out of his seat.

“Umm... I saw him today.”

“Your ex?” He dreaded the answer he was about to receive, and his stomach sank as you nodded your head timidly.

With a sigh, he then asked, “What happened? What did he do?”

“He told me... he was sorry. And that he wanted me back and that he realized that how he treated me was wrong.”

“What else did he say?”

“That there was no other girl like me and he was devastated after we broke up.”

You looked at Jimin and for the first time, you saw something different in his eyes, something like anger and fury along with his usual caring demeanor.

“What did you say? How did you feel at the time?”

“Disgusted and angry, really. Disgusted that he had the nerve to approach me after all he did and angry that he could actually say that he was sorry. Where was that when we were together when he was doing all those horrible things to me? So I basically told him to fuck off and never talk to me again.” Jimin nodded in understanding.

“Was he alone or with someone else?”

“He tried to grab onto me but I fended for myself, I saw him at the library late at night so I couldn’t make much noise but he tried to drag me out and talk to me. The library aide saw him out before it got out of hand though so it was okay. He was alone, I didn’t see any of his friends around.”

“Yeah, for one I do agree that he is quite the asshole for trying to control you like that.” Jimin began, then he exhaled loudly as he leaned back in his chair, setting his clipboard on his desk. “And secondly, you did an amazing job standing up for yourself. Not many people can say that to their abuser only four months down the line. You’re really strong for doing that.”

You looked down at your hands, hiding the pink spreading across your cheeks. “I mean, I definitely didn’t feel strong when he was approaching me.”

“That’s true, and people whom we perceive to have more power over us will always make us feel weaker than we really are. The fact that you said anything and resisted him alone says a lot about you, and you turned the tables on him and made him feel like the helpless one without knowing it.” Jimin smiled, and you seemed to mull over that idea in your mind before, after four months of Jimin trying to break down your walls, finally smiled the most genuine smile he’d ever seen in a person.

And it was the most beautiful smile he’d ever seen.

Jimin seemed to express his shock too vividly because it was gone as soon as it came, with a stuttered, “I-I’m sorry...”

“No, you’re okay. It’s okay to smile, I like it when you smile, it’s very pretty.” He replied, giving you a comforting smile. His smile widened as he watched you duck your head in embarrassment, thinking about how cute you were.

He wished you knew how his heart was fluttering at the sight of your smile. Actually, he wondered if he fell for you even before this, when you first came to him.

One of the perks of being a therapist was that he was able to get to know people on a deeper level than even their closest confidants. He was aware of how creepy that sounded to some people, but it was true. People only shared certain things with friends, but with a therapist people don’t get that bias they would get from friends and patients liked that.

Getting to know you he found that you were much stronger than you let on. He always admired the silent type of strength some had, and you were the literal embodiment of it.

But too bad he was your therapist rather than your classmate. He promised himself that he was going to keep it professional but it was getting harder and harder with each visit.

If only we met under different circumstances...

“I can’t come here anymore.”

Jimin nearly dropped his clipboard at the news, but he simply gripped the pen harder to keep his composure. “Okay.”

“Aren’t you going to ask me why?”

“Well, since I’m your therapist--”

“I’m not asking you as your therapist, Jimin.” His eyes widened at your bold statement, and he tried to swallow the lump in his throat. “What do you mean?”

“I’m asking you as a friend. I feel much closer to you than to any of my friends and I can’t come back here because of exams and I have to cram.”

“Well, if you ever need anything, you know my number.” He replied, but he paused in thought. “Actually, I take that back.”

Grabbing a business card, he scrawled his cell phone number and handed you the card. “The number on the card is the office phone, and it’s not really the most reliable. I usually answer my cell phone, so if you need anything at all just call my cell phone.”

Your eyes twinkled in a way that Jimin knew he was screwed. “Aren’t you just giving me an excuse to use your number?”

“W-We-Well, umm... no! I just care about you a lot a-and I figured that you needed, y-you know. A person that’s there for you 24/7.” He stammered, flustered at your sudden boldness. At this point it had been six months since you started seeing him, and your personality seemed to uncover itself.

And like any lovestruck fool, your demeanor and quirks only made you all the more charming and beautiful to Jimin.

You were mischievous, often pulling harmless pranks on the poor man without him knowing. You had also become bold with how you spoke, often making him flustered with how blunt you could be sometimes.

Apart from the fact that he was proud of how far you’ve progressed from being the shy, timid person you once were, he was also falling for you faster with each time he saw you.

Unfortunately, neither of you seemed to see the affections you held for each other, the unspoken pact of professionalism keeping the both of you from coming forward with your feelings.

At first, the two of you kept contact often enough. Then slowly as life began to get in the way, the already short texts and calls began to ebb away until one day you woke up, suddenly missing the once-frequent good morning texts Jimin left for you.

There was no denying there was a lot of regret left, but as much as you wanted to think it was better for you to leave your relationship with Jimin as a strictly professional one, you wondered if he had given you an opportunity to explore it.

You were too scared to find out though, and you left the situation the way it was.

If only...

[Yeah, this is definitely going to have a second part lmao]

[coloursflyaway]

I've been working my way through your AMAZING fic and saw you take prompts? I'd love a brotzly fic where they have to go under cover as a couple to a wedding or similar

First of all, thank you so much, I am glad you enjoy it! ♥ And then, yes, of course, here you go, although it turned out a little bit different that the prompt… I hope you don’t mind too much.

Seal My Fate

Pairing: Dirk Gently/ Todd Brotzman

Rating: T

Words: 3.777

Or: Todd Brotzman wouldn't know a date if it bit him on the ass.

„Cominghere was really the most splendid idea, Todd“, Dirk tells him for the thirdtime that day, and Todd can just so resist rolling his eyes. “It wasn’t really an idea”, he tells the other, stuffs his hands into thepockets of his suit. He hates wearing it, the fabric too stiff to feelcomfortable, but back in the days when Amanda was still speaking to him morethan for the occasional quick text or call, she had assured him he looked good init. Or rather, hot as fuck, big bro,in her words. “I just got an invitation.”

“Still.”Dirk, as always, is absolutely undeterred by his words, smiles to himself andfollows Todd through the pews. He looks different today, his leather jacketreplaced by a grey suit with some kind of subtle plaid pattern on it, the onlysplash of colour a tie that reminds Todd vaguely of someone killing a flamingoand wrapping it around Dirk’s neck. All in all, he looks, for his standards, atleast, normal. “You decided to bring me, which I am certain the invitation said nothing of,and that was very good thinking on your part.” Dirk looks happy enough withthat explanation and Todd knows protesting won’t change anything, but stilltries. “It did say “plus one” so…” He shrugs, and Dirk stops for a moment, obviouslythinking, then his face lights up again; he’s found the solution to a problemthat really isn’t one. “You could have brought Farah!”, he exclaims, looking more satisfied than agrown man should possibly be allowed to. “But you didn’t. A very wise choice,really. Oh! Who knows, we might find a case here! Or rather, the case mightfind us! We should try and blend in, very sneaky, so they don’t notice –“

At thispoint, Todd does what he does more often than he’d ever admit (amongst otherthings; there are a lot of things he would never admit, most of them having todo with Dirk), he stops listening and instead ponders something Dirk has saidbefore. Farah. He could have brought her, absolutely. She would have been the logical choiceto take with him to a wedding, a gorgeous, witty, if strange woman, who couldhave protected him from any and all kinds of attacks, such as unwanted smalltalk or those tiny mayonnaise-covered shrimps the waitresses keep offering him.Dirk is useless at that, talks to everyone who just looks in their directionand has eaten his body weight in hors d’oeuvres before the actual ceremony haseven started. And yet, he didn’t even consider asking Farah, but had gone to Dirk straightaway, had basked in the glow of the other’s smile when Todd asked him to come.

Heremembers that smile well, the way it had made Dirk’s eyes shine even morebrightly than usual, the exact pitch of the other’s voice when he had agreed,the – Todd shakes his head slightly, banning the thought from his mind. Thereare some things that he won’t ever admit, but even more things that heabsolutely refuses to think about.

Fortunately,he doesn’t have to, is saved by two people he didn’t think he’d ever see againjust three weeks ago: a lanky man in his late twenties with hair of the mostboring shade of brown imaginable and more freckles than should fit on a singleface, but an impossibly kind smile, and a woman with dark skin and hair dyed somany different, clashing colours that it looks like Todd imagines Dirk’scloset. Andrew, former bassist of the little known, but still very good Indie band The Mexican Funeral, and hissoon-to-be-wife and former band member, Mindy.

“Todd”,Andrew greets him, smiling a smile Todd does not deserve. “I’m glad you couldmake it.”Mindy nods and smiles at him as well, although this is a smile he does deserve– polite, but not very pleased. It’s not hard to figure out who insisted oninviting Todd. “Me too. Thank you again for the invitation, I didn’t – well. You know.”He sounds as awkward as he feels, which at least seems to please Mindy; Andrewpretends that he doesn’t notice. To say something, anything, really, that isn’tan apology, Todd gestures to his right, to Dirk, starts, “This is Dirk Gently,by the way. He’s –““I’m his date”, Dirk finishes the sentence for him, extends a hand, his smileso bright Todd can hear it even over how utterly dumbfounded he is. Date? “And I am so glad to meet you.Todd doesn’t really speak much about anything to do with The Mexican Funeral, so it’s great to meet someone who might do soinstead. I am terribly interesting in, oh, anything to do with his past,really. And such a joyous occasion as well! I truly do wish you all the luck inthe world.”

The couplein front of them looks as confused as Todd feels, but Andrew is the politestperson Todd has ever met, so he takes Dirk’s hand and shakes it. “Dirk, uh, good to meet you too. I didn’t know that – well, I suppose it’s beensome time. Anyway. We’ll see you two around, alright?”Todd nods, not sure if he remembers how to speak, and they leave; the word date still echoes in Todd’s mind. Adate? Could this be considered a date? Of course, they dressed up, and Toddsupposes that a wedding could be considered romantic, but - He doesn’t get any further with that train of thought, because his brainsupplies him with a memory that clears everything up instantly: Dirk talkingabout a case, about blending in, being sneaky. And of course, that is all it isand can be. Explaining that he is a holistic detective who is looking for a mystery tosolve would cause a commotion, most likely, and definitely be the end ofblending in and being sneaky. But there are couples all around, so what betterdisguise to use?

Todd looksover at Dirk, all spruced up, with his hair perfectly coiffed and his tie alittle bit crooked, and tries to ignore that his heart feels like it’sbreaking.

They taketheir seats and the wedding begins, Mindy and Andrew both glowing withhappiness, stumbling and stuttering and sobbing out their vows, and, unknown toanyone but himself, Todd suffers from a series of heart attacks when somewherein between, Dirk reaches out and laces their fingers together.

“So how didyou meet?”, Dirk asks and almost bodily pushes some other felicitator out ofthe way to sidle up to Mindy and Andrew. The two of them are sharing a flute ofchampagne and a piece of cake, and are apparently too deliriously happy to mindTodd and his not-date intruding. “At band practice”, Andrew answers, hardly missing a beat, which is quiteimpressive. He turns to his wife, beaming at her like he is seeing her for thevery first time. “Because of Todd, actually. He had put an ad in the paper and theboth of us showed up. I was sure that Mindy hated me at first, until I figuredout that it was just all that eyeliner that made it seem like she wanted tomurder me.”

“I wasstaring at him the whole time, that’s what he means”, she butts in, soundingmore content than Todd has ever heard her, even after being in the same bandfor nearly three years. He might not have any right to do so, but Todd stillfeels happy for them. “Couldn’t believe that someone so cute wanted to even bein the same room as me, let alone smile at me and try to make incrediblyawkward jokes.”“She laughed at them though!”, Andrew clarifies with a chuckle, presses a kissto Mindy’s cheek. Todd’s own cheek aches jealously. “What about you? How didyou meet?”

There is amoment in which Todd panics, proper, vicious fear clutching at his throat, butDirk just smiles his most charming smile and doesn’t notice that Todd almostdies right on the spot when he takes his hand once more. Through the fog ofpanic, longing and confusion, Todd registers that Dirk’s thumb is softlybrushing over his knuckles. “Oh, it’s quite a different story, that!”, Dirk replies easily, like he has toldthe tale a hundred times already. “I broke into Todd’s apartment one night – Ihad… seen him before, and I just had the strangest hunch that he’d beimportant. It wasn’t the most conventional way of courting someone, I have toadmit, but it worked. And I was right. He turned out to be the most important thingthat ever happened to me.”He turns to face Todd, who wishes he could just close his eyes, because seeingDirk like this is almost painful. His eyes are blue and gentle, filled with somethingTodd can only describe as devotion, love sparking from them; he looks soearnest Todd could almost trick himself into believing him.

Who wouldhave thought that Dirk Gently was any good as an actor?

He stillhasn’t looked away when Andrew chuckles and saves him, ruins the moment. “I would say that is quite romantic, if strange… and possibly illegal”, hecomments, and Todd finally turns to look at him, feeling his cheeks heat up tothe point where he’s fairly certain he’s running a fever. “Oh, Todd, there’s no need to be embarrassed”, he continues, obviously noticinghis discomfort and interpreting it horribly wrong. “We always kind of suspectedthat – well. It doesn’t matter anymore, does it? Now that you’ve found eachother. I’m happy for you.”Andrew sounds genuine, and even Mindy is smiling at him, and the thought hemight have earned just the slightest bit of their forgiveness feels too good toprotest, or say anything at all. So Todd just nods, swallows thickly, and wonders why Dirk keeps stroking hisknuckles when no one will see.

“Do youwant to dance?”, Dirk asks suddenly, and Todd isn’t quite certain how manymetaphorical deaths it will take until he really, actually dies, but ratherconvinced he will find out before the day is over. Dirk is standing next to him, the fairy lights decorating the garden aroundthem making his eyes shine, his skin glow golden. He isn’t beautiful, becauseit’s still Dirk, and Dirk is skinny and awkward, just handsome instead ofirresistible, but he doesn’t have to be, because he knocks the breath right outof Todd’s lungs anyway.

And thereit is, spelt out so clearly in the pounding of his heart that Todd cannotpretend he doesn’t see it anymore, a truth: he might only have known DirkGently for a few, short months, but sometime along the world, Todd has givenhim his heart.

“Yeah,okay”, he mutters, and Dirk beams at him, extends a hand, and for the firsttime since they got here, it’s Todd who clasps his fingers around the otherman’s; the fluttering, uneasy feeling in his stomach is the same.“Oh, good. I thought that it would probably be the appropriate thing to askyour date, judging by everyone around us.” Dirk grips his hand tighter andpulls him onto the dancefloor, where, he is right, at least a dozen couples areswaying to the music, Andrew and Mindy in the middle of them. And there it is again, that word, unprompted and without anyone else to hear,and Dirk’s fingers intertwining with his so easily, that Todd can’t help buthope that maybe, just maybe..

He doesn’tget to finish the thought, and doesn’t really mind it, because Dirk pulls himcloser, looking down at him and not for the first time, making Todd aware howmuch taller the other is. Usually, he’d mind it – being short is nothing he isproud of – but with Dirk, it really doesn’t seem to matter. Especially when Dirk puts his other hand on Todd’s shoulder, his stance farfrom perfect.

The music is slow, sweet, and they don’t haveto talk about it, just start moving. It’s hardly enough to deserve being calleddancing, rocking back and forth a little bit, occasionally taking half a stepto let some other couple pass, and yet it feels more intimate, more subtlyerotic than full-on grinding against each other could ever be. This time, when Todd feels breathless, he doesn’t really mind it.

Time passeswithout Todd really noticing, a song changing to another to another to another,and then, Frank Sinatra crooning about only having eyes for that one person inthe background, Dirk leans in. Fairy lights and the bit of champagne they hadbefore are illuminating his face and Todd knows he should close his eyes, andyet can’t help but watch, mesmerized, and wonder how Dirk’s lips are going tofeel against his.

“I thinkI’ve found our case”, Dirk whispers.

The caseends up being a woman – some obscure aunt, Mindy tells them later – systematicallystealing the catering company’s silverware, and Dirk is ecstatic about havingsolved their seventh case together; Todd feels like someone has ripped hisheart from his chest, sliced it into little pieces and stuffed glass wool intothe vacant space to keep him from collapsing. He’s tired, impossibly so, tells Dirk that much, but can’t convince the otherto stay behind while he leaves, no matter how much he tries. Andrew and Mindy tell him to call sometime, which he probably won’t, and then Toddis left with an overly-concerned holistic detective in his car, instead of in acab on his own, where he’d like to be, trying to figure out how much of the shatteredpieces that once made up his heart are still salvageable.

“And youare certain that you are fine? You don’t look fine”, Dirk asks for the fifthtime when they have finally pulled up at the curb in front of the Ridgely. Hesounds genuinely worried, which would be sweet, if sweet didn’t just serve to crushTodd’s heart into smaller splinters still. Hoping, he decides, is always theworst course of action.“I’m okay, Dirk”, he tells the other, ignores the puppy eyes and gets out ofthe car. He should wait for Dirk – they do live in the same building after all– but right now, he just doesn’t have the strength to do so. Instead, Todd walks, makes it up the few steps to the front door before a handwrapped around his wrist causes him to stop. It’s the same hand he knows sowell by now, and it still makes Todd’s skin burn and tingle with want.

“Are youmad at me?”, Dirk asks with the quietest, most forlorn of voices, making Toddlook up at him although he really, really doesn’t want to. “Have I donesomething wrong? …again?”“…no.” The word takes more strength to utter than Todd thought he had leftinside him, but it makes Dirk smile again, and therefore, is worth it.“Oh, thank God”, the other answers, so very obviously relieved that Todd almostexpects him to start awkwardly patting his shoulder. Instead, Dirk’s hand stayswhere it is, around Todd’s wrist. “You had me worried. I would always mind itif you were upset with me, obviously, but I’d mind it a lot more tonight, Ithink. I enjoyed the wedding a lot. Thank you for taking me.”

Dirk looksalmost shy at his admission, even if still like he is burning up withhappiness, like solving this one dumb case really made all the difference tohis world, and Todd manages half a smile. “No problem”, he tells him, “Thank you for coming. It would have been a lotmore awkward without you.”The not-even-praise makes Dirk light up, and Todd wants to reclaim his wrist sohe can go back to his flat and get as drunk as he possibly can with whateveralcohol he has left, but he’s not fast enough; Dirk speaks first.

“I guessthat’s good night then”, the other says, and sounds nervous, looks like he isblushing. “This is – I mean, I think it’s appropriate to – oh, bugger it.”There is a split second that Todd spends wondering whatever the hell it is Dirkis speaking about, and then. Well. He doesn’t think anymore at all.

Dirk’s lipsare as soft as he thought they would be, clumsy as they kiss him, leaving thetaste of champagne on Todd’s mouth when the other pulls back, and the faintsensation of his heart mending itself in his chest. His own eyes haven’t closed the entire time, his brain to shocked to evenblink, but Dirk’s only flutter open after he has straightened again, like he isunwilling to let the moment pass completely. Todd is impossibly glad for thehand around his wrist, preventing him from doing something stupid like touchinga finger to his lips, hoping to feel Dirk’s kiss on them still.

“…so thiswas a date?”, Todd finally says, and of course, it is the stupidest possibleresponse anyone could have thought of, not only effectively ruining the moment,but also wiping the blissful happiness clean from Dirk’s face. “Yes? Wait, wasn’t it? Was that what I did wrong?”There is something like panic slowly creeping into Dirk’s eyes, a look thatsuits him far less than contentment, and although Todd usually is only good atruining things, not fixing them, he manages to do so now. “I was – I mean, no, it wasn’t, but not because – not because I didn’t want itto be. I wanted it to be a date. More than I realised at first, even, I really wanted it to be a date. And itwould have been a great date, too, even with the stealing aunt, if I had justnoticed that it was one.”He tries to give Dirk a smile, which works far better than it did just momentsago; his heart, now fully functioning again, realises what is happening andpicks up its pace. The other, though, still looks shaken, so Todd adds, “I thought it was adetective thing. A disguise to blend in, you know? But the point is that I’dlike it a lot better if it wasn’t any of that. Just a date.”

Todd’swords seem to finally catch up to Dirk, make the shock and pain melt away atlast.  “Oh”, he breathes out and there aremore relief in that one syllable than should be possible. “Oh, good. That wouldhave been horribly awkward – not to mention, utterly devastating, really,because I really enjoyed it. The date, I mean. And – and kissing you. I reallyenjoyed that too.”There is a faint hint of pink tinting Dirk’s cheeks, the tips of his ears, buthis eyes are bright with something Todd has seen before, just hours ago; loveshining out of them with an intensity that makes it hard to breathe. “I – “, Todd starts and doesn’t know to finish the sentence, doesn’t even knowwhat he could have wanted to say, but one single thing. “Me too.”

A smilegrazes Dirk’s lips, the kind that Todd knows would bloom into a fully-fledgedbeam grin soon, if it had the time. It doesn’t, because Todd gets up on histiptoes and this time, his eyes flutter closed even before he kisses Dirk,shutting out the world around him so it’s just the two of them. The other’slips are curved against his, allowing themselves be coaxed into kissing back byTodd’s hand coming up to cup Dirk’s cheek, trailing calloused fingertips overhis skin. The kiss is soft and slow, almost lazy, the kind you don’t mention in any storyyou tell but sometimes think about at night and feel your lips tingle; whenTodd draws back, his chest is aflame with affection, maybe even love.

Dirk looksawestruck somehow, eyes glazed over when he opens them again and his cheeks thepink of his tie. Before he speaks, he clears his throat and yet his voice isstill slightly hoarse when he speaks, lower than Todd is used to. “I liked that one even better.”“Me too.”

It’s not arisk when he leans up and steals another tiny kiss, and that alone is enough toamaze Todd, who expected to go to sleep with a broken heart and now can tasteDirk on his lips, can feel the other’s breath against his skin. Has Dirk lookat him like he is the single most beautiful person he has ever seen, the mostimportant thing that ever happened to him. Can finally put a name to hisfluttering, adoring heart without fearing what that could change. “You know”, Todd says, and feels said heart beat a little faster, like it isjust warming up for later. “You could come in. With me.”Dirk loses a bit of the glow surrounding him, brow furrowing slightly inconfusion, somehow making him look younger than he is. Innocent, almost. “Butdidn’t you say you were tired? I don’t want to keep you up. Well, want to, yes,but –““Dirk”, Todd interrupts, says the other’s name like it’s a term of endearmentand finds that to him, it is. “I’m definitely not too tired for that.”

He stepsjust the slightest bit closer still and watches the blush of Dirk’s cheeksdarken as he begins to understand what it is Todd means. “A-Alright”, he finally replies, voice breathless and nervous and excited; thegentle warmth and affection spreading through Todd’s body turn into somethinghotter, more anticipatory. “I’m fairly certain that I’d like that even better.”

This time,when Todd kisses him, there’s more heat in it, his tongue darting out to tasteand drawing the faintest moan from Dirk, a sound Todd knows he’ll treasureforever. He only pulls away when continuing would put them dangerously close topublic indecency territory; Dirk isbreathing hard, lips kissed pink and eyes dark, a look Todd would never haveexpected to see on him and yet wants to keep there for the rest of his life. Stepping away at last, Todd turns his hand so he can grasp the one Dirk stillhas around his wrist, and gives him a smile that most likely only looks half asseductive as he wishes it would, but seems to work on Dirk anyway. “Don’t worry, I’m going to make sure of it.”