#I can’t trust anyone with my blorbos but me

[persephoneggsy]

I feel like sometimes writers will see a hated character within their fandom and just be like “oh, yeah, we hate him too! Isn’t he just the worst? We definitely did that on purpose” like they’re not just going along with the mob mentality to avoid alienating the loudest members of their fan base

[chronically-ghosted]

bloody kisses — part three: cinnamon girl boy

pairing: shane morrissey/tim rockford rating: E (18+) mdni word count: 10K content: vaguely takes place in the 00s, age gap (shane is 23, tim is 40), internalized homophobia, self-doubt, shame, worries about aging, heavy petting, oral (male receiving), first time giving head, gag reflex training, assplay, doggy style, protected p in a, discussions of dom/sub and top/bottom, bad family dynamics, hints of poverty, discussions around divorce, tim's internal battles, dominant!tim, bratty!shane, nasty dirty talk (anyone who identifies my favorite line gets a gold star), lmk if anything has been missed! dividers: @saradika-graphics a/n: i wanna cry @perotovar let me play with their beautiful blorbos and i had so much fun. i've never written m/m before so they took a HUGE risk on me - thank you so much for trusting me to treat them well!

series summary: shane has been in denial about himself for a while. newly single and with the help of one of his favorite singers, he opens his eyes to a new venture he could possibly take: the cop he sees on a semi-regular basis, detective tim rockford.

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(from @chronically-ghosted: if you liked my humble take on this, you can find my masterlist here!) ♥♥

Russet streaks of late afternoon light filter in through the vinyl slats over the grungy carpet when Shane opens the apartment door. He shuts it with a sigh, locking it behind his back, before tipping his head against the frame, closing his eyes, and taking a long inhale. On the exhale verging on a sigh, he tosses his keys onto the ripped and faded black couch to his right before trudging into the linoleum kitchen. 

There’s a note on the counter:

Gone to visit Barry’s kids in New Jersey. Be back on the 10th. Money for food is on the fridge.

Shane’s dark eyes flit to the M magnet that Samantha left here the last time she visited from Maine. Even their father came that time. 

He snorts resentfully when he sees it: twenty bucks to last him two weeks – thanks Mom. 

Chances that she left him anything in the freezer are lower than the chance he’ll be able to stretch this twenty till Friday. 

Shane slips off his leather duster and tosses it over one of the precarious bar stools. He snatches up the half empty packet of cigarettes from the scuffed living room table, takes one out, and lights it. He flops into the cracked leather, stuffing fluttering out of the cushions on impact, one of the metal springs stabbing him in his flat ass. Head against the ridge of the couch, Shane lazily puffs out smoke rings, his lips pursed, up to the ceiling. 

There’s about a dozen – maybe even twice as many – feelings in his chest right now, all bubbling and curling and spitting and scratching at his insides. Some of them are good – most of them are great, actually (god he can’t remember when he last felt this fucking ecstatic about anything) but some of them . . . some of them scare him so much he can barely breathe. 

Call, Tim had said, in his soft, low voice, the smell of sweet syrup still in the air, the plates with pancake crumbs sitting in the sink behind him. Call, if you need anything. 

The detective’s card sits in the left pocket of his duster. 

Shane shakes his head, a grim smile on his face. Can I call if I’m just fucking lonely without you?

He sips at the cigarette a bit, following the hazy trail of smoke as it wafts around the room. His eyes fall on the cracks of his life, this apartment he shares with his mother and her boyfriend. Stacks of newspapers by the bookcase that’s missing a few shelves. A cereal bowl he left by the window two days ago when a few friends invited him out to go check out Maxxx’s new stereo system. Takeout boxes and beer cans. Unfolded laundry in a plastic bin, the edges cracked and torn off. A few pictures when he was a wiry kid, then a wiry teen. He has a few good memories with Samantha, when he was fourteen and she was seven. That was the only time in his life when anything ever made any sense.

When she’d ask if he’d play her a s–

Shane’s eyes narrow at his bedroom door. Without looking, he snuffs the cigarette out in the nearest ashtray and stands up. Barry knows what would happen if he went into Shane’s room without Shane’s express permission – mother’s boyfriend or not – but Shane locks up every time. He keys open his bedroom door and finds everything as he left it. But that’s not what has him moving down onto his hands and knees, laying flat on his stomach to get a long arm under his bed. With a bit of searching, Shane’s face breaks open wide in surprise as he fingers curl around the long wooden neck. Slowly, Shane crawls back and with him comes his old acoustic guitar. 

By the line of dust on it, it really had been several years since he played this thing, but turning it over, the rightness of it settles into his hands, his hips, his bones. This is where it was always meant to be. 

Seems like I’m finding all kinds of rightness out of nowhere. 

He strums once. The strings are horrifically out of tune, but the thoughts swirling around in his brain make him smile. Fist under his chin, he props his head up on the guitar’s body, contemplating. 

He can still smell the sugar from breakfast and Tim’s aftershave from after breakfast. His heart squeezes without his control . . . and his ass twinges. Heat roars up his entire chest and he has to curl in on himself, rolling onto his back, to keep from exploding, a big stupid grin all over his face. The last twelve hours flit across his memory, each moment better than the next. 

Call, if you need anything, Tim had said.

I need you to tell me what to do now. Am I the same person? Do I want to be? If I left all of this and everyone behind, who would I be tomorrow? Would you keep me around then?

Do you even really like me now? 

He takes his hands down from his eyes, sighing and staring up at his popcorn ceiling, not unlike Tim’s. 

Beneath his right hand, his metal bracelets clatter with the wood of the guitar. 

Samantha. 

Samantha likes him, or at least used to. She loved some version of him. Little sisters are always supposed to love you, but maybe he could find that version again. If it’s still there.

Shane sits up and begins to clean his room.

Night comes and the light from the Morrissey apartment stays on a young man gathering trash and throwing it away. 

Tim hasn’t been this on edge since the four or five times he’s tried to quit smoking. He sits in his car, rain pouring down, heating set on low for an early November evening, and he thinks about all the ways this can go wrong. He stares up at the second floor of the tenement apartment, his fingers flexing around the steering wheel. 

Like file folders, he sorts his worries from least to most earth-shattering.

Shane is vulnerable right now. There is no one else in his life he can turn to with questions, and he had been left to fend for himself on and off since he was fifteen (Tim has pulled up his file only half a dozen times for follow up work on the shooting and Shane’s rap sheet often catches his eye). Of course, he wants nothing more than to be the person who Shane comes to with questions or concerns, or fuck, even just an ear to listen to. But, at his age, Tim is all too aware of what a situation like that could do to him. 

He’s already in too deep and he fucking knows it. 

Earth-shattering worry number two: he is a cop and he has booked this kid more times than he can count. Just for petty stuff and he was never the one to press charges – always the DA looking for an easy numbers game to boost his image before the elections. Tim fucking agonized over that and not just in Shane’s case – these kids weren’t in need of help, the attorney’s office said, they were problems that needed to be put down. So how fast would the DA’s head spin around and explode if he showed up to the policeman’s ball with the “Satanic Temple” on his arm, nevermind just another man? While that would be a sight Tim would cherish until he died, he can’t ask anyone – especially someone as new to all of this as Shane – to handle something like that. 

Which brings him to his final worry, the big concern that has him nearly start up his car and drive off, to call Shane on a payphone and apologize for not being able to ever see him again. Tim’s old. He’s fucking old and Shane shouldn’t have to carry decades worth of baggage when the kid’s got a fucking trunk of it himself. He’s old and a has-been and Shane has the rest of his life ahead of him. 

Of course, this is all assuming Shane would ever want something more with him and this isn’t just sex for him. But maybe that’s all it should be. Both of them dirty little secrets to each other that can fuel Tim’s fantasies until his cock finally stops working (which is probably pretty fucking imminent), and something that Shane can laugh about with his partner some day. 

With a sigh, Tim watches a figure move around behind dirty windows on the second floor. 

The only way Tim would walk away now is if Shane told him to take a fucking hike. And that’s a really big problem.

He turns off the car, grabs his tan raincoat, and heads towards the apartment building.

When Shane opens the door, Tim wonders if he had a stroke and is seeing things that aren’t really there. Shane still has all his earrings, his rings with his unusually jet-black hair, but the duster is gone. Shane has answered the door in a black sleeveless shirt, with faded but roughly-intact jeans, and bare feet. He looks –

“Laundry day.” Tim’s eyes snap up and Shane frowns petulantly. “‘S laundry day . . . n’ this is all I had.” His fingers around the doorframe tighten. “You gonna come in or just stand there and make me look like a fuckin’ rat?” 

Tim is very much aware of how much he looks like a cop even in plain clothes, and the tie with slacks isn’t helping. But he can understand why it might make things difficult for Shane to be seen with him.

But, fuck, if he only knew . . .

“Sorry.” 

He steps across the threshold and Shane shuts the door behind him, sticking very close to the wood to give as much space between the two of them as possible. The rain patters in the silence as Tim tries not to stare too much, but that pattern-picking part of his brain can’t help but lurch into overdrive. 

The apartment is empty. That’s the first thing he clocks. The second are several black garbage bags by the front door and the distinct smell of Pinesol in the air, sitting only faintly above the stench of cigarettes. Tim’s eyes fall to the cracked patio door, then the ashtray that has three very freshly stamped-out cigarettes in the bowl. Either two of Shane’s friends just left or –

“You want, um, something to drink?”

Shane moves swiftly from behind him to the kitchen and Tim’s gaze latches to his back. His ears are by his shoulders and Tim gets a brief flash of the borderline fear in those dark eyes before he disappears behind the wall.

“No, uh –,” Tim clears his throat and takes off his coat, then his holster, laying both flat on the counter that separates the living room from the kitchen. “I’m good. Mind if I smoke though?”

Shane returns, a beer can in his hand and slides into the plastic chair on the left side of the chipped table beneath a sickly, hanging fluorescent light. He cracks it and takes two long pulls before putting it on the table with a thud. He picks up his own packet and Tim thinks he might see a tremble in his hand.

He’s not sure if he feels vindicated, even elated, that Shane might be as nervous as he is, or just terribly awkward. 

“Make yourself at home.” Shane indicates the chair across from him with a jerk of his head before he lights up. The chair squeaks on the linoleum as Tim pulls it back and gingerly sits down. He stabilizes his elbows on the table to keep his hands steady as he takes out a cigarette from his own packet and lights it against his mouth. 

The heady rush of smoke combined with the fresh scent of rain soothes something and he forcibly tugs at his own courage.

“So, um, how’ve you been?” Fantastic start, Rockford.

Shane lifts those thin shoulders, eyes skirting the edge of the table. “Good. Went, uh, to see X the other day. He’s getting better. Says the hospital should let him out soon.” 

“Good. That’s good.” 

The room is so quiet, he can hear the paper burn and curl from the smoldering end of the cigarette between his fingers.

“And you? You've been – um?”

“Yeah, I’ve been good. Xavier – sorry – X’s testimony was really useful for identifying the shooter and establishing a timeline. Should be a pretty open and shut case.” 

At that, a wry smirk curls across Shane’s face. He looks at Tim with something that might be described as a teasing grin as he knocks loose a line of ash. “Probably the last and only time X is gonna be helpful to the police.” 

Tim responds with his own grin. “Wouldn’t expect anything different. Where’s the fun in easy cases?” 

They both chuckle, eyes on anywhere but each other. And yet the tension has cracked, just a bit. Enough to let Tim lean back in his chair and breathe out a long, relaxed plume of smoke. 

“But, uh, you called because you wanted to ask me something?” 

Shane’s ink-wet eyes glance up at him and Tim feels the knot beneath his chest bone throb. 

“Oh – yeah, right. Um, I was thinking about something you said over breakfast the other day . . .” Tim’s heart swells; he thinks about that morning all the fucking time too. Soft golden light and harsh black hair, spread across his chest. “And I was wondering if you still talk to your old friend in the NYU music department.”

That is not the question Tim had been expecting.

“John? Who works at the guitar shop on 7th?” 

“I’m not thinking of going to school,” Shane adds quickly, the tips of his ears going red and Tim has to make an effort to keep his eyes on Shane’s face. “I still think school is a fuckin’ racket made for rich people to make themselves richer and maintain authority over –,”

“Yes, I still talk to John from time to time. Why?” 

At this, Shane shifts in his seat, eyes low, shoulders rigid with tension. He taps his thumb on his knee uncomfortably. 

“Iwanajob . . .”

“Sorry?”

Shane scrunches his nose (the band around Tim’s chest tightens – god, he’s so fucking cute) and huffs.

“I want . . . a job. At the guitar shop . . . and I was hoping . . . you could introduce me to your friend. John, or whatever.” He adds sullenly as if Tim hadn’t just said his name twice. 

The buzzing awareness that is always present at the back of Tim’s mind suddenly clicks on. Like a camera taking film, he looks around the room. The trash bags. The tidy apartment. Fucking laundry day.

“Oh,” he says flatly. “Why, uh – why that place?”

Shane stiffens imperceptibly again. He’s got that “caught-in-a-trap” look about him – the kind his suspects get when they’re about to confess something, willingly or otherwise. Shane’s wide eyes glance over Tim’s shoulder as if he had pointed a finger. Tim turns and is rail-roaded again for the second time since coming here.

“Is that yours?” Tim stands, leaving the cigarette in the ash tray, and crosses the room, careful not to touch the shining guitar on its holder but getting as close as possible to examine it. It is a beautiful guitar, the body waxed and the silver of the tuning pegs bright in the low light. It takes Shane a second to answer.

“Yeah.” The admission is breathy, a release from a too-long-held inhale. Tim thinks his voice wobbles a bit but he dare not turn around to see what’s on Shane’s face. “I used to play a lot. I loved music as a kid, thought I was pretty good. Samantha loved it when I wrote songs for her. When we got older, she’d sing along with me.”

Tim clocked a white note stuck on the counter when he walked in, but he was too far away to read it. The way Shane said her name, Tim gathers that she’s not an ex, but someone closer. However, his file never mentioned any Samantha, so she must not live nearby or be someone he sees frequently. 

When we got older . . .

Tim straightens up and looks at Shane. “Is Samantha your sister?” 

Shane stares at him wide-eyed for a minute before shaking his head, smiling faintly. 

“I hate it when you fucking do that.”

Tim’s stomach knots. “Do what?”

“Figure me out as soon as you look at me. Yeah, dude, Samantha is my sister. Half-sister anyway. Mom and Dad tried to do the whole divorced parents who get along thing for a while, but it didn’t last. Now I don’t see her unless she can get the car for the weekend. But she says she won’t come if she’s not invited and I . . . it’s been a while since I’ve seen her.” 

Tim nods, the sick knot in his stomach melting into butterflies.

“Sorry, I don’t mean to pry. Just . . . curious, I guess.”

Shane watches him silently as he rejoins the table. The chair squeaks again. Tim lights another cigarette when he knows he shouldn’t but Shane’s smile has him trembling. 

“You can’t help yourself, can you?” 

Tim swallows. “Can’t help myself do what?”

“Be curious,” Shane says softly, something unreadable and expansive in his gaze. For a second, he looks a decade older and a millennia wiser. He lifts his voice, louder, deeper when he continues. “Guess that’s part of being a cop.”

“You know, technically, I’m a detective, right? Not on patrol, only handling specialized cases.” 

Shane sucks the last bit of his cigarette, his eyes bright with mischief. “A-Cab, Rockford. I don’t make exceptions.” 

Tim wants to kiss that smirk right off him. He squeezes his own knee briefly before leaning into Shane’s space, the corner of the table separating them, to tap out his ash. He relishes in the way Shane’s eyes skitter up his forearm to his shoulder. He’s not the first to be intimidated by Tim’s size, but he is the first that Tim would gladly overwhelm with it. 

“Seems like you did the other night,” he replies, his voice throaty and scratched. It’s not entirely intentional – Tim’s mouth has gone shockingly dry. 

 This time, Shane’s entire face flushes pink and Tim grins. Old dog still got some tricks, don’t he?

“I’m just fucking with you, kid.” He chuckles. “Relax. Your secret is safe with me.”

He hears how that last part sounds and bites his tongue in regret. Of all the things Tim wants Shane to know, assuming he thought their time together was a mistake is definitely not one of them. He does not want Shane to think he is something that Tim wants to keep a secret. 

But by Shane’s unabashed intake of Tim’s forearms, chest, and curls on his hairline, he probably didn’t need to worry too much. 

It’s been years since he was so shamelessly checked out and it makes his heart pound. He wouldn’t dare return the ogling but, fuck he wants to. Last time, it had been all about Shane and making Shane feel good, which he would do without question again and again and again. But he is desperate for an exploration of Shane’s body as much as he knows it needs to be an exploration for the both of them.  

Or it would be, if he could get a goddamn grip. Last time - probably only fucking time, you sleeze. 

“I k-know–,” Shane’s voice cracks and the blush flares again, only briefly this time. He clears his throat and sits up a bit in the chair. “I know that. I know. It’s just . . .” Shane sucks on his cigarette nervously, his cheeks hollowing, like he’s warming up to something. Something sour rolls down the back of Tim’s throat, his stomach clenched, but years of training keeps his face as smooth as stone. Those dark brown eyes, as gentle and fluid as mercury, stare up at him and Tim knows he’s such a fucking goner.

“Can I ask you a question?”

Tim nods. Rolling his bottom lip into his mouth, Shane leans forward, drumming out another line of ash into the glass tray. He straightens against the back of the chair as he tugs one knee to his chest, expression wary, and wraps a skinny arm around his shin. 

At the last second, Shane drops his gaze and instead decides to interrogate a dirty spot on the table.

“When I first met you,” he began slowly, “you wore a wedding ring. But now . . .” 

His eyes flicker to Tim’s left hand, third finger, absent of any jewelry, sitting on his thigh. 

Tim thinks of the first time he saw that irate seventeen year old punk in the station. He had a ripe black eye and an annoyingly smug smirk on when the officer on duty chucked him roughly into a holding cell. 

“That’s perceptive of you.” He flexed his hand into a fist, once, then twice, then met Shane’s stare ahead on. Tim has to hastily swallow a deep lungful of smoke to smother the sudden uptick of his heartbeat. “You’re right,” he says, stiff, on a throaty inhale. “I was married until about five years ago.” 

A large knot visibly slips down Shane’s throat, his cigarette tilting dangerously between his fingers, ash hovering over the carpet. 

“Hm, and to a . . .”

The way his eyes go wide, Tim wants to bury a kiss into that agitated pulse on Shane’s throat, but instead, he just nods slowly, avoiding sudden movement that might startle the wild animal ready to bolt across from him.

“Yeah, Shane, to a woman.” 

Shane continues to tear into his own lip. He retreats before Tim’s eyes – crosses his arms on top of his knees and leans his head back. He stares into the rain outside, the beer at his elbow long forgotten. This isn’t the answer he was hoping for. 

“Oh,” he says. 

Tim leans forward onto his elbows, entering into his space again, but this time more hesitantly. Shane’s bare foot is inches from Tim’s fingers. 

“Shane.” 

“Hm?”

“Look at me.” 

With a steady hand, Shane flicks the end of his cigarette with his black thumbnail, ash falling, and with a very level gaze, he returns Tim’s watchful eye. His face is so blank he barely has any features.

“What?” 

“I’ve fallen in love with women and men.”

The impenetrable ice in his eyes melts and Shane frowns. “You can do that?”

Again, Tim nods, this time a faint smile on his face. How easily he forget how fucking clueless this kid is and how fucking cute his obliviousness makes him.

“But I’ve only slept with women before, am I–,”

“It’s not about who you’ve slept with, to a certain degree. It’s who you are attracted to.” 

“So there’s more than just being gay?”

He wants so badly to reach across the edge of the table and take Shane’s hand. Soothe him. Feel those rough calluses against his skin again. He can feel the heat of his own cigarette coming painfully close to the backs of his fingers so he tamps out the cigarette in the glass bowl, Shane’s eyes watching him the whole time.

“There’s a lot of things, sweetheart,” Tim says softly, the nickname slipping out as it had before, in his own apartment with Shane in his lap. He hopes that sweetheart sounded casual, a nickname more than a reflection of the hot knot tightening in his groin. “But at the end of the day, it comes down to what feels right to you. How you see yourself. You might have to spend some time figuring it out, asking yourself some hard questions, but you’ll get there.”

Shane nods, again swallowing the words that are so clearly caught in his throat. He switches the cigarette to his other hand and stares out the window at the rain. Tim’s mouth dries up at the sight of his long, exposed throat. 

“Is that why it didn’t work out between you and your . . . wife?” Shane asks quietly.

Tim runs his gaze over the piercings in Shane’s earlobe, the delicate bones within the cartilage, then to his set jaw and, finally, over his plush, pouty lips.

“No.” He can hear how hoarse he sounds, how wrecked, but having Shane in front of him again, all those feelings, all those basic urges he denied for the past few weeks come roaring to the front again. He of all people should have known suppression and repression never, ever work. “We were just different people. It had nothing to do with the fact that I also fuck men.”

He watches Shane tremble, the skin on his bare arms suddenly electrified. Slowly, with a shaking breath, Shane twists out his own cigarette, pushing it down roughly with two fingers. 

The thing that has been circling Tim’s mind – like a rabid dog tearing out chunks of his ability to think straight – slides out of his mouth before he can stop it.

“What have your other partners told you?”

Call it twenty years on the force.

Call it a finely tuned bullshit detector. 

Call it whatever you want, but in that moment before Shane opens his mouth, Tim knows he just considered lying to him and Tim’s heart plunges into his gut. He loathes the idea that Shane might lie to him, lie to him about being queer or an aspect of himself he still has questions about. Having someone older and more experienced than him in life alone at Shane’s age would have made all the difference to him as a young man and more than anything, more than his stupid cock, that’s all he really wants. He wants to be there for Shane because no one, not even his own family, has ever told him he means a damn. 

And you mean so much to me already.

Then Shane lets out a shaky breath, the crease in his brown carved deep, but one glance at Tim and it melts away. Without warning, he stands up right and for a split, wonderful second Tim thinks he’s going to crawl into his lap again.

But Tim realizes he’s waiting for something.

With a voice that comes from a very small place, Shane mutters, “there hasn’t been anyone since you.” 

He blinks up at Shane for one second, and then two, and his words register, click in, and everything else fades away. Tim’s on his feet with his finger snagged through one of Shane’s belt loops before common sense or patience can catch up with him.

“Is that right?” Tim purrs as he takes the curve of Shane’s neck in his massive palm, the other going to waist, and Shane instantly gasps at the touch. But that initial elation hardens and he glares at him. Tim is distinctly reminded of an annoyed puppy. 

“Don’t sound so fucking pleased,” Shane snarls through bared teeth. His black nails dig into Tim’s forearm, a warning and a plea. “It’s not like I think about you all the time or anything.”

His eyelids droop when Tim squeezes the back of his neck and Shane lets out a low moan. Tim drops his head against the other man’s forehead. The boy smells like cloves and cinnamon and definitely pot and it’s going to haunt Tim’s memories forever. He closes his eyes and resists the urge to nuzzle that bare cheek. 

“You’re all I think about. Every minute, every day,” Tim hums, “I can’t stop thinking about you and all those little sounds you made when I fucked your ass.”

Another sound, a better one, squeaks out of him – one of protest and desperation and carnal need – and Tim’s control snaps in his hands. 

The hand on Shane slides to the back of his head and Tim all but shoves those pouty lips into his mouth. 

It’s just as fucking fantastic as he remembered. 

Frantic. Needy. Tim kisses him like it’s his job to lick clean the cigarette smoke embedded on Shane’s tongue, on the inside of his mouth, the split cracks in his dry lips. His fingers tangle into that starkly black hair, the strands faintly damp, and his other hand slips to his low back. At that, the boy pulls back enough to let a whine escape from his open mouth before Tim yanks him against his chest. He feels Shane grow hard against his thigh and all the blood rushes out of his brain. 

Briefly dizzy, Tim stumbles forward, his hands catching the table behind Shane’s hips, pinning the younger man between him. He nips at Shane’s neck, trying to get the world to stop spinning.

“Fuck me, baby. You’re going to give this old man a heart attack.” 

Shane guides him into his mouth, his fingers clawing gently at the scruff of his beard, a slower, softer repeat of how Tim had initiated. Warm air puffs across Tim’s beard when Shane retreats, eyes searching for something he needs to find on Tim’s face. 

“Actually,” he breathes softly, “I really do think about you all the time too.”

Tim has never been more grateful for the rough grip on his cheeks because that’s all that’s keeping him from sinking to the ground on wobbly knees. Shane takes another kiss before his hand slips into Tim’s meaty paw and tugs him into the living room. He guides him back to the couch and, with a not-too-gentle push, shoves Tim down against the cushions. The detective goes without resistance.

The pale light from the rain beyond the window and the fluorescent glow behind him etches Shane in a soft halo. Brightness in Shane’s eyes tells him that the man is running on instinct alone – and that’s perfectly fucking fine. Whatever – anything – Shane wants, Tim will gladly offer it up. 

But when his hands drop to Tim’s belt buckle, the rush of heat up his body leaves him almost catatonic. 

“Mhmm, f-fuck, sweetheart, wait a second – d-don’t wanna rush things if you’re not –,”

The sound of his zipper tearing open is like a gunshot and there’s no denying the raw hunger that smears the edges of Shane’s eyes to a dangerous black.

“You have to walk me through it.” He sounds awe-struck.

He sinks to his knees and Tim considers he might actually die on this fucking couch. The heat radiating from those black-tipped hands that run up his thighs has Tim moaning in the back of his throat. He wants to curl that beautiful hair around Shane’s elegant ear – what would he say if Tim told him he has an elegant ear – but he’s using all of his energy to not immediately come when Shane tugs his pants down his hips, just enough to palm him through his boxers. 

As if the sensation of a half-hard cock surprises him, Shane’s lips split apart, eyes locked onto the wet spot beneath his hand. Tim swipes his bottom lip with his tongue, knuckles white as he grips the cushions, watching with aborted breath Shane stroke him gently. He grits his teeth.

“Tell me you want this.” Tell me I’m not forcing you into anything too fast because I’m fucking obsessed with you.

“I want this.” Shane shuffles closer, his hand dipping down to cup his balls, the scent of his cloves hitting Tim again, and Shane quietly gasps as the cock beneath his hand hardens more and more. “I wanna s-suck your cock.”

Tim grunts, his legs opening wider, sliding low into the cushions and now Shane hovers over him. Here is where with other partners in recent years, Tim would lock up. There’s gray in the curls at the base of his cock and his tummy hangs out a bit more, no matter how much he runs. But Shane doesn’t seem to register any of that. His mouth is still open in raw fascination, as if showing off how fucking deep he’s going to take the cock inches from his face. The sight splits heat between his groin and his heart. Tim is not going to fucking rush this. He’ll let Shane touch whatever he wants for as long as he wants even if it makes him come like an overeager teenager. 

Suppressing that peak of heat at Shane’s touch, Tim digs his fingers into Shane’s mop of hair like he’d been wanting to since the kid first offered that drink. At his immediate touch, Shane’s eyes roll back in his head and Tim takes that as an opportunity to scratch at his scalp, with a slight tug at the end. 

“Oh, fuck, please lemme me suck your cock.” 

Shane’s breathing hitches when Tim loosens the grip on his hair, runs his thumb down his temple, scuffs his cheek, and then drags that puffy bottom lip down. He looks absolutely ruined, eyes misty and shoulders slumped forward, and Tim has barely touched him. 

“Take me out, baby,” Tim murmurs, “and I’ll tell you what to do.”

Wide eyes never losing their nervous light, Shane dips his hand below the elastic waistband (why didn’t he put on better underwear?) and cups him, slowly dragging his shorts lower as he pulls Tim’s cock into the light. 

Tim has to remember to breathe. Fuck, it’s so hot in this fucking room. With trembling fingers, he tugs the knot of his tie away from his throat and unbuttons his shirt down to his ribs, as Shane runs an experimental grip up and down the length of his cock. Tim hisses as heat flares brightly and a little too fast. 

Shane’s eyes flick up to his face. “Sorry, too dry?”

Without waiting for a response, Shane cups his hand beneath his mouth and spits, a giant, slick glob. It might be the hottest thing Tim has ever witnessed with his two eyes. Shane’s hand returns and Tim’s eyes flutter shut as he groans. 

“S-s-shit, baby, that’s really good.” 

Tim wants to open his eyes, to see Shane’s face, to get a glimpse of what is going on in that beautiful head, but he can’t drag himself out of the lusty haze long enough. 

And then, after several slow, long pumps that have him harder than he can ever remember being, Tim feels Shane’s palm twist just as his thumb swirls the head and swipes the leaking tip. Pleasure roars up his spine and his hips jerk off the couch. His eyes snap open and find Shane not proud, but surprised. His mouth opens again in glee.

“I fucking love that too,” he murmurs, his hand moving a bit faster now. “Love it when they play with the tip.”

“Mhmm, hmm.” 

As Shane finds a slightly hurried rhythm with his strokes, Tim is greedily storing away images and sensations in lockbox after lockbox in his memory. Has Shane’s hands always looked so thick?

“You can try whatever you want.” Tim murmurs, his gaze jumping between the hand around his cock, Shane’s mouth, and that hand with the black nails against his thigh. “If you like something, I’ll probably like it too.” 

Shane wets his lip, his eyes darting to Tim’s face as if looking for permission. Tim nods, his heart pounding in a completely different way than from exertion, and has to breathe into his stomach as Shane parts his lips and lowers his mouth to his cock. Inch by inch, he takes him deeper and deeper, his hand falling away to Tim’s other thigh, as he sinks closer to those gray-streaked curls.

Tim is genuinely caught on the knife-edge of pleasure and pain. Exquisite pleasure saps his entire body of energy, every grunt and sigh bursts of tiny releases, but with every inch into Shane’s warm, wet mouth, his tongue a rough glide on the underside of his cock, it becomes harder and harder to not buck his hips and god, does he fucking want to. He wants to grab Shane by the back of the head, hold him steady, and fuck that mouth like it’s the last fuck of his life. But he won’t, he can’t – Shane isn’t ready for that and quite honestly, neither is he, despite how the arousal of that mental image floods him with hot satisfaction. He’s going to tear apart this couch with his bare hands, though.

Shane gets about halfway and then chokes and Tim is yanked out of the dream in a panic.

“B-baby, are you okay?” 

Shane splutters and nods, the back of his hand coming to his lips, as if trying to hide his smile.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he croaks. “My gag reflex is shit though.” 

Tim sighs with relief and a strangled orgasm. He’s so hard it hurts but he doesn’t give a fuck. “You’re doing fine, sweetheart. Better than fine, actually.”

Tim meets his eyes as they go dark and hungry with a flash of that spitfire that Tim only ever saw on the other side of a metal interview table before. 

“Guess you’ll have to train up my reflex, then.”

“Yeah?” This kid has no idea what he’s playing with. Shane kneels between his spread legs, hands gently rubbing the meat of his thighs, those dark eyes swirling almost maliciously. Tim pinches Shane’s chin between his thumb and curled forefinger, thrusting that belligerent mouth up. “You gonna listen to an authority figure for once in your goddamn life?” 

“I’ll try my best,” he pouts, his neck arched back. 

“Blow on it.” Tim commands. “Start from the bottom and go to the top.”

“Yes, sir.”

Tim’s cock visibly throbs and Shane hasn’t even opened his mouth. But then he does, leaning forward when Tim releases his chin. He blows a quick burst of air around Tim’s curls, before opening his mouth wide and breathing heavily, wetly, warmly around the base of the cock in front of him. Then, as he was told, he lifts up and to the very top of that leaking head. 

“Take the tip – just the tip – and suck on it, gently at first.”

Shane does as he is instructed, his eyes never leaving Tim’s face or losing that maniacal glint, and he sucks, making a similar face (Tim assumes) as when he’s slurping up ice cream. Shane sucks harder and a loud, lewd moan rips out of Tim’s throat. 

“Now take it all in, as much as you can. Then swallow.”

Shane dips his head, mouth gliding down his veiny shaft, spit slipping out of the corner of his mouth, going down and down and down until he breathes sharply through his nose. Tim, clutching at sanity as it sprinkles through his fingers, watches the sharp planes of Shane’s shoulders and back churn and roll as he lifts his head up and down. He wants to loop his fingers through those black curls so badly.

“I’m gonna touch you now, okay?” Shane grunts his approval, the blush of air against his groin sending a bolt of pleasure up Tim’s spine, and he soothes his own tattered nerves by digging into Shane’s hair, scratching a bit like he had before. But then he loosens and just lets his hand rest contentedly on the back of his head. 

The drumming beat of rain and Shane’s wet mouth is a narcotic. The sight and sounds and smells of it all makes his brain melt, deep desires usually chained down by his restraint snapping and popping free like fireworks.

What’s he going to feel like when Shane can take all of him?

How long and how often does he have to do this to train him up?

Could he come home after working a twelve hour shift to Shane crawling onto his knees and sucking him off, just like this? Like this, in perfect domestic bliss –

Out of nowhere, Shane swallows and Tim has to claw into his own thigh to keep from coming right then and there. 

“Oh, fucking Christ –,” he yelps. As if encouraged, Shane tries to go a little deeper, swallow a little harder, but he gags again. When he lifts his head, his eyes are wet and Tim wonders if it's possible to black out from being so aroused. 

“Sorry,” Shane mutters, wiping his mouth again. “Your cock is so fucking big. It felt big in my ass but this –,”

Tim’s eyes slip closed. “Shut the fuck up. You can’t – can’t say those things.” 

He breathes heavily, the pounding in his heart only slightly stronger than the blood pounding in his cock. But Shane is suspiciously quiet.

Tim opens his eyes and finds a curious expression on Shane’s face as he stares at Tim’s cock. No, not his cock, a bit below –

Shane turns and tugs the low, tattered table behind him closer. He puts Tim’s foot against the edge, and then does the same with the other. The haze in Tim’s brain won’t let him piece it together until Shane dips his head, tongue already out.

“Whoa, whoa, baby–,” he grasps Shane’s shoulder and he stops. “I can’t ask you to do that. I don’t want to push you too far tonight.”

Shane rolls his eyes, flatly annoyed. “I’ve eaten ass before, Tim. I’m not a blushing fucking virgin.” 

Tim can actually feel the second that sweat breaks out across his hairline. “A-are you sure?” 

“Yeah, I actually know what I’m doing there. I mean, an asshole is an asshole, right?”

He isn’t sure if he likes how fast Shane has grown in confidence, or if it’s the sexist thing he’s ever seen. Maybe he’s the one not entirely ready.

“Y-yeah. Alright. Fire away, then.”

And with that first kitten lick, Tim finally comprehends just how fucked he is. He knew he was, but it’s not until Shane masterfully rims the edge of that ringed muscle does he know, with clear certainty, this kid is going to ruin him.

Shane’s hand curls around Tim’s shaft, his tongue prodding his asshole, and Tim makes a loud, open-mouthed moan that hits the quiet air of the apartment and shatters.

Within seconds, he’s hurling towards a release so violent, his thighs shake. Shane pumps him slowly, his mouth making everything wet and drippy, his eyes eagerly catching every twitch and moan Tim makes. 

When Tim feels his balls draw up, dangling over the precipice, he snatches Shane by the hair and yanks him back. Again, Shane makes a sound like an irritated cat.

“C’mon,” he huffs, his face red as if he had mitigated his breathing. “Lemme do this.” 

Tim swallows everything – his tongue, his orgasm, the desire to lick the brat right out of Shane’s pouty mouth – and shoves it all down as far as it will go. He’s left sweaty and panting, holding Shane by the flat of his hair at arm’s length. He swallows again and sits up, that airless high settling. Shane scowls petulantly

“You still want me to fuck that ass, right?”

His glare cracks in half. Those swollen lips part and he nods. “Yeah. Yeah, I do.”

“Then you fucking listen to me when I tell you to stop sucking cock. Got it?”

Shane nods more insistently, tongue swiping fast against his bottom lip. “Y-yeah.” 

Tim lets go and resists the urge to correct him to how he addressed him before, but fucking Christ, one thing at time.

“Which one is yours?” Tim nods towards the two closed doors across from him. Wordlessly, Shane points to the one farthest from the living room. “Show me.” 

Tim barely grunts as he stands up, his knees dangerously unsteady, his back twinging from the low position on the couch and the fact that there’s more padding on a highway road than inside of those cushions. 

Again, just as he thinks he might tip over, Shane takes his hand, intertwining their fingers, and leads him through the door. 

The sun had set on an already dark day, so in the burgeoning twilight, Shane’s room is a collection of shadows and blue outlines. Beyond the vinyl window slats, the rain pours harder than ever, muffling the sounds of cars on the street and the blunders of other people in the building. With the door closed, the air is warm, but not uncomfortably so, more like a soothing hand against his sweaty neck. The pleasant scent of incense is unmistakable, a far cry from any other smell in the apartment. 

The effect of it all, standing in Shane’s room, alone, is . . . isolating.

“It’s not much,” Shane murmurs, as if he worried Tim would find something about his space distasteful. “But I did clean up.” His eyes grow wide as soon as the words leave his mouth. “Not that I thought, or even expected that this – that you’d –”

Tim brings their locked hands to Shane’s cheek and gently, sweetly kisses him on the mouth. For a man so confident in his ability to drive his partner insane with his tongue up their ass, the boy quivers beneath a soft touch. Tim pulls back and finds blurry, unfocused eyes. 

“What do you want to do tonight?” Tim hums and strokes an errant curl back from Shane’s cheek. 

“This.” Shane says immediately. “This feels so fucking good.”

“Where do you sleep?” Tim asks, quietly, letting the words slow to a rumble, his free hand gently cupping the boy’s neck. The bed is unmissable, but he wants to give Shane as much control as he needs. Beneath his hands, Shane’s breathing stutters for a moment, before biting down on his bottom lip and leading Tim to the haphazardly made-up bed. He sits, big eyes staring up at him, at their bound hands, before releasing his grip and lying back on the bed. He scoots up, nestling that all black hair against his gray pillow.

“Here.” His voice is strangled, choked, his fingers twisting together as he picks at his nails. “Right h-here.” 

“Is that why you look so good right here, baby?” Tim slides the tail end of his tie out of the knot and off his neck. Shane licks his lips, transfixed, as Tim continues to unbutton his wrinkled shirt. The bit of clothing falls to the floor and Tim nearly matches Shane in a white sleeveless shirt. Black and white, punk and cop. There’s poetry in there somewhere.

Tim continues to undress; shoes first, then socks, and finally his slacks. Shane gets a little jumpy as he crawls up the bed. 

“Are you comfortable?” 

“Yes.” Tim raises an eyebrow at the jeans confining his hard cock. “No, sorry, n-no – I’ll take them off.” 

Tim gives him enough space to unbutton his pants, then sloppily jerk them off. He flings them over by Tim’s and Tim grins. He settles back down with Shane nearly underneath him and gently strokes his cheek. Everywhere he touches on the boy, it’s warm. Women aren’t like that, usually, and in turn, it satisfies something deep inside of him. Tim thinks of the tender warmth of the heated skin of a deer after it’s run a long distance. 

“You still want it, baby?” This he asks honestly and without the grungy purr to his voice. 

Again, without hesitation, Shane nods, but then stops. His chest swells like the words he wants to say are caught on the back of his throat, his nails gently biting into Tim’s chest, so Tim presses thoughtfully into the arch of Shane’s jaw, encouraging him. His doe eyes darting across Tim’s face, tension coiling up in his thighs, Shane says,

“I want it from the back this time.”

Oh, fuck. 

With half of a groan and half of a laugh, Tim dips forward and loosely bites Shane on his ear. “You really are trying to kill me, aren’t you?” 

Shane giggles as Tim’s nips slowly turn to open-mouthed kisses. He sucks sharply on the thrumming pulse of his neck, and Shane groans, his whole body writhing to be closer to Tim’s mouth, his skinny arms going around Tim’s broad shoulders. 

“Do you mind?” Shane asks, breaking apart for a moment, his lips brushing Tim’s mustache. “I know you did it last time and if you wanna, um, I mean I can try but –”

Tim grins through the smile pressed onto a corner of that sweet mouth as he sits up on his knees. He smooths a hand up through the faint trail of hair just above Shane’s waistband, then up his ribs, stopping to thumb a hard, pink nipple, before kissing both of his cheeks. 

“No, I don’t mind. I will never, ever mind when you ask so nicely.” 

“But one day – you w-want me too, right?” 

Ribbons of meaning hang over that question, their soft tassels hard to grab before slipping through Tim’s grasp. His brow furrows, his hand resting on Shane’s hip. The boy stares up at him like he hangs the moon in the sky.

Those ribbons drag forward new questions of their own, questions he can’t ask himself, much less out loud. They all clatter and fall into one big heap in his mouth and he can’t untangle them right now, not while he has Shane looking like that, but one slips through before he can stop it.

“You wanna do this again, with me?” The question lingers in the air like smoke, as gentle and insistent as the rain outside.

Shane’s fingers curl around Tim’s wrists. He smiles. “Yeah, of course. I . . . like you.” Blush trickles up his neck and into his ears, but he keeps his grip. “If you wanna keep me around, I mean.”

His voice goes small, from somewhere he never lets anyone see. Just as Shane’s eyes jerk off him, shame hot in his gaze, his body going rigid, Tim leans down and kisses him, the softest kiss they’d ever shared. The scent of cloves comes again as Shane offers his tongue and Tim takes it. 

They kiss in the cover of the rain, in the shelter of the space that is entirely theirs, for one eternity and a half. When Tim opens his eyes, he is someone new, someone changed. Someone he doesn’t recognize and that’s a wonderful thing.

“I’ll take you like you want,” he says softly. Beneath his chest, skin to skin, he can feel Shane’s heart pounding. He hopes Shane can feel his. “But I wanna see your face for a bit. Is that okay?” 

Shane nods and kisses him as he tries to pull away. Tim smirks and rubs Shane’s hip bone with his thumb.

“Remember what I said about preparing? Have you been doing that?”

Shane bites his lip as if caught doing something particularly filthy. “Yeah, I’m up to three fingers now.”

Fucking hell. Be cool about this. 

“Good, baby. Do you have lube?”

Shane rolls his eyes, that blush now blotchy on his throat. “Duuuh. I don’t know why you think I’m some bl–”

“– ushing fucking virgin. I heard you the first time.” Shane narrows his eyes playfully and Tim cannot wait to spank that smirk right off him. “Then go get it.”

Shane wiggles out from between Tim’s legs and crawls over to the bedside table. He digs around a bit before pulling out a box of condoms and a blue bottle. He tosses them at Tim like he’s throwing laundry detergent, before hovering for a moment. Lips between his teeth, he stiffly slips his underwear off and down the floor. His bracelets clink as he moves and Tim can tell it sounds like an air raid siren to him. Naked, he crawls back to bed and settles beneath Tim flat on his back.

“For someone who is so bothered by authority,” Tim begins and just as Shane frowns, wrenching his mouth open to argue, Tim sits back between his thighs and folds his knees up, spreading him wide. Whatever retort Shane had dies on his throat and the only thing left is a soft whine. “You are such a good boy. I didn’t even have to ask you to get naked for me.”

Shane’s cock, exposed for the first time all night, twitches on his stomach. He squirms as Tim picks up the bottle and clicks up the lid with his thumb, his other hand resting briefly on the arch of Shane’s foot. 

“I’m gonna start with one again, but move faster into two this time, okay? Then we’ll see if you’re lying to me or not.” Resistance flashes in Shane’s eyes at Tim’s smirk, but the boy stays silent. 

But that defiant look melts away to aching bliss when Tim drizzles the lube between his cheeks, and then Tim’s own fingers. His other hand curls around Shane’s knee and squeezes, grounding them both. 

“Probably should have gotten a towel,” Tim mutters and the sound Shane was going to use to reply fractures and crumbles, oozing into a throaty moan when his asshole spreads apart around a single finger. 

Maybe it’s his age, or maybe he’s never had his asshole played with in a way he likes, but Shane is so fucking sensitive. He’s twitching and gasping after a few strokes, black nails curling into the bedsheets. His eyes are squeezed shut, not from pain or discomfort, but from trying desperately not to come. Tim recognizes that look; he wore it himself fifteen minutes ago. 

Shane’s cock is trickling all over his stomach by the time Tim adds a second finger. And true to his word, it goes in without much resistance, much to Tim’s delight. This means there can be a bit more fun than just aimlessly prodding. Shane lets out a high moan when Tim’s fingers change angles. 

“What the fuck are you doing down there?” Shane pants, sweat peaking at his hairline. He moans again before Tim can answer, his back arching off the bed. 

“Searching.”

“For fucking what? I–,” Shane’s eyes snap open, horror and heat etched in the dark rims. “You can’t touch that, it’s not fair. You’ll make me come.”

Tim kisses his knee as he adds a third finger, grinning when Shane’s head thumps back against the pillow. “I think that’s the whole point of this, sweetheart.” 

Shane whines his answer; Tim speeds up his thrusting, giving up for now. 

“You’re doing so well, darling, so well. You did so good to prepare for my cock.”

Shane fists the bedsheets, his thigh muscles tightening. Tim thinks he can’t actually comprehend his words, until he wrenches his jaw apart. “Just your cock. I did it for your cock, Rockford, no one else’s. Don’t - don’t want anyone’s cock but yours in me.” 

This is just cock-drunk babble, tongue loose with whatever nonsense fills his mouth, his brain no longer in control.

Right?

Either way, Tim slips his fingers out with practiced precision, easing on the condom, then squirting his cock and Shane’s exposed hole with lube in one go. If Shane has noticed anything, his blissed out expression doesn’t change . . . until he feels the tip of Tim’s thick head expand his asshole.

His stare locked onto Shane’s blissed out face, Tim pushes forward, using Shane’s knees as leverage. 

The boy honest to god chokes. His cock spits up his chest. 

“Ohmy god . . .” 

Tim goes slow enough he knows it won’t hurt, his fingers opened him enough that the lube only adds to the pleasure, but he’s not entirely worried about that right now. He wants him stupid and babbling again.

“This cock, sweetheart? This is the cock you’ve been making room for?”

Shane whines, lips white between his teeth, nodding vigorously. Tim rubs his hip soothingly and Shane’s face breaks open with a loud gasp. His eyes snap down to where he swallows Tim inch after inch.

“You’re so much bigger than my fingers. Holy fucking shit. I forgot how big you are.” 

“But you like that, right?” There’s a collective sigh of relief as Tim finally is flushed against him. Huffing like a wounded animal, Tim pushes the mop of hair back from Shane’s sweaty forehead. “You like how I fuck you, don’t you?”

Shane nods again, as Tim grips his waist and he wraps his fingers around Shane’s forearms, his bracelets tinkling softly, as he settles in for what he can’t even possibly imagine.

“You’re damn fucking right I like how you fuck me.” Shane rasps out. “Wouldn’t let you do it if it didn’t rock my fucking world.” 

“I’m gonna go a bit faster than I did last time. You say stop if it gets to be too much.”

“I know what a safeword is, Rockford, I’m not –,”

Tim rolls his hips forward, knocking a surprised breath from Shane. He stabilizes a bit better with his knees and then picks up a rhythm, slow but deep.

“If you say blushing fucking virgin one more time, I’m putting you over my knee and spanking you.” 

But words fail him.

They fail Tim too, eventually, when rings of heat stack, one upon the other, up his spine. Every time Shane’s asshole clenches around him, those rings drop lower, closer to his groin. 

It feels too fucking good. 

The rhythmic chime of Shane’s metal bracelets clinking together can barely be heard over the rain outside, and the peaks and valleys of the heavy moans piling up in the room.

Shane’s flattened hand against his head board, he grinds his hips down, forcing even more resistance than just his tight hole. 

“Fuck,” he whines high and loud, Tim tightening his grip on his waist as he all but bounces Shane on his cock. “Oh god, I can’t – I can’t –,” 

Tim’s skin is so hot he wonders if he’s giving off steam. He’s sweating from his forehead, his neck, the backs of his knees, a slick wetness spreading across his groin every time he slams that cute little ass back against him. Not another single word of derision has passed Shane’s lips in what feels like forever, his mouth switching rapidly between grinding his teeth and dropping open when Tim brushes up against something nuclear. 

If Tim is steaming, Shane is melting. Every muscle in his body is weak, knees around Tim’s hips to give him better access. Cum rolls in white streaks off his stomach and onto the rapidly shifting sheets. 

Tim knows if he just breaths on the that pink cock, it’s all fucking over – so he slows, and pulls back out of him. 

A Shane with a functioning brain would have demanded an explanation but the gooey mess of a boy in the bed only lifts his gaze. 

“Turn around,” Tim pants. 

“What?” 

“You wanted me too . . .” Tim spins his finger, squeezing the base of his cock with his other hand. “Turn over.” 

“Oh, right.” Despite that almost sleepy murmur, Tim can hear the disappointment. At the head of the bed, a shaking hand swipes away one pillow then the other and Shane buries his face in the mattress.

His ass is already pink as Tim spreads his thighs, his knee nudging his right leg to bend, and lines up. But Shane is murmuring something into the sheets. 

“… stop.” 

Tim freezes, one hand around his cock the other flat against the bed by Shane’s hips. 

“You want me to stop?” 

Shane lifts his head enough to look back and whine. “Don’t — don’t stop.” Crackling with unspent energy, Shane rubs his face against the sheets like a cat. “Please.”

Tim grins as he lines himself up again, his free hand coming to Shane’s thigh when the cockhead spreads his cheeks. 

“Don’t worry, darling, I’m not gonna –,”

Tim stops moving. It’s long enough and unusually fraught enough for Shane to lift his head in confusion, Tim’s cock barely in.

“What happened?” 

Tim is staring, struck dumb and mindless at the sight of Shane’s lower back.

“You’ve got two dimples here,” he murmurs, the growl in his voice thick and rough.

“Yeah? So?”

Without warning, Tim yanks Shane onto his hands and knees by his waist. The sudden movement is rough for his loose muscles and he yelps. 

“Fuck – what’s got you all fucking twisted up now?”

Tim is no longer entirely himself. His shoulders seem broader, nose sharper, mouth firmer. His eyes have been eclipsed by black as one by one, he puts his hands on Shane’s hips, and then twists his thumbs to fit into the divots of his dimples as he, achingly slow, pushes back into Shane’s abused hole.

“You’ve got fucking handles built in, baby.” Tim murmurs and heat radiates from where they are connected, Shane’s skin flushed with red and goosebumps. The sensation jams the signal to Shane’s brain. 

Behind him, Tim kisses his back almost lovingly.

“I’m definitely gonna wreck your shit now.” 

On the first tug, the one that snugs Tim’s groin right up against his ass, Tim knows he only has seconds left in him. 

These strokes are brutal, fast, and short. Whatever sounds tears itself from Shane’s throat is the prettiest thing Tim has ever heard. His mouth goes wet as he watches Shane’s shoulders and back go loose again and on another day, he’s going to clench his fist around that mop of hair and pull until Shane begs him to stop.

Another day. But not today. 

Tim focuses on the things he can control to elongate that enormous orgasm that rattles his teeth. His thumbs in the perfect little divots of Shane’s back; he pushes down, increasing the pressure higher up, and actually hears the cum squirt out onto the bed, followed by a groan that shakes Shane from head to toe. He focuses on his breathing, the short huffs out his nose, mouth closed shut but tiny mhm mhm mhm’s escape anyway. He tries to focus on the glint around his pelvis but that makes things worse. 

He focuses on – fuck, what can he focus on? – Shane hasn’t made a noise in –

“Shane, baby, are you okay?”

He gasps out as though electrified. “I’m trying so hard not to come, I don’t want it to fucking stop, but you hit my g-spot three thrusts ago and I think I’m gonna pass out.”

Tim can’t help but chuckle. He rubs a warm palm up Shane’s spine, then gives his neck a reassuring squeeze, before leaning forward and draping himself over Shane’s trembling frame, never slowing those fast, rough thrusts. He noses his ear as his hand slips around the cock leaking profusely onto the sheets. 

“You can come, but it has to be loud and messy.” 

Just half a stroke down and Shane comes with a cry that paints the inside of Tim’s brain permanently. And he keeps coming, gasping, wet and whining. Over his shoulder, Tim feels a dribble against his knee and that, combined with all of Shane’s delicious fucking sounds, knocks free Tim’s own release, the swell and burst far away from his control. Shane’s elbows are trembling by the time he slumps to the side, trying and mostly failing to avoid his own cumstain. Tim drops behind him in a haze. 

He’s already sore, every muscle tightened then released over and over and over again. He can’t inhale properly and he’s got a stitch in his side. There’s a pulsing all over his body and he isn’t sure if that’s from coming so hard he nearly shot off the condom, or his heart pounding like it’s about to explode. His skin is wet and sticky and he’s hungry but exhausted and he would hate all of this if he was alone, but . . .

Weary down to his bones, the breath settling in his chest and the fog lifting slightly, Tim puts a hand on the narrow waist in front of him. Fingers join his, wrapping together, as the frenetic energy of the room slows to a crawl, each moment plodding along in front of the next like fat water droplets. 

“. . . good, that was good,” Tim slurs to no one in particular, his eyelids flickering open and shut. “You’re . . . s’good.” He knows they should talk, but he’s past speech, or rather anything coherent, his consciousness slipping beneath the churning dark waves of sleep.

The smooth back in front of him, shiny with drying sweat, shakes in a dizzy, silent chuckle.

“Go to sleep, old man.”

Tim knows he should be offended, or he thinks he should, if he could comprehend language right now, so instead he settles into the warmth and the darkness. Soon the only sound he can hear is the rain pattering against the window and Shane softly snoring before reality winks out.

+

[ravenpureforever]

random question time! which wwx's relationship do you like the most and why? It could be platonic or romantic, all canons allowed

Thank you for the ask! Oh boy this question is hard, because I like I appreciate so many of his relationships for different reasons that picking just one feels kinda cruel 

I think the biggest tie for me is between JC and LWJ for WWX. 

Wangxian is the rare ship where I genuinely can only see them romantically with each other, like I’m multishipper, I’ll ship literally anything if you have an interesting concept, pretty words or beautiful art, like grab my attention I am yours, except these two, they live in my head rent free and they can only be together because like maybe you lost everything, maybe you can never go back to that blissful youth you once had, but that doesn’t mean you can’t build a new life for yourself and find happiness and all the grief and tragedy does not define you but you still want to help people and you will help people and maybe it isn’t the life you thought you wanted when you were fifteen but it is a wonderful one and you love and you are loved and you are happy and that is enough. Maybe you suffered, maybe you were cruel, maybe the world misread who you are and assigned you a role you did not ask for, but maybe that doesn’t matter because you know who you are, you are still kind, and you have someone who knows and understands you and trusts who you are. You are both also kind of insufferable in your love and get to be annoying too. 

But JC & WWX are my ultimate tragic doomed platonic relationship, my neurotic little freaks who can’t be normal about each other and have zero boundaries, bickering idiots, wanting to go back to your youth except you’ll never be 15 again and you the person who knew the most intimate parts of yourself is now a stranger except you still see the glimmers of the person they used to be, the most brutal variation of you’ll never recover from that kind of devotion, the ultimate capturing  lost youth and having to go down different paths and really depicting what growing up is like sometimes, the viciousness where I am able to hurt you unlike anyone else (regardless if I want to or not), the abusive household codependency of survival, literally carrying a piece of your soul in my chest and making the ultimate sacrifice you never asked for because I couldn’t bare to risk losing you, the hollowness is a symbol of my devotion and the fullness is an omen of our splintering, there is one brain cell being shared like a game of tennis, my pathetic meow meow and beloved blorbo, I genuinely can’t be normal about them. 

I think if I really have to pick between them though, I’ll have to say JC & WWX just by virtue of I don’t like Wangxian fics that mischaracterize or villainize JC, like if he’s featured and isn’t a well-written character (Shanastorytellers' and loosingletters’ fics my absolute beloveds), it really takes me out of the narrative. His depiction and relationship with WWX has a lot of impact on my Wangxian enjoyment, and even in canon my beloved Wangxian gets to develop because of all the Ls this poor guy takes, so congrats JC, you win here! It’s by a literal hair, but JC & WWX platonic relationship, get these boys a reconciliation so they can drink in Lotus Pier and gossip about their kids and people they think are stupid, WWX it will enrich your marriage so much I promise. It’s what *I* deserve.

[kinnbig]

oh my god, tell us more (about the arm tankhun fake dating fic in your head), please! :D

OKAY so the concept is. about 6 months post-canon, the main and minor families are invited to the destination wedding of one of their allies from a hugely powerful mafia family - it's a few nights staying on a private tropical island, and as a respect/trust/hospitality thing, it would be considered really inappropriate for guests to bring more than one or two bodyguards per group.

so Tankhun is like “well then obviously I can’t go?” because while he is now much better at leaving the house, he’s not quite ‘get on a plane and fly to a random island for several days of intense socialisation with incredibly dangerous near-strangers without a single Trusted Bodyguard’ levels of better.

he’s talking to Chay about it and Chay's like “yeah, it's kind of fucked up that everyone gets a +1 but not a bodyguard. how would anyone even know if your +1 was your bodyguard?!” and Tankhun's like “.....Chay you're a genius. Arm, I need you to be my wedding date.”

commence the fake dating shenanigans! they ‘reveal’ their secret, long-term relationship to the entire family, and then they’ve got to pretend to be a couple in front of everyone while Arm actually works as Tankhun’s bodyguard. as the only other person who knows their relationship isn’t real, Chay is helping to mastermind the entire operation. what Chay also knows is that Khun does actually have very real and Not Fake feelings for Arm - and you can be sure he’s going to be a menace about it.

luckily, Khun is being just as much of a menace in return - the wedding is the first time Kim and Chay have been in the same room since… well, everything, and Tankhun has watched them both silently pine for each other for long enough. background KimChay reconciliation era my beloved!

and so the usual fake dating antics ensue! lots of pining… plenty of acting out intimacy while wishing it was genuine… Chay putting them in so many Situations… lines slowly blurring between what is part of the act and what is real… and. obviously. there was only one bed.

🥰 thank u so much for indulging me, i love talking about blorbos from my shows and my silly story ideas for them! i came up with this with @aikinn and @thewholedamnboulangerie during some kind of group astral plane projection, which makes it especially delicious as they always have the best and most objectively correct Tankhun takes 💪

my brain is currently on 24/7 armtankhun lockdown soooo if u have thoughts about Them… pls… i would like to eat them…

[avatarmerida]

Still having brain rot for beta huntlow so here’s some Willina Grom content. Partially based on a HC from some cute art by @turquoisespace35 love these blorbos in every universe 💛💚

———

“A dance?” William’s ears perked up at the word. “Wh-what kind of dance?”

“Oh it’s just Grom,” said Augustus . “He’s a monster that lives underneath the school. The dance is more of a distraction really.”

“But there’s dancing? Like, proper dancing?” He asked. “And the dress code? Oh, please tell me that there is one!”

“I mean, it’s not technically required but everyone gets pretty dressed up.” He said. “It’s like the social event of the season.”

“Like a ball?” William said excitedly, hoping Augustus would confirm.

“Uh… I guess?”

“Oh, wonderful!” He exclaimed. “I’ve been meaning to throw one myself, but my uncle is less than convinced the idea is worth pursuing. Oh, how I envy you.”

“You can come too, if you want.” Augustus offered.

“Oh, that’s very kind of you Augustus but you’ve made it clear that your duties at the event would occupy you. No, if I’m to go I’d need to be directly asked to be someone’s escort.”

“Ooooh I see,” said Augustus with a mischievous grin. “Did you have anyone special in mind?”

“Oh, I don’t know uh does… Paulina have anyone to escort her to the event?” He tried to make it seem as though she hadn’t already been on his mind, but Augustus knew better.

“Hmmm I don’t know, why don’t you ask her?”

“I mean I would, but it’s not my place,” he said. “I don’t attend Hexside therefore have no link to the event and to inquire about whom she intends to attend it with might imply that I-.”

“You wanna go with Paulina.” Augustus stated.

“I… only if she wishes me to,” he said quietly. “But yes, if she were to invite me I would happily accept. But I wouldn’t want to pressure her or make her feel badly if she wanted to go with someone else.”

“Dude, I’m pretty sure if you asked if you could go with her she would totally say yes.”

“Invite myself?” He said with a gasp. “Augustus, such informality is poor form. I should hope Paulina would expect more from me. If she were to invite me I’d want it to be of her own wishes, not out of pity or obligation.”

Augustus sighed. He knew from the way that Paulina talked about William that she definitely saw him as a part of their Grom experience, but he also knew about everything in her way. They both knew William was a good guy and that he wouldn’t be anything but kind about the subject and as much as Paulina trusted him she was still relearning to trust herself. Despite her best efforts, heartbreaking situations seemed to be drawn to Paulina.

“Hey Will, there’s something I think you should know…”

———

Grom night finally arrived and everyone from Hexisde was gathered excitedly in the gym looking their best and having a great time.

Everyone but Paulina.

She shouldn’t be surprised that Boscha sought out the ruin the night for her and how well she had managed to do it. She was embarrassed, to say the least, for the second year in a row. She knew Augustus and the others would be wondering where she was sooner or later, but for now she didn’t want to ruin their fun time or give Boscha the satisfaction of her cruelty spreading.

There was only one person she wanted to see right now. But her feet worked faster than her brain and she found herself in the castle garden before she had an explanation prepared.

“What am I doing here?” she said to herself. “I can’t just show up uninvited, and he might not even be here and even if he was he wouldn’t-.”

“Oh, Paulina, to what do I owe the pleasure?” came William’s voice from seemingly out of nowhere. The soft way he said her name broke her trance as he walked over to her, a book at her side. He must be coming from the library. She went to try and hide her appearance in the shadow of the tree but before she could move back he spoke again. “You… you look stunning.” He said breathlessly, admiring the way the green in her dress complimented her eyes. The dress looked different from what he remembered, but her loveliness only increased the closer he got, her hair was tied up with a ribbon and a vibrant flowers rested behind her ear. William set down his book to properly greet her before remembering why she looked extra captivating. “But wait, what are you doing here?”

“Oh, well I uh, well I just thought,” she struggled to say before the tears caught up with her, and her hands shot up to bury her eyes. “Oh my Titan I’m so sorry,I shouldn’t have just shown up. Y-you must be busy I don’t know why I-.”

“No! No, please don’t think I’d be anything other than happy to see you,” William rushed to say. “I just thought you’d be at the ball.”

“Well, I was but I uh, had a little wardrobe malfunction,” she said with a heartbroken laugh, gesturing to her current state. He could see now the the tattered sleeves and jagged skirt were not a choice.

“I just thought it was a new fashion trend,” he said with a small smile, still finding her to be a vision even despite the abuse the dress had gone through. “Were you the one chosen to face Grom? I thought it was the youngest Blight.”

“It was,” she said taking a deep breath. “But I had my own personal Grom. I ran into Boscha before I even went inside and she wasn’t thrilled that I decided to show up.”

William’s hand formed a fist at his side, the subject of Boscha always lit a fire within him. He wished he had the throne so he could banish the girl into the boiling sea for all she made Paulina endure.

“She did this to you?” he asked through gritted teeth.

“Well, most of it,” Paulina confirmed with tears pooling her eyes. “I kinda made it worse when I tried to use my wand to fix it. I think I set a button on fire?”

“Oh my- are you okay? Did she hurt you? Why would she ever-.”

“No, no I’m okay I promise,” she assured, though the unshed tears that lingered behind her askew glasses that suggested otherwise. “I just… didn’t want to go inside like this and have everyone laugh and I didn’t wanna go home and have my dads worry and I just didn’t… wanna be alone right now. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be dumping this all on you, I should go before I-.”

“No! No, please stay,” said William. “Let me fetch my sewing supplies! I bet I can repair the rips! And we can cover the tear at the bottom with a flower and I’m sure I can locate a jacket for you to-.”

“No, please don’t! I mean, you’re so sweet but you've done enough already.” Paulina sighed sadly. “I’m just so sorry she ruined the dress you got for me.”

“How did you kn- I mean, what? I-I have neve seen that dress before I don’t even know what-.”

“Augustus ratted you out,” she said with a gentle smile. “But I would’ve figured it out anyway. Such a sweet, grand gesture is just too on brand for you.”

“Well… did you like it? I mean, before Bocha-.

“I loved it,” she said, taking his hands in hers and giving them a gentle squeeze. “I felt like a princess.”

“You don’t need a dress to look like a princess.” He said softly as he looked into her eyes. A blush took over her face as she couldn’t help but be taken back with just how quickly he had composed the sentiment and how utterly sincere it was. She suddenly felt guilty for allowing him to see his generous gift in such disarray. “Paulina I… please don’t be upset but… Augustus told me about what happened last year. How Boscha found out you wanted to ask someone and sabotaged your Gromposal and how cruelly everyone reacted. He said you didn’t even go last year and it… well, it just broke my heart. And then I saw how your eyes lit up when we walked by the shop with the dress in the window and I wanted to make sure you had the perfect Grom to make up for last year but I should’ve known a dress wouldn’t fix everything.”

“Well it was still the nicest thing anyone had ever done for me,” assured Paulina. “I just wish you could’ve seen it before it got ruined.”

He had to admit, he did too. His throat felt tight at the thought of her in the emerald vision she was meant to be in from the beginning. He wished he could’ve done more to save her evening, and he could still be her knight in shining armor now.

“Close your eyes,” he said and Paulina obliged without hesitation. She felt him place something on her head, she reached up and felt the cold metal. It was his crown. When she opened her eyes, she saw William had vanished but her appearance had been restored to how she looked prior to her run in with Bocha.

“What?” She said, hardly able to believe it as she ran to the garden’s fountain to observe her reflection in the water. It was true. The crown slid slightly off her head and when it did, a tear returned to her dress. Paulina understood. “William, is there a concealment stone in your crown?”

“Yes,” his voice confirmed from a location Paulina could not pinpoint.

“Why?”

“Um… no reason,” he said. “Just to ensure that I always look my best.”

“Are you invisible without it?” She laughed, scanning the area for where he could be hiding wanting to thank him properly.

“No, nothing like that,” he assured. “I just… don’t want you to see me without it. I’m not… my best.”

“Well, considering the way I came to see you tonight, I have no room to judge,” she chuckled. “But I promise I would never. Besides, it doesn’t matter to me what you look like, I like you no matter what.”

Willam did believe her, he knew Paulina was genuine and smart and kind and would not care about the gap in his teeth or the unruly nature of his hair or the other tiny imperfections that Belos had deemed necessary to conceal. But he had never shown his true self to anyone else and it was not a step that could be taken so casually.

Paulina could sense his hesitance in the silence and did not pressure why, that it was his business. But she didn’t want him to feel like he had to hide from her. She carefully removed her glasses and placed them in her pocket. As she placed them inside, she removed something to make room and held it behind her back.

“There,” she said. “Now I can’t see anything. Promise.”

He peeked his head from behind the tree where he had been hiding. “Really?”

“Really.” She said, seeing his blurry figure in the distance. “Test me.”

“Okay,” he said, holding up his hand. “How many fingers am I holding up?”

She squinted. “I have no idea.”

William laughed, his heart skipping a beat at the way she scrunched her nose attempting to see. “Fair enough,” he said, walking over to her. “I can fetch a mask from inside and walk you back to the dance.”

“Would you wanna maybe… stay?”

“You mean stand guard? In case Boscha tries something else?”

“No I mean stay, like… uh, here.” Paulina said nervously, extending her arms to him. “I made this. I thought it would look nice on you.”

He saw she was holding a bright red flower, its petals silky and long. Even with his limited knowledge of floriograhphy, he knew this flower was special. He could tell she had grown it herself.

“It… matches yours,” he said breathlessly, his eyes darting to the vision of scarlet tucked safely in her hair as he took the flower from her. It was the one thing Boscha hadn’t managed to ruin.

“Oh yeah,” she smiled. “I guess it does. Well, usually when you go to Grom with someone, you wear something that matches. And I uh… thought if you wanted to, we could…”

His eyes darted to his flower back to hers and then to the matching red dusting her checks. The dots all connected and his eyes widened as he dared to ask:

“Are you… asking me to Grom?”

“Yes?” She squeaked, her eyes locked on the ground as her hands fiddled with the belt of her dress. “I know it’s last minute, but please don’t think it’s an afterthought or because of the dress it’s just that… I just didn’t think to ask you because, well I didn’t think to ask anyone. But… I wanted to and I would’ve if I…”

His face softened. “And I would’ve accepted.” William whispered. “I mean, I do accept. That is, if you still wish for me to-.”

“I do,” she said quickly. “You’re… sure it’s not beneath you? I mean, I’m sure you’ve been to way fancier events and I mean it’s just some silly-.”

“I would be honored to go anywhere with you,” William eagerly assured her, taking her hands in his. He could not get over how truly beautiful she looked. “Oh dear, it’s just that you look so… enchanting and I’m dreadfully underdressed. I’ve just finished my training and I’ve just come from the stables and now I-.”

“Well if you ask me, you could never look anything but princely.” Paulina said sweetly.

“Thank you,” he said with a blush. He was used to Paulina being kind but something about her sudden boldness flustered him. He was grateful he could not see her as he knew he could not conceal his blush.

“Besides, no one will care what you’re wearing because they’ll be distracted by your sick moves.”

“Oh, I assure you I’m not ill.”

“No,” laughed Paulina. “I’m talking about your dancing.”

“Oh.” He said, not fully understanding but comprehending enough to know Paulina was suggesting that others would find him impressive. But the only person he cared about impressing was not in that gym. He took a grand step back and extended his hand to her as he bowed. “Well then, may I have this dance?”

Paulina giggled. “I mean, yes but I was thinking we would go back to the school and dance. There’s not even any music playing out here.” She put her hand in his and upon the contact he gently pulled her to him, putting his other hand on the small of her back to hold her close. Paulina’s free hand instinctively went to his shoulder as she tried to hide how fast her heart was beating.

“Well then I shall have to tell a joke as your laughter is a symphony all its own.” He said casually and Paulina felt as though she might faint. How did he think of that so quickly? Why did it make her legs feel like jelly? Was her face as red as it felt?

“Oh, uh okay I mean if you want…” she trailed off quietly, suddenly overly aware of his gaze. She giggled again and William smiled as though she had just played his favorite song. He took the opportunity to spin her, using the momentum to show off his ability as a lead, spinning her out and then back into his arms. He begins to walk and Paulina was happily along for the ride as William led them around the garden, holding her close and counting the steps under his breath to help her keep time.

Paulina looked down at their reflection in the pond as they passed by. Even blurry it was utterly picturesque, the way the stars shimmered against the shine of his crown, the way her vibrant green dress stood out in the collection of blues the evening sky brought, if she could only see the dreamy way Willam looked at her while her attention was elsewhere.

“Wow I didn’t know you were such a great dancer,” Paulina breathed as he spun him into him again, and then eased them into a slow dance to cool down from all the spinning.

“Isn’t that why you wanted to ask me? Because you knew I was a good dancer?” William said as he pulled her in again, but this time he held her close awhile longer. Before he returned his hand to her waist, he brushed a loose strand of hair from her face, his fingers lingering on her cheek. The moon was back behind him, dusting his shoulder in a gentle pale light that made Paulina feel as though she had fallen into a painting. The garden, the moonlight, and him all seemed too good to be true.

“Well it’s… one reason.” She said quietly, moving her hand up to cup the side of his face. She remembered how when they first met, he had kissed her hand. She remembered the way her heart skipped at the softness of his lips on her knuckle. Her hand beside his face returned the memory to her mind and made her think about-

“I’m afraid it’s getting late,” said Willam gently, interrupting her train of thought. “I’m not certain we’d make it back in time.”

“Oh, that’s okay,” she said, adjusting her grip on his neck. “I’m having a great time right here.”

“So, does your school host many events like Grom?”

“Um, well Grom is pretty unique,” said Paulina. “I mean, they have other events but thankfully they’re not as high stakes as Grom.”

“Any other ones that involve dancing?” William inquired. “Because I’d hate to think that getting to dance with you only occurs once a year.”

“Well then, we’d better make it count,” she said with a tiny smile. “Just in case.” She knew there’d be plenty of chances if she had anything to say about it, but she wanted to prolong this one as long as she could.He seemed to share the thought as he twirled her around the garden once more.

He was so close now that Paulina could see him clearly even without her glasses. He had freckles, that was the first thing Paulina noticed, dashed across his nose and cheeks like a constellation. She couldn’t understand why he would ever hide them, and she imagined how they would rise and ripple when he smiled wide. When he spoke, she could see the gap in his teeth and with all these things in place she wanted so desperately to see him smile wide. The true him was just as handsome as the William she had met, just with more little details. And his eyes were brown, a deep amber color with flakes of gold that reminded Paulina of a rusted gate that protected her tiny garden in her yard. They were warm and deep and big and… so close.

She knew he had wanted her not to, but she couldn’t help but get lost in his eyes. He didn’t seem to mind as he was equally engrossed in hers. At some point they had stopped moving, and were standing among the rose bushes holding onto each other like something out of a romantic dream. Why, if Paulina didn’t know any better she would think that-.

“Paulina, could I… would it be okay if I.. uh, may I…” His eyes darted between hers and her lips as though he was caught in a strange loop. Paulina’s mouth suddenly felt dry and she couldn’t manage a response the same way he couldn’t manage the question. But while their words failed them, something else seemed to help bring them closer together. Something buzzing in Paulina’s chest like a swarm of fire bees told her to tilt her head to the side and relax her hold on William’s neck. The same soundless thing swirling behind William’s armor like a sinkhole told him to hold her closer and close his eyes.

As his hand cupped her cheek, she had no doubt that he intended to kiss her. And she had no doubt that she intended to let him. As the space between them grew smaller, Paulina rose to her tip toes and nearly out of her shoes, eagerly hoping to make it disappear completely. The world felt like it was spinning around them.

Then it actually was.

“Woah!” they exclaimed, suddenly finding themselves creating a splash as they backed into the pond and landed in the water, losing their balance as they became blind to everything else around them.

“Oh my Titan, are you okay?” coughed William, wiping his soaked bangs from his face.

“I’m fine!” she said, her hair escaping its curls as she managed to stand up and extend her hand to him. “Are you okay?”

“Nothing damaged but my pride,” he said as he took it and allowed her to help him up. “I guess I uh… got a little distracted.”

“Me too,” she blushed.

“Are your glasses okay?” He asked frantically, remembering they were in her pocket. She pulled them out to check and was relieved to see they were as she slipped them back on.

With his crown still floating in the water, Paulina saw his true face in clarity and the warm buzzing returned to her chest. “Woah.”

“Oh!” He said timidly when he realized the truth of his current state. “I’m sorry, I look-.”

“You could never look anything but princely,” she assured.

“Heh,” he chuckled nervously. “Thank you, I thought yo- oh no! Oh no, oh no!” He said suddenly, turning his attention to the water as he began splashing and searching. “Oh I hope the water doesn’t ruin it!”

“Oh right,” she said, remembering his crown was in the water. “Oh no, I hope it’s not-.”

“Found it!” He exclaimed, holding his recovered treasure over his head. But he did not hold his crown. Instead, he held the flower she had given him. The petals were slightly wilted but otherwise the water had not damaged the plant. William held it delicately as though it was porcelain and Paulina wanted to reach out and hold him the exact same way.

“Maybe next year, we can wear matching water lilies to Grom,” she said with a smile, kneeling the the water beside him, aware but unbothered by the cold. “That way we’ll be prepared if things end up the same way.”

“Well, hopefully they won’t,” he said, trying not to think about what not ending up in the water meant. He tried to maintain his composure at the implication that she was also asking him to Grom a year in advance. “Hopefully next year we’ll actually make it to the dance and you won’t have to spend the evening in a dress that’s torn and wet.”

“Well….” She said as she brought his hand to her lips and pressed a gentle kiss to his knuckle just as he had done when they first met. “It’ll be worth it if I get to dance with a handsome prince again.”

He smiled.

“Well, I’ll never say no to a dance with fair princess.”

His freckles rise and rippled just as she imagined they would. The moment might have passed for a fairy tale first kiss, but she felt confident it would return soon and would certainly not be an event that happened only once a year.

[caterpillarinacave]

Little Update (particularly for those waiting for me to respond to something, but also in general):

Hey everyone!

So I know I have a few asks in my asks box, and some @‘s and messages I need to respond to, and I promise I will get to them! 

The asks are my top priority right now so I should get those responded to pretty soon.

I’m not having a super great time mentally or physically right now and unfortunately there’s not much I can do about either aspect.

Aside some physical health problems I’ve been getting hit pretty hard with some ramifications of trauma. In comparison my trauma and the relationship I was in was really not that bad, but unfortunately I really haven’t been able to shake it lately. I get the feeling the hyper vigilance is contributing heavily to my overall discombobulation.

I really enjoy tumblr (clearly I spend a lot of time on here) and interacting with people makes me incredibly happy.

While most people are very, very nice - and to be honest, I would say some of my best friends are on here - there have been a select few who haven’t been so kind.

I fully understand that those people are struggling more within themselves then with me, but it can be really discouraging to work hard on something in a space and be treated somewhat poorly. I know I am not perfect and understand how I may be annoying for people, but Tumblr is very much my safe space and I try very hard to be kind and helpful on here. 

Additionally, while I do love the fandom space-I’m having some trouble RWBY in particular. 

I’m very much not trying to start anything so I will spare everyone my thoughts, but in some ways I’ve fallen out of love with the show- and fallen more in love with Roman and Neo.

For years before  the Roman and Neo fandom was wondrously rich with content. When I compare the canon and the fandom, for me at least, the fandom did a better job, and it still does. In 2016 there were fics that were so good I accepted them as canon. In 2024 some of those fics, and plus a few new ones are still the best.

That being said I adore the fandom I’ve curated on here surrounding Roman and Neo. I have mutuals, followers and friends who create phenomenal fan work, have excellent ideas, and bring me back to the show and characters that was, in the fandom sense, my first love.

I would very much like to be more active on that little Roman/Neo fandom I’ve found. It’s just that taking into consideration my complex relationship with the source material I’m not sure how to do that.

In terms of TSC those of you with astute gazes have probably noticed I post a lot of WIP snippets- and not many fics. That’s due in part to all the above reasons, but also just because I really care about the content. I care very, very deeply about these characters, and I pour a lot of work into my writing. I’ve always got the feeling that once I post something I can’t redo it- I post one fic with a premise and I can’t ever rewrite it again. Posting work that’s less than perfect when there’s already a very small audience looking at my fics almost doesn’t feel like an option for me.  Trust me, I want to post more content- and very little makes me happier than talking with people about my beloved blorbos- it just involves a lot of energy and emotional.

Basically, I’m anxious, tired, lonely, scared, and so deeply invested in fictional characters it makes me screech in excitement whenever someone asks about them. So, dearest of comrades, please be patient- I promise I’m not ignoring anyone!

TLDR: Moving slowly on account of all the HorrorsTM, but I’m working on it.

[randum-famdoms]

Hello! I'm reading one of your fic's on ao3 and was wondering when it's gonna be updated? I ABSOLUTELY LOVE the fic and wanna know how long until we get a new chapter! Love your writing! And I was so happy to see that you gave Mishima such a cool persona! I love the fic so much! I've been ranting to my friends about it nonstop (even though neither of them have ever played the game) but they both sit there and listen nonetheless! (I may even try and convince them to read it! It's a pretty interesting take on the whole game! And the part where Akira is worried that Mishima will have a problem with him being gay and Mishima just like "If I had a problem with it I would've said something back in kamoshida's palace" was amazing! I love everything about it and I can't explain in words just why I love it so much! It's just amazing! If I was better at art I would LOVE to make some fanart of it!!! Again I can't explain just how much I love it! I hope you're doing well and aren't sick!

(How was the dog sitting by the way? Hope it went well!)

Ahshdjdkjfndbdkjdl thank you??????

I just. *scream*

The idea that people can love a silly little thing I write for fun this much is kinda unreal to me. Idk how to respond???? Thanks????

I mean, I’ve reacted like this to fics I have read before but having it turned into myself is trippy. Like this is some weirdly dream or some shit. Idk man. Shit’s wild.

Every time someone tells me how happy they are about the way I’m treating mishima in my fic I am further convinced that everyone who says he’s a bad character is a fucking coward and if more people would just make Mishima positive content then the fandom would be better off. He does not get enough love and appreciation and I will gladly take on the mantle of Mishima Ambassador. He is my blorbo, my boi, and I love him dearly. He deserves better, both in game and in the fandom, so I just did it myself.

Also, I ain’t about to beg you for fanart because you reading my fic is more than enough already and then you sent me this ask and Ann bear gave me a heart attack from joy, but trust me if you think you’re a bad artist I’ve seen worse. Much, much worse. I took an art class in a very sports heavy highschool and 90% of the kids in there were teenage boys who thought it would be an easy A. The first assignment was to draw a realistic hand. You’d think that they were AI with how bad some of them looked. So yeah, any hypothetical art you make is beautiful to me, especially because I’m fairly sure that if anyone made fanart of my fic I’d cry tears of joy <3

I tried really hard to update every week and I failed miserably, so I’ve made the decision to cut back to every other week. I’m like 85% sure that I’ll get the next chapter up this Sunday. I started my summer classes today and one of them (my English class) is cramming a 14 week course into 4 weeks, but I’ve always been pretty good at English/reading/writing so I’m hoping that that won’t ruin my update schedule AGAIN. I swear I can’t go two weeks without something fucking up my writing/editing time. We’ll see how it goes. I am not sick don’t worry, Just like, super fuckin tired cause my sleep schedule is fucked. I’m pretty good otherwise tho!

Dogsitting went well! I actually finished up with that yesterday. The little demon I was taking care of had absolutely no braincells, and was very annoying, and she kept pooping in my bathroom no matter how often I tried to take her outside to shit, but at least she’s small so it was easy to clean up and she was a good size to cuddle. Overall it was a 5/10 experience that was turned into a 9/10 because of the couple hundred dollar paycheck I got for it. The family I was doing it for is uncomfortably rich lol. Pretty sure some of it is blood money because the dad is an ex-cop turned middle school teacher (neither of which make good money) and the mom is a Russian immigrant stay-at-home mom and they somehow own a huge house in a really nice neighborhood and can afford a two week trip to the Caribbean on that income. I ain’t gonna complain tho.

I’m excited to get chapter 11 written and posted, I think it’s gonna be really fun! Lots of good plot and character development is gonna be happening :) the fic is really picking up now that we’ve finally gotten over all the exposition hurdles. Only took 60k words lol (I swear I thought that it would take half as long as it did to get to this point in the fic, at this rate the things gonna end up 800k words long and I’ll be dead before it’s finished)

[lapseinart]

On Nico and Percy

Or why people need to chill about the way Percy treats Nico I get that he’s your blorbo but please CONTEXTUALIZE for a hot second geez

The way Nico fans are about the way Percy treated Nico in the Titan’s Curse (like he’s annoying) makes me like

Have you met many ten year olds?? They can be?? so annoying??

“Percy should respect him; Nico will save his life!”

Umm that’s a nine year old child. He obsesses over his little game. He’s a little brother. Let’s be honest. HES PROBABLY WORKED ANNOYING PEOPLE INTO AN ART FORM (given that he’s asking Percy so many questions he probably has)

Also he?? Hasn’t saved Percy yet?? And honestly throughout the main PJO series Percy does try his best to do right by Nico?? He’s angry on his behalf that Bianca leaves her brother, he tries to fulfill his promise to help Bianca, when they’re attacked by the skeletons he tries to protect Nico by telling him to leave, he shields Nico by not telling anyone his parentage (which is why I’m kind of ?? about him being ostracized from camp?? after the BofL? Didn’t Nico leave by himself to find answers about his family? You felt ostracized after the war?? Didn’t you design your cabin??), HE INVITES HIM FOR CAKE, he trusts him about the Styx thing (tho Nico tricks him because Hades tricks him), tries to keep him out of the fighting by telling him to convince his dad to help (actually a very important job that only he can do, not because he felt like he couldn’t trust Nico)

And also Percy is what? Fifteen? Fourteen? Fourteen year olds are also insufferable and dramatic and tired. A fifteen year old will be annoyed by anything, ESPECIALLY a little kid. A fifteen year old who has to tolerate incessant questions after seeing his best friend fall off a cliff? I would have yelled at Nico. Percy shows remarkable restrain IMO.

Honestly Percy can think whatever he wants?? He’s not even being particularly rude to Nico. The worst thing he’s done is not said anything when Jason and Leo said something about not saving Nico from The Jar, but IMO that’s Riordan’s disservice to Percy’s character because he’s supposed to be super loyal and he would protest if only out of respect for Bianca’s memory (tho honestly Percy goes through a bit of character assassination in HOO sometimes)

Edit: Also! The way Rick can’t keep track of his character’s ages if we got by HOO Percy and Nico have a 2-3 year age gap instead of instead of 5 year age gap. So in this scene Nico would be like 11? 12? Twelve year olds may be insensitive enough to say that the girl who fell off the cliff I stupid for having fallen off the cliff to the girl’s best friend (not the exact words but that’s what Nico sort of implies when he says a daughter of Athena should probably know better), but I’d also want to deck the kid. If you do say that there’s a two or three year age gap, you can draw a contrast between the way Percy and Nico react as 12 year olds to sensitivity. Nico just steamrolls right through, but Percy is always aware that she’s stumbled upon some vulnerability (ie in TLT when he asks Annabeth about her dad, or Luke about his scar). ANYWAY my point is the five year age gap is good because at least then you can say Nico’s a stupid nine year old. If it’s 2-3, you have to be like he was emotionally unintelligent/oblivious as a twelve year old. (Actually there’s something to be said about Percy being able to tell when he’s hit an emotional sore spot at that age, probably from having to avoid triggering Gabe’s ire)

[noxexistant]

OKAY BUT WHY ARE YOU GONNA FREAKING TEASE US LIKE THAT. ARE YOU DIAGNOSING THE DELANCEYS OR NOT?!

IM SORRY i was too busy fully crying over the overwhelming response encouraging me to keep talking about my blorbos :’) i got very in my own head that i was being annoying, particularly about the delanceys, but hearing SO MANY PEOPLE ask to hear more is so wild n lovely n auuuuughhh i love you all

ANYWAY. we’re pulling the boys out of the blender to psychoanalyse them for once

cw; talk of food issues, abuse, substance abuse, plus all the usual stuff for my delancey interpretations

it’s rambling time

first of all, oscar.

he absolutely has symptoms of antisocial personality disorder, to start us off.

antisocial personality disorder, like bpd, can be caused both genetically and by abuse/neglect/instability during childhood, and details such as parents abusing alcohol or other substances can factor in. i headcanon both the delanceys’ parents to have abused alcohol, and particularly their mother to have been bipolar, which affects their upbringing and their own genetics/vulnerability to mental illness.

oscar is just so angry, all the time, as a child - nothing is fair, nothing is okay, and there isn’t even anything he can do about it. it’s this crushing sense of frustration and fear and helplessness. even at school, even when he’s really, honestly trying his best, he can’t pay attention. he knows he’s incredibly lucky to be going to school at all - morris’ll never go - but that just means he’s in trouble there as well as at home. he gets caned at school and then comes home to get beat. it’s not fair. nobody listens, nobody treats him well, but he has to look after morris anyway even though nobody’s ever looked after him.

the anger calcifies as he gets older. solidifies into this mass that sits inside him, taking up all the space for anything good. he becomes aggressive and impulsive, and learns to stop caring about other people because none of them can be trusted - enough people have proven themselves awful, his parents and everyone on the streets and snyder and the other kids in the refuge and weasel, so he’ll stop trying and trust they’re all the same. even someone who might not be a threat is probably worthless and useless, he has nothing to gain from doing anything but getting them out of the way, and oscar recognises his hypocrisy because he used to think similar things about morris, but morris is different.

morris is a part of oscar. he isn’t an outsider, he isn’t like anybody else, he’s the only thing in the entire world worth caring about, and oscar does. he doesn’t feel anything when he hurts or scares anyone else, at most feels a sense of satisfaction, but his stomach drops out when he accidentally scares or hurts morris, by shouting at him or moving too fast or doing one of the things that makes morris go empty-eyed and far away. oscar feels sick with guilt then - really, physically sick with it, like it’s surrounding the black mass of his anger and there isn’t enough space for it and it all just starts spilling out - and he doesn’t know how to cope. he doesn’t know how to stomach his love for morris. especially not when it has to sit next to all the anger like that. he tries so hard to keep the two away from each other, but he still gets angry at morris often, although nowhere near as often as he gets aggressive with anybody else. he hits morris sometimes, even though he really doesn’t mean to, and morris always says it’s okay. he says he’s not scared of oscar, not really, no matter what, because they’re them - the two of them, one entity. they’re entirely codependent.

morris has borderline personality disorder. which is also influenced by his autism - these two types of black-and-white thinking and sense of justice and general perception of the world, feeding into each other and creating a sense of isolation that keeps him away from everyone but oscar. oscar’s the only person who can be trusted, and morris loves him more than anything - way, way more than he loves himself, which is not at all. every part of morris, his moods and emotions and his worth and his willingness to do anything, ride wholly on oscar’s mood at that moment and how he’s treating morris. morris is far more likely to hurt himself if oscar is upset with him or not talking to him, which oscar knows, so once they’ve been in the refuge for a while he stops being upset with morris for any longer than the duration of one of his outbursts. he won’t let morris hurt himself anymore, will often encourage morris to hit him instead of hitting himself when he’s upset or frustrated.

still, morris is forever terrified that oscar will leave him just like ma and pa did, so he tries to be good. he tries to always agree with oscar, and keeps quiet when oscar’s having a bad turn, and he doesn’t get mad back even when oscar hits him, though that’s also in part because he can’t. the second morris gets hit like that, he shuts down - thinking about pa - and then everything’s gone for a few hours, maybe a day if it’s really bad. he’s lost months to dissociation before, whole years with only brief glimpses of the surface before he went back down, particularly while he and oscar were in the refuge. there’s things that scare him and upset him that he doesn’t understand because they’re parts of memories he doesn’t remember. he has little to no sense of self and no sense of self-worth, he has bouts of being sure he doesn’t need anyone but oscar and bouts of feeling so lonely he can hardly breathe. he feels empty a lot, but also feels angry and sad and desperately scared, and sometimes giddily happy but it never seems to last long. he thinks about dying a lot.

he also definitely has arfid. it’s a mix of a lot of triggers - his autistic sensitivity to foods, all his trauma surrounding food, and low interest in eating anyway because he can’t understand his own hunger cues and tends not to really enjoy food. he’s been malnourished his whole life, and largely still is, even nearing adulthood - he won’t eat like oscar does, wolfing down a whole plateful of whatever’s on offer, he can’t. he’s sick if he tries to eat food he doesn’t want, and/or has meltdowns. it terrifies oscar, who is just desperate for morris to eat at least enough to be healthy, but even oscar usually can’t convince morris to eat. he focuses on getting the particular foods that morris does like instead, and always keeping them so that he can get morris to eat a bite or two at a time throughout the day. on morris’ worst days, oscar will get him candy - his favourite, the only thing he’ll always eat - and let him eat that like a meal so he’s at least eating something.

that being said, oscar isn’t great about consuming stuff either. he likes alcohol too much, and he’ll do his damnedest to not drink a drop in front of morris but he’ll often sneak out once he knows morris is asleep and duck into a bar for an hour or two. he drinks like he’s trying to knock himself out, which he usually is. he likes a bar fight too - meaningless, usually, and no-holds-barred. he’ll glass someone for saying anything bad about his brother, or anything good about his parents. he drinks what his father used to, because he knows what it’s called and what it tastes like - he’d used to steal swigs from the bottles left out, when he was a little kid. he’d made morris try too, when he was the age oscar’d been when he first tried, but he’d spat it straight back out. oscar’d laughed at him, but now he’s grateful. morris hurts himself enough without adding drinking to the mix.

both of them have c-ptsd. morris has nightmares every single time he falls asleep for long enough, and doesn’t sleep much because of it. oscar has adhd - it influences his aggression and frustration, this constant burning restlessness that exists within him. he’s deeply impatient with anything he finds boring, which includes most people, and he most commonly “stims” with violence. the vast majority of morris’ stims border on self-harm, and he self-harms to stim too, but he has some positive stims - rocking back and forth, bouncing on his heels, stomping his feet, tracing the edges of objects, echolalia. he chews on things, including his own thumb, which he does both because it feels nice and because it hurts. sometimes that’s the same thing to him. he sucks his thumb too, especially for comfort, which ties into one final detail

morris age regresses, or does something adjacent. it’s this kind of undiagnosable no man’s land between his trauma and autism and developmental disability, but mainly just characterised by vulnerability and childishness. oscar’s the only one who really knows, mostly because he’s the only one who could ever notice, but he gets even more protective when he knows morris is more vulnerable - entirely nonverbal, just stimming and comfort-seeking. that’s when oscar sticks right by morris’ side, not getting restless or seeking out any fights for once, not talking for any reason other than to give morris something to listen to. just…looking after his brother, as best he can.

[psychewritesbs]

Right... So as I continue watching Gundam Seed I find myself rolling my eyes so hard that I am able to see the back of my skull.

And yet here I am... because #blorbo.

The perils of having an obsessive personality I swear...

Anyways. I am using my critical thinking skills to explain why Athrun and Lacus are actually REALLY good friends and REALLY do care about each other under the cut.

That’s right... fantastic use of my critical thinking abilities... my thesis advisors would be proud.

Oh yeah, this is all from GS episode 19...

Anyways.

It’s just that I thought it was cute that Lacus is always eager to see Athrun.

Whether she’s telling him about looking forward to seeing him, or whether she’s commenting on how she doesn’t see him as much as she’d like, to Lacus, Athrun is someone who keeps his distance that she’d very much like to connect with.

And I thought it was fascinating how she projects that desire to see Athrun onto the Haros and is constantly saying the Haros are excited to see Athrun. Something Athrun always blows off because, as he says, “Haro is a robot and doesn’t have emotions.” 

But as they’re having their little tea party during the episode, I loved that briefest of moments when Lacus tells Athrun she’s “quite fond of Kira.”

So to me, I get the sense that Lacus sees Athrun as a friend with whom she feels comfortable enough to share something like this with him. There’s this sense of trust and honesty as Lacus expresses to Athrun that she’s caught feelings for Kira much like one catches the flu or covid19. It just happened!

But what was most interesting to me was Athrun’s reaction...

Athrun’s reaction speaks to how important this moment is for Lacus to be sharing about her fondness with Kira.

Imagine there’s this person who you are “supposed” to marry, whom you have probably known for quite some time. Now imagine that you don’t necessarily have romantic feelings for this person, they simply are “the person you are supposed to marry” according to what someone else decided..

There! It’s canon that they have an arranged marriage.

Now imagine that as you have gotten to know this person, you have come to value them as a person because, again, one day you will marry them and you will have to see their face all the fucking time and smell their farts and all of the romantic aspects of marriage.

But now this person is confessing to you that there’s this other person who’s genuinely caught their attention.

So to me, Athrun’s reaction is so... real?

Seriously. The Gundam Seed writers are either really bad writers, or they’re really good at melodrama. I can’t quite make up my mind about it. 

The thing is that some moments are straight up cringe, and then there’s moments like this one where Athrun and Lacus share a brief exchange about what it’s like to be “fond of someone” when you are in an arranged marriage.

Theirs is an arranged marriage meant to symbolize a political alliance--a symbol of an ideal. Both are children of important political figures, Athrun is an elite soldier within Zaft, and Lacus herself is a member of a peace committee or something like that.

They look great on paper.

In the end, these two kids are being initiated into the world of young adulthood as they move through their teen years. They are beginning to experience what it’s like to experience different kinds of interpersonal relationships and their own place within them.

So in following in the footsteps that have been laid out for them, I reckon Athrun and Lacus are really just making the best of this arrangement that has been trusted upon them.

But I have to admit that if anyone is invested in making sure this arrangement works, that’s Lacus...

Athrun’s just kind of like “oh sorry, I can’t come see you because I’m busy doing nothing,” whereas Lacus wears her heart on her sleeve.

Even if it’s an arrangement, Lacus’ attitude tells me she wants to make it work. And there’s something so feminine about it--she makes bids for connection that are very much all about spending quality time together even if she thinks he’s boring he’s really quiet.

But for Athrun, there’s no impetus drawing him towards Lacus.

There is no chemistry that would encourage him to put aside logic and his duty in favor of what his heart might want--if anything because he does not know yet that his heart could want something different than what his head tells him he should want.

At least that is how I see him.

Gundam is about people in times of war

Ok now that I’ve made fun of myself for breaking down this interaction to try to explain how I see it, I have to admit that, while Gundam Seed may be a bit extra on the melodrama, it’s still a story about people in times of war.

As such, I have to admit that some of these interactions are very real and really well-written despite the Gundanium Alloy plot armor and cringe. 

Because of this, Gundam Seed is getting upgraded from “bad Mexican novela” to “Downton Abbey in space”.

[miniscrew-anon]

A small exploration into my Blorbo (Four)

Writing Add to Cart made me do some deep thinking about his character so here they are.

Stormy once wrote that “Four does have a proper bedroom in the Castle Town townhouse, at Time’s order insistence. He keeps his door locked at all times, and he’s in there to sleep only three-ish hours a night. None of the other boys have seen the inside of his bedroom”.

And that influenced my writing a lot with Four because there are so many interesting implications there. 

For one, you would think a guy who values his privacy and space as much as Four would love to have a proper door instead of living in what is kind of a common area (garage). But no, apparently he didn’t want one. Presumably he would have preferred to stay in the garage. Which is so weird because there’s so little security in a place where anyone could walk in at any time. 

So I took that to mean that Four values the emotional distance he gets by keeping to himself in a separate part of the house, even if that means being physically less secure. And clearly that hasn't changed even after HSH1. And considering Four’s trust issues are so severe he locks and blocks his door with furniture when he feels vulnerable (<- careful, that one's NSFW), that means a lot. We’re talking about a guy who showered at the gym for Weeks when he first moved into the townhouse - that’s Next Level trust issues. This guy’s trust issues have trust issues. 

So my HC is that Four hasn’t really settled into living there like everyone else has - mentally and emotionally speaking, he’s got one foot out the door already. He’s not planning to leave or anything, but subconsciously he’s still treating his spot in the house like it’s temporary. So he’s still in that mindset of living waaaaayyyyy below his means (you never know when you’ll be out on the street again so you better save every rupee) and the idea of owning things is uncomfortable (it's just one more thing you’ll lose when you have to run again). Even something as basic as having his own room, something that should make him feel more secure, just puts him even more on edge (it feels like a broken promise in the making - he’s never felt secure so this feeling has to be fake too). 

Four is and has been in survival mode for so long that he just can’t shake it off. And it’s this strange sense of “I can’t get comfortable here because this won’t last” that keeps all this distance between Four and everyone else. Worst part is that a lot of it is subconscious - Four doesn’t really think Time will kick him out. But he also can’t shake the nagging feeling that it is going to happen. He’s perpetually waiting for the other shoe to drop, even if he doesn’t realize it. And that constant insecurity really fucks with his head.

No one really knows about it either. Twilight, who is the one closest to him, is only close enough to make Four feel like he doesn't have to be "The Responsible One". Which is a good start. But considering everything they've all been through together it doesn't look good for everyone to rank even lower than that. Everyone else must be on, like, friendship level 1-3. And that's not nearly enough to unlock his tragic backstory.

And Four is really good at seeming fine - he’s quiet and mostly polite. He doesn’t broadcast what he feels and he stonewalls like no one else. And no one looks too closely at him because of this. There are other Links with louder, more obvious problems and that lets Four fade into the background. The guys might be able to tell that there's something wrong, but no one's close enough to identify exactly what it is. And he doesn't feel close enough to them to share, either.

Add this to everything internal that Four deals with, you just end up with a guy who's so blocked off that no one even knows where to start. The guys can't even get their foot into the metaphorical door of Four's feelings because he welded it shut years ago.

And so I think that it's going to take a powerful external force acting upon the household to finally force something to bend or break - and it'll either be Four's silence or the other guys' willingness to stay out of it. (Probably the guys tho. I'm pretty sure Four would literally rather die than speak up at this point.)

Good thing everybody else in that house is fully willing to throw down for him, even if he himself doesn't know it.

[the-teddy-bear-butch]

the vitriol for light mode is so valid. tell me about your poor little meow meow blorbo from dnd if you so wish

WAHOO

You know that TikTok audio from the Lego movie where the astronaut wants to build a space ship and he’s like “you’re not gonna tell me no” or whatever? Me rn :3 Apologies in advance for the long rant but!! You did technically ask for it hehe

ANYWAY, technically none of them are *my* poor little meow meow blorbos because I’m the Dungeon Master!! But I am genuinely obsessed with all of them

@haaawaiianshirt plays Delilah, an aasimar path of the beast barbarian. She was born and raised in a religious commune type situation before running away after being responsible for the death of a friend, and then being adopted by a sheriff in a small town. She later became his deputy, but they can’t outrun their past. The god this commune worshipped, Omen, is reaching out, and it seems he has some sort of plan for her that she does NOT want to be a part of. They’re also reflavored so that their path of the beast forms aren’t tail, claws, whatever, it’s cherub, seraphim, and throne form!! Which we got to work on together and I think it’s really cool. Emmie jokes I have shared custody of Delilah hehe, and I’ve probably done the most writing for her thus far

@suwunnysideup is playing Belladonna, a reborn tiefling grave cleric (with a bonus level in fighter!)!! They were raised from death by an evil cult called the Order of the Rotting Eye, which serves a rival god to Omen called Char’gothikon. Their past is intrinsically linked to Delilah’s, but both characters are still figuring out how. She’s recent been revealed to have more than one soul piloting their body, and are under the influence of something dark. They are currently trying to rescue their wife, Aasharni, from the clutches of the Order, who are demanding powerful Relics in return. She is also a werewolf, as of session two! They are the sweetest ever. They’re also 7 feet tall and we’re all really normal about it

@daughterofdrearburh is Nora Elliot, a rough around the edges “human” (werecoyote) ranger!! Her specific subclass has yet to be revealed in game, but she has abilities somehow related to other dimensions. A group called the Horizon Walkers, also servants of Omen, have made their connection to her known, and are seemingly trying to recruit her. She’s a terrible little beast and we all love her so dearly. She’s best friends with Morgan, and grew up in the same town as Delilah, but she can be a little aloof. She doesn’t like to trust people, and recently got shot by Morgan (under a vampiric charm) and lost the one bit of trust she had placed in anyone. Also she died and came back with black eyes but that went away so I’m sure it’s fine

@ninthhousesteel is playing Ruewen Simber, another normal human!! She’s a fighter, champion archetype, only she somehow has access to spare the dying and was able to use a scroll, despite “not being a spellcaster.” She was a socially awkward farm girl who didn’t even believe in monsters before joining the group and quickly having to confront that fact. She discovered a not at all cursed sword that was later revealed to in some way be connected to Char’gothikon. Also, she died in one session, but returned without the help of revivify—but with dark veiny scarring across her shoulder that appears to be spreading��

@candle-lion plays everyone’s favorite unethical evil lesbian, Doctor Morgan Lancaster. She’s a doctor who Jekyll and Hyde’d herself. She’s a “shifter” circle of the moon druid with a few levels in artificer. She was a doctor in a town called Dusty Springs, which was terrorized by vampires from a coven called the Onyx Eye Coven for many years. She has a HUGE vendetta against vampires, and is damn determined to exterminate every single one she sees. In an effort to become stronger and protect people, she made an experimental serum, which turned her into a monster. During times of stress, at will, or occasionally at random, she transforms into a “bad taxidermy wolf monster” but apparently mostly maintains control. She’s looking for a cure for herself, and recently discovered she too is somehow connected to Char’gothikon.

@lavenderlevetan is a petty vampire and we fucking love her. Seraphina is a half elf now vampire and she’s a fighter as well!! She has canonically killed 1000+ people over 20 years of being a vampire!! But she specifically chooses to go after bounties, and specifically those that list “wanted dead or alive.” She’s actually the nicest person ever until you (Morgan) give her a reason to be petty. She’s also the most charming of the group and her expertise in persuasion has made her mvp of multiple sessions. She was dragged into this mess while trying to find a missing person for a bounty, and thus far has yet to discover why her specifically, when it seems every other character is here for a Reason

Morgan and Seraphina hate each other and they want to kiss about it so bad. When any of us post about morphine, that’s them LMAO. Deliladonna is obviously Delilah and Belladonna. Norue are the slowest slow burn ever

And while I’m the DM and don’t have a PC, I do have a special little guy NPC that I’m a little obsessed with. Her name is Brozi and she’s a half orc way of mercy monk. She was Delilah’s best friend (and for some time, girlfriend) after the aasimar arrived in Sawtooth City and together they were the worst teenagers ever. Brozi isn’t going with the party, but she and Delilah are still very close, and their goodbye will be hard. While Delilah is gone, they get to achieve their lifelong dream of opening a bakery 🫶

In any case. Cowboy dykes. With horror. Themes of free will, losing control, found family, and learning to trust and overcome prejudice. The friendship dynamics took everyone by surprise. Belladonna and Seraphina are undead besties. Ruewen and Seraphina play go fish. Delilah and Morgan are slowly fixing each other. Nora and Morgan are also fixing each other. Morgan is super protective of Ruewen and it’s very sweet. I would die for any one of them. I’m obsessed with them a healthy amount.

This is the party 🫶

(In order left to right: Morgan, Seraphina, Belladonna, Delilah, Ruewen, Nora)

[lunarrolls]

hiii luna hiii you said for the ask game we could do dnd characters so if you want to, the Wish spell with Alden and Perle?

elysium you little shit. giving me the ultimate angst spell with my silly little blorbos. well TOO BAD. nobody’s casting wish even though there’s definitely a timeline in my mind in which that scenario becomes real BUT you can have some pre-campaign shenanigans because i Do Love Them So Much,

•

Wish is a 9th level conjuration spell on the sorcerer and wizard spell lists.

Wish is the mightiest spell a mortal creature can cast. By simply speaking aloud, you can alter the very foundations of reality in accord with your desires.

The basic use of this spell is to duplicate any other spell of 8th level or lower. You don’t need to meet any requirements in that spell, including costly components. The spell simply takes effect.

•

Perle sits draped over Alden’s windowsill. He’s engaged in some crafty new thing, probably homework, but that’s alright—Perle’s an expert at talking to the air, and Alden’s an expert at half-listening in a wonderful way that never makes her feel belittled. It’s part of why she likes him so much.

“Sage?” Perle asks, kicking her legs back and forth. “Saaaage?”

“Mm,” Alden responds, not looking up from their work. “What’s that?”

“Elle told me,” Perle says conspiratorially, “that there’s some crazy magic out there. And she would know, right? She’s got all that—that weird—well, you know. I’ve told you about Elle, right?”

“Mhm,” Alden says, fiddling with something very small in the contraption set on his worktable. 

“Right, well, today, her ballad—I actually got to sit in the audience this time and really listen to what she was saying rather than having to perform alongside her with those lights I just learned, and the lyrics! They were so mystical, almost heroic! Absolutely gorgeous, in my book. So I asked her where she got the inspiration.”

Perle grins, flopping onto his back to stare up at the small crescent of starlight that’s just barely visible from Alden’s window. “She said that her mother and her mother’s mother and so on and so forth—all that shit, the generational stuff, you get it—passed on stories of great magical prowess, of a spell so powerful, it could reshape reality. She said that the spell plucks a star from the sky and forces it to grant you a wish. The caster has to wrangle a star into submission, Sage, that’s—that’s fucking crazy, right?”

Alden actually looks up at that, considering their words. “I think I’ve heard of something like that. Vaguely. Obviously, it’s banned in Piltover—“

“—right, this definitely happened outside Piltover, even before the undercity was here,” Perle adds, nodding along.

“Yeah, yeah, but… I think it’s taught, still. At least, its existence is. It’s probably just a fable, anyway. There’s no way magic like that exists out there.”

“Right, right,” Perle half-heartedly agrees. “But, you know, it’s fun to think about. Like, if you had a wish like that, what would you do?”

Alden pauses, staring thoughtfully off into the distance. “Um, I’m not sure. That’s kind of a big ask, isn’t it? The kind of power to reshape reality… seems like I’d be a waste of a caster to have that.”

Perle frowns and sits up abruptly. “I don’t think so. You’re the most capable caster I’ve ever seen. You could run Hextech yourself, probably better than—“

“Oh, come on, Perle,” Alden scoffs, leaning back. “Don’t be rude.”

Perle relishes in the brief excitement in his chest at Alden using his new name. It’s been a long, long time since he was anyone but Abalone to anyone, even his mothers. He can’t remember a time he’d been anything different, actually, and it felt… good, personal, intimate, friendly, safe, to have a name just for trusted people. 

“I wouldn’t be rude to two random rich bastards if you weren’t mean to yourself,” Perle mumbles, crossing their arms. “But whatever. If I had a wish, I’d use it—well, actually… hm.”

“See? It’s hard!”

“I don’t know nearly as much magic as you do, that’s not fair!” Perle pouts. “And I can’t cast water magic with my hands at will, Perle,” Alden points out gently. “You’re also not allowed to be mean to yourself.”

“One day, one of us will be powerful enough to get a wish, and when that day comes, we’ll figure out what we want,” Perle decides. “Until then, we gotta think about it.”

Alden gives her a half-smile that indicates they don’t really believe her, but they definitely want to. “Sure.”

[whumpy-wyrms]

are u in any fandoms? what are ur interests besides whump? u don’t have to answer i’m just curious!!

someone’s asking me about my interests i can’t NOT answer

this got a bit long tho so i’m putting it under the read more for people who don’t care/are only here for the whump

OKOK. so i’m kinda in the starkid/nerdy prudes must die fandom rn but i know for a fact if i finished adventure time and started watching fiona and cake, that would quite literally become my entire personality for the next 3 months because simon and prismo (and marceline and princess bubblegum and all my other favorite characters) make me insane. but i haven’t done that because well. i’ve gotta write tllr yknow..

anyway, my absolute most favorite pieces of media of all time are undertale and deltarune guys. i cant put in words how much those games mean to me holy shit. as i’m writing this i’m sitting next to my jevil and sans and spamton plushie and they are saying hi. anywayyy yeah i was in the deltarune fandom for a bit it was fun. spamton is silly fucked up creature. jevil is my all time favorite tho

AND THE MAGNUS ARCHIVES… my favorite thing ever fr. y’all. LISTEN TO TMA SERIOUSLY YOU’LL PROBABLY LIKE IT!! it’s a horror podcast and it’s seriously the best fuckinf thing ever it’s so amazing seriously. it’s a bit hard to get into at first because season 1 is less story driven BUT HOLY SHIT. AHHHH ITS SO FUCKING GOOD. jon is one of my favorite blorbos ever and so is michael because he’s a silly distortion guy. just trust me and listen to TMA it will actually change your life.

also i love the amazing world of gumball so fucking much. i wasn’t allowed to watch cartoon network as a kid (idk why??) so i first watched tawog last year and holy shit holy shit it’s my favorite thing ever. rob. ROB!!!! ROB IS MY ALL TIME FAVORITE CHARACTER. SO IS MR SMALL. AHHHH!!!! anyway i love tawog i’ve drawn a lot of fanart and even wrote a 60k word fanfiction (about what happens after The Inquisition because that ending fucked me up) that i’ve Never and will probably never show anyone because it’s probably Not that good. but it was sooo Important to me back then. tawog just means so much to me it :))) it changed me as a person. nobody’s a nobody and everybody is weird like you and me.

i also really like hollow knight! i haven’t played it in a while but i was at 111% completion on one of my playthroughs (CURSE YOU PANTHEON 4). i’m also super fucking excited for silksong obviously and i will say this now: WHEN SILKSONG FINALLY RELEASES… i will probably go on hiatus here LMAO. sorry but guys. SILKSONG…. honestly same for new deltarune chapters. the second chapters 3, 4, and 5 release it is sooo over for me. i probably won’t post much here for a few months during that. but that’s fine!! i’ll never abandon tllr but sometimes some things are more important to my silly little brain :3

gravity falls quite literally changed my life in 2018. like i can’t even explain it, but it’s how i was introduced to online fandoms and fanart in general. dipper LITERALLY made me trans (not literally but pretty much). it’s how i started watching other amazing cartoons and series i love, it’s literally what made me get into drawing art and writing and stuff. it’s what made me start making ocs. it literally made me an artist guys. which is how i started writing. without gravity falls and it’s effect it had on me, this account might have never existed?? i’m being super dramatic but wowww. i was so autistic about that silly cartoon

minecraft i love. i’ve been playing minecraft for over a decade and won’t stop because it’s like, probably a special interest of mine? i’ve watch minecraft youtubers forever too, hermitcraft and the life series are my favorite. i’m a huge grian fan too, been watching him since the evo days. anyway if u play minecraft and wanna play with me sometime, feel free to ask!!! :D i love making new friends and playing video games with people!!! let’s make a world together!!!

also i like terraria and stardew valley, and animal crossing new horizons but i haven’t played that in a few years. hmm other games i like are oneshot game, NITW, omori, celeste, cuphead, fnaf (although i’ve only played the first 5 games and am super super behind on the lore), ori, dead cells, untitled goose game (this is for u anon), and probably more i’m forgetting! feel free to recommend me some video games and we can even play together :3

other series i love are the umbrella academy. soooo autistic about this show it’s fucking AMAZING!!!!!! klaus is my favorite character. anyway i also like what we do in the shadows. it made me super autistic about vampires (before i watched this show i kinda thought vampires were cringe IDK WHY I’M SORRYY). the netflix show lucifer made me insane a few years ago and is what probably indirectly inspired me to give Dew wings. i also like our flag means death, breaking bad, moon knight, and camp here in there (another podcast i HIGHLY HIGHLY recommend, will wood made the soundtrack!)

i LOVEEE FINAL SPACE!! avocato has been my pfp on this account forever and now i feel like i can’t ever change it (i don’t want to). final space is seriously amazing!!! but it was cancelled and basically got fucked over by the networks- infinity train style. idk, stuff happened and it was removed from hbo max so there’s not really anywhere to watch it (legally) except for netflix international iirc? but it’s getting removed from that too i think. super fucking sad :( it ended on a huge cliffhanger too BUT there is a graphic novel being made!!!! super excited about that!

other cartoons i like are over the garden wall (dressed up as wirt for halloween last year), the owl house, adventure time, regular show, steven universe, infinity train, bojack horseman, rick and morty, mlp, the midnight gospel, and so much more i’m forgetting. OH anime i like are death note, demon slayer (haven’t caught up yet on the latest seasons tho), and MOB PSYCHO 100!! vampire in the garden on netflix is really amazing as well.

this is sooo long but now i gotta talk about my favorite music artists. WILL WOOD (AND THE TAPEWORMS) IS MY FAVORITEEE. I ALSO LOVEEE JHARIAH!!! AND HARLEY POE!!!!! top three of all time. i also like toby fox obviously, and glass beach (LITERALLY GOING TO SEE THEM IN MARCH AND I AM SOOO EXCITED!!!), mcr, shayfer james, weezer, mitski, lemon demon, set it off, tally hall, gerard way, and probably more i’m forgetting. i also like musicals!! (i was in the spongebob musical earlier this year for school! i was larry the lobster :))

so guys. GUYSSS. IF YOU LIKE MUSICALS, GO WATCH NERDY PRUDES MUST DIE!!!! OR JUST WATCH THE ENTIRE HATCHETFEILD TRILOGY!!! WHILE UR AT IT, WATCH ALL THE STARKID MUSICALS ACTUALLY!!! this is my current hyperfixation. the lords in black are amazing, npmd is amazing. i love everything about it. go watch it seriously, it’s fucking awesome and the soundtrack is AMAZING!!!

i think this is it. this got super long but i’m super passionate about my interests so yeah. this is pretty much everything. one very important thing (literally my special interest) that i didn’t mention are my other ocs. i have wayyy more ocs that are completely separate from the tllr ones. i don’t wanna post about them here though, cuz they’re not whump related and i want to keep my main account separate from this account. but they’re my favorite blorbos in existence so…

if u WANT to know about my other ocs, u can feel free to dm me for the username of my other fandom/oc account. that’s where i post other stuff that i don’t post here, like my fanart and my other oc stuff. i don’t post writing or anything like that there, so ur not missing out on that.

anyway those are most of my main interests! things i didn’t mention that im also really interested in are reptiles (snakes specifically), and animals in general. i have two leopard geckos named Lars and Alphys and i reallyyyy want a pet snake but my family hates snakes :(( anyway i’m rambling

thanks for the ask!!

[kimdokjas]

tag games! 💫

i’m like years late for a lot of these I’M SO SORRY

1) tagged by @tachiehara​ thanks for the tag mary 💕 this was so fun to fill out!

five movies

what we did on our holiday (2014)

palm springs (2020)

this beautiful fantastic (2016)

the man from uncle (2015)

fantastic mr. fox (2009)

four songs

revenge, and a little bit more - unlike pluto

lament of orpheus - darren korb

green & gold - lianne la havas

when the morning comes - hall & oates

three essentials (besides food, water, phone, etc.)

good books

extra large coffee mug

cozy sweaters and blankets

two books

the aleph and other stories - jorge luis borges

an absolutely remarkable thing - hank green

one quote

“I saw all the mirrors on earth and none of them reflected me.” - jorge luis borges, the aleph

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2) tagged by @itadorii-yuuji thanks for tagging me bestie 💖 this was so fun and super customizable!

(picrew)

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3) tagged by @sarejanet thank you for the tag dear! i love these 💞

rules: tag 9 people you would like to know/catch up with

last song: dedicated to the one i love - the mamas & the papas

last tv show: uhhh it’s been ages (i’m on a webnovel spree rn) but i think it was probably 86!

currently watching/listening to: extraordinary attorney woo, it’s such a wholesome show fr 😭

currently reading: mist unlimited

current obsession: orv brainrot 24/7 babeyyy

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4) tagged by @crimsonrosee thank you for tagging me emma 💖 i loved the art style, it’s absolutely gorgeous!

(picrew)

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5) tagged by @myownangel thank you for the tag nuu 💕 i love taking quizzes lol, oh we even got the same answer!

which type of love interest would you be in a dating simulator? (uquiz | original post)

The sweetheart with an enigmatic dark past

You're always polite and kind with others. That makes people feel comfortable around you and many would consider you a close friend. However, you seldom feel connected with those around you. You feel like they don't know you, the real you, and they never will because you'll never allow them. It takes a great amount of time and trust for you to show yourself as you truly are, because you repress most of your feelings and desires, and mask them with a calm and collected personalty. It just seems easier that way, safer. But remember that if you bottle everything up, it will explode one day, maybe in ways you aren't proud of.

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6) tagged by @reinerist​ ahh this was adorable, thanks for the tag robin! 💞

(picrew)

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7) tagged by @tachiehara​ @myownangel​ @reinerist​ - thank you for the tag mary, nuu, and robin! 💕

“get to know someone better” tag game

relationship status: single mother of multiple fictional blorbos

favorite color: blue 💙

favorite food: my answer would probably change each day lol but rn it’s any and all kinds of sushi!

song stuck in my head: pantomime - imagine dragons

last thing I googled: reverse osmosis

time: 4pm

dream trip: so many ahh probably ireland, scotland, greece, and/or japan

something I want: to learn literally every language ever pls why can’t i do it :/

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tagging for any of these: (as always, no pressure at all!) @itadorii-yuuji @crimsonrosee @reinerist @myownangel @tachiehara @sarejanet @karura @kyaa-a @kishou @itachis @vanitasuu @anyaaforger @aanyaforger @tohmura @gojosattoru @spyforger @bxchira @theforgers @giyyu​ + anyone else who wants to join! 💕💕💕

[littleviolence2016]

inspired by @b1mb1b00

1) i would rather not say

2) 7-10

3) i dont have one but would like one - i know when i get one despite me wanting one its gonna be really hard for me to open up because im not the best at being vulnerable and thats like the most vulnerable thing i can do - leave someone in charge of my inner child - i have 2 partners but i never like brought it up to them ya know like 1 is aware of what cgl is the other absolutely no idea & i dont wanna ruin our dynamic

4) build a bear workshop & mcdonalds - i love stuffies and wanna see how they’re made and be part of it itll be so sick & mcdonalds has the best chicken nuggets and fries fight me about it im right yeah they aren’t dino shaped but i can get over it they are the best AND i get a free toy and there’s no catch its great - another would be chuck-e-cheese i wanted to spend my birthday there again but haven’t had the money to i love games alot and maybe i can finally win something at the top of the prize wall even big me would want a chuck-e-cheese date okay i love games and pizza id always prefer chuck-e-cheese over dave and busters

5) i only have sippy cups & stuffed animals & toys - i would like more when i live in a bigger space i dont really need much because im a bigger boy but id like mostly food stuff like plates spoons i like the spoons with the plastic handles alot they have to be teaspoons cuz tablespoons are the devil they attack the senses in my mouth in a /neg way it’s awful who would do that to help regress maybe some of the handles spoons can be cute i dont want the bowl part plastic though thats also evil to me personally and i like the bath tablets that make the bath colors too and shower crayons i want those and blankets i love thoses and yeah i want more things when its safe

6) i dont know i dont think so i am into petplay tho does that count?

7) not that much different than big me i guess you can say even MORE childish than i already am (ik thats not the best word cuz they’re a child duh) i guess more baby like - like playful, bratty, causes problems on purpose im more quiet than big me but i also don’t have anyone i trust enough to talk to in that state so im mainly going based on my alters which i don’t say much

8) coloring because drawing frustrates me when it doesn’t go on the paper right

9) i don’t know that many 😿 i just met @adorableblindemo and they r real sweet

10) it depends - most times it’s voluntary but in really high stress situations i can regress usually then i tend to get mute like nonverbal i have select mutism and also other stuff its just scary

11) yeah thats what i would consider my voluntary is most of the time because i dont have a space that would allow me to even think about regressing fully

12) no

13) mac & cheese, cereal, chocolate milk/hot chocolate but if its hot chocolate it has to he more warm than hot because im a punk

14) love them adore then need to protect them

15) not really im usually rejected so i just don’t anymore i actively avoid it even

16) idk really i’ve never been called like pet names ive vibed with just nicknames

17) kids shows & having things in my mouth

18) no because i don’t really have a safe space so i always need to b on like high alert to switch back into big mode asap

19) its so hard to find like a side that i vibe with all i see is the stereotypical stuff (younger/baby regressers who r and super pastelly & like preferred not alternative baby things and have baby gear like diapers and pacis) i dont see that many middle regressiors or ones who like alternative pop culture things

20) i can’t find that many for fandoms im in but the ones i do i really do like i wanna make a masterpost one day mainly for myself cuz i wish i could find them easier its like i gotta dig for content

21) very - im real sensitive the air could blow the wrong way and im jumping

22) i mostly indulge in rpf so i don’t have anyone fictional per say just blorbos from bandom and select tv shows

23) no different than my room now really i wanna beanbag

24) ive never realky tried it before it looks fun but im kinda shy

25) i want my childhood/innocence back it was taken too soon i wanna nurture that side of me when things were simpler and protect it not have to think about how hard things are now and how i can’t really get help for it because i simply cant afford it

26) yes mainly my comfort artists (mainly mcr & waterparks atm)

27) no i don’t have a cg i tried making a chore chart that i printed from a blog on here but forgot about it a few weeks in

28) like i said in #7

29) ive been told i had the potential to be and i think so because when im big i do tend to be more protective, parental, nurturing and just overall alpha like

30) i dont know what to say rly but hey if you like the content i post lets be friends i’ll try not to bite