#but I decided...to not finish that fic

[popppyfur]

EDIT: someone wrote a fic based off of this and im holding you all at gun point to read it rn

i did noooottt mean for this to be as long as it is lmao!! I LOVE THESE PINK BITCHES !!!!!

and their. questionable father

[choccy-milky]

herbology class 🌹🌿 (from chap 2 of my fic!)

[technically-human]

Stay near me now...

So have you guys read My love for you is true, I swear it is, it just will kill you in the end ? Because it killed me. It killed me, I am now dead like the boys.

This was a commission for @regretsofaghost and I loved every second of working on it, ESPECIALLY reading this beautiful fic. And this scene!!!

[itsmespicaa]

"Do you…also kinda miss those days in the mines, bro? Sure, it sucked to the pit and back but…things were so much simpler too, yknow?"

"…Shut up."

[dandelion-roots]

[ID: a series of drawings featuring Riz Gukgak from D20 Fantasy High. In the first, Pok holds Riz's shoulders in heaven as says, smiling, when you work until the dead of night, your friends know you do it because you love them. In the second, Riz is having a group hug with his party and the text reads, but is it really love that drives you, Riz Gukgak... In the next, a desperate, pleading Riz clutches the shoulder of an indifferent, faceless person and the text continues, ...or is it fear? In the fourth, Riz is younger and digging through crystals with bleeding hands; the text reads, what use are you when you can no longer dig. In the fifth, Kalina, shrouded in darkness with only her eyes glowing, reaches towards the camera with a smile; the text reads, when you're too scared to think. Sixth, Riz is filling out Fig and Kristen's papers under the light of a lamp, serious and tired; the text reads, when you're too tired to work. Seventh, Riz is lying in bed, eyes hidden behind hair, hand on his father's picture; the text reads, too sad to keep the mood up. Eighth, Baron stares into the camera; the text reads, too lonely, too insecure, too weird. Ninth, Baron is holding a defeated Riz by the throat; the text reads, to keep moving? Tenth, Riz is standing in the distance, holding his briefcase, and behind him is a football/soccer ball; the text reads, what use is a ball that can no longer roll? The last drawing just says none in brackets on a dark background. End ID]

[clairenatural]

Dean doesn't like the word "boyfriend." He decides this the second time Cas says it–the first time it was new, shiny, exciting. The second time, he fights the urge to cringe.

It's not the "boy" part. It's not. It would have been, for a long time, but he's dug all that shit up and unpacked all the suitcases. They hold hands in public. They kiss goodbye in front of his coworkers at the garage.

It's just–not enough. Not nearly. Jack comes home from hanging out with his friends and fills Dean on the gossip and his boyfriend and her girlfriend and–that's not them. "Boyfriend" feels like a cheap mockery. Like how demons used to tease.

He's heard "partner." He's heard it from Sam, to Eileen, but he doesn't know how he can stomach it. He's said that word too many times. I'm Agent Tyler and this is my partner, Agent Perry. This is my partner, Agent Page. My partner, Agent Stills. All lies. Sam says he likes it, that he's making it mean something real. Besides, Eileen loves it.

Good for them, Dean thinks. It makes his skin crawl.

So he sticks with “boyfriend” and he shrugs off the funny urge to protest every time Cas says it. It makes him happy, and honestly, it’s not like he has an alternative.

It’s a Sunday when he realizes that somehow, Cas does. They’re at the farmer’s market, like Cas is every weekend, but Dean had picked up weekend shifts and missed the past few. Cas is excited the whole way there, telling Dean about how he’d manage to befriend the local honey vendor in his absence, how she’d invited him to a beginner’s apiarist group she helps run. They beeline (heh) to the honey booth as soon as they get there, and the woman--Judith? Janice?--smiles up at them both, hands Cas a jar of honey like she’d been expecting him, and says “Oh, this must be the husband! I’ve heard so much about you.”

Dean stares at Cas. Cas stares at the honey. Judith/Janice stares at both of them, smile fading as the silence goes on a beat too long. 

Dean clears his throat. “Uh, yeah. The husband, that’s me! Ha ha.” Beside him, Cas relaxes, just barely. In front of him, the woman breathes an audible sigh of relief. “Sorry,” Dean shifts. “Just didn’t, um. Realize I was such a hot topic.” 

The smile he gets is almost sympathetic. “Oh, only good things. Here,” she hands him a business card. “You should also come out to our meeting on Wednesday. Lots of people bring their partners.” She leans in, almost conspiratorial. “Beekeeping can be wonderful for couples.”

It’s at this point that Cas clears his throat and finally looks up from the honey in his hand, evidently giving up hope on escaping this conversation. “Thank you, Janet.” (oh. Janet.) “Dean works late on Wednesdays, but I’m very excited to see you all.” He’s pulling out money as he says this, apparently deciding to just go ahead and end the entire interaction. He hands her the bills, grabs Dean’s hand, and is already moving away from the booth by the time Janet calls “See you Wednesday!” after them.

Cas drags him all the way back to the car without stopping for tomatoes, or Sam's carrots, or the free-range eggs that are way too expensive but Cas buys anyway because you can taste when the hen is well cared-for, Dean (whatever that means). They slide into the car, still not talking, and sit in silence for several long seconds. Dean stares at Cas, who stares out the windshield at the parking lot.

"I can explain," Cas speaks, finally, right as Dean was about to open his mouth and say anything to break the silence.

Dean pauses. Can you? Cause I feel like I missed a few chapters, he thinks.

"I don't work late on Wednesdays," he says instead.

"Oh." Now it's Cas staring at Dean, and Dean staring out at the asphalt.

He turns the keys. He drives them home.

Later, making dinner, Dean rolls the word around in his head. Husband. He's making his husband pasta (It's missing the tomatoes. He's made more with less).

Husband doesn't feel like a costume, like an ill-fitting suit and scratchy tie. It doesn't feel like high school gossip, or a monster trying to hit him where it hurts. It settles in warm in his chest.

It's just the two of them that night, and they're eating in the comfortable silence of the bunker until Dean clears his throat and brings it up. "Why does Janet at the farmer's market think we're married?"

Cas pauses, fork of pasta halfway to his mouth. He puts the fork down and takes a deep breath. "I'm sorry."

"I'm not mad," Dean hurries to clarify. "It's just that there's usually, uh. Steps, you know. Like a whole....thing."

"I'm aware." Cas sighs. "She assumed, seeing us around - the first time I spoke to her without you, she asked where my husband was. And I..."

"You didn't correct her?"

"...No. I, um." Cas is looking down at his plate again. He picks up the fork, still half-full of pasta, then puts it back down again. "I didn't want to?" He says the end of the sentence like a question but looks back up at Dean and squints just a bit, and Dean knows he's watching for a reaction.

"Uh huh."

"It felt trivial."

"To tell her we're not married?"

"To call you my boyfriend." For the first time, he stumbles over the word.

Dean blinks. "You--" he stops, brain processing too much information to finish that sentence. "Okay." He leans back in his chair. Sighs. Rubs a hand across his eyes and lets it drag down his face. "Okay, listen. I don't like boyfriend either, but we gotta...talk about it."

"We are talking about it. You don't like it either?" Cas leans forward as Dean slumps back, following him across the table.

Dean snorts. "No, man." He shakes his head. "It's been a decade. I've seen you die." Six times. But who's counting.

"I agree." Cas pauses, and then, as if it's the most natural conclusion in the world, "Will you marry me?"

Dean actually laughs at this. "You're asking me that now?"

Cas quirks an eyebrow at him. "I've grown quite fond of calling you my husband at the farmer's market. I'd like to continue."

Dean stares at him in disbelief. It's not how he'd pictured it going, but he also can't think of it going any other way. Slowly, he nods. "Yeah, okay. Let's be husbands."

Across the table, Cas grins at him.

"But we're getting rings," Dean points a finger at him, because something about this is going to be normal.

"If you'd like. Although I already told Janet that you can't wear a ring because of your work at the garage, and I don't wear mine in solidarity."

"Rings," Dean insists, and decides to overlook the rest of that sentence. For now. He stabs his fork into a pile of the pasta. "And let me stop for the damn tomatoes next time."

They get rings and wear them on chains around their necks. Cas puts a beehive on the hill, and there's a small ceremony in the summer - a "vow renewal" to Cas' beekeeping group, who all receive invites attached to little jars of honey. Janet gets the nicest one.

[twstyuna]

The transfer student looks familiar

The end of the event. Pain and agonies. Behold mine copium.

[forgetme-eternally-blissfully]

When Cale was Kim Rok Soo, back at the company, he never scared anyone. Sure, they worried for him, they feared his Records or they felt a subconscious chill when making eye contact but-

Rarely has he ever scared them.

Except the week he disappeared.

He got trapped underneath rubble, like his first meeting with Lee Soo Hyuk, but no one was there to save him this time. Three days, he was trapped; an uncanny parallel, maybe even more than a coincidence. But on the third day… something changed. He gained a new ability, something that snapped inside of him like a key that forgoes unlocking the mechanism entirely and breaks the lock itself.

He lifted a building off of its foundations.

The metal holding together the crevice he was huddled in snapped and groaned, while the rocks and concrete scratched and shattered like glass. He forced his way out and walked.

He walked away from the company.

If he had been within his mind, he would’ve gotten help, accepted food and water and healed his injuries.

He wasn’t. Within his mind, that is. He was strong, his senses had heightened to find food and all of his necessaries, but he couldn’t remember anything from his life as Kim Rok Soo.

Kim Rok Soo at this moment had fallen asleep, and Survival woke up. For 4 days, Survival walked, ate, drank, and breathed the life of Kim Rok Soo.

If you could call it living.

Eventually he was found, wandering and dirty, and seeing his team members let Rok Soo wake up, and Survival fell asleep.

Cale Henituse hasn’t had to do that. No, not yet, but time catches up eventually and Cale found himself in a perilous situation again.

Trapped inside of a collapsing building with no way to contact his friends who are expecting him to be back in 6 days. They were in a different world, so Cale only had a portion of his abilities, but it should've been enough. It hadn't.

4 days inside of the building, which shuddered and broke multiple times around him, finally, Survival opened its eyes.

It had taken longer because of Vitality of the Heart, but with all of his abilities weakened extensively, he had no options for escape.

Survival looks around dumbly. Within its own consciousness, it’s doing calculations. The structural integrity. The state of his body. The nearest food source.

Lifting the building off of its body is easy, but it takes several hours to progress its way out of the collapsing caverns. Survival breathes heavily, but doesn’t hesitate as it finally breaks through the side. The building tips over and crashes on the opposite side of where it is. Survival blinks from the impact, but only because of the dust.

It wanders for 3 days.

Finally, it gets found. By bandits.

It massacres them and steals their resources.

Soon after that, news breaks out about the supposed single-handed wipe out, and Raon finds him. Raon tries to speak to it, but after it deduced that Raon wasn’t a threat nor food, it walked away.

As a smart and clever dragon, Raon observed Cale before being so abruptly insulted. Multiple attempts to bring Cale back into those eyes, all failed attempts, Raon teleports the unwilling stranger back to the empire.

It doesn’t speak, it doesn’t respond to touch beyond a stern glance, and it only does the bare minimum to survive. It tried to store food under its bed after eating “enough”, and no amount of begging convinced it to not store the rations. It hasn’t bothered to use its powers either- like it doesn’t know it has them.

All attempts to speak are futile.

Choi Han even tried Korean, but it didn’t show any sign of understanding.

Rosalyn does research with Raon and Choi Han on what could have caused it.

Then they hear about the collapsed building. They hear about the bandits who had supposedly died a few days afterwards. Raon figures out that- yes- the stuff Cale had with him at the time used to belong to bandits.

A week after becoming Survival, days after being found, Cale opens his eyes on a bed.

“… They found me?” He muttered it so quietly, whisper soft, but Raon- apparently sleeping by his legs, jumps up with wide eyes.

“Human!”

Cale wants to sigh. How long was he asleep this time? By Raon’s expression, it must have beaten his previous records.

“Is it you? Is it really you? Say something! Say my name!”

Cale blinks in confusion. Two minutes ago he was dozing off inside of a dark hole that was close to collapsing, now— Raon wants to hear his name?

“… Raon Miru? Are you okay?” Cale sat up, ignoring his stiff body and pulling Raon into his lap. He seems to have lost a little weight?

“Human you must absolutely tell me everything you remember!”

While saying this, Raon was ordering everyone to stay out of Cale’s room with the exception of Choi Han and Rosalyn, as well as informing Beacrox to bring up food and to prepare tea.

Cale observes Raon, who is earnestly distressed for some reason, and concedes.

“The last thing I remember was falling asleep in a collapsing building.” Rosalyn gasps. She just entered the room with Choi Han, who is staring at Cale with a cold gaze.

“Why were you in there?” A chill runs down Cales spine at Choi Han’s voice.

“The conmen didn’t expect the building to collapse, they had likely planned something else. It just happened out of nowhere.” He doesn't say that he got lucky. He was next to one of the buildings main supports at the time, and the crumbling structure formed a bubble around him by chance.

Rosalyn goes pale.

Raon shouts, “I will destroy those bastards that made you go in there!”

“They’re already dead.” Cale shakes his head. Rosalyn covers her mouth. He hadn't said he got lucky, but it's obvious that he did. Did they almost lose Cale, and hadn't even known?

‘Three times…’ He’s been lucky with collapsing buildings three times now.

“Cale-nim…” Choi Han places a hand on his shoulder and Cale freezes in fear. “After the building collapsed, a bandit camp was destroyed, single handedly, a few days after. Raon found you wandering- with their stuff on you.”

Immediately, Cale figured it out. It must be an ability. He recalls the similar event that happened in the past and the dots are easy to connect.

But- he can’t say anything about that with Rosalyn in the room.

So all he says, is…

“I guess some part of me really wanted to live.”

[cheralith]

a push-and-pull dynamic with sae fares well with him, i think.

in the sense of the more you try to push yourself away from him, the more he pulls you right back in. i think if he understands he let you slip through the crevices of his fingers once, that when an opportunity arises to reel you back into him again, his grip is firm the moment you're back into his arms from even the slightest touch.

initially, you were the one that focused on him. you and him were neighbors, with you just admiring him from the sidelines and keeping tabs on him as his soccer career flourishes, always wishing him well when he comes back home from spain. it’s fine at first—nothing he’s not used to. but years go by, you stay the same, and he finds it suffocating, having someone that has access to him keeping a close eye, so he snaps at you one evening—tells you off, tells you you're weird for acting like such a fan in his proximity. poor you, all you wanted to do was just extend your support to him.

so he leaves you there for awhile, wallowing while he’s thinking good riddance—one less eye on him.

until a few years later, he discovers you're now a well-regarded sports journalist covering for soccer. and he thinks nothing of it, only assuming that this was your way of keeping an eye on him only now in the sense you're getting paid...

... but when he searches up your name in accordance with his, to see what you've written about him just out of curiosity… nothing pops up. and to sae, he's stunned. the most you mention about him is his last name, and it's in the context of rin, not him.

the lack of attention bothers him, despite all the glory from his team being spotlighted to him. so he tells his manager to extend a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to you—a private, one hour interview with itoshi sae. something to bait you with.

and you take it. next thing you know, you're face to face with the man that told you off for being a creep for keeping tabs on him, only for the same man to be requesting your presence to regard him and only him.

you tell him off once the interview ends, saying this'll be the last time you'll see and cover him, that you have other people to pay attention to. but you later receive a project from your boss telling you that you'll be traveling with re al and covering all of their games from start to finish for this season.

you ask him incredulously if this has been done before and where this came from, but he says no and that re al's manager had requested you specifically to document them... that it'd bring in a massive amount of readers... all on the behalf of a specific someone.

there's something addicting about the chase of it all. it doesn't matter how far you'll go if you were to distance yourself for the better, because sae knows what he wants -he may have lost sight of it once, but you'd be a fool to think that he'd be making it again twice.

[midoristeashop]

uhh, meow?

I swear they still run wild in my brain I JUST got custody back from art block I SWEAR

also new brushes I’m messing with :D (they’re cute but will probs not use in the future 🙂‍↕️)

[myrruwrites]

"Dinner party" | Vamp!Teen!Vi x Fem!reader

Pairing: Vamp!Teen!Violet x Human!Fem!Reader. | CW: Suggestive? not too much. they’re still young after all. Blood & Vampire feeding obv. Cursing. | Vi needs you while she’s trying to learn how to rein in her instincts. | WC; 706 | CC; 3.9K

You’re contemplating what to wear to the outing tonight, your fingers carding through your wardrobe. You settle on something simple, shorts and a baggy tee. I mean, you don’t want to overthink it, might as-well go for a casual choice. Vander had invited you over, as you’re Vi’s closest friend. You’ve been best friends ever since you were younger, inseparable almost. No one could get you to stop hanging out, even when you caused trouble together. Grounded? You’d just sneak out to the other’s house. It was second nature at this point. Although, at this dinner you won’t be the only guest. Vi’s brothers and sister will also have friends over. You’re not usually keen on big get togethers, but you make the effort to go, for Vi.

As you arrive, you notice a few boys already at the door, speaking to Vander and heading inside. You recognise them from school; though you’ve never spoken to them apart from maybe asking to borrow a pen. You assume they’re Mylo and Claggor’s friends, taking a deep breath to steel yourself. Why are you afraid? That’s stupid. This place is essentially your second home. Cmon, snap out of it! You are in-fact, snapped out of it, as you notice Vi in the doorway, in a passionate discussion with Vander. Your expression softens as you realise the boys must’ve already slipped past him, and you stroll up to the door. "Hello, Mr Vander" you say softly. "Just Vander is fine, I’ve been telling you that for ages. Really, any friend of Vi’s can just call me Vander." He corrects and you hastily nod. You would’ve spent more time hanging around, talking to those around you, but before you can process anything, Vi is already grabbing your wrist and pulling you into her room.

Before you can even realise what’s happening, you’re met with Vi’s piercing stare. She’s managed to climb onto your lap, holding you still with her weight, although she’s careful not to hurt you. Fuck, what is she doing? You expect her to stop, to climb off, or atleast speak. But she just sits there. She’s just sat there, panting softly as if trying to catch her breath. You feel the air around you become heavier, an undercurrent of tension surrounding you that wasn’t there before. It’s subtle, but noticeable. Vi’s face is inching closer, her heartbeat racing, you can hear it. Her warm breath fanning your face, making a shiver run up your spine. You can’t help but think.. is she actually going to kiss you? Is it really happening?

Your thought process is cut off by the feeling of a sudden 'prick' in your neck, you feel a warm liquid seep down. Oh! Oh. Vi buried her face in your neck, not that you mind. Infact, you tilt your head to the side, embracing the burning feeling her fangs give you as they draw blood. This had never happened before, Vi had never even gotten close to loosing control, this is new. Even though you’ve always been aware Vi was from a vampire lineage, you had never expected to be in such a position. Vi’s knee between your legs as she’s ontop of you, her face buried in your neck, albeit fangs too, but still. You can hear her breathing begin to calm, returning back to normal as she slowly drinks. She’s almost.. gentle. Gentle is a foreign concept for Vi, it’s always been as though she didn’t know what the word even meant. Though, maybe that was just her being a traditional reckless teen. This.. this was different. She was actively trying to keep you safe, keep you comfortable. You can’t help but let out a slight whimper at the compromising position mixed with the strange sensation filling your neck and chest. The noise causes Vi to still, pulling back slightly. "Did you just..?" She murmurs. Your face turns pink, and in a last attempt to void her seeing you all flustered, you gently push her head back towards your neck. "..shut up," you respond sharply, though there’s no real aggression in your tone. You feel her sink her teeth back in, relaxing into your touch again. Yeah, you could get used to this.

[insomnya777]

hello???? etho asked gem if joel was "treating her well"?????? am i the only one freaking out about this?????????

[thegatorsgoose]

More art inspired/for @playedcrowd5610 ‘s Danny phantom x transformers fic. Sorry not sorry, I’m having a blast drawing them. Though I may have gotten a little to into the bottom part lmao

This one is pretty self explanatory, Danny’s grumpy Soundwave won’t let him help, one cus he’s tinny he’s just a squishy baby and two cus he doesn’t want the autobots to get any ideas. Danny doesn’t just dip cus that would make Soundwave disappointed and he dose NOT want that

If you enjoy Danny phantom or transformers, I definitely recommend you check out their fic https://archiveofourown.org/works/60521740/chapters/154507732

Also some close ups cus I said so

[blythesarchives]

Logan being a brat tamer scratches my brain just right.

18+ MDNI | Dom/sub themes. 'P/t' is used for preferred title.

Logan is not exactly known for his patience, or to be pushed around.

He would absolutely put you in your damn place if he needed to. You think you can get away with being bratty? I don't think so.

If you so much as say 'no' or disobey him when he tells you to do something, you are over his knee and his hand is smacking your ass at least ten times. You don't realize how effective this method of punishment is until you realize his adamantium skeleton makes his spanks hurt a lot. You're brought to tears every time, and he rubs over your ass when he's done. "Are finished being a brat, hm?" his hand continued to rub soothingly over your red hot backside, handprints imbedded in your skin by now.

"Uh-huh..." you manage, making him smirk slightly as he pulls you up into him. "Such a naughty thing. Why can't you just behave for once?" he asks with a light scold to his voice, but it's mostly calm by now. "What the hell am I gonna do with you?" he sounds a bit amused now, still holding you after and rubs your exposed thigh.

I think a lot of people assume he wouldn't be into toys because he sort of has that 'I'm all you need' vibe, but come on. He has things for you. He's not insecure about it either. And he certainly doesn't get jealous over silicone.

Sometimes he will make you sit on a dildo while you suck him off, knowing it drives you crazy not to have his cock in you. You want him, not silicone. But he doesn't give in if you've been naughty. "You're a lucky girl/boy, at least I let you have something put in that greedy hole of yours." Logan grunts out, watching you struggle to take his dick down your throat, "You've been so unruly today, now you have to deal with your punishment. My cock won't be going in your sweet honey hole, so sit there like a good girl/boy and take your punishment."

Even if you're a brat from Hell, he will tame you down. A single glance and you stiffen and instantly rethink your attitude. "Talk to me like that again, and I will show everyone here why you always scream my name."

He's a good dom though. He knows how to take care of you. Maybe you act like a brat as a way to cope with something that happened in your life, and you need the stability of a dom like that. Logan's had his fair share of traumatized buddies, he is traumatized himself ffs. He can read you easily and identify exactly what's wrong or where your behavior stems from. He can differentiate when your brattiness is on purpose and playful, or when you're struggling mentally. And he will approach it properly.

Sometimes you don't need to be spanked or forced to cum until you're crying for forgiveness and he wipes those tears away. Sometimes you need a sit down and to just talk. Sometimes a verbal scolding with firm yet gentle authority does the trick, or you need to cry and he sits with you so you're not alone.

Not all of it is about sex.

Logan is good with whatever you may need. He's there for you, which is the most important thing. "Come on pup...what's the matter today? You're being a brat for no reason. Why are you being so bad, hm...tell your p/t." The way he asks in a different tone than normal can make you crumble, and sometimes a good cry or needing some grounding helps a lot.

Maybe your brattiness stems from a lack of care in your life, or an absence of a nurturing figure so when Logan shows himself to be a protector, you lash out with bratty behavior.

He obviously notices this, and he is unmoving. You might get frustrated, used to pushing people away and his stern authority frustrates you to lashing out. Logan is smart; he can handle your little tantrum. "You can fight all you want, little one. You're not gonna move me." He says calmly, hypothetically since he's not actually cornering you in any way. He watches you get mad but eventually his persistence pays off and you realize he's not going to hurt you like others may have done in the past.

Logan is the protective figure you needed. He keeps you in line, but he also tends to your needs. Sexually, emotionally, physically, mentally. He's a good dom, able to handle your behavior with ease and keep hold of you when necessary as he fucks you to climax.

That’s all I got.

[a-most-beloved-fool]

For the ask prompt game...

Spirk #17 to distract

"Report," Kirk ordered. The word buzzed low against Spock's ear, quiet and audibly tense.

"Less than two minutes until they reach our location, Captain," Spock replied promptly. "Commander Scott will need at least another eight before the transporter is operable again." His voice was equally hush, despite their perceived solitude. He had seen carelessness take far too many lives during his time in Starfleet; he would not allow it to take his captain as well - and, illogically, Spock could not quite dispense of the phantom sensation of eyes on the back of his neck.

"We'll need to bluff it," Kirk decided, looking grim.

His gaze was strangely intense against Spock, full of rioting emotion, and, almost, Spock wished to look away. He did not. Instead, he nodded, holding steady eye contact.

The odds, Spock knew, that Kirk's gambit - whatever it may be - would succeed were... poor. The guards had, after all, seen their faces. But Kirk would keep fighting right until the bitter end, and Spock, of course, would be right beside him.

Solemn, he vowed, "I shall follow your lead," though he knew Kirk would not have doubted it. Still, the unnecessary words were well worth the way the tension around Kirk's eyes melted away, the somber set of his mouth slipping instead into a golden-edged smile.

Almost wonderingly, a soft chuckle fell from those lips, incongruous in their surroundings and entirely treasured. "What would I do without you?" Kirk asked, reaching up to exert gentle pressure on Spock's bicep.

I pray you never need find out, Spock made to say, getting only so far as drawing in breath before the sound of distant footsteps drew them both from their quiet moment, snuffing the words before they could take shape. "Eighteen seconds," he said instead, after rapidly adjusting his calculations. Faster than anticipated.

Kirk nodded, some unreadable emotion hiding in the soft crease between his brows.

"Forgive me, Mr. Spock," Kirk said softly, and Spock did not have time to question what he meant before Kirk was pulling him down by his shirt, dragging their lips together with great urgency.

Quite suddenly, Spock found that his mind was entirely blank. Strange heat flickered through his whole form, and his universe narrowed to only Kirk, all soft and human-warm, who was pressed flush to his chest and kissing him.

One, then two seconds stuttered by in which Spock thought no thoughts at all, struck utterly motionless in the face of such unexpected attentions. He only felt, swept away by the sensation of pliant lips against his own and warm fingers stroking through his hair, gently mussing.

The very first thought to break to the surface was simply, Jim. A wave of emotion flooded in with it, astonishment and affection sweeping over him in such quantities that he felt nearly lightheaded.

The second was, We will be caught, and Spock jolted as something near to panic rose up inside his gullet, urging him to take Jim into his arms and run.

The third, however, was not his own; it was pressed into his katra from the outside by Jim's careful fingers, his clever mind slipping easily past Spock's shields. Play along, he said, projecting deliberate calm through their connection. Still, Jim was unpracticed in telepathic arts, and beneath that false serenity Spock could feel a tangle of guilt and determination, bitter and writhing.

The truth came to Spock in one fell swoop.

Jim's gambit... was this.

His lips and his hands, which pressed themselves so tenderly to Spock's skin, were not for him.

It was not love which had drawn his captain into his arms, but mere utility. Jim had realized what Spock had not: though they could not hide themselves, they could, perhaps, distract from themselves.

Two men attempting to look inconspicuous would only draw suspicion. Two men locked in a romantic embrace, however, may be overlooked - or even deliberately ignored. Few were comfortable with looking closely at the private passions of strangers, and fewer still would see reason to. Those searching for them, Spock hoped, would not. There would be no logic in halting an escape attempt solely for a kiss, after all.

Therefore, in order to escape unnoticed, they must be convincing.

They must seem, to any observers, to be completely and entirely immersed in one another, with no care for anything going on in their surroundings, and no fear of discovery.

Two lives, purchased with a kiss.

It was entirely logical, then, for Spock to part his lips, inviting Jim's tongue to dip inside of the wet cave of his mouth and meeting it with his own. If a groan rumbled deep within his chest, it could surely only help their cause; there was no need to swallow it down.

This disguise would, Spock observed as Jim's tongue flicked gently at his mouth, be far easier to maintain than it had any right to be.

It was a terribly simple matter for a man in love to behave as though he were a man in love.

The difficult part, then, would be remembering that it was a ruse. Already, heat bubbled deep within Spock, aching want suffusing his every neuron. Every faint brush of flesh sent golden tendrils of telepathic energy sparking across his skin, and it was all Spock could manage to hold himself back from pressing hungry fingers to Jim's meldpoints and sinking into that wonderfully enticing mind.

Instead, Spock slipped a hand beneath the hem of Jim's shirt, rucking up the cloth until he was tracing patterns across a smooth expanse of golden skin. He flexed his hand, allowing his nails to scratch carefully along Jim's spine, and did not permit himself to consider reaching upwards, to Jim's face - or worse: downwards, beyond the waistband of his pants.

He wondered if Jim would have chosen this, had he known how very much Spock wanted.

Perhaps it was selfish of Spock to allow it.

Still, he could not force himself away - not when Jim's life was at stake. The kiss was his lifeline, and so the kiss must remain.

The touch of their minds, however, did nothing to aid Jim. It was solely for Spock's benefit, taken from Jim without his knowledge or intent.

That, Spock could end.

If Jim was to unknowingly place himself into the hands of someone who wanted more than he would wish to give, then Spock would take it upon himself to be his protector - even if the one he must protect against was himself.

And so, Spock opened himself to every offered touch, and girded his mind against every stray thought, until not a single wisp of golden energy could find its way past his defenses.

When Jim's thigh nudged its way between Spock's legs, Spock spread his stance wider, allowing him to press closer, and did not let himself feel. His hands grasped and squeezed at the soft flesh beneath them, drawing quiet gasps from a pink-flushed throat, and no pleasant hum buzzed against his fingertips, carrying with it the flavor of human emotion. Jim nipped at his lips and pet at his hair, and Spock pressed every scrap of yearning deep down within himself to where they couldn't emerge.

Eyes closed and spirit aching, Spock kissed him.

_____________

from this ask game

[likesdoodling]

Had the time to sit down and draw today and ended up doodling Zuko and Sokka (modern au style cause I wanted to >:D) ~ yeye