#i dunno my shoulder got fucked up and this sounded funny

[scaryscarecrows]

"I don't even think he's real," one of the guys--McCormick, likely to be dubbed by his new squadmates as Spice Cabinet--is scoffing. "I think he's just a figurehead one of the higher ups made up. You know, like a mascot."

Oh, buddy, Antoine thinks tiredly, if I were gonna come up with a mascot, it would not be that.

Really, it's the Knight's own damn fault. He's the one who knew they had new recruits and just had to fuck off to Gotham for something. Jimmy, the creepy stalker that he is, says there's been rumors of Batman finally killing people. Gee, wonder why.

Unfortunately for Spice Cabinet, the boss is due back today. Antoine knows this because his phone got blown up with 'I want everyone out for inspection when I get back' and 'not one strand out of place or so help me God' and, after a while, 'hit turbulence. may die en route'.

Antoine has had to deal with Spice Cabinet for ten days. The turbulence is karmic punishment.

[steddie-as-they-come]

"Mom," Steve whispered in the inky blackness of his parents' room. "Mom, there's something under my bed."

Patricia Harrington turned over. "Steven, go back to sleep," she murmured.

"I can't." Steve said. "There's a monster."

"No such thing." his mom said, angrier, more awake. "Go to bed now, and if I catch you out of bed again you can forget going to Tommy's this weekend."

Steve nodded and padded back down the hall, pausing at his door then taking a running jump into bed.

The room was silent.

"I know you're here." Steve whispered, making sure all his limbs were tucked safely away under the covers. "You don't scare me."

A couple minutes of quiet, then Steve heard a scraping sound come from under his bed. He squeaked and pulled his blankets up to his nose.

A horrible, raspy laugh came from below him. "I do scare you!" said a voice. "You lied!"

"No-no you don't!" Steve said boldly. He clutched his blanket tighter, then said, "I can't be scared of something I can't see! That's just dumb."

Something dark began to slither across the floor out of the corner of Steve's eye. Oh, I'm gonna regret that, he thought.

The thing began to pull itself up, looming over Steve. It cracked a smile, and sharp white teeth gleamed in the light from his closet.

Steve screamed.

"Shut up!" his dad shouted angrily from downstairs, and Steve clapped a hand over his mouth, eyes flicking between the shadow and the door like he wasn't sure which monster to be more afraid of.

The monster crept toward him, and Steve dug his fingernails into his face, scooting away from the horror. He whimpered, not daring to close his eyes.

Then the monster began to shrink.

It shriveled away, changing color and backing up, until a little boy, about Steve's age, stood in front of him. He had long curly hair and was dressed in a t-shirt that was way too big on him. When he opened his eyes, Steve flinched, because the whites of his eyes simply...weren't there. His eyes were an onyx black.

"Hi," the boy said. "I'm Eddie."

Steve was too stunned to speak, but he did uncover his mouth.

"I'm the monster under your bed!" Eddie said. "I'm supposed to scare you, but, um-" he risked a quick look at the door "-I don't think you need my help for that."

"Why are you supposed to scare me?" Steve asked.

Eddie shrugged. "Dunno. Every kid's got one. It's just how it works. I was made to be your monster, forever!" He sat down on the edge Steve's bed, bumping Steve's shoulder against his. "Weird to be on this side of the bed. No dust bunnies or anything."

Steve giggled, forgetting his fear. "You're fun!"

Eddie grinned at him. "Thank you! None of the other monsters think my jokes are funny."

"So you have to scare me?" Steve asked. "But you're not scary. Not after talking to me."

Eddie paused. "Oh, right. I'm not supposed to talk to you. Um..."

"What if we just say you're scaring me?" Steve asked. "I'll pretend I'm really scared of the monster under my bed, and you pretend you scare me every single night. But really we're hanging out instead of scaring!"

"Ooh, I like that idea!" Eddie struck a dramatic pose. "I'll be the monster under your bed, but I'll be ready to protect you if you need it too!"

Steve stuck out his hand like he saw his dad do for business deals. "Deal?"

Eddie shook it. "Deal."

-

Steve sprinted through the forest, the kids hot on his heels. "There!" he shouted. "Everyone in!"

The kids bolted to the abandoned cabin, and Steve slammed the door shut. "Is there a bed in here?" he called. "A couch? A fridge?"

"Bed's in here!" Will yelled, and Steve followed his voice to the cluttered bedroom, complete with partially-caved-in bedframe. He gingerly took a seat on the mattress, cringing when it crackled. He did not need to know what was on this.

"Eddie?" he called, tapping on the flaky painted wood.

The shitheads crowded in, and Mike murmured. "What the fuck is he doing?"

Steve ignored him. "Eddie, come on, I need your help."

Something tall, dark, and lanky slid out from under the bed, and all the kids jumped back in fright, raising their various weapons. Steve leapt to get in front of them, raising his hands as a shield. "Chill! Calm down, this is Eddie!"

Eddie shrank into his human form, draping himself over Steve. "You had to summon me to the nastiest bed in Indiana? Really, Steve?"

Steve shrugged. "This was the closest one. We need your help, Eds."

"We?" He focused on the Party. "Well, these must be the infamous buttheads." Eddie slid into the shadows and reappeared behind the Party, inspecting them. "Dustin, Mike, Lucas, Will, El, Max, right?" he said, pointing at each one as he said their names.

"What the fuck are you?" Dustin asked.

Suddenly Eddie was under Steve's arm, wrapping a hand around his waist. "I'm Steve's monster under the bed." he said. "I'm just... friendlier with Steve than most of the monsters I work with."

Steve rolled his eyes. "You can tell him you're my boyfriend, they know I'm bi." He kissed Eddie on the cheek.

The kids all broke into gasps, except for Max, who fake gagged. "Don't be gross!" she yelled. "Demogorgon outside, remember?"

"Ah, right." Steve said. "Eds, can you-"

"On it." Eddie kissed Steve. "I'll be back."

The kids watched Eddie melt into shadows, then wheeled on Steve. "Steven Don't-Know-Your-Middle-Name Harrington," Dustin said. "You have a lot of explaining to do."

edit: i did not expect this response to the short little thing that took me 30 mins max at 2am!! i’m planning on rewriting it and turning it into a full length fic, so i’ll come back and edit this with the link!

edit #2: if there’s anything you guys want to see in the full length version of this please let me know!! i’m trying my best to make it a slowburn which is horrid for my adhd so let me know if there’s anything you want!!

[moonstruckme]

hiiii please could i request plus size shy reader being asked out on a date and getting anxious it’s a joke (it’s not). i would LOVE this with steve or james but i love everyone you write for so i don’t mind if you’d rather choose another character! have a lovely day/night! 🫶🏻

Thanks for requesting my love!

cw: implied insecurity around size

Steve Harrington x shy!plus size!reader ♡ 1.3k words

You can feel sweat on the insides of your thighs. Every step you take chafes. Between the heat and your nerves you think you probably look about as shiny as a glazed donut, and you worry that if you lift a hand in front of your face you’ll find it shaking. 

You don’t actually know what you’re doing here. 

When Steve asked you to meet him at the fair, your yes was automatic. He was all brown eyes and gentle features, the apple of his throat bobbing at the tail end of the question, and you hadn’t known any quicker way to get away from all that than simply agreeing and ducking into the kitchen to grab an imaginary order. Whether you actually wanted to go out with him was irrelevant, though of course you did. You still do, you think. 

But later, you’d remembered who he was. Not just Steve, who comes into your work and downs chocolate milkshakes like he’s in some sort of competition while tossing you sugary smiles that make it impossible for you to remember anyone’s orders, but Steve Harringon. King of the gum-popping populars when you’d all been in high school, who publicly degraded Nancy Wheeler just for breaking up with him and who has since been rumored to date a rotation of Hawkin’s most model-esque girls. He would know how to flirt with a girl like you. Might do it just for a laugh. Might even ask you on a phony date simply to humiliate you when you thought it was real. 

And now you’re here, looking sweat-glazed and lost in the middle of the crowd, feeling like a complete fucking loser. Well done, King Steve. 

“Hey!” 

You’re not sure if it’s worse to stay, and slowly reconcile with the fact that you’ve been duped, or leave and have to face him at work the next time he comes in. Quitting your job is starting to sound like a tempting option. 

“Hey!” 

You nearly jump out of your skin when a sure hand lands on your shoulder, and a second later Steve is rounding you with that half-quirked smile of his. His face is cast pink by the neon light of the sign you’re standing in front of. 

“Sorry,” he says, “I was gonna wait at the front, but the line for tickets was getting long so I figured I’d better get in there and grab ours.” He holds up a hand, fanning the two tickets out. 

“Oh.” The word comes out of you on a breath. Steve leans in to hear you better, not a flicker of pique in his expression for your soft voice in this loud atmosphere. “That’s smart.” 

His eyes crinkle as though you’ve said something funny, his hand dropping from your shoulder as he gives a one armed shrug. You’d forgotten it was there and yet you miss it instantly. “Well, thanks. Some people say I can be that, every now and then.” 

You feel your eyes go wide. “Oh, no, sorry, of course you’re smart,” you say in a rush. “I didn’t mean to sound surprised, I was just…” 

“I get it.” The pink light softens the teasing in Steve’s look into something even sweeter. You feel your face warm. “Do you wanna grab a funnel cake or something?” 

“Why…” You’re suddenly conscious again of your sweaty thighs, the way your sundress cuts into your middle and leaves the skin of your wide shoulders on display. “Why would I want that?” 

Steve looks confused, his smile lingering but faint. “I dunno, do you? I’m starving, I haven’t eaten since lunch. We could have whatever, though, if you’ve got something against funnel cake.” 

You blink, the flame of apprehension that had flared in your chest sputtering back down to an ember. “No, sorry,” you say, befuddled once again. What does he want with you? When and where will the other shoe drop? “I like funnel cake.” 

Steve pays for the both of you and you’re too dazed to stop him, still reeling from the hand he placed on your back to guide you through the crowd and seems in no hurry to remove. It rests just above the waistline of your dress, gentle but definitively there, radiating warmth through the fabric. When he does remove it, it’s to sit down beside you at the picnic table so you can eat, one form of contact replaced by another as his jeans press into your bare leg and you try not to spiral out. 

“These things are a disaster for me,” he says, breaking off another piece of funnel cake with his fingers. His chin and the front of his shirt are already covered in a light dusting of powdered sugar, which is somehow more endearing than offputting. You’re currently suppressing the mortifying urge to wipe it off and lick your finger. “I love fried food, and I go even crazier for sugar, so the combination is just—God.” He shakes his head, looking blissed out in the same way you recognize from when he’s half done with a milkshake. “If you don’t want to see me again after this, I’m gonna have a really hard time staying away from your work. I’ll be screwed.” 

You stare at him. Why would he be affected by how you feel about tonight? If anything, the need to avoid Steve Harrington should drive you out of town. Guys like him can do whatever they want. If he told everyone that he’d never even spoken to you and you were making this date nonsense up for attention, that would probably be more readily believed than what seems to be happening here. 

“Jesus Christ.” Steve has discovered the powdered sugar spillage down his front. He dusts off his shirt and does exactly what you’ve been wanting to, using his fingers to wipe his face and then sucking the sugar off them one by one. He looks almost sheepish when he meets your eyes, in a boyish, humorous way. “Sorry, Robin always says I eat like a fucking animal.”

“You’re good,” you assure him. “It’s kind of impossible to avoid with powdered sugar, right?” You actually had managed to avoid it, by leaning over the little paper tray as you ate, but that’s beside the point. “You think you might want to go out again?” 

It’s blunt, not like you, and if you’d taken more than two milliseconds to think it through you know you wouldn’t have asked. Your cheeks burn. 

Steve’s brows furrow with his thumb still in his mouth, and he tilts his head like a puppy. “That’s kind of the point of dates, right?” he asks, sounding halfway between confusion and amusement. “I mean, ideally, you usually want to go out more than once.” 

“Right.” Now you’ve managed to make yourself sound like an idiot. On top of being several sizes bigger and decibels quieter than most of the other girls Steve goes out with, now you’re an airhead as well. “That makes sense, sorry.” 

“You don’t need to keep saying you’re sorry.” Steve smiles lopsided and sweet, and you can’t find even a trace of the infamous King Steve in it. Maybe in the round apple of his cheek, or the easy way he leans on the table, but not in the warmth of the look he’s giving you. The ones he’s been giving you, unreciprocated and largely mistrusted, for weeks now. “Look, we don’t have to worry about that stuff tonight. You can figure out if you think I’m worth another shot after we’re done here, and if you decide to give me a lifetime ban from your work, I’ll get it. Let’s just have fun for now, right?” 

You bite the inside of your lip, considering the soft brown of his eyes, the tiny bit of powdered sugar he’s missed just by the corner of his lips. Let’s just have fun.

“Okay,” you say. Something new and light flickers in your chest at his answering grin. “Where do you wanna start?”

[toomuchracket]

girl of your dreams (d word matty x reader smut)

early days of the relationship, sneaky post-show hotel room sex. warnings for d word mention (duh), exactly one (1) spank, matty going down soft sound, unprotected sex (girly is on the pill tho), and creampies. enjoy <3

“yeah, yeah, goodnight,” matty smiles as his bandmates disappear into their respective rooms, entering his own when the locking mechanism clicks open. he's used to that sound now, used to quickly sliding the do not disturb hanger onto the handle, used to kicking his shoes off and placing the keycard near the door and yawning as he turns the corner into the bedroom proper.

what he's not used to, however, is seeing you there, sprawled out on his bed watching tv, wearing your glasses and a champagne-coloured satin nightgown that quite honestly makes him go weak in the knees.

he wants to get used to it, though. really, really wants to. he's determined to, actually. but first, he's determined to make up for being later to your rendezvous than planned. “hi, darling,” he smiles (how could he not, looking at you?), shrugging his jacket off en route to the bed. “i'm so sorry it took me so long to get here.”

“s'alright, baby, i understand. newcastle show and all,” you crawl to the end of the bed to meet him, and the way your tits swing as you do affects him almost as much as the pet name does; both of these things pale in comparison to the way you kiss him, though, all soft lips and quiet sighs, hand coming up to hold his face while you smile into him. when the kiss ends, you press your forehead to matty's, and it takes all his focus not to swoon. “your family are lovely, by the way. ‘specially your dad.”

matty laughs softly. “yeah, he was telling me how canny he thinks you are. says i should be paying you extra for the fact you're the one waking me up every morning.”

“oh, no, i like the kiss currency thing we've got,” you giggle, pressing one to his nose and sending his heart racing. “but were you really that much of a nightmare when you were little?”

“christ, yeah. he didn't detail it?”

“no, he was very sweet. maybe he was trying to make you seem cool,” your pretty face shifts into a smirk, and matty braces himself for the inevitable. “i mean, your family are all so concerned with when you plan on settling down - maybe he was trying to make you seem appealing to me.”

“take it you heard them asking me if i was seeing anyone, then?”

“yeah. was funny,” you peck his lips. “and your answer was very good.”

matty hums, thinking back to the there's someone, yeah, but she's too good for me so i'm playing it cool right now he'd placated his family with. which, to be honest, isn't a total lie. “good, good,” he gently lowers you so you're lying on the bed, crawling atop you and resting his arms on either side of your head; yours rest on his shoulders, pretty nails gently scratching at the back of his head the way he likes. “and was my dad successful?”

“at making you appeal to me? oh, yeah,” the playfulness in your eyes is addictive. “i’m really quite fond of you, matthew.”

god, the way you say his name! “feeling's mutual, gorgeous,” matty leans back, letting his calloused hands lightly skim up the sides of your torso. “love this outfit, by the way.”

“m'glad. bought it with you in mind,” the revelation sends matty reeling, and it's only worsened by what comes next. “dunno if you could call it an outfit, though.”

“why not?”

you smile, sweet as sugar. “because i'm not actually wearing anything else, darling.”

jesus christ. blood rushing in his ears, matty stutters out a response. “you serious?”

a nod, a suggestive bite of your own fingertip. “see for yourself.”

what a fool he would be to do otherwise. blood still pumping in his ears, and travelling more towards his trousers by the nanosecond, matty drags himself down your body and settles himself on the bed between your - fucking gorgeous - legs. with something almost resembling trepidation, he slowly pushes the silk up your thighs, jaw dropping in a groan as he takes in the enticing wetness pooling between them on your cunt. “fucking hell, sweetheart,” he moans, hand tracing up your slit and circling your clit as if on instinct, making you jerk with a whine and his dick jump as a result. when he brings his fingers to his lips and the delectable tang of you hits his tongue, matty's necessary next step becomes crystal clear. “please, please let me eat you out.”

your reply nearly makes him cum there and then - another thing matty's still unused to is the new nickname you've been trying out together, but it isn't half fucking incredible. “yes, daddy.”

matty thinks he breathed out a “thank you” as soon as the words left your lips, but he can't be sure; the only thing he can focus on is getting his mouth on you, licking upwards to your clit before wrapping his lips around the bundle of nerves and flicking over it with the tip of his tongue, just the way he was elated to discover you like. he can't help but moan into you when he hears your little whimper of “oh, just like that, yeah”, smiling when you moan louder in response and clamp your thighs around his head - a second later, when realisation seems to hit, you go to loosen your grip with a half-whined “m'sorry, daddy”, but matty just shakes his head (which has you moaning again as his tongue slices across your clit) and shuffles himself around so he can wrap his arms around your thighs and keep them there. not out of masochism - well, part of it is - but more out of the fact that your thighs locked around his head is proof that this is really happening, and he isn't just dreaming about going down on you like he did for months after first meeting you. 

of course, reality is so much better than those dreams: matty could never have imagined how good you actually taste when he's licking into you with nothing short of desperation, or how beautiful you look when you're all fucked-out, or the way your voice goes all shaky when you're about to cum. which, incidentally, is what's happening now - “m'close, daddy, m'so fucking close. wanna cum, please, please let me cum!”

seems as good a time as any for matty to take a breath, he thinks. pulling away from you just long enough to take in a lungful or air, he nods. “cum, princess.”

with a dazed smile so beautiful it breaks his heart a little bit, and a breathy “thank you”, you obey, body tensing and releasing a final time, accompanied by shaking limbs and broken whimpers of his name and his nickname and god only knows what else. matty kisses your inner thigh, resting his head on it and letting you come back down to earth in your own time; he likes watching you like this, anyway, worn-out from pleasure and a little bit haphazard. your hair's a mess, your glasses are askew (he's also far more into them than he initially thought, to be honest), and your nightgown is really quite crinkled, but he can practically feel the adoration for you emanating from himself. 

you're so beautiful. and you're his. he still can't quite believe it's not a dream.

you rake a hand through his sweaty curls, and he's reminded that this is all real. he kisses your thigh again, and you giggle. “hi.”

“hi, darling,” matty rubs a little loveheart on your thigh with his thumb. “how you feeling?”

“so good. thank you, gorgeous,” you smile, while matty's cheeks burn at the compliment. “how are you?”

“i'm good, angel, i'm really good.”

“tired at all?”

he shakes his head. “not really. but we can go to sleep now if you want,” he smirks when you shake your head enthusiastically. “no? there's something else you wanna stay up for… princess?”

you bite your lip, nodding. he huffs out a laugh. “need you to tell me what it is so we can do it, sweet girl. come on,” he pulls himself up slowly, pressing kisses up your stomach and resting his head on your tits. “tell daddy what you want.”

“i - oh, fuck,” you whimper as matty tugs down the top of your dress and mouths at your nipple. “want- want you to fuck me, daddy. please.”

he knew it was coming, and yet matty still feels heat trickle down his chest right to his dick when you speak. “good girl. and how do you want to be fucked, princess?”

“in front of the mirror,” your voice is clear, sure, sexy; it crumbles when you talk again, but matty thinks your secret desire is even hotter. “wanna watch.”

the next few minutes are a blur to matty, which he reckons he would put down to some weird primitive horny instinct to just fuck you as soon as he can. he remembers kissing you, but nothing about how he got you on your hands and knees before the mirror or undressed himself; post-kiss, the only thing he can focus on is the feeling of inching inside your soaked cunt, watching your eyes roll back into your head, listening to the choked moan that leaves your kiss-bitten lips as he bottoms out inside you with a murmured “fuck”. he kisses your shoulder, smiling into your summer-scented skin at the way you giggle deliriously. “feel so good around me, baby. you want me to fuck you now?”

“please,” your jaw slackens as matty starts to move his hips; when he speeds up, groaning at how wet you are, how brain-meltingly tight, you whimper, and he has to force himself not to cum then and there. “daddy…”

“i know, sweetheart, i know. doing so well for me,” matty coos, eyes fixated on the reflection of your tits bouncing in the genuinely most perfect way with every thrust. christ, he's really lucked out with you, hasn't he? sweet, smart, fucking gorgeous… he's punching well above his weight. “my beautiful girl. want me to get you off again, princess?”

you nod, whimpering when his hand meets your asscheek; as he rubs the stinging skin, matty sighs. “words, baby, come on.”

“sorry, daddy. yes please.”

he leans forward to kiss the nape of your neck, moving to whisper in your ear. “good girl.”

his hips speed up, so much so that he can already feel the muscle aches he'll wake up with tomorrow. but it's more than worth it to see you like this, to make you like this, wanton and writhing and whining every time your bodies meet; the way you're beginning to clench around him in the way matty's learned is a sign that you're about to cum spurs him on, too, desperate to get you off and chase his own release. “c'mon, princess,” he pants, gripping your hips as tight as possible to keep up momentum. “need you to cum for me, yeah? cum, and i'll fill you up. know you fucking love it when i do that, don't you? love being a good girl for daddy.”

“yeah,” comes the broken cry in response. your cheeks are stained with mascara tears, streaming from your hazy eyes, and your whole body appears to be shaking - suddenly, it tenses, and matty hisses at the feeling of you vice-tight around his dick. “m'cumming, oh fuck, fuck!”

there's an influx of warmth and wetness around him, and matty can't help but follow in your footsteps. “shit, me too,” he moans, brain foggy but body still slamming into yours, syncopated now; he clings to you as he cums, eyes rolling back into his head as he finishes deep inside your cunt. your arms give out, and matty follows your fall onto the bed, draping himself over you without pulling out and pressing his lips to the back of your neck. “jesus christ, princess, you're so good,” he kisses your cheek when you giggle, a sweetness incongruous with the fact he can feel his cum dripping out of you. “y'alright?”

“yeah,” you turn to catch his lips with yours, a tender kiss that ends with you looking at him so adoringly he almost can't take it. “thank you, baby.”

“anytime. s'my pleasure. and yours, i s'pose.”

“you're so silly.”

“and you're into it.”

“i am, yeah,” you smile, and matty swears he can feel butterflies in his stomach. “i'm just very into you.”

“i feel the same about you,” matty strokes your hair, yawning. “shall we shower? or d'you wanna stay like this for a bit, darling?”

you beam. “wanna stay like this forever, matty. but,” you wink. “given that we're both working tomorrow, maybe we should limit it to, let's say, five minutes of this before we shower?”

god, he's so obsessed with you. “whatever you want, my girl.”

[honey-sweet-hiraeth]

The Hallway

Wanda Maximoff x Reader

A/n: Whaaaat the fuck people. I started writing this based on Lizzie's Oscars look. It was gonna be a cute little not quiet enemies to lovers fic. Right? Right??? No! I just started writing having no clue what was gonna happen and now there's human trafficking??? And mentions of R going through human trafficking?? And trauma?? And Wanda being fucking adorable. I'm so confused. I don't know how we got here. But yeah the dress Wanda wears on the mission is the one from the Oscars look. Send help. Have fun. What did I even write?

P. S. I was writing this all night what is sleep. My noggin is tired.

Warnings: Human Trafficking (Wanda and Yn are saving people), Talks about Yn going through Human trafficking, Author doesn't know what they're doing and it shows, nightmares (mentioned), Wanda is cute as fuck, Wanda is a tease. (A cute tease)

Fluff?? Hurt Comfort??? I dunno.

Not proofread.

"I don't hate you, you know." Your voice must've startled her, because Wanda turned a bit too quickly with her hand over her heart.

You were preparing to go on a mission together. The first time you'd ever gone on a mission alone with Wanda. She tended to avoid being teamed up with you if she could.

You figured she just didn't like you. It never really bothered you too much. Maybe a little.

Until you heard her fighting so hard against a mission with you, and only you. She pleaded with Steve in front of all of the other Avengers. Natasha snickered in her corner seat and you wondered what was so funny?

You were frankly a bit offended that Wanda would rather pretend to date 'anyone else', for the mission. You could be a great fake partner! The best even. Nonetheless Wanda wanted nothing more than to avoid being around you. Going so far as to offer to go with Sam or, god forbid, Vision.

You were the best undercover agent they had aside from Natasha. Who would've been coming with you if she weren't so busy.

Wanda stared at you blankly for a moment. Tilting her head.

"Good to know." She nodded, going back to adjusting her dress. It didn't sound like she believed you.

"I spoke with Nat." You continued. "I asked why she would suggest that you came with me for this. When she knew you hated my guts."

Wanda turned to you with her eyebrows raised. You stepped forward and fixed the tangled tassels around her neck as you spoke.

"She laughed at me." You smoothed the front of her hair, spraying a bit of extra hairspray in it. "She told me you thought I hated you. That you thought I hadn't forgiven you for the Ultron situation."

Wanda winced, and sighed sharply. "We don't need to talk about this."

"We- we can though." You frowned and Wanda shook her head.

"Not right now. We have a job to do." She walked past you and you caught a breath of her perfume, it was floral and spicy. You liked it.

You shook yourself free from your thoughts and followed behind her, out the door of the safe house where your clothing and accessories were set out for the two of you, and to the car waiting out front.

The ride was quiet. You stole glances at Wanda as she stared out the window, her jawline fully on display with her hair pulled into a sleek updo. Wanda was pretty, in that unassuming way most people didn't notice until she was fully dressed up.

You noticed during battle. From the way she locked her jaw and sent enemies flying, to the way she would meet your eyes with fire in hers and you just knew the adrenaline pumping through her veins was similar to yours.

You'd never actually seen her on a mission outside of something confrontational. You knew nothing of her undercover skills or her ability to blend in and go with the flow while also keeping her mind on the objective.

So you were pleasantly surprised when you entered the target's party and she easily slipped her hand in yours. You glanced at her and she smiled fondly at you, leaning closer and setting her chin on your shoulder.

She was close enough to kiss.

"We'll make our way around the room and mingle for a bit, then we can sneak off, but not before we speak to Damien." Her accent was soft and alluring. If it weren't for her actively speaking about the mission, her breath against your cheek would've made you forget you were even on one.

Maybe this was the real reason you never worked jobs with Wanda. She was very, very distracting.

You smiled, chuckling a little as two elderly men walked by, eying you with judgment. They were just jealous, you decided. You did happen to have the most beautiful woman at the event right on your arm.

"Okay darling. Whatever you say." You led her further into the group of socialites and powerful figures of the underground. "You just let me know when you're ready to run off."

Wanda held her head high as you walked through the crowd. You really did look like a powerful couple. People you didn't know in the slightest sent you nods and smiles as you passed. They regarded you with respect, even though they knew nothing about you.

After all you were mysterious guests, dressed in expensive designer clothing and walking as if you owned the place. As far as they knew you did own the place.

It took only a few minutes before Damien Gavroche, the true owner of the establishment and one of the men you needed to take down, approached you.

"My my you're a stunning couple aren't you?" He smiled impishly at you. Nausea nearly overtook you just looking at him. You were there because he was trafficking young girls. You hated people like him with all you had.

Wanda's grip tightened on your hand. She was the only Avenger who knew why people like Gavroche truly disgusted you. You had experience with them, and they genuinely made you afraid.

You swallowed the bile rising in your throat and smiled brightly at the short, greasy looking man.

"Thank you," you shook his hand. "It's truly all my darling though. If I had been on my own for this I'd have no clue what to wear."

You kissed Wanda's head and she hummed, leaning into you.

"The thing is. I don't remember adding your names to the list?" It was stated as a question but you knew what he meant. 'How did you get in?'

"That's odd," you furrowed your brows. "We only had to present these invitations at the door."

That was the truth, you mused as you handed the slips of paper to him. You really hated lying. It just worked better when you didn't have to do it very much.

Damien looked at the invites for a moment then smiled, handing them back to you.

"My mistake" He apologized, slipping his arm around Wanda's waist to lead you both across the room. You felt Wanda tense beside you. His hand was nearly on her ass. You grabbed his wrist and moved it so his hand rested higher on her back.

Damien scowled at you as you did so. You sent him a warning glare back. You hoped he caught the meaning of your actions. 'Don't touch what isn't yours'

Not that you were actually possessive over Wanda. You were just playing your part, and maybe feeling a bit protective of your teammate.

Wanda leaned further into you now that your arm was draped across her shoulders. You let your thumb graze along her exposed skin. An attempt at comforting her and looking like you were truly a couple, you told yourself. Not at all because Wanda's skin was soft and you couldn't get enough of the feeling.

Before you knew it, you and Wanda were in a secluded VIP section. You recognized some of New York's most wanted lounging in the room. It made you nervous. If people like that were casually hanging out around here. What kind of party were you really at?

You shivered and looked to Wanda, her face told you she was thinking the same thing. This could mean trouble.

You tried to relax, falling into a seat with a small sigh. It worked until Wanda perched herself right on your knee, picking a flute of champagne off a nearby tray and taking a slow sip as she surveyed the room.

"I don't think I recognize you twos." A strong Brooklyn accent caught spoke up above the murmuring of the others.

"We're new in town." Wanda spoke up, her voice exuded power and confidence. It wasn't a tone she'd ever used since you'd met her.

You sat up, placing a hand on her hip and leaning your cheek against her shoulder. She draped an arm around you and ran her fingers through your hair.

Again. You almost forgot you were on a mission. Wishful thinking you guessed as you met the gaze of a woman with long white hair. Her pale blue eyes held something unsettling in them. Was is recognition?

She smirked at you and raised her glass. Did she know you?

You looked up at Wanda, she was already looking in the direction of the woman. She didn't look at you, instead displaying her jaw to you as she absently handed you her champagne and crossed the room to grab another one.

The white haired women shifted from the armchair she was sitting in and into the cushion next to you.

"What is she your keeper?" Her lips quirked up into a playful, if not a bit mischievous smirk. You laughed nervously.

"No, not really." You matched her expression, "Why, do you think I need kept?"

"No not at all. Quite the opposite." She chuckled "Beasts like you aren't meant to be tamed."

"Beasts?" You raised an eyebrow. "You find me to be beastly?"

"Only in the most interesting of ways. I can see it in your eyes." Her gaze pierced yours. "You're uncomfortable here. You'd much rather be somewhere much less," Her eyes wandered the room with a look not dissimilar to contempt, "sophisticated."

You laughed. "Something like that."

You sighed, glancing at Wanda who seemed to be struggling to escape a conversation with Damien and one of his associates.

"The social aspects of this line of work aren't really my strong suit. I'm not nearly as polite as my partner." You nodded toward her. "For example. I would've knocked our hosts head of his shoulders by now."

The woman laughed, brushing her fingers along your arm. Was she flirting with you?

You bristled, looking back at her before turning back to see Wanda stalking back toward you with a scowl.

"Uh oh" The white haired woman looked between the approaching Wanda and you. "Did I get you in trouble?"

Before you could respond slender fingers wrapped around your wrist and tugged you upward. Now, only inches from your face, Wanda looked much more intimidating.

"I think we need a break." Her voice was venomous as she glared back at the woman. She began to drag you away and you looked behind you to see the woman sending you an apologetic look.

Once you were out of view from the guards outside the VIP room, Wanda pushed you down another Hall and separated herself from you.

"You gave us a good excuse to get out of there." She spoke lowly, "not that I think you should be flirting with criminals while on a job."

"What was I supposed to do make a scene?" You were genuinely asking. Would she be happier if you'd just shut down the conversation right at the start?

"Of course not." She huffed walking faster down the hallway. "The girls are somewhere on the sub level."

"You mean the basement?" You chuckled.

"Sure" she led you toward where the staircase down should be, but before you could reach it she was ducking into a doorway and dragging you with her.

"Oof" Your back hit the wall and within moments you were trapped against it with Wanda leaning heavily on to you.

You suddenly felt out of breath. Then Wanda kissed you and stole what little oxygen you still had in your lungs.

It was a hot kiss, full of energy and passion that had been missing in every relationship you'd ever had. Before long you were gasping between kisses and Wanda was slipping her tongue into your mouth and you groaned, tightening your grip on her sides and pulling her closer to you.

It was all happening very fast. You hadn't quite caught on to the situation until you noticed footsteps passing by, you barely pried your eyes open enough to see two armed men walking by. They stopped, watching you for what seemed a bit longer than necessary.

Wanda's hands slipped under your your dress shirt and her nails traced your stomach. Within seconds you were much more focused on her than the men not so subtly enjoying your little show.

Wanda pulled away and pressed her forehead to yours to catch her breath. She giggled softly, not opening her eyes. You took the moment to study her. You always though Wanda was pretty, but up close and intimate like this, she was the most beautiful thing you'd ever seen.

"I love you." She said it just above a whisper, so it reached your ears and likely the men behind her.

Wait what?

Her lips moved to your neck and your eyes fell shut again as you melted against her. What we're you thinking about again?

Her teeth grazed along a sensitive spot on your neck and you groaned. What was going on? You were meant to be doing something right? Where were you again?

Wanda laughed again, pressing a couple quick kisses to your neck before she pulled away to look at you. She looked amused.

"They're gone now." What? Who was gone?

You looked behind her at the hallway. It was empty. Oh.

Wanda pulled away and you found yourself missing her closeness.

"Let's go." She nodded toward the stairway and you cleared your throat, catching up to her. Right. Important mission. You needed to get a hold of yourself.

Getting to the girls was easy, seeing them was a different story. Your heart caught in your throat. They were so young. Younger than you were.

You grit your teeth. You were going to killed them, Gavroche and everyone else involved. You nearly turned around to confront Damien right away, but Wanda's hand on your arm stopped you.

"Let's get them out of here. We can take care of the rest once they're safe." Her eyes were compassionate. You held her gaze for a moment before closing your eyes. You couldn't think as quickly now, and it wasn't because Wanda was distracting you.

You nodded, "how?"

"The same way we planned. Sneak them out the back." She hesitated. "I'll used my powers to ensure no guards see us leaving. We'll have to take them in groups." Her hand lingered on your arm, rubbing your bicep soothingly.

You nodded, opening yours eyes with new resolve. You could do this.

You got to work freeing the girls of their binds. They were afraid, but you assured them you would get them to safety.

Things went smoothly. You were glad they did. You weren't sure if you could handle failing a mission like this. Soon enough the girls were free and being transported to a safe facility where they could get medical care and be returned to their families.

You were relieved. They were mostly untouched. You found them in time to save the majority of them from the horrors you'd experienced.

With the last girls quietly taken away, it was time to face Gavroche. You shuddered at the thought. You wanted him to pay, but you didn't want to look at his weasily little face again.

When you came into the room you were surprised to see the party was over. There was no one in the VIP room or out in the main area. You frowned, on your guard as you scanned your surroundings.

Then the white haired woman emerged from a previously unseen space, with Damien in cuffs.

"Thanks for the help." She smirked, looking you up and down.

That's why she seemed to recognize you. She must be S.H.I.E.L.D.

"So. Gavroche.." You caught his attention. "That's a French name meaning “street urchin” or “mischievous child”"

Wanda, the agent and Damien all looked at you quizzically.

"What of it?" He glowered at you.

"Nothing, nothing." You shrugged. "It just fits." You looked him over. "You're tiny and you look like you live in a gutter."

He grumbled something obscene in response. Wanda chuckled next to you. Then the agent spoke again.

"His employer is still out there. He narrowly escaped." You bristled at her words. "From what I understand you have a history with him. Preston Alexis."

You calcified. Freezing at the mention of his name.

"Y/n." Wanda touched your face, bringing your attention to her. "Do you know him?"

She knew the answer, but you nodded anyway. "Yeah"

"We're going to have you stay in a safe house. Both of you." The agent looked between you and Wanda. "Until we catch him. He's notoriously bad at hiding without help and his contacts are limited. We'll get him."

You only nodded.

The ride to the new safe house was a blur. In contrast to the ride to the party, you stared out the window, and it was Wanda who stole glances at you.

She didn't ask if you were okay, and you were grateful for her for not trying to have a conversation with you. You didn't think you could handle it. You were glad you had this mission with Wanda. With anyone else you would've had to explain your reaction to Preston's name. You'd have to relive your experience out loud.

You were curled up on the couch in the safe house. It was the first place you went after you got there. You hadn't moved at all in the time it took Wanda to take a shower and change into some clothes left in one of the rooms for agents to use.

The outfit was comically large on her. Large sweat pants much too long for her legs, with the waist cinched as far as Wanda could get them, and what had to be a quadruple x sweater that fell past her knees.

You would've commented on it if you weren't freaking out.

She tugged your arm until you were sitting up, and began unbuttoning your shirt. It felt far too intimate for the state of your relationship, or lack thereof, but you didn't complain.

After tonight, you wanted to be closer to Wanda.

Wanda pushed your dress shirt off your shoulders and you helped her get it the rest of the way off. Then she handed you a hoodie that was equally as oversized as hers. You put it on and chuckled. You were drowning in fabric. It was perfect though. Cozy and oversized in a way that felt safe. Like when you were a kid and you wore your uncle's jacket at the fair. It was a similar fit.

Once you were snuggled up in the hoodie, and sitting on the couch, Wanda turned on the TV and left the room. The screen was playing reruns of M.A.S.H. You smiled faintly. It was a comfort show, oddly enough.

You eventually took off your dress pants, opting to just wear the hoodie as a nightgown. You pulled the fabric over your legs as you settled back in just in time for Wanda to come back with two cups of tea. Eyeing the dress pants you left unceremoniously crumpled at the bottom of the sofa.

She didn't look at you, yes she glanced in your direction but she wouldn't hold your gaze. She'd watch you and look away the moment you looked back. You couldn't tell what she was thinking.

She handed you the tea and hummed quietly in response when you thanked her. You watched her pretending to pay attention to the show, and you were overwhelmed with the need to comfort her. Or did you want her to comfort you?

You thought back to what Natasha said. 'She thinks you're not over her invading your mind. She wouldn't explain why, but she said you're still haunted by it and I think she still blames herself for it.'

"I don't blame you."

Wanda looked up from her tea, still avoiding your eyes.

"I actually think I needed to see it again." You sighed, resting your chin on your knees. "You can't heal what hurt you if you black it out."

"You can't be serious." Her eyes were on you. You could feel them. You didn't look at her, because you knew she'd turn away the second you did. "You've had nightmares about it ever since we met. You project them a lot in your sleep."

You shrugged, "And I'll keep having them. Especially now."

Wanda didn't respond, out of the corner of your eye she looked mortified.

"That's not your fault."

"I read the mission file. Before you." She didn't avoid your gaze when you turned to her this time. "That's why I was so determined to go with someone else."

"What?"

"I- I was-"

"You were trying to protect me."

"In a way." She turned away, twisting imaginary rings around her fingers.

Within a moment you had crossed the couch to pull her into a hug. She hugged you back tighter than you'd expected, and she didn't let go for a while. You chose to enjoy the embrace, taking in her warmth.

It was strange to think only that morning you two would barely talk, and now she was quickly becoming a source of comfort.

Her arms dropped from around you, and you pulled away. "I think I want you on missions with me more often."

She looked surprised.

"I'm serious." You chuckled. "You were a genius. Even if I was undercover as a couple with someone, I wouldn't think to push them against a wall and kiss them when the guards came by."

You thought you might've caught a blush blooming on her cheeks, but Wanda turned away too fast for you to know for sure.

"I was just acting on impulse." She mumbled, sounding almost shy.

"Your impulse was great." You laughed. "In fact I don't think anyone has ever kissed me like that."

Wanda laughed out loud at that. "What?"

"Seriously."

"Not even Carol?" Was that a hint of jealousy you heard?

You and Carol broke up a while ago. She was off-world all the time. It just wasn't working out.

"Please." You scoffed "We never even made it past little kisses. We tried but there was never.. Passion. In the end we didn't really want each other anyway."

"What did you want?"

"Other people I guess." You shook your head. "I dunno"

Wanda looked at you again and you realized just how much closer you were than before. Wanda's eyes lowered and it looked like she was leaning toward you. Then she pulled away.

You imagined it. That's all. You imagined it.

You wished you hadn't.

What was happening? Were there feelings there? You thought there might be on your end.

She said she loved you in the hallway, but that was just for the distraction right? To make the guards feel uncomfortable enough to leave you alone.

But what if it was the truth? Slipped into a moment meant to deceive the guards. It was safe to say it then when you couldn't possibly think she'd meant it.

Wanda was looking at you with an unreadable expression. You were overthinking. Not too loudly you hoped. Could she hear you?

You wondered what Wanda falling in love with you would look like. She'd feel protective of you. She lost a lot of the people she loved. She wouldn't want that again. You imagined soft touches and gentle offerings of things meant to comfort you or lift your spirits.

You looked down at your tea, then back at the TV.

No. That just meant she cared. You'd just confronted something scary. She wanted you to feel better.

You were still overthinking.

Wanda was still watching you.

Your mind was running a mile a minute.

She sighed.

You found your thoughts pushing in a new direction. What would you falling in love with Wanda look like?

Would it be jumping the gun to think you already were? You had a crush on her before sure. Seeing her from afar. She was beautiful and thoughtful despite everything she'd been through. You could fall down that rabbit hole easily. You kind of wanted to. Even if you hit the ground hard and found yourself hurting.

"Do you want to go get dinner?" You asked, before you could even think about it.

Wanda laughed.

"We can't leave the safe house Silly." She spoke between giggles.

"Right." You nodded. "Wanna make dinner?"

There was a pause.

"With me I mean." You clarified.

"Sure" She chuckled. You both knew you wouldn't be much help.

You took her hand, pulling her off the couch, and you didn't let go as you walked to the kitchen together. It felt right. So you linked your fingers through hers as you made your way to the pantry.

Wanda laughed as you both took in the nearly empty shelves, save for a few cans.

"It won't be much of a dinner." She giggled.

You grabbed a can of stew and handed it to her, refusing to let go of her hand as you searched for something you could pair it with. Sighing after you found nothing with your first look over the cans.

"We'll make it work." You chuckled "Canned stew, and good company. Sounds great to me."

Wanda hid her face in your shoulder and your heart skipped a beat. She sighed out a giggle against your arm.

You just grinned and pulled her out into the kitchen again to find a pot to warm up your stew in. You searched through the cupboards with your free hand.

"Uh" Wanda tugged your hand to get your attention. "We could find it easier if you let go of my hand."

"So?"

"So are you going to let me go anytime soon?"

"Do you want me to?"

Wanda didn't respond. So you squeezed her hand and continued your one-handed search.

"Aha!" You grinned as you pulled out a small pot. Wanda laughed and took the pan from you mumbling something about you being a goofball.

You only smiled at her. She was entertaining your obvious silly flirting. That was a good thing.

Wanda set the pot on the stove and turned it on. She found a can opener and tried to move her other hand to open the can. When your hand moved with it she paused.

"Can I have my hand?" You looked just a little bit helpless, maybe conflicted. You pouted. "I promise you can have it back when I don't need it anymore."

You reluctantly let her go, and she thanked you as she opened the can. You sat yourself down on the counter and she smiled over at you as dumped the can into the pot.

"Do you just sit on every counter out of impulse?"

"What?" You looked around at yourself. "What do you mean?"

"Anywhere there's a kitchen. Where you can spend time. You-" Wanda interrupted herself with a laugh "You always end up on the counter."

"I don't know. I just. I wanna sit but I don't wanna leave the area." You rubbed at your wrist.

"There's-" more laughter as she pointed into the dining room. "There's a chair, several of them, right there."

"Nah I'm good here." You watched her crack up again.

You liked her laugh. It was cute. The cutest.

Wanda walked up to you, walking between your legs and resting her hands on your lower thighs.

"Now I'm really good here." You grinned goofily down at her and Wanda's nose scrunched up as she giggled st you. You booped her nose. You had to. You just had to.

She paused, rubbing at her nose for a moment before she smiled up at you. There was a beat or two of silence before you noticed the red wisps on the air.

"Magic huh?" You chuckled, glancing at where she was loading bowls she somehow found with stew. She wasn't even looking at it. The talent she held amazed you. How long had she been going through the kitchen while you were distracted?

"A while" she smirked and frowned in confusion.

"Did I say that out loud or just think it very loudly?"

"You've been thinking very loud since we got here."

Oh.

Oh!

"Shit. Okay then." You wanted to kiss her.

Damn it, intrusive thoughts!

A cute little laugh burst from Wanda's lips. She leaned forward just a little..

Then put a warm bowl in your hands and put a spoon in it.

You couldn't help but giggle with her in response. "You're a total tease!"

"You're not supposed to kiss a girl until after dinner on the first date."

"This is a date?"

"Well you did ask me to dinner." She shrugged. "Now we're having dinner."

So you ate dinner. Then you watched a movie from the stash of old westerns under the TV. Seriously, who stocked this place? Steve?

Then you walked her to the bedroom door.

"Goodnight" You smiled and turned around, she tugged you backwards by the hood of your shirt/dress.

"There's one bedroom. Where are you going?"

"To the couch?" You pointed back toward the living room with your thumb. "If we're still following first date rules, I'm supposed to drop you off at the door and go to my place."

Wanda giggled, then put on a soft pout.

"You forgot your kiss." She put her arms around your neck, leaning in close enough you feel her breath on your lips. "And I'm not above inviting you in on the first date. You're not sleeping on the couch."

With that, she pulled you inside and closed the door behind you. She let you go and turned to walk away.

"Ah!" You wrapped your arms around her, pulling her giggling form back into you. "My kiss!"

You planted a soft kiss on her cheek and pulled away, walking to the bed. You could play the teasing game too.

Wanda laughed behind you. "That's all you wanted?"

You omitted your response, choosing to instead pull back the sheets. She knew that you definitely wanted a proper kiss, but you were determined to tease her back. Give her a taste of her own medicine.

"Y/n" She tugged on your sleeve, and you turned with an attempt at a neutral expression, but just looking at her made you smile again.

She pushed you down to sit on the mattress and you genuinely squeaked as she settled herself on your lap, hands on your shoulders. She chuckled and you almost felt embarrassed, but then her lips were on yours and you forgot everything but the tingling of your skin as her lips moved against yours and her fingers slipped into your hair.

You balled your fists in her sweater and groaned as she bit your lip and pulled away for air. Your foreheads were pressed together again and you flashed back to the moment in the hallway. You would be thinking about that hallway for a long time, oddly enough in a good way despite everything that was going on there.

How could she take such a horrible, scary day and make it feel so good? You weren't even afraid anymore.

Because Wanda was there, and she was safe, and she was amazing.

"You're magical." You breathed out and Wanda grinned.

"I've been told that."

"You have?"

Wanda spun her magic between her fingers and waited for you to catch on. It took a moment. Or five.

"Oh"

Wanda started giggling. "Oh!"

"Hey! I'm in a post-kiss haze right now. Don't be mean." You pouted for about two seconds.

Wanda kissed you again. Softly, gently, and way too shortly. Then you were smiling.

"Thank you."

"What for?"

"Today could have been horrible. I mean yeah we completed our mission but.." You trailed off. "I was content to be terrified and you made me feel better."

"What are friends for?" She grinned and you pulled back, frowning.

Wanda only laughed as you lifted her up and dropped her on the bed. You started to walk away but turned around and brought the covers over her shaking body as she kept laughing.

You tucked her in, then kissed her head and moved away.

"Goodnight" you said flatly and started to leave.

"No wait!" Wanda was still giggling as she scrambled out of the bed and pulled on you. "Where are you going?"

"To the couch." It tried to keep a straight face but you were struggling to keep from laughing.

"You can't leave me alone in here." She pouted. "Please stay?"

Damn she was good at this.

"Okay" you turned around and started getting into bed. Wanda slid in next to you with a cheeky little smile.

"Thank you."

"What are friends for?" You grumbled and couldn't help the small smirk pulling at the corners of your lips. "Friendly friends."

"Shut up." She chuckled and pulled you over into another kiss. "You're so fucking cute."

"Fuck you." You laughed a little and she grinned.

"Maybe some other time." She settled herself with her head on your chest and flipped the lights off with a flick of her fingers.

"Goodnight Wanda." You whispered into her hair.

"Good night moya lyubov" she mumbled into your chest.

You smiled as you fell asleep. For the first time, you wanted to sleep. The nightmares could come, but Wanda would be there in the morning, and that was where you wanted to be.

Tag list: @chelleztjs18 @i-do-it-for-the-gays @stonemags That's all I got

[katz-chow]

i remember everything...

synopsis: in which johnny deals with the lingering feelings he has with his coworker 🏷| fluff, american!reader, gn!reader, reader is described as having hair long enough to have to towel dry (its like one sentence), mostly in johnny's pov, prompt 29, culture clash, part of @glitterypirateduck's soap it up challenge

masterlist | taking orders | main menu

“Strange words come on out of a grown man’s mouth when his mind’s broke. Pictures and passing time, you only smile like that when you’re drinkin’…”

“Do you like it?” You ask him, as you both sit on your respective beds in the hotel room. The soft glow of the hotel lamps mixed with the pristine, white sheets gave off the allusion of an ethereal heaven. You both untucked the sheets and wrapped them around you and on the bed in your nests of bedding, shielding away from the blasting AC air. 

Johnny groans, falling back onto the firm queen-sized mattress. “If I have to hear another Southern accent, I’m gonna blow my brains out. Yours is enough!”

“Bitch!” You scream and laugh as you throw a pillow, aiming for his crotch. A sharp breath stopped itself in his throat as he groaned in discomfort. Another laugh was pulled from you as you too, squirm around in bed. 

Eventually, he recovers and sat back up. “Bonnie, you remember when we first went on this world tour of ours?”

A world tour, that’s what you both referred it to. In reality, it was just a guest speaker program on international joint bases. You were there in the UK as an American, part of a joint company operation. Then Kyle pointed you out when you shared some memories in North Carolina together. Hitting it off with Johnny was just pure fate (maybe, he thinks). 

The first time he saw you, you and your squadron stood shiny in the unfamiliar dress blues in front of that board meeting. An hour later, he discovered you’re all American service members, here on an ally program. 

The second time, fate forced you both together. Chow Hall at dinner time proved to be both bliss and the Thunderdome at the same time– which was no foreign territory for the Americans. They were loud, Johnny thought. The more he heard their wide range of accents, the more intrigued he became with this new group.

He gazed at them, you included, deciding when would be the right time to bud into the conversation. That’s when you spoke up, hinting at the cutest, slowest speech he’s ever heard; a real, Texan accent. 

“I dunno about all this, y’all…It kinda looks, like, bland…” You say as you look at the food on your tray. Kyle right over your shoulder with your friends crowding around the “experimental plate”. 

Kyle laughed and cut open the pastry with a knife, moving the peas around. The meat inside spilled out of the puff pastry as everyone oo-ed and ah-ed and not in a good way. “You telling me you’ve never had a meat pie?”

“Closest thing would be chicken pot pie…and even with that the peas are inside and I don’t have to look at it when I eat it.” One American laughed. Johnny noted that his accent sounded “standard” compared to your more regional one.

Another woman piped up as she shoved his arm with hers, “Chicken pot pies aren’t all that, Johnson, you’re fucking weird.”

“Cut that shit out, Phillips…I’m gonna…fuck your husband.”

Johnny snickered and interjected himself into the appropriate conversation. “How about you shag me instead? A true Scotsman right here.”

“I mean, if you want…” The Standard American, now he knew as Phillips, responded as he turned towards him and smiled. 

He noticed the group of Americans all turned their bodies to include him in their small circle, even when he was about three feet away and on a different table. They were kind and eager, friendly even. 

From then on, he decided to always stick around the group of funny Americans, who always seemed to do the weirdest things. He also got to know the mirage of people within this seemingly rag-tag team. From Edward Phillips, the Washingtonian Linguist, Michelle Hernandez, the New Mexican demolitions expert,  and then you, the Texan. 

After that, he just gravitated towards you, like an asteroid in your presence. He revolved around you, hovering when you need him and jumping in. Never far for you to hold onto, he was right beside you, an equal rather than someone to catch you if you fall or a subordinate waiting upon your every command. You liked that about Johnny, how he’s a partner, and thus on par with you. Your strengths are his weaknesses (reading comprehension) and your weaknesses are his strengths (chemistry). 

Johnny often questions whether fate is real or not, must be the Catholic in him, but the critical, logical part of his brain won’t let him fully believe. He wonders if fate is real if there truly is a bigger spirit that predetermines whether or not he will die horrifically in battle, or how many kids he’ll have— if he is allotted more than one. More often than not, however, he finds himself wondering if he somehow made the right choice to speak up with that lewd comment that led to meeting his best friend. Or was it how God had intended it? Or, perhaps, it was the Roman Moirai that had strung your paths together. In either case, he could only hope that he was making the right choice now. 

The AC continued to blast in the dim light, something he had to get used to. Months ago, when you were merely just a coworker, he had to adjust to the fact that you were afraid of sleeping in the dark. Teases and playful jabs seemed relentless, night after night as soon as you went to turn on the bathroom light and crept the door closed. But now, as whoever’s above fated it, he quite likes the addition to his nightly routine. 

Things are simpler, more clear, and more concise. It’s a lot different building bombs, and awaiting the next mission than simply giving a briefing on demolition safety and code of conduct. One might even say it’s boring, but what’s more boring than your job? At least he’s talking about something interesting! Says the man who eavesdrops on your talk whenever he’s not busy. 

Johnny has more time to journal, draw, and…think. It became routine, you getting ready for bed while Johnny props himself up on his pillows, thinking and scribbling away. So here he is, nightstand lamp casting its low, orange glow against his even yellower pages. Odd drawings of the desk chair in front of his bed, some notes about your lecture, and an odd sticky note drawing on your side profile he did while he waited for you to finish your talk. 

Never leave a man with his thoughts, one of the lessons he had learned when he started to let his mind wander from station to station, train of thought visiting back on when you caught his eye, or when you fell down the stairs and your nose started to bleed (Johnny had never felt his stomach sink so low), and just last week when you convinced him to try authentic Indian food…he thinks of you.

It's almost as if he no longer even lets his mind wander but now he lets his thoughts loose into Your World. His bonnie. His. Fuck him, He rubbed his face with his palms, exasperated.

“You good?” Your voice snapped him away from his consuming thoughts, hands falling to close his leather-bound journal with a snap. 

He looks at you. You had your head tilted, hair falling into the towel that you’re crunching up to dry it. “‘m fine, Birdie.”

Birdie, his songbird. His ears hear the way you scoffed, swinging back into the bathroom to set the towel up and get yourself into the twin bed next to his, the space separated by just a small nightstand holding the phone and now his journal. 

You hop onto bed, throwing the already jostled-up sheets onto you as Johnny stands to turn off the light on the opposite wall. Your laptop, which had now been turned off per his request, tucked itself under your bed, barely peeking out just for a reminder for when you both leave the next morning. 

“I don’t want to go on base tomorrow. I hate Newport.” You say to break the silence between the both of you, simply sitting in the not-so-dark. 

Johnny groans, having heard you say this since the two of you had landed here in Rhode Island. “Oh haud yer wheesht, we’re only here for another day,” he reasons.

You’ve heard that phrase a lot lately, especially as your World Tour is coming to an end soon. Two more bases, a fortnight left. But you can’t blame him, your whining was getting a bit much. 

A comfortable silence fills the air again as you hum in reply to him. Both of you find yourselves lost—or leashed in your worlds, thinking about what’s next.

He’s going to miss this; miss waiting for you to get ready for bed, miss listening in on your colloquies, miss the way your body wash smells, miss your awful music…”Fuck, I’m gonna miss you.”

“What?” 

Johnny freezes, he takes back about the time you fell: this was when his heart dropped the furthest and fastest it’s ever fallen. Almost like the New Year's ball in New York. Fuck, fuckfuckfuckfuck.

“Johnny, what did you just say?” In his peripheral, he sees your head turn to look at him. he turns his head to you. 

He prays that you don’t see the way sweat begins to fall from his skin or hear the quiver in his voice. “I said, I’ll miss you.”

You giggle a bit, letting your head fall back onto the plush headboard, eyes up at the popcorn ceiling. “It’s not like I’m going to die anytime soon, I’ll still be here.”

“I don’t want you to ever leave.” He blurts out quicker than his brain can even pick up. Blood rushes into his ears, he feels his body get hot as he awaits your reaction. 

The tension grows thicker, even as the AC hums. He sees your feet under the sheets moving side to side, you’re thinking of how to respond, formulating the perfect response. God, you were perfect, thinking about what you wanted to say rather than just blurting things out like how he is. You’re so different than him, so precise in your doings, always thinking ahead, always planning for the worst outcomes. And not to mention how good of a teacher you are with those in your field, you spoke eloquently, formally– yet just enough casualty that not only demanded respect but provided a sense of comfort. 

He looks back over to you quickly, your head still in the same position as before, eyes closed, however. For a quick moment, he sighs in relief, thinking you had fallen asleep from talking and whining too much. But instead, when he snaps back into reality, he sees your face smiling at him. 

“I think I’d like that a little too much.” You scrunch up your nose just a bit at the end of your sentence.

He doesn’t know what to make of them, but he smiles back nonetheless. “Yeah?”

You hum again, thinking. Silence washes over the two of you again. You two don’t look at each other, Johnny can feel disappointment wash over him, ready to just retire for the night.

“You wanna watch a movie?” You blurt out, already reaching down to pull your laptop out from under the bed. He looks at you quizzically, but agrees anyway.

To his surprise, however, you find yourself throwing the laptop gently on his bed, shooing him over (which he obeys), and getting under the sheets with him. His heart flutters as he instinctively rests his arm behind you. You scoot closer to him, pulling your laptop onto your lap. But you stop, and his breathing does to match. 

“Is this okay?” 

Johnny nods and smiles softly at you, seeing your worried expression dissipate. You decide that Johnny gets no say in what the two of you watch, and honestly, Johnny seems more interested in the fact that he can smell your shampoo and feel how soft the tips of your hair are in between his fingertips. He zones out after that, rejoicing in the moment as your breathing steadies his old heart. 

You turn your head up to look at him, raising your head slightly from his chest. He looks down at you, an eyebrow raised. “Hm?”

“I’m tired.”

He smiles wider at how your eyes droop down, even after insisting the two of you watch a movie. The screen pauses as he presses the spacebar, timestamp at 23:09. He huffs a laugh. “It’s late, I ken, I ken…”

“Can I sleep here?” You ask, already resting your head on his chest and sinking further into the now-warm sheets. Johnny shifts over a bit, closing your laptop and tossing it carefully over to your empty bed. The strands of your hair lift up a bit as he absent-mindedly messes with them. Your arm found itself hooked under his bicep, the other arm thrown over his chest.

His lips reach down and places a soft kiss on the crown of your head, burying his nose into the inviting smell of almonds and cherries. 

You hum in contentment, yet sleepily mumbling out something just a tab bit too quiet for his ears to pick up. “Speak up, Bonnie.”

You whine and his heart skips a beat. He wonders how long this can go on before he dies of cardiac arrest. Hopefully for decades. “It was always going to be you.” You pout, before nuzzling into him again, not once opening your eyes.

Johnny freezes, and the stands of your hair fall from the tips of his fingers. He looks down and sees how your chest rises evenly now, body heavy and warm against his. “Birdie?”

When you don’t respond, he knows you’re dead asleep. He sits there for a while thinking about the choices he made that led him to this position, as a body pillow for you– not that he is complaining. Surely it wasn’t when he tripped over a pinecone in year 5 right? Or when he decided to disobey orders and blow up a base anyway right? No, it has to be much simpler than that– when he had decided to skip lunch that day the two of you met? He thinks about the choices he made, and how he could’ve missed all the signs you gave him showing him that you were also in a state of yearning for him. And why did you turn on a lame rom-com, knowing you were going to fall aslee– oh. Oh.

Was this your plan the entire time? Clever Birdie. Of course, you had planned this out, had planned on turning the AC up, whining about the cold. Leaving your laptop on a movie website already, drying your hair even when you never really do. You just had to find a window of opportunity: him. 

It was always going to be the two of you. He was just a bit behind. 

masterlist | taking orders

[iisasarcasticlittleshite]

Atsumu Miya said it!

(CW: Swearing)

The day's bullshit weighed heavy on your weary shoulders as you forced yourself to go buy groceries before running home to tuck yourself in for the night.

You loved your job, really you did, but dear fuckery did it occasionally smack you in the face with a day from hell, you could barely keep track of the essentials you needed while cursing yourself for not shopping in advance.

Your phone exploding with texts every two minutes does not help.

After six different texts came in, you relented, rubbing at your eyes as you pulled the damn thing out of you pocket.

10 new messages from:

Miya: The Blonde One.

You groaned, and didn't care about the funny looks you got from the cashier as you set your things down on the rolling carpet, hitting the call button as you couldn't be bothered to text him back.

He answered in seconds.

"Finally! I've been textin' ya forever!"

Rolling your eyes, you made sure the happy leap of your traitorous heart didn't show in your voice. 'I only just got off work, shithead.'

"That was a whole twenty minutes ago! Thought ye'd died'r somethin' asshole!'

You and Atsumu had met two years ago, and had somehow ended up with the kind of friendship where swear words have become pet names. He'd clicked into your life like he'd always been there, two years felt like ten.

Now if you're hopeless heart would stop summersaulting every time you thought of him, like would be great.

You held the phone to your shoulder as the cashier scanned your items so you could load them up. 'You can hold off on crying your eyes out over me, I'm fine. Just had to pick some stuff up on the way home.'

"Too late, already started grieving." You can just imagine him throwing his hand over his heart with "tears" in his eyes. "So when ya gettin' home?"

'I dunno, ten minutes?'

"Sounds like ya know."

'Piss off I'm tired.'

"Yeah yeah, gotta go, later!"

You frowned at the screen as the call cut off suddenly. That was by far the shortest phone call you'd ever had with the national setter. Atsumu could talk the ears off an elephant.

The cashier told you your told, utterly indifferent to your divided attention even as you smiled sheepishly in apology for not greeting her verbally.

As you hauled your things back to the car, you considered calling him back, instead sitting in your car and scrolling through ten lines of utter nonsense texts to try and get your attention. Emoji's, random factoids, just your name repeated several times.

Yup, Atsumu was bored.

Smiling to yourself, you started the car, only to be greeted by the playlist he made you. 90% of it is songs you like, but the rest is purely there to annoy you. Meaning at any one time there's a chance you'll start your engine to Baby Shark.

This time it was a good one, leaving you smiling as you drove yourself home.

Quietly tired, you trudged up to your front door, eyes down as you slid your keys into the door, throwing your keys on the table in the hall on your way in, sliding off your shoes.

You padded to the kitchen, set down your shopping, considered crawling straight into bed as you sluggishly trudged through the living room.

All fatigue flew out of you as you pushed open the bedroom door, and found yourself yelping in surprise at the sight of an Olympic setter on your fucking bed, spread out with a bowl of grapes beside him like the queen of Sheba.

'Holy fuck Atsumu!'

Smug menace didn't miss a beat. 'You could knock, ya know?'

'Bitch, it's my house!' You wailed, clutching your now racing heart as you slowly came to realise- 'Wait, you're not supposed to be here!'

'Yeah yeah it's your house I heard ya.' Atsumu drawled, casually tossing another grape into his mouth. 'Have some grapes, s'good.'

'Atsumu, you are supposed to be in a different country right now!'

He'd told you himself about the away game in this week, a very long flight away.

The setter shrugged, but his cheeks were starting to gain some colour, making you immediately suspicious. 'I came back early. Used your spare key to get in so don't go lookin' for any broken locks or anythin'.'

'Did something happen?' You wondered as he sat up on the edge of your bed and you moved to sit beside him, curious.

'Nah, just missed ya is all.'

You arched a brow at that. You'd like to think that you know exactly when Atsumu's bullshitting, you've developed a sixth sense for it.

That, did not sound like bullshit. His eyes had darted away from you as he said it, ears turning pink among the thick blonde tresses of his hair.

'Uh huh...' You murmured, looking for words.

'Uh huh? That's all ya gotta say?' He wailed, affronted.

'No! You just put me on the spot!'

'Well figure it out, Shakespeare! I'm pourin' mah heart out here!'

'You call saying you missed me pouring your heart out?'

'If it ain't ya outta show me how it's done!' He huffed, folding his arms across that broad chest, so damn sure you wouldn't call his bluff.

Little did he know, you were sleep deprived, your patience at its end, and your budget for giving a fuck well and truly depleted.

'I hate seeing you leave. Every time you go it feels like the world's turned grey.'

Atsumu did a double take, head snapping back to face you so fast you thought he'd get whiplash.

But you aren't done.

'No one's ever made my name sound as good as you do when you say it, even when you're using it to annoy the shit outta me. You could tell me you'd made the worst mistake ever and I'd still think you were perfect. That Shakespeare enough for you?'

Atsumu's mouth was agape, eyes wide, blinking helplessly at you. That doe-eyed look, it was as if you'd hung the stars in the sky as you said every word while never once tearing your gaze from his.

You smiled gently, taking your finger to his chin to close his mouth for him. 'I'm taking a shower. You figure out your head, Miya.'

'Oh no you don't!'

Before you could so much as lift yourself from the bed, Atsumu was tackling you back onto your own sheets, his athlete's frame engulfing you as he pinned you desperately searching out your eyes.

'Tell me you mean all that.' He pleaded, eyes searching yours for even the slightest hint that you were joking. 'Tell me...tell me you love me.'

You peered up at him, your heart now at a gallop as if it could run and crash through your ribs, reaching desperately for him. Your voice was soft, as if you'd shatter if you spoke your feelings too loudly. No going back now.

'I love you.'

All at once, Atsumu's face lit up with a grin to put the world to shame, but you barely got to enjoy basking in his joy as he was suddenly kissing you, kissing you like it was the first and last time he'd ever get the chance.

He stole the air from your lungs as you chased the softness of him again and again, burying your fingers in the bleached blonde waves, keeping him hopelessly close.

He sighed happily when you finally allowed him breath, but he didn't go far, gently bumping his nose against yours. 'You know this means I win, right?'

'Is that so?'

'Obviously. I made you say it first.'

'Asshole.'

[authorautumnbanks]

Stranded With A Demon Lord and the Strongest Sorcerer (7)

Read chapter 6

At the risk of sounding cliche, Kagome's pussy is out of this world. Satoru bites his lip and stuffs his hands into his pockets. He needs something to do with his hands. Too bad his phone doesn't work here. It would be nice if it did, so he can mindlessly scroll and pretend like he doesn't want to take Kagome up against a tree. She's got on this short green skirt that is driving him crazy. He's not sure what is worse. The fitted yoga pants that show off that glorious ass or the short skirt that shows off so much skin. His mouth goes dry.

Shit. He may actually be addicted to her.

"Just curious. How many males fall in love with you afterward?" His tongue darts out, wetting his lips. He could blame the lack of Chapstick for his dry lips, but really the blame lies in the five-foot-nothing priestess who has his insides all funny acting.

Kagome looks over her shoulder. "They usually fall in love before I sleep with them. Don't tell me you're in love," she teases.

"Nah," he drawls. "Just curious is all. Not like we got much else to talk about." Falling in love with her wouldn't be the worst thing, but it would complicate matters. Satoru hooks his hands into his pockets and goes for casual. Tries to anyway. Sesshomaru must be getting a whiff of how badly he wants to mount Kagome.

He has a laundry list of reasons he should be pushing for a way home and yet he can't find it in him to care. Not even a little. He should. Kami knows he should. But Kagome's lips were wrapped around his cock last night, and he dreamed of her dancing for him like she did for that ogre.

"Sure we do." Kagome turns her head and smirks at Sesshomaru. "Whatcha think about his markings? Aren't they beautiful?"

Beautiful? No fucking way is he about to tell another male that their dick is beautiful. Kissing aside.

"Are you calling me beautiful, priestess?" Sesshomaru asks in a low tone that has Satoru's ears perking up. His heart beats harder. A little louder. And his blood. Kami, his blood is roaring in his ears.

Shit, maybe he is too horny to function. What is this, some second onset of puberty?

"You have the prettiest cock I've ever seen. You should take pride in it. Sorry, Satoru."

"Pfft, I could draw some tattoos on my dick too."

Sesshomaru glances at him and then looks away. Dismissed. Sesshomaru fucking dismissed him. He bites back the snarl. No one dismisses him. Kagome stops and bends down. Pink. Satoru groans.

She did that on purpose. There was nothing wrong with her shoes.

"Why are we going back to the village?" he asks, needing something—anything—to distract him. "Feels like we're going backwards, ya know?"

"This Sesshomaru agrees. We should move forward."

Kagome shakes her head and then stands upright. "You two just don't like Argol, who has done nothing to either of you." She runs her fingers through her hair and flicks it back. "There is a lot we don't know about this place. Why not ask the people... citizens who owe us some questions?"

"Dunno know. We did just fine yesterday." He flanks her side. Maybe being next to her will be easier than being behind her. Less temptation. Maybe.

"Okay, Satoru the Bloodthirsty, we can't go around attacking everyone."

"Strongest."

"Huh?"

"It's actually Gojo Satoru the strongest."

Kagome laughs, head back, full heartfelt laughs. She stops for a moment, looks at him, and then laughs again. He should be feeling miffed, but a grin tugs at his lips and his chest is lighter, as if a burden has been taken off his shoulders. No one cares about him being the strongest here. Hell, Kagome flat out thinks he is joking when he says it. Her soft, plump lips are sinful.

Would she push him away if he kissed her right now? Kagome looks at him. Her long dark lashes flutter and just like that, he is a goner. Pity for all the males that fell in love with Kagome swells in his gut. He should pull back. He should do a lot of things, but he wants to kiss her so badly he feels the anticipation from his fingertips down to his toes.

"What's with that look?"

"I want to kiss you," he admits. They didn't talk about boundaries or if last night was strictly a onetime thing, so maybe he is jumping the gun. But he wants to kiss her so badly it feels like he might combust. His energy is all twisted and out of sorts. Pent up. He needs a release.

Sesshomaru stares at him. Assessing. Satoru forces himself not to fidget under the weight of that stare. He wants to.

"I think you want to do more than that," Kagome teases. She reaches out and grips his jacket, tugging him close. "You're overthinking this." She slides her hands down and cups his ass. Satoru's breath hitches. He drops the yellow bag on the grass. It lands with a soft thud.

The priestess likes aggressive males, is the only thing going through his mind. Satoru grabs the back of her neck and pulls her against him as he leans down. He kisses her softly at first, but when she mewls for him. Fucking mewls. He loses it. Satoru grips her ass and lifts her up. Her legs wrap around his waist and fuck, she's wet.

"Too horny to function, was it?" Sesshomaru's cool voice washes over him and Satoru groans.

He breaks off the kiss and flicks his eyes at Kagome's lips. So puffy. Damn, he wants to kiss her again. "I'm functioning just fine."

"Not to be a buzzkill," Kagome says, leaning back. "But I'm a little sore."

Oh. Right. Satoru swallows. He's not sure how she took all of Sesshomaru last night. That was... uh, something else. Hot. Erotic.

"Do you want me to carry you?"

Kagome tilts her head. "Feral one moment and sweet the next. I can walk, though. Actually, I need to walk or you're going to have me all spoiled." Setting her down on her feet is torture. Her body slides against his on the way down. Satoru swallows again. He needs to pull it together. At this rate, they will never leave this world.

"So, what happens if we never find a way home?" He slides the backpack on and looks forward.

"Then we live here?"

"I mean...do we continue to wander?"

Sesshomaru shrugs one shoulder. "No, wandering would be hard on Kagome when she is pregnant with young. If it comes to it, then this Sesshomaru will find a suitable area to claim."

"Pregnant? Who said anything about getting pregnant?"

Sesshomaru rakes his eyes over Kagome and juts his chin up ever so slightly. "You are mine."

"Is Satoru yours too?" Kagome teases.

"Naturally."

Naturally? Satoru blinks. Hold on. When in the hell did he get claimed by the dog demon? "Wait a minute—" Satoru falters under the cool glare. "As long as we don't live in the same village as Argol, then I'm fine. But I need to get back to my world. For my students." Satoru frowns. "Everything was going to shit when I got sealed and ended up here."

"Sealed?"

Satoru nods. "Yeah... someone took over my friend—my dead friend's body to stall me. Just long enough for me to be sealed." He shrugs. "They couldn't defeat me outright, so they sealed me. I don't know if time passes the same in this world or not, but my students are in the midst of it."

"Their safety is the only reason you have to return?" Sesshomaru questions.

Satoru lifts one shoulder and then rubs the back of his head. "I'm the leader of my clan, but they'd survive without me."

Kagome flashes him a smile. "Oh, excuse me Satoru-sama."

"Kagome," he groans, dragging a hand down his face. "Don't do that to me."

"Satoru-sama," she says.

Fuck him.

"Priestess, unless you wish to be taken now, I suggest you stop teasing him."

"You said I." Kagome gasps.

Sesshomaru's lips twitch. He strides forward.

Looks like Kagome is in trouble. Satoru clears his throat. Later, when he has a moment alone, he should figure out how he's reading Sesshomaru so well. "There's the issue of the higher-ups. They hate me and will probably take it out on my students. They already have."

Kagome sighs. "Sesshomaru isn't going to just let you go. He doesn't like just anyone." She squeezes his arm. "We'll figure it out. No point in stressing about it now."

"Why does that sound like a threat?"

"If it was, what are you going to do about it?"

Satoru's brows furrow together.

"Put me in detention?" Kagome continues, oblivious to Satoru's plight.

"I don't have a ruler on me, but..." That branch could work. Maybe they can find another spot with a boulder. "We'll figure out your limits." He has a general idea of what she can handle. Hell, she took Sesshomaru's knot like a champ.

"Speaking of that, what's with the blindfold?"

"Got sensitive eyes. Don't worry, I can see just fine."

"Do you need me to heal you?"

"You can do that?" Not that he needs it, but it's good to know what Kagome can do. He's not sure if she could take out a curse since she doesn't have cursed energy, but she's plenty strong.

She probably could. She bypasses his infinity.

"I can heal myself, so you don't need to," he follows up with. Besides, he can't handle her power washing over him right now. It's taking longer than yesterday to reach this village when they should get a move on it, but damn, that skirt is short. "You know, I could make you feel better."

Kagome quirks a brow.

Satoru bites his lip and then slides two fingers up. He flicks his tongue out.

"Maybe we should call you Satoru-sama the horniest." Kagome laughs.

"You never refer to this Sesshomaru as Sesshomaru-sama."

"Are you pouting? You want me to call you Sesshomaru-sama that badly?" Kagome shifts her bow to the other side and then wraps her arms around Sesshomaru's arm. "How am I just now finding out how needy you are?"

"This Sesshomaru is not needy."

"My swimsuit begs to differ." Kagome sniffs. "Now I don't have a bathing suit. Doubt this place has any."

Satoru blows out a breath. "The lack of amenities is a pain."

Kagome hums. "You'll get used to it... but yes. I'll show you how to make soap and stuff. Can't do anything about the lack of plumbing." She groans and rests her head on Sesshomaru's arm. "What if the winters here are terrible? I don't have any warm clothing packed."

Sesshomaru lets out a noise that sounds suspiciously like a huff. "This Sesshomaru takes care of what is his. You fret for nothing."

"So, you and Satoru are going to play nice in case we need currency?"

Sesshomaru's lip curls back. "You cannot possibly like the brash one."

Kagome likes Argol? Satoru cracks his neck.

"Eh, Argol isn't that bad. Kinda reminds me of Koga—"

"The wolf you fucked."

Satoru grits his teeth. Did he really think the sky looked better? Nah, it looks like straight piss. Terrible. Not a cloud in sight to disguise the terrible color.

"Wait a minute," Kagome says, clearly exasperated. "I did more than fuck Koga."

Satoru coughs.

"Satoru, pull it together." Kagome gives him a look and then turns her attention back to Sesshomaru. "As I was saying. Koga and I were in a relationship. That's different. And no, I do not want Argol. If I wanted him, I could have him." She sniffs.

"Not if you want him to remain alive," Sesshomaru replies.

"You wouldn't kill him... right? Satoru?"

"Hm? Sorry, could you repeat that?"

"Ugh! You two are ridiculous. Whatever. When we get there, I will do the talking, since you two are nothing but a bunch of murderers."

Sesshomaru sniffs and then tilts his head to the left, ever so slightly. "Watch the priestess."

Why? Is there something going on?

ROARRRRR!

Satoru's muscles tense.

"Oh, that's just great," Kagome complains. "Is that a T-Rex?"

"Giganotosaurus," Satoru replies absently. It's heading for the village, too.

"Giga what?"

"A predator like a T-Rex." Satoru motions for Kagome. "Stay next to me. Don't think you can dance your way out of this one," he jokes.

"Ha. Ha." Kagome huffs. "It's going for Ebeelx and the others. We gotta help them."

"We do not," Sesshomaru says. "They should know how to defend themselves against their enemies."

"Fine. I'll go." Kagome goes to leave, but Satoru catches her around the waist. "Seriously?"

Satoru inhales. How does she smell so nice? "So, who wins? The dinosaur or the dog?"

Sesshomaru's golden eyes darken and then flash red. His face elongates as his body transforms into his dog form. There's something about this form that is more frightening than Sesshomaru's more human-like form. The demonic energy is oppressive.

Intoxicating.

How strong is Sesshomaru?

"Seriously?" Kagome repeats.

"I'll call it Giganotosaurus versus Dog, a story of one dog's grit against the world's largest predator. Can the village's protector keep them safe one more time? Or is all hope lost? Find out in five seconds."

Kagome snorts. "Okay, at least get us a better viewpoint."

Satoru presses a kiss on Kagome's neck. "Let's go."

***

A/N: Work meeting got hacked today and I know it is a serious matter, but the hacker had the name Droope Balls and I couldn't tell what the meeting was for after that.

Gonna sit down this weekend and put myself on an update schedule because external pressure works very well for me.

Hope you are having an amazing week so far. Get plenty of rest and lots of sun! May both sides of your pillow be cool.

[titanicfreija]

set not long after TFS

Art

"Have you done the wood-burning finger paint? Lately?" Thomas asked. 

Freija still stewed around the apartment and it became more and more clear that she had no way to let it out that wasn't pacing, screaming, or blowing things up, and apparently those were still not working.

"No."

The Warlock didn't bother with any further ceremony and handed her a panel of wood, about eighteen inches square and an inch thick. "Didn't think so. You need to express yourself."

The Titan took it from him and eventually saw the plank in her hand. "What's that mean?"

"It means, put the scream into the plank. Pace through a picture, with your hands and your Light, the way you always want to kick and fight. Try not to break it too fast, but the break will be part of the art, too." He relaxed in his seat and drummed his hands on the arms. "If it doesn't help, you'll still have a piece of wood to burn for fun, which might."

Freija scowled at the empty panel. "I'm too tired. I don't want to feel anything anymore. She isn't dead. She died, but she isn't dead."

"Correct," Thomas said. "Draw that."

"How?" Freija demanded. 

He shrugged. "Use an analogy. Phoenixes are popular for creatures like us."

"We're zombies," Freija chuckled darkly, slouching into the couch with the panel on her knees.

"Draw that, then."

"Gonna draw a dead fucking Ghost," Freija growled. "All rippling with Light and Dark. She looked just like my fucking arm, only her white wasn't swimming, either."

"Sounds great," Thomas said. "It's literally all good ideas, the only way you can do it wrong is hurting someone to make it. Which is funny, because half the time, the goal is to hurt them with the result."

"Trying to hurt people with a picture?" Freija asked. "Nevermind, you told me."

He grinned. "Make people feel things. Or at least feel things all over stuff and let 'em look at it if you want. Burn it if you want. Hide it under your bed until you think you can see it again. But it's a way to scream quietly and hopefully it'll count for getting it out."

Freija was not an artist. Not a visual one. At best she was an untrained poet. So the first thing she burned in was a metaphor, her hands on front and back in her grip, charred completely black. This shit wouldn't let go.

The tears stung before she even got really started, while her hands were still heating up.

Clumsy outline of the normal shell but then Freija impressed the Winter Lotus over the top of it, and gave it her ears. 

Center eye completely charred over, leaving a blackened pit halfway into the wood.

The work of lightly singeing the top layer, leaving strips untouched, took a lot of effort. It wasn't perfect but it left what she needed to leave and made the shape she needed. A Ghost shell with whispy streaks of white.

More char for the Darkness ripples.

Twice, she had to stop to curl into a ball and bury her head and cry. She kind of remembered Thomas was there, but he was literally telling her to do this, so it wasn't so embarrassing but it still felt stupid.

She stopped there, not knowing what else to do, and she put it on the center table. She couldn't stop herself from curling back into a ball. "Am I done?"

Thomas glanced over at it, then leaned to look at her past the monitor. "Dunno. Is there anything else?"

She stared at it as though it hurt her. "M… no. Thought about my hands but that's not… no. This is… yeah. This is done." She blinked more tears down.

Her friend crossed the room to hug her shoulders and took the piece into his hand.

She leaned up to snatch it from him. "Wait." She turned it backwards and lined up her fingers on the front to imitate the back, and gently scorched in their shape. The result looked like she was burning her way through from the other side. 

She then handed it back and flopped to curl back up on the couch. "There."

He nodded firmly. "Good job." He lowered it and rocked back to see her eyes. "Did that help?"

She nodded, and even offered him a fleeting smile. "Yeah. Way more than I thought it would." 

He smiled chipperly. "Good! That's great, actually. I worry a lot. We need to lean more into that. Whatever you want done with it, let me know, but I'm hiding it from everyone until you're ready."

She nodded, grateful that he knew how to handle that. She didn't want to see it again for a long time but she also didn't want to get rid of it.

"You're a really strange person," Freija told him. "I mean that in the best way possible. I don't know what kind of person you'd be without it."

"Thank you," Thomas replied sincerely.

@annieruok94 @wolvereaux

[theradicalscrivener]

Trevor: A Small Gathering

Another chapter that's more slice of life than smut.

Ashton arrives at Simon's place with his new friend in tow.

CW: shrunken men, size diff, macro/micro.

(P.S. Ya boi's got Linktree and Bluesky now)

[First Chapter] || [Previous Chapter] || [Next Chapter]

                “I’ll get it!” Trevor said in response to the sound of a knock at the door.

                “How many times are you going to keep making the joke?” Simon asked the tiny figure that was riding in the folds of his hood.

                “Until it stops being funny,” Trevor replied.

                “Yeah. You’re a real comedy genius,” Simon replied dryly as he got up from his desk to go answer the door.

                “Do you think it’s Devon?” Trevor asked.

                “Most likely. None of my friends said they were swinging by,” Simon replied.

                “Are you jealous that I’m so popular?” Trevor teased.

                “I’m jealous that neither you nor any of your friends have jobs,” Simon countered.

                Trevor didn’t have time to trade yet another barb. Simon was already at the door and was pulling it open, but even had Trevor begun to say something, his comment would have been cut short but what he saw waiting for him on the other side of the door.

                “Who the fuck are you!?” Trevor shouted.

                “Woah. You really are tiny,” The man standing on the other side of the door said upon spotting the tiny figure peeking out from inside of Simon’s hood.

                Simon cupped a hand over his tiny boyfriend to hide Trevor from view and glared suspiciously at the newcomer. Simon was not nearly as tall as the new arrival, but he was a bit stockier. Simon’s lithe, runner’s build stood in stark contrast to the slim, gangly build of the new arrival.

               “Do I know you?” Simon asked.

                “Probably not,” the guy said. He turned slightly so that Simon could see the pack that was slung over his shoulder. Simon glanced at the pack and quickly realized that it was not the pack that the guy was showing him but the passenger!

                “Devon!?” Simon gasped.

                Devon was perched atop the guy’s backpack and was using the handle as a makeshift seatbelt. Devon looked up at Simon and waved.

               “You must be Simon,” Devon said.

               “You hadn’t met before?” The gangly, punkish looking guy said to his small passenger.

                “Not directly, anyway,” Devon replied.

                “He’s friends with my boyfriend,” Simon added.

                Simon nodded slightly to gesture towards the crook of his neck where Trevor was standing. Simon relaxed his defensive posture a bit and moved his hand so that he was no longer hiding Trevor from view. Trevor wasted no time in spotting Devon and waving his arms to get his friend’s attention.

                “Hey! Devon! Hey!” Trevor shouted.

                Devon glanced towards the noise and gasped when he caught sight of his friend.

                “Wow… You’re… wow…” Devon murmured.

                Devon had known that Trevor would be smaller than him. He had heard the new reports. He had even seen the numbers in the paper. On a statistical level, Devon knew that Trevor was a bit short of two inches tall, but seeing it was another matter altogether! Devon was so used to being around people that towered over him like skyscrapers that seeing someone who was so small that Devon could scoop them into his arms like a teddy bear nearly broke his brain.

                While Devon was busy stammering, Simon turned his attention to the guy who had brought Devon to his apartment.

                “You should have lead with you’re Devon’s friend,” Simon said. He extended a hand towards the newcomer and added, “I’m Simon, by the way.”

                The guy took Simon’s hand and shook it. “Ashton. And I dunno if I would say we’re friends,” he said flatly.

                Simon cocked an eyebrow questioningly and glanced back towards Devon.

               “I’m surprised your mom didn’t bring you,” Simon said.

                “I… didn’t want her to…” Devon said sheepishly.

                Simon still had an eyebrow cocked, but now he tilted his head like a confused puppy. “… but you came with someone you barely knew?” Simon asked.

                “I found him on his way and offered to help,” Ashton said.

                “Did you try to come here by yourself?” Simon asked. 

                “Yes…” Devon admitted.

                Simon visibly tensed up but said nothing in reply. There was a heavy silence as Simon just stared at Devon. Devon recoiled slightly from the intensity of his stare, but before he could say anything, Ashton intervened.

                Ashton raised a hand as if to tell Simon to back off. “Don’t be mad at him,” he said.

                “I’m not mad. I just had a half-second heart attack thinking of all the ways that could have gone terribly wrong,” Simon replied.

                There was an awkward pause. Devon didn’t know what to say. He barely knew Simon, but Simon’s response was both strangely reassuring and a bit mortifying.

               Ashton, meanwhile, wasn’t sure if he should say or do anything. He didn’t really have a horse in this race, did he? And yet, he wanted to step up to bat for Devon, but what would he even say? It wasn’t like Devon needed Ashton to defend him.

               Simon broke the silence. He nodded over his shoulder and said, “Come on. Let’s continue this inside.”

               “If it’s all the same…” Ashton began to say.

               “If you don’t have anywhere you need to be, I’d like it if you came in. Let me thank you for your help. I’ll get you a drink, and I’ve got some pizza in the oven. It’s more than I can eat by myself, and I doubt these two will eat much,” Simon said, gesturing towards the tiny guys that were riding on his and Ashton’s shoulders.

               “I don’t need anything,” Ashton replied.

               “Too bad,” Simon said.

               Ashton was taken aback by this response. He was so caught off guard that he couldn’t even formulate a reply.

               “You did something nice for us. Now let us do something nice for you,” Simon said and gestured once more for Ashton to come inside.

               Ashton chuckled in response. The original plan was to get Devon to safety and then politely dip, but it didn’t sound like Simon was going to give him the option. Ashton wasn’t one to accept hospitality when offered. Most people offered to do something less out of the goodness of their heart but rather because of some stale social contract, but there was something about the cut of Simon’s jib that Ashton found amusing.  This wasn’t the fake politeness that Ashton had expected at first. Simon seemed to have a genuine desire to do something nice. Ashton was also admittedly curious about not just Simon but Simon’s little friend too. Trevor was so tiny, and yet Devon had said Simon was Trevor’s boyfriend?

                Ashton followed Simon into the apartment. The apartment itself was nice but small. The main room was split into a reasonably sized living room and a small kitchen. There were two doors leading off from there which Ashton could only assume lead to the bedroom and bathroom.

                Simon gestured for Ashton to take a seat on the couch which Ashton did. Simon then reached up to the passenger on his shoulder and waited as Trevor scampered onto his palm. Once Trevor was safely in position, Simon reached down and held his hand towards the table so Trevor could step down and scurry over towards the cellphone which was sitting face up in the center of the table.

                “Hey! Set Devon down!” came Trevor’s voice from the cellphone speaker.

                It took a second for Ashton to process what had just happened. He was surprised to hear Trevor’s voice, but quickly realized that Trevor must be using the cellphone to magnify his voice.

                Ashton didn’t say anything, but he quickly held his palm up for Devon to climb aboard similar to how Simon had done for Trevor mere moments before, but Ashton’s passenger was much larger.

                It was strange for Ashton to even think of Devon as being large. Devon was barely bigger than an action figure, and yet, Devon was far larger than Simon’s tiny boyfriend. To Trevor, Simon’s palm was the size of an Alaskan King mattress, but for Devon, Ashton’s palm was more of a papasan.

                Once Devon was safely deposited on the table, Ashton took a seat on the sofa nearby and sat back and watched. Ashton couldn’t hear what the two tiny guys were saying, but it was still interesting to watch. Devon had sat down cross-legged on the table and was listening intently as Trevor excitedly rambled on about something. Trevor’s exaggerated motions and mannerisms made it clear that he was extremely excited and happy to see his friend for the first time in months.

                “How was the trip? Why did you come with that guy? Why didn’t you text us back? We would totally have come and got you,” Trevor fired off questions one after another.

                Devon was too overwhelmed to answer any of the questions. He raised his hands to try and get Trevor to calm down so that he’d have a chance to say something. “Woah, woah, woah. Calm down. One at a time,” Devon said.

                “Sorry. It’s just been so long, and then you suddenly show up with this guy?” Trevor said, nodding to the giant figure that sat silently nearby.

                “It’s… a long story…” Devon replied.

                “Well, we’ve got some time before food is ready,” Trevor said.

                “I suppose we do… and I guess it’s not really that long of a story… it’s just… kind of embarrassing…” Devon replied.

                “Yeah? Those are the best kinds of stories,” Trevor said.

                “It’s stupid. I know, but… I wanted to try to make it here by myself,” Devon said.

                “Oh…” Trevor said softly.

                “What’s with that response?” Devon asked.

                “It’s just… I totally get it. I mean, look at me. I went from six feet to two inches in an instant. My old shoes are the size of a house! I used to help Simon get stuff from the top cupboard. Now I can’t even reach the bottom one.” Trevor explained.

                “Huh… I didn’t think any of this bothered you,” Devon said.

                “I don’t know if I’d say it bothers me… It was a huge change, and I’m still adjusting, but…” Trevor’s words trailed off and he looked off towards the kitchen.

                Devon glanced in the direction that Trevor had looked. Simon was on his way back with a couple of cans in his hands. Simon handed one to Ashton and set the other one on a coaster not far from where Trevor and Devon were having their conversation. Devon glanced over at the can.

               Sitting next to Trevor made Devon feel not as puny, but the can instantly reminded him of how small he really was. He used to be able to knock one back with ease, but now a can weighed more than he did. At Devon’s current size, it looked more like a podium than a beverage. Now that Devon was seated, the soda can was slightly taller than he was, but if he were to stand up, the can would reach just below his chest.  The thing was big enough around that he could sit on it like an oversized bar stool.

               “I used to drink these…” Devon murmured in awe at the massive can.

               “And I used to crush them on my forehead,” Trevor replied.

               Devon glanced down at his tinier friend and cocked an eyebrow. “So that’s what happened. I just figured you were dropped as a kid,” Devon replied.

               “RUDE!” Trevor shouted.

               “That was needlessly bitchy, wasn’t it?” Devon replied awkwardly.

               “Yeah,” Trevor huffed. 

               Trevor was now leaning against the side of the cool, metal can which just served to make Trevor look even tinier. Trevor was barely bigger than the UPC! The world around Devon was often extremely daunting due to the sheer size of everything, but Trevor was maybe a quarter of Devon’s size! If things were huge to Devon, they much be absolutely massive to Trevor! Just thinking about how enormous everything must appear to the tiny Trevor made Devon start to feel a little lightheaded. Even just imagining it gave him vertigo!

               “Sorry. The only people I’ve been speaking to lately have been my mom and Rex. With mom, everything’s an argument, and with Rex, everything is just me bitching about my mom,” Devon said.

               “It’s fine. I wasn’t even upset. What’s a bit of ribbing between friends?” Trevor replied. 

               “I guess…? I still feel like the vibes were a bit off,” Devon replied.

               “You’re overthinking it. Let’s focus on something more fun, instead,” Trevor said.

               “Oh? Like?” Devon asked.

               “How was the trip? Who is the guy? What’s the last thing you’ve heard from Rex?” Trevor fired off rapid fire questions.

               “Again. Again. One at a time…” Devon sighed.

               “Fine. Who is the guy?” Trevor asked.

               “His name is Ashton,” Devon replied.

               “I heard that part, but who is he?” Trevor asked.

               “He’s someone who offered to help when I needed it,” Devon said nervously.

               “And you trust him?” Trevor asked.

               “Yeah…?” Devon replied.

               “Great!” Trevor replied.

               “W-what?” Devon yelped.

               “Yeah. You need people you can trust. Even Simon clocked him as a good egg, and he’s a great judge of character,” Trevor explained.

               “I… don’t know why, but I was expecting to have to do a lot more to defend myself here,” Devon said.

               Trevor shrugged. “I already said I get it. This apartment’s the size of a theme park and I still go stir crazy, and that’s with Simon and his friends helping me out. I’ve got a … support network? That feels like a weird way to put it…” Trevor murmured.

               “Could you try to be just a little bitchier? I don’t know how to reply when you’re being nice,” Devon said with a laugh.

               “Well, I’m already little, but I can work on the bitchier,” Trevor sassed back.

               “I’m glad to hear getting shrunk didn’t ruin your sense of humor,” Devon laughed.

               “Gotta keep it light,” Trevor replied.

               “Right. I could use your optimism,” Devon said. 

               “Yeah! It’s not all bad. You know I’m a fan of big dicks, and now all the dicks are huge!” Trevor said with a laugh. He held his hands far apart as if he was showing the size of the marlin he had just caught.

               “You sound like Rex!” Devon laughed.

               “I totally stole that line from him!” Trevor replied.

               “Don’t let him hear you say that. He might get butthurt,” Devon replied.

               “Oh, he totally heard it. He’s the one who told me to say it,” Trevor replied.

               “Oh? You have him on conference call or something?” Devon asked.

               “Nah. Nothing so high tech. Let’s just say I’m wearing a bug,” Trevor replied.

               “And that’s not high tech?” Devon asked, but no sooner had the words left his lift than the realization started to dawn on him. Devon watched in awe as Trevor lifted a finger to his ear and a nearly imperceptibly tiny figure hopped of Trevor’s ear and onto Trevor’s fingertip.

               “What… the…” Devon murmured in awe.

               “Want to talk to him? He’s been talking my ear off all afternoon,” Trevor said and lifted his finger up towards Devon.

               “It can’t be… Rex!?” Devon gasped in shock.

               “The one and only!” Trevor replied.

               “Well… no… I suppose there are a lot of guys named Rex, but this is the only one mite-sized,” Trevor rambled.

               “He didn’t tell me he’d be here today!” Devon said.

               “Oh yeah. It was supposed to be a surprise. So… Surprise!” Trevor cheered.

               “Well… hand him over… I guess I shouldn’t keep him waiting…” Devon stammered.

               He had not prepared for this. He was barely emotionally prepared to see Trevor, and Trevor came up to Devon’s knees. Rex on the other hand was barely even visible even to the already pint-sized Devon.

               Devon reached out a finger for Rex to climb aboard. As Devon watched the miniscule figure scurry across Trevor’s fingertip and onto his own, Devon’s mind was reeling. Devon was so small that the coffee table was the size of a basketball court. To Trevor, the table would be more like a football field, but to Rex!? It must be the size of a city! Just imagining something as simple as a coffee table stretching on for miles made Devon feel light-headed.

               Devon lifted his finger up towards his eyes so he could get a better look. It was definitely Rex! He looked much the same as he had before The Incident albeit with longer hair… oh, and he was much, much, Much smaller.

               Rex was now the size of a grain of sand. He was the size of a speck of dust. Even atop Devon’s shrunken hand, Rex looked to be the size of an an aphid. Devon began to feel light-headed again as he tried to comprehend just how huge he must appear to his now speck-sized former fuck buddy. Rex was now so tiny that he could sit atop Trevor’s finger as if it was a beanbag chair. Rex was so tiny that even Devon’s fingertip was the size of a kiddie pool. If Rex were seated atop someone like Simon’s finger, just the fingertip would be like riding a parade float.

               Rex had told Devon that he had shrunken below a millimeter. Rex had even joked that he had to be below half a millimeter, but they lacked the equipment to properly measure him. It was one thing seeing a number in their chat thread and another thing to see a man so small he could ride a sesame seed like a surfboard!

               Devon was no slouch below the belt. He knew that he had had a nice hog before he had shrunk. Rex used to love to take the full length of Devon’s fat cock in the bathroom between classes, but now, Rex was so tiny that Devon’s fat cock could take the full length of Rex’s body!

               Devon had to fight back the imagery. The whole experience was already so surreal, and the daydreams about dipping Rex like a sounding rod were making Devon’s cock rapidly stiffen in his slacks. The light, thin fabric of Devon’s custom clothes was not designed to hide boners especially not one as big as Devon’s own!

               Even though Devon knew he had a proportionally huge dick, it was hard for him to think about anything on his as “big”. He was shorter than a Barbie! He was maybe eye level with her tits! And yet… he was a goliath compared to the figure that now rode atop his fingertip.

               Devon wasn’t sure how long he was paralyzed by his thoughts, but eventually he became aware of a voice calling out to him.

               “Are you ok?” Trevor asked.

               “Uh… yeah… it’s just… this is a lot to take in. Sorry…” Devon murmured.

               “It’s fine. Take your time. I kinda get how you feel, but Rex has been looking forward to talking to you for a while. He’d been talking my ear off all afternoon,” Trevor said.

               Devon glanced once more at the tiny figure on his fingertip and then back to Trevor. “How do I talk to him?” He asked.

               “Well, he sits in my ear like an earbud, but you’re so big he may be able to fit into the actual canal. Just lift him up to your ear, and he’ll find somewhere to get comfy,” Trevor explained.

               Devon winced as images of Wrath of Khan flashed through his head, but he tried his best not to show his trepidation. The last thing he wanted to do was freak out his friends.

               Devon lifted his finger up to his ear as if he was about to push in an ear plug and then waited as the tiny figure climbed aboard. Devon could feel Rex climbing into his ear. It felt like he had an ant or a gnat scurrying around in there. Devon shuddered despite himself. It took ever fiber of his self-control to not instinctively slap at the tiny bug that was running around in his ear, but eventually, the sensation of the nearly microscopic man scurrying around faded and Rex’s voice came through.

               “Devin! Dude! Who’s the new guy! You didn’t tell me you had a boyfriend!” Rex shouted. Rex’s voice sounded like it was coming in from down a long tunnel… which, technically it was.

               “What? A boyfriend? Oh!” Devon sputtered.

               “Spill the deets! What’s his name? Is he nice? Have you fucked yet?” Rex asked.

               “You’re worse than Trevor!” Devon protested.

               “Answer the questions!” Rex shouted.

               “Fine! I don’t know him that well. I just met him today. He seems nice, but I don’t know if there will be anything after today,” Devon replied.

               “Well, he seems into you. Do you know his name?” Rex asked.

               “Seems into me?” Devon yelped.

               “Totally! I was watching him check you out while you and Trevor talked. You should go for it,” Rex said.

               “I literally just met him,” Devon protested.

               “So? You trusted him enough to have him come with you,” Rex replied.

               “That’s… well, there were extenuating circumstances…” Devon said.

               “Extenuating circumstances like… he’s hot and he wants you to play with his nuts like a beach ball,” Rex said with a lecherous chuckle.

               “How are you so horny!” Devon scoffed.

“What? I’m the size of an ant’s left ass-cheek. I have to live vicariously through my friends!” Rex retorted.

               “With how much you talk about enjoying Trevor’s cock, I thought you’d be getting more action than!” Devon replied.

               “Oh, I get lots of action! Trevor’s fun to play with, but you should see what Simon’s working with! I can spend all afternoon scaling those slopes and still not reach the summit!” Rex said excitedly.

               “Jesus… all you think about is dicks!” Devon scoffed.

               “Yeah? So, what’s new? Seriously, though, you’re missing out. I bet if you ask him, he’d whip it out and show you. It’s even bigger than you are!” Rex said.

               “… fuck… is it really that big…?” Devon murmured.

               “Yeah! It’s a solid foot of fat cock! What are you now? Six? Seven inches!?” Rex asked.

               “I’m not that small!” Devon protested. Devon was about to counter with something more, but truth be told, he wasn’t sure how small he was. Sure, he had been measured when getting fitted for clothes, but he always intentionally ignored the rulers being placed next to him. Being placed beside a simple household ruler was a surreal experience in and of itself, but held in place by a giant hand while they scratched notes on a sheet of paper he was lying atop was a new degree of mortifying. Still… Devon was sure that he was over seven inches… at least he hoped he was… he dreaded finding what his actual height was. He hoped that he was eight inches, but he knew that that was wishful thinking. Still… seven inches is pretty good, right? That’s bigger than most dude’s dicks! But… not as big as his own dick used to be. It was so strange to think that his whole body was now smaller than just his cock used to be.

               Devon’s silent introspection was derailed by the sound of laughter. One voice was echoing in his ear canal, but the other was coming from down by his feet. Devon glanced down to see Trevor doubled over with laughter.

               Trevor’s rudimentary garments were not doing a good job of covering all the saucy bits. Devon could catch a glimpse of a bit of balls as well as Trevor’s tiny taint and the underside of Trevor’s ass cheeks. Despite how embarrassed Devon was still feeling, he couldn’t deny how good Trevor looked. Trevor had always been buff, and shrinking had done little to diminish his physique. Trevor may now be shy of two inches tall, but the dude was yoked.

               “Haha… sorry… I’m honestly surprised it took Rex that long to start talking about Simon’s dick,” Trevor said when he finally stopped laughing hard enough to talk.

               “He really is incorrigible,” Devon said with a sigh.

               “Yeah, but that’s why we like him,” Trevor replied.

               “I guess,” Devon scoffed.

               “To know me is to love me!” Came the voice from inside Devon’s ear.

               Devon grabbed the bridge of his nose and shook his head, but almost immediately he stopped when he heard Rex shouting.

               “W-woah!” came the cry from inside Devon’s ear. “Warn me next time! I barely had time to grab onto a hair!” Rex protested.

               “Uh… sorry…” Devon murmured.

               It was hard to believe that as small as Devon was, Rex was so much tinier that even just Devon shaking his head was enough to send Rex toppling ass over ears.

               Devon briefly recalled the last time he and Rex had fooled around. The two of them had ducked into the supply closet in the chem lab. Rex had gone ankles to ears and Devon pounded his ass like a man possessed.

               It had felt fantastic – far better than using his hand. Far better, even, than using a fleshlight. There was something amazing about feeling another guy’s ass clenching his dick. Sadly, it was something he’d never feel again. There was no one else out there close to his size. The closest person to Devon’s size was his lab partner that day, and Devon wasn’t that desperate.

               “So, how much of that convo did you hear?” Devon asked, once again turning his attention towards Trevor.

               “Just your part, but Rex has a one-track mind. It’s easy to fill in the blanks,” Trevor explained.

               “No doubt…” Devon replied.

               “And… it was kind of obvious what he was talking about…” Trevor said.

               Devon glanced down at his smaller friend and cocked an eyebrow questioningly. Trevor silently gave a nodding gesture towards Devon’s crotch in response.

               Devon glanced down and gasped. The tent in his pants was painfully obvious. Even had his dick not been so big, the wet splotch that had formed atop the bulge would have given him away.

               Devon instinctively plopped his ass down on the tabletop and shoved his hands over his crotch to hide his shame, and as Devon did so, he could hear the sound of a faint voice in his ear shouting, “fuuuuuuccckkk!” Devon could actually feel Rex land with a light thud inside his ear canal.

               “A little warning!” Rex cried.

               “Oh, shut up. You’re fine,” Devon grumbled.

               “I know! I’m fine as fuck, but I still enjoy hearing it!” Rex sassed back.

               “I’m so sorry,” Devon said to Trevor.

               “Why? It’s natural, and I was enjoying the view from down here,” Trevor said with a laugh.

               “You’ve been spending too much time with Rex,” Devon said.

               “Or maybe you’ve been spending not enough,” Trevor and Rex said in near perfect unison.

               “Jesus fucking christ…” Devon moaned as he rubbed his temples.

               “Either way. I’d gladly help you out with that,” Trevor said.

               “Wait. You mean… Actually… dammit…” Devon muttered. He went through like eighteen different emotions in the span of five words. Devon didn’t want to admit it out loud, but he hadn’t gotten off in ages. It was hard to get the time and the tranquility he required when his pen had a baby monitor the size of a big screen TV in it. There was no telling when his mom would choose to chime in. The last thing he wanted was for her to see him choking the chicken. Add onto that the fact that Rex was constantly sexting him, Devon had been blue balled for weeks. To make matters worse, he now had a nearly naked, incredibly hot guy hanging out with him, and a fully naked, equally hot guy whispering sultry nothings into his very ear canal!

               Devon refused to admit it, but seeing how much smaller Trevor was than him was exciting, and seeing how absolutely tiny Rex had become was its own flavor of fascinating. Rex had suggested all kinds of crazy acts the two of them could try when they finally met face to face, and try as he might, Devon could not get those acts out of his mind. Rex had the uncanny ability to get Devon to consider new things, and the even more amazing ability to get Devon to actually try them! Devon had no doubt in his mind that Trevor and Rex could do amazing things to his dick, and part of him wanted to disrobe and let them do it right now… however, Devon was less keen on doing so with an audience. Ashton seemed nice but was still very much an unknown quantity in this equation.

               It was at this point that Simon walked back into the room with a tray of pizza. He had had enough sense to slice the pizza and move it off of the sheet it had been cooked on, but it was still very hot. A fact that Simon quickly announced to all four of the guys hanging out in his front room.

               “So, what do you think?” Simon asked as he handed Ashton a plate.

               “It looks good. Did you make it yourself?” Ashton asked.

               “It’s just a storebought. I was asking about the guys,” Simon said with a laugh.

               “Oh. Well. I don’t know what to say. I’ve just been watching them this whole time and trying to wrap my head around it all,” Ashton replied.

               Simon sat down next the Ashton on the couch and said, “It can be a bit of a shock.”

               “I guess it’s weird for me to be saying something. It’s not my life,” Ashton said.

               Simon shrugged and said, “It’s not not your life.”

               Ashton turned and gave him a quizzical glance.

               “What’s that look about? You’re talking like this doesn’t affect you at all, but you’re here. You didn’t have to help Devon. You didn’t even have to acknowledge that you saw him. It’d be so easy to just pretend nothing happened,” Simon said.

               “I couldn’t do that. There’s too many ways things could have broken bad,” Ashton said.

               “Yeah. It’s easy to forget since Trevor is so outgoing and puts on a brave face, but it’s scary for someone of his size. That’s why it’s good that they have people like us looking out for them,” Simon said.

               Ashton rolled his eyes. “I don’t have it in me to be someone’s keeper,” he said.

               “Good,” Simon said flatly.

               Ashton was once again taken aback. He shot Simon another quizzical look.

               “They’re people, not pets. You don’t keep them,” Simon explained.

               Ashton gave an annoyed grunt. “That’s not what I meant,” he said.

               “But that’s what you said,” Simon replied.

               Ashton gave Simon another incredulous look. His eye twitched slightly with annoyance.

               “That’s what we call a micro-aggression,” Simon said.

               There was an awkward pause as Ashton took in what Simon had just said. Eventually he managed to say something in response. “Was… that a joke?” He asked.

               “Yep,” Simon said.

               “Was all of that just a lead up to a punchline?” Ashton asked.

               Simon gave an iffy hand wiggle and said, “Eh. Little of column a, little of column b. I meant most of what I said, though. They are people and they do need more help than they let on… but I suppose that can be said about everyone.”

               Ashton gave a soft chuckle. “I didn’t expect a philosophy lesson when I came here today,” he said.

               “Not philosophy. Just courtesy,” Simon said.

               “Either way, I’m still trying to take it all in,” Ashton said.

               “Well. You’ll have plenty of time to do so… if you’re interested in hanging around some more,” Simon said.

               “With you?” Ashton asked.

               “With me. With Trevor. With Devon. Mostly Devon. He really needs more friends… and… I’ll be honest with you… I’ve been a bit nosey today because I wanted to get a feel for what kind of guy you are,” Simon said.

               Ashton chuckled. “I did get a kind of overprotective parent vibe from you,” he said.

               Simon leaned in and furrowed his brow and in a deep, grumpy voice he said, “what are your plans with my daughter?”

               The two of them shared a laugh at this. Ashton soon chimed in with, “Your son calls me daddy too.”

               Simon had almost recovered from his previous bout of giggling, but Ashton’s response made him laugh even harder than before. Simon’s laughter was so infectious that even Ashton let out a little chuckle.  Their laughter was so loud that it even distracted the three guys on the table from their antics. Trevor glanced up to see what the commotion was. Devon, meanwhile, was glad to have the attention drawn away from him and his boner if even for a moment.

               After a moment, Simon’s laughter began to die down. Simon took a second to catch his breath and then began to speak once more. “Yeah, but on the subject of over-protective parents, Devon’s mom is a real Piece of Work. Like, an absolute See You Next Tuesday,” Simon said and rolled his eyes.

               “The way you say it, I’m amazed she let him out alone,” Ashton said.

               Simon snuck a quick glance over at the table. When he was sure that Devon wasn’t watching he nodded to Ashton, tapped the back of his wrist where a watch would be, and then nodded towards Devon. Ashton followed Simon’s gesture and noticed the device on Devon’s wrist. It was a small device by normal standards, but on Devon’s tiny arm it looked like the kind of oversized doohickey you’d see in a 90s Saturday morning cartoon.

               “Tracker” Simon mouthed silently.

               Ashton grimaced. The mere thought of having to wear a tracking device disgusted him. He couldn’t imagine what it would be like to be monitored everywhere he went.

               “Maybe I should have a word with her,” He grumbled.

               “Don’t. You’ll just make things harder on him. It took us this long just to get him permission to leave his neighborhood,” Simon said.

               Ashton grumbled again. “I hate not being able to do anything,” he said.

               “I’m surprised you even care. Didn’t you two just meet?” Simon asked.

               “Should I not?” Ashton scoffed.

               “That was supposed to be a compliment. Few people would care enough to help a stranger and even fewer would stick around to make sure everything worked out,” Simon said.

               “You’re the one who told me to stay!” Ashton replied indignantly.

               “Yeah, but you didn’t have to,” Simon said.

               Ashton narrowed his eyes. His expression was somewhere between glaring angrily and curiously appraising the guy he had just met. “I really cannot tell if I should like you or punch you,” Ashton said.

               “I get that a lot,” Simon replied.

               Ashton wanted to counter with something, but he couldn’t formulate anything to say. Simon was an infuriating combo of both incredibly sweet and thoughtful while also being sly and calculating in his comments. Ashton had picked up early on that Simon was testing him, but Ashton was now realizing that the testing had never stopped. Ashton suddenly felt like he was under the microscope, which was ironic considering that there were a couple of guys near him that would both fit in the palm of his hand.

               Ashton just sat there and glared skeptically at Simon. Simon flashed him a smirk that was both friendly and taunting. There was a brief moment where the two of them silently acknowledged that they each knew that the other knew that this was a mental chess game, but before the silence could get awkward, Simon hopped up from the couch and said, “food’s getting cold. Eat up!”

               After that, the conversation was pretty tame. Ashton and Simon munched on pizza and discussed general life events such as what they were studying and how close they were to graduating. The conversation occasionally returned to Trevor and Devon and what it was like living with little guys like them.

               As they ate, Ashton had half a mind to make a quip about the pizza. It was by far the thinnest crust he had ever encountered. It was nearly paper thin, but before he said anything, he noticed that Devon and Trevor were also eating. Devon had pulled off a chunk from the tip of a slice of pizza. It was nearly the perfect size for him. Trevor, meanwhile, was chomping into a pizza crumb which appeared to be the size of a slice of birthday cake in his tiny hands.

               Ashton shot another quick glance at Simon. Simon was sitting back with a slice of his own and was contentedly watching his friends enjoy themselves. Simon had clearly thought this through. Ashton couldn’t help but smirk. This was a guy he could learn to like.

               Eventually, the pizza was consumed and, with the help of Trevor’s speaker, the group had managed to have some conversations and just enjoy hanging out as a group of friends. The vibe was so mellow that it was almost possible to forget the size disparity… almost.

               Still, it didn’t last long. Eventually, Trevor’s phone began to buzz, and the flurry of messages made it clear that Devon was expected home.

               “Tell her to let you stay!” Trevor cried.

               “Fuck no. I was lucky enough to get her to agree to this today. I have to prove to her that there’s no need to worry or she’ll never let me out again!” Devon replied.

               “This blows!” Trevor grumbled.

               “We all agreed to the curfew,” Simon replied.

               “It still sucks!” Trevor whined.

               “It does, but I’m still glad I got to come today,” Devon said.

               “We’ll have to do it again soon,” Simon said.

               “Definitely!” Devon said.

               Simon began to get up. “Let me grab my jacket,” he said, but Ashton motioned for him to stop.

               “I can take him home,” Ashton said.

               Simon narrowed his eyes at Ashton in a silent, almost imperceptible warning.

               “I won’t start any shit when I get there!” Ashton protested.

               “If you say so…” Simon replied.

               “You don’t mind?” Devon asked excitedly.

                “Not at all. It’s sort of on my way, anyway,” Ashton replied.

               “Great. Well then, go ahead and text her back, Trev,” Simon said.

               “Sure thing!” Trevor announced with a playful salute.

               Simon turned and held his hand out to shake Ashton’s hand. “Hey. It was nice meeting you. Feel free to call me anytime if you need something,” Simon said.

               As the two of them shook hands, Simon gave Ashton’s hand a tighter squeeze for a split second. His eyes gave a quick glance towards Devon. There was an implied “look after him” that Ashton quickly picked up on. Ashton returned the squeeze and nodded.

               Ashton knelt down beside the table and held his hand out for Devon to climb aboard, but before Devon could hop on, Trevor shouted, “Wait! You still have Rex!”

               Ashton and Devon both glanced over towards the phone that Trevor was standing atop.

               “Rex?” Ashton asked.

               “Of, fuck!” Devon sputtered.

               Ashton watched in awe as Devon reached up and held his fingertip to his ear almost as if he was about to go digging for earwax, but rather than shoving his fingertip in, he just held it there for a moment. As Ashton watched curiously, he became aware of an almost imperceptibly tiny form hopping out of Devon’s ear and onto Devon’s fingertip.

               Ashton had heard that there were a few people in the lab that day who had been reduced to microscopic sizes, but he had never considered what that might mean until today.

               Devon turned and knelt down to hand off his passenger to Trevor and said, “He’d been in there so long, I started to forget that it wasn’t just my conscience that I was hearing.”

               “You must have a filthy conscience,” Trevor said.

               “Look, I haven’t even been able to jerk it in ages,” Devon said.

               “Next time you stop by, we’ll have to help you with that!” Trevor teased.

               Devon’s face immediately turned several shades redder. “I- But- S-shut up!” He sputtered.

               Trevor was too busy laughing to say a proper goodbye, and from the looks of the spec in the palm of his hand, Rex found the exchange to be equally hilarious. Devon turned with a huff and stomped across the table towards where Ashton was still waiting. As he made his way, Devon tried his best to regain his composure… and to hide the tent in his pants.

               Ashton hoisted Devon up onto his shoulder and asked, “You ready?”

               “As close to ready as I can be,” Devon replied.

               The pair gave a wave goodbye and made their way towards the door. Devon was a bit bummed that the night was over, but he was already excited for the next one! 

[First Chapter] || [Previous Chapter] || [Next Chapter]

[sgtjamesrogers]

Been Too Unkind

Rated: T | roy x jamie | post episode: 0308: We'll Never Have Paris [also on ao3]

Roy’s alarm goes off at 3:40 am the Monday after their Sunday match right on schedule, and when he rolls over to his nightstand and switches it off, the next notification is a reminder from his calendar. 

After his eyes adjust he sees ‘PHOEBE DAY’ in all caps, with three swords emojis and a snake emoji after it. Roy had let her pick out the emojis. 

“Fuck.” He sits up out of bed in the dark, fiddling thick-fingered through his phone to press Jamie Tartt’s contact and then ‘call’. It occurs to him, his brain slowly waking up as he listens to the line ring, that he could have sent a text. Jamie is always awake and ready to go now when Roy shows up for training, these days. 

Too late, Jamie’s already picking up before Roy can think too hard about it. 

“...Coach?” He yawns into the phone from the other end. “You’re like, forty minutes early. And calling me. You don’t call me. Did you get hit by a car on your way? Nah, no you didn’t. You’d still show up, wouldn’t you, holding someone’s bumper and saying summat like ‘Move your ass Tartt, I have some new weight training for you to do’.” 

He sounds sleep-raspy but still manages to tip some more gravel into his voice for his Roy impression. Tragically, it’s not half bad. 

“Was that supposed to be me?”, is what Roy says out loud. “You made me sound like Eeyore.” 

“Ain’t that you?” Jamie responds breezily, the sound of a tap running water into a glass somewhere in the background. “Anyway, what’s going on? I haven’t even mixed my pre-workout yet.” 

“Oh, right,” Roy says, and then continues gruffly, “I’ve got my niece today, she’s off school. We’ll have to cut training short.” 

“Can’t you just strap her into a baby bjorn and we’ll take her with?” Jamie asks, the clatter of his blender bottle like a cup full of Yahtzee dice. “She’s like, two, isn’t she? How much could a toddler weigh? Two stone at max, I bet.” 

“No?” Roy says, making a face. “Add five years to that. She’d hate it, and her legs are too long.” He shoves his sheets off, his free hand automatically feeling out the muscles above his knee like he’s making sure he has enough gas in the tank of his car. They feel loose enough, so he hefts himself out of bed.  

There’s a long pause before Jamie smacks his lips into the phone receiver, the prick. Roy can almost smell the neon green sour whatever of his pre-workout. “Hold on, I might have something else.” 

---

Fair is fair: the pedicab driver is easier to bribe than Roy expected. 

Or perhaps ‘easy’ isn’t exactly the correct term, seeing as Jamie’s pocket ended up roughly five hundred pounds lighter by the time the driver seemed satisfied enough to hand over the cab to them, followed by a warning that he had a GPS marker tacked on, so ‘no funny business!’ 

“What funny business would we do with a cycle rickshaw anyway?” Jamie asks, turning to put his words over one shoulder.

The little shit’s not even out of breath yet; pedaling with his elbows propped lazily on the handlebars as he prepares to make a righthand turn at the next intersection. 

“Oh, I dunno, scamming tourists hundreds of pounds for fucking taxi rides while playing whatever this is—” The inlaid speakers on the passenger wagon are vibrating faintly as they play a hellacious club remix of Karma Cameleon. “—at top volume with stupid flashing lights and feather boa trim, that sounds like funny business to me, fucking HELL!” 

The wagon of the pedicab lists dangerously to the left side as Jamie takes the corner too quickly, the shiny silver Jaguar behind them honking repeatedly and at length. As soon as Roy feels like he’s not going to slide right out of the cab and go rolling across the pavement like he’s an extra in John Wick, he twists around to give the Jag’s driver the finger. 

“If you get me killed, I’m killing you next,” Roy says shortly, checking his phone. A quarter to nine. “Take a left up here.” 

Unfortunately for Roy, Phoebe is just as ecstatic as he thought she might be when they pulled up. 

“Uncle Roy! I always wanted to ride in one of these, Mum always says they’re not for us, they’re for fleecing tourists.” She hops up into the wagon of the pedicab next to Roy, bouncing a little with excitement on the seat. 

“That’s exactly what they’re for,” Roy says. “Tartt’s gonna pedal us around as part of his training, then we’ll get late breakfast at McDonald’s. Sound good?” 

Turning around on his bicycle seat, Jamie gives her a jaunty little salute and a grin. “I’ll be your driver for today, miss. Any musical requests or sights you wanna see, you just let me know.” 

Phoebe looks from Roy to Jamie skeptically and back again. Roy helplessly remembers every time he’s complained about Jamie Fucking Tartt while utilizing every curse under the sun, as well as making up some of his own curse words. Like a deranged Looney Tune. He gives her a wincing sort of smile in return. 

Roy’s niece turns primly back toward Jamie. 

“Do y’have any Little Mix or Jorja Smith?” 

---

They make it through the DNA album and get partway into Salute before Roy takes pity on Jamie and has him stop in front of the McDonald’s on Eden. It’s not quite mid-morning and there’s a shambling group of uni students already queued up inside, looking so violently hungover for a Monday at 10 am that even Roy feels a little nauseously sympathetic. 

Roy sends Jamie inside and attempts to send his card with him, but Jamie waves him off with a roll of his eyes. 

“Put that away old man, I’m good for three McMuffins,” he laughs before heading inside to join the crowd. Roy doesn’t realize until after Jamie’s walked off that he didn’t even try to fight him on it. There’s something a little discomfiting about that, but Roy can’t exactly put his finger on why. 

“Is he your new Keeley?” 

Roy whips around to look at Phoebe so quickly that he feels a crick in his neck. She’s looking up at him with a squinting expression, not quite unimpressed so much as mystified. 

“No one could replace Keeley,” he says quickly, something like a little minnow of panic swimming through his guts while he looks at her. 

Even the fucking abstract concept of Keeley brought up unexpected is calling to mind standing in the Nelson Road car park and feeling words rolling out of his mouth like vomit while he asked for details he did not need, because he’d let himself think that assuaging his own culpability was more important than her privacy. If he hadn’t deserved her before, he certainly didn’t now.  

Roy takes as deep a breath as he can, and rights himself. He looks at Phoebe sideways. She deserves to have a Keeley, even if he doesn’t. “Is that what you think I’m doing?” Just like Jamie, she rolls her eyes at him. 

“That’s not what I mean. Mum says old people don’t really use ‘boyfriend’ or ‘girlfriend’.” Her expression goes a little disapproving. “Boys can like boys, Uncle Roy. Don’t be silly on purpose.” 

Roy puts his hands up in exasperated surrender. “I know that boys can like boys. Girls can like girls, for that matter.” 

Phoebe crosses her arms. “Obviously. Keeley and Jack took me to the Science Museum last weekend. Her new Uncle Roy,” she adds, confidentially. 

Closing his eyes, Roy counts to ten. Considers praying. “You didn’t call her that, did you?” 

Worryingly, Phoebe doesn’t address that question. Instead, she looks inside the McDonald’s, and Roy follows her gaze. Jamie’s waiting for their food, and while Roy and Phoebe look on he visibly checks their order number on the ticket in his hand and compares it with the orders on the overhead screen. They watch him do it three more times in the next minute, as if he’s concerned he might have forgotten their number. 

“See! You’re smiling!” Phoebe accuses him before he can look away. He looks down at her and resists the urge to clap a hand over his own mouth. 

“I’m allowed to fucking smile,” Roy grumbles. 

She crosses her arms, her earlier prim expression returning. It reminds him of Keeley when she knows she’s one hundred percent correct and is being horribly polite about it while she waits for Roy to figure it out. 

“He’s different than you said,” she hedges. “He hasn’t been a selfish moronic cunt or a shallow fucking idiot this entire time.” She pauses. “There was one more you used to call him a lot, but I can’t remember it. It was really good, too.” 

“You should probably forget the first two as well,” Roy says ruefully with a sigh. “...alright, he is different than he used to be. I’ll give you that.” It’s something that Roy knows in an abstract sort of way, but having his niece call it to his attention brings back that discomfited feeling from earlier. 

Before he can get any more words out, Jamie’s back and distributing wrapped sandwiches. He pauses when he hands one off to Roy, tilting his head. 

“Why’re you looking at me like I just shot your dog?” He shoots a horrified look at Phoebe as soon as the words are out of his mouth. “I mean—” Jamie attempts a smile as he reaches back into the bag and offers her a bottle of Tropicana. “Orange juice?” 

“I like this one,” Phoebe says decisively to Roy, nodding at Jamie as she accepts it. 

After breakfast, they head to the park and give the pedicab a rest. Phoebe sprawls on the grass reading The Phantom Tollbooth while Roy has Jamie run drills in the springtime overcast sunlight, and Roy feels prickly with awareness in a way he hadn’t before. 

It’s as if his eyes are independent of his brain, and they just keep noticing. The bunch of Jamie’s shoulders. The tendons that leap out at the back of his hands as they flex. The wrinkle of his nose as he uses his shirt sleeve to wipe his face. 

Roy’s not quite angry that he’s noticing all of this, but perhaps it’s frustration that it’s happening now. He’s had all the time in the world—from their shared locker room to now—to see these things and now his brain is treating them like an I Spy sort of puzzle book. 

“Show me that one again,” Roy says after he’s sat next to Phoebe to check in on her reading, “It needs to be quicker.” 

“And I thought you weren’t even paying attention, Coach,” Jamie tosses out with a grin, but dutifully runs through it as directed. 

Roy wishes he wasn’t paying attention. 

---

“Alright, what do you say to Tartt, then?” Roy prompts as she exits the pedicab and starts hopping up Roy’s front steps. The midday sun is high overhead as the clouds part for a few minutes, and Roy figures he ought to make her lunch from home after having fast food breakfast. 

“Thank you Jamie for pedaling us around and also for the McDonald’s,” she sing songs. Her clear plastic backpack clunks against her back as she waits for him at the door, hopping on the balls of her feet. 

Jamie grins as he gives her the same cheeky salute from this morning. Roy tries not to look at him too hard where he’s sprawled across the handlebars again. “You are very welcome, a girl with good music taste is always welcome in my cab.” 

“You don’t have a cab,” Roy grouses as he follows after her. “You half-borrowed, half-stole this one.” He’s halfway up the steps and expecting a joke, a retort, even a goodbye—anything but a hand on his elbow, halting his movement. 

Roy looks back at Jamie. Down at the hand on him like it’s a wet tentacle wrapping around his arm. Back up at Jamie. 

He’s not even bothered, the fucker. He just points down at Roy’s shoes. 

“Laces are undone. You can’t afford a fall, grandad. That’s when they all start going, you know. Real dark ‘beginning of the end’ business.” Jamie lets him go, and Roy relaxes. He’s in the clear. 

Jamie takes a knee at Roy’s feet. Bending forward, he grasps Roy’s dirty shoelaces and makes them into bunny ears before he ties them neatly and double knots them. 

While he’s bent over, Roy can’t stop staring at the tiny short hairs at the back of Jamie’s neck, at the barely there tan line from a necklace, at the faded roots of his highlights where they’re grown out from the crown of his head. 

Roy’s hands flex at his sides. 

After neatly and unnecessarily retying Roy’s other shoe, he looks up at Roy with a grin that crinkles his eyes. Roy feels like only weeks ago (months ago?), the sight of it made his blood boil and made him assign Jamie adjectives like ‘conceited’ or ‘arrogant wanker’.

Now he sees it spreading over Jamie’s lips and feels like he’s missed a step walking down the stairs. 

“There, all safe now.” 

Roy has never felt less safe, somehow. 

[venusrising91]

A Chance Encounter

Summary: While waiting in line at your local cafe, a chance encounter with a handsome hunk alters the course of your day.

Pairing: Wonho x Female reader

3k words

*********

You had been staring at the back of his head for the better part of fifteen minutes. He ran his hands through the fluffy, raven tresses each time a group of giddy girls approached him. It seemed like a nervous habit.

The line in the cafe inched at an insufferably slow pace and you were beginning to grow impatient. Suddenly, the caramel, iced coffee that you always picked up during your lunch hour didn’t seem worth all this effort. Any other day you would have been in and out. No more than five minutes, tops. It was never this packed inside. What the fuck was going on today?

You let out a heavy sigh and crossed your arms before craning your neck to peer towards the front of the line. You had to stand on the tips of your toes to see past the tall, burly stranger’s wide shoulders. You spotted another gaggle of girls making their way towards the man in front of you. They’d been the fourth group so far. Just what the hell is—

The thought was cut short as you lost balance and let out a screech, arms flailing as you tried to regain your footing. Your panic drew the stranger’s attention and he whipped around in time to grab hold of your arm.

“Got you,” he said, gazing down into your eyes as he steadied you.

All of the attention he’d been receiving suddenly made sense. His ivory skin was smooth and unblemished— a face with features that could rival any model. Even the ones that make the front cover of magazines. The stranger smiled at you, still peering down through half crescent moons as your heart began to race.

“Th-thank you,” you stuttered, hoping he couldn’t hear how hard your heart thumped against your chest. His plush, pink lips parted to reveal a smile— an enchanting display of the most perfect pearly whites you’d ever seen. You tore your eyes away from them to look down at your arm, which he still held fast to, his grasp firm. He might have been a stranger to you but he was obviously no stranger to the gym. The vascularity of his hands alone sent a wave of throbs surging through your core. It had been so long since anyone touched you.

“Oh my god it’s really you! We love you so much. We’re like your biggest fans,” squealed one of the girls that had flocked around him. He withdrew his hand and ran it through his hair sheepishly, leaving you breathless.

“I appreciate that,” he said as he turned his attention to the near hysterical group of girls as they encased him. He flashed a smile at them and a collective swoon erupted.

“Can we take a photo together?” asked one of the young women. He acquiesced and posed for photo after photo until each of them had acquired their own pictorial souvenir.

“Thank you ladies, see you at the concert tonight,” he said, prompting them to disperse.

“We’ll be in the front row Wonho oppa! Can’t wait. Fighting!” exclaimed one of the fans, grinning broadly as she backed away. The famous stranger focused his attention back on you.

“Sorry about that. Occupational hazard. I’m Wonho by the way,” he said as he extended his hand.

A large, warm palm enveloped yours. The contact, coupled with his gentle shake, sent shivers across the surface of your skin. You steeled yourself before replying in an attempt to conceal how nervous you were.

“I’m Y/N, nice to meet you,” you said meekly.

“That’s a beautiful name. Almost as beautiful as you are.”

Your heart fluttered and a small giggle escaped you. Beautiful? Me?

“Something funny?” said Wonho, his lips curving up into a lazy half smile.

“No, it’s just, well. It’s not everyday that I get complimented by a celebrity is all.”

“Who said I was a celebrity?”

“Well, you— all those girls, I- I just assumed,” you stammered.

“I’m just a singer. I’ve always hated that word, celebrity. It sounds— I dunno. It’s just not a word I’d use to describe myself. I prefer— "

“Oh my god, there he is!” interjected a high pitched voice. Just then another group of girls had swarmed around him, the largest one yet. Wonho entertained them dutifully, the charming smile never leaving his lips. Group after group of eager fans approached him in quick succession. The commotion distracted you and before you’d realized it, the slow moving line had finally advanced. Wonho ordered at the counter in the midst of the frenzy, toggling between posing for pics with each of his enthusiasts. They lingered around him as he completed his transaction and then trailed after him when he left the establishment. Outside a bodyguard ushered him into a vehicle.

When it was finally your turn, you recited your usual request and fished for your credit card, extending it to the barista in a haze. Instead of swiping it she waved her hand dismissively, shaking her head.

“No need. The gentlemen in front of you already paid for your order. He left this for you too,” she said as she handed you a napkin.Your eyes widened as you stared down at it and found a phone number, accompanied by a note.

“I want to see you again. Please text me if you feel the same. I hope you do.”

You couldn’t help but smile as you read it.

********

You spent the remainder of your Friday afternoon texting Wonho between work calls at the office. He told you he’d be performing tonight at a nearby venue and offered you free tickets with backstage VIP access. You accepted and he said he’d arrange for his bodyguard to pick you up from your apartment.

After work you rushed home, where you showered and changed into something sexy— your favorite form fitting dress that hugged your curves just right. The bodyguard arrived in a sleek, black SUV. The ride felt like a blur as your mind clouded over with sinful fantasies of the beautiful stranger. You were jolted back to reality once the vehicle stopped and your door was opened. The stoic bodyguard escorted you inside the concert hall through a concealed side entrance, then led you to your seat— front row, near the side of the stage.

“I’ll be back once the show’s over to take you backstage,” said the bodyguard.

You nodded and he sauntered away, leaving you alone in the hall. You hadn’t expected to be the first one inside. You thought for sure the place would be packed with screaming fans already. You pulled out your phone to double check if you had the right time.

“Hey, Y/N,” came a familiar voice. You whipped your head up to find Wonho making his way towards you. He was half naked, wearing only a pair of shorts. It was all you could do to keep your jaw from dropping. He was built like an olympian god.

“Hey again,” you replied, fighting to keep your eyes from ogling every inch of his perfectly sculpted body.

“I’m so glad you came. The doors open for the show in about ten minutes. I’m supposed to be getting changed right now but I wanted to see you first. You look stunning, even more beautiful than I remember.”

“Thank you. I could say the same thing about you,” you replied, blushing.

“So say it,” said Wonho, flashing you his charming smile. You let out a giggle.

“Oh come on, you don’t need little old me to tell you that you’re gorgeous. I bet you’ve had dozens of fangirls telling you that all day.”

“But I want to hear it coming from you, baby. I hope you don’t mind me calling you that. I’m usually not this forward but you make me feel so at home. We only just met but there’s something about you. Feels like I’ve known you for a while,” he said as he inched closer to you and grabbed hold of your hand. He caressed it tenderly while gazing into your eyes. He stood so close that you could smell his cologne— Tom Ford, fucking fabulous.

“That’s so funny, I feel exactly the same way,” you whispered in reply, breathing in his intoxicating aroma as he drew nearer. It was true. You’d never connected with anyone the way you did with him. The conversation exchanged via texts earlier in the day had flowed like water. You'd learned alot about one another in the short span of time.

"I've never wanted anyone as badly as I want you," cooed Wonho. "Can I kiss you?"

Normally, you’d never allow things to move so fast. But then again there was nothing normal about the adonis who stood before you. In fact there was nothing normal about this day at all. This was a once in a lifetime chance encounter. You weren’t about to let it pass you by. Your last relationship ended nearly three years ago. You’d been alone ever since. You longed for someone, even went on a few dates. But no one seemed to measure up, until now. And you wanted him, even if it was only for one night.

“I thought you’d never ask,” you replied, bringing your lips to his. First kisses are usually coy, demure, delicate. Not this one. Your wet muscles met in a delicious dance of licentiousness, swirling around one another in sweet sin. Wonho was devouring you, and you were more than willing to let him consume every bit of you. He held your face with one hand while the other trailed up the length of your torso, stopping at your breast. He massaged circles against it before cupping it aggressively, eliciting a needy moan from you.

“Seven minutes before curtains, wardrobe is losing their shit. Let’s go!” boomed a voice from an overhead speaker.

You drew back from him, disentangling yourself from his greedy embrace. His dark, lust filled eyes surveyed you longingly.

“You taste so good. Really wish I didn’t have to go right now but I gotta get ready to perform. Can we finish this later? In private?”

“Private?” you asked.

“I’m staying at the Four Seasons nearby. I can have my driver take you there after the show. That way we can be alone, just the two of us, all night,” he said with a devious smirk.

You pretended to mull it over in your head but your mind had been made up from the very moment the words left his mouth. You wanted nothing more than to be under him, over him, destroyed by him.

“Okay, sure. Sounds good,” you said, trying to play it cool, as if your insides weren’t teeming with butterflies at the mere thought of sharing a hotel room with the biggest hunk you've ever met.

“Perfect. I’ll make sure my driver comes and gets you once the concert is over,” said Wonho as he slowly backed away, biting his bottom lip as he took you in. “Enjoy the show.”

He gave you a wink and you smiled while you watched him jog away and vanish behind the stage. Shortly after, the venue began filling up. Soon it was jam packed with hundreds of his adoring fans. They shouted and screamed at the top of their lungs, belting out the lyrics to every song he performed.

You’d never heard any of them before tonight but so far you were vibing with each one. He was a great dancer too. You had an amazing view and you looked on in awe as he worked the stage like a seasoned virtuoso. Every so often you would catch his gaze. He held it in the midst of carrying out beautiful notes and choreography. At times you felt as though he was singing to you and you alone.

During his final set, the stoic bodyguard reappeared. He motioned for you to follow him. You did so and he made a way for the two of you to slink through the thick crowd. He guided you outdoors and led you into the sleek SUV once again.

“Wonho has to finish up with the backstage meet and greet. He’d like you to wait for him at the hotel, he won’t be long,” said the bodyguard from the front seat. He reached back and handed you a small plastic key card. You stared down at it as the car pulled off, smiling as you began daydreaming of what was to come. The drive took around twenty minutes and your heart skipped a beat when the vehicle stopped to let you out. You made to open the door but paused midway. You cleared your throat and sucked in a deep breath.

“Does he do this often? With other girls?” you asked in a small voice. The bodyguard turned in his seat to face you.

“No, never. First time he’s ever done anything like this actually. Hell if I was his age and had his looks...nevermind. To be honest I didn’t think he had it in him. Most of the famous people I’ve worked for in the past do this kind of thing with someone new nearly every night. Not him though. Been with him for two years, never any funny business. He's a nice young man. Always been polite to me anyway. Seems to like you alot too.”

The answer sent a wave of contentment over you and a smile slowly spread across your lips.

“Thank you for your honesty, and for everything else. You’ve been a great help,” you said.

He nodded and bid you farewell as you exited the automobile. Trembling legs carried you into the hotel lobby and by the time you arrived at the room your nerves were a complete wreck. You talked yourself down in the bathroom mirror and then freshened up. When you were finally calm, a knock at the door caused your heart rate to shoot back up. You pressed your face against the door and looked through the peephole.

Wonho stood on the other side and you took a deep breath before swinging the door open. He greeted you with a kiss on the cheek, sensuously pulling you into a hug, enveloping you in his muscular arms.

“I’ve been thinking about this moment all night, baby,” he whispered. Wonho brought his lips to yours and hesitated. “May I?”

You nodded, allowing your lips to brush against his. In an instant Wonho’s warm mouth was attacking yours, tongue swirling in spirals of passion. When he had his fill, he pulled away from you, breathless, eyeing you up and down like a man starved. The kiss left you a wet, dripping mess. So much so that by the time he’d shed his clothes, you nearly came from the mere sight of his erection. What a perfect fucking cock. Thick, long, hard. You wanted him on you, in you. Sensing this, he had you out of your dress in seconds.

“I can’t wait to feel you cum all over me,” he purred as he whisked you off your feet and laid you on the bed. He slid a condom over his girth and spread your legs. Wonho positioned the head of his rock hard penis at your entrance, gazing down to check your expression.

“Please fuck me,” you begged. He wasted no time sliding into your wet, needy orifice. He fit inside you like a glove. His features contorted in pleasure as he gave you deep, long strokes. Each thrust drew out a moan that was louder than the last.

“This pussy feels so good, Y/N. You're wrapping around me so tight, like you were made for me. Just for me, baby,” he growled, punctuating every word with a glorious thrust, reaching the unexplored depths of your cunt. “You like that? Hmmm, baby?”

“Yes, oh fuck yes. Just like that,” you cried.

“Look how well you take it. Tell me how good I’m making you feel, princess.”

“You f-feel, s-so good. So good, Wonho.

He swallowed your moans, lips entangled in yours as he kissed you in between each deep stroke.

“You look so fucking pretty with my dick inside you. You know that?”

He quickened his pace, pounding you harder and harder, hips rolling into you with impeccable rhythm. Your body was his instrument and he played it like an expert. His hard length touched spots that you never knew existed until he was hitting them. He repositioned himself while still inside of you, placing his thumb over your clit. Wonho began rubbing circles against your sensitive bud.

“Oh my god. Right there. Right there, baby. Don’t stop,” you gasped, nearly in tears from the pleasure. Wonho worked you even harder, bringing you to the edge of ecstasy as his body grinded into yours. His digit caressed your bundle of nerves with delicious intensity while his thick cock penetrated you over and over.

With a scream you met your release, squirting your juices all over his rigid member. Wonho’s brows knit together as he watched you spray, bottom lip caught between his teeth. He fucked you through your high and you came again, heaving and writhing under him. The sight of you wrecked sent him soaring over the cliff of euphoria, where he found his orgasm. He twitched inside of you as you massaged circles onto his back, calming him as he emptied his ejaculate into the condom, cock buried deep inside you.

Afterwards, he lay atop you, face nuzzled in the crook of your neck as he rode out his high. He whimpered soft moans into your ear while remnants of his peak still rippled through him. You ran your hands through his hair for a while as you held onto one another, bonded. Wonho peppered you with tender kisses, lulling you into tranquility by kneading your cheek with the back of his hand.

“Now that we’ve gotten that out of the way, how about we go on a proper date sometime?” he said with a smile.

[loiteringandlurking]

javey oneshot !

modern au, davey crutchie and jack are roommates, javey first kiss, 1.2k words, fluff?? idk how to tag fics ... enjoy :] ...

Jack and Crutchie were playing cards when Davey clomped into the room, gently placing his sax case on the vacant bottom bunk in the room before loosening his tie and unceremoniously dropping his school bag near his sax.

'What's got you so exhausted, Davey?' Crutchie asked, playing a 3 of clubs.

'You seen my exam timetable?' Davey grouched, loosening his tie further and swiping a hand through his hair. 'On top of that, band commitments for prefect assembly, AND quartet wants to get into this one gig... it's so full of shit.'

Jack played a 7 of clubs, trying to pretend to be focussed on anything but Davey's loose collar and tousled hair as he leant against the wall and checked his phone.

'... just drop the ass subjects then.' Crutchie was saying, playing an ace. 'Sorry, Jack.'

Jack groaned. Davey continued, 'I can't just drop all my sciences! My mother would kill me!'

'Least you got a mother.' Crutchie shrugged. Jack snorted, picking up the deck and shuffling. Crutchie continued, 'Some of us ain't so lucky.'

Jack snuck a glance at Davey while he shuffled, and fumbled, dropping all of the cards when Davey tilted his head back, sighing. He heard Crutchie suppress a laugh and threw a cushion at him.

'Jack, what do you think?' Davey looked at Jack through half-lidded eyes, head still tilted back. 'Surely I don't drop physics...'

Jack cleared his throat quickly, shoving the cards back into the case as Crutchie snorted again. 'Uh.. why? Like, why do you wants to drop it?'

'I just explained this.' Davey rolled his eyes playfully. 'Physics is so content-heavy that I can't keep up with my other subjects. So I might drop it. Then, I would have a free period at the same times as you and Crutchie too.'

'Yeah, drop it.' Jack said coolly, and suavely, and so chill-ly, in fact, that he could even hold eye contact with Davey's big, beautiful, glowing brown eyes for more than 0.183 of a second. Progress.

Crutchie pulled out his phone, evidently bored by the conversation Jack was leading so well.

'Oh goodness, I have to go to the toilet,' Crutchie said, lying horribly. 'I'll have to leave you two suckers to it.' He stood, grabbed his crutch, and was out the door without another word.

Davey took the new free spot on Jack's bed, and crashed down, slumping backwards.

'Jackie, I'm so fuckin tired.' He murmured, voice suddenly gravelly now that Crutchie had gone. Jack felt butterflies course through him at the nickname.

'Sleep, then.' Jack shrugged. 'It's, what, 11pm?'

'Yeah, but...' Davey sighed. 'I wanna stay up and talk to you. Haven't seen you all day.'

'Oh.' Jack's voice cracked, and he immediately curled in on himself. Davey laughed, loudly and long, and it almost made Jack feel better. Almost.

'Aw, Jack.' Davey laughed, wiping tears from his eyes, noticing Jack's frown. 'It's fine. It was funny.'

'Embarrassing.' Jack muttered, dropping his face into his hands.

'Nooo..' Davey said half-heartedly. 'It was very funny, though. I think I needed that after today.'

Jack looked at Davey's rosey cheeks, at his soft smile and his dimples, at his ruffled hair, and at his big eyes, and at his loosened shirt, and god he looked beautiful. Crutchie wasn't there, it was just him and Davey sitting on his bed. In silence. Awkward silence. As Davey looked back at Jack with his eyebrows drawn together slightly in confusion. Fuck.

Jack looked away, and felt his cheeks and ears warming.

Davey's gentle voice sounded from behind him. 'Jack, what's wrong?' He felt Davey's eyes on the back of his head, heard the concern seeping into his voice.

'Fine.' Jack muttered, mad at himself.

'No, you're not.' Jack felt a hand on his shoulder, felt that hand turn him around til he was facing Davey again. Davey, who was about one foot from his face. 'What's wrong?'

'I just...' Jack sighed, his eyes falling to his knees. 'I dunno.'

'You know. You can tell me. Whatever it is, it cannot possibly affect our friendship.'

'Oh, it can.' Jack laughed drily, shrugging Davey's hand off his shoulder.

'Stop being emo.' Davey frowned. 'Tell me. Tell me or I'll tell Crutchie that you cried.'

'I'm not crying!' Jack cried indignantly.

'It'll be your word against mine.' Davey shrugged, smirking. 'Now hurry up and tell me so I can go shower.'

Jack sighed. Might as well bite the bullet.

'I... uh...' He squeezed his eyes shut. 'I want to kiss you. Real bad.'

Silence. Jack grimaced.

He felt Davey's hand on his cheek. He opened his eyes a smidge, to see Davey's face, inches from his. Smiling.

'Figured that was the case.' Davey brought his other hand to the back of Jack's head. 'Might as well indulge you a little, huh?'

And Davey connected his lips with Jack's. Jack, too shocked to kiss back, eyes now wide open, as Davey pulled away. He chuckled at Jack's spellbound expression, frozen as he tried to take in what happened.

'No?' He asked, grinning.

Jack blinked, once, twice, and then grabbed Davey's face and pulled him right back in again. Davey's lips felt like electricity against Jack's, moving in a perfect rhythm. When Davey pulled apart for breath, Jack stayed close, pressing their foreheads together. He laughed breathlessly, incredulously.

'You wanted that, I take it?' Davey smiled.

'So much.' Jack agreed, connecting their lips again.

Jack was halfway through pushing Davey back down onto his pillows when they heard the clack of their key in the lock, and hadn't quite gotten a last taste fast enough for Crutchie to open the door, close it behind him, and take in the sight. The sight, that is, of Davey, lying down in Jack's bed, still with his shoes on, frantically pushing Jack away, and Jack straddling Davey, looking like a deer in headlights, wide eyed, staring at Crutchie like he was some kind of horror.

'Welcome back!' Davey said cheerfully, not making an effort to move. 'Told you this would happen.'

'Man, I thought he wouldn't. I thought he wouldn't so much that I came back early.' Crutchie replied casually, kicking off his slides.

Jack looked frantically between Crutchie and Davey. 'This was planned??'

'You think it wasn't obvious how bad you wanted Davey to kiss you?' Crutchie snorted. 'Even Davey knew. And Davey's dense.'

'You shut your mouth.' Davey replied sharply. 'I wanted it too.'

'That was just as crystal fucking clear.' Crutchie made his way over to his bed. 'You know how unbearable it is rooming with you two?'

Davey tapped Jack's thigh, and Jack moved quickly, realising he was still on top of Dave. Davey got up unceremoniously, casting a longing glance back at Jack, as if it was a woe to be away from him for this long. He lumbered his way over to his bed, fishing out his toiletry bag, towel, clothes and his wallet. He opened his wallet, held it out expectantly to Crutchie, who begrudginly dropped a few coins in.

'I'm gonna shower, lads.' He announced, grabbing his phone and left without anything else besides another glance at Jack.

Once the door was safely closed, Jack snapped his head towards Crutchie. 'That was a fucking BET?'

[bumblebeerror]

Nobody wants to hear it said but C!Schlatt was decent disabled rep. He had, from my understanding, chronic pain. He self-medicated with “alcohol”. Pain made it difficult to jump, run, or swim, and he took “protien shakes” to combat muscle atrophy, and that treatment lost effectiveness. That’s not an uncommon story when it comes to especially undiagnosed or uncontrolled chronic pain. Not to mention the dead common connotation that Schlatt was a monster, rather than a tyrant, and the way that translates to how disabled people are often treated. Fun fact, unless I’m misremembering, Techno is the only one to consistently label Schlatt a Tyrant as opposed to more dehumanizing terms.

His character was laughed at often, made fun of for not being able. Even the people who knew about his chronic pain, clearly found it funny. And I do understand that it was meant as a joke - and not even necessarily an insensitive one considering we are talking about a Minecraft political roleplay - but the theme is there.

Eventually, the only thing that gives him relief is alcohol, he drinks too heavily, and it causes a heart attack.

It’s not a happy story. It’s not a clean or pretty story.

But it is a story where a disabled character gains a position of power. He obtained it fair and square and played it lawful evil. And I feel like we do have to admit - he did some things… right. L’Manberg didn’t put the walls back up. It didn’t discriminate against any other citizens again.

Schlatt is a powerful foe, not for his physical strength, but for his mind and his silver tongue. He was more than a match for Wilbur because he has always been more than match for Wilbur - Schlatt has natural charisma, he’s got this way of speaking that’s designed to piss you off while leaving him sounding calm, collected, and rational. He makes a fool of Wilbur in the beginning with apparent ease. It’s not until his pain gets worse and he begins to drink more heavily that his skill begins to decay. But it takes until literally his last moments for Wilbur to finally be in control during a conversation between them. Sure, he’s got moments where he just sort of tells Wilbur to fuck off - but he still wins those interactions. Wilbur doesn’t talk shit to those until after Schlatt leaves the call.

I dunno, it’s 4am and I have t actually slept properly in a few days, but. I love this character and he gets a lot of flack for being the first villian.

All of this to say that while I love the “imposing figure with squared shoulders and nice hair and immaculate suit” fanarts I’m dearly wanting art that just. I just want my tired limp dishrag of a president okay. Just. Let me have this.

[broken-clover]

SolAxl sick fic I need it

Certainly! Love these idiots. Using the fire magic again because I'm sorry I just like using it for cute things. I'm put at a bit of a loss for scenarios like this because I don't think Sol can get sick unless I dig really deep for something but I will not resist the chance to knock Axl around a little bit. I promise I still love him, I just like putting him in Situations

Putting it under the cut + content warning for vomiting

-

Sol waited for the sound of lurching to stop before he knocked on the door. “You still alive?”

“‘Preciate the sympathy, chief. Feelin’ real touched, here.” A groan seeped through the slit at the bottom.

He resisted an irritated groan of his own. “Gonna puke on me if I come in?”

“I mean, I got half a mind to-” The groaning turned into a tired sigh. “Nah, ‘m all done, pretty sure. Don’t suppose you’ve got a napkin or somethin’?”

“There’s no paper towels in there?” Sol crossed his arms, leaning against the wall.

After a moment, he could make out the sound of shuffling. “Shit. Yeah, you’re right, it does. Been stuck with my head halfway down a toilet for twenty minutes, ain’t exactly been looking anywhere else.”

“Dunno why you’re trying to justify it to me, I don’t really ca-”

It should not have been a surprise, but as soon as he opened the door, Sol was hit with an awful, rancid smell. Goddamn Gear senses, only time he ever seemed to notice them these days was when it was a pain in his ass. Axl’s pitiful expression only slightly dampened the scowl on his face. 

“Evenin’, chief.” He greeted him with a sarcastic two-finger salute. “What brings ya out here on a night like this?”

“Funny you should ask. Was just supposed to have a night of drinks, then some dumbass started throwing up on everything.”

“Way to kick a bloke when he’s down.” Axl shook his head. He took a stack of paper towels as they were handed to him and started mopping at his face. “Got most of it toilet, tried m’ best.”

“Don’t tell that t’ me, tell it to the sods that’ve gotta mop this place.”

His companion merely groaned again, wrapping a free hand around his ribs. “Dunno what the hell got me, ain’t had anything this bad in ages.”

“Knowing you, it’s probably just a hangover.” Sol said.

Axl gave him a halfhearted scowl. “Oi, oi, I’ve had enough hangovers ta’ know what a hangover feels like. This ain’t it. Somethin’ going round? Hell, maybe the fish from yesterday, knew it tasted too chewy…”

The man’s hands shook as he tried to clean. Reluctantly, Sol grabbed his own stack of towels and knelt down to assist. “Reeks enough, either way.”

“Yeah, sorry, mate. Not exactly my idea of fun either.” Both men continued to clean. As he attempted to turn and wipe a spot on the wall, Axl suddenly jerked back and whimpered, cradling his ribs. “Ugh, fuck. Worst part ain’t even the puking, it’s the damn soreness. Can get the taste outta my mouth, but just my luck this is gonna hurt ‘til tomorrow.”

Sol stopped. He threw the paper into the trash can. “Screw it, they can clean the rest of this shit up, they actually get paid.”

He dragged Axl to his feet before he could argue, only offering the slightest restraint to avoid fucking up the man’s insides any more than they already were. 

“Chief-”

“If y’ throw up on me after all, I’m gonna leave you here.”

Despite his gruffness, they made it back to their room without much fuss. Axl shed his stained shirt and only remembered to kick off his shoes at the last moment before flopping into bed. Sol toed them out of the way and perched on the bedside. “Move.”

“Eh?” Axl glanced over his shoulder, one arm still wrapped around himself. “Figured you were gonna head back down for a couple more rounds, I was just gonna try ‘n sleep this off.”

“I know you’re gonna bitch about it all night unless I do something about it. Scoot your ass over.”

Confused, but obliging, the man squirmed until he was closer to the other side of the bed, leaving enough space for another person to slip in. That didn’t mean it was the most loose fit either, though. As soon as Sol made his way into bed with him, they were forced chest-to-back against each other with only a couple of inches in spare space. Sol was not a particularly small man, nor was he one to try and downplay that fact. 

Axl could feel the heat radiating through cloth. It wasn’t unfamiliar, but something about it right then felt far more compromising than it usually did. It was hard to think of a better position, given how things were. Would trying to roll over be more or less awkward? Hell, could he even get that far without elbowing his bedmate in the face or making himself throw up again?

A hand draped around his waist. That wasn’t as familiar. Sol didn’t give him enough time to be confused by it, though, as he dragged his fingers upward. He traced lazy circles into the man’s belly and up his ribcage, summoning just the smallest hint of fire magic to make it feel like a heat pack against his skin. The motion had pulled the two of them even closer than they already had been, with Sol curving along with the slope of his spine and radiating even more heat against his back.

“You ain’t worried about getting this, too?”

“Gear-powered immune system. It’ll just bounce right off.”

“Ain’t you a lucky sonuva- mhhhh…” Axl suddenly sighed, placing one hand atop Sol’s. “Right there, riiight there. That’s the spot.”

[obsidiancreates]

Vision Quest Liveblog

Another peaceful forest shot... oh okay Leo is hunting a dear. Guess we're in Mirkwood now.

YEAH SWEETIE YOUR LEG IS STILL HEALING BE CAREFUL WITH THOSE LANDINGS

Oh shit was I right? Mirkwood, magic deer?

Oh it's charging IT FUCKED HIM UP OH SHIT THIS DEER GOT HANDS- HOOVES, I MEAN, WHAT THE HELL

AND ALL LEO HAS IS A "Huh" AND A CUTE FACE?!?!?!

TEACHER RAPH TEACHER RAPH why'd you gotta do those moves first? Was it a warmup thing or just for the dramatic effect?

WH- WHY IS DONNIE STANCED LIKE THAT DID THEY FORGET TO ANIMATE HIM

Kick Casey in the face April DO IT

SHE DID IT HA I love Casey but it was funny

DONNIE STOP IT YOU TWO ARE FRIENDS NOW REMEMBER?!?!?!? STOP CACKLING AT HIM LIKE THAT

YEAH LEO JUST GOT FUCKED UP BY A FUCKING DEER- HE THINKS THIS IS BECAUSE HE SPENDS TOO MUCH TIME ON HIS PHONE AND EATING CHIPS?!?!?!?!? LEO HONEY NO THAT DEEP WAS PROBABLY RABID OR SOME SHIT

Donnie, are you really advocating for Leo's plan here? Or are you just pointing out that Splinter had a similar idea once for accuracy's sake?

"What are we, hippies?!" I'm with Raph this is a bad idea

3 DAYS?!?!?!?!?!

Leo did take one too many kicks to the head, you're exactly right Casey.

NINJA'S ONLY?!?!?!? LEO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Casey, April didn' seem to love the shoulder-hug "stuck together" thi- PFFFFFFFT WHAT THE FUCK IS UP WITH DONNIE'S EYES HE LOOKS SO PATHETIC LIKE A WET KITTEN AND HSI OICE WAS SO SMALL AND SAD PFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF

ICE CREAM KITTYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY OH SHE'S SO CUTE AND SWEET I LOVE HER

DONNIE FOR FUCK'S SAKE APRIL AND CASEY ARE NOT FUCKING STOP IMPLYING THAT THEY ARE GOD WHY

Leo babe. This is the trauma talking, not a spiritual realization.

UHG NO BURP SOUNDS NO MY HATRED

Ah yes. Treetop meditating. The classic refinement method. Leo's making this up as he goes, I know it.

Mikey I dunno if Being A Squirrel makes you spiritually refined but you do you I guess- oop there's tat squirrel phobia rearing it's head.

Rock carrying????? Yeah Leo's winging this

This music is so peppy!

Oh god Raph knows how to start fires now, we're all doomed

Two Donnie close-up focus shots in a row? Well, I know who's getting in trouble later now.

BLACK HOLE?!?!?!?!?!?!?

I dunno about Magic Deer Le- oh, I stand corrected, there's a Deer Fae watching them.

PFFFFFT INSTA DEATH ATTACKS- OH FUCK DONNIE HIT RAPH AND DIDN'T EVEN NOTICE OH RAPH'S GOT X EYES WHERE DID DONNIE HIT HIM OH GOD

DONNIE CHILL THE FUCK OUT YOU KEEP WOUNDING YOUR BROTHERS SHEESH

Yeah Mikey, it ran away. BECAUSE YOU ALL ATTACKED IT

BLUE FIRE- SPLINTER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Oh he a force ghost okay

Yeah it ran away BECAUSE YOU ALL ATTACKED IT

Sad boys hours

Blue fi-SPLINTER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! OH HE A FORCE GHOST NOW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Won't stand a chance against The Shre- Splinter I think Shredder isn't the main concern right now MAYBE IT'S THE ALIENS ACTUALLY

Um, Splinter? If you downplay disability as Just Mental again I'll finish you off. I know that's not what he meant but that's what he said by accident.

Journey out alo- they ARE training to be Jedi! They're gonna find Darth Vader in a cave!

"Raph, you've got anger issues. Mikey, you've got ADHD. Donnie, you're autistic. Leo, you've got Older Sister Syndrome. This can all be fixed by Being Outside. Yes I am indeed a Boomer/Gen X (IDK which) parent, how can you tell?"

Oh no it can be fixed by sleeping, okay- IF THEY DIE IN THE GAME THEY DIE IN REAL LIFE

THEY'RE FORGING SHIT?!?!?!?!?!?!?! FUCKIN' DWARVES NOW?!?!?!?! YOU'RE IN THE HALLS OF EREBOR NOW?!?!?!?!?!?!? WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS

RAPH HAS FLAMETHROWER CLAWS NOW OH SHIT WAIT HOW DID THEY- WHERE DID THEY GET THE METAL- WHAT IS- HUH?!?!?!?!?!

DONNIE HAS A FUCKING AXEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE WHAT THE FUCK AND A MASK OH HE'S SO FUCKING JEALOUS OF CASEY

Oh look Mikey actually MADE ARMOR PIECES but again WHERE THE FUCK DID THEY GET THE METAL

Andddd Leo is Legolas now.

Oh wow Raph's cheek bits on the new mask look dumb

Hey wait, Donnie's gonna be all fucked up now with the axe though because it throws off the weight balance. Of all of the new weapons, his makes the lease sense for his skillset.

Oh my poor Limping Leo- MAGIC DEER

BRIDGE?!?!?!?!?!?!?! Shit I think Leo stumbled onto Goatman's Bridge actually

Oh nevermind it's the one The Five fought Tai Lung on in Kung Fu Panda

God Raph looks so fucking dumb- finding a hidden pirate ship? Honey you set out for a spiritual journey, not an Oblivion DLC.

Donnie GPS wouldn't help you on a mountain anyway, there's no signal. Unless it's a pre-loaded thing I guess, he probably takes that into account.

Pffffff he understood that instantly "YOU'RE GONNA- oh wait you guys are ghosts, right."

Pfffffff poor Donnie, always right about the worst things

Oooooh Mikey looks so cuteeeeeeee

You can't do this all day though, Leo, because you only have so many arrows- ooh there goes the bridge, damn this really is the one from Kung Fu Panda

TAKE THEM SPIRIT WORLD BITCHES OUT MIKEY YES- NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO NOT THIS BITCH RAHZAR IS BACK FUCK OFF- OH HIS LINES GOT COOL

Raph WHEREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE DID YOU GET THE FLAMETHROWERS AND HOW DID YOU MAKE THEM AND WHY IS THIS ALLOWED ON THE SPIRIT QUEST

AH IT'S FISHFACE

So who's Donnie gonna get then? HE'S FUCKING AXE THEM IN THE CHEST AND THEY DIDN'T TURN INTO POOF CLOUDS LIKE LEO'S DID WHAT THE FUCK

HE HIT THE MOUNTAIN SO HARD IT BROKE PIECES OFF HOW FUCKING STRONG ARE THESE TURTLES DUDE

OH SHIT DONNIE GETS TIGERCLAW OH HE FUCKED HIM UP- pfffft "Does that feel real to you?" "Absolutely."

Hiiiii Shredder, fuck off now- OH HE'S SHAMING LEO FOR BEING DISABLED I MUST KILL

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO MIKEYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY

Oh wow Donnie just really into Mountain Breaking today, huh?

RAPH'S GONNA FUCKING DROWN SHIT- oh good he's out of the water

LEOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Is Mikey gonna be the first to master his spiritual stuff? Oh Ice Cream kitty interrupting his thoughts, god relatable I am thinking about my cats 24/7

Mikey's discovering Hyperfixation Mode HE FUCKING DESTROYED HIM WHOOOOOOOO

OH DONNIE NO SWEETHEART- OH TIGERCLAW SPIRIT YOU BITCH

Donnie needs to use the mask to feel unmovable and stand his ground, huh? Perhaps... because when he thinks of those traits, he thinks of Casey? Hmm?

PFFFFFFFF "YOU WILL FALL" OKAY MEGATRON FROM G1

HE DID IT HE THREW HIM OFF Shit and then watched him go down, I wonder if he was expressionless behind the mask or if he was grinning really widely. ... I wanna believe he was grinning.

RAPH SERIOUSLY WHERE AND HOW AND WHEN AND WHAT ARE THESE FLAMING CLAW THINGS WHAT THE FUCK DUDE WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU ACTUALLY MAKE THESE YOURSELF?!?!?!?!?!?!?

Well Fishface was easy

YEAH SHREDDER THAT'S HOW BEING WOUNDED WORKS FUCKFACE

LEO YOU CAN JUST ADAPT YOUR STYLE- NO CLIPPING DEER?!??!?!?!?!? FLOATING DEER?!?!?!?!?!!? WE'RE IN SKYRIM NOW?!?!?!?!?!??!?!

OH FOR FUCK'S SAKE THEY REALLY DID THE "IT'S JUST AN EXCUSE" BULLSHIT I NEED TO PUMMEL EACH INDIVIDUAL WRITER OF THIS SHOW AND SEE IF THEY THINK PAIN IS AN EXCUSE AT THE END OF IT

FUCCCCCCCCCCCKKKKKKKKKKKKKK THIS

THE DEER WENT INTO LEO'S BRAIN WHAT

HE WALKED ON THE BLADE PART HIS FEET

OH FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCCCCCCCCCKKKKKKKKKKKKKK ARROW IN THE EYEBALL SHIT OW OW OW HATE IT

Doesn't he decapitate Shredder later?

Pfffff Casey and April have been learning how to break boards, meanwhile everyone else got Brand New Action Figure Designs IIIIIII men uhhhh spiritual clarity

Yeah Casey, dumbfounded is right, these guys got intense in those 3 days, shit

Going back to New Yo- baby this whole episode was about Nature and Spiritualism, going back to New York is the last place for either of those things to exist

Also Casey better say something about Donnie's mask in the next few episodes, I need it acknowledged, I need confirmation that Donnie made it because either consciously or subconsciously he associates Immovability and Mountain-Like Strength with Casey "Knocks out a giant mutant rat with his bare fists and fights mutant with nothing but hockey gear" Jones