#i was excited for legends but hadn't kept up with the news much

[jeremywhitley]

Canonically trans pirate: Alister St. Marina

So, when we first started the Sea of Thieves comics, the game was still in alpha testing. I got the incredibly cool privilege of rolling up on the Golden Shores before other people even had access, because we were basically launching simultaneously. One of the really cool things about the set up was that we got to create our own crew from scratch and tell a story on the sea when it only had a few legends in it, so we were given free reign. I knew we had a handful of issues to tell the story and I hoped we'd get to come back to them, but nothing was certain.

Some of the characters, namely DeMarco and Lesedi Singh became regular characters in the game, which was something I had never even realized was a possibility. Then, of course, DeMarco's death as a big story in the game. It was the first big mystery. And Lesedi was part of it. We even got to hear Lesedi's voice (I was quietly VERY excited they actually cast a South Asian woman in the part).

That led to a new opportunity! Years after their initial adventures, we got to make a new mini-series called "Sea Dog's Search" which centers Lesedi on her quest to find her brother's lost soul. We wanted to change things up and show that it had been years of adventuring on the Sea of Thieves, so even though we hadn't written years of comics, we wanted to show that their lives had kept on going. Since Lesedi was our focus in the series, updating her look was important to me. In the first comic, she started out looking like this:

Then, in the game, she and her brother founded The Sea Dogs and got sharp matching outfits:

Obviously, she stay's looking fly, but it's worth noting that this was a matching outfit with her brother and much more his style than hers (DeMarco loves clothes and dressing sexy, Lesedi has always been a little more no nonsense). So now that she's out from under the shadow of both her brother and legendary father, we've done some updating to her look. First, she had to get rid of the old one and do a bit of fighting of her own:

Over the years, the variety of what you can wear in SoT has improved so we wanted to give Lesedi something that felt like it had a little bit of who she is and a little bit of her home.

But there was somebody else who hadn't really been in the game whose evolution was perhaps more important to me.

When we had done the first miniseries, I talked with the crew about the possibility of having a trans character in the books. They were excited, but one thing they really wanted in the comics was to make sure that things that characters did in the book were more or less achievable in the game and, at the time, there was no way in the build to change your character's look or gender once you started.

But now, there is! There is a potion that allows you to change the look of your character including their gender. Rare and co was very supporting of us then following through with an idea we had during the first fun that was now possible. I had originally written the character of Alessia St. Marina as a person who was not comfortable in her own skin and had used costumes and espionage as a way to cope with that. She was especially fond of going undercover pretending to be male.

At the end of the mini-series, Alessia ended up getting together with her partner in crime, but she was never able to come out as trans. But it has been a few years both in our world and in the game one, so allow be to introduce you to Alister St. Marina.

He's a smooth talkin swashbuckler who just happens to be married to one of the most dangerous cutthroat women in the world, whom our crew has to rescue from her most recent scrape.

So, thank you very much to Rare, Titan, and everybody else involved for letting us tell this wonderful story and bring the first canonical trans masc pirate character into the Sea of Thieves.

See you out there, you salty sea dogs!

[sparatus]

IS THAT FORTUNATE SON CHAPTER TWO I SEE

YEAH I SWEAR IT STILL EXISTS

wip folder game

fortunate son is an examination of the sparatus family immediately after shanxi, specifically the eldest son areus as he struggles with the changes that come with his father's promotion to councilor. in this second chapter, areus returns home to the citadel in time for his youngest sibling's 6th birthday and his father's inauguration, and notes with growing resentment each new security measure and every desperate microphone now trained on him.

oops i got excited, a snip:

--

Dad and Verres weren't hard to find. Verres was nervous in crowds, and Dad had always been an expert in the fine art of camera dodging as long as Areus had known him, so all he had to do was find the quietest corner with the best view, and there they were, plain as day. Ironically, Areus thought, it would have made a great PR photo: the living legend feared by every criminal from there to the end of the galaxy and back again, about to be the most important turian in xenopolitics, gently leaning over his son and pointing out different ships flying through the nebula in a soft voice. Verres followed his hand with rapt attention, eyes wide with curiosity. Shame Dad had threatened the press with every lawsuit possible if they so much as thought about their cameras where his underage children were involved.

Areus glanced down at Cal, still absorbed in her play, and flicked a mandible. “Hey, Callie," he whispered, tapping his thumb-claw on her hand to get her attention.

She halted abruptly and tipped her head with a chirp, and he leaned in conspiratorially. “You wanna sneak up on Siön and Verres?"

Her eyes lit up, and he purred as he leaned down to scoop her up. “Alright, we’re gonna be really quiet, okay?" he murmured, settling her against his cowl.

At her very serious little nod, he chuffed and kept walking. She had to stifle a giggle with her hands, but that was fine. She was only five, after all.

If Dad had heard, he hadn't made any sign, just continuing to watch out the window. “... and there's the Enninion," he was saying as they slunk forward, pointing out the massive dreadnought loitering at the edge of the reserved docking space. “She was at Shanxi. Dreadnoughts need a lot of space to dock, so she's going to wait until these transports get out of the way so she can approach without hitting anyone."

Verres whirred. He still chewed on his thumb-claw, apparently, and had it in his mouth as he leaned on Dad’s leg. "Which one had Areus in it, again?"

Areus looked at Callie, who slapped her hands over a manic giggle, and lifted his mandibles as he took another step forward. “It's hard to tell," he whirred before Dad could speak, and Verres's little gasp of recognition was all he needed to hear. “They all look the same, y’know."

Dad twisted his head, Verres spun around, and Areus shifted his grip on his sister so he could beckon his brother in, too. “Hiya, Ver."

He had maybe three seconds to brace before his legs were almost knocked out from under him, again, by the full force of a very large eight-year-old’s surge forward to hug him. He nearly dropped Cal, and would have fallen over if not for the long, calloused hand snapping onto his bicep to hold him steady. “Fuck, easy, kid,” he puffed, shuffling his feet to regain his balance and wrapping his arm around Verres's cowl. “You got strong while I was gone, huh?"

Verres just snuffled, shoving his face against Areus’s fatigues. A deeper, softer voice answered for him, one that made Areus's heart roll over in his chest at the first note. "We’ve been playing clawball after I get off work, to build his confidence.” Dad made sure he was steady before releasing his arm, looking him up and down with mandibles slightly raised. Whatever he saw, he must have been satisfied, because he clasped his hands behind his back and purred. “Welcome home, Areus."

Claw scratched against metal. If Areus squinted, he was sure he'd be able to see his father vibrating with the effort of holding himself back.

Areus had to agree.

He nudged Verres aside, and set Cal down, and crossed the single remaining stride to throw himself into the arms already spreading and waiting for him by the time he got there. Dad's subvocals whirred a whole mess of emotions, grief and relief and ache, but above all else rose love, strong and thrumming and woven into every cell of him, and for just a moment, Areus forgot the last year. This was no councilor-to-be, no diplomat struggling with the PR disaster he’d inherited – this was only his siön, the man who’d taken him outside on clear polar nights to count the stars and taught him to race dazduus across the summer tundra. Councilor Sparatus was a name on an office door, and Ierian was here, holding Areus's face in his hands and weeping that it was solid. “My boy," he whispered, and Areus’s heart sang in harmony with his as the love contained in those two little words flowed between them and overflowed. “My son, my boy."

Areus tried to rumble back, but it came out a whimper. He leaned into the touch and closed his eyes, breathing in the sea-brine and spiced mead that he’d known since before he could remember. “Hi, Siön," he mumbled. “I missed you guys."

Dad just sucked in a deep, shaking breath. “I prayed – I begged Ragged Pelt and Bloodied Track to bring you home safe." The hands on Areus's mandibles trembled. Dad had been raised in the old faith, the ancient gods that protected Tiirtias before the Cipritinians and their spirits came, and you didn't dare speak their names aloud unless you were sure you wanted the attention. Areus guessed the tundra’s native son had earned the right to petition the old ones a thousand times over. “When we heard about Shanxi, I- I carved a hundred talismans, burned a hundred offerings. And they listened, and the treaty was signed, and here you are.”

[bylightofdawn]

WIP Sunday Monday

I managed a little under 1K tonight so I'm going to take that W.

This scene is pretty spoiler free so I'm going to post it. Mij and Jango continue to have an interesting dynamic in that I feel like Mij is so frank and no-bullshit that he doesn't mince words with Jango and he appreciates it which in turn makes him prone to opening up to him more than other people he's closer to. Because....teenagers. Well that, and sometimes you just want an adult to talk to you like you're not a child.

Jaster and Plo continue to be the worst-kept secret in the True Mandalorians to boot.

Standard warnings apply, super rough draft, I haven't even looked at what I'm posting so it might be utter shit.

But I DID discover a new synthwave mix on Spotify to listen to while writing so that's exciting. I also did not realize that Tangerine Dream who wrote the ORIGINAL Legend soundtrack is considered synthwave or one of the precursors and that just explains so much about why I love this genre so much. I owned that shit on tape. Loved By the Sun is still one of my favorite songs ever. Also Tron: Legacy soundtrack falls into it too that's hands down my favorite movie soundtrack ever. The fact Daft Punk only wrote two movie soundtracks before they broke up is one of my greatest musical sad points. Actually, I was wrong I thought they did another movie beyond Tron: Legacy but I guess they only wrote that one. Even worse. :( I like Daft Punk but I'm not a HUGE Daft Punk or EDM fan in general. I appreciate it and enjoy a lot of it. My twenties were very much into bands like Infected Mushroom and a lot of random ass European house and trance bands but I kinda floated out of the scene after that. But Tron: Legacy soundtrack was on a whole other level. Synthwave definitely scratches that born and raised on 80's movies electronic soundtrack itch very nicely that I have.

I'm gonna put the laptop away and try and convince my brain to stfu so I can try and sleep now.

By the time Mij made it back to base, some semblance of order had been restored. Myles was passed out on the couch with his head laying in Jango’s lap. The boy’s eyes were red-rimmed and he still looked upset but he’d composed himself somewhat Mij was a little worried that his hand hadn't strayed from the blaster sitting next to him on the couch.

“Where’s Jaster?” Mij asked, making an effort to try and keep the bark from his question despite his own uncertain temper. He had no karking clue what was going on and it was starting to piss him off.

“Downstairs talking to the other delegates, I think he’s trying to put a hunting party together for Montross.”

“Fine, that’ll keep him busy. How are you, verd’ika? What about Myles? What the hell happened to him?”

Jango’s mouth condensed to a grim, bloodless slash and Mij knew he wasn’t going to get a straight answer out of him. So he busied himself with pulling out a scanner and started to monitor the unconscious Kiffar’s vitals.

They were all strong and steady thankfully. He found no overt sign of injury which only puzzled him further.

“I take if your father wanted you to stay here and make sure Myles was okay?”

“Yeah, it’s dumb. Montross isn’t going to come here.”

“He won’t but if he were to contact Death Watch and warn them we’re down three people they might decide to get ballsy and press their luck. I’m sure the thought has crossed your father’s mind.”

“I’m not a useless kid.” Jango spat that last word like it was something filthy or unclear.

“Jango, he’s not treating you like a child. He’s trusted you to guard your friend and superior officer’s back.”

“Don’t patronize me, Mij. I screwed up and Montross got away because of it.”

“That I can’t speak of since I kinda came in halfway through. Let’s say you’re right and you did screw up. What can you learn from that mistake and how you can you avoid repeating it?” Mij asked gently and stowed his scanning unit away.

“ If you want my opinion? I think you’re so desperate to prove yourself that you’re potentially taking risks you don’t need to. Maybe that’s just inexperience, maybe just dumb teenage impetuousness.”

“I was just so angry. He tried to have me killed. I knew he didn’t like me but I didn’t know he hated me that much.” There was a strange note of wounded vulnerability in the teenage boy’s voice and Mij was reminded once again just how young Jango was in a lot of ways.

Having grown up outside the Mandalorian culture, even he struggled at times with understanding letting a teenager like Jango being exposed to the dangers of an active campaign but there was also the politics and other dangers beyond avoiding getting your head blown off by an enemy blaster bolt.

It was one thing to have an enemy try and kill you, another to have a supposed ally apparently hire a Death Watch assassin to try and kill you supposedly because you were in the way of whatever stupid political machinations you had.

“I don’t know kid. I don’t know what the hell is going on anymore.”

Stars, he wasn’t a man who was prone to violence but in that moment, if Montross had been in the room he would have shot the son of a bantha-karker in the gut and let him bleed out in gruesome agony.

Mij could only imagine what was going through Jaster’s head right now but judging by the kill order he’d just put out, it wasn’t anything good.

“Come on, I think between the two of us, we can move him into his room. He’ll probably be more comfortable there. I can set up an IV drip easier there too.” He didn’t mention he didn’t particularly want them to stay here, exposed and with nothing to prevent a opportunistic Death Watch member from trying to snipe them from the still broken window.

Mij could have carried Myles all on his own but he wanted to give Jango something to focus on. The boy seemed to consider it for a moment before nodding. He grabbed the blaster that had been sitting next to him on the couch and shoved it into the waistband of his lounge pants and carefully lifted Myles’s head from his lap so he could climb to his feet.

“Do you think we should call Plo Koon?” Mij asked as he wrapped his arms underneath the younger Mandalorian’s shoulders while Jango picked up his feet.

A surprised look flashed across the boy’s face before he managed to lock down his expression into something more natural. “I don’t think Jaster would want that. I don’t think he told him we were hunting for Death Watch.”

“It’s not about what he wants, it’s about what he needs. I think having his Jedi around might help keep calmer heads prevailing right now.”

Jango grimaced at Mij calling Plo Jaster’s Jedi as they carried the unconscious Myles down the hallway towards the man’s room. He didn’t want to admit it but even the weight of carrying the other Mandalorian’s feet was making his stomach muscles twinge unpleasantly. He had the sneaking suspicion he had some new bruising courtesy of Montross’s rough treatment.

“So…you know then?”

“Wait? Was it supposed to be a secret? If so? That’s like the worst kept secret ever.”

The pained look on Jango’s face would have been laughable in any other circumstances.

[mintjeru]

his hairstyle means everything to me!!!

open for better quality || no reposts || ID under the cut || ko-fi

[Image description: Three chest-up sketches of Adaman. The first one depicts him leaning on a flat surface, his head resting on one hand as he smiles. The second shows him grinning with his body facing to the side. The third is a frontal view of him gathering his hair to tie it up. He is biting his hair tie while he bunches up his hair.]

[xthe-writing-vampirex]

Can you write something with the Freddy ear wiggle from FNAF security breach? Litteraly any plot or characters is fine, I just need the ear wiggle. Sorry if this is a weird request 😂

I've been meaning to do a Glamrock Freddy x reader fic for a while and this is just the excuse I need to do it. I decided to make a full story for this one with multiple parts. The ear wiggle will be included don't worry. I see it as Freddy's way of showing happiness or excitement and I love it every time he does it. For this story I plan on making Y/N afraid of animatronics. They would know about the previous locations and will have also been hurt by the others before meeting Freddy. I hope you guys like the first part💕

Glamrock Freddy x Reader

Word Count: 1,241

Warnings: None

Fandom: FNAF

Pairings: Glamrock Freddy x Reader (I tried to keep it gender neutral)

————————

It hadn't been long since you first started your new job at the Mega Pizzaplex. You knew the names of the animatronics and had found your way around the plex rather easily. You subconsciously avoided being near the animatronics as much as possible. Having known the stories of the old locations, a part of you expected the animatronics to eventually turn on every human there and you planned to be ready when that happened.

When that did start happening however you were working the night shift. The bots had been acting odd all day, hell Freddy had malfunctioned in front of a crowd on stage. You should have known right then and there that this wasn't going to be good but they had malfunctioned in the past and it seemed like a typical issue that the mechanics could fix. Oh how wrong you were.

The animatronics left their rooms without authorization and proceeded to physically try to capture you like you were a trespasser. They kept mentioning some kid having gotten into the Pizzaplex and gotten themself trapped. You narrowly escaped Monty as the huge gator made a grab for you and his from Chica and Roxy. So far the only animatronic you haven't seen so far was the star himself, Freddy Fazbear.

A part of you was thankful the bear hadn't found you. For some reason he and Chica scared you the most. Maybe it was the old legends? They were the originals after all and it left you wondering if they still had all that murderous rage trapped inside. Chica had quickly proven she did so you didn't exactly have high hopes for a certain bear. Unfortunately you wouldn't have to wonder if that was true for long. In your haste to run away from Monty's field of view you smack face first into something hard. Looking at what's before you you gasp, eyes wide in fear. That familiar blue lightning bolt covers the chest of the being you've just run into.

Out of fear you quickly begin running, desperate to find somewhere to hide. After all, for all you know Freddy could try to hurt you like the others have. As you run however you're greeted with the sound of a certain chicken calling out for you. Your heart rate quickens in despair as you hide in the first room you can find. Seeing as you were right near rockstar row the only logical thing your frightened brain could think to do was hide in one of the stars rooms. Which just so happened to be Freddy's.

Freaking out as you hear Chica go past the room you move to a corner, doing your best to seem as small as possible. Tears stream down your troubled face. Why did you ever take this job in the first place? Yes you needed the money but you knew this place could end up just like the last failed pizza places did. Lost in your thoughts you don't hear the familiar noise of the door opening. 

----

All of this was insane. After waking up from an incomplete charge cycle Freddy had found a certain little boy in his chest compartment. He had been keeping the boy safe all night but he definitely didn't expect to see another person in the Pizzaplex. With his friends acting so odd and the not so trustworthy security guard after Gregory Freddy couldn't just leave the newbie to deal with this alone. As they ran away from him in fear the animatronic made his way after them, trying his best not to draw attention to them.

Entering his room after the person he looks over at them from the door. They hadn't noticed him so far and they seemed really freaked out. His heart went out to them. After all, they must have had a pretty crazy night too. The bear doesn't like seeing anyone cry so despite his hesitancy he makes his way over to the person.

"Are you okay, superstar?"

---

Hearing a rather familiar voice jerks you out of your thoughts. Your heart beats quickly as you realize you're cornered. You look up into the glowing eyes of the bear before you. He makes no moves to harm you but after the night you've had you can't help the small sound of fear that escapes your lips. You wish you could simply faze into the wall to avoid what might happen to you. You push yourself closer to the wall behind you, trembling in terror and ready to be ripped apart but that never comes.

When you put your arms down out of their defensive posture you're surprised to see the bear hasn't moved and a look of clear concern covers his features. Could these robots actually feel emotions though? In that moment this bear convinced you that they just might be able too.

"Easy superstar, I'm not going to hurt you. Did you get trapped in here too?" His deep voice asks. Despite how clearly trapped you were something in his voice calmed you down and you didn't understand why. Wait, too? There was someone else in here? You were aware of the kid everyone had mentioned but you figured they had already been caught. It seemed they had only…….not in the way you thought.

"Y-You know where the kid is?" You manage, looking up at the 7 or 8 foot bear in front of you. Why did they have to make these things so big? It was more intimidating than anything in your case. He appears to think for a moment before answering you.

"I do. He's been with me most of the night. The others are malfunctioning and I am not sure what is causing it." He explains, voice slightly robotic but still comforting. You think for a moment. If the others were acting up why wasn't he? After all, he had collapsed on stage earlier.

"W-Why aren't y-you like them?" You ask, voice still trembling. The bear glances outside and sighs in response. 

"I…..I do not know. I do not want to hurt anyone." He explains, confusion in his voice. Its clear he doesn't understand this just as much as you don't. A part of you wants to trust him but after being grabbed and hurt by multiple animatronics tonight you weren't sick eager to do so. Looking up at the bear you decide your priority should be trying to help this poor kid. After all they all seemed to be ganging up on him.

"C-Can you take me to the kid? We need to get him out of this." You explain, watching the bear for a reaction. He gives a nod of agreement before putting out a clawed hand to help you up. Your eyes immediately go to it, examining it without really thinking. Those claws sure do look sharp and this could easily be a trap. If he was lying he could easily crush your arm or take you wherever he wanted. Your heartbeat quickens at the thought and he seems to notice this. A beam of light comes from his eyes and scans you up and down

"Y/N. The new security guard. I apologize for this experience. I promise we are not always like this. I do not know what caused it but I do not expect you to trust me right away. Let's start by getting you to a first aid station, superstar." 

————————

[billthedrake]

TIGHT END PUSSY

(This one is an out-there story which is pretty much about what the title says.)

I had a great job. I wasn't even 10 years out of J school and I was one of the lead reporters on the local news in a major media market. I had the right stuff: tall, classically good looking, filled out a suit well, but with enough serious integrity and poise in front of the camera that I didn't seem like a pretty boy. The station was grooming me for anchor, and all was right in the world.

I had a work hard, play hard mentality that kept me playing the field dating wise. I mean, it was easy to line up a new hookup every weekend, since my looks and more importantly my cock size meant there was always a hot bottom willing to put out for me. I mean really fucking hot bottoms, including some muscle guys, who might be my type if I had to choose one. Though I never could. I knew I could never move to a smaller city, I was getting so spoiled for choice. One of these days I'd grow up and settle down with a real boyfriend. But for now I was 30 and having the time of my life.

I didn't know how my life would change one Wednesday afternoon. I'd come into the station early and ran into Chip Connors, one of the sports guys. He's kind of a dude's dude, but we always got along well.

"Hey Greg," he said, clearly excited, like a kid who had a secret he wanted to share. "I don't know if you're a Tyler Milner fan, but he's here in the studio."

"Yeah, for real?" I replied, surprised at the prospect. Unlike some gay dudes, I was into football and followed the local NFL team. Maybe they'd remain second in my heart after the team in the area I grew up, but part of being a TV reporter is adopting your market as your new home town. Tyler Milner was the star tight end who'd just retired after a hall-of-fame worthy career.

And yeah, Milner was hot as fuck. Maybe I was more like other gay guys, deciding which players turned me the most. Milner was top of the list. Classic tight end, 6'5" and 250 pounds, seemingly all muscle, dirty blond, green eyes, dimples. Hot as fuck. I'd stroked off to his pictures in the ESPN "body issue" more than once, I have to admit.

Maybe Chip didn't need to know that, but for a straight dude he seemed to have a huge fan-boy crush on the player. "Yeah, he's doing a big event for his foundation and agreed to a sit down."

"Exclusive?" I asked. This was big. Milner was a quintessential nice guy, or at least played up that role, but he hadn't readily done media interviews over the last year and hadn't agreed to one since announcing his retirement.

My sports reporter colleague nodded enthusiastically. "For now at least. Fuck!" He had to get his nerves under control and soon. But Connors was a professional, like me. He'd find a way. He gave me a look that communicated a shared fandom. "You wanna watch? Maybe he'll sign an autograph for you."

"Yeah, man, that'd be awesome."

Chip's blue eyes were wide with excitement. "Cool. I'm shooting at 3 in studio B."

The station was trying me out for the 4 o'clock anchor slot, so 3 would give me time. I went to dress in my suit and get my make up done for on-air appearance.

I don't think I was prepared for how attractive Milner was in person. Pretty almost, if you could call a big bruiser of a tight end pretty. His eyes twinkled as Chip introduced me and I shook hands with the legend.

"Tyler Milner," he said, as if he was just some random dude off the street. He had a super firm grip. He was dressed in a casual athleisure kind of sweats outfit, with the logo of his foundation on it. Even in sweats he looked big.

"Greg Clark," I replied. "I'm a big fan." I'm pretty tall at 6'3" and definitely felt Milner's physical presence.

"Likewise," he winked. "I watch you guys every night."

I don't know if the pro jock was naturally flirty, but fuck, my heart pounded the way he kept eye contact on me. Still, I tried to keep my cool. "Well, I feel like I owe you a beer or something. You carried my fantasy team for a couple of years straight."

He grinned. "Just donate to my foundation, how's that?"

"Deal," I said.

That was it for the pleasantries. It was time to shoot the interview. Chip knew his stuff, staring with some softball questions, then discussing the Milner foundation, and finally getting Tyler to talk about his retirement.

But my attention wasn't on their words. At one point Tyler spread his beefy thighs, in a jock-like casualness, and, fuck, something about the angle I was viewing him and the bright studio lights, those thin sweats became translucent. Like some Lululemon tights shit.

And I'll be damned, Tyler Milner, Pro-Bowl tight end, had a goddamn pussy. At first I thought my eyes were deceiving me. But I could make it all out. The cunt lips, the folds, the darker hair. And the contours of the fabric softly molded to his genitals to make a slight camel toe.

I didn't know what the deal was or how it was possible, but it was the hottest fucking thing I'd ever seen. I felt my breath go short and my dick firm. I hoped no one was watching me because I couldn't stop the erection forming in my suit pants.

Tyler looked up and caught my gaze for a second. It took him a millisecond to register where I was looking and what I was thinking. But he gave a little smirk before turning his attention back toward Chip. He spread his legs a little more. I don't even know if Chip had a good angle, and the camera certainly didn't. But I did, and as I watched Tyler do his interview, I couldn't help but notice that fabric getting damper and damper. Not only did Tyler Milner have a pussy, that pussy was creaming.

They wrapped up, and Tyler did the obligatory ribbing for Chip's more cutting question at the end. But it was all song and dance, and Tyler knew the drill.

He was almost shy as he walked up to me and gripped my hand in another handshake. More knowing this time. "Maybe I will take you up on that beer, Greg," he said in a friendly manner. Then lowering his voice, he leaned in with a growl. "Seems like you're a real pussy hound."

"Yessir," I smirked. God, how was I gonna get this boner down?

He pulled out his phone and got my number. "I'll give you a call, man," he said, in his deep jock voice. And like that, he took his leave.

***

I was worried Tyler Milner wouldn't call. I mean, he was a star tight end. A tight end with a vagina. I still couldn't believe my afternoon at the station was real. I still expected to wake up and find it was a fucked-up dream.

But I got home and unwound with a gin and tonic. I'd changed into some casual sweats and T-shirt when a text came in.

"Hey dude it's Tyler. Wanna come over?"

I wondered if Milner even remembered my name. I didn't care actually. I had settled down into a quiet state of relaxation before bed, but his message gave me an instant erection.

"Oh yeah," I typed back. "Where?"

He sent me his address. It was along the waterfront, in one of those new high rise buildings.

"Give me twenty minutes?" I asked.

"Yep," he typed.

My heart pounded as I got dressed again and drove over. With traffic it was gonna be closer to thirty minutes. But Tyler didn't seem to mind. He was all smiles as he opened his condo door and ushered me in.

He was now wearing only a pair of mesh football shorts, and every other part of his body was bared. It was fucking magnificent. Jacked with muscle, hairy, and strong. The only thing that had changed since his magazine photo spread a few years back was a little padding around his middle that partially hid his rock-hard abdomen. I figured a guy like him deserved to enjoy his retirement a little.

I followed him in and his backside was just as incredible. Marble-sculpted brawn, both bulky and chiseled, perfectly proportioned as it tapered down before meeting an incredible ass. Big ground meaty glutes that pushed out those mesh shorts almost obscenely.

"I was kind of hoping you'd wear your suit," he said in a jovial way as he plopped on his recliner. I guess that left me the sofa opposite, so I sat down facing Tyler.

"I'd be happy to. All you had to do was ask."

That made the man smile. He had a sexy smile. Pretty but masculine at the same time. "I think that's what made me so wet this afternoon," he said matter-of-factly. "Watching you in your suit. All sexy. Watching me."

"Fuck," I growled. "Kind of hard not to watch you, to be honest. You're a stud." It was true. Milner was a stud with a vagina but no less a stud in my eye.

The flattery seemed to work on him. "I thought maybe you'd want a better look," he said, his voice getting that sexy, low edge to it.

My heart pounded and I nodded. "Oh, definitely." Was this gonna happen?

It was. I watched as Tyler hooked his thumbs in his waistband and push down. There was no underwear and I first saw a soft dick and ball sac surrounded by a thick bush of dark-blond, almost brown hair. Then his furry strong thighs. Just seeing those I knew I'd have to start hitting leg day harder. Those tree-trunk thighs were just magnificent.

With an ease of motion, Tyler slid off those XL shorts and there it fucking was. Almost hidden between his meaty legs, and I got just a glimpse as he lifted one leg to kick off the shorts. Like Sharon Stone in Basic Instinct, that blond snatch was tantalizing me.

He didn't keep it hidden for long. With a lewd grin, Milner spread his legs wide and then just fucking lifted them back. He leaned his beefy body back in the recliner and held on behind his legs, using the leverage to splay himself for me.

Goddamn. I'm a gay dude, and I had never had experience with women. I had no desire to. All I knew was that Tyler Milner had one masculine pussy. His vagina seemed to be twice the size of the ones I'd seen in porn. Big distended lips, covered in long, soft light-brown hairs, pink moist center pulsing wide and getting a sheen of a frothy-white coating. I almost thought that was cum, but Tyler would later tell me his pussy just gets like that when he'd turned on.

I got up off the sofa and crossed over. We didn't even have to spell out how this was going to go down, and I didn't need instruction. I crouched in front of him and put my hands on his bulging hamstrings to help steady his splayed position. And I leaned right in.

My first cunt and it tasted amazing. Salty skin of his labia contrasting with the creamy, almost sweet flavor of his vagina. I licked and munched and made love to his jock pussy, like it was my last meal.

I felt a hand on my head, guiding me and encouraging me as Tyler's deep voice filled the room. "That's it, man. Eat my fucking cunt. I've been watching you do the news for a couple years now. I just knew you'd be great at this. Hot fucking pussyhound reporter.

I pulled back, his cunt juices on my face. God, everything about this man was beautiful. His genitals, his muscle, the hardon he was now stroking.

I reached down and undid my jeans. I didn't know if you had to take your time with a vagina or not, I just knew I was horny as fuck.

Tyler actually gasped when he saw my cock. "Jesus, man. I had a pretty good idea you were big, but you didn't tell me you got a porn dick."

I leaned up, proud and kind of showing off my erection. I was long but more importantly very thick. Guys liked it, even if they sometimes had to popper up to take it. I slapped my thick bone against his labia, making loud wet smacking sounds. "You got a great cunt, man," I said, with a throaty growl.

"It's hungry, dude," Tyler said.

I nodded in acknowledgment and angled my bloated head down to his gash. The slickness felt amazing against my dick, like a perfectly lubricated asshole. I pushed in.

"Aw FUCK YES!" Tyler practically yelled. "Fuck my hole, dude."

I pressed right in. It didn't take the hard work that penetrating an asshole did, but Tyler was tight and wet and amazing around my bone as I sunk in.

"Goddamn," I hissed.

Tyler's eyes lit up. "You like that pussy, man?"

"I do," I admitted. "It's incredible."

"It's yours dude. Fucking tame my cunt."

I pulled back and shoved in. And again. It was like the best of a fleshlight and an asshole combined. I couldn't help but start thrusting hard and regularly into that cunt.

Tyler just leaned back and held his legs wide. "Dude.... you're... soo... fucking... big...." His voice quivered with each thrust.

I leaned down and kissed him. Kissed tight end Tyler Milner. And I gave it up, saucing his vagina with heavy spurts of my seed. The big man seemed to go into his own orgasm but it was a purely vaginal one. While his dick was hard he didn't ejaculate.

I was still erect as we came down from our cums. I wasn't in a rush to pull out, but I had to hold still to keep from overstimulating my sensitive cock.

"Damn," I said. "That was incredible." I looked down on his hairy pro-athlete bod. And his hard dick. "You need to stroke off?"

He looked up at me. "I could. Probably wouldn't take long." It seemed like a second orgasm was an optional thing for him.

"Go for it," I said.

I stayed buried in Tyler's cunt as he jerked himself to a big orgasm. Long spurts of semen sprayed all over his hairy chest.

I finally pulled out. My dong was still firm even if I'd lost the fuck hard. Tyler gave me a naughty look and scooted off the chair and onto the floor.

I watched, unbelieving as this big 250 pound stud took my soaked, slimy dick in his mouth and cleaned me off.

I didn't mind kissing him after. He tasted of my cum and his sweet pussy juices.

"Now, how about that beer," he grinned, getting up, completely naked, my sperm pearling up at his entrance.

It was the perfect afterglow. We sat watching ESPN, drinking beer, and chatting. Mostly small talk, but I finally had to address the elephant in the room.

"I don't know how to ask this, Tyler, but how the hell do you have a vagina? You get some operation?"

I was nervous my question would offend him, but the tight end just shrugged. "Just genetic, I guess. My dad has a vag', too."

My eyes must have popped out in surprise. "How do you know?"

He smiled. "When he gave me the birds and the bees talk, he told me. He even showed me, told me it was a Milner thing."

"You've seen your dad's pussy?" I chuckled.

"That was just the first time. He's not a shy dude." Tyler grinned and nodded down at my crotch. "Seems like you get turned on thinking about my dad's cunt."

True enough my erection had returned, full blown. I blushed. "Sorry man, it's just..." I didn't know a reasonable excuse.

"It's cool. My dad's pretty hot, even at 55," he said. Then as if he just got struck with inspiration, Tyler added. "If you like I can set you up on a date with him. He's into younger dudes." He paused and looked me up head to toe. "You're totally his type, man."

"I don't know." I said. This was all coming out of left field.

Tyler grinned and reached over to his phone and tapped it a few times. Then he turned it to show me a picture. "Here's my dad."

God, the picture was incredible. The man was a high school football coach and looked the part. Burly, gruff, silvery thinning hair, coach attire, the whole works. "Fuck, he's hot all right," I admitted.

"It's settled then," Tyler said. "I'll ask him." Tyler turned his phone and snapped a photo of me. Nude, and with an erection. As a TV personality I knew better than to let some guy take a nude picture of me with his phone, but this was Tyler Milner. I wasn't gonna object.

The athlete had a smirk on his face as he sent the pic. Then another when a minute later he got a reply. "Oh Dad wants you to fuck him all right."

I laughed. "Is that what he said?"

Tyler turned his phone to me again. There were the messages and at the bottom: "Damn. I want him to fuck me."

"I guess it's a date, then," I chuckled.

Tyler smiled and set down his phone. He met me in a soft kiss as his hands explored my torso. Finally, he reached down and gripped my boner. "Damn, you really are huge."

His fingers stroked me some. It felt good and stimulating but I also knew it wasn't going to get me off. I enjoyed that feeling, until Tyler got up and straddled my waist.

"It'll probably feel deeper in this angle," he said and sank down on to my boner.

It was three fucks before I'd left Milner's place. And I'd given him twice as many orgasms. I'd stayed out late, and had to work the next day. But fuck it was worth it.

[dat-town]

never goodbye

Characters: winter spirit!Jisung & female!OC called Yuki since it's the japanese word for snow (雪)

Setting & genre: hurt/comfort (bit angsty but has a hopeful end!), folklore/mythology-based fantasy

Summary: Jisung has no recollections of his life before becoming a winter spirit but when the first snow of the new winter falls, he meets somebody who does.

Warnings: references to past death and grief, discussions about loneliness

Words: 2.8k

Author’s note: yes, Jisung's Jack Frost look inspired this while inspirations for the OC's character are drawn from the legend of Yuki-onna. since the Rise of the Guardians also put a lot of emphasis on the moon, i couldn't not include this variation. title is obviously the new dream song but it will make sense, i promise

Jisung didn't remember much of his life before.

Before the spirit realm had become his home and he had been tasked with guarding winter. Before he had gotten used to teasing Renjun as sentimental as his season about his annual winter hibernation once all the colourful leaves fell. Before Donghyuck, the literal annoying ray of sunshine he was, kept melting all the ice cubes Jisung needed in his drinks to function properly. (Vaguely he missed having hot chocolate despite not remembering loving it in the first place.)

All Jisung remembered was blurry images of ice skating, of laughter, of snow angels. And a sweet voice calling his name. He had always assumed it had been a relative or a significant other and it filled his chest with warmth knowing that he had been cared for in another life. At least, he hadn't been alone. Because as much as he loved being the embodiment of winter (at least one of the many scattered around the globe), it could be a bit lonely, being in this realm where nobody could really see him. Though, people might have looked at him weirdly if they did, at his bare feet, his white blonde hair and the never-melting snowflakes on his cheeks. Other spirits saw him, of course, and young, innocent children sometimes waved at him cheerily. He always waved back with a toothy grin.

So when he heard that voice again, the voice from his memories, he stopped dead in his tracks on the top of Namsan, the taste of the first snow of the winter long forgotten. He was always so giddy when it was his turn, when he could leave the spirit realm after a long while and his excitement usually came with sporadic accidental incidents like turning puddles into ice or covering any surface he touched with hoar frost. He still couldn't completely control his power and he was a bit clumsy but he still crunched his nose (both shy and annoyed) when the others called him cute for it.

The sweet voice didn't call his name this time, it was singing, humming a melody that was vaguely familiar to Jisung but not quite. He felt like he was walking in a dream. Everything was both familiar and not. Despite the anxiety building up in his cold veins, he followed the voice, the entrancing musicality of it like sailors attracted to the siren's song. He was bewitched just like them.

He rounded the icicle-marred pavilion, passed by hikers, hopped down stairs and then there he saw her. She wore a white robe-like dress just as light and thin as his own jeans and hoodie combo, not too fit for the December cold. She had long, black hair framing her heart-shaped pale face. Her lips were almost blue but she wasn't shivering. She seemed a bit melancholic, murmuring an old, tragic folk song, but she didn't look sad as she was dancing, swirling among the falling snowflakes with her eyes closed, letting the downpour wash through her under the bright moonlight.

The boy just stood there, frozen and watching, his hair collecting snow, his hands itching to touch, memories he didn't know he had flooding in: he suddenly remembered slow dancing, the cold of unforgiving ice under the sole of his foot and ghost-like touches over his palm. His breath hitched as he felt himself slip and suddenly he couldn't tell whether it was a memory of reality. He grabbed on the closest tree branch for support. It made a noise startling enough to draw attention.

“Jisung?” the girl suddenly exclaimed at her next turn when she noticed that she had company. She stopped the dance, her dark eyes widening in surprise as if she was seeing a ghost or a miracle, depends on how you look at it. A few feet apart suddenly felt like an uncrossable distance because the boy was mesmerised. Fascinated not only by the ethereal, otherworldly beauty of the girl but by the way she called his name like a plea, like a dream.

“Do you know me?” he blurted out, dumbfounded, the easiest question on the top of his mind as soon as he collected himself enough to speak up. It was silly though, he felt himself flush immediately, the tips of his ears getting red with embarrassment. She called his name after all, she must have known him. But from where? And how?

“Ah, you don't remember me,” she whispered, looking a bit saddened at the news. Then she took a tentative step closer, her dark eyes glowing curiously as she was taking him all in. There was a slight, amused smile in the corner of her lips as if she was recalling a memory Jisung couldn't. Then tentatively, like someone who touches a wild animal, as if she was afraid of scaring him away or if she wasn’t sure he was real, she raised her hand to his hair and weaved her pale fingers through his white fringe, careful not to make skin-to-skin contact. “That makes sense. I almost didn't recognize you without brown hair.”

Jisung never met anyone who had known him before.

Before his hair turned white and his blood ran cold. Before he could command ice and frost and snow. Before he came to terms with never knowing his past. Hyuck told him it was natural, Renjun told him it was better this way and the pain in his brown eyes made Jisung believe him. Maybe it was better now knowing. Maybe it would have been but he had always been curious and a bit reckless by nature. At least, reckless when it came to people he cared about.

“Who are you?” he whispered, his own voice staining with the sheer willpower of keeping still, so close he could make out every single snowflake dressing the girl's dark hair like tiny white blooming flowers under the silver glow from above.

“I'm Yuki,” she said, smiling. Her eyes were full of warmth despite the cold her body emitted. “I have missed you.”

Her voice echoed in the mountain and Jisung found himself staring again, air stuck in his lungs and his heart beating overtime. But before he could have spoken up and asked more, asking about their past, the girl's form dissolved into nothing but a misty cloud with a pained look of goodbye on her face.

The snow stopped falling.

Jisung usually didn’t seek out the advisors in the spirit realm but he was so confused, he didn’t know whom else he could turn to. But he was sure other seasons’ spirits wouldn’t know about disappearing into mist and other winter-related spirits existing. So he went to the only person he thought could have the answers he needed.

“Jisung-ah,” the young woman smiled at him brightly as she rose from her ice chair after letting him enter her office. Her silverish blonde hair fell onto her blue-ish dress in braids. “It’s been a while. How have you been?”

“I’ve been well, noona,” the boy answered sheepishly as he was ushered to go closer, feeling shy in front of Taeyeon. He has been stuck in his 20-year-old body for a while now but in front of the senior winter spirit he often felt like a kid. She had taken him under her wings the first time he needed guidance in their realm, so Jisung knew that he could trust her. “I wanted to ask something.”

“Sure, whatever it is, ask away, I’m here to help,” Taeyeon looked at him reassuringly with a sisterly smile and gestured to him to take a seat while she poured a drink. Ice choco, his favourite.

“Since you have been around for a longer time, I thought that maybe you… so that you know of other winter-related creatures who aren’t exactly part of our realm… ?” Jisung kept mumbling until the very end when he realised that he didn’t phrase it as a question in the first place, so he changed his tone last minute. He looked up from his seat curiously and Taeyeon was looking at him with a quizzed expression in her caring eyes.

“Have you met someone like that, Jisung-ah?” she asked slowly, careful as she lowered the jug in her hand. “Someone like us but not quite?”

The boy nodded hastily.

“I… I think so. She wasn’t cold and she disappeared into nothing when it stopped snowing. She… I remember her voice from… so when…” Jisung gulped. He didn’t like to think that he wasn’t alive just because he was a part of another realm. He was right there after all, physical and feeling.

“When you were human? Did you know her in your human life?” Taeyeon helped him out with questions that were easier to answer than to explain them by himself.

“Yes. She remembers me with brown hair. She called my name. But I–” Jisung sighed, looking down in his lap, fingers fidgeting with the hem of his hoodie. “I don’t know her. I only remember tiny flashes from the past.”

“It’s okay. It’s okay to want to know but I hope you understand that not remembering serves our purpose. Our past shouldn’t dictate our actions as season spirits. You shouldn’t force yourself to remember or you can get hurt,” his senior warned him gently, putting a hand over his shoulder. Jisung wondered if she was referring to Renjun and the hurt in his eyes.

“I think… I don’t think she was a human even back then when she knew me,” he whispered. No matter how much she was trying to wrap his mind around the idea, in those bits of memories he had Yuki was all the same, never-changing like winter itself. “But she felt real.”

Taeyeon nodded with a little hum, deep in thought.

“There are all sorts of spirits in the world. Some are like us with a specific purpose, some are just wandering, tied to a place for a reason until they can let go and some have been here as long as the world was like this,” she said calmly, wisely. “Maybe she is a force of nature herself.”

I have missed you.

Jisung couldn’t get her voice out of his head. She must have waited long, he thought with an unknown ache in his chest. Donghyuck would call him lovesick yet Jisung didn’t know any better. He just wanted to see her again, but days passed, getting colder, the snow kept falling and Namsan remained empty.

Jisung was walking along the Cheonggyecheon Stream when the night fell and every snowflake sparkled by the light of festive lanterns. The water was icy, the air was frosty and he watched a family with a sledge play in the snow. He smiled as he helped them a bit for a smoother slide before turning towards the market. This was his favourite time of the year, when people called the things he did with his magic Christmas miracles.

And maybe it was time he got his own as well when a hand touched his shoulder and a figure slipped into his periphery.

“There you are! I really started to think I wouldn’t find you out so late.” A soft, relieved chuckle ripped through the girl’s throat, bubbly and beautiful, Jisung found himself enamoured right away. It felt familiar: the pounding within his chest, the fondness swelling in his heart and the blush on his cheeks. Oh, so she was looking for him too.

“Does it matter? That it’s late?” he found himself asking, a beat later than he was supposed to but Yuki smiled at him just the same. Her dark hair was a halo around her pretty face and the reflection of fairy lights flickered in her eyes.

“Of course, it matters, we cannot meet during daylight,” she said seriously as she sat down on one of the empty benches nearby and patted the place next to her. Taeyeon’s words about different kinds of spirits replayed in Jisung’s mind as he approached her, not taking his eyes off her, fearing that she would disappear if he did.

“Yuki, what are you?” he inquired, not knowing a better way to ask but the girl didn’t seem offended. Instead she looked nostalgic as if they had been here before. They must have if they had known each other before. She turned her face upwards, gazing at the round, silver moon, snowflakes falling onto her trembling eyelashes with every second.

“Do you remember the story of a moon princess who came down to Earth, bringing snow with her?” she asked but didn’t wait for an answer before turning back to the boy. It didn’t matter. Her smile was the same: pretty but sad. “I only exist under the moonlight when it snows.”

Jisung’s breath hitched and his doe eyes widened in surprise even though it explained why she had disappeared last time. She wasn’t just a force of nature after all, she was snow herself, she was a princess, a goddess, straight from the moon. And she knew him when he was still a mortal. How?

Yuki must have sensed his confusion because she broke into a softer, understanding smile.

“Not many people see me like you did, Jisung, and a lot of people are afraid of me. I learned the hard way that humans’ body temperature can’t handle my touch. It’s a lonely life I lead but you always made me feel less like that,” she reminisced and the more she talked the more memories hit Jisung with a force that pushed oxygen out of his chest: sweater paws over his cold hands, hot chocolate in reach, watching the snowfall side-by-side, exchanging shy smiles under the blanket of night, wanting to touch but not being allowed to.

There was a pause there, a silence filled with jingle bells from the distance and laughter of children. Pain flashed through Yuki’s face as she bit into her lower lip hard enough to draw blood but with a genuinely sorrowful look, she looked Jisung in the eye.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t save you. And I’m sorry that I made a decision for you that destined you to the same lonely path I have to walk. You deserve so much more,” the princess cast her eyes down. “I thought I wouldn’t see you ever again, that not being able to was my price to pay for the favour I asked of my father.”

It was a lot much to process and the memories kept flooding in, their wave burying Jisung under. He remembered ice skating, laughter, he remembered slipping and the cold enveloping him. He remembered his lungs burning and hands pulling him onto the surface. He remembered shivering and tears on his face. A soft touch on his hand, a girl crying over his chest, sobbing, praying for just this one thing, just this one time, a second chance, for him to live. Soaked to the bone and vision drifting to darkness, the pale moon was the last thing Jisung had seen.

The boy stared ahead, the past suddenly fresh in his mind but despite how sorry Yuki was, Jisung couldn’t find it in himself to be mad at her. Why would he have been? Without her, he wouldn’t have been there in the first place.

“You still saved me in a way and I’m not alone,” Jisung said, determined. He thought of all his friends in the spirit realm, of the other season spirits he wouldn’t have known otherwise, of all the smiles kids playing alone flashed at him after helping them with building snowmen. He might have been lonely from time to time but he was happy with the life he was living. He wished she wouldn’t feel guilty and let herself be happy too. “And you don’t have to be alone anymore either.”

Jisung knew his voice sounded small and timid but he meant it. If she wanted, he could be there for her. He actually couldn’t wait to show her his favourite spots, all the magic he could do now and how good he had gotten in snow sliding. Now that he had a part of his memories back of what they had shared, he couldn’t wait to spend more time together.

He knew that their time was actually limited, its boundaries set by the moon and winter but now she knew how to find her way back to him and that he would be waiting for her under the moonlight. So when the break of dawn came and Yuki’s soft, lingering touch on the back of his hand inevitably dissolved into thin air – after dancing together under the snowfall and talking through the night –, their goodbyes weren’t sorrowful because they knew it wasn’t for forever. It was rather a see you again.

[ticketstomydaydreams]

HOME

(All We Have: Part One)

Part Two

Colson x Female Reader

Summary: You and Colson are close friends and he invites you to move in to his house while you work on his record together

Word count: 1,580

Feels: Friendship Fluff for now

Warnings: Alcohol consumption, cursing, mentions of feeling depressed

Companion playlist:

Machine Gun Kelly - Home

Sia - Dressed in Black 

The Beatles - With a Little Help from My Friends

A/N: Throughout the series there will be changes to the timing of real life events like the pandemic, the release of certain songs etc. There's certain things I want to incorporate into the series, like particular events in MGKs life and lyrics from songs, so some stuff will get moved around to fit in to the story ✌️

______

It had been a long evening working in Colson’s home studio, The Boulevard, with him and the gang on the upcoming Tickets to my Downfall album. To say your schedule was busy was an understatement, but Colson had insisted you get involved with the new material after the success of your work together on Hotel Diablo.

Composing music was your main gig, you had an ear for melody and your passion for writing meant you always had lyrics swirling around your head. You had a penchant for dark and melancholy lyrics, finding music to be a source of therapy for you. It was something you and Colson had instantly bonded over. He'd bugged you to list some of the stuff you'd written that he'd know and you had gained his professional respect immediately.

He always kept a close eye on your work, ever the supportive friend and had laid claim to your piece ‘Glass House’ as soon as he'd heard it.

______

2019

You were sitting crossed legged on the sofa in your lounge, gently strumming your guitar and gazing off into space and mumbling to yourself, as you worked out some lyrics in your head. Colson was lying on the floor by your feet, scrolling through his phone with earphones in, a blunt in his hand that he occasionally passed up to you. This was a common set up, you found it easier to write in the peace and quiet and Colson has gradually started hanging out at your place more when he needed to focus on his own writing.

"All alone in the glass house, lie awake til the sun's out, pink sky when you come down…"

"Throw me in the damn flames, Bury me in gold chains, throw me in the damn flames…"

You'd started singing out loud, occasionally stopping to scribble down lyrics and make adjustments, not noticing that Colson had removed his earbuds to listen to you

" Dude, that's hard, like, beautiful… " His comment made you jump slightly, you hadn't seen him propping himself up on his elbows, watching you intently "Sing that last bit again"

You blushed slightly, his opinion was always important to you, and started singing. He muttered to himself as you did, then pointed at you "Again!"

Letting out a little laugh and rolling your eyes, you sang again

"Throw me in the damn flames, bury me in gold chains, throw me in the damn flames"

Colson's voice met yours at the end of the line, rapping softly "I'm waiting on the rain to come and wash it all away"

You locked eyes, smiling and he sat upright. "Dude, Im'a need that hook! That spoke to me right there, I've think got something for it that I've been stuck on"

He looked so excited, your heart did a little flip. You'd seen that writing this album had taken it out of him, he'd been digging deep and really going through it emotionally. You could tell it was going to be raw and special from what you'd heard already.

He sat forward and moved the guitar from your lap so he could lean his arms on your knees and looked up at you shooting you puppy dog eyes with those baby blues "Pretty please Y/N"

You laughed and ruffled his hair, "Anything for you Col" Honestly, it'd be an honour to be part of such a personal project, you thought

He wrapped his arms round you and squeezed,

"You're a legend, kid. Get a sample recorded and send it to me!" He grabbed your guitar off the sofa and whipped back around, strumming a few chords as he carried on talking with his back to you, leaning against the sofa "This is gonna be fire, you always just hit the nail on the head, I swear it's like you're in my head sometimes"

You smiled, seeing the wave of motivation that had struck your friend. You felt so lucky to have a friend who was not only so inspiring, but one who 'got it', who understood that music was a form of release. Someone who recognised that it was important to feel these things, rather than encourage you to push dark thoughts away with toxic positivity.

He’d pushed to use your original samples on his record, but as much as you loved writing and singing, you were a behind the scenes kind of gal which had always suited you just fine. Naomi, a mutual friend of you both, came onboard to record them with him. A decision that turned out to be golden… 'Death in my Pocket' would be born not long after, with Naomi doing your lyrics such beautiful justice yet again, perfectly pairing with Colson's emotional rapping.

______

From then on Colson had kept you close to his recording. You'd been helping here and there with composition and notation, but your production skills were what was taking centre stage during the most recent sessions. You had a long list of projects you were working through, leaving you chained to your equipment most days and nights anyway so throwing more music into your workload didn't seem like much of a big deal. In all honesty, the chaos of Colson’s studio and the revolving door of personalities that were in and out constantly, made it one of the most fun places to be. You loved what you did for a living and it never really felt like work Even though the guys were a real handful at times, you kind of enjoyed being the studio 'Mami' as they often affectionately referred to you

Everything had wrapped up for the evening and the guys had migrated back into the house. You could hear from the raucous that the drinks must have started flowing freely. You were saving your work and packing up your stuff when Colson bursts back into the studio and throws himself in a chair, spinning it around with his arms in the air.

"You staying for drinks Y/N?" he grins at you, clearly hyper and in party mode

You let out a big sigh "Urgh, I'd love to but I have an early start tomorrow. I finally managed to get an apartment viewing. I swear I've looked at a hundred places now, they get snapped up so quickly.. I've only got a few weeks left on my lease as well"

“Ah, that sucks kid” Colson empathises, spinning his chair again before an idea strikes him “Wait! Why don’t you move in here for a bit until you find a place? The guest room is pretty much your room anyway, the amount you crash here”

You laugh “This is true, that mattress is so much better than mine! Aw Col, that would honestly be so helpful, the stress of finding a place when I’m this busy is killing me. I don't know… You sure the guys won’t mind?”

Colson scoffs “Why would they mind? You practically live here anyway” he teases “I’m sure they’ll be just as stoked as I am at the thought of you joining the madhouse for a while”

Before you have a chance to respond, he stands up and throws his arms around you, squashing you into him tightly “That’s it decided Roomie. Another song in the bag and a new housemate, plenty to celebrate tonight!”

Wriggling out of his tight grasp, you laugh and in a deep voice shout “let’s goooooo” mocking his signature catchphrase. He flips you his middle finger and says “Kitchen, now”

Once you’re in the kitchen, Colson heads to get you a drink and grabs one himself. Appearing back at your side, he passes you your beer and then shouts out to the rest of the group,

“YO, meet our latest housemate, Y/N is moving in. LET’S FUCKING GOOOOO”

Everyone in the kitchen lets out a big cheer, clearly pleased as he said they would be. Colson bends down and picks you up, swinging you around in a circle, spilling your drinks all over the both of you as you shout his name in mock annoyance, between giggles.

“I hope you know what you’re letting yourself in for” Rook laughs, clinking his drink against your now empty beer bottle once your feet are back on the floor

“It’ll be good to have another pair of hands around here, looking after you lot” Ashleigh chimes in, laughing and slapping Slim away as he pulls her hood up over her head, covering her eyes

It had been 5 years since you'd made the decision to move to LA, barely knowing a soul. You'd worked several jobs, jumped from place to place, worked your ass off to catch your break in the music business, sometimes feeling like the grind would never get you anywhere.

There had been times where you felt like you couldn't carry on, aching from trying to keep pace. The dream had felt like it was turning into a nightmare, as you tried to make ends meet, feeling so lonely in this enormous city.. but eventually you'd made these amazing friends who made you feel so safe and loved.

Now, there were times you had to pinch yourself just to make sure it was all real.

As you shake off some of the beer that's dripping from your hands, you look around the kitchen. Taking in the crazy, loveable bunch before you, your new housemates, you are filled with gratitude. You finally felt like you were exactly where you were supposed to be…

Home.

______

❌❌ Lace up!

[unholyplumpprincess]

henlo uwu could i request.. 🤔 a lil imagine where i convince gas daddy that i must suck his dick..... for science purposes? :3

For science,,,Dr. Nox plz it's for science,,,no no ofc I didn't get stuck in this wall on purpose, haha, just for Experimentation u know?

!!!Minors and ageless blogs dni or you will be blocked as this is adult content!!!

Warnings: R18+/NSFT under the cut, Reader is gender neutral, consensual drugging/gassing??? Idk how you'd word it- HE USES HIS SCIENCE FOR SEXUAL AND CONSENSUAL THINGS, oral cock warming, mild degradation but not Spoken more like Thought of?

_____

It all started innocently enough. You had joined the arenas as a fresh new face of a healer. Where Ajay had her DOC to help healing, you seemed to have some sort of interesting configuration of gloves and wiring that went up your arms to enact healing through a pac on your back. You were nothing more than a scientific curiosity to him, prompting Alexander to question you.

You hadn't minded, happy to bond with another scientist yourself. You were excited to talk about the process of your gear, siting something about nanobytes and miniature atoms the size of blood cells. You were a radiant ray of sunshine, something normally Alexander would detest- but it seems it was his preferred type of person around him.

At first he thought the relationship would be similar to the one he had with Ms. Paquette. Professional guidance under his wing and planting small thoughts of using such genius for other chaotic things. But you were so...earnest in you desire to help people. It almost felt like blasphemy even to him to steer you off such a path.

Professional curiosity should have been kept at a distance. It didn't help that you weren't exactly shy nor introverted. Like a puppy following him in the compound- even happy to help him with formulas. And at some point, professional turned to an allyship bond, and then to romantic.

Your romance was...interesting to say the least. You always surprised him, kept him on his toes. Your odd nature was always welcome. Even if your flirting was very blunt or with you pretending to be oblivious or asinine. He knew better. And he knew from the sparkle in your eyes, so did you.

~Rest under the cut~

When he finds you today, you are leaned over his desk and looking curiously over at his newest ideas. If he were a lesser man, perhaps he would be tempted by your position and the way you turn your head over your shoulder and smile at him in greeting. But instead he taps your hip to get you to move, much to your pouting.

"You need a test subject for that?" You ask, gesturing to the paper in his hands that he takes from his desk. His eyes shoot to you, seeing the way you beam and wiggle your eyebrows suggestively. "Happy to assist. In the name of science, of course."

"In the name of science." He parrots back, his tone almost mocking. But his eyes flicker back to the page. Truthfully he had thought to just use such an aphrodisiac-like gas for an inconvenience in the arena or using it to cause the creatures of Storm Point to be sent in to their respective cycles and become more territorial towards legends coming towards their nests...

"I suppose," He starts, watching you perk up and feeling his chest squeeze fondly. "Such a thing would require testing. To ensure if used on humans it would work, of course."

"Of course," You tease back, biting your bottom lip to stop yourself from smiling when his eyes follow your lips. "Would be a shame to find out it didn't, after all. Can't have you looking a fool in the arena, right?"

--

The gas is used in a controlled manner. A respirator is fit on your face with tubes going to a gas canister. You sit pretty and perfect on the chair provided, hearing the hiss of the gas being given. It doesn't hurt, but it does smell rather nice much to your surprise. You can't quite place it, maybe flora and something sweet.

You only remove the respirator when the hissing stops, carefully setting it to the side as Alexander sits in a chair farther from you. He sits cross legged, dressed in black slacks and a plaid green button up with the sleeves rolled up and his glasses hanging on the bridge of his nose. A journal and pen in hand that he clicks with a, "How do you feel?"

"Warm." You remark, rolling your neck and hearing your pulse quicken. You feel all your clothes on your skin with heightened intensity, rubbing and making you itch to remove them. You're pretty sure the wetness in your pants is new too. But it could be his outfit. "Heightened sensitivity and senses."

Your breath hitches when you go to shift in your spot, your lashes fluttering and catching the way his eyes glint as you whine out breathily, "Aroused."

"As seems to be your typical state." It comes out so bleak, but you know he's teasing your insatiable libido. You can't help but grin, lazily rolling your head to the side to peek at him with a cocked head. Your lids feel heavy, your tongue feels restless behind your lips, and the squeeze of your legs does not help your ache. "Any pain?"

"Not quite pain. Like I've been edged for an hour." You don't mean to sound so whiny or breathy when you say it. Nor do you mean to pay too much attention to the way he now spreads his legs subtly, eyeing the bulge on his thigh with hunger.

"Good." Is all he says, but even then, you see how he eyes you. And the more you sit there, the worse it gets. Until you're saying fuck it and pushing off the chair to go and drop to your knees in front of him with a whine. Pressing your cheek onto his thigh with a loud whine.

It makes him smirk, his fingers stroking your cheek and making you loudly whine as he murmurs again, "Very good."

--

Alexander made you wait. Just inhaling his scent and whimpering. It took all of five minutes before you were begging, practically sobbing if you weren't touching him. You beg for his cock harder than you ever have in your life, pleading to even just hold it in your mouth.

Seeing you lose yourself was a delight to him. You normally teased for hours, liking to toy with him and play your games. To see you so whiny for him? Obedient? Like a pathetic pup? That just made his day. Especially when pulling out his cock, warning you to just press your lips to it. Which you did with such a high pitched whine, pressing kisses over the warm flesh and practically shaking to not do more.

Now? Now he's got your hair in one hand, pressing you down on his cock at his own pace. Sometimes just holding you there, watching you look up at him with half glassy eyes and tears sticking to your lashes and moaning so wantonly around him. Anytime he slides you towards the head, you whimper like he'll take you off. And that only makes his cock throb.

At some point he just leaves you there. Your nose pressed to his mound, swallowing around him as he pets your hair and writes his notes no matter how much you whine and shuffle closer to try and press your hips against his boot.

He could get used to you like this. Like a dumb, obedient puppy.

[starsuh]

do re mi | myg

featuring. min yoongi x reader | 3.2k

summary. while teaching you how to play piano, min yoongi realizes that his dumbass might have feelings for you after all.

genre. fluff | f2l | roommate!au | mutual pining

warnings. a quarter-life crisis and a soft make-out scene at the end

Amongst Min Yoongi's many talents, his sixth sense of knowing when something was bothering you was the one that most oft caught you off guard. Whether it was the intensity in which you slammed a door shut, or the way in which you didn't choose to annoy the fuck out him like you did every other day of the week; he would notice each time. It was only clockwork that he tentatively wrapped his arm around your shoulders when you had collapsed against the couch with perceptible chagrin.

"What's up?" he asked, a simple question that often entailed a more than complicated answer. Peering down at your tightened features, he awkwardly patted your shoulder as if to make known that silence would be just as valid of a reply.

You ran your hands through your face. "I don't know,” you said. If you did, you would've told him, just as you told him everything. Though the pair of you had began as merely two people who happened to be roommates because there were no other affordable options, spending months watching Netflix with another person tends to lead to friendship — even best-friendship, though neither of you had established such a title. It was the kind of friendship that needn't clarification, rather it was just another unequivocal fact amongst many.

After kicking off your shoes (Yoongi would scold you for that in a less emotionally-turbulent time), you pulled your knees up to your chest and wrapped your arms around them in a ball-like manner. "It's really fucking lame but I’m just realizing some things,” he nodded, prompting you to continue. "I'm scared of the future, I think. I mean, everyone is, but when our prof was talking about internships and shit earlier I kind of freaked out then decided that hiding in the bathroom was the best option.”

In his gaze was a reassurance so intent that you had to look away lest you become ensnared in it. He oft had that effect, increasingly so throughout the past few weeks. "What about it?"

Your eyes fluttered closed as you took a deep breath. “I think I know what I want to do, but then I see other people, people like you, who are so passionate about their place on Earth that to not do that thing would be a fate worse than death. Like, I love the path that I’m on but there’s always a voice that’s telling me I’m gonna fuck something up and regret everything.” You played with the loose threads of your top, pulling at the offending stitching. You laughed. “This is so stupid. I guess I’m just realizing that I might not be cut out for it.”

His sudden silence filled the room so heavily that you began to wonder if you shouldn’t have said anything at all. Gears turned behind the messy black mop atop his head that hung over his eyes; a face similar to the one he makes when contemplating a new track he had produced, seeking for each of its flaws and corresponding solutions.

It was so sudden when he reached down to grab your hand that you almost jumped. An inch away from falling onto his chest with the sudden upwards tug, you steeled yourself. "I'll show you something," he said to which you replied with a questioning stare. "It'll just be a sec, c'mon."

You allowed him to drag you to his bedroom, though not without glaring at the back of his head and whining. "Your room smells like Cheetos and day-old boxers."

He rolled his eyes. "I cleaned it this morning, so shut up."

He pushed the door closed with his hip, never once letting go of your hand until he unceremoniously shoved you towards the left end of the keyboard bench. You wiped the accumulated hand sweat against the rough fabric of your jeans, both thankful yet forlorn that he had let go. His was a comfort rarely given and you craved his affection the way one did with a cat that ignored those around it.

He reached down to plug the extension into the socket. "Can I play you something?"

You blinked, unsure if the nervous tone laced in the question was figment or reality. “What?”

He gave you a blank stare though it didn’t distract you from the way his hands fidgeted in his lap. “I said, can I play you something? Something I wrote?”

Impatient, he didn’t give you a second glance or a moment to reply before his hands flew across the board, pulling melodies out of the nooks and crannies of its black and white keys. Through every note, he told you of emotion, of love, of heartbreak and melancholy. You don't think you had ever understood what music was until then. It was more than his expertise, though he was quite the expert; it was the way his eyes closed at certain shrills and the way his shoulders hunched at others, the way he slammed harder into the keys and at other parts softer. He played like a poet. A writer. And you refused to be someone who didn't appreciate it for what it was: a story told to you.

The slight smirk gracing his soft features told you that he found amusing the way your mouth gaped open in shock. You’d only ever heard the distant echoes of his sound from behind closed doors as you walked past.

Yoongi had never played for you before, was even shocked that he was able to now, knowing that your mere presence in close proximity provided quite the distraction.

When he stopped, the air almost rang in its silence, as if you had forgotten what the world sounded like without his music in it. The hush blanket laid across the room felt bare and vulnerable. You understood now more than ever why he locked himself within the confines of his space in all hours of the day. If you could live in his symphonies, you would.

"Wow.” Because what else could be said? "That was... Yoongi, you're amazing."

His smirk remained, though as more of a mask to hide softer feelings behind. "Must've been if you're complimenting me for once.”

"Because you already have a ginormous ego."

He began playing once more. This time, a slow and deceptively simple melody. The chords were arrows tightly strung that flew through the air in wisps of smoke. To you, its warmth was paralleled to the feeling of his own beside you, his arm occasionally brushing yours as he reached to play a few lower keys.

"I think you're taking it too seriously," he said. "The future, I mean."

Your brows furrowed. "I kind of have to, dude."

He rolled his eyes but kept playing, occasionally glancing at you as he did so. "What I mean is," he pressed softly against the keys in the left end of the piano, their tenor notes filling your ears. "You need to calm down. Like this," the already soft melody slowed. "You know what you want, don't you? Why are you hesitating?"

You stilled, the feeling of being both caught and scolded grounding you in time. Your eyes focused on his hands to avoid the feeling of his analyzing gaze on the side of your face. “There are things I want to accomplish but there’s also things I want to have,” you groaned in exasperation. “I don’t know if I should choose the former or the latter but they’re so entangled that I can’t even tell which is which anymore.”

"Some things are only difficult if you think they're difficult." He looked down at the keys. "Like playing the piano, everyone knows that learning it is hard but something like this-" he played three chords in succession. "-sounds simple, right?" He continued to play those same chords until they blended together in a single melodious breeze. "But when I was a kid, learning piano was the bane of my twelve year old existence. I hated it so much because my impatient ass wanted to be good without trying. So, in true dumbass fashion, I quit taking lessons after two weeks."

You tilted your head towards him. “How did you learn then?"

“Well, I realized I was being a huge pussy and went back." Shaking his head before the glaze of the memory could wash over, he nodded towards you. Grabbing your hand, he placed them over the keys. “Can I teach you a chord?”

Your heart spiked in one fell swoop. “What? And embarrass myself in front of the music god himself?"

He laughed and it lit up his eyes brighter than the screen of his laptop that he had forgotten to shut off, still on the League of Legends home screen. “I told you, it's only hard if you think it is."

Too flustered to argue, you could only watch as he directed your fingers towards the correct keys until three were stretched towards their respective positions. C Major. You wondered if he could hear the rapid pace of your heart through the vibrations on your skin from where his larger hand rested atop your own. You could only pray to any god who would listen that he didn’t.

Among the numerous feelings that bubbled beneath your chest, the sudden pinch of ice that struck your nerves as he lifted his palm away from yours was one that you were the most unsure of. Filing that thought away for later, you focused on the most important task at hand: avoiding looking like an idiot in front of Min Yoongi.

Before you could retreat, your hands pressed down.

A sudden burst of sound filled the silence that you hadn't realized had grown so deafening. Your eyes widened as if you hadn't expected the chord to occur despite Yoongi's administrations, like trying to guess a passcode and getting it correct in a miraculous feat of luck. The now fading sound was not like anything you were expecting, though you knew even monkeys could do what you had just done. It was an actual piece of the puzzle that was music rather than the CD case or paper bag that had come with it.

Likened to an excited pup, you looked towards him for praise or assurance that you had done it right only to catch his already grinning countenance at your widened eyes.

For the next half hour he taught you two other basic chords, never failing to correct you in such a patient manner that your heart rose and fell with each glance and soft appraisal.

"But sometimes," he grinned. "Sometimes you need to stop thinking."

Your brows furrowed, though you didn’t need more than a few seconds to understand his cryptic wording before you yelped, almost flying off your seat at the abrupt disruption of the peace.

He began smashing his hands against the piano, creating the worst orchestra your ears had ever had the pleasure to hear. Overcoming the shock, both of yours laughs bubbled out, drowned by the keyboard speakers. Without a second thought, you joined, key smashing against the lower end. Together, you created an ear-grating masterpiece of cacophonous noise and piercing melody, yet it was still one of the most beautiful things you’d ever heard.

Yoongi began cheering your name like the greatest hypeman in existence as you gave the most effortful performance of your life, hands pressing against the first keys you saw to the last. You didn't know what you were doing but it didn't matter, not when he was smiling with his gums on full display as you went with your gut for the first time in years. Yoongi, the boy whose hands crafted magic, whose words changed you, whose music moved you. Yoongi, who looked at you and saw past your forced pretensions and society-enforced perceptions.

You laughed until your lungs ached for air, having not even realized that your whole body leant against his as you tried to catch your breath.

"Oh my god, I think my ears are broken," you covered them, finally dragging your hands away from the keys.

His grin widened. “You're a quick learner."

“Is this the part where I say that it's because you're a good teacher?"

“Only if you're polite, which we know you aren't." He hadn't stopped smiling and you had never felt prouder of any accomplishment in your entire life. “Was I able to distract you?"

You laughed, bringing your hands back to your lap to fiddle with them. He's seen you wear the same ramen-stained hoodie three days in a row with hair just as ratty yet you had never more felt exposed. “I’d say yes but I think I’ve exceeded my Yoongi compliment limit for the day."

"And here I was thinking that that compliment limit was zero."

"Hey," you playfully knocked against his shoulder. "I always say your breakfast is good."

He knocked against you back, his eyes turnt to half-moons. "That's because you want to brainwash me into cooking for you everyday with half-assed compliments."

"Or maybe," you lightly leaned against his hoodie-covered shoulder. "It's because I like eating breakfast with you."

He paused, and a grin that could only be described as shy graced his features. He tapped against the keyboard but didn't press hard enough to allow a sound to be let out.

"I trust you," he said in the silence. "That you can follow your heart. Even if that sounds corny as fuck, I really believe it."

You smiled, something you've been doing more and more often with him around. "I'll try," you said, watching as he contemplated his next words with a bite of his bottom lip. Giving him time, you glanced back at the piano. "Is it really that simple?" You pressed on a key.

He finally looked up. "I think so," he played the key beside the one you had just pressed, the side of it touching yours. "Even if it doesn't sound right to other people, who's to say that random key smashing isn't music? When you think you're supposed to play a certain way, that's when you hesitate. Even when you fuck up a piece," he pressed another key. "Regretting it doesn't stop the echo."

He began to play another soft melody, leaving you just as entranced as you were the first time he did.

“I’m a hypocrite, though,” he closed his eyes, lightly scoffing. “Giving you advice that I can’t even take.”

Your voice came out in a whisper. “Why?”

“Because...” He took a deep breath, hands leaving the keyboard as he fully turned to you. “I like you," he said it like it were a fact you should've already known. “I... I like you. A lot. I can't remember when you stopped being my annoying roommate who'd hog the fridge space and became the annoying roommate who I couldn't stop writing songs about. Before I could even realize and stop myself, today’s me kept looking forward to tomorrow’s you. I’d be a hypocrite to tell you to stop hesitating about the things in your life while I spent every second of every day wondering whether I should tell you my feelings and ruin our friendship.”

For if there was anything Yoongi knew more than most was that love was fucking stupid. It caused people to be irrational, selfless, and weak-hearted, yet why did he want to forget the stupidity that came with it whenever you walked into the kitchen for breakfast, hair messy and shirt tousled?

Love was fucking stupid. But maybe he could be an idiot if it meant that you'd be stupid for him too.

“I know you don't feel the same way but I just needed to tell-" you kissed him before he could finish what was sure to be a sentence so ridiculous that even the most astute of linguists would be left baffled. He was Min Yoongi. The boy who spent all day locked in his room making music and playing games with his friends. The roommate who'd wake up early just to cook you breakfast. The friend who knew you better than you knew yourself. The man who you'd found yourself falling for with every gummy smile. Yoongi. It had always been Yoongi.

And he was kissing you back.

His lips were as warm as the hands that carefully wrapped around your hips, gently pulling you closer to him. He kissed the way he played, soft and thoughtful.

Pulling away, he whispered your name slowly, prolonging each letter as if to savor them. Never before had your name ever felt so wonderful a one. His forehead pressed against yours, eyes flickering between yours in disbelief. The hand around your waist tightened as if in fear that at any moment you might say that you hadn't meant to give him what had to be the best moment of his life -- that you had actually accidentally fallen on him and he had simply been mistaken.

"You're an idiot," you laughed. "I've liked you since the first time you've cooked me breakfast if the heart eyes I gave you each time weren't already a dead giveaway."

He shuffled in his seat. "You have low standards then," he said. "Or are in desperate search for a house-husband."

You smiled, your nose brushing against his. "Maybe, a bit of both."

He leaned away from you, eyes lit up in a euphoria that didn't hinder from his nervous cadence. "Actually, that song I played for you? Earlier?” You’d never seen him blush before. “I, maybe, composed it thinking of you.”

"A personal chef, jester, and composer? I think I'm winning."

His nose crinkled. "You know you can still back out, right?"

"You're acting as if I'd even want to."

"Stupid songs like that... I suck at love yet I still want to give you everything," he whispered, voice hoarse. "But my everything will still only amount to that."

"If that's your everything,” your hands interlocked with his. “Then your everything is more than enough."

"I like you," he murmured the confession between your lips as if it were clandestine, the urge to say it a million times more bubbling up from his chest. Though stronger than his urge to say it was his urge to hear you say it back.

Your lips met his completely. Perfectly. "I like you, too."

Pulling away once more you couldn't help but laugh at the reddened color of his cheeks and ears. Cutting away at the awkward and still unsure tension, he inched backwards with a startlingly loud clap of his hands. "Now that that's settled, can we go back to making out? This corny shit is so awkward."

"I can't believe I like you," you groaned but kissed him back anyway.

While there was nothing in your life that you could be sure of, you knew that the man whose smile could light up the entire city of Seoul would be there for you for every step, and you wouldn’t have had it any other way.

[mimisempai]

I am here to ask you something special

Summary:

Sam wants to do things the right way. He visits an old friend to talk about his relationship with Bucky and ask for his blessing

or

5 times where Sam asks old Steve for his blessing and one time where he realizes he never needed it.

Notes:

Many people talk about Steve as if he were dead, but I imagine him living a peaceful life in a cottage with his sweetheart. Sam and Bucky still in contact with him, one way or another.

🌈 Happy Pride month ! 🌈

To celebrate, 1 day, 1 story.

Be ready for smiles, laugh, fluff, tooth rotthing fluff, positive vibes and a lot of love!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/32006143

2265 words - Rating G

Sam hesitated a bit before reaching for the small gate that led to the entrance of a small cottage surrounded by trees.

When he decided to open it, a voice said, "I thought you wouldn't come in."

Sam looked up and his gaze went to the source of the voice.

He moved forward a little, and hidden behind a flowering bush, he saw Steve, a book in his hand, sitting in a rocking chair.

"Sam, it's so good to see you! " he said with a smile that not even the years had been able to change.

He got up quietly and came over to meet Sam.

"Steve, you look great."

"No need to spare me, you can add I look great for my age. Come on in. So what brings you here my friend? We... uh I don't get many visitors, so I'm a little surprised."

Sam, who had noticed the slip of the tongue, didn't insist and followed him into a small, pleasantly arranged living room. They took seats in two armchairs.

"So Sam? How are you? How is it carrying the shield?"

"I'm fine, and as you know yourself, not always easy. But I think I'm doing okay."

Steve smiled softly and said, "You are, and I never doubted it, though I hear you don't care what Steve Rogers wants." he winked.

"I see Bucky couldn't help but open his mouth."

Steve chuckled, "He even made a point of saying it to my face, full of arrogance with his stubborn tone, 'You know what Steve, Sam's right, we don't care what you want.' and you were right. I'm glad you found your way, although as Bucky explained to me, we had no right to ask you to do something like that without knowing the consequences. I owe you an apology too Sam."

Sam, touched, didn't immediately know what to say. It moved him more than he thought to hear Steve's apology and the fact that apparently Bucky had defended him so passionately. It further confirmed why he had come to see his old friend today.

"So Sam, you still haven't told me, to what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?"

Sam fidgeted a little, he had thought it would be a formality, but now that he was here he realized it was harder than he had anticipated.

"Um...so here goes...you know Bucky and I are together...-" he began in a hesitant tone.

He was interrupted by a burst of laughter from Steve.

"I think I was the first to know. It was super early in the morning and I remember us...I was having breakfast when I got this facetime call from Bucky, talking all excited about a cookout, about 'Uncle Bucky' and in the midst of all this information, I managed to figure out that you two were a couple."

Steve looked at him with a fond smile.

Sam remembered what Steve was talking about like it was yesterday.

They had held a cookout on the harbor, and Bucky had come with a cake. Sam remembered how his nephews, family and friends welcomed him as if he were family. The way Bucky's face lit up when he saw Sam.

He especially remembered the end of the day, they were side by side in front of the lake and Sam had turned to Bucky and just said, "let's go home."

He had seen several emotions run over Bucky's face, shock, surprise, realization and finally a nameless joy.

He had whispered in a voice clouded with emotion, "Yes, let's go home."

And they had gone home, Sam's arm around Bucky's shoulders.

There had been no passionate kiss, no grand declarations in that moment, but like Bucky, Sam considered that from that day forward they were together.

"Sam?"

Steve's voice snapped him out of his reverie.

"Yes, excuse me."

"No worries Sam, believe me I understand you."

Sam coughed, then resumed, "Yeah, so I was saying, Bucky and I are together and things are going pretty well and-"

"According to Bucky, things are going more than pretty well." replied Steve with a cheeky smile. "He told me about the two of you taking a house together. If that's the case, then things are going better than well between you, right?" Steve asked him playfully.

It was true that, contrary to what the beginning of their relationship suggested, everything went smoothly.After fighting with each other and Sam choosing to become Captain America, they realized that the most important thing for them was to talk and listen to each other, and this allowed them to deflect most of the conflicts that would arise. Sam had learned to lean on Bucky and Bucky had learned to listen to Sam, and the balance between them was natural.

So living together had been a very obvious step.

He still remembered Bucky's joy when he had taken him in front of their new house, surprising him. But what had moved both men the most was the sign nailed to the door, obviously made by children's hands. It read: " Sam, Bucky and Alpine's house. "

The cohabitation was really going smoothly, it was easy to live with Bucky. They had adapted well to each other.

Sam smiled fondly, thinking back on all the little things that made up their daily routine.

Bucky was caring and Sam hadn't expected that. Bucky recorded every detail about him, all his quirks, his likes, everything-

"Sam? I lost you again."

You're going to think I'm an idiot by now," Sam replied with an embarrassed chuckle as he scratched the back of his head.

"I actually find it kind of refreshing, it's been so long for me, but I remember the thrill of the early months." said Steve with an understanding look.

"With her?" asked Sam, pointing to the wedding ring with his chin.

"Sort of." replied Steve with a mysterious smile.

"Always so evasive my friend." teased Sam.

"And so?" asked Steve.

"I see..." Sam didn't insist, "So I was saying, we're together and it's going very well. Bucky's even adjusted very well to Delacroix."

"Yes it seems to me he told me about working on a boat with your sister I believe?" asked Steve, looking interested.

"When he first came to Delacroix, he had brought me my new armor, and he stayed to help me repair the boat of our family business that Sarah, my sister, runs. And when he moved here permanently, he offered to help on his own. He fit in perfectly and the people of Delacroix respect him."

Sam thought of Carlos, who kept singing Bucky's praises. Bucky had taken a liking to the old man and often Sam would find them sharing a beer on the boat deck when he returned from a mission.

"You know Sam, it doesn't surprise me, Buck has always been a friendly and helpful guy. I'm glad to know that he's been able to get back to some semblance of a normal life despite the years Hydra took from him.I'm glad to know that he knows something other than fighting."

Sam saw emotion pass over Steve's face.

Of course he had seen that Bucky was fully acclimated to life in Delacroix and he was not unhappy about that. He knew that if he needed him, the White Wolf would be there in a heartbeat and ready to help, but he was glad to know that he had a life outside the battlefield.

"Yeah, sometimes I feel like he's lived in Delacroix longer than I have, and I was born there so that's saying something. So, yes, we live happily together in Delacroix, and he's kind of part of the family."

Steve chuckled, "Haha yes, Uncle Bucky. I really wish I could have seen his face when he was called that."

"You would have seen mine," Sam retorted, "I was the most surprised."

"Pleasantly surprised I hope." asked Steve, with a slight frown, gauging Sam.

"Yes yes, don't get on your high horse, Steve the mother hen. My nephews don't have much of a male presence in their lives except for me, that's why they adopted Bucky immediately, and needless to say, the reverse is true. Besides, he's become a legend among the younger generation, you understand, the bionic arm and all, even my wings can't compete."

Steve laughs as he imagines Bucky surrounded by kids.

"Wait, let me show you!"

Sam picked up his phone and after a few seconds, he showed Steve the screen.

The older man couldn't hold back a small tear at the picture of Bucky lifting children with his arm, while others laughed around him. But what touched him the most was Bucky's own laughter.

As Sam put his cell phone back in his pocket, Steve wiped away his tears as he apologized, "Well, that's just the way it is, as we get older we get more emotional, and to see my best friend this happy, makes me incredibly pleased, thank you for showing me this Sam."

"You're welcome."

Sam cleared his throat before continuing, "So here's the thing Steve, I came today, because Bucky is an extremely important person, hell he's the most important person in my life.  I never thought I would find someone who knows me and understands me so well and who I don't have to be strong with all the time.I told you he's part of my family, but I would like him to be part of it in a more official way, and since you're all the family he has left as I know he thinks of you as his brother, although sometimes you act more like his mother, so I-"

Steve, laughing at Sam's last sentence, interrupted him with a wave of his hand.

Once he calmed down, he began to speak, "Sam, I think I understand what you came for. And I want you to know that nothing makes me happier than to give you my blessing, but you didn't have to ask for it. From the first day Bucky told me about you two, you have had this blessing. You are an exceptional person, and I am extremely happy that my two best friends have found each other. Having found happiness with the person I love, I know how precious that is. Not everyone gets a second chance like we did... like I did. So be happy, both of you. You both deserve it."

He clasped Sam's hand and put his other hand over their joined hands, just like the day he had passed the shield to him.

Once again Sam's gaze was drawn to the ring on Steve's finger.

"You still don't want to tell me about her?" asked Sam.

Letting go of Sam's hand, Steve said simply, "No..." Steve paused for a moment before continuing, "This story belongs to him and me."

Sam abruptly raised his head, but seeing that Steve had resumed his mysterious air, he simply nodded.

"I understand. I'm glad you found happiness then."

He stood up and headed for the door, "Don't walk me out I know the way. Just wish me luck."

"You don't need luck. I'm sure he'll say yes." replied Steve with a wink.

"Goodbye Steve."

Then he closed the door behind him.

As he was about to open the gate, his phone vibrated.

He picked it up, there was a message, "On your left."

He looked over his left shoulder, and saw Steve in the darkness of the window, but he wasn't alone and had his arm around the shoulders of a familiar figure. Sam tried to make out the features of the smaller man, but couldn't. He simply smiled and went on his way.

**********

A few days later, at Delacroix, lying with his head in Bucky's lap, Sam watched him squirm to try to take a picture of his right hand with his phone.

He straightened up and asked, "What are you trying to do?"

"I want to send a picture to Steve, of this," Bucky said, waving the hand that had been sporting the engagement ring in front of Sam's nose.

Sam smiled with fondness, picked up the phone and took Bucky's hand. He captured a photo of their joined hands, the engagement ring in full view.

Then kissing Bucky's hand, he handed the phone back to him.

Bucky typed a few words and sent the message.

Several hundred miles from Delacroix, in a small cottage, reading, Steve picked up his phone, which had just vibrated.

On the screen were the words, "Buddy, you'll never guess who is going to tie himself down."

Followed by a photo of a hand adorned with what could only be an engagement ring, joined to another hand, undoubtedly Sam's.

"So that's it, Sam proposed?" said a voice behind Steve.

"And Bucky said yes." replied Steve as arms wrapped around him from behind and a kiss was placed on his head.

He set the phone down beside him and turned to put his hands around the waist of the man behind him.

He sighed softly in happiness as he said, "I hope they are as happy as we are Tony."

"I'm sure they will be, my love." the man whispered as he kissed his head again. Then he let go of him and came to sit next to Steve.

Tony leaned against Steve who put his arm around him.

Then Steve picked up his book and continued to read aloud, "Perfection is achieved, not when there is nothing more to add, but when there is nothing left to take away."

__________

Not beta'd I hope you enjoyed it 🥰

Quote at the end : Wind, Sand and Stars - Antoine de Saint-Exupéry

[rocksandrobots]

Of Rocks and Robots Ch. 21 - Fishing Trip

"So what do you wanna do this weekend?" Hiro asked Varian.

The other boy only shrugged his shoulders as he had no idea.

It was Friday and they were both walking home from school while trying to make plans for the weekend. All of their other friends were either away or busy due to Father's Day coming up. Fred was going to accompany his dad on a mission. Gogo was driving down to her father's for a few days. Wasabi had bought plane tickets to fly back to his hometown of Seattle. Karmi went back upstate for the weekend with her parents, and Megan was still grounded, but had a full day planned to butter up her dad. Even Honey Lemon was going home to spend time with her abuelo.

This left Varian feeling a little awkward. In Corona they had a Guardians Day, which was meant for both parents or caretakers in general, but for Varian it was always a day for just him and his dad to spend time together. One of the few times in the year when his father wouldn't work in the field, or go to market, or have business at court.

Varian knew precisely what a day like Father's Day meant and how special time spent with the man who raised you could be. He envied his friends, but mostly, knowing this would be the second year without his dad pained him.

In a way, he was thankful that Hiro shared his delima. Though he certainly wouldn't have wished his predicament upon anyone, it was still somewhat comforting to know that he wasn't alone.

They were a less than a block away from the Lucky Cat, still discussing things to do, when a sleek car pulled to a stop beside them. The window rolled down to reveal a man with blonde hair, a large nose, and a wide smile. He was wearing a plaid shirt and a tan floppy hat.

"Hey Hiro! Go grab your overnight bag and some sunscreen!" He joyously ordered. "Your new brother, cousin, thingy too. We're going fishing!"

Varian could only look on confused, he didn't know this man nor why he wanted to him and Hiro to go on a fishing trip with him. However, Hiro apparently did know him and was also apparently not onboard with this idea at all. He stood with his mouth a gape with a look of horror in his eyes.

After processing this terrible news, Hiro could only sputter out, "But.. but why?"

The man in the vehicle began to offhandedly list his reasons. "Because fishing by oneself isn't any fun unless there's someone else around to show off to. Because I had an awful childhood, whose own father would never take fishing, and now I'm living vicariously through you. Also, you're still my intern and for the rest of the year, I still own you."

The man flashed another wide grin and Varian began to put the pieces together. This must be Krei. Owner of Krei Tech, the man in charge of the portals that brought him here, and also Hiro's boss. Though, this new revelation did nothing to stem the confusion in his mind. He couldn't for life of him see why he was being invited along on the trip nor did he understand Hiro's objections.

"But...but...b, but…" Hiro suttered desperately trying to think of way out of going.

"No buts! I've already talk with your aunt and got her permission, reserved the campsite, and I even bought you both fishing poles!" Still grinning, he reached down beside him and lifted the new poles up for Hiro and Varian to see.

Hiro let out a wordless half groan, half whine in defeat, before turning around and slumping towards the cafe. Varian blinked and looked back and forth between the two of them unsure what to do. Krei waved to him cheerfully, clearly excited for the upcoming trip, and Varian numbly waved back before deciding to follow Hiro and pack his own bag.

                                               ----------------------------

Varian found himself enjoying the fishing trip more than he had expected. The first day was spent mainly getting there and setting up the campsite. The second day was spent fishing, exploring, and just taking in the scenery.

Varian had been allowed to bring Ruddiger along, as Hiro had also brought Baymax. His pet was overjoyed to be back in his natural environment and Varian had to admit that he felt more at home here in the great outdoors than in the crowded streets of San Fansokyo. The big city was fascinating but he'd always be a simple farm boy at heart.

Krei felt much the same way. The businessman hadn't been raised in the countryside the way Varian had, but he had a great love of camping, fishing, and being out in nature. His passion stemmed from childhood summers spent on vacation at something called 'summer camp'.

Varian found he got along with older man well. They spent the ride up chatting about science and it's more practical applications, spent the trip sharing wilderness tips, and fishing out in Krei's boat. Fishing had never been Varian's favorite activity, but he now found a new sense of nostalgia for it and the praise Krei would send his way whenever he caught one helped to fuel his enjoyment of the sport even more. Plus he got a chance to show off his cooking skills after they had cleaned their catch. Not the most pleasant task ever, but Varian could stomach it much better than butchering other kinds of meat.

Hiro however did not enjoy fishing, or camping, or anything to do with the outdoors really. The other teen mostly sulked the whole trip. When he wasn't busy gagging at the worms used for bait or getting scared by the unfamiliar sounds of the local wildlife that is. Mainly he stuck close to Baymax and the tent, bored out his mind and annoyed he had been forced to come long. Varian's enthusiasm only aggravated him further and, if he was being honest with himself, he was a little jealous by how easy things came to the other boy. He'd spent half a year trying to get on Krei's good side and impress him, while Varian had managed it in mere minutes of meeting the CEO.

The only time Hiro came out of his grumpy shell was at night, when they built a campfire and roasted marshmallows. Varian had never had smores before, but they were tasty, if also sticky and a little too sweet. Ruddiger however went nuts over the fluffy sweets and had to be kept from stealing the whole bag of them. Hiro didn't really care one way or the other about the traditional treat, but was more than eager to share ghost stories with the rest of the group. Gleefully recalling with gory detail about the spirit of an ax murderer who apparently stalked the woods. Perhaps it was a little vindictive of him, to try his best and scare the other teen, but Hiro couldn't help filling a little thrill whenever Varian gave a little jump or clutched his pet raccoon even tighter in comfort.

Keri was only amused by the story. He'd heard similar ones growing up at camp. He laughed at the end of Hiro's tale.

"Ha! Kids are still telling that one? Let me tell you a real horror story."

It was about tax audits.

Both boys could only shrug at each other.

"I do not understand the purpose of a 'ghost story'." Baymax observed.

"It's suppose to be for fun." Hiro informed him.

"I see; an adrenaline rush within a safe and controlled environment can be considered a pleasant feeling for some people. However I do not understand how taxes figure into that."

"Uuuuh, neither do we." Hiro admitted, "but I guess fear is subjective. Do you have any stories to share, Varian?"

Varian had to rack his brain on that one. His own life was more of a horror story then most ghost tales he knew, but he didn't want to devel into that. Instead he told a folk legend that his dad had once told him. It had been an old story from his home country; a parable about a rich man who was so greedy that he hoarded a well from the poor townspeople during a drought. Forcing them to pay him tribute lest they die of thirst, but he made the mistake of refusing water to a witch and so was cursed to become a vampire. To spend an eternity in thirst himself and to be forever alone, because he could no longer get close to other people without risking harm to them.

"And so a leader must care for his people, son," he remembered his father instructing him at the end of the tale, "He must share and give back to the community. He who sacrifices love for his fellow man in exchanged for selfish possessions, forfeits his right to live among mankind and to even be called a 'man' himself."

If only his father's words had been true. If real life had been as simple as stories, then Corona would have sided with him and not the evil king who kept the wondrous healing flower hidden away and who turned his back upon people need. But Varian conveniently left out this more personal anecdote.

"Wow." Hiro said flatly. "That's deep."

He wasn't used to horror stories having explicit morals attached to them and didn't know how else to respond. The tale hadn't been scary so much as eerie with an unnerving ending. Unlike his serial killer story, it wasn't anything you could be afraid of happening to you, yet questioning your place in the world was somehow more off putting than simple dismemberment.

The mood was broken however, by Ruddiger stealing Hiro's marshmallow off his roasting stick. It turned out to be last one as Krei had spent the majority of Varian's story battling the gluttonous raccoon over their food stores.

"I know racoons aren't 'mankind', but does this mean he's doomed to be a marshmallow vampire now?" Hiro joked as Varian got onto his pet.

"I don't know. Your robot looks like a walking marshmallow though." Varian shot back good naturedly.

Now out of food, save for leftover fish, they all decided to tuck in for the night.

                                              ----------------------------

Hiro hated the woods. He hated how unfamiliar everything was, how inconvenient it was, and most of all he hated how gross it was. He woke up irritated and sore from sleeping on the thin sleeping bag inside the tent. He couldn't find anything decent to eat for breakfast. He never stopped grumbling while he was forced to use the bathroom outside. To make an awful morning even worst, he couldn't shake the feeling of being stalked as strange animals hooted and howled. One bush in particular shook right when he pasted it. He nearly jumped out of skin when Ruddiger pop out of it holding the last of the fish in its mouth.

He groaned as he watched the raccoon scurry away and climb up a tree a little ways off from the campsite. He didn't much care for the creature, or for wild animals in general, but he knew how important the pet was to Varian and so had tried to be polite about having it around. Still Hiro's patience was wearing thin. The walking bottomless pit had eaten practically everything in the camp.

Hiro reluctantly followed after, debating if it was worth trying to get the fish back. Probably not, he didn't even like the taste of fish all that much to begin with. He stopped in surprise when an apple core fell from tree and nearly hit him. He looked up and found Varian sitting in one of the top branches, raccoon by his side, and reaching up to pick another apple off the tree.

The other teen paused when he saw Hiro. "Hey! Morning! You wanna an apple for breakfast?"

Hiro's stomach growled in response but all he actually said was, "How did you get up there?"

Varian laughed, "Climbed up here. How else you do think? Fly?"

Hiro looked up at him blankly. It was an obvious answer, of course, and he felt silly for having asked it.  

"Come on up!" Varian encouraged. "There's plenty of apples to go around."

"I..I can't." Hiro admitted sheepishly.

"Why not?"

"I don't know how to climb a tree." He mumbled.

Varian looked surprised by this revelation and before Hiro could do anything else, the other boy quickly climbed back down to join him.

“You never climb a tree before?”

‘Well, I did once, with Baymax’s help.” He rubbed the back of his neck self consciously.  

“It’s not like there’s a whole lot of trees in San Fransokyo to climb.”

“Oh, well, it’s easy. Here, I’ll show you. Just put your foot there, in that knot, and place your hand here on this bump in the bark.” Varian instructed, helping Hiro find the footholds. “Now you see that groove up here, place your other foot there, and as you hoist yourself up grab that lowest branch with your other hand, like climbing a really uneven ladder.”

Hiro did so, though not without some struggling, but eventually he pulled himself up onto the lowest branch.      

“Great!” Varian cheered and followed after with practiced ease. “The hardest parts done. Now all you gotta do is swing up the rest of the branches, like so.”

Varian took off, showing Hiro the best way to navigate the tree top. Hiro followed him, mimicking the other boys actions. With great effort he hauled himself up onto the final branch and heaved a ‘wooooph’ in relief of having made it up.

His sigh quickly turned to awe though when he caught sight of the view. The early morning sun sparkled on the lake. Further out a misty fog was beginning to disperse and you could see the opposite shoreline reflected in the water like glass. Beyond that giant redwoods poked out of the canopy of trees and way, way off in the distance you just about make out the tips of blue mountains.

“Woah.” He breathed. Hiro had to admit, you didn’t get scenery like this in the city.

‘Here.” Varian handed him an apple. It was smaller than the ones you’d buy in the store, with pink and yellow skin. Hiro tentatively took a bite. It was crunchy and very tart, but edible. Not to mention it was practically the only food they had left in the camp, so Hiro wound up eating it all and started in on a second one.

“So, where did you learn to climb?” Hiro asked taking another large bite of the wild fruit.

“Oh, I’ve been climbing trees since I could walk.” Varian laughed. “We owned an apple orchard along with the farm. Also the forest is right next to my village.”

Ruddiger joined them, procuring his own apple and sitting right on Varian’s lap to enjoy his meal. Varian scratched his pet’s ear.

“Does he ever get full?” Hiro asked.

“Nope.” Varian replied, and then they both broke into giggles.

Once the laughter had subsided Hiro commented, “I guess that’s why you’re so good at this outdoors stuff. This is the first time I ever been fishing, and with any luck, it’ll be my last.”

“My dad taught me.” Varian quitely confessed. “He’d take me on trips like this sometimes. Try to teach me how to hunt and fish. The fishing is a lot better than the hunting, let me tell you. I never could fire an arrow right and I can’t stand the sight of blood.” He cringed as if recalling a gruesome memory. “But, I guess he was just looking out for me. He taught me the skills he had to live on to survive. Apparently there were no farms where he grew up, the land was always baren. I guess that’s why he prefered gardening to being a knight.”

“Wait, your dad was an actual for real knight?”

Varian nodded, “Yeah, I found his armor after...after the accident. Along with a bunch of other important stuff he never told me about.” He added bitterly.

Hiro didn’t know how to respond to that. So he stayed quiet and let Varian dictate the conversation.

“Anyways, it worked. The fishing did come in handy. I had to do a lot of that, when.. when I was on my own.” He worked his jaw as he mulled over that last confession, his eyes gazing out to into the distance, clearly not seeing the breathtaking view before them.

Hiro’s heart dropped. He had a vague idea of what happened to Varian, but this was the first time it really hit home just how messed up the other’s teen’s life had been before now. He could empathize with losing a loved one, but he had always had his aunt and his friends to depend upon. If nothing else to be there and take of him as he sank into depression. But Varian had to do everything for himself, even while battling that same depression. The idea of having to catch or scavenge for your own food on top caring for you ill father was a nightmare that Hiro could barely comprehend. A nightmare that only somehow got worse.

“Fortunately, there’s a river that runs through my village, and I could set up lines overnight and just go check them in the morning, and we had food stored up for winter. Like oats, bacon, dried peas, that sort of thing. That is, until spring rolled around and the king's guards run me out of my house.” He said irritably.”Then I just had to forage or steal to survive.”

“Be...because you stole medicine?” Hiro asked disquietly. He couldn’t imagine a world so cruel and yet to his surprise the story got even worse.

“Oh no, this was before I stole the flower.” Varian said matter of factly and Hiro just stared at him in horror. Varian heaved a heavy sigh and went on to explain. “My father was the only other person who knew about the sundrop. The king kept it hidden from everyone. I guess when he found out that my dad, was, was ‘gone’, he decided to try and remove me from the picture, so as to keep his secret safe. He made a bunch of false charges about me ‘attacking the princess’ so that no one would believe me when I asked for help or told them the truth about the flower. Then he sent his elite guard to arrest me and I had to run.”

Varian gave a little shrug and added, “I guess after that, ‘treason’ didn’t seem like that big of deal. I mean they were going to throw me in jail either way, and not many people leave those dungeons alive.”

Hiro could barely process what was being told to him. He didn’t know what to say. His stomach churned and his breath shallowed. Varian’s past was far scarier than any ghost story.

Then suddenly he felt guilty. He’d been so caught up in his own grief and his own struggles with readjusting, that he hadn’t actually stopped to think about things from Varian’s perspective. He had thus far grinned and bared the discomfort of having his life turned upside down, because, well because that's what he thought he needed to do in order to be a mature decent person. And while that was true in part, it never occurred to him that this move was yet another upset in Varian’s life, in a long, long string of seemingly never ending upsets.  

Hiro found himself so easily annoyed by the other teen, yet he really had no right to be. Varian was readjusting to whole new culture and way of life in addition to struggling with his grief and trauma. So what if he cooked weird food sometimes, didn’t always know the appropriate conduct to certain situations, or was so super confident in nearly everything he did that it made Hiro self conscious and a little jealous at times. Deep down, Varian was suffering through something that no one in Hiro’s little corner of the globe could fully understand, and the least that Hiro could do was try to be a little more patient and a little more open about letting Varian into his life.

“You know,” Hiro slowly said, trying to ease the conversation and offer a little understanding, “I never really knew my dad. I was just four when he and my mom died. It was always Tadashi who taught me things, like how to ride a bike or how to hotwire a robot. Though he never taught me to climb to tree, so I guess that’s one I owe you.”

He smiled encouragingly at Varian, who nervously returned it. Once again Varian wasn’t used to praise or acknowledgement that he anything ‘right’.

“Maybe, you could teach me more outdoorsy stuff.” Hiro offered. “And I can teach you more about more modern stuff, like how to play Mind Smith II Turbo .”

“That..that’s that video game you like, isn’t it?” Varian asked as he tried to remember what Hiro even talking about.

“Yeah!” and with that Hiro eagerly launched into a detailed description of the game.

Soon the boys were interrupted by Krei emerging from the tent. He stretched sore back and tried to reheat the leftover instant coffee he’d brought. He then promptly spit it back out in disgust. The boys tried their best to suppress their snickers. Keri spotted them anyways.

“How ‘bout we pack it up and go get tacos instead?” He asked them.

“Yeeesss!” Yelled Hiro, who was more than ready to go.

“Sounds great!” Agreed Varian. “We’ll be right down!”

Keri went back in the tent to start packing and Ruddigger scurried down after him, hoping to maybe steal another treat from the camp.

Varian stood up and started to also make his way down when Hiro’s voice stopped him.

“Ummm...Sooo how do you get down exactly?”

                                              ----------------------------

The day ended with a trip to Yaki Taco and a huge feast of fast food nachos and deep fried burritos. Rudiger was once again confined to his carrying cage, but was allowed a cup of some cheese sauce to snack on. Baymax was let out of his charger case to kept an eye on the mischievous raccoon. All agreed it was actually the best part of the camping trip.

“Say, ‘cheese’.” The robot said, as he took a photograph with his internal camera.  

The three guys sing songed the the word even as actual cheese dripped off the burritos they held in their hands, plastering on dopey grins for the camera. Then a few more pictures with silly faces to complete the set.

“Fantastic!” Krei said. “I want copies for the office.”

“Why?” Hiro asked.

“So if any clients come in I show off ‘my family’ to them instead just the photo of my mother. I love the woman but she doesn’t necessarily impress the image of ‘family friendly company’.”

“I knew there was a catch.” Hiro scoffed.

Keri looked wounded. “Hey, I told you, my employees are my family.”

Hiro rolled his eyes but he couldn’t help giving a little smile at that. He knew Krei well enough by now to know that, underneath his seemingly conviving self-serving self, he had a heart, and he wouldn’t have invited Hiro and Varian along if he didn’t care.

“Aunt Cass put you up to this, didn’t she?” He prodded.

“I’m sworn to secrecy.” Krei insisted and they gave Hiro a knowing wink. Then more seriously he said, “I know what it’s like not having your dad around on Father’s Day. So, I figured, why not a fishing trip? It’s better than being stuck at home while your father’s away on a business trip to Tahiti that weekend.”

Hiro raised in eyebrow. Keri had a tendency of oversharing at times.  

“Buuut, enough about me. Who wants dessert!?”

[frankiefellinlove]

These were the times...

On April 10 2014 the legendary E Street Band

Was inducted into the rock and roll hall of fame.

Bruce Springsteen made the Induction Speech.

In the beginning, there was Mad Dog Vincent Lopez, standing in front of me, fresh out of jail, his head shaved, in the Mermaid Room of the Upstage Club in Asbury Park. He told me that he had a money-making outfit called Speed Limit 25, they were looking for a guitarist, and was I interested? I was broke, so I was. So the genesis point of the E Street Band was actually a group that Vini Lopez asked me to join to make a few extra dollars on the weekend.

Shortly thereafter, I met Dan Federici. He was draped in a three quarter-length leather, had his red hair slicked back. His wife Flo, she was decked out in a blonde bouffant wig, and they were straight out of Flemington, New Jersey. [Cheers] Whoa! Flemington!

Vini, Danny, myself, along with bass player Vinnie Roslin, were shortly woodshedding out of a cottage on the main street of a lobster-fishing town, Highlands, New Jersey. I first saw Garry Tallent along with Southside Johnny when they dragged two chairs onto an empty dance floor as I plugged my guitar into the Upstage wall of sound. I was the new kid in a new town, and these were the guys who owned the place, and they sat back and looked at me like, "Come on, come on, punk, bring it — let's see what you got." And I reached back, and I burnt their house down.

But predating all of this was Steve Van Zandt. Singer! Frontman! Frontman! He was the frontman — I walked into the Middletown Hullabaloo Club, he was the frontman for a band called The Shadows. He had on a tie that went from here down to his feet. All I remember is that he was singing The Turtles' "Happy Together." During a break — at the Hullabaloo Club in New Jersey, you played 55 minutes on and five minutes off, and if there was a fight, you had to rush back onstage and start playing again. So I met Stevie there, and he soon became my great... bass player first, then great guitarist. My consigliere, he's my dependable devil’s advocate whenever I need one. He is the invaluable ears for everything that I create — I always get a hold of him — and fan number one. He's my comic foil onstage, my fellow producer/arranger, and my blood, blood, blood, blood, blood brother, for so long. So, Stevie, let’s keep rolling for as many lives as they’ll give us, alright?

Years and bands went by: Child, Steel Mill, the Bruce Springsteen Band... they were all some combo of the above-mentioned gang. Then I scored a solo recording contract with Columbia Records, and I argued to get to choose my recording "sidemen" — which was a misnomer, in this case, if there ever was one. So, I chose my band, and my great friends, and we finally landed on E Street. A rare, rock 'n' roll hybrid of solo artistry and a true rock 'n' roll band.

But one big thing was missing.

So! It was a dark and stormy night! [Laughs] As a Nor’easter rattled the street lamps of Kingsley Blvd! And in walked Clarence Clemons. I'd been enthralled by the sax sounds of King Curtis and Junior Walker and had searched for years for a great rock 'n' roll saxophonist, and that night Clarence walked in, walked towards the stage, and he rose, towering to my right on the Prince's tiny stage, about the size of this podium, and then he unleashed the force of nature that was the sound and the soul of the Big Man. In that moment, I knew that my life had changed. Miss you, love you, Big Man — we wish you were here with us tonight. This would mean a great, great deal to Clarence.

An honorable mention and shout-out to Ernie "Boom" Carter, the drummer who played on one song only: "Born to Run." He picked a good one, he picked a good one. So here's to you, Ernie. Thank you, thank you.

And thank you of course to Max Weinberg and Roy Bittan, who answered an ad in the Village Voice, and they beat out 60 other drummers and keyboardists for the job. It was the indefatigable, almost dangerously dedicated Mighty Max Weinberg and the fabulous flying fingers of Professor Roy Bittan. They refined and they defined the sound of the E Street Band that remains our calling card around the world to this day. Thank you, Roy. Thank you, Max. They are my professional hitmen! Love you both.

Then, ten years later, Nils Lofgren and Patti Scialfa joined just in time to assist us in the rebirth of Born in the U.S.A. Nils, one of the world's great, great rock guitarists with the choir boy’s voice, has given me everything he’s had for the past 30 years. Thank you, Nils. So much love.

And Patti Scialfa, a Jersey Girl, came down one weekend from New York City and sat in with a local band, Cats on a Smooth Surface and Bobby Bandiera at the Stone Pony, and she sang a killer version of The Exciters' "Tell Him." She had a voice that was filled with a little Ronnie Spector, a little Dusty Springfield, and a lot of something that was her very, very own. After she was done, I walked up, I introduced myself to her at the back bar. We grabbed a couple of stools and we sat there for the next hour — or 30 years or so [laughs]. Talked about music and everything else. So we added my lovely red-headed woman, and she broke the boys club!

I wanted our band to mirror our audience, and by 1984, that meant grown men and grown women. But, her entrance freaked us out so much that the opening night of the Born in the U.S.A. tour, I asked her to come in to my dressing room and see what she was gonna wear. And she had on kind of a slightly feminine T-shirt, and I stood there, kind of sweating. At my feet, I had a little Samsonite luggage bag that I carried with me, and I kicked it open, and it was full of all my smelly, sweaty T-shirts. And I said, "Just pick one of these [laughs]. It'll be fine!" She's not wearing one tonight. But Patti, I love you, thank you for your beautiful voice, you changed my band and my life. Thank you, honey. Thank you for our beautiful children.

Real bands: real bands are made primarily from the neighborhood. From a real time and a real place that exists for a little while, then changes, and is gone forever. They're made from the same circumstances, the same needs, the same hungers, culture, from the same need for a love to cover over hurt. They're forged in the search of something more promising then what you were born into. These are the elements, the tools, and these are the people who built a place called E Street.

Now, E Street was a dance, was an idea, was a wish, was a refuge, was a home, was a destination, was a gutter dream, and finally, it was a band. We struggled together, and sometimes we struggled with one another. We bathed in the glory and often the heartbreaking confusion of our rewards together. We’ve enjoyed health, and we've suffered illness and aging and death together. We took care of one another when trouble knocked, and we hurt one another in big and small ways.

But in the end, we kept faith with each other. And one thing is for certain: as I've said before in reference to Clarence Clemons, I told a story with the E Street Band that was and is bigger than I ever could have told on my own. And I believe that that settles that question. For that is the hallmark of a rock 'n' roll band: the narrative you tell together is bigger than any one of you could have told on your own. That’s the Rolling Stones. That's the Sex Pistols. That's Bob Marley... and the Wailers. That's James Brown... and his Famous Flames. That's Neil Young and Crazy Horse. So, I thank you, my beautiful men and women of E Street. You made me dream and love bigger than I ever could have without you.

And tonight I stand here with just one regret. That's that Danny and Clarence can't be with us tonight. Sixteen years ago, a few evenings before my own induction, I stood in my own darkened kitchen along with Steve Van Zandt. Steve was just returning to the band, after a 15-year hiatus, and he was petitioning me to push the Hall of Fame to induct all of us together. And I listened, and the Hall of Fame had its rule, and I was proud of my independence. We hadn't played together in ten years, we were somewhat estranged. We were just taking the first small steps of reforming, and we didn't know what the future would bring. And perhaps a shadow of the some of the old grudges still held some sway. It was a conundrum, because we'd never been quite fish nor fowl. And Steve was quiet, but persistent, and at the end of our conversation he just said, "Yeah, yeah, I understand... but Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band — that's the legend."

So I’m proud to induct, into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, the heart-stopping, pants-dropping, hard-rocking, booty-shaking, love-making, earth-quaking, Viagra-taking, testifying, death-defying, legendary E Street Band!

[tastefullynefarious]

Violent Delights

Chapter 1

Warnings: None in this one, you just wait :))

Word count: 1,432

Note: So, this is gonna be one weird ass story, just a fair warning. Will be as sappy as possible without turning Ron into Reggie, and the beginning will be... mostly plot-less **nsfw **(except this first chapter I guess ^^ )

I was writing some Alfie stuff, but stopped to watch Legend, and well, this happened. Will probably have a few chapters.

I’m a sucker for happy endings, so this is gonna have just that, let me know if ya want to keep Frances alive too, tho. I’m still debating :))

I love making aesthetics, sue me!

She wasn't quite sure where or when exactly her life started gong to shit, couldn't pin the exact turning point where she lost sight of where she was headed. There were a few particular moments deemed worthy of deep introspection: turning down her high school sweet heart or quitting her equally boring but good job back in her home town. If asked, she couldn't give a straight answer to why London had called to her all those months ago, all she knew was that "everything happened in London" and for some peculiar reason she needed to be at the center of it all. But she'd been happier back home...

Finishing the gin in her glass, she set it down a little harder than intended, partially intact ice cubs clinking together. That was a load of bull; she had not been neither happier nor even remotely happy at all. The fear of being stuck in a life already neatly set out for her had been crippling, she almost chickened out at the last minute and went through with the engagement. Her friends and family called her selfish and positively mad. Her lips pulled into a snarl at the memory of her breakup with poor, sweet James. He had not deserved that, but at the same time she could reason she had done him a favor. He would have ended up in a loveless marriage with her, and God only knew she would have made his life a living hell. Misery loves company after all.

Trudy took the bottle from the counter to refill her glass, passing a sweet smile to the bartender who just shook his head. All her actions up to that point had lead her there, in that particular club in London, and there was little she could do to change any of that. But she found she had no actual direction anymore. Her life had been planned and meticulously organized until the very last moment she packed her bags and left the only home she'd known. She kissed goodbye the big white house her parents were looking to get the future married couple, the security of a job and a gentle husband. Two kids mandatory and possible some type of pet, most like a dog so they could put the back yard to good use. The memory of her mother's vision of the perfect life made her smile, though it didn't quite reach her eyes. Thank the heavens, she'd dodged a bullet there. Never in her life had she felt more alive than when she left home, head first into the unknown, than that fist step she took on the train station in London.

And she loved the city, oh god how she loved it. It was everything she dreamed of and more: loud, crowded, and most of all exciting. Dangerous even. There were people from all around the world and at her new, poorly paid job as a shop assistant she got to meet and talk to some wonderful folk so far. Their stories about far of lands made her both wish to go further, beyond London, beyond England, and one day maybe even travel outside Europe. And at the same time she didn't want to get one step outside the wondrous city she was currently residing in, for surely, if so many interesting people were coming to London they were onto something. They must have felt the city's pull as well.

But that was her problem; she wasn't coming, nor going, nor building a life for herself. She was just... existing, one story to another, one day to the next, caught in a lethargic state of limbo. Was she waiting for something to change? Hadn't she learned by now that things didn't just happen, that you have to put yourself out there and grab what you desire and claim it for your own? She tipped the glass with the remains of her drink, then hasty paid her tab and set her hat gingerly not to ruin her curls too much. There was a new surge of determination in her veins, which might as well have been the alcohol, but it was there and it was setting her in motion. And as she spun of her high chair, their eyes met.

Ron had been distracted the entire night. At fist, his mind too busy to spin and turn the words of the people in his inner circle, weeding out the lies and the deception, had kept him from fully being aware of his wandering eyes. But once the demons in his mind calmed, and their friends were still deemed trustworthy, he found his gaze back, for what must have been the hundredth time, on the woman at the bar. A woman of all things. He noted absently the black velvet of her dress. The ridiculous low cut on the back. The way the fabric hugged her ass and things as she leaded up to pick a bottle and pour herself another glass. All things he didn't find particularly impressive on their own. And yet, as he pushed his glasses up his nose, his eyes fell on her again just as she was turning towards him.

Breathtaking.

She stopped dead in her track, eyes gone wide. He noticed her lips parting just slightly and he would swear he could hear her gasp as the air was caught in her lungs. Slender, ring-less fingers clutched her purse tight. She stood as still as a statue, mere feet away, looking like she wanted to pounce out of his sight, but too scared he'd follow. She was quite stunning like that, a little deer in the headlights. He found himself not wanting to spook the darling, so he fixed her with his gaze instead, beaconing her to join him on his couch. 'Come to Ron' was repeating over and over again in his mind. And he'd almost done it; she took one step towards their table, and he felt the slightest tug on his lips at the secret victory. But just as fast as the spell was cast, it was broken as a bloke came in his line of sight. He was asking something of his brother, monumentally less important than his current task.

Ron pushed the man aside with force, tripping the bastard over the chair and almost bringing down the entire table. He caught the change in her demeanor; she swallowed hard before taking a long breath as if she had been drowning, drowning in him, in his gaze. Her frantic eyes looked anywhere but in his direction and before he could charge towards her, she bolted through the mass of people and out of sight.

"Ronnie, are you alright, mate?" His bother's hand found his shoulder in a reassuring grip, but Ron had no business with him. His attention fell on the unsuspecting man that was gathering his bearings. Getting up, he grabbed the wanker by the back of his neck and trusted him face first on the table, broken glass sticking to his face. He heard Reggie swearing, but he only pushed the man harder onto the cold surface. His first thought had been to make him find out for him who the woman was, but upon further musing, he decided he would do that himself, get all the information he needed, and not rely on some idiot's word. He gave the man one last push into the glasses before releasing him and leaving the table, puzzled expressions on everyone's faces. He needed to clear his mind a bit.

Trudy felt the exact same, her mind was a storm of incomplete, illogical thoughts, as she strode through the streets of London towards her small apartment. The night air was doing little to cool her heated skin. Her poor heart was threatening to jump out her throat, but there was a skip to her step. Behind the panic there was something a thousand times more dangerous: excitement. She was positively burning with the feeling, alive and curious and giddy. The way he looked at her, like she was the prey and he the hunter. The sweet, dark things that intense stare promise, she could almost envision his hand buried in her hair, his fingers gripping at her skin until it'd bruise, his cock...

She close the door behind her, barely containing herself, knees shaking from both thrill and fear.

And he but looked at her.