#it was hard trying to make the top drawing look on model and i blame that solely on rock's legs

[millaren]

put too much effort into this to only post it in rpscord so here's a 3ds theme i made!

should be on theme plaza eventually ^^ After 2 months it's finally on there

and as a bonus here are the 2 uncompressed halves:

[sunnytotherescue]

guuh i might have an ear infection blah blah blah Im horny here's desperate Dia to soothe the soul (TT)

cw: dubcon, assumed consent (you knew he was about to pull some shit🙄)

Something heavy is on you. It was just the faint feeling of touch at first, the sense of skin coming into contact with your own. Then it had been his weight, heavy and full on your already achy hips. The sharp rush of pleasure was what snapped your eyes open, letting you get a good look at the debauched man on top of you. Diavolo riding your cock like there was no tomorrow, expression already fucked out and chest heaving with each breath.

The poor bastard had been messaging you recently, hiding behind polite texts and subtle hints. But you were no idiot, you knew good and well what begging looked like. A prince metaphorically down on his knees for you, deprived of your attention for far too long. Don't go blaming him though!! His schedule was filled up and the brothers covered every second of yours :(

You let him have his way for a little while longer, entertained enough by watching his tits jiggle as he tried to keep the noises spilling from his mouth to a minimum. Failing, obviously.

Oh he really was such a slut wasn't he? Couldn't even go a full week without your cock filling him up! Poor prince Diavolo, sitting all alone as his desk while fisting his aching dick, trying so hard to ignore the papers in front of him and focus on the image he had of you in his head. Poor prince Diavolo, fucking himself with a specially made dildo, one modeled after a human in a desperate attempt to see what you might feel like. Poor prince Diavolo, crying all alone in his bed because nothing was ever enough to satisfy him, not when you walked around like a juicy piece of meat, just out of reach.. the list could go on and on.

He might aswell be with how pent up he was. Sneaking out of his own castle, away from his own butler with one goal in mind? Making his way through the house in the dead of night, already buzzing with need by the time he'd gotten to your door? You should keep him like this more often.

You grunted on a particularly hard bounce, deciding to end his fun.

"Dia...Diavolo." Golden eyes shot up to meet yours, his expression flailing once he finally realized you had awoken. And yet still, his hips refused to pause. "Ah, ahm- m'sorry!" Diavolo whimpered, practically hopping on your cock as the fat of his thighs jiggled with each bounce. "Ju- just couldn't wait any- ah! hhnngg- anymore!" He squealed, rolling his ass down onto you, velvety walls squeezing around you with each squelch like a bitch in heat.

Diavolo nearly sobbed once he finally managed to hit that gummy spot inside of him, nails digging into your chest with renewed desperation,, not that he could ever get over you.

Your precious prince got all the special treatment he wanted, ending up flat on his stomach with his ass up in the air, plush cheeks spread just so you could watch how his hole eagerly sucked in your cock. It was such a lewd sight for the future king of devildom to be in, but he must've been made for it!!

"please- pleaaash!~" Diavolo whined, drool dripping down his chin as those golden eyes of his rolled back, hips desperately trying to meet your pace. Oh, how perfect he looked getting split open like this. Fat ass bouncing with every movement, claws digging into your sheets, big dick hanging uselessly between his thighs like a leaky faucet,,,

Pretty red locks were pulled by the roots as you yanked his back flush against your chest. The motion caused him to take in all of you at once, drawing out a loud broken wail and he swears he could feel you in his lungs. "n-nnhhaa- sho deheep!!" Diavolo cried, tears clouding his vision- and he couldn't help but slam back on your cock, quickening the lewd plap plap plap that rang in his ears like a mantra.

You finally pump him nice and full of your warm load until it spilled out around your length, creating a white ring at the base. He came along with you, cum spraying out from his angry red tip that had gone entirely untouched. Diavolo babbles on and on about how full he is, how he needs more and how he can't wait to get pregnant!

Hm. The future king of the Devildom swollen with your kids was definitely a ,,thought.

But it was a thought for a different night, you could entertain the idea for now, if only to fill him up some more!...

..he'll mention how it's actually possible later (*´ ˘ `*)

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

Am I the Asshole for ruining a person's life?

©️©️©️©️©️©️ to find later.

This is an old story from when I was in high school. I was a quiet nerdy kid, but I was well liked. No one messed with me and I was on good terms with most of the popular kids. I just tended to like to read and learn. I did academic decathlon, I spent my breaks in the library, I was in the top of the class etc.

My junior year of high school, there were these two sisters that moved into the school. They weren’t twins, but they were in the same grade. The Older (We'll call her Lina) was held back one year. We'll call the younger one Wendy. Lina and Wendy were both painfully awkward little nerds, so we tended to be in the same circles. We were in the same classes and they also joined the Academic Decathlon. I spent a lotttttt of time around them.

Lina was a cunt.

Seriously an absolute cunt. She went out of her way to absolutely DESTROY any confidence Wendy had. Wendy was SO SMART. Way smarter than me. And Wendy didn't have a mean bone in her body. A very kind person. But Lina felt the need to point out EVERY small mistake or blamed everything that went wrong on Wendy. I once saw Lina SLAP Wendy and then demand Wendy apologize for it. Lina called her names, belittled her, etc. And it pissed me off.

It pissed me off even more when I met their Mom and it was SO OBVIOUS that their Mom favored Lina. She even said that "Lina is definitely the prettier one. She could be a model" when Wendy was RIGHT THERE. It pissed me off SO MUCH.

So, I might have reacted in a way that could be an asshole move.

Like I said, I was a quiet nerdy kid. But I was also pretty well liked and I used that to my advantage.

I became a little whisper in people's ears. I spent an ENORMOUS amount of time and effort turning everyone against Lina. I spread rumors that were just baaarely exaggerating the truth. I encouraged people to shit talk Lina and talk kindly about Wendy. I basically changed Wendy's reputation into a glowing saint in the eyes of the school (not difficult, Wendy was great) and I turned Lina's reputation into garbage. Like, actual garbage.

It got to the point where Lina had no friends. No one DARED to risk being seen with her. Everyone loved to shit talk her. She couldn't keep a secret for anything. If she tried to confide in someone, the news would come out immediately. No one was on her side. I even had her boyfriend spilling embarrassing intimate secrets. He kept dating her just so he could make fun of her.

Well, she did have one friend. Lina had me. I was such a kind and faithful friend, who would NEVER gossip about her or be mean. She could tell me anything.

She even drew this REALLY pretty portrait of me. Just a pencil drawing on sketchbook paper. Whatever else Lina was, she was a good artist. It looked just like me.

I still have it, btw, it really good piece of art.

(I didn't have to worry about it staining my reputation, I was already known as being too kind for my own good. It's really not that hard to get a nice girl reputation.)

Anyways, I have been told that this was an asshole move when I tell this story. I don't think it was and I don't regret it, but other people seem to think it was excessive. When I think back to how much more CONFIDENT Wendy was by the time we graduated, and how she went on to an Ivy League college, I'm glad I ruined her sister's social life. Lina was so stressed out that she couldn't even TRY to harrass Wendy. And if she HAD tried, Lina would have had the student body at her throat. I didn't just ruin Lina, I also helped Wendy gain her footing in a new school.

Anyways, WAS I the asshole for ruining her? Or were my actions just?

[olivia-anderson-fanfic]

Routines

Tim and Marinette lived busy lives.

It was by choice, of course.

They were both prominent figures in their fields that could pick and choose the assignments they wished to take, had more money than they could ever dream of using thanks to the hefty trust fund that being even tangentially related to Bruce Wayne provided, and no one would blame them if they were to lessen or give up their vigilantism. If they wished, there was nothing stopping them from taking a smaller workload, from using up all of their sick days, from taking vacations, from quitting their jobs entirely...

That being said, they likely never would.

And the tabloids loved to speculate on their relationship because of it. How could they spend much time together if Tim was always at work, developing new technology for Wayne Enterprises? Marinette was cheating, how could she not when so much of her job as a designer involved getting up close and personal with models? Not to mention all of the business trips. Surely, the relationship had some kind of monetary motivation, or maybe it was just to more seamlessly merge their companies, or it had only happened for PR reasons.

They let them speculate. They simply didn’t know better.

The tabloids didn’t get to see how they acted behind closed doors, after all.

There would be days where neither of them went in to work. It wasn’t due to some sort of sickness that Tim had caught thanks to his lack of spleen, nor would it be because Marinette had hit some kind of artist’s block. No, it was simply because they wanted to spend time together.

~

They took breaks. Technically. If you squint.

There would be days where neither of them went into work. It wasn’t due to some sort of sickness that Tim had caught thanks to his lack of spleen, nor would it be because Marinette had hit some kind of artist’s block. No, it was simply because they wanted to spend time together.

They would turn on the coffee machine and then make their way over to the sofa. Marinette would nestle herself into his side and smile as he wrapped his arm around her. He would pull her as close as he possibly could so he could still use both arms to type.

He usually took video calls like this. It was always so much easier to maintain a pleasant smile, even when people often looked down on him for his age, because whenever he felt it start to waver he could simply look down at his girlfriend and suddenly he would find that it would be back in full force.

She would prop her sketchbook on her legs and start on some new designs. The designs she did like this were always, inexplicably, more lively than the other ones -- full of vibrant colors and swooping curves in a way that some of her other works lacked. If asked, Marinette would joke that the secret ingredient was love.

And, sure, this wasn’t technically taking a break from work. They were still productive, still did tasks...

But they counted it. They always came back to work the next day with the same euphoric feelings in their chests, the same springs in their steps. How could they not? They’d spent the entire day doing what they loved with the person that they loved. Who could ever want a break from that?

~

Every time one of them came back from a business trip, they made sure to spend the night together.

Tim would lay back in bed, Marinette on top of him. Her head would come to rest on his chest, clutching the back of his shirt tightly. His fingers would find their way to her hair and she would huff a little, knowing that her hair was about to get hopelessly tangled as he fidgeted with the silky strands, but she would nuzzle into his chest all the same.

They would watch a TV show. It didn’t matter whether it was good or bad. As long as there were people and some semblance of a plot, they would gladly stay wrapped up in each other’s arms to watch it.

Tim would rattle off whatever theories he had developed as they came to mind. Some of them were absolutely insane, he knew, and would never happen… but it was worth making a fool of himself if it got Marinette’s face to light up or if he earned one of those little giggles that escaped her when he was instantly proven wrong.

Marinette would, at least, pause the show whenever she wanted to talk, though it wasn’t out of an understanding of how time works. No, it was so she could sit up a little in his lap and point at whichever character had offended her this time. She would go on long rants about how makeup was just as important as outfits in costuming, but it was often overlooked in favor of making the actors look pretty. And, maybe she had already said all of this before, but it’s important, Tim! And he would just nod his agreement. Because it was important -- a TV night certainly wouldn’t feel like a TV night without at least one rant.

And then the screen would go black, the most recent episode done.

Tim would draw back a little and then pretend to be shocked when his hands were stuck in her hair.

“Oh noooooo,” he’d say. “I guess I can’t let go yet.”

“How unfortunate,” she would deadpan.

He’d smile cheekily at her.

“Shut up.”

“But I didn’t even say anything!” He’d argue with overexaggerated offense.

She would smile, shaking her head as much as she could with the fingers in her hair. “You didn’t have to. You have a presence about you.”

“I’m going to take that as a compliment,” he’d say.

And, sometimes, she’d bring her hands up to cup his face. “Not sure if it was a compliment, but I definitely wouldn’t have it any other way,” she’d whisper before pulling him closer for a kiss.

… but, most of the time she would just laugh and say: “It wasn’t one.”

~

Once a month, Marinette tried to teach Tim to cook. Of course, they both knew it was a hopeless endeavor. He’d failed to make mac n’ cheese once, and Marinette -- who had lived the first eighteen years of her life in a Parisian bakery -- wasn’t good at discerning which meals were ‘easy to do’.

But that didn’t stop her from trying.

She would come up with a new recipe, would claim that this one was truly dummy proof…

And then Tim, dummy that he was, would manage to mess it up. Without fail, he would find some way to do something wrong. He would leave the milk on the stove and then be surprised when said milk on the stove decided to revolt against the system. He would raise the temperature on the thing they were baking so it would go faster and then be shocked when the cake didn’t rise at all. He would put too much in the mixer and then not understand why the contents had exploded over the two of them.

Worst thing was, she was pretty sure he was actually trying. He just… couldn’t seem to do it.

So, she would just kiss the disappointed frown off of his face and promise that they would do better next time.

And, every time without fail, he would light up.

“There will be a next time?” He would ask.

“Yeah. You’re lucky you’re cute, I can’t say I love being covered in ingredients.”

Tim would kiss her cheek, and then draw back and lick his lips. “I don’t know, I kind of like it. Something about my girlfriend being covered in tasty food really does something for me.”

“Like I said: you’re lucky you’re cute.”

And, even though she would say that, there was no mistaking the amusement dancing in her eyes.

~

They weren’t particularly religious, it was hard to be when Marinette had a god living in her earrings that obeyed her every command…

Which meant celebrations for the two of them were few and far between.

But, at least, they celebrated their anniversary.

They would sit on the rooftop, the blankets doing nothing to keep the hard tiles of the roof from digging into them and they did even less against the chilly Gotham air.

She’d stare up at the sky with him.

And, since it was Gotham, there were very few stars to be seen through the dark red and black haze of clouds that hung over the city.

But they didn’t mind.

Marinette smiled. “It’s our colors.”

He didn’t look over, watching the colors swirl above them. “Even the sky thinks we’re a good couple.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised. The sky god really does have a thing for love.”

He gave a short puff of laughter and finally tore his eyes away from the sky. “Really?”

She shrugged, grinning at him. “No clue. There might not even be a sky god.”

He scoffed and untangled his hand from its blanket prison to give her a tiny shove. She could have dodged the attempt with ease, but she allowed the hand to make contact.

To her surprise, he grabbed ahold of her shoulder and pulled her into him. She gave an undignified little squeak and, if it weren’t for the fact that he was right there, she would have probably faceplanted onto the tile.

But, instead, her face came crashing into his soft, pillowy shoulder.

She looked up at the crooked grin that she had come to love over the years and huffed, pulling her own arms free so she could shove him. For real.

He flopped back, the hand he’d managed to get out coming to rest over his chest as if he were hurt.

“How could you? Roofs hurt, you know.”

“Well, yeah, if you throw yourself down on tiles it’s not going to feel too great.”

He cracked a grin, though he quickly tamped it down to keep up the act: “Victim blaming at its finest.”

She rolled her eyes and leaned over him. One of her hands cradled his cheek, her thumb tracing the tiny scar on his cheekbone.

He looked up at her. And she thought, somewhere, that maybe the reason the pollution in the city was just some kind of coverup so no one would know that they all resided in Tim’s eyes.

And then she cursed herself mentally for thinking something so cheesy.

She had to make up for it somehow:

“You’re the worst, I hope you know that.”

“I am. But you love me anyway.”

Dang it. How was she supposed to feign being annoyed when he looked at her like that? With that soft smile and thick lashes and hair that framed his face just so.

She decided it wasn’t worth trying to pretend.

Marinette let herself match his smile.

“I do.”

“Save those words for our wedding,” he joked softly.

She rolled her eyes. “You haven’t even proposed yet.”

“I could be doing that right now. Who knows, this could all be my plan.”

“It’d be a good plan,” she said. “I’d probably say yes.”

He narrowed his eyes just slightly. “Isn’t that essentially you proposing to me?”

She tipped her head to the side, considering, then she laughed a little. “I guess it kind of is. So, Tim, will you marry me?”

His eyes widened to an almost comical degree.

And then his face lit up with a smile that made her heart flutter.

“I hope you know I want a ring.”

She giggled. “Just say yes, you idiot. We can always get the ring tomorrow.”

His smile only stretched further. “Yes. I’d love to marry you.”

“I love you,” she whispered, leaning closer until her lips brushed against his.

“I love you, too,” he breathed.

Marinette didn’t hesitate any longer, tilting her head to give him a proper kiss. He freed himself of the blanket and she gasped a little against his lips as he wrapped her up in it as well, drawing her close.

She pulled away just a little, her forehead coming to rest against his. She couldn’t seem to get the dopey smile off of her face, but she wasn't completely sure she even wanted it gone.

“I proposed first, so I won,” she said, sticking her tongue out at him playfully.

He smiled. “No, I did.”

[be-ready-when-i-say-go]

Something hoochie with Luke and working on his solo album

Taking limited requests. 4 slots left.

Hoochie, but make it soft. So soft. CW: NSFW 18+ Content.

______________________________________

Dealing with things positively sucked and Luke was sure that his plan previously to keep living, keep burying was the best for him. But there was progress--and he couldn't deny that. He could actually talk to you about things. The wall that made it seem like it was always going to be on an emotional island or emotional hell was cracking and it felt good.

But it fucking hurt--to realize so many mistakes he made. Knowing that's not the kind of person he wanted to be, not anymore. And right now, he fucked up. You asked him to help you clean the kitchen taking the trash out and help you clean the top of the cabinets. Easy work really in the grand scheme of it all. If it had just buckled up and got fucking down to it, he would be done already.

But the house is way too silent. At first he doesn't hear it due to the guitars and keys in his ears, but in his pause and stretch in the computer chair, he realizes in fact the house is too quiet. When he looks up to the time in the right hand corner of his laptop, his jaw drops. He asked for five more minutes before helping you. And you agreed--because five minutes was reasonable. But not this. This was far from reasonable.

"Holy fuck," he mutters, spinning around in his chair. "Babe, I'm so sorry," he shouts, only realizing the door is closed and most likely keeping his voice from carrying outside of the makeshift studio. "Babe!" he calls again, taking the hallway in a half job.

How had an hour passed? One moment he was just importing tracks, fully intending to stop there and but then he wanted to check them to make sure the takes were as clean as he could get them before cutting anything else together.

When he skids to a halt in the kitchen, you're at the table, a plate of crumbs in front of you. "I know I asked for five minutes and then I totally spaced. And it's not an excuse. I should have set a timer. I'm very sorry," Luke says, approaching slowly from your left.

"I'm trying hard not to blow my top, Luke. I just--I agreed to the five minutes because that was reasonable. I figured I could do something else in that time until you were ready. And then I tried to knock and call your name. And you didn't answer."

"My headphones were on. But really, I should've set an alarm. I can help now. Do you still need help?"

You shake your head. "No, I finished it up."

"Baby, that's not safe. If you had of fallen--"

"I didn't fall," you interrupt, staring into the glass in front of you. The water glistens in the sun and for a moment you hate it. Hate how pretty it is, how much it doesn't care given all the shit you're going through right now. And you know it's not right to blame sunlight and water. And you're trying not to blame Luke. You're trying not to make him into the villian.

Luke doesn't like how sad your voice is. "Let's talk about it?" He walks around the table and settles across from you. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"I just--" you start and then stop. "I feel like this has been happening a lot. And I don't want to feel like I'm being neglected."

He never meant to make you feel that way. But just because he hadn't wanted to, didn't mean he hadn't. "I'm very sorry I've made you feel that way. I know I need to do better. Do you think you have that kind of capacity? To give me time to get better?" The language is awkward on his tongue but his therapist says not making assumptions and using language that gives others choice is going to serve best. So he's careful as he speaks to make sure he's not making any assumptions on your behalf.

You sigh, but nod. "I do. I think that maybe putting household stuff on a schedule can help?"

Luke nods. "I like that idea. It would force me to track of time too." The silence envelopes the two of you and you look up to his face. Luke looks pensive, as if trying to decipher something.

"Is-is there something else you want to say?"

Luke blinks, turning his icy blue eyes back to you. "Not right now. But when I get the right words later, I'll let you know."

You nod, picking up your plate and taking it to the sink. Luke's voice floats up from behind you. "Do you need help with anything else?"

"No, I think I'm going to take a nap."

Luke hums, to let you know he's heard you. And when you shuffle just over to the couch, Luke walks back to the sink, washing the plate and a few sparse cups left by the two of you.

You curl up around Petunia and drifting into sleep isn't hard. Luke watches your breathing slow and become steady. He keeps his distance in the kitchen, watching you from the table. If you already finished cleaning the kitchen, he wonders if cleaning the bathrooms were next on your list.

Yeah, he can do that. Clean the bathrooms, and do the laundry. And once that's done if you're awake, he'll draw you a bath. First he checks to see if your favorite sweets are in the pantry. If they aren't he'll go out and get them and a few other grocery. But you're well stocked. So he careful goes down the hallway, grabbing all the cleaning supplies.

Luke's careful to shut the door to the bathroom so the running water doesn't wake you. He sprays down the tub and walls and let's it sit for moment as he clears off the counters and the top of the toilet cover. Once those are clear and cleaned he turns his attention back to the tub. With that clean he wipes down the mirror and lines the inside of the toilet with cleaner.

It gets a little stuffy, so he cracks the door just a smidge. His har flops in his face, and he pushes it back with the back of his hands. He can't keep letting this kind of stuff happen. Maybe Mondays are kitchen days. A way to reset after the weekend. Then Tuesdays could be laundry. Or maybe Tuesday's can be bathroom days and then Wednesdays can be laundry.

Done with the the first bathroom, he carries his supplies to the master bathroom.

Something about laundry on Wednesdays feels better to Luke. Right now it's being done on as needed basis, and there wasn't anything wrong is that. But he felt like sometimes because of this he was constantly running the bottom of the barrel for his own clothes. So doing it more consistently would help him with that.

Luke finishes the master bathroom quicker than he anticipated and then heads to the half bath and cleans that quickly. By the time he's done his shirt is just starting to cling to him. He feels off the gloves, puts all the buckets and cleaners back up. You still sleep peacefully on the couch and Luke grabs the laundry pins from the closet--both yours and his.

While laundry wasn't always Luke's favorite, mostly because separating out the delicates, darks, and lights, made his head hurt, he threw together a little chart that you got lamented and hang up in the laundry room to help whenever he's not sure. And it feels stupid sometimes, but at this point it's just about making sure that he can do things done, no matter how they get there.

Luke runs the light colors first with only a handful of delicates. The darks is a larger pile, but he's worried if he runs them first something will get left behind and stain.

By the time he gets lights out of the dryer and starts to transfer over the darks into the machine, you knock on the door modeling. Luke smiles as he looks up, letting the few things in his hand, drop into the dryer. "How was your nap?"

"It was good." You spy the basket full of light colored clothes and go to pick it up but Luke's vocalizations to get you to drop the basket stop you.

"I got it. How about I draw you a bath once I get all these into the dryer?"

"Luke, you don't have to."

"But I want to," he counters, head dropping to make sure the shirt in his hands can go into the dryer. It can't so he drapes it onto the pile on the side of other things that need to get hung up to dry.

"Will you join me?" you ask, hiking up the basket in his distraction.

"If you'd like."

"I would."

When Luke turns, he sees the basket in your hands. "Hey, I told you I was going to do that."

"Well if you're joining me in a bath, you're going to need help folding clothes."

For a moment, he glares at you, but when you don't back down he hiccups out a laugh. "Fine, I guess."

*****

The water's warm as you step into it, Luke's already submerged, pressed up against the back wall. You settle between his legs and let the bubbles lap up against your chest. Luke encases your waist once you're under the water with his arms. The bubbles smell like lavender as the scent softly creeps up your nose.

There's not many words. Not even as Luke kisses across your shoulder and his fingers skate across the skin of your side. You sigh at the feeling and sink further into him. "I'm sorry again," he whispers against your ear.

"I accept your apology," you return just as quiet. "We'll just have to figure something out. Like we always do."

Luke smiles for a moment. Like we always do. Because you two always do. You manage to work things out and come out better. He just wished it wasn't always something to fix. he wished that he could get it together without it falling apart. It felt like a leaky boat sometimes, just scoping out enough water to keep afloat.

He just barely catches the feel of your hands running over his thighs and he shivers. And it's just stillness for a moment, maybe even two. But you stretch up and turn just a hair to kiss him. And Luke lets himself go into the kiss. His hands wander your body, gripping at the flesh and it's just enough pressure to make you moan, just enough of squeeze to make you give into the tingly that runs down your spine.

The water sloshes just a little as you spin all the way around, climbing onto his lap. You're thankful for such a large bathtub right now as your arms wind around his neck and you find his lips again in a kiss. It's slow, not rushed in any sense, but still dizzying. You pull away from Luke and he chases you down.

A giggle falls from your lips. "Thank you," you whisper. "For doing this. But for also working hard to make this relationship work."

Luke should be used to the patience, to the gratitude. But it still blows him away everytime you are firm, but willing to help. "Thank you. For, like, literally everything."

You two share another kiss, deeper than the last and you ever so gently rock against Luke's length. Luke groans into the kiss. "Please," he says so softly against your neck, his lips barely closing around your skin to give you kisses.

"Hmm," you start with a devilish grin crossing your lips. "Please, what? I need words."

His fingers dig into your hips and the air's leaving his lungs at the feeling of you against him. With a firm grip onto his hair, you tilt his head back. His eyes are blown but he smiles at you. "Of course you need words," he finally responds.

You quirk an eyebrow--a warning. But Luke's never needed more than that to get back in line.

"Please fuck me," he finally returns.

"That's more like it," you smile and seal his lips in a kiss briefly. "I'm more than happy too."

[oh-for-fic-sake]

Their Alright... For A Boomer

Masterlist

Summary: Being a girl with a larger chest always got you attention, maybe having your nipples pierced to try and fell more confident handt been the best idea, but how can you regret it when your latest client; the sexy Mr Cavill  was ogling them but could this end up being more then just that one time you were eyed by a hot celebrity?

Warnings: Suggestive, No Smut, Fluffy? Cute and funny, Swearing

A/N: this was a request from @fanficlover91​ i hope you like this hun, i tried to keep it hot but sweet and respectful? Which was a struggle but i hope i got the vibe you wanted. And as always i hope you all enjoy.

Taglist: In Reblogs.

You blushed as you looked down the lense at your model. He smirked sweeping his eyes over you non to subtly. You could feel the blues penetrating you with a hot stare. The was the distinctive fast clicks on you camera snapping a burst of shots managing to capture his smirking face and eyes sweeping over your form appreciatively.

You stood tall and smiled pulling away double checking the shoots. You bit your lip. Fucking hell this was both the best and worst job you had. Henry Cavill was the most enticing male you'd ever had the pleasure to photograph. He didn't even have a good side, every side was good! There wasn't an unflattering angle on the man!

"And that's a wrap? I think we have everything we need Mr Cavill" you said professionally making to move away from him and begin to swap sd cards and label them before packing away. Henry gawfed and rose quickly panicked almost.

"I- err no! Wait I was... Well hoping that I could have some more done?" he said chaseing you across the small studio you could hear his agent Leah scoff from the side lines. You frowned and looked to her nervously. The woman had been watching and tutting, scoffing and clicking her tongue through the whole session. It actually made you nervous, wasn't she pleased with the shoot? You were worried, being freelance this was your first time doing a celebrity shoot for a magazine but the usual photographer was in hospital having a stroke a few days prior and you were the only free photographer in the agency that was close enough to take the job. Sure you wasn't well known but still it was a little disheartening to have someone seemingly unimpressed with your work.

But it was when you eyed her you saw she wasn't giving you the evil eye. Her frown was directed at henry, a scolding look you'd give a misbehaving child. You frowned a little puzzled, but shook it off in favour of looking to Henry. Your actual client.

"More? I... I? Thought the piece only needed a few to choose from? They were very ah... How do I put it? Thorough? With the brief" you explained hoping Leah would step in and clarify just what was going on. Because you didn't have a clue.

"I yes but- I'd love to top up my portfolio? You know? I err yeah have a few changes going on and... I mean a few greys and such... Just want to update it a tad... I'll pay obviously- I'd pay anything for more time please?" he pleaded watching you closely eyes wide and bright full of hope.

"I... Err" you shifted swapping your camera from one hand to the other and craned your head around the man trying to spy his agent. But you had no hope of peeking around this gargantuan man. Just like with the camera he demanded your full attention.

"And for Instagram and stuff! There's only so much I can do in a selfie... I'd even recommend you- advertise your work!" he quickly added sounding desperate now. It would help you out if you did have a few shots of him for in your own catalogue. It shouldn't matter but having a celeb under your belt was actually a good thing. It meant you'd acted professionally and been good to work with.

"I suppose so, I do have a few extra sd's here... Tell you what I'll do another shoot for you as long as I can pick a few to put in my portfolio? Then we both update our files?" you nodded to him speaking slowly. He grinned and relaxed nodding quickly pleased with himself for wrangling more shots. You'd never know he was just glad to has more time with you.

"Oh yes absolutly! That's fine here should we get started now or?" he asked biting his lip trying not to stare at you for too long. But it was hard you were fucking stunning!

"Oh yeah sure iv got time, let me just sort these out and set up, need to switch, you've tired my poor camera" you said with a grin trying to ignore the man as he beamed at you looking excited nodding enthusiastically. You backed up and spun around trying not to blush as you felt henry gazing openly at you.

"Right well if the magazine ones are done I will be off then" Leah called packing up her bag with a small chuckle to herself. You froze and spun quickly seeing her seemingly abandoning you with Henry.

"Wha- oh you don't have to you can stay-" you tried to reason unsure why, I mean who wouldn't want to be alone with this huge glorious man? Maybe you just didn't trust yourself with him? He had been 'making love' to the camera all afternoon. Smouldering bedroom eyes that was making it hard to focus. You had been getting hot under the collar all day as you kidded yourself he was eyeing you, not the camera or would be readers.

It didn't help that you had caught him oogling your breasts earlier. But you wasn't mad, it was your own fault. It was the Hight of summer and you had on a string vest with a thin bra, that you could clearly see your nipple bars through. You didn't feel uncomfortable or anything, you didn't blame Henry for looking. You cant exactly ignore your tits.. The were pretty large for your frame. You were curvy but they were as one ex put it 'exceptional'. And besides he had looked not touched and he hadn't been a creep about it. In fact he had done a double take and then blushed when he realised he had been caught looking. But as you said you get that with big boobs, you'd had it your entire life, it was actually one of the reasons you'd got them pierced. It helped with your confidence and you convince yourself that they were looking at the bars. Not you per say.  

"Okay aunt Leah I will see you in a few days." henry interrupted you quickly smiling practically ushering the woman out the door. He moved fast ever picking the womans phone and juice bottle to help her leave quicker.

"Yes, behave Henry I'll see you soon" she said with a giggle before calling a thank you and goodbye over her shoulder at you. You swallowed nervously and gave a quick bye as the door clicked behind her and you were left alone with Henry. The man groaned stretching as he spun around a huge grin on his face, making your knees tremble a little. Fuck.

Henry came over and watched you closely as you scribbled the name and date along with the publication name on the sd case label. You tried not to notice as he hovered biting his lip then took off the blazer and threw it on the table beside you drawing your attention as he did grunting a little. The v neck letting the smallest amount of soft looking chest fuzz that had been teasing you all day. He grinned slyly as he caught you eyeing him and crossed his arms over his chest flexing for your benefit. You gasped and quickly looked back to the camera in your hands inserting a new scarf into the new fully charges camera.

"Soo how do you like this kind of work?" henry said casually trying not to seem like a creeper but god damnit he couldn't stop eyeing you. If he had known how sexy you'd be he would have demanded to be doing a bloody swim wear shoot!

"You mean people?" you stuttered trying not to look him in the eye. Not that it helped because the rest of him was just as fucking sexy! You quivered all over desperately trying to remember how to breath, yet didn't want to draw in too deep a breath and make your tits bounce for him and look like a slut. There was a very fine line for a big busted girl, to much wobble will make you look like your trying to get attention.

"I mean celebrities, magazines we were told you mainly do private shoots for events and model portfolios" he offered leaning forward as he leant back on the desk next to you hooking one ankle behind the other. The way he stood placed his crotch in your line of sight as you looked down and worked on setting up the camera. You flushed. Oh god he looked er... Bigger then you'd thought earlier, not that you were looking but... Well you couldn't help notice the package! The man was a fucking serial man spreader! And that thing was huge! With the muscles he was packing he could probably bench press you with his crotch!

"Oh well its different... And you sir popped my celebrity cherry" you froze on the spot as you said that, it had meant to be an ice breaker, a joke but instead had sounded fucking creepy!. You snapped up to him making to apologize as your face flamed mortified but he had thrown his head back laughing. The deep rumble sent chilled down your spine.

"Well I'm honoured to have popped your cherry~" he teased placing a hand over his heart with a cheeky grin making you blush and nod then turned to him with the new camera all set up.

"Soo where do we start?" you said moving on quickly looking up at him trying to forget the whole cherry comment.

"Where ever you want me, i will let you take the reigns command me as you will" he chuckled standing tall once more and looked about the room casually to the various small set ups, different furniture, seats sofas and mini tables dotting the space.

"I... Okay then you said Instagram? How about we start with some facials-FACE SHOTS! Face. Shots. Not facials fuck. Shit" you quickly tried repairing the damage whist cursing yourself wanting nothing more then to be swallowed up by the floor.

"No, no love facials sounded perfect~" he said winking before gliding past you making you stutter and almost choke on your breath. Oh good lord this was a bad idea. You followed as he sat down on a sturdy sofa and looked head on at you and bit his lip once again watching you with a sultry look.

And that was the beginning. You followed him about taking various snaps whislt having small talk. He seemed to be very flirtatious as he spoke, dropping lines and compliments as he made eyes at you. You flushed each time clamming up at his suggestive comments. And rightly or wrongly you flirted back trying to seem cool and suave. But inside you were fangirling unable to belive you were here with this incredibly gorgeous man teasing one another. On a few occasions he even growled as you scampered about him, crouching and taking shots from blow getting some delicious angles that dampened your knickers. Then in between all this he managed to get little tied bits. You'd told him you were on agency freelance and were trying to get into the social media platform as it seemed easier in this day and age rather then to be in fashion photography. You wanted to be commercial not private but no one would really take a chance anymore.

Then you suggested a few shots on the sofa laying back trying to think of something different for your portfolio, maybe a body length shot. He was quick to agree and dived onto the sofa saying he had an idea you swallowed nodding not fully trusting the look in his eyes. But that was forgotten as he relaxed stretching out over the sofa legs crossed and resting on the arm of his hands behind his head and a devilish smirk looking down the lenght of his body. You knelt at his feet trying to get a flattering image of him looking down but cursed as the camera wasn't playing ball. The lense was focusing, this was why you used the other one first, the camera had a few issues and was temperamental.

"What's wrong?" he asked frowning a little at you as you growled pulling the camera away fro your face and began trying to manually focus the lense.

"Oh its.. It wont focus.. It does this sometime, really need to throw it out but.. She was my first I'm sentimental" you said feeling silly as you battled with the camera.

"We all are with our firsts... How about you come closer instead, I really want to see this shot, never done one at this angle.. Out of all my shoots your the first to suggest this~" you froze and looked to him but he just smiled impishly at you. Slowly you rounded the sofa and leant over him positioning the camera at his stomach as he looked right into the lense giving you a definite bedroom eyes, half lidded and burning. Both dreamy and amazingly sexy. It was as if he could see you beyond the lense, as if it wasn't even there!

"You can come closer love, I wont bite, not if you don't want me to~" his voice was low and teasing, luring you in like a siren. You trembled and moved along him but he tutted and moved a hand to your hip and pressed, coaxing you onto the sofa and sat you on him making you straddle him. You gasped squeazing your camera tighter as he moved you easily, warm palms holding you both delicatly and firmly. You could see in his eyes he was weary unsure if he had gone to far but you squeezed him between your thighs and relaxed making him grin up at you getting the message you didn't mind at all. You aimed the lense at him once more and got the shots you wanted.

"Perfect! Mr Cavill" you said actually a little sad that this session was over. It had been nice playing this little cat and mouse game with him. But all good things come to an end.

"Ah now i have a policy love, when a womans on top they can call me henry, among other things~" he said smoothly laughing as you chuckled nervously fiddling with the camera in your hands and shifted over him a little.

"I will try to remember that for next time boomer~" you teased managing to overcome your nerves as you pulled away the camera with a giggle winking at him as he stuttered. For a second you thought you'd gone too far but a quirk to his lips made you relax once more.

"That hurt, that was hurtful" he teased pouting not releasing you from his lap, instead holding you tighter, fingers digging into your sides making you gasp and bit your lip as he pulled you to his crotch and ground into you teasingly.

"I'm so sorry~" you uttered breathless trying to keep yourself together. But this man was something else, like a drug- the devil all fanged smiles and smooth words. God you were fucked, you knew this man could do anything to you and youd thank him for it~

"I doubt that" he cooed and slid his hand higher growing more and more confident. The last few hours of casual flirting had built up his appitite. There was no misconceptions, you wanted him as much as he wanted you.

"Oh yeah?" you said coyly tipping your head to him playing along willing for this to happen, whether it be a one of fuck or something longer. You didnt have any complaints~ this was your body and youd enjoy it with who ever you wanted to!

"Yeah prove it!" he hissed and moved quickly sitting up and swinging around planting his feet on the floor. You yelped as he moved surprizingly fast and managed to keep you in his lap now face to face with you eyes roaming your face settling on your lips.

"And how should i do that" you teased tilting your head skimming your lips with his as you spoke. He groaned and held you tighter making you whine breathlessly willing this to happen. You wanted him and you wont deny yourself the chance.

"Make and old mans day" he said plainly and leant back resting on the back of the sofa, you watched him closely and brought your hands to his shoulders prodding at the neck of the t shirt and drew your fingers down slowly feeling him shiver at the light skimming fingertips.

"Oh really Boomer? And how would i make and old mans day?" you teased once more making him grunt but he quickly caught himself as your fingers smoothed over the teasing curls that peeked over his top. You scratched over them lightly with your nails making him draw a needy breath and chuckled at him. He was sexy and cute~

"By accepting a job offer?" he said before smileing smugly as you paused and frowned. Had you missed something? Was he after a freebee?

"Job offer? Really another shoot?" you snorted suddenly not feeling sexy, more like he was trying to butter you up for some fuck for parts shoots or something. He sighed and began speaking before you could get yourself all twisted. But then again you could have taken his offer wrong.

"Manage my social media. I have many companies and brands reach out to me for endorsements. They want me caught wearing their brands. But I'm to busy most of the time I cant make it to the locations they want. It actually doesn't seem worth it most of the time, with cost of flights and time lost travelling to and from studios itd be easier if I had my own personal photographer that travelled with me its be easy, slip on the clothes and what not take a few snaps and then you touch them up and post them on my social media." he explained watching as it sunk in that he wasnt trying to pull a fast one. Well he was but not trying to fuck you over... Just fuck you... And keep you because you were fantastic and he wants nothing more then to have you around hime as much as possible. In the single dat he had spent working with you, you had enchanted him, not only were you sexy but you were good at your job and easy to work with but also funny and cute and he needed to get to know you.

"Of course its a very big venture and we'd have to have a few dinner and lunch dates to work out all the nitty gritty" he added after a few beats of silence trying to make it clear he was interested... Very interested~ it worked as you fluched and a playfull look donned your face your fingers began stoking his chest hair once more. He relaxed shuddering under the nails as they teased his curls.

"Is this a big ploy to get a date Boomer?" you purred his new nick name making him groan when you squeezed him between your thick thighs once more grinding on him and the considerable bulge below you that twitched.

"No... Maybe is it working?" he said quickly hissing at you shifted in his lap once more, his hands snapping to your hips trying to still you before he came undone in his boxers. You were a very dangerous woman and something told him you knew.

"Well it sounds like an offer I'd be very, very interested in taking further~" you clarified giggling when he swallowed dryly and eyed you surprized that his plan had seemed  to work.

"Good to hear~ so got anything planned after this?" he asked feeling a wave of confidence at the prospect of snagging a date with you. He hadn't meant to sound so eager but... He was eager and that was that.

"Yes" you said with a straight face and got up off of him spinning around heading to the table with your camera bags. You gave him a glance and giggled seeing him still sitting there gobsmacked legs wide open and his crotch that was now definitely bigger then it had been earlier.

"O-oh" he stuttered seemingly unsure how to proceed. You giggled as he fumbled over his words. Then decided to grant him some mercy and began speaking whilst popping out the sd card from the camera labeling it like the previous one.

"You see I had a very cheeky client today who asked for a shoot last mineut. But I wasn't to bothered he was very very sexy even if he was a boomer, but get this out of nowhere gave me a job offer? And we're having dinner- he promised pizza~" you giggled glancing at Henry as he slumped in the seat realising halfway through that you were talking about him. He smoothed his hands over his face and jumped up coming over to you shaking his head.

"You know I'm not actually a boomer?" he quipped folding his arms. You rolled your eyes at him as you packed your stuff away making sure to recheck everything.

"Have you seen your selfies? Your a boomer, boomer" you teased making him scoff but laugh at the name that has now stuck.

"Wait you've seen my selfies? What do you think?" he asked wanting feedback on the silly shots he took. You paused halfway through zipping up your bag and turned facing him fully giving him a thoughtful look then shrugged

"Their alright... For a boomer" you giggled when he preened for a second then his face dropped into a pout when you finished the comment.

"I repeat...That was hurtful" he said covering his heart with a kicked puppy look making you laugh and hoist your bags over your shoulder and make for the door with him hot on your heels.

"Its fine boomer a second date will make up for it I'm sure~" you sniggered at him playfully looking back at him as he followed you out of the door.

"A date for each time you call me boomer? Deal" he quipped walking along side you offering you his arm like a true gentleman unlike the teasing horny little shit he had been all day. Not that you minded either. Gentleman on the streets, freak in the sheets and all that jazz.

"God we may aswell marry now then boomer" he laughed nodding in agreement the banter from the day still in play as you both left the building.

"Seems so, I mean were at ten that's what the kids consider boyfriend girlfreind territory" he anounced with a sigh playing on the 'boomer' joke making you giggle and roll your eyes as he mentioned the tally. Then you frowned and quickly counted your 'boomers' and opened your mouth you correct him, arguing that ten was incorrect.

"I think its nine boomer- ah see what you did their sneaky boomer!" you cried pushing him playfully at his little trick. He roared with laughter and quickly tangled his fingers with yours dragging you back alongside him guiding you down the street towards a place he knew served pizza, he didn't remember but apparantly he promised pizza...

[duskamethyst]

at last.

a/n: in celebration of reaching 200 followers. thank you. i’ve started this piece months ago but constantly failed to find the will to continue whenever i opened the draft. however, the response i’ve received from my other works gave me the drive and i knew i had to finish this.

word count: 4.1k

genre: smut, nsfw, fluff

pairing: musician!semi x f!reader

warnings: mirror sex, soft dom

summary: you and semi are in a band together. though having feelings for the male, you’ve always kept it professional until one night...

“thank you for tonight! you guys were amazing!” you speak through the mic enthusiastically, waving to the crowd as they cheered on and begging for an encore at the same time. “we hope to see your faces again when we come out with new songs soon! please continue to support us! we love you!” your lips curl into a huge smile, stepping off to the back of the stage while waving your fans goodbye before the staff hands you a towel to wipe off your sweat and a mineral bottle to cool off.

it’s another amazing night in a different city for you and the band. the feeling of having people enjoying your music and your voice is overwhelming and to have such wonderful bandmates to join you in this journey for three years now has you feeling beyond blessed.

the band started small, having the drummer and bassist as your high school besties while the guitarist, semi eita was later picked up along the way when one day you blasted on your socials and the small music stores stating the band needed a new guitar player. your band was pretty well-known in the town you live in, showing up and performing at a few gigs and now you’re much more familiar in the industry and often play in different cities. 

semi was one of the few candidates that was chosen to be part of the band. much to everyone’s surprise, playing the guitar wasn’t his only talent. semi was able to write lyrics, produce and sing and that’s what made him stand out among the others. while making the decision with your band mates, you guys knew not to pass up on him and today it proved to be the right decision you guys had made. 

to describe semi eita, he’s incredible. a genius and a sight for sore eyes. hell, he could even pass to be a model if he was into it. you knew that his addition to the band could garner more fans through his skills and looks. on his first night at the gig as the guitarist, you noticed how some of the girls there were ogling him and especially recording him through their phones, even the older woman who was practically forced to be there almost every night by her husband paid more attention (and you believed it was because of semi’s presence) as your band performed. maybe the fangirls could start off by drooling over his looks before they could slowly support the band entirely, hence building a bigger fanbase. 

you feel a little bad for him. you believe that semi is more than just his looks but you can’t really blame people for liking pretty things– it’s only natural. semi has a burning passion for music and what he does and he works tirelessly for the band. he gives his all when he writes lyrics and he uses most of his time by himself inside the studio, learning and enhancing his skills further. you often accompany him in the studio, offering your opinions when he shares the new lyrics he came up with and the studio would be filled with harmonizing voices of yours and his. 

a weird fuzzy feeling engulfs you when you learn that semi had always especially asked for you to join him in the studio and never the other guys, but you alway shrug it off; reminding yourself that it’s only because of work and nothing else.

though no matter how much you try to deny your feelings, you know you’re already head over heels for semi eita.

you sigh and put down your luggage as soon as you walk into your hotel room before looking out at the window to see the fans that were swarming as you arrived earlier begins to dissipate slowly. as you’re smiling and being lost in your thoughts, you start to hear strumming sounds from the other side of the room– undoubtedly semi’s. 

it’s way past midnight and you’re all tired from the tour and the recent performance. while all you can think about is getting inside the tub and having a good night sleep, semi on the other hand can only think about the next show and creating new music. though he’s much more new to the industry compared to you, he works so diligently and it makes you feel a bit guilty and shameful. so you decide to come up to his room and see if he needs anything– or maybe just to persuade him to stop thinking about work and go to sleep. 

“eita, it’s me.” you say as you knock on his door. you hear the strums come to a halt before he opens the door for you. “gosh, you look terrible.” 

it’s only partly true. his hair is disheveled and he only has his jeans on from earlier but you try so hard not to check him out and quickly walk inside his room. semi closes the door as he turns to you, “you’re not asleep yet?” 

“no, i heard you were playing and that’s why i’m here. you know you should be sleeping instead, right?” you sit on the couch where he was sitting earlier. sheets of paper are spread on the coffee table and you pick up the one with the lyrics that he wrote. 

“sorry,” he apologizes as he sits next to you and notices the one that you’re reading. “but it’s good that you’re here too.” 

ignoring the little skip your heart made, you refuse to look at him and read one of the lines out loud in an attempt to play cool.

“i’m alone,

“i just wrote that one in the van earlier.” he scratches the back of his neck as he laughs nervously. his eyes never tearing from you, just watching while you scrutinize through his little work.

i’ve nowhere to go,

but you gently held my hand.”

you smile as you finish reading the last line of his incomplete lyrics and turn to look at him, “i wonder what it sounds like?”

“ah, i haven’t figured it out much but i think it could go like this.” he grabs the guitar from where he left earlier and places it in front of his chest before slowly strumming a few chords. you watch as his fingers sweep up and down across the strings, his black nails that you painted weeks ago are only left with little residues. 

it sounds exactly like you heard in your room earlier. his voice and the tunes he’s making fills the room and it sounds absolutely beautiful. you can sense the longingness in his work this time around, a little different from what he used to play but a little change doesn’t really mean bad– it feels like something that many people can relate to.

you gleefully clap your hands as he stops playing and a faint blush creeps up to his cheeks which he hopes you don’t notice. 

“what’s your inspiration this time?” you ask as he puts back down the instrument.

“well…” semi sighs and leans further into the couch. “someone special to me– the reason i started pursuing this.” 

a heavy lump suddenly forms in your throat, making your stomach churn at the thought of semi having someone special in mind but you quickly shake off the feeling. you’ve always been close with the male, he was easy to get along with from the start and semi would agree that out of all the members, he spent the most time with you; though it's only because it’s strictly on a work basis and you respect that, and you remain professional.

“must be. you’ve never written anything so personal but tell me all about it! you know i won’t judge.” you force a smile, hoping that it’s not too obvious and instead semi laughs at your eagerness to know about his little puppy love. 

“it’s not even that great. i feel like it’s rather ironic– the reason i pursue this is also the reason we can’t be together.” he looks at you as he speaks, as if searching for something.

“damn, that sucks so bad.” you lean back to the couch with him and gaze at the ceiling while imagining the type of person semi would like and start to mindlessly compare yourself to them– putting you down even further.

“you get it, right? on top of that, i think we would lose some fans if we start to date.” he continues as he rests his arm behind your head in a more relaxing manner. he hopes that he emphasized the word clearly so he could get a reaction from you.

however, you only laugh a bit at his consideration. you can already imagine the online articles being bombarded about semi being in a relationship, not forgetting the snarky remarks and lashes he and his partner might get on stan twitter and the thought makes you shudder.

“but i would want to see you happy... even if it’s not with me.” you mumble lowly before realizing what you just blurt out on the last part. “i mean- i mean- i was thinking from a fan’s point of view, of course!”

the sight of you being bashful and constantly avoiding to make eye contact with him is endearing to him. he can’t help but to laugh and it provokes him to tease you instead. his hand creeps up to pull and tuck away the strands of hair behind your ear, instantly drawing your attention to the male next to you. you’re waiting for him to speak but he only stares quietly at you with a gentle smile across his face. 

“what?” you’re surprised at how meek you sound and you know he notices it when his smile turns into an amused shit-eating grin. 

“really? you’d be happy for me?” he asks, leaning his head down on the arm he has hanging on the couch back. 

“um, yeah? since you’re my–”

“friend?” he cuts you off in an instant. “i’d be happier to at least know that you’d feel jealous, though.” 

jealous? you blink and nervously laugh at the poor joke, “why would i be– you’re funny. anyways, go to sleep!” 

semi’s lips tug into a frown as you stand up from the couch and when you’re about to take a step away, semi grabs your wrist and pulls you back to him. he wraps his arms securely around you and buries his face at the nape of your neck, inhaling the very faint scent from your expensive perfume you had on before the show. 

“you’re so close, yet so far.” his hot breath fans against your skin as he murmurs with a hint of frustration lacing his voice. 

thinking not too deeply into it, you disregard the butterflies in your stomach, “yeah, i think you can put that in the song.” you attempt to reply coyly, concealing any suggestions of you being a total nerve-wreck right now. 

“god dammit.” semi curses. he turns your face to look at his, “this isn’t about work anymore.”

“what–” he presses his lips on yours and his arms pull you closer to him which your body wastes no time but to completely melt into.

semi pulls away to take a breath, locking his brown eyes with yours as he speaks. “stop making me feel so lonely.”

“i’m… sorry…?” your apology comes out unsurely, not knowing where this conversation is leading up to and it’s making you feel apprehensive more than anything. there’s no way he’s confessing, right?

semi sighs as he runs his fingers through your hair, “i used to only play the guitar as a hobby but you’re the reason why i even thought about getting into this band.” 

you’re out of words to speak from the abruptness and remain quiet before he continues, “i thought i’d be happy enough just being close to you but i realized i wanted more than that. am i being selfish?”

you break free from his grasps and turn to the blushing male before curling into his chest. semi’s body is still as he processes what’s happening and slowly relaxes as he wraps his arms around you again.

“no, eita, no. you’re not.” you reassure. “i really had no idea.” 

“then, can i kiss you again?” 

“whatever you want, eita.” you mutter under your breath before he gently cups your chin with his fingers and pulls you into a deep kiss. 

for the second time that night, you feel as if you’re on cloud nine as your wet tongues twirl against each other in your mouths. a faint taste of tobacco and beer still lingers on his tongue but you pay no mind to it when you’re too busy drowning into your own ecstasy. 

semi manages to push you down on your back without breaking the kiss and props on his knees before his hands wander all around your body. a gasp passes your lips when he squeezes your breasts against your shirt and his lips move down to nip on your neck. 

“e-eita...” you breathe and the male pulls away to look at you with heavy lidded eyes– and they’re filled with desire. 

“whatever i want, right?” he whispers and you nod your head before he delves back down to litter bruises on your skin. “and what i want is you.” 

warmth surfaces on your cheeks as you hum in response, a subtle reply to tell him that the feeling is mutual. as soon as semi lifts up your shirt, he quickly tips down to tug your bra and latches his mouth on your hardened nipple while his fingers tweak the other. the stimulation causes your body to jolt in pleasure and you can practically feel yourself drenching in your panties.

semi glances up at you expectantly when he notices your thighs are pressed together underneath him. with his other free hand, he lifts up your denim skirt and rubs circles on your clit against the damped fabric. 

you mewl and tug his hair gently as your hips desperately grind against his finger for relief. 

“does it feel good?” he speaks softly. “you’re so wet for me.”

“y-yeah.” you mumble a little bit in embarrassment after he pointed it out but semi finds it to be endearing as he lets out a breathy chuckle. 

“i’ll make you feel even better,” he grins, bending your knees up and spreading them apart. “but i need to hear it.”

you nibble your lip anxiously, “please?”

“please what?” he coos, though he’s already settling his head down between your thighs while he looks at you with passion filled eyes.

your lips feign a pout but your pussy twitches when you feel his finger pulls your panties to the side, “please make me feel better.”

“good enough.” he smirks before spreading your puffy folds and sticks out his tongue to lap off your essence. 

a loud moan rips from your throat as he sucks on your clit and purposely teases it with quick flicks with the tip of his tongue. your legs start to tremble and try to close together but to no avail since semi holds them apart from crushing his head. 

there were nights where he could only touch himself while imagining how you would sound like writhing underneath him but tonight, you made his dreams turn into reality. your moans and whines are like music to his ears and they’re better (and he knows it would be) than what he expected. now semi is driven even more to hear what more beautiful sounds you can produce for him.

semi groans when he slips one finger inside your tight hole and you cry in surprise as you feel his finger brushing in and out through your walls. he can feel that the walls are already sucking him greedily while your hips jerk to fuck yourself with his finger.

“god, you’re so fucking hot.” he grunts, inserting another finger and fucks you ruthlessly. you can feel your orgasm building and threatening to tip over when his finger curls, hitting your g with every drag. 

“fuck, eita–” you pant as your toes curl over the unbearable stimulation and causes your body to shake. 

“feels great, hm? i want you to cum all over my fingers.” he toys with the swollen bud before harshly sucking it.

“mmhh– gonna cum!” your eyes screw shut as your orgasm finally crashes down and your pussy gushes and flutters around his fingers.

your breathing turns erratic and a whine escapes your lips from the emptiness when semi pulls out to lick his fingers.

“you taste so fucking good.” he groans, hovering above you and crashes his lips onto yours so you can taste your own juices from his tongue before he pulls away breathlessly.

“i want to make you feel good too, eita.” you whisper almost innocently and push him back so he can sit down on the couch. semi watches you as you kneel beside him to unbuckle his belt and proceed to unbutton and unzip his jeans swiftly before he helps you release his throbbing dick from its confinements. 

you nearly gawk at the size of his cock; thick and veiny, tip flushing red with a bead of precum. you give a few strokes with your hand and a sharp hiss rolls off his tongue as soon as he feels your tongue swirling around the slit and slowly taking a fair amount inside your mouth. 

“fuuuuck.” he sighs as he sinks into his seat further, eyes closed shut as he lets you take over. you offer the pressure needed by pressing the bottom of the length with your hand and hollowing your cheeks while your tongue runs up and down the rest of his cock, slobbering it with your saliva. 

“oh, fuck– baby. that feels so fucking good.” tears prickle from the corner of your eyes when you force yourself to take deeper into your mouth and his hips jerk when the tip hits the back of your throat. semi’s hand finds itself on top of your head; he makes sure not to tug your hair too hard as he guides you bottom to top and a pop sound is audible when he pulls you away just before he feels like he’s about to cum. 

he wipes the tears from your eyes and kisses you while pulling his jeans and boxers all the way down before continuing to carry you off from the couch with him and leads you to his bed. 

“can i?” he looks at you concerningly and you nod your head yes.

“take it all off.” he commands once he puts you down on the bed. what seemed to be the gentle semi is long gone but his dominating side makes you undeniably excited so you easily oblige, peeling off your clothes until you’re bare and naked in front of him.

“on your knees.” he orders again and you submissively get on your knees but he stops you before you can lean down on the bed. “face the mirror.”

you turn your head to see the large mirror in front of the bed and shift again as he climbs on the bed and props behind you. 

“i want us both to see how pretty you look when i’m balls deep inside you.” he grins.

a soft mewl rolls off your tongue when semi smears your juices through your slits with his cock. he grabs your hips for leverage as he slowly penetrates into your hole and you bite your lip hard when you can feel his girth stretches you out both painfully and deliciously. semi gives you a moment to adjust and after receiving the green light does he begin to move his hips. 

“i’ve waited so long for this.” he growls, black nails digging deeper into your skin that'll be able to leave crescent marks by the end of the session as he pounds his cock into your cunt erratically. 

your cheek is pressed down and your hands clutch the bed sheet as you feel his veins brushing against your walls and his tip kissing your cervix with each thrust. semi’s breathing is already ragged from above you, hips diligently rolling into you as he picks up the pace. 

“look at you, baby– fuck– i’m so lucky.” you moan at the praise, subconsciously feeding to your ego; to be desired by semi and to have semi fucking you into oblivion. 

“s-so good.” you whine, glancing up to the mirror to see yourself but what you’re mostly able to see is the man behind you. his toned abs, ash blonde bangs almost covering his eyes and brows furrowed in focus as he ruts into you mercilessly like a feral beast and it’s fueling your arousal even further.

a mischievous smile etches on his lips as his hazy eyes light up once they meet yours through the reflection, “i don’t think you can see yourself that well.”

you feel your body being lifted up abruptly before he makes you stand on your knees with your back against his broad chest. in front of you, you can clearly see the mess he has made out of you; hair unkempt, pussy slopping and dripping down his balls and the sheets from where your bodies are connected. 

“better.” he smirks through the mirror. both of your eyes fixed on the reflected image ahead; your tits bouncing up and down as he continues to thrust into you while his arm wraps around your torso to hold you in place. 

“so– pretty. my baby– my muse.” he says in between grunts and takes one hand to cup your face. “can you see my cock go in and out of you?” semi intends to show you how lewd it looks by pulling out his thick cock slowly and pushing back inside your pussy in an agonizing pace. 

“yes, fuck– eita.” you sob, staring at the mirror ahead as you see his cock glistens with slick when he pulls out from your stretched cunt and fills you back in, edging you at the same time. 

“and what happens when i touch you here?” he coos, reaching down to press your clit with his thumb. a shock of pleasure washes through your body, making your eyes roll back and your head thrown back to his shoulder. “come on, you can tell me.”

“it’s-it’s gonna make m-me cum.” you whimper as your hips roll desperately against his finger and each time he plunges into you. 

“and you’re gonna sing my name when you do, right?” 

“yesyesyes– please, just–” semi cuts you off by continuing his pace again and the knot in your stomach tightens at the feeling of being stuffed full when he rams deep inside you along with his ministrations on your throbbing bud.

his other hand pinches your pebbled nipple and causes you to keen in pleasure and you finally open your eyes to look at the mirror again to see the compromising position you’re in and the way he manhandles you; having absolute control all over your squirming body with both his hands and his cock– and it got your vision turning white as you tip over the edge. 

“eita!” your lips part into a scream as your pussy flutters around his cock and come undone. the walls squeezing him elicits a low growl from his throat and he holds your body with both his arms as he remains to fuck you in order to chase after his own high.

“fuck– that’s it.” he kisses your head when you let out a choke from the overstimulation. “i’m gonna fill this pretty pussy.” sporadic thrusts begin to stutter as his balls tighten and his cock twitches inside you to indicate that he’s close to reaching his orgasm and a loud moan rips from his throat as he finally comes undone. 

semi stills for a few moments inside you, catching his breath and regaining composure before he lifts your body slightly to pull out his softening cock. your trembling knees fail to keep you up so your body falls down on the mattress and semi chuckles at the sight as he joins next to you. 

“you did so good for me, love.” his sharp, brown eyes gazes adoringly into yours and a soft smile tugs the corner of his lips as he caresses your hair. “was i too rough?”

“just a little,” you blush. “but i liked it.”

semi sighs in relief and draws closer to give a chaste kiss on your forehead, “i’ll run a warm bath for you, alright? then we can go to sleep.”

you nod your head, feeling warm and fuzzy when he holds you in his strong arms before he leaves for the bathroom. as you wait and hear water filling the tub, your mind wanders how you’re going to break the news to your manager about your blossoming relationship with semi. 

and semi thinks about the same thing too. 

whatever it is, it doesn’t matter to him. 

as long as he has you.

duskamethyst © 2020 • do not modify, translate or repost anywhere.

[idreamofplaid]

Living a Lie

Summary: Sometimes happiness waits on the other side of pain and misunderstanding.

Characters: Sam x Reader; Dean mentioned

Word Count: 3826

A/N: The expansion of my Masterlist continues. This is another one of my early fics that I’ve revised a little and am reposting. At the time I wrote it, I wanted to explore the effect someone’s looks can have on them wherever they may fall on the spectrum of what is considered conventionally attractive.

READER’S POV

There had been a time Sam picked up girls in bars, not with the frequency Dean had, but he'd done it. Now, he was doing it again. Dean had stopped entirely because he was in love, monogamous, and completely happy. Dean spent his nights sharing a bed with his soul mate. Sam prowled bars, and you hid away, alone, in your room.  

Your heart broke again every time Sam didn't come home. The pain was fresh like it was the first time, like somehow your heart had mended, had rebuilt itself just to be shattered again. A heart in pieces leaves an emptiness in the center of your being, but all the broken shards are still there, the sharp edges piercing you from the inside out. That was how it felt when night fell, and Sam wasn’t in the bunker. You knew where he was and what he was doing.

Those were sleepless nights for you, nights spent hearing Sam's voice in your head.  You'd always been too romantic for your own damn good. How could you be sitting here in the dark, back against your headboard, clutching your pillow tightly to your chest while you cried over the loss of a man you'd never had? He wasn't a man you were going to have. You'd seen pictures of Jessica. You just weren't his type. Sure, you could dye your hair blonde. That still wouldn't make you model gorgeous with a perfect body.  

You were smart, maybe not Stanford smart, but who knows? You might have been if you'd actually studied in high school instead of sitting in the back of class scribbling love poems in your notebooks. You had more than one regret and missed opportunity in your life.

Your thoughts were interrupted by the sound of Sam's footsteps coming down the hall.  He had to pass your room to get to his. That's when you got your brilliant idea. You jumped up and flicked on the lights, splashed cold water on your face at the sink, and reached for your makeup bag to erase the evidence of your crying.

Minutes later you were knocking on Sam's door. He opened the door dressed for bed, and you smiled your prettiest for him. "Can I come in?" He opened the door wider giving you room to walk inside and stood with his arm over his head, hand on the door as he leaned against it watching you.  

You took a seat on the end of his bed and waited. Sam closed the door and walked closer to the bed. He was still looking at you with an unspoken question in his green eyes touched with warm honey.

He didn't move any closer, and he didn't say anything. Your broken heart made you bold. "Your night didn't go the way you had planned?"

Sam raised his eyebrows and tilted his head. "Planned?"

"Yeah. You know. You didn't go home with anyone." You looked down as you said it, unable to meet his eyes and say it out loud.

Sam sat down next to you, head bowed, his hand under his hair on the back of his neck. "Uhh...no, I didn't go home with anyone." 

You inched closer to him until your thigh was touching his. He looked at your bare leg and swallowed. You hadn't worn anything to bed but an oversized t-shirt and a pair of panties. 

"You don't have to spend the night alone, Sam." You reached for his hand and moved it to the inside of your thigh parting your legs slightly. His hand covered a large portion of your leg.  It was warm and solid, and the feel of it made your core quiver.

SAM'S POV

Your skin is so soft, and you smell so good. How am I supposed to resist this? Resist you when I've wanted you for so long? I can't. I just can't. I'm sorry. You should be touched by a man you love, not me. I love you, but you deserve more than something one sided. That's why I haven't said anything or made a move. Maybe I shouldn't have put you on a pedestal, but I did. In my mind, that's where you belong.

I slide my hand along your smooth skin stopping at the top of your thigh, take a deep breath, and pull you closer to me with my other arm so I can kiss you. Your mouth opens under mine, and my tongue eases inside. Everything about you is so sweet. I'll never forget the way you taste. I want to leave some trace of me on you, some mark, some memory that you were mine for a little while. I pull you down on the bed with me and roll on top of you.

My kiss gets deeper; you accept it and respond. My hand is moving over your hip and under your shirt. I'm already halfway to hard. My hand is resting on your waist, and I keep kissing you, taking it slow.

I've thought about kissing you so many times, but my imagination never got it right.  My hand continues its move up your body over your stomach, and I feel you pull back the tiniest bit. Alarm bells go off in my head. You're beneath me, in my arms. I want you so much, but if you’re not absolutely sure….  I pull back and look at you. "I can't do this, Y/N."

The expression on your face sent a pain straight to my heart. The next thing I felt was your hands pushing against my chest. "Get off of me!" I sat back, and you were off the bed instantly, glaring at me through tears. 

"Really, Sam? Am I that much of a disappointment? Just tell me I'm not good enough for you. Just tell me!" You stormed across the room fumbling with the doorknob before you managed to get it open.  

You turned back to me. I was frozen in place trying to absorb the shock of being snatched out of the soft, perfect dream that I'd been lost in seconds before. "Go back to the bar, Sam. It's early. I'm sure there are plenty of tall blondes there with long legs, or petite brunettes, or whatever the hell you want. Take your pick; you can, and I'm sure she'll be happy to satisfy you."

The slamming of the door got my brain working again. I almost fell off the bed in my hurry to get to you, to explain. By the time I got the door open, there was no sign of you in the hall. I ran toward your room calling your name. When I got there I wanted to crash through the door, but I controlled my near desperation to let you know what I truly felt, that I would never think you weren’t good enough. It’s me who isn’t good enough for you.

I knocked on the door. Seconds passed. You weren't going to answer it. I didn't blame you, believing what you did. "Y/N. Y/N. Please. You don't understand. Let me explain.  It's not what you think. At all. It's nothing like what you think."  

READER'S POV

Sam had stopped knocking on the door, but he hadn't stopped talking. You were leaning against the door listening. "Please let me in, Y/N. I'll tell you everything. Just let me in." He sounded genuinely upset.

Even now, after what he'd done, you still wanted to comfort him. You wanted to take the hurt from his voice. Slowly, you opened the door. His chest was rising and falling fast. This really had affected him. That didn't make sense. You'd offered him sex. Scratch that. You'd offered him you, and he wasn't interested. Now, he was upset?  You saw the relief wash over his face. "Y/N?"

In a flat voice you said,"You can come in." He stepped just inside the room. You walked to the bed and sat down. "Stay over there."  

Sam folded his hands in front of him, drawing your attention to the bulge that was still in his pajama pants. He focused on the floor in front of where you were sitting. "Why did you do it, Sam? Do you know what it feels like to be cast aside like that?" You swallowed and shook your head, fighting back another wave of tears. "No, you don't, because practically every woman that sees you wants you. If you spend the night alone, it's because you choose to."

He raised his head to look straight into your eyes. "I've chosen to spend a lot of nights alone. Do you know why?" He paused. "Because I met you. I started noticing these little things about you like you chew on your bottom lip when you're trying to figure something out. You run your hands through your hair and put it behind your ears all the time; it's enough to drive a guy crazy. You always eat your French fries first. When you want to relax or calm down, you listen to rain or ocean waves. Then one day you smiled at me like you had probably hundreds of times before, but that time was different. That time I felt my stomach do a little flip, and I knew I was in love with you."

A tear slipped down your cheek. Sam's voice was deep and gentle as he kept talking.  "Then Dean got married, and right in front of me every day I saw what it was like to share your life with someone. He had everything I wanted. My brother was happy."  

Sam looked up to the ceiling; tears collected in the corners of his eyes. He looked back down, blinked, and they fell. Then he raised his eyes back to yours. "So, I started going to bars because it was too hard to be here, but I was never going to find what I was looking for there because it was already here, and I knew it. I wanted to be with you."

"Sam?" His name came out of your mouth as a whisper. 

"The problem was you didn't want it. I saw your reaction when waitresses would flirt with me at the diners we went to. You'd tense up or get fidgety. You didn't like it. You thought I was one of those guys who likes to play those games, using my looks to stroke my own ego."

You put your hand over your mouth and held it there before you moved it down to your chin, fingers shaking. "Sam, I never thought that about you. I thought I could never measure up to those women who were flirting with you. That’s what I didn’t like, that I was someone who could never get your attention." Your hand was shaking harder now.

Sam crossed the room in three steps and wrapped his arms around you.  He held you and rested his chin on top of your head. "Don't you know you're beautiful, Y/N?"  

You looked up at him, your eyes glistening with tears. "How would I know that, Sam?  No one has ever told me." He squinted his eyes slightly and brushed the tears from your cheeks with the pad of his thumb. "And, if that's what you thought then why did you stop?" Your voice caught, and your words came out unsteady. "I was going to give myself to you." You were shaking in his arms.

Sam stroked your hair, touching you like you were precious. It made you cry even more. His voice was steady and soothing. "Shhh. That's why I couldn't do it. You should only give yourself to someone you love as much as I love you. Anything less than that isn't the way it should be for you. It isn't what I want for you." He placed a single kiss on top of your head.

You lay your hand on his chest where you had shoved him earlier, so close to his heart.  "Sam, I do love you."

SAM'S POV

Your touch was light, and your hand felt tiny on my chest. I held you tighter, processing what you'd just said. After a few seconds, I pulled back from you far enough to see your face. The truth was in your eyes; I could see it. You do love me. 

I knew this kiss was important. We would remember it for the rest of our lives, talk about it in the middle of the night when we settled back into bed after one of us got up to take care of our baby. I barely touched your lips with mine at first, but it wasn't long before everything I felt for you that I'd kept bottled up inside came out in that kiss. My hands were holding your face, and I slid one of them into your hair. You felt so warm and willing. My body was responding to you, hardening again.

Your hand rubbed down my side grabbing the bottom of my t-shirt. You started to pull it up. I broke the kiss long enough to take it off, then my mouth was back on yours. I felt your hands on my back, and I wanted to feel your skin. I rested my cheek against yours, slowly easing my hand back under your shirt where it had been before. I whispered to you "Is this okay?" I kept my hand still, waiting for your answer.

I felt you tremble. "My body isn't what you're used to, Sam."  

I brushed my fingertips across your stomach looking for any sign that you didn't want me to. "You're perfect, Y/N. I'm going to show you just how beautiful you are." I felt your head nod against mine, so I moved my hand up a little higher and cupped your breast. You sucked in a breath and let it out in a tiny gasp. I kneaded gently, moving my thumb back and forth across your nipple until it was hard. You arched your back,  rolled your hips, and let out the sweetest, softest moan I could have ever imagined. The way you sound is beautiful. I did the same with your other breast, kissing your neck while I touched you.

All your little moans and noises had me totally hard and throbbing for you. I moved my hand back down your stomach and under the waistband of your panties. You whimpered when I slid my finger between your folds, and you were so wet your juices were running over my hand. Avoiding your clit for now, I put one finger inside you and your moans got louder. "Sam."

I moved that finger in and out, establishing a rhythm. "I've got you, Y/N." You were tight around just my finger, and my dick twitched. I added another finger, taking all the time you needed to stretch you and get you ready for me. I held you close while I pumped them into you. When you were writhing against me,  I touched my thumb to your clit and started making little circles. Then I changed the motion, dragging my thumb over your clit in time with my fingers moving in and out of you.  When I thought you were ready, I added a third. You clenched around my fingers and tightened your hold on my shoulders. The feel of your hands clutching me like that made me moan, imagining what you would do once I was inside you.

I went back to making circles, faster this time. "Let go, Y/N, let go." You came on my fingers, your nails digging into my shoulder. I worked you through your orgasm then put both of my arms around you. You were panting. I kissed you,taking those little breaths into me. I could still feel you shaking in my arms. "I love you, Y/N. I love you."

I held you until you stilled in my arms and were calm again. You shifted, sitting back and looking at my chest. You reached out and touched me gingerly. "I'm sorry I pushed you off me the way I did." You leaned down kissing the places on my chest where your hands had pushed against me.

When you sat back, I put my hand under your chin tilting your face up. "Let me see you, Y/N." You only hesitated a second before you lifted your shirt over your head and put it down beside you. I think I held my breath when you reached to take off your panties. You are beautiful. Your body is all feminine, soft curves I want to kiss and caress. Seeing you makes me harder. The tip of my cock is leaking; I feel it. You lift your hips and slide your panties down your legs.

My mouth drops open, and I Iick my lips pulling the bottom one into my mouth. I can see the uncertainty on your face. "Do you trust me, Y/N?"

You close the distance between us and lay your head on my chest. "Yes." It may only be one word, but it's exactly what I need.  

I put my arms around you, my hands on the bare skin of your back, and I lower you gently to the bed. "I'll make this good for you; I promise." I take your earlobe into my mouth sucking lightly. "You are beautiful, Y/N, and sexy. Do you know how much I want you?" I push my pelvis against you, so you can feel my erection. "That's because of you. It's for you." I move my mouth down the side of your neck, kissing you the entire way. Your skin is sweet; it occurred to me then that I'll fall asleep tonight with the taste of you on my tongue.

I kiss my way across your shoulder. Then I lift my head to put my mouth on your breast. I start by kissing a soft circle around the edge then move to the center to flick my tongue over your nipple. My lips close around you and start to suck. A groan escapes from my throat, deep and full of need. I'm so hard for you now that I don't know how much longer I can take this, but I will.

I move my mouth to your other breast, careful of my teeth. Tonight I'm making love to you slowly, gently, and completely. I want you to forget that I've ever been with anyone but you. I want you to understand who you are to me and never again feel the need to compare yourself to another woman. I swirl my tongue around and over your nub until it stands up firm in my mouth, my fingers rolling your other nipple still moist from my mouth keeping it just as tight.

You're squirming under me. I lick down the center of your stomach right to your core, and you open your legs for me. I put my hands on your hips to hold you still. You are so wet my face is covered in your slick as soon as my tongue touches you, and I drink in everything you give me. My tongue is flattened against your clit. I’m stroking it slow,  teasing before moving down to push my tongue inside you. I thrust it as deep as I can go. Your voice is pleading with me. "Sam. Sam." I go back to your clit, pointing my tongue and moving over it as fast as I can. You're fisting the sheets.

"Put your hands in my hair, Y/N. Hold me where you want me." You did exactly what I said and pulled my hair hard. That turned me on even more. You were close to coming again. Your thighs were shaking. I put two fingers inside you and crooked them rubbing your g-spot until you fell apart. I kissed your stomach softly while you came down from your orgasm, keeping my fingers inside you. "You are beautiful, Y/N. Absolutely perfect."  

Your expression is gentle and a little blissed out from the two orgasms, but your words are clear and certain. "Sam, I want all of you. I want you to come inside me. Give me what I gave to you." I kissed you one more time just below your belly button then stood up long enough to take off my pants. Naked, I crawled back up your body and propped myself on my forearm so I could brush your hair off your cheek. It amazes me that every part of you is just so soft.

 My face was just inches from yours. I was memorizing the way you looked right now.  "Are you sure?" Your eyes were filled with everything I'd ever wanted to see there.  Love. Trust. Desire.  

"Yes." You lay your hand on my cheek. “I’m completely sure.”

I couldn't take my eyes away from yours as I lined myself up with your opening.  I wanted to see the look on your face when I entered you for the first time.

READER'S POV

You felt the end of Sam's shaft touch you. The way he was looking at you made you feel wanted and, yes, beautiful. You felt the stretch as he pushed inside. He stopped with just the tip, letting you get used to his size. Your eyes closed and fluttered back open. "I love you, Sam." He slid in another inch.

"I love you too, Y/N.”  He went deeper, inch by inch, until he was all the way inside you.  He started to move, and you grabbed onto his shoulders. His thrusts were so deep they were hitting your cervix. Your walls tightened around him. Nothing had ever felt so good, so right. He moved faster then slowed down. "I don't know how much longer I can last, Y/N. I'm so close."

Through all your pants and moans you managed to say, "You don't need to. Just love me. Don't hold back."  

He pumped into you deep and fast. You felt him throb releasing his seed into you. "Sam!" You scratched down his back. "I'm coming again. Sam." You squeezed your eyes shut tight. Everything went black. Then you felt him rolling over, bringing you with him so that your body was part way on his, and he was cradling you against him.  

You lay with your head on his chest listening to his heartbeat for a long time. Finally, it slowed back down to its normal rate. Sam was combing his fingers through your hair.  "Can you forgive me, Y/N? All those nights I wasn't here, I should have been."

You snuggled closer into him. "You didn't owe me anything, Sam. There's nothing to forgive. Just don't ever do it again. Let me be enough. I want to be enough for you."

"You're everything, Y/N.  Everything."

Everything: @gambitwinchester @princessmisery666 @peridottea91 @logical-princey @beenlovingromansincedayoneish @fangirlxwritesx67 @waywardbaby @atc74 @tumbler-tidbits @fandom-princess-forevermore @terrarium-jpeg @crashdevlin @jules-1999 @cosicas-cuquis @sammyimpala-67 @queenoftheunderdark @dean-winchesters-bacon @timelordy-fangirl2 @sweetness47 @hobby27 @awesomesusiebstuff @kickingitwithkirk @sandlee44 @supernaturalgrandma @volleyballer519 @kdfrqqg @lizette50 @sorenmarie87 @lovealways-j @mrswhozeewhatsis @spnbaby-67 @wayward-and-worn @petitgateau911 @thinkinghardhardlythinking

Sam/Jared: @girl-next-door-writes @stunudo @idabbleincrazy @evansrogerskitten @focusonspn @autumninavonlea @durinsbride @deansyahtzee​ @waywardnerd67​ @fullmooner​ @sams-sass​ @beskaradberoya​

[fangirlwriting-stories]

Double Dog Dare You

Summary: Virgil is not happy about Janus being accepted, and since Roman feels the same, he'll take him along on this trip to yell at Janus and Remus.  Unfortunately, when the argument turns into bickering about who could get along better, Remus suggests they prove it by trying to work together on a game he and Roman made as kids.

Virgil wasn’t sure how they’d ended up in this situation.  If he had to pick someone to blame, it would be a five way tie between Thomas, Janus, himself, and 12 year old Roman and Remus.  Or well, he supposed it would be a seven way tie, given that Thomas was technically all of them which included Patton and Logan too.  Maybe he was blaming too many people.  But it was definitely Thomas’ fault for accepting Janus, and Janus’ fault for putting them all in a position where Thomas had to.  And he supposed he should blame himself for storming downstairs with Roman in the first place.  But if he had to pick a main party to blame for the current situation with the flaming couch, the hand holding, and the puppies, it would be Roman and Remus, for coming up with this damn game in the first place.

It had still been his idea to come down here, though.  When Roman had shown up in his room after the end of the video proclaiming that Deceit had been accepted, Virgil hadn’t believed him at first.  But then he’d said “Janus” and Virgil had realized he meant it.

He hadn’t quite been sure what to do at first, but stewing in worry for a day isn’t a good thing for the embodiment of anxiety, and eventually he stormed over to Roman’s room and knocked on the door.  When Roman opened it, Virgil grabbed his arm and dragged them both over to the door that led to the other commons.  He opened the door and dragged Roman down the steps after him until they both ended up standing in front of Janus and Remus, both of whom were sitting at their kitchen table.

Roman had realized when Virgil opened the door to the commons what they were doing, and thankfully seemed on board, as now he was simply crossing his arms and glaring at them in the same way that Virgil was.

Janus gave them both a curious look.  “Can we help you?”

“We need to talk,” Virgil snapped.

“Oh, of course,” Janus said, giving him an unamused look.  “Feel free to storm angrily down here and demand to talk, that’s definitely likely to get us to listen to you.”

“What the hell was that with Thomas?” Virgil continued like Janus hadn’t spoken.  “I mean, seriously!”

“No one told you that was okay,” Roman agreed from Virgil’s other side.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I forgot I need to ask the likes of you two permission before I speak to Thomas,” Janus said, taking another sip from the wine glass that Virgil was pretty sure just had red gatorade in it.

“Did you have a reason to come down here other than just yelling at us?” Remus asked.  “Again?”

“Do I need another reason?” Virgil turned to him.  “You don’t get to be accepted by Thomas just like that!  That’s insanely dangerous, for Thomas!”

“Not to mention some of us still have more than a few issues with you,” Roman added, glaring at Janus.

Janus glared at him right back.  “Oh, I’m sorry Roman, I thought you, as a self-proclaimed honorable side, would at least give the benefit of the doubt.”

“I have given the benefit of the doubt,” Roman spat.  “For all the good it’s done me.”

“Oh, for all the good it’s done you.   Yes, that’s a perfect model of the selflessness you all seem to value so much.”

“Like you have any right to lecture anyone on selflessness,” Virgil exclaimed.  “You lying two-faced son of a—”

“Careful Virgil,” Janus said, smacking Virgil’s own hand over his mouth before he could finish.  “That’s hardly language that would be approved by those core sides you love so much.”

“Don’t silence my friend you villain,” Roman snapped, drawing his sword and pointing it at Janus as Virgil ripped his hand down to his side again.

“Ah, and back to the villains and heroes again,” Janus sighed.  “I suppose you’ve learned nothing.”

“Back off,” Virgil said, stepping closer to Janus and keeping an eye on Remus, who had been watching silently for once and was now slinking off with a purpose.  If he knocked Roman out again—

“Need I remind you, you’re the ones who came down here,” Janus said.  “If you wanted us to back off we were doing it perfectly fine on our own.  I can hardly be blamed if you two want to come down here without even trying to give us a chance.”

“Hey, we could get along fine if you two weren’t so impossible!”  Virgil snapped.

“Oh please, if I actually cared enough to try, I could definitely get along better with you two than you could with me.”

“That’s not how that works—”

“PROVE IT!”

Everyone who wasn’t Remus screamed as Remus slammed something down on the table, then stood back and grinned at the rest of them like that answered any questions.  What he’d slammed down appeared to be a small black box with a red button on top.  Virgil looked at Janus, who seemed just as confused as he was, and then over at Roman, who did not look confused, and instead seemed to be staring at the black box with a sort of weary dread.

“Uh, Roman,” Virgil asked hesitantly.  “What’s that?”

“This,” Remus announced before Roman could say anything.  “Is the last thing Ro-Bro and I made together!  We were 12.  We might have been high.”

“We were not high,” Roman said, sounding very done with whatever this was before anything about it had even been explained.

“Well how do you remember?”

“How do you remember how old we were?”

Remus waved the question off, though Virgil knew the answer instantly.  He wasn’t going to say it out loud, though.

“Point is,” Remus said.  “This was probably somewhere near the last time we actually got along well enough to make something.  You guys all want to prove you can get along?  Let’s play it!”

“That is a horrible idea,” Roman said.

“Aww, giving up so soon?” Remus teased.

“You want us all to play Double Dog Dare You?  Remus, we played that thing once and we barely  survived.”

“Uh, Double Dog Dare You?” Virgil asked, giving Roman a curious look.

“It’s essentially just daring each other to do things, but with—”

“That is not what it is!” Remus exclaimed, aghast.  “Roman, how dare you?”

Roman groaned, looking up at the ceiling.

“Look, all I’m saying is, this game can involve a lot of teamwork once it gets going!” Remus said.  “You want to figure out who’s better at getting along, this is a great way to do it!”

“It’s really not—” Roman started.

“I’m in,” Janus said casually, looking down at his gloves as if admiring his nails.

“Oh, are you?” Virgil grumbled.  “Roman just said it’s a horrible idea.”

“Seems to me like you’re not willing to try hard enough to give it a chance,” Janus said, smirking at him.

Virgil glared at him, but Janus had them backed into a corner and he knew it.  After a moment, he sighed, harsh enough to make his displeasure clear, then looked back between Remus and Roman.  “How does it work?”

“Dear Zeus, we’re doing this,” Roman grumbled.  “Okay.  You hit the red button on the box, and a tiny gremlin man pops out to give you dares.”

“I’m guessing that was Remus’ influence,” Virgil muttered.

“Yep.  If you can’t complete the dare or don’t want to, I have to conjure two puppies to bite at your ankles until the game is over, which happens when the tiny gremlin man decides we’ve all been tortured enough for a day.”

“You just conjure two puppies?” Janus asked.

“Each failed dare,” Remus said with a wide grin.  “See if there’s anything ‘just’ about it when there’s ten puppies all biting at your ankles.”

Janus seemed to comprehend that after a second, and suddenly looked uncertain.  “Okay, maybe this isn’t such a terrific idea.”

“Now who’s not willing to work together enough to try,” Virgil said, smirking back at him.  Turnabout is fair play, after all.  It was Janus’ turn to glare back.

“Okay!” Remus called, jumping in place.  “Let’s get this party going then!”  He leaned forward and slammed his hand on the red button, and the box peeled back to reveal a small creature that looked like it didn’t eat enough, with beady eyes and a too-wide smile.  He hopped out and the box reformed.

“Remus, that makes this game look too sinister,” Virgil grumbled.

“This game is too sinister,” Roman muttered from his other side, as they all took a seat at the table.  Virgil gave him a nervous look.

“It’ll start small, don’t worry,” Roman said, waving his hand dismissively.

“That doesn’t exactly appease my worries,” Virgil said, but he didn’t get time to say much else as the gremlin man stopped in front of Janus.

“I Double Dog Dare You,” he said, his voice annoyingly high and whiny, which was also definitely Remus’ influence.  “To eat a spoonful of peanut butter without a glass of milk.”

Janus blinked, and leaned back in his chair.  “That’s it?”

“Do you accept?” the creature asked.

Janus shrugged.  “Yeah, alright.”

Before he could stand up and go to the kitchen, a spoonful of peanut butter appeared in the gremlin’s hand, and he offered it to Janus.  Janus grabbed the spoon and ate the peanut butter off of it, and Virgil watched his face until it screwed up in displeasure.

“Okay, wow,” Janus muttered.  “That’s really dry.  Can I have a glass of milk now that I’ve finished the dare?”

“No!” the gremlin man snapped, and he moved over in front of Remus.  Janus looked more than a little offended, Virgil had to stifle his laughter.

“I Double Dog Dare You,” the gremlin man said to Remus.  “To wear your sash around your head for the whole game.”

“Wait, the game can give personalized dares?” Virgil asked.

“Oh yeah, absolutely,” Remus said, pulling his sash off and tying it around his head.  “My little gremlin can see, can’t he?  Yes you can, yes you can see,” Remus cooed at the gremlin man.  It blew a raspberry at Remus and headed across the table to stop in front of Roman.

“I Double Dog Dare You to take your shirt off for the whole game.”

“You couldn’t have given that one to Remus?” Roman grumbled, pulling his shirt off over his head and setting it on the table.

“Oh, I don’t need a dare for that!” Remus called, yanking his shirt off and throwing it on top of Roman’s.  Roman gave a long sigh.

The gremlin man walked over and stopped in front of Virgil.  “I Double Dog Dare You to give the player to your left a bear hug.”

Virgil looked across the table towards Janus.  “Nope.  Roman give me some puppies.”

Roman waved his hand, and two puppies appeared on Virgil’s other side, then both ran under the table and started snapping at his legs.  “Ow!” Virgil cried, yanking his legs up onto his chair.

Janus laughed.  “That’s what you get for being scared of a hug.”

“I’m not scared you fucking—”

“I Double Dog Dare You,” the gremlin man cut him off.  “To do a backflip.”

Janus raised an eyebrow.  “I don’t think I’m capable of that.”

“Then take the puppies!” Remus called.

Janus sighed, and looked over at Roman, who waved his hand again.  Barking started up a second later, and Janus hissed and yanked his legs up too.  Virgil smirked.  “That’s what you get for being scared of a backflip,” he teased.

Janus hissed at him.

The gremlin man moved over to Remus.  “I Double Dog Dare You to arm wrestle the player to your left.”

“Let’s do this!” Remus exclaimed, putting his arm on the table.

“Oh, but I don’t want to,” Roman said, sticking his tongue out at Remus.  “Puppies for you.”

More barking started up, and Remus yanked his legs onto his chair, glaring at Roman, who looked more than a little smug.

“Roman, could you make the puppies silent?” Virgil asked, sticking his hands over his ears.

“Nope, sorry.  That’s part of the game,” Roman said with a shrug as the gremlin man walked over to him.

“I Double Dog Dare You to put your hand down the garbage disposal.”

“What?” Virgil exclaimed.  “Hey, that’s too far, that would hurt him!”

“He didn’t say it had to be on,”  Remus pointed out.

“Wait till you get to the later rounds,” Roman sighed, pushing his chair back and heading over to the kitchen.  Virgil craned his neck slightly to see without having to get down and subject his legs to the puppies.

“Ewww, Remus!” Roman snapped, and Virgil heard running water start.  “What did you put down there?”

Remus started grinning.  “Why would I tell you when I can let you come up with all sorts of disgusting ideas yourself?” he called.

“Ew!”

Roman made his way back over to the table, shaking his thankfully now clean hand and wiping it on his bare chest to try and dry it off.

The gremlin man walked over in front of Virgil as Roman sat back down.  “I Double Dog Dare You to let the player to your right wear your hoodie for the rest of the game.”

“Why do all my dares involve other people?” Virgil grumbled, taking his hoodie off and passing it to Roman.  “Here, now you can have a shirt again.”

“Thanks, Emo,” Roman said, pulling the hoodie on.

“That was all a nice warm up,” the gremlin man said, turning between all of the players.  “But let’s stop wasting everyone’s time, shall we?”  He moved over in front of Janus.  “I Double Dog Dare You to eat the thing that’s been in the fridge the longest.”

Janus’ lip curled, and he looked over at Remus.  “Isn’t that your year old meatloaf surprise?”

“The surprise is which mold you get to eat first!” Remus called happily.

“Yeah, I’ll take some more dogs,” Janus said, glancing over at Roman.

“Good choice,” Roman agreed, waving his hand as the barking got louder.

The gremlin man moved over to Remus.  “I Double Dog Dare You to ride a bike across the room blindfolded.”

“With dogs biting at his ankles?” Virgil asked.

Roman nodded.  “Those don’t go away until the game is over.”

“Let’s do this!” Remus called, jumping up.  A bike appeared, along with a blindfold over his face.  Remus immediately hopped on and started pedaling around the room.  He made it to the other side and managed to avoid the couch due to Virgil screaming out that he was about to hit it, but on the way back one of the puppies snapped at his ankles too hard and Remus lost control of the bike.  He hit the ground hard, and the puppies started barking and clawing at his face.

“Remus!” Janus cried, jumping up and running to try and grab at the dogs, only for his hands phased right through them.

“Oh yeah, you can’t touch other people’s dogs,” Roman said, standing too.

“Seriously?  Who came up with that rule?” Virgil asked, jumping up and heading over, trying to move fast enough that his dogs couldn’t reach him.  He grabbed onto one of Remus’ arms and helped Janus pull him upright and yank the blindfold off of his face.

Remus glared down at the puppies once they both stepped back and kicked one away from him.  “Scram, you future hot dogs.  You ruined my lovely face.”

“Sounds like that would be difficult,” Roman said, leaning against a nearby wall.  “You’d have to have one first.”

Remus stuck his tongue out at him.

“Looks like you couldn’t complete the dare,” the gremlin man said, from his spot now flying above them with what looked like ancient bat wings.  “I believe that requires a penalty?”  He looked over at Roman, who sighed and waved his hand again, and two more dogs appeared at Remus’ feet.

“Excellent.  Now,” the gremlin man flew over to hover in front of Roman.  “I Double Dog Dare You to run from a herd of bulls.”

“Ha.  No,” Roman said, waving his hand.  “I’d rather run from a couple of dogs.”

“Aww, skipping a dare so early?” Remus asked, grinning at him.  “You’ve gone soft, Ro-Bro.”

“I can’t blame him for not wanting to run from a herd of bulls,” Virgil said, rolling his eyes.  “And can we please go sit on the couch or something?”  He yanked his leg up as a puppy snapped at it again.

They all moved over and sat on the couch, only to realize that the problem with that was that dogs could much more easily hop up on the couch than the chairs.  But before they could move again, the gremlin man spoke up.

“I Double Dog Dare You,” he said.  “All of you, to stay right here for the rest of the game, unless a dare requires you to move.”

“Oh, come on, can he dare all of us at once?” Janus snapped, kicking a dog away.  “What was wrong with you two when you made this thing?”

“I don’t know, ask Remus,” Roman grumbled, kicking his own dogs away.

“Hey, you were right there with me coming up with this thing!” Remus snapped.  “You’re not so perfect!”

“I didn’t come up with a tiny gremlin man that thrives off torturing players as the thing to give everyone the dares!”

“How boring would this game be without that though?”

“At least we would be safer!”

“Where’s the fun in that?”

“Can we please just move on?”  Virgil screamed, trying to be heard over puppies and Roman and Remus.

“What an excellent idea,” the gremlin said, flying over in front of Virgil.  “I Double Dog Dare You to share your deepest regret.”

“No,”  Virgil snapped.  “Why do all of my dares require me to be emotionally vulnerable for some reason?  Don’t I ever get to ride a bike blindfolded across a room?”

“Loaning me your hoodie requires you to be emotionally vulnerable?” Roman asked, making two more puppies appear by Virgil’s feet.

“It’s my damn hoodie, Roman.  No one else ever gets to touch it if I have a say in the matter.”

“Except you doooon’t,” Remus sang.

Virgil glared at him and slammed his fist into his open hand.  Remus cackled.

The gremlin man flew over to Janus, who was now right next to Virgil.  “I Double Dog Dare You to play tetherball with a beehive.”

“Good lord!” Janus exclaimed.  “No!”

Roman sighed and waved his hand again, and Janus yelped and started smacking dogs away one after the other.

“You know, you shouldn’t do that all the time.  He’ll get annoyed,” Roman said.

“I’m not playing tetherball with a beehive,”  Janus said, smacking another dog away.  “He can get annoyed.”

The gremlin man stopped in front of Remus, on the other side of Janus.  “I Double Dog Dare You to eat cheese off a mouse trap.”

“Done!” Remus called, and a mousetrap appeared.

“No!” Janus and Virgil exclaimed, and Janus knocked the mousetrap out of Remus’ hand.

“Aww, why not?”

“Because that’s insane,” Virgil snapped.  “And you could seriously hurt yourself.”

“It’s not like I don’t do that all the time anyway!”

“Roman, conjure some puppies,” Janus said.

Roman raised an eyebrow, but did so.  “I think we should really be careful about how many times we skip dares.  I’m serious, it doesn’t usually end well if we do it enough times.”

“Yeah, so you should let me eat from the mousetrap—”

“No,” Virgil and Janus both said at the same time.

The gremlin man flew over in front of Roman.  “I Double Dog Dare You to jump off of a cliff into the ocean.”

Roman looked nervous, but sighed.  “Fine.”

The gremlin man grinned, and they both vanished.

“Wait, what?  Roman!” Virgil cried.  He spun around to face Remus.  “Where did he go?”

“Probably the Imagination.  We gave him access if a dare requires it.”

“Are you insane?”

“I mean, maybe.  Why?”

Virgil groaned, and buried his head in his hands.  A dog bit his ankle a second later.  “Ow!” he snapped, kicking it back again.

A second later Roman and the gremlin man appeared, Roman soaking wet and looking a little shaken up.

“Roman!” Virgil cried.  “Are you okay?”

“I’m f-f-fine,” Roman said, though his chattering teeth told a different story.

“Are you sure?  We can try and find you some dry clothes.”

“I Double Dog Dare You,” the gremlin man said to Virgil, cutting off any potential answer from Roman.  “To dangle upside down off the couch for ten seconds.”

“What— there are dogs there!” Virgil exclaimed.

“I thought you wanted a dare that didn’t involve being emotionally vulnerable,” the gremlin man asked, raising an eyebrow.

Virgil glared at him then carefully spun around.  “Roman, grab my feet, would you?”

“Are you nuts?” Janus asked, even as Roman did so.

Virgil dropped his head off the couch and started swiping at the dogs that came close.  He vaguely registered the gremlin man counting above his head, but focused on the dogs.  One managed to claw at his face, and Virgil cried out, trying to fight the impulse to put his hand up there and stop swiping at the rest.  Thankfully, a moment later Roman yanked him back upright and set him down, and the dogs could proceed with tearing the bottom of his pants to shreds.

“Fuck,” Virgil said, wincing as he felt the scratches on his face.

“Why in the world would you do that?” Janus asked.

“Roman said he could get annoyed if we keep skipping dares,” Virgil said.  “I don’t want to piss this guy off, look what he’s like when he’s  not  pissed off.”

“Still, you— come here.  Remus, give me that,” Janus said, grabbing something from Remus that Virgil couldn’t see.  He took Virgil’s face and pulled it closer, and before Virgil could protest, he started dabbing something at the cut on his cheek.  Virgil winced, but registered the thing sitting on his lap as a first aid kit, so he let him keep going.

Janus pulled back after putting a bandage on his cheek, and looking it over enough to apparently be satisfied.  “There,” he said, sitting back again.

“Uh.  Thanks,” Virgil said, suddenly a little uncomfortable as he sat back.

They didn’t have much time to stew in the feeling, however, before the gremlin man flew in front of Janus.  “I Double Dog Dare You to stand on your head for the rest of the game.”

“I can’t do that,” Janus said in annoyance.  “Also, that’s clearly just a more dangerous version of Virgil’s dare, I double dog dare you to get some originality.”

“Janus,” Roman said warningly, even as he summoned two more dogs.  Janus summoned a couple extra hands to hold the new dogs back.

“You better watch yourself,” the gremlin man said to Janus.  “Insulting me is not generally a good idea.”

Janus glared, but didn’t say anything else.  The gremlin man headed over to Remus.  “I Double Dog Dare You to stay up all night.”

“I did that last night,” Remus said with a shrug.  “Shouldn’t be too hard.”

“How can he enforce that?” Virgil asked.  “Won’t the game be over by then?”

“Probably.  But that just means if I don’t do it the game starts up again.”

“And you agreed to one like that?!” Virgil exclaimed.

Remus shrugged.  “It’s not that hard.”

“Okay, fine, sure, whatever,” Virgil muttered, pinching the bridge of his own.

The gremlin man flew over to Roman.  “I Double Dog Dare You to walk on a floor of Legos.”

“With two dogs biting at my ankles,” Roman sighed.  “Why not?”

The floor was suddenly covered in legos, and Roman hopped up, landing on a couple of them.  He hissed in pain, and Virgil winced.  He walked across the front of the couch and back, and then sat down again.

“You good?” Virgil asked, looking at his feet.

“He’s put me through worse,” Roman said, glaring up at the gremlin man, who was now flying over to stop in front of Virgil.

“I Double Dog Dare You to share what you really think about everyone here.”

“And we’re back on the emotional vulnerability,” Virgil said, throwing his hands up.  “Hell no.”

Roman sighed and waved his hand.

The gremlin man did not look happy.  “You all are going to start to regret this,” he said.

“You first,” Virgil snapped.

The gremlin man glared back at him as he flew over to Janus.  “I Double Dog Dare You to lay down in a pile of beehives.”

“Okay, are you just trying to hurt him at this point?” Virgil said, crossing his arms.  “You already used the beehive idea!”

“I don’t like him,” the gremlin man said, turning up his nose.

“Well, sorry, but two dogs is still less painful than bees,” Janus said, looking over at Roman.  Roman looked unsure, but waved his hand anyway, bringing the number of dogs Janus was trying to fight off up to ten.

The gremlin man didn’t say anything, which was definitely worrying.  It flew over and stopped in front of Remus.  “I Double Dog Dare You to steal Virgil’s hoodie and cut it into pieces.”

“What?  Hey!” Virgil snapped, reaching out to try and grab the gremlin man, who floated casually backwards.  “That’s not fair!  This is supposed to be his dare, you can’t involve me!”

“Technically I’m involving Roman, he’s the one wearing it,” the gremlin man pointed out, narrowing his eyes.  “And I can do whatever I want.”   He flew closer into Remus’ face.  “Well?”

Remus looked over at Virgil, and to his surprise, he seemed a little uncomfortable.  “I don’t want to do that,” he said.

The gremlin man looked like it was getting seriously annoyed, but thankfully Roman just waved his hand and made two new dogs appear at Remus’ feet.

Virgil gave him a look, but before he could question his decision, the gremlin man flew back over to Roman.  “I Double Dog Dare You to steal Janus’ hat.”

“What’s with the clothing stealing all of a sudden?” Roman asked, as Janus hissed and his hands flew to his head.

The gremlin man grinned. “Well?”

Roman looked over at Janus, and as if on cue, a dog climbed up past his arms and started swiping at the hat on his head.  Janus tried to swipe it off, but the rest of the dogs started to climb up as well, and he couldn’t get very far.

Roman bit his lip and shook his head, waving his hand and making two new dogs appear.

The gremlin man looked like he was getting more unhappy by the minute, and Virgil resolved to do this dare, whatever it was.  He flew over in front of him.  “I Double Dog Dare You to hold hands with the player to your left for the rest of the game.”

Virgil looked over at Janus and let out a long sigh, then held his hand out.  Janus looked equally uncomfortable and irritated, but he took it anyway.

The gremlin man at least looked a little pleased as he flew over in front of Janus, who was still struggling with the dogs as well as now holding Virgil’s hand, leaving one less to do so.  “I Double Dog Dare You,” he said.  “To set off a firecracker indoors.”

“What?”  Janus exclaimed.  “No!”

The gremlin man drew himself up and huffed.  “You know, I’m getting a little tired of you disagreeing.  From now on, there is a ten dog limit.”  He seemed to politely give them all a few second to realize that’s how many dogs Janus had.  “Now go set off this firecracker!”

He held it out in front of Janus, who looked like he didn’t want to be playing this game anymore.  But he stood up, and Virgil went with him, as he now apparently had to hold Janus’ hand for the rest of the game.  They both dodged the dogs at their feet long enough for Janus to set up the firecracker on the other side of the room.  The gremlin flew over with a lit match and handed it to Janus, who lit the firecracker, which was pointed away from everyone else.

“Duck and cover!” Virgil yelled anyway, because he wasn’t an idiot, and everyone dove down among the dogs at the base of the couch, ignoring the scratching for long enough for a loud boom to ring out through the room and sparks to fly everywhere.

More than a couple landed on the couch, which promptly burst into flames.

“You weren’t allowed to get off the couch!” the gremlin man screamed, and pointed at Roman and Remus, who each got two more puppies by their feet.  The barking was getting loud enough that Virgil could barely hear anything else.

Roman held out a fire extinguisher to Virgil, who in turn passed it to Janus, in case he was the only one who could use it for some reason.  “PUT IT OUT!” he screamed, gesturing wildly at the couch.  “PUT IT OUT, PUT IT OUT, PUT IT—”

…

Logan took a sip of his coffee and casually turned the page in his book.  This was getting rather interesting.  He might have to retreat to his room to avoid revealing any emotional investment.

“Hey, Logan?”

Logan glanced up at Patton and raised an eyebrow to show he was listening.

“Do you ever get the feeling something really important is happening that you’re missing out on?”

Logan’s gave him a baffled look.  “No?”

“Really?  Never?”

“Are you Patton or Virgil?” Logan asked, looking back at his book.

“Hmm.  Fair enough.”

…

The fire extinguisher was at least succeeding in putting out the fire well enough that nothing else caught, but that didn’t stop the puppies that were rapidly multiply by Roman and Remus’ feet for as long as they were off the couch.  Janus tried pointing the fire extinguisher at some of them, but that didn’t deter them since they weren’t his puppies, and the foam inside went right through them and landed on Roman and Remus instead, and them scooping it onto the puppies instead just wasn’t as effective.

Virgil eventually dragged Janus over towards the two of them and shoved them both back onto the couch, which at least stopped the puppies from multiplying, though it didn’t do anything about the fact that the puppies were now swarming up onto the couch and on top of Roman and Remus.  Virgil wasn’t really sure what else he could do, and just clung to Janus enough that there was no chance it could be seen as not holding his hand.  As long as they didn’t sit back down the dare wasn’t over, right?  Right?

Virgil’s scattered and terrified thoughts were interrupted by laughter.  He managed to look around enough to see the gremlin man holding his stomach and cackling, and he was about to start screaming at him when he stopped.

“Okay,” he called, loud enough to be heard by Roman.  “That’s enough.  I’ve had enough.”  He burst into crazed laughter again as Roman waved his hand and got rid of all the puppies.

Everyone collapsed with a sigh onto the ground, finally getting a chance to breathe.

“Man,” the gremlin man said, grinning at all of them.  “You four are a riot.  I haven’t had that much fun since Roman and Remus played years ago.  Thank you for a wonderful end to an afternoon.  Remus, remember to stay up all night tonight or I’ll be back.  I’ll see you all next time!”

With that, he flew over to the black box on the table, and disappeared inside with a wave.

“Yeah, I think not,” Virgil snapped at the now empty air.

For a long moment everyone was silent.  Virgil looked over at the remains of the firecracker, the blackened couch, and the shredded remains of the bottom of his pants.  He gave a short laugh.

Roman copied it across the room, and everyone exchanged one last glance before bursting into full-on laughter.

“Oh my god,” Virgil got out.  “We’re so stupid.”

“I keep forgetting there’s a reason we tried to destroy that game,” Remus said with a grin.

“I tried to warn you!” Roman said, smacking Remus on the back of the head, though he was grinning too.

They all laughed for a while longer, before they finally calmed down enough to just breathe for a while.

“Okay,” Virgil said, standing.  “I’m going back to my room.”

“Me too,” Roman said weakly, pushing himself off the couch.

“Uh, sorry about your…” Virgil looked around at the various destruction.

“Hey, don’t worry about it,” Janus said.  “Remus does worse on a regular Tuesday.”

“I do,” Remus said, with a proud nod.

“Cool,” Roman said, though he didn’t really sound like he meant it.  “Uh.  See you… around.”  He waved awkwardly at Janus and Remus, who both waved awkwardly back, and then sunk out.  Virgil gave a half wave and followed.

Rather then to his room however, he changed destinations mid travel and ending up in the kitchen.  Evidently Roman had a similar idea, because he was there when Virgil appeared.  He got himself a glass of water, and must have figured the reason Virgil was there, because he got one for him next and passed it over.

“Here,” he said, pulling off Virgil’s hoodie, which wasn’t much more than shredded fabric at this point.  “Oh, uh…”  He waved his hand and fixed up both their outfits, as well as putting his regular shirt and sash back on.

“Thanks,” Virgil said, slipping his hoodie back on.  “So, uh.  You and Remus were… kinda nuts, huh?”

“Yeah, we were, um, really something when we worked together,” Roman said, rubbing the back of his neck.

Virgil reached his hand up and felt the bandage still there from where Janus had patched up the scratch on his cheek.

“Sorry,” Roman said.  “Can’t do much for injuries.  Remus is better at that.”

“No it’s fine,” Virgil said.  “I think I’m just gonna go lay down for a year.”

Roman chuckled.  “Yeah, me too.”

“Roman, Virgil, is that you?” Patton called.  Virgil glanced over towards the living room and saw Patton walking over.  “Hey, kiddos, I’ve been trying to find you.  I was just wondering if you were okay with breakfast for dinner.  I was gonna make some pancakes.”

“Oh sure,” Virgil said, making sure to cover the cheek bandage that he didn’t want to explain right now.

“So, did you kiddos do anything interesting today?” Patton asked, moving past them to start grabbing stuff for pancakes.

Virgil exchanged a glance with Roman.  “Nah,” he said.

“Not really.”

…

Virgil was only a little surprised when Roman showed up at his door that night.  He stepped back and let him in without any argument.

“So I didn’t expect that to go the way it did,” he announced as if that was some grand revelation, before moving to sit on Virgil’s desk chair.

“Yeah,” Virgil muttered, sitting on his bed.

“Virgil?  Can I ask you a question?”

Virgil glanced over at Roman.  “Sure.”

“Do you know why Remus remembered how old we were when we made that stupid game?”

Virgil winced.

“So you do.”

Virgil sighed, and nodded.  “Remus… counts how many days it’s been since you guys made something together,” he said quietly.

Roman stared at him.  “Why?”

“Because he doesn’t want to stop,” Virgil muttered, looking away and rubbing his arm.

Roman didn’t say anything for long enough that Virgil looked back up.  Roman looked like he needed some time to process that idea.  Virgil couldn’t blame him.  Eventually he looked back over.  “Hey Virgil?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you think they might actually just be trying to help Thomas in their own way?”  Roman hesitated.  “Like you were?” he finished quietly.

“No,” Virgil said instantly, but then stopped.  “I mean…”  He sighed.  “Okay, maybe.  But they’ve still got stuff to answer for.  I mean they… they made me feel so alone.”  He looked back at Roman hurriedly.  “And, I mean, Janus still has to apologize to you.  He’s been a dick.”

“I might owe him an apology for something too,” Roman muttered.  “But either way, I don’t think acting angry and antagonizing them all the time is helpful.”

“What do you think… would be helpful?” Virgil asked hesitantly.

Roman met his gaze, and Virgil could tell they were thinking of the same thing.  He shrugged, leaving it up to Roman.

Roman stood and headed out of his room, and Virgil followed, out into the commons, through the other door, and down the steps.

Janus and Remus were sitting in front of the TV when they got there.  Neither of them seemed to notice they were there at first.

Finally, Roman cleared his throat.

Both of them spun around, and seemed equally surprised to see them.

“Virgil?  Roman?  What are you doing here?” Janus asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Well, we’re just making sure the dare gets completed,” Virgil said.  “I mean, what if all of us had to be here or something?  I’m not playing that game again just because we didn’t show up and we were required to.”

“Yeah, we really should just destroy it,” Remus muttered, rubbing the back of his neck.

“I don’t know,” Roman said.  “Maybe it can be improved.  We can figure that out later.  For now, we’re all definitely stuck down here for a night.”

“Oh, yes, of course,” Janus said.  “Pity that there really is no way around it.  Come sit down, I suppose.”

“If I wasn’t so insistent on being better safe than sorry, I’d be out of here right now,” Virgil said, walking around the couch and sitting down next to Janus.

“Of course,” Janus said with a nod.  “I would kick you out first, as a matter of fact.”

“I’d make a giant boot to do the job,” Remus said with a nod.

Roman sat down on Virgil’s other side as Janus was pulling up a selection of horror movies.  They’d probably end up watching a gross one.  It was Remus they had to keep awake, after all.

“Popcorn?” Roman suggested, summoning a couple of tubs.

“Sure, put them on the table,” Janus said, and Roman did just that as Janus started the movie, and they all settled back into the couch that still smelled like fireworks.

Nothing was fixed, and Virgil knew that.  But maybe they could get there.  Maybe this was a good start.

[failedintsave]

I tried the MTL pairing generator for rarepair month...aaaand it told me to stay in my lane lol. And then it told me to write some Rachel/Roy Cornickleson which I just don't think I'm ready to take on 🙃 So here's some Skwistok set just before Doomstar that I've been fiddling with.

(gets just a little nsfw near the beginning)

Stages

Everyone handles grief differently.

Skwisgaar groaned as muscular arms pushed him against the wall, the reinforced metal door to his room on the submarine banging shut as they cleared the threshold. Hands tangled in his hair, holding him in place while lips and tongue and teeth worked over his neck. He clung desperately to the body pressed against him, fingers twisting in blue cotton material and yanking it upward. The mouth latched onto his throat pulled away as the t-shirt was hauled over his head and Toki's fevered eyes found his before rushing forward again, mashing their lips together with sloppy abandon. He gripped Skwisgaar by the belt, half dragging him as they stumbled their way to his bunk and collapsed. Breathing came in gasps and sighs as Toki's weight pinned him down into the mattress, the pressure both exhilarating and mollifying, an anchor to hold onto as the life he'd known for so many years turned upside down and twisted away in the wind.

He'd never given much energy to grief. Life was just a punctuated string of losses in the long run. Loss of innocence, loss of trust, loss of opportunities. It was all meaningless, really. In his experience, something new always came along to fill the space so why dwell on mourning what you couldn't have back?

Boots thumped to the floor, kicked off in haste. His shirt was peeled away before sturdy hands lifted his hips to free him of his jeans, calloused fingertips gliding back up his thighs and making him shiver. Toki climbed up to kiss him again, hungrily, as if trying to swallow him whole, their teeth knocking against each other. Skwisgaar ran his hands over every inch of skin he could reach, the hard lines of Toki's shoulders, the raised ridges of overlapping scars on his back, hip bones where they ground down against his own. Heat pooled low in his belly like magma aching to erupt. He wanted this, needed this right now, more than he'd ever needed anything in his life. How long had they danced around this, stealing moments and blaming it later on booze or post-show adrenaline, walking right up to the line and peeking over before backing away again? In the name of preserving band dynamics? A lot of good that had done, they'd still ended up where they are now, Dethklok tipping over the precipice into self-destruction.

Another loss to add to the list.

Toki pulled back, glacier blue eyes raking over Skwisgaar's features with manic light, chestnut locks of hair falling in disarray to frame his face. Skwisgaar reached up and tucked a strand behind his ear and Toki's expression shifted, the wild yearning softened into something gentler, less wolfish. He sat up to kneel between Skwisgaar's legs, hand skimming from his collar bone to his navel and leaving a trail of fire, over the inside of his thigh and dipping beneath, pausing until Skwisgaar breathed his assent, whispered his name.

Fingers tested gingerly, gradually increasing in depth and pressure before he gripped him by the waist and hauled him onto his lap. Skwisgaar canted his hips, lip catching between his teeth at the feel of Toki against him, his pulse hammering in his ears. His head angled back into the pillows and a wordless moan escaped his throat when Toki eased forward, back arching as lightning raced up his spine. Skwisgaar's fingers knotted in the bed sheets as Toki released a shuddering breath over him, rocking into him slowly, building rhythm into a steady push and pull.

Loss of professional boundaries. Definitely not something to be mourned.

The devastating sensation of fullness where they joined drove all coherent thought from Skwisgaar's mind and his eyes rolled back under closed lids, panting nonsense and expletives, begging for release. His toes curled as Toki matched stokes with his hand to the tempo of his thrusts, coaxing him through his climax until tipping over the edge after him with a whining sigh. Call and response, Skwisgaar thought dazedly as his superheated skeleton melted into jelly. When he could open his eyes again, his gaze landed on Toki's face above him, watching him with an openly heartsick expression.

"I… hads to do dat… at least once before dis ams all over." The broken whisper settled over him like a burial shroud.

Skwisgaar shook his head, holding out his arms. "Come heres."

Swallowing thickly, Toki obeyed, winding his arms under Skwisgaar's shoulders and burying his face in the crook of his neck. Skwisgaar shifted to find a comfortable position, their sweat-slick chests sliding against each other as he angled slightly onto one side, hand cradling Toki's skull to keep him near.

"Seem pretties stupids we aments been doing dat dis whole time, honestlies."

Loss of time.

Toki held him tightly and Skwisgaar felt the tremor in his grip. He rubbed his cheek against the crown of the other man's head, humming tunelessly as he waited for him to speak, knowing already the fears plaguing his mind. He'd faced them often enough in his younger days, even if the scenario now was more complicated. It was hard to compare wondering where your next gig, your next meal ticket, might come from to wondering where to go after you'd already stood at the top.

Sniffling preceded the feeling of wetness against his shoulder, Toki mumbling against his skin. "What happens now? Ams we all just gonna says 'fucks you, see ya laters' now dat de band ams done? Even now dat dey tells us we gots to plays music to saves de world?"

Skwisgaar fiddled with a strand of brown hair for a moment before answering. "Well, I don'ts know abouts all dis saves-de-woirld business. But whats I do know ams band break ups. And, euughh, ja dat ams a pretty standords opseratings procedures."

"But does it has to be likes dat? We coulds all stays pals, right?"

"Dat ams...compslickateds." He dropped the lock and let his hand fall to Toki's shoulders. "Somet'ing like dis...people tends to ezpecks yous to euughh, picks sides. It ams messy. And it never warks out, t'ings always comes apart in de end."

Loss of the longest working relationships he'd had in his life.

Toki said nothing, so Skwisgaar continued if only to fill the silence. "But it coulds be worse, you knows? We gots more moneys den god, what's so bad what cants be fixed wif dat?" The statement produced a cold feeling trickling down behind his ribs, like swallowing a heaping spoonful of snow. "Nones of it acktualies matters. Just goes on to da next t'ings."

"I just... don'ts know what to does if dere aments a Dethklok."

"Whatevors you wants! You coulds buy de whole stores of airplane models, or you coulds builds you own splasharoonies water parks. Hell you coulds probablies starts a new bands wif dose guys from dat T'underhorse group."

"No," Toki murmured, face still compressed against Skwisgaar's neck. "I don't wants a new band. Dis was da one."

The possessive satisfaction he felt at those words tied his stomach in guilty knots.

"Ja it ams was a pretty good gigs…"

Toki shifted, laying his head on the pillow next to Skwisgaar's, his forlorn gaze searching his face for answers. Skwisgaar rolled so they were laying face to face, legs still twisted under the sheets.

Not everything was tied up in the feud that caused the band to split. What if it didn't have to be a total loss? Surely there were parts here that could be salvaged.

"Okej...so who says we haves to do anyt'ings at all?"

Toki's brows cinched. "What you means?"

Maybe, just this one thing, he could keep.

Skwisgaar's lips curved with the ghost of a smile. "I's already mades it to de top, ams de fastest guitarist alives...coulds be I shoulds just quits while I gots de title, ja? Retires, takes my ball and goes home wif it."

Toki snorted and rolled his eyes.

"Builds mineself a giant house up in de mountains or somet'ing. Or travels and just fucks off on de resgiduals forever, not worries about a deadlines or demos ever again. Plays guitar just for funs."

He saw his grin mirrored on Toki's face as the other man nodded dreamily.

"Maybe you...comes wif me?" Fluttery nerves tickled behind his sternum. "If you wants to."

Toki's eyes widened. "Wait. Whats?"

Just this. He could be happy with this.

"Y-you means it? You aments just messings with Toki?"

He shook his head. "How long dids we waste before nows? For not'ing. I'm sick ofs waitings. Let's just goes."

A heartbeat passed, and then Toki's mouth was on his again. Less frantic this time, hopeful rather than desperate. He cradled Toki's jaw, taking his time as he returned his affections, deepening the kiss and tracing languid strokes over his neck, his shoulders, his chest. Their limbs wound together in a twisted bramble, bodies drawing tightly together, fitting like puzzle pieces.

A repetitive, discordant riff sounded from the pile of clothes abandoned on the floor and Toki's head jerked away. Flashing an apologetic grin, he rolled away to fish his phone from his pocket, sliding his pants up loosely around his hips.

"Sorries, be rights back!" He whispered, pressing the screen to answer. "Oh hei, Rockso!*

"Hows do you even has signals down here?" Skwisgaar called after him as he stepped into the hall, then flopped back onto the pillows to stare at the ceiling, counting the shiny rivets in the metal plating.

This was doable. Tomorrow they would bury more than just a mentor, they would lay to rest their careers as the biggest metal band in existence. The world at large would mourn their passing, but Skwisgaar wouldn't dwell on what's done and over. Not if he had new prospects to look forward to. Something always came along, and he never looked back.

"I tolds Magnus dat I woulds sit wif hims tomorrow." He heard Toki's muffled voice through the crack he'd left in the door.

A shadow passed over his thoughts at the name, like someone walking across his grave. It was uncomfortable to say the least, to have their former guitarist back in the fringes of their lives. Toki had a habit of finding friendship in questionable places, but where the clown was mostly an annoyance and sometimes a financial drain, his relationship with Magnus left Skwisgaar apprehensive. It didn't ease his mind when Toki insisted the older musician was different now. How could he know? He hadn't lived with the man, hadn't walked on eggshells during every rehearsal or songwriting session, hadn't watched as he plunged a knife into a bandmate.

But Magnus had also saved Toki with his insulin. He'd been there for Toki as a shoulder to lean on when the band had started to fall apart, too preoccupied with their own issues to spare a minute for their youngest member.

So maybe Toki was right. Things change; he'd never expected that a wedge could be driven between Nathan and Pickles far enough to end their friendship in such a catastrophic way, but here they were. And if Magnus still harbored any resentment for the band, their breakup was probably a balm to the old wound of rejection. What else could he wish on them? He was probably loving this.

The door scraped shut and Toki slipped back into the blankets gingerly, as if expecting Skwisgaar to be asleep. When he saw that he was still awake, Toki leaned in with a grin.

"Sorries...now, where was we…?" He murmured, capturing Skwisgaar's lips tenderly. "Oh ja, you was tellings me how we's gonna runs away togedders into de sunsets."

"Pfff. Dat am hardlies what I saids."

More kisses peppered his cheek and jaw. "Dats what I heards."

"Well I always knew yous was tone deafs, I didn'ts realize you ams just all de way hards of hearingks." His arm encircled Toki's back as the brunette nestled in again.

"Tells to me about wheres we gonna goes. Tells me about our house on tops of de mountains."

Skwisgaar snorted. Of the two of them, his was not the more vivid and fanciful imagination. But staring up at the blank canvas that the brushed metal panels of ceiling created, he envisioned a future for them to share. They squabbled playfully over locations and home design styles. They named off outlandish things they would fill their home with, like an even bigger ruby metronome or a trampoline room or an indoor pool shaped like a guitar and filled with champagne. They listed places they'd toured that they wanted to visit again, and locations they hadn't been yet but had always hoped to see.

"Can we gets a cat?" Toki asked suddenly, making Skwisgaar laugh airily.

"If we haves to?" He laughed again as Toki nodded against him. "But I'm not cleaningks up after it, dat ams all you, pal."

"Okei." Toki sighed deeply, settling in more comfortably. "Okei. I feels a lots less scareds now about all dis."

His hand glided up from where it had been resting at Skwisgaar's hip to lay warm over his heartbeat.

"I'll miss Dethklok. A whole lots. But now I t'inks I ams acktualies looking forwards to what comes next."

Still staring at the steel plates above, Skwisgaar grinned at the pictures they'd painted in his mind.

"Ja, me toos."

He covered Toki's hand with his own. However much they stood to lose after tomorrow, his heart felt lighter at what they were about to gain together. There was no reason to dwell on what was gone.

Everyone handles grief differently.

Laying on his bunk, Skwisgaar's eyes roamed the scuffed plate ceiling overhead, lingering on rusted rivets and water stains. The imperfections seemed to move and writhe like crawling insects under the influence of whatever handful of pills Pickles had given him. A half-drained bottle of vodka lay cradled against his chest, the mouth stoppered by his thumb. Fire burned in his belly from the alcohol, but cold fury pulsing through his veins tempered it.

He'd been prepared for Dethklok to end, had even accepted the idea that his career as a guitarist was over, diminished to a hobby. Playing guitar was his lifeblood, his purpose, and he'd been about to let that go. What had he been thinking? How had he gotten so wrapped up in fantasy that throwing away his entire self had seemed like a plausible course of action.

Loss of objectivity. Fortunately it seemed to be temporary.

He took a long pull from the bottle, dribbling a little and not bothering to wipe it away. Stupid Toki, needing to be comforted like a child with make-believe bedtime stories. He couldn't just man up and move on like everyone else, like Skwisgaar had been doing since he was a teen, finding his next audition, his next couch to crash on, his next temporary alliance with subpar musicians to make ends meet. It couldn't have been an easier landing for him either, no concerns about hunger or homelessness or deportation hanging over his head. He was set up for success and still couldn't handle it.

Fucking idiot needed so much attention, so much coddling, he'd even run straight into harm's way to try and make a friend. Of all people, he'd had to choose Magnus, that vindictive bastard. Of course he'd still been carrying a grudge, when had he ever let anything go in the past? And they'd known it.

A pair of divots on the ceiling stared back at him, one dark, one catching the light. Glaring back at him mockingly, winking at his impotent rage.

They'd known. They'd known, they knew, they knew.

Skwisgaar knew. And he'd said nothing.

Then he'd watched again, frozen, as Magnus drove a knife into someone close to him.

Skwisgaar thrashed upright, a strangled roar bursting from his lungs as he flung the bottle at the wall. He kicked at the bedside table bolted to the wall, denting it from below, then spun around to tear the sheets from his bunk and hurl them across the room. This wasn't the trade he'd prepared for, this wasn't the deal he'd made with himself.

His eyes fell on his Explorer propped in the corner. He reached for it, wrapping both hands around the ebony fretboard, holding it like an axe and swinging it against the wall. He bashed it into the floor, the dresser, screaming until his throat was raw and the guitar was cracked into useless chunks of wood and fiberglass connected by twisted strings. He dropped the pieces in a heap, sinking to the ground to lean against the side of his bed, his shoulders heaving with labored panting.

The door of his room scraped open, and in his periphery he saw a figure standing, backlit by the dim red glow in the corridor. Broad-shouldered, straight hair dangling about their head. His heart seized for a moment before the figure spoke, shattering his hallucination.

"What are you doing in here?" Nathan's gravelly voice was cautious.

Skwisgaar didn't turn, eyes still focused on the debris ahead of him. The stainless steel guitar strings seemed to wriggle like worms in grave soil, consuming the corpse of his instrument. He waited until he caught his breath before trying to respond.

"What does it looks like I'm doingks?"

Nathan shifted in the doorway. "Losing your mind."

He chuckled mirthlessly.

Loss of sanity? Maybe.

"You've been locked up in there a while. Maybe you should, you know. Come out here. With the rest of the band."

"Fucks off."

Nathan didn't move. Skwisgaar felt the urge to rage at the other man rise in him, to shout in his face, demand to know why it had taken him so long to patch things over with Pickles, why he let it go so far that he'd upset all of their lives so horrifically. But the feeling passed, his body drained from his previous outburst and from trying to filter a pharmacy's worth of substances through his liver.

"We're gonna find him, you know. Charles has people everywhere looking already."

One shoulder rose and fell in a halfhearted shrug. "Whatevers. Who cares."

They could have been a four-piece. If he really wanted to rage at someone it would be his past self. How different would things be right now if he'd never given that gutter rat a chance after missing his audition time? How much of what they achieved would they have really missed out on? How many rerecording sessions and stupid arguments and publicized blow outs could have been avoided? What would they really have been missing?

He certainly wouldn't mourn the loss of a constant source of annoyance. Of an immature tag-along with a hair trigger temper. Of a loud and boisterous whirlwind of silliness and color and sincerity.

Loss of his shadow. Loss of his muse. Loss of his best friend. Loss of his future. Loss of…

Loss of…

He couldn't breathe.

"Just leaves me alone. Please." He gritted out, proud of the steadiness of his voice as his stomach began to roil and his eyes prickled with tears.

Nathan hesitated. "Should I...close this?"

Skwisgaar nodded and after another moment the steel frame clanged shut. His vision blurred as tears welled and spilled over, his breath returning in short gasping puffs which rolled over into sobs that rattled his frame.

They'd had one day. Not even a day. An evening. Hours.

He wept until he was sick, vomiting clear liquor and not much else onto the floor next to the remnants of his guitar. He wept until his tears were spent and his head throbbed in tandem with his heart, even though he didn't understand how the muscle still carried a beat when the rhythm had been taken away.

Eventually he had nothing left. His face felt swollen, his eyes were gritty. Skwisgaar rolled to his hands and knees, avoiding the puddle of sick as he rocked up onto wobbly legs. He looked at the door, wondering if the others were still awake. If they were sitting in the lounge, drowning their sorrows. He felt like he wore a lead weight around his neck, bowing under the pull of it. It might be better just to sleep.

He turned to the naked mattress, but a scrap of blue on the floor near the foot of the bed caught his attention. A faded cotton t-shirt lay where it had been discarded. Skwisgaar stared at it for several long moments. He stepped closer to the bed, to the shirt.

And kicked it underneath the frame and out of sight before turning for the door.

He'd never given much energy to grief. Life was just a punctuated string of losses in the long run. Loss of purpose. Loss of self. Loss of connection. Loss of…

It was all meaningless, really. So why dwell on mourning what you couldn't have back?

[bikiniarmorbattledamage]

Queen of the Spiders Re-Covered 

We decided to try our hand at a combined redesign, where each of us picked a character in the same picture and redesigned them. And we thought this image, the cover of an old Dungeons and Dragons adventure called “Queen of the Spiders” would be a good candidate (blame for throwing it at us goes to @theoldhack​​​). 

This is where the infamous drow race is introduced, where I guess they were just... evil women of color. 😬 Unfortunate. We decided to make them purple-skinned like they are in more modern lore.

At first, Icy thought the “queen” in the title referenced the lady in the middle there, but it’s actually one of the names for Lolth, the spider goddess whom the drow venerate, so.... We’re sure the drow on the cover are important mini-bosses somewhere in the adventure, probably, maybe.

Full write-up and close-up images under the cut.

What’s-her-Face on the Right 

Just gotta say that it’s a huge pet peeve of mine when (usually male) writers write a matriarchal society as, air quotes, “sexually liberated,” otherwise known as “an excuse to draw them in lingerie because I can’t imagine women’s bodies not catering to me personally in any scenario, while still drawing men in full body armor.” Thanks for coming to my TED talk.

Okay, so.... I’m not sure what she’s supposed to be... besides a swimsuit model, which maybe the drow do have. Is there a quest where the players go to the underground beach to play underground beach volleyball? Cause if not, why is she like that???

I decided to make her a mage (this was a 1st edition book, so that’s all we got). I ended up changing.... everything, really. I think the only thing I didn’t change was her nose shape. It’s not my fault though, the redline for her original pose was an unsalvageable eldrich nightmare.

I gave her a more confident pose, more comfortable magic-user-friendly clothes (with the spider motif, cause spider god), and even different hair. The original hairdo just wasn’t doing it for me. I wanted her to look cool enough to have her own illustration in the book. She even has a little magic flame (mostly cause I didn’t know what to do with her hand lol)!

Her hair didn’t quite turn out how I wanted it to, but overall, I think it’s a good redraw. She’s got lots of fun shapes, an actual color scheme, and an attitude. What else do we need?

-Icy

Queen/High Priestess Crotchleg 

The composition was so awful that I had to actually largely re-do it by changing the third lady’s position from right to left and recreating large parts of the throne... some of which ended up covered by the main drow’s dress anyway (probably for the better). 

Speaking of which, boy was she hard to fix without just throwing everything away and starting over! First of all, the way she sits on the throne seems like a product of an alien who never experienced what a chair is... which might also explain the throne’s uncomfortable-looking design. I actually ended up giving it a bigger seat and more lumbar support. 

The pose, of course, got changed to something less concerned with showing off her immaculate Brazilian and more with looking comfortable and intimidating in the authority position. I also noticed her neck was disturbingly short, so I moved her face a tiny bit up. Now her spider crown is more of a tiara than a hat. And she got a golden choker to match.

A lot of questionable physics of how she actually sits got covered up by roomy, relatively simplistic clothes I gave her. Maybe I’d consider something more elaborate if the rest of the painting didn’t require so much fixing. What matters is that it’s not a painted-on swimming suit anymore. I’m overall satisfied with the design of her top and the spiderweb skirt. Hopefully the golden spider jewelry (the legs are thin chains!) gives it some regal feel. 

The original shoes were quite stylish, but looked neither comfortable nor  matched the fashion sense I went with for the character (also didn’t match the angles at which I redrew legs). So I ended up giving her sandals with golden ornamentation, matching her gauntlets. Sorry not sorry for half-assing the legs. One has to prioritize while on a deadline*. 

I’m  generally happy with the results, considering the sheer scale of changes we had to apply to have it meet BABD standards for positive example. 

~Ozzie

*Icy sobbing in the background 

[cherrywoes]

001 (Mature) (P1)

Contains mature themes. Read with caution. Subtle thigh riding, nothing blatantly sexual.

YOU MET USHIJIMA WAKATOSHI on a cold, bitter day in the middle of winter at a beach that was deserted besides the small skeleton crew. They had brought their cameras and plastic tarps to keep you from getting sand all over their sample fashion pieces and were excitedly chattering over warm coffee that you couldn't have.

Modeling wasn't the job you had in mind when you had accepted the personal request from your best friend, Akaashi Keiji—the man who had skyrocketed to fame with his effortless clothing designs and pretty face—over two years ago. Yet here you were, freezing, nearly naked in the middle of winter with snow threatening to fall down from the heavens and decorate you with delicate flakes of precious ice. Akaashi paid you very well for going through with his sometimes insane concept ideas, but you couldn't help but curse him in your mind as you covered your breasts to retain some semblance of warmth, as well as any modesty you had left to keep from the photographers.

"[Name], how are we doing?" Your manager, Ayano, sidled up to you with a warm mug in her hands and looking amazingly warm and cozy, a direct contrast to your shivering form. "It won't be much longer, we're just waiting on the male model Akaashi hired. The other one flaked last minute for a trip to Argentina. Can you believe that?"

"Are you serious?" You chattered incredulously, teeth clacking together uncomfortably. Ayano had the shame to pity you. "Oikawa went to Argentina?"

You had been banking on the man to be your partner for the shoot. He was the only one you felt comfortable with half nude as you were, since you both did these spreads with each other often and enough that it wasn't strange for you to change in the same dressing room. He was amazing at lightening the atmosphere so you were comfortable with him, even if his manager got angry with him whenever he flirted with you on what he thought was the sly. Dancing his fingers over your bare shoulders was not sly, you'd laughed at him when he pouted at the hair and makeup station.

But he was in Argentina? For what? You had half a mind to text him an infuriatingly long text, and reached for your phone in Ayano's pocket, but found yourself exposed to the cold and even chillier than before. With a sigh, you pulled your arms close to your chest again, peering down to make sure you didn't have a nip slip in the process. The crazed press hiding in the sand dunes would have a field day with that.

"He never said why," Ayano answered, taking a sip of her coffee and ignoring your glare of envy. "It'll be okay though, Ushijima's a nice man and he won't try anything. Akaashi knows him pretty well, otherwise he wouldn't have gone to him last minute."

You snorted, imagining Oikawa boarding a plane hurriedly. "How last minute are we talking?"

"Around an hour or so before we got here." Ayano nodded her head sagely when you turned to look at her with more disbelief than you had at the reveal that Oikawa had dipped and flew out to another country. "Mhm. He's very reliable, according to Akaashi."

"Who has free time like that?" You laughed. "Nevermind, don't answer that. Can I get a jacket or something? I'm freezing here. We haven't even shot any singles yet."

Ayano winced in sympathy and patted your shoulder. Her fingers were so warm that you lamented the loss immediately, shuffling closer to huddle into her scratchy linen jacket. She snickered and let you stay close, almost burying yourself into her side, and too soon, you heard a car door slam near the parking lot over the quiet sea.

Your eyes darted to the top of the dunes where you spotted a tall, muscular figure cresting the half buried staircase and heading down to your entourage of photographers and stylists. At his side, two dogs loped in similar fashion, each held on leather leashes and clipped to what looked like diamond encrusted chain collars. Dobermans, you realized, from the cropped ears and docked tails when they drew closer, lithe frames stark against the pale sand. One was black and tan, slightly larger than the other one, which was Isabella and tan, with a more svelte figure and kept more closely to its owner, who was far more impressive the closer he got.

You couldn't help but poke your head over Ayano's shoulder and gawk at the male specimen before you. He was all toned muscle, from his neck down to his feet, and you could see carefully sculpted abdominal muscles through his shirt, which clung to him like a second skin in some silky nylon fabric that had some expensive name over his left pectoral. He wore sweatpants that were torn at the knees into shorts, and you raised your eyebrows at the way his calf muscles flexed when he shifted his weight to his left leg. You only saw that kind of dedication on bodybuilders and showmen, not models; they all seemed to prefer skinny muscle to actual muscle.

He had that austere cast to his features and aura, you could tell, when he turned his head just enough to reveal his eyes, brilliant chips of green and brown framed by severe eyebrows that complimented the bones of his face and the angle of his jaw. Even his hair was complimentary, a close undercut with long strands on top that looked to have been combed through with fingers and half heartedly with a comb.

"Damn." Ayano whispered your thoughts and pulled away from you, leaving you cold and shivering once more. Like a shot, she was off to speak to his manager, who was a lanky man with a startling shock of red hair that had you staring for a moment.

You almost screeched when a cold nose touched your cold knee. Somewhere between Ayano leaving and you shifting your hands under your armpits, the man had unhooked his dogs from their leashes and allowed them to wander up to you without a care in the world, because he was still listening to something the lead director was telling him.

The one nudging at your knee was the Isabella and tan one, her ears up and pointed towards you. Her stub of a tail wagged excitedly and you hesitated to pet her, eyeing the black and tan one that had settled into a sitting position beside your feet and out of the harsh gusts of wind that rose every so often.

Moving to cover your breasts with one arm, you held out your hand for her to sniff, cringing when she leaned forward and huffed over your fingers. Then, tentatively, she gave a few licks to your knuckles and bounded off towards her owner. The black one, male by the looks of it, stayed beside you, stalwart and unwilling to go back out into the cold wind.

"Nox." Their owner's voice was so deep that you were startled by the thrum that had begun in your belly. You looked over and saw the man was staring at the dog behind you, waiting for him to obey his call. "Come."

The dog, Nox, huffed and hid his head behind your leg, ignoring him. You had to stifle a snicker. The man looked at you, then, and you noticed that he kept his eyes trained on your face, analyzing your features with a slight furrow to his brows. Then he looked away, back towards the director who was pointing to you and explaining something with wide gestures. You almost felt offended at his easy dismissal.

"[Name]!" The director waved you over and you scowled, wrapping your other arm over your chest again and walking over to where he stood with the mystery man. His dog, Nox, trailed behind you, keen on avoiding both his owner and the wind. When you stood beside the director, surprised at how tall the man was and how your neck started to hurt looking up at him, he gestured to the man. "This is Ushijima Wakatoshi, Akaashi's friend. He'll be modeling with you today. Ushijima, this is [Name], the face of the brand."

Your face flushed red and crept down your neck when he looked at you again, this time an intense look of concentration on his face. Even his eyes were intense, sharp and narrowed and soul searching. You hoped he blamed the blush on the cold.

"Nice to meet you," you said, embarrassed at how your teeth cracked together, and held out a shaking hand for him to shake. "I'm [Name] [Surname]."

Ushijima stared at your hand like it was a particularly offensive bug. Your smile turned brittle and before you could pull your hand back and tuck it under your armpit, he enveloped your tiny hand in his—tiny compared to his giant ones, anyway—and shook it slowly, almost like he was pained to shake it in the first place.

"Ushijima," he said and that was all he offered. He released your hand and looked to the director again, waiting for a further explanation, and you clenched your jaw in irritation. Even if he was pretty, you didn't like being dismissed like you were nothing.

This time, the red flush creeping up your neck had nothing to do with embarrassment.

His manager seemed to notice your growing anger and slapped Ushijima on the back. Hard. You had to swallow nervously when Ushijima's eyes went cold and turned to his manager, shoulders stiffening and bunching underneath the sting of the slap.

"Wakatoshi, you can't just do that," the redheaded male admonished, pointing to you. "Be nice. Remember our lessons?"

You raised an eyebrow. Lessons? To be nice? You appraised the man in a new light; he was stiff, too tense, and seemed high strung like a live wire, like he was waiting for a bomb to go off. You wondered if he had an issue or something with any emotion other than coldness.

Ushijima stared at his manager with narrowed eyes, then looked back over to you. They softened slightly, scanning over your face—your anger ebbing away into confusion—and he dipped his head slightly in a small bow. "Sorry."

"It's fine," you whispered in reply, your confusion overriding your anger and the warmth it had brought you. You watched his eyebrows drop and then go back to neutral, as if he was thinking, and the director cleared his throat to draw both of your attention back to him.

"As I was saying—Ushijima, the poses are fairly simple. Because [Name] isn't tall enough to reach your shoulders, she'll be standing on a stool. It'll be your job to keep her steady. How uncomfortable are you with intimate skin contact?"

"It doesn't bother me," Ushijima answered in a clipped tone. You squirmed uncomfortably, cold once more, and felt Nox brush against your legs. "Is there anything else?"

"No, anything else is covered in your contract. Just put on the clothes they give you and we'll start in five."

You made your way back to the tarp, spotting the stool in question, and turned around, mouth open to ask if you should move it to the middle, and abruptly closed it with an audible snap.

There, behind a tiny rack of  clothes facing the ocean, Ushijima was pulling his shirt over his head, the muscles in his back flexing fantastically with the smooth movement. A few moments later he stepped out from behind the rack, dressed in sleek and slim khaki pants that hugged at his legs a little too snuggly. The stylist rolled the hems up above his ankles and handed him a pair of loafers, which he put on once he reached the tarp and wiped his feet clean of sand.

Your mouth was as dry as the Sahara desert. His personality might be lacking, but he was gorgeous, you had to give him that. Oikawa was pretty in a different way, but he'd never appealed to you in the way this man, Ushijima, was. Even if it was solely physical appeal, you couldn't help but wonder if he had deeper issues than just being nice; he didn't seem rude, just blunt, the more you thought about it, one of those silent types that your mother adored.

You didn't like that your tastes skewed close to hers.

"[Name], up on the stool," the director yelled over rising winds. Your hair whipped into your face. "Ushijima, stand in front of her. Yes, just like that, now move a little to the left—right there. Now [Name], wrap one arm around his neck and the other under his arm and over his back."

You looked Ushijima in the eye from your slightly elevated height. He was eye level with you now and raised his eyebrows.

"Are you okay with me…?" You motioned to your breasts and then mimed wrapping your free arm around his neck.

"Oh. Yeah." He shuffled closer and when the stool trembled under shifting sand, his hands shot up to steady you at the waist, just under the ribs. His thumbs almost touched, his hands were so large. "Are you okay?"

At least he was trying to be considerate. You removed your other arm and steadied yourself on his shoulders, faintly hearing the click of cameras already going. "There, I should be okay now. You can let go if you want."

You heard his frown, more than saw it, as you hooked your right arm around his neck and the other under his bicep, draping your hand loosely over his left shoulder blade. His hand came up to your back to hold you steady, pressing between your shoulders and unintentionally pushing your breasts and upper body into his chest. "I don't want you to fall."

Ushijima was pleasantly warm, you noted, and shifted slightly so the director could get your face better. When your nipples, hard from the cold, dragged against his chest, you could have sworn you heard him take a deep inhale and exhale sharply, but over the wind it was hard to tell.

"Thanks," you said, as normally as you could make it. It was a whisper and almost directly in his ear. His hand tightened subtly against the skin of your side.

A few clicks of a shutter later and the director wasn't satisfied. "[Name], wrap both arms under his and rest your chin on his shoulder."

You did as commanded, even if your body was screaming at the pose you were in and your mind damning Oikawa to hell at the same time. You rested your hands on his shoulder blades, this time your chest and shoulders and torso flush with his. You passed off the goosebumps rising on his skin from the cold, and gave a sultry look to the camera.

"Gorgeous," the director clapped.

They took a few more photos, most of them with you or Ushijima turning your heads to look at the ocean or each other. Every time your gazes met, it was like someone had dropped a nest of bees in your stomach and set them off, and his eyes were dark and intense enough to make shivers go down your spine.

"I'm loving this tension," the director remarked to Ayano and Ushijima's manager. "This is better than anything Oikawa could have produced, I think."

Ayano snorted out a laugh. "Don't let him hear you say that. He'll be offended."

The director chuckled. "Alright, [Name], Ushijima! Ushijima, stand behind [Name] this time and [Name], face him please."

You pirouetted on the stool, Ushijima steadying you by your hips, and shifted behind you, allowing you to grip onto his shoulders and steady yourself when more sand sunk into his footprints.

"Alright, same pose as before except Ushijima, I want you to put your fist in her hair and look at the camera."

It was your turn to get goosebumps when his hand slid up the back of your neck to cradle the back of your scalp, and then close his fist into the hair at the nape of your neck. The steady pressure combined with the sound of his breathing in your ear had you mentally running laps, and in the back of your head, you wondered if he'd had experience in pulling hair—then you flushed when you realized exactly where your thoughts were going.

God, Oikawa was never going to forgive you.

Ayano whistled lowly at the display screen as the camera shutters went off. Ushijima's stare was deadly and the way his fingers were tight in your [color] hair added a flair that made her feel like she was looking in on an intimate moment.

"He's good," she complimented towards Tendou.

"Eh?" The redhead scratched his nose. It was numb from the cold. "His face always looks like that. It's terrifying."

When you and Ushijima parted for a break while the director examined the photos more closely, Ayano watched as Ushijima's fingers lingered on your spine for a moment longer than necessary. Then you locked eyes for a brief moment, caught in your own world, and then you stepped away, hurrying into the jacket that Ayano held out for you.

"What was that?" Ayano asked curiously, watching Ushijima tug on a jacket with his name embroidered on the breast pocket. "That tension was no joke."

"He's dangerous," You  said breathlessly, holding a hand over yout rapidly beating heart. "Jesus, what did his parents feed him? I might faint, Ayano."

"The souls of his enemies?" She joked, and you jabbed her in the ribs. "Seriously though, maybe you should explore that sometime. I haven't seen you like that since Kuroo."

You wrinkled your nose. "He'd be happy to hear you say that. I still need to call him and see how Kenma's doing."

Ever since your ex-boyfriend had come out as bisexual to you a few months ago, two years after you'd broke things off cleanly, you'd been his staunch supporter when his parents had shunned him and Kenma. While your relationship might not have been what you both wanted, you were still good friends, and had been there for each other through thick and thin. So when Kuroo introduced Kenma, a rising video game streamer, as his boyfriend, you'd cried alligator tears of joy and hugged the life out of him.

You and Kenma got along like a house on fire, to Kuroo's relief and slight worry. You made more than one guest appearance on his streams, and being a famous face, people started shipping you in a poly relationship with the both of them. Even though it was a joke, you'd caught Kenma and Kuroo eyeing you thoughtfully more than once and you were adamant that a poly relationship wasn't what you wanted or needed, even though you loved them both.

Kenma had shrugged dismissively and said,"We might convince you one day."

Coming from him, it was a vow and not a promise. You'd laughed it off and Ayano saved the day with a phone call, but you knew he was dead serious about it. Even Kuroo had been interested in the idea, saying he wouldn't mind it at all.

You weren't sure how you felt about that.

"What's wrong with Kenma?" Ayano inquired.

"He's caught some parasite from a bad batch of sushi. He's been in and out of the hospital for a while since he can't fully get rid of them, so I like to check in and see if they need anything." You shrugged. While Kenma made good income streaming, he couldn't do it while he was ill, so you had been subtly paying their bills. Kuroo's chemistry teaching job didn't pay as well as you'd like either. You'd thought about lending your Tokyo penthouse to them since you never used it, but Kuroo would be hesitant to accept the offer. "Last I heard he was able to keep fluids down and was working on soup."

"Hm. I hope he's okay," Ayano hummed. "I know Kuroo's been struggling lately."

You nodded sadly in agreement. Kuroo never ceased to amaze you with how thoughtful and unselfish he was; he'd drop anything for Kenma in a heartbeat, or you if it came to it, and you almost pitied him because all he had was Kenma and you.

Before you could say more, the director called for you and you shed your jacket morosely. Ushijima stood with his dogs and you stepped hesitantly beside him, looking to the director for directions.

"We're going to take one last shoot and then we'll be packing up for the day," he announced and you sighed in relief. You'd finally be out of the cold. "Ushijima, you'll be sitting on the stool this time. [Name], you'll be sitting in his lap and facing the camera. I'll direct you after that."

You avoided Ushijima's gaze as best you could as you both made your way to the tarp. The edges fluttered as the wind pushed it up, but you toed them down and waited for Ushijima to get comfortable on the stool. It was a bit small for him so he had to spread his legs wider than his pants would allow, planting his feet in the sand so he wouldn't fall off. It was almost hilarious.

"Nevermind! [Name], you'll have to straddle his left thigh. Ushijima, once she's settled, I want you to wrap an arm around her breasts and the other around the waist of her shorts. [Name], I want you to reach back and wrap an arm around his neck and use the other to hold on to the arm around your waist."

This just couldn't get any worse, could it? You pleaded to the gods that he wouldn't be able to read you like an open book and carefully lifted your leg over his thigh, using all of your weight to keep yourself steady. You couldn't avoid pressing the crotch of your shorts to his thigh, his leg was too long and your feet barely touched the ground. His thigh flexed between your legs and you had to swallow a tiny gasp that threatened to break free. You had to reassure yourself that he was probably as uncomfortable as you were. That was all that would get you through this.

He made sure not to let you have an accident in front of the cameras, shielding your breasts from view with his arm while you wrapped an arm around his neck and rested your fingers on the soft stubble at the nape.

When you were in position and had your best model face on, the director adjusted the camera lens to focus more on the way Ushijima was a hair's breadth away from touching his nose to the pulse in your throat and his lips to your shoulder. Then, he zoomed out and focused more on the image as a whole, chattering to the editor about how the red of the cold could be edited out.

You couldn't help but relax into Ushijima's warmth the more the cold got to you. He didn't seem to mind; if anything, his grip tightened, and you heard him sigh into your ear. The only thing driving you insane was the way he kept flexing his thigh between your legs; he kept stiffening up and forcing himself to relax, and you had to fight off the arousal that kept building within you every time you remembered that he was touching you as intimately as a man could.

While the director pointed at something you couldn't see on screen, Ushijima stiffened up again and shifted his weight just a little, but it was enough to drag the harsh seam of the shorts against your pulsing clit. You couldn't stop the shaky, small gasp that escaped you, so quiet it was drowned out by the ocean. Except Ushijima—he heard you. You could feel his eyes burning into the side of your face and a blush crept up your cheeks. He couldn't have known—

PART TWO.

MASTERLIST.

[thatsjustrwde]

For the RWBY character prompt thing: you gotta tell me about Ironwood for sure! And if somebody already asked, how's about Qrow? :)

OH BABEY A DOUBLE (I’m gunna put Qrow in a separate post to avoid making this too long) thank you so much!

Warning: This is a PRO IRONWOOD POST. I also go into team RWBY taking responsibility for their abuse towards Ozpin. Don’t read this if you don’t like it. You’ve been warned

My top three two ships for Ironwood

1) Ironqrow (Ironwood x Qrow) {Volumes 3-7}

I have loved the idea of these two since the fall of beacon. When they first interacted, I wasn’t too sure about them because it seemed like they didn’t really like each other.. but that scene where all the robots were turning on beacon and Qrow spotted ironwood, ran at him with his scythe, only to jump over him and save him from a Grimm, sold the ship to me. It was clear that they didn’t actually despise each other. Qrow wasn’t quick to point fingers; he knew that what was going on wasn’t James’ fault, and he even tried to add a little bit of comic relief to the scene. (When ironwood’s ship fell, and Qrow smirked “well, it won’t be much of a walk”)

My love for the ship was reinforced in v6 (yeah I know it was the fan service volume but I’m rolling with it anyway). Qrow knew that they HAD to get to ironwood in order to complete their goal. He trusted James, and he knew that he was a smart and capable leader who would know what to do (ah,, the good old days ;;)

And then in the early episodes of v7, their bickering that we once saw in v3 was non existent. They were happy to see each other, and James even initiated a hug. He was just so relieved to see him ;; it made my heart melt, I remember posting about this moment so much, all over instagram and tumblr. I loved them so dearly.

2) Ironwood x Glynda (idk if they have a ship name)

God,, I always loved them. that scene in v2 with Ironwood and Glynda standing together in the dead of night looking over the city of vale was so special to me. I love Glynda and her character, she is so dynamic. that scene with her and ironwood showed to us that she truly respected and cared for him and his well-being. She was worried for him as well. I just wish they had more interactions before his death. they would have been very sweet and POWERFUL together.

My three least favourite ships for Ironwood

1) Ironqrow {Volumes 7-8}

Oh boy. RT really knows how to take something good and just, ruin it huh.

I feel as though I don’t need to dive too deep into this (as I’ll be covering Ironwood’s fall from grace later) but yeah... The fight with Qrow and Clover was.. unfortunate. Everyone seemed to lose their braincells in that scene, and the moment it was over, Qrow was dead set on killing Ironwood for some reason even though he was the one who decided to side with a literal murderer, but go off MKEK you really did something there...

Yepp this absolutely killed the ship for me in canon (though I stilln love thinking about them out of the canon setting), I was an absolute wreck after this scene. they deserved better.

2) Ironwood x Winter

don’t worry I’m not about to pull the “IRONWOOD WAS AN ABUSIVE FATHER FIGURE AND GROOMED HER CAREERRHYUGGHR” no.

I always saw Ironwood as a POSITIVE father figure to winter, even before v7. We knew that winter was one of his best soldiers, and was most likely one of his students before then. I believe that Ironwood gave winter a chance at something great, to leave her actual abusive father and hone her skills as a soldier instead of becoming the heiress to a company that she did not want to be tied to. I believe Ironwood was a stellar father figure and role model to her, and that is the reason why I do not ship them. their relationship was so much deeper than that. it was found family.

3) Ironwood x Salem

What the fuck. Like actually what? This was a thing? What is it with this fandom and glorifying abusive relationships... I remember seeing a lot of people trying to justify it like “awh salem was so sweet with him she just wanted him to stop fighting. She would leave him alone after!!” Thats manipulation honey, we don’t fuck with that here. no. Absolutely not

My biggest criticism for Ironwood

See: the reason I made this side blog

It’s no secret to us in the RWDE community that his fall into the role of the villain was POORLY WRITTEN AND WE ALL HATE IT SO FUCKING MUCH. where the hell did this even come from? oh I know! TEAM RWBY LYING TO HIS FACE AFTER HE WAS NOTHING BUT KIND AND GENEROUS TO THEM. god I’m heated already.

I’ve talked about his stupid semblance before but it doesn’t even matter because his semblance wasn’t the cause of his descent anyway. We were all HOPING that it was but nope! it was him “losing his humanity” because he lost his other arm. How fucked up is that.

Shitty writing aside, I know James had flaws even before the shitshow that was v7-8, but honestly there was nothing he did that I can criticize harshly. He was a good and honest man with good intentions and a pure, big heart made of gold. Of course he made mistakes and of course he wasn’t perfect, but he was always trying to do the right thing to protect the people. He was a good man until MKEK decided they needed a reason to kill off another headmaster.

My favourite thing about Ironwood

his MUSCLES

His willingness to sacrifice himself to save others. During the fall of beacon he told the students that they didn’t have to stay, even though he could have used the help greatly. But he KNEW that they weren’t ready to handle a crisis like this, and he didn’t want to force them into a responsibility that could have left them emotionally/physically damaged, or worse.

During the Ironwood and Watts fight, IRONWOOD MANGLED HIS OWN ARM TO CAPTURE WATTS. He was so headstrong and brave and he wanted to do everything he could to prevent Salem, even if that meant hurting himself and losing another part of himself. God I miss him so much ;; I’m tearing up a little writing all of this...

A head canon I have for Ironwood

I love creating head canons for characters, it always makes them feel more real to me. one of my biggest head canons is that, in a peaceful world setting, he would enjoy sleeping in on the weekends. ;;. He is a headmaster AND a general which means he has to follow a strict schedule all the time. Maybe this is coming from my desire to take care of him and make sure he is happy and healthy and not stressed out.. But yeah, lazy Sundays, sleeping in late. pls let him sleep he needs so much sleep. What I would change about Ironwood if I were making a rewrite

Strap in kiddos I’ve been thinking about this for a very long time. I’m sure that someone has come up with a similar concept, but I will share my ideas anyway (: I am going to preface this by saying that for this rewrite to work, we need to have Winter receive the Winter maiden powers from Freya in V7.  To start, we will have to go back all the way to v2 when Ironwood was first introduced. I would have Ozpin and Glynda share their concerns to each other about Ironwood bringing all of his ships to look over the festival, but I would take that time to thoroughly explain his semblance. His semblance is stupid, so I would make some changes. To start off, I wouldn’t make it passive. The way it is now is just,, a weird way to give him a mental illness without actually giving him a mental illness. Activating it would have to be a decision that he made if he knew that he had to make decisions that would be hard for him. This way if his semblance caused him to do something actually horrible, he would be directly accountable for it, instead of blaming him for something that he couldn’t control. Semblances are a representation of the user, so with time and with more stress put onto Ironwood, I could see him falling victim to his own semblance if he were to abuse it too much. This will help as we lead into a better way to write his fall from grace. 

From there, I would keep pretty much everything the same until we get to v7. Team RWBY arrives in Atlas and gets arrested and brought to Ironwood just as they do in canon. This time, however, we have Oscar explain EVERYTHING. No lying. Salem cannot be killed. Oscar explains that Ozpin shut himself off after team RWBY forced the truth out of him, and while the truth is a lot for Ironwood to handle, he understands why Ozpin kept it a secret. He shuns team RWBY for their methods and explains why their actions were unnecessary and abusive, but agrees to help them anyway since he knows that they all need to come together if this is going to work. Hence, his arc kind of goes backwards. Instead of team RWBY having his trust from the beginning, they will need to work to gain it back. 

He takes Oscar under his wing to try and draw Ozpin back out. He greets Qrow, they fall in love, he also formally introduces the team to the Ace Ops. The Ace Ops take an IMMEDIATE backseat in the story. We don’t need more characters. For the sake of this rewrite specifically, they are barely around. We are focusing on Ironwood and his growth/relationships. I would explore more times to show the deep connection between him and Winter. As I said earlier, I see him as a healthy father figure for her, so I would definitely focus on that for a bit. At this point, Winter would not have received the maidens power yet, so we could have a scene of him assuring her that she is a perfect fit for the role, and encouraging her and just,, you know, solidifying that he wasn’t pressuring her into doing it. 

Carrying on with the main plot, instead of being left in the dark for the whole season, Ironwood is already aware that Salem cannot be killed. This gives him and the rest of the team a lot of time to work on a new plan to defeat her. They spend lots of time training, Ironwood takes care of them, offering his resources to them. Overtime the team do start to gain his trust little by little again, but this will all kinda fall apart when Salem arrives. 

With stress levels higher than ever, he activates his semblance. Team RWBY and friends KNOW about his semblance and they understand why he is acting irrationally. Maybe they have different ideas than him, but they would not directly oppose him. This completely fixes him from becoming a cartoon villain. Team RWBY and friends would work WITH Ironwood at a distance to fix amity and get global communications back up safely. From there, Ironwood could deliver a message to the world about Salem. Since people know who he is, it will make the message more impactful. Just like he did with his message to Mantle.

Qrow and Winter are positives in his life. They keep trying to ground him and bring him back to reality, but he will not deactivate his semblance. He is too scared of what’s to come with Salem. They support him in this, and do not turn their back on him. 

Winter receives the maiden’s power, and is told to open the vault to obtain the staff and raise atlas further into the sky to save his people. Winter agrees, why wouldn’t she? They have already evacuated most of mantle to atlas anyway. In situations like this it’s impossible to save everyone. RWBY could whine and bitch if they wanted to, but there is nothing they could do in this situation because, for the sake of this rewrite, they wouldn’t be as stupid as they are in the canon proper. 

The vault is open and the staff is vulnerable. It is in this moment that the ACTUAL VILLIAN comes into play. Watts took advantage of the security from behind the scenes, giving Salem the exact time that the vault was open. And thanks to him overhearing everything, he knows that all she needs to do is use the staff, and Atlas will fall. Salem appears in the room, and the big finale battle would occur. They weren’t ready yet. They hadn’t finalized the plan to stop her without killing her. Team RWBY Oscar and Qrow would do their best to keep Salem distracted while Winter and Ironwood speak to the staff. Meanwhile, Neo could breach Ironwood’s office and retrieve the relic of knowledge for Salem. 

The battle plays out, she keeps coming back, the team gets tired, Salem loses her patience and just PLOWS through them to get to the staff. She enters the realm and the mystical world around them begins to shatter and break. With that much concentrated evil in this place coming up out of nowhere, it would be sure to shift the balance. 

She goes head to head against Winter and Ironwood for the staff. She knows that using the staff will cause Atlas to come crashing down, so that is exactly  what she does. Since he is already out, she just gives him a command. It doesn’t matter what it is. Atlas starts to fall. She strikes a lethal blow to Ironwood (Keeping the theme of her killing headmasters) and flees with the staff. Qrow runs to his side, he and winter are crying, Team RWBY is upset, OZPIN IS UPSET. With his aura broken and his semblance down, he smiles at them all, says that he is proud of them for their work and he knows that they will find a way to defeat her. He tells them to get out and save themselves, save as many people as they can. They do that, but for further angst, Qrow stays with him, holding him and crying against him as Atlas falls. Team RWBY use the gravity dust keeping Atlas falling slowly to their advantage. They get as many people as they can into airships and send them to mistral. They then make their own way to Vacuo... Since global communications are back up, the world would know about this. This would give Shade academy a good chance to prepare. (damn I could write a fic)

What I think of Ironwood’s allusion and what I would change.

It’s dumb the way that CRWBY has portrayed it. In the story of the Wizard of Oz, the tin man doesn’t have a heart, but learns to love overtime. I used THIS aspect for helping my rewrite of Ironwood. He was hardened at the beginning, but managed to trust again and eventually smiled and said that he was proud of team RWBY and friends in his dying moments. It’s just more impactful that way I think. 

[kinglazrus]

Not Your Danny – Ch 6. Obsessions

Previous | First | Next | FFN | AO3

Word count: 3109

Eventually, Dani has to go back to Fenton Works. She stays with Sam and Tucker at the mall for a few hours, enjoying their company; but, as the afternoon wanes and evening draws near, their hangout time comes to an end.

"I can't believe my parents are making me stick to a curfew. I'm eighteen. I didn't have a curfew a month ago," Sam says when she notices the time.

"A month ago, they didn't know you part-time as a ghost hunter. I can't believe they made your curfew eight," Tucker says.

They manage to hit a couple more stores before Sam has to go, and even swing by the food court again to grab some food-to-go. By the time Dani goes home, she has four bags of new clothes plus a box of pizza all to herself.

"Here." Tucker leans across the passenger seat and holds something out to Dani.

When she takes it, shuffling the shopping bags around her arms so she has a free hand, she notices that it's a cellphone. Basic, with a touch screen.

"It's pre-paid. I have a bunch, so don't worry about it. Mine and Sam's numbers are on there, so you can text us if you want to hang out again."

Dani clutches the phone to her chest. "Thank you."

"No problem."

Dani waits until Tucker has pulled away before turning toward the house. It's hard to tell with the curtains drawn, and the harsh glow of the Fenton Works sign splashed across the building, but it looks as if the lights are off inside. A quick scan of the street shows that Jazz's car is gone, although she could have parked around back, or by the garage instead. Dani heads up to the front door and tries the knob. It doesn't budge.

Rather than trying the doorbell or knocking, she goes intangible and walks right through the door. Inside, the lights are off, just as she suspected. She doesn’t bother turning them on. With her enhanced vision, she can see perfectly well in the dark, albeit in dark, muted shades.

In the kitchen, she finds a note from Jazz: Mom and Dad out testing weapons. I will be at Spike's. There's food in the fridge. Dani doesn't know who Spike is.

When she peeks in the fridge, she finds a tin-foiled plate of meatloaf waiting for her, as promised. She doesn't bother with it, though, taking her pizza up to Danny's room instead. The house without the Fentons there feels... pretty much the same. Without the ambient noise of Jazz's typing or Jack's distant footsteps, the house is far quieter than Dani has ever heard it. Even at night, Maddie's chainsaw snores—which surprises Dani more than it annoys her—keep the house from falling completely silent.

Now, there's nothing but Dani's soft breathing.

It's quiet, and yet, the house feels no less empty than it always does.

She deposits the shopping bags at the foot of Danny's bed and takes her pizza to his desk. Since arriving, she has cleared away enough clutter that the box can fit, although it's a tight squeeze. One side of the box rests on top of the keyboard. She looks between the greasy cardboard and the keys, wondering if it might wreck them. There shouldn't be enough grease that it will leak through, but she decides not to risk it.

Dani lifts the box and shoves the keyboard aside. It smacks into the base of the Challenger's display case, sending it toppling over the edge of the desk.

"No!" Dani throws herself out of the chair, reaching for the model. Her fingers skim the glass but miss. Blind panic fills her and something in her chest bursts. A bright glow launches from her palms and surrounds the case.

The model jerks to a stop a mere inch from the floor.

Dani's heart hammers in her chest. The horrible realization of what would have happened if she missed drains the blood from her face. Careful not to make any sudden moves, she pushes herself onto her knees, arms still outstretched. A thin thread connects the light surrounding her palm and the display case. It tugs on her, like a sixth finger, each movement sending an unfamiliar ripple up her arm.

Telekinesis is not a rare ability among ghosts. A common power, like intangibility, invisibility, and flight, more than half of all spectral entities have some form of it. But unlike those first powers, telekinesis can rely heavily on a ghost's power level and general skill. Where one ghost may struggle to move a toothpick, another can uproot a whole tree with nothing more than a thought.

Dani, until this moment, could not use it at all.

When she flexes her fingers, the model drifts toward her. The moment she has it in hand, the light disappears, and the model's weight hits her. Heavier than expected, enough that her arms bow under its sudden presence. She holds the model in a tight embrace as she rises to her feet. With her elbow, she pushes the keyboard out of the way to clear space and returns the display case to the desk.

After a moment's consideration, Dani nudges the model closer to the middle of the desk. Even if it makes things tighter, she doesn't want that to happen again

She returns to the chair, but rather than eating her pizza, her focus stays on the model. It looks undamaged inside the case, still fixed to its wooden base. At a glance, it seems sturdy enough that it could hold up to a bit of knocking around. A hard smash to the floor would probably do it in, though. The thought makes her stomach twist.

With most of Danny's things, their importance still eludes her. Now that she has her own clothes, and a phone, it's starting to dawn on her why people like things. It's nice, to speak frankly. Being able to have something, to keep it somewhere and return to it, is a nice feeling. But then there are feelings attached to the items, too.

Jack said this model was Danny's favourite. Dani has no way of knowing if she is right about why it was his favourite. It was only a guess based on what she knew of her cousin, what he thought of his parents. Danny didn't smile a lot when it came to them, at least not as far as Dani saw. Maddie and Jack rarely came up during cousin bonding time unless they came after Dani and Danny while they were hanging out. But, sometimes, Danny would smile so bright at the mention of his parents.

If he had done well on a test and they congratulated him. If they took him to the planetarium. If they went stargazing recently. None of these things happened often, but when they did, and Danny told her about them, his smile would be so bright Dani found it hard to look at.

Thinking about her new clothes, Dani wonders if the smile she can feel on her face is just as bright as Danny's had been.

"I'm sorry I lost the music player you got me," she says to the Challenger. "I didn't realize how important it could have been." She shrugged it off at the time. Even now, what little guilt she feels over it stems from losing something that could have been dear to her rather than something that wasdear.

How many things has she lost that could have been important? She already knows the answer: far too many.

—

Jazz was distracted during the funeral. She tried to hide it, but Jack knew his daughter all too well. As she gave her final goodbyes to Danny, she kept wiping her eyes and looking over the crowd, her gaze searching. Jack looked over his own shoulder a few times, trying to see what Jazz was searching for. He couldn’t find it, obviously.

There weren't many people in the crowd. Immediate family; Sam and Tucker, plus their parents; Valerie came, as well, along with Casper High's vice-principal. Jack had no other family to speak of besides his wife and children—now child. And the only relative still in contact with Maddie, her sister, could not make it in time. Jack understood although it hurt.

Over the past few months, Danny had grown closer with his aunt. Jack wasn't sure when it happened, and it took him a while to catch on. Maddie and Alicia spoke on the phone at least twice a month since Alicia didn't have a cellphone or internet. It was standard practice for Maddie to drag one of the kids into the conversation to say hi. Jazz always went willingly. Danny usually complained.

However, at some point, his complaints stopped. If Danny caught Maddie on the phone, he would eagerly jump into the conversation. He even started shooing out whoever was in the room. Jack blamed it on teenage antics. It wasn't until Jack caught the tail end of one of their conversations that he realized something had changed.

Danny sat at the kitchen table, phone to his ear. When Jack entered, he sat up straighter.

"I'll try and bring it up next time I see her. Not sure when that will be, but her birthday's coming up." Danny paused as the person on the other end replied, then nodded. "Cool. Bye Auntie Alicia, love you."

"Alicia? Don't you think your mother would have liked to say goodbye before you hung up?" Jack asked.

Danny set the phone down on the table. "That'd be weird since Mom didn't call her. Is she even home right now?"

Now that Jack thought about it, no, she wasn't. Maddie went to the store nearly an hour ago to buy cookie fixings. "Good point!" Now that Jack was paying attention, he saw the phone on the table was Danny's cell and not the house phone. "Was she leaving you a message for Maddie?"

"No, I called her."

"Plans for your mom's birthday next month?"

"Nope." Danny stood up and pocketed his phone. "I'm going to Sam's. See you later."

Jack paid more attention after that. There were other phone calls, always the same, where Danny would find somewhere private to talk. Sometimes he clammed up when Jack walked in and quickly ended the conversation. Once, Jack thought he caught Danny crying. It was late. Jack himself had only gotten home a little while ago thanks to a particularly nasty ghost attack that day. For nearly twenty minutes, he and Maddie had chased the ghost boy, trying to catch him while he was down. Phantom was a damn good flyer, though, even when injured.

The first thing Jack did when he got home was check on the kids, and that's how he found Danny curled up beside his bed, his phone cradled against his ear. Every blanket in the room was pulled tight around him.

"I don't know if I can do it anymore," Danny had said. "It keeps getting harder, and today I just–" his voice cracked.

The moment that followed was quiet. Not a single sob escaped Danny, but his shoulders shook. Jack was about to step inside when Alicia's voice, strong and steady, so loud in the silence, came from the phone.

"You're gonna be okay, kiddo."

Jack didn't go inside. Maybe he should have. Danny asked several times when they would be visiting Alicia next after the phone call. Every time he asked was like a punch to the got, but Jack never spoke up. If Danny wanted to come to him, then he could. If he was more comfortable talking to Alicia about this mystery problem, that was fine too.

He'll come to me when he needs to. Jack kept telling himself that until the day Danny died.

—

Jazz hoped she might see Dani in the crowd. A small part of her whispered that maybe she had missed Dani, glanced away right as she appeared. But, considering how few people were in attendance, that seemed unlikely. Beyond that, if a halfa did not want to get seen, they would not be seen.

Which brought Jazz to another guest she expected, although did not welcome: Vlad. Her worrying proved pointless, though, when he never showed up. As the lingering crowd thinned, Danny's friends and loved ones saying their final goodbyes, Jazz searched the heads once more. No red beanie or glowing white hair, and no pompous ponytail.

At the first opportunity, Jazz pulled Sam and Tucker aside. "Have either of you seen Dani?"

"Uh... is this some kind of joke?" Tucker asked. He glanced none too subtly toward the freshly filled grave. Sam at least had more tact and waited for Jazz to elaborate.

"Dani-with-an-i."

"Oh." Tucker shook his head. "No. We've been trying to contact her, but there isn't a great way to reach her. Left some messages with some ghosts, but that doesn't help if she's not in the Ghost Zone right now."

"She isn't." Jazz checked on the whereabouts of her parents. They were nearer the grave, speaking solemnly with Angela and Maurice Foley. Most importantly, they were well out of earshot. "I saw her at Fenton Works last night, but she ran away."

"Damn." Sam lifted the black veil hanging from her hat, revealing red eyes and smudged makeup. "I hope she's okay. Did she say anything before she left?"

Jazz hesitated. Although the whole exchange only lasted a few seconds, it had yet to leave her mind, for reasons she was ashamed to admit. And yet, no matter how guilty she felt about her initial reaction to Dani, she could not forget about it.

"No," she said. "Dani saw me and bolted. She might have thought I was my mom since it was so dark."

"We'll have to keep an eye out for her. I don't if she would stay without Danny here, but it's not like she has anywhere else to go, either," Sam said.

"I will, too. I thought she might show up here, but..."

"Sammykins!" Pamela Manson called from the cemetery gate. She tapped her wrist, although she wore no watch. "There's a crowd forming, dear."

Jazz grimaced at the sight beyond the funeral gates. A small gathering of Danny Phantom fans stood on the sidewalk, some bearing signs, all dressed for mourning. It was the most inappropriate display she had ever seen. None of them had breached the cemetery, but Jazz suspected that was because of the hired security standing at the gate and not the onlooker's own sense of morality.

She dreaded what the crowd might do as soon as she and her family left.

Sam scowled. "I can't believe them. I get if they want to mourn the local hero, but this is such gross behaviour." She looked remarkably like her mother as she hissed those words, her lip curling in disgust as she glared at the onlookers.

Jazz agreed wholeheartedly.

"I'll text you as soon as my mom takes me off house arrest," Sam told Tucker. "Jazz, let us know if you see Dani again. I'll sleep a little easier knowing she's alright."

Jazz nodded and gave her guarantee.

—

Vlad has lost obsessions before. Most well-balanced ghosts have. Any experienced ghost knows to have a few central obsessions and a handful of smaller ones. Latch on to a passing interest hard enough and all it takes is a little dedication to turn that into a full-blown obsession. Then, once it becomes tedious, let it go and move on to something else.

There have been some obsessions that he lost against his will. He once had a bonsai tree, a nice juniper, that he loved dearly. It went up in flames with his Wisconsin mansion the first time Danny destroyed his home. Vlad felt the loss like a bitter sting. At the same time, his determination to capture Danny for himself only grew, overwhelming painful prickle. Every slight against him only fuelled his desire more. Never had he fought so hard for something without immediate success. It made the game that much more fun.

And it was a game. Danny learned fast, but there was so much he didn't know, couldn't do. It was so easy to toy with him, egg him on, guide him to new abilities. The potential within him was limitless. Vlad could have overwhelmed Danny in seconds but there's no fun in that.

Perhaps that's why it was so easy for his other obsessions to slip away without him noticing.

He drifts through the halls of his mansion, familiar yet alien at the same time. On the landing, he drags his hand along the bannister, dust gathering against his fingers. His limb flickers, wispy blue, jumping sporadically in and out of intangibility. He designed the balustrades himself, inspired by the first twisted haunts he discovered within the Ghost Zone.

The wood cracks and splinters as his fingers solidify while passing through.

Before him, the front hall looms. Vast, open, a point of pride in every mansion he has owned. Better to impress the guests with a grand display upon entry. Now he finds it suffocating. All his hours of work, his obsessions wasted. Where simply looking upon his walls once filled him with pride, now they sicken him.

There is nothing for him here.

He went to such desperate lengths. Threats, bribery, manipulation, cloning. Nothing ever worked. Each new failure cut him deeper, made him more desperate, more eager. No. No, that wasn't right. He was subtle, clever, controlling an oblivious pawn in a cruel game. The winner, the mastermind. The cloak, not the dagger. The cat, not the mouse. But still always losing. Surely something he had to work this hard for, harder than anything in his life, had to be worth it.

And then, in an instant, in the span of an ectoblast, his obsession died.

"Maddie." Vlad moans, voice breaking. "Maddie. Maddie. Maddie." His please reach no one who cares. All his attempts to reach out, reforge that connection they once had, have been rebuffed.

"Maddie." Once, not so long ago, the sound of her name alone was enough to light his core ablaze.

But when, when, when, how, somewhere along the way that warmth died.

"Madeline, I need you." Please, please. Don't leave me to this. Don't go.

The cold wind whips against him, not unusual for an October day, but it startles him, nonetheless. He hunches halfway down the drive, the empty halls of his mansion long behind. He could return home, but... no. Home won't help him now.

Previous | Next

[salty-ironstrange-shipper]

Being Known Is Being Loved

being known is being loved

“i know your pizza order” “you have freckles on your ears” “you make this face when you’re tired” “you order green tea on a good day black on a bad day” “you always make that face before you try something” “the tips of your ears turn red when you’re angry” “i knew you’d say something” “you must be exhausted to miss the class” “your favorite pie is pumpkin, right?” “i know your phone number, don’t worry” “you miss me, i can tell” “you fiddle with your pens when you’re bored” “you don’t like converse unless they’re high tops” “your favorite cereal is cinnamon toast crunch and you first ate it when you were 8”

being known is being loved.

(@natasharxmanov) (post since deleted, see here and here)

(read on ao3)

“You do that thing with your tongue when you’re curious or excited.”

Tony stopped, feeling air brush against his stomach where his tank top had ridden up. His hands carefully caressed the new arc reactor model, even as the rest of him focused his attention on the man sitting on the workshop’s sole couch. “Huh?”

Stephen’s ears turned red, as though even he didn’t know why he’d spoken. “I said, you do that thing with your tongue when you’re curious or excited.” He gestured at Tony’s mouth, trying to replicate the little tongue-rolling gesture.

It didn’t really work, but Tony smiled anyway. “I never noticed.”

“Yeah, well . . .” Stephen shrugged before looking away almost snappishly, returning his attention to the research he had open on his laptop. “I noticed.”

*

“Because they’re your favorite flower.”

“You can’t blame me!” Tony insisted, trying to defend himself as Stephen wrestled the urge to laugh. “I thought it was a good idea!”

“How was sending me flowers that I’m allergic to a good idea in your head?”

They were standing against the railing on the Brooklyn Bridge, looking out on the East River. They’d finished their Chinese takeout as the sun set, and now they were enjoying the display of white and gold lights on the blackened water. Tony had his back to the river, speaking with grand, sweeping gestures of his hands as he tried to justify himself to a laughing Stephen, who was leaning over the metal bar as though daring the water to rise up and take him.

“Because, they’re your favorite flower.”

Stephen shook his head, brow scrunching. “What?”

Tony nodded insistently. “They are! Whenever we walk by a flower shop, or a store with flowers in it, you stop to look at the lilies.” He paused before adding. “I know remember that it was usually from a distance.”

Stephen tilted his head, trying to think. He guessed that was true. He’d always thought they were pretty, particularly the stargazers like the ones Tony had sent to his office at the hospital. And he wasn’t even the type to care for flowers or other naturey things like that. He definitely hadn’t thought Tony had cared to notice.

Tony had his head tilted back, looking up at the few stars that managed to shine in the light-flooded city. “Maybe I can get someone over at R&D to look into making a new strain . . .”

“Or you could just buy plastic ones,” Stephen suggested, smiling despite himself. “Instead of inventing a new flower.”

“Where’s the fun in that?”

Stephen chuckled. “My mistake.”

*

“You prefer a peppermint stick in your coffee in winter.”

Tony held his hand out, frowning when Stephen ignored him. “Doc? Coffee?”

“Hold on.” Stephen awkwardly held up the cardboard drink tray with one hand while the other fished around one of the pockets in his long, dark-blue wool coat. His eyes, grey today, lit up when he found what he was looking for. “Got it.” He held out a small paper bag. “Take one.”

Tony arched a brow. “There better not be something gross in there.”

“What gross thing would I be carrying around?”

“I don’t know. Brains? Figure they have to go somewhere after you take them out.”

“That’s not what my job is.”

“Sure.” Tony did, finally, reach into the bag, surprised when he pulled out a red-and-white striped candy. “Ooh. Have I earned a treat?”

Stephen rolled his eyes. “You prefer a peppermint stick in your coffee in winter. Thought it would be a good idea to stock up.”

“Man after my own heart,” Tony said blithely, ignoring the warm feeling that stirred in his stomach. He took two sticks, pulling the lid off of his cup when Stephen handed it to him and dropping both inside. It took a few minutes for the flavor to seep into the entire drink. When he finally took a sip, he couldn’t help the not-so-tiny moan that escaped his lips.

Stephen smirked. “Enjoying yourself.”

“Obviously.” He took another long drink before grabbing the front of Stephen’s coat and pulling him in for a kiss,  smiling when Stephen’s tongue ran over his. “Doc, if you wanted a taste, you could get your own candy.”

Stephen stepped forward and away from him as though nothing had happened, enjoying a draw if his own burning hot mocha. “Bold of you to assume I’m sharing again.”

“Oh, that’s just evil.”

*

“You always listen to this album when you’re thinking about your sister.”

“You always listen to this album when you’re thinking about your sister.”

Stephen didn’t bother to look at him, keeping his eyes steadily trained on the water pouring outside their window, the sound of thunder rumbling in the distance, not quite drowned out by the Nirvana soundtrack playing in the bedroom. Everyone now and then, lightning cut through the sky.

“I know.”

Tony nodded as though this was the answer he’d expected. Then he started walking across the room, shutting the door behind him, and crawled into the bed arms opening instinctively to wrap around Stephen’s shoulders as the doctor silently nuzzled his chest and neck.

*

“You always play with your phone so you don’t have to pay attention to this scene.”

“I do not get emotional—”

“Yes you do! You always play with your phone so you don’t have to pay attention to this scene!”

“It’s. SAD, STEPHEN!” Tony snapped back. “The mother whale tries so hard to save her baby, but in the end the goddamned . . . killer whales . . .” Okay, maybe he DID get a little bit emotional when they watched nature documentaries. It wasn’t his fault the circle of life was brutal.

Stephen sighed as Tony completely failed at not being emotional, shaking his head slightly before holding his arms open. “Come here.”

“Thank you,” Tony muttered later as Stephen dutifully fast-forwarded through the scene.

“Don’t worry about it.”

*

“Don’t worry, I know your order.”

“Goddamn—” Stephen pulled his ringing phone out before absently glancing at his fiancé. “It’s work. Do you mind?”

Tony shrugged absently, looking down at his menu. “Don’t worry, I know your order.” He looked up. “The special butternut squash ravioli, right?”

Stephen smiled before leaning forward to brush a kiss against his cheek. “You know me.”

*

“You’re always losing this, so I put a label on the drawer.”

“C’mon . . . where is it . . . I know I left it . . .” Actually, he had no idea where he left it. Giving up, he leaned back on his knees and away from the open compartment. “Jarvis, do you know where—”

“Here,” Stephen said, slipping down from his stool and walking over to a completely different set of drawers on the other side of the room from where Tony was searching. “I’ve got it.”

“You don’t even know what I’m looking for—”

He stopped as Stephen pulled out the exact thing he’d been looking for, a laser cutting tool he often used when making repairs to the armor. Stephen dropped it into his hand as he explained, “You’re always losing this, so I put a label on the drawer.”

Tony couldn’t help the amused expression that crested his lips. “That’s the nerdiest way to say ‘I love you’ I’ve ever heard.”

“Are you complaining?”

Tony scoffed before leaning forward to “innocently” nip at his ear. “No.”

*

“These gloves are easier on your hands, right?”

Stephen stared at the offering in Tony’s fingers, the soft black leather that he knew would be lined with devastatingly soft white fur repurposed from one of Maria Stark’s old wraps. His throat tightened.

“Steph?” Tony said cautiously. “These gloves are easier on your hands, right?”

Forcing himself to move, Stephen nodded sharply before taking them, his own fingers shaking. “Right. Yes.” It took too long to pull them on, but once it was done, it was as though a burden had been lifted, his scarred hands stilling some as they adjusted to the comfortable warmth. “Thanks.”

Tony nodded once before starting to walk away. “Don’t worry about it.”

Stephen stopped him with a gentle hand on his elbow. Tony froze in place as Stephen stepped forward, leaning his forehead against the nape of Tony’s neck. “Thank you.”

Slowly, Tony reached back, pulling one of Stephen’s hands around so it was resting on his stomach then covered it with his own.

*

“You smell different.”

“You smell different.”

Tony paused, looking away from the small herd of children running around the lake house or playing on their phones to face his husband. “Is that a come-on or some kind of sick way to tell me to take a shower?”

Stephen shrugged. “Neither. You’re just . . . different.” He learned forward, being far too open with the fact that he was sniffing Tony’s neck in plain view of everyone. “Are you wearing a new cologne?”

It took Tony a moment to think, somewhat preoccupied by the (annoyingly innocent) feeling of Stephen’s lips brushing over his neck. “Um . . . yeah, actually. I, uh, started using a new one a few years ago. After you, you know.” It was perhaps not the most graceful way to refer to someone being dead for five years, but hoe was he supposed to think with Stephen practically draped over him like this?

Stephen nodded, sitting back slightly. Tony fought the urge to pull him right back. “That’s probably it.” Then he went right back to sitting a respectable inch away from him, watching the children to make sure they didn’t get too close to the water.

Tony hesitated, watching him. “I could . . . go back to using the old one.”

Stephen glanced at him from the side before allowing a small smile to grace his cupid-bow lips. “I’d like that.”

*

“I made sure to get the pens you like.”

“I made sure to get the pens you like,” Tony said casually, passing a paper shopping bag over to his husband, who looked through it with mild interest.

When Stephen looked up, his eyes were mildly amused. “Yeah? And which pens do I like?”

“The blue ones. Inky, so if you hold it still for too long you’ll make a huge mess all over the paper.”

“My favorite.”

“Told you.”

*

“Your arm must be giving you trouble after today.”

Tony winced as he sat down on the bed, head aching as surely as his shoulder. It took a few minutes for him to even start removing the metallic arm for the night.

“Do you want me to run you a bath?” Stephen asked, suddenly appearing on the other side of their bed, even though Tony was sure he hadn’t even been in the house a moment ago. “Robots in Toronto . . . your arm must be giving you trouble after today. The hot water will help.” His hands twitched at his side, as though reminding Tony how his husband knew that.

Tony smiled softly despite himself. “You always know just what I need.”

Stephen returned his gaze, pale eyes soft. “Do you want a bath bomb?”

“Vanilla and rose, please.”

Stephen shook his head good-naturedly. “Pampered little rich boy.”

“Gold digger.”

“You know it.”

“That tub’s big enough for two, right?”

*

“You’re always starving after a trip like that.”

“I’m late,” Stephen said, gritting his teeth as he stumbled through a portal into the dining room. “I know I’m late . . .”

It was immediately obvious that everyone else had gone to bed — but Tony was still there, hunched over the table as he read something on his starkphone. He looked up when he heard Stephen, smiling. “Hey.” The oven light was on. Tony stood, opening it and pulling out a still-warm lasagna, though only half of it left in the (frankly, huge) pan. “Made sure there was plenty left for you. You’re always starving after a trip like that.” He glanced over his shoulder, removing his oven mitts. “When you go all extra-dimensional and all.”

“That’s not really what it’s called.” But Stephen went ahead, feeling the Cloak of Levitation detach itself from his back as he sat down. He smiled as Tony set his plate in front of him. “Thank you. For waiting up.”

Tony smiled that too-bright smile of his, dark eyes almost glowing. “Wouldn’t miss it.”

*

“You have forty-eight freckles on your shoulder.”

Tony shifted in bed, not turning around, but just moving his head enough to catch sight of Stephen tracing lines along his back. “Come again?”

Stephen’s hand, tired and shaking, traced gentle constellation along Tony’s tired back and arms. “You have forty-eight freckles on your shoulders. I must have counted a hundred times by now, and it’s always the same, summer or winter.”

“It’s a universal constant,” Tony said thoughtlessly.

The corner of Stephen’s mouth edged up in a smile. “I hope so.”

*

“Your eyes are always blue in this light.”

Around them, the beach was nearly deserted, a tiny bubble of solitude. They could hear Pepper and Christine corralling the children in the distance. The sun was setting, drops of gold splashing upon the watery horizon. Tony leaned back on his metal red-and-gold arm, gazing at Stephen, who was meditating beside him. He spoke without thinking. “Your eyes are always blue in this light.”

Stephen looked over at him, eyes instinctively opening. Tony smiled. “Yeah. Like that.”

[oldguardhc]

Old Guard hc #36

Prompt number: 2 - “That’s the easy part?”

Fandom: The Old Guard

Rating: PG-13

Warnings/Tags: joe x nicky, fluff

“That’s the easy part?” Nicky asked, mug raised halfway to his lips. Maybe he heard wrong, he hadn’t even finished his fourth cup of coffee yet. Sleep was still threatening to drag him back into its warm embrace and if Nicky didn’t finish this cup soon, he was going to be flinging himself into those arms again.

God, he was so tired. It was 10 a.m. and he was awake.

Nile frowned, her eyebrows drawing in. “You just have to spend the whole day with Joe. Then you bring him back when I text you!” He definitely heard her correctly the first time then. Nicky rubbed a tired hand over his face. Nile made some hand-waving motions in front of him, “What? I thought you’d be glad to be with Joe!”

“I am happy that I will spend the day with Joe,” Nicky responded and took a sip from his mug. The coffee was getting cold, edging towards lukewarm rather than hot. Nicky quickly finished the rest before it became unpalatable and licked his lips before continuing. “The only problem is Joe will know something is up.”

Nile grabbed the coffee pot and topped his mug with fresh, hot, delicious coffee before placing it back in the coffee machine. He hummed in gratitude, cradling the warm mug in his hands. “How could he possibly know something is up? There is nothing significant about this day as far as Joe is concerned.”

Nicky lifted his chin in concession. “That may be, but my Joe is not stupid. He’ll quickly catch on that I’m trying to stall him.”

“You’re telling me that you can’t act normal for one day?” Nicky raised an eyebrow and Nile huffed. “You know what I mean.” He did know what she meant. That didn’t make teasing her any less fun.

“We’ve been together for over 900 years, Nile. That man could probably tell you how many strands of hair I have on my head. He definitely knows when I’m purposely distracting someone.” This was putting aside the fact that half the tricks Nicky used all came from Joe. Joe had a gift for interacting and understanding people. It was something that used to infuriate Nicky. Here was this man who Nicky barely tolerated but made everyone he met practically fawn all over themselves for him.

“Come on, Nicky. Take him to the movies, a museum, the mall. Hell, have a quickie in the parking lot! Just distract him for a couple hours.” There was a desperate gleam in Nile’s eyes and Nicky sighed, hating himself just a tiny bit for being such a sucker. She definitely learned how to do that face from Joe.

Nicky took several gulps from his mug just to be an ass and make her believe that he was still pondering her request. He couldn’t let her think that he was that easily persuaded. At least, not yet. She’ll have plenty of time to learn just how easy he was for the people he loved. “Fine.” Nile let out a victorious crow, clapping her hands together and bouncing on her toes. “Yeah, yeah,” Nicky grumbled, noisily slurping his coffee.

“Alright, get your man out of the house. I’ll text you when to come back!”

Nicky protested as he was pushed out of the kitchen and into the hallway, slumping as he came face to face with his closed bedroom door where his other half remained sound asleep. Releasing a deep sigh, Nicky scratched the back of his head to buy himself a couple more seconds. He really didn’t know how he was going to keep Joe out of the house. It would’ve been so much easier if he had to keep Joe in, he thought wistfully.

Fearing that Nile would come and check in on him any second now, Nicky opened the door. As expected, Joe was still asleep, half covered by the down-comforter, head resting on two pillows, one arm hugging Pedro to his chest. Even 900 years later, Nicky stood in the doorway, frozen and completely helpless to the way his heart started to flutter with the amount of affection he held for this man.

It didn’t take long for Joe’s instincts to kick in. Sensing another presence, Joe stretched out on the bed, slow to blink the sleep out of his eyes. “Nicolò?” His voice was sleep-warm, slightly raspy and elongated vowels. It was music to Nicky’s ears. Nicky placed his mug on the nightstand and crawled into bed next to Joe. Still, Joe shuffled in closer until the only thing between them was Pedro. “What time is it?”

“10,” Nicky answered and Joe groaned, burying his face into the crook of Nicky’s neck. Nicky didn’t think they would have lasted as long as they did if one of them was an early riser. He brought a hand up to bury in the tight curls, using his fingernails to gently scratch at Joe’s scalp.

“Want to go get that new set of oil pastels today?” Nicky asked after several minutes of peace. Joe shook his head. “We can’t stay in here the whole day.” Joe let out a confused whine. “Because-because it’s rude to stay in bed all day. We have to at least last another year before Nile figures us out.” Joe didn’t move for a couple beats. Nicky was starting to feel the beginnings of a cold sweat when Joe finally sighed, nuzzling into his neck a little more before rolling away with a grumble.

Nicky had to resist the urge to close his eyes and sigh. So far, so good.

—

Okay, so maybe he was too optimistic. It took Joe 30 minutes for him to realize that something was up. Nicky had to beg him to play along, promising the new oil pastels and himself as a live model for the whole afternoon. It was an amazing deal and Joe knew it. The only time Nicky was still was in his sleep, on a mission and when reading a book. Having a whole afternoon to draw Nicky in whatever position and scenery? Truly a once in a lifetime offer.

By the time Nicky got the okay from Nile, he was beyond exhausted. Sitting in one position and being admired was hard work. But a deal was a deal and so Nicky had remained in whatever position Joe had arranged him in without a protest, sinking into that headspace he only ever used during missions.

“This surprise must be really good for you to have modeled the whole day,” Joe said, tangling their fingers over the center console. Nicky squeezed his hand, not taking his eyes off the blurred trees outside. They were almost home. He could keep the secret for a little longer. He just had to keep his mouth shut and it would still be a surprise. Sort of. Did it count as a surprise if the person knew that there was a surprise but didn’t know what the surprise was? Nicky decided that yes, it was still a surprise. The actual surprise was still unknown even if the entire event wasn’t.

“I hope you realize how nice I was today. I could’ve made you spill before we even got to the art supply store.” That was a bait. It was a bait. Nicky was confident that there were even studies about this kind of bait. Even with that knowledge, Nicky had to bite his tongue to remain silent, focusing on the sharp pain. “Fine, keep quiet. Don’t think there won’t be payback for keeping me in the dark.” It was a weak threat since Joe brought their joined hands to his lips not a second later.

It took 15 minutes to get home. It was the longest 15 minutes of Nicky’s life. He swore that entire generations lived and died in those 15 minutes. He had endured torture that felt shorter than those 15 minutes.

As soon as the car was put in park, Nicky hopped out of the car and ran to the other side to open the door for Joe. “Come,” Nicky said, extending his hand.

“Now you want me to pay attention to you,” Joe teased but took his hand with a fond smile. With Joe’s hand in a tight grip, Nicky led him inside the house and into the dark living room.

“Uhh, I’m a little confused-“ Joe started.

The lights flicked on.

“SURPRISE!” Nile yelled, followed by Andy and Booker’s weaker attempt. Nicky wouldn’t be surprised if they had spent the whole day practicing and this was their best one yet.

Joe frowned and turned to Nicky, looking utterly adorable with that little furrow and pout. “I’m still confused.”

It was Nicky’s turn to smile and bring their joined hands to his lips. “This was Nile’s idea,” he said, as if that explained everything.

Nile clapped her hands together, drawing their attention back to her. “Remember when we were talking about birthdays?” Joe slowly nodded. “Right! Well, you said you never had a birthday party. So…” She motioned to the balloons taped to every piece of furniture in the living room, the dozens of party streamers, the platters of food on the dining room table.

“It’s not my birthday,” Joe said, still confused.

“Do you even know your birthday?” Nile asked and Joe slowly shook his head. “Exactly. So there’s a .003% chance that today is your birthday and we are celebrating! We got presents, cake, balloons and your favorite foods!”

Joe opened and closed his mouth several times as he took everything in, rendered completely speechless for the first time in what had to be decades. Nicky squeezed his hand, a silent are you okay? It took a moment for Joe to respond yes, a watery smile tugging on his lips. “Thank you, Nile.” Joe sniffed and swallowed the lump that had swelled in his throat. “This is amazing.”  

Nile beamed, looking like sunshine personified. “You’re welcome,” she said. “Everyone deserves to have a birthday party.”

Joe turned to the other two occupants in the room. They were definitely a little tipsy already and Nicky couldn’t blame them. He probably would’ve drank too if he had to tie as many balloons as they did. It was going to take forever to clean all of this party stuff up. “Thank you to you two as well. I know Nile probably bullied you two into helping,” Joe said and Nile let out an indignant, “Hey!”. Both Andy and Booker rolled their eyes in tandem, reluctant smiles gracing their faces and really? They were able to get that down but not the surprise?

“We love you too,” Booker said, pulling out a flask from the inside of his jacket pocket. He took a sip and passed it to Andy.

Andy pointed to Booker with the flask. “What he said,” she said and tipped the flask into her mouth.

Joe tugged on his hand and Nicky turned to look at him, one eyebrow cocked. “Nile said presents. What’d you get me?”

Nicky couldn’t help the baffled laugh. “Who do you think bought you the oil pastels and modeled the whole afternoon?”

Joe’s cheeks dimpled with how wide he smiled. “That doesn’t count,” he declared, lightly clapping Nicky’s hand. “Come on,” he whined, “Present.”

There will be a day where Nicky will finally be able to resist that smile. Where he’ll be able to look at those dimples, the small wrinkles at the corners of those warm brown eyes and not fold faster than wet paper. Today wasn’t that day.

Nicky let out a deep sigh, pursing his lips in feigned annoyance as he reached into his pocket to pull out a small box. Joe snatched it out of his hand with a giddy whoop, tearing through the wrapping paper and throwing the lid to the floor. He pulled out a thick platinum ring, his eyes gleaming similar to what Nicky had always imagined a dragon looking at its treasure would look like.

Joe twisted the ring to look at the inside. “My everything,” Joe read aloud and Nicky wrapped his arms around him.

“Happy birthday, amore.”