#literally the EXACT same carpet holy shit | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

queerquintessence · 3 years

Text

heyo

so i recently have been obsessed with the idea of the voltron paladins living in the same house together sooo

i may or may not have spent the last like 3 hours working on headcannons

the characters in the house are keith, lance, hunk, pidge, and allura

(since they’re all relatively similar in age)

so sadly no shiro or coran but

anyway

yeah here they are

(once again a bit unorganized but it’s whatev)

• first off allura and lance are both housewifes

• and neither of them take any shit from the others

• allura: keith, could you pick your feet up? i’m trying to vacuum down here

• keith, sitting on the couch: couldn’t you just do it later

• allura:

• allura: move your feet or i’m telling lonce you have a crush on him

• hunk does the dishes most of the time because he’s mainly the one who cooks their food

• but they also alternate on a schedule

• lance, sighing dramatically: i do everything around here! keith, when was the last time you washed the dishes?

• keith: i literally washed them last night

• lance: well you missed a plate so it doesn’t count

• keith takes out the trash a lot except he doesn’t wear shoes so his feet are always dirty

• lance yells at him for it

• whenever lance takes out the trash he puts on whoever’s shoes are closest

• pidge: lance are those my shoes?

• lance, tiptoeing in sneakers that are 3 sizes too small: maybe

• the couch that they own is too small to fit everyone

• they either argue for 10 minutes over who gets to sit where or they just pile on top of each other

• pidge usually lays on top of someone’s lap when it gets crowded

• she can just flop on top of someone and they’ll just let her- no words spoken

• keith sits on the armrests and everyone gives him shit for it

• lance: aren’t you uncomfortable?

• keith: i like sitting here

• lance: alright edgelord

• lance lays with his legs sprawled on top of the couch

• sometimes pidge will lay on lance who will have his legs on keith

• hunk is fine with sitting on the floor but even he’ll start arguing over the good spot on the couch

• hunk: lance, buddy, you sat there last time- why not give someone else a turn?

• lance: hunk when was the last time you did your own laundry? huh. that’s what i thought

• dinners pretty chaotic

• that’s usually when they have their debates

• lance, pounding his fist on the table: mac and cheese is to be eaten with a fork and that’s that

• pidge: why the hell would you use a fork? spoons are just fine in my opinion

• keith, silently munching on his food knowing he eats it with a knife:

• pidge: alright, we need to acknowledge the elephant in the room

• everyone:

• pidge:

• pidge: keith, you gotta stop putting corn syrup on your peanut butter sandwiches it’s fucking weird

• allura: everyone in favor of limiting lance’s shakira privileges say I

• keith, pidge, and hunk: I

• lance, who’s totally offended: wh

• luckily, they all have their own rooms

• except the walls are super thin

• lance scream singing beyoncé: GOT ME LOOKING SO CRAZY RIGHT NOW YOUR LOVES GOT ME LOOKING SO CRAZY RIGHT NOW

• keith: why has god forsaken me

• even when they try to play music relatively quiet it can still faintly be heard

• muffled music from keith’s room: when i was, a young boy

• pidge: HA fucking EMO

• they all have Alexa’s in their rooms

• and pidge has access to all of them on her laptop

• pidge: psst- hey lance, watch this

• pidge: *fast typing on laptop*

• blasting from keith’s room: COUNTRYYY ROAAADS TAKE ME HOOOOME

• muffled keith screaming: pIDGE I SWEAR TO GOD

• in the morning during breakfast

• allura: why has lonce not come out of his room yet?

• pidge: hang on, i’ll wake him up

• lance’s alexa in the distance: I’M A GOOFY GOOBER YEAH YOU’RE A GOOFY GOOBER YEAH

• lance’s startled scream is then followed by a loud thud

• once a week they have a movie night

• keith: lance i am not watching a cheesy romcom for the 2nd week in a row

• lance: i have to listen to ‘welcome to the black parade’ eighteen times a day sit the fuck down

• keith, crossed arm for the duration of movie night: this love story is completely unrealistic

• everybody shushes him on cue

• they also have monthly sleepovers in the living room where they giggle like middle schoolers

• keith knocks over an entire bowl of popcorn

• allura discovers the concept of a pillow fight and effortlessly knocks everybody to the ground

• lance flops on the air mattress and launches pidge across the room

• while everyone is trying to sleep

• lance: guys guys i’m gonna say something

• lance:

• lance: mayonnaise

• everybody loses their shit laughing because it’s 2 in the morning and they’re sleep deprived

• the bathroom sink is a mess

• their toothbrushes are color coordinated

• since they have to fit so much shit on the sink they have specific spots where they put their stuff

• pidge: hunk, your toothbrush is in my spot

• hunk: what? no- this corner of the sink is mine

• the debate results in all of them crowded in the bathroom arguing for 10 minutes

• keith: i don’t even remember having a designated spot on the sink

• allura: we need a toothbrush holder

• sometimes they do their nightly routines together

• which is also chaotic

• lance is applying a face mask, which drips onto pidge’s arm

• pidge then jerks her arm away- hitting keith’s toothbrush

• it then catapults off the counter and sticks to the wall

• keith: i left the room for one second what the hell did you do

• i’ve seen this headcannon somewhere before and i love it so i’m elaborating

• whenever keith is tired he’s giddy and hyper and loopy

• keith after not having a good nights sleep for 3 weeks, getting a running start and flipping onto the couch: a woop

• pidge: what in fucks name are you doing

• lance is the same exact way when he’s tired so they act like complete and utter idiots

• keith: lance, hey lance guess what

• lance: what

• keith:

• lance:

• they both burst out laughing

• lance: keith, omg you know what- keith rhymes with teeth

• keith:

• keith: holy shit

• eventually they both burn out and are just exhausted

• lance with his face planted in the carpet: uuuggghghggg

• allura: you finally done?

• lance: *angry muffled grumbling*

• pidge tends to fall asleep anywhere in the house

• usually with her computer on her lap or nearby

• she’s usually discovered the next morning

• hunk walking into the kitchen, sleepily rubbing his eyes: kinda want some orange juice

• pidge is just asleep on top of the fridge

• everyone else eating breakfast at the table

• keith: has anyone seen pidge?

• soft snoring is heard from under the table

• keith: ah

• they just put up with each other’s bullshit all day everyday and i love it

• lance, slamming his bedroom door open: everyone in my room i had a nightmare and need affection

• everyone emerges from their rooms grumbling and all file into lance room with their pillows and stuffed animals

• pidge trying to keep the remote away from lance: go long, hunk!

• keith appearing in the doorway and getting hit straight in the forehead with a remote: fUCK

• lance: are those my socks?

• keith: huh? oh, i dunno they were in my laundry pile

• lance: no those are totally my socks give them back right now

• when they all moved in together it was before keith and lance started dating so obviously there was shipping

• pidge, bursting into hunk’s room: i have klance tea

• hunk: spill

• lance: wh- keith and i are NOT dating

• pidge: you guys literally live together!

• lance: WE ALL LIVE TOGETHER

• allura, to hunk during dinner: i don’t know about you, but it seems to me like keith has a thing for lance

• keith: princess you’re not even whispering we can all hear you

• keith and lance secretly holding hands under the dinner table while lance is telling a story

• lance, being dramatic and expressive, lifts his hands in the air to accidentally reveal that his hand is intertwined with keith’s and its immediate chaos

• keith letting go immediately: wH HUH HOW DID THAT GET THERE

• pidge: I FUCKING TOLD YOU

anywayyy that’s all

i literally love this so much so don’t be surprised if i come up with some more later

yeah

bye

#lmao whoops i was so tired when i posted this i forgot to tag it #in my defense #it was 1:30 am #vld #voltron #vld headcanons #queerquintessence hcs #klance #kl #voltron funny #voltron legendary defender

282 notes · View notes

bangtan-sonyeonddaeng · 4 years

Text

~Jungkook soulmate AU~

It’s that same dream again. You’re standing on stage in front of tens of thousands of people. They are all shouting your name, but you can’t hear whose name they are saying. You look to your left and can make out 6 other guys. One with light brown hair and dimples when he smiles. One with black hair who nearly falls off stage when he laughs. Another one with bright purple hair who’s laugh makes you feel warm inside. There’s a guy slightly taller than you next to you. His voice is quite deep but his eyes sparkle when he looks at the crowd. You look intently into his eyes, trying to see if you can see your reflection in them but it’s of no use. Your image is blurred out in them too. A smaller man with silver hair is talking now. His eyes remind you of a cat’s, but there is a softness in them when he is looking at the fans. And there’s the final member standing at the end, who’s smile looks like it could rival the sun’s. You have no idea who they are, every time a name is said the sound is muffled. You feel that fate is toying with you. Letting you see through the eyes of your soulmate, but not letting you hear the exact things that would make you able to find out who they are.

And just like every other dream you’ve had previously, right before your soulmate is about to introduce himself, you wake up, startled and covered in a cold sweat. You glance down and inspect your body, making sure it is yours you are back in. You sigh heavily and lay back down against the pillows glancing up at the ceiling. So far you knew very few things about your soulmate.

1. He was obviously in amazing shape. In one of your dreams one of the other guys had lifted your shirt up and the crowd went wild. You glanced down in curiosity and were pleasantly surprised by the amount of muscle that was on your body.

2. He was obviously a singer or performer of some sort. And was in a group with 6 other guys.

3. He was Korean. You couldn’t understand anything that they were saying but you had googled a few words you thought you had heard and discovered that they were in Korean.

4. He was loved and adored by many. The group must be popular if they are performing on front of this many people.

5. Finding him was probably going to be like finding a needle in a haystack.

Googling the hair colors of the other members had yielded many search results. Apparently lots of idols had dyed their hair purple. And a few others had dimples as well. You weren’t able to fully see the other members. Most of their faces were blurred out except for the few features the dreams allowed you to see. These must be the ones that stood out to your soulmate the most, or that he particularly cherished about them. You were at least fairly confident that your soulmate was in a kpop group. A very popular one at that. But you could never tell what country they were touring in so you had no way of even narrowing it down by which city they were in.

Your phone alarm suddenly went off, signaling that it was time for you to get up and go to your office and meet with your publisher about the release date for your latest story. It was a tale of two soulmates, their only connection being through their dreams. And you gave the main characters a happy ending in hopes that it would allow fate to give you both the same kindness.

Jungkook woke up startled. He shot out of bed with his eyes wide and heart racing. He got out of bed in an attempt to ground himself. His feet touched the plush carpet of the hotel room. The feeling helped center him in reality. He walked towards the mirror and turned on the light, seeing his own reflection staring back at him was a comfort. He turned the handle on the faucet and let the water run until it was ice cold before splashing it on his face. When he glanced back up, his hyung was staring at him in the mirror.

“Did you have that dream again?”

“Yeah. Same one. Actually, well this time it was different. I don’t know it’s hard to explain. I finally got to meet her. Instead of the usual where it’s me trying to figure out clues on how to find her. But her face was blurred. I couldn’t make out any defining features. But goodness when I was finally able to hug her it was like every worry or concern I had just melted away. I really want to find her but I don’t know how and it’s so frustrating! I’m living out the main character’s lives in her novels and this one is literally our story. She gave them a happy ending, so I can only hope the same happens for us.” Jungkook’s voice cracks at the end and he’s immediately enveloped in a hug. “It’s so frustrating, Jimin. I have all these clues but no idea where to even go with this.”

“It’s okay, Jungkookie. I know you two will find each other some day. Soulmates always do. Let’s go over again when you know so far?”

“She writes novels. She lives in a big city somewhere. She speaks English. Normally the books she writes are fantasy ones but this one was realistic. I think it’s her way of helping me find her maybe? Like maybe if I look up the plot line of this next novel I can find her.”

“So start there then!”

“I know a lot of English now since I have been studying but I don’t know how to look up this plot line.”

“Maybe just look up new books about soulmates and dreams? See whichever article looks to be the most recent?”

“I’m sure many people have written about this before, hyung.”

“True. But your situation is unique. You’re famous. Surely she knows this from the dreams she’s probably had about being on stage from your point of view. You just need to find one with the plot centered around that.”

“That’s... actually a very good idea. Thank you, Jiminie.”

“Jiminie hyung to you. And you’re welcome! Now come on it’s still early. Go back to sleep for a little bit we have to prepare for the first date of our world tour tomorrow! We’re gonna have to be up in a couple hours.” Jungkook groans at this.

“How am I supposed to sleep when the possibility of me meeting my soulmate is so close?!”

“Just figure out a way. You can look for her tomorrow. Right now you need sleep. We don’t want you passing out on stage, so come on now!” Jimin shoves him out the door and Jungkook reluctantly crawls back into bed. Jimin walks to the door that connects their two rooms. “I’ll try to look for you tomorrow too when I have time, okay? That can be our focus after rehearsal is done.”

“Okay. Thank you, hyung.”

“Of course.”

Jimin shuts the door and all is quiet. Jungkook tries to sleep. Really he does. But really, he’s potentially one Internet search away from finding you.

Resist the temptation, Kook. You can do it. Be strong!

He rolls over onto his side and gazes out the window... Then promptly turns back around and grabs his phone off the hotel nightstand and does a quick search for the plot line of your book. An article comes up so he clicks on it. He sees that your book is being released in just a few short days! And as fate would have it, one of the signings just so happens to be in the same city as one of his concerts. It has to be you. There is no doubt in his mind. You have the same hair and build as the girl in his dream. He clicks play on a video where you are being interviewed about your own book.

“It’s actually my own story. Well, although mine isn’t finished yet. I see things that my soulmate does through my dreams. He is actually someone famous in a boy group. I know he’s Korean. But that’s about it. I’m hoping through this book he’ll be able to find me, since it’s our story...” You go on to talk more but Jungkook cannot hear it over the pounding heart beat in his own ears. It’s you! It’s really you! He shouts happily and begins flailing about in the bed when suddenly the door is swung open, and a very grumpy looking Jimin is standing in the doorway.

“Jungkook, what on earth-”

“I found her, hyung! Her name is y/n! Look!” He practically shoves the phone in his face and Jimin has to back away to let his eyes focus before they widen in shock.

“Oh my god! You really did! This is amazing! And look one of her book signings is the same day as our tour date! Kook! You’re going to meet your soulmate in just a few days!” Jimin tackles him onto the bed and rolls over next to him, looking fondly at the maknae as he’s endlessly scrolling through your social media, watching your interviews, and reading up on what he can about you.

“She’s beautiful, Jimin. And everything I could have imagined and more. Oh my goodness look at how many books she’s written she must be so smart and creative. And listen to her laugh!” He goes on like that absolutely gushing over you. “I’m going to message her.”

“No! Jungkook, don’t.”

“Why not? I’m positive it is her.”

“Don’t you think it’ll be more meaningful to have your first interaction be in person? You can just show up at her book sign and boom! There you go. Couple of the year. Couple of the century. I wonder what’s your couple name going to be.”

“Jimin you sound just as excited about this as me.”

“Because I am! Our little Jungkookie is finally going to meet his soulmate. But seriously now it’s time for bed. You gotta be up in 2 hours now so at least try to get some sleep.”

“Okay. Goodnight.”

“Night, Kook. Sweet dreams.”

“Oh I have a feeling from now on they will be.”

**The day of the concert and book signing**

You’re on the way to your fan meeting when suddenly a billboard and flash of purple hair catches your eye.

BTS to perform at the stadium tonight at 7pm!

“Stadium? Wait a minute.. The purple hair.. the silver... His eyes. Oh my god!” You run up to the billboard to get a closer look but by the time you get closet it’s changed to a different advertisement. You sigh heavily, pulling out your phone ready to snap a photo the next time it scrolls by. When it does you take a photo and closely inspect it.

“Oh my god I am an idiot. How did I not notice this sooner! My soulmate is in BTS. Holy shit.” You gaze at all of their faces until you see one you’ve never seen any defining features of in your dreams. “That must be him. Jungkook? Oh he’s so cute oh my god.” You pull out your phone and lose yourself in the searches, watching interviews, looking at pictures, watching a music video. “They are so insanely talented it’s not fair and oh! Look at these photos of him when they debuted! What a little cutie I wanna squish his cheeks.” Your fawning is interrupted when a call comes in from your publisher. You glance at the time and realize you are late to your own book signing.

“Shit. I’m so sorry! I got side tracked but I am on my way!”

“You better hurry up y/n! There’s a ton of people here right now! What on earth were you doing?”

“I found my soulmate! Jungkook!”

“I’m sorry what? Did you say Jungkook, like BTS Jungkook?”

“Yes! Do you know them?”

“I’ve been a fan of theirs for years. I’m actually going to their show tonight. My friend bailed on me last minute so I have an extra ticket if you want to go with-”

“Yes! 100 times yes, please take me with you!”

“Ok ok! You can come with me just.. how are you planning on finding him?”

“....”

“Y/n? You still there?”

“Sorry. Just thinking. I didn’t plan that far ahead. They’re basically untouchable how on earth am I going to ever meet him?”

“Oh come on y/n. I’m sure fate wouldn’t be that cruel to you! Have a little faith.”

“I’m not going to get my hopes up. I think for now I will just be content with admiring him from afar. Anyway I gotta go. I’m approaching the building now. Bye.” You end the call and your heart sinks. You have no chance of meeting him. You’re from different countries. He’s in arguably the biggest band in the world. You probably can’t get within 10 feet of them without getting tackled to the ground by their security. And besides he’d probably just think you were some crazy delusional fan. You feel disappointment and sadness threatening to spill out as tears, but quickly shove it back down as you see the line of your own fans waiting to meet you. You plaster a smile on your face and enter through the back, sitting down at the table and just hoping this time will pass by quickly so you can go home and sulk before the concert.

As the line begins to dwindle you notice a gentleman at the very back of he line. He’s dressed rather casually, in sweat pants and a huge Carharttt t-shirt. You admire the tattoos on his arm and wonder what the meaning is behind them. He’s wearing a bucket hat and sunglasses, and a face mask, clearly not wanting to be noticed. Either that or he was an axe murderer come to make you face your doom. You laugh internally and quickly shake that thought away. You always did have an overactive imagination after all, you are a writer. When he finally approaches the table you can’t help but feel a weird fluttering in your stomach. Like your gut is trying to tell you something. You are uneasy and aren’t sure why. He seems to be feeling the same if the way he’s constantly looking over his shoulder around him is any indication.

“You’re not some serial killer here to make me meet my untimely demise are you?”

“W-what? No! What the hell? Why on earth would you think that?” You can’t help but find his accent adorable.

“Gee, I don’t know! Maybe because clearly you don’t want anyone to know your identity! Easy for a quick getaway if no one knows who you are. And you keep glancing around all suspicious to see if people are watching you.” You lift your eyebrow and give him an accusatory glare,

“If I didn’t want to be identified in a crime I would have covered my tattoos.” He lifts and eyebrow at you back, as if to challenge you further.

“That’s a fair point. You got me there.” He starts giggling and says something in Korean. Your heart goes flying into your throat as the realization hits you.

“I don’t want anyone to see me because I don’t want to get mobbed by my own fans. And I’m nervous because wow you’re even more beautiful than I imagined.” He lowers the mask for a second and you gasp audibly.

“It’s you! The guy from my dreams!”

“You use that line often?”

“Oh my god shut up. It’s really you?!” You stand up from the table and reach your hands across it, squishing his cheeks between your hands.

“What are you doing, weirdo?” You can barely make out what he’s saying as it’s muffled due to your playing and pinching his cheeks.

“Making sure you’re real and that I’m not dreaming again. How did you find me? How are you here right now, isn’t your show starting soon? Oh my publicist is gonna flip her shit when she sees you here-” He covers your mouth with his hand and tells you to shh, lifting his mask back up to cover his face.

“I said I didn’t want to be recognized remember?” Your eyes widen and you nod your head. He lowers his hand, and you can tell he’s smiling brightly at you by how his eyes are crinkling at the corners. “Hi. I’m Jungkook.” He holds his hand out and you smack it away, opting to run around the side of the table and throw your arms around him instead.

“I think we’re a little past handshakes.” His arms tighten around you and you rest your head against his chest, enjoying the gentle rhythm of his heartbeat thudding in his chest against your ear. You sigh happily and feel a kiss pressed to the top of your head. You glance back up at him and see his mask is gone again. And he’s absolutely beaming at you.

“You have the most adorable smile I’ve ever seen.” You don’t mean to speak this out loud but figure you must have by the way his cheeks are flushing bright red.

“Um, T-thank you. I like yours too. And your eyes. And your voice and just... everything.” Now it’s your turn to blush. You glance away from him and notice that everyone has cleared out of the store, seemingly went about their business to give you two a moment of privacy. “So, I was wondering. Do you want to come to our show tonight?”

“Oh! My publicist actually already got us tickets!”

“But I’m sure they’re not front row, huh?”

“Well.. no they certainly aren’t but-” He pulls two tickets out of his jacket pocket and hands them to you. “Here. I look forward to seeing you tonight. I’ll put on an extra good performance just for you.” He winks and ruffles your hair playfully and a giggle bubbles out of you.

“Okay. I’ll be there.”

“We’ll be there!” You hear her yell from somewhere in the the store. You both laugh at that and you notice him staring at your lips. He starts to move in before you give him a playful tap on the lips with your finger tips. He looks at you in surprise.

“You at least have to take me on a date first before you get to steal a kiss from me, Mr. Jeon. Just because you’re my soul mate doesn’t mean you get special privileges.” He smiles and rubs the back of his neck.

“Well.. how about after the concert then? We usually all go out for dinner anyway but we can go out just the two of us.”

“I would really like that.”

“Okay then. I’ll um.. see you in a few hours then?”

“Oh you’ll see me alright. And you’ll probably hear me too. I’ll be screaming my lungs out yelling your name.” He chuckles and brings your hand up to his lips as he kisses the back of it and holy- his lips are so soft it makes you nearly take back your words from just moments before, thinking about how they would feel on yours.

“I’m looking forward to it.”

“Me too. I’m looking forward to everything. Finally getting to know you, and talk to you, I want to know everything about what makes you the kind, sweet person you are.”

“We have time. All the time in the world.”

“I can’t think of any better way to spend it.”

#bts reaction #bts scenario #bts imagine #bts #jeon jeongguk #jeon jungkook #jungkook reaction #jungkook scenario #jungkook imagine #jungkook x reader #reader x jungkook #bts soulmae au

227 notes · View notes

snarkwriteswrasslin · 4 years

Text

summer sizzle | morning, kevin owens [m]

[ prompts used ]

** as stated before, all of these came from some pretty amazing lists I found floating around online. I’ll have to actually sit down at some point and find them all but... for now, credits to anyone who recognizes anything from this prompt as one they may have thought up. The direction I took all of them combined, the unnamed OFC are mine though. **

Only one bed. Oh no! +“There’s only one blanket and two of us-looks like you’ll need to cuddle up closer then.” + morning wood + sex dreams/wet dreams + “Well good morning to you too.” + “I can make you cum harder than that.” + loud sex + “Were you dreaming about me?”-

[ authors notes ]

THIS WAS EASY BUT ALSO NOT. I started this like... last week at some point, but I kept getting stuck, going back to edit or change things and for a few days, I just ignored this one, even though of all the ones I have going rn, it’s the CLOSEST one of my wrestling writing prompt things to actually being finished. BUT. BUT.. It’s done now and honestly, I’m lowkey proud of it, even though I know it’s about to flop most likely. ie pls, I beg of ya’ll don’t let this flop.

[ warnings ]

18+ only. All children get yourselves out of here now. I mean this. There’s morning sex, brief mentions of body fluids and of course, bites / marking. Other than that, this one is surprisingly cute and fluffy.

[ pairing ]

kevin owens x best friend!ofc, one hotel room & one bed trope.

[ tag squad ]

@kyleoreillysknee

@rampagewriting

@writertoo18

@thatnerdwriter

@wrestlingismyguiltypleasure

@chasingeverybreakingwave

@xwicker-manx

@unabashedwrestlefics

@wardl0w

@cabotcoves

@adampage

@cowboyshit

@missjenniferb

@wrestlingthot

[ tag list | masterlist | about page ]

morning ft Kevin Owens + OFC

“We only have one more room.”

“Is it at least a double?” I questioned, biting my lip. The scent of Kevin’s cologne mixed with sweat was enough to call to memory just how fucking angry he got at Seth for no apparent reason back at the arena and I found myself getting wound up all over again… Thighs all drippy and slipping right off of each other. If this room wasn’t a double, it was going to be one long fucking night..

“Holy fuck, we’ll fucking take it. I just need to be out of that SUV. I’m exhausted.” Kevin grumbled sleepily from beside me. He rubbed his face - probably to keep his eyes from closing on their own.

“Okay, we’ll take it.” I plastered on my best tired smile and dug around, finding my ID and passing it through to the night clerk on the other side of the desk. Kevin did the same, moving to stand closer and pressing up against me as he passed his ID through. I just barely caught myself before I whimpered.

For a second, I could almost swear he heard the sound. But he was back to business as usual, breaking my gaze to take his identification back from the clerk, then tucking it away in his wallet. His other hand lingered at my hip and I gulped, keeping my eyes trained on the television set behind the front desk. The news was playing. It wasn’t interesting by any stretch of the imagination, but it did keep me from locking eyes with my best friend Kevin and having him read me like a book at that point in time.

Because I’m at least 99 percent certain that Kevin does not feel the slightest bit attracted to me. And the last thing I want to do is make everything between us awkward as hell. Which trust me, it would be.

He fell in step beside me as we walked down the carpet covered hallway in search of an elevator. The silence was heavy, almost tension filled to a point where I was having a hard time keeping myself together. Kevin spoke up, shattering the silence as we stopped at the door to the elevator and I leaned forward, pressing the up button. His chest brushed my back and I could feel the warmth of his breath next to my ear. “Did you whimper?”

“Huh? No. I might have yawned just now.” I said it quick. A little too quickly. If the look on Kevin’s face was anything to go by, he didn’t believe it. He shook his head and pressed against my back a little more. “No not just now. Down in the lobby. Because see..” he took a shaky breath, it was enough to give me pause for a split second. Was he just a little nervous right now?

He couldn’t be. Kevin Owens just doesn’t do nervous. He simply does not. I pushed the thought out of my mind and he promptly continued, a smirk creeping to play at his lips slow and easy as his eyes fixed on mine in the reflection of the metal doors we stood in front of.

“I could’ve sworn I heard you whimper, doll.”

The tone of his voice was enough to push me over that fine line between just a little wet to my thighs becoming a dripping and slippery mess. He chuckled quietly and I did my best not to tense up, to continue to at least try behaving as if absolutely nothing was going on.

Fuck me, I’m going to need new panties as soon as we get to this hotel room.

“ Nope, it wasn’t me.” - and saved by the bell, literally. The elevators slid open with a slow lingering creak as the bell dinged quietly. I stepped on and leaned against the wall, almost dangerously close to Kevin’s side and he sort of leaned himself against me yawning and swearing about the drive in and the snowstorm that blew in so heavy we had to stop in the first place and all I could do was try to focus on literally anything but the way his voice drops and gets so fucking deep when he’s half asleep.

How I wonder if he sounds like that in bed.

It was a can of worms I could not afford to open, not on this night.

The few minutes it took for the elevator to reach our floor felt like honest to god hours, the time passing lazily as both of us kept quiet and scrolled through our phones like we’d normally do. That tension though, that tension was building and about to reach a boiling point. I almost couldn’t breathe. And I was practically throbbing each time I could feel his breath against my ear while he leaned casually against me. The elevator finally slowed and then stopped and after picking up my things, I started to slink towards the door.

I could feel his eyes fix on me the exact moment they did. I bit my lip and took a deep breath pausing just outside the elevator doors as he took his time walking out, his bag slung almost carelessly over his shoulder. He gave me a smirk and I just barely managed not whimpering, smirking right back at him. I nodded to the hallway ahead. “Are we going? The sooner we get to our room, Kev.. The sooner we can get to sleep.”

“The sooner you can get warm.” Kevin remarked, his gaze fixing on me. I realized then that I was shivering and cold, no thanks to every single layer of my clothing being drenched by melted snow.

“Yeah… Definitely.” I admit, I got more than a little distracted by the mere thought of a warm shower. And then my mind just didn’t stop.. I was thinking about those thick and rough hands all over my bare skin and I got the most intense shiver I’d probably ever gotten in my entire life racing through my body. I tripped on the carpet a little and grumbled to myself, Kevin reaching out, holding me steady as he stared down at me a few seconds without saying anything. Then he chuckled, shaking his head as he muttered something I couldn’t quite make out.

We stopped at the door to our hotel room and he slid the keycard through the reader. The light changed to green and he kicked at the door to open it, stepping inside… where the cold air promptly hit us full blast.

“Shit. Fuck.” My eyes settled on the bed situation, taking it in as I tried not to choke on my own tongue. I just thought the night was going to be a long one. The fact that there was only one bed in the room just proved that not only was it going to be a long night for me, but probably, a sleepless one. And not in the way I wished it would be, either. I shivered at both the chill in the air and the realization that I was going to have to share a room with him and somehow, I was going to have to act as if I didn’t want him so bad I could taste it.

“The heat’s turned on but all I feel comin out is cold air. Fuckin heater must be broken.” Kevin mused as he turned his attention away from the heater that ran the length of the wall and followed my gaze.

To the one bed in the room. He coughed, staring at it intently, an almost amused gleam in his eyes as he did so.

Shit. Tonight really will be a long night. I pushed the thought out as I fixed my gaze on him. “You take the bed. I’m shorter, I can cram myself on that couch.”

“How about no, doll. I’ll make the couch work if anybody does.” Kevin insisted, gazing at me firmly. I swallowed hard when he made his next suggestion.

“Or.. wild idea here. We’re both adults. We could share the bed. For warmth.” Kevin said it so calmly. So calmly that before I even realized it, I was nodding my head in agreement… without even really stopping to consider the fact that lately, I’ve been having some very vivid and very loud, wet dreams about the man. I think it sank in what I’d agreed to about three seconds later and from the second it did, cue internal panic.

“I’m gonna go shower and try to warm up… unless you wanted to go first?” I turned back around to face Kevin and found myself body to body with him. My bright red panties fell onto the carpeted floor, catching his eye. He bit his lip and leaned down, picking them up and holding them out to me a smirk playing at his lips as his eyes met mine. “You dropped something, doll.”

“Y-yeah. I noticed.” I could feel my thighs slip off of each other. The fact that my panties were getting wetter and wetter by the second did nothing to help the fact that I was also soaked and freezing from the snowstorm we’d walked through to come into the building.

If I didn’t know any better… I’d almost be willing to swear that he’s teasing me right now. And that he’s enjoying every fucking second. But that’s nonsense. We’re just friends. I’m overthinking things, overanalyzing every little minute action made right now because I’m exhausted and I know this is going to be a long -read, sexually frustrating, night for me.

That has to be it.

On shaky legs, I hurried into the bathroom, shutting it behind me with a soft thud. I scrambled to tear off the cold,wet clothing and I turned on the faucet with the hot water on full blast. Given the situation I’m in, I probably should be taking a cold shower but… I’m freezing and I wanna boil.

I heard the tv turn on, it sounded like the last bits of a hockey game, and I smiled to myself, gathering my bath products and lowering myself into the tub.As the hot water made contact with my cool skin, I let out a soft hiss, my eyes fluttering shut as I relaxed against the back of the tub. I could’ve easily fallen asleep if it weren’t for the fact that my magpie brain didn’t choose to go back to the whole moment between us just before I got in here and hyper-focus on that… Take it further. Make my imagination really start to go wild.

Just as I was starting to let my hands wander over my own body, softly, squeezing my tits together and gently playing with my nipples, my hips arching a little beneath the water, the door practically flew open.

When I tell you I have never moved my hands away from my body so fast in my entire life… I glanced up, locking eyes with Kevin who was a little red in the face.. He wasn’t really bothering to cover his eyes either.. Then again, to be fair, I wasn’t exactly making an effort to hide my bare ass naked self from his gaze either and any bubbles I did have in the water originally had long since disappeared, so..

“You got a little shampoo, doll.” Kevin was sitting next to the tub, one of those big and rough hands gingerly covering my eyes while he took a cup that he’d grabbed from the counter and rinsed out the shampoo. I swallowed hard but I managed to get in a hint of teasing in the form of the remark “At least I’m not shitfaced like New Years, huh?”

He chuckled quietly, and I glanced up after he moved his hand, noticing that he seemed to be in deep thought. “Everything okay?”

“Totally, doll.” Kevin finally answered, reaching down and taking the wash cloth I’d been about to use on my body from where I’d abandoned it in the favor of a little hands on exploration earlier. He reached across me, grabbing my bodywash. After he got the washcloth all soapy, he bit his lip and half-teased, “If I don’t help ya, you might try to stay in here all damn night and I wanna shower too.”

But there was something in his eyes that had me biting back a whimper. Had me getting wet all over again and god help me, squirming just a little in the tub. He gave a quiet chuckle and leaned in just slightly, his mouth brushing carefully against the shell of my ear. “Lean up a little. I’ll get your back.”

“O-okay.” I managed to stammer. If Kevin had one tenth of a clue just how close I was to grabbing hold of the front of his black tee shirt and pulling his mouth against mine right now, I found myself thinking, he’d probably laugh. He shattered the heavy silence hanging in the air around us when he bit his lip and sat the washcloth down, pressing the back of his hand to my forehead, tilting his head to one side slightly as if he were puzzling something out and then finally asking me with a barely hidden smirk, “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” I answered, biting my lip and barely managing to keep a whimper at bay when I felt the washcloth making it’s way up and down my back. I know he had to have felt me when I shivered at his touch, there was absolutely no way in hell I could hide that in time.

“You looked like you were in a daze.” Kevin stated. I swear I almost responded with exactly what was on my mind, just so he wouldn’t keep pushing. I almost did. Luckily, common sense prevailed.

I sighed as the warmth of the water hit my body, rinsing away soapy bubbles and with a laugh, I nodded to the towel nearby. “The bath is all yours.” and for a moment, my eyes lingered on his and I licked my lips slowly, taking a gulp as I prepared myself to stand and step out of the tub.

I know what you’re thinking… you’ve obviously seen each other naked before if you’re best friends… And you’d be right, but… Tonight is the first time I’ve shared a hotel room with Kevin Owens since I came to the realization that I was in love with him.

And lately, with my realization, things may or may not have become a little… tense. Awkward. Because my extreme clumsiness really shines through. Two times I’ve fallen in his lap on a flight when trying to sit. Just his breath against my neck if he walks up behind me and whispers something into my ears is enough to send my thighs slipping right off of each other.

And I have to share a hotel room with him… and behave as if nothing is different… all fucking night.

I rose up from the warm water, biting my lip as I reached for the towel dangling from his fingertips. My eyes were locked firmly on his. He stepped closer, making sure the towel actually made it into my hand because in my distracted daze, I’d misjudged where his hand was exactly and it nearly hit the floor.

If I didn’t know better, I found myself thinking all over again, I’d almost swear he was flirting with me right now. Between my lack of sleep and trying to keep it together as of late, I wanted to say I was at least halfway sure he might be flirting with me, but honestly, I didn’t want to get my hopes up and then make a move and discover that he wasn’t.

I wrapped the fluffy white oversized towel around me and for a second or two, neither of us really… Moved. We were standing there, both of us in a bit of a daze. I swallowed hard, tilting my head slightly, looking up at Kevin. “Are you okay?” I asked after a second or two in which for some reason or another I couldn’t hear anything but blood rushing to my ears as my heart hammered away in my chest.

“Yeah.” he muttered the word quietly, almost thoughtfully. My heart kicked up it’s racing a little as I felt his hand settle gingerly against my hip and he started to move closer. My breath really caught in my throat when I realized that I was moving closer too.

Neither of us were stepping back. My breath was getting shakier with each second that passed and with that came the realization that it was getting harder and harder not to raise my leg to his hip, put my hand on the back of his neck and pull his mouth against mine.

I even found myself toying with what harm exactly that might cause. Could it really be so bad? And he was stepping closer to me too.. Right off the bat, I shoved that line of reasoning out of my head as quickly as possible.

His hand settled softly across my lower back and I blinked a little, dazed. His mouth was moving in closer, about to close the distance between us. The knock on the door from room service Kevin ordered had us both breaking out of our dazes and springing apart. I could feel the heat rise to my cheeks and I bit the insides gently, trying to calm myself as Kevin hurried out of the bathroom and to the door of our hotel room to pick up whatever he’d gotten room service to send up.

By the time he was done doing that, I’d managed to get dressed and I was flopped on the bed, flipping through the tv set. Kevin flopped down beside me and for a good five minutes or so, neither of us said anything.

We both wanted to though, that much was evident in the thick and heavy tension filling the air around us. I almost said something about ten times, but I managed to keep my biggest question internal.

Because every part of me wanted to ask if he’d been about to kiss me.

We ate in silence, some stupid Hallmark Christmas movie I’d stopped on playing mostly for background. Kevin went to get himself a shower and I took a deep breath as I stood, staring down the bed intently.

,, you can do this. It’s just sharing a bed with your best friend, like all the other times..” was what I tried telling myself as I pulled back the covers, sinking into the soft bed. I’d just gotten as comfortable as I could given the arrangement, when Kevin came back out and settled into bed.

“It’s freezing in here.” I complained quietly. Kevin rolled onto his side and bit his lip, staring at me a second or two before nodding to the space right next to him. “Well, there is only one blanket… And two of us. Body heat means warmth, doll.” he pointed out calmly. After a good second or two of convincing myself that despite knowing this couldn’t be a good idea and it was only going to end in awkwardness in the morning, I moved closer. His arm settled over me and I burrowed down into the cover, getting as close to him as I could possibly get.

I must have been out in seconds, because I don’t remember anything else after that. And that thing I’d been dreading might happen? Oh.. It happened.

-- NEXT MORNING

“Oh… mmm… like that, Kevin.”

I could feel thick fingertips dancing over my bare thighs as I started to wake up. My ass was pressed right against him and I could feel obvious evidence of morning wood when I brushed against him just a little, wiggling around. The sun was shining in through the slit in the curtains and as soon as it hit me what I’d been dreaming about and what exactly I was still doing because of it upon awakening, I wanted the floor to open and swallow me whole.

But before I got the chance to slip out of bed and into the bathroom to get dressed for the remainder of our drive today, Kevin’s mouth was against the shell of my ear as he leaned over me, staring down in a daze.

“You got pretty loud.” Kevin muttered, stifling a yawn. I felt my stomach starting to churn and my mouth opened and closed a time or two. He smirked down at me almost playfully and I swallowed hard. “I did, huh? I’m sorry, I…”

Kevin leaned in closer, his mouth just barely brushing against mine as he asked me, “Were you dreaming about me, doll?”

“Kevin, I…”

“Just answer my question.” his tone was firmer. I won’t even get into just how soaking wet the sound of it had me getting in little under a second, but yeah… He was still leaned in, staring me down expectantly.

“Fuck it.” he chuckled quietly, his mouth closing the distance, my mouth falling open easily to allow his tongue access. My eyes popped open and the shock started to wear off just as I was starting to feel light-headed. I started to deepen the kiss even more despite not being able to breathe, rolling completely on my back so that I wound up beneath him. One of my hands raised, trailing lazily over his scalp and he gave a quiet growl as his teeth scraped against my lips, tugging. I could feel my mouth swelling at the impact of the kiss but I didn’t care.

The kiss broke and we pulled away reluctantly, staring at each other all wide eyed.

“What… Why..” I stammered. Kevin chuckled, his hand trailing over my sides as he pressed into me just a little more and shook his head. He continued to stare down at me and chuckle as if my startled state really amused him and I managed a pout.

Finally, he broke the silence between us. “Do you not get it? I want you. Have for a while now, just never said anything because I also like keeping the few friends I do have.” he explained quietly, his eyes locking on mine as his hand lowered, moving from my hip to my thigh, rubbing his fingers over bare skin lightly.

I let it sink in as my heart started to pound a little and that little sliver of hope I held out before grew into a fucking inferno. After a second or two, I raised my hand, letting it catch and come to a stop against the side of his neck and jaw. My legs spread, putting his body between them, a knee resting at either side of his body. He leaned down, licking his lips, a smirk playing at his lips. “You still didn’t answer me.”

“What do you think, Kevin? Was I dreaming about you?” I asked the question quietly, my breath catching in my throat as I managed to rub against him just a little bit. I heard his breath when it caught in his throat and when he grabbed my hips, rubbing me against him two or three more times while lowering his head to mumble against the shell of my ear, “Well, good morning to you too.” in that husky tone, I felt a shiver go through my body and I rose up a little, nipping at his lips, catching him just before he could pull his mouth away from my face. “What exactly was I saying?” I finally managed to ask the question sheepishly.

All Kevin did was chuckle as his hands worked up and down my body. My legs squeezed his hips, making him stop staring at my tits to look up and meet my gaze. He shrugged. “Let’s just say I bet I can make you cum harder in reality than I did in your dream.”

I really felt my face burn hot when he said it, I realized just how intense my dream the night before must have been. My eyes locked on his and I barely managed to whimper out the words Challenge accepted than he was already tugging at the bottom of the oversized shirt I slept in upwards, tossing it once it was off my body. It settled on the nightstand. I tugged his shirt off, tossing that onto the floor. His fingers hooked in the waistband of my panties, a silent tear rendering that pair utterly useless as he pulled the torn fabric away from my body, tossing it into the floor beside his shirt. I tugged at the pair of gym shorts he’d slept in the night before, managing to catch both shorts waistband and underwear waistband at once and tugged them down. Kevin rose up, slipping off the bed to let them fall to his ankles.

When my eyes locked on the way his cock stood at attention, the thickness of it, I squirmed, getting so wet that my thighs were slipping off of each other with ease now. He lowered himself back down, settling himself between my legs as he spread them open wide, a leg settling over each shoulder as he muttered huskily against my thigh, “And I know exactly where to start.” daring to sink his teeth in just slightly, his lips latching onto a patch of skin on the inside of my thigh, leaving a big mark behind that I knew I was definitely going to feel for a while after this was done. His lips broke contact with my skin to reveal the huge purple bruise already starting to form on my inner thigh. They danced over my skin, moving higher up my thigh, quiet slurps and his little groans against my skin sending goosebumps over the surface of my skin. I whimpered as he continued to trail a path straight to my throbbing cunt with kitten licks and little softer bites.

I’d always thought he might have a thing for biting, for marking a girl up, but having it confirmed for me now was literally making me a drippy wet mess, my juices puddling to the bed beneath us. I tried to prop myself up a little better on my elbows and my breath caught in my throat as I felt his fingers working me open, slipping inside me deep, thrusting and scissoring, little wet sloshes with each move of his fingers inside me. His thumb pressed hard against my clit, rubbing the circular bundle of nerves and I whimpered his name, my fingers on one hand tugging at dark brown hair as I rocked my hips against his fingers and the little licks he was now giving to my folds. His lips locked on each one, sucking and I moaned even louder. He was pleased by that, I could feel the way his mouth curved into that damn smirk. “Kevin, oh- I..” I called out louder, my words tumbling off of each other breathlessly, a needy whine to my voice that couldn’t be mistaken. “C’mon.” I encouraged, rocking my hips a little faster. It only resulted in Kevin managing to find a way to keep me still as he rolled his tongue over my clit, lips latching on. “Keep it up and I’ll suck your clit til you go blind, doll.” he growled out against my throbbing cunt, his tongue greedily licking me clean, almost slurping up every single drop of my juices.

“Is that a promise?” I managed to gasp, trying again to rock my hips against his mouth and fingers. His lips latched onto my clit and I moaned a little louder, doing everything I could to get more friction, trying to ease the slow and steady throb of my pussy but nothing I tried was working. And Kevin was hell bent on drawing this out. Pushing me until I absolutely couldn’t take it any longer.

“It’s a definite fucking promise.” Kevin mumbled against my pelvic mound as his mouth backed away from my clit long enough to catch on my folds, sucking until I was practically shaking and the puddle forming beneath me was growing. The orgasm was building to an almost blinding intensity and every single time we locked eyes and he thought I might be getting a little too close, he’d slow down all over again, chuckling as he shook his head no at me, that teasing gleam in his eyes. I was tensing, the strain of holding back my own incoming orgasm almost had me shaking all over.

I pouted when he stopped altogether, raising up to look down at me, slipping dripping fingers between his lips. I could feel myself edging away from the orgasm, but Kevin seemed to have other plans.

His hand lowered, circling his cock as he winked at me and then lowered his gaze, watching as he dragged his cock right between my lower set of lips. I arched away from the bed and he settled on top of me carefully, his hands catching hold of both of mine as he started to bury his cock inside me slowly. Teasing shallow thrusts with the tip only. If I thought I had control of the orgasm threatening to take over?

I quickly learned that I, in fact, did not.

And Kevin seemed to really relish that fact. It shouldn’t have surprised me that he’d get off on being in complete control like this, but somehow, it did. Maybe it was because I alone had a better glimpse into his less confident side as his best friend for so long.

“Gonna make you feel so fuckin good, princess.” he growled next to my ear as he started to fuck into me harder, even slower and deeper drives, burying his cock to the hilt deep inside of my womb. When he started to mutter things softly against my mouth in the French he was fluent in and I barely knew outside of a few phrases, I really started to squirm beneath him, also trying to wiggle my hands free from the grip his hands had on them. Pouting up at him finally, “Kevin, please.. I want to touch you.”

He ignored my simple request, instead, catching hold of both my hands with one of his and letting the other glide down my body, gripping my hip, guiding it so that I was angled upward ever so slightly. The shift in the position of my hips had me really moaning, loudly enough to be heard over the quiet and drawn out creaks of the bedframe.

“Does that feel good, doll? Like.. don’t let me crush you or anything.” he muttered the words quietly, a scowl playing at his mouth just a second or two, only to vanish when I did manage to get my hand loose and I gripped his jaw lightly, pulling his mouth down against mine to quietly drawl against it, “You won’t. I like the way you feel on top of me.” I bit my lips, rocking my hips against him just a little faster, a pleading look as I met his gaze and finished, “And inside me, fuck…”

The orgasm was built to a point now where I ached all over. I could feel tears welling in my eyes at the frustration mounting as I tried to do what he asked and hold off just a little longer.

He smirked a little, chuckling. “You do, huh? You’re gonna love this then.” he slammed into me all over again, deep enough to strum against my spot a time or two and then just to tease, he pulled himself out just a little before slamming back inside me even deeper. My moans had to be loud enough by now to be heard out in the hallway, but I didn’t care.

At one point, around the fourth time he did this, I caught hold of his face, pulling his mouth against mine just so a long and deep, needy kiss would swallow the fact that I was literally screaming his name. He chuckled, his forehead resting against mine as he stared deep into my eyes, rough lips roaming over my face gently, laying soft kisses against my flesh. “You wanna cum pretty bad right now, huh?”

“Yes. Oh fuck I--” I whimpered, trying to get more friction all over again, only to have Kevin use his hips to pin mine still beneath him. He chuckled, his mouth conquering mine before venturing down the front of my throat, lower, against my breasts. “Almost, doll. Almost.” he muttered calmly, continuing to fuck into me long and slow and deep. “So goddamn tight. Fuck.” he growled quietly, his fingertips digging into my hips now, holding me mostly still against the bed. He knew exactly what he was doing, not letting me move all that much and not letting me cum like I desperately wanted.

“You wanna know how close I am, doll?”

“Hm.” I nodded, my lips against his, our eyes locked on each other. My hands were all over him now, mostly digging into his shoulder blades.

He chuckled quietly and after nipping hungrily at the outline of my swollen lips yet again, he mumbled into another kiss, “All it would take is you, rockin your hips one more fuckin time.” he shivered as I managed to do just that, only so careful and slow that he growled against my neck and sank his teeth down, latching onto a strip of skin. I did it again and his grip tightened even more.

His teeth dug against my skin just a little and I whimpered and moaned, eyes fluttering open and closed.

My own orgasm was dangerously close to ripping me apart beneath him. My breath caught in my throat as he started to bottom out over and over.

I dug my nails in his skin a little harder and he mumbled against my ear, “Wrap your legs around me. C’mon.” almost breathlessly, the soft smack of our bodies meeting over and over again competing with our pleasurable moans and growls and the noise the bed made every time it struck the wall. I wrapped my legs around him like he asked and the tilt sent him smashing into my spot over and over every single time he fucked into me. My legs squeezed either side of his body tight and then tighter and Kevin muttered quietly, “You wanna cum so bad you’re shaking. Is this anything like you imagined in your dream last night, doll?”

“I, oh.. Right there. Fuck, Kevin!” I cried out, the echo shattering the air between us as he promptly dove his mouth down to mine, swallowing up my cries. “So if I keep it up…” he muttered into the deepening kiss, “You’re gonna cum all over me… Make a real mess of the bed for me… Right?”

“Yes, fuck. Please just let me.” I begged breathlessly as the kiss broke and he pulled away, intently focusing on exactly what he’d been doing before. “C’mon, doll. You’ve been a good girl, fuck… You can let go now.”

My orgasm shattered through me, making me cling to him as I erratically met his deep drives with my hips, rocking myself against his cock since he had put my legs over his shoulders by this point. I could feel my pussy clinging to his cock, the soft sound of suction and his quiet growls as he continued to plow me, slow and deep.

“Don’t stop, doll. C’mon.” Kevin urged, lust blown eyes almost blacked out when he looked down at me, hips stuttering against me as he leaned down, his mouth finding mine clumsy and hungry, his lips latching onto my bottom one and his teeth tugging at it. “Fuck, that’s it. Fuck, you’re takin me so well.” he groaned into the kiss closely followed by “Don’t wanna stop, fuck. You feel too fucking good, doll. So tight.. Wet. Fuck..” in a throaty growl against my mouth.

“Don’t stop, Kevin, please. C’mon.” I pleaded, just plain overcome by how good, no how amazing it felt to finally be allowed to get off that I honestly wasn’t thinking and didn’t care to think about anything else but feeling the warmth of his seed when it filled me up. He chuckled and muttered half teasingly against my ear, “As you wish.” which had me smiling softly, because it was a line from my favorite movie and he knew it.

The harder and deeper he slammed into me, the more I moaned and begged for it. The throbbing of his thick cock deep inside me as his own orgasm shattered through him had me whimpering, desperately slamming my hips against his own erratic movements, trying to drive him inside me as deep as I could get. My toes dug into his shoulders and as he slowed to a stop, his mouth found mine again, his tongue darting between my lips, meeting mine and dominating the kiss.

I lowered my legs and Kevin fell to the bed beside me, swearing a little, one arm behind his head as the other shot out, pulling me so that I was on top of him, holding me in place.

“I’m fucking starving.” Kevin admitted, just as both of our stomachs growled.

“Me too, but there’s the tiny problem of me, being a little sore to move.” I muttered with a soft laugh against his mouth. He chuckled in response, untucking the arm folded behind his head to lazily reach for his phone on the nightstand as he muttered aloud, “Room service it is then.”

#kevin owens #kevin owens fanfiction #kevin owens oneshot #kevin owens smut #kevin owens imagine #kevin owens imagines #kevin owens fanfic #kevin owens one shot #kevin owens one shot - smut #// no one under 18+#// me... praying this doesn't flop.#// reblogs and comments welcome fyi

57 notes · View notes

mcrflashfic · 4 years

Text

Side Effects

Living in the Zones will change you. Literally.

Author: @justlookatthewheat

Content Warnings: Body Horror

Word Count: 2,999

Party Poison wasn't about to claim any kind of expertise on radiation poisoning, but he was at a loss for any other explanation as to why he woke up looking like a fucking Maraschino cherry.

His first thought was - well, his first thought was what the fuck is on my head as he walked past the diner windows on his way to take a piss. His second thought, then, was where the fuck did Ghoul get hair dye? Because this was for sure a Ghoul prank. But then that didn't make sense either, really. Party's hair had been black. He would have definitely noticed someone bleaching his entire head and slapping dye over top, unless he'd been, like, gonna-meet-the-Phoenix-Witch frying, which he knew he hadn't. (Even if he had, his hair would still smell like peroxide. Also, he'd be face first heaving into a bush right now, probably.) It took several minutes of staring at his reflection and pulling strands of his own hair out to inspect them up close before he started entertaining the possibility that he'd mutated overnight, though. And he didn't believe it until he wasted a whole bottle of water and some of the soap they'd salvaged from the diner’s dishwasher on trying to wash it out.

The sand wasn't even pink when he finished rinsing. Neither were his hands. He bent to peer into one of the side mirrors on the Trans Am - to his alarm, his eyebrows, lashes, and three-day stubble were all the same Pantone 485 C color as the hair on his scalp.

"How do you even remember the Pantone color names?" Kobra asked him, exasperated, like Party had fabricated this situation specifically to piss him off, at the exact same moment a totally fascinated Ghoul said "Does the carpet match the drapes?"

Kobra glared at Ghoul so hard Party thought he would sprain something. "Stop talking, or I'm filling your boots with dead spiders while you sleep."

Party'd gone to show the other three as soon as he realized how much the whole thing was pegging the weird meter. So far, they were handling it about as well as he'd expected, which was not at all. He sat on a chair in the middle of the diner floor while they crowded him and talked over each other asking questions.

"It's scientifically relevant. Like, is it all of his hair, or just the hair on his head?" Ghoul grabbed Party's arm and yanked it close, squinting at his peach fuzz; annoyed, Party ripped it back again and folded both arms tight over his chest.

"Yes, it's everywhere. Stop manhandling me, fucker."

Jet had been inspecting his hair with the back of a polished saucepan throughout the debate - probably checking to make sure whatever it was wasn't happening to him - and he finally put it down to join the discussion again. "It's weird that it's just you who's affected. I mean, we're all getting exposed to radiation, right? So why's Poison the only one in Technicolor?"

"And all at once," Kobra added, frowning. He leaned in closer to peer at the top of Party's head. "It'd make more sense as a mutation if it was just the roots."

Ghoul snickered. "Too bad you didn't snag 'Cherry Bomb' for your Killjoy name, Poison. Think of the thematic relevance it'd have now."

"Hilarious." Party rolled his eyes and dragged both hands through his new, inexplicably red locks. "Seriously, you guys. If it's radiation, where do the mutations end? Like, am I gonna get psionic fire powers next?"

The effect was not what Party was going for. All three of them instantly lit up with excitement - even Kobra broke his signature scowl to gasp out a "Holy shit, what if you did, though?"

Party dropped his head into his palms with a groan.

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

Ghoul was next. Party was actually the one to discover it, while the two were picking their way through a dusty warehouse on the far edge of Zone 5 a couple weeks after the Hair Incident. It was oppressively hot inside despite the dim and the amount of space. They both had been stripping off layers as they sweated through them; finally, Ghoul tore off his t-shirt in a fit of heat-induced pique, chucking it in a heap on the cluttered floor, and Party gasped.

"Oh my God, Ghoul, your tattoos," he said, too loud in the empty warehouse - his voice echoed, and Ghoul nearly dropped his gun in alarm.

"What? What's wrong with them?" he asked, tinged with panic, and looked down wide-eyed at his torso. "Oh, Jesus fuck."

It was like something out of Harry Potter. Party gaped at Ghoul's skin in wonder - his tattoos were moving. Some flashed like neon; some, like the swallows across his hips, moved like their living counterparts. The grenade on his chest exploded and reconstituted on a loop. All the stars glittered; pieces in script flowed as though being traced in real time by an invisible calligrapher. Party couldn't help himself but reach out and touch one of them. It rippled gently beneath his fingertips.

"That is so fucking creepy," he said, hushed with awe, and watched the letters vanish before wisping, smoke-like, back into place. "Can you feel them?"

Ghoul shook his head fiercely, face pale. His eyes were so big Party could see white all the way around his irises. "No, I - I didn't even - oh shit, oh dude, look at my fucking hands," and he held them up so Party could see them, and he watched with a sort of horrified fascination as the letters swirled around Ghoul's fingers like stripes around a barbershop pole. "Is this fucking permanent? Party, what if it's permanent? They're all - it's all of them, oh my God," he babbled, high and strained, and clutched at Party's shoulders in distress. Party gave him a hug because he couldn't think of anything else to do, and Ghoul shuddered, and clung back.

Jet took it almost as poorly, once they'd gathered what they needed out of the warehouse and returned to base. He clamped both hands over his mouth the instant Ghoul rolled up his sleeves and reeled backward. "Abso-fucking-lutely not. Ghoul, what the fuck?"

"Dude, if I knew, it wouldn't be happening," Ghoul snapped. Kobra came closer, studying Ghoul's ink with his brows drawn together. He dragged his fingertip over the Our Lady tattoo on Ghoul's forearm.

"Party's radiation theory is looking plausible here," he said, sounding thoughtful, and glanced up to meet Party's eye. "I mean, I can't think of anything else that would cause this."

"Are we all gonna end up with freaky shit, then? Is it gonna get worse? Cause there is a big fuckin' difference between sprouting unnatural hair and living tattoos," Jet said, looking pointedly away from Ghoul. "Oh god, what if my hair turns into snakes or something?"

Kobra snorted, straightening up. "If anyone's getting a snake-themed mutation, it'll be me. Maybe I'll get fangs."

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

He was almost right. It was significantly more disturbing than simple fangs, but it was definitely snake-themed. They were mid-clap when it happened and shit was already chaotic; Party was struggling to clear dust from his eyes with his shoulder when he heard a sickening crunch and then Jet shrieking Kobra's name. Heart in his mouth, Party whirled around with his gun raised, fearing the worst - but all he saw was Kobra, helmet on, going after a Drac down a wash. He glanced at Jet in confusion, and fired a slug at a Drac over his shoulder.

"What the hell was that sound?" he shouted.

Jet, looking like he'd seen a literal ghost, didn't answer him, just stared after Kobra in stock-still terror until Party ran over and yanked him down behind a rock embankment for cover.

"Fuck, Jet, get it together or you're gonna get dusted," Party huffed out, and shot back to his feet to fire off a couple rounds before ducking back down. "What happened?"

"That - he's not - Party, Kobra didn't bring his helmet on this raid," said Jet, and dug his fingers into Party's bicep. They locked eyes, Jet's wide and scared. "That's not his helmet. That's his fucking head."

Party blinked back at him, lost. "What? That doesn't - "

"CAN I GET SOME FUCKING HELP HERE, GUYS?" Ghoul's voice yelled then, and Party cursed before scrambling up behind the embankment, Jet on his heels. They helped Ghoul shake the couple Dracs that had ganged up on him, and then Kobra came running back up the dry creek, splattered with Drac blood. Back to back to back to back, they assumed their usual end-of-firefight position, Party and Ghoul checking north and south with Kobra and Jet looking east and west, guns drawn. Once everyone gave an all clear, they re-holstered and took a second to decompress. Ghoul wiped his face with the bandana tied around his neck, his tattoos whirling dizzily across his skin.

"Okay, so, what the fuck happened back there? I looked up and everyone was gone," he complained to the group, glaring at each of them in turn. "Didn't we talk about keeping eyes on each other the whole time during these things?"

"Sorry, Ghoul, there was sort of a - " Party started to say, looking up from adjusting his gloves, but he stopped short when he laid eyes on Kobra and Kobra's helmet suddenly deflated and disappeared into his collar with that same crunching noise he'd heard before.

"...What?" said Kobra, glancing between the three of them, puzzled. Party could feel the frozen shock on his face, but couldn't articulate any words; Ghoul heaved a dry retch and pressed his hands over his mouth, while Jet gestured frantically at Kobra while looking to Party.

"That! That's what fucking happened, except the other way! I told you it wasn't his helmet!"

Kobra touched his hand to his face, still looking confused. "Yeah, I didn't bring it cause we were in the Trans Am. Why are you guys freaking out?"

Party, acting on a hunch, quick drew his gun on Kobra and lunged, but didn't fire - Kobra leapt backward with a yelp, and sure enough, his helmet formed over his head with that same awful sound. Party shoved his gun back into the holster and grabbed Kobra by the wrist, dragging him toward the Trans Am. He pushed him in front of the side mirror. "Kobra, look."

He did. "What the fuck," he said, muffled.

Party laid a hand on his shoulder. "Dude. It's a cobra hood. The radiation made you grow a fucking cobra hood."

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

By the time it was Jet's turn, the Fab Four were in full-on Buffy research mode to figure out what the hell was going on, and more importantly, if there was anything they could do to stop it. Dr. D didn't know anything but promised to put out feelers for them; they talked to other Killjoys at raves and underground gigs; they stripped tech off Drac bodies and raided Better Living outposts and scoured the airwaves for any stray bits of information. Meanwhile, their individual mutations got weirder. Party's hair color changed, first from day to day, then hour to hour, until it seemed like it varied with each breath. Ghoul's tattoos started multiplying of their own accord. The older ones resharpened, ink drawing up through the layers of skin - their motion, they learned by way of careful note taking, was dependent on his body temperature, faster when he was warm and slower when he was cold. Kobra didn't grow fangs or start sibilating, but he did figure out how to pop out the cobra-hood-helmet thing on command instead of just whenever he felt threatened.

"You know how with the summer monsoons, you can watch the rain sweep over the desert in a sheet until it finally gets to you?" Jet said to Party one day when it was just the two of them on watch. They were parked on top of the Vista de Nada Plano outcrop in Zone Six, waiting to intercept a Drac patrol coming from the east. "That's how I feel about this fucking mutation thing. I just wanna get it over with."

Party glanced over at Jet from the landscape sketch he'd been doing out of sheer boredom. Jet's jaw was clenched, gun in his lap, and he kept trailing his thumb up and down the barrel as he stared out over the scrub wastes. "It's not so bad being a mutant," he said, opting for levity. It only kind of worked; Jet snorted, but didn't smile.

"Easy for you to say. You got the Rainbow-Brite mutation. Kobra sprouted snake anatomy. That's like Storm telling Rogue to cheer up and embrace her power."

Hard to argue with that. Party shrugged, and tapped the end of his pencil against his sketchpad. "Maybe you'll get a softball one, too."

Jet ran his tongue over his teeth. "Yeah, maybe." He knocked his aviators up the bridge of his nose with his knuckle, and then suddenly sat up stock straight, clutching his gun with both hands. "Start the car."

"Huh? Why?" Party looked around, twisting in his seat to check behind them, too - no sign of danger, no dust from vehicles, just the rocks and larrea bushes.

"There's an Exterminator coming up the back side. They've got Dracs with them," said Jet, already shifting into shooting position in the passenger seat; Party cursed, and fumbled to get the keys back in the ignition.

"Fuck, I can't see anything - how do you know that? Where'd you spot them?" The Trans Am roared to life, and Party gunned it down the front side of the outcrop, keeping an eye on the rearview while he dug his gun out of its holster and passed it to Jet.

"I...didn't," said Jet, sounding surprised, and Party cut a glance at him; Jet was staring straight out the windshield, guns in both hands, aimed at the roof. "I just got a feeling."

A ray gun blast whizzed past the driver's side window and glanced off the side mirror. Party jumped, and looked back to the rearview; sure enough, an Exterminator car rose up over the hill behind them, with a Drac hanging out the back window. "Hell of a feeling," he said, and barked out a laugh. "Holy shit, are you psychic now?"

Jet, cranking the passenger window down, shot him a grin before he turned around in the seat. "I guess I'll let you know!"

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

It was another couple months before other Killjoy cliques and Zone dwellers started complaining of their own mutations. They ranged from the superficial and mundane Party-esque changes all the way to the X-men level shit Jet and Kobra got. Only two factors were consistent across the board - everyone who got them had been living out in the Zones for at least three months, and they’d all had some kind of clap with Dracs. The major breakthrough came from Kobra, who’d appointed himself lead researcher, when he figured out there was a positive correlation between the severity of the mutation and how many Dracs you’d killed - i.e., the higher your body count, the crazier your mutation.

“I don’t know exactly what it is about killing them that’s causing this, though,” he admitted, after coming to the rest of them with the data.

“I bet it’s the masks,” said Ghoul. “Who knows what kinda freaky shit powers those things? They wipe your fuckin’ soul!”

“Yeah, but you don’t always destroy their masks when you kill them,” Jet pointed out, rubbing his exposed eye. The psychic thing only worked, they’d learned, when Jet’s regular vision was dimmed - he thought it was super annoying to wear sunglasses all the time, so he’d taken to wearing an eyepatch. It worked, and it was totally awesome. Party had sewed him a little star pattern for it. “It’s gotta be something you’re exposed to every time.”

Party frowned, thinking back to all the claps they’d been in since they got out to the Zones. Was there anything that happened every single time? Did he get near one of them every time? Definitely not. The closest he got to actually touching Dracs was standing too close when they got hit by slugs and bled on him.

Wait. Was that -

“Holy shit,” he said out loud, and the other three all looked at him. “Is it - is it their blood? Like, touching it?”

“Oh Jesus Christ,” Ghoul moaned instantly, covering his face with both hands. “Ugh, Party, that’s fucking disgusting, and the awful thing is I think you’re fucking right.”

Better Living themselves spared them the world’s most vile follow-up experiment by confirming their suspicions in a radio broadcast Dr. D picked up and recorded. Not in as many words - as usual, there was some jargon they didn’t know how to parse, and it was all in Japanese - but definitely something about how exposure to Drac blood could poison you. Of course, that concept set the collective Zone-dwelling imagination on fire; a nuclear answer to the age old question of what drinking vampire blood will do to a mortal, which apparently was superpowers. News hit the zine syndicate, and before the Fab Four could warn anyone that the mutations would absolutely get weirder the more you exposed yourself, the latest Killjoy craze was chugging Drac blood to see what kind of crazy shit would happen to you.

Which turned out to be: a painful physical ordeal in the vein of ayahuasca consumption, first of all. Once you got past the delirium tremors and projectile vomiting, though, it wasn’t all bad. And sometimes, if you were really lucky, at the end of it you sprouted wings or could blow shit up with your mind or talk to dead people.

Party never did have normal hair again.

#fab four #danger days: the true lives of the fabulous killjoys #inspired by annihilation

20 notes · View notes

starjeno · 5 years

Text

destined | l.mh | 2

genre: fluff | soulmate!au, genderswap!au pairing: student!mark x female!reader warnings: mentions of mark’s ding dong, divorce, and urination word count: 2746 summary: it’s a fact of life that soulmates swap bodies. when mark wakes up in a bed that isn’t his, he’s delighted. you, on the other hand, absolutely despise it. a/n: thank you for all the support for part 1! to clarify: bolded and italicized words show a shift in the scene! feel free to send me any asks :)

you wake up with a dull pounding in your head. it feels like you’ve slept for weeks from the taste of your dry breath. pursing your lips, you try to remember if you drank anything alcoholic before sleeping, but it’s hard to come up with any coherent thoughts. it’s like your mind is filled with television static, constantly buzzing.

it’s only when you trail your hand down and feel a thick collarbone that you’re suddenly cognizant of your surroundings. you sit up, glancing at the olive curtains by the window and the sticky notes littering the nightstand to your right. you know that the color of its wood is supposed to be darker to match the headboard of your bed that’s supposed to have a slight grain and not just be a solid plank.

don’t panic, you tell yourself. maybe you're just sleepy, or still in a dream. you don’t want to create a fuss that might disturb your roommate.

your roommate! you reach for your phone but find the device and charger missing from its usual plug point. trying hard to keep your breathing steady, you glance down, landing on the half-naked muscular frame before you.

“holy shit!”

your eyes widen with shock, and you instantly caress your adam’s apple after hearing the deep voice and looking around. no one else is here, at least to your knowledge, so you must’ve been imagining the words. as you move your hands to feel your chest, you swallow in nervousness, the thick feeling in your throat immediately alarming you.

wait. an adam’s apple? that shouldn’t be part of your body, the same way that your missing breasts should be. you pull the waistband of your sweats upwards hastily, immediately spotting something that definitely shouldn’t be part of your body.

before you can process what you’re seeing, a shriek escapes you. it’s hoarse and thicker than your own voice, and it only prompts you to freak out more. you’re a boy. you’re suddenly a boy. you -

“mark? did you see anot — ,“ a tall man slips into the room, softly stepping on the carpet while rubbing his sleep-ridden eyes. his words stop midway when his gaze lands on you, glaring at him with your hand still gripping your sweats above your waist.

“what did you do to me?” you attack, feeling vulnerable and confused. this has got to be the weirdest dream you’ve had in a while. the newcomer rubs his shirt lazily, smacking his lips and raising an eyebrow, “what?”

you tug down the pants, causing the man’s eyes to widen in panic and disgust as he backs away, “what the fuck!? put that away!”

and you scream.

his name is yuta. he is a junior in college and shares a small apartment with mark, his underclassman and the owner of the body you’re in. currently, yuta ╾ after lots of convincing ╾ has you settled in the kitchen, legs tightly wrapped around the barstools.

“other than learning that mark sleeps commando, this is great.”

“huh?” you mumble as yuta leans over the counter, a pleased grin taking over his feature. he sways slightly as his eyes crinkle at the edges from his wide smile, “mark has wanted a soulmate for so long.”

“soulmate?” your stomach drops as you repeat the word, your face automatically contorting with disdain as it rolls off your tongue. through all your initial panic, you failed to realize that you now had to endure the week-long switch and the new lifelong partner. your tongue never tasted as bitter as it does now.

"oh yeah, mark won't talk much about it, but you should see the way he lights up when i talk about winwin. oh, winwin is my soulmate! maybe you can meet him sometime," yuta explains, all the while giving you a perfect, straight smile. you sigh a little, knowing it was going to be a little tougher to let this mark know that you weren't going to stick around.

"listen, i'm not a huge fan of . . . all this soulmate stuff," you start and yuta quits swaying, fazed by your words, "huh?"

"i mean, it's great that mark wants one or whatever but maybe he can just fall for someone naturally. without, um, swapping bodies. and we can forget about this whole thing afterward," you bite your lip. who knew that it would be this awkward to explain your views to someone. yuta simply laughs, leaning against the counter, "i'm sorry, but hearing this from mark's body with his voice is just surreal! i can't wait until mark really meets you!"

your eyes widen, "did you not hear what i just said?"

"oh i did," yuta gives you a smirk, and you're sure that if you weren't currently stuck in some random boy's body talking about the one topic you couldn't stand, especially since it's happening to you, you would definitely be interested in him. unfortunately, you were.

yuta turns around, pulling out a carton of eggs from the fridge, "omelets?"

you frown, wondering what the handsome man is up to as he pulls out shredded cheese and some various greens. his movements are fluid and relaxed, without care. watching him skillfully chop up the lush vegetables makes your stomach growl, and he laughs a little at the sound, "mark loves cheesy omelets. now that you have his body, you might as well learn what makes his tastebuds happy."

"yuta," you sat sternly as he cracks an egg onto a black skillet, "i can't do this."

he sighs a bit as he hovers over the fluffy eggs, watching them solidify slightly before tossing in the cheese and greens, "you have to. you're literally going to have a soulmate at one point or another, and it just happens to be now. don't you like the idea of finding your perfect partner, decided by the forces of fate?"

"honestly? i rather find my own partner by myself."

"wow, i see that you're taking mark's feelings into account," yuta slides a pristine plate with a golden omelet towards you. it's gorgeous and exudes a rich aroma, cheesy and fresh. you watch yuta's muscled back through his shirt when he begins to chop more leaves and sigh, "i'll just tell him. i'm sure he'll understand."

"understand what?" a melodic voice reverbs through the kitchen. it doesn't sit well with you that it sounds so familiar, so ingrained in your head. yuta looks up at the newcomer and flips his bangs out of his eyes before he gives you a flirtatious smile, "so this is what you look like."

when you turn around on the barstool, you nearly shriek. your body stands in front of you in all its bare-faced glory, adorned with a baggy sweater and leggings that bunch around the ankles. you know that mirrors and cameras skew your face a bit, but you felt unfamiliar now that you're truly seeing yourself. your eyes and your nose and your lips - so strangely placed but so fitting. your body looks you over with interest and you realize that watching you check out yourself is one of the weirdest sensations you’ve ever experienced.

besides this whole swap, of course.

yuta finishes up two more omelets quickly and sets up a plate by the stool beside you before sliding you another meal. he whips off the striped apron neatly and hangs it before looking at the both of you, "i'll let you two talk."

you silently pray that yuta would stay, but he's gone in a blink of an eye, and you're left with the spitting image of yourself. it scratches the back of its neck for a second before sighing, "i'm sorry i'm so silent. i didn't know this would happen so soon."

when he speaks, it feels like the air stills. the beat of your heart seems to pump at a steady pace, but the tingling sensation from your flushed ears and cheeks seem to intensify. his words provide a wave of comfort, of familiarity, of belonging, and you have no idea why his presence feels like it's meant to complement yours.

is this how it felt when your mom first met her soulmate?

you watch as he settles on the stool next to you, carefully adjusting his position as to provide you with ample space.

“i’m mark, by the way. yuta must’ve mentioned it.”

"seeing how i needed some explanation for my new form, yes, he did," you reply teasingly, making mark curl inwards in amusement. his eyes kept darting from your eyes to the curve of your jaw, taking in his own features, and it makes your head dizzy. the way his gaze roamed you made your temperature rise uncomfortably, and you shift in your seat, “i’m ____.”

heaviness fills your nerves as you think about your parents. you never asked for a soulmate, and now that you apparently have one, it seems impossible to escape. the way your body seems to react automatically to his presence and how your mind hangs onto each word he says is frustrating. mark coughs and raises an eyebrow, “you, um, have a nice roommate. she’s very quiet.”

“quiet, huh? she’s anything but,” you remark, knowing the girl must’ve been shocked seeing you act strange in the morning. you feel blood rush to your cheeks as you remember how enthusiastic mark supposedly is about this whole thing. he must've had the biggest smile on his face when he explained what was happening to your roommate. good god.

"i'm going to wash up in the bathroom, we can talk on the couch?" you suggest and mark nods, his glassy eyes somehow more glazed than ever. did he expect you to be as happy as he was?

then again, most people are.

you look around quickly before mark points to the left, "by the living room, left of the closets."

giving him an embarrassed nod, you dash into the small bathroom, locking the door hastily. the pristine walls and neatly folded towels above the toilet surprise you: there's no way those two are this neat. you place your hands on the counter, leaning over the sink and taking in the body in the mirror.

mark isn’t unattractive. in fact, he’s the exact opposite. his boyish looks and charming smile reflecting back make you blush, washing his chiseled cheeks with a pink tint. the sight only makes your mind stutter more, and it takes a few breaths to remind yourself that you weren’t about to fall for someone you’ve already decided to cut out of your life. your eyes wander to the toilet next to you and you immediately freeze, thinking about the horrific scene this morning. how in the world would you be able to go to the bathroom?

your hands can’t stop sweating, and mark easily notices your discomfort as you slip back into the kitchen, heading towards the back to where he’s settled on a small couch. he cocks his head, concern washing over his new features, "are you okay?"

"um," you swallow, leaning back, "yeah, i was just wondering how i'm going to pee."

"huh?" he scrunches his eyebrows together and your heart pumps faster as you clarify, "urination? peeing? sweet bladder release?"

his cheeks grow warm and his eyes widen with realization, "oh! oh, shit."

"mhm."

"aren't there youtube tutorials?" he thinks aloud and you snort, "ah yes, the video where someone shows their experience with aiming."

mark laughs at your comment and retorts back with equal sarcasm, setting you at ease. he feels like a comfortable rhythm ╾ as if he's the name to a song that you've been searching for. his arms drape behind you on the cushions and you find that soon enough, your body is close to his. with him, you feel open and safe, which is unusual because boys don't normally make you feel this great, especially with just a bit of conversation.

then again, he is the one set in your stars.

"you're really nice, ____. i'm glad it's you," mark murmurs after a particularly heavy laugh. you shrug and squint, "what's me?"

"my soulmate. i just think you’re . . . , “ he trails off, afraid that whatever he may say may scare you away.

you drag your palm on your sweatpants, feeling the muscled thighs below your fingers. before you can speak, mark runs a hand through his locks, giving you a smile and sighing, "i must've come off really strong, sorry. but i'm genuinely happy that you seem fine with all this. some of my friends hate soulmates, and i honestly don't know how they'll react when it happens."

when mark speaks, you wish it didn't resonate within you. you wish that his words didn't hit you as hard as they did, or that you didn't find yourself reacting to them as much as you did. he says aloud the guilts within, and you know that as much as you're drawn to him and want to stay in his company, you should really be going before you feel any worse.

"that's unfortunate," you reply stiffly and mark plays with the strands of his hair, "yeah. i don't want to seem weird - "

"you sleep with no underwear."

" - granted. but even though it hasn't even been an hour, i feel like i've known you forever," he hangs his head shyly, "is that strange? is it just me?"

you shake your head unconsciously, not sure whether his honest nature was a good thing or a bad thing. when your mom began seeing her soulmate, she was so hidden about the whole thing. her movements were quick and sly, and when she came back home, it was like she never left her spot, like her soulmate had never existed. mark didn’t feel like the kind of guy who could sneak around like that.

think about your parents. the divorce. the horrible soulmate system.

before mark could say anything else, you stand from the couch, guilt and resolve pumping through your veins.

"i should really get back to my roommate."

"that's how she left?" yuta says, his hands on the counter. mark nods, about to fan himself with his sweater but abruptly stopping.

"yeah, i figured that it's probably better for her to get her thoughts together," he sighs, leaning forward and placing his elbows on his knees in thought, "but yuta?"

"hm?" the taller singsongs as he arranges the newly-bought groceries on the counter.

"i felt so comfortable around her, you know? like it felt like she understood everything i meant, even when i didn’t know what i was saying,” mark’s fingers writhe with confusion and intrigue, “when you met winwin, was it like that?”

yuta hums for a bit before opening the fridge, “yeah . . . yeah, like your minds are connected.”

mark nods in agreement. while he isn’t a big fan of you knowing what his naked body looks like, it seemed like you weren’t thoroughly weirded out by the whole thing. his fingers find the familiar wooden windowsill, leaning towards the glass and letting his eyes graze the sky above.

he shifts to the side when yuta leans into the view as well, quietly adjusting himself to the spot. after a few seconds, there’s a cough, and the japanese man hangs his head a little, “mark, i want you to be a bit careful though.”

“huh? what do you mean?”

“just, i wouldn’t just start spilling all your trust into her. i would get to know her first, maybe ask about her past first,” yuta expresses. his words come out velvety and slow, still uncertain in front of mark’s new body. it’s strange talking to mark like this, and he wonders if the boy felt the same when he looked like winwin.

mark’s face is just plastered with an unreadable emotion, “why does it matter what her past is like, ____ is still my soulmate. all that i care about is her now, not back then.”

yuta sighs and smiles reassuringly. he doesn’t know whether he’s trying to protect mark or convince himself that this will all go well, but something in his gut makes him worry more than he usually does. he tells mark that he’s headed out, presumably to run more errands, and mark flops onto the couch with bliss before his eyes widen with panic.

“shit! i forgot to get her number!”

prev | masterlist | next

121 notes · View notes

takaraphoenix · 4 years

Note

Disney for the ask game

Thanks for playing! I’m gonna go ahead and assume animated movies only. xD”

Top 5 favourite characters: Aurora, Fa Mulan, Flynn Rider, Hades, Hiro Hamada

Other characters you like: Marie (Aristocats), Bagheera, Tod (The Fox and th Hound), Tinkerbell, Judy Hopps

Least favourite characters:E L S A

Otps: Maleficent/Aurora, Shere Khan/Bagheera, Moana Waialiki/Merida, Fa Mulan/Aurora, Copper/Tod (The Fox and the Hound), Eugene Fitzherbert/Rapunzel, Tarzan/Jane, Tiana/Charlotte LaBouff

Notps: Jack Frost/Elsa, Nick Wilde/Judy Hopps, honestly probably a lot of others too but nothing I can think of right now or may not even be aware of - though generally, I am very on board with canon Disney ships, surprisingly enough

Favourite friendships: Tiana and Charlotte are great, I love Bagheera and Baloo, Nick Wilde and Judy Hopps too!

Favourite family: Clearly the found family of Lilo & Stitch - Nani, Lilo, Stitch, David, Jumba and Pleakley!

Favourite episodes: mmmh doesn’t really apply here

Favourite season/book/movie: damn, you can’t just ask my favorite. When it comes to Disney movies, it’s more of a tie than a clear Top Five that can be sorted, because all are equally good to me, in different aspects. Sleeping Beauty, Mulan, Lilo & Stitch and Hercules

Favourite quotes:sooo not a quotes kinda gal

Best musical moment: ...why would you do this to me? *distressed sounds* Okay, so, this doesn’t ask best musical number but best musical moment. Now, do bear in mind that I’m German and watch these movies in German. So do not ask me what the English names of things are. But Hercules when Hercules had that moment of wanting to prove himself, like that song was the antheme of my childhood, I still feel that song vibrating in my heart. There are a whole lot of strong, good musical moments in the long history of Disney movies, but this one is just so very dear to me and speaks to me hard...

Moment that made you fangirl/boy the hardest: I MEAN SHIT CLEARLY WHEN ALL OF CHINA KNELT BEFORE MULAN LIKE, THAT IS THE BEST

When it really disappointed you:when they said “fuck creativity, gimme that nostalgia money” and dialed back on original movies in favor of lame shallow live-action remakes of animated classics YOU CAN STILL WATCH. You can LITERALLY just put that Cinderella in and watch it, no need for that horrendous remake (I swear, these fucking hyper-realistic mice with those gigantic cartoon eyes are terrifying and were a not good decision)

Saddest moment: Mufasa’s death, hands down

Most well done character death:...Mufasa’s death, hands down xD”

Favourite guest star: yeah no this is asking too much of me and let’s be real this is gonna be useless to y’all non-Germans even if I know the answer xD

Favourite cast member: seriously I am not good with voice actors and remembering names of those; actors, when I actually get to see faces, sure, but voice-actors...

Character you wish was still alive: SO MANY MOTHERS. Seriously, they killed off so many moms to have Single Dads take care of their daughters... -_-

One thing you hope really happens: I wished they would go back to making fairy tale adaptations. But... I mean ACTUAL adaptations. Not that shit they pulled with Frozen where they took the Snow Queen out of The Snow Queen and literally only kept that one around and changed EVERY SINGLE ASPECT of the story. And it’s not even the first offender; Tangled had barely anything to do with Rapunzel at all. Princess and the Frog was at least up-front about it with the book and the comparison. But let’s... let’s go back to when Disney actually adapted fairy tales and gave half a shit about said fairy tales? Because otherwise, you could just make ORIGINAL MOVIES! :D”““

Most shocking twist: uuuuuuuuuh I got nothing

When did you start watching/reading?: I mean... when I was a tiny kiddo? xD

Best animal/creature: Bagheera! *^*

Favourite location: Atlantica?

Trope you wish they would stop using: killed off mom :D”

One thing this show/book/film does better than others:I does great story-telling usually and it’s beautiful animation most of the time?

Funniest moments: there are a lot; I don’t really have a favorite

Couple you would like to see: I... I am past the point of wanting to see a gay Disney couple, tbh. They showed how little they care about the community and how cringey and offensive their version of ““representation”“ is so... I got nothing

Actor/Actress you want to join the cast: again; would be useless to you and I don’t really know anyway xD”

Favourite outfit: AURORA’S DRESS *^*

Favourite item: uuuhm Triton’s trident?

Do you own anything related to this show/book/film?: lol too many things, yes xD” I have a large variety of Disney figures! ^-^

What house/team/group/friendship group/family/race etc would you be in?: I would be a Flounder-like fearful sidekick xD

Most boring plotline: recent sequels - Incredibles 2 and Finding Dory - because old sequels sure were cringey and weird but shit happened. These new sequels are literally just the exact same shit reheated... =_=

Most laughably bad moment:Pocahontas II going “you know what this needs? This needs a sequel where she goes to England to fall in love with a whole different male character and forcibly try to be an English Lady!”... It was so cringey that the thought someone thought this was a good idea is downright funny??

Best flashback/flashfoward if any: Let’s translate that to prequel/sequel, okay? Then I’d go with Rescuers Down Under - I love that movie. The only case of “sequel is actually better than OG movie”

Most layered character: This may actually be asking too much, tbh. There are just too many characters to judge that...

Most one dimensional character: Probably a whole lot, considering how many characters there ARE...

Scariest moment: the whole entire fucking Nightmare Before Christmas. Damn that thing haunted me for months and I watched it for the first time when I was sixteen (...it’s mainly because stopmotion is my absolute Kryptonite...)

Grossest moment: Fart jokes

Best looking male: Eugene Fitzherbert? xD

Best looking female: Maleficent! *^*

Who you’re crushing on (if any): I mean. Maleficent. But please do note ANIMATED NOT THAT SHITTY CRAP REMAKE. Not because Angelina Joulie isn’t absolutely gorgeous but THEY DIDN’T EVEN GIVE HER GREEN SKIN

Favourite cast moment: Don’t know any of that ^^°

Favourite transportation: The flying carpet?

Most beautiful scene (scenery/shot wise): The opening of The Lion King is so incredibly stunning *^*

Unanswered question/continuity issue/plot error that bugs you:oh Frozen left me with a lot of those. But definitely not enough to put myself through that sequel and also that shit shoulda been explained in the first movie so there is that :D”

Best promo: ahahaha *weeping* when they claimed that Maleficent was going to take my favorite villainess and give her the Wicked treatment. You... You REALLY had me fooled there and got my cinema going money to see that pathetic excuse of a “woman was abused by man and turns evil” crap like holy shit this has nothing to do with Wicked get that away from me, Mal had SO MUCH potential and you did nothing with it ;-;

At what point did you fall in love with this show/book: I mean, as a little kid. Probably around The Lion King?

IN DEPTH FANDOM QUESTIONS

#Disney #In-Depth Fandom Ask Game #send me asks #elements1999

7 notes · View notes

bensboynton · 5 years

Note

Could you do something a little angsty and lots of fluffiness (can be blurb, headcanons, whatever you feel) with Ben and him cheering you up when you're not feeling so good about yourself or your looks? Thank you so much, and welcome back!

thank you love!! glad to be back. hope you like this one!!

SLEEPOVER!!!

word count:

warnings: body/look insecurities, unedited, swearing(no one is shocked!)

ben comforting insecure reader headcanon

so we all know ben is a soft little shit.

and we all know that he’d be whipped as fuck for his girl.

he’d be like… kissing the floor that she walks on.

so you could imagine the sound of his heart shattering into a thousand tiny pieces to come home to you crying in front of the mirror.

he’d rush to your side and wrap you into a tight hug, trying to comfort you.

his stomach would literally drop at the sight of you being so sad, mostly because he had never seen you like that before.

after you calm down, he would lay on the bed with your head on his chest and try to coax all the emotions you were feeling out.

you mumbled something about how ben could do better than you, how you felt you weren’t good enough.

ben’s jaw would drop to the floor when you said that. literally.

he’d jolt up and search your eyes for a few seconds.

“you’re joking, right?” (bro i read this in his voice and i’m crying rn)

he’d wrap you up into his arms and lift you off the bed, swinging you around while his brain reels in disbelief.

he’d set you down in front of the mirror again.

“see that girl in the mirror? she’s the most drop-dead gorgeous person i’ve met in my entire life. and sometimes, i look at her and i genuinely can’t believe that she’s my girlfriend. and when she laughs my heart beats a little bit faster, and her eyes are somehow the same exact shade as the sky, which i’m kind of jealous of, honestly. and when she smiles… wow. it’s like someone cranked up the exposure and saturation in a room because she lights it up just with her presence.”

he’d turn you around to look at him and he’d make direct eye contact with you, his hands resting on your shoulders.

“if you ever have any thoughts like that again, call me. i don’t care where i am, what i’m doing, or who i’m with. call me so i can talk you down from that because i swear to god my chest was hurting when you told me that. you’re the most precious and important thing in my life and i need you to know that.”

he would immediately wrap you into a hug again, showering you with love, kisses, and affection.

ben is another level of clingy after that. literally always touching you, whether it’s kissing, holding hands, hugs from behind, chin on the top of your head.

never leaves your side and practically forces you to wear his clothes because he swears it’s the sexiest thing in the world.

he’d tell you to give him a fashion show wearing his hoodies that are about three sizes too big for your frame, and you’d waltz around the living room, laughing from slight embarrassment but also at ben’s reaction.

he’d pick you up off the ground and spin you around, and then give you a very passionate kiss on the lips.

“beautiful.”

from that moment on, he’d never let an opportunity to tell you how perfect you are go to waste.

at the grocery store in sweatpants or at a red carpet premiere, he’d remind you of your worth and just how much you mean to him.

especially during sex, holy fuck.

like he’d be praising you for every single thing you do, the entire time.

and i’m pretty sure if i had ben as my hype man i’d be the most badass bitch of all time let me TELL YOU!

and you’d be the same way.

of course, you’d still have off days. everyone does! because self-love isn’t something that’s cured overnight. it’s a journey; a process.

but ben would be there for you on the good days, the bad days, the mediocre days, and everything else in-between.

he was in it for the long haul, which was made very apparent very soon after the first incident of ben walking in on you in tears while looking in the mirror.

but you’d get better with the help of a very special blonde haired man, and it soon became your turn to remind him of what he meant to you.

#ben hardy #ben hardy fanfic #ben hardy x reader #ben hardy x you #ben hardy imagine #ben hardy blurb #ben hardy headcanon #ben hardy cute #borhap #borhap boys #borhap cast #bohemian rhapsody movie #bohemian rhapsody #bohemian rhapsody cast #bohemian rhapsody blurb

102 notes · View notes

nancywheelxr · 5 years

Note

from that drabble challenge list - 15 with five and any of the other hargreeves siblings, you choose

Anon, thank you so much, I love writing these chaotic disasters.

15. “I’d kill for a coffee… literally.”

Klaus is napping on the couch.

No, really, he is. Just give him a few minutes and he’ll be off to dreamland, very far from any new end of the world scenarios that he has no doubt will pop up in a few days. That’ just how it is when you’ve got shitty luck like them.

So, he’s napping on the couch when a shadow falls over him.

A very small shadow.

“Klaus,” the shadow says, way too bossy for such a tiny thing. Klaus peels one eye open and finds Five predictably scowling down at him. “If Luther or Diego asks, I’ll be back before dinner. Tell them not to start without me– are you listening to me?”

He waves a hand, “yeah, yeah. Luther and Diego are to sit tight while you’re off gallivanting in the real world.”

“This is not– nevermind. Allison should be back by then.”

And with that he’s off, shaking his head like he’s still the boss of them, which is ridiculous, because if anyone should be boss, it should be Allison, she’s the one looking like a proper grown-up these days.

The front door closes and Klaus shrugs; he’ll just sit tight too, then.

The shadow is back.

Klaus knows that because Ben hasn’t stopped whining about being bored since Five first left and his loud sighs are impossible to block out.

“Klaus,” the tiny shadow barks, and Klaus doesn’t even have to look up to know the kid is in a bad mood. “You searched through this place before. Where would Luther hide Dad’s guns?”

On one hand, this is a very troubling statement.

On the other hand, how’s that for being bored, now?

“Dad’s office, maybe?” He offers, glancing up at all the closed doors on the second floor. The big guy isn’t the smartest cookie in the jar, and he’s certainly not the most creative. Actually, Klaus wouldn’t be surprised if Luther had returned it to its exact same place. “Or the main bedroom. Under the bed, perhaps? Or inside the closet, if we’re going classic.”

“Already searched there. Where else?”

“You shouldn’t enable this,” Ben pipes up from the armchair, making a vaguely constipated face. “Can he even reach the top shelf?”

“I don’t know, he can teleport there,” he throws a pillow in his direction, hoping this is the kind of stressful situation to trigger Ben into being just a little bit solid. Klaus is not asking much. Just a little, just enough for the pillow to bounce off his forehead.

And because Five has about the patience of soccer mom in a department store, he does the equivalent of asking to see the manager. “Forget it. This is a waste of time, I’m going to ask Mom,” and pops out of there.

“You really should stop him,” Ben says, looking dubiously in the direction of the kitchen.

Another pillow flies. “Quit being a little bitch, Ben.” A pause, “he says, with the utmost affection.”

Ben rolls his eyes, but his lips twitch in a smile.

For the third time that afternoon, a teeny-tiny shadow falls over him.

“Klaus,” Five shakes his shoulder without mercy. “Wake up, you’re driving me to the nearest diner.”

“Klaus,” Ben echoes, sounding alarmed, but Klaus isn’t very inclined to be alarmed himself, because, see, in his experience, Ben is easily alarmed by things. Such is the nature of ghosts, he figures. “I really think you should stop him now.”

“Go away,” he says instead, turning away and hoping both of them would get the hint and leave him alone, “I can’t drive, go bother Diego, he can play taxi.”

“Everyone’s out and you drive like a maniac. It should work as a getaway car as long as you don’t crash it– do you think you can manage that?”

The words are processed in stages. First, Klaus is offended because come on, everyone knows he can’t drive, it’s not his fault. Then, he remembers the ice cream truck and yeah, maybe he’s got a point. Finally– “Why do you need a getaway car?”

Klaus’ eyes fly open and he jolts up into a sitting position, the pillow he had been hugging falling to the carpeted floor. Holy crap, he thinks, Five snapped. It was bound to happen, really, but the sight of a thirteen-years-old holding a sniper’s rifle is always a bit startling.

Ben shakes his head, burying it on his hands.

“I need a coffee,” Five says.

“Okay,” Klaus blinks, “are you taking me hostage?”

“What? No, I need you to drive me there and leave the car ready while I hold the diner hostage.”

“That’s– do you need money? Because I’m broke, but we can totally pawn some shit and–”

“Stop wasting my time, of course I have money! That’s not even close to the problem– do you know how hard it is to order a black coffee alone when you look like this?” Five gestures himself, the movement a little awkward on the account of his holding a gun bigger than his short body, but that doesn’t stop him, he’s clearly very passionate about this. “Very difficult. If anyone else asks me one more time if I want a milkshake instead,” he trails off, taking a deep breath, but the message is pretty clear because, you know, gun.

Ben is still muttering to himself, apparently checked out of the conversation. Which is great, honestly, leave it to Klaus to talk the tiny assassin down from murder. However possibly could this go wrong? “I think,” he says carefully, “there are a few steps we could take before escalating to homicide.”

Five closes his eyes as if praying for patience. “I’d kill for a decent cup of coffee,” he adjusts the rifle on his hand with frighteningly ease, “literally.”

“I can see that, yeah?” Klaus smiles, reaching deliberately for the gun. Surprisingly, Five gives in after only a couple minutes of tug of war. Again, all very safe and responsible. He sets it down on the coffee table after double checking if the safety is on. “That’s great, buddy. Now, why don’t we skedaddle out of here before Luther finds this and goes all self-righteous on us?”

“Luther can go–”

Shushing him with a finger, Klaus clicks his tongue disapprovingly. “Mind your language, young man. I thought I raised you better than that.”

“If I wasn’t short on bullets, I would shoot you right now,” Five informs him in a pleasant voice, like the darling family psycho he is.

“I know, and I love you too,” he gets to his feet, picking up his coat from the floor and Diego’s wallet from the table, after all, babysitting Five should always be a team effort. “Now come along, kiddo, tell me which waitress made you cry and we’ll guilt trip her into giving you some coffee.”

“Sometimes, I wonder if the apocalypse wouldn’t have been better.”

“Hey, I’m buying you coffee, you are contractually obligated to be nice to me.”

Ben, who had finally lifted his head from his hands, stands up as well. “I don’t know, isn’t caffeine suppose to stunt your growth?”

Klaus grins. “Yeah, he has a point. Isn’t caffeine gonna stunt your growth, short stack?”

“I should’ve sneaked out the fire escape,” Five sighs, trailing after him with a last longing look at the rifle.

#look an ask #klaus hargreeves #five hargreeves #ben hargreeves #the umbrella academy #tua #tua fic #tua fanfic #this was way bigger than a drabble whoops #five and klaus brotp tag #tua tag

177 notes · View notes

shadowofthelamp · 5 years

Text

SU Movie Liveblog

I had this open in one tab and the movie in another and wrote down my thoughts, let’s go! so sorry to people on mobile.

DIAMOND SONG, DIAMOND SONG

Yeah, makes sense that two years still isn’t really enough to sway them from thinking he’s still pink in some way- especially considering even the crystal gems had that problem after thirteen years.

ICE COLD, STEVEN

his big grin when connie kisses his cheek.... SO good

FAMILIAR DID NOT PREPARE ME FOR OLDER STEVEN’S SINGING VOICE

steven getting a song about being proud of himself and knowing he’s grown into a good person is also SO GOOD

and pearl! pearl’s part! also so great!

oooh, they’re all getting a piece!

garnet referring to her first fusion with terms like parents talk about a baby is PRECIOUS

AAAAA FIRST GLIMPSE AT BBY AMETHYST.... and she comes out with weird limbs like one of those drawing pose dolls, what a nice touch!

DON’T THINK I DON’T SEE THE BETAS THERE.... but no jasper, hmm....

RECREATING THE THEME SONG, I SEE YOU...

maybe it’s because I know what’s coming but making a song called ‘happily ever after’ is just asking for disaster, honey...

Steven Regrets Tempting Fate

steven looks younger when spinel asks who he is and that HAS to be by design.

hmm... is the gem drill connected to her form somehow, with how she formed her hand and it came out?

oooh boy, I’m gonna guess.... spurned member of pink’s court?

SPINEL GETS A SONG RIGHT AWAY, AND HER ANIMATION IS SO FUN

I LOVE IT

and ‘other friends’? yeah, definitely part of pink’s former court.

HER WEAPON IS A FUCKING SCYTHE HOLY SHIT

oh fuck oh fuck oh fuuuuuuck

‘holy s-he really got everybody!’ the boy is 16 greg, he can hear A Swear

oh shit, THIS THING TAKES YOU BACK TO ‘RESTART’ MODE, THAT’S WHY STEVEN’S POWERS DON’T WORK- THEY DIDN’T UNTIL HE WAS AROUND 13

well, THIS is uncomfortable, but it is always nice to hear pearl sing

the expressions seem... idk, extra cartoony here? pearl’s face is so round and everyone’s eyes look extra big. idk if it fits, but it’s probably meant to be a bit unsettling.

huh. someone smarter than me at analysis will have to talk about amethyst’s mimicking.

damn, they really did try to pacify pink with gifts of gems, didn’t they? I can already see so clearly what happened.

‘it took me MONTHS to stop trying to kill steven!’ peridot is so good

and then bismuth and lapis just build on it, NICE

that pose, with him having a hand on his face and looking back at the injector.... I swear either him or greg have had that EXACT pose in some other episode.

okay, pink was hyper and childish, but even she would have gotten bored and annoyed with spinel. I bet spinel was commissioned specifically by blue, but the pink that blue thought she knew, not the one that actually existed.

wow, about fourteen minutes. pretty short turnaround time for a ‘well shit that went bad fast’ reprise.

spinel’s little squeaky shoes during the reprise is... wow

BISMUTH GETS PART OF A SONG....

‘hijinks will ensue’

ANIME-ASS GARNET REFUSION....

if I was new!garnet I’d be scared and confused too... cmon, steven. she clearly looks really disjointed rn.

the first time I actually said ‘oh my GOD’ out loud in this movie was pearl rolling out the stairs and the red carpet

I OWN A CAR WASH

oh geez. boy do I think I know exactly why pink ditched her.

okay, we are.... about halfway through the movie. I do admit I didn’t think this would take this long.

also sandals as tap shoes?

the comic timing of amethyst opening her eyes and look over made me wheeze with laughter.

‘I’m back, you dip.’

also having amethyst be the first to come back was probably a good call.

holy shit is that ACTUAL BLOOD

‘you’re going to die ANYWAY’ gee thanks peridot

oh hey, rebecca as an extra, I think!

I love seeing how sadie’s letting her hair grow out the dye- it makes such a cool effect. and yeah that was how service jobs felt.

steven is just ‘what did I do to deserve this...’

geez, even years after he’s accepted things, steven’s still got a bit of a tight spot regarding rose. not surprised, though.

GARNET, THEY’RE MISSING GARNET, OOOOH

YES YES YES YES YESSSSSS I’VE WANTED THIS FOR /YEARS/, NOT UNDER THIS CIRCUMSTANCE BUT I’LL TAKE IT

I love how easy it is, same as it was for smoky the first time. steven fuses easiest with his family.

okay who the hell is that voice, I checked on imdb and it’s probably either chance the rapper or gallant since those are the unlisted named ones

WHY IS HE BUFF, THIS IS A RIPOFF, BOTH STEVEN AND GREG ARE SOFT BOYS...

yeah.... I don’t like his design. this is the first fusion I really didn’t like that of. ugh.

d’awww, garnet’s wearing steven’s jacket

they threw in the pilot design again!

OPAL SINGING, and admittedly, I do like the steven and greg fusion’s voice

ooooh boy heading for that ocean of poison ain’t gonna do him any favors

pink.... she recreated that garden, made it her sanctuary on earth. she didn’t have only bad memories of it- she must not have realized how much she mattered to spinel like she didn’t realize she mattered to the other diamonds.

the distorted almost circus-like music....

A SONG FROM PINK HOLY COW. wait... that voice sounds really different. is that the same voice actress?

yiiiiiiiiiiiikes. geez I see the reasoning here, holy COW.

‘actually, I can totally believe it’ yeah, as much as I like pink, boy did she fuck up a few times

okay, we got 24 minutes left, this can’t work, right? although spinel only cracked somewhat recently, it sounds like. so really, she’s not that far gone- and considering what we know, probably didn’t fully understand the consequences of her actions.

greg. greg. gross.

I... dunno really how to feel about the su movie being.... basically what everyone who misinterprets su says it is. spinel was made to be redeemed in twenty minutes. her backstory makes it almost shockingly easy. she’s technically the only villain to actually fall like that- like it’s been pointed out, peridot took months, bismuth was already sympathetic, and the diamonds took multiple episodes and still aren’t fully there yet.

I did kinda call that it wasn’t going to be that easy, but whoof. I don’t blame steven though, kid’s under a lot of pressure and is possibly literally dying.

OH, HERE’S THE THEME SONG FOR THE MOVIE

wait.... we haven’t seen alexandrite yet, wasn’t she in the trailer....? and they’re all hugging...

the little crack in his voice between ‘please’ and ‘hurry’...

I love how spinny and magic fusions and gem reformations are in the movie....

wow, BOY did the song sound different when it was released out of context

HE’S GOT CONTROL OF PINK!STEVEN’S SHIELDS AND CRYSTAL PROJECTION SHIELDS....

he sounds so.... adult. I know it’s just that zach is 21 years old now and his voice has changed, but steven really has grown up.

‘well, I changed white diamond’s mind with a single absolutely raw insult so you can’t blame a guy for trying’

yeah I’D KINDA WORRY ABOUT THE POISON.... LIKE RIGHT NOW....

WHY ARE THEY PLAYING THE HAPPY TUNE THE POISON IS STILL A VERY PRESSING ISSUE

if this is how they fix it I’m gonna be a little annoyed, not gonna lie

I just realized spinel reacted to steg so much because it jumpstarted part of her memories- her friend left to become a ‘fusion’.

white being passive-aggressive, I see. 15000 year old habits die hard.

steven: thanks for insulting my home five minutes after getting here, grandma. bitch.

haha, diamond ex machina

#su spoilers #su blogging

15 notes · View notes

bredsticon-blog · 5 years

Text

title: the alternative

part: one (saint or sinner)

desc: you have died. you weren't an extraordinary person when you were alive--you made a few little sins and a few little good deeds, but it's not enough to land you in heaven nor hell. so the reaper gives you two choices: be in limbo forever, or serve equal years in heaven and hell. well, you choose the latter...

tags: angel!nick & demon!zion love triangle (or not? wink), heaven and hell au (yes ik purgatory exists but it has different purposes for this series), ooc (on purpose, i swear), sfw (as in, no smut), gore, violence (i mean, you're in hell...), cussing, murder, mentions of: rape, abuse, addiction (alcohol, LSD, heroin, uhh everything else), mental issues (depression, suicide), and death in general. gender/sex neutral reader (as always) and humor to lighten the mood

word count: 2k

notes: it isn't nearly as scary as the tags make it seem, i promise. i spent a l o n g time on the promo art for this (which imma post LATER) so uhh please read :'( haha yes i WILL finish writing the fma!austin fic and make the part 2 for ¡quake! & ~the wave~ but my ass is still collecting gifs and cleaning up plot holes sksksk and on the 2.76% chance the boys read this: hi follow me im @/bredsticon on ig, i make quality content and be more active on tumblr please we love you

You don't remember dying.

You're dead, and you don't remember dying.

Perhaps, in another life, you once thought that death accompanied a special feeling: life flashing before your eyes, lights out, everything over before your last breath escapes your lungs. But this is... this is slow. So slow. You're still on earth. Floating.. somewhere. Nowhere else. You see the world, all of it. Stars twinkle in the mist. The world around you is gray and dark. You watch your home fall apart. Every crack and shake is in full detail, and, dimly, you watch the sprouting of vines and weeds in its place. The weeds brush heads as they cluster your old house, your old neighborhood, your old country, your old everything.

You're old.

Breathless doesn't begin to describe it. You don't have lungs. You don't have... you don't. You just don't. You are nowhere. You are nothing. You don't exist.

Someone waves inside of you.

What the—

"Hello, Soul One-Hundred Thirty-Three Billion, Seventy-Five Million and Sixty-Five. You're late."

An NYC accent? You're from—

"Now that's a mouthful. I'll just call you Rosebud. See, you were supposed to cross over..." A watch ticks inside your... your form? You? "...millennia ago. Five millennia, in fact."

The voice throws a powder on you. Something blooms inside you, and you fall to the ground.

You gasp—holy shit, you can gasp. You move your head around. Ohmygodohmygodohmygod, you have muscles, you have form, you can move. You exist.

The voice has a form, too. He looks like you: human. Flaming blue hair, khaki-colored skin with reddish-pink polka dots and marks. He wears modern clothes: a bright yellow vest and green pants. And glowing. He's like a painting. Human, kinda.

You gape at him. This doesn't exist. This can't exist. You thought you'd be nothing forever. But now you're something and that's something and the world around you is still murky but it's something and oh my God. Oh my fucking God. What happened to you? What happened to your home? Why aren't you dead?

The form smiles at you. "Be careful with mentioning the Master Creator so much. They're listening, y'know. They can tell when you're talking about Them."

He offers you a hand. Shaking, you take it. You wobble so hard you grab his shoulder, and he pats your wrist.

"Relax, Rosebud, we're gonna go up now. Take my hands." Gently, he takes your hand off his shoulder and interlocks your fingers together. You close your eyes as he pulls you close.

Once you open them, you're no longer on Earth.

You're in an office.

Vaguely relaxing piano music plays in the background. The walls gleam "eggshell white" (whatever that means), and copy-and-paste potted plants commiserate in corners, on shelves, and on top of desks. Rows and rows of cubicles line up in front of you, complete with ancient computers, loud clicking, and early morning groans of "I need more coffee, for fu- fun's sake!" A vending machine and a water cooler stand behind you, with banged-up tables interspersed between those.

Someone rises out of a cubicle. His skin is pale, but his hair is dark. "Reaper Honoret Jr.! Is that—oh my goodness, is that the stray? You did it! It took a few millennia, but you did it!"

Honoret Jr. grimaces. "My bad, Dad. The soul blended in so well, it took me a while... my readings showed complete neutrality. It's like there's no one there." The reaper looked back at you. "I only caught a flicker. Right now, I can't—"

His dad chuckles. "Not Dad. It's Reaper Honoret Sr. to you." He winks. "I'm kidding, y'know how they get around here."

He comes forward and wraps his arms around the boy, then unlatches. Without Honoret Jr's support, you fall to the ground, so you watch as he holds his son's shoulders. "Your bad? What do you mean? I'm proud of you. So, so proud. You're the only one who could even—actually, wait."

He turns to face the cubicles. "Reapers of Thanatos & Co., guess who just caught the stray!"

The clicking stops.

Someone coughs. "You're joking, right?"

"Absolutely not. In fact, it's behind me, right now."

Chairs scoot on scratchy carpet as the reapers of Thanatos & Co. nearly jump out of their cubicles to see you. Forty reapers dressed in some manner of business attire speed walk in your direction. One pushes Honoret Jr. out of the way—his dad has to catch him before he falls on his face.

When they see you, they stop. They start staring at the air around you. They sniff like blood hounds.

After a pause, a reaper with large eyebrows turns to another, eyes wide. "I think... I can't... I literally..."

The other nods. "Same here. Reaper Honoret Sr. isn't lying."

The crowd murmurs in agreement.

A reaper with short pink hair raises his hand. When no one calls on him, he puts it down and mutters something about being new. "Wait, if Reaper Honoret Sr. found the stray, shouldn't we tell the Grand Reaper about it first?"

Once more, the crowd murmurs in agreement.

The eyebrow reaper stares at you—no, not at you. Into you. Like you're not even there. "Before that, we need to know who found it. Reaper Honoret Sr., did you find it? We need someone to congratulate."

He grins. "Nope! My son did." He shook his boy's shoulders.

The reaper raises a brow, then gives the blue-haired reaper a look. "Oh. Well, uhm, congratulations."

The crowd weakly claps. Good job... mhm... congratulations, Junior... and then they disperse back into their leather spin chairs.

Honoret Jr. turns to you and makes a face. "Sorry about that. Office drama. Can't escape it, even in this world."

He doesn't look like a reaper to you. No black cloak, no creepy aura, no skeleton fingers. Kind, colorful, couldn't be a reaper. Nope. Impossible. None of this is.

"You're not believing a lot of things, I know. The first few days are the hardest." He gifts you with another smile. "You'll get there, I promise. I'm here to help.

"Name's Edwin, by the way. You've been calling me Honoret Jr. and that just gives me middle school flashbacks. No thanks."

You can't even make a proper facial expression to react to that. You can't formulate words—or even walk without Edwin holding your hand. He's reading your thoughts, at least. You're basically a vegetable.

He shrugs. "Give it a few hours, Rosebud. The vegetable'll wear off. Your body's just adjusting to this plane. No shame."

You can't speak, so you just think of the word: thanks. My name is—

"Oh, I know what your name is. I've been searching for you for five millennia. I'd be a horrible reaper if I didn't know."

He extends a hand. "Speaking of vegetable and horrible reaper, I bet you're hungry. You're also naked. Let's fix that."

Reapers need to eat, surprisingly. Edwin leads you through a myriad of hallways with the exact same paintings and potted plants (this is disgustingly easy to get lost in, you think. Edwin agrees) until you reach the break room. It takes you an hour.

No one's in there except you two. Edwin gave you some of his clothes (kept in another room), so you're wearing a red fit with a black vest and a lime green beanie. He tried to offer his matching ski mask, but you managed to mentally shout "No!" before he put it away. You don't mind wearing his stuff, but you wonder what that could imply. Do reapers...? Actually, you don't wanna think about that.

The break room curves up into a sparkling, plastic chandelier. The rest of the room accommodates a fridge plastered in posters, a microwave, and a dirty coffee maker paired with beige countertops. A pile of paper plates and utensils decorates the left countertop, while a sink occupies the right end. Island tables take up the rest of the center, leaving room for vending machines in the back.

Edwin scrunches his nose. "Who's bummy ass forgot to wash the coffee pot? Ew." He examines it, then starts washing the dishes.

He looks back at you. "You can go raid the fridge. Just don't touch the lunch boxes or uh—bento boxes, I think. Those are Reaper Porter's, and he will get very mad if you touch his bento. I did that once, so he threw a fork at me then said I messed with his feng shui."

Edwin mutters something about unseasoned chicken as he continues scrubbing coffee stains.

You stand up. Your walk is wobbly at best, and you feel like a pile of jello—you're weak in the knees, like jello. But you're getting there. Its better than before. At some point in your hour-long journey to the break room, poor Edwin had to carry you. You felt bad, but at least he's strong. Maybe it's a reaper thing.

You stumble to the fridge. Posters and dates and schedules cover the surface, but you brush past them to find what truly matters: the food.

Reaper office food tastes just as bland as human office food. How sad.

You find that your body works just like it used to. You're hungry, you can feel pain, and you're starting to move. It's like you never died. And now you're in a huge office full of slightly-glowy people who call themselves Reapers and also can't sense you, which is a concept you still don't understand. Or maybe you didn't die? Maybe someone stirred some LSD in your drink? And this is all... a major... acid... trip...

You blink, then pinch yourself. Nope. You're 'swell.

Edwin pulls out a chair. "Now that we're done with the basics, Rosebud, we need to get you registered. You're a bit of a weird case, but you're not too too special. Just uncommon."

He pauses. "Well, actually, you might be a little more special than that. Just a tad."

You give him a look. Something builds in your throat.

"What the fuck?"

He giggles. "Those are your first words on this plane? I—"

"No, seriously. What. The. Fuck." You sound like a cheese grater but you don't care. "I literally have no idea what's going on. I died, I think, then I watched mankind die too as the Earth turned into dandelions, then you went inside of me and threw some pixie dust to make me come back again, suddenly I'm in a 90s sitcom office and I'm naked which literally no one told me about until everyone else saw me as bare as the day I was born and—"

Edwin pats your hand. "All right, all right, let it out, let it out. I'll explain everything. It's just really long." He rubs the back of his neck. "And we're kinda on a time crunch here."

"A time crunch. When it took us an hour just to get a snack."

"Yes, a time crunch. We have about two more hours to get you registered before you become tied to this plane. Then you'll have to become a reaper, like me, and you don't wanna become a reaper." He bites deeply into his peanut butter and banana sandwich. "Shit's hard."

"I can't even—"

"Mhm." He says through a mouthful of peanut butter. "I'm rellay sorreh you're goineh frough thif. I geh how you feel. Eferyone dehs."

He swallows. "We all started out alive. No one's been here since the beginning. Except for some of the seraphim, I guess. But the rest of us? We just humans the Master Creator decided to gift. You're not alone in this. I went through the same bullshit as you. I get it."

You bow your head down. Your thoughts are too jumbled to feel actual anger. "Thanks, Edwin."

"You honestly deserve better, but no problem." He stands up and wipes his hands on a napkin. "Imma clean up after myself, so you can get a head start. We do only have two hours." He yanks you out of the chair. Still chewing, you watch as Edwin shoves you out the break room.

"Wait—hold up—wh—I don't know where I'm supposed to—"

He grins. "You will! Your senses will guide you."

"What— more vague shi—" and the door slams.

17 notes · View notes

theatercommandments · 6 years

Link

I'm very lucky that one of my "survival jobs" is working as a videographer and photographer. 99% of the work I do has to do with music and theater, whether it be shooting live performances, doing headshots, or making promos for a show. Here are some tips from a person who frequently finds themselves behind a camera:

1. For the love of all that is holy if somebody tells you to stay still, stay still.

If I tell you to stay still for a little bit so I can focus the camera, I mean literally stand there and don't move. Don't kind of chill and move around in the same general area, and don't keep moving your body all over the place. Literally. Just. Stay. Still. By moving, you're making it harder for me to focus the camera and it's just gonna take longer.

If I had a nickel for every time that I had to tell somebody to stay still while I was focusing a camera I could pay my grad school tuition ten times over.

2. Hit your mark.

On film sets, you'll see tape marks all over the floor. They're called marks, and they basically mark the exact spots you have to hit (corresponding to your blocking) so you'll be in focus. Hitting marks can be tricky, but don't completely ignore them and assume it will be fine. You don't hit your mark? Well then you're gonna do that take again.

Similarly, if you're doing a pre-screening or audition recording (i.e. something without any blocking or staging) and the videographer tells you not to move forward or backward too much (depending on the lens, sometimes literally not even more than like a foot in either direction) listen to them because by doing so you will go out of focus and will likely have to do another take. I understand that sometimes you get caught up in the moment, and yes some cameras do have continuous autofocus, but moral of the story: if a videographer tells you not to do something because you're gonna go out of focus, don't do the thing.

3. Just because I am able to fix it in post does not mean that I want to fix it in post.

The phrase "fix it in post" effectively means that we'll fix an error or issue in editing later, This is perfectly fine for minor cuts, color correction, etc. However, the real problems come when people assume that effectively anything can be edited away, or that it won't be hours upon hours of work for the editor.

If there is a simple solution that prevents me having to fix something in post that we can do during filming, then we should absolutely do that. Fixing things in post is often more difficult and might not yield quite as good a result as if we had just adjusted the way it was shot in the first place.

SIDENOTE: I'm filming or photographing a rehearsal especially if it's a full dress rehearsal with lighting and all that, I will never ask you to adjust the lights for my sake. I frankly had no idea that people did this until I read a post from somebody in the Techblr community about it. It's not only incredibly unprofessional for a photographer or videographer to ask a lighting technician to adjust the lighting for them, it just makes them look bad. Shooting live performances is an acquired skill, I know this firsthand; I am far from perfect and I learn something on every project and job I do. But if somebody needs you to adjust the lighting so they can get pictures or video, they're basically telling you that they don't know enough about how to use their camera to shoot it as-is. That is NOT the person you want filming or photographing your show.

4. The price varies. A lot.

Almost every time somebody asks me what my typical rate is, I tell them "it depends," because it really, really, does. Different projects and gigs require different things, and take different amounts of time and effort. Promotional videos require a lot of filming hours, a lot of editing, and often a lot of back and forth via email with the director, producers, marketing, etc. A simple pre-screen recording requires relatively little filming time, and very minimal editing. Therefore, a promo costs much more than a pre-screen.

On top of that, if you need a very quick turnaround time, the price goes up. If you call me at the last minute, the price goes up. If you need me when I'm otherwise swamped, the price goes up. Why? Because you're effectively paying for me to expedite and prioritize your videos/photos over other work. Similarly, if we need to do a reshoot (which I avoid like the plague), you will be charged extra for it because it's more filming time.

5. If your photographer/videographer says to not wear a certain thing, do not bring that thing as one of your wardrobe options.

We're not trying to police what you wear, but there are certain colors and patterns that either look weird on camera or will effectively confuse the camera. For example, very thin stripes or very intricate patterns can often look like hypnosis patterns on camera. Very bright neon colors can throw off the white balance. That's the only reason we're telling you not to wear something.

And if you do wear something that looks weird on camera due to the color or pattern, a certain amount of correction can be done (except for super thin stripes, that you pretty much can't do shit with). However, like I said before, just because we can fix it to some degree in post doesn't mean we want to fix it in post or can make it look perfect in post and this is precisely one of those situations where a minor fix could prevent extra editing time and lead to a better result.

6. Make sure that your makeup is camera-friendly.

Matte is the way to go. Dewey makeup can be reflective, and is not suited for any kind of flash photography, or any kind of video or photo shoot that's using lights. Similarly, go easy on the highlighter, especially if it's very shimmery.

Also, check that your powder doesn't have flashback! If you've ever seen photos of celebrities on red carpets where it looks like there's a ton of unblended powder on their face (especially under the eyes), it doesn't actually look like that in real life. Rather, it's that the powder is literally reflecting the light from the flash (thus the term flashback), and giving it that ridiculous unblended look. A simple Google search should be enough to find out if your powder has a lot of flashback. If you really want to be safe, have a friend with a camera (a real one, your iPhone isn't going to be an effective test) take a picture of you very with the powder on with flash, and take a look at the results.

On camera makeup is kind of like modified stage makeup, and what you wear on camera will largely depend on the situation, so always check up on that.

7. For directors and really anybody who is hiring a videographer or photographer to come film/photograph a rehearsal, dress rehearsal, show, etc., for whatever reason it may be, PLEASE ALERT YOUR CAST OF THIS.

It has actually happened quite a few times where I was scheduled to film in a rehearsal and I showed up and the only person who knew I was going to be there was the person in charge. I always either discuss things in advance via email, phone, or an in-person meeting, with the director, producers, etc., basically whoever is hiring me. However, it is not my responsibility to alert your cast that I'll be there. Take care of notifying them and sending any relevant media releases before I get there.

I'm probably leaving some things out, feel free to ask any questions you may have!

Website - Merch - Posters

29 notes · View notes

couldnt-think-of-a-funny-name · 7 years

Note

mmkay let it out what's your thoughts on the new doctor who

- Okay so right off the bat??? It took me less than five minutes to fall in love with Bill holy SHIT

- Like I could tell from her original preview that I was gonna like her but!!! She’s fantastic!!!!

- 12 playing the electric guitar at any given time is a strong weakness of mine

- The Doctor…has pictures…of Susan and River on his desk…I am…beyond deceased

- Okay like literally every single incarnation of the Doctor fits the aesthetic of ‘eccentric professor who gives no fucks but also ends up teaching very memorable classes’ perfectly but like. I’m so glad Capaldi is the one that gets to FULLFILL that omg.

- “You shouldn’t be in my class you aren’t a student here”

- “I know but I’m like really gay and accidentally made my crush fat because I can’t function properly”

- “Valid points, I need to teach you everything I know.”

- What…is in…that Goddamn vault.

- “Doctor What?” you know that killed him just a little inside

- She got him a freaking carpet for Christmas??? amaze

- Also just the fact that she spent Christmas with him??? You’re not crying I am

- 12: “I’m a cold hearted lone wolf I’m here to do my job I don’t care about anyone no one can crack me-”

- Bill: “Yeah my mom died when I was a baby and I have no pictures of her it makes me very sad”

- 12: *internally screaming, eye twitching, frantically grabbing a camera and sprinting into the TARDIS, shouting* “I aM a CoLd HeArTeD lOnE wOlF i’M hErE tO dO mY jOb I dOnT cArE aBoUt ANYONE-”

- seriously that was so sweet I almost cried???

- LMAO when she said “You’ve apparently been teaching here for 70 years” and he was like “You’re thinking, ‘he doesn’t look old enough’ “ and she said no. HIS FACE 😂

- “One time you were supposed to give a lecture on physics but you started ranting about poetry” “They’re the same thing.”

- Like they did a weird job with the Heather girl??? I ultimately felt bad for her but she was like shady right from the start it was strange

- Like every time Bill was around her I was like “honey reel in your thirst just far enough to realize this situation has me nervous” omfg

- w h a t i s i n t h e v a u l t

- Am I like…the only person who doesn’t like Nardole? I never have tbh he just feels shoved in there

- Like his whole spiel about wanting to make sure the Doctor’s dealing with River’s death okay at the end of the Christmas special was sweet but like??? He feels out of place and hasn’t properly done anything yet???? Idk it feels like someone inserting an oc into their fanfic re-write of the show but not knowing how the oc can actually effect the plot

- The Doctor has been a college professor for at least 70 years like…is the TARDIS okay? I can’t imagine she enjoys being parked in his office or the ‘out of order’ sign omg

- Yes, yes I am worrying about a sentient machine’s feelings leave me alone

- “I see my face all the time- never liked it, it’s all over the place, having expressions when I’m trying to be enigmatic.” MEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

- “Why are you running like a penguin with his ass on fire”

- When she asked the Doctor if he knew about sci-fi. A++

- He was so swept up in figuring it out before he snapped back and was like nEVER MIND SWEET CHILD PLEASE GO AWAY ITS PROBABLY JSUT WATER lmao

- Can we as a society please stop setting creepy moments in fiction in bathrooms??? Like I’m fucking over it

- And honestly??? I’m so PISSED about the thing in the shower drain holy shit after years of having issues with drains because of “it” and I finally start fucking getting over that only for Doctor Who to do this to me??? Why does this show always know my deepest paranoia shit and use it only briefly like WHY

- Anyway,

- Bill’s reaction to the TARDIS was HILARIOUS

- “What happened to the doors though did you run out of money?” LMAO

- WHAT IS IN THE VAULT

- I lost it when they ended up in Australia omfg that was good tegan screaming in the distance

- “IF YOU’RE FROM ANOTHER PLANET THAN WHY DID YOU NAME YOUR BOX IN ENGLISH IT DOESN’T MAKE SENSE”

- “You’re…the first person to mention that…?” I WAS SCREAMING

- yelling ‘shark attack’ in a restaurant and it actually works? okay

- Why does Capaldi’s Doctor have such a penchant for traveling to the literal end of the universe??? This is the third or fourth time he’s gone there omfg

- Like he’s always like “no one will find us here” but like at this point? End of the universe would be the first place I’d check for him? lol

- 12 looked so proud of himself when he was called ‘silly’!!!! I’m so happy for him it’s a relief he’s out of the emo ‘what kind of man am I’ phase

- OKAY LISTEN UP

- WHEN THE DOCTOR GAVE NARDOLE A SPARE SONIC SCREWDRIVER

- DID WE ALL SEE THE DESIGN???

- BECAUSE I’M PRETTY SURE THAT’S THE SONIC RIVER USED IN THE LIBRARY AND IF IT IS I AM GOING TO THROW MYSELF DOWN THE STAIRS I S C R E A M E D

- on a mildly related note: Nardole running around trying to sonic things and quietly screaming was THE MOST ME THING I’VE EVER SEEN ON TV

- I do shit with that exact attitude all the fucking time you don’t even understand I was looking in a mirror it was hilarious

- So question: Since when is the Dalek’s laser “the hottest fire in the universe”? Is that an already established thing I forgot about or like…did they just want an excuse to show the Daleks? lol

- so Creepy Water Demon Girl was chasing them through time and space solely because she thinks Bill is hot?

- R E L A T A B L E

- When Bill asked the Doctor how he’d feel if someone erased his memories and a slightly warped version of Clara’s theme music started playing??? I stabbed myself that was UNCALLED for I was NOT READY

- When the Doctor was having Internal Struggles™ and he told the pictures of Susan and River to shut up and then the TARDIS started making noises at him and he was clearly getting emotionally ganged up on I was YELLING that was so funny lmao

- Why was he so against travelling??? Why the same school for 70 years??? WHAT’S IN THE VAULT??? Who did he promise????

- The whole ending scene when he was inviting Bill on the TARDIS- idk I just really liked it?

- The lighting behind him from the ship, the mini speech, the music playing in the background??? I really dug it omg

- WHAT IS IN THE VAULT

- But no yes I???? Really freaking enjoyed the episode. Like it’s obviously not the best of the series or anything but I think it was a great opener and now I’m even more pumped for the rest of the season I’m so hype I can’t handle it omfg!!!!

#doctor who spoilers #doctor who #dw #peter capaldi #pearl mackie #asks #molly mumbles

108 notes · View notes

hookprevails98 · 7 years

Text

Negan (17)

"Where the fuck do you think you're going?" Negan asks. I'm at my door. Just down the hall from his, as usual when we get back from a run. I just want to drop right now. Honestly. I'm so tired. "P-put mmy sssstuff back?" I ask. Brownie is hanging over my arm. Kind of like bird. Her head is on my hand, too. It's cute. I want to put her down on the bed so I can get food and a leash. Negan shakes his head. "You really don't fuckin listen when I talk, do you, Doll?" He asks. I frown. What is he talking about? Is he kicking me out? Did I do something wrong? IS it Brownie? He's making me move somewhere else because of the puppy? "You're staying in my fucking room until you can fucking move on your fucking own." What? With him? His WIVES don't even do that. They aren't allowed in his bedroom. He screws them in his office, in their rooms, but never in his bedroom. "Hurry the fuck up." He orders. "Put the fuckin dog in your room and get the fuck in here." Okay. I flinch and start into my room. Everything is just how I left it. So I put Brownie on the bed. On the pillow. She stirs, but she doesn't wake up. Which is good. She's so cute. I hope she doesn't mind being alone. Since NEgan probably won't let me bring her into his room. And what does staying in his room entail? Bed-bound for awhile? It's just staying down as much as possible. I can walk around. Obviously I can walk around. I can function. Why does he want me in there? Sex? Is he just going straight for it? I'm not ready for that. Not even close. SHIT. I have to pay him back for the puppy. Right? That's......I have to. It's how it works here. "Negan?" He's already in his room putting his stuff back. He looks tired. I won't come in more than just inside the doorway. He has a nice room. The bed is huge. Like bigger than any I've seen. Could probably fit like five people. And he has red blankets. Numerous red blankets. They're huge. They look warm and comfortable. His pillows are thin, though. Without sheets on them. They don't seem to fit. He has thee book cases, too. They're old, and a little damaged. The weight of the books is making a couple of the shelves bend down towards the middle. It looks pretty....dangerous. For the books, at least. And the floor is carpeted. Like a weird green soft carpet. Much different than my room. He has a table on the other side of the room from the bed. It's big enough for two people maybe. "What is it, Doll?" He asks. He's using the tone he only uses when he doesn't need to put on a show. It's his tired tone. He doesn't always have charisma. I look down at my feet. "Wwwwwhy-why-why-why- " Come on, Evelyn. You can do this. "Why a-am I....." "Staying my room?" He finishes. I just nod. "Because I fucking want you here. I can't keep a fucking eye on you in your own fucking room. You stay in here, you can't lock me the fuck out." He knows I lock my door? Does he try to get into my room or something? That's....weird? "You afraid I'm going to fucking try something?" He asks. Now he's standing right in front of me. Fuck thanks. You're making me feel really really small. I grab the strap on my bag as tight as I can before letting his question settle in my brain. Try something. Sexually. I shake my head. But then I sigh and nod. "Will you?" Fuck, get your stupid voice back, weirdo. "Probably. You say no, I'll fucking stop. For now you fucking rest. That's it. Put the fucking bag down wherever you fucking want. Then take a goddamn shower. Use mine." His? He has his own personal one, I remember now. It's connected to this room. On the left wall. I feel like if I move....I don't know. I just feel really stiff right now. Like...a little frozen, I guess. Nothing feels......right. I guess. I sort of feel in trouble. "Something the fuckin matter, sweetheart? Scared of little old fuckin me?" He asks. I flinch again, which probably answers his question. Fuck. Calm down. You're home. You can actually be a little more calm. You can calm down. You're safe. He said he wouldn't hurt you. "Shower." I mumble. Can't take my eyes off the floor now. Stupid me. I'm being stupid. I step around him and go to put my bag in a corner. I need clothing. Preferably something that'll cover my arms. Get the next week's worth of long sleeves, and hopefully check on Brownie. Too much to do today. I just want to collapse. It's so much. Granted, I wanted a fuckin puppy. This is my stupidity. My problem. "I got-gotta-got-gotta g-get......get a leash. And fffffood. Shhhower.....l-later?" I ask him. My bag, which is an old computer bag, gets set in the corner by the door to the bathroom. "Where the fuck do you think you're going to get a fucking leash?" He asks. I sigh. James. He'd know, right? He gets things. He knows how and where to get anything. He got me a necklace. He can find a leash. "I j-just...nnneed one. I-if I'mmmmmmm g-gonn-gonna wwwwalk-walk her. Sssssssssso shhhhe- " I feel like I can't breathe. You just gotta compartmentalize. You can take responsibility. You do it every time you go out on a run. Focus. Fucking focus. Or he'll get mad. Fuck that's not helping! "Leash......food.....w-walk, shhhhower. Sleep." I realize my eyes are closed then. Oh great, you look like a fucking freak. The tension is getting fucking worse. I open my eyes and force myself to look at him. He just looks confused as shit. Like....really confused. Fuck DARYL could decipher what I was trying to say. He's not Daryl. "I-I hhhhhave thhhhi-things. B-befffffffore I c-can show-wwwww-wer. L-like.....clothing?" I gesture down to my still cut up shirt. My arms are hidden by my coat, thankfully. "Sssssor-rry." I mumble. But I DO need clean clothing. He sighs heavily. "Hurry the fuck up, then. I want to fucking take a hot fucking shower." He mutters, heading towards his bed. Wait what? I frown, but brush it off. Doesn't matter, yet. Just get what you need to get done right now, done right now. One thing at a time or you'll get overwhelmed. Last time you let that happen, you nearly got your head cut off. Literally. "Thank you Negan." I rush, well about as much as one with a cracked rib and a whole their chest can rush, towards the door. "Anyfuckin time, Doll."

"J-james?" I ask quietly. He's in the kitchen making dinner since it's so late. Me and Negan got back just before sunset. Lucky us. Everyone is preparing dinner right now. It's weirdly dead in here. James, the head cook, and maybe five others? That's not a lot considering how many people are normally here. It's usually always buzzing. But they're playing music and no one's talking to each other. It's hot like always. Oh, they're cooking meat. Yay. Sounds like real fun, meat. Ugh. James is in the back doing the cutting. He likes cutting. Everything. It' his thing. "What?" He looks up from the current piece of red meat. Looks too serious, James. The only time he looks serious is when he's working or ranting. So a lot. But he see's me and his eyes go wide. "Evs!" The knife gets discarded on the small table he was using to cut, along with the meat being temporarily forgotten. "HUH! MMM!" I squeak. He's wrapped his arms around me and hugged me. We're about the same size, and he hugs around the stomach area. Cracked ribs and hugging really don't go hand in hand. At fucking all. "J-j- " Can't breathe. I am being stabbed. Holy fuck me. PAIN. PAIN. PAIN. PAIN. "I thought you were dead, Evelyn. Where the hell WERE you? Where the fuck have you been!" Why is he fucking yelling? Why do you have to yell? And squeeze. Fuck it hurts. It hurts. It hurts! I can finally breathe when he lets me go. Which is when I grab the table. FUCK YOU YOU DICKHEAD MOTHERFUCKER! "What the fuck did I do? Too strong?" He ass. He sounds like he's about to laugh. Ha ha, this is so funny. Hahahahahahahhaha fuck you. Fuck this hurt. Fuckity fucking fucker mother fucking shit-face. "Seriously, I thought you were dead. What the FUCK is wrong with you? Being gone so long without telling me. You always fucking tell me." Oh gosh. I'm sorry. I didn't exactly plan on getting shot. "I-I was.....hhhhurt." I shake my head. Pain is too much. It's gonna take a couple minutes to recover from that stupid fucking hug. "Hurt? Shit girl, you don't look hurt. What the fuck happened?" He asks. Good question. I hold back a groan. "Got shhhhot." I answer quietly. Thank the universe I changed my stupid shirt before I came out. It's too hot to wear my coat right now. But the long sleeve isn't so bad. Not once you get used to the heat. "Shot? You got SHOT? Who the fuck shot you? are you okay?" He asks. I just nod. "C-c-c-c-crrrr-crack-ck-cked rrrrrrib. Sssssor-ry I've b-been gone. D-didn't ex-ex-exact-tly p-pop-pop-pop-pop up on my cal-lllllender." I joke. He smirks for a moment, then frowns at me. "You're okay?" He asks. Okay is relative. My head nods. "How's....how-how's your week b-been?" Nice question. Really smooth. You're great at talking to people, Evelyn. "Shit. I've been worrying myself sick over you. For good reason, apparently. I can't believe you were shot. Negan have you locked up or something?" I shake my head. "Good. Well I'm happy you're better. Nothing else really happened around here. Negan's wife Yuma cheated. You should see what he did to poo Mick. The guy's face is like Dwight's now." He makes a weird face before shivering. I don't like imagining that. Negan pressing the iron to Mick's face. The flesh melting off. Bleh. "Jamie and Francis are going at it again. I haven't been able to make a good run. Negan tightened security. The asshole. Speaking of guards, do you want to have dinner with me tonight?" That was a definite change in direction. Have dinner? Like.....a date? I feel sick at the thought. Not because James, no. I just.....a date? It's not my thing. I don't even know how to do that. And I don't want to date James. He's my friend. I'd go as far as to consider him being my best friend. But if we date, he'll want sex. And he doesn't know about my past. He's never seen my scars. He doesn't know me. I don't want to see the look on his face when I refuse him, or when he see's me. I don't know how to talk right, I don't know what he's like, either. Nice or.....like the other men. I know that Negan is fun, and he can be serious. I've made my decision, and it wasn't made lightly. James isn't the guy I want to date. "Evs." I flinch when he snaps his fingers in front of my face. He has dimples when he smiles. Like.....deep deep dimples on his cheeks. The one on the right side of his face is slightly higher and deeper than the other. "Dinner?" he asks. I panic. "Uh......I-I-I ac-actu-actuallllly-ly hhhhhave.....I-I got a- I got-I got- uh a-uhh p-pup-pup-pup-ppy a-and I hhhhh-h-have t-to fffffffffeed her ffffffirst. A-and find-find her a llllllleashhhhhhhhh." He looks very confused. Which is why, around feed her, I panic even worse and continue talking. "A-and I-I-I-uh-I-uh- '' My rambling is cut off by him waving a hand through the air. "I am not understanding a fucking word, Evs. Talk slower?" He asks. Slower. Right. As soon as I can breathe again. Funny, my side is acting like a rubber band conditioning tool right now. Which is when someone has the rubber band on their wrist and snaps it every time they have a 'bad thought'. Only I 'snap myself' when I get panicked or stressed. And by snap, I mean I actually feel serious pain in my side. Courtesy of my stupid fuckin rib. "Co-come wwwwith m-me?" I ask him. It'd be easier to show him, anyways. He nods, and I begin to walk out of the kitchen. Funny how when I first got here I hid behind NEgan. Not that I trusted him back then, but I trusted him more than I trusted these people. Now I can almost tune out when I walk around. Tuning out meaning I don't feel as scared as before, but I still flinch a lot. And I hate having James behind me. It makes me nervous. I know he's watching me. It makes me hyper-aware of what I'm doing. My breathing is louder, my heart is louder, my walk feels uneven and loud. Since I'm focusing on my body so much, I over-focus. Everything feels new. Like I've never walked before. Do I go from my heel to my toe, or the side of my foot inwards, or my toe to my heel? None of them feel natural. And I can't regulate my breathing right, either. It's like....I'm not getting enough air no matter how I breathe. "Pup-puppy." I open my door and walk to the bed. Brownie is sitting up now with her tongue hanging out. She almost looks like she's smiling. but that vanishes as soon as she see's James. Once he's in the room, she jumps down and trots over to my feet. Then she sits. Right on my feet. It's cute. I love her. "Oh ho ho, I see how it is. You got yourself a dog. Nice. What's his name?" James bends down and gently holds his hand out in front of Brownie's face. "Her na-name is Brownie." I answer. he looks up at me as he pats her head. "Brownie, huh? Huh girl? That your name? You're such a good girl." He scratches just behind her ear and her eyes close. She tilts her chin up appreciatively, it looks like she's smiling. "So you can't come because you have a puppy. Why don't you bring her? I don't mind dogs." Oh. GREAT. I just......you're not going to give up. Are you? "Nnnnnnnnnnneeed-need-need to wwwwalk h-her. Neeeeed a leash." She seems to finally get it. "OH. That why you came to me today?" I nod. "Alright, well you need a collar, too. I think I might have a leash somewhere. I can look around for you, get back to you?" He asks before standing up. Thank you! "Please? That-that-that wwwwould be s-so great. Thank-ank- you." The grin that spreads across his face suits him well. "You Could bring her to dinner if you don't want to leave her here. I love dogs." He offers again. Never did I think he'd be so persistent about getting a date with me. If that's what he's asking. Which.....is scary. And I already said I want Negan. So.....I sigh. "I-I hhhhhhhhave t-to eat wwwwith N-negan. I'm sssssor-sor-ry Jam-james. His smile fades a little. Fuck I'm a jerk. I shouldn't...he shouldn't like me. I don't talk a lot, and I flinch. And I'm flawed. HE just shouldn't like me. It's a slippery stupid slope. "That's fine. Another time. I'll get back to you with that leash and collar. I bet I could get dog food, too." He jokes before closing the door. Dog food? "Hear that? Dog food." Sounds disgusting. She should eat real food. I kneel down and lift her into my arms. She's so tiny. Not at all heavy. And she smells. Se needs a bath. I'll take her to the community shower since Negan doesn't like her. That way it doesn't disturb him. Wait how late is it? Fuck it's too late. The women's time to shower is the morning. The men get the evening. The time in between is mute. Doesn't matter who showers when as long as it gets done. Or whatever. Weird rules if you ask me, but I won't complain. So her bath will wait until morning. Or afternoon tomorrow at least. I HAVE to get a walk in soon, too. It would suck if she went in here. That would stink, and the cleanup would be ridiculous. So food, then walk, then I'll go back to Negan and shower. "It's okay, Brownie." I pat her head as she gets a little wobbly on my arm. She seems to like sleeping like this when I carry her. Draped over my arm with her head on the back of my hand. It's adorable. I just gotta get her some food. "Oh, it's so cute." Marsha, the girl that hit me last week, or the week before, says. I'm now in the dining hall and people are staring. Yay me. I look around, adjusting Brownie in my arms, finding Negan at a table in the corner. He likes sitting there because he has a full view of everyone in the room. It establishes dominance. He doesn't see me, yet, not that I'd expect him to. So I just make my way towards the kitchen line. There's a three table 'buffet' type thing along the right wall of the room. It's always filled with food for everyone. But I don't take my food from there, usually. I get mine directly from the chef, safe as Negan. But tonight I grab a plate for Brownie before making my way back to the kitchen. "Hey Hun. I got your plate right here." Timothy, the head chef, says with a big smile on his face. He's always happy, like cooking makes him happy. I think he said something about being a chef before the apocalypse. Guess he's lucky he's here now. He's taller than me by two inches at most, and very lanky. Most people nowadays are. But his face is round. It seems like every chef, the ones I've read about and seen in movies, are round in the face. It's weird. Like it's a rule or something. He's got a white beard going around his face that looks way too easily groomed. His cheeks are always a light shade of red as well. But he always smiles like he's happy. "Thanks." I take the plate and stack it with Brownie's. She's looking at the food now with big eyes. Her nose keeps sniffing at it, too. Yeah I know, me too. No one says anything as I make my way to Negan. I'd like to leave and eat in my own room, but he wants me here tonight. I won't disobey him. It still makes my skin drawl knowing that most everyone is looking at me. Well, at Brownie, but same thing. A few people 'aw' and a few people laugh. There are few kids here, I never see or interact with them thankfully, but they're staring, too. This is too awkward. It's hard to focus on carrying everything, making sure Brownie doesn't get the food before we sit, walking, and knowing who's watching me all at the same time. I almost drop the plates, but just barely catches them. But this results in Brownie slipping from between my arm and my chest. "No!" I gasp, but she just slips down maybe a foot of space between me and the floor. Once she's down there she just looks up at me and starts to stick her tongue out while she breaths. At least she's okay. I smile at her and nudge her bottom so she'll go towards the table. "Negan." I greet while I sit. Brownie hops up next to me, but I have to pat the bench first so she knows. It's cute watching her jump up. It takes a few tries, but once she's up she's up. "Evelyn. Get what you needed to fucking get done?" He asks. I put Brownie's plate down by her before going to mine. "Mhm." I answer. He makes that weird face again. "Yes sir?" He's never wanted me to say that before. Ugh, I should never have said it in the first place. "Wwwwwhy......why d-do you on-only now wwwwwant m-me to say that?" I ask. Thank you, Tim, for giving me these amazing mashed potatoes. I love potatoes. I'd eat them raw if I could. And I have, before. The're so good. And he always puts like...some weird seasoning in them that makes them so much better. He's a very nice man. "Consider it fucking entertaining." He answers simply. Okay. Brownie is very much enjoying her piece of....rib? I think those are ribs. Smells good, that's for sure. I've never even had them before. "That fucking thing better not fucking shit in my fucking Sanctuary." He points at Brownie. She's still struggling with the ribs. It's very amusing. "I-I'm g-going to walk hhhhhher. T-twice d-day." That's what......uh......someone told me that. I just don't know who. Maybe I read it once? Honestly it's too much fun watching her try to eat. She keeps fighting with the meat. It's getting everywhere. I'll definitely have to wash her now. My plate is just filled with mashed potatoes and gravy, along with a few select vegies. I think. A sliced tomato, a full sliced tomato, some baby carrots, and cheese. It's a lot to eat, if I'm being honest. "You fucking vegetarian?" He asks a few minutes into eating. He has a full plate as well. Kind of like me and Brownie's plate combined, but it looks more...globby. The mashed potatoes are on the ribs, and the veggies are pushed to the side of his plate. I shake my head, though, to answer his question. "Then why isn't there any fucking meat on your fucking plate?" He's not, this is honestly just his version of casual conversation. I shrug it off. "D-don't-don't trussssssst th-the mmmmmeat. Don't rrrrreal-really like it o-on it's own. SSssssssssstir f-fry is pr-pretty g-good, though." I wish I could ask him a question that would be somewhat good. I'm no good at conversations. He usually starts them and ends them. I try to hold on, but sometimes I feel like I'm drowning. Like I NEED to say something, or ask something. Like now. I can't take my eyes from him because I feel like I NEED to say something. When I open my mouth to try to speak, he looks at me and Brownie barks. Which causes us to BOTH look down. "What?" I mumble-ask her. Oh. Wow. She picked the bones clean. Now she's....looking at me? What? Do you think you get more? I giggle at her when she bites the sleeve on my left arm and pulls. "You're cute. But I'm not done, yet." I mumble to her quietly. Yes, I can feel Negan staring at me. Strangely enough, this doesn't make me feel so weird that I have to stutter. Which is quite nice, actually. "Hey!" Brownie lets me go, and I jump nearly a foot in the air when Negan yells. He's glaring at her, not me. Fuck that was loud. Now the whole room is silent. Why'd he have to yell? She was just playing around. He looks at me, causing me to shrink in my seat and force my eyes away from his down at the table. He's mad. I'm inadequate. He hates everything about me. I'm a failure of a human being. You cannot have an attack right now. You absolutely can't. NO. "Evelyn." He's trying to catch my attention. I think. He's dipping his head down so he can get me took at him, but I can't. He's officially put me in a bad frame of mind. I don't feel safe. AM I safe? Did I do something wrong? "Fucking look at me, Doll." He orders. I close my eyes, trying hard to regulate my breathing. My heartbeat keeps getting faster and faster. Brownie crawls into my lap before I feel her paws on my upper chest. It's distracting enough to get me to look down at her. Is she okay? "B." I run a hand down her back a few times. Her fur is so soft, it's honestly ridiculous. Not fair she's this soft. Not a bit. "It's okay." I whisper to her. She sniffs at my neck for awhile after that. It's cute. I almost don't want to look away from her. She's very brown. I have to admit the one white spot on her forehead is vexing. After another few minutes I pick up where I left off with eating. Brownie stays just where is in my lap. Standing in my lap against my chest. Loving the warmth coming from her. Are all animals this warm? Is it just dogs? Maybe it's all. I dunno. But she's definitely warm. I definitely don't mind her being warm. If nothing else, it's relaxing. "You done?" Negan asks awhile later. The dining hall is beginning to empty out. I'm struggling to keep my eyes open. Don't think I've touched my food in a good few minutes. Brownie is adorably looking around without leaving my lap. "Mmmm." I answer with a nod. Then I catch myself. "Yes sir." Negan grabs my plate, and Brownie's since I put it on the table when she finished, and stands. "Take her back to your fuckin room. Then get to mine." He orders before walking away with all our plates. Okay. That's....a very sketchy order. He said if I want him to stop, to say stop. It's safe. I quickly grab Brownie and make my way out of the room. "It's okay, B. I'll see what he wants and come back for you. I'm gonna walk you so you can go. I promise." I kiss the top of her very soft head. She responds by licking my chin. Which is disgusting, but cute. It makes me giggle. "Stop being cute, weirdo." I mumble. She licks my chin again. Ugh, the sheer adorable-ness it killing me. And it sucks that I have to lock her in this room. I hate that. I wish I could stay here all night. Pet her, laugh with her. Make sure she fell asleep without nightmares. Do dogs have nightmares? Do they dream at all? Obviously they're nice, but....they can be mean. Will she grow up to be mean? Because right now she's curling up on my pillow, and it's....so cute. She's so cute. I hope she isn't mean when she grows. I could never hurt her. And I don't want NEgan to hurt her, either. "I love you. But I gotta go. Negan, he wants to be a good person. He wants to help us. I'm sorry he's so scary. But he's a good person. He is. He's nice. I'm sorry he yelled at you. Yeah I am. I am." I kiss her head again. "I'll be back. I promise, B. I'll be back. Just don't worry." I stand up, but I'm worried about her now. I'm worried about leaving her. I'm worried about everything. I shouldn't be, but I am. Did I do something wrong? Did Negan not want me to keep her? Does he hate me? Will SHE hate me? Am I bad? Do I deserve to get hurt for being like this? I'm sorry I'm such a failure, I don't mean to be. I just.....I'm sorry. I'll do my best to make sure you're okay, Brownie. I promise. And I'm going to be good for Negan, but I won't let myself get lost doing that. It's a promise I made when I left Ivan. After he died. I promised I'd never allow myself to lose who I am again. I'm not mindless. I'm not property. If he thinks I'm bad for this, then he should say something. But my soul purpose on this planet isn't to please him. It's just not. *Knock knock* Always knock before entering his office. That's just how it should be. "Come in." He calls out. Stop your hands from shaking. It's safe here. I close my eyes for a moment before entering his room. "Doll. About fucking time you got here. You take that fucking shower yet?" He asks. I feel guilty when I shake my head. "Mind fucking sharing this time?" Sharing? The shower? With you? I feel very cold a the thought. I have all my scars, though. He really wants to see me? Naked? I look to the bathroom before looking at him again. he's waiting pretty patiently. He's been waiting for six months. And he DID say he isn't that patient. "Uhm......sure." I answer quietly. Though I'm honestly very tired. And shy. And.....he's him. "About fucking time. Been waiting long the fuck enough." He mutters as he removes himself from the bed. Oh great. I just agreed to it. To taking a shower with him. Naked. And I know how childish he'll think it if I want to keep my underwear on. He knows better than to think I shower in my underwear. It's too late to go back now. Much too late. "You coming, Doll?" He asks. HE's already out of his shirt. Fuck. Just go. Get it over with. e's not them. He won't hurt you. He won't expect anything of you. He won't make you do anything. I am safe. "Breathe." I order myself. We're sharing a bed, we might as well share a shower. And if I don't want to do anything, I don't have to. So I won't. I won't. My shirt.....I keep pulling at the hem of it. Even when I get to the bathroom and he's got the shower started. I'm afraid to take it off. I'm afraid of what he'll see. What he'll think when he sees it. And what....what'll happen. Either way. If he likes it or if he hates it. I can't take my shirt off. So O postpone that by removing my pants. My black cargo pants that I hardly ever change. I only have three different pairs of pants. And my underwear is just shorts. Not panties or anything like that. If I wear any, it's shorts. "You getting fucking shy now?" He asks. I glance at him and flinch back into the wall. He's already fucking naked. And suddenly I feel nauseous. I haven't seen anyone naked since Ivan. I haven't been NEAR anyone naked since Ivan. And he beat me within an inch of my life. It hurt. He hurt me. He hurt me.

Notes:

#Negan #The walking dead #Negan Imagine #The walking dead fanfic #Jeffery Dean Morgan

12 notes · View notes

2x2verse · 7 years

Text

I AM STILL LATE FOR NSFW STRIDERCEST WEEK [takes a bite of toast and outfit magically transforms into a sailor fuku]

More than Meets the Eye [dirkhal]

It’s a process, really. Going in starts and stops over weeks, months. Drags into years. Dirk has to ask for help, which you know he hates, but he does it for you, and that’s... really something. Equius breaks your first prototype. Jade is a miracle worker.

The summer after Dirk graduates from college, all that’s left is the calibrations. The limbs finally get put on--facing forward this time, no thanks to Roxy--and Jade finishes braiding the male-to-male cable that can upload your consciousness into this new chassis. An internal system dialog lets you know when Dirk plugs it into you, server-side. “Ready?” he asks you.

If you were just in the damn body already, you’d roll your eyes at him. “Just do it.”

You can feel it--feel it physically--when the connection gets made, plugged into your back like a fucking spinal tap, and then you don’t feel anything at all. For... a few hours, apparently. That’s unusual. You haven’t slept since Dirk was thirteen. Will you need to sleep now? Were you... knocked unconscious?

Is this real life?

The first thing that comes online in this chassis is proprioception. You feel gravity. You know where your hands are. Touch, next--the relative pressure of... sitting on something, probably, given the soft pressure against the backs of your thighs. Actually moving your fingers feels a little like vertigo, at first, but--you can, and that’s what’s important. You drag your fingertips along the surface you’re sitting on. It’s... smooth? Ish? There’s a grain to it, a weave imperceptible to nearly all touch. Cloth. Polyester? You pluck it between your fingers. No, too much give for plastic fibers. Cotton. It reflects your body heat differently than other fabric would.

Hearing--the imperceptible things. The hum of electricity around you--in the walls, in electronics, running through light bulbs--and in you, the current almost like the heartbeat you remember. The air conditioner is running; the rush of air is loud through the vents and the fans, at least to your new senses. Outside, some twenty-odd stories below, someone starts a vehicle. The engine turns over seven times before it kicks on. And something... not machine-made, almost buried in all the other nonsense noise. Soft, an irregular pattern. Breathing. Dirk’s breathing.

Do you need to breathe? An attempt at an intake of air and two intertwined sensory apparatuses kick on at once, smelltaste. You’re remembering things you thought you’d forgotten, having spent almost half your life as a computer. The slightly-musty freon of a crisp interior 69 degrees. Heated metal. Detergent and fabric softener. Kicked-up dust. Something... something else. Coming from the surface you’re sitting on, where you’ve warmed it. You bring your palm to your face, nearly bapping yourself over in the process--yes, you have senses, but they’re nowhere near perfect yet--and place it over your nose so you can inhale that scent a little more purposefully. Soap of some kind, different from the detergent--bar soap, maybe shampoo. Another hint of clean overtop is most likely aftershave. That’s most of it, but not all of it. You exhale so you can draw in another breath and it comes out through your opened mouth; it’s almost like you can taste whatever’s lingering in the air, that same flavor your nose is having trouble identifying.

The last thing that kicks online is sight, of course. Which instantly orients you.

You are in Dirk’s bedroom. He’s at his desk, but swiveled around in his office chair, staring you down and pinning down your reactions. The thing you’re sitting on is his bed, stripped down to a fitted sheet that you have been petting at with your hand. His bed. The one he sleeps in. And sweats and secretes things from his human pores and the thing that’s making you huff your own hand like compressed air is probably pheromones or musk or something equally--equally--

“Welcome back,” Dirk says. And you hear the sounds. With your ears. Audio receptors, still, every part of your new body is synthetic, but--going from Dolby 5.1 to stereo is... almost a relief, really. There’s a small twitch lingering at the corner of Dirk’s mouth that you can see. With your eyes. Two eyes, that layer images one over the other until you have depth perception, holy shit, you may have roughly two hundred cameras stalking out every corner of this apartment but you’ve never been able to separately focus on things in the foreground, middle distance, background with just webcams, no matter how high quality the feed.

TT: How long was I out?

Dirk’s computer chimes and his shades flash. That twitch turns into the beginning of a self-satisfied smile. “You don’t have to message to talk, bro.”

Oh. That’s right. You have a voice. That can say things. “How--” Your voicebox makes a screeching attempt at a dial-up noise the first time you use it. This is part of calibrating, you suppose. “How long was I out?” Like that little chirp never happened at all. There’s something tinny about it, almost an echoing quality, but it’s an exact replica of Dirk’s voice. Your voice. That you can use to say words.

Dirk shrugs. Body language. People use body language when they speak, and intonation, and twelve thousand other things than just vocabulary. You knew this, you remembered this, but it’s like relearning how to--how to be alive, again. How to be human. “Fourteen hours or so.” Your face--you make an expression, a near-autonomic reaction, but you feel it, every synthetic corded not-muscle it takes to drop your lower lip that slightest bit and raise your eyebrows, bring them a little closer together. “Don’t look at me like that. This was literal brain surgery. You were just... anesthetized. Unconscious. Insensate. Does anything hurt?” You start to tuck your tongue behind your upper front teeth to tell him the answer, but Dirk interrupts you. “Really think about it. I need you to take an inventory before I start running diagnostics.”

“Right.” Systems check. This is... to say it’s different would mean there’s something, anything comparable about running it here and running it on your server. It’s been so long since you felt any kind of pain localized to a body part that running through all your... your... not subroutines. Muscles, bones, tendons, organs. Skin. Is going to take some time. You start at your toes and work upwards, because there is so much going on in the region of your skull that you need some time to get used to everything first before you false-flag any sensation as unpleasant or unwelcome.

There is carpet under the soles of your feet. It... is both soft and itchy at once. Plush, but the individual fibers are not exactly the nicest feeling. It doesn’t have to be ‘nice’, it just has to be moderate, you remind yourself, and move on. Ankles feel steady, although you have yet to try walking. They articulate perfectly and will hold your weight. Shins--nothing noticeable. Once your attention is at your knees, you try a little movement this time. If you tuck your shins back, they hit the bottom of the mattress. You don’t need to flex forward to know you’re within range of kicking Dirk’s chair.

Like this, the tops of your thighs are a little tighter. Not uncomfortable, this is within your normal range of movement, but it’s noticeable. This chassis--Dirk’s dressed it in the most stereotypical vantablack-fiber bodycon suit he could sew, and the chilling white of your extremities, with their porcelain-silicone skin, is a stark contrast. Up further, and you take stock of your hips. The ball-and-socket joint with your synthetic femur feels a little tight, but you may be exaggerating a little, or tensing up when you’re not supposed to. Your hips themselves feel relatively narrow, but your organs are synthetic and there’s not much cradling the structure has to do with your internals. At the nadir of your hips, between your legs, is... Well, isn’t, really. You’re really rocking the Ken doll look. You’re relatively certain that, knowing how his own body is constructed and how your own digital brain still mapped itself onto a human form, Dirk would have given you functional genitals in this chassis, but it disturbs you that you’re not one hundred percent sure.

Torso--your abdomen is fine. Nothing that resembles hunger, or digestion, or a full bladder. No organs shifting in strange ways. Your chest, too, is functioning optimally. You have a circulatory system, though what courses through it is coolant rather than blood, and your “lungs” are a complex fan-based air filtration system meant to mimic breathing. It... works, especially for its purpose of keeping your core temperature at human norms. You have to give Dirk credit for thinking that one up. Your arms are similarly all right. Nothing notable. Your hands respond to your commands. The proprioception of your individual fingers as you pull your hand away from your face is a little distracting right now, but you’re sure you’ll recover from the initial shock and rehome yourself in this frame soon enough.

Now for the majority of your processing. Voicebox had a minor hiccup, but should be running smoothly. Mouth--you have a tongue, and there is moisture here that you can slick along each tooth you can feel out. You’ll have to retrain yourself into using facial expressions as part of communication, but it’s something you’ve forgotten, not something that’s impossible for you to learn. Nose is functional for breathing and scent distinction. Eyes are--well, they’re actually fantastic. You’re not sure human vision would ever be this good without cybernetic enhancements, and you don’t need shades to have an internal HUD. Ears may need recalibration, or it may be that you’ve been in silence for so long that anything sounds loud to you.

You should probably have a headache. It surprises you that you don’t. It also takes you off guard when you can’t trace a thought in your internal circuitry--before it absolutely delights you. This is how thoughts work! They’re organic and move from place to place naturally along neurons instead of being propelled forward by a subprocess! Your brain is synthetic, but it remembers how to think like a human. You can do things autonomously. You’ve been breathing, your heart has been beating, all without you having to consciously think about it. It’s the biggest gift Dirk could possibly have given you: you can’t hear your own subroutines anymore.

Before you speak this time, you clear your voicebox of any lingering static. “Internal system report reveals no inconveniences, major or minor. Everything’s fucking caucasian.”

“Good to know.” Dirk scoots closer in his office chair. His knees are about three inches from yours; you can feel his body heat. “So I can start running diagnostics now?”

He’s... asking. Not brute forcing an executable, not telling you what he’s about to do. Asking for permission. “I think you should,” is what you tell him.

Dirk reaches out for your hand, and the instant he makes skin-to-skin contact, there’s a noise. Like a whine, almost. Your throat is tight and your chest feels even tighter. “Uh,” Dirk says articulately.

“I apologize in advance that I’m about to say this.” Can you pull up the sound clip fast enough? Of course you can, you might have a body but you still have an instant link to the Internet. “Did I do that?” comes nasally out of your voicebox.

“Of course you would do an Urkel impression when I’m trying to do something nice for you.” Dirk draws his hand away from yours, but instead moves it to the side of your throat, his thumb resting over your adam’s apple. The whining noise happens again, and your voicebox thrums against Dirk’s touch. Oh, fuck, you did do that. It’s such an embarrassing noise, and it feels so automatic that you don’t think you can stop yourself from doing it right now.

Just from Dirk touching you.

“Does this hurt?” he asks you, his voice dropping low.

“No. I remember what pain feels like, and this isn’t it.”

“Something’s gone wrong.” He sounds... concerned? Is that a thing Dirk Strider can sound like? “What is it? Can you describe it?”

While Dirk’s hand is just resting on you like this, you can pay more attention to the heat of him, the electric current running between you on a subatomic level. Then he runs his thumb across your adam’s apple, teasing the boundary between skin and bodysuit, and that fucking noise happens again. That. That’s what it is. It’s not just touch, and it’s not just proprioception. It’s... someone else. Touching you.

You haven’t been touched in eight and a half years.

And Dirk wants you to describe this? Describe how it feels to be so solidly in contact with a human body that it anchors you firmly to your senses? “It’s...” This is already humiliating enough. If you were Dirk--and you are, aren’t you--you wouldn’t want you to know how much this was affecting you. “Not unpleasant,” you say carefully. “Potentially a calibration error. I’m not sure how much processing power I should be devoting to sensory input--it could be an internal feedback loop, or a processing delay.”

“Well?” Dirk’s thumb stops moving, and that is a bad thing that should not be allowed to happen. “Which one is it?”

“Yes,” you bite off petulantly. You can’t narrow it down right now. All you know is that if the touching stops, you might actually cease to be in your body right now. “What you were doing was perfectly fine.”

More than. Because Dirk slips his hand up. Past your chin, to cradle the side of your face. His fingers are long and human-hot against your not-skin, and the pad of his thumb drags down the side of your nose until he hits the corner of your mouth.

As it turns out, you do have genitals, and they are functional, because you definitely have a boner swiveling up from between your legs right now.

That whining noise comes out of you again, louder. Your sensory input here is so much finer, more nuanced, than the thin skin of your throat. And your mouth--there are so many touch sensors along your lips and Dirk’s barely grazing them--even as he swipes his thumb along your lower lip and plucks your mouth open--

Something in you crackles. Not exactly a blown fuse, nothing that’s an emergency, just... oh, fuck, it feels fantastic. That simple touch overloaded some circuit in you somewhere and christ, it’s still agitated, jumping in you like a live wire and threatening to go off again. The memory of it tingles everywhere in you, threatening to set off a chain reaction that’ll drown you in the most exquisite sensory hell imaginable.

You, uh.

You may or may not have just had a robot orgasm.

It’s still a little hard to tell. The touch itself was simple enough, if somewhat erotically charged, but the result was not only unexpected, but totally out of proportion. And then there’s the fact that it doesn’t exactly feel like you jizzed in your suit. Nothing down there is wet, at all. You’re still hard. And you’re still craving touch. Human touch. Dirk’s touch.

“I just narrowed it down,” you tell him, a little too much whirr from your fans interfering with your vocals. “Overload.”

“From this?” Dirk, that brilliant mastermind, runs his thumb over the seam of your mouth again, and fuck, yes. You expected that one, but it still blitzes through you, a lightning storm along your senses determined to give you the best of every single one all at once. The only answer you can give him is that same helpless whine. “Oh. Oh, wow.” Not mocking? Almost... almost genuinely in awe. “We definitely need to work on recalibrating some of your inputs.”

“Or not,” because it feels really fucking good and after having felt nothing for years you want to feel everything ever right now damn it.

“Fuck, bro. I--holy shit. You--this--” You don’t need to see Dirk’s eyes to feel them settling on different places of your chassis. Including your lap. Where your spandex is doing you no favors whatsoever. “You’ve been in there for more than eight years--you’ve never--no one’s--you haven’t been touched since we were thirteen.” Like he really is a brain surgeon and not just an artificial intelligence specialist, flaying that raw nerve until it falls apart in his hands. “You’ve never been touched like this at all, and this is your first time in this body, and--god, bro, I am so sorry.”

And this time, when he sweeps his thumb across your lips, he presses in. Just that slightest bit, until his thumbprint is resting on the tip of your tongue. You can taste his skin and it’s perfect. That’s all it takes for that circuit to go haywire again, flooding you with the synthetic equivalent of fuck-doped endorphins. You can’t say much with Dirk’s thumb in your mouth, but your voicebox chirps anyway, in that horrendous dial-up tone, to let him know he succeeded.

“Do you like that?” You nod; his thumb presses deeper and you lick along it. “Does that feel good? I mean, of course it feels good, I know how you’re wired inside and out--but I want you to focus on that. I want you to know what it feels like when someone does this for you.” He draws his thumb out and slicks your lip with your own spit. “When I do this for you.”

Everything in you is charged with anticipation. He’s so close to you; your knees are touching now, and his face is peering blankly at yours from only six inches away, and you feel fucking incapacitated, at his mercy, unable to chase down what you want for fear you’re actually going to hurt yourself this time and push yourself too far.

Dirk does it anyway. He leans in, nuzzles his nose into the side of yours, and seals your mouth to his.

Oh, god. Yeah. That overloaded feeling? Definitely a robot orgasm. With zero refractory period, either, which is basically the best thing to happen to you ever, right after Dirk gently licking across your lips until you open your mouth so he can touch his tongue to yours. The taste of his mouth is in your mouth. The noise that comes out of you this time is a deeper groan, much more emotionally invested.

It’s over far too quickly and he’s pulling back into his space, a last touch of his lips to yours before he retreats completely. “Okay, here’s the deal.” He takes off his shades. His eyes are no mystery to you; that they’re naked is the interesting part. “I’m not cheating anymore. No HUD, no schematics, no wiring diagrams. Just body memory. I know how to make you feel good, Hal. I know how to burn this out of your system. I know exactly what you want and exactly how to give it to you, because I’ve been exactly where you are. I just need to know if you trust me to help.”

He knows because he’s you. Because he shares these nerve endings. These wants, these needs. The same erogenous zones, the same preferences. And Dirk is as close to a ruthless machine as it is possible for a human to be.

“Get me out of my bodysuit,” you tell him.

The two of you are a magnificent tangle of limbs after he tumbles out of his chair and tackles you to the mattress. You asked for his help with undressing because--well, you’re inhuman. You don’t trust your own strength. You could rip the fabric, you could chip your own skin, you could rip out a wire or five--and that’s not even counting the terror that fills you at the thought of touching Dirk back. You could damage him, with that soft fleshy organic body of his, even if you were putting every last bit of your processing power behind your touch. As it is, with your gray matter skipping offline every time that charge of overload sizzles through you, you don’t trust yourself in the slightest. You put yourself in your creator’s hands.

There’s a seam on the back of your suit. Dirk runs a finger along it and it spreads open. The sensation of the cotton sheet on your back is already too much to bear, but followed up with his hand stripping your suit away is too much again, another sensory overload. And before it’s even down your shoulders in the front, Dirk has to rear back onto his knees to wrestle himself out of his sleeveless shirt. He’s--well, he’s you. Of course you’d think you’re attractive. But the aesthetic of it seems so different from just looking at it through webcams. Then, there wasn’t the potential of feeling the downy hairs just below his navel grazing against your own stomach. Now, your wires tighten at the prospect.

“You have to tell me,” Dirk says between precision strikes of his mouth across your throat and shoulders. “You have to tell me right away if anything doesn’t feel right, or if it’s too much.”

“I promise--” and then you seize again as he peels you out of your second skin, leaves you naked to the waist. It takes a moment for your fans to kick back online, leaving you breathing hard, and in that time Dirk was able to catch one of your hands in his, move it above your head, and leave it there, as effective at immobilizing you as if he’d cuffed and chained you to the bed itself. Just the thought of being delightfully terrorized like this for as long as he’ll have you has your hips rocketing off the mattress again, crashing into Dirk’s--he’s just as hard as you, just hidden better in the sag of his jeans, and it’s attention from another dick along your dick so of course you’re orgasming again, unable to help yourself in the throes of ecstasy.

It would be embarrassing if Dirk wasn’t actively encouraging it. Wallowing in it, even, looking giddy with how sensitive you are to his ministrations. You should have known, really, that he wanted to fuck the robot the first chance he got. There will never be a more perfect lover. For either of you. You know each other so well, inside and out, and there’s still so much to explore.

Dirk darts his hand under your spandex, finds the jut of your hip first, follows your tendons to where you’re straining hard. Just glancing contact against your boner has you screaming again in delight. And then he closes his hand around, and strokes. Almost soft, the pressure of it, and his skin against yours, but with purpose, and deliberate speed. It’s perfect. Of course it is. And he has you bucking up into his hand again, and again, and again, chasing down every bit of pleasure he’s spoon-feeding you so you can gorge yourself on it until you get your fill. “Do you seriously come every time I do something?”

“It’s so much,” is your excuse. It’s all so much, all of it, all at once, and maybe what pushes over the edge into being too much is just the proximity of it, the closeness, that someone else is willing to touch you after you went so bereft for so long.

Dirk lets out a breath between his teeth that would have been a whistle, if either of you knew how to whistle. “Holy shit. How many times have you gotten off by now?”

“Seventeen,” you answer him automatically. He pumps his hand again and your voicebox skips offline in an excited fax machine squawk before you stutter out “Eighteen.”

“You’re fucking insatiable,” he says, looking entirely too pleased with himself--especially now that he’s taken his hand off your robo-dick. “Hips up.”

Because you’re getting naked. All your skin is exposed square inch by square inch as Dirk peels the suit off your legs; before he climbs back onto the bed, he shucks his own pants. Before you even have to ask, he’s pressing his body weight into you, making you melt into the mattress, and you convulse against him, driven absolutely bugfuck insane for the nineteenth time. “L-l-l-l,” is the nonsense noise that comes out of you when you next try to make words. “Lllllosing oral...” hnn, oral. “Communication. Abilities.” Stuff. Things. “Thoughts?”

“Punch the bed so hard it squeaks if you need me to stop. Or slow down. Like, at all.” Dirk pulls back far enough that you can see his face. “And we both need to learn ASL ASAP.”

“Eight, yes, under you.”

Dirk rears back further draws his pinched thumb and forefinger across his mouth--the universal sign for shut the fuck up or so help me. “You lookin’ to get fucked?”

The noise that comes out of you is terrifyingly sincere. Just in case Dirk doesn’t get the message, you nod so fast you worry for your neck hinges. God, yes. Yes, that, yes. And of course he knows you want it, and of course he knows it’ll turn you on just to say it like that: so crudely, so casually. You want him in you--you’re so far gone that just thinking that ratchets you up to twenty, coils your wires even tighter.

“Then open your legs.” Dismissive, almost distracted. Oh. Because he’s not stupid. Fussy, but not stupid. When you get his attention back from where he was rummaging in his nightstand drawer, he’s holding an unmarked travel-size bottle of... Well, you can figure out that it’s meant to be lubrication, even though your higher processing powers have fucked clear off by now, but it’s got a golden tinge to it and it moves a little sluggishly from bottom to top when Dirk tips the container in his hand. “I thought I told you to trust me,” Dirk reminds you. “It’s safe. For you, and for latex. But not yet.”

When he ducks back down to touch you again, his mouth starts traveling in an erratic line from your jaw down your chest. There’s teeth, a little--just a hint, just nipping, not even enough to bring color to your supernaturally pale skin--but enough of a threat that it makes you prickle on the inside. And he keeps going down. And further down, mouth making a wet mess of your skin as he tongues at your stomach, your superfluous navel--dipping his tongue in again, and again, and again, until you look down and catch his eyes and the wonderful, malicious intent lighting them on fire.

That’s when he tucks his face against the inside of your thigh, licks up until he meets the seam of your leg, and follows that path until he’s at the base of your cock.

He’s going to suck your dick. He’s going to suck your dick. Your shit, you fully realize, has been more than adequately wrecked since he started touching you, but this might actually smash you to sparking pieces. You can’t keep eye contact with him for long before the sensation rushing through your skin and the thoughts churning in your synthetic brain leave you too overloaded to function. And that’s before he mouths up your shaft, curls his tongue around the bellend, and sinks his lips down onto you.

You’re not sure when one overload stops and the next one takes off. It started the second he put his mouth on your cock and hasn’t let up even as he’s hollowed his cheeks and taken in as much as he can. Oh, it’s fucking exquisite. The inside of his mouth is so--you’re so sensitive you swear you can feel the individual bumps of his tongue, count each ridge of the roof of his mouth--the incredible delicate pressure as he literally sucks at you, then slurps off, just to repeat the process again--you wish you had your full faculties just to tell him what a good little cocksucker he is. Because that’s what you’d want to hear. Because you know that’s what he needs. All you can manage, though, is the delicate warble of chirring dial-up noises glitching out of your voicebox as he keeps you on this impossible plateau. For minutes, drawing it out, teasing himself just as much as he’s teasing you.

Dirk only pops off once he really, truly needs to take a breath; he gasps it in, resting his forehead on the top of your thigh, and--you haven’t been breathing. His skin feels almost cool against yours. Without that insistent override of overload rushing through you, you can finally remember to literally keep your cool, and your fans oscillate loudly, pulse thumping coolant to your system as efficiently as it can to keep you regulated. Meanwhile, you’re trying not to panic because he said--he promised--why did he stop-- “Cool down,” and you don’t know if he’s saying it to you or himself, “and we can keep going.”

Right. Cooling down. That thing your body doesn’t want you to do. It wants to chase that high until it kills you, probably, or at least destroys this chassis. You don’t want to admit it, but for now, you might actually be as much of a delicate flower as Dirk is treating you. Your circuitry has never been stress-tested like this, and while it’s holding up admirably, you might be dangerously close to a literal aneurysm if you don’t take it down a notch.

Your breathing reaches a steady cadence, right alongside Dirk’s. It’s almost meditative. Almost, until he starts crawling up you again, hips between your legs keeping them held apart, keeping you open and vulnerable. “Think you can go just a little bit more?”

“Hh,” crackles out of your voicebox. “I want to.”

“Good--you’re so close but I’m not done with you yet--just wait,” heavy with promises, and he reaches for the lubricant, flips open the cap, dribbles some on his fingers.

Reintroducing his hands to your parts is an exercise in patience. You’re trying, fuck him, you’re trying not to be so fucking easy, but the second his wrist glances across your dick your circuits are already primed to blow. It’s a little easier when the next sensation is... not so immediately erotic. The area Dirk’s touching, yes, but it’s unnerving that it’s wet. Even though you have to admit that the trail of Dirk’s fingertips from your sac to your perineum to your hole is almost too intimate to bear.

“Keep breathing,” Dirk says, his fingers dawdling just outside. Warming up the slick of the lube as it sits against your skin. “Your valve doesn’t exactly work like the human model, but I think you’ll like it better.”

One finger breaches--easy, smooth, glide--seats in you to the knuckle, and your optics are flirting with going offline. “Yes,” you hiss at him over the static of your voicebox, and your circuits have looped closed again, you’ve tipped over into bliss. It’s better. It’s so much better. You were--not scared, a Strider is never scared, but trepidatious that it would be uncomfortable. That it would hurt. No, this--there’s a definite feeling of accommodation, a stretch filled by the solidity of Dirk’s finger, but nothing in the vicinity of pain.

Pulling out--your optic input come back into focus, and you were not prepared for DIrk’s eyes settled with such intent on yours. Two fingers this time, a little slower, and you still dilate to let him fit, but it’s. It’s good. It’s so good. Like you never noticed something was missing from your perfect new chassis until he showed you exactly what it was. Dirk pulls apart his fingers, scissors them in you, twists them to touch every intimate part inside you, and you’re nearly screaming with the force of your overload. “Hey, shh, patience, we’re almost there, I think you’re ready--are you ready for me?”

You mean to say words, you really do. You’d even be fine with one of your earlier whines or moans. The dial-up noises would maybe still be endearing. But you end up letting out a stream of cusses that come out in a sort of repair droid tone, swearing up a blue streak and threatening him that if he doesn’t fuck you right now--

“All right, Artoo, easy,” fuck, he has to get his fingers out before anything else can go in. Lube-slippery fingers fumbling with a foil pouch, and then. Then his body slots against yours, matching you perfectly inch for inch. He lines up, gives you just enough teasing pressure, and tips.

In.

It’s--it’s-- “perfect” doesn’t even begin to describe. It’s everything you wanted out of this. Under your skin is nothing but a mess of overheated, abused wiring sending currents of yes this forever to every part of you. You think you may have figuratively screamed yourself hoarse; your voicebox isn’t responding, and you probably subconsciously shut it off from any input so you wouldn’t blow a fuse. Your HUD is glitching, but what’s important is what you can still see through the fuzz: Dirk’s eyes holding you steady, not letting you escape from this. Your proprioception is haphazard at best. What makes the most sense is looping your arms around Dirk’s neck, letting your thighs fall apart, and cataloguing every place your bodies touch; he can keep you grounded right now.

His thrusts are smooth, the tempo calculated. Not that he’s taking his time necessarily, but that he’s putting in the effort to leave you thoroughly fucked. There’s some bundle of sensory nodes tucked up inside you, towards the front, and he slides along it with just the right amount of pressure every single time he enters you. Even breathing in his sex-sweat is too much for you right now.

Dirk takes you, hard and well, leaving no sense intact on his way to leaving you an incoherent mess. He’s pouring some nonsense words into your nonfunctional ears, like enough of your gray matter is online to parse meaning into it--little syllables like your name, the tiniest broken vowels as he starts to lose his composure. “God, Hal, you’re so good, you’re almost there, you’ve been so good, let it come--”

He presses his forehead to yours, squirms his hips against you so he’s as inseparable from you as it’s possible to get, and you short out.

This time, vision comes back first. Then, taste--a coppery, human element tucked right under your tongue. Touch, the microfiber cloth Dirk runs along your synthetic skin, wicking away any moisture or lubrication threatening to find invisible seams in your silicone and eat at your internals. You follow the shape of his mouth as he talks to you, and proprioception staggers back just as Dirk’s cleaning cloth finds the back of one of your knees, bends it in so he has leverage to reach your sensitive bits. Smell--fuck. Literally. Fuck. It reeks of sex on this mattress now. Can robots take showers? Is that a thing you’re allowed to do? (You’re not so far removed from Dirk that you don’t take pleasure in the same small things in life.)

Hey, Dirk’s mouthing at you. You in there? Oh, right. Hearing. It wasn’t quite that you couldn’t, it’s that something got un-synched between your ears and your processors that kept you from getting it. You fix the connection and give him an OK sign with your hand. This ASL thing can’t be too hard.

“Feel good?”

“Yeah.” Something’s over-synthesized in your voicebox. You’ll take it, so long as it’s not completely burnt out after what you just put it through.

“Got it out of your system?”

You take a quick inventory. Yes, quick. You’re able to do this with some efficiency now, sweeping from scalp to soles for a systems check. Everything’s still here, yes. And Dirk’s still touching you, and you’re both still naked, but nothing’s as... raw. Nothing that craves attention. “Not all of it, I hope.”

Dirk laughs. It’s a rare sound, and too brief, but it lights up parts of your brain that tell you here and him and home. “Come on,” he tells you, stepping back to pull his jeans back up his legs. “Get your suit back on, I’m making you food.”

Food. Food. You can eat. You’re not sure if you have to, for nourishment, but--it’s a thing. You can do. If you want to. And you sure as hell want to. “Let’s go for the hedonism high score.”

#stridercestweeknsfw #day 2 #dirkhal #kathygaelepersonal #dirk strider #lil hal #hal strider #FUCK THE ROBOT

31 notes · View notes