#the computer literally Is Not Working though so idk what to do

[mysecretlittlelibrary]

NFWMB (Nothing Fucks With My Baby)

Pairing: Reader x Venom

Word Count: 2.4k

Warnings: you get kidnapped, there's some cannon level violence, nothing to write home about <3

Genre: idk if I should really classify this as angst fr but the ending is fluffy!

Summary: Carnage returns, his mission remains the same; kill Venom. And he plans to use you to do it.

Based on this ask by @weebnotheree (thank you so much for the request, I know it took a while so I appreciate your patience, I hope you like it <3)

***

"Hey y/n!" Your coworker skirts over to your desk with curious excitement.

"Yes?" You glance up from your computer at her.

"Your boyfriend is a reporter isn't he?"

"Correct. Where is this going exactly?"

"Well do you think he'd be able to come cover the charity gala this weekend?" She asks.

"He doesn't really- cover this sort of thing? He'd need to get assigned to it. But I can check with him, he can ask his boss and maybe they'll send someone else down." You concede. It can't hurt, after all, you do need the exposure for the event anyway.

Hours later, after you've both gotten home from work and eaten dinner. You're winding down for the day with Eddie by watching a show together when you propose the question from your coworker.

"Eddie quick question." You say, not lifting your head from his shoulder.

"Yeah?" He's been tracing patterns against your leg for the past ten minutes.

"Do you think you could come cover the charity gala this weekend? My coworker Dani thought it'd be a good idea." You tell him.

"I don't usually write those sorts of pieces." He hums.

"I know I told her, but I also told her I'd ask anyway. It doesn't have to be you, if your boss sends someone else that's fine. We're just aiming to get more eyes on the event." You shrug.

"I'll talk to my boss. He'll probably send someone. Not me though."

"Yeah that's fine, I know these aren't your thing, you don't have to come." You say.

"Say what?" You feel him shift to look at you.

"I drag you to enough work functions. I'll let you skip out on this one." You pat his chest lightly.

"Don't have to tell me twice." Eddie snorts turning back to the TV.

"Technically I already did tell you twice." You chuckle.

"Smartass." He pinches your thigh.

"Always." You sit up just to wink at him.

The following day, you are accosted by Dani pretty much as soon as she walks into the office.

"Did you ask him?"

"Ask who, what Dani?" You ask though you know exactly what she's talking about. "Also have you forgotten that the proper way to start a conversation is with a greeting? What happened to hi? What happened to how are you?"

"Hi, how are you? Did you ask your boyfriend about covering the gala?" She says.

"Hi Dani, I'm doin' alright. How are you?" You ask her.

"Y/n!" She huffs.

"Yes Dani I asked. He said he'd talk to his boss. Knowing Eddie, someone will probably be at the gala. It's handled." You finally cave and give her the answers she came for.

"You're the best!" She tells you.

"I know, thanks." You chuckle. You shrug.

The day of the gala is chaos from the minute preparations start. It's not really anything that surprises you and you've been handling everything that comes your way with ease.

"Y/n!" Your coworker Wendy grabs your attention when you're sorting out something with one of the photographers.

"Yes Wendy?" You aks.

"The uh catering staff is here do you know where they're supposed to-"

"They just got here?! They were supposed to be here an hour ago! Who was on that? They should've been checking for- oh never mind! Their tables are over there on that wall and tell them to hurry Wen the event is literally starting." You sigh pointing her in the right direction. The event is just gaining momentum, doors opened about twenty minutes ago and aside from the catering situation that has just been taken care of, as far as you know, everything is precisely as it should be. At least you hope so since you did come here a couple of hours in advance to make sure things were ready. You aren't technically in charge of this event but you are naturally better at organizing chaos and these events tend to be a bit of a frenzy on the day no matter how prepared you are in advance.

Tonight is your company's annual charity gala. Every year the board votes on a cause to raise money for by hosting a huge party. This year's cause is a charity that supports kids getting involved in the arts. There are a bunch of art projects on display, some of which will be up for auction at the end of the evening, but the goal is to shmooze with the community members effectively enough that they want to support the charity. You spend most of these galas working optics; talking to reporters, setting up pictures, and just generally organizing things throughout the night. As part of the company's public relations department events like these are your specialty. Carefully curating the perception of everything that goes on here tonight with the help of the other members of the department here tonight.

You're pleased to say that a couple of hours in, the event is going off without a hitch. Once it's in full swing, you have your hands full giving statements to different press outlets and sending photographers to snap the board of directors with guests of the event. Just as you're preparing the host for his introductory speech, you notice a small crowd gathering by one of the large glass windows overlooking the city.

"What's going on over there?" The host frowns at you.

"I'm- not sure. Probably just some nightlife chaos got people's attention." You shrug but before you can walk up the stage there's a shout from a few of the guests followed by the sound of shattered glass as something crashes through that large window. The room erupts into chaos as red goop shoots out at people. It only takes you a couple of moments to realize the thing currently ruining your gala is Carnage. You didn't meet him or anything last time they faced off, but Eddie gave you enough of a description to come to that conclusion when you spot the bright red tentacles and eyes so like Venom's but different at the same time.

"You have got to be fucking kidding me." You huff quietly from where you're crouched behind a curtain with the gala host.

"What is that thing?!" He hisses.

"Doesn't matter. Find the nearest exit and run like hell." You tell him.

"What?! You want me to go out there?! What if it sees me?" He shakes his head. You poke your head out just enough to see Carnage. Weirdly enough he just seems to be picking up people and dropping them on the ground again.

"You ever seen that thing before?" You ask.

"God no!"

"He's looking for something. Unless you think it's you, I'd suggest taking the risk before he starts getting snackish!"

"W-what?!"

"We know you're here! We did our RESEARCH!" The man beside you is practically shaking as Carnage's deep voice rings through the room.

"He's coming this way, you have to move now." You say.

"What about you?"

"He's more likely to notice two of us. I'll be out after you." You're so busy directing the guy you don't realize how close Carnage is to you all until the curtain you're behind is ripped off its bar.

"AHA! THERE YOU ARE!"

"GO! GET OUT OF HERE NOW!" You shout to the guy as Carnage reaches for- you. He's reaching for you, you realize only when one spindly spider-like appendage wraps around your waist.

"How noble of you. We weren't after him- but if you must be the hero-" Carnage easily reaches the scrambling host before he can get to the door and all you can do is shut your eyes tight when Carnage lifts him up. It's only when his screams stop suddenly and something warm drips onto your arm that you're sure is blood. You don't dare to check what Carnage has done, but if you had to guess, he bit his head off; much like Venom does when you or Eddie allows him to. Your eyes only shoot open when Carnage starts to move again, swinging back out the hole he came in through and taking you through the city. You're in the air for quite some time before eventually, Carnage drops you, rather gently for a kidnapper, on the ground inside a dusty building.

"Hello, little thing." Carnage says to you.

"I could have sworn Venom dealt with you already." You cross your arms.

"Almost. I was lucky to escape."

"Unfortunate for the rest of us." You muse.

"Rude!"

"Let me remind you that you did kidnap me so excuse me if I'm not kind." You roll your eyes. "I take it my role is to lure Venom to you? Right?"

"Correct. He cares for you. So he will come."

"Of course, he will. Though, disrupting my work event was an unnecessary scene just to lure him out to- where are we?"

"An old firehouse!"

"Wow you really are a baby." You scoff realizing he's chosen another location where loud noise is common.

"Excuse me?"

"Nothing nothing. I presume you have a different host now right? That other guy, the serial killer, died the last time, didn't he?"

"I am bonded to his blood! I can regenerate!"

"I'm sorry- so you regenerated… an entire head for your last host?"

"Yes!"

"That is- very strange." You frown. "Still, this place doesn't hold sentimental value to Cletus so- how will they find you?"

"Oh just call them." Cletus makes an appearance, finally, and rolls his eyes as he makes his request.

"Call them? You want me to call them and lead them to where you plan to kill them?"

"Yes. Or I'll kill you."

"That would be stupid. Killing me won't get you what you want." You scoff.

"CARNAGE! YOU TOOK MY CHOCOLATE DROP! I'M GOING TO RIP YOU TO SHREDS!!"

"Guess we don't need to call him." Carnage says pushing you into the fire engine that's collecting dust in the unused building.

"WAS DYING ONCE NOT ENOUGH FOR YOU?!" Venom stomps towards Carnage.

"Father. I'm not that easy to get rid of!"

"EVIDENTLY!" Venom charges at Carnage and the two of them are quickly destroying the old brick firehouse you're occupying. From inside the fire truck you're in, it's hard to tell who's winning for most of the fight. It's all too quick and too fluid the way they're throwing each other around. By the time you've gotten a handle on what's going on between the duo, Carnage has Venom pinned to one of the walls that they haven't totally ruined already. Frantically you turn towards the control panel of the fire engine, you can't imagine it's still fully operational but there's a chance you can find some way to make noise with this thing. You need to give Venom the upper hand somehow.

"V!" You shout and cover your ears for only a moment before pressing as much of your weight as you can into the horn of the truck and hoping for the best. You can't explain the relief that you feel when that horrid loud noise fills the small space and Carnage screeches. You let up on the horn once he stumbles away from Venom, his attention on you now that you've gotten involved.

"You!" Carnage snarls. You lay into the horn again before he can get to you and the sound seems to disrupt him enough to almost completely separate him from Cletus. You let up when Eddie has crept up behind them and Venom takes over to fully rip Carnage from Cletus by force. You didn't think that was possible and it is extremely strange to watch. Venom grabs Cletus with an extra appendage and holds him far in the air as he eats the angry red goop that is Carnage.

"EVEN WORSE THE SECOND TIME." Venom grumbles and you can't help but giggle a little. The noise makes Venom wink at you before turning his attention to Cletus. "THIS TIME STAY DEAD!" Venom says before biting his head off, out of your line of sight. You come out of the fire truck just in time to catch him dropping the body.

"ARE YOU ALRIGHT?!" Venom runs over to you and lifts you into his arms so you're eye level with him as he looks over you for injuries.

"I'm fine V. He didn't actually hurt me. You got here so quickly." You muse.

"EDDIE WAS WATCHING COVERAGE OF YOUR GALA." Venom explains.

"It was going so well until he crashed it." You pout. "You don't have any other errant children we should know about right Venom?"

"NO. NOT THAT I KNOW OF." Venom shrugs lowering you back to the ground.

"Good because this kidnapping thing is very inconvenient." You say. Eddie chooses that moment to reappear and he quickly wraps his arms around you.

"Y/n, baby, thank fuck you're okay. I am so sorry." He breathes out.

"You're sorry? What for?" You frown as you hug him back.

"If I had just come to the damn gala in the first place-" You pull back and hold Eddie's face in your hands to make sure he hears what you say next.

"No. It wouldn't have changed anything. In fact, it would actually have been worse I think. There were hundreds of people in that building and we were on one of the higher floors. The casualties if you had fought him there would have been so not worth it. This was the best outcome. I'm sure there were several injuries but I think there was only one death besides him so- don't apologize. Especially because there was no way you could've predicted him crashing my event. Don't blame yourself because other than a ruined charity gala and the inconveniences that come with a kidnapping, I've barely got some scrapes. You two did well." You tell him.

"We couldn't have done it without you. The fire horn was a great idea."

"Yeah well, you were going to die. And I didn't have any fire." You shrug. "We should get out of here though, I can't imagine it'll take much longer for authorities to get here in search of the red monster that crashed a charity event." You add.

"True. The party looked beautiful by the way. You know, before Carnage trashed it." Eddie says scooping you into his arms.

"Thank you baby." You kiss his cheek just before Venom appears again to take you all home.

"I WANT A KISS TOO! I DID ALL THE WORK."

"You can have as many kisses as you want V." You say kissing his cheek too as he walks out of the trashed fire station with you in his hold.

"I WANT ALL THE KISSES THEN!" He declares as he swings you both up into the air.

"Once we get home I'll kiss you til my lips fall off if you so wish my love." You giggle.

"NOT THAT MANY! IF THEY FALL OFF I WON'T GET ANY MORE IN THE FUTURE!"

"Okay okay. Reasonable amount of kisses, once we get home. Deal?"

"DEAL!" Venom says before taking off from building to building to get you home. There's no such thing as normal when your boyfriend is sharing his body with an alien you suppose, but you wouldn't have it any other way.

***

#marvel #marvel fanfiction #venom fluff #venom x reader #venom fanfiction #venom #eddie brock fluff #eddie brock x reader #eddie brock fanfic #eddie brock #venom angst ? #venom angst #requests

[taehyuncult]

Idk if i’ve been tweaking out lately but imagine punishing jaehyun (or any of the hyung line) with cockwarming. 😔😔😔 love your works btw!!

you’re SO real tho and thank you so much!! makes my heart sparkle <3

18+ stuff under the cut. mdni.

ok but like why would you ever want to punish sweet myungjae though :( he’s the best boy!! if i’m being completely honest i wanted to write abt him with a mommy kink for this ask but i restrained myself..

anyways, i could see a situation where he gets so needy that it literally frustrates you because it’s so hard not to be distracted by him. you could be busy with something and he would be sending you all these filthy messages. he talks big game over text but when you’re in person, he’s all shy and blushy. he would say things like “i need you, you’re so beautiful it drives me crazy.” “need to fuck you so bad it hurts” like my guy calm down!! you’d text him telling him you’ll take care of him as soon as you get home, and he literally just gets worse because you gave him a bit of attention. he keeps sending you messages and if you ignore him it gets EVEN worse. he hits a point where he would send you a video of him. you would have to go to the bathroom because you absolutely do not trust him, and you were right to do so. the video is of him in front of a mirror stroking his pretty cock, moaning all pretty just for you. it was vile, filthy, nasty, and so perfect you couldn’t get the image out of your head.

when you finally get home, you yell out his full name and he doesn’t come to you. instead, you have to find him, and he’s in your shared bed just lying there with this fake look of innocence. “hi baby, have a good day?” he’d say with a smirk as if he didn’t send you messages telling you how desperately he needed you. “sit at my desk.” you ordered him, and he couldn’t even be bratty. he nodded his head and did exactly what you told him as his tough confident act was diminished. you pulled down your bottoms, then immediately straddled his lap, pulling a gasp from his throat at the sight of you bare already. “i’m going to do some work. you’re going to sit here like a good fucking boy and you better not move.” you ordered him as you pulled down his bottoms, freeing his already hard cock. “what?” “you heard me. you’ve been a bad boy and only good boys get to cum.” “n-no! i just needed you! it’s not even that big of a deal!” he’d plead out, making you smirk. “well, then if it’s not that big of a deal then you can wait while i finish something up.” you knew that wasn’t what he meant, but you wanted to mess with him. you slowly sank down on his cock, taking it a bit slow for yourself and to mess with him. “don’t move.” you said as you turned to your computer, working on whatever. he would be an absolute mess. he would throw his head back against the chair in frustration as his cock is already sensitive, and he knows if he does anything he’ll be in so much trouble. let’s just say this serves as a really good lesson to not mess with you when you’re busy. of course though, he doesn’t learn and is already plotting.

#kisa’s hard thoughts #admin.kisa <3 #jaehyun smut #myung jaehyun smut #boynextdoor hard thoughts #boynextdoor hard hours #bnd hard thoughts #bnd hard hours #bnd smut #boynextdoor smut

[mono-dot-jpeg]

tank moment - mauga

summary; title slightly irrelevant, i wanted to be funny. iykyk

genre/extra tags; headcanons/bullet fic, i talk about mauga hcs i thought of on the fly, reader is implied to be a support character, reader is also part of talon group, fluff, i only know the bare minimum about him and that's all i need baby, is this platonic or romantic idk

[gender neutral reader] [canon typical violence mentioned]

a/n; im back on my overwatch era. it never really ended but, i want to write about him, mauga, the beloved. typing this on my phone and finishing on my computer if anything seems wonky shhh dont tell me i'll relive that mistake for days

also this is a somewhat lightly reseached- aka not fully accurate/detailed work. i briefly mention samoan culture and if it offends or if it's a mistake, please tell me and i will erase those parts asap.

[support me and buy a kofi]

🗣 ALRIGHT SO ‼️

i've been watching and playing with/against mauga since the trial to play him came out and god i love him

but he's kind of easy to counter (im an ana main, nade is fucking broken but that's just anti heal things) and his ult is annoying

anyways

every tank needs their heal bot to keep em up

you just happen to be mauga's heal bot KDJSJSJ

(baptiste is too probably but not really)

he's a really smug guy

no one really knows that bc he sounds so upbeat and nice

but he loves to tease you, poke at you bc he knows that you will answer to him most of the time and entertain him in conversation

you and him are probably in your world even when you're both in talon tbh

he does his own thing and you just happen to join in

(he totally baits you to join his plans and you both know it)

he's a chaotic and cunning man and you're his enabler

(sounds like me and my bestie tbh)

"a hero would sacrifice you to save the world but a villain would sacrifice the world to save you" type beat

he's lowkey possessive but we dont talk about that

jk we do talk abt it

he's your scary guard dog privileges

like that man is tall tall ‼️‼️

idk why but i dont really imagine him being like an openly sweet person

he keeps it private even with how loud he is

anyways

you know how he's on a yacht for his origin story and there's like a bunch of people who got destroyed by him?

yeah he would totally do that shit for u if you asked.

he would give you the best home but

"thanks for the new place and all but did you have to kill someone for it?"

"i mean come on! this place is nice! let's enjoy it!"

he's very "i'll do the dirty work, just sit back and look pretty." and then you're like, "yeah i could. but i won't."

dps support vibes for you ✨️

but also he's charging in most of the time so, there's not much time to dps support KDHDJDJJD

he's like the kool aid man bursting in through the walls /j

cough

back to the hcs here...

he's so tall and big, he would totally let you hang off his back like nunu and wilump (from league, yeah i play league dont remind me totally gonna write for heartsteel soon tm)

also he's literally the greatest heated blanket (ahead of roadhog)

he's so stronk and wowowowow im so gay i love him

when you're surrounded by some enemies, he's charging in, slamming the ground and carrying you with ease as he keeps you safe while destroying any enemies who even tried to touch you

ugh

despite his lack of pda, he's a very actions over words.

he's so silly

chivalry isn't dead when he breaks into a jewelry store for u 😍😍

if you ever have those crazy thoughts about crime, he's totally gonna enable you and let you reign havoc on god knows what.

love language is actions and gift giving. enough said.

when he gives you a hug, he's so fucking warm omg

i said it before and i'll say it again, he's the best heated blanket, literal furnace

bad for the people who sweat easily though (ahem me lowkey)

one the off-days where it's just a day off and relaxing, he's taking care of you well !!

when you're on talon missions, since he can't run around as easily unless he gets the okay but you do keep him company until then

he likes to protect but he loves destroying people

he knows you're able to care for yourself, so he can go crazy whenever, and he loves that.

he also loves watching you get mad or angrily passionate

"yes go, la'u ma’asoama!" (my rock/stone, get it? bc his name means mountain)

he is a really good hype man. even if you're the one in the wrong.

god I WISH I LOOKED UP MORE ABOUT HIM ARGBHYKFJ

soon (tm)

someday i'll write more.

#overwatch x reader #overwatch 2 x reader #overwatch mauga #mauga x reader #overwatch mauga x reader #overwatch #overwatch 2 #overwatch fluff #overwatch headcanons

[agaypanic]

Headcannons on being the Davenports bestfriend 💗

Being Best Friends With the Davenports Headcanons

Masterlist

Request Something!

A/N: this is probably asking for being best friends with all of them at the same time, but i’m gonna do individual headcanons. also even tho it says davenport, im also adding leo (i know he’s technically a davenport but idk i dont see him as a davenport i see him as a dooley)

***

Adam

You always enable and encourage his silly ideas

Which his family doesn’t like much

But you and Adam have fun, so you don’t care much

You help him with his homework a bunch

He doesn’t like asking Chase for help bc he makes him feel really dumb

Your favorite activity is probably going to the zoo bc he loves all the animals

You peeked through the front door of the Davenport’s house. When the coast was clear, you opened the door wider and waved for Adam to come in. How he was gonna hide this when his family saw, you didn’t know.

“What is that?” Leo’s sudden voice made the two of you jump. He had come from down the hall, and was staring at you with an incredulous look and pointed finger. 

“Lunch,” Adam answered, pointing at the bag of food in your hand. Leo rolled his eyes, furiously trying to make where he was pointing more obvious.

“No, that!” 

You and Adam looked at the alpaca that Leo was pointing to, knowing you were unable to avoid it any longer.

“Oh my gosh, how did that get there?” You asked dumbly, as if you didn’t help Adam break it out of the zoo and bring it home.

“This is definitely the first time I’ve seen this,” Adam said in a faux shocked tone, petting the alpaca’s head. “But since it’s here, we can keep it, right?”

Bree

You guys become extremely close extremely fast

Being surrounded by guys all her life, you’re very refreshing to be around

The two of you love to gossip

About who’s with whom, her siblings’ antics, everything and nothing

You guys like going to the mall to shop, eat, and catch up

Even though you hang out literally every day

“Oh my gosh, did I tell you what happened with my brothers this week?” Bree asked as she looked through a rack of shirts.

“You probably have, but tell me anyway.” You laugh, looking at the clothes with her.

“So Leo likes this girl, right? And Chase comes up with some plan to get her to fall for him- oh, this is cute. Well, anyways, it completely backfires, and she ends up going after Adam.”

“No.” You gasped.

“Yes! And that’s not even the craziest part.” Bree took something off the rack and held it up to you, wanting your opinion. You nodded furiously at the sight, and she grinned, adding it to the try-on pile of clothes she was carrying. “So Chase tells Leo that he’ll talk to the girl for him, and guess what.”

“What? Does she start liking Chase?” You ask jokingly. Bree raised her eyebrows at you and pursed her lips, signaling you were correct. “No!”

“Yes!”

Chase

Yall are that duo at school

Smart, sassy, and pretty

You guys sign up for extracurriculars like science fair and debate club together

Even though he’s literally the smartest man in the world, he likes having you go over his work

Very occasionally, he’ll miss a detail, and you’ll point it out

But he mainly just likes the validation

But you also never hesitate to put him in his place when needed

“Hey, can you read this over for me?” Chase asked as he handed you his laptop. You decided to come over to watch a movie when he suddenly remembered he needed to revise one of his papers for a class. 

Pausing the TV, you set the computer on your lap and read the essay. You didn’t comment until you were finished, handing the laptop back to Chase.

“Pretty good.” You said, playing the movie again.

“I knew it.” Chase gloated, reclining on the couch next to you. “Perks of being the smartest guy ever.”

“Yeah, well, you also misspelled ‘and,’ genius.” You laughed as you watched him scramble for his computer, looking through every word to find the mistake. “Perks of not knowing how to type, I guess.”

“Shut up.” He grumbled, fixing the error and crossing his arms with a pout.

Leo

The blind leading the blind

You encourage all of his delusions, mainly because you think it’s funny

You two are a comedic duo tbh

You guys bounce off each other really well

Before the bionic trio, you always defended Leo from bullies

You still do sometimes

Leo was currently talking your ear off about his current crush, some girl named Danielle. This was part of your guys’ routine. He’d tell you about someone he liked, you’d tell him that the two of them were meant to be, something would go wrong, you’d laugh about it, and then Leo would find someone new the next week.

“We’re so close to being boyfriend and girlfriend; I can feel it!” He said excitedly.

“Oh yeah.” You nodded, trying to suppress a laugh. “I know that if I had a boyfriend, I’d want him to be my human footstool because it’s what I deserve.”

“Exactly! You’re like the only one who gets it.”

“Ooh, there she is now.” You said, looking over his shoulder to see his girl of the week at her locker. “She came into the same hallway you’re in, so she clearly wants to see you. You should go talk to her.”

“Really?” Leo asked, slowly standing up. You nodded and pushed him in Danielle’s direction, waiting for everything to unfold. 

Leo somehow found the courage to talk to Danielle, but it was a pretty short conversation. When she walked away, she looked at him from over her shoulder and said goodbye.

“See you later, Lenny!”

The name made you bust out laughing, almost weak in the knees to stand up and go over to the now somewhat sad boy.

“Better luck next time, Lenny.” You said, patting his shoulder and laughing some more.

#agaypanic #chase davenport x reader #chase davenport #bree davenport #bree davenport x reader #adam davenport x reader #adam davenport #leo dooley x reader #leo dooley #lab rats x reader #lab rats

[seungly]

— untitled — | BANG CHAN

➸ pairing: Bang Chan x gn!reader

➸ genre: fluff, established relationship

➸ wc: -

warning/s: none. they’re just cute.

a/n: i love writing simple fluffs like these. thank you!!

requested by : @tyuniiz 

  - hiya, can i request a lil something fluffy with chan please? maybe mc is wasting time doing those silly skz boyfriend quizzes, determined to get chan as her results but she keeps getting another member? idk maybe this is a silly idea, you don't have to write it btw, no pressure

© seungly 2023

❥• ┈┈┈┈

It had been 30 minutes ever since you went silent, leaving Chan confused. He could hear you yelling quite a few times over what seemed to be a game, but you suddenly went quiet. He figured you probably just stopped playing so he returned to his work.

Turns out the silence wouldn't last for 10 minutes longer since he almost dropped his dear laptop after hearing you curse out your computer.

Concern fills his chest, quickly leaving the laptop om the coffee table before running to you. He found you glaring at the screen, mumbling curses under your breath.

"What did the poor thing ever do to you?!" He chuckled, feeling more calm knowing you were safe.

"Chan..." You groan, dragging yourself to him. "They're so mean."

"Who?" He wraps his arms around you.

"The ones who made that quiz." You turn for a moment to point at the computer screen before facing him. "They won't let me get you." You pout.

"but you already have me..." He giggled, placing a kiss on your forehead.

"I...I know, but the quiz—"

"It's just a silly quiz, baby. You play it for fun."

"But I keep getting Hyunjin..." You sigh, walking back to your chair. "They think I'm compatible with Hyunjin!"

"Does it really mean that much to you?" He asked, walking closer to you. "Even though we both know that I'm literally the one for you?"

You giggle, looking at him, "oh, we both knew that?"

"Hey!"

You laugh, shaking your head. "I'm kidding, of course. But yeah, it means a lot to me."

"Alright, let's get you me." he laughed, leaning to kiss you.

You meet him halfway, lips meeting his. The feeling brings you comfort, spreading warmth across your chest.

You pull away with a smile, letting yourself get lost in his gaze for a moment before turning back on the screen.

"Now, let's get to work." you huff, gabbing the mouse and putting all focus on the screen.

Chan couldn't help but laugh at how determined you were, you're adorable to him. "Yes, ma'am." he smiled softly.

❥• ┈┈┈┈

taglist: 

@starlostseungmin , @zoe8stay , @kim-seung-mo , @bluechans , @lotus-dly , @sstarryreads , @mybelovedhamji , @crispybangchannie ,,

๑๑๑

a/n: today was tiring, still fun tho. Anw, hope you liked this drabble !! <33 it really helps me relax when i write.

feedback is appreciated and please reblog or leave a comment !!

#seungly #stray kids imagines #stray kids scenarios #stray kids drabble #bang chan imagines #bang chan x reader #bang chan fluff #bangchan x reader

[ghostgirl101]

hey, i really like ur writing and idk if ur working on something rn but when you can and if you want to, could you possibly write some ben drowned x reader kissing headcanons? (only if u r comfortable w/ that ofc!) ur literally my favorite writer on this app nd i literally read everything u post lol so even if u don’t do this ty anyway and have a nice day/night and take care of urself!!🩷

Kissing BEN Drowned Would Be Like This:

A/N: Sure, I'm comfortable with that; this is kind of a whole affection headcanon thing, which I've only just realised now I'm reading it over 🙃 I'm glad you like my writing, hope you enjoy this one, take care of yourself too 😀 Also, should I start making a taglist for my creepypasta posts? If you're interested, let me know.

🎮• So. If you're expecting BEN to be an absolute gentleman who asks for your permission before giving you any form of affection, or is a bit bashful to initiate it...

🎮• Haha. Sorry.

🎮• I mean, he'd never push your boundaries or deliberately make you feel uncomfortable when you guys are being intimate somehow, but he's not gonna be shy about it. That's because it takes a bit of time for him to warm up to the idea of physically coming out of the screen and materializing himself enough for you to hug him and everything safely, without getting electrocuted or whatever.

🎮• Another factor is that after all he's been through, the idea of letting himself be that vulnerable around people is a bit of a daunting one, even if it's you, someone who he's learned to trust and get close to until it gets to this point.

🎮• So, well done to you, for earning the ultimate sign of trust from this maniac virus boy. Chances are that after you hint at wanting to be able to kiss him or something, he's gonna act all teasing and dismissive about it, but what you don't know is that the thought stays in his mind after you've finished up on the computer and gone to bed. He watches you silently from the camera on your open screen (that he's insisted you keep open for him to check in on you) and lets the idea of it grow into a nice, tempting one.

🎮• So get ready for yet another burst of an adrenaline rush as BEN gives you the scare of your life when he comes crawling out of the screen as you wake up in the morning, scattering your desk trinkets and stuff all over the place in the process. BEN has very pale blonde hair in his humanish form, almost white, and even paler skin, with empty black and red eyes, sometimes glitchy... you probably know already. BEN's eyes bleed lightly even when he's not upset, but seem to gush blood when he is. But even with the whole horrifying appearance, somehow, he manages to make himself look handsome. Don't tell him, though, or he'll tease you about it and probably won't ever forget it.

🎮• When you get over the initial shock of him literally just spawning into your room, he stays completely indifferent, if not a bit amused, because isn't this what you wanted? It's not like he bites. Unless you're into that sort of thing.

🎮• BEN is a bit apprehensive at first, because, let's be real, you're his first kiss. His life was twisted into an electronic form when he was really young, and so human touch is almost a completely foreign experience to him at this point, so he will start slow. He might flinch a couple of times, but dismisses it and tells you to go on, that he wants to get used to it. And he does.

🎮• When he does, that's when you've got his chaotic bursts of affection energy to deal with. He loves catching you off guard; you could be doing anything, working or hanging around or whatever, and then he's suddenly there behind you, and you get the tiniest of electric shocks as BEN grabs you effortlessly and refuses to let go for a solid five minutes while you fidget in his glitching but strong arms and glare at him.

🎮• The first thing you'll end up doing is hugging, because he likes the feel of being close in somebody's arms in a way he didn't think he could be before. You're warm and he's consistently cold, leading to you having to slap at his hands when he slides a hand down your back or something bratty just to make you squeal and shiver. They draw out into cuddle sessions, another thing he likes, and will ultimately go soft over. There have been many times when you've managed to fall asleep in BEN's arms, and that's one of the rare times where he'll let all his guard down and fiddle with your hair or play with your jewelry or just stare at you with a newfound feeling of protectiveness and fondness.

🎮• Now for the actual kissing part 🙃 I need to say that it really isn't a first "kiss." It's the first of many long makeout sessions, because BEN will drag it out as much as he can, and then stop abruptly when you least expect it, just to be a tease and wanting more. I see it happening when you're rambling about something or other, and he's out in the real world instead of in a screen, when you realize that your faces are inches apart, and he has a blank, frustrating unreadable look on his face.

🎮• And, before you can say anything, he'll take the plunge before he can think about it any more, leaning in and brushing his lips against yours, but waiting for you to accept it and move in too. It starts off surprisingly soft and sweet, until BEN starts getting addicted to the new, intimate sensation, and tries deepening it. Then it's less sweet and more intense, and (sorry for the cliche lol) electric. He tastes kind of appley, and his lips are cold and soft. BEN will carry on going, further and further, to the point of you ending up breathless and him pulling away with a stunned look on his face. That look morphs into his usual mischievous smirk after he recovers in a few moments, and he raises a brow in amusement at your wide eyes and swollen lips, probably with a snarky little "Not bad."

🎮• After you've done it once, you're gonna end up doing it a whole lot more. There are hardly ever any proper warnings apart from BEN gradually moving in closer and being more teasing and flirty, or on sadder days where painful memories of the past come creeping back to haunt him, a source of comfort and reminder that he's still here and has another reason to be alive and basically immortal. It's not just to drive people to insanity and infect their systems with disturbing things until they crack, or whatever other motives he has. Now, there's you, someone who he's decided he needs to look out for and be with in any possible way.

🎮• Like I said, kissing BEN Drowned usually ends in suggestive makeout sessions and the like, because that's just BEN all over. But they're one way he's discovered he can show he cares, and so he'll keep doing it if you want him to, without any hesitation. Realistically, the boy is beyond touch starved, and so that all pours into the affections he gives you. To anyone else, he's a twisted, demon-like boy who makes peoples' lives hell by getting into their heads through ways they can't control, but to you and you only, he'll let himself become more and more vulnerable, until you see that really, he still was and is Ben.

#ben drowned x reader #creepypasta x reader #creepypasta #creepypasta fandom #creepypasta headcanon #ben drowned #creepy pasta #creepypasta blog #ben drowned creepypasta #creepypasta ben drowned #ben drowned headcanons #ben drowned x you #jeff the killer #ben drowned x y/n #jadusable #majoras mask #canon ben drowned #zelda link #creepypasta hcs #creepypasta characters #creepypastas #ben drowned arg

[whiskey-tango-matcha]

Thanks (m, cold)

Hi guys, thank you again for voting on which scenario you wanted to see for this fic! It's a bit of a slow burn, and idk how I feel about the ending, but Elijah is staunchly miserable by the end so hopefully that makes y'all happy 😅 let me know if you like it 🫶

Ps I've been writing this for literally the past 12 hours so I cannot look at it anymore, I'll read it over and edit errors in the morning but I need to get it out before it drives me insane lmao. 5.5k words under the cut :)

CW: male snz, colds, coughing, fever, contagion

There was nothing quite as depressing, Elijah decided, as the days leading up to Thanksgiving dinner service in a restaurant. Well, unless you were Greyson.

“Goooood morning, boss! Two days til the Big Day; are you pumped?”

Elijah turned his chair slowly towards the door, where the chef stood grinning unironically. He thought, not for the first time, that Greyson was likely some sort of dog in a past life – a golden retriever, or possibly a lab. One of those ‘no thoughts, just vibes’ dogs.

“Am I pumped?” Elijah asked, glaring at Greyson. “For a day that should be spent drinking shitty beer and eating my weight in carbs spent instead putting on a fake smile for people who don’t even think of us as human? For people who go out to eat literally once a year, and make sure they do it on a holiday so they can feel powerful by forcing a restaurant to serve them, then complain about the price and stiff my servers? Am I pumped to barely break even, even though the restaurant will be packed from ten am until close, because those same people staunchly refuse to pay more than eighty bucks a head to stuff themselves silly? Am I pumped to listen to my staff complain all day, despite the fact that when each of them was hired, they were told in no uncertain terms that they would be working holidays?” Elijah clicked his pen closed loudly, stood to let Greyson through, and sat with him in tandem, his face set in anger the whole time. “No, Grey. I am not, in fact, pumped.”

Greyson broke their eye contact to wake his computer, the lecture obviously unexpected. “Clearly I should’ve read the room before opening my mouth,” he said, glancing back over at his boss briefly. “My bad, boss.”

Elijah, embarrassed that he’d let himself sink into such a state about something as stupid as a holiday service, pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. “Fuck. Sorry, Grey. You just caught me at a bad moment. I had two servers call out for today, I’m fuckin’ sweating because we really need everyone here for Thursday and neither of them are sure they’ll be good to come back in two days.”

“Hmm,” Greyson hummed, his eyebrows threading together. “That’s weird. I had Victor and Elise call out on my way in.”

Elijah felt his heart thump in his temple. “Did they say why?”

“I didn’t ask,” Greyson said, turning his chair to face his boss. “But I guess I should’ve. Did the servers say why they couldn’t come in?”

“Some sort of fever-cold thing, is what Jason said he had. Ashley just said she felt like shit.” Elijah pressed his fingers into his eye and sighed. “I need a cigarette. Care to join?”

Greyson, never one to turn down nicotine in any form, stood from his chair. “Thought you’d never ask,” he said.

The two of them walked through the empty kitchen in silence, Elijah entirely too wrapped in his own thoughts to continue their conversation. There was an ongoing joke, a trope, at this point, about holidays in the restaurant; everyone was always sick for them. Last Easter, the servers all had bronchitis, and a couple of Valentine’s days ago, Greyson had so many cooks call out with the stomach flu that they’d had to hire last-minute temps to fill in on the line. Despite doing nearly 300 covers, they barely made enough to cover the immense labor that seven temps on a holiday cost.

“Lij,” Greyson said as the two of them stepped out the back door and sat on the milk crates littering the loading dock, “it’s not going to be like Valentine’s. I can see your fuckin’ gears turning.” The chef pulled a pack of cigarettes from his back pocket, handed his boss one, and lit them both up. “Relax.”

Silence, once again, fell upon them as they smoked and watched fat snowflakes disintegrate on the asphalt. Elijah hoped that Greyson was right, that everything would be fine and he was overreacting – but he knew better than to hope. More likely than not, it was going to be what it always was on holidays: a shit show.

Matt and Mark, hand-in-hand until they spotted their bosses by the door, turned the corner and waved to their counterparts in tandem like well-trained circus animals. Elijah couldn’t help but smile as their fingers unwove from one another.

“Morning,” Elijah called, stubbing out his cigarette. Greyson did the same, and the two of them stood to let the younger men into the building.

“Aren’t you freezing?” Mark asked rubbing his hands together as he pushed the door open. Elijah shrugged as he held the door open for the other two and walked in behind them.

“My rage keeps me warm,” he said, prompting a laugh from Greyson and an eye roll from the younger men. “How’re you guys?”

Mark shot a look at Matt as they all walked towards the office at the front of the kitchen. “I’m well,” he said, pointedly. Elijah nearly stopped in his tracks when he glimpsed Matt glaring at his boyfriend.

“Matt…?” Greyson asked, an attempt at giving his sous chef a get-out-of-jail-free card. There was silence as the three of them turned, expectantly, towards Matt.

“I’mb good,” the sous said, his voice cracking on the second syllable. Elijah audibly groaned, Mark winced, and Greyson bit his cheek to keep from laughing at the absurdity.

“Well, you certainly sound great,” Greyson said, palming Matt’s shoulder aggressively. “Would you like to go home and sleep that off?”

“Yes, he -”

“Ndo,” Matt said, cutting Mark off and shooting him a look. “I wandt to help prep.I’mb – hh! hh’NGTSH-uh!” Matt turned and pulled his coat up over the bottom half of his face to sneeze, then quickly gathered himself and stood up straight. “I’mb fine,” he said, convincing no one.

Elijah closed his eyes briefly and sighed through his nose; fortunately or unfortunately, he knew exactly why Matt hadn’t called off.

The week prior, Elijah and Greyson had dolled out raises and bonuses for the staff; this year was Matt’s fifth as sous chef. Greyson had basically written a dissertation of why his sous chef should be given a new title – Executive Sous – along with a significant raise and bonus. It hadn’t taken much convincing; Elijah knew exactly how hard Matt worked, and staying at the same restaurant as a sous chef for five years was nearly unheard of in this city, especially for someone as young as Matt. He and Greyson had agreed that Matt’s loyalty to the restaurant deserved to be compensated, and had surprised him before his day off with the new title and pay.

Matt had been surprised – shocked was probably a better word for it, honestly – and had confided in Elijah after Greyson had dipped early to meet up with a date that he felt like he didn’t deserve the raise.

“You do,” Elijah had said, laughing lightly. “We wouldn’t have given it to you if you didn’t deserve it.”

The younger man had shaken his head. “I just… I mean, Greyson is here way more than me. I get two days off mostly, and he doesn’t let me work longer than ten hours. And I love it here, you guys don’t need to, like, worry about me leaving if that’s what this is about.”

Elijah had given Matt a confused look. “Greyson should be here more than you, first of all he’s a partner, not just the chef, and secondly, he gets paid very well to be here eighty hours a week. That’s his choosing. You’re his employee – if you were here as much as he was and getting paid significantly less, that wouldn’t be fair. And we’re glad you love it here, but that’s not why we gave you the raise. We gave it to you because you’re a hard worker, and you deserve to be compensated for what you do.” Elijah had smiled at Matt, patted his knee, and finished with, “Don’t sell yourself short.”

Matt had just smiled back and nodded, but Elijah knew he hadn’t changed his mind about ‘being undeserving’. Elijah knew, via background checks that were performed by his off-site HR company, and via Mark being a blabbermouth the second he got a glass of wine in him, that Matt had been a bit of a troubled kid; he’d been bounced from one foster home to another as a kid, and then one juvenile detention hall to another as a teenager. Only when he’d dropped out of high school and gotten a job as a dishwasher at a Denny’s did he finally decide it was time to shape up. He’d worked his way into the diner’s kitchen, then a slightly nicer kitchen, and when he was 20, he’d shown up at the front door of Elliot’s in an ill-fitting suit with a speech about how he was ready to work somewhere that he could hone his passion, even if they couldn’t pay him a dime. Greyson had hired him on the spot, not even consulting Elijah, despite only having been the executive chef for a few months.

Elijah knew Matt felt that he owed Greyson, not the other way around, and this promotion and raise was the nail in that coffin of doubt. He knew there was no way Matt would go home, no matter how shitty he felt.

Greyson just shrugged at his sous chef’s denial of being sick. “If you want to stay, I’m not going to make you leave,” he said, walking into the office and changing from his sweatshirt into his chef’s coat. “Just don’t sneeze on the food.”

Matt rolled his eyes and stripped off his jacket to put his own chef’s coat on. “Yes, Chef,” he said, coughing into his elbow. Mark and Elijah exchanged sidelong looks.

“Are you feeling okay?” Elijah asked his junior manager. Mark smirked, hiked his laptop bag further onto his shoulder, and started towards the dining room – his makeshift office.

“Never better, boss,” he said, pushing through the swinging doors. “Never better.”

***

“So, is he coming in tomorrow?”

Greyson lolled his head to the side, hands still on his keyboard, and deadpanned Elijah. “The fuck do you think?”

Elijah pulled a hand down his face and nodded. “Yeah, okay, just wanted to check.”

While Matt had been relatively fine the first few hours of the shift, by the time the last guests had eaten, the sous had been so staunchly miserable that Greyson had marched his ass into the office, thrown his jacket over his shoulders, and pointed towards the back door. “Go. Home. Now.”

“Chef, I – HTSHH! Hh-! GTSH-uh!” Matt wrenched to the side, collapsing into a post-sneeze coughing fit that made the cooks flinch from five yards away.

“You’re not fine,” Greyson insisted. “You’re sick, and you’re going to get everyone else sick.”

Matt nodded, miserable, and hung his head. “Sorry, Chef,” he muttered, wiping his nose on the sleeve of his jacket.

“Go,” Greyson said. “And come back when you’re well.”

Mark had taken Matt home in an Uber, and the cooks and servers had been able to leave relatively early, which left Elijah, Greyson, and a bottle of whiskey between them on the desk to figure out how they were going to handle the rest of the week.

Greyson sighed and reached for the bottle as he pushed away from his computer screen. He took a long pull and handed the bottle to Elijah, who followed suit. “I just… I don’t understand why he’d come in that sick,” Greyson said, pulling his hair to the top of his head and securing it with a rubber band from their drawer of office supplies. Elijah had to pull the bottle away from his lips to laugh. “What?” Greyson asked.

“You, of all people, can’t understand why he came in sick?” Elijah asked, incredulous. “You?”

“What do you mean me?” Greyson asked, snatching the bottle back. “If anything, he learned it from watching you.”

“Oh, spare me, Greyson,” Elijah rolled his eyes. “For awhile there, you literally came in sick three weeks a month.”

Greyson scoffed. “At least I’ve never passed out on the kitchen floor.”

“Yes, you have.”

“No, I almost passed out. You actually fuckin’ swooned. Collapsed in a puddle. Full damsel in distress.” Greyson took another pull and placed the bottle back on the desk. “So don’t come for me unless I send for you.”

Elijah guffawed at this. “Who taught you that saying?” he asked. Greyson shrugged.

“I heard one of the servers using it. I like it.”

“The servers are twenty years old, you dinosaur. The last thing they want is Grandpa Greyson using their jargon.”

“Fuck off, if anyone here is a grandpa it’s…” Greyson stopped suddenly, held up a finger, let his eyes flutter shut, then let out a shaky breath. “Fuck, that’s annoying.” He rubbed his nose on the back of his hand, then raised an eyebrow at his boss, whose face had drawn into concern. “What?”

“What was that?” Elijah asked, glancing over at the bottle of whiskey they’d spent the past hour sharing.

“I just thought I was going to – oh,” Greyson’s eyes widened. “No, dude, relax, I’m totally fine. I feel great.”

“‘Buzzed’ and ‘great’ are two different things, Grey,” Elijah said. He reached up to feel Greyson’s forehead, prompting the chef to lean back in his chair.

“Great as in healthy,” he insisted, shooing Elijah’s hand away. “Seriously, I’d let you know if I – HRRTSHHH-ue!” He caught the sneeze in his elbow – barely – and choked back an irritated cough. From the crook of his arm, he heard Elijah swear.

“I’m going to end your fuckin’ life, I swear to God,” Elijah muttered, pushing the bottle further onto Greyson’s side of the desk. “You let me drink from the same bottle as you, you dick.”

“I’m fine, Elijah, Christ it was one sneee – hh! - hh…” Greyson tipped his head back in anticipation, then lowered and shook it when the feeling once again dissipated. “See? Totally fine.” He sniffled – convincing, Grey – and immediately changed course. “Plus, it’s alcohol. It’s an antiseptic.”

“It one million percent is not,” Elijah said, rubbing his temples in defeat. “Greyson, you cannot be sick. We cannot be sick. How the hell are we going to be able to run Thanksgiving?”

“Elijah,” Greyson said, “listen. I am fine. Everything is going to be just fi – ITSHH-ue!” Greyson pitched forward into his palm and cringed. Elijah, begrudgingly, slammed the box of tissues they kept on a side table in front of the chef.

“Bless you,” he said while Greyson cleaned himself up. “And, I mean this from the bottom of my heart: fuck. You.”

***

“Hhh-! Huh… hnnn.”

“Bless you.”

“Oh, screw you, Lij,” Greyson muttered for the millionth time that day. He grabbed what felt like his hundredth tissue and blew his nose – only for the feeling to reignite. “Huhhh! Hhh...hh… guhh.” Greyson rubbed his nose again and angrily spiked the tissue into the trash can beneath his prep station.

“Bless you,” Elijah said again, mocking.

“You kndow,” Greyson said, turning towards his boss, who was seated in the office, not looking Greyson’s way. “Karma is going to combe for you for being an asshole to mbe.”

At this, Elijah glanced towards Greyson. “Karma? No, karma is having a cold and not being able to sneeze because you let your friend drink out of the same bottle as you when you knew you were getting sick. That’s karma, and you got what was coming to you.”

“Fuuhhh! Huh! Hh...fuck,” Greyson grumbled, coughing into his shoulder.

“Karma is also giving your sous chef a lecture about being sick at work, only to be get sick and have to come into work because you’re technically the most well of all the sick cooks and chefs.”

“Are you finished?” Greyson asked, throwing his hands in the air. “I get it. And to be fair, I did ndot kndow I was getting sick.” The chef sucked in painfully through his nose and collapsed into coughs once again.

“Mmhmm,” Elijah mumbled. When it seemed like Greyson wasn’t going to be able to stop the coughing, he took pity and got up to make the chef tea.

“Here,” Elijah said, slamming a paper cup in front of Greyson. “Drink it. Sickie.”

Greyson, unable to come up with a proper comeback, just did as he was told. “How mbany on the books tonight?” he croaked. Elijah sighed, pulled up his phone, and slid it towards Greyson. “Fuck,” Greyson said when he saw the number.

“All the people in the city who aren’t coming in tomorrow decided tonight was the night, apparently,” Elijah said, taking his phone back and putting it in his pocket. “Are you going to be okay?” he asked, in earnest.

Greyson nodded. “It’s ndot too bad,” he said, taking another sip of tea. “Just wish I could fuckigg sndeeze.”

Elijah huffed out a laugh. “You’re sure you don’t want to call Matt in?”

“Definitely no – hh! Huh...hhhITSHHHZUE! Oh thank fuckigg God – HUHHESTCH-ue! Hh! Hnn...HuhhhETSCHH-ue! HTSSHH-ue!”

Elijah whistled, long and low, and pushed the box of tissues towards Greyson. “Wow,” he said. “Bless.”

Greyson rolled his eyes as he took a handful of tissues and cleaned himself up. “See?” he said once he’d thrown them away and washed his hands, “Good as new. HTSSHH-ue!”

Elijah chuckled. “Sure, Chef,” he said, moving towards the doors to the dining room. “Whatever you say.”

***

In his thirty-nine years on earth, Elijah had learned a lot about himself. He’d learned that he was a hothead, and he had to really think about the repercussions of what was going to come out of his mouth if he wanted to keep the person he was talking to in his life. He’d learned that he was incapable of whistling, juggling, or any other party trick – but he could pull out a fantastic rendition of Queen’s Somebody to Love during karaoke, and that was enough to make him seem like he was fun at parties. He’d learned that he loved to have his own space, and should he ever find a partner, he knew they’d have to have separate bedrooms. And he had learned exactly what it felt like when he was getting sick.

Like… really sick.

When Greyson said things like, “I didn’t know I was getting sick,” it truly did not register to Elijah. Maybe it was because Greyson’s illnesses always seemed to be some sort of mixed bag – starting differently every time, with symptoms that varied wildly – or maybe it was because he just didn’t tune in to how he was feeling. Greyson always said he basically tried to ignore his body until it forced him to pay attention; maybe that was something that Elijah needed to attempt. Because Elijah… Elijah knew exactly when and how badly he was getting sick every single time.

It had started that afternoon, mere hours after he’d given Greyson shit about exposing him to this illness, the way it always did – with the type of sore throat that made you feel weak in your knees. Elijah had swallowed, then immediately felt dizzy with the pain that surged in his throat. Oh, he thought, touching his neck. Oh, no.

He was, of course, a creature of habit and attempted all his usual ways to quell the pain – cups of tea hidden in paper sleeves, lozenges he hoped Greyson was too stuffed up to smell on his breath, handfuls of ibuprofen – to no avail. By the time dinner service came around he could hear the rasp in his voice and, despite the ibuprofen, could feel the ache in his joints that meant he’d already made it to stage two; fever.

This was how he knew he was going to be down badly. If he could ride the sore throat past the fever and straight into congestion, he might be able to get away with just a normal cold. But if that fever set in before any other symptoms, it was all over.

“Yo,” Greyson said, approaching his boss post pre-shift. “Cand we quickly talk about the semantics of tomborrow’s buffet before people get here?”

Elijah lifted his heavy head from his pre-shift notes and blinked in Greyson’s direction. “Okay,” he said, brilliantly. Greyson’s eyebrows knit together, concerned.

“You good?” he asked, rubbing his nose on the back of his hand. Elijah nodded slowly – surely, if Greyson was able to push through this illness with such ease, he was just being a baby about it. He swallowed through the knives in his throat and nodded.

“Just a headache,” he said. “What do you want to talk through?”

“Just wanted to see how mbany cooks you think I should have on the buffehh....ETSZHCHH-ue!” Greyson directed a massive sneeze into his elbow, and Elijah’s head about exploded with pain.

“Christ,” Elijah muttered, pressing his palm into his eye. Greyson muffled a cough into his sleeve and shook his head to clear it.

“Fuck, ‘scuse mbe,” he said, looking back at his boss. “Umb. Did I get you or something?”

Something like that, Elijah thought as he shook his head. “No,” he said. “You’re just loud, and my head hurts.” He pulled out his phone, looked at the cover spread for the next day, and said, “Three cooks on the buffet. One for omelets, one for prime rib carving, one for dessert bar.” He looked up at Greyson for his confirmation. “What?” he asked.

“You just… look like you’re in pain,” Greyson said, carefully. “Did you take -?”

“Yes, I took ibuprofen,” Elijah cut him off. “Go make sure your guys are ready for tonight. Take a decongestant so they can understand you. I’ll be back there in a minute.”

Greyson pursed his lips, but didn’t argue. “Yes, sir,” he said, and left Elijah to brood.

By some stroke of luck, the third inevitable stage of Elijah’s illness didn’t hit him until after they’d finished service. He was checking the lead server’s station so she could go home, when suddenly it felt like a thousand bees collected in his sinuses.

“Yeah, looks good Riley, thanks, see you in the mo – IGTSHH-uhh! HSTSH-ue! HhhhINTSZH-ue!” Elijah wrenched to the side, the sneezes so sudden he barely had time to cover his mouth.

“Yikes,” Riley said, taking a step away from her boss. “Bless you.”

“Thanks,” Elijah muttered, pinching his nose to quell the itch.

“You pick up whatever has everyone else out this week?” she asked, taking off her apron. Elijah shook his head.

“It’s nothing,” he said. “Have a good night.”

With all the servers gone, Elijah slunk back into the kitchen and sunk into his office chair, his head in his hands. He was not prepared to do a whole holiday service feeling like this. This was nightmarish, and he’d only felt sick for nine hours. Tomorrow? Tomorrow was going to be -

“Hey, bless you,” Elijah sat up and turned around at the accusation to see Greyson standing at the office door with his arms crossed. “Could’ve heard those from fuckin’ space.”

Elijah rolled his eyes, painfully. “Whatever,” he said, powering his computer up to finish the night’s paperwork. “You’re one to talk, I don’t think you’ve gone three seconds without -”

“HRRSHH-oo!” Greyson cut him off with a comically-timed sneeze directed into the collar of his shirt.

“-that,” Elijah finished.

Greyson grabbed a tissue and wiped his nose. “Yeah, but it’s been well-established that I have a cold. I was under the impression that you were still -”

“HTSHH! HRSHH! Huh-! HuhhESTZHH-ue!” Elijah once again collapsed in on himself, head both buzzing and pounding, the explosive sneezes grating the back of his throat.

“- well,” Greyson finished, and moved into the office to sit by his boss. Just as Elijah looked up from his lap, Greyson slapped a hand on his forehead.

“Enough,” Elijah said, pushing Greyson’s palm off. Greyson put both his palms on his knees and gave Elijah a knowing look.

“So, you’ve been sick all day, or…?”

“Greyson,” Elijah said, clearing his throat, “I’m fine.”

“You have a fever, Lij. Like, a pretty significant one.”

He knew, and he had known, but the words made Elijah’s eyes well and his throat close all the same. God, he hated having a fucking fever and all the stupid, ridiculous emotions that went along with it. Elijah took a breath, closed his eyes to collect himself, and addressed the chef.

“I’m not feeling 100%,” he said. “But I will be fine. You are sick – if I’m not 100%, then you must be at like 10% at this point.”

“I don’t have a fever,” Greyson pointed out, taking Elijah’s hand and placing it on his cool head. “See?”

Elijah bit his cheek to keep from snapping. “Alright,” he said. “Whatever. Still, you need to go home; it’s a big day tomorrow.”

“I will when you do,” Greyson said, shrugging. Elijah, completely spent, and done arguing, just turned off his computer – paperwork be damned for the night.

“Fine,” he said, putting his hands up in surrender. “Let’s call it a night.”

Greyson, clearly confused, just raised an eyebrow and nodded. “Alright boss,” he said, grabbing his jacket. “See you tomorrow.”

***

If there was one thing Greyson knew about Elijah, it was this: if you wanted him to admit defeat, you had to corner him.

When he woke up at oh-dark-thirty that morning, Greyson felt lucky that he was no worse for the wear then he was the night before. Was he stuffed-up to the gills? Yes. Did he have an incessant, grating cough? Yeah. But ultimately, it was a cold, and he’d work through far worse many more times.

So, despite the fact that it was still dark out, Greyson donned his hoodie and set out for the restaurant. On the way to the early-morning subway, he called Matt.

“...Hello?” Matt answered on the third ring. “Chef?”

“Mbornin’ sunshine,” Greyson said, coughing into the receiver. “How’re you feeling?”

“Uh…” Matt said, attempting to gather his bearings. “Better. Am I supposed to be at the restaurant now? I thought I was scheduled at eight.” Greyson heard him push back a blanket and plant his feet on the floor. “You sound like shit, by the way. Sorry about that.”

“Inevitable,” Greyson said, a brush-off. “And you aren’t scheduled til eight, but I have sombe very important, pre-work, Executive Sous shit I ndeed your help with.”

“Sure, boss,” Matt said, and Greyson could hear him changing clothes, using mouthwash, and whispering goodbye to Mark. “Anything you need.”

“Good man,” Greyson said, pausing at the top of the subway steps. “Could you pick up cough drops, Mucinex, and a hot water bottle, if you see one? Oh, and a real blanket. I’ll Venmo you some mboney.”

“Uh, sure, boss. Is this… for you?”

“Not for me,” Greyson said, coughing into his sleeve. “For Elijah. He’s down bad.”

“Oh. Oh, shit,” Matt said. “Yeah, okay, for sure boss. Whatever you need.”

“Thanks, mban. Hey, I’mb about to head down to the subway, text mbe if you have any – hh! HTSHH-ue! Fuck, sorry,” Greyson wiped his nose on the back of his hand. “Mbaybe grab more tissues while you’re there,” he amended.

“Sure, Chef. Bless.”

“You’re the best, Mbatt. Always knew you’d make a perfect number two.”

Greyson could hear the eye roll through the phone. “Don’t get sappy, old man,” Matt said. “See you soon.”

***

To say Elijah felt like shit would’ve been the understatement of the century.

When he woke up that morning, Elijah was fairly sure he was dying. The fever he’d crawled into bed with hadn’t budged, his sinuses were packed, and he’d officially acquired the final gem on his sick-as-fuck gauntlet: the cough. This day was going to be absolute hell.

Elijah did his level best to get ready for the busy service; he managed to take about half a shower before he had to sit down, dizzy from exertion; he’d gotten one contact in before sneezing so hard he almost poked his eye out and settled on glasses; he’d even found the strength to put on a pair of pants, though a button down was entirely too much for his shaking hands, so he settled on a cardigan that looked passable enough. God he hoped the servers – and Mark – would be able to hold down the fort out front, because this was nothing short of tragic.

Unwilling to deal with the subway and unable to drive safely in this state, Elijah settled on calling an Uber to work. It was early, a little before eight, but he knew if he didn’t get there now, he’d never make it.

“Happy Thanksgiving!” the driver said, leaving Elijah to immediately regret his decision not to drive. “Pretty early to be up and at ‘em. You heading to see family?”

Elijah cleared his throat as best he could before begrudgingly responding to the driver. “Ndot quite,” he said, his voice strained and congested. “Worki – HGSTHH-ue! HRSSH! ETSZCH-uh!” Elijah attempted to hold back the sneezes, unsuccessfully. Sans any tissues, he wiped his nose on his sweater sleeve. “Excuse mbe, sorry.”

“Working and sick on a holiday?” the driver said, shaking his head. “That’s rough, man. Bless you.”

Elijah’s face flamed, but he was in no state to deny. “Yeah,” he said instead. “Thangks.”

The rest of the drive was in blessed silence, and Elijah made sure to tip the guy extra for being exposed to whatever plague he was walking around with. When he finally pushed through the back door of the restaurant, Elijah felt like he’d already lived a lifetime today; he really wasn’t sure how much he’d be able to take.

“Elijah!” Greyson’s voice reached him before Elijah could even see his face. “Happy Thanksgiving, you sick old fuck!”

Elijah turned the corner and almost burst into tears – there stood Greyson, his face pale and nose bright red, and Matt and Mark looking no better, outside of his office; his office that had been, essentially, turned into a cozy-looking bedroom.

There were blankets on the floor, the chairs removed, and medicine on the desk. The harsh office light had been shut off, and instead one of the lamps from the host stand glowed gently from behind the computer. And, perhaps most heart-rendering, in Greyson’s hand was a bowl of steaming soup, and in Matt’s, a cup of tea.

“I know you hate working the holidays, and feeling like shit is just insult to injury,” Greyson said, setting down the bowl so he could guide Elijah into the office. “So we thought we’d mbake it just a little less shitty.”

Elijah allowed himself to be lead in, unable to find the words to thank his friend. He turned into his elbow to cough, a welcome respite from the tears he could feel threatening to spill over. “Grey,” he said when he’d gathered himself. “I… this is so… you guys…” he swallowed around the lump in his throat and shook his head. “I don’t kndow what to say,” he said, looking up at Greyson. “Thangk you.”

“Ah, save it,” Greyson said, placing a hand on his friend’s back. “You’re always looking after us. Call it our Thanksgiving to you.”

Elijah smiled a little, punched Greyson’s arm lightly, and allowed himself to be pulled into a hug. Heading to see family? the Uber driver had asked him. Maybe he had been, after all.

#whiskeyswriting #snz #sickfic #snzfic #coldfic #snez #snzblr #male cold #male snz #male ocs #original character

[meruz]

hi im putting all my asks in one post again. these are from like the past month and a half approx? some digimon thoughts some tmnt thoughts some art musings u know the usual

@waywardistics YAYY thank you so much for ordering! I'm glad it got to you & that you are enjoying it!

this is kind of a missive to everyone who ordered but: I am very nervous about pre-orders whenever I do them... nervous that not very many people will order, nervous that there will be supply chain or production dilemmas and I won't be able to get copies out to people in a timely fashion, nervous about having people's money but having an indeterminate amt of time where i have not yet "held up my part of the bargain" etc etc SO. THANK U GUYS...FOR ORDERING and being patient and im so glad it got to y'all

@seanonthemoon (idk why i cant tag u BUT) interesting... i gotta be honest I don't think abt the crests that much. i agree that they're very much like heres the "girl" crest heres the "nerd boy" crest etc to the point that it becomes almost meaningless. but i think what makes them even more meaningless to me, and is probably the reason they kind of designated girl/boy crests etc is that i think like the digivices they're toys and merchandise more than they are actual narrative tools LOL. I wouldve loved something with cody and mimi! theyre both so deeply empathetic and sensitive.. theres a lot they share but i think because they look so different on the surface it would make it difficult to market that merch...booo capitalism boooo toy marketing its all sexist bullshit at least here in the u.s. idk if japan is that different though.

I'm actually a little frustrated with how often 02 and 02 related media squanders cody in general lol. he feels like a parallel of izzy, joe, and TK(season 1 tk) while also being kind of none of those and suffering through lackluster characterization as a result... and then once ken joins the team it feels a little redundant. there's a couple cody-centric eps of 02 I remember really liking but then i think abt how he's been used since in like post-series content and 02:the beginning where they made him type on the computer even though obviously that's yoleis thing but because he had nothing else to do and aghh... my blood boils. i feel like the youngest but most serious anime achetype even at its bare bones is actually rly interesting idk why they don't play it up. UM. Once again my opinion is that he should be taller LOL and maybe they should play up his kendo martial arts honorable training stuff more idk. tallest + youngest + most serious just seems like a recipe for success for me. well. theres still time. and theres always fanfic.

THIS IS SO NICE TO SAY and not the first time someone has said it but i appreciate it everytime because i really admire the mm art style so much. It's like part of why I got really into the movie because I really recognized my own artistic sensibilities and aspirations in the way they stylized everything.

UM And i feel like since watching the movie and looking at all the concept art and making my own art i do feel like its only become more obvious how much my own art is lacking LOL LIKE when you see something that feels so similar I think the differences only become more stark. those artists are definitely on a different level than me. But it's nice to hear people say it doesn't look so different from their pov. thank u ^^

thank u!!!!!!! i love mundanity and naturalism... there's something so beautiful abt it to me lol... I feel like my anatomy needs work actually but ive been feeling better abt it this year so it's good to hear! thank you!

DLKGDSGDLALSNDF WAS IT TOO FAR..?? firstly, yeah I was thinking late teen/young adult ages for both of them ie 18-19ish, definitely not the age the kids are in the movie lol.

but also they arent DOING anything in that pic it is literally just a confrontation + some innuendo... I think teens should be allowed some less than subtle innuendo.. its like one of the top 3 classically teen pastimes...

this is such a funny ask to get because i feel like i haven't been able to do thin lineart until like. this past year or two maybe LOL. UM having a line-centric art job helped I think. I started on craig of the creek back in 2022 and thats a show where we spend a lot of time inking so I had a job where I was constantly moderating my line weight 40 hours a week every week for over a year. disappointingly, much of improvement is simply horrendous amounts of practice.

Here's a tip though: I think a lot of thin lineart boils down to confidence. I think instinctively we read thick, bold, fast lines as confident but theres actually a lot of obscuring you can do with a thick line. if you're not sure whether the nose on the face or a browline should be a little more left or a little more down you can hide that with a thick line and pretend its a shadow. or hide it with a bunch of quick lines and the eye can kind of approximate where looks best among the mass.. whereas a thin line is rly singular and stark and hides nothing, it needs to be precise. so anytime i know i want thin lineart i spend a LOT of time sketching, making sure i know exactly where i want my lines to go. so im not second guessing by the time im inking...

ok thats kind of a broad tip lol... here's one thats more applicable: IF POSSIBLE, lower your pressure sensitivity on your device. most devices have some way to edit your pressure sensitivity curve. I use a surface pro at home and this is what my pressure curve looks like most of the time.

When I work on a wacom it looks even more like a reverse L shape LOL. I'm naturally a really heavy-handed artist and I use a "light" or "hard" pressure curve to compensate for how hard I'm always pressing on the pen lol. if you're like me and you struggle with going too hard with the ink too fast... this will probably help a lot!

SFHASLDFH I LOVE THIS ASK this is like the type of question a person gets asked when chalk drawing on the sidewalk at recess LOL. but i understand because I've been struggling also for like. months. I think I'm finally starting to nail it down though so here's some of my observations.

[feel free to save this img but **please do not re-post it or share broadly**. my biggest fear in the world is to spend 30 min on some notes and become a widely proliferated art tutorial im not even kidding. i made it low contrast and difficult to read on purpose.]

my other tip is to just look at and study a lot of reference because that's all ive been doing. the tmnt are really cartoony so its difficult to use like actual anatomical reference unless ur going for that look BUT theres been so many adaptions in so many different styles that there's a real treasure trove of stuff to look at for how to simplify, stylize, and dissect these characters while keeping the recognizable essence. so theres lots to pull from.

If you want to expand further, it's also good to have 5) something sci-fi 6)something fantasy 7)something mundane/slice of life. a bedroom is a really good go-to. And of course some bgs can be two or more of these things at once.

I've definitely answered asks abt bg tips before but here's one specifically for if you want to do bg design for a job:

Your portfolio should probably have at least one of each of the following 1) an interior 2) an exterior 3) a cityscape 4) a nature scene. Just to cover kind of the basics of what you'd be asked to draw on any given project.

I actually feel like I don't have that many cityscrapes in my portfolio... this is something I'm gonna try to work on in the coming year LOL. OH ALSO. This is a very basic tip and people will tell you it all the time but its worth repeating: look up portfolio websites of artists who have the job you want. An easy way to do this is to go onto imdb for any cartoon or movie you like and to find the names listed as "bg/background designer" or whatever then just google that name +"art" or "animation" most artists have some public facing internet presence so it's not hard. spend time studying their work and hold those images in your head! it's a good way to get a good idea of what "industry standard" looks like and comparing ur own art to it... I know people sometimes get bummed comparing their art to others but if you can keep your head up lol.. it'll help you figure out what you need to work on!

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ok thats all i have to say sorry for typing so much. happy new year everybody who read this far LMAO!!!!!

#ask

[lollipop-helo]

So, I was thinking about one of my most recent posts:

The one I talk about how much I hate doing digital lineart and that my artstyle depends on it.

And that gave me an idea!

What if I created a whole new artstyle for the sole purpose of not doing any lineart?

So that's what I did!! (⁠✯⁠ᴗ⁠✯⁠)

I didn't have any idea on what I'd do or how I would do it, so it's still a bit rough and the proportions and other stuff may be a bit off ┐⁠(⁠￣⁠ヘ⁠￣⁠)⁠┌ I'll try to make it better with time!

Anyways, my first subject was....

TAILS!!!!!!

^ No bangs version (at first I completely forgot about them)

^ w/ bangs version (With this, I found out I have no idea on how to draw his "hair")

HE'S SO FREAKING CUTE!!!!!!!! ＼⁠(⁠ÒwÓ)⁠／

"Oh but why did you draw him with lashes if he's a boy?" BECAUSE HE IS THE CUTEST AND LASHES MAKE EVERYTHING CUTER!!!!!! (⁠｢⁠`⁠･⁠ω⁠･⁠)⁠｢

Now for the facts! :

Miles "Tails" Prower is a character from the Sonic The Hedgehog franchise.

His name is a pun that refers to "Miles Per Hour"

He is Sonic's sidekick, and had his first debut in 1992, in the game "Sonic The Hedgehog 2".

One of his favorite foods (if not his favorite) is mints!

Even though he is very young, being only 8 years old(or 4 ½ if we're taking "The Adventures of Sonic The Hedgehog" into account), He is extremely smart and has a IQ of 300. He once even made a TV out of paperclips, for heck's sake!

He has made multiple gadgets and tech items because of his inteligence, his probably most famous/used one being "The Miles Electric", a multi-use portable computer, or the "Tornado", which is an airplane.

His intelligence and knoledge on technology is very advanced, with him being able to figure out how tech he'd never seen before works within only a few glances/minutes.

Although his main focus is in being a scientist that creates technology, he also has good knowledge in history, physics and just science in general

His origin story can vary a little depending on what piece of media we're talking about, but two things that are confirmed in the majority of iterations are that:

1- He used to get bullied in his village because of his 2 tails (That is also why his nickname is, well... Tails.)

And 2- One day he saw Sonic run by, found him cool and decided to follow him around until they became friends.

Tails can fly with his 2 tails, using them like a helicopter propeller. While flying, he is shown to be able to keep up with Sonic's speed, although he does get tired if he flies too much. Using his tails the same way, he can also push boats and stuff like that underwater. He also sometimes fights using them as weapon, and is a very skilled fighter.

Still about his tails and fighting skills, although I think those are just plot errors, he is shown to be able to use his tails to slice through metal, and is seemingly strong enough to lift up tons and sometimes is even faster than Sonic. (Okay, let me rephrase this. These definitely are plot errors. Sonic is literally supposed to be the fastest being on earth. And which 8 year old child can LIFT UP TONS OF STUFF??? It's already impressive that he can lift Sonic and other people up along with him when flying!)

(ahem...)

He is agile and has some acrobatic skills.

Unlike Sonic, he is a good swimmer, and also a good cook.

I can't think of any more random facts..

And again, sorry for the drawing's awful quality, it is my first time trying that artsyle TwT I promise I'll get better.

Also, it's almost 2 AM and I should be sleeping long ago. ( ⁠ಥ⁠ ⁠‿⁠ ⁠ಥ )

So as always,

BYE BYE!!!!!!!!!!!!!

And have a good night~!

(or day, idk.)

#tails the fox #he is so silly #miles tails prower #tails the fox fanart #he is so cute #sonic the hedgehog #sth #sth fanart #new artstyle

[the1975attheirverybest]

just had this idea and couldnt not share it:

Going to the studio one day w/ Matty and seeing them work so passionately and excitedly. Maybe your eyes drift to Matty’s hands as he is speaking or touching dials on the sound board. Your mind starts racing and suddenly you need him now. You try to get his attention and he keeps brushing you off saying he has to finish the part he thought of until in front of everyone he hears a firm “Matthew Healy.” With that, he knows what’s happening and he makes everyone take lunch. You can come up with the rest, whether he is dom/sub and just exactly HOW you need him.

idk thought this could be a fun little thing to write :)

OKAY BUT PLEASE THIS PLAYS RIGHT INTO MY FANTASY!!! Cuz have y’all heard those two “Tape Notes” episodes?! NOTHING is hotter to me than when Matty talks about how some songs were made. And like, I only play guitar, so I don’t really know that much technical stuff about music production but it’s still SUCH A turn on. Just how much he loves his job and how if the drums are even a notch too loud/ too low, he hates it. AND if the guitar is “too perfect” he won’t let it go. It has to sound a little bit warped. His whole “faded splendor” bit that he loves to bring up in every interview. Ugh. So. Fucking. Sexy. So, yeah, I’d imagine if he ever brings his partner around the studio, it would be….a lot.

Like imagine watching him sit there, between the mixing board on one side, and the big computer on the other. And he’s just in his chair, wheeling back and forth between the two, testing out different variations, asking George why it’s not quite right yet.

George is just like “okay, how about we loop the drum track so it keeps playing throughout the song.”

But Matty immediately scuffs, hating the idea. “That’s just lazy musicianship. If the emotion shifts and the words change, the melody has got to change with it. Don’t go with the easy option.”

George is frustrated. “I wasn’t bein’ lazy; I was keeping literally the one thing you said you liked about the arrangement. The fuckin drums.”

Matty frowns, deep in thought, picking at his lower lip, a subconscious habit he doesn’t realize he’s doing half the time. “Nah, there’s something else we haven’t thought of. Let me hear it again?” And he puts the headset on, but only one ear, so he could leave the other ear available to George as they talk through it.

“Don’t like it. Nope. It just sounds too put together. I hate that.”

“I know. I get that. I just don’t know what would make it less crisp without- like getting in the way of the song.”

At this point, she’s melting, obviously. She’s way past listening to their actual conversation, and is just watching Matty’s fingers push the buttons on the mixing board, wishing that the machine were her body instead. Memorizing the way his fingers slide the dial from one side to the other to create that distorted effect that he wants, and imaging instead that he is sliding his finger down her body, anticipating him touching her core. She shudders slightly, reminding herself that there’s people around.

She decides he needs to be as worked up as she is. So she walks over to him, hugging him from the back of the chair, sliding her hands down his chest and kissing his earlobe seductively whispering something about taking a quick break to “refresh” his mind and body. He’s too in the zone to catch onto her innuendo, though, so he shrugs her off, mumbling something about how taking a break and interrupting the process would be the absolute worst thing he could right now. He’s just on the cusp of a break through, he can FEEL it. He just needs to put things together the right way.

His absent-mindedness is weirdly even more attractive to her. The fact that his mind could be so absorbed in something that he loses his sense of his surroundings makes her heart swell and the rest of her body get turned on. Maybe it’s the joy written all over his face when he’s engaged in something that he so clearly loves, maybe it’s the way he completely opens up when working, whatever it is, it’s HOT as fuck and it makes her want him more.

She keeps trying. She scoots her seat next to his, brushing her arm against his as he squints into the screen, fiddling with the production software, having taken over from George. She brushes his curls out of his eyes so “he can see better.” But nothing is working. So, finally, he’s out of subtle tricks. She has to resort to blunt honesty. She takes a deep breath, standing up with a hand on her hip and yelling out “Matthew Timothy Healy! What on earth is wrong with you? I’m trying to fuck you over here!”

Matty finally looks up, taking the headset off his ears and holding in a giggle. He looks at her, winks, and turns to the guys. “George…you guys are….hungry right now, yeah?”

George takes the hint and rounds everyone up and they all leave. The door is barely closed behind them before Matty springs to action, hoisting her up by the waist, and setting her onto the desk. Apparently, her willingness to announce to the world that she wants him to rail her to death is as attractive to Matty as his passion is to her. So he gets right to it, knowing that she’s been ready and desperate for a minute now.

His hands are shoddy, just grabbing and squeezing wherever they land, kisses whiny, swallowing each others high-pitched moans. He alternated between kissing and biting down her body, to keep her on her toes. Just when she thinks she’s got his pattern down, he changes things up. He all but tears her shirt apart, taking her nipple into his mouth, sucking, causing her to cry out. His hand is on the other breast, squeezing, pinching, scratching. Her brain goes into overdrive r from the mixture of sensations. Some soft, some rough, some tingle, some hurt. She can’t keep up, and when he’s ready to make her cum, he pushes her to lay down on the table. She mumbles something about laying on top of his expensive equipment and he says he doesn’t care.

“You don’t; but George might.”

“Oh, whatever. That mixing board is mine anyway.”

When he pushes her arms above her head to hold her wrists in place as he fucked into her, one of her fingers accidentally turns the recording button on. Matty’s too caught up in making absolutely sure he makes it hard for her to stand after this, to notice what’s happened. So as she whines, begs, and chants his name, the computer is getting it alllllll on record. When they’re eventually done, and Matty is kissing all the spots on her body where he might have left bruises, he notices the green light is on, which indicates recording. He laughs, and goes to the computer to click “play” on the file.

She’s stunned in place. Her hand goes to cover her mouth. Her face is turning every shade of every color in embarrassment, but Matty is absolutely loving it. He clicks “save.” And she squeals and yelps and kicks her feet and wants to kill him.

But he’s all like “well, listen, this might just be the missing ingredient that we’ve needed all day.”

Yeah….I think about studio Matty a lot.

#matty healy #matty healy fanfiction #matty healy fanfic #matty healy x reader #matty healy x y/n #matty healy x you #matty healy smut

[hollybell51]

In this timeline

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Trevor Holden (0115) x Philip Pearson (3326)

Travelers (2016)

Word count: 11.5K

Summary: Philip has made some bad decisions. This isn't one of them.

Content: Smut, hurt/comfort, bit of fluff (I guess?), Philip is horrendously down bad, Trevor is too, making out, hickeys, hand jobs, blow jobs, anal, fingering, dirty talk (like a tiny bit dw), Trevor calls Philip "man" during sex, top Trevor/bottom Philip in an attempt to avoid Trevor's accidental twinkification (I fear this may have backfired), (there are honestly switchy moments too so idk if I'd label it as anything other than a healthy flexible dynamic), Philip's hallucinations, the age gape is mentioned but just in passing, implied/referenced drug use (guys c'mon it's Philip), everything canon typical. This takes place after s3 e3. I may have missed some things so lemme know if I should add anything xx

Notes: Happy valentines day! What even was season 3 honestly these two are so fucking whipped for each other it's stupid. How can anyone look at them and see anything but a married couple who are deeply, disgustingly in love with each other. Honestly. I'm so upset that this got cancelled (even though I lowkey liked the ending) so my insufferable ass is probably gonna deal with that through taking matters into my own hands. Also side note this is the first time I've posted m/m so don't be too mean I actually don't really know how men work so... yeah. Shit's been rough lately, breakup and car crash in the space of two days so I actually haven't proofread this sorry (there might be mistakes but that's ok because to err to be human <3) and also I’m literally a (queer) girl and I know nothing about gay (man) sex and it shows. You have been warned.

Philip had woken that morning (morning? Or afternoon? He can’t remember. It doesn’t feel like it had been morning when he’d finally swum up out of Marcy’s sedative) with Trevor in his bed. Well, it wasn’t Trevor, not really, but it was still nice. Not Trevor was smiling at him, wriggling closer, his hand finding Philip’s and pulling it towards his chest. Philip had blinked and he had shimmered, dispersed into light, reformed. He’d blinked again and Not Trevor was gone, and then the real world was flooding in and he half wished he hadn’t woken up at all. 

It’s been happening more and more often lately. Philip looks up from the computer screens and Not Trevor is already smiling at him. Not Trevor interrupts him with a kiss as he walks past. Not Trevor pads barefoot with a towel wrapped around his waist out of the bathroom and winks as Philip watches him go. Philip kneels next to the couch to pick up a ball bearing he’d knocked off the table from under its edge and when he looks up Not Trevor’s legs are either side of him and he has his head tilted back, shirt discarded and he’s panting hard. Philip has no doubt what that particular version of himself had just been doing. On the flip side, he pushes his chair back to take a break and Not Trevor grins up at him from between his legs, he leans over Philip from behind and slides his hand down his front, braces himself against the shower wall, tells Philip to turn around and get on his hands and knees and a million other things and Philip curses the update because none of those images are ever going to leave his head. 

Philip’s not too proud to admit when he likes someone. He’s human, after all, even if some days he doesn’t feel it, and Trevor is beautiful. It’s not just his host, either, although it probably helps to have been blessed looking like that, but there’s something about what 0115 and Trevor Holden have become — Philip’s Trevor, the team’s Trevor, 0115’s own Trevor — that pulls Philip in like a magnet. His joy is addictive. His enthusiasm for life, while it sometimes grates on Philip’s considerably less enthusiastic nerves, is infectious and maybe what people say about opposites attracting each other is right. Not even opposites, really — Philip doesn’t think they’re opposites, but he knows they’re not so-called twin flames — but something about Trevor balancing Philip. Pulling him out of those particularly dark little holes he knows it’s all too easy to get stuck in. Hell, he fell into one last night.

So Philip’s been peeking into other timelines and it’s been fueling the Trevor thing and now he’s waking up and half wishing that what he’s seeing is real. He wants to reach out and grab Trevor and never let go. He wants to stay in this bed with him and never have to do another mission again and just be and let humanity save itself. But, he tells himself firmly as he swings his legs over the side of the mattress and pauses, letting his body stabilise and adjust, that is not going to happen. No amount of wishing will make it. 

Carly and Marcy have explained, as best they can, and he really does feel bad for pulling that kind of shit when they’re all under stress, when nothing feels like it’s going right for anyone and they all have their own bullshit to deal with (he knows all about that, thanks to the update), but Aleksander’s face is still on the computer screens and Philip also knows Mac and Trevor will follow through. And that is where his brain snags for the second time today. Trevor, who found him on the floor and called Marcy over, “panicked” is the word the medic used, and then took off to kill a kid — to help Mac kill a kid. Trevor has faith in the Director, in the Grand Plan, Philip knows that as well as anyone, but he still cringes at the thought of what his roommate — because calling Trevor friend doesn’t quite feel right when he’s seen what he looks like when Philip is not going to complete that thought, they’re past coworkers, and he doesn’t feel like the other guy’s teammate anymore — must be thinking and feeling and doing right now. 

But then, after a few hours of Marcy and Carly doing their best to help him and Philip doing his best not to scream or break something or walk out the door and never come back, the Messenger comes through and just like that it’s all ok again. Marcy and Carly are relieved. Philip is relieved. A massive weight has been lifted off all their shoulders, so why does he still feel so heavy? 

He walks through erasing Mac’s memory like he’s walking through a dream, manages not to stare too long at the insubstantial vision of Trevor’s hand on his knee as they take their leader back to his house and (not uncarefully) deposit him in his bed. They leave. They drive back to ops. Marcy asks if he’s alright and he nods, doesn’t miss the way she says something too quiet to make out to Trevor as she heads back to David. Carly stays for longer, cleans a gun, then makes her exit with a firm hand on Philip’s shoulder and a tight smile. Then they’re alone, and Philip is staring at the screen with a cup of something (he thinks it might be tea, but it’s not hot anymore) he doesn’t remember getting in his hand.  

He doesn’t even hear Trevor approach until the engineer sighs, settling himself next to Philip’s shoulder. 

“The mother even speaks Romanian,” he says, steaming mug cradled in his hands. 

Philip glances at him and he shrugs. “Well that’s great, I’m obviously happy about that.” And he is, he really is. The woman smiling in the photograph looks like a kind person. She doesn’t have the sharpness about her eyes that Aleksander’s previous foster parents did, and maybe the familiarity of the language will help. He knows it did when they rescued the boy in the first place. The word rescue, even just in his mind, leaves a bitter taste in his mouth. He could have avoided the whole mission — putting Trevor and Mac through that — if he’d just stuck to what he was supposed to. There’s no way that this wasn’t some sick lesson. But still… “Why didn’t we start there?”

Trevor pauses before he answers, eyes still locked on the computer screen, brow furrowed. “That wasn’t the path he was on.” 

Sometimes Philip forgets how old Trevor — 0115 — is. He doesn’t act like an old man, as much as the others (Philip included) call him that and joke about it, as much as Trevor himself is open and just as willing to talk about the fact. But there are moments like these when Philip can see 0115’s plural lifetimes of experience and knowledge and wisdom poking through that barely adult face, and it catches him off guard. He’s not put off by Trevor’s age, Truth be told, he’s not sure if anything could put him off Trevor, but it can still be a little unnerving. 

“You don’t need to explain that part to me.” Philip tries not to sound annoyed, because he isn’t. Not really. “What I'm asking you is why we didn’t get a mission to change his path in the first place.” 

Again, Trevor shrugs, and on anyone else the gesture would look flippant. Not him, though. Nothing’s ever flippant with Trevor unless he wants it to be. “Maybe we did. The Director has to thread the needle on billions of possibilities happening to billions of people in a billion different places all over the world. If it seems hard to understand the steps that lead to a particular outcome, it’s because it’s literally impossible for any of us to understand that.” 

Philip can feel Trevor’s eyes on him, but he doesn’t look up. “I hate that.” 

There’s a pause, and he feels Trevor shift infinitesimally closer. “Yeah,” he says. “But you can’t argue with the results.” 

This time Philip does raise his eyes from the screen, turning in his chair to face his roommate. The other guy is perched on a filing cabinet, and Philip has the distinct urge to tell him to just get a chair. He looks a little ridiculous; elbows on his knees, feet resting against the desk (he really wants to tell him to get a chair), cup in his hands and that look that’s so sincere he’d laugh if he saw it on anyone else. It’s so… him and Philip can’t look away. 

Trevor sighs, leans forward and sets down his cup, his feet slipping off the desk as he twists to face Philip. “It wasn’t your fault,” he tells him. 

Philip shakes his head, looking away. He wishes he could believe Trevor, wishes he had just an ounce of his conviction. “It was. By definition, Trevor.” 

“You were trying to save him.” 

“And I made things worse. The Director was teaching me a lesson, I know it was. I know… I know I shouldn’t have tried to interfere.” 

“Hey, hey.” Trevor’s hand is firm and warm on Philip’s shoulder. “You tried to do what you thought was right. And yeah, it didn’t really work out, but it’s in the past. We can’t change that.” He stops, as if realising the irony of his words, then, “Nobody blames you, Philip.” 

“They should.” I do. 

Trevor is close enough that Philip can see the evening sun gilding the tips of his eyelashes, and his voice is so gentle it hurts. “What good is it gonna do now, huh? How is holding onto all that shit and dishing out blame and responsibility gonna help anyone?” 

Philip doesn’t have an answer for that, but he’s not sure if that matters. Not sure if he could speak even if he wanted to, because Trevor is still touching him and Philip must have slid his chair closer because he doesn’t remember the gap between them being this small. Trevor is searching Philip’s face, and he can practically see the cogs ticking behind his eyes — which, up close, never fail to suck Philip’s focus like a vacuum. 

“It’s not your fault. It was never going to be your fault, Philip.”

Philip swallows hard, tongue darting out over his lips. It’s too quiet and too loud all at once, and he wants to look away and he never wants the moment to end. The world is blurry, all he can see is Trevor, his skin is too tight and Trevor’s simultaneously too close and not close enough and then he is leaning the last few inches and all Philip can think is that this has to be another timeline. Things like this don’t happen to him, at least not this him, and—

Oh. Oh. 

Trevor’s lips are soft against his own, the hand that had been resting on his shoulder sliding up to hover almost hesitantly at his jaw. Philip can feel his own heart beating at a million mph, his blood rushing in his ears, and without even realising it he’s kissing Trevor back, tilting his head and pressing closer, Trevor’s skin so warm against his. 

The thing about what Philip sees — hallucinations, illusions, visions, whatever he calls them — is that he doesn’t feel it. He didn’t process the warmth of Not Trevor’s hand when it had been resting on his leg in the car or against his own that morning. He hadn’t felt the press of Not Trevor’s shoulders between his thighs, hadn’t felt the rush of breath over his skin when Not Trevor had laughed and kissed his cheek. And he certainly hadn’t felt the slick softness of Not Trevor’s tongue brushing over his lip. 

Oh, is all Philip can think again as he lets Trevor part his lips, the barest hint of his tongue sliding against his. A question. A warning. A test. Of course, the answer is yes. Philip knows in his soul that the answer will always be yes for Trevor, no matter what timeline they’re in. He feels himself sinking, floating, and when he pushes back against Trevor and slips his own tongue into his mouth, he can taste the tea he was drinking. Trevor is warm and sweet and Philip has never tasted anything so good and now his hand is moving, fingers tangling in Philip’s hair and if it weren’t for the rushing in his ears he could have sworn that Trevor gives a pleased little hum.  

Philip wants to stand, wants to crowd closer and take Trevor’s face between his hands, stand between his legs and feel the press of his body against his own. He wants to feel Trevor’s skin on his, wants him under him and on top of him and everywhere he can think of. He’s pretty sure that Trevor’s knee is blocking him from getting any closer, that and the fact that he’s still sitting in his chair. 

So, as much as it pains him to do so, Philip pulls back from Trevor’s mouth and pauses, heart still thundering, breathing hard, and looks at him. Trevor’s lips are kiss swollen and still parted, his eyes dark and locked on Philip and Philip alone. His hand doesn’t leave Philip’s hair, thumb moving in a tiny arc over the skin under his ear and he knows that even if he wasn’t a Historian, even if he wasn’t hardwired to remember everything, this moment would be ingrained in his brain forever. 

“Are you…?” Trevor starts, watching as Philip pushes himself to stand, his eyes following his every move, head tipping back. He wavers, and for a moment he’s shirtless and sweaty and his cheeks are flushed pink. Not Trevor tilts his head to the side, teeth digging into his bottom lip, and Philip blinks. His Trevor is still watching him, a hint of concern marring his face. 

Philip just nods, watching Trevor’s hand trail down over his chest, coming to rest right over his heart. He wonders if he can feel how hard it’s beating. He looks so serious and sincere, and Philip still can’t believe that this isn’t just because of the update. This is real. This is happening here and now. 

“Philip,” Trevor murmurs, voice thick. God, Philip could listen to that all day. 

He dips his head, and he’s sure that Trevor is smiling as their lips meet again. Philip is painfully aware of where his legs aren’t quite touching him, just resting either side of his hips, but that doesn’t matter because Trevor’s hand is sliding down his torso to sit feather light on his hip, not quite on the waistband of his pants but close enough that Philip feels blood rushing quickly downwards. He places  his own hands firmly either side of Trevor’s face, feels the muscle there twitch momentarily, the mechanism of Trevor’s neck and jaw sliding smoothly like well oiled machinery as he kisses him deeper, harder. His fingers curve perfectly around the back of Trevor’s neck, and this time he’s sure when he hears the little sound slip from the engineer, muffled by his own tongue. It is going to drive Philip insane. Trevor is going to drive him insane. He already is. 

“Philip,” Trevor says again, and Philip really can’t help but push closer. The edge of the filing cabinet is hard against his thighs, the metal cold through his jeans and somehow that is what brings Philip’s spiralling, out of control, too-much-too-fast brain back to the present. And then it clicks, and a stone sinks deep in his stomach. Trevor is distracting him, taking his mind off a truly terrible day because Philip did something stupid last night and Trevor found him this morning. He breaks away, breathing hard for an entirely different reason now. 

Trevor’s hands stop him from going far, his eyebrows furrowing into that familiar concerned frown. “You alright?” 

“I…” Philip stops, takes a breath, swallows. Yes, he’s alright. He’s more than alright with Trevor kissing him, with kissing Trevor. But here and now… Philip isn’t sure how to voice that. He knows Trevor wouldn’t judge him, not after Jenny. Trevor isn’t someone from the 21st, where sex is currency and intimacy is a completely separate thing. Trevor, like most from their time, knows that there’s more to it than that, he knows about Jenny because Philip has told him about Jenny and that whole mess and he trusts Trevor not to ignore all that. But…

“Hey, I’m sorry,” Trevor says, and Philip unfreezes. “I didn’t think it through. I know it’s been rough, and I don’t wanna rush you or—” 

“Are you trying to distract me?” 

Trevor stops, his frown deepens and he shakes his head. “Not really. Maybe a little.” He sighs. “I mean, I didn’t kiss you to distract you. But if I am… is that a bad thing?” He takes a deep breath, his fingers curling on Philip’s hip. “Do you want me to stop?” 

“I don’t…” He isn’t sure what he’s supposed to make of that. It’s not what he wants to hear, but it's not what he doesn’t want to hear either. Truth be told, he doesn’t even know what that is. All he knows is that Trevor means more than 21st century sex and he is in way too deep here. 

Philip does not consider himself brave. He knows people in the future who would say he is just for being here now, but the truth is, they don’t know what they’re talking about. He is not brave, he simply exists. He is a piece in a machine and there is nothing brave about that. But this is different. This is Trevor, and Trevor has always made Philip feel like more than that. Like he’s a person, and more importantly, like that person is worth something. And no, Philip doesn’t want Trevor to stop. He would be happy to live in this moment forever, and that’s the problem. Philip swallows. He will be brave. 

“I don’t want you to be a distraction.” 

Trevor draws back, a tiny wrinkle forming between his eyebrows. “What do you want me to be?”

Philip almost curses, swallows again, looks at his hands. “I want you to be you. You… You mean something to me, Trevor. I want this to mean something.” 

Philip isn’t brave enough to look back at Trevor, but he doesn’t have to be. The other guy’s hand is on his cheek, tilting his face back towards his, and when their eyes meet all Philip can see is the familiar warmth and understanding and joy that Trevor somehow carries within himself no matter what. “It does,” Trevor whispers, and kisses Philip again. 

This kiss tastes different. It has to, Philip supposes as Trevor inches forward on his perch, gripping his shoulders, his arms, his waist, his hips. Trevor really does mean something to Philip, more than he ever would have guessed he could. It’s not because of the visions, and it’s not because Trevor is kissing him now. It’s everything else. It’s Trevor bringing Philip a fastfood meal after he’d been shot. It’s the wordless hands on his shoulders when he’s the first to arrive at the garage and the last to leave. It’s the undiluted wonder and awe in his face when he looks outside. It’s the insistence that he’ll come with Philip, even if it’s because he doesn’t fully trust him — because whatever the reason, Philip likes that he doesn’t feel alone. The reminders that Philip is human, just as human as Trevor, because sometimes that is the hardest thing to remember. 

And Philip really does feel like shit for this morning. For last night, when he’d seen the mission come through and he’d sat there, frozen, and debated calling out Trevor’s name just to see another face and hear his voice, feel another person touch him and remember. But he hadn’t been brave last night. He’d run, and had left Trevor to find and clean up the mess he’d made. He feels his chest tearing apart, ripping violently right down the middle. 

“I’m sorry,” he gasps, tearing himself away from Trevor’s mouth. 

“What for?” Trevor frowns. 

Philip swallows. “Last night. This morning. All of… that.” 

The understanding is so clear in Trevor’s eyes, followed quickly by sadness that hits Philip like a punch. It resolves and shifts, and Trevor’s lips twitch into something that could be called a smile. “You scared me,” he says. 

“I know. I didn’t mean to.” An eyebrow raise at this, and Philip goes on, “I wasn’t trying to. I just… I don’t even know. I was going to tell you when it first came through but I just… I just couldn’t. You know?” 

Trevor nods, and Philip knows he means it. This is the guy who interrupted Grace Day’s TELL, for God’s sake. He doesn’t blame Philip for Aleksander. Things might get murky and complicated sometimes, but at the end of the day Trevor understands when it matters. “I wish you had,” he tells him. There’s no blame or resentment in it, just a statement of fact. “We could have worked something out together.” 

Now it’s Philip’s turn to raise an eyebrow. “Worked something out?” 

“Ok,” Trevor concedes, “maybe not work something out. But you didn’t have to be alone. You don’t have to be alone, Philip. That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you.” 

It’s so much. It’s too much, and Philip is too heavy for this. So he just nods, watches as Trevor slides off the filing cabinet and stands before him. Philip lets him put his hands on his face and can’t stop himself from leaning into the touch. It doesn’t matter how small it makes him feel. Doesn’t matter that Trevor’s breath hitches in his chest when Philip keeps going and kisses him again, doesn’t matter that he can’t even begin to express what’s swirling in his update-addled, over-full and under-nourished brain right now. They’ve got time. Philip can untangle it all later. 

He pulls Trevor closer, so close he wonders if he can feel the beating of his heart against his own. He can feel his breathing, the expansion and contraction of his lungs and the rush of air on his cheek, the heat of his body and oh, yeah, ok, Trevor’s hard. The thought of that alone has Philip aching, hips pressing into Trevor’s, their jeans hard and rough between them. Something just this side of a moan slips from Philip as Trevor presses back, his hands once more finding Philip’s hair and commanding him to kiss him harder, kiss him longer, kiss him deeper. Philip is only too happy to oblige.

Trevor hums into his mouth as Philip reaches between them, fingers skirting the hem of his shirt. Trevor gives him an insistent nudge and that’s all Philip needs to slide his hand under the fabric, run it over the hot skin of his hip and the planes of his stomach, bunching his shirt up like it’s nothing. Philip wants to map out every cell of Trevor’s body, commit every curve and dip and hollow to memory like he’s memorised every TELL and candidate and major event. He passes his hand over Trevor’s ribs, up the centre of his abdomen, higher to his sternum and back down again to grip his waist. Touching him isn’t enough. Philip needs this man. 

Trevor’s grip on his hair tightens momentarily when Philip’s lips move from his own to his jaw, down the column of his neck. These kisses are wet, open mouthed, not quite careless but hardly neat, and if he goes any harder he’s going to leave marks. He isn’t sure if that’s something Trevor wants, but the other man’s head is tilted to let Philip continue, so he sucks — oh so lightly — at the spot where neck and shoulder meet. 

“Fuck,” Trevor hisses, fingers curling, hips grinding against Philip’s. Philip can literally feel his brain emptying of all thought except that he needs to make Trevor do that again. 

“Hm?” he asks, just in case (just in case what? He doesn’t know), and Trevor nods. So Philip does the only rational thing and sucks again, moves his head and does it to another spot, and now that he can see the darker patches of skin on Trevor’s neck, he never wants to stop. 

“Philip,” Trevor whispers, voice cracking. His throat moves as he swallows, hard, and Philip pointedly grazes the spot with his teeth. He tastes like the cheap soap they keep in the bathroom, and even though it’s the same one Philip uses day in day out, on Trevor’s skin and up this close it is somehow more. It’s Trevor, and Philip isn’t sure he’s ever going to be able to casually use the stuff again without this moment flooding his overly accurate historian brain. As desperate and insane as he knows the thought is, even as he has it, Philip wants to lick every trace of that soap off Trevor. But his shirt is still bunched around his chest and Philip can only reach so much of his skin around it. 

“Off,” he murmurs, pulling back just enough to see Trevor’s tongue dart over his lip, his eyes dark.

His voice is husky and raw when he speaks. “You too.” 

“Here?” The realisation that they’re still at the desk seems to strike Trevor the same moment that Philip fully processes it, eyes darting around the room. 

After a moment, Trevor shakes his head. “No,” he says, untangling himself from Philip enough to take his hand. “No, come on.”

Philip has never been led into his own bedroom. He’s never watched someone else’s hand pull at his, met someone else’s eyes over their shoulder, stumbled to keep up with someone else through his own door. Never been pulled onto his bed by someone else. He’s been pushed, which was exciting and fun and hot at the time, and he’s done the leading, and the looking back and the steadying at the inevitable stumble, but this is new. If Philip is completely honest, it’s a little unnerving. 

But then Trevor is facing him, reaching for his shirt and pulling it over his head and all Philip can think is holy shit because all that football pays off. Trevor’s mouth curves as he steps towards him, like he knows exactly what Philip is thinking. Which wouldn’t be that hard, since Philip isn’t exactly trying to keep a straight face. 

“You tryna catch flies, Philip?” Trevor asks him, and Philip feels his cheeks heat. He hadn’t even realised his mouth was open. 

“Sorry,” he mutters, eyes locked firmly on Trevor’s face. His smile. The collection of red marks dotting his neck. 

Trevor just shakes his head, stepping closer. “Don’t be.” His hands settle on the hem of Philip’s own shirt, his fingers barely brushing Philip’s skin. “But,” he goes on, “this isn’t fair.” 

“Oh, fair,” Philip echoes, raising his eyebrows. But he’s already taking over from Trevor, shrugging off the shirt and dropping it like it’s nothing (and it isn’t really, not when he has Trevor standing before him like this). “Better?” he asks. 

Trevor looks away from his face, and Philip can almost physically feel his eyes sliding over his torso, stopping at his chest, lifting back to his face and gleaming with something that he can only describe as incredulous excitement. “What’s that?” he asks, as if he doesn’t know. 

“Piercing.” Because that’s what Trevor’s looking at, and if Philip’s completely honest, he feels a little… proud? He’d had his doubts when he’d first discovered the ring through his nipple, and had been more confused by it than he had by the ear and nose piercings. He can understand jewellery where people are going to see it. He’d done his research on piercings and tattoos outside of the training on 21st century behaviour they’d all taken, at the same time as he’d taken a deep dive into tattoo symbolism (he’d been suddenly consumed by the fear that his host’s tattoos meant something he should know about, which hadn’t really been the case but Philip still thought that it was better to know than not). He hadn’t found much to convince him that the solitary ring through his nipple of all places was a particularly groundbreaking way to modify the body, but now… Now he thinks he might get it. 

Trevor is shaking his head, eyes still glued to the little piece of metal. “That’s so…” 

“Weird?” 

“No, it’s—” He stops, laughs, grins at Philip. “It’s really hot.” 

Philip can feel his eyebrows shooting up his face. “You think?” 

“Yeah, I… I don’t know why.” 

“Oh, ok.” That’s… unexpected. Philip knows that his host isn’t bad to look at, and he knows that some of the reasoning behind piercings is for attractiveness. He’s studied the face that he now calls his in the mirror a thousand times, he sees the body that he now inhabits every day and as far as 21st century guys in their late twenties go, it’s really not bad. Of course, there are the track marks and the occasional (lately more frequent) shadows under his eyes, stubble if it’s been a particularly rough few days (Trevor’s newly almost-permanent presence helps with that, even if he doesn’t know it), but hey, if Trevor’s standing here right now he knows he’s got something going for him. But the look in the engineer’s eyes when they meet Philip’s again makes him feel like a damn artwork. 

Trevor’s grin broadens, and before Philip can even begin to reconcile what that’s doing to him Trevor’s lips are on his once more and he’s being pulled hard against him, skin to skin, heart to heart, Trevor’s hands roaming over his shoulders and his back and his waist and his ribs and his chest and Philip is moaning into the kiss like… he doesn’t even know what. 

They’re moving, almost tripping over each other and it’s a miracle either of them can keep their balance, but then Trevor’s knees hit the edge of the bed and they’re half falling onto it, a little uncoordinated but does that really matter when Trevor is still pulling Philip close, smiling even as his tongue dances alongside Philip’s? He’s all too aware of where his body is, where his leg presses between Trevor’s and his arm is locked, holding his weight off the other man. 

Trevor, however, has both hands free. Gooseflesh prickles across Philip’s chest and stomach as he trails his hands over his body, electricity sparking when his fingers skirt the waistband of his pants. He feels Trevor smile again, and his breath hitches in his throat. Shit, he’s never going to be able to kiss anyone else again. He doesn’t even want to kiss anyone else. Ever. 

“Do you want this?” Trevor murmurs against his lips, the tips of his fingers just dipping below his waistband and oh fuck he hadn’t realised just how badly he wanted that. 

Philip nods, then groans when Trevor palms him because even through his pants his hand is a million times better than his own. The other guy curses, does it again, and Philip’s teeth dig into his bottom lip. His eyes are dark and sincere, flicking between Philip’s own and where his fingers are curling gently around his clothed cock. 

“Can I?” Trevor asks. Philip has never nodded faster. He’s not even entirely sure what Trevor’s getting at, but he’s happy to let him touch him however he wants, wherever he wants, and he trusts him completely. Of course he already knew that — you kind of have to trust your team, after all — but he’s only just realising that he’s trusted Trevor as more than a team member for quite some time. Probably right alongside everything else that’s become more than a team member with Trevor. 

Philip isn’t wasting time philosophising, his attention fixed firmly on Trevor’s hand which is back at his pants and oh that’s what he meant. He helps out, shoving his pants down and off with less grace than he’d like, underwear following suit. The air is cool on his hot skin, and for a moment he feels oddly exposed. Then Trevor is pushing at his hip, tongue darting over his lips again and there’s almost an urgency to his movements. 

“C’mon, just— Hold on a second—” he says, still attempting to manoeuvre Philip. 

He almost laughs at his eagerness. “Trev, give me a second, man. What’re you tryna do?” 

Trevor pauses, his thumb running in a tiny arc over Philip’s hip bone — he’s not sure if he’s even doing it consciously. “Swap.” He nods to the mattress, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. Maybe it is and Philip’s just lagging behind. 

“Oh, ok.” He shrugs, half climbing and half rolling sideways. “You could’ve just said that.” 

“Yeah, I know, I…” He sighs, rubs a hand over his forehead. “I keep getting caught up. Sorry.” 

Trevor getting caught up in him? In Philip? He doesn’t quite know how to respond to that, so he just shrugs again. “I’m that irresistible, huh?” 

The look Trevor shoots him is anything but joking. “You have no idea.” 

Philip opens his mouth, shuts it, shakes his head in awe. Who would have thought? “C’mere,” he tells Trevor softly, and the gravity is lifted as he smiles and practically bounces down beside him, pressing his lips to Philip’s. They’re getting better at this. Not that they were bad, of course, but they fall into the easy rhythm of each other much more quickly now. There’s no fumbling or searching or exploring, it’s familiar and Philip never wants that to end. 

Trevor’s hand is resting on Philip’s chest, warm and firm and now Philip is sure he can feel how hard his heart is beating. He stretches up, chasing Trevor as the other guy pulls away, but he can only do so much. Trevor smiles and gives him another quick kiss, almost chaste, the kind that Philip definitely doesn’t imagine he’d give him when their day to day paths cross in the garage. When he leaves to get food. When he comes back again. 

But that thought is wiped away before Philip’s mind can snag on it, because Trevor is spitting into his palm and wrapping his fingers around Philip’s dick, gentle and slick and warm and Philip curses softly. It’s almost almost perfect. 

“Like this?” Trevor asks, eyes fixed on his face. 

Philip swallows. His voice sounds odd even to his own ears, husky and strangled. “Uh, little harder.” 

Trevor squeezes, and it’s all Philip can do not to fall apart right there as his grip tightens and his hand moves. “This?” 

He feels the breath catch in his throat. “Yeah. Fuck Trev, that’s perfect.” And it is. It really is. There’s only so much his mind can come up with, he thinks as he takes in Trevor’s strong arm and large hand moving rhythmically over him, feels the heat of his body where it presses against his own and listens to Trevor’s breathing and soft hum of appreciation in response to his own moan. No matter what the update lets him see, no matter what he manages to dream up by himself, it won’t compare to this. 

Trevor is leaning closer, and Philip shivers as his breath hushes over the skin of his shoulder, his neck, then practically gasps as Trevor kisses the hollow under his jaw. He makes to turn his head, meet the other guy half way, but Trevor doesn’t let him. He kisses his jaw again, nudging him away and Philip just lets him. He even turns his face, just a little, but Trevor notices and his chuckle sends molten heat shooting straight down his spine. Trevor’s lips are moving, up over the muscle of his neck, tongue darting out to taste his skin. Philip gets it now, and then Trevor is whispering “this ok?” and he’s nodding (how could it not be?). 

“Fuck,” he breathes as Trevor sucks at the spot, and Philip really gets it. It’s not like hickeys are foreign to him, but this is something else altogether. Trevor’s hand is still moving firmly on his cock, maybe a little slower than he himself would go but damn is it good, and now he’s working his way down Philip’s neck to his chest. The tiny burst of almost-pain followed by the soft heat of Trevor’s tongue has Philip arching towards him, hips jutting shamelessly into his hand as he does his best to stop the embarrassingly desperate sounds he’s on the verge of making from escaping him. 

“Philip,” Trevor murmurs to his clavicle. 

“Hm?” Philip answers, lifting his head enough to meet his gaze. He half wishes he didn’t, another blazing hot spark of pure need rushing through him.

Trevor either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care. He presses his lips to Philip’s skin yet again, gentle and oddly tender given that he’s still jerking him off, looking at him through his lashes (Philip wonders if he’s doing that deliberately. If he knows what it’s doing to him). “You don’t have to be quiet,” he says softly, and there’s another kiss. Lower this time, on his pectoral.

“I’m— I’m not—” Philip breaks off in a rush of air when he feels Trevor’s teeth graze his skin. 

“Not what?” 

Philip doesn’t even know what he’d been getting at, but it sure isn’t important. “Doesn’t matter,” he breathes. 

“You sure?” 

“Mhm.” Then, as Trevor’s thumb slides over the sensitive head of his cock, “Fucking hell, Trev.” 

“Is that—” 

“Yes. Yes, oh my— Fuck—” 

Trevor’s mouth has found his nipple. Maybe it’s a little weird, but Philip is hardly in any condition to be thinkin about that. Trevor’s tongue is flicking over the ring cautiously, gently, and it feels really good. Better than it has any right to.

“Ok?” Trevor asks, kissing the sensitive spot. 

“Yeah.” Philip swallows, bites down on a moan and then remembers Trevor’s words. You don’t have to be quiet. 

This time, when Trevor’s hand tightens and moves over his aching cock, he groans, and feels Trevor’s body shudder against his. Philip brings his hand up to run across Trevor’s strong shoulders, down over his spine and back up again. He hums, and his hand speeds up every so slightly. 

“Oh fuck,” Philip moans, “fuck, Trev, keep doing that.” 

“Yeah, don’t worry.” Trevor’s voice is low and rough, his chuckle little more than a breath of air. “I’m not… I’m not stopping.” The engineer raises his head, his teeth digging into his bottom lip as he studies Philip’s face like he’s trying to memorise it. Philip is torn between holding his gaze and looking away, heat coiling low inside him, and again he jerks in Trevor’s hand. Trevor laughs again, moving hard and fast and if he keeps that up Philip isn’t sure he’ll last another minute. 

“Trev,” he gasps, gripping his shoulder hard enough that he almost feels bad. “Fuck, fuck.” Yeah. Philip’s really articulate when he chooses to be. He wants Trevor inside him, wants to be inside Trevor. He doesn’t care where, exactly, he just knows that he needs to be closer, deeper, needs to feel their bodies blur into one, but right now he isn’t spending particularly long dissecting that thought. He’s got time. 

“‘Salright,” Trevor murmurs, as if he knows exactly what Philip’s thinking. “I got you, man.” 

Philip feels himself tremble and tip, bliss rolling up through his spine. He might be saying Trevor’s name, might be cursing, or the sounds might be just that; wordless and primal and torn from deep within him. Trevor works him through the high, and as the electricity coursing through Philip cools to static, his hand slows and finally withdraws to rest on his stomach. They don’t speak for a moment, their breathing and the ticking of the clock the only sounds in the room. Philip doesn’t look down, he knows his stomach is a mess, and chooses instead to turn towards Trevor. 

The engineer grins, then drops his eyes pointedly to Philip’s stomach. He feels his cheeks heat, but before he can say or do anything Trevor is bending and sliding down the mattress and Philip thinks he knows what he’s about to do but he doesn’t know what he thinks about what Trevor is about to do. Then his tongue is flicking over Philip’s abdomen and his skin is twitching, a small sound that’s half shock and half pleasure catching in his throat. Problem solved, he supposes. 

“Alright?” Trevor asks as he withdraws. 

Philip just nods, pushing himself to sit up. Trevor smiles and leans closer, his lips soft and gentle against Philip’s. This kiss is almost chaste, reassurance and a kind of confirmation (of what, Philip isn’t sure) all at once. He’s only too happy to reciprocate, his body pleasantly warm and heavy and buzzing with Trevor, Trevor, Trevor, whose chest is pressing against his own. 

Philip pulls him closer, hands sliding over the smooth muscle of his arms and shoulders, cupping the back of his neck as he slips his tongue into Trevor’s mouth. He can taste himself on the other guy’s tongue, a thought that has his brain spinning excitedly out of control and his stomach launching into an olympic level acrobatics routine. Does Trevor like the warm saltiness still clinging to his tongue? Is that what Trevor would taste like? God, Philip wants to find that out. 

Gently, he shifts and nudges at Trevor’s shoulder until he gets the message (faster than Philip had earlier) and lets him push him onto the mattress. His legs fall apart easily when Philip pushes his own between them, and when he moves and his thigh comes into contact with Trevor’s crotch he practically arches off the bed. Philip stifles a laugh. 

“Something funny?” Trevor asks, eyebrow raised when he ceases his assault on his mouth to look at him. But he’s smiling. Flushed, eyes dark and shining, lips swollen and pink and still parted as he breathes hard, but smiling. Philip can feel his brain going into overdrive to store that image perfectly. 

“No,” Philip shrugs, letting his eyes trail lower over Trevor’s torso (the guy has actual abs, which Philip is going to be thinking about for a long time). 

“No? What’s that look for?” 

He debates it for a moment, then, “I’m memorising.” 

Trevor frowns. “Memorising what?” 

Philip presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth, “You.” He pushes his leg firmly in between Trevor’s, basking in the breathy little moan it draws from him, “That.” 

“Fuck, Philip,” he whispers as Philip moves his hand down his side to his hip, across the faint V under his belly button to skirt the waistband of his pants (why the fuck is he still wearing pants?). Philip isn’t even sure if he means to do it, but Trevor’s grinding against his leg and looking up at him like he’s the only thing he’s ever wanted. He thinks he might just cum again, right here right now. 

“Can I?” he asks, already dipping his fingers below the line of fabric. 

“Yeah, yeah sure.” Trevor seems almost surprised by the suggestion, as if it’s the last thing he expected. 

Philip pauses, frowns. “You sure?” 

This time, Trevor’s voice is firmer. “I’m sure, Philip.” 

Philip nods, breath hitching in his throat. Trevor’s eyes are fixed on his hands, but he can’t look away from the engineer’s face. He gets Trevor’s pants undone, pulls them down, finally tears his gaze from Trevor’s flushed cheeks and wide eyes and parted lips and— 

“Jesus, Trev.” There’s a sizeable wet spot on Trevor’s underpants, the outline of his cock clear and hard and fuck, the dude is big. Philip’s mouth waters.

Trevor doesn’t seem to know what to say to that (which is doing things for Philip that he doesn’t want to even begin to address), but it doesn’t matter. Philip eases his underwear off, and, softly and with plenty of opportunity for Trevor to stop him, wraps his fingers around his length. 

“This ok?” he asks, watching Trevor’s face carefully. 

“Yeah—” Trevor’s voice cracks, and he tries again. “Yeah, that’s… that’s good.” 

“This?” Philip moves his hand, ignoring the little thrill that goes through him as his fingers come into contact with the moisture already gathered on Trevor’s tip. 

“Yeah.” 

“How about this?” Philip squeezes, watching Trevor’s teeth sink into his bottom lip and his head fall back as he whispers something that sounds like a “yes”, and holy shit has he got a jawline. He’d almost be jealous if he wasn’t so caught up admiring Trevor like this. If he wasn’t so far gone on him. If he wasn’t busy sliding down Trevor’s body, his face now level with his hand. 

“This?” 

“F—fuck,” Trevor gasps as Philip licks the tip of his dick, head whipping up to stare at him. 

He pauses, waiting. “Ok?” 

“Yeah, yeah that’s… that’s fine.” Trevor’s throat moves as he swallows. “You don’t have to, though.” 

“I want to,” he shrugs. “Do you want me to?” 

Trevor nods fast enough that in any other situation it would be comical, and Philip can’t help but smile. He bends, places a soft kiss at the junction of Trevor’s hip, then licks him again. 

Trevor moans, his hand drifting up to wind through Philip’s hair. 

Philip just smiles and flicks his tongue over the sensitive slit. 

“Stop teasing,” Trevor whispers. 

“I’m not.” 

“You are,” he protests. “It’s not fair.” 

“Fine,” Philip shrugs, and before Trevor can say anything else he’s opening his mouth, relaxing his tongue and taking Trevor as deep as he can. 

“Oh fuck,” he says, his fingers tightening momentarily in Philip’s hair. “Oh, you— Jesus.” 

The room could collapse right now and Philip wouldn’t notice. His senses are narrowed and focussed to the hot weight of Trevor’s cock in his mouth, the smell of his sweat and skin and his own spit (not pleasant, not exactly, but addictive nonetheless), his half stifled moan and the faint saltiness of precum. His hand works what doesn’t fit in his mouth, slow and firm and sliding easily with his makeshift spit-lube. His tongue swirls around Trevor’s cock, mapping every curve and ridge and vein. 

Philip raises his eyes as he hollows his cheeks and sucks, relishing the almost-whine that slips from Trevor. Again, he sees the engineer as he had been on the couch — chest heaving, gleaming with a light sheen of sweat, head tipped back and eyes closed. But this is better, because this Trevor — his Trevor — is already looking down at him, biting his lip, the unfairly defined muscles of his stomach tense and moving in time with his rapid breathing. A groan reverberates through his chest, and it’s all Philip can do not to smile. 

“Wish you could see yourself,” Trevor whispers, the hand that isn’t tangled in Philip’s hair twisting the sheets. 

In lieu of speech, he raises an eyebrow. 

“You’re a fucking wet dream, Philip,” he pants, and that is not what he expected to hear. It catches him off guard enough that he falters, his own surprised half moan making Trevor’s hips stutter up against his hand. His mouth. 

“Shit, sorry,” he says quickly, but Philip is shaking his head. Don’t worry. It’s ok. He gives what he thinks is a reassuring suck, his free hand settling on Trevor’s hip — as if he’d be able to do anything if he decided to face fuck him. As if he’d want to. 

Trevor curses again, softly, his eyes not leaving Philip’s face. He’s trying to be gentle, Philip can tell, and he feels something inside him melt because of course he would. Even as he whispers “fuck” like that and moans like that he’s still trying not to hurt him — as if he ever could. Philip doesn’t even know if he’d really care at this point. 

“Hm?” He doesn’t stop, moisture pricking behind his eyes as he relaxes his throat even further and practically swallows Trevor’s dick. His hand is sliding so easily now, slick and a bit messy and maybe it should be gross but nothing is gross with Trevor, who was licking Philip’s cum off his stomach just before and has seen him at his worst and has clasped his shoulder and pushed him through. He moves faster, a little harder, and Trevor’s hips buck up again. Before he can apologise, Philip’s thumb moves in a tiny arc over his hip. He hopes Trevor understands. 

“Fuck, fuck, yes,” he gasps. “Please, Philip, I—” 

He can’t stop himself from moaning, an embarrassingly desperate sound. He could listen to Trevor forever, feel him like this forever, replay the movement of his body and the rough crack of his voice and the delicious tension of his fingers still gripping his hair until the Earth stops spinning. He wants to, future be damned. It’s a feedback loop, Trevor’s body jolting towards him as he tips his head back, Philip’s own need surging hot inside him, and he’s gripping Trevor tighter and taking him deeper, revelling in Trevor’s moans and gasps. 

“Hold on,” he says suddenly, and Philip freezes.

“You alright?” he asks, withdrawing with a wet “pop,” his hand still resting on Trevor’s hip. 

He nods quickly, his hand slipping from Philip’s hair to rest against his jaw. “Yeah, I’m fine. Better than fine.” 

“Ok,” he frowns, “then what’s…?” 

“Do you…” He pauses, thinks, swallows. Tries again. “Do you want to go… further?” 

Philip feels his heartbeat quicken, mind racing with the possibilities. He’s never taken that particular step, but if he wants to with anyone, it’s Trevor. And hell yes he wants to, wants to go as far as is humanly possible and never come back. He’s seen so many variations of further now, he can’t pick what this could possibly be, and not knowing is oddly thrilling. 

“We don’t have to,” Trevor is adding hastily, his hand sliding down to clasp Philip’s shoulder. “It’s ok if you don’t—” 

“I do,” Philip interrupts. “I really, really do, Trev.” 

Trevor nods, shuffles backwards before pushing himself to his knees. Philip follows suit, steadying himself against Trevor’s shoulder. His hair is falling into his face now that Trevor’s not holding it back, and he half wishes he had an elastic band with him. Even if Trevor seems to like putting his hands in it. 

“It’s hot when you do that,” the engineer says as Philip pushes his hair out of his face. 

He arches an eyebrow. “I think you’re biassed.” 

“Maybe a little,” he shrugs, “but I’m not wrong.” 

Philip really needs to learn how to respond to this kind of thing, because at some point simply kissing Trevor isn’t going to be sufficient. But it’s working for now, so he’s got time. Trevor hums softly when he pushes closer, his skin hot in all the places it’s touching Philip’s. Philip cups Trevor’s neck gently but firmly, his tongue sliding easily between Trevor’s parted lips and he wonders if Trevor can still taste himself in Philip’s mouth the way Philip can. He shifts, electric heat surging through him when he feels Trevor’s hardness press against his hip, blood rushing downwards in sympathy. 

Trevor moans, grinding lightly against Philip, the kisses rapidly descending into something too messy to be called a kiss at all by any stringent definition. It’s more like Philip licking into Trevor’s mouth, Trevor licking into his, a whirl of tongues and teeth and lips that somehow has Philip moaning too, striving to get closer to Trevor in any way he can. He knows exactly what he wants now, and, as if Trevor is reading his mind, his hand is sliding down his side and around his hip to rest on his ass. 

“Is—?” 

“Mhm.” Philip gasps as Trevor squeezes, just gently, but God he wants his hands everywhere. If Trevor touches every inch of his skin, he thinks, it still won’t be enough. But damn, this is a good start. 

“Turn around,” Trevor murmurs against his lips, drawing back enough to make eye contact with Philip. 

He doesn’t waste time, as much as it pains him to break away, but when Trevor’s voice is that low, that husky, that raw with want, it’s worth it. Trevor’s hand doesn’t leave his hip, half guiding him as he faces the headboard. 

“Holy shit,” Trevor says, and Philip glances over his shoulder to see the other guy’s eyes locked on the tattoo sprawling across his shoulder blades. “I didn’t know there was more.” 

“Uh, yeah,” he laughs. “Neither did I at first.” He shivers as Trevor runs his hand across the inked skin, tracing the points and whorls of the design. He’d actually forgotten about it, as he does most of the time (until he has to do a double take when he catches sight of it in the mirror), but something about the awe and fascination tingeing Trevor’s expression makes him think that that’s not going to be a problem in the future. 

“Fucking hot,” he proclaims, bending to kiss right between Philip’s shoulder blades. He does it again at Philip’s sigh, then again, then lower. He traces the line of his spine with kisses, fingers curling over his hip, and Philip’s not sure who it is who moves close enough that Trevor’s erection presses against him. Either way, it doesn’t matter because Philip is definitely the one who pushes further back against him, and Trevor is the one who pulls him to do it again. 

“Fuck,” he breathes, because now that he’s feeling the hot hardness and the size of him against his ass, Philip isn’t sure if the spit still coating Trevor’s dick — copious though it may be — will actually be enough. 

“You alright?” Trevor asks. 

“Yeah.” 

“Philip.” Trevor rubs his shoulder, gentle but insistent. “Why’re you so tense?” 

Philip sighs, rolls his shoulders, forces them to relax. This is Trevor, who is not going to hurt him, and who he trusts with his life. More than his life. “I’m fine,” he says, “I just… haven’t done this bit before. And you’re kinda big.” 

Trevor chuckles at that, shuffling around so he can see Philip’s face. “That’s ok,” he assures him. “We don’t have to—” 

“I want to.” 

“Then I’ll go slow.” 

That… is actually really reassuring. The tension leaks from Philip, and he offers Trevor a smile. “Ok. Thanks.” 

“You’ll tell me if you wanna stop, yeah?” 

Philip just nods, then Trevor is moving again and he has to twist over his shoulder to catch his smile. He leans into Trevor’s touch as the engineer’s hand skims his arm, his shoulder, his back, up his side and down again to his ass. They move together, slowly and carefully, and Philip feels the last vestiges of his nervousness slide away. 

“Can I?” Trevor asks, fingers slipping lower. His voice is soft, but Philip doesn’t miss the way his breath catches when he nods. Trevor’s fingers are wet with spit, and when he pushes one inside Philip there's only a little resistance. “Ok?” 

Philip nods. It’s an odd sensation, and he isn’t entirely sure if he likes it yet, but he trusts Trevor. He makes himself relax, focusses on Trevor’s free hand where it rests on his hip because he knows he likes that, and lets him move. He doesn’t mind it, he decides, especially when Trevor bends and kisses his shoulder. There’s a bit of pressure, a slight burn and stretch, and now there are two fingers inside him. 

“Ok?” Trevor asks again, and again Philip nods. He’s starting to think that he might like this, and Trevor’s still going slow but now his fingers are curled and yeah, Philip likes this. 

“Yeah,” he says. “That’s good.” 

“You sure?” Trevor whispers against his skin, and this time when he pushes into Philip it really is good.

“Mhm,” he breathes, teeth digging into his bottom lip. Almost involuntarily he rocks his hips back onto Trevor’s hand, and feels the other guy smile. 

“Alright.” He continues for a moment, and Philip’s more than happy with that, but then when his fingers withdraw they go all the way and Philip actually misses the feeling. Misses Trevor inside him, even if it’s just his fingers. He hears Trevor spit, another sound he’s all too familiar with, then something bigger than a finger is poking him and his heart skips a beat. 

“Ready?” Trevor asks. 

Philip swallows and nods for what feels like the millionth time today. “Yeah.” 

Trevor pauses. “Ok, bend over a bit? And maybe…” He pauses, then, “Do you wanna, uh, hold onto something?” 

That’s probably not intended to turn Philip on this much, but it does. He does as Trevor says and leans forward, bracing his hands on the wall, spreading his legs when he feels the pressure of Trevor’s hand between his thighs. “Like this?” he asks. 

Trevor’s voice is husky when he answers. “Yeah, perfect.” Then he’s pushing gently into Philip, who presses his lips together because Trevor feels bigger than he looks. It’s not really painful, and he’s going slow, and the spit lube helps, but it’s still more than his fingers and Philip can’t help the way his breath catches in his throat. 

“I’m alright,” he assures Trevor before he can ask. 

“You sure?” 

“Yeah, just… gimme a second.” 

“Tell me when.” 

Half of Philip wants to turn around and kiss Trevor for that, the other half wants to shove himself backwards and just take it from there. But he’s got enough of his brain left in his head to know that that would be a terrible idea, so he breathes deeply and waits until the faint burn fades and all that’s left is the pleasant stretch and fullness. “Ok,” he says after a moment, “you can, uh, keep going.” 

He half expects Trevor to do just that and push deeper, but instead he feels him pull out. He spits again, and this time the slide is easier, softer, further. Trevor curses softly, does it again, and now they have a rhythm. It’s slow and measured, careful, and Philip finds that it’s easy to relax into the movement of their bodies, to let Trevor rock into him and just brace against the wall — which is not even bracing anymore, more like stabilising. 

“Fuck, you feel good,” Trevor murmurs, the words sending Philip’s mind spinning. 

“So do you,” he replies and revels in the tightening of Trevor’s hand on his hip. This time, when Trevor thrusts into him, he does push back and meets him halfway, something between a gasp and groan falling from his lips. 

“Alright?” Trevor slows just a little, concern clear in his voice. 

Philip thinks he might melt on the spot, but instead he smiles. “I’m fine, Trev. you don’t have to be so… careful.” 

“You sure? Cause I don’t mind. I said I'd go slow.” 

“Well…” Philip pauses, glances over his shoulder. “Can you go a bit harder?”

“Yeah,” Trevor answers, and maybe it’s Philip’s imagination but he sounds a bit breathless. “Sure. Tell me what feels good.” 

Then he’s moving again, pushing deeper than before, and Philip is telling him that that feels good and Trevor is doing it again. It’s not much faster, but it’s somehow more, and Trevor’s gripping his hip damn hard now. Philip hopes he’ll have bruises. 

“Fuck, Trev,” he moans, arching into it, dimly aware of the bedframe squeaking faintly. “Fuck, that’s— that’s fucking great.” 

“Yeah? Not too — ah — fast?” 

“No,” Philip assures him. Then, “Faster?” 

“Shit, ok.” Trevor speeds up, and now he’s hitting something deep inside Philip that has him stumbling over Trevor’s name and pulsing with need. Before he can do anything about that Trevor’s strong arm is sliding around his torso, pulling him back against his chest and his hand is wrapping around Philip’s dick for the second time today as he continues to rearrange his guts. Philip knows he isn’t going to last long. 

“Fucking hell, Trev,” he gasps, because that’s really all he can do. He’s surrounded by Trevor, the engineer’s mouth warm and wet on the skin of his shoulder, his hand firm — just how Philip likes it — around his cock, Trevor’s own cock stroking what feels like every inch of his insides, his warm chest damp with sweat and pressed to Philip’s back. If he died right now he’d go out with a smile on his face, because he’s pretty sure it doesn’t get better than this. 

“Oh God,” Trevor groans. “You feel like fucking Heaven, you know that? You’re Heaven.” 

Philip didn’t know that, but he probably could have guessed from the desperation of Trevor’s combined fist and hips. He feels the words against his shoulder, feels Trevor’s warm breath stirring his hair and it must be all that damned football because he hasn’t faltered once. Philip can’t wait to make him. “You’re talking,” he manages, but any impact it might have had is lost in the unsteadiness of his voice. Maybe he’s still sensitive from his earlier orgasm, maybe it’s just that this is so much more intense, but he can already feel the tight coil of pleasure building low inside him. 

“Yeah, I’m — fuck, Philip — I’m talking.” He gives a particularly hard thrust, and it’s all Philip can do not to collapse right then and there. Trevor is going to be the death of him, and he’s going to say thank you when it happens. 

“Don’t stop,” he pleads — fucking pleads. “Shit, Trev, don’t stop.” 

“‘M not,” Trevor pants. “Don’t worry, I’m not fucking stopping.” And he isn’t. If anything, he’s going harder. “I’m— shit, fuck, fuck, Philip I’m gonna— Philip, where do I—?” 

Oh, is all Philip can think. “In me,” he blurts, because protocol 4 isn’t going to be a problem and this is the 21st century. 

“You sure?” 

“Yeah, I’m sure. Fuck, Trevor I’m so— I’m gonna—” 

Trevor is groaning deeply, spilling hot and thick inside Philip and with that, white hot bliss explodes through his body. He’s dimly aware of Trevor’s chest heaving against his back, his own name being chanted like a prayer, an incantation, and Philip’s never loved the sound of it more than he does right now. Right now it really is his name, and he knows he’s never coming back from this, and that he doesn’t want to. He thinks he says Trevor’s, too, over and over and punctuated with curses, but how is he supposed to do anything else when it feels like this? 

Trevor’s movements slow eventually until they stop altogether, the only sound in the room their ragged breathing and the rustle of the sheets and Trevor pulls out and flops onto the mattress. Philip mourns the loss of the feeling of fullness for a moment as he adjusts to the sudden emptiness, forcing his arms to unlock and relax, his legs to shift — he hadn’t realised they were shaking, but now that he has he can’t stop it — and collapses next to Trevor. 

“God, Philip,” he whispers to the ceiling, then raises his head and smiles. 

“You alright?” Philip asks. Idly, he traces a circle over Trevor’s heart. 

“I am so alright,” he sighs, breathes a laugh, turns to lie on his stomach and looks at Philip over the muscle of his arm. “You?” 

Philip smiles too, his whole body heavy and satisfied. “So alright,” he echoes softly, and if he wasn’t so completely boneless he’d lean over, press his lips to Trevor’s, soft and careful. Instead, he stretches out alongside Trevor. He can feel his cum leaking out of him, and the rational part of his brain says that’s gross and he should clean it up — along with the mess on his stomach. The irrational part of his brain that had his heart speeding up when he watched Trevor lick him clean earlier says it’s hot. Either way, Philip is not getting out of this bed any time soon. 

“What?” 

He blinks, jerks out of his thoughts. Trevor is frowning, still turned towards him and close enough that when Philip extends his pinkie finger it meets warm skin. “Nothing,” he says. Then, because he’s not brave enough to say what he really means, “Do you wanna stay?” 

The wrinkle disappears from between Trevor’s brows and he pretends to think. “Do I wanna get up, get dressed, walk up the loft stairs and try to go to sleep by myself while I know you’re down here?” He scoffs like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, and maybe to him it is. But he still asks, “Do you want me to?” 

“I just want you,” Philip breathes. It doesn’t quite sound right and he’s not even sure if it’s really what he wants to say, but it’s close enough.

“You just had me.” 

“No,” he sighs, “I mean this. I want this.”

“Oh.” Trevor’s face softens. “Right. Well, you’ve got it, Philip.” Slowly, he wriggles his hand close enough to lace his fingers with Philip’s and pulls their hands towards himself, lips brushing his knuckles. Philip thinks his heart is going to burst, and since when is he such a sap? Must be something about Trevor that makes his brain fly out the window. 

He slips his hand from Trevor’s to run it down the curve of his spine like he’d wished he could this morning, mapping every vertebrae as if the world is depending on it. And maybe his is. He watches the smooth motion of muscle and bone and ligaments and skin as Trevor shifts infinitesimally closer, mesmerised by the simultaneous complexity and simplicity of the movement. The dying light cascades over Trevor’s back and neck, glancing off his hair, pooling on his cheek, catching on his eyelashes as he blinks and suddenly he understands artists. 

Philip has always appreciated art in a practical sense (if there is one), as a historian, admired the richness and depth of the maker’s mark on the world, their cry to be seen and remembered. But in that moment Philip understands the need to capture and render, share, immortalise. For the first time, he doesn’t know if his memory is enough to hold Trevor as he is now, smiling softly and extending his arm, his own hand sliding over Philip's torso. He blinks and the feeling fades enough that he can move to accommodate the engineer as he shuffles across the space between them and drapes his body over Philip’s, lips pressing oh so gently to his pulse point before he lays his head over his heart. Philip knows he’ll never be able to capture this, and for a moment he wonders if how much is lost is equal to how much is preserved. If it’s greater. If it’s less. He swallows, turns and kisses Trevor’s temple, decides it doesn’t matter. He has this now, and he is determined to take it for all that it’s worth. 

“Memorising?” 

“What?” 

Trevor shrugs, shifting closer still. “Are you memorising me again?” 

Philip can’t begin to explain, but Trevor’s on the right track so just smiles and says, “yeah,” sliding his arm around his shoulders and holding him close. 

“Me too.” The engineer's body jerks with a soft chuckle, but he presses against Philip anyway, his breathing deep and even and his arm heavy across Philip’s chest. Then, “Can’t believe you’ve just been walking around with this.”

Philip cranes his neck, looking down at where Trevor is staring at his chest. Or rather, his piercing. He almost laughs because of course that’s what Trevor’s stuck on. 

“Doing missions with a ring through your nipple,” he goes on. “I can’t believe I didn’t know.”

“That’d be a weird conversation,” he snorts. “‘Hey Trev, wanna see this random bit of metal through my fucking nipple?’” Because Philip is aware that it’s weird, and that’s part of the reason he hadn’t exactly shown it off. Not that he would have had any excuse to, or wanted to, but still. 

Trevor tsks. “Yeah, but… I don’t know. Does it hurt?” 

“Uh… no?” He thinks for a minute, frowns. “Sometimes, a little. Sometimes I forget it’s there and it gets stuck on stuff.” 

“Jesus. 21st century, man, I’m telling you.” 

“Yeah. I know.”

There’s a beat of silence, then Trevor’s lips are pressing against his chest and he’s whispering, “I still think it’s hot as fuck,” and Philip, despite himself, is smiling. Whatever he sees in other timelines, and whatever else happens, he’s glad he exists here and now. He’s glad he woke up, and he’s glad he’ll wake up tomorrow — and this time it won’t be to an illusion.

Note: guys I'll be real for a sec I have no idea if this is any good. It feels ok right up until butt stuff gets involved so maybe this is a sign that gay porn specifically isn't my calling and I should just stick to YN shit (which is so sad cause I wanna write destiel smut and I wanna write more about these two silly little dudes). I wrote this originally where Philip just sucked Trevor off and they called it a day but it just genuinely did not feel right and it would not leave me alone and it just kept playing out in my head (something) like this so I wrote it and I'm not feeling the itch anymore but what I am feeling is really unsure. Any feedback at all would be so so appreciated (I feel like that ant with the bindle)

#fanfiction #fanfic #travelers netflix #philip pearson #travelers #trevor holden #philip x trevor #trevor x philip #smut #gay stuff

[dballzposting]

I don’t know how to fucking draw. 

Yamucha mall santa

BELABORED Textpost about Yamucha Dad Swagg under the cut

It’s a very simple equation .. it takes a village to raise a kid and Yamucha is a part of that village.

Picture this. Trunks is just a little guy walking around Capsule Corp. Sometimes he goes days without seeing his father, and when he does see him there is no warm greeting. That’s fine and cool because that’s just Vegeta’s way and Trunks is used to it / raised to it. He sees his mother more frequently than his father, but she is just as busy, and she is always trying to teach Trunks about computers and whatnot - this is fun and fine because Trunks doesn’t yet know that he lacks the natural spark for invention and that his potential pales in comparison to his mother. So it’s good bonding time.

Ultimately, his parents are concerned with his growth, and they do much to encourage it, and that’s awesome. But warm family time just isn’t the love language of the house. Trunks’s grandparents are pretty warm, but they also aren’t that interested in playing video games, just the technicalities of it, so Trunks’s conversation material is stunted.

Trunks will see the other Z Fighters occasionally, but he mostly knows Of them than Knows them. Sometimes, though, his mother will have a friend over.

And something interesting happens when Yamucha visits. Trunks can actually hear his mother laughing from the other room. 

And if he sneaks around the corner, he can see his mother actually having a real damn conversation with someone for once. Trunks never sees his parents converse like this, so it’s odd and enamoring to see Yamucha and Bulma talking like normal people. 

It’s weird, because it’s not typical to Trunks’s house, but he’s seen it in others, like how Gohan and Videl talk for instance, and it’s sort of .. nice to see.

Not that he’s thinking in those terms - he’s like, IDK, 9, and though he’s a precocious kid, he’s not yet adhering to adult standards of what’s “nice to see.” He doesn’t think that it’s “nice to see” his mother be able to have a non-argumentative conversation with a man. He’s not concerned about what’s good for his mother or not, not in that way. He’s still a kid.

But. He does grow comfortable to the sight.

Bulma and Yamucha’s conversations are still pretty much what you’d expect - Yamucha is only visiting to get this car fixed, she makes some harshly-toned but inconsequential joke about his being unwilling to pay someone to fix it so he’s hoping to get it fixed for free by a friend, and he rubs his neck and says “everyone’s a critic,” and she fixes his car and makes him have tea with her as payment. She complains that he never fucking visits unless he needs some help and he says the same to her. She asks him how life is going and he tells her that Puar is starting a new semester at Shapeshifting University, that he’s working on his Master’s. She says that she’s working on a new type of engine that will revolutionize the industry and he says that his wood stove keeps breaking in odd ways that he can’t make sense of.

She asks him if he still trains and fights and he says Sometimes. He asks her if she finds herself yearning for adventure and she says Sometimes.

IDK where I’m going with this. I don’t know what I haven’t already said in previous posts. It’s just that Yamucha is a nice man ...

Trunks is used to being either A.) treated like a little adult or B.) brushed off, so when Yamucha literally treats him like one would a child, it completely throws Trunks off of his rhythm and he doesn’t know what to do about it.

He ventures into the room where Bulma & Yamucha are conversing and Yamucha is quick to be like HEEEY KIDDO! THERE YOU ARE. WAS WONDERING WHEN YOU’D SHOW UP. HOW’RE YOU DOING?

and Trunks is like HWAH becasue now this man is talking to him and now he’s gotta snap to attention and be polite and civil like his parents taught him. But also it’s Yamucha he doesnt hold him in a very high regard at this time. And he’s just gotta get throuhg this exchange of pleasantries so that they can all move on with their day.  

Unfortunately however Yamucha is not Vegeta and he is not bored with pleasantries, he’s honestly interested to see Trunks join the conversation. Trunks is a funny little DUDE yknow? He’s always running around and defeating bad guys and stuff. Yamucha held him when he was a baby a few times and he always sends him a birthday card in the mail. He’s honestly interested, at the high point of the day before the daily fatigue has set in, to invite him into the conversation.

Trunks has no tact for this however becasue he’s not used to this senseless genuineness from an adult. Usually adults will get whatever info they need out of him and then exit the conversation. Usually there’s a point where the adult gets bored and tired and Trunks is used to this pattern and he knows how to recognize it and stop talking about things that only he cares about.

But before Trunks can understand what’s happening he’s being launched into this conversation about Minecraft because one thing led to another and now Bulma has momentarily adjourned the room and Trunks is sitting at this table explaining Minecraft to Yamucha. And he’s sort of fretful and stressed about it because he doesn’t know why Yamucha is doing this to himself? This isn’t typically how things go. 

So Trunks at every sentence is trying to pull the brakes on this whole operation, growing more anxious about it the longer it persists, and it does inexplicably persists - Trunks just keeps trying to wrap up his thought but then Yamucha seems to keep encouraging him. “So it’s a computer game? You can play it with an XBOX too? What about a PS2, I used to have one of those.” “You craft what you mine? What do you mine, rocks and stuff? Oh, that’s just the term for the mechanism of acquiring world blocks? And you can craft? Oh, Minecraft, that’s clever.” “You can build anything you want? What do you build?” “What’s a mob? What’s an NPC? Oh, they’re bad guys? Sometimes? Do you fight on Minecraft? WITH A SWORD? I see why you like it.” “Is there a plot? What’s ‘sandbox’? It’s an ‘open world’?” “Can you play it with other people at the same time, like those arcade games where- oh, different screens, same world? REALLY? Over the internet you say? Now how does that work?” “THEY HAVE WOLVES IN MINECRAFT?”

And Trunks keeps trying to Not go overboard but if you ask an obsessed 9 year old about minecraft What TF Do You Think is gonna happen.

Trunks is WAITING, WAITING, WAITING for the inevitable “say, kid, yknow, it’s getting late, I gotta run...” or whatever polite manner Yamucha will use to end the conversation. Trunks is keeping vigilante for it. He’s studying Yamucha’s face and words for any hint of it. 

Eventually- “say, I don’t suppose you got any snacks around here in this house of fortune, do you?”

There it is, the Topic Change. Yamucha moves to stand and Trunks silences the urge to finish the tangent he was on. He’s actually relieved - that was getting scary, he didn’t know when the interruption would come. He doesn’t want to embarrass himself any further, so he’s glad for the long-awaited topic change.

They set out to amass a plate of snacks. Yamucha encourages Trunks to pick his poison, and Trunks doesn’t know why he’s still being involved in this operation but he likes snacks so he sticks around. Yamucha remarks that Bulma hasn’t yet returned and Trunks can’t stop himself from responding immediately with what was on the tip of his tongue: 

“Yeah, she doesn’t like to hear about Minecraft.”

Yamucha laughs it off, genuinely entertained, saying something about how Bulma didn’t have the patience for most things. He suggests that they go find her and bother her, and Trunks says that she doesn’t like to be bothered when she’s working, and Yamucha says “yeah I know.”

Somehow though they end up talking about Minecraft again. And this vexes Trunks so strongly. Especially when Yamucha finally says “yknow I don’t really understand the appeal of video games myself .. I dabbled in it but it didn’t really take me far” THEN WHY ARE YOU ASKING ABOUT MINECRAFT ???

My point is that the “topic change” was not a topic change, Yamucha was totally gonna return to the Minecraft thing. Which, again, makes no goddamn sense to Trunks. 

Yamucha’s just a nice dude. And he’s not annoyed with Trunks becasue he A.) isn’t as seriously-minded as Bulma and Vegeta are and B.) is not Trunks’s actual father so he doesn’t need to fucking see him all of the time and deal with his shit on a regular basis.

IDK. That’s just a story. I feel like it’s a good place to start the development of Trunks getting attached to Yamucha though. Like there are many ways you could spin this but it all sort of starts the same .. Trunks getting judgeless attention from Yamucha, who is warm and friendly and chill and visibly mature and middle-aged.

I mean this could happen at any time but hear me out:

Trunks ages 0-5 would respond well to any friendly adult because’s that’s what babies are like. As long as the adult didn’t have a scary face.

Trunks ages 6-9 will take a bit more convincing to warm up to you, because he’s got opinions and a snotty attitude. But ultimately he’s polite when it matters and he likes to have fun, so if you’re fun then he’s fun, and he’ll be excited to see you, because that’s what kids are like.

Trunks ages 10-15 is an even tougher sell, because his precocious self-awareness now actually MEANS something, and progressively more so throughout the years. And though he’s living life pretty naturally and in-tuned with himself by necessity of his craft, he would still shudder at the sensation of affection / want of attention from an adult other than the expressly accepted Bulma & Vegeta & his grandsparents & Gohan & Videl & to an extent Goten’s parents. Being a little baby kid and wanting to spend time with a beloved adult is one thing, but Trunks is much too self-aware at this age to allow the easy flow of vulnerability. Like, HOW STRANGE. How strange to think he would need something from someone. How strange to think that there could be a shift in the familial dynamic that’s always been. So he would experience some confliction and some shame at a perceived immaturity of the self. Even though he is getting older, humans develop in a gradual way, and by his Saiyan blood he is still a baby, so he is still responsive to warmth and attention, even when it is bewilderingly unconditional and pleasant.

Moreover: Trunks has himself a self-image of self-sufficiency and independence by this time, and he would struggle with how small and clingy he feels when Yamucha is nice to him, and he may just avoid him entirely for it.

Trunks ages 16-18 is no longer susceptible to a new juvenile attachment but he is a kid who likes to party. He is friendly enough and could make a mentor out of Yamucha yet. He could love him like one too.

However in the event that he already had the experience of wanting Yamucha to be his dad when he was younger: by 18 he thinks he’s totally over “it” though he never gave “it” credit for what it was: how much he appreciated the sense of safety that being raised by a village gave him. And that’s literally a normal thing and Trunks is literally capable of seeing that but he’s not Goten so he still is a little slow on the uptake. So he thinks he’s “over it” but as soon as he gets eyes on Yamucha he .. Oh my god I’ll just repost the last image file of a previously-shared comic

This is just so goddamn funny like .. That first panel I wish was way bigger becasue I think it’s everything. The crazed and vigilante yet amiable and PLACID look. It’s like he’s a shark and he’s caught blood in the water. It’s like he was a normal dude before but then he got eyes on Yamucha and his middle-aged man used-car-salesman swag and a biochemical reaction began to occur in Trunks’s brain and he’s become one-track and pursuit-predatorial and now he’s looking at him like this

With so much warmth and love and contentedness .. like he thinks he’s amazing. Like he’s out for blood.

And then he warmly says “you could marry my mom and I wouldn’t be mad.” LIKE ... that’s so funny .. he’s 18 so he thinks he’s an adult but he’s still Someone’s Boy. He’s still a kid. It takes time to mature fully. He’s tall and taught like a greenbean plant and he hasn’t actually yet matured into the heat of the season ... He’s tall and energetic and he wants Yamucha to marry his mom so that he can see his mom get along with someone and for that someone to be Yamucha. It’s not that Trunks dislikes his father - he really really doesn’t - but it’s that he also wants Yamucha to be his dad.

By the time we get to Trunks age 23 - GT times - he really is beyond this. He really is a chill young adult by then. He doesn’t feel the juvenile attachment. He’s a mature organism. He probably forgot he ever felt that way to begin with.

It’s just funny idk.

ANYWAY.

In the event where Bulma and Vegeta formally split (which wouldn’t happen because Vegeta has nowhere else to go really...), Bulma would be cool with it but like any woman with self-respect she would undergo a certain grief to start. It doesn’t last long and she knows she’s happier being single but she allows herself the tenderness. And in this time she may reconnect with friends to feel better, including Yamucha.

And Trunks is around age umm idk let’s say 9 again, and he doesn’t think that his parents formally splitting is a big deal. From his POV, the only thing that will change is that he won’t see his father at the dinnertable anymore and he won’t train with him in the gravity chamber for a while (I say “a while” because Vegeta will come crawling back to use that fucking thing). But Trunks still knows where to find him, and he will still be training and learning under him. So it’s not a big deal.

His mom seems a little sad, which he wasn’t expecting. But she’s said and will keep saying that it was for the best and the mature thing to do, so Trunks doesn’t think much of it.

But much like how this post started, there’s a day where Trunks can hear his mother laughing in conversation in the other room. And it strikes him, rings in his head like a knell, secretive in its pull but inexorable all the same-... it’s been a while since his mother seemed so happy to be talking to someone. 

Under the guise of helping Bulma through this difficult time, but really for old time’s sake, but really actually because Yamuch’s cabin has a cockroach problem right now, it’s been arranged where Yamucha is gonna hang out and live at Capsule Corp for a while. 

OK don’t let me make this damn post so damn long. You know where it’s going. Trunks despite himself warms up to Yamucha and at the end asks him upfront if he’s gonna marry Bulma. And Yamucha is like NOOO No No No NO! Lol. And Trunks is like WHY NOT?? YOU GET ALONG SO WELL .. 

and Yamucha explains that he’s just trying to be a friend right now because he and Bulma did NOT work out in the past. And Trunks is like “Ok so are you going to live here forever then..” and Yamucha is like..........nooooo.........I’m gonna go home to my cabin ..........

and Trunks is like WHAT ???

And Yamucha, who is not trying to become a father, and who has been unsure how to treat Trunks as he sees him getting more and more clingy over the weeks, has to finally concede at this moment that: Trunks evidently needs this right now. He needs a friendly father figure. Yamucha wasn’t trying to get involved in all of this because he at this point in his life does not feel confident enough that he has what it takes to be a good parent .. that he could really give a kid what he needs .. he doesn’t think he’s good enough ... but at this moment he realizes that Well Soemone Has to Watch Stupoid Movies with This Kid and It’s NOT gonna be Vegeta So.....!!

so he tells Trunks “you know where to find me..!” and that he can visit at any time. But Trunks still seems a little sad about it and I can tell you why: it’s because he wants to feel loved enough that people will seek HIM out, not that the onus is always on him to maintain connections.

Yamucha sees that he’s still kind of sad so he makes an impulsive promise to “visit sometimes” and Trunks seems happy to hear that.

In any story you want to spin about Yamucha Dad Swagg I think it pays to consider Trunks’s hesitance to attach, because of his attitude problem and because he does already have two parents, and also how as a kid he responds to the budding connection with insecurity and confusion because even as a kid he takes it upon himself to be totally self-aware and to know everything, because that’s how his parents are raising him.

And it pays to consider what type of attention and affection that Trunks is actually receiving at home.

And it pays to consider that Yamucha is sort of washed-up and is in some ways content with that and in other ways insecure, and that he doesn't feel quite good enough to be a father but he doesn’t want to be without a family for forever, but he is a nice person who is good with kids, and Bulma is a dear friend of his, and he will do what he can to do well by her son. And he’s just naturally friendly and goofy and that gets him into hot water when he accidentally causes Bulma’s evidently-underappreciated son to latch onto him, like a baby bird imprinting upon you because you just happened to be there.

It’s all very simple really. At a Z-team get-together Trunks really wants to pull up a chair between Yamcuha and Bulma but he doesn’t know how to do that without it being weird (he thinks it’s weird becasue he’s self-aware to his own detriment). And he really wants the simple comfort of physical affection that he stopped receiving when his mother set him down as a baby for the last time, but he doesn’t know how to hug Yamucha without it being weird. And he really wants to just like stand next to Yamucha or something but he feels like if his own real father sees him standing next to Yamucha it’s gonna be weird.

In reality Vegeta doesnt give a shit, and if he knew about all of this then he would encourage Trunks to seek out the humanistic family structure he evidently needs to thrive, becasue Vegeta knows that he’s not capable of paying out in that way. But this all goes unspoken so Trunks just feels weird about the way that everything seems like it’s going to be okay whenever Yamucha is around, and he’s trying to find a situation in which it would be acceptable for him to cuddle up with Yamucha like a cat. 

It’s sort of stupid because that’s literally all it is. And there IS a day where Trunks drags Goten over to Yamucha’s cabin and they roast chestnuts and watch Caddyshack (1980) (one of the only movies that Yamucha owns and he always watches it when he’s sad and drunk and he doesn't even recognize it when he’s sober? He doesn’t know why he has it.).

And it’s fun obviously becasue Goten is there and they eat popcorn but when they’re watching the movie on Yamucha’s new couch (it’s new at this time) (it’s red and swanky) (he thinks it really classes up the place) (now there’s popcorn oil stains all over it of course but he’s trying to be gracious about it), Yamucha realizes that it’s a movie unfit for kids, and Goten gets bored when the popcorn is gone, and Trunks is not watching the movie at all because he is taking this opportunity to hug yamucha as hard as he can as he settles next to him on the couch.

And Yamucha is thinking “ummm this isn’t a very good movie for kids” but he literally can’t get up and do anything about it because Bulma’s damn bastard whelp is clinging to his side with the ardent ferocity of a drowning monkey to a floating log. And also the kid is pretending to be asleep so that no one will try to disturb him but his grip strength gives him away. And so basically Yamucha has to just sit through this weird movie. And Goten gets bored and really does fall asleep next to Trunks. So now Yamucha is committed to this damn movie. And there’s popcorn butter everywhere

Anyway. If Trunks started to bond with Yamucha then he really would want to learn stuff from him / model after him. And that’s where we may run into problems, becasue in practice, their continued involvement may be more of Trunks fixing Yamucha’s car then it is Yamucha teaching Trunks how to do stuff.

But there is still quite a bit that could be done here. Trunks would learn the Spirit Ball from Yamucha. He would learn how to go to diners and tip 30%, 40% if the server was cute. He would learn how to relax and enjoy life. He would learn how to hang out. He would start getting into Yamucha’s music, and then music composition once Yamucha pulls out his old guitar. He would pretend to care about baseball. He would have a new appreciation for monocolored suits. He would try whiskey for the first time. He would develop on his emotional intelligence so that he would eventually be on-par with Goten. He would listen to stories of the past because lord knows that Trunks’s parents don’t fucking tell him anything. ETC.

One more thing. You know that one .. science experiment where they put a baby monkey in a cage of sorts and gave it two “mothers,” one made of warm cloth that served no function and another that was made of wire and that contained a source of food? And they discovered that when the monkey was scared, he always huddled up to the cloth mother for comfort, even though she was not the one to feed him? And the result was something about the realization of the importance of comfort for babies? Yeah well it’s kind of like that .. Bulma & Vegeta are the wire mothers who offer substance of body mind and character, and Yamucha is the cloth mother who can’t do much for him but he’s always down to watch a movie and hang out or something. 

END POST. Good grief

#dballz posting #dballz draws #Yamucha Dad Swag Tag

[missmitchieg]

i don’t go here but what happened to penelope garcia’s hair ? isn’t it like shoulder length ? did she cut it ? !

/lh , tell me about penelope garcia please ?

Yay! I love talking about babygirl! Ok, so it looks like she did indeed cut her luscious locks so rip to her long princess curls. They will be missed until they grow back. 💖

Ok, so season 1-15 Penelope was MY GIRL, ok? She was MY GIRL.

She's, like, a super genius super cutie and she's super sweet and kind and loves animals. (Seriously, one of the reasons she started working for the FBI is she was a computer hacker and hacked into the website of a cosmetic company that tests on animals and her options when she got caught were literally work for the FBI or her ass is getting thrown in prison. She chose the FBI. We love a queen that fights for animal wellfare. The other reason was she wanted to get away from her garbage, and I do mean GARBAGE, boyfriend and have a better life.)

I'm pretty sure she has ADHD. Maybe autism. IDK, but she's definitely some kinda neurospicy.

She's a walking sparkly neon rainbow. You know the way Flynn's bedroom is described in the one jatp book? Season 1-15 Penelope is that and I love it.

She went ginger once and it was a whole vibe.

Wow, I love her.

She was super nice to her ex boss all the way from s1 to his departure in early s12, and I'm 99% sure was the only one that actually called him bossman or sir bc everyone else just called him Aaron or by his nickname, Hotch. She was really good at making him smile, which actually wasn't that hard but people exaggerate the rarity of a Hotch smile for some reason.

After that, she was still really nice to the replacement he handpicked, Emily Prentiss, who she already adored after working with her since s2.

Hotch was literally physically incapable of saying no to this woman and she fully knew and took advantage of that shit, ok? Seriously, one time, Penelope made a joke like "who could say no to me?" and Hotch just smirked a little bit because he knew he couldn't say anything. Penelope does an incredible imitation of the pleading emoji. Or the Puss In Boots face. Whatever you wanna call this:

"Boss, I want you to hire Tara. 🥺" "Ok. Tell everyone else the position has been filled." "Boss, I don't wanna eat dinner alone. Do you want a veggie omelette? 🥺" "Ok. Do you have jalapeños?"

The hilarious thing is she doesn't even have to make that face. She does it to mess with him.

And then there's her, uh...... interesting little flirtationship with Derek Morgan. Or as Penelope calls him, chocolate thunder. He loves that name and encourages it. He calls her babygirl. They also have about a million other adorable pet names for each other.

*gestures at these gifs* They love each other so much, it's kind of gross. I've said before that before I actually started watching and only had the massive comp of him calling her that, I genuinely really thought Morcia was canon. Like, oh, my GOD, dude. These two are disgustingly obsessed with each other. The shit they say on work calls. He calls her sexy and brilliant Goddess and told her it drives him crazy when "she talks that voulez coucher stuff to him". Like, hello? Honestly, I'm amazed Derek only had to sit through one HR lecture about creating a hostile work environment. Or at least, we only saw one.

Then there's her very sweet friendship with baby genius, boy wonder, good doctor, Agent Doctor Spencer Reid.

MY BABIES. I LOVE THEM. I want them back. Gimme back my Penny², damnit.

And her very sweet friendship with Matt Simmons! Oh, my god. I love them. 🥰🥰🥰

They're cute and I wish at least Penelope mentioned Matt in season 16 more.

Penelope and Luke! Oh, my God. Penelope and Luke.

They are in love and both think it's unrequited and it's exhausting but at least s12-15 were FUN. Mostly.

Season 16 Penelope, though....

Season 16 Penelope got abducted by aliens. Or lobotomized. Hard to tell.

#criminal minds #criminal minds evolution #penelope garcia #i'd go more in depth but this got long oops #i just love her

[sebastianstansqueen]

Hello! I just started reading ——- as hoping you could do this request (it’s absolutely fine if you don’t) but I had seen this tik tok where this girl explains that she’s never seen a story where a sunshine gets emotional and everyone expects sunshine to go someone but sunshine BOLTS to the grumpy character and sobs into them.

idk if any of that made sense but it made me think of a sunshine reader x bucky so if you have any time to write it i would love to read it but if you don’t that’s also fine

here’s the link to the tik tok

https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZTR9eNfko/

Title: Sunshine

A/N: Tell me what you think, feedback is always appreciated, if you want to be Tagged, either send an ask or comment on this or click on Taglist open.  

Wordcount:  732

Warnings: Sad Reader, and protective Bucky, fluff

Masterlist //  Tagglists 

Taglist: @cherryblossomsky - @babylooneytoonz - @wonderlandfandomkingdom - @miraclesoflove - @amelia-song-pond - @leyannrae - @avengerlex - @pineprincess - @nik2writes - @dorothea-hwldr - @rosie-posie08 - @scxrletrecsmarvel -

You had been sad for the last few days, because your neighbors had your dogs taken away, and now they lived with your parents, but you went into work your heart hurting and you were in the human resources department, and you may or may not have started a small in work relationship with Bucky, and no one knew, so no harm no foul. But you were hurting all you wanted was to go find him and talk it out. 

“You're dating Y/n from HR aren't you?” Tony smirked talking to Steve. 

Steve side eyed the man. “No.” 

“Oh I get it you don’t wanna get your little girlfriend in trouble.” Tony said still smirking and he walked away. Bucky heard the whole thing while just smirking at how wrong the ‘genius’ was, and he couldn’t help but laugh to himself. 

You just tried to continue even though you really just didn’t want to and so your boss came and talked to you. “What is going on?” She asked as she sat across from you. 

“It’s really nothing, I promise.” You shrugged as you typed up a report. 

She looked at you. “What is it?” “It’s stupid.” You sighed. 

She huffed. “Y/n, we literally take care of the avenger we make sure they are mentaly healthy enough to just go and save the world, and you aren't acting like you, usually you are happy go lucky and a ball of sunshine, so what is going on?” 

“My neighbors called animal control and had my dogs taken away as I was at work yesterday, and there with my parents clear on the opposite side of the city basically in nowhere land.” You ranted. 

“Take a break I don’t care for how long but take an hour to a two hour  long break.” She sighed, getting up and leaving. You sighed out of your computer, and headed to the Avengers common room to find Bucky.

Bucky had been his ‘usual’ moody self that day, just waiting till you get off from work, just to head over to your house and watch a movie and cuddle, but the elevator dinged opened, you walked in and of course every Avenger had to be in the common room at the moment, Tony kept his eyes on you waitin for you to go to Steve because of the sad look on your face, everyone on the team liked you, your kind and soft hearted, along with you brought baked goods to them more often than not.

Your eyes scanned the room, looking for one person, Bucky looked at you with furrowed brows he saw the sadness you were holding in your eyes. You briskly walked towards him, he pulled you into a tight hug, and you let out all of your feelings and started crying into his shoulder. What both of you didn’t see however was the shocked look on the whole rest of the team's face, and Bucky just whispered things along the lines of ‘it's okay’. What no one knew except Bucky himself was he already grew protective over you so once you told him everything that had happened in the last 24 hours he wanted to go to your neighbors house and demand they take back their complaint about your dogs. He also loved your Pitbull and German shepherd Named Pepper and Lulu, and he’d do just about anything to get you to smile. That night he went home with you, and once you fell asleep he went and talked to your neighbors and came down to an agreement, that you could bring your dogs back from your parents as long as while you were at work they went with you and he talked to Tony who agreed that Lulu and Pepper could stay with the team. 

So that night Bucky drove the almost two hour drive to your parents house, they loved him he was glad that he could still make an amazing impression on parents, and he told them  about the agreement that he made with your neighbors and he brought your dogs home that night once they walked through the door, the jumped on the couch where you’d fell asleep, and they licked your face until you woke up. You smiled wrapping your arms around both of your ‘babies’ as you called them, and your smile grew bright once again.

#bucky barnes x reader #buckybarnes #bucky x reader #bucky x reader fluff #bucky fluff #bucky barnes fluff #sad #bucky x reader sad #bucky x you #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes #bucky x sunshine!reader #marvel #bucky x reader fanfiction #protective!bucky x reader

[nutal]

Even better-

What if Emily is crushing on Lute, but supports her in getting with Adam.

But Adam is still deeply in love with Eve, because despite what happened between them. She still gave him their children and helped him survive for over nine hundred years together.

But eventually it works, Adam falls for Lute and they end up together.

But then Emily learns about the exterminations and is mad at both of them. But when Adam dies she feels really sad, but also guilty. Because like, her crush is single again.

So Emily and Lute eventually end up together. After Emily supports her through her grief and talks her out of all her built up hatred.

But wait, there’s more.

Adam came back as a sinner and eventually bit the bullet and started going to the Hazbin Hotel. Because he wanted to get back to see Lute again and slowly started making progress.

But upon learning that Lute and Emily are together he feels like he got betrayed all over again. That the woman he loves left him for a seraph (he doesn’t hate either, since they genuinely thought he was dead. Unlike Lucifer, Lilith, and Eve. But he also feels cheated, since it hasn’t even been a full year yet.)

So Adam starts a downward spiral, because like his reason for redemption is with someone else now. So what’s the point? So he sleeps around with several one-night stands that barely fill the empty feeling in his chest. And he starts acting like a jerk again (not the same superior feeling, but more like the slightest thing will piss him off.)

And eventually Charlie tells Lute and Emily. Who comes down to help Adam out. He rejects at first, but eventually they get him to listen. And start a throuple with each other after he starts getting better again. With Emily and Adam even falling in love with each other while falling harder for Lute as she does the same. :D

Thoughts?

THIS IS WILD HAHAHA OHMYGODH OK ILL BREAK THIS DOWN

I for sure see one-sided EmiLute (on Emily’s side) with her helping Lute out with Adam, but I also def see Adam still yearning for Eve after some time even if he’s really bitter after what happened. I think Adam loved Eve a lot, they had something special for sure, much more so than what Adam had with Lilith. Plus, like you said, it’s probably likely that Eve bore Adam’s children since she was literally created from his rib to reproduce with him which just intensifies this a lot. (Idk if them having actual kids is canon yet since hazbin isnt a show thats supposed to be ‘biblically accurate’ (OBVIOUSLY cuz it would be pretty weird if it was LMFAO) but still a really interesting thing to think about) and so that would probably itch at Adam from time to time despite how much he tries not to think about it.

But yes guitarspear def def works out in the end for sure like adam realizes hes in love with lute but hes so horrified of love at this point hes js like fuckkk mann

Okay now I gotta say though, while I can see Emily having a one-sided thing for Lute, I can’t envision Lute returning those feelings and I also definitely can’t see Adam and Emily either. Just my personal opinion, but that doesn’t compute in my brain LMAO

BUT i love the idea of sinner adam using the whole one night stand thing to fill that hole in his chest thats so fucking real because he WOULD

Overall this was a crazy ass read op! I love some of the ideas in here and you should def do something with all of this (if you want lol)

#hazbin hotel #guitarspear #emilute #lute hazbin hotel #emily hazbin hotel #adam hazbin hotel #eve hazbin hotel

[vypridae]

*magically appears from the void*

Okay! Hi, hope your having a good day, all of that jazz. Maybe someone has asked you this before, but I'd love to hear your thoughts on a fyosiglai circus au? Hehe sorry ive been starting to create one and since you like fyosiglai wanted to hear your thoughts!

got on my computer to answer this one because this is GENIUS

i don't really think of circus aus much and i haven't really thought much about like, what? goes on? in a circus? cause i don't know? but this is absolute genius (i'm actually looking shit up as i write this so aHSGJKHASDFJKG) (also this got long so under a cut)

okay. first initial thoughts; decay of angels are the main circus members. fukuchi is the ringmaster + surprise he's also the lion tamer (i could imagine him like, surprising the audience because nikolai "accidentally" lets out a lion or something and fukuchi "tames it" in front of the audience so they get Big Jumpscare cause oh no that wasn't supposed to happen !!! yes it was lmao)

also as a little side note i like to think bram does the sword swallowing and knife throwing (sigma's the target) and he's literally perfect at the knife throwing and no one knows how he's that amazing

sigma i imagine is the most flexible of the remaining three so i can see him doing like, the acrobatics in the air and contortion and stuff (and i like to imagine it flusters the FUCK out of nikolai and fyodor because holy shit? how? he's so pretty. what the fuck?).

you expected this i bet but nikolai is the clown !! obviously. he probably does a lot of the juggling stuff, maybe some "magic", and he really likes the dangerous things so he ends up being the one on the tightrope walk and he pretends to fall and doesn't (i imagine this circus is really bent on "how can we jumpscare the audience"). he has so much fun messing with the audience and most of his acts end up including at least one (1) audience member. maybe he does some fire performances too (he definitely does) (i bet the first time sigma saw nikolai do fire tricks he was terrified and fyodor reassured him it was fine because "he's been doing this since we were children. do not worry")

fyodor i'm really not sure what he might do. trying to think what he might do is kinda stumping me rn, i can't imagine he likes doing stuff in front of other people but i can imagine he might be really good at the object manipulation stuff, i think he'd have a lot more he does behind the scenes though. so like, lighting and special effects and stuff. i don't think he'd like doing any actual acts but he can do some of them and he's good at them, like maybe equilibristics a little bit? i'm really not sure for him, but whatever he does nikolai is super excited about it and sigma thinks he's absolutely amazing at it

i imagine sigma is the newest member of the circus too. fukuchi and bram founded it, and fyodor and nikolai knew each other from childhood so sigma feels really out of place with them at first, but fyodor and nikolai take a liking to him and i imagine they help him in determining his acts and what he might do for the audience and it turns out he's a natural! and honestly it only makes fyodor and nikolai more interested and eventually fall for him whether they want to or not

i also imagine fukuchi is absolutely awful and teases either nikolai or fyodor (fyodor would be funnier) about "ah, those two?" and whoever he's teasing (fyodor is still funnier) is like "shut UP." (he never shuts up)

maybe there's some rival circus or something (immediate thought was either the ADA or the hunting dogs) and they have to get their shit TOGETHER and figure out How Can We Be Better Than These Guys and fyosiglai work together training and practicing and stuff and Shit! Goes! Down! you can decide what that might be idk what happens in circus aus

#i've literally never thought about a circus au in my life i love this tho #genuinely such fun au ideas for REAL #sorry if this isnt what you wanted btw !!! i ve never thought of a circus au ever #xanbox #bsd #bungou stray dogs #decay of angels #fyosiglai #fyodor dostoevsky #sigma bsd #nikolai gogol #ouchi fukuchi #bram stoker #circus au #xanthinks