#something about him verbally telling himself to stop in the softest whisper

[morsesnotes]

Endeavour | Terminus

#endeavour #itv endeavour #endeavour morse #shaun evans #tw: alcholism #endeavour: terminus #my gifs #morse #terminus #one of those little moments which felt like a punch in the gut #something about him verbally telling himself to stop in the softest whisper

[one-vivid-judgment]

Hello! A request for Sawashiro, Takabe, Ebina and Kuwana - what would they do when their s/o calls or texts them in the middle of the night because of a frightful nightmare? Thanks!

Keeping the fluff mood going because I do be feeling soft lately 🤧🤧

Jo Sawashiro

He doesn’t pay attention to his phone at night. Honestly, he doesn’t even sleep that much either—he always stayed up very late to finish work, and even now that he’s not in the yakuza anymore, it’s a bad habit of his. Old habits do die hard. If the calls get very insistent though, he will pick up, out of annoyance more than anything.

He can’t stay annoyed for long though. After realizing it’s you, and that you’re breathing hard and almost crying, he knows something is up. His voice goes uncharacteristically soft, he tries to watch his words and not say anything out of pocket. If you ask him to go over, he’ll give in surprisingly easily. He’s not exactly great at providing verbal comfort, but he’ll hold you and run a hand through your hair, let you cry on his chest if you need to until you fall back asleep.

Mamoru Takabe

He always keeps his phone on at night, in case any of his boys need his assistance. He also makes it very clear that, if you ever need him, you don’t need to worry about bothering him or waking him up, just call. Takabe is as reliable as they come: he will pick up, he has always picked up before.

Never will he let it show that he’s tired when you call in the middle of the night. You need help and someone to talk to, he’s not about to make it about himself. Talk and he will listen; if you don’t wanna talk about the nightmare, then he’ll tell you to talk about your day. Meanwhile, you know he’s getting ready to come over. You also know it’s useless to tell him not to come over and that you don’t want to be a bother: he will just say that’s nonsense and drop by your place anyway. With your favorite snacks and ready to make you some warm tea and sleep next to you for the rest of the night.

Masataka Ebina

Honestly, he doesn’t want anyone to disturb him at night. And yes, he will ignore even you. He turns his phone off at night and calls it a day, and no one can contact him until the next day. He does forget to turn it off sometimes, and whoever was unfortunate enough to call him then got yelled at so badly they never tried to contact Ebina again after hours.

On one of those nights where he forgot to turn off his phone and you called him, he ignored it the first time. The second, he started getting ticked off, but continued ignoring it. It wasn’t until the third call that he picked up. He doesn’t yell at you, but his voice and the weary sigh make it obvious that he wants to go back to sleep right away. But he stops being so dismissive when he notices you’re having trouble breathing. After that, he does feel bad, so he lets you talk as much as you want—he’s not about to get dressed and come over, but he’ll stay on the phone the whole time even after you fall back asleep and until the morning after.

Jin Kuwana

Every call he gets at night is between the caller and God, honestly. This man loves his sleep too much. The one big exception though, is you. He knows you never call this late unless you’re either, incredibly horny or having trouble sleeping, and both of those, he can help you with. In any case, he only picks up after midnight when the call is yours.

He mastered the art of comforting people back in his teaching days, when he had students to take care of day in, day out. First, he calms you down with the softest voice he can muster. Then, he asks if you want to tell him about the nightmare, and if you don’t, he’ll do the talking. Nothing too deep, just random things about his day, what he ate today, how he needs to clean his apartment, if you’ll be down to help him. After he’s mostly taken your mind off things, he’ll ask if you want him to come over. If you say yes, he will hold you for the rest of the night and whisper sweet nothings until you fall asleep.

#ryu ga gotoku #like a dragon infinite wealth #lad infinite wealth #yakuza like a dragon #judge eyes #lost judgment #jo sawashiro #mamoru takabe #masataka ebina #jin kuwana #.txt #anon ask #yakuza headcanons

[yarichin-imagines]

Can I request an Itome x f!reader? I know that Yaribu is a yaoi but I can't help it lmao. Both NSFW and SFW if possible. And I know that Itome and Akemi are dating and I love both of them I just rarely see Itome x Reader.. You don't have to do this btw I just wanted to give it a shot. *runs and hides in a corner*

ok so...I had so much written down for this, and it disappeared...but I’m willing to try again, since I love Itome so much! He's my second favorite under Shikatani! I'm just gonna write this in an AU where Itome and Akemi are not together, since it's easier. I hope this will suffice! I'm really sorry if this wasn't good. I really hope I touched up on everything I had before losing my progress, I want this to be a good story! (note to self...write answers somewhere else before posting...)

--Admin Bii

One might assume that it would be difficult to be in a relationship with Kotaro Itome. I mean, they always say communication is the most important key to a relationship. Being with a guy that said less words in a day that you could count on your fingers might be a challenge to some. Somehow, though, you two managed to make it work. You always made it work. Not everything had to be said verbally between you two, and you both knew it. To some, Itome was rather intimidating. He towered over many people and seemed cold. To you, however, he was anything but. He was like an excitable puppy at times. You could tell when his eyes lit up on seeing you, when he would wait for you every day, and through all the little things he did to make sure you knew he loved you. This day was like all the others. You two had agreed to come back to his dorm after school to "study". In reality, you both knew this was a lie and you were just going to snuggle the day away and said you did something productive. Itome was excited, and you could tell. He looked so antsy waiting for you in the commons of MoriGaku. Once he saw you, he speedwalked over to greet you in his little Itome way, with the softest and warmest smile he had in him. It was so cute, you couldn't help but reciprocate it. He took your hand and laced your fingers together before starting the walk home with you. His hands were always so soft. You couldn't count the number of times Itome's lavender lotion scent intoxicated you and lulled you to sleep as his soft hands combed through your hair. You loved it. It seemed that Itome always had some sort of new facemask to keep his skin clean, a new bottle of hand lotion, or a special conditioner that kept his hair soft enough for you to just want to shove your face in it. Snapping out of that train of thought, the two of you arrived at Itome's dorm. It was incredibly neat, the second neatest in the club (since of course, no one was allowed to have a cleaner dorm than Shikatani...), with everything all organized and in its proper place. It smelled of vanilla, which you loved. He turned on a soft lamp on his nightstand, the gentle glow of pink fusing into the walls, making the dull white paint look like a sunset. He gestured with his head to his bed, signalling for you to get comfy. You took the invitation, getting under the covers and watching him walk into the mini kitchen and come back with a small box. He got in next to you and opened it. Inside the box were two cupcakes from Itome's favorite bakery. One was made just the way he liked his, and one was made with your favorite flavor and iced in your favorite color. You thanked him in Itome's language, a lengthy kiss on the cheek. His face dusted pink as he handed you your cupcake and picked up his own. Small sighs of joy came from both of you as you ate the delicious sweet. When both of you were done, Itome put the box on his nightstand and pulled you into his arms. You rested your head on his chest, taking a deep and happy breath. This might have seemed weird to other couples, just cuddling in dead silence without teasing each other or talking about anything. But to you two, it was perfect. It was familiar, it was wonderful. Eventually, however, you noticed something. Something poking your thigh. Something hard poking your thigh. Something hard and penis-shaped poking your thigh. You looked up at Itome and saw a beautiful sight. His face was that deep red, eyes glossed over in a mix of embarrassment and pure lustful need, and his hand covering his mouth to stop any sounds from leaking out. "Itome-kun~?" You whispered right into his ear, knowing how sensitive his ears were. That concept was proven when a thin whine escaped his throat. You chuckled softly, the puff of air against his ear making a tiny "Ahn--" escape from him. "You got so excited just from cuddling with me, huh? What am I gonna do with you~" You hum, tracing a hand down his chest, thin yet soft stomach, and eventually between his thighs. He immediately gasped shakily and tried to thrust into your hand. You smirked. "Uh uh, baby, you gotta be patient." You chided. In an effort to stop himself from rutting against you, he gripped your shoulders tighty and buried himself in the crook of your neck, paritally to hide his embarrassed face, and partially to give you better access. You took the new area of skin exposed, sucking, kissing, licking, and biting along his earlobe down to his neck. His tiny sobs of need were muffled in your shirt. "You gonna be a good boy for me, Itome?" You whisper, giving him a soft kiss afterwards. He nodded rapidly, crying in need. He needed your warmth. He needed you. "Mmkay, then I need you to strip for me." You gently guided him. He squirmed out of his clothes surprisingly quickly. You giggled at how badly he wanted you. "Now, I want you to take my clothes off." you hummed. Itome nodded, slowly reaching up to unbutton your own shirt. He shivered in pleasure as he saw inch by inch of your skin getting revealed to him, up to your bra. He gave a tiny kiss to your stomach, then unbuttoned the final button as he moved the shirt off of your shoulders. He moved to your skirt next, unzipping it and slowly sliding it down. The moment your panties were revealed, a bit of precum dripped onto your leg. You smirked. "So needy, baby~" You teased, making him shudder. Next, his hands moved behind you to unclasp your bra and free your breasts. He let out an audible whine at seeing them. He wanted to kiss them, suck them, bury his face in them, but he wasn't given permission. He had to finish what he had been asked to do. All that was left was your panties. He slid them down and watched as you spread your legs, revealing your womanhood to him. He swallowed thickly and let out another whine. You reached up and pet his hair. "Good boy...as a reward, we can do it however you want." His eyes lit up at that, and he scrambled over you and onto his back. You giggled. "Want me to ride you, baby?" He nodded rapidly, and that was all you needed. "Do whatever you want baby, I'm yours..." You leave him with, giving him permission. He took that and immediately went to kiss your breasts. His groans and heavy breaths were muffled in your skin, making you groan in response when he started sucking on one of your nipples. He used one hand to support your back, and the other slowly trailed its way down to your womanhood. He traced a finger along it, shivering as he felt the hot wetness cover his finger. He stroked back and forth over your clit a few times before slipping the first finger in to prep you. His other hand made sure you were balanced and then went to dedicate itself to playing with your clit. He went slow prepping you, pushing the other finger in and waiting for you to signal that you were ready to keep going. You took your time to adjust and nodded against him, making him add the third and final finger. He slowly started moving his fingers in and out a few times to get you ready before he pulled them out, making you pout at the sudden feeling of not being full anymore. This feeling, however, didn't last long, given how after he had taken the time to put on a condom, Itome began sliding his dick inside of you. This was the moment he lost all of his composure or will to stay quiet. Having his cock squeezed in such a wet, hot place that was purely you and only you, it was almost too much for him to handle. He kept moving it in until the base hit your hips. You used your hand to push him back down on the bed, letting him fall back onto the pillow. Once you were ready, you started bouncing slowly. He let out a loud moan and gripped the sheets. This spurred you on to go faster, the sound of skin smacking on skin getting more prevalent in the room. He eventually started moving his hips up to meet you, throwing his head back in a loud moan. You couldn't help but smirk, resting your hands on Itome's stomach. His hands shot up to grab your hips and keep you still as he started smashing himself into you with no real pace. It felt too good to focus on a pace. Itome reached for your hand and gripped it tight. He was close. "Me too, baby...me too..." you moan, going as fast as you possibly could. The rubber band holding Itome together snapped, and he came hard. The condom filled up with his seed, making you finish as well, getting his cock even wetter. He didn't want to pull out just yet. He waited for his high to pass before pulling you in for a deep kiss. You kissed for a while before he finally pulled out and disposed of the condom. The both of you flopped back on the bed panting heavily as he pulled you back into his chest. "Love you..." he whispered. You smiled. "I love you too"

(gahhhh I hope this is ok!)

#koshiro itome #yarichin b club #yarichin b bu #yarichin b club imagines #yarichin b club smut

[discoclubofvenus]

Smoochin Hotties

Kissing headcanons for Benimaru, Joker, and Obi

Type: Request, Headcanons

Genre: Fluff

Attributes: GN reader

Warnings: Suggestive themes, minor cussing

A/N: OOoooo yeah writing these men had me weak in the knees and I was listening to slowed + reverb music? Ya these were fun to write but also I haven’t proofread them so I apologize in advance lol enjoy~

LAZY!!! KISSES!!

LIPS THAT ARE SWEET (like caramel) AND SOFT BECAUSE HE WONT LET THE DESSERTS THE GRANNYS MAKE FOR HIM GO TO WASTE

Before giving you what you want, he’ll lean his forehead on yours and peck you everywhere but your lips (up until you whine that is)

“Impatient brat I was getting to that part”

I’m talkin this man will drag out the kiss for as long as possible and have the pace be at teasingly slow pace

He likes to take his time with you

This man would let you take control the first time you guys kiss due to him not knowing what to do

Babes is insecure with himself so I feel like he’d be insecure with kissing and would want to know what you like first 

Just know this won't be the case for long

Once he’s become more confident in kissing? Just know the makeout sessions will leave you dizzy but that’s a conversation for another day

Benimaru the type to pull you in by your hips and makeout with you once you guys are alone (some grinding will happen as well)

He will spare but a few kisses in public, he’d rather keep all of his affection for you behind closed doors so he won’t have to hold back or worry about his image

A forehead kiss for sure (I read a fic about him giving reader a forehead kiss and now I can’t get it out my head)

Most of his public affections includes: lips grazing over your cheek, short hugs, an arm around your waist, a hand at your back--chile...let me get back to the kisses

He loves it whenever you kiss his lips, it’s incredibly straightforward and he enjoys having your lips on his but shall I raise you….kissing his hands? Specifically the hands which protect everything he loves and cares for? A good way to melt this man’s heart

He’ll return your affection with a hug to his chest and a kiss to your temple, which is the most sensitive part of your head, in a way to silently say he’ll protect and cherish even the softest parts of you (I’m SOFT THE WAY I LOVE THIS MAN)

Beni also likes to kiss the middle of your chest right before he lays down on your chest for a nap fleiuwbfliuwebf

Everytime Benimaru kisses you, it’s either to tease you or give a hidden message

Him kissing your shoulder could be read as ‘Thank you for always supporting me through the celebrations and the heartbreak’

But he would equally kiss your ear just to fluster you

I keep on daydreaming about kissing Beni instead of writing plz give a minute

When he kisses you, he would rub circles on your waist with his thumb

PLAY WITH HIS HAIR WHILE YOU KISS! ON GOD THIS MAN WILL PHYSICALLY MELT INTO YOUR EMBRACE

He loves kisses especially since he knows that all of your kisses are reserved for him and vice versa

The first time you kissed him you blew this man’s world away

Mornings with Benimaru always seemed like they should be a part of your dreams. The dawn of a new day gently shakes you awake and the sunrise has never failed to stop its onslaught of kisses to your face. Much like you planned to with Benimaru. Shifting closer to Benimaru’s face, you cupped his cheek and took a moment to study his face. The man always had a relaxed face but it seems as though he reached a new level of peace in his sleep. Carefully you placed butterfly kisses all over his face, which caused him to leave his own dreams. The tell-tell signs of Benimaru waking up only spurred you to press a loving kiss onto his lips. And just like in the fairytales, your lover was awakened by a true love’s kiss. The kiss didn’t last too long as you only did it to wake up the ravenette yet he had a different plan. Feeling his forehead lean onto yours, you both stared into each other’s eyes and savored the serene atmosphere with a kiss.

After your first kiss, Benimaru prefers to start the day with your kisses and he also likes to end his day with them as well

Benimaru is a fan of hugging you from behind and planting kisses on your head

He always has a comment ready after you guys kiss, it could either be snarky or incredibly sweet (In private it's usually the ladder)

Another one who will kiss you to either give hidden messages that he’s not able to properly convey verbally, or to tease the hell out of you

The most common kiss will be the corner of your lips (to tease) and the back of your shoulder (to show that he will always have your back)

If he’s really in love with you, he’ll jokingly kiss your knuckles (as a gentleman should, but one day he hopes to be able to walk the world with your hands linked without having to worry about anything)

His kisses really depend on his mood (if we’re being completely honest)

If he’s feeling energetic then his kisses will leave you in a haze of pleasure

If he’s feeling soft then you would be able to feel the love he has for you in every kiss (period)

When he kisses you, he will quickly turn it into a makeout session because who is he to deny his desire for having your lips in every way possible?

I say this to say that he will bite your tongue/lower lip every time you guys kiss (every time. Without fail.)

If you bite back you’re literally asking for a rough makeout session

He loves kissing your shoulder and any sensitive spots that you have on your body (be it your neck, side, ear, etc)

He enjoys the fact you’re only this vulnerable around him

He also likes whispering in your ear (about his love for you or blatant dirty talk) between each kiss

When you guys are walking together, elbows linked, and he kisses your temple *swooon* (which is extremely rare so treasure it while it lasts)

Don’t expect him to allow affection while you guys are out in public together, yes he’s suave and charming, but he’s also wanted by many enemies. Whatever trouble he gets into, Joker doesn’t want it traced back to you. 

He doesn’t want you to be caught in any danger for just being associated with him 

Whenever you guys are dancing to some soft jazz and he presses his lips on yours and makes you see stars

I imagine his scent to be overwhelming when you’re kissing him and his goal is to make you see stars everytime you kiss

He also likes kissing the inside of your thighs

He’s the type to grab you by your chin and kiss you, or he’ll keep an arm around your waist and a hand on your ass

His lips taste like cigarettes, Hennesy, a hint of vanilla (bc of his chapstick), and desperation

I don’t recommend playing with his hair while you kiss, however, he’d love for you to grab the back of his neck  

Something about you being just as crazy about him as he is about you gets to him

He definitely has experience in the kissing field (he’s had hoes before) but if you want him to Joker will go at any pace you want him to

He treasures every kiss with you as if it might be his last (cuz it might be tbh plus he isn’t sure how long your relationship will last)

He’s the type to not put a label on your relationship and is super vague about it (it’s his trust issues) but he’ll just follow what you say

When Joker wants kisses, he will get kisses damn it

He’ll kiss you in front of Viktor which Viktor will mean mug Joker and just be on his way (“I refuse to be in the same presence as a couple of horn dogs”)  

It was an embarrassing first kiss

Knocking was heard throughout your apartment as you finished putting the food in the oven. ‘Well they’re early..’ you thought before yelling out a “Coming!” to acknowledge the people on the other side of the door. Making your way to the front door, you took a deep breath to calm your excitement before opening the door to see your boyfriend (and his associate of course).

Joker held a mischievous glint in his eye as he observed your elated form. Originally he leaned down to give you a kiss on the forehead and hug...however, he changed his mind mid-action. Instead, Joker found his lips meeting yours in an innocent little kiss. The same little kiss soon started to become heated as he pulled you flush against his body. The party only stopped when a loud “AHEM.” broke through the trance you two were in. Immediately you had let out a sound to signify your embarrassment and let the two men in. You were never gonna be able to live this one down, you could feel it in Joker’s piercing gaze on you.

Every time you two kiss, you can literally taste the adoration he has for you on his lips

Each kiss is remembered, either from a strange situation that brought forth the kiss or little quirks that happens during the act

What can he say? The man likes to keep you on your toes

Speaking of keeping you on your toes…

Obi is definitely the type to pick you up, spin you around and kiss you

It both shows off his strength and he gets a kiss from the love of his life, he will continue doing this until he no longer can

He’s also the type to kiss any body part that you’re insecure of

Got a lazy eye? Here’s a kiss on the eyelid of said eye

You got rolls? He’s kissin em (and may even leave a mark there or nibble them)

Your hands are full of scars and thighs full of stretch marks? Here’s a shit load of kisses

Obi likes to pick you up, sit you on countertops/surfaces and kiss you (you can’t change my mind)

It was totally and completely unprovoked when Obi had decided to pick you up. Where he was taking you, you hadn’t a clue. However you got a nice view of his backside—so this was a fair trade right? Just as you were reaching to grab his golden buns, you were sat on top of your kitchen’s countertop. Questions of ‘what in the hell does this man have planned?’ And ‘I should be surprised but I’m not’ filled your mind. Keeping a steady gaze on Obi’s own golden orbs, the both of you engaged in a staring contest. Another thing that was triggered unprovoked. Yet, when you blinked Obi’s face was getting closer to yours, and the next thing that you know you guys are kissing--making out even. In the kitchen, with the rest of the brigade waiting on the meal. That you guys were supposed to be cooking. Oops.

You guys got caught by Hinawa and were scolded to high hell and back about wasting other’s time

He likes to give you the look (*exhibit a: his banner) right before he swoops in and kisses you

He knows it makes you weak in the knees and he is 10000% using that to his disadvantage

If you wear lipstick/lip gloss he loves the little lip marks you leave on him

Giving him forehead kisses, kisses on the corner of his lips, or a kiss right between his eyes makes him blush so badly

He thinks it’s so precious you kiss him there especially when you pair it with an “I love your golden heart but please use your head ya damn himbo”

Gives the man butterflies

He will smother kisses all over your face, anytime he has an opportunity and you guys always play fight so you can get away from his ‘attacks of love’ (I’m literally so soft for this man, why ain’t he real)

He will hold in such a warm and secure hold every time you guys kiss

Kisses are also a good distraction for him because he’s always thinking about how can he improve, what can he do to further the brigade 8’s cause, missions, past missions, is he doing the right thing?

One kiss will help soothe his running thoughts and bring him back to reality

He loves them so much

Can’t resist your puppy dog eyes when you want to kiss him (he’ll only supply you a simple peck but back to the mission with you sunflower!)

Often gives you a forehead kiss after every mission is completed and everyone is loading into the truck

Will lightly tease you if you can’t get enough of his kisses (which is completely understandable cuz me too)

His lips are soft and they don’t taste too sweet, it’s like a fruity mint taste (like that ice breaker candy) but he loves dragging out kisses into makeout sessions

Obi is the type who will show affection in public and if a quick kiss in the alleyway leads to a makeout session….well he’s not complaining

He will want to hurry and get home though

#fire force imagines #fire force imagine #fire force fanfiction #fire force x reader #obi akitaru #Obi x reader #Obi imagines #Obi imagine #Akitaru Obi x reader #Fire force joker #Joker x reader #Fire force joker imagine #Benimaru shinmon #Benimaru x reader #Benimaru imagine #Benimaru imagines #Joker imagine

[mandoalorian]

hello! how would the characters comfort their s/o who was a frontline health worker (for my own sake im pretending the pandemic or sth similar exists in their universes, and theyre not distancing from each other because they live together) who was getting real tired of everything they have to deal with at work and were exhausted from their shifts

Hi darling -- are you a frontline heath worker? if you are, thank for doing all that you do. I have family who are frontline health workers and I know how exhausting and draining it can be, but you guys are true, REAL heroes. never ever forget that.

Headcanon masterlist

How the Pedro boys would comfort a frontline health worker during the pandemic:

Maxwell Lord

At first, he doesn’t want you to work. He doesn’t want you to go in or risk getting sick. He tells you that he’s more than financially stable enough that you don’t need to do this job and he can provide for you for as long as this pandemic lasts. But when you insist, he’s not going to push you. Because he also takes his job very seriously. When you come home he’ll let you lay your head in his lap and he’ll smooth out your hair. He’ll have the house chefs prepare a meal and he’s bought you the softest, silkiest pajamas money could buy.

Oberyn Martell

Gentle touches. Whispers and words of affirmation. So much praise. “You’re doing so well, I’m so proud of you.” -- and let’s be real, this is Oberyn. He’s gonna comfort you with a lot of kissing and a lot of sex, if that was something you wanted. Very passionate love making because, in his opinion, it’s the LEAST he can do for you.

Frankie Morales

When you leave for work, he gets a little nervous. He understands the dangers of you working with sick people, or how it can be incredibly difficult to socially distance in a healthcare work environment. He doesn’t want you to get sick. So every night when you come home, he’ll run a hot bubble bath for you, light some candles and encourage you to relax and wash the day away. He’ll take your laundry and make sure it’s all clean and dry for tomorrow, and he’ll have your favourite dinner cooked and prepared for when you get out the tub.

Din Djarin

Din flies you out to work every day on the Crest, and he’s always there to pick you up at the end of your shift. He’ll be waiting for you. He’s a man of a few words and I think he would struggle to offer verbal comfort, but, he will hold you for a long period of time. He insists a beskar helmet will help protect you from the virus. And he’ll do absolutely anything and everything in his power to ensure your safety.

Jack Daniels

Oh my goodness, Jack would literally come to work with you. Is it allowed? No. Does he care? Definitely not. And nobody is about to argue with Agent Whiskey. He needs to keep a constant eye on you to make sure people respect your boundaries. It's nice, in a way. You get to sit with him on your lunch breaks and show him how you do your job. He takes a real interest in it, too.

Marcus Pike

Dream boyfriend -- we already know he’s Mr. Perfect and has absolutely no faults. Comforting you comes naturally to him. It’s what he’s best at. Pandemic or not, he will always put your needs before anyone elses.

Javier Peña

Sex and smoking are the two things that help Javier Peña during work related anxiety. But... you struggle a little more. You’re not opposed to the sex because Javi happens to be a very generous lover but you need more than that. You need actual real affection and comfort. And at some point or another, Javier finally sees that. He struggles at first, letting himself get vulnerable, but for you, he does it. Soft cuddles in front of the fireplace with that crocheted blanket draped around your bodies. And his touch alone is enough to make you feel better. You know he’s trying his hardest and that means the world to you.

Marcus Moreno

You and Marcus are both literally superheroes, never failing to save the day. In that sense, you’re both like soulmates. He knows you need to go to work -- it’s what you do, and he would never stop you from doing that, but he’d take some time out from the Heroics so he can make sure both your mental health and physical health remain in good condition. He does everything around the house so you don’t need to, and when you come home from work, he’ll always be by your side to tell you how much he admires you.

Pero Tovar

Sickness is common during this kind of era. But pandemics and lockdowns aren’t really thought of. Upon hearing that there’s a new illness going around, Tovar will be very stern. He doesn’t want you to leave the house. Anything you need, he’s at your beck and call. He’ll ride out on his horse to buy healing gemstones, and potions and special wax melts that are supposed to protect you from the virus. He just absolutely cannot risk the love of his life falling sick. He’s always admired that you go out your way to help others. But he just can’t let you go out to work. He needs you more than he’d care to admit. He needs to know you’re safe and okay. Very protective and possessive, but it’s just his way of showing that he cares about you.

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #din djarin #the mandalorian #frankie morales #maxwell lord #oberyn martell #pero tovar #marcus moreno #jack daniels #agent whiskey #marcus pike #Javier peña

[completeotometrash]

Stressed Out (Ikesen Kenshin)

@nad-zeta asked: Hi hi love! Eeeeep! Its been a while since ive spammed ya box🥺🥺❤❤ hehehe! I see your requests are open so i just had to jump! Low key been feeling super down lately and crushed by all the work that needs to get done....... so here i am to ask for some fluff and bunnies to ease the soul❤❤❤❤❤ hehehe could i pretty please request a mc x kenshin comfort fic🥺🥺🥺 lol one where mc has been over working to the max and needs a little break❤❤😳🥺🥺 hehehe if ya need anymore detail or inspiration feel free to dm me😳😳☺☺

Love ya lots! Sending hugs!❤

___________

Ah, Zeta! I love seeing you in my askbox so much <3<3<3. You’re the cutest. I hope you are doing ok??? You better not work yourself too hard or I’ll come over there and suffocate you with my love. D: Or perhaps I will anyways, it’s quite tempting.

Anyways, this came much softer then I intended. But I must say, I’m quite happy with it ^^. Bunny boy fluff onw~!

Word count: 1.4/5k

TW: None

Reader has she/her pronouns

Tired.

Kenshin had noticed the dark circles under her eyes, the way she began tying up her hair more instead of combing it, not changing as often. He watched as the smile on her face changed to only a meek grin, how the light in her eyes seemed to crease. Her energy was draining on the daily, her bones seemingly heavy like weights by the way she walks. He looks outside, watching as the sun begins to descend from the horizon.

To tell the truth, she had not been feeling like herself lately. There was so much to do after she properly moved to Kasugama. She had become more well-known and offered to complete more sewing commissions. It seemed as if there was never any time, and if there was, it would quickly slip from her fingers. She would find herself not wanting to get out of bed in the mornings, let alone put on a fake smile for other’s pleasure. Her eyes skim across the velvety fabric in her hands, dropping it with a defeated grunt.

Setting her needle to the side, she rubs her forehead, dragging her hand down to rub her eyes. The weight of everything was beginning to crush her, it was suffocating. She was slowly losing the passion and inspiration she once felt when making clothing. Trying to find the fun in something when it becomes overwhelmingly urgent is nearly impossible.

She had not even noticed the sound of the door opening behind her, or the footsteps that followed. Shakily she inhales, head drooping downward. Her throat is dry, her hands began to shake from the tension in them. Everything had begun to crumble out of control.

When a strong pair of arms wrap around her shoulders, she gasps with surprise. Her heart races in her chest, threatening to explode. A familiar hand traces her arm gently, bringing her a slight sense of relief. Hot breath tickles the sensitive skin on her neck, lips pressing there.

“You need a break. The sun is coming down and you’ve been working since this morning.”

Kenshin’s voice is sultry, deep. It holds so much intensity that she almost melts into her chair. She wants to lean into his touch, let him take her away so that she never sees a needle again. But her actions differ from her thoughts. Straightening her posture, she cringes at an error she notices she made in her stitching. “I will later, I messed up here; the thread will be visible when wearing if I don’t fix it.”

She can feel his glare even without seeing him. His displeasure radiates off his body in an almost radioactive way. “The stitching can be done at another time, come with me.” His command makes her grimace.

“But it can’t… I promised that it would be done by tomorrow and they’re paying me for it. If I cancel now, what does that say about me as a person? I want them to buy my clothes more in the future, they are nice people. I only need a few more hours and I’ll be finished.” She lifts her needle yet again, pulling out her previous stitches from before. She had previously decided that she wanted to start making money for herself instead of just lending some off of Kenshin is she would be living in the Sengoku.

Standing up straight himself, he turns and looks around the room. Multiple different kimonos hang around them, each made by her with high amounts of precision and skill. It had been so long since they’d been intimate with one another, this was the most he’d even talked to her all day. He kneels at her side, paying attention to her hands.

He of all people knows what it’s like to consume yourself with something. For many years, his entire life was revolved around war and training. Nothing else mattered to him. At the time it seemed ideal, but looking back at it, he knows it was all just pure misery. An unhealthy way he chose to cope.

The woman he loves needs help- it became clear to Kenshin that it was his turn to do so.

He takes her palm in his own, clasping it gently with his calloused fingers. He notices how red hers have become. He rubs them gently, and she doesn’t stop him. She feels as if she cannot, for, the relaxation that encases her body is too much to deny.

She’s missed his touch; it’s been far too long.

Without saying anything, he takes the things from her lap, setting it to the side. She cranes her neck around in circles, closing her eyes. In an instant, strong arms are reaching out from under her, lifting and pulling her against his chest. She feels a tinge of guilt for giving in, but the ever-growing exhaustion triumphs all. She wraps her arms around his neck loosely, letting him take her away.

He sets her down in a chair, and she can hear him begin to pour water into a tub. Her eyes open and watch. “Oh, Kenshin, you don’t have to-”

“I want to.”

Her eyes begin to water as he helps her slip out of her clothes. She gets in the tub, letting the water sooth her tense muscles. Kenshin joins her shortly after, pulling her close to him. They sit there in silence for a while, he washes her thoroughly, wiping away all the stress he can. His hands soothingly glide against her neck, back, and anywhere else he senses even the slightest discomfort.

And finally, she presses a kiss to her temple, resting his head against her shoulder. “What’s been going on?” His question is clear, voice deep as he whispers in her ear. She didn’t know how, but it was as if everything began pouring out of her in that moment. She could feel the hot tears stream down her cheeks, ones he wiped away with the gentlest of touches known to man as she began to explain everything.

She told him about the pressure she feels and the guilt that lingers when she thinks of disappointing everyone. How she’s started to become repulsed by the thought of sewing, and that waking up and getting out of bed has become a difficult task. At one point, her gentle cries became full on sobs, her body shaking more and more.

Kenshin only pulls her close, listening to everything she needed to say before speaking himself.

“I love you with all of my heart, ___. I’d die for you. I need you to know that you do not need to work yourself so hard to make yourself useful. You are perfect, and if anyone ever makes you feel any different, then I will need their name so that I can kill them.” The seriousness in his last statement makes her shiver.

He continues, “Please do not overwork yourself. We will get through this, together. I don’t want you being so stressed out. You deserve a break, and to never feel this way again.” Kenshin takes her chin in his hand, “I am amazed with how strong of a woman you are. You are so strong, for that matter, that you make me stronger. I want to do the same in return.”

 She is truly left speechless. Kenshin was never the verbally affectionate type- or the best with words at all, for that matter. And yet, here he is, speaking from his heart. She turns around properly, looking into his eyes. They seep with love and intensity, boring into her soul. He adores her with his entire being, as he always will. The look alone stirs a warm feeling in her chest.

His tender lips crash into her own, pressing the softest of kisses there. Her mind goes blank as she hugs him tightly.

“I love you.”

“I love you more.”

Being lifted back to their shared bedroom, he lays her onto the futon, pushing her hair out of her face. She smiles, but this time, it’s genuine. Her mind and body feel light again, she feels as if she is unstoppable. Although, she becomes slightly confused when he walks to the other side of the room, opening the door to the garden.

Suddenly, a large flash of white, black, and brown fills her vision. Balls of fluff topple onto her freshly cleaned body. Little noses tickle her sensitive skin, a fit of giggles escaping her lips. All the small furry companions only seem to be spurred on by this, laying on top of her like a warm blanket.

Kenshin can only bring himself to smile at the scene, watching her burst into yet another hysterical fit of laughter. He decides in that moment that there is absolutely nothing better than seeing her smile, and regardless of what it would take, he would always seek to find it.

#ikemensengoku #ikemen sengoku #ikesen kenshin #Ikesen #kenshin uesugi #kenshin #kenshin fluff #fluff #comfort fic #ask #this fic helped me get out of my writers block funk oml #This is like the first time i've wrote in over a month

[on-a-lucky-tide]

Vipurr: Gaetan having to be silent while getting fucked. Cause Letho can't resist his agile little cat laid out/crouching on/curled around rafters. Having to go slow cause the target came in early to have a meeting and well, Letho isn't interested in stopping. Even better if the first hint they're there is Gaetan's spend hitting the target on the head.

Letho can’t keep his hands off his Cat, not even when they’re working an assassination together. But it doesn’t matter, because together they’re unstoppable... [Right, so my lizard brain loved this prompt - thank you].

The contract was a second tier nobleman who’d pissed off the wrong crime lord in Novigrad. The fee reflected the wealth and prestige of the target and it was the perfect excuse for Letho to invite his favourite Cat along for the ride (in more ways than one as long all went to plan). The nobleman was due to meet with a creditor in a large, abandoned warehouse on the dock, but he’d arrive to find two Witchers in wait instead. 

Letho scaled the gutter silently behind Gaetan. The problem with this arrangement was that Gaetan’s toned little ass writhed and wriggled right in front of him; that lithe body could flex and twist in ways that Letho could only ever dream of. When they fucked, it clamped down and gyrated more elegantly than any lap dancer on the Continent. A fucking gift. They’d burnt off some excess ‘energy’ in a tavern back room before heading out, but the fire in Letho’s belly clearly hadn’t been doused enough. The knowledge that Gaetan would still be wet and loose just made it even harder to keep his mind on the job.

They crested the roof and broke in through a skylight window. The Viper watched his feline accomplice crawl across the broad rafter and felt his mouth salivate. Why the fuck did Cats not have sleeves on their armour? Why couldn’t Letho tear his eyes away from every little flex of muscle? Gaetan crouched, his ass stretching the material of his trousers, and Letho’s prick thickened down the leg of his own.

There was something to be said about making decisions with the right head and its corresponding brain, but suddenly Letho just needed. He needed his moggy split open on his cock and purring in his arms. He’d tell himself later that it was a small slip up in a long history of professionalism, and he deserved at least one moment of weakness, but in reality, he was always weak when it came to Gaetan.

Letho moved forward silently. Gaetan’s head tilted up, the soft sound of scenting sniffs followed, and he looked over his shoulder with a wry smirk. The warehouse was still empty below them, but he whispered anyway. “Feeling frisky, scales?” 

There was no verbal answer. Letho slipped up behind him, one hand sliding between Gaetan’s thighs as a thick cock pressed into the clothed cleft of his ass. Gaetan might’ve been able to resist someone else, but not Letho. Never Letho. The heat of his body, the musk of his need, the way his huge palm pulsated across Gaetan’s cock and demanded its attention; it was too much. Too overwhelming. Gaetan let out the softest moan as he melted back, surrendering. 

Sharp teeth grazed down the side of his neck to his shoulder and Letho continued to grind slowly. “More.” Gaetan growled, the demand rumbling through the palm wrapped around his throat. “Fuck me. Right here.” Right here. With the target’s arrival imminent. Nothing like a good danger fuck to make the blood run hot. He latched onto Letho’s thighs as thick fingers plucked open the buckle of his belt and the buttons of his trousers with practiced ease. “Yeah, yeah…” A slow stroke of his prick, from root to tip; he was already leaking, precome easing the glide of Letho’s palm. That same hand yanked his trousers down further, two thick fingers slid straight down to his hole and pushed in. “Nnngh. Still ready for you, big boy. C’mon.”

Letho sat down on the rafter with a quiet growl, his rear secure, his legs dangling over the edge, and pulled his cock free from the confines of his trousers. He pulled Gaetan’s trousers and boots from him completely, and then dragged him onto his lap, back to his chest; it was more precarious, but the reward of watching his prick sink into that tight ass was worth it. Progress was slow. Even with a session an hour or so earlier, Gaetan’s body still resisted; muscles fluttering, thighs taut. 

Gaetan moaned, the burning stretch searing all thoughts of the contract from his mind; the only things that existed in this world were the two hands—one braced on his shoulder, the other on his hip—and the monstrously huge cock bulging out the front of his stomach by the time it was fully seated. In this position, he had no agency; his body no more than a sleeve for Letho’s cock and the thought melted his brain to syrup. And Letho was in no rush. He moved Gaetan forward and then pulled him back at the same achingly slow pace. Gaetan arched back so that he could curl a hand around Letho’s neck, head tilting to his shoulder. The Viper whispered in his ear. “You feel so perfect, kitty. So soft, so warm.”

“You’ve ruined me for anyone else,” Gaetan murmured back, and then fell silent when human voices travelled up from the warehouse doors. His heart sped up and his body clenched, but his lover didn’t seem bothered; he continued moving Gaetan with unaffected languor, making sure every inch of his glorious cock dragged over Gaetan’s prostate. 

The target was right there. 

Gaetan’s insides turned to liquid as the excitement made his head light. He must’ve been making noise because Letho’s fingers slipped into his mouth and pinned his head back properly; his stomach clenched and he moved his body in a slow, graceful ripple to assist Letho’s gloriously slow fuck. Gaetan’s eyes rolled into the back of his head, fingers biting into Letho’s neck as the other hand began to strip his cock in urgent tugs.

The arousal was peaking. The fire under their skin now a roaring inferno. They were untouchable, unbeatable. The humans below meant so little that Letho was going to take him apart right here, speared on his cock, with Gaetan half naked and vulnerable. But he didn’t feel vulnerable. He felt like the most powerful man on the Continent with his Viper inside him, around him, his hands anchoring his body and soul, his scent burrowing into the very core of his being. Gaetan suckled on the fingers in his mouth and allowed the inferno to coalesce, building higher, roaring louder, until his orgasm ripped through him. It was the slowest, most sensual fuck of Gaetan’s life, but his cock erupted like he’d been savagely railed to within an inch of his life.

His come spurted over the grip of his fingers and dripped onto the humans below. With a feral snarl, Letho filled his ass. The heat spread through him, dripping out his hole as Letho continued to fuck him until his cock quivered with sensitivity.

“What the fuck is that…?” The nobleman lifted his hand and wiped Gaetan’s spend from his auburn hair. Wide eyes turned towards the roof. The last thing they saw was a semi-naked Witcher descend, amber eyes afire with the illicit thrill of his climax. Letho followed and dispatched the nobleman’s two companions with brutal efficiency. 

As the blood pooled on the cold stone floor, lifeless eyes staring up at the wooden beams, Letho snatched his Cat up and pinned him against the wall; their mouths smashed together in a brutal, biting kiss filled with the taste of their kill on the air and the heat of the arousal crackling between them. 

Gaetan’s thighs draped across Letho’s massive forearms, his mouth hanging open, tongue sweeping across his lips as his lover finally pulled back. “You’re a sick, filthy bastard, and I love you. I love you so fucking much.” Gaetan growled, and then arched as Letho’s newly hard cock pushed back in for another round; he half sobbed as his puffy, sensitive hole prickled with pained pleasure, but he wanted. 

The pace was harder this time, demanding. Because this time, Letho wanted his kitty to yowl for him. With the adrenaline coursing through their veins, the intoxicating scent of blood and the lusty smell of Gaetan’s body, Letho lost himself completely.

#rawrkinanswers #vipurr #letho #gaetan #smut #cw danger sex #cw murder husbands #rawrkinwrites

[okaybutlikeimagine]

ok by i cannot stop thinking about billy just losing his fucking mind to dream on by aerosmith. like his dad just went too far or he found out about him and steve and now hes tearing his room apart like a mad man, throwing records and smashing bottles and shit. and its not even just like angry hes like /crying/ like he cannot even for a second know peace and happiness and this has been on my mind for MONTHS

TW: physical abuse, blood, homophobic slurs ((f-slur)), verbal abuse, mental breakdown, cussing

Honey, ever since i got this i haven’t been able to stop thinking about it either ohmyGOD???? This is legitimately a PEAK Billy “i’m absolutely sick of all of this and i need out NOW” Hargrove anthem!! God if i could direct this i would but unfortunately i’m bound to words on my silly little blog so i hope this will do, love. ♥ (@venomdean)

Because it’s absolutely explosive. I kind of hate to think about it, but I feel like Billy is like a landmine. He’s a pot always threatening to boil over. He’s on constant vibrate just about ready to pop. He’s always on the edge of going absolutely feral because the only certain thing he’s felt for years and years is pain.

And you’re right- on both accounts. Neil finds out… and he goes too far.

Because Neil has been hearing all around town that Billy has been running around with “that Harrington boy”. You know, the son of that really influential family, the boy who “has all the opportunities in the world” but “seems to be amounting to nothing… what a shame. You know, his parents couldn’t even pay a school to take him. What a pity. I knew it would happen though...”

And Neil just hoped it wasn’t true. He hears it every time he goes to the grocery store. The voices follow him down the aisles, either from mothers who whisper about how “That’s Neil Hargrove. His son is that curly haired one I told you about. The different one.” or from teens who hiss about how “That’s Billy’s dad. Wonder if he knows his son is probably a fa-”

And one day Billy comes home happy. And i’d encourage you to really think about that and just enjoy it for as long as you can because Billy is happy. So happy he’s beaming. He feels like he’s glowing from the inside. He forgets that anyone other than Steve even exists. For a second he forgets his own existence, he’s so enamored and infatuated and near obsessed, really. Because he spent the whole afternoon with the boy, which isn’t necessarily a rare occurrence but it’s always an exceptional one, and today was especially joyful because something about their mutual existence just felt so…. So good. Yeah they had sex in the camaro like the teenagers they are and then again in Hansen’s field because it’s fucking massive and Hansen’s away on some trip and they blasted hippie music and fucked in a field of flowers and pretended like they were at Woodstock just existing in the skin of the other like they were made for it. Like they were made to share each other’s bodies and they were finally completing their infinite and perpetual task. And Billy would never be able to say these words or perhaps even string them together but it’s about the feeling.

Because that’s just the feeling he has. The nameless feeling.

And they fucked and they thought about smoking and they thought about drinking but they stayed high on each other and that was enough. They were laying there among the daisies happier than anything else in existence and Billy’s not even sure why. But they laid there and Billy felt the sun lay a large blanket of the softest warmth right over him and he absolutely reveled in it, allowing his hand to grace Steve’s fingers and then he rolled over to lay his head on Steve’s shoulder and he can’t believe he does that without feeling like a stupid fucking sissy but… but Steve’s always there. Always always always there. Stronger than he looks and warm and supportive and there. And Steve started to curl some of Billy’s hair around his finger and Billy pretended to bite at him like he was irritated and Steve whispered something about love and you and me and California and after graduation… i should have enough money by then. Let’s do it. Just you and me.

And Billy’s whole world froze. Froze in warmth, incubated in love, goddamn teeming with adoration as he got up on his elbows and evaluated Steve’s face just to be sure it wasn’t a joke and saw that it wasn’t and absolutely 100% beamed. Because the words and Steve’s eyes and the warmth of the sun on his back painted, stroke by stroke, the image of the two of them in California. On the beach. In the soft sand. Enjoying the sunlight. Playing in the waves. Billy teaching Steve how to surf, Billy dragging Steve under the boardwalk, Billy and Steve getting sticky with popsicles and soft serve and fresh watermelon and strawberries, Billy rollerskating hand in hand with Steve just like he used to watch all those couples do back when he was 9 years old and questioning everything. Billy and Steve existing freely. Openly and honestly. It can only have gotten better. He’s sure of it. It can only get better from this stupid hick town. He knows it.

He needs it.

And so they make out some more and the rest of the afternoon is a whirlwind up until he’s got Steve pressed up against the Camaro making out with him on that backroad and then again in front of Steve’s house and he’s letting his skin light up over every little promise of you and me in California… that Steve whispers into his skin, his ears, his mouth...

He feels fucking invincable.

He walks into his house with a forcefield. A smile he never sports. A bounce in his step he never maintains. Goddamn happiness. Not even just confidence, it’s pure bliss on his face and not even Neil’s ugly mug can ruin it. Not even Neil storming down the hall, electricity following his path, can ruin it. Not even Neil scowling, glaring daggers, lip snarled, teeth bared, can ruin it. Not even whatever gross, growling worlds Neil is spitting his way can ruin it.

Billy is blissed out on the future and the idea of pure bliss with a boy he thinks he knows he loves that he doesn’t feel it until even moments after. He doesn’t see it til it’s over. He doesn’t know it til he can’t defend himself. He doesn’t care until he does.

It’s a mistake.

When Billy thinks back on it afterwards, after everything, he heaves and hisses and snarls at his past, blissed out self. He wants to punch himself in the face for such a mistake. This is a lesson he learned years ago. Back when it all first started. Back when he was so young.

But current Billy is blissed all the way up until his world flashes black. Until his ears ring. Until his hand flies to his face of its own accord to press at the pain to get it to stop. Second nature.

“You stupid fucking homo.”

And Billy’s vision bleeds red. It’s anger, it’s rage, it’s betrayal. His vision tunnels with vitriol. With scorn. Fight or flight kicks in and every smart part of Billy is yelling run but the dumber, closer, stronger parts say fuck him fuck him fuck him I don’t deserve this.

So his fist swings, rearing back and surging forward. Animalistic nature.

He thinks he makes purchase, but if he’s honest, the rest is a too quick blur. A mess of motion. Someone presses fast-forward on his VHS tape. The moments bleed together.

It’s a montage of angered words. Words beyond anger. Words that poison his system. Words like “homo” and “fag” and “disgrace” and “military school” and Billy checks in right there because-

“You’re going to military school, you worthless piece of shit.”

Billy spits in the man’s face. Longtime craving.

And then the world blacks out again. It’s blurrier now. His face is warm. There’s liquid gushing out. His wrist is sore and the ground is being taken out from beneath him and he realizes he’s being grabbed and pulled and then dragged because his body is feeling weak. Call it a mix of everything.

And he’s being dragged to his room and the world shatters when they cross the threshold because this place is the only place in this damn house he feels somewhat safe in. And he feels himself hit the ground heavily, right in front of his mirror. Feels himself being pulled up to be seated. Hears a rustling. Hears a weirdly familiar sound his mind can’t process. Sees something metal in the mirror before his hair is being grabbed and pulled taught and then there’s slack and the pressure is gone and-

“How could you fucking do this to me?”

More hair pulling, more growling, more yelling, some spit.

“You’ve been running around with that prissy boy. How long, huh?”

Then there’s slack and-

“Everyone talks about you two. Disgusting.”

Pulling pulling pulling pulling… something tickling his arms.

“Saw you two… outside his house, huh? You’re a disgrace.”

Wetness. Billy’s face is wet. His eyes burn. His throat burns. There’s slack again.

“You’re going to military school. Tomorrow. You’re out of here.”

Pulling and sawing and yanking and slack. Over and over and over and over-

“Hope I never see you again, you fag.”

Billy sobs. It wrenches through his chest. Pulling and slack, pulling and slack, over and over and-

It stops. Billy’s weak. His body is shutting down. It must be. It feels like it. The vision in the mirror is blurry but he knows the damage that’s been done. He can tell. He can feel. There’s nothing touching his shoulders anymore. Nothing against his neck. Something tickles down his arms. He shakes, weakly moving his hand to swipe the feeling away from his arms and grabs at tufts of hair.

There’s that ugly fucking mug, right in his face. It’s a strange look he wears. Billy’s vision is blurred. His lip snarls upward. Instinct.

“Where did I go wrong?”

The words are whispered in his face on hot breath. They hang in the air between them.

Billy shatters.

The door shuts loudly. Another door shuts after that. A car starts. Billy’s still sitting on the floor.

His muscles in his legs begin to contract, and then his arms. His vision clears and sharpens. He pushes himself up off the floor, avoids looking in the mirror, walks up next to it to his stereo, moves to turn on the radio…. Auto-pilot.

Music fills the room. Lilts through the air. Cuts through the humidity of the once cool night. The altercation warmed everything up. Must have.

There’s the sound of a keyboard and the plucking of a guitar. A familiar rhythm. It flows out of his stereo and through the room like it has a life of its own. It’s a spectral kind of presence, slinking out of the speakers, lurking in the corners, filling up the forgotten spaces with its haunting rhythm. Billy turns the music up louder. Stands in front of the stereo. Lets the music consume his space. Exist with him until they can’t co-habitate.

The chord gets more complicated. The chord runs. Billy’s feet feel like they’re going to betray him and let him fall through the floor. His head feels like it’s in another realm. A mirrored realm of darkness and vines… a world teeming with threats that wouldn’t think twice of making attempts on his life.

He sways in place.

When the voice starts his feet move. They betray his thoughts but they don’t compromise his balance, necessarily. He’s moving backwards.

Every time that I look in the mirror….

He can’t.

All these lines on my face getting clearer…

He knows he can’t. Not if he wants to keep his sanity. His breath gets shorter. His head is dizzy just from moving, even though he’s slow. Maybe it’s because he’s going backwards.

The past is gone

His head betrays him now. Swings itself over the edge- looks over to the left.. Billy’s eyes take a second to focus but it’s only an instant after that before his hands shoot up to his head. Grab at tiny curls. Grab at randomly long tufts. Grab at whatever they can reach which is almost nothing.

He’s shaking. His hand is shaking as his fingers grasp with a kind of desperation Billy has never known but is suddenly wracking his body in a way that overwhelms every piece of him until he’s nothing but fingers grasping for what should be where they’re reaching but is nowhere to be seen. He can’t see anything but himself in the mirror. The world blacks out but him and the mirror. His feet are still moving him somewhere. He’s looking at the mirror at an awkward angle.

He hits the couch in his room. His fingers clench and unclench. He flops down onto it.

It went by like dusk to dawn...

Clenching and unclenching until his fingers get sore and he slams his hands onto the couch to stop thinking about it but how can he when his… his reflection...

Isn’t that the way?

He’s grabbing at his blanket beneath him harshly. He fists it and his mouth opens in a grimace and his eyebrows furrow so hard his head hurts and his lip shakes and…

Everybody’s got their dues in life to pay~…

The voice is rising and the music is rising and the specter fills up the space with something passively threatening, something that gently nudges Billy’s shoulders, something that presses at Billy’s head, something present.

Billy’s fisting hard at the blanket. His fingers are sore. He pulls at it. His finger slips into a moth hold or two. The voice reaches the top, along with the guitar and then they both topple over the peak and there’s the sound of a rip and something under Billy gives out. He pulls harder, hearing more tears, fingers dipping into the rips he’s created in his blanket.

I know nobody knows… where it comes and where it goes

Billy looks down at his fists tearing his blanket and they stop, pull away… thoughtless. His hands shake to do something, maybe grab at his aching head and they do, he does- no, they do, his hands do, but they feel uneven tufts of curls and it’s a jolt. His brain shocks itself. He pulls his hands away with a cry because what is this. He’s become alien to himself. He sees the mirror in front of him but he’s not sure who he sees in it. It’s not him.

I know it’s everybody’s sin…. You’ve got to lose to know, how to win…

The music is with him. Towering over him. The presence is daunting. Feels like it’s challenging him to something as a separate chord climbs and falls as soon as it starts. The spectre falls down. Settles with him. Next to him. He stands. He’s unsettled. Nothing in the mirror is right nothing is right nothing is right. He shoves the flat part of his knuckles on his thumbs into his eyes to fix it, fix something, fix this image that doesn’t feel right. Fix this creature he doesn’t recognize. His mind is swimming.

He walks around the room. He’s not sure if this is easier or harder than before, but he still stumbles.

Half my life’s in books’ written pages… Lived and learned from fools and from sages…

He tucks his chin into his chest, his knuckles still pressed to his eyes, the world black and scattered with the spots he’s pressing into them. His stomach is twitching with sobs that meet up in his throat and push out of his mouth. They’re small. That same droning chord is persistent, rising and filling up into the room, aiming to devour him in something. Drown him.

You know it’s true-

The end grows into a growl and takes with it a feeling that’s animalistic. The specter grows feral. Billy opens his eyes.

His chest heaves. His eyes burn as they water. His mouth twists up in misery. Because he sees it. There. At his feet. Under his boots. He’s fucking stepping on it.

All the things…

His hair. In curly tufts on the ground beneath his feet and in front of them.

Come back to you…

He’s stepping on it.

He looks up and he recognizes his face now and he… he…. He’s….

He’s distraught.

And he rounds on absolutely anything he can reach. Whatever is in arm’s distance behind him and it happens to be his lamp and he grabs it and he throws it with all his might to the ground and-

Sing with me, sing for the year-

-and it shatters. His mind is racing and he has no thoughts past the music. The presence is dark. It’s a shadow. It’s all around him. It’s in his vision.

-sing for the laughter and sing for the tear...

He’s swinging. His eyes are blurry from his own hot tears and they sear his cheeks as he grabs at whatever he can- vaguely registers the necks of bottles and the grooves of records against his palm and beneath his fingertips as he hashes through the world around him, trying to tear through the shadows consuming him and the tears are flooding everything out and he’s just swinging and smashing and-

Sing with me, it’s just for today… maybe tomorrow the good lord will take you away~

He’s swinging and crashing and smashing like he’s being challenged. Threatened.. Whatever exists in this room with him is menacing. Malevolent. Feeding off his pain. Sipping it through his tears. He punches the wall and then the drums hit and they stop and the guitar is back and-

“Billy?”

It’s a voice. Billy’s sure it’s his own somehow. Sure it’s the song somehow. Sure it’s this presence somehow, whatever is it, floating through the chords of the song like a friend seeking a kill.

“B-Billy? I… Uhm…. Please stop.”

It’s small. Feminine. Familiar. Shaking.

“Please don’t hur-.... You’re going to hurt yourself.”

Maxine.

Billy strides to the door and throws it open. The violent thud it makes as the knob hits the wall fills something in Billy’s chest. It springs more tears in his eyes. His chest is sobbing.

“Billy?”

There’s something Billy can’t place in Max’s eyes. If his mind were even a tad clearer he thinks he’d recognize it… categorize it under worry or concern or care or even something deeper...

But the guitar chord hits a high note and the shadow specter of the music seeps into his mind and he’s a husk.

The chorus picks up again, singing about singing and Billy is standing there looking at this tiny red head standing in his way and she’s blurred by his tears and-

“Billy, what are you doing-”

“Mind your damn business, Maxine.”

“What happened-?”

“Mind your business.”

The music is rising. It fills Billy’s throat.

“Did… did he-? Do…?”

“Do what?” Billy spits down at Max, leaning over her, invading her space. Max’s eyes flood with fear and it makes Billy step back. The shadows of the song step away. He sees through the blur to find the girl.

“Do that?” She asks, voice small and soft and shaking and weak. Eyes filling with tears of their own and it fills Billy’s gut with bile and he’s so sick of it. So sick of everything. Thinks he might be sick. So fucking done. Broken. Feral.

Maybe tomorrow the good lord will take you away~

Billy’s eyes are filling. He glares as hard as he can while his eyelids are all mushy and swollen.

“Get out of my way, Maxine.”

She’s cowering.

“What are you gonna do?”

“Just get out of my way.” He growls and takes his arm and shoves and she stumbles back and the music is building and then he’s storming down the hallway, punching the walls and cracking every picture frame he passes and the voice is following him, sounding just as loud to him in the hallway as it did to him in his room as it chants-

Dream on… dream on… dream on… dream yourself a dream come true~

And he throws pillows off the couch and shatters a lamp on the ground with a shove and his blurry eyes search fervently for what he wants as the guitar wails and runs down and-

Dream on… dream on…. Dream on… dream until your dream come through~

And the guitar gets darker and he’s got it. Grabs it off the mantle. Looks as steadily as he can with shaking and blurry eyes at this thing in his hands. This picture frame... with their stupid family in it. This stupid thing they call family to convince others. It never convinced him. He’s not sure how it could have convinced anyone. His tears are so hot on his face they feel like they’re boiling and his nose is leaking and his saliva is runny and his chest is heaving and he’s-

“Billy?”

He’s thunder. He’s lightning and he’s rain. The music followed him down the hallway and follows him with heavier footsteps back up as the voice screams on with-

Dream on… dream on… dream on… dream on…

And each chant sees Billy taking the frame in his hands and slamming the corner of it into the wall of the hallway as he walks, goes back to his room, ignores Max as she cries to him some kind of garbled nonsense and the music is filling his shoes like a dark puddle and his eyes are drowned.

And the voice that was once singing is now screeching into the air, into the corners of his room, into the darkest parts and Billy looks at the stupid faces of these stupid people he’s been forced to love and thinks of how the only happiness in his life is going to be taken away from him and probably has been permanently taken away now because he’s fucking hideous with bruises and almost no hair and he’s wailing. Deep from his chest, right alongside the voice from the stereo, hurling the picture frame at his mirror blindly as he screams and hitting his target and hearing a loud crack as it shatters and he’s just screaming. Everything inside of him rising and bubbling and boiling over and over and over some more and he’s sure his body will never settle. He’ll never know peace. His mind and his body and his heart will never rest like it did this afternoon in that field with the warm sun and the blue sky and a love underneath him that was all his own for once for fucking once in his miserable life and he opens his eyes and he’s disgusted he’s a disgrace, he’s bruised and bloody and nearly bald and his fingers and knuckles are bruised and bleeding and in that cracked mirror is the most miserable version of himself and he can’t bear to look.

Sing with me-

He grabs the mirror.

Sing for the year-

He throws it to the ground. It covers his fallen hair.

Sing for the laughter-

He stomps it with his boot. Hot tears stain the toes of his shoe.

Sing for the tear-

He reaches for his bedsheets. He needs to take a few steps to get there.

Sing with me-

He tears at them, ripping all the way down. As far as he can.

Just for today.

His chest heaves. He rounds on his makeshift vanity. Swings his arms violently until it’s all on the ground as his feet, discarded and broken and cracked.

Maybe tomorrow the good lord will take you away-

He looks up from the ground. Up to Max, who’s hugging the door frame and shaking, watching with horror or what Billy thinks must be the equivalent. Something equivalent to it. The music and it’s guitar and the specter it’s conjured up is still rising, expanding, residing in every space of the room, pushing Billy out of the space and he’s struggling, fighting, mind getting so nervous and worried as it looks at Max that it needs to look away, needs to distract.

The song repeats itself as he reaches and throws and rips and tears everything in sight. Posters, picture frames, books, cassettes. He steps on everything, smashes everything, tears pour out and out and out, his mind is running and racing and throbbing in pain in hurt in worry in all of its unease and he picks up a hand weight and rounds towards the window and chucks it as hard as he can and-

The sound of the shattering of the window breaks everything. Breaks any resolve still left within him. Lets the shadow and spectre of the music out and into the night as the room is pitched into a bitter and unforgiving chill. Let’s all of Billy’s breath out of his lungs as he heaves and heaves and heaves like he’s going to hurl. He stands there, looking at the window, pictures something faint and distant and at one time hopeful in his mind before he turns around to Max and it’s just music now, the last of the words have been sung, and he mutters a dark and languid and miserable:

“Don’t wait up for me.”

And then he strides to the window and steps on the small table he has in front of it and jumps out and walks into the unfriendly night, a storm. More than a husk. Once again a human. At least, feeling something closer to human.

And then it’s just Max. She rushes to the window, the music turning into a haunting kind of alarm that doesn’t seem alert or at all worried or hurried or serious. A lazy alarm that warns you of an error in the system. She stands in front of the broken window, exposed to the cold, cutting her hand on the glass in her hurry to watch after Billy, watch as he leaves, watch as he stomps his way out of their house and out to the street and down the street and she’s crying. Her mind is spinning. Her face is heavy with tears and sorrow and fear. Her heaving subsides slowly as the music does.

She’s alone in this house. Truly alone. Not even the presence of Billy lingers like usual.

And then she runs to the phone to do the only thing she can think of- she dodges the carnage strewn across their house and runs to the phone and calls the only person she can think to call. The only person she thinks will for sure be able to help him from doing something crazy like leaving with nothing but the clothes on his back and whatever random cash he carries in his pocket.

Another song starts up slowly. The phone picks up.

“Jim Hopper speaking.”

#so maybe i made myself sad w/ this #harringrove #cw blood #cw abuse #cw swearing #cw cussing #cw homophobic slurs #how does one tag necessary things #steve harrington #billy hargrove #neil hargrove #max mayfield #angst #ask #music #k let's tag those again shall we #abuse #swearing #cussing #homophobic slurs #violence #aggression #blood #maybe i was up last night at 5am crying over this #who's to say??? #lemme know if i need to tag anything else #bc apparently i can't be trusted to tag things #i guess i've never been able to though #I HOPE THIS IS WHAT YOU WANTED I'M SORRY #also sorry that he's still kind of angry??

[aylinaliens]

May I perhaps ask if you could write something about RamKing‘s first kiss?

thank you so much for sending in this prompt, it gave me an excuse to continue my soft!ramking agenda. i just really love these characters and had a lot of fun writing this. you can also read it on ao3

summary:  He knew that he should reassure Ram, tell him that he deserved the whole entire world, but that’s unfortunately not what he did. “I think I’m in love with the sound of your voice.” King whispered. “Is that weird.” Ram didn’t reply—at least not verbally. He just leaned forward and pressed his lips to King’s forehead. King liked to think that was Ram talk for yes it is, but am I too. Or it was Ram talk for you are the weirdest person I have ever met, here’s a pity kiss. He hoped it was the first one.

just kiss me slow, your heart is all i own (ram/king)

This was definitely not how King envisioned his first kiss with Ram. He was fully planning on taking his sweet time leaning in while maintaining eye contact. Maybe he would hold Ram by his face and place the softest kiss on his lips. Either way he wanted it to be slow and deliberate so that if Ram changed his mind he had enough time to pull back. But rather than doing that he ended up shoving Ram against his door as he fisted both hands in his hair. He practically yanked the poor boy flush against his body and…

...ended up roughly slamming his forehead against Ram's in his haste to kiss him. It was mortifying on so many levels and through a haze of pain he could hear Ram laughing. He was laughing. Any other time it would be like music to King's ears but now it was only a painful reminder of how idiotic he was. How the hell did he manage to miss his lips? Sure, he was incredibly drunk so his spatial awareness was a bit off but that was no excuse for whatever that was. 

This was the opposite of sweet and gentle; it was needy and messy. But it was all Ram's fault. He was the one who dragged him from that bar and let his feelings slip out. Rather than typing them out on his phone he spoke them: I like you. Those three words now had King dragging Ram by his wrist back to his apartment. To talk. He swore it was to talk and King finally, thankfully, admitted his feelings too. Just as Ram was about to open the door and leave (because both were too drunk and needed time to process everything) King's phone buzzed in his pocket.

Cool Boy:

You can kiss me goodnight

Cool Boy:

If you want

God, King really did. So he shoved Ram against the door more rougher than he originally intended. He was simply too intoxicated on both alcohol and happiness that he ended up misjudging the distance.

Groaning in pain and embarrassment, King let his head fall on his boyfriend's shoulder (he couldn't believe he was allowed to call him that) and wished he could disappear. "You can break up with me if you want." His voice was muffled by the fabric of Ram’s shirt. Perhaps Ram should considering he couldn't even kiss him properly. Out of all his friends he was known as the smooth one yet he managed to royally fuck up their first kiss. Damn alcohol. Damn the fact that Ram was slowly turning him to a bigger dork than he already was. 

King wasn't expecting a reply so when Ram spoke he was genuinely surprised. "I don't want to." It was enough to make King lift his head but once he did he felt bad. There was a faint red mark on King's forehead from where they connected and unconsciously he brought his hand up to touch it. Ram winced at first before leaning into the touch, back to his usual silent self. It was who King fell for right? The silent boy with those sad expressive eyes. The boy who was just as weird as King was. Cool Boy. His Cool Boy. Yeah, the alcohol was definitely making him a tad bit over emotional right now. 

He buried his face into Ram’s shoulder again, letting his hand drop back to his side. Stupid. He was stupid. He didn’t deserve someone like Ram. Someone who would still look at you like you hung the goddamn moon after they head-butted you. Apparently his inhibitions were a lot looser than he thought because he ended up saying all that out loud, complete with a hiccup at the end.

Warm hands were suddenly on either side of King’s face, slowly guiding him away from his hiding place. Once they were eye level King tried to look away but Ram was not having it. His hold was firm enough that King had no choice but to look at Ram. He knew that Ram would let him go at the first sign of discomfort—but he wasn’t. No, he was just embarrassed and nervous. Also feeling just a tad bit pathetic. He thought he would love being able to stare into Ram’s eyes like this but it was intimidating. So damn intimidating. His gaze was a mixture of many things—fondness, amusement, heat, sadness, and even shyness. King should look away (King never wanted to look away). Ram’s fingers began to softly stroke King’s cheekbones, lips turned up in the smallest of smiles. “You’re not stupid.” He whispered. “I don’t think I deserve you.” 

He knew that he should reassure Ram, tell him that he deserved the whole entire world, but that’s unfortunately not what he did. “I think I’m in love with the sound of your voice.” King whispered. “Is that weird.” Ram didn’t reply—at least not verbally. He just leaned forward and pressed his lips to King’s forehead. King liked to think that was Ram talk for yes it is, but am I too. Or it was Ram talk for you are the weirdest person I have ever met, here’s a pity kiss. He hoped it was the first one.

Ram leaned back, still gently caressing King’s face again. He did this for what seemed like hours (when in reality it was only a minute) before opening his mouth to speak. “Redo?” It took King a good long moment to process those words. Oh. He was both flabbergasted over the fact that Ram spoke and the fact that he could be so bold. In reply King just rapidly shook his head, causing Ram to lose his hold on King’s face. As much as King wanted to be the one to initiate their first kiss he decided against it. Who knows what else he’ll end up messing up. The last thing he saw before he closed his eyes was Ram frowning. He waited. Waited some more. Fidgeting nervously. Puckered up his lips as a way to say c’mon cool boy, right here. After nearly two minutes of doing this, King was about to open his eyes but froze when he felt pressure on his face. Not on his lip but the tip of his nose. His eyes fluttered open to see Ram only centimeters away. This was not what he had in mind when Ram said a redo but...he wasn’t complaining. He felt his heart swell with what could only be described as adoration, feeling a pit in the bottom of his stomach. How could that—not even a proper kiss—leave King feeling as if he was on top of the world? Part of King knew that if he wasn’t this intoxicated he wouldn’t be this mushy, nor would he be this desperate. Actually, he probably would considering the depth of his feelings. The alcohol just brought those feelings to the forefront of his mind rather than attempting to keep them at bay.

“W-what was that for?” Ram didn’t reply (he wasn’t surprised) and instead reached down between them to gently pick up one of King’s wrist. He rubbed his thumb on the underside of, deep in thought. Before King could question what was happening Ram tightened his hold and began to drag him. Toward his bedroom. Confusion and panic shot through him. “Wait,” King yelped, “Cool Boy what are you doing?” 

Just as they were about to reach his bedroom door Ram stopped in his tracks and turned around to give King an incredulous look. “Bed.” As if that answered the question rather than create twenty more. How the hell was King supposed to get a moment of sleep with Ram here? 

                                                        +

King did end up sleeping that night. Not even ten minutes after Ram dragged him to his bed, turning down the bed sheets. All King could do was stare like an idiot as he watched Ram pull the curtains tight, mind running a million miles a minute. After he was satisfied with the state of King’s bedroom he once again took hold of his wrist and dragged him toward the dresser that was at the far corner of the room. He might still be shell shocked from the fact that his boyfriend was in his room and going to sleep in the same bed as him but he had enough brain cells to understand what Ram wanted when he pointed. Clothes. He hastily grabbed two sets of pajamas for them hoping that they would fit Ram.

King was going to be a good person and let Ram change first (actually he was going to go around his room and clean up the various piles of clothes he had strewn on his floor) but turns out Ram was incredibly stubborn. Rather than tugging his wrist, Ram gently took hold of one of King’s hands and pulled him toward the bathroom. This was definitely a new feeling—one that he could get used to. Ram’s hands were rough but his hold was gentle. Too gentle King thought to himself. He gave it a squeeze hoping that it conveyed what he was too scared to say out loud. Thank you. I like you.

After they were both changed King settled into his bed. He tried to scoot over a far as he possibly could so that Ram would have enough room. Except after Ram turned off the lights he did not lay down in the bed. No, instead he made himself comfortable in the chair that was adjacent to the bed. He couldn’t help but send the other boy a quizzical look but all he got in reply was a look that seemed to say I’m not changing my mind. As bad as he felt for making him sleep on that tiny chair he knew that Ram was probably doing this for his own sake rather than for King’s. The last thing he ever wanted was to make Ram uncomfortable so after handing him a spare blanket King laid back on his pillows. He was asleep in less than a minute. 

                                                             +

King was expecting the morning after to be laden with awkward silence—but surprisingly it wasn’t. Ram was still silent but King made sure to make up for it. After eating breakfast King shyly began to pull Ram around to show him his different plants. At first he felt bad, assuming that he was boring the other boy to death, but he quickly got over that fear once he received a series of texts.

Cool Boy:

You can keep on talking.

Cool Boy:

I’m listening.

Cool Boy:

I want to hear about this. 

That was all the encouragement King needed before launching into a discussion over how important humidity was to successfully keep alive a Calathea Lancifolia or the correct type of soil you should buy to grow a Peperomia Ferreyrae. He could have gone on for hours if it wasn’t for Ram sending him an apologetic look before nodding toward the door. King couldn’t find it in himself to be upset and sent the younger boy a smile. “It’s okay. Thanks for last night. I’ll see you later.” Ram nodded once more before slipping on his shoes and gathering up his things. Ram sent one last glance at King before letting himself out, leaving King alone.

After he was one hundred percent sure Ram was gone he let out a groan before dragging a hand through his hair, grimacing in disgust at how sticky it felt. He was just about to walk to his bathroom for a much needed shower when his phone started to vibrate in his pocket. He paused in the hallway and slipped it out, mouth going impossibly dry as he read the message not one but three times. Was it possible that he still had some alcohol left in his system? There had to be right? The message Ram just sent him sounded too good to be true.

Cool Boy:

Can I kiss you? 

He wasn’t sure how long he stood there in shock but he quickly began to move with a purpose when he heard a soft tap on his door. He yanked it open with more force than he needed to find Ram standing in the doorway, beet red. His eyes were wide and King could faintly make out the fact that his hands were trembling. “Yes.” That was all that King could whisper. It came out breathless but he didn’t care—screw his self preservation he needed to show Ram just how much this had an effect on him too. 

Ram didn’t bother to ask twice before reaching over to cradle King’s face in his head. Both seemed to take a deep breathe before leaning in to meet each other halfway. The kiss was soft and slow, so agonizingly soft and slow that if King didn’t grip the other boy's jacket his knees would surely give out from under him. If he felt like he was going to pass out from a simple peck how the hell would he be able to handle doing anything else? 

Ram pulled away after a few seconds when he realized the other didn’t kiss back and King felt a wave of panic shoot through him. There was a brief look of hurt that flashed in his eyes, hands a trembling mess. King could feel Ram start to loosen his hold on his face and knew that he just messed this whole thing up. Again. Before Ram could drop his hands King stopped him. He pressed his hands against Ram’s own before gently rubbing his thumb over his knuckles. He began to lean in, making sure to keep eye contact in case the other changed his mind, but he never did. 

King pressed his lips to Ram’a gently, cautiously. It was similar to how Ram kissed him moments before and he did that for a reason. King wanted Ram to know that he wanted this but he was too wrapped up in his own thoughts the first time. After a few moments of this he felt a sigh against his lips as Ram began to kiss back. Over and over again they kissed, every time one would lean back the other would just capture it in another kiss. It wasn’t heated—not in the typical way you see in movies or read about in books—but damn King was on cloud nine. Ram seemed to be feeling the same because he kept on sighing against King’s lips. This was now his new favorite sound. After a minute or two of lazily kissing (because they had all the time in the world) they broke apart out of breath. Somehow Ram’s face was even more red than it was before and King felt a thrill inside him to know that he was the cause of that. He was sure he looked just as flustered and wanted to desperately run a hand through his hair. It was his nervous tick that he only seemed to do when he was in the vicinity of a certain tattooed covered boy. He forced himself not to do it because that would mean letting go of Ram’s hands so instead he just let his forehead fall against his boyfriends. He had a million things he wanted to say but it seems like that little make out session left him incapable of forming a coherent sentence. “Woah, Cool Boy.” 

Ram laughed and King added it to his list of favorite sounds. Apparently all of his favorite sounds were related to Ram—because of course they would be. King began to laugh too, secretly glad that Ram didn’t speak. He did however lean forward and press a soft peck to the bridge of his nose—this time King was sure that it was Ram talk for woah is right. 

#kay answers #fics #my engineer #my engineer the series #ramking #ramking fic #all the uwus because it’s what they deserve #my engineer fic #thai bl #thai bl fics

[carriedawayfromhome]

Hi! Can you do smut with ash Like after a show rough and sweaty everytime you watching him bang the drums it turns you on

Thanks for the request! I did change it slightly from a show to a rehearsal instead. Hope you enjoy! xPairing: Ashton x Reader-Count: 1.9K-Rating: Explicit (Smut)

Masterlist

Requests Open. 

There’s something primal, rough, animalistic almost about the way Ashton drums. The force it takes to hit the beat and to play a song is immense. Sometimes you hate the way your eyes wander, from his jean covered thighs to his taut torso, sweaty chest and finally to his face. The concentration he has when he’s in the zone like this is something that you can’t explain, it’s so intense that it makes your lip automatically find its way between your teeth.

Rehearsal has been going all day but you only arrived about two hours ago to watch the boys finish off their practice. You generally like to come near the end of their set, seeing as Ashton by this time is usually so worked up and sweaty. You generally have to stop yourself from jumping up off the couch your currently in, run over to the drum set and hurl yourself into his arms. It’s a big measure in self control and you silently laugh to yourself realising how ridiculous you seem. Thank god no one else in the room knows what’s going on in your head. 

Throughout the rehearsal Ashton always makes a habit of finding your face and either making a crude gesture with his eyebrows or just making some face to make you laugh, whilst keeping the beat of the drums. Your boyfriend is one talented man. 

The rehearsal starts to wind down and just as the other three men are packing up their part, you make your way over to the drum-kit whilst Ashton tries to wipe the few beads of sweat that have collected there. He beams up at you as you come to stand beside him, “Hey you.” He grabs your right hand in his and holds it to his face, a sigh leaving his lips as your palm comes in contact with his warm cheek. 

“This set is going to be so good Ash,” You move your thumb slowly over his cheek bone, the rosy red flush a contrast against your pale skin, “I love that I get to sit in on these rehearsals, I love it so much.”

He lets your hand drop from his and he stands up, stretching in the process, “I love it to hun,” He shakes out his muscles, a smile creeping its way onto his face as he leans forward to whisper, “I love that I get to watch you watch me. Something about it is just, too hot.” 

Your eyes dart around the room as Ashton leans down to place the softest of soft kisses on your neck, his hot breath dancing along your skin as you feel your skin prickle with delight. 

You’ve only done it once before, having sex in the rehearsal space that is, but that was also long after everyone had left. Ash had wanted to continue drumming for a little longer and after goodbyes had been said you had felt your body moving without even thinking and before you knew it you were in his lap, jeans off, underwear pushed to the side and riding him hard on the drum stool.

You hadn’t even noticed your own blush creep onto your cheeks until you feel Ashton’s heavy hands on your hips and a light laugh against your skin, “What were you just thinking about?” 

You bite your lip and lightly push him away, “Calm down boy,” You cross your arms, a sly smile now consuming your face, “Everyone is still here, don’t get any ideas.”

“I didn’t have any ideas until you said that,” He copies your stance, arms crossed, “Why would I even think such a thing? You have me all wrong little one.” He sticks his tongue out and you shake your head in exasperation. This man will be the death of you. 

“Hey Ash! Can you help me move some of this shit Michael left lying here?” You both look to Luke’s voice as he points to the instruments and bags left on the floor next to one of the couches. You giggle as Ashton walks over and lightly smacks Michael’s arm, his mock hurt look making you almost double over. 

You leave the boys to grumble and argue with each other as you pick up your stuff to take out to the car, seeing as you and Ash will be leaving soon anyway. You know your way around this space quite well by now and as you weave through the back hallway you suddenly hear footsteps steadily running up behind you. With a quick turn you see your boyfriend jogging to meet you with a wide grin plastered on his face. 

“Where are you going little one?” 

With an overdramatic eye roll at his favourite pet name for you, you hold up your backpack and keys, “Just taking things out to the car, am I not allowed to do that now am I?” A poke of your tongue follows to emphasise your joking tone. 

You wait for a moment for his rebuttal, ready to return fire in an instant, the banter between you two has always been one of the reasons you fell for him. But nothing comes, only the quick strong arms that circle your waist and his lips capturing yours in a deep kiss. 

He pulls back just as quickly as he had leapt forward, “Say nothing more.” He whispers, one hand sliding down from your back to your ass, squeezing the denim clad skin, “Understood?”

You nod eagerly, all right and wrong completely going out the window as his eyes look round quickly for any oncoming person who may incidentally catch you two in the act. He moves forward to open one of the many doors along the hallway and upon entering you realise you just walked in what seems to be an extra meeting room, desk and chairs scattered about.

You drop your backpack at the door and with a quick double check that the lock is in place Ashton brings you back into his space, kissing you with as much love and lust as he can muster. You feel yourself getting pushed back and you let yourself be steered towards the desk, lips never leaving each others once. 

You can feel all of him against you getting harder by the second, his hands reaching under your shirt to gently squeeze at your breasts, his fingers finding their way to your nipples, pinching lightly. When he leans down to kiss your neck, you remind yourself of the rules and make sure to bite your tongue. As you two continue to kiss, you start to feel your underwear dampen as his hands unbutton your jeans, pushing your hips forward to tell him to stop teasing. 

“I’ll stop teasing the day you stop undressing me with your eyes,” His hand creeps under your jeans and into your underwear, “It’s the drumming isn’t it? It turns you on so much doesn’t it?” 

You nod eagerly as he wastes no time in rubbing slow circles on your clit, the kind that rile you up just enough to make you breathless and wanting more. You are aware of the fact that the other guys will be wondering where you are, or if you’ve already left and the last thing you want is to exit the room and run into the other guys shocked and smirking faces. 

Ashton pulls his hand out of your jeans and without warning flips you around, your back now squarely to his chest. You then automatically lean forward and place your palms on the table, your ass pushing back into his crotch, hinting faintly at a need for touch. 

“Shit babe,” You hear him whisper above you, his hands quickly pulling down your jeans and underwear in one go, “I’m not going to last long.” 

Ashton unbuttons his own jeans and you listen as he makes a quiet hissing sound, assuming he’s stroking himself and the thought of anticipation makes you press yourself against the cold desk, your nipples hardening at the feel. 

Your eyes close involuntarily as you feel him shuffle forward and slowly stroke his cock between your legs, coating himself in your arousal and with one quick and precise thrust he’s completely inside of you, it takes everything in you to not moan out into the empty room, just loving the feeling of being oh so full with him. 

“Arch your back baby.” He groans, both hands gripping your hips and as soon as you comply with his request he starts to thrust quickly, your palms squeaking against the table top as you jolt back and forward. One of his hands sneaks up your back to forcefully grab onto the hair on your scalp, jerking you back as your mouth drops open with quiet ecstasy. 

Usually when you’re in this position you can’t help but almost scream, the feeling of being dominated and purely taking advantage of makes you wet like nothing else. But having the three guys in the room over makes you force it down with only your laboured breath filling the room. The thought of getting caught and the luxurious feeling of your hair being pulled brings your orgasm closer than you expected and you ride it out willingly, Ashton still going hard behind you. 

“Babe, I’m going to pull out and you come and kneel on the floor quickly kay?” He grunts out, his hand where it had been forcefully on your scalp mirrors his other and he fucks you as rough as he can manage, the overstimulation making your legs tremble. Only a moment passes and he’s pulling out of you with a small grunt and as quick as you can you twist and kneel, taking him into your mouth with ease. 

You close your eyes as you feel him cum into your mouth, the pulsating feeling against your tongue making you dizzy. His hand finds the back of your head and pushes down lightly while you struggle to breath heavily through your nose.

“God that never gets old,” He breathes out suddenly, looking down on you with half lidded eyes as you clean him up as good as you can, “The best view in the house.” 

With his softening cock still in your mouth you manage to give him the finger, eliciting a laugh from your boyfriend. You pull off with a hard suck, loving the way it makes him groan from his own overstimulation and with a quick wipe of your mouth and a stumble to stand, you both fix each others underwear and pants, both giggling as the orgasm high wears off. 

“Well done you.” He whispers and leans forward for a small kiss, pulling back and frowning when you don’t respond. With raised eyebrows you wait for him to realise and when he does he smiles, verbally letting you know you’re welcome to speak now, with a whisper of good girl resting on your skin. 

With both of you fully clothed and looking slightly worse for wear you wait as Ashton unlocks the door and with your backpack in hand you both sneak out into the hallway, waiting to see if you can hear any voices from the other room. 

The silence makes you nervously laugh as you realise all three men have probably left and in time walked right past the door where you were just being railed against the desk. With that both of you head out to the car, stopping so that Ashton can give you a sweet forehead kiss, a usual way he likes to end your sessions together.

Once you’re both in the car, you sit back in elation, letting the rumble of the car lull you into a relaxed state and with Ashton’s hand holding yours tightly, you smile and let your eyes close.  

#ashton irwin #5 seconds of summer #5sos writing #ashton irwin oneshot #5sos fluff #5sos smut #5sos oneshot #5sos fanfiction #my writing #ashton irwin smut #ashton irwin writing #5sos

[fangirlshrewt97]

Geralt Whump Week Submission, Day 7

TITLE: Born of Kaer Morhen

SHIPS: Geralt of Rivia & Eskel

PROMPT: Kaer Morhen

MEDIUM (Netflix, Books, Games, Hexer): Netflix

WARNINGS: NA

SUMMARY:  A few days after the Trials, Geralt is having a difficult time coping with the loss of the rest of his brothers. Luckily, Eskel is there to guide him back to shore. 

Excerpt: His expression was blank but the hurt and horror was apparent in his voice. He was haunted. “Kaer Morhen has been the only home I have known, the only one I remember. I remember walking these hallways, remember when we had the day off and us and our brothers all hid in different towers and took turns trying to see who would find everyone first. We have laughed, and cried, sweat and bled all over the stones of the courtyard. And to what end? Just the two of us stand on the other side.”Eskel hesitated before taking Geralt’s hand, rubbing a thumb over weathered knuckles. “I hear their screams too.”Golden eyes rose to meet golden eyes. “Kaer Morhen doesn’t feel like Kaer Morhen anymore.”

WORD COUNT:  2926 words

AUTHOR’S NOTES:  Additional Tags include Geralt Whump Week, Prompt: Kaer Morhen, Friendship, Reminiscing, Bonding, Emotionally constipated Geralt, Geralt feels a lot, but doesn’t have the words to express it, Eskel is a Good Bro, we all deserve a friend like Eskel, Angst, Soft Geralt of Rivia, Bittersweet, Memories, The Witcher Trials 

AUTHOR: Fangirlshrewt97

CHARACTERS: Geralt of Rivia, Eskel, Vesemir (mentioned), Original Witcher Character

LINK TO AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25129021

                                                        ///

Geralt was seated on one of the crenalations of the highest tower of Kaer Morhen, eyes closed as he listened to the wind rustle through the mountains. It was early autumn, so the cold was not too biting and the sun’s heat could still be felt. His legs swung from where they hung over the wall, a five thousand feet drop below him. In the distance, he could hear the training masters barking out instructions.

“I was right.”

Geralt opened his eyes at the voice, tilting his head towards the right to see Eskel walking towards him, balancing on the roof below before bending and propelling himself into the tower in a neat jump.

Their new abilities had not yet lost their novelty, and the two boys enjoyed the chance to explore them outside the strict eye of their training masters.

“What were you right about?”

“Vesemir asked me where you had gone. I guessed this spot.”

“Hmm, what were the other guesses?”

“I was the only one who guessed.”

“Then you didn’t win anything.”

“I found you.”

Geralt looked over at his best friend - no his brother, their common medallions still shining bright on their chests. They had received them mere days ago, and the weight was still foreign.

Eskel settled himself next to Geralt, close enough Geralt could feel the heat of Eskel’s thigh.

They both stayed quiet, enjoying the view. Geralt had never been too fond of words, or at least could not remember being so since arriving at Kaer Morhen. He had found a brother in Eskel, both so similar yet different enough to have a bond strong enough to withstand even the trials.

Subconsciously, his hands curled tight against the stone of the tower.

Eskel noticed, and placed his own hand on top of Geralt’s, rubbing with his thumb until the tension went away. It had been a gesture the trainers always frowned at, but no one had verbally said them to stop, so they hadn’t.

“What were you thinking about just now?”

“Nothing.”

“Liar.”

Geralt growled, but Eskel would always be the last person to be intimidated by him. He just stared evenly at Geralt’s face until furious golden eyes met hit own. Eskel stood his ground.

“You’re thinking about the trials.”

Geralt’s growl got deeper.

“Hmm, you wear your heart on your sleeve my friend.”

“What do you want Eskel?”

“Tell me what is bothering you.”

“No.”

“Invalid answer.” Eskel’s tone was light, almost teasing, and it just made Geralt angry, an itch starting beneath his skin that only violence would cure.

“Eskel…”

“What? Are you going to push me off the cliff? I am trying to help, stop being a stubborn ass.”

Geralt let out a frustrated exhale, jaw clenching.

“The new recruits start today.”

The non-sequitar threw Eskel off for a bit, but he recovered quickly. “Ok…”

When Geralt did not offer anything additional, Eskel bit the inside of his mouth. As if Geralt would make anything easy.

“Geralt. What about the new recruits?”

“Nothing.”

Geralt felt the anger building in his veins, Vesemir had warned them that should they pass the trials, the first few weeks, it would not just be their senses that would be heightened but also their emotions. He had not been prepared for just how amplified his emotions felt. He was not angry at Eskel, he knew his brother was only trying to help him. The sound of the trainee’s practice swords banging against each other grew louder. The world started to feel like it was underwater.

“Geralt.” Eskel called out, moving his hand to grasp Geralt’s shoulder.

The anger boiled over. Before he could process it, Geralt had lunged at Eskel, slamming him into the floor of the tower’s balcony above which they had been sitting. Eskel choked on impact but grabbed at Geralt and soon the two were wrestling on the ground, not holding back. They had always been equally matched in size and strength, where Eskel was better at signs, Geralt exceeded in hunting and tracking. But Geralt had also been given an extra round of mutations, so ultimately, he tired slower than Eskel, and at the first sign of slowing down, threw him to the opposite side of the tower. Eskel groaned before moving to sit up.

“Enough Geralt.”

“Tired already?”

Eskel growled. “I am trying to have a conversation with you. But if you insist on continuing this with fists, then I will throw you out of this balcony.”

Geralt rushed for him, but Eskel sidestepped at the last moment, leaving Geralt to crash head first into the wall and fall back with a loud cry.

“Look at that, your skull really is thick. It managed to make a crack.” Eskel said from somewhere near his shoulder. All Geralt could feel was pain, a great throbbing inside his head. He groaned again when strong arms wrapped themselves below his armpits and leveraged him up against the wall he had apparently cracked. He felt a change in the air before the ache faded to the background, and Geralt was able to open his eyes without feeling as though his eyes would pop out of his head.

“You’re an idiot.”

“Es--kelllll….” Geralt rasped, even those simple syllables taking the wind out of him.

Eskel sighed and sat on his knees in front of him. Ignoring his groan and attempts to bat him away, Eskel ran his fingers over the back of Geralt’s head and face, making sure nothing was too badly injured. “Congratulations all you have done is given yourself a massive headache and made yourself look like a mess.”

It was quiet when Eskel shifted from his knees to sit criss-cross in front of him.  

“Do you want me to fetch you a painkiller?”

Geralt shook his head. He had it leaned back against the wall at an angle, relieving the pressure from the bump to the back of his head. His eyes had also fallen shut, and his body was slouched. The fight had also left him.

He opened his eyes when Eskel covered his hand with his own.

“Well. Since we got the useless fight out of the way. Just. Just talk to me Geralt. Please. I want to help.”

A lump formed in Geralt’s throat, same as every other time he tried to talk about his feelings. Words only ever got Geralt in trouble. Words only ever drove away the people he cared about.

“I can’t.” He finally said, a bare whisper. A forbidden confession.

Eskel didn’t force him. That would only serve to make things worse.

"I’m sorry I pushed.”

“Its not-” Geralt grew frustrated. Eskel had nothing to apologize for. He knew he was being the stubborn problem here. “You don’t owe me an apology.”

“Come, it is almost time for lunch.”

“I am not hungry.”

“You skipped breakfast.”

“I am not hungry.”

“Geralt…” Eskel growled in warming. Geralt stared at him with hard eyes, daring him to do something. “You know, usually I can at least guess why you are being a repressed asshole. Today I cannot even do that. So please, I will beg if that is what it takes, tell me what is going on today. You are hurting, and I don’t care about all the bullshit Vesemir teaches us that we don’t have emotions. We may not have them all, and we may not have them as clearly, but we still feel because we are alive. I can hear your blood roaring, your heart pounding. You cannot hide from me Geralt, but I am also not a mage, able to read your thoughts. So please, just talk to me.”

Geralt stares at him before averting his gaze, eyes turning a little softer.

“The new recruits are here.”

“Yes?”

“They start today.”

“You’ve mentioned this already.”

Eskel does not mean to be obtuse, but he had no idea what the new recruits have to do with Geralt being angry, they are hardly the first batch to join since they started training. He can see it is frustrating Geralt that he is not understanding though.

“Geralt…”

“We are the only ones who survived the trials Eskel.” Geralt bites out, and Eskel is once again thrown for a loop with that non-sequitar.

What does them being the only survivors have to do with the new recruits- Oh. Is that what had been bothering Geralt? Stupid man had always had the softest heart, most at odds with his gruff exterior.

“Oh.” Is all he says aloud.

Geralt curls into himself, shame starting to mix into his scent.

“Geralt,” Eskel starts, knowing he will have to choose his words carefully, “correct me if I am wrong, but are you thinking about the new recruits and the fact most of them are going to die during the Trials?”

If possible, Geralt curls into himself more. He felt a mixture of shame and anger, as well as guilt. How was it fair?

“It isn’t meant to be fair.” Eskel said. “Witcher training is grueling, and it is not kind, and it not something any child should go through. But unfortunately we live in a world where Witchers are necessary, and the best way to maximize their chances on the Path is to train them to their limits here, in a controlled setting.”

“There are 20 boys down there Eskel. 2 out of 20 will survive.”

Eskel sighed. “It is not meant to be easy Geralt. It’s just.”

Geralt turned sharply to look at him. “Just what?”

“The boys, they come here, we came here, because no one wanted us. I don’t know the world outside these walls is worse for orphans than in here, but I also don’t think it is kinder either.”

“Maybe not to all. But to some.”

“Maybe. But this is the fate that has been assigned to us. The fate we have all chosen to undergo. We are all given a choice. The life of a Witcher is not one of happiness or easiness but at least it is a life.”

“It has been three days Eskel. I can still hear the echoes of their screams.” Geralt said. His expression was blank but the hurt and horror was apparent in his voice. He was haunted. “Kaer Morhen has been the only home I have known, the only one I remember. I remember walking these hallways, remember when we had the day off and us and our brothers all hid in different towers and took turns trying to see who would find everyone first. We have laughed, and cried, sweat and bled all over the stones of the courtyard. And to what end? Just the two of us stand on the other side.”

Eskel hesitated before taking Geralt’s hand, rubbing a thumb over weathered knuckles. “I hear their screams too.”

Golden eyes rose to meet golden eyes. “Kaer Morhen doesn’t feel like Kaer Morhen anymore.”

“That is because it is tainted. Tainted by the blood of our brothers, and all those who came before them, all who pled their loyalty to her, and ended up dead before they could put their word to work. This keep is ours Geralt, ours to uphold, ours to guard, and ours to return to. The walls, they hold our memories.”

“All they hold are screams.”

“That’s not true.” Eskel pleaded. He glanced around the tower they were in, before rising, making a noise of surprise. He came back and held out one of the broken ceiling tiles. In his hand he had a jar from somewhere.

Geralt looked at him in confusion. “Where did you get the jug?”

“Later, first see this.” Eskel said as he held out the tile.

“It’s… a broken tile?”

Eskel smiled. “Yes. Turn it over.”

Geralt took the tile and turned it, inhaling at the sight. There, in childish handwriting someone had scratched an R and an E into the tile, along with a date.

“What is this?”

“Do you remember that day?” Eskel asked, pointing to the date. No, it had been almost eight years ago now.

“Remus. We were about to start our first round of Trials that week. Remus couldn’t sleep, and neither could I. I heard him get up and leave the dormitory, so I followed him. You and the others were asleep.”

“Where did he go?”

“Here. He came up here, and he heard me too, so he invited me to join him.”

“And?”

“The sneaky bastard had managed to somehow swipe a bottle of ale from the teacher’s table and had hidden it up here. He showed me this nook in the wall, and how sometimes he would sneak up here to drink.”

“I knew he was stealing wine.” Geralt whispered as he remembered his brother. Remus had had some of the quickest reflexes among them, and could sweet talk the cook into always giving me a little extra sweet.

Eskel chuckled. “Yeah, we stood right here, it was practically pitch black, the lights from the courtyard and the torch he had swiped from the hallway the only thing giving light. He shared his bottle with me, told me it was in case we didn’t make it through the first style, we should at least go having tasted alcohol.”

“The inscription.”

“We drank the whole bottle, we got stupid drunk. Remus’s idea. He pulled the tile that hid his nook and used a pebble to scratch it. He was trying for our full names but ended up writing R too big to fit anything else, so he just wrote an E. And the date.”

“It became a little thing between us, right before every Trial, once all of you fell asleep, he and I would sneak up here and drink.”

“Is that why you were always hungover during the Trials.”

Eskel socked him in the arm. “If I had been hungover and still managed to pass the Trials, then that means I am the most incredible Witcher to have ever lived.”

“Fuck off Eskel.” Geralt said jovially. Eskel joined his laughter, and laughed so hard, until they heard pottery clink against the wall. They saw the bottle leaning against it.

Taking it gently in his arms, Eskel turned it over. “After we lost him two years ago, I couldn’t really bring myself to come up here. Until you dragged me.”

“Eskel…”

Eskel shook his head. “It’s alright. In fact it proves my point.”

When Geralt tilted his head, Eskel gave the bottle a shake. “Remus is gone Geralt, he would have been an incredible Witcher, but he didn’t make it. I miss him daily, he was the funniest of us. But just because he died doesn’t mean he never existed. We are the only ones left of our batch, and that is unfair. But the greater injustice is if we forget our brothers. We are the ones who have to keep their memory alive.” Eskel looked down the tile fragment in his hand. “Kaer Morhen is here to keep their memory alive. This tower will always remind me of the nights with Remus, the pools will remind me of the time we decided to add those snapping stones to the water before the professors came to bathe. The greenhouse will remind me of Lionel discovering he was allergic to sagewood.”

Geralt felt a new feeling bloom in his gut. The pain and the anger were still there. But as Eskel kept talking, they faded. He realized it was acceptance.

“Kaer Morhen guards them, guards their memory.”

A moment of understanding.

Of connection.

A breath, a letting go.

A sharing of the burden of grief.

A forgiveness and an acceptance from two guilty survivors to each other.

Eskel smiled, and rose, brushing off his pants before holding out a hand for Geralt. Geralt took it.

“Come brother, let us make sure the injury will heal quickly, and we will go meet the recruits.”

“Eskel.” Geralt’s arm tightened in Eskel’s hold, but Eskel gave him a soft smile.

“The new recruits are still here Geralt, and if we don’t guide them, who will? The test does not discriminate, if you are strong, you pass. Let us go make those boys strong enough to survive. Let us do our brothers proud.”

Swallowing back tears, Geralt nodded, letting himself be pulled up by Eskel.

As they walked down the stairs, Eskel started to recount the story of a prank he had pulled with another of their friends when Geralt was being punished for something. And then another. Geralt shared his own. Their friends were not there anymore to leave their impression on the world so it was up to them to make sure they were not forgotten along with the dust of Kaer Morhen.

///

Witchers are born in Kaer Morhen. It is their cradle, their school, their greatest teacher, and for all of them at one or another, their grave. This castle in the mountain, hidden away against the clouds was theirs, theirs to protect, theirs to love, theirs to treasure.

Witchers train, Witchers are made, and Witchers died. But Kaer Morhen had seen thousands of her children grow up, seen their bloods soak her roots, their laughter and screams embed themselves into her walls. Soldiers, and cowards, boys who never grew up, and old men who lived so long their bones started to crumble. Witchers armed with steel and silver and claws, growls and a medallion declaring them hers.

Because above all, Kaer Morhen was home to the School of the Wolf. And her pack would never die.

#the witcher #my fic #my writing #geralt whump week #geralt whump week 2020 #geralt whump week day 7 #prompt: kaer morhen #geralt of rivia #eskel #School of the Wolf #Kaer Morhen Crew #kaer morhen #let me know what you think!

[darnedchild]

Everything that Kills Me - Part 2

Here’s where we start to earn that M rating, friends.  Consider that a fair warning.

Part 2

“I was beginning to think you didn’t want to see me again.”  Molly’s voice wrapped around him like a sheet made of the softest silk.

He slowly opened his eyes, fully expecting to see the lab at Barts where he’d spent the afternoon bent over a s microscope.  Molly had checked in with him off and on while he’d worked.  Had he become lost in his thoughts waiting for her to return?

However, it wasn’t the lab he saw.  Instead, it was the tiny room he’d discovered while exploring the old horse tunnels near the Stables Market, not far from the Camden Lockes.  He’d left an electric lantern on when he’d lain down on the cheap mattress that some of his people had smuggled down more than a year ago.  

Clearly, he must have fallen asleep at some point, because there was no feasible way that Molly Hooper would be standing in front of him.  She was wearing the same thing she’d been in when she’d said good night as he left the lab.  There was no mistaking her current favourite jumper.  Mustard yellow and at least a size too large, it hung nearly to her thighs and completely obscured her firm breasts and tiny waist.

He shook his head and promised himself, once again, that he would be deleting the memory of Molly in that little black dress from his mind very, very soon.  There was no reason to continue to remember what her body looked like under her bulky, over-sized clothing.

“You’re not Molly.” Sherlock was positive of that. Wasn’t he?

“Ah, but what if you’re wrong?” she countered with a hint of laughter in her voice.

“Why would Molly be lurking around here in the middle of the night?  Or back in that shed at the cemetery?   She has a house with a very comfortable bed.  I know, I’ve slept in it.”  It occurred to him that, perhaps, he should have left that last bit about the comfort of Molly’s bed out of his argument.

“And you have Baker Street.”  She gestured around the nearly empty room.  “Yet here we both are.”

He studied her for a long moment and she calmly let him, without a hint of unease in her expression.  “What are you?”

“I could have sworn we worked this all-out last time.  I’m a figment of your exhausted mind.  Merely a dream.  You really do push yourself far too hard, Sherlock.”  

He almost believed she was actually concerned about him.

“If this is all a dream, then it won’t matter if I wake myself up.”  He watched her face to see how she reacted to that.

“If that’s what you want.”  She pointed to mattress he was still curled upon.  “May I?”

After a moment Sherlock nodded and sat up to make room for her.  The low-quality mattress shifted under her added weight, sagging in the middle and tilting them close enough that their shoulders touched.  He quickly pulled away from the contact and tried to cover the action with a sarcastic verbal jab meant to distract her. “No plans to throw yourself into my lap this time?”

“You didn’t seem to like it.”  Her mischievous smile told him that she knew what he’d done, but she was willing to let him get away with it for now.  “Have you changed your mind?”

He was quick to reply with an indignant, “Of course not.”  Seconds later, he couldn’t stop himself from asking, “Wouldn’t you have already known that, without needing to ask?  You acted as if you could practically read my mind before.”

She shrugged.  “You didn’t seem to like that, either.”

When he thought about it, her earlier knowledge made a strange sort of sense.  Of course, his dreaming mind would know what he was thinking.  Matter settled.  Perfectly logical explanation.  Nothing to worry about.  

Except something still felt off.

“Is that important, doing things I like?”

“Mmmhmm,” she hummed.  “It’s very important.”  She leaned toward him and practically purred, “I want you to like me.”

Sherlock caught himself watching the way her lips moved and hated himself for it.  He forced himself to look into her eyes instead.  “But I don’t.  Won’t.  I can’t. Not while you’re wearing Molly’s face.”

“I don’t need to read your mind tonight to know that’s not true.”  

He pulled himself off the mattress with an indignant huff, and began to pace.  

She let him circle the room twice before she spoke again.  “This is just a dream, Sherlock.  You don’t have to lie to yourself here.  I certainly won’t tell.”

His scoff echoed against the stone walls, but he reluctantly turned to listen to her.

“Anything can happen in your dreams. Anything, anywhere … with anyone.” She held out her hand to beckon him closer.  “With me.”

“But you are not Molly!”  He ran his fingers through his hair and pulled at the strands, hoping to force himself awake.  It didn’t work.  

“I am.  I’m your Molly, if you want me to be.”  She spoke softly, as if she were trying to sooth an agitated beast. “You can talk to me, hold me, love me without worrying about the consequences in the morning.”  She extended her hand just a little bit further. “Sit with me, just a little while. Please.”

Sherlock took a deep breath and hesitantly took her hand.  She slowly pulled him closer, wordlessly urging him to settle beside her.  This time, when the mattress dipped, he didn’t pull away.

She leaned her head against his shoulder and whispered, “Thank you.”

Almost on instinct, he put his arm around her when she released his hand and burrowed closer to his side.

He’d always know that Molly was petite, but he hadn’t quite understood what that would feel like if they were ever this close, this intimate.  How strong and dominate it would make him feel to curl around her small body.

The first soft brush of her lips against his neck made his skin prickle.  He couldn’t contain his sharp inhale of surprise.

Somehow, impossibly, she even smelled like Molly.

“I-This isn’t-“  He stumbled over his words as her lips trailed upward along his jaw.  

His eyes fluttered closed and he moaned when her teeth gently nipped his earlobe.  Her voice was husky when she reassured him that nothing would happen that he didn’t want.

She flicked her tongue against the curve of his jaw.  “Do you want to stop?”

It took less than a second consider it. He shook his head.    

“I need to hear you say it, Sherlock.” She pressed a soft kiss against the corner of his mouth.  “Tell me what you want.”

He brought his hand up to her cheek and nudged her back so he could see her face.  “I don’t want to stop.”

Her eyes flashed that golden brown that he remembered from before.  He wondered what it meant, what his subconscious mind could be trying to tell him. Then she smiled and said, “So kiss me,” and he could think of nothing else but her.

The taste of her.

The delicious sound she made the first time he parted her lips with his tongue.  

The softness of her skin when his hand slipped beneath that awful yellow jumper.

His groaned “Molly” was barely audible; but, somehow, she heard it.

She shuddered in response.  “Yes, love.  I’m right here.”  Then she leaned her weight into him, and he allowed himself to be pushed down onto the mattress.

He felt her teeth pull at his lower lip as she settled over him.  He protested when she sat up to begin tugging at the buttons of his shirt, but the way she ground her arse against his rapidly hardening cock took his breath away and cut off anything else he would have said.  She flicked his shirt open and licked her lips at the sight.  The scratch of her nails against his chest was electric.  His back arched as she teased the skin just below his navel, so close to where he craved her touch the most.

When she finally pressed her palm against his clothed cock, he growled.  

As much as he wanted this, wanted her, he had to make a half-hearted attempt to stop her when she slid between his legs and reached for his fly.  “You shouldn’t-“

She looked up at him with those odd golden brown eyes, silently asking for permission to continue.  He swallowed and gave her one more chance to back out. “If you’re sure?”

Her answer was impossible to misread as slipped the head of his cock into her mouth.  

“Fuck!”  He’d received and given oral sex before, but this was nothing like he remembered.  It was more.  So much more. Almost overwhelming.  He curled his hands into fists and dug his nails into his palms in a vain effort to temper the urge to beg or to thrust his hips up every time she swirled her tongue against his glans.

At some point she pulled away with an obscenely wet sound and he ground his teeth together to muffle his whimper of protest.  

“Don’t hold back.  I want everything you can give me, my love. Everything.  I want to drain you dry.”  She took him back into her mouth and he willingly gave up his tenuous hold on his control.  

He took her at her word and trusted that she would let him know if he was too rough.  

Sherlock sunk his hands into her hair and urged her to take him a little deeper.  “That’s it, just like that.”  He let her set the pace for a while, until he felt the first familiar tingle at the base of his spine.  “Gonna come soon,” he panted.  “And you’re going to swallow every drop like a good girl. Aren’t you, Molly?”

She moaned her very enthusiastic consent around his cock and somehow managed to take him even deeper until he was certain that he was touching the back of her throat.  “Fuck.  Christ. So good.”

He gripped her head and held her still as he used her mouth to chase the orgasm that was just out of reach.  “Use your tongue.  Don’t stop.  Don’t. Stop.  Don’t.  Molly!”

Sherlock came so hard that his vision whited out.  He tried to reach for her, perhaps to offer to reciprocate, but his hands grasped at empty air.  “Molly? What about you?“

“Shush.”  He felt her hand brush a sweat dampened curl off his forehead.  “Next time.  You’re tired now.  Sleep.” She kissed him, soft and gentle.  “Dream of me, love.”

Eventually he opened his eyes again to find that he was sprawled out on the mattress.  All of his clothes were still in place, properly buttoned and zipped. There was a small, still sticky patch of drying semen in his boxers; a humiliating reminder that he must have come in his sleep like a hormonal adolescent.  

#2019 sherlolly halloween #sherlolly halloween at 221b #sherlolly

[gavinstrashbag]

Guess You Can Call Me Daddy

Pairing: Elijah Kamski x Gavin Reed (Gavski)

Warning: swearing (Gavin, obviously), references to sexual activities

Description: basically the origin story of androids, from my prospective.

———————————

Together, Gavin, Hank, Niles and Connor sat around the table in the break room of the DPD. It was a slow afternoon on a Wednesday - hump day, sheesh - and amazingly, for what feels like the first time in months, they’d all been given a break at the same time.

Usually, if they where a few of them off duty, bored on patrol or just at their desks they would chat. Through messages or verbally - or “telepathically like some freaky alien shit” as Gavin would so politely put it. They’d exchange stupid stories or make up dumb shit to pass the time that couldn’t be spent doing something else.

That’s how they ended up here, at the coffee table, chatting away about relationships.

Since they’d become close after the successful android revolution, talking about relationships didn’t seem so bad anymore. Connor and Hank had... well lord knows what they had, technically speaking they had each other and they where happy. Nines had his deviancy, and from what Gavin could pick up, a whole lot of android ass. And Gavin? Well, they all knew that Gavin had Elijah Kamski, to some extent at least.

The billionaire and Gavin had been a thing since they where 16, which is when Elijah had started the Cyberlife company. This is what Gavin was trying to explain to the Lieutenant and two androids.

————

In their teenage years, Elijah and Gavin where really really close. Spent as much time together as a A+ student would in class and at the library combined. They’d stay round each others’ house pretty much every night, gaming, chatting and play fighting. They’d walk to high school together, then college when they were older. They’d confide in each other when something went tits up, and stay until the other was well again.

Gavin was openly bisexual, Elijah knew that he himself was gay but was too shy to tell anybody. Elijah had the biggest crush on Gavin but would never admit it. He knew in his mind that he just wanted to be selfish, wanted to ruin their perfect friendship in pursuit of something more; at the same time, he was scared of just ruining the perfect friendship because he pursued something that was never going to happen.

Elijah was in an AI & Robotics course when he started experimenting with android creation - Gavin had seen a few of his early creations (like a robot head connected to a laptop that could automate responses). It was difficult, Elijah new that, but he was never one to not keep his head down, not someone that gave up. On the other side of the coin, Gavin was fascinated by Elijah creations, because he never understood how they worked, because he ignored his teachers in class, because he always gave up.

A few months go by and Elijah gets better and better at his creations - a lot of it trial and error - and eventually, after nights gone restless, days spent poking and prodding and waiting, he creates his first android.

This android was a secret. No one knew about it but Elijah. Not even Gavin.

Because it was Gavin.

Elijah had seen Gavin go through boyfriend after boyfriend, girlfriend after girlfriend. He had noticed that Gavin has a type, mostly punk girls or some jock-like I’ve got a silver spoon up my arse type of guy. The relationships always ended the same way - Elijah comforting a broken, distraught, crying Gavin, who was laying face down on his bed.

So, after months Elijah came to the conclusion that Gavin would never lower himself to a nerd like Elijah. Elijah would never be Gavins boyfriend.

But Elijah wanted him. To himself. He was selfish, always had been when it came to Gavin. Selfish with the amount of time they spent together.

That’s why he created another Gavin, one he could keep, have to himself, one he could fuck. Strange thought at first, fucking a robot... but after seeing how lifelike it was, how it spoke just like Gavin would, how it’s eyes where just the right colour to match the real thing. It was Gavin, but it wasn’t. It wanted him, when Gavin didn’t.

It was his secret.

Until it wasn’t.

Now, Elijah had tried his best to hide this new Gavin, he really had. Gavin often visited his house during the time that this “GV” model existed, Gavin was always polite and arranged his visits - since Elijah moved out of his parents house Gavin also kept his wandering limited to the kitchen, living room, bathroom and Elijah’s bedroom - he didn’t want to be unwelcome. During the time that Gavin was visiting, Elijah shutdown the GV model and kept it in his garage in one of the storage cupboards he has. It seemed cruel at first, but it was a risk to keep the android awake when its unbeknownst clone was upstairs.

However, on this particular day, for a reason that not even Gavin knows, he showed up at Elijah’s house unannounced.

Like always, Elijah’s door was unlocked, giving Gavin full access to the wonders of Elijah’s home. He stood in the living room, listening out to where Elijah might be hiding.

Lucid ideas of ways that he could scare the shy nerd popped into Gavin’s mind, a smirk painted his face as he stood, stark still in the living room. He waited for a noise, and indication of where Elijah was in his clean, quaint house.

Scuffling, short footsteps, quiet shuffles from the garage. Gavin heard them.

“Back at work again, Eli?” Gavin whispered to no one, “what are you inventing this time?” He continued.

As fast and as quiet as he could, he made his way to the threshold in the living room- separating the quaint house from the wide spans of the creators garage.

Gavin’s hand fell on the silver door handle, cold to the touch and smooth. He was gentle as he pulled the metal down, slow. The door clicked open softly, barely audible. Gavin pushed the door open a crack, peeking inside.

A car, old, deep blue. A few shelves, storage cupboards, one of them open. A table and chair, computer and electronics. The shuffling of feet again, out of sight, and the sound of another set of foot steps. The second set of footsteps sounded distant, light on heavy, old, dark wood. Stairs?

Confused, Gavin opened the door fully, but peered over his shoulder to locate who ever else it was that could be approaching.

“Gavin?” Elijah’s voice, it came from the stairs.

So if that was Elijah, who was this?

Gavin turned, looked in the direction his body was still facing. He was inches away from butting heads with the other occupant of the house. Gavin was quick to take a large step back, giving him more of a view of-

Himself?

A mirror? No. Couldn’t be, it was a doorway. Twin? No, he was an only child. Drugs? Absolutely not.

The other footsteps stopped. Then started again, quicker. As quick as lightning, Elijah had taken his clones place - or more, stood between them.

Elijah was a beetroot, well, as red a one. His glasses where crooked, hair a messy bun, and his shirt pinched around his stomach were the garage clone - intruder, in Gavin’s eyes - pulled on it, trying to peer round at Gavin.

“Eli...” Gavin started, it was tough to get the name out, to form the words on his tongue, to use the oxygen to say them. “What... who is that?”

“It’s- he’s...you.”

“How?” Gavin shook his head, god, he definitely had to have been drugged, right?

“I made him.” Elijah avoided Gavin’s eye contact when he said this, afraid of what Gavin’s reaction would be.

“Why?”

“Because...” Elijah paused, GV’s hand tugging on his waist to let him see his “twin” became to much, so he stepped aside, letting the two see each other. “Because I knew that I could never have the real thing.”

There was silence.

GV knew this fact of course. Elijah never actually hid the fact that he was based off of a human from the GV model, but then again, he’d never shown him the real deal. And this was it, the worse scenario Elijah could have dreamt up; alas he was letting the truth tumble out of his mouth like sea water into a broken boat.

“Since whe- no, who the fuck told you you couldn’t have the real thing?” Gavin stumbled over his words, utterly baffled that this was the same Elijah saying this shit.

“No one did.” Elijah said softly, “I guess I just needed you...” A sigh, eyes shifting behind black block glasses, quietly spoken, “more than you needed me, apparently.”

Another sigh, from Gavin this time. Long and with a hint of sadness.

“That’s not true Eli.” Gavin’s voice was the softest Elijah had ever heard it. It was the same tone that Elijah himself would use each time Gavin split from one of his significant others. It was careful and kind. Full of love.

A second set of hands had place themselves on Elijah’s torso, warm and soft. Red blood instead of blue.

Gavin had taken a step forward, hands brushing and soothing out wrinkles in Elijah’s shirt. They made their way up to cup his face, gentle, brushing stray hairs that had fallen from the messy bun and scratching through Elijah’s scruff that dusted his jawline. Gavin’s hands stopped, cupping Elijah’s cheeks, thumbs rubbing his cheek bones soothingly.

“You should have told me Eli...” Gavin stood on the tips of his toes, face so, so close to Elijah’s but yet they didn’t move closer. Gavin could feel Elijah’s hot breath on his lips, warm and inviting.

He gave in.

It was quick, clumsy, Elijah’s lack of experience combined with Gavin’s... well, decent amount of experience, resulted in a awkward, teethy kiss; Elijah wouldn’t have it any other way.

Gavin groaned, back clicking in what felt like a million different places as he stretched, before he settled down in a more comfortable position - arms wrapped around his pillow, legs drawn up towards his stomach- oh... oh god. There was definitely something running down his thighs...

Falling out of bed was a lot less graceful than Gavin thought, and Elijah laughed at his clumsiness from his spot on his bed.

“Shut the fuck up...” was Gavin’s response.

—————

Back at the table, Gavin chuckled, hand wrapped round his coffee possessively - being this close to Connor and Niles while drinking his coffee gave him the heebie-yeebies.

“What I’m trying to say boys,” another chuckle escaped his lips, “Kamski created an entire new species because he wanted to bone me so badly.”

The androids turned abruptly to stare at him, LEDs flashing a constant red. The detective smirks, swirling the last of his coffee in the bottom of his cup and continues speaking.

“I guess you can call me Daddy.” Gavin laughs, winks, downs the lukewarm remains of his coffee, haphazardly throws the cup in the sink and walks back to his desk.

Hank and Connor have to carry Niles back to his desk that lunch time, poor sod couldn’t even blink he was still in shock. Connor is still debating ripping out his audio processors if he has to hear that sentence ever again.

Pa-ting!

Gavin looked at this computer, a pop-up message from Connor was on his screen.

RK8myass: so what happened to the GV model?

12:43

GReedyAsshole: well, Elijah always wanted to improve his creations and later that year he started the Cyberlife company. Pretty much, GV’s bio-components shutdown years ago, he’s in a nice looking glass box in Elijah’s lab now.

12:45

GReedyAsshole: he doesn’t look like me though, just his chassis now...

12:46

RK8myass: oh, okay.

12:46

GReedyAsshole: what, where you expecting me to tell you that I’ve been taking two dicks at once?

12:47

RK8myass: shut up, asshole.

12:47

#dbh characters #dbh rk900 #detroit #detroit: become human #dbh #elijah kamski #hank anderson #dbh connor #dbh elijah #dbh hank #dbh gavin #gavski #gavin x elijah #elijah x gavin

[readyourimgaines]

Thunder

Good evening. This is something I wrote a while back and was encouraged to post on here. I got the idea from the blog @disabled-queen-hc. I started writing oneshots for a fan-fiction high school AU I want to write at some point about what it would be like if Freddie had Autism and the band met in modern high school. this was beta read by Snafu and my friend @iamnotbrianmay. So thank you to everyone involved. -Freddie 

Noise was something Freddie could usually handle. The roar of the crowds at their shows, the massive amps, and the drums on stage. He could keep his wits about him with those going on. It didn’t bother him anymore. With the concert racket he could see and trace it back to where it was coming from. With thunderstorm, he couldn’t.

Freddie Mercury was a very verbal person. He was always making sounds. Chirps, trills, squeaks, hums, squeals, ticks, and clicks. So when there was a crush of thunder followed by a near scream and shattering glass, the other three members of Queen knew what was going on. Something was, most definitely, bothering Freddie.

Brian quickly got up from the chair he was in, dropping the newspaper on the living room table as he got up. “Freddie?”

He quickly made his way to the kitchen and wasn’t surprised to see Freddie crouched down, his arms wrapped around his head, his dishtowel still in hand. His feet were bare and a broken cup lay to his left.

“Love?” Brian approached him slowly so he wouldn’t startle him again. “You’re okay.” Brian took his hand and helped him stand up, guiding him around the broken cup so his feet wouldn’t get cut. “Come here. You’re safe.”

Brian wrapped his arms around Freddie and lead him to the living room. As soon as they were out of the kitchen, John set to cleaning up the broken glass while Roger ran to Freddie and Brian’s room to get Freddie’s weighted blanket.

Freddie squeaked and crouched again when another clap of thunder sounded overhead. Brian knelt down with him, still holding him tightly. “Do you want to go to the couch?” Brian cooed. His answer was another squeak. “That’s alright. We’ll stay here.”

Roger returned with the blanket and grabbed Griffin, Freddie’s comfort toy, from the couch on his way to the two.

“Freddie,” Roger got the older’s attention. “I’ll make you a deal, mate. I’ll give you Griffin and you give me the towel, sounds alright?” Roger held the toy out to Freddie and took the towel as he was distracted by it.

Once Freddie had the toy, Brian set to wrapping Freddie up in his blanket, like whenever he got over stimmed and needed to calm down. There was another clap of thunder and Freddie squeaked again, wiggling in the blanket. Brian pulled him into his lap and tightly hugged the singer.

“Thunder isn’t all that bad, Lovie.” Brian said. “It’s pretty interesting, actually.” Another clap and Freddie pressed his face against Brian’s side as tears started coming from his eyes. “Look at it this way. When thunder’s forming—lightning too—”

“Brian,” John cut him short, “if he doesn’t understand how the motum gives the house Wifi, he’s not going to understand how thunderstorms form.”

“He has a point…” Roger nodded. “Got it! Story time.”

Roger and John moved to sit by the other two. Another clap and Freddie squirmed, his squeak muffled in Brian’s side.

“Freddie, you’re familiar with the Greek Gods, right?” Roger asked as he sat across from them.

“He nodded.” Brian said.

“Do you know about the Nordic Gods? Thor, Loki, Odin, Freya, and all them?” Roger went on.

“Yeah.”

“Alright. So, you know how Thor is god of lightning and how Loki, the trickster god, is his brother? Thunderstorms are the of them playing around and Odin scolding them. Loki brings the rain as a joke to annoy people on Earth.” Freddie peaked out from Brian’s side and the other smiled. “The lightning? That’s caused by Thor bickering with Loki to get him to stop while. And lastly, the thunder is Odin yelling at both of them to leave the other alone.”

Freddie’s tears had stopped and he mutely watched Roger. John nudged him slightly to urge him to keep talking and tell more stories. Roger quickly wracked his brain trying to find another story. He didn’t remember all the ones he used to tell his sister when they were little.

Another clap of thunder sounded and Freddie squeaked, curling back against Brian. John stood. “I’ll call Kash.”

He stepped into his and Roger’s room and dialed the number. “Hey John,” Kash’s voice floated over the line.

“Hi. Uh, quick question pertaining to Freddie and thunderstorms…”

“He’s worked up?”

“Almost in tears, yeah. How do we calm him down? We thought Roger had him relaxed with a story, but when it was over he got worked up again. Do we just read to him?”

“Uh, you can do that. Getting him to sleep is another good one. If getting him to sleep doesn’t work then you could try audio-books or something on YouTube. He really likes guided meditations, there are ones about Tolkien’s middle Earth that he really enjoys and loves.”

“Alright, got it.”

“He’s got his blanket and Griffin?”

“Yeah. Brian’s got him and Griffin all wrapped up.” John thought for a second. “What does Freddie think of pillow forts and that sort of thing?”

“Oh, he loves them. You used to build them all the time in the living room at our parents’ house and watch Disney movies.”

“That’s also noted. I’ve got a plan now. Thank you, so much.”

“Don’t mention it. It means a lot to me—to Freddie too— that you guys are learning so much about his condition and are willing to adapt to him.”

“Of course. He’s one of us now. He’s in the family. We help Brian when he’s depressed, Roger when he gets in his moods. They help me when my anxiety’s up. We’ll help Freddie when we can. It’s like he said. Four misfits who don’t belong together making music for other misfits who are pretty sure they don’t belong either.”

“Roger, help me make a pillow fort.” John said, re-entering the living room and searching something on his phone. He found one that was looked interesting.

“Freddie?” He knelt next to the shaking form that Brian was still trying to comfort. “I talked to Kash, she said that this might help.”

He pressed play on the video he had brought up YouTube and placed the phone on the floor by where Brian and Freddie. As the story started, Brian felt Freddie’s shaking lessen.

“Why are we making pillow fort?” Roger whispered. He had gotten the extra blankets from the ottoman and had them now on the couch.

“Because Kash said that they used to build them and watch Disney movies. Besides, we’ve been talking about binging Disney movies. Now’s the perfect chance.”  

Brian watched Freddie’s face as the older calmed down slowly. His trembling had stopped but it was clear he was still uneasy. Brian kept holding him tightly as the storm went on over head. Freddie cuddled up against Brian a little more and closed his eyes.

Freddie hadn’t realized he’d fallen asleep until he opened his eyes. Going by the time on Brian’s watch, he’d only been asleep for about half an hour. However, that mere 30 minutes was time enough for John and Roger to be almost completed with their blanket and pillow fort. The ones he and Kash used to make took only about ten minutes. It was the size of the fort that had take them so long. It took up most of the living room. Brian had moved them to couch at some point and now the floor was padded with two of their biggest and softest blankets. They were still on couch.

Brian leaned down and kissed Freddie’s forehead, the one still burritoed in the blanket snuggled closer. “Hi, Fred.”

“Hi.”

John and Roger grinned. “Ready for some Disney movies, Freddie?” John asked. His laptop was open hooked up to the TV with an HDMI cable. He set up Netflix and figured they’d start there before getting out their DVDs. Freddie nodded eagerly and snuggled against Brian again, burrowing his face into the guitar’s shoulder when thunder sounded once again.

“You’re okay, Lovely.” Brian kissed his forehead, sweeping his bangs gently off his forehead.

John pressed play on Beauty and the Beast, the original of course, Freddie did like the added songs in the live action but the Beast made him a little uneasy sometimes and that’s not what they needed. Roger pulled John to lay with him on the newly padded floor, and the bassist happily laid down for cuddles.

The first couple of movies were like a sing-a-long. It was a funny thing for Freddie to think about. One of the most popular and growing rock bands in England laying in a pillow fort singing along to Disney musicals in four part harmonies.

As the night wore on, however, the four started tapering off into sleep. Roger had gotten the comforter from his and John’s bed to cover them on the floor and Freddie had unwrapped his weighted blanket from around himself so that it would cover Brian too.

John was the first to fall asleep, which didn’t surprise any of them considering the week he’d had at school; Roger was next seeing as he was being lulled to sleep by both the music from the movies and John’s calm breathing. The next was Brian. He fell asleep around one in the morning after having asked Freddie he was alright about 20 times.

Freddie closed his eyes around two, listening to ‘God Help the Outcasts’. A distant roll of thunder could be heard and Freddie opened one eye in annoyance.

“Shh…” he whispered, “you’ll wake them.”

He curled himself around Brian’s side, adjusted one of the weights in the blanket, and fell asleep.

#snafu and freddie's imagine shoppe #read your imagines #autistic!Freddie #freddie mercury imagines #frian imagine

[chelleaslin]

Rare Pair Month Day 2- Winter nights (Lukanette)

@mlrarepairmonth

The white frosty cloud danced out of Lukas lips and he breathed warm air on his glove clad hands. His face flushed a light pink hue from the cold wind of a Paris winter. Why was he out in this cold? Because his Mother is obsessed with the pastries from Tom & Sabine Boulangerie Patisserie, AKA Marinette’s Family bakery. Who are closing down soon to spend the holidays together, so naturally Luka would spent his pocket money, and an hour of his free time, riding multiple buses and trams from the Seine river to the famous bakery! It’s wasn’t a big deal, he got to see Marinette before the year ended so he was very please when the last bus finally made a stop across the street from the Bakery.

“Finally.” Luka breathed out as he walked off the bus. He stopped under the shelter, giving his head a little shake in a vain attempt to wake himself up a little. He glanced up and down the street, checking for cars, before venturing into the bakery. The small bell above the door, chimed, announcing Luka’s entrance into the store. The warmth from the heater and the smell of the baked goods welcomed Luka.

“Good evening and welcome” a cheerful voice annouced, behind the counter was a small petite asian women with short dark blue hair and brown eyes. That must be Marinettes mother, Luka thought, the resemblances is uncanny.

“Hello, I’ve been sent by my mother to buy a few pastries.” Luka smiled kindly at the women, while reaching into his pockets to retreve the list his mother had written earlier. He unravelled the folded piece of paper to reveal the true length of the list.

“My,” the women gasp,”that certainly is a big list.”

“Sure is” Luka muttered, embassed, “she wants to make she she has enough to last the “cold winter” while your shop is closed.”

“We’re only going to be closed for 3 days.” The women whispered.

The two were interrupted by numerous loud thuds coming from the ceiling that seemed to be getting closer and closer until the bottem of Marinette dupin-cheng’s feet appeared at the top of the stairs behind the counter. The small girl quickly scurried down the stairs, her footing slipped at she started to stumble slightly.

Luka and Marinette mother held their breaths for a second as they hopelessly reached their hands out. Luckily Marinette managed to catch herself and finish esending the stairs. She didn’t even seem to register the pair near the counter of the panic she had just caused the duo.

She frantically whipped her head left and right before tugging at her pigtails in frustration. She growled lightly to herself a frown clear of her face till her blue eyes locked with a slightly terrified Luka. Then a maniacal grin grew across her features as she stalked towards him.

“Mum” she said nodding at the equally confused women.

“Hello, Luka, say are you busy?” She asked innocently, she even had the audacity to blink her eyelashes at him. Luka was beyond confused and really creeped out right now, Marinette had always been a strange girl but this, this was something else.

“Ah, yeah actually.” Luka scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, a nervous tick of his, “I’m running some errands for my Moth-“

“Great, can I borrow your body?” She half yelled as she dove onto the counter to grab his arm. Her finger going straight to his neck and across to his shoulder while she mutter to herself underneath her breath. “You the perfect size for what I need!”

A loud crashing sound seemed to interrupt Marinette from her unknown motives, giving Luka the upper hand, he carefully detatched the girl before stepping way out of her reach for his benefit and perhaps her own. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath trying to calm his racing heart and teenage thoughts down.

“What the heck is going on?” A deep voice sounded, breaking Luka from said meditation. Luka’s eyes snapped open to see an extraordinary burley man behind the counter. His massive arms and hands were crossed and his hard brown eyes were glaring at Luka.

“N-nothing!” Luka stuttered, trying to defend himself, well at least verbally, physically he was at a lose.

“What?” Marinette said, sounding extremely upset “I thought you said you’d come up to my bedroom so I can finish, I can’t do it without you! I’ve literally tried everything else” she rambled, “I don’t have any male body’s to work with that are the right size,”

At this point Luka can’t help the red blush that stained his face and neck, He had no idea what the girl was talking about but it sounded a lot like she was implying, that he and her should go up to her room and, well yeah.

On the other hand, the giant man, who Luka now figured was Marinette Dad, was very red too but for a much negative reason.

The man was practically shaking in anger, he opened his mouth, probably to start yelling before his wife cut him off.

“Marinette, dear, what exactly are you talking about?” She asks sweetly but Luka’s can tell she is clearly stressing a little too.

“The hood I said I was going to make” she said in a tone that just screamed ‘duh’ “I told you guys a few hours ago I was going to attempt it even though I didn’t have a model for it.” She gave her parents a look of pure confusion like she had no idea why everyone was over reacting.

At her explanation the tension in the room started to unwind as Luka’s saw her parent visible relex. This confused the young blue haired girl more. She scrunched her eyesbrows together as she had a hard think about everything that just happened. Luka guessed she realised what everyone else was thinking earlier on because her whole face burned a bright red.

“NO!” She shouted, taking a defensive stance and pointing a her parents. “That is NOT what I meant.” The poor girl look like she was about to drop dead from embarrassment, she couldn’t even force herself to make eye contact with Luka.

It was silent for a few minutes before a loud bang rang out the room, Luka wouldn’t be lying if he said he didn’t jump. Turns out the threading, loud bang was just Marinette’s Dad clapping his hands together.

“Well, now that thoughs, er.., misunderstandings have been sorted, do you still need the..Young gentlemen’s help? Wait how old are you?” He said eyeing Luka again.

“17” he replied softly.

“17! That’s 2 whole years older then Marinette. How do you know her?” He asked, giving Luka a suspicious glance. Luka sighed to himself, why must everyone asume he has the worst intentions just because he’s an older male.

“He’s my friend, Juleka’s, older brother Luka. He also plays the guitar in Roses band, Kitty Section.” Marinette quickly butted in, saving Lukas from the tense situation. Luka glanced up at her father, whose eyebrows were furrowed. A look of Contemplation written across this hard features. Then suddenly like a flick of a switch, everything about him soften. His muscle relaxed, and he slouched ever so slightly, as if he was suddenly aware of his height and girth and wanted to make himself smaller, his cold brown eyes were warm and welcoming and lastly he had the softest smile on his, now kind features. Luka felt like he was about to have whiplash from all the emotional changes, he quickly scanned the room to make sure no Akumas were about.

“Ah sorry my bad!” The man chuckled, “I’m Tom Dupin and this his my lovely wife, Sabine Cheng.” He introduced them to Luka.

“Nice to meet you, Tom and Sabine.” He smiled tightly at them, he was trying his hardest to stay polite but this situation had been every tense and awkward and his anxiety was starting to rise. “Anyway, I’m truely sorry Marinette, but I have to get these pastries back to my Mum now or I’ll miss all my buses.”

“Oh yeah, of course, sorry” Marinette said sadly, looking down at her fingers and fiddling with them. Luka felt his heartache at the sight of the normal cheerful girl, looking so glum. He wanted to reach out and hold her and apologise for this whole situation and just make her smile again, but he couldn’t even muster up another smile. He felt drained from this whole situation and just needed to be alone for a bit. He clenched his fist in anger and frustration, why did he have to be like this?

“So what that that list dear?” Sabine asked, hand extended to take the list from the older teenage boy. Luka handed the list over and just stood off to the side slightly, finder comfort in pretending he was busy by picking at his nail polish. He heard the two bakers, mumuring to themselves before Tom cleared his throat.

“I’m sorry Luka but since it almost closing time we don’t have even half of this list. Actually we only have about five things left in general.” He explained with a guilty expression. Argh, just Lukas luck, he thought.

“It’s fine sir, I’ll just tell Mum we didn’t beat the rush.” He awkwardly said before cringing internally. “I’ll be off then.” He blurted, his heart rate picking up. He made a sharp turn around and rushed to the door, except when he tried to push it it wouldn’t budge. He tried again and again and again! But still nothing. He started to panic. He continuously tried to open the door till a small hand was placed on his shoulder.

“Luka calm down.” Marinette soft voice rang out. Luka just froze up, his hearing felt like everything was underwater, like he was drowning, his vision blurred ever so slightly around the edges giving him tunnel-like vision and he heart beat thumped to loudly for him to concentration. He knew this feeling too well, the harboured, swallow breaths and the outer body feeling of a altered reality, he was having a panic attack. He tried to focus on his breathing to no advail, he felt scared and hopeless.

He heard a lot of commotion around him but could make out what was happen. He heard bits and pieces of the Dupin-Cheng’s conversation. He heard the words; snowed in overnight, calm him down, upstairs, call, now Marinette! He couldn’t put the pieces together and before he could think any harder about it he was being carried upstairs. He was too out of it to even question how he was being carried because he suddenly felt very tired and fell asleep.

...

When he awoke, he was in a dimly lit room, the only light source come from a small lamp in the far right corner of the room, Luka sat up slowly and took in his surroundings, although it was dark he could make out a television, couch and bookcase, enough for him to realised he was in a living room, but certainly not his.

“W-where?” He muttered, just then a noticed a lump starting to stir on a recliner to his left. Suddenly a head of midnight blue hair popped out from under a blanket.

“Luka?” The voice called out quietly. Lukas heart swelled at the sound of his name being called from a very tired Marinette.

“Yeah it’s me.” He replied sitting up fully, a blanket falling from his shoulders, he also noticed a pillow on the couch where his head was just resting. Marinette must have seen his confusion.

“You’re in our living room, Papa carried you up he when you were uh,”

“I had a panic attack,” He whispers sadly, avoiding eye contact. Luka heard the recliner creak before footsteps approached him.

“Do you want to talk about it?” She asked kindly as she squatted down in front of him. He looked down at her and saw the worry in her kind blue eyes.

“ No offence back I’d rather not.” He croaked out, emotions swelling up in him once again. He knew he needed to calm down so he tried to meditate, he inhaled and exhaled deep breaths to calm himself down. Once he was calm again he looked back at Marinette.

“Shit, what’s the time, I’m going to miss my buses!” He exclaimed. He tried to get up to leave but Marinette was faster then him and grab him by the shoulders and pushed him back down with a surprising amount of strength, a little too much actually because she lost her footing and fell with him, landing in his land on the couch.

A furious blush burned her freckled cheek as she quickly stammer an apology and shifted next to him. Luka just sat still and awkwardly tried to calm his body down from overreacting. This girl is going to be the death of him.

“Ahem,” Marinette clear her throat, “anyway, it’s already dark outside, you’ve truely missed your buses and we are also snowed in till tomorrow morning, so you’ll have to stay the night.” She explained. Luka took in the news and sighed.

“Okay, what about my Mother, I have to ring her and let her know what going on.”

“Already done” she announced as she gave him a smirk “I called Jules and got her to put your Mother on and Papa explained everything to her. She the one who explained what to do with you during your.. attack.” She explained, getting quieter at the end.

He smiled at her, finding her trouble with address his panic attacks somewhat sweet. she was trying to be gentle and sensitive with him and it made his heart melt.

“Thank you Marinette, you are such a kind hearted girl.” The blue haired boy softly whisper, gripping the blanket and wrapping it tighter around him. Marinette blushed, looking down at her hands.

“Well I’m going to guess that your not tired anymore either and we have a long night ahead of us. What do you want to do?” She asked him as she got of the couch and stretched. Luka averted his gaze from the girl as her shirt rid up, and, are they abs?

“Well if you still need my body, it’s all yours.” Luka mused, trying to get a reaction out of the girl. He was very successful as Marinette froze up, mid stretch, and started to blush. She quickly turned to Luka, flailing her arms as she struggled to defend herself. Luka couldn’t help himself, he threw is head back and let out a bark of laughter. Marinette didn’t find this amusing at all. She crossed her arms and stomped her foot in frustration.

“Luka stop” she whined. He stopped laughing, wiping a fake tear from his eye for dramatic flair. He looked up at the girl in front of him and took in her apparence. Her dark blue hair was in a messy bun, her freckled skin was covered in pink splotches, a clear sign of her embarrassment, yet her blue eyes were as fierce as always. He sighed to himself, he was in deep.

“What?” Marinette self consciously whispered, wrapping her arms around herself. Luka just smiled as he reached out to her.

“Nothing, I just realised how hard I’ve fallen for you.” He grab her arm and pulled her down onto his chest. He laid back down with the smaller girl on top of him, her head against his chest as his arms wrapped around her. “Let’s just stay like this for awhile, yeah?”

Marinette was stunned, she felt like she had all the butterflies in the world in her stomach, so many that Hawkmoth would have non left to akumatize. She knew that she had a reason to say no to Lukas advatanges but she honestly could recall what or who it was, her brain had shut down. Instead She found herself snuggling as close to him as possible as her finger reached up to his dip dyed hair.

Luka heard Marinette sigh as she relaxed into him. His heart swelled knowing he had the girl he cared for so much here in his arms. He lifted his head up slightly as he kissed her dark hair.

“I wish we could spend all our winter nights like this” he whispered, but the girl in his arms had already drifted off to sleep.

#marinette dupin cheng #marinette #luka #luka couffine #miraculous tales #ladybug #fanfic #oneshot #rarepairmonth2019

[kinkingbird-blog]

“When the Mask Falls” Ninja Ship Party

NAME: “When the Mask Falls”

FANDOM: Shipgrumps

CHAPTER: Part 3 of a Series 

PAIRINGS: Ninja Ship Party

SUMMARY: A filled commission. Six months into his relationship with Brian, Danny invites him to move in. What starts as moving toward the next step of their lives together forces Brian's old demons to arise: imposter syndrome, running thoughts, and fear. As Brian's life begins breaking down around him, he worries he won't be able to hide it from Danny for much longer - especially if Arin's going to keep watching him so closely.

RATING: M.

WARNINGS: Angst with a happy ending, vomiting, panic attacks, imposter syndrome, sex used as a distraction

WORD COUNT: 18,453

AO3 Cross Post: [x]

Commissions are open!!

Buy Me A Coffee, if you’d like~

As they rested together in Danny’s massive bed, their bare and sweaty legs meeting from ankle to hip, Brian stared at the ceiling, still catching his breath and marveling at what he’d received. It was a gift. He knew it was. No one in the world deserved this much happiness at once.

Six months officially together. Six months of warmth. Six months of fondness. Six months of...of love. After what felt like a lifetime of pining for his best friend, being continuously blessed with his bright eyes and his laughs and his body seemed too much for Brian to keep for long.

Did he only have a limited allotment of happiness? Was he burning through it too fast? Did he only have a little bit left, and if Danny whisked away, would he be miserable for the rest of his life?

Brian was a trained man – one who’d worked for years to attain that level of skill and knowledge in his field – but during nights like this, when his adrenaline was finally slowing, he knew that he’d put himself in a corner by doing that. His mind seemed to work faster than anyone else’s. Danny might still be lying here thinking about how amazingly tight Brian was around his cock, but Brian was already three years ahead, anticipating their inevitable break up.

Sometimes he hated himself.

A hand on his chest made his thoughts still, and Brian watched Danny roll over and rest his head next to his on the pillow. With his cheeks still flushed and his gaze shimmering, he looked as languid and beautiful as a god, and Brian couldn’t help but smile back at him.

“We should do this more often,” Danny murmured.

Brian chuckled. “What, fuck? Twice a week isn’t enough for your rabbit libido?”

“Absolutely not.” He pushed in closer, his chest flush against Brian’s ribs, and he sighed and dropped an arm around Danny’s shoulders. No way in hell was he ever going to push him away when it came to cuddles. Silence spread between them for a few seconds before Danny opened his mouth again. “I just mean that, y’know, things feel...right when you’re here. It’s always been that way. It’s never gonna change.”

Shadow thoughts reared their ugly head, speaking so fast that Brian couldn’t comprehend them. Just felt the existential dread resting on his chest, pushing down more and more and more until he could scarcely breathe. “It’s because I’m fucking perfect,” Brian quipped in response, even as it made the rumble rise that much higher. “Not my fault you had nothing but a bunch of losers before me.”

Danny snorted and prodded him in the side, but didn’t reply. That was odd enough. Danny always at least tried to have a verbal comeback for Brian, even if it sounded ridiculous in hindsight. Straight up silence was rare.

He has something he wants to say.

Every nerve in Brian’s body sparked, hairs standing on end, as he listened to his lover’s breathing. Danny would inhale, pause, then let it all out quickly. Lift his hand, as if to use it to talk, and then drop it again and go back to thumbing over Brian’s skin.

“Penny for your thoughts,” Brian finally murmured when he thought he couldn’t take it anymore.

Danny cupped his cheek and met his eyes. “I get lonely when you leave, man.” Even after these months together, common pet names were still odd for them, and Brian felt the affection in that old form of address deeper than he ever had before. “My bed gets cold. I don’t sleep as good. It fucking sucks.”

Jesus. Realization filled Brian’s chest, and he stared at him unblinking. “Sucks to be you?” Sarcasm was safe. Sarcasm kept him from hoping for something that he didn’t think he might deserve.

A smile flashed up at him, nervous but true. “Your lease runs out in two months, dude. I know you haven’t signed it yet. And, uh...I think you should move in with me.”

Warmth and pleasure flooded him from his mind downward, engulfing his heart in such love that he could barely breathe. He rolled over and pressed in tight, until their noses rubbed together – until he could see every single thought in Danny’s brown eyes. “You really mean that?”

The grin only widened. “I wouldn’t kid about that, Bri. I love you – you know I do. And I’m sick and tired of watching you walk out my door to go to your shitty ass bed.”

“My bed is fantastic,” Brian declared as he wrapped his arms around Danny and kissed him.

Laughter vibrated against his lips. As Danny pulled back, Brian tried to chase him, but he wasn’t deterred. “I’m burning your mattress when you move in.”

“Yeah?” He kissed him again. “I’m burning your shoes.”

“Fuck you! I’m throwing all your old man clothes out!”

Brian pulled him on top of him and beamed. “I’m throwing out your shirts from college.”

Real terror filled Danny’s gaze. “You wouldn’t!”

Brian simply quirked a brow.

“You’re evil.” Danny rolled them over completely, so Brian straddled him, and dragged him down for kisses that filled them both with moans. “I’ll make you pay the mortgage with me.”

Brian chuckled and gripped his jaw lightly in one strong hand – a tease of power. “Careful, Danny. That sounds like you’re going to ask me to marry you next.”

He pulled him in.

Between kisses and gentle manhandling and faint groans of pleasure, Brian drowned in Danny once more. Bubbled up as brightly as he was with the golden sheen over their future together, he couldn’t quite remember where the dark storm clouds of earlier had come from.

 ~~

 Plans were easy to make. They were more like dreams than anything else. It was easy for Danny to lean on Brian’s chair in the office and tell him to look up a certain piece of furniture that he wanted to buy – but only if Brian wanted it too. He’d talk about starting to make space in his closet for Brian’s clothes. There’d be a question about what Brian might want to bring into the house from his apartment, since Danny had entire rooms that weren’t even being used yet.

It was perfect.

Brian was a logical man. He worked with numbers and facts, not things that were unattainable. The theory of perfection was impossible when it came to anyone – but for someone like Brian? Twice as unlikely. Something would inevitably fall to pieces every time, and with each day that passed without incident, it meant that the likelihood of failure doubled. Over and over and over it went, until he might very well be walking on a tightrope and peering down into the abyss and knowing that even the softest breeze would knock him over.

He did not deserve perfection. And that appeared to be precisely where their lives were heading.

 ~~

 “You’re really sure about this, huh?” Brian asked, interrupting Danny in the middle of talking about putting him on his homeowner’s insurance plan. “Like...honest and truly.”

Danny blinked at him. He set the bowl of popcorn in his lap aside with a quiet laugh. “I mean...yeah? Does it seem like I’m not?”

A few seconds of silence passed as Brian parsed through his thoughts, trying to pinpoint the exact reason he felt unsure. “I mean...it took me literal years to enter a relationship with you, Dan. You remember how we got together? When...when you weren’t even sure if you were still straight or not?”

More quiet. A hint of tension lingering in the air between them. Danny cleared his throat and turned on the couch to face him, their paused movie going completely ignored. “I, uh...no, yeah, I remember that.”

“So you can understand why I’m a little surprised that you brought it up in the first place.” Or that you’re even taking it as seriously as you are.

Danny reached out and snagged one of Brian’s hands, squeezing it. He kept his eyes on it as he spoke. “I took a while. I know I did. You didn’t have to be patient with me, man, but...but you were, and...I’m trying to show you that I’m serious. Okay?”

Brian glanced up at him.

“This isn’t about playing house. This is me trying to make sure you know that I want you in my life. Always. I think about you constantly when you’re not here ‘cuz it just makes sense for me to come around the corner and see you cooking in the kitchen or something.” Danny slowly met his eyes and ran his thumb over the back of his knuckles. “I know I kind of led you on there for a while. I know I kept getting scared shitless about what might happen if we...if we started being more than friends. And I’m glad we did – I really am – but I don’t want you to spend the rest of your life wondering if my fucking commitment issues are gonna suddenly pop up out of nowhere.”

Brian shook his head. “Us moving in together won’t obliterate those. They might still be there, and they might come out, and we’ll have to deal with them-”

“I know, I know.” Danny laughed and looked away. “I know, Brian, like...I’m the one here who’s gonna drag this relationship down, if it ever gets shaky. I know that. My issues are fucking ridiculous, and you don’t have, like, a single thing wrong with you, and it’s kind of intimidating, but...”

The shadow voices rose again, whispering in the back of Brian’s mind, a sinewy sort of melody that he couldn’t completely ignore.

With a sigh, Danny called his attention back to him again. “Look, I love you, Bri. I love you. That’s not gonna stop any time soon. And I wanna prove it by taking this to the next level.”

Brian’s lips quirked. “Even if it’s scary?”

“Even if it’s scary.”

“And I make you remodel your entire bathroom?”

“Go fuck yourself.”

Brian laughed. “All right, fine. So you put me on the fucking mortgage and insurance. What next?”

Danny beamed at him, looking up through messy curls, staring at him with far more love in his eyes than he’d ever deserved.

He was breathless with the weight of it.

 ~~

 Brian stepped away from his laptop to make some coffee, too restless to sleep and too jittery to keep looking at quotes for moving companies. He hadn’t even gotten too far into planning – he still had to go looking for boxes – but it was too much to handle all at once tonight.

Evenings like this called to mind some of the more desperate lows of his friendship with Danny. That phone call, the one where he told him about how he’d be moving to the United Kingdom. The response he’d received. It trickled down his back like shards of ice, chilling him to the bone. Sometimes, even if he couldn’t recall every single precise word, the devastation still came heavy, like snow that turned into hail, beating him down until he didn’t have lungs to breathe with.

He hesitated next to the kitchen counter, then sagged against it, feeling old concerns scratch at the back of his throat. Was Danny asking him to move in so he could guarantee that he’d keep Brian there, no matter what? Did he not trust Brian to stick around anymore?

He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, took a deep breath, then tried to force it down, like sticking his foot in the garbage can and pressing.

These were reasons why he didn’t deserve the innocent happiness he saw in Danny’s gaze. He’d hurt him. Over and over again, he’d caused him pain in order to distance his own love from Danny. It was safer that way, he thought. Sensible. He could say that he wanted to move across the ocean to pursue better job opportunities, but the lies had been sand in his mouth, and every damn time he thought for sure that Danny knew.

Brian didn’t like lying. But it was all he ever did.

“Stop,” he whispered. He forced himself to inhale, filling his chest to the brim. He wouldn’t bubble over tonight. He wouldn’t let himself linger. He couldn’t. He just...he…

The pain stayed. Cloying him into a false sense of security, it traced claws over his muscles, then stabbed deep the second he thought the danger had passed.

It hasn’t been this bad in a while.

Brian considered the alcohol he had trapped high in his kitchen. He rarely indulged, and given that his boyfriend and most other friends didn’t touch the stuff he didn’t often find reason to bring it down. The temptation was there tonight. He stared at the closed cabinet, then moved away, wandering aimlessly through the apartment. He told himself that he was going to start sorting through things that he’d donate or throw away rather than take with him in the move.

Instead he ended up in front of his mirror.

For long moments, he simply stared, taking in the way he appeared to the world. The t-shirt with the physics pun on it. The jeans that had seen better days. Wrinkles on his hands and by his eyes. Silver hair slowly consuming the dark. Bulging eyes, thin lips, massive nose, thick gut, thighs covered in stretchmarks--

The pain was here. It sliced through him, dragging him into the thick of it, where there was no escape.

Danny deserved better than a man like Brian. Danny was...was beautiful and remarkable. He represented a far greater success story than anything Brian could ever do. He inspired people. He changed lives. He made everyone think that they could be better, if only they fought like he had. He had a laugh that lit up a room, and eyes that smoldered just as well as they sparkled, and a smile that made whoever saw it think that they were the only person alive.

It didn’t make sense that things had changed as quickly as they did. That Danny had...realized somehow that he wanted Brian. That he’d ached for him for years. That didn’t happen in real life. No one had happiness like that – especially not someone far past their prime, and who’d spent years making sure that their most secret, intimate feelings were kept hidden away.

Had Brian somehow manipulated Danny into wanting him without even trying? There wasn’t another logical explanation. Taking a man who had identified as heterosexual for his entire life – who even today still didn’t know what label to apply to himself, in this climate of ever changing sexuality language – and making him believe that he loved him? That he wanted to have sex with him? How did that happen? How did someone really have no prior concept that they might be slightly less than straight for almost forty years, and then suddenly wake up with a boner for another man?

Somehow he’d done something wrong, he thought.

A ping in the living room startled him, and Brian fought through the remnants of the haze before he remembered his phone, the message alert, that he had a text, and he forcibly turned himself from the mirror and breathed once more. He wandered back into the living room and checked his phone.

It was from Danny. A screenshot of a furniture website. A couch – far bigger than his own, something to compete with the massive sectional that Arin and Suzy had – that would finally make Danny’s living room look a little less barren.

“Plenty of room for cuddles and kicking your ass in games! Can’t wait for you to be here. The house is too quiet. The only way I’m staying sane is by thinking about when you’ll be here with me forever.”

Such sweetness dripped like honey into his mouth. Did he deserve it? No, maybe not. But he was a selfish man. He always had been. Why else would he have accepted Danny’s new feelings without questioning them? And he wanted this. Wanted Danny.

Maybe he was an imposter, and maybe Danny hadn’t figured that out yet. Maybe he never would. Maybe Brian would go his whole damn life knowing he didn’t deserve love as pure as this, or friendship as steadfast as he received from Arin or Brent or Ross, or kindness as rich as what he felt on a daily basis even from total strangers.

But he was going to fight to keep it. And nothing would stop him.

He sent a text back – ”It’s hideous. It’ll match the rest of your decor perfectly.” – and felt his lips quirk when Danny sent him a pouting selfie back. He saved the picture immediately, then sat down and picked up his laptop again.

Moving companies. Right. He could work on that. He could ignore the throbbing ache in his chest still – where the claws had marred him the worst. He could get things done and not be so fucking useless.

Easy peasy.

 ~~

 “Morning!”

“Morning.” Brian gave Danny a quick kiss on the lips and smiled at him fondly as they passed in the hallway. “Ready to do all my work for me?”

“Fuck you!” Danny sang out brightly as he disappeared around the corner, and Brian laughed. He sat at his desk with a sigh and immediately opened up his emails, preparing to slog through the important ones and neglect the shit. It’d take him a little while to wake up, and sipping his coffee while doing this always helped.

Having Danny beside him never helped matters of focus. It was a process – becoming comfortable enough in their relationship that they could still be pleased to see each other and occasionally play some kind of stomping foot wars under the desk in the name of flirting, but also no longer feeling like live wires the second they both made eye contact and being unable to complete any work again until they snuck away to the bathroom for a few stolen moments of making out. They were relaxing so much more now that it felt...domestic, somehow, to sit here and go through emails and to know that Danny would be back soon, and that they’d sink into the quiet of their keyboards clacking while simply breathing each other in.

Brian took another drink of coffee when he heard footsteps behind him, and he glanced, then turned fully in his chair when he saw Arin lingering in the doorway. “Hey.”

“Hey!” Arin grinned. “Heard you agreed to the move. Congrats, dude!”

So it was out, then. He anticipated a long string of well wishers.“Did Danny just tell you?”

“Nah, we talked about it, like, weeks ago.” Arin waved it off. “Between you and me, I’m pretty sure I gave him the idea, heh. Don’t tell him I said that – he’ll kick my ass.”

Something uneasy stirred in Brian’s chest. Vulnerability. Suspicion. He couldn’t let that manifest. He focused on quipping, taking a second longer than usual to find something to spit out. “Don’t lie to me about that, Arin – we both know you wouldn’t recognize a good idea if it spanked you.”

Arin laughed, shaking his head. “No, seriously! It was...kind of cute, actually? Like, in a gross way. He ended up in my office all sweaty and doting and shit one day? Probably after you two snuck off during lunch – yes, I know about that, we all know about that, don’t look at me like that. Anyway, he was nervous or whatever about how happy he was with you, and how he wanted to show it...”

As Arin went on, Brian stopped taking it in. He stared at his face, feeling the foreboding spread little by little.

This was exactly what he should’ve expected, and he felt like a fool for not recognizing it earlier. Of course it hadn’t been Danny’s idea to ask Brian to move in. It hadn’t been Danny’s idea to have feelings for him either – it had taken Brian’s entire breakdown to put the idea in his head in the first place, even after years of friendship – so why would it be his idea to make their relationship a little more permanent? Brian could foresee a future moment – Suzy flashing her wedding ring or something and telling some new acquaintance all about Arin had proposed to her, and Danny overhearing the story and immediately going out and looking for wedding bands.

It made sense. Danny was impressionable. Gullible. Easy to trick and tease. Why would this have been any different?

“...and I figure it’s just about time anyway. If you guys had been living together right when you got back from England, I bet he would’ve been proposing to you in a week, like, let’s be real – you two are perfect for each other, and I can’t believe he was so blind for so damn long-”

“Well, if you gave him the idea, then it’s only fair that you help me move in,” Brian interrupted. There was something hollow inside of him. His words felt wooden. He swallowed and pressed on, clinging to the joke. “I think you should go ahead and mark your calendar for a few weeks away – the last Saturday of the month, maybe? I’ll put my feet up and drink a beer or two while you carry all my boxes inside. What do you say?”

The joke should’ve been easy to move the conversation along. Wit was Brian’s most efficient weapon, and he wielded it with ease. But something about Arin’s expression didn’t sit well with him. He looked like a scientist peering through a microscope. Like he was going to start taking notes.

Coldness spread through Brian’s gut.

“If you think I’m gonna be free labor without you even buying me a fucking pizza, you’ve got another thing coming,” Arin finally quipped, his lips quirking. “But, uh, nice try, buddy.” Arin patted him on the head, and Brian made a show of trying to bite his hand, making him laugh. “Do you wanna get some lunch today, by the way? It’s been a while since just you and I did anything together, hasn’t it?”

Maybe because you do everything with Danny instead of trying to do anything with me.

The thought made him so unsettled that Brian immediately spoke. “Nah, I’ve already got plans, but some other time, okay?”

Arin nodded, eyes still firm on Brian’s own, and smiled. “Sure, dude. Hey, lemme know if you need anything today.”

“As always, boss.”

Arin left the office, and Brian turned slowly to face his computer without quite seeing it. Had his earlier thought been jealousy? He didn’t think so. He had a long history of being jealous of whoever Danny spent his time with in the past, but those fleeting emotional memories hadn’t been ones he’d revisited once their romantic relationship began. Arin had Suzy, Brian had Danny, and he’s wasn’t about to be an asshole who made his lover stop seeing his best friend just because he wanted more time with him.

No, it hadn’t been jealousy about Danny’s time with him. But the feeling had been remarkably similar.

It was true. Arin and Brian rarely did things alone together, and if they spent time with each other it was typically because Danny was there instead, from tours to recording sessions to panel appearances at a con.

So was it jealousy because Arin never tried to initiate a one on one friendship with Brian before today? Possibly. But he couldn’t exactly blame him. With how effervescent Danny was, it was any wonder people took notice of Brian at all. So many nights spent on stage without people responding to him unless Danny deliberately focused attention in his direction. So many tweets directed toward Danny specifically. So many streams where Brian had taken control of the situation only by forcefully inserting himself into the limelight, not by request or demand.

Dear Danny and other members of NSP.

Danny was the golden guy. Brian had known it all along. If even once he had a friend who he introduced to Danny for the first time, it was inevitable that they came to prefer his company over Brian’s. After the lifetime of depression Danny had, Brian couldn’t exactly fault him for it, but…

It would’ve been nice for Arin to ask him to lunch out of his own interest in being better friends with him – and not because he looked at Brian like he was a puzzle to solve.

Emails. Brian took a deep breath, cleansing the tension in his chest, and focused on his screen again. It took a bit to find his stride, but he hit it, and he refused to let his attention divert – even when Danny slid into the chair beside him and squeezed his hand.

 ~~

 “You sure you can’t just move in tonight?”

Brian heard the teasing words, but he didn’t attend to them as well as he wanted to. His head felt slightly swimmy, and he doubted it had anything to do with the single draft beer he’d had, nor with Danny’s presence. No, the stress of work, he reasoned, was what had gotten to him, paired with knowing exactly how much he had left to pack. “I don’t even have the living room packed up yet,” he murmured, taking another sip of the beer.

Danny snorted. “Just get rid of it. We can buy new shit. Y’know...make it our place, not just mine.”

More gentle lurching in his belly. More sips of his drink. Maybe he was getting ill.

“Unless, like…I mean, if you want, I can just wait until you’re all moved in first, or...I can go ahead and buy everything?” Danny let out a light chuckle. “Waking you up all hours of the night with questions about furniture or whatever’s gotta be annoying.”

Brian shook his head, but didn’t reply verbally. His gaze drifted to the nearest TV, where a game played by a team he didn’t give a shit about. His legs itched. Maybe if he moved around a little, he’d actually be able to focus.

It was rare nowadays that Danny and Brian even had a chance to come out to a restaurant on a weekend night. Brian’s schedule was far more open than Danny’s, but he spent it all packing, and Danny was always working on videos, songs, interviews, seeing old friends, thinking about the future…

Brian blinked a few times, trying to clear his head. When was the last time he’d even slept the whole night through?

“...good game?”

“Hmm?” Brian blinked and looked at Danny for the first time in twenty minutes. “I have no idea. It’s on, that’s all I know.”

Danny wrinkled his brow as he slurped up the remnants of his soda through his straw. “Then, uh...why’re you paying more attention to it instead of me?”

A very good question. Danny was his boyfriend. He was the entire reason Brian had gotten in his car and drove here for a proper date, not just the two of them sitting on his couch and eating takeout food again. But something about the entire situation had him on edge. Sleep? Work stress? He considered them both logical possibilities, making tick marks on the whiteboard he often saw before his mind’s eye. Correlation did not equal causation, and…

“I canceled plans to be here.”

Something in Danny’s tone finally resonated in Brian’s gut like a bell. His lover was a patient guy. He didn’t often sound so...so snippy unless something was genuinely wrong. But there it was – that edge, the sharpness that Ross sometimes took on if no one in the office was paying attention to something he was working on. From Ross, it felt bratty. From Danny, it felt hollow and depressed.

Brian’s heart skipped a beat.

“If you needed to get something else done, we could’ve rescheduled,” Danny murmured. As Brian met his eyes, he saw the ache right on the surface – not hidden even slightly. How was Danny able to be so open and vulnerable like this? Was it because he was so generally loved by everyone around him that he hadn’t had to fight for attention in years? Brian couldn’t even imagine being that free.

How many doors were still tightly locked in Brian’s mind with shadows trying to poke beneath them?

As a chill resonated through Brian’s veins, he reached across the table and covered Danny’s hand. When Danny didn’t pull away – didn’t even look away – Brian leaned on old habits. “I’m out of it. Lots of work. Lots of packing. It’s shit. But you know that doesn’t mean I don’t wanna be here.” He tilted his head to the side. “I can’t think straight around you. When I’m this tired, my head just...goes places. Thinks about things that...maybe I shouldn’t be considering in polite company.”

Danny’s gaze flicked down to the table, and he shifted, turning his hand over so his fingers tickled over Brian’s inner wrist. “I mean...”

“What’s that?” Brian leaned closer, trying to catch his eye. “Does someone want to hear exactly what those inappropriate thoughts are?”

Danny chewed on his bottom lip, and, against his better judgment, it seemed, a smile peeked at the corners of his mouth. “Like you can ever keep your mouth shut anyway,” he finally said with a giggle. “You like to hear yourself talk so much.”

“And you like to listen.” Adopting the more sinewy tone was easier than it should’ve been, given how he continued to stomp on the quiet spark of panic at the base of his stomach. “But, if you don’t want to hear me...maybe I should just show you instead.”

Danny pulled his wallet out, flipping through it clumsily and pulling out a few bills to set on top of the check they’d been neglecting. “Fifteen minutes of anticipation-”

“Who said anything about waiting until we get home?”

Eyes snapping to Brian’s, Danny watched him, an ember of heat in his gaze. It was one that Brian knew wouldn’t take much at all to coax into life, and he jumped on the opportunity, standing up and taking Danny’s hand and pulling him out of the booth.

They’d never been so obviously clandestine before – not even at work. While the office felt like an extension of home in many ways, all thanks to the careful decorating that invoked inspiration without the stress of a standard office building, the fact that Brian led the way to the bathroom with promise in his hurried pace meant something far more exciting. And Danny would go along with it, of course. He always did.

He was weak for Brian. It seemed that over thirty years of repressing a supposed side of him meant that he couldn’t resist a damn thing that Brian offered him. It was kind of him to be patient with Danny in the past, he thought, when giving him as little as a snog in the hallways probably would’ve made his pants fall off without any additional help, but he didn’t have to wait anymore, did he?

Why not use this? Why not let his lover feel good anytime, anywhere?

Why not embrace the distraction?

The bathroom was a single stall, and Brian pushed Danny through the door and locked it behind him. His lover’s breath was already catching, and as Brian pressed flush against him, palming his jeans told him he was already hard.

“Eager,” Brian murmured with a smirk.

“I-I missed you, okay?” Danny leaned forward for a kiss, and Brian hesitated for only a moment before he returned it.

It wasn’t the first time Brian gave a blowjob while on his knees in a filthy bathroom, but it was the first time he actually enjoyed it.

At least...he was pretty sure that he did.

 ~~

 Normally Brian was fantastic at keeping track of time and dates, but something about Danny’s visit back home to see his family slipped by him completely. One night he was texting Danny and asking if their weekly Netflix date was still on for Friday, and the next second he was being reminded that Danny’s flight left that morning, actually – that they’d rescheduled to eat out two days before on purpose.

It wasn’t often that Danny got out of town to see his folks – and the fact that his sister would be there at the same time was a huge boon. For the first time outside of major holidays, they’d all be together – and for a whole week, too, to help celebrate their parents’ milestone anniversary together.

It worked out, really. It gave Brian time to focus on packing.

He imagined he might’ve gotten more done so far if he hadn’t been so busy at work. With his nose to the grindstone there, it was increasingly more difficult to focus on getting boxes packed and sealed ahead of time – and now the move was only two weeks away. The deposit had been put down on the moving company. Empty boxes filled his living room. Everything was set up to make it as speedy and efficient as possible.

He just...couldn’t focus.

That entire week, he did nothing but go to work, then come straight home to focus on packing. It should’ve made it easy. Danny was so enjoying his time with his family that he wasn’t reaching out to Brian very often. There were no distractions. Yet even still, Wednesday came with only one new box packed the night before, and the crunch was starting to tighten around him.

“Hey, Brian?” Ross stepped in his path as he headed toward the door at the end of the day. “What’s up?”

Brian blinked. He’d barely spoken to anyone in the office for days now. It took a few extra seconds for the clouds to clear away. “Nothing. Just on my way home. You?”

Ross grinned. “Yeah, same! Hey, so, I know you’ve probably been lonely as hell with Danny being gone-”

“The time away’s been refreshing, actually,” he drawled. “I’ve gotten a lot done.”

Ross snorted and rolled his eyes. “Yeah, sure, anyway, uh, figured I’d see if you wanted to come hang out tonight. Some other friends’ll be there, and we’ve got some new tabletop games, and-”

“I have to pack, Ross,” he snapped. Any other time he would’ve thought of how this invitation was obviously preceded by something very important that Brian hadn’t figured out yet, and he would’ve apologized. Today, however, Ross was simply an obstacle in his way. “Maybe another time. Have a good night.” And he pushed past him, and the door shut behind him, and Ross let him go, and that was all there was to it.

Getting home, however, afforded him no pleasure. His phone was silent and in his bedroom. He put book after book into a box, like an assembly line, and he thought of Danny, and how he’d be home soon with stories of his sister and his mom and his dad, and just how lovely it must be to still have a fucking family to go home to at all.

He tried not to think of the deaths of his parents anymore, if he could help it, but tonight all he could see were their faces. Had they been proud of him? If they could see where he was now, would they be prouder still, or would they be humiliated by what prestige he’d given up just to come here and sing songs about dicks? And what would they think about his relationship with Danny specifically? Things hadn’t been awkward when he came out to them in the first place, but how would they take his boyfriend? Would they think they were a good fit, or would they advise Brian to think about looking for love elsewhere?

He couldn’t even imagine sitting with either of his parents and telling them about his depth of feeling for Danny – how he burned for him to the deepest part of his core. They’d never really been that type of family in the first place. How could he pretend that they would’ve had excellent advice to give him, or even the patience to listen?

Danny’s family adored him. They were probably listening to anecdotes about his work and his friends and…

Brian? Had he even ever told them about him? Had he ever came out? Did they love him even still?

They had to. No doubt they loved him and built him up, and…and worshiped him. Admired him for everything he’d done when life felt so impossible. They respected their Danny, who’d thrown his medication into water, who’d not gone back to it, who’d learned to stand on his own two feet. Their incredibly whole Danny. Brave. Strong. Full of everything that the world seemed to lack.

He was whole. That was it, really. He wasn’t broken inside, like some people were, and he didn’t even realize that, did he?

As his thoughts turned and spun, losing coherency, he realized he was staring into the box with a book in each hand, unmoving – almost unbreathing. How long had he been kneeling there? When had he stopped paying attention? Brian set the books down with more care than he’d ever used in his life, then leaned back against the couch, staring at the ceiling. He tried to apply logic to why he couldn’t breathe deeply. There had to be a reason for it. There always was. It was easy, if he’d only try…

Somehow he ended up on his back on the couch with all the lights on, still in his clothes, teeth unbrushed, brain unfocused. He fell asleep there with his hands folded over his stomach and his too-small lungs.

Dreams were a window into the soul, and he knew it well. He dreamed of his beautiful, perfect Danny, being carried away by millions of adoring people, and when he tried to follow them, he tripped into a hole, where he yelled and begged for help and was never once even thought of.

And then he woke up and forgot about it before his eyes were even open – was only left with the lingering sense of unease that robbed him of safety even here, in his own home.

 ~~

 Even with Danny’s return to work, Brian was unsettled. He couldn’t find the words to ask him about his time away – how he’d enjoyed it, how his parents were, if his sister was well – and Danny didn’t volunteer the information to him either. He had too much to catch up on at work. Day in and day out he was recording videos with Arin, barely even pausing for lunch, and the quick hand squeezes and cheek kisses that Brian used to prize felt like nothing more than excuses now. Apologies, perhaps, for how he was in no real hurry to get back to him.

The move was almost here, and nothing was done – but Danny hadn’t even asked about it. And perhaps that was for the better.

Three days until the move, Brian ended up in the kitchen at work, his hands trembling as he reached for the pot of coffee. Did he need more? He wasn’t sure. His eyelids were heavy, though, and his control was fraying, to the point where his emails were piling up and he ignored conversations and let the list of his responsibilities go unfulfilled.

Coffee. Coffee was the answer.

The pot was full, almost overflowing onto his hand, and he hyperfocused every ounce of his attention on it, feeling blindly for the mug overhead while keeping an eye on the level of steaming coffee. A slip – just the barest movement of his fingers – had the mug falling, where it shattered on the counter, spraying shards of ceramic across his chest as he exclaimed and slammed the pot down.

“Fuck!” Brian concaved forward, shoulders rising, chest collapsing beneath the weight of his shout. That word – just one word – encapsulated everything he was losing and that he feared, and he felt the break on the edge of his tone just before his teeth clicked shut painfully.

Breathe. He stared at the massive pieces of the bland white mug surrounding him, his hands splayed on the countertop. Don’t stop breathing. Don’t let go. Don’t do anything. The shards blurred before his eyes as his breathing came faster and faster, over and over and over, until his heart burned. Fragile ribs splintered under the pounding weight of it.

And then he felt the eyes.

“You okay?”

Arin. Brian squeezed his eyes shut, bit his lips, and stood up tall so quickly he nearly lost balance. “Fine.” With one quick movement he jerked his chin upward and applied the veneer, then turned to look at his boss.

The naked concern on his expression nearly brought him to his knees.

He thought to that earlier lunch invitation weeks beforehand. The curious look in his gaze. Brian had interpreted it as Arin simply seeing him as a puzzle – like a toy that he wanted to tinker with until he was satisfied – but no, there was something far more frightening therein.

He knew. He knew exactly what Brian was struggling with. How could he read him so easy? Was it that obvious? Did everyone know what a fucking waste of air Brian was? That he was a shitstain smeared across the ground?

“Brian.” Arin wrinkled his brow. “Sit down, dude, you’re shaking.”

“I’m fine. I haven’t slept.” The lies came easier than truth, spilling over his lips, and he had a vivid flashback – Arin’s words against his ear through the phone six months before, the quiet Nothing is fucked, and how it had lulled him to think that everything could be okay with Danny, not risking falling apart like it was now. “Once I actually get some decent fucking rest and get this move over with, I’ll...yeah, I’ll be fine.”

Brian was so used to any word he said being enough to convince Danny. Why would Brian lie to him if it wasn’t for humor, after all? There was no motivation for it. Arin, however, didn’t look convinced. Nothing about his expression changed. Only the inescapable worry pressing down on him.

“I think we should go sit down together,” Arin said far slower, like he was still thinking through his plan of attack, and the itching in Brian’s legs only grew. “If you’re, uh, tired or whatever, we can get you settled on the couch, catch a few z’s, and then we can talk afterward, maybe?”

In seconds, Arin would no doubt get his footing as Brian’s boss again. He was good at what he did – fucking great, even – but the normally unflappable Brian was keeping him from transitioning straight into expressing his concern and asking him if everything was all right at home and if maybe he was having some kind of second thoughts about this move, if he didn’t deserve it or happiness with Danny or-

No, he couldn’t be allowed to figure that out. If he went down that rabbit hole, Brian was damn sure they’d never get out.

“I’m fine,” Brian snapped. He was moving before he even realized it. He pushed past Arin. Arin hit the doorframe, and Brian moved down the hallway. “I’m just, I’m going to run an errand, and I’ll be right back.”

The next thing he was aware of was sitting in his car, hands on the wheel, staring outside. How tempting it would be to drive home. He remembered doing that last time. Remembered emptying his stomach into the toilet until he felt as empty as he was as a human being – the vacant shell, the remnants left behind of who Brian was before he realized how utterly unexceptional he was and withered and died. He could do it now. He could go home and shut himself up, and maybe everyone would forget until tomorrow.

Or maybe he’d keep sitting here for an hour and wouldn’t even realize it.

He had nowhere to go. No errands to do. He drove around the block four times on pure autopilot before he pulled back into the parking lot and came inside.

He would just...find Arin and smooth things over, like they’d never happened. He’d give him a smile and a joke and some fingerguns, and then they’d move on, right? Easy. He stepped inside the thunderous air conditioner of their specific chain of offices and headed down the hallway, looking for him. Not in his office. Not in the kitchen. Not even Danny was at their desks.

That was when the cool panic began to set in.

As a rule, private conversations were rarely held in the recording area due to the backup microphones being constantly on at all times so that they’d never risk losing footage in the event of an emergency shutdown. It was considered a violation of privacy. Sensitive situations needed to be respected, lest they open up an entire can of worms.

Yet when Brian finally went to the last place he looked – the studio itself – what he saw brought him to a stop. Arin and Danny, sitting together, Danny’s back to the glass, Arin’s brow furrowed as he talked. He had no way of hearing what they were saying, but what else could they be talking about? Who else was having a fucking breakdown in the middle of the office just because a mug had broken? Brian lingered at the furthest door. There had to be a new plan of attack. How likely was it that he could get Danny to completely ignore everything coming out of Arin’s mouth? He imagined himself bursting in and flinging himself between them in slow motion, shouting, begging for Danny not to listen.

The fantasy hadn’t even finished when Arin locked eyes with him and shut his mouth – and then Danny turned his head.

He was wearing that goddamn concern now too.

Brian left. He ran. And this time he went home.

 ~~

 It wasn’t like he’d left incredibly early. In no time at all, everyone else would be heading home, Brian reasoned to himself, and thus he hadn’t exactly given them huge reason to worry. Danny wouldn’t come running over – at least, he wasn’t likely to, especially with how busy he was – and Brian could head everything off at the pass.

He just...needed to look like he was busy, in case there was a trap. If Danny walked in with his key - why the fuck did I even give him that? - he’d see that the apartment was a disaster. The signs of Brian’s half focused packing were scattered from wall to wall – objects that he’d begun wrapping in newspaper before leaving them on the floor, a trail of books from the shelf to a box that was half empty, abandoned dishes on the kitchen counter that he’d never quite gotten to washing. A man lived in a fugue state here. And he had to hide the signs. He couldn’t let them worry. Couldn’t let them know.

Packing was easy, he reasoned. No one sane struggled with something this simple, especially when they were over forty years old and had a doctorate in an extremely prestigious field.

But there was too much. Every time that Brian touched something – intent on packing it to lessen the damage – something else caught his eye, and he would put it down and wander over, then freeze again, head turning to the next object. By the time he heard his phone ringing, he hadn’t done a damn thing.

He picked up his phone, then dropped it on the couch when he saw Danny’s name. Feeling like a child, Brian chewed on a hangnail and stared at the screen, listening to the quiet vibrating until, finally, it went silent. He looked away. What kind of man did this? Who ignored their lover like they were nothing? How was he going to explain this?

Why did he feel so completely out of control of his own life?

His phone buzzed with a voicemail, and he forced himself to take a deep breath and listen to it.

”Hey! Um, this is Danny! I guess you already knew that, uh...listen, I just wanted to see how you were doing. I realized we hadn’t really...seen each other for the past couple of weeks, outside of work, and, like, with the move coming up, I kind of left you hanging instead of asking if I could help, and that was shitty of me, and...and I’m sorry. Um, can you give me a call and just let me know how you’re doing? I’d really like to hear from you. Love you!”

The message was dangerous. As Brian dropped the phone slowly back to his hip, he stared at the wall and felt the ever pressing weight of Danny’s worry on his shoulders. So this was it. This was how everyone found out that Brian – the man who held everything together like he was made of steel – was falling apart. Going insane. Collapsing from the inside out. This was how the world found out that he wasn’t worth his salt.

This was how Danny slowly discovered that Brian was weak and so not worth everything he’d given him.

We can still fix this.

The spark of panic flared into a smoldering wildfire, ripping through Brian as he grabbed his phone, his keys, and his wallet and headed straight for the door.

Brian was a master of deception and lies. For years he’d made a brand out of insulting humor. The amount of times that he’d spewed falsehoods just to make Danny think he wasn’t attracted to him was in the hundreds. And he could still lean on that here too. That was all it would take: just one little lie, and he could get his life back on target again.

He was fine. He was. He’d held it together for decades, and he wasn’t about to let go now.

The drive to Danny’s was done in the same fog he’d been struggling with for weeks, with the sharp-teethed voices in the back of his mind muttering viciousness that he could barely even translate. It was better this way, they said – better for Brian not to be known by a single person. If they found out what a fraud he was, they’d be happy to take the excuse to leave him. If they realized how he was only a mockery of a comedian, they’d turn their backs. If they knew he couldn’t do a damn thing without second guessing every step of the way, they’d finally realize how foolish he was.

It was better to hide it all. And Danny was just gullible enough to take it. After all, everyone wanted to take the easy way out. If Brian offered him the opportunity to pull the wool a little more over his eyes, he’d thank him for it – anything so he didn’t have to do the hard work of...of comforting, or…

Unbidden, images of Suzy holding Arin’s hand and talking to him quietly in the office during times of tight deadlines or sharp criticism or a dropped sponsorship deal raced through his mind. How Arin leaned into her. How she accepted the weight of him and pulled him in close and held him together when he was feeling weak. What did that feel like, to be so vulnerable with another human being? To know that they could be relied on to carry the burdens of their loved ones when they became just a little too heavy?

He couldn’t remember ever giving someone that opportunity. Not even once.

Fuck, his throat hurt. It tightened with a knot, and he swallowed it back down.

He pulled sideways into Danny’s driveway and climbed out of his car, making a beeline for the front door with his keys clacking in his shaking hand. He knocked on the door, and the second it opened, he pushed inside.

“Hey!” Danny grabbed him by the shoulder. “God, I’m fucking glad to see you. What’s up? Why didn’t you just call me back?”

The gleaming adoration in Danny’s eyes were almost enough to bring everything tumbling down. Every piece of the mismatched stones that Brian had shoved together into the tower that held him high above others...just one word of love from Danny would blow them over and leave nothing but the cracked foundation that he was so desperate to hide.

He couldn’t do that. If Danny saw – if he knew everything he’d been hiding…

Brian made one last ditch effort toward deception. It was easy. All he had to do was lean on Danny’s weakest point – even if it made him feel sick to do.

“Sometimes a guy just has to see his boyfriend.” Brian cupped Danny’s cheeks, scratchy with stubble, and came up onto his tiptoes, holding his gaze. “You missed me, didn’t you? You said it yourself. So here I am.”

Danny wrinkled his brow. “Brian...”

“There’s nothing to talk about.” He thumbed over Danny’s bottom lip. “Just a guy who’s sick and tired of waiting to see his lover. You feel that way too, right?”

“I-I mean, yeah, but-”

“Then c’mon.” He pressed their chests together and let his warm breath tickle over his mouth. “Show me how much you missed me. Make love to me like you mean it.”

Hesitation. For once, Danny didn’t reach out and touch Brian. He didn’t drag him in. And that just meant Brian would have to do a little more of the work himself.

He kissed him with a hum, tilting his head to deepen it immediately, and closed his eyes, trying to focus on the heat of Danny’s body against his. He’d wanted him for years. He’d jerked off to him every damn time he was drunk and home alone. The amount of times that he’d whispered Danny’s name into a pillow while some anonymous guy fucked him from behind was innumerable.

So why couldn’t he just turn his fucking brain off and enjoy this?

He forced himself to slide a hand through Danny’s hair, just barely avoiding tangling in the messy curls, and he felt the other man’s breath hitch as he touched him. Yeah, c’mon, just like that, give in to me. As Danny melted slowly, he slid his arms around Brian’s waist, one hand fisting in his shirt.

Just like he was supposed to. Almost on cue. Thank God, thank God.

He just had to get Danny to fuck him. If he could goad him on until he was bruising Brian’s hips in those beautiful hands of his, then even better. He just needed him to let go. He needed him to see that Brian was fine, and that he didn’t need to worry, and that everything was going to be okay, and nothing was going to fall apart.

He needed Danny to fucking swallow him whole. Trap him in his ribs. Let him snuggle up right next to his heart, where it was warm and safe.

Danny tried to pull away from the kiss, but Brian pursued him, and he felt the moan against his lips as he gave into him again. The bedroom wasn’t too far away, but Brian didn’t know if he trusted himself to get Danny that far without questions coming up.

It had been quite a while since he’d been fucked on the floor, feeling the carpet fibers scrape his body to hell and back. Did Danny still have lube in here? He’d jokingly told him that he had a bottle of lube in every room in the house, just in case – that it was always good for a gag, at least, even if it never got used. Condoms? Whatever. They were fluid bonded now.

He didn’t fucking want anybody else, just...just Danny, just this, just the promise that it would never end.

Promises fell apart as fast as cheap toys. So did wedding rings. So did mortgages and two names on the insurance and everything whispered between the sheets-

God, his mind was fucking everywhere. He zeroed in on Danny again, coaxing him down to the ground, until he could scramble into his lap and grind against the hardness he felt in his jeans. Brian winced – he himself wasn’t hard, and the sensitivity of his flaccid cock being pressed against something so unforgiving was painful in a horrible way rather than a pleasurable one, but…

Fuck, why wasn’t he fucking hard?!

He eased a hand between their hips to hide it, bucking the heel of his palm against Danny’s cock and swallowing up the sweet moans he fed him in response. Tongues tangled, slick and hot.

It was when Danny reached to lace their other hands together that Brian’s heart skittered in his chest.

What was he doing? Why did he think this was the right way to go?

Just...get over it, Jesus, just let him fuck you, c’mon, he’s ready, he’s into it, and he’ll forget all about whatever the hell is going on in your head if you can just man up and do this shit.

Brian let go of his hand and reached between them to open up Danny’s jeans. He pushed him to the floor with his chest and held him there, panting against his mouth for just a second before he resumed the sloppy, unfocused kisses – ones that Danny kept trying to take control of, and that Brian would ignore. He yanked his lover’s jeans and boxers down and took him in hand, jerking him to full hardness with no real rhythm. His palm felt too dry against the smooth skin of Danny’s cock and he bit back the urge to apologize.

Just a little more. Maybe he could even try to take him dry. It’d hurt like hell, they’d be risking pain and bleeding and...but maybe it’d be better than stopping to look for the lube, and-

Danny’s hand suddenly touched between Brian’s legs, flush against his soft dick. And he froze.

They both did. Brian kept his lips lightly pressed against Danny’s, brain frantically looking for an excuse. A solution.

Danny turned his head and let out a shaky breath and, goddamn it all, but he spoke before Brian could think to kiss him again. “You’re not...you’re not hard.”

Fuck. Fuck. Any other day it would’ve taken no time at all for Brian to quip something out and get the show on the road again, but here? Now? A cold sweat beaded over his neck and forehead, and he dropped his hands to the carpet, holding there, staring at Danny’s chest.

“Are you not enjoying this?”

I love it, Brian wanted to say. But he couldn’t loosen his jaw. His teeth ground together painfully, making his vision blur.

“You don’t need to do this,” Danny said quietly, his soft voice tickling over Brian’s skin. A drop of sweat ghosted down his own cheek, as if chasing the words. “I’d rather just talk to you. See what’s going on. You don’t have to keep...hiding it.”

Something began building in Brian’s stomach as he sat up slowly. It traveled gradually up his chest. His throat.

“It’s...it’s been hard, isn’t it?” Danny whispered. “You didn’t want me to know it was hard. That...that something was going on. Because if I did...”

Brian shook his head. Where were the words to tell him to shut up? Why was he trembling?

“...if I knew something was wrong, I’d ask, and you wouldn’t be able to hide it anymore.”

Oh God, oh God, oh God…

Danny touched his cheek – his sweat-slick, overheated, ugly, disgusting cheek. “Brian, please tell me what’s wrong. I can’t watch you like this. I love you too much to let you hurt like this alone.”

Brian was off him like a flash.

“Brian!”

He ran – but he ran straight down the hall, stumbling into the bathroom and flinging himself on his knees in front of the toilet. It was too similar, spilling the contents of his stomach because of Danny - almost like the past few months hadn’t even happened.

The difference was that he wasn’t alone. Arms wrapped around his ribs, a warm and insistent presence, and Brian squeezed his eyes shut.

Humiliation wouldn’t even come to him, and neither would shame. After all this time of holding back, hot tears streamed down his cheeks as he struggled to take a full breath. “I-I can’t anymore,” Brian stammered. His fingers dug into the porcelain, trembling, trying to find purchase in anything around him. “It’s too much, i-it’s just too...”

“I’ve got you.” Danny’s voice, though tight with emotion, was soft in his ears, like silk dragged over sensitive skin. “It’s okay, Bri, I’m here, I’ve got you, you’re not alone anymore.”

He leaned back into the weight of Danny, nothing left to vomit, and shook in his arms, head tilting back so that the light from the hallway bled past his eyelids. The sounds he made – choked sobs – didn’t sound human, and he scarcely believed they came from him. All he knew and felt was the pain in his body, everything he’d been holding back for months – years – coming out in his tears. The fear, the agony, the knowledge that no one could put up with the amount of shit that Brian carried in his heart.

But Danny was right there. Right there. He wasn’t leaving. He was rocking Brian back and forth and whispering sweet comforting words. “You’re never gonna be alone again,” he said at one point in a voice that barely sounded like his own, and Brian had just enough presence of mind to realize that Danny was crying too.

Brian hadn’t let anyone see his tears in years. He hadn’t let anyone cry for him in even longer. But here, in this tiny safe room, with nothing but love surrounding him, even as horrible as it felt to let go, he couldn’t do anything else.

Not when Danny was giving him permission – and the acceptance to spill over the riverbanks.

Brian twisted in his arms and buried his face in Danny’s neck, soaking him in tears as he clung to him like a child. Yet Danny held on. He was firm. He wouldn’t be toppled over like a Lego tower. Everything that Brian feared – that he was too much for someone, that he didn’t deserve to be loved, that it was only a matter of time before he was left alone – stayed at bay. None of it came true.

There was time yet for his thoughts to be proven right. But he was damn glad it wasn’t tonight.

After long minutes of weeping, strength left Brian, until he was dry of tears and aching. He wasn’t a young man anymore. He couldn’t just throw himself around and have tantrums like this without a bone deep burning in all parts of his body – his bruised knees, his pained lungs, his red eyes. But even as he whispered two words - “I’m sorry” - Danny didn’t let go.

“Let’s get you to bed,” Danny murmured, running a hand through the short cropped hair on top of Brian’s head and leaving tingling in his wake. “C’mon. Easy does it.”

Never had Brian seen this side of Danny before – this calm, gentle, coaxing part of him that drew Brian up to his feet. He could almost imagine him taking a crying child into his arms and carrying him away to rock him until he could breathe again. He’d never said a word about wanting children, but the image was fixed in Brian’s mind now so vividly that he let the fascination distract him from just how hard it was to stand.

He leaned into Danny heavily with a sigh that nearly started his tears again – how was he so tired? The steps out of the bathroom, into the hallway, and down to the bedroom should’ve taken seconds, but they felt like hours, each careful placement of his foot taking intense deliberation lest he bring them both down to the ground.

He’d pulled all nighters while working on his PHD. He and Danny both had stayed up for days on end when they were at a crunch point with their albums. But he’d never felt this exhausted before.

It’s all caught up to me, he thought with a certain calm. It’s here. There’s no getting out of it, is there?

It was a bit clumsy, but once he sat Brian on the edge of his bed, Danny tugged the shirt over Brian’s head, along with his shoes and jeans. He hesitated and looked at his dresser – considering pajamas, maybe – before he shook his head and gently eased Brian down. His head landed on a pillow as soft as a cloud.

Faint panic sparked in his gut, and he grabbed hold of Danny’s hands, looking up at him with wide eyes.

“I’m here.” Danny smiled at him. He kicked off his pants and crawled into bed in his shirt and boxers, then curled up beside him. “It’s okay, Bri. Everything’s gonna be okay now. Got it?”

Brian opened his mouth, but his voice, so raw from crying, was impossible to find, and he settled for nodding as he nuzzled into the soft, well worn cotton of his lover’s t-shirt. A deep breath filled his mind with nothing but Danny – his smile, his laugh, his love.

Under the hand petting up and down his back and the quiet, faint humming of what Brian recognized as a lullaby, he fell asleep within seconds, plunging into a dreamless state of weariness.

 ~~

 He’s out. Danny let out a deep breath and closed his eyes as he felt Brian relax. He’s out, okay, it’s...it’s okay.

How he’d managed to hold up such a calm facade, he had no idea. He wasn’t built for this. Going from burning alive for Brian’s touch to crying into the back of his neck within sixty seconds nearly gave him whiplash. Hell, the fact that he’d even gotten him calm in the first place when he was falling apart at the seams...

How had he missed all the fucking signs along the way?

Danny rubbed his eyes as he rolled onto his back, tugging Brian closer as he went. Brian twitched in his sleep, but stayed under, and Danny exhaled slowly.

It didn’t make sense for Brian to fall apart. That was part of it. Brian was an incredible wall of intellect and cleverness. He didn’t give into these silly emotions like everybody else around him. He was unflappable to the very end. Right?

Apparently not.

God, how he’d shaken while Danny held him. He’d sounded like a fucking wild animal as he let out all the shit he’d been dealing with, wail after wail after wail. Danny was used to a more primal Brian in one instance only, and what happened in the bathroom had nothing to do with that. How eagerly he’d tried to seduce Danny – and how quickly he’d succeeded…

Had he done that before?

Danny’s mind flitted to the last time Brian had been so eagerly spontaneous – the bathroom at the restaurant – and covered his eyes as the weight of what must have been going on in Brian’s head sank down on him. He’d been trying to escape. Or distract him. Or both. And Danny had played right into his hands.

What a fucking shitty boyfriend he was, letting himself get caught up in being busy and working his ass off instead of paying attention to how Brian was falling apart. When was the last time he’d offered to help him pack for the move? Or that he’d even stopped by just to see him? Was this all about the move and nothing else?

No, the man who’d fallen to pieces and cried like that, it had to be about something different than planning for a new future. Right? Or was he wrong?

He couldn’t do this by himself. There was a reason that Danny’s preferred method of helping people going through things leaned on distraction rather than intimate conversation. He hadn’t even asked Brian what he needed, or said anything to help. All he could do was hold him and cry with him.

The depth of despair that Brian had felt… Even now, it could suffocate Danny as he considered it. He’d never been as empathetic with someone like he was with Brian. Was this what love was, truly and deeply, or was there a connection there that he could only ever have with this man?

So many questions. So much pain. So much that Danny couldn’t just fix. He hadn’t been in a long term relationship in years. How was he supposed to know how to handle it without fucking things up and making Brian feel worse?

Arin. He thought of the words he’d shared earlier that day – how he pointed out none so delicately that Brian was fraying at the seams, and had been for quite some time. How he’d shaken Danny out of his cluelessness and had told him with complete seriousness that if he loved Brian, he’d call him on his bullshit and get him to stop hiding whatever was going on. He’d anticipated having to do a little more work to get him to come out about it. He’d thought there would be deflection and laughter. The afterglow, he’d reasoned as Brian plied him with kisses, would be the perfect time to get him to start opening up about it, both of them floating in the honest intimacy that they ended up in every time.

Arin had been doing this for a lot longer than Brian and Danny had. He and Suzy had one of the healthiest relationships he’d ever seen. So maybe he could help.

Danny gently extricated himself from Brian’s arms, and when he heard the other man mumble something in his sleep he leaned to kiss his forehead, his heart swelling in his chest. He needed all the help he could get.

He wasn’t going to risk losing Brian over something as simple as this. As surprised as he’d been by the events of the day, he still knew him. He knew that Brian wouldn’t hesitate to run, if he thought it was better for Danny. Hadn’t he done that already? He’d gone to a whole fucking other country just to get some distance between them, even when he knew that Danny was falling apart over it – all to hide how he felt.

No more of that. Danny stroked Brian’s cheek, his forehead creasing with fervor. It’s you and me, man. You’re not gonna call the shots for me anymore. We’re figuring this life shit out together.

As he left him sleeping in his bed, Danny closed the door quietly behind him, then went to the living room and pulled out his phone. He shot Arin a text. “Can you maybe come talk to me about Brian? He’s here at my house. Sleeping. Things got bad. I think we’re fine, but I don’t know what the fuck to do when he wakes up.”

Arin’s quick “On my way now” reassured Danny to the point of sitting down and taking a deep breath. If he held all this in, would he melt down just like Brian had? He thought of the therapy he used to have – how it was the only place he could actually talk about what he was feeling without worrying what others would think of him. Suddenly he missed it, and he regretted laying his shit on Arin when he was just a friend – not even a professional paid to get his time taken up.

Was there a decent therapist nearby in town?

He didn’t have to wait long. Traffic appeared blessedly light, and a few minutes later there was a text coming through. “I’m outside. Didn’t wanna knock and wake him up.” Small favors. Danny went to the door and let Arin in, and immediately hugged him. Something he was thankful for in his relationship was that it inspired him to be more relaxed with touching his friends. That hug felt like the one thing keeping him afloat.

“Hey,” Arin murmured, squeezing him unabashedly in his arms. “He still asleep?”

“Yeah.” Danny pulled back and sighed. “I-I honestly don’t think he’s slept much for weeks now. You were right. He looks like fucking hell.”

Arin looked at the bedroom door as he moved past, rubbing the back of his neck, while Danny locked the door again behind him. “Yeah. Hell, he might sleep through the night. Might be just what he needs.”

Danny leaned into the door and curled his hand into a fist against it. “How didn’t I see it? I fucking work right next to him-”

“Hey.” Arin caught his arm and pulled him away, guiding him toward the couch. “No, don’t do that. That’s just gonna eat you up inside, dude. The past is the past. You gotta move forward. Both of you do.”

Danny nodded. They sat together, Danny perched right on the edge of the cushion, wanting to be able to spring to his feet if he heard Brian so much as start to stir. “I just...I was so fucking blind. My own boyfriend...I hate that I didn’t catch it. I don’t know how to do better in the future.”

“We can talk about that later.” Arin kicked off his shoes and curled up on the couch, watching Danny closely. “We’ve gotta talk about Brian, man. I don’t know what he’s gonna do when he wakes up. He’s been pretty damn deflective for weeks now. He could just try to pretend that nothing happened, or that we’re blowing it out of proportion, or...”

“Yeah.” He tented his hands and pressed them to his lips. The temptation to let more self hatred pour out was almost impossible to resist, but...no, he had to focus on Brian right now. All of him. “What do you think was going on? I haven’t even gotten to ask him yet.”

“You didn’t get anything?”

Danny shook his head. “He got here, he tried to, uh...distract me, and then when I tried to get him to talk he just fucking broke down. Threw up. Started crying. It was fucking bad, dude. Broke my goddamn heart.” His throat tightened up again in response, and he looked away. “Did I do this? Did me asking him to move in do it?”

“No, I don’t think that adds up. Didn’t you say he was excited when you first talked about it?”

“I think he was.” Every part of their relationship was cast in a different light now. He didn’t want to believe that Brian had been lying to him about how he was feeling this entire time – that he was happy and at ease in their relationship – but how was he supposed to tell for sure? “He’d...yeah, he looked like he was super stoked that I’d even brought it up. We talked about how I wanted him to know I was serious. He didn’t try to talk me out of it, he just...”

Arin hummed quietly in acknowledgment, and Danny felt like he could break under the gentle sympathy. “I don’t think this was your fault. If you’re thinking it is, get it out of your head right now.”

Bastard, knowing exactly what Danny was thinking. He stared at his feet instead of looking at Arin and showing him every damn thought in his head.

“Have you ever seen him break down like that today?”

Danny shook his head. “Not once. We’ve spent so much time together, and I’ve never seen him tear up. Not even when he’d get drunk and talk about his parents or anything, it was just...calm. Serene.”

Arin sighed. “That means it probably goes back fucking far as dicks.”

“You think so?” He blinked at him.

“Yeah. What’s the phrase, still waters run deep?” Arin stared back at him, chewing on his bottom lip thoughtfully. “Like, let’s think about what we know. He’s a perfectionist. He’s a master of bragging humor. He builds himself up constantly-”

“-and maybe it’s the opposite of what he feels?” Danny wrinkled his brow. “That’s what you’re getting at?”

“I mean, it could be, right?”

Had he been barely holding himself together their entire friendship? Danny thought back, remembering quiet conversations years before they even met Arin, when Brian would let something self-deprecating slip out under his breath, then laugh it off when Danny would look at him – as if he hadn’t even thought he’d notice what he said.

“What the fuck do I do?” Danny asked quietly.

“Talk to him.” Arin put a hand on Danny’s arm, a quiet but strong connection that Danny clung to. “Find out what he’s going through. Then just...go from there.”

“To what?” Danny bubbled up with a bitter laugh. “How am I gonna be any help to him? I’m just the asshole who brags about how he fucking stopped therapy and medication all on his own! No trouble! Just, yep, toss your pill bottle in the fucking water, guys, it’s all good!”

“You don’t do that,” Arin murmured. “Every single time you tell that story, you make sure to say that people all have to do things differently – that you got lucky. What do you think’s gonna happen, that you’ll just...send him over the edge?”

Danny covered his face with his hands. Utter helplessness spread through him. “I just...I don’t...”

“Danny, listen to me. You’re the only person here, between the two of us, who knows what it feels like when everything’s too hard to bear. When you can’t figure out how to go on anymore. And if Brian feels even a little bit like that...then you’re the best person to help him.”

“But I might fuck up-”

“Okay.”

Danny looked up at him, frowning.

“People fuck up.” Arin slid closer and wrapped an arm around his shoulders, and Danny collapsed into him. “I’m not saying you’re supposed to save him, dude – that’d be fucked up of me. Brian has to be the one to decide he wants help for whatever it is he might be going through. But you can be by his side and show him that it’s not a lost cause.” He paused. “The amount of times that Suzy has brought me up out of a fog just with her telling me she loves me, or that I’m not alone, or pointing out something about me that she thinks is amazing...it’s incredible. It works. And it’ll work for you too.”

“It’s not that easy, is it?”

Arin shook his head with a wry sort of smile. “It’s never easy. I wish it was. Whatever’s gonna happen here, it’s a process, okay? You know that.”

He did. It had taken ages until he felt exasperated enough to throw away his medication, then even longer before he came out from under the foggy withdrawal of what it had done to him. He’d been warned it wouldn’t be easy, and they were right. “I just...want him to know I’m not running away. Even if he feels like shit. Even if things feel hard. I’m staying.”

“Then tell him that.”

Danny nodded. “Yeah.” It wasn’t hard. Just being the one to tell Brian that he wasn’t alone – even if he thought he deserved it – could do so much good, he thought optimistically. And it was one step toward doing better than he had. No more missing the signs of his lover struggling. He didn’t want to baby him or hold his hand all the time – and Brian would probably throw a fit if he did – but he had to get his head out of his own ass.

Things had changed for them. Their relationship was completely different than it ever had been before. He couldn’t keep treating Brian like he was still just his best friend and nothing else. He had to keep his eyes open and see things that he might’ve never called him on before because of how he was raised – believing that guys had to work through their shit on their own.

He wouldn’t have ignored the signs of a girlfriend going through pain or trauma. He wasn’t going to do that for his boyfriend either.

“Do you really think I can help him and not ruin everything?” he asked quietly, searching Arin’s gaze for answers. “That...that I can stick around and show him how serious I am about this? And help him through shit?”

Arin grinned. There wasn’t a single question in his eyes. No doubt. No consideration. Just a strong, unwavering faith – exactly what he needed. “Dude, you know you can do anything, right? If I had to pick, I’d always want you at my back.”

It was so weird, how things had changed in just the past few months. Before he’d dated Brian, Danny would’ve laughed and joked away from the way his words embraced his heart and made him feel…happy. He would’ve shied away from feeling an intimacy between the two of them. But it was okay. It wasn’t weird or bad or wrong. It didn’t make Danny weak.

Finally he could see why Arin loved being as open and touchy-feely and kind as he was. It felt fucking amazing, if he could just drop his guard and invite people in.

“You want me to stick around for a while?” Arin asked quietly.

“Nah.” Danny slipped out from under his arm and stood with a sigh. “I...I want it to be just me, this first time. Is that selfish?”

“What, to want to be the guy your boyfriend leans on? To want to prove to him that you’re gonna stick by him no matter what?” Arin scoffed and rolled his eyes, smile widening. “You’re golden, bro, c’mon.”

Danny pulled Arin into a hug. Only a moment of hesitation – surprise, he was willing to bet – happened before Arin wrapped his arms around him in response. “Thank you. Seriously. I-I feel like I can actually do this now – whatever it is.”

“You need anything, you call me, okay? I’m serious. Any day, any time, I’m here.”

Danny squeezed his eyes shut and shakily exhaled. He’d never had such a fervent belief in someone being like a brother to him. He believed Arin. “Thank you. Uh, same, I mean it.”

Arin broke the embrace with a beaming smile. “Text me tonight about how things went, okay?”

“You got it.”

As Danny let Arin out, he lingered at the door, watching him walk away with a quiet sigh. Regardless of how Arin had built him up, there was still the temptation to be intimidated by what was about to happen. He had no idea what had made Brian break down in such a disastrous way. If it had anything to do with Danny, he’d feel guiltier than he could say, and the likelihood that he’d break down again was high. It was terrifying to think about. He didn’t want someone he loved to turn into that ruined, animalistic creature again. He wanted him to be okay.

It’ll take time, he reminded himself as he slipped back inside and shut the door behind him. Stay the course. Talk to him. And it’ll be okay.

He made his way to the bedroom and lingered for a moment, watching Brian’s peacefully sleeping face. Was there tension still in his body? Pain? Could he feel what was hurting him even still?

He crawled under the sheets with him and curled up close. He’d wait.

 ~~

 When he began to stir, he was sore as hell.

For a few blissful moments, Brian had no memory of what had happened to make him so tense in the first place – and then it came crashing down, every single thing he’d been trying to avoid for weeks, and he heaved a sigh and rubbed his eyes.

It had come for him, then. All of it. All the pain. The agony. The fear. The frustration. It had hit him all at once to the tune of Danny’s voice.

But it was okay. He could still talk his way out of it. Though he felt exhausted down to his bones, sleep wasn’t an option anymore, and he felt oddly like he’d gone through some kind of catharsis. So he needed to have a breakdown every now and again. That was just fine. He could manage to do that in a far more private way in the future.

He could even make sure that Danny was calm. That he didn’t think any of this had to do with him. That it was a fluke, and it would never happen again.

Easy.

He opened his eyes, then pulled back when he saw Danny’s face a few inches from his own. Shit. He thought he’d have a few more minutes to figure out a plan. Just seeing the way his eyes sparkled in the low light from the curtains gripped Brian’s heart with guilt. Why wasn’t he stronger? Why did he have to exist in this pathetic, humiliating way? Why had he made Danny worry by seeing him like that?

Danny brushed his fingers over Brian’s cheek, and he fought the urge to lean into his touch. The stronger he could be, the better.

“You can keep sleeping,” Danny murmured. For once, there wasn’t an ever present smile shining at him. Just that quiet neutrality.

Brian grunted and shook his head. He could still taste the vomit in his mouth. He hadn’t even rinsed it out before he fell asleep. He rolled onto his back so Danny didn’t have to smell it. “I’m fine.” Fine in every way. If he kept sleeping, he’d only wake up feeling like he’d been put away wet again, and he would risk it being taken as a sign of weakness. And though he might be weak, Danny sure as hell didn’t need to know that.

“Okay.”

“Seriously. I’m fine.”

Danny hummed in acknowledgment – in that little way that told Brian he didn’t believe him for a second – and he couldn’t help but roll his eyes as he looked toward the closet. Silence stretched between them both. No, Danny suspected that something was very wrong – maybe even pitied him – and it only made the guilt stab claws a little deeper into his soul. I have to do better. I can’t keep living like this. I have to hide it more. What kind of asshole has a PHD and can’t even put on a good show? There was a reason Brian rarely went to improv classes with them. He knew his weaknesses.

Maybe he needed to take a few more anyway.

“Brian.” Danny touched his arm, and the bare tickle sent a shock straight up to his shoulder. He wished he wouldn’t touch him. With every second of contact, Brian felt something lurching in his body – something that could collapse at any moment. “Can we talk about how you’ve been feeling recently-”

“What, tired as hell?” Brian snorted. “That’s how I’ve felt for the past few years, Danny, and if you’re that worried about an old man not getting very good sleep, I regret to inform you that you’re going to be seeing a hell of a lot of it once we’re living together. Insomnia is genetic. My mom had it. I have it. It’s just normal, all right?” He turned his head to look at him – sealing the deal. “Seriously, don’t worry about it.”

Danny stared back at him. For the first time, Brian saw the flicker of hurt in his gaze, and he swallowed it down. He’d punish himself with it. He’d show himself what would happen if he couldn’t get better at dealing with his own shit. He’d lose Danny that much faster.

He could avoid that, if he just tried.

Danny pressed his lips into a thin line as he flicked his gaze over his face, like he was trying to memorize him. Was this it? Was this where he told him he wouldn’t be moving in? Bile tinged the back of Brian’s throat, and he swallowed, desperately trying to keep it down.

When Danny opened his mouth, his words were quiet but firm. “Why do you need to lie to me?”

He hadn’t expected things to be laid out quite so cleanly. Brian opened his mouth, then closed it again, wrinkling his brow. It was a hell of a question. Apparently he hadn’t done nearly as well with concealing how he’d been feeling as he thought he had. A wordless sound came out, embarrassing, and Brian looked away. He had a sharp awareness of the location of the door. Of where his keys were. Of where he parked. Run, his body whispered, run, run.

There was nowhere to run, though. Not anymore.

He was a fucking idiot, acting like he could just shove everything down and hide it once more when he’d already showed it in stunning clarity. Only someone worth their salt could manage that game, and Brian certainly wasn’t. The beginnings of hysteria kissed his mind. After all that time spent trying to look like someone better than he was to Danny…

It had been wasted. Either he could lie to him again and hurt him, or he could just...talk about it, so that at least Danny knew he wasn’t trying to burn things down intentionally.

Could he do it? Could he show him an ugly place inside of himself? He tensed, and Danny thumbed over the sensitive skin on his inner arm, up and down and up and down, a dizzying rhythm that made his head spin. I already did. He thought of the vomit in the toilet – the second time that he’d spilled from his emotions toward Danny. How did this man have such a grasp of him? How did he made it so damn easy to wiggle deep down inside of Brian and stir up the parts that he hadn’t touched in years?

“I’m not worthy of you.”

Silence. “What?”

He absolutely hadn’t meant to say it out loud. Brian sat up and rubbed his eyes. Lightheaded from his earlier exertions, he nearly tipped out of the bed, and Danny caught him, then kept an arm around his shoulders. Numbness spread deep through him like ice, but the warmth of Danny’s touch began to thaw it, and when he realized his vision was blurring again he felt a stab of familiar panic. No, no, he wasn’t going to cry again. He didn’t fucking do that.

“What do you mean, you’re not worthy of me?” Danny asked softly – coaxing him like he might a wild animal – and Brian choked on another rough sound. What right did Danny have to sound so gentle? So sympathetic? Like he could hold the world on his shoulders like Atlas and never flinch under the weight of it?

Brian was heavy. He could drag him down beneath the surface of his emotions and fucking drown him there. He couldn’t make him suffer like that.

But the game was so damn exhausting. Keeping the mask polished and in place, hiding the stress he felt, keeping people distracted by the gilding on his life… Eventually the facade would have to crack. It was only a matter of time before Arin would’ve caught a sign like he had with that coffee mug. Within days of moving in with Danny, he could almost guarantee he would’ve snapped and shattered something. It had to fall apart, logically.

Perhaps it was better for everything to fall to pieces here and now, before Brian had moved in.

“Danny, fucking look at me,” he whispered roughly. He lifted his hands – dry, calloused, wrinkling, already dotting here and there with hints of the age spots to come. Just from that angle he could see the unattractive swell of his belly – could remember how it bulged beneath his shirts no matter how perfect his posture was. He could see the stretch marks that coursed over his thighs where his boxers were riding up. “Don’t you get it?”

Danny crawled around to face him and sat with his knees gently pressed against Brian’s. Brian could instantly see how his face didn’t have a wrinkle on it. How his hair, even flattened from laying on the pillow, held a sort of life to it that spoke of the effervescence inside of him. How his eyelashes were long and his lips smooth. He was gorgeous. “...okay, so, what am I looking at, exactly?” Danny asked as he tilted his head to the side and skimmed his eyes up and down Brian’s face, torso, and legs.

He paused. “...I look like a troll beside you.”

Danny burst out laughing so suddenly that spittle hit Brian’s face, and he covered his mouth as Brian howled in frustration and wiped it away. “I-I’m so sorry, Bri, I just, are you fucking kidding me?” Danny grinned as he reached out and cupped his face. “Fucking look at you. Do you know how annoying it is that all I have to do is look at your eyes and I get hard? Those are panty droppers, man! I’d kill to have your eyes!”

Brian frowned and glanced down. “Okay, but-”

“Guess what?” Danny’s hand slid down to cup the back of Brian’s neck. “You don’t look like a supermodel. And neither do I. I look like a prepubescent boy most days. Do you know who I’d kill to have an ass like you do? I literally look like a child. I can’t stand it.”

That was absolutely impossible. Brian shook his head, but he couldn’t find the words.

“Do you miss the fact that all you have to do is say one damn word to me, and I’m ready to fuck you? Do you think that’s just a game?” Danny looked over him again this time, but far slower. “Like a troll. You’ve gotta be joking. You’re the first guy I’ve ever noticed an attraction to.”

“Is that not suspicious to you? I...Danny, you never felt attraction to a man before? Literally never? That’s not how it works. Attraction can feel differently for various genders, yes, but there’s not just a gay-for-you thing out there outside of movies or books or whatever.”

Danny chewed on his bottom lip as he seemed to consider it. “...you think I’ve never thought about that before? What’re you so worried about there?”

“That I manipulated you into thinking you were attracted to me, obviously.”

Danny shot him a look. The shock in his eyes told Brian that he’d never so much as pondered the idea. “You’re joking.”

“No!” Finally frustration bubbled over. “None of this is joking! Why would I kid about this? Why would I fucking want to throw a wrench in my relationship with the man I fucking love over a joke? Would you stop asking that?!”

With the way he’d leaned back a few inches, Danny was taken aback, but he came forward again just as quickly and rested his hands on Brian’s bare thighs. His touch wiggled past his desire to run all over again, rooting him to the sheets. “Okay. That was fucked up of me to say. I’m sorry, seriously, I wasn’t thinking, but, like...you’ve gotta understand that I’ve never felt that way. Ever. Before I even knew you were interested in me, I was already struggling with how I felt about you. Remember? It wasn’t you, dude. I’d been freaking out about it for fucking years. How the hell could you have manipulated me into wanting you if you’d been literally on the other side of the planet to keep that from happening?”

Ah, logic. Normally his best friend. It felt like his worst enemy now. He only liked logic if it played into his plans, but here? Trying to undo what he’d believed for every damn day they’d been together? Impossible.

“It’s not just that, it’s...” It was all so hard to say. These were dirty little secrets he’d kept quiet for a reason. Even now he wanted to shut down.

“Bri. Please, man, we’ve gotta talk about this.”

But he couldn’t hold it in. Not if Danny was going to sound so desperate.

“You’re going to figure out one day,” Brian murmured, “that I’m not who you think I am.”

Danny watched him so closely that Brian half hoped he could read his mind and see exactly what he meant without him having to say every painful word. “...like, how do you mean that?”

What sort of secrets did Danny think he’d been keeping from him? Brian sighed. “Everyone always thinks that I’m this brilliant perfect guy. Right? Intelligent, educated, no boundaries, no discomforts. It’s obnoxious. Like everybody thinks I’m a fucking robot instead of a man with flesh and blood and too much shit to hide.” He shook his head. “I’m not that smart. C’mon. What kind of genius would deal with the things I do?”

“I don’t understand-”

“The fucking imposter syndrome? Hating what I see every time I look in a mirror? Knowing that it’s only a matter of time before things fall apart? If I was actually smart, I could hold it all back and-”

“Okay, stop there. Stop.” Danny grabbed both of his hands and squeezed them. “First of all, let’s just wipe that shit out of your brain right now, okay? That you need to hide it. Why would you need to do that?”

Spoken like a man who’d never felt the shadow of his failings hanging over him like an anvil. “It’s a lot, Danny. I can’t put everything I think and feel on you. You’d be exhausted. I’d be bleeding you from emotional labor every single fucking day, until you left me...” His throat tightened, and he tried to swallow it down. No. Not right now. He was better than crying like a child every thirty seconds. “I’m not going to make you put up with all of my shit.”

“Even if I want to?”

“Especially if you want to.” He forced himself to hold his gaze. “That’s how relationships go down the tubes. Someone has a Messiah complex, and someone leans on that person too hard and expects them to fix them.”

He knew that Danny couldn’t disagree. They’d seen it happen way too many times in the years they’d been friends – men expecting their girlfriends to be the only person to listen to their fears and pain, girls demanding their boyfriend’s utmost attention every second of every day rather than letting them go out with friends where they couldn’t watch them. The constant societal pressure of having a ‘one and only’ and how unhealthy it was. It would’ve been far too easy for Brian to slip into that mindset. Danny was soft and sweet and spongey, and he would’ve soaked up every bit of Brian’s pain without even questioning it, until it overwhelmed him. Brian would’ve taken and taken and taken, and Danny would’ve crumbled into dust.

He’d never do that to him. Ever.

For a long moment, they were both silent, no rebuttals, no plans, no magic methods to fix everything. But then Danny crawled forward, right into his lap, and wrapped his arms around his neck. He pressed their foreheads together. Brian expected him to kiss him – maybe to lull him away from the darkness in his mind with his body, like Brian always leaned on – but Danny just...stayed there. Held him. Touched him. Shared his breath with him. And, as the seconds ticked by, Brian’s heart pounded.

“I’m not gonna try to fix you, dude,” Danny whispered. He brushed a kiss over the tip of his nose, such a tender gesture that Brian’s eyes watered. “That’s not my job. I know it’s not. You think I’ve never felt like you have?”

Brian closed his eyes and held his breath. He wouldn’t break, he wouldn’t.

“I’ve been there. I’ve hated myself. I’ve thought I threw my life away. I...” He stayed quiet, but Brian saw an image in his mind anyway – the wall he’d stared at, sitting on his floor, listening to the silence after he’d told Danny he’d be leaving for the United Kingdom. How that must’ve felt...how he must’ve believed that everything he’d ever worked for had fallen to pieces. Maybe even wished he’d never sent the email introducing himself to Brian in the first place.

I’m so sorry, he thought, tucking his arms around Danny’s trim waist and holding him even closer.

“I didn’t wanna be a burden on anybody either. My friends. My girlfriends. My family. It felt like if I told even one person what I was going through, everything would shut down, but...I did end up telling somebody. Just one. You know who?”

Brian shook his head.

“I had a fucking amazing therapist.”

Something sharp and venomous spread through Brian’s mouth. He couldn’t imagine doing that – sitting in front of a stranger once or twice a month, saying every intimate secret he’d ever kept locked down tight. How selfish that seemed. How infuriating a job that had to be, listening to people be weak every single day for hours and hours on end.

He opened his mouth to say something biting, but the words wouldn’t come.

Danny kissed his forehead next, like he didn’t even care how wrinkled it was, and continued to murmur the words against his skin. “You’re a fucking master in your field, Bri. You and me both know you are. You’ve studied that shit until you knew it in your sleep – things nobody else would ever discover. And that’s what she had too, my old therapist. She knew things that none of my friends or family or partners would ever be able to say to help me. She walked me through getting on meds. She walked me through my withdrawal too, when I got off them. She was fucking amazing. If I had my way, I’d take you to her right damn now.”

Brian dug his fingers into the back of Danny’s shirt. Mortified, he realized he was trembling again – that the pressure on his eyes was from how he refused to open his lids even slightly, because he couldn’t let those tears fall.

“We could find you somebody. I wouldn’t let you settle, okay? I’d help you go down a list until you found somebody you felt right with. Someone that didn’t make you feel like you were stupid or weak. Someone who’d help you build your own coping strategies. Who’d help you stop your lies.”

He shook his head out of instinct, but Danny’s words shone light into his chest.

“You know they’re lies, right? You know I love you. That everybody loves you. And all we want is for you to see the handsome, brilliant, talented, incredible man we all see every day.”

He couldn’t believe that. He knew that he was a fantastic liar, and he’d been pulling the wool over people’s eyes for years, but...but he wanted to believe it. He wanted to think that the people he loved more than life itself loved him in the exact same way. Could it really be that simple? Why was it so fucking hard to knock the cobwebs out of his brain and think that, just once, he could be loveable?

Danny clung to him. He hugged him until Brian could barely breathe – and then he realized it was from the sobs he was holding back. That Danny could read him – could feel it, and knew exactly what he needed to let go. “Will you just try it? For me? Try getting some help? I-I can’t watch you hate yourself like this. I love you, Brian.”

That was it. It was too much. He buried his face in Danny’s bony shoulder and let out the tears, soaking straight through his shirt. He couldn’t keep doing this on his own. He’d hated himself these past few weeks – far more than he ever had before. Just indulging the thoughts was enough to suffocate him.

He wanted to see the man that Danny saw every time he looked at him. The man that he kissed, hugged, and made love to. The man that made his eyes look like stars when he stared down at him in those moments right before he pressed inside of him. Was Brian so brilliantly deceptive that he’d made Danny look at him like that? Or was there in fact some good inside of him that he had lost sight of years before?

“I-I don’t even know when it started.” The words were slurred, and it was all well and good – he didn’t know if he wanted Danny to hear them in the first place. “It wasn’t always like this, i-it wasn’t always so...”

“It won’t be.” Tears were on Danny’s voice again, and Brian hated himself for making the man he adored cry, but fuck, he loved Danny twice as much for crying for him so easily. “It’s not gonna be like this forever, I promise. We’re gonna get you help. And I’m gonna be right there with you. I’ll go with you. I’ll hold your hand the whole fucking time. It’s gonna be okay, babe, I promise.”

As Danny rocked him slowly, something about the motion seemed to stir the fog in Brian’s body. The darkness that had held over him for so long began to move, until a faint light shone through it and barely illuminated his heart. It wasn’t vibrant. Not enough to burn. Barely even enough to be seen at all. But it was there. For once, the black was shifting to gray.

It was the promise of hope and change in the air. And, as Brian cried out every tear in his body, he clung to it and welcomed it closer, inviting it in.

 ~~

 “I think that’s them!”

“You think the giant truck pulling up to your house is anything but the moving company?” Brian drawled, and Danny laughed, swatting his shoulder.

They’d done it, then. It had been hard as hell, and they’d been up past midnight the night before sealing the rest of Brian’s belongings in boxes, but it was finished. Never once had Brian seen Danny with so much patience. Every time that Brian began to feel even slightly overwhelmed – staring around them at everything left to pack, feeling the breath catch in his chest – Danny had brightly asked for him to go grab him a drink, or buy him a snack at the gas station, or carry a handful of boxes closer to the door. Gentle distractions. Things that gave Brian a task that was far easier rather than calling him out on how uncomfortable he was and making him feel like an idiot.

Brian hated being wrong, but he had to admit that Danny understood him far better than he thought possible – and that he was the only man who really seemed to know how to help.

He watched him as he bounded toward the front door like a puppy and jogged outside to greet the same movers they’d spoken to barely twenty minutes beforehand, and he smirked. “I love you, you idiot,” he whispered, just for the pleasure of saying it – of the fact that it still didn’t feel real, that he was here, doing this, moving in with Danny. Combining their lives…

They had such an adventure ahead of them.

“Just bring it in anywhere!” Danny said as he wandered back inside and gestured with drama better suiting an actor than a gangly guy with a shrub on his head. “Just, y’know, here, there...”

“I think they’ve got the idea.” Brian held a hand out to him, and Danny stuck his tongue out, as if he wasn’t already walking toward him to grab it. “Let’s get out of their way.”

“I’m never in the way,” Danny said with incredible confidence even as he let Brian coax him toward the kitchen. “You just want a snack.”

“Maybe.”

As Brian began rooting through Danny’s cabinets just because he could now – because the food in there was all his as much as it was his lover’s – Danny snuck behind him and wrapped his arms around his waist. “So.” Danny kissed the back of his neck. “You’re ready for the appointment tomorrow? Got all your insurance info and stuff?”

Brian paused. He leaned against the counter with a sigh. When he felt the encroaching desperation to call the whole thing off, he took a deep breath and willed it away – just far enough that he could focus on the warmth of Danny’s body. A fitting distraction. “I have everything – and I’m as ready as I’m going to be.” He cleared his throat. “You, uh, still going with me?”

“Duh!” Danny laughed. “I’m with you to the ends of the earth, babe, you kidding me?”

No one deserved to be this lucky – yet here he was. Here Brian stood in the house of the man he loved, the house that now nearly belonged equally to him. Here he could live in utter domesticity with him, and dream of a future that might involve matching wedding bands on their hands, and even think a little bit about the sounds of tiny feet slapping the kitchen tile as they ran. Was that so terrible to wish for? To imagine? To hope would come to pass?

Nothing was fixed. Barely anything had changed. But, for once, Brian had the vision of a time where it could.

“You mean it?” he murmured.

Danny gently turned Brian to face him and cupped his face, leaning in for a deep kiss. He sucked the concern right out of Brian and replaced it with promises and intent and love, so much of it that he felt it in his curling toes. “You’re mine. I’m yours.” Danny grinned at him, and for the first time Brian caught sight of the deepening wrinkles at the corners of his eyes. A bright, smoldering attraction burst in his chest, spreading through him. “Nothing’s gonna ever make me let you go. I mean it.”

Brian cupped his face in both hands, brimming with hope. “I love you so fucking much.”

“And I love you.” One more kiss before Danny held him close. “I always will.”

#shipgrumps #ninja ship party #when the mask falls #fanfic #filled commission