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originalfatfiction · 10 days

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Belonging

His name was Amos Stanton, and we’d met online. He was twenty-nine years old, eight years my senior, and we had been corresponding with one another since I was nineteen. He’d wanted to meet up with me on multiple occasions, offering to arrange everything to make it happen, but in the end, I always chickened out. In all honesty, I was surprised he put up with me and my apprehension considering he seemed well-off and very honest about his intentions. I always had the feeling that he thought I was a flake who couldn’t truly commit.

It wasn’t that I didn’t like him. I thought about him constantly, but I had my reasons for being so hesitant to meet him in person. We’d had hundreds of phone calls over the years, but only a handful of video chatting sessions. Aside from a couple of photographs, I hadn’t even really seen his body. I sent him loads of pictures, but he was a more reserved sort of guy. I only had a foggy idea of what to expect from an actual meet-up. I guess it was a fear of ruining something I’d been building up in my mind for years. What if he’d been dishonest? I wouldn’t be able to continue our relationship if he had lied to me.

I hadn’t gone off to college. I worked a low paying retail job in the mall and still lived at home. My parents were furious I didn’t accept the wrestling scholarship I had been offered from our state school. Both of my older brothers went off to college and sometimes I regretted not going as well, at least to get away from my parents. But I knew deep down I wouldn’t have enjoyed it. I was never much for education.

Amos had finally convinced me to come and live with him. We’d been talking about an argument I’d had with my parents. They kept telling me I was wasting my life and that I couldn’t live with them forever. I was barely twenty-one, the candles on my birthday cake still smoking. I sure as hell didn’t want to live with them much longer. Amos listened as I complained, letting me know I’d be okay, and things would get better with my parents. “I just don’t wanna be here,” I’d said, not truly expecting him to provide me with a solution.

“Then come live with me,” he’d replied. “I’ll take care of you.”

And that was that.

He owned a home in a larger city, and he told me I was more than welcome to stay for as long as I liked. I knew it was crazy and I knew this could turn out terribly, but I also knew—deep down—that this was what I needed in my life to be happy. I knew that Amos would give me what I’d always wanted for myself.

I wanted to be big.

Amos would talk to me about how strong he could make me, about how big I’d get, about how I was going to be his devoted ex-jock. I would get hard just thinking about it and masturbate for hours. I still lifted hard, even after being out of high school for three years, but I wasn’t getting any size. My body was that of a wrestler and I still found it hard to eat a lot of food. I was barely 160 pounds on my 5’8” frame. I had ended high school at 145 pounds, so I was making progress, but it wasn’t enough.

A few days after that conversation with Amos, I sat my parents down and told them about how I was going to live with a buddy from high school, that a job training program opened up near his home, and that I’d try to visit during the holidays. It was late April at this point. My father told me it was the right thing to do as a man and gave me a hundred dollars to get started in the world. I loved my parents but being at home wasn’t going to make me happy.

The next thing I knew I was on a bus, the ride only about two hours. I had arranged everything with Amos, and he told me he’d be there to greet me. I was nervous. I kind of wanted to turn around and go back home, but at this point I had to follow through. I wasn’t going to flake out this time. I had to think positively and believe everything was going to work out.

My bus pulled into the terminal, and after grabbing my two duffel bags, I made my way to the waiting area. I thought about if he didn’t show. I would look like a complete idiot with nowhere to go. I couldn’t survive alone in the city with only my measly savings account and the hundred bucks from my mom and dad.

I knew what he looked like from his pictures and our handful of video chats, but it was still hard trying to find him in the crowd of people. “Russell,” I heard a voice call. I scanned the crowd again. “Hey there.” There he stood, in the flesh. Amos. I was more than excited. I felt like a little kid with a schoolyard crush. I dropped my bags and went in to hug him. He was tall and thinly muscled. Now this was living. “Well fuck,” he said. “You’re cute.”

I laughed, my face hot with embarrassment. I had to remember he was an older guy and that I had to act more maturely. “It’s, uh, really nice to finally meet you,” I said, trying my best to contain my enthusiasm.

“Likewise,” he said with a grin. He motioned towards the exit. “My car’s this way. Let’s go.” I grabbed my bags and followed behind him like a lost puppy.

He was maybe about 6’3” and took long strides. I walked quickly to keep up. He wore a pair of stylish charcoal slacks and a white dress shirt. His ass looked great, very firm and round. I watched it shift as I walked along behind him. He looked younger than he actually was, definitely not like he was almost thirty.

I liked that he was taller than I was. I was the tallest one in my entire family, so it was a well embraced change of pace. I was a black guy, with skin the color of milk chocolate. Amos was sort of pale, but still looked healthy. He didn’t have any facial hair, but I had a slight beard.

I could already tell we were going to make a great pair.

We made it to his home, and it was not what I had imagined. It was actually much larger than I had anticipated. We walked up a few stone steps to his front door and he let me inside. It was very modern and spacious. “Your house is amazing,” I said. He laughed.

“Yeah, I do pretty all right for myself.” He took my bags from me and directed me to follow him. We walked down a hallway, stopping outside of a closed door. He told me to go on in and I obeyed. I entered a bedroom that was small, but nicer than the room I had at home. “This is your personal room, feel free to arrange things however you like.” I had thought I would be staying with him in his bedroom, but I guess we weren’t much of a couple. “How about I show you the rest of the house?” he asked.

“Yeah, that’d be cool,” I said.

After that, he gave me the grand tour. He showed me the kitchen and told me I could eat anything I wanted, whenever I wanted. He added that he didn’t think I’d ever be that in need of a snack. I got hard thinking about him filling me with food, making sure I was never hungry. I wanted it so badly, and I was finally going to get it.

He continued with the tour, taking me through the back door. There was a pool in his yard and a tall fence that obscured his property from the neighbors. “You’ve even got a pool,” I said, majorly impressed.

“Perfect for skinny dipping,” he said. I laughed, getting even more erect. His whole aura was like an aphrodisiac. We went back into the house, where he showed me the master bathroom, which was ridiculously grandiose. The tub was huge. There was even a separate shower that had room for at least three people.

“Come on,” he said. “This is somewhere you’ll really love.” I followed him down some stairs to the basement, which had the laundry room, but also a home gym. He had a substantial amount of equipment.

“This is amazing,” I told him. I walked over to a rack of weights, taking in their quality. Everything was in pristine condition.

“Hope you’re ready to use those,” he said with a wink. Amos was everything I had imagined and more. I was excited to get big for him. I wanted to make him happy. Having gotten to know him online for nearly three years made me all the more ready to get to know him in person. I wanted to do whatever he asked of me, to submit to whatever he asked, and to grow. “Let’s get you something to eat,” he said. I followed him back upstairs to the kitchen and he pulled out a large salad from the refrigerator. He placed it in front of me, along with three types of salad dressing. “I didn't know what type you liked,” he said. “I’m going to heat up this tray of lasagna I made, so you just eat that while you wait, okay?”

“Yes sir,” I said, picking up the ranch dressing and a fork. He chuckled lightly. He busied himself reheating the lasagna and I greedily shoved the leafy greens into my mouth. He placed a basket of warm rolls next to me. He had heated them up while I’d been tearing into the salad. I took one and bit into its soft, buttery goodness.

He poured me a glass of milk, which didn’t taste like 2%. It was kind of sweet. He sat across from me at the table. The lasagna had another fifteen minutes in the oven. “It’s really good so far,” I said through a mouthful of food. “I’m excited for the lasagna.”

“Well, you have to eat it all,” he said. “I’m looking to be impressed.” I swallowed more of the salad, feeling a little full already.

“All of it?” I inquired. He laughed. He was really attractive, and his laugh was no different. He was thin, but his body had an obvious muscularity. He had rolled the sleeves of his dress shirt up to reveal well-toned forearms. I was sure he used his home gym regularly. There was a treadmill down there and I doubted it was for me.

“I’m trying to be hospitable,” he said, smiling playfully. He was teasing me. “You wouldn’t want to offend me, would you?”

“N-no, of course not!”

“That’s what I thought.”

A little after that, he pulled the lasagna from the oven, allowing it to cool as I finished the salad, which had been in a large serving bowl. He cut a piece for himself and put it on a plate. He placed the rest of the dish in front of me. I wanted nothing more than to impress him, so I dove into the lasagna with gusto. I made it halfway through before I thought I was going to pass out.

He kept refilling my glass of milk, having finished his portion a while ago. He sat across from me at the table and watched me silently. “I-I don’t think I can finish it,” I said breathlessly.

“I think you can,” he said. “You don’t want to be rude, right?”

“Yeah, right. I-I guess—I’ll keep eating.” He had a quality that made me want to be better. I didn’t want to let him down. I made it through another ten forkfuls. He stood up and walked to my side of the table.

“You’re going to eat that,” he said, his voice firm and authoritative, but supportive. It was driving me wild and even though my stomach was in pain, I had an even more painful erection. “You know you want to get big. You’ve got to eat up if you want to get bigger.” He was right. I had to finish this. I leaned over the dish and began to shovel the rest of the pasta into my mouth, sauce covering my cheeks. This went on for a couple more minutes before I was finished.

I don’t know if it was the athlete in me, but I even took the last roll and cleaned the dish before downing the rest of my milk. I couldn’t believe I’d eaten like that. After all of that eating I was ready to sleep. He let me clean up and go to bed, and I was grateful for it.

The next morning, I made my way to the kitchen and found a dozen doughnuts waiting for me. There was an assortment of flavors, and I was enjoying being able to sample each one. I couldn’t believe I could eat again after last night, but I was actually hungry. I also helped myself to some more milk.

I found a note on the refrigerator that said the doughnuts were pre-breakfast. I wasn’t too sure what that meant, but I assumed Amos would have me eating something else soon. I was excited at the idea of eating so much. When I lived at home, I ate a lot, but not as much as this—not nearly as much as this.

A little while later I heard someone enter through the front door. It was Amos and he had three bags of fast food. “Good morning, Sleeping Beauty,” he said with a smile as he walked into the kitchen. “This is for you—ah, good, you got the doughnuts.”

“They were really good, thanks,” I said. He smiled at me, and I felt my stomach flutter. It was a mixture of attraction to him and anticipation of what else he’d expect me to fit in there. I couldn’t believe how ordinary my life had been up until this point.

“Before you get started on breakfast, there are some things I wanted to talk to you about.”

“Yes, that’s fine, anything.”

“All right,” he said. He had me come into the living room and I sat on the sofa. “There are some things I need from you, things that’ll make me happy and hopefully you’ll like them too.”

“Okay,” I said. I was listening intently, but I was also thinking about what else he had gotten me for breakfast. I turned my attention back to Amos.

“When you’re in the house I want you to wear nothing but underwear, be it briefs or jockstraps. I want to be able to look at you.”

“I like the sound of that,” I said. He laughed. I really was okay with that. He was making me horny, and it was only because he was being so controlling. I knew that was something I was looking for, but damn, it was arousing in action.

“I need you to follow a workout schedule and I need you to eat everything I tell you too.” He paused for a moment, in what I was assuming was an attempt to choose the phrasing of his next statement. “You can only cum when I let you. No masturbating.” I nodded in agreement. That was going to be way more difficult than the underwear thing. “I also want to record your stats every month because, honestly, I think it’s really erotic.” I stood up and looked at him seriously. I pulled my t-shirt over my head and pulled off my pajama bottoms. I stood in a pair of white low-rise briefs. “Fuck kid, can you be any more adorable.”

After we discussed the guidelines he wanted me to follow, I ate my actual breakfast. I had six sausage biscuits and eight hash browns. I was struggling at around four of the sandwiches, but Amos made sure I finished them all. He also had me drink a fuck ton of his special milk as well.

He took my stats for the first month after that, and I weighed in at 164 pounds. I stood in my underwear as he measured me, my stomach rounded out from all the food I had eaten. His touching me all over had my penis stiffening. “Somebody’s excited,” he said laughing.

“Oh, uh, yeah,” I said with a toothy grin.

“Remember, we’ve got to hold off on that,” he said, looking up from taking my measurements. “But don’t worry. I’ll take good care of you.” He stood up and looked down at me. He observed me intently for a moment, his eyes a beautiful hazel color with intense flecks of green. His nose was thin, but large. It was complemented by his fleshy lips and strong jawline.

His hand found its way to my bulge. He grabbed onto it through my underwear. “Can I kiss you?” I asked. He smiled at me before leaning down to kiss me. I wanted to do so much more with him. I wanted to let him fill me up from behind just as much as he had been filling me up with food. I felt like I was ready to explode. He bit my lower lip softly and then slowly stopped kissing me.

“Well, let’s get you started with that workout.” He removed his hand from my crotch, and I heard myself whimper. I’d never made that sound before, but Amos had me whimpering. It excited me how badly I wanted him, how badly I wanted him to want me. I’d do whatever necessary to impress him, to make it impossible for him to resist the body he was going to build. I was going to be Amos’ monster. An absolute beast.

Fuck. My dick was already leaking as I made my way to my room to grab some socks and my gym shoes. We made our way to the basement, my dick still rock hard. He was also in his own workout gear. He explained to me that he’d be running and doing light weight training.

I was going to be doing more hardcore workouts and when things were too serious, he’d spot me. My boner lasted until about halfway through my workout, but once I really got into it, I barely remembered how horny I was. I had rarely ever pushed myself so hard. I couldn’t believe how sore I was after. It felt amazing and I was shocked that come lunch time I was famished. I felt ready to eat everything he had to throw at me.

Over those first two weeks I was falling hard for him. I was also incredibly excited for my upcoming monthly weigh-in. I had taken to getting up in the middle of the night to have a snack or two. I wanted him to be impressed with me, and I wanted results. I was finally realizing my dreams.

I could barely touch my penis without wanting to masturbate. I was very accustomed to freely jacking off whenever I felt the urge. When I was just messaging Amos online, I would find myself doing it two or three times a night. I found that while I was eating or lifting, the compulsion to masturbate was numbed. I wondered if Amos knew that’d happen.

My days consisted of pre-breakfast and then actual breakfast, a workout, lunch, another workout, dinner, and post-dinner. There were also my late-night snacks and whatever else I ate during the day. I was feeling so different and like a better version of myself. When my first weigh-in arrived, I was more than excited. I stood in a red jock that Amos had gotten me a little over a week ago. It cradled my junk in a way that made me more than aware that I hadn’t masturbated in a month.

He had me step onto the scale and I felt his eyes all over me. I knew Amos turned me on beyond belief, but it was nice in these moments to see that I made him just as horny. I wondered if he masturbated at all. “Shit, Russ, I thought you were looking big this month but not this big,” he said. “181 pounds.” I flexed my arms a little and he smiled.

“I did good, huh?” I asked, stepping off of the scale. He walked close to me and placed his warm hands on my waist. My stomach was no longer flat. I looked bloated at all times, but in actuality I was finally getting fatter. I felt stronger than ever, and the gainer shakes after my workouts were doing nothing but good things for my waistline.

“Your workouts are going well,” he said as his hands moved down my sides and towards my ass. “And I think I know where all that weight is going.” I felt my face heat up. “You must be doing extra squats to get this ass so big.” He grabbed my backside harder than I expected. I had been hard since I stepped on the scale, and I felt pre-cum spurt from the head of my dick.

He kissed me, and I felt my body relax in ecstasy. The smallest touches from Amos were enough to send me into a headspace that I had never experienced in my entire life. I longed to be close to him always. I still stayed in my own room, longing for the day he’d invite me into his own bed. Amos pulled away slowly. “Don’t stop,” I pleaded.

“You deserve something special,” he said. His face was as red as I’d ever seen it. Was he finally going to give me what I’d been dreaming of? I was still a virgin, only ever been fingered by some boy just as sexually immature as I was. We had both been on the wrestling team in high school. Last I heard, he was dating some girl he met at the community college in my parents' town. Amos walked towards the kitchen, and I took that as an indication to follow him. “Eat this.” He had brought out a beautiful pink box. It looked like it was from some super fancy bakery.

“I’ll eat it,” I said seriously. I opened the box and inside were six large cupcakes of varying flavors. He knew I loved a variety. I picked up one as we stood in the middle of the kitchen. I looked at him as I bit into the sweet treat.

“That’s chocolate vanilla swirl,” he said with a smirk. I laughed as I licked icing from my lips. It was a really delicious cupcake. He got on his knees as I was finishing the chocolate vanilla swirl cupcake.

“What—what’re you doing?” I asked.

“If you can talk right now, you should be eating,” he said. He pulled the jock to the ground and my dick bobbed freely for a moment. I started on the next cupcake. It had a lot of little red sprinkles. It was kind of spicy and very chocolaty. I shoved the rest of the treat into my open mouth, and he wrapped his lips around the head of my penis. I immediately felt pre-cum spurt into his mouth. I wasn’t going to last long. I started eating the rest of the cupcakes like a mad man. When I thought about the food, I wasn’t completely focused on the best blowjob of my existence. I didn’t want to cum too quickly.

Amos stopped sucking me off and began to lightly kiss my gut. I took another oversized bite of a cupcake, this one lemon flavored. I focused on the citrus, finishing it in another large bite. I felt so greedy eating like this and that was turning me on even more. I reached for the next one—Red Velvet. I looked down, and Amos looked up at me, his eyes unlike I’d seen them ever before. He loved this. He loved what he was doing to my body. He watched as I shoved a majority of the Red Velvet cupcake in my mouth. He moved his hand to my ass, squeezing one of my plump cheeks.

“Finish ‘em off, Russ,” Amos directed before bringing his mouth back towards my dick. He licked my shaft slowly, popping the head back in his mouth. I had to grab the next one, to prevent a premature eruption—S’mores. Graham cracker and marshmallow flooded my taste buds.

I hastily reached for the last cupcake. I bit into it, surprised by a substantial amount of banana pudding that was on the inside. This was a Banana Cream Pie cupcake. I got some of the pudding on my fingers and I licked them quickly, swallowing the remaining morsels of the baked good. My moist hand found the side of my gut and I rubbed it gently. This was the biggest I’d ever been, but also the smallest I’d ever be again.

“I ate them all, Sir,” I said breathlessly. He slowed, pulling his mouth away for a moment to take me in.

Without the eating to distract me, I felt it happening before I could angle my path of ejaculation away from him. Some hit him on the chin and the rest covered the front of his lavender dress shirt. I felt it coming out of me for what felt like a whole minute. “I’m so sorry. It—it was an accident,” I said all flustered. He stood up and began to unbutton his shirt. He stood shirtless in front of me, and I was immediately turned on again. Amos had a well-defined body, which was long and slightly hairy. His hair looked well-groomed, and I wanted to touch his chest and the hair on his stomach. His stomach reminded me of my wrestling days, when I actually had abs.

“Somebody got a little excited.” He laughed softly, and I felt myself smile. He wasn’t mad at me.

I couldn’t believe it, but I was suddenly very, very hungry.

That weigh-in was in May and we were halfway through the month of June. The weather had gotten really hot, but I spent most of my time in the house. I only ever went outside to swim around in the pool. We hadn’t gone out in public, but I wasn’t too concerned. I was focusing on eating and lifting. I was feeling really big, the largest I had ever been in my life. My capacity had increased, and I was going through gainer shakes like there was no tomorrow. I probably had at least four or five every day.

Amos had taken a lot of time off to spend time with me that first month and a half, but now he was working a lot more. He was a realtor and sold luxury homes.

He had things delivered for me to eat around lunch time. I had eaten a lot of pizza and pastas. He’d bring me desserts in the pink boxes every other evening. He was a really sweet guy. “Russell,” he started. “I want you to go out more. You don’t have to stay in the house all day.” I had always assumed that was what I was supposed to do.

“Oh—that’s cool,” I said. “But what would I do?”

“Go out to eat,” he said with a smirk. “I actually ordered you some summer clothes.” I had no clue he had done that. “But you don’t have to wear them if you don’t want to.” Why would I not want to wear them? He went to retrieve them from his bedroom. There were a lot of shorts and tanks. There was also a pair of sweats that looked like they were made out of the material of a wrestling singlet. I was wearing a jockstrap, so I could easily put on an outfit.

I grabbed a pair of navy shorts and pulled them on. They were really tight. I would normally be much too bashful to wear something like this in public. My thighs looked huge in the shorts. I got them up over my ass, which was actually getting much bigger. Amos was right about me doing a lot of squats, but it was only because I knew he liked my butt. I could feel that the crack of my ass was not fully covered. I pulled on a tank top, which was white with thin blue horizontal stripes. For the first time in my life, I truly felt big. My bulge was a little obscene, but I was fully covered.

“Do you, uh like, this kind of outfit?” Amos asked, clearing his throat. “I could always get you something else—less revealing.”

“Do I look good in this?” I asked.

“Of course you do!” he exclaimed, his face reddening. I walked closer to him, feeling the most monstrous I’d ever felt, and wrapped my arms around him. He placed one of his hands on my head, the other on my ass. We stood that way for a long time. It was really nice, feeling his body against mine. “Let’s go out. Get your shoes on.”

I went to my room and put on socks and sneakers. I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror on the door of my bedroom and stopped for a moment. I was becoming what I had always wanted. I flexed my arms for myself before my hands found their way to my gut. It was nice having so much size.

I turned to the side and saw how it stood out from my body. I was getting myself worked up. I lifted my tank up and saw how beefy my gut was. It made me want to eat. My pecs were large, but all the lifting I did couldn’t stop fat from accumulating there as well. My ass was always huge, and it had gotten a great deal beefier in the past two months.

We drove in his car and ended up at a public park. I hadn’t been in a large crowd in some time, and it made me a little anxious. I suddenly didn’t feel that big, and I even felt naked in my outfit. I wanted really badly to grab his hand, but I fought the urge.

There were booths and food trucks lined up and down the sidewalk offering a variety of different foods. It was barely six o’clock. He patted me on the stomach and smiled. “I’ve got cash,” he said. “Let’s try lots of stuff.”

We walked from booth to booth getting different foods. He’d buy a large sample and nibble off of it before allowing me to demolish the rest. I was his human garbage disposal. We had Greek food and Mexican. I tried something called a pierogi and had a plateful of BBQ. There was a booth full of soul food that reminded me of home, and I had a great deal of that.

He was really fun to be around. He liked to people watch and would make really funny comments. There was this guy who was on roller blades in a Statue of Liberty costume that we watched for a while. “I bet he just has a blast,” Amos said with a chuckle. “Not a care in the world. Living for liberty and freedom, skating through the park annoying soccer moms and joggers alike.”

“He’s serving his country,” I added. “A true American hero.” He laughed for a while at that one, and it made me feel good. After that we went to get ice cream. I was already painfully full but pushing past that point made me feel good. On our way to the ice cream stall, I rubbed my belly mindlessly. A woman looked at me a little disgustedly and then away quickly. I felt my face heat up with embarrassment. “She must be so jealous of me. I’m with the hottest guy in the whole park.”

“Ha, yeah,” I replied, feeling a little weird.

“Let’s get that ice cream,” he said gently. He ordered me a huge cone and it was actually pretty tasty. His was different than mine and he offered to let me taste his as well. He held the ice cream up to my face and I took a lick. I could see he was turned on and so I ate a little more. I had already finished mine, being the fat boy that I was. Before he knew what was up, I had almost completely slurped down most of his dessert. “Do—do you want the rest?” he asked.

“Sure,” I said as I took the cone from him. I finished it quickly.

“Man,” he started. “I feel so indecent getting a boner in a public park.” Amos rarely talked like this, and it was getting me going. We walked slowly next to one another. He leaned closer into me before he spoke again. “And watching that huge bubble butt of yours shifting back and forth in those little shorts makes me want to lick you all over.”

I was getting an erection, and in these shorts that would be a problem. I tried hard to stay calm, but I was semi-erect. “Amos, don’t say that. I—I get too excited.”

“I know how you get,” he said. “You’re horny all the time and the fact you’re making so much progress turns you on even more, doesn’t it?” He grabbed a handful of my ass, and my penis was no longer just semi-erect. I wanted him to fuck me. “You’re becoming this big strong bull, but you know I’m still the one taking care of you.” I once again whimpered like a dog, a sound I found myself making much more frequently. I was feeling so submissive, and I wanted Amos to dominate me.

“Amos, I—I like that you take care of me.” He removed his hand from my butt.

“I do a good job, don’t I?” he asked. “And I always will, because you’re mine.” I nodded quickly. A man who had been walking near us cleared her throat theatrically. We ignored him and made our way back to Amos’ car. On the way home he bought me a couple of burgers and a milkshake.

I ate everything.

Sometime in July I asked him what I could do that’d turn him on even more. He was pretty bashful about telling me at first, but I pulled it out of him. He was a fan of men that were intimidating but he could still be dominant over. So, I ended up getting some piercings and he wondered if I’d get my hair cut a certain way.

It all happened in one day, and at first, I was a little nervous. I got my nipples pierced first, and then my ears. I also got a mohawk fade. My beard had gotten much thicker as well. I was really digging the new me.

I’d be the first one to admit that I did look a great deal more intimidating. He couldn’t wait for the nipple piercings to heal. I had the feeling Amos was getting more and more amped up to actually fuck me.

By August I weighed over 200 pounds for the first time in my life. Amos was more than happy when the scale told him I was 219 pounds. I had taken to eating even more than ever before and Amos could barely believe it. I felt unstoppable. I was a beast.

“My family wants to meet you,” Amos said dryly one afternoon in mid-August. I never really considered the fact that Amos could even have a family. He seemed so independent that I imagined he was one day put on the earth as an adult. “They want me to host the Labor Day party this year, because of the pool.”

“I don’t think I’m ready for that. I’d be too nervous.” I drank from a shake made from protein powder, ice cream, and whole milk. “What if they don’t like me?”

“You’re the nicest guy I’ve ever met. I doubt they’d dislike you.”

“But—but, what about how—”

“How you look?” he asked. I nodded. “You look fucking spectacular. I’m not ashamed of you in any way. I actually want to show you off every chance I get, so everyone knows I’m with such a stud.”

“It’s your family, Amos. They’re more important than some strangers on the street.”

“Let me be perfectly clear,” he started, sounding even more serious than before. It’s like he had some sort of power in which he could make his voice soothing yet commanding. “I live my life for myself. You and me, we’re a package deal. They’ll treat you with respect or they can leave. Simple as that. Understood?”

“Yes, Sir,” I replied, the front of my jock bulging as my dick hardened. I was nervous and excited at the same time. Amos saw me as something other than some guy he was fooling around with. He respected me enough to introduce me to his family as his boyfriend. “I’ll do whatever you ask.”

“Good boy,” he said, patting me on the tummy. “I guess we’ve got a party to plan.”

Leading up to Labor Day we found lots of fun things for the party. It wouldn’t be a lot of people, but Amos planned an incredibly large menu. He described all the things that would be prepared and how much he expected me to eat.

We went to shop for swimsuits, and even though I already had one or normally swam naked, he insisted I get another one. I ended up getting a lime green pair of classic cut trunks. I felt like they would be too revealing for a family function, but he told me they were perfectly fine.

My ass was large and firm, and even with the XL swimwear I was not fully covered. It was the curse of having such a large lower body. I felt like my bulge was a little much, but I did feel really attractive. My pecs rounded out into large mounds of muscle and fat. My gut was usually always full of food as I took my job as his greedy man-beast very seriously. That morning was the start of September and at my weigh-in I had made it to nearly 230 pounds. I hardly recognized myself anymore, but I wanted more. I wanted to be bigger, stronger, and fatter—to be the ideal man of Amos, as well as myself.

We bought my suit as well as a very nice pair of orange trunks for Amos that went halfway up his muscular thighs. We made our way home to have dinner, and with the events of the day I wanted to outgrow my new swimsuit.

The night before his family would be coming over, he presented to me a chain collar and a lock. “It’s waterproof,” he said with a shy smile and red cheeks. “If you’d be willing, I’d like for you to wear this.”

I took it from him and draped it around my neck. The chain was thick and slightly cold. It felt heavy, but I liked the weight of it. I clicked it in place and grabbed the lock for a moment. He was turning me into a total badass. “I feel extra cool,” I said.

“I have the key,” he said. He pulled a much thinner chain from under his dress shirt, and I saw that on the end of it was a small key to the lock around my neck. “You’re mine, you badass.” We smiled at one another and then I had two thick gainer shakes.

I had to look my best for the party.

The next day he woke up early to fire up the grill. He would be making chicken wings, brats, burgers, and ribs. I was busy in the kitchen slicing fruit and making other side dishes. He wanted me to make macaroni and cheese when I told him how much butter and cheese my mother’s recipe required. “Oh, you need some of that,” he said. “I should get you to eat some of that every week. Then you’d really get some meat on those bones.”

His family would arrive at about noon. I was nervous, sure, but also kind of excited. Amos was an incredible guy, so his family had to be a good one. I wore my lime green trunks and a yellow tank. I was very vibrant.

Everything was ready at around eleven-thirty. We busied ourselves setting things up and his family arrived right on time. That seemed like a quality all of the Stanton’s possessed. His parents, Freddie and Kathy, were very nice, and tall. His mom was about my height and Freddie had to be at least 6’4” because he was taller than Amos. Amos had two younger brothers as well. The middle brother looked just like Amos and had a wife of his own. His name was Harris, and the youngest brother was named Bud. He was only two years younger than I was.

“Amos, so good to see you,” said Julia, the wife of Harris. “And it’s nice to meet you too, Russell.” I was surprised she already knew my name. I returned the sentiment before Amos interjected.

“The food is ready so let’s eat while it’s hot.” We all shuffled out to the patio and sat. The conversation was good, but Bud didn’t talk much. He seemed distant, but I took it as how I had been when I was still at home.

I ate a brat in three bites and before I could finish chewing another found its way to my plate. I had mac and cheese piled high on my plate along with other sides. Everyone had finished eating yet I was going strong. The conversations continued and things were going great.

Sitting in the patio chair and shoveling food into my mouth I felt the tank straining against my gut. I could even feel my gut on my lap. I loved how I felt. I loved that I was the biggest guy at the party. When everyone else was preoccupied Amos gave me a pat on the stomach.

“I think they really like you,” he said quietly. His hand rubbed my belly slowly. “But I wish they’d fucking leave so I could feed my boyfriend in peace.” I was semi-erect and tried to reign it in.

I thought about how when I was eating, I wasn’t as horny. “I’m gonna get the ice cream sandwiches,” I said. “Maybe your family will want some.” I made my way into the kitchen when I noticed Bud and Kathy talking on the sofa. They hadn’t noticed me entering.

“Mom, he’s like some beast,” Bud said. “Like, he wears chains and stuff. Who does that?”

“He’s only two years older than you, Bud,” she replied. “He also seems really sweet.”

“He’s only twenty-one? How?” Bud questioned in awe. “He could probably break Amos in half if he wanted. I bet they’re into some freaky shit.”

“Oh, stop it, Bud. Don’t swear and don’t talk about your brother and his boyfriend having sex.” I was slightly taken aback. I hadn’t considered the idea that Bud was so quiet because he didn’t care for me. I cleared my throat loudly and offered them some ice cream sandwiches.

They both looked surprised to see me and Mrs. Stanton was noticeably embarrassed.

“No,” Bud said quickly, surprisingly more flustered than his mom. “That’s okay.” I began to retreat back to the patio before he stopped me.

“What’s up?” I asked. He’d made his way over to me and he stood looking down at me slightly. Amos really came from a family of giants. He studied me closely and—I might have been sorely mistaken—but I felt like he was looking at me like how I normally looked at Amos. He admired me in some regard, and it was actually really cool.

“I’ll take two of those if that’d be okay.”

“Yeah, Bud,” I said. “You gotta eat big to get big.”

After that, Bud stuck to me like glue. He asked me about my diet and my workout regimen. I wasn’t as bold as Amos, so I gave him a heavily edited version of my routine. We all swam around and chatted. If I had to make a complaint, my swimsuit rode up a lot. Normally it wouldn’t have mattered, but I didn’t think the entire Stanton clan wanted a glimpse of my beefy ass cheeks.

It was a good time, and I was glad Amos allowed me to become such an intimate part of his life. I had even more fun after they all left. Amos told me he didn’t want to see any leftovers.

There weren’t any.

My life with Amos only continued to improve as time went on. I hadn’t made it home for the holidays like I initially told my family I would. I missed Christmas, New Years, and Easter. If I were to be honest with myself, I didn’t really want to see my family. I didn’t know how they’d react to my lifestyle changes.

“We’re worried about you,” my mother said to me over the phone in late April. It had been about a year since I had come to live with Amos.

“We talk every month,” I said, knowing where this conversation was going. “I just haven’t found a good time to come see you guys.”

“Well, Bobby is graduating next month, and I expect you to come home to celebrate your brother earning his Master’s.” Robert, who everyone called Bobby, was my middle brother. Terry was the oldest, and he had graduated from college five years ago. I loved my brothers, and I didn’t want Bobby to think I didn’t care about how hard he had been working.

“Mom, I—I don’t know if I’ll be able to make it. I’ll check my schedule.” This whole situation was making me anxious.

“Is it money, Russell?” she asked. “It’s okay if you need to move back home. It’s okay.”

“No, mom—it’s got nothing to do with money. Just text me the details. I’ll be there.”

“Everybody is going to be so excited,” she said, and I could hear the smile in her voice. “You must be starving out there working so hard. This is going to be the biggest celebration this family has seen in a while. I’ll make sure I’ve got all your favorite foods, baby. I’ll text you, okay?”

“Okay, mom. Talk to you later,” I said. She told me she loved me, and I returned the sentiment before hanging up the phone. I placed my hand on my stomach, feeling its bulk. I felt massive and tiny at the same time. I wished Amos was here, but he was working. He wouldn’t be home for a couple of hours.

At my April weigh-in I was just over 300 pounds. After seeing that number on the scale both Amos and I sat astounded. I had nearly doubled my initial weight in a year. He sucked me off twice after that. We still hadn’t had anal sex yet, but I had the feeling it would be happening soon.

Amos was a very by the book kind of guy. He had brought me products to prep myself for anal, so things wouldn’t be a mess when we did actually have sex for the first time. I hoped I could satisfy him in that way. I wanted to be what he wanted. Especially after he invested so much into me.

I ate my lunch and did my workout. I had become so accustomed to my daily routine that I had a lot of free time. I’d go out and about occasionally, and I noticed people would watch me a little more than they used to. I wondered if my family would say anything, or just stare at me like the people on the street did.

Looking at myself in a mirror after my workout I took in my body as I did every day. My shoulders were broad, meeting in the middle at my thick neck. Amos said that my face had gotten fat. He said that my head and neck had become a singular entity, and that without my beard it would be hard to distinguish the two.

Amos said that the cheeks on my face rivaled the cheeks on my backside. “When you smile,” he had said. “You can barely see your eyes.” It was true. I had always gotten squinty when I smiled, but with the extra weight I carried it was even more extreme.

My body impressed Amos in a multitude of ways, and he had things to say about all of me. The way my tits sagged, though still firm with muscle. How my butt had ruined nearly every pair of pants he bought me. The immense size of my thighs and calves. He even had things to say about how thick my hands and feet had gotten. I was getting hard thinking about Amos, about how he’d grab me.

He got in around five, pink bakery box in tow. “Russ, I’m home,” he called as he entered the kitchen. I made my way to where he stood. I was in a purple jock, my body on full display for him.

“Welcome home,” I said, walking close to him, ready to receive affection. He wrapped me in his arms, and I felt everything I had been worried about fall to the wayside, if only for a moment.

“How’s my big guy today?” he asked, kissing the top of my head.

“Not good,” I said, dreading having to talk about my intended trip home. “I talked to my mom today. I have to go home for my brother’s graduation.”

“I know how nervous dealing with your family makes you,” he said, letting go of me and looking down at me. He smiled softly, trying his best to calm my nerves. “You had to see your family at some point. Don’t let it overwhelm you.”

“But—but what if they’re mad, or they want me to move back home?” I hated when I acted this way. I felt whiny, burdensome.

“You plan on leaving me?” he asked.

“No, Sir,” I answered. “I never want to leave you.”

“Then they’ll just have to accept how much you’ve grown and the life you’ve set up for yourself.” I nodded. He was right. He always was. “Do you want me to go with you?”

I felt my face light up. I didn’t want to burden him with having to meet my family, not yet anyway. They’d be all over him, probably upset about my weight, not working, and being gay. “You would come with me, Amos?”

“Let me know the dates and I’ll take off from work.” I hugged him immediately, squeezing him much harder than I realized. He groaned loudly and I removed my arms from around him. He laughed, calming me even more. “You’ve got to be careful. You know you can break me in half.”

The next month Amos and I drove the two hours to my hometown. The entire ride he had me eating snacks. And I do mean the entire ride. Chips, trail mix, snack cakes, soda, sandwiches. When we pulled up outside of my parents’ place, I was next level bloated.

The first of the month was last week, and my weigh-in was somewhat disappointing. Maybe it was the stress of the visit, but I hadn’t been going as hard as I’d been the last couple of months. I couldn’t bring myself to eat my late-night snacks and I was barely getting through one gainer shake a day.

Amos didn’t say anything, but his lack of enthusiasm was like a dagger through the heart. I’d been working so hard, and I’d nearly doubled my starting weight in a year, but it didn’t feel like enough. I feared that if I continued to disappoint him, he’d look for someone who could better live up to his expectations.

“Do you want to grab the bags now or later?” Amos asked.

“We can come back for them later.” I wanted to make sure any potential escape was as swift as possible. There was no need to bring luggage into the house when we’d probably be leaving soon anyway.

We walked up the driveway to the front door, Amos behind me. My hands and feet were numb with cold, even though it was a sunny Friday afternoon in May. I was in a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt that probably shouldn’t have been so tight. You could see the outline of my belly button and my pierced nipples.

I stood frozen, staring at the doorbell. I couldn’t do this. I couldn’t help feeling like some sort of freak, a disappointment. They wouldn’t accept me like this, and it felt ridiculous to welcome their disapproval. We shouldn’t have come all this way for something that could have been avoided. Maybe that was foolish of me, thinking I’d never have to see my family again, but it was better than this.

“Ring the bell,” Amos said softly. “Whatever happens, you know that you’ve got me. I promise.”

“Okay,” I replied, ringing the bell quickly before I chickened out. There was some slight shuffling, and then the door opened suddenly.

It was both of my parents, which wasn’t a normal occurrence. I think they both came to the door because they were expecting me. We hadn’t seen each other for over a year at this point. They were absolutely silent for much longer than could be considered normal.

“Uh, hey Mom. Hey Dad.”

My mother laughed awkwardly, turning towards my dad to exchange a glance before turning back to me. She looked behind me at Amos before she finally spoke.

“Well,” she said, laughing again. “Look at you.”

“Damn boy,” my dad added. “Your mom thought you were out there starving. You ain’t missed a meal since you left here.” Amos chuckled behind me. Of course he’d think that was funny. He was the reason I hadn’t missed any meals.

“Come in, boys,” my mom said. “Wait, where are your bags? Don’t tell me you aren’t staying.”

“They’re in the car,” I said, the warmth returning to my hands and feet. I was sure they’d have a lot of questions, and they’d probably talk about this for an hour as they laid next to each other before bed tonight, but they weren’t pushing me away. “I’ll grab them.”

I turned, so I could walk back down the driveway. “Damn, he got more ass than you,” my dad commented, patting my mom on the behind. Like my t-shirt, the sweats I wore outlined every curve of my body. The cheeks were slightly separated by the fabric, highlighting the heft of each. I looked up at Amos, who was smirking slightly. He really was enjoying my discomfort in this situation, the embarrassing comments from my father, the nervous glances from my mother. He was a bit of a sadist, and as weird as this whole situation was, I was kind of enjoying it too.

After bringing the bags into the foyer, it was obvious there were a bunch of other people in the house. I shouldn’t have been surprised. My mother loved celebrations, and this was my homecoming and my brother’s graduation. What better reasons to invite people over and throw a party?

Scattered throughout the living room were a bunch of my relatives. I saw my oldest brother Terry and his wife. She held their two-year old in her arms and was sporting a sizable baby bump. Bobby was wearing a sash that said “graduate” on it in gold lettering. His girlfriend was here too. I also noticed both sets of grandparents, some uncles, a few aunts, a plethora of cousins. They all looked at me like they’d spotted Bigfoot.

“Shit bro!” Bobby exclaimed. “You look like you ate your old self.” There was some laughter and nervous murmurs. I knew this was a make-or-break weekend. It was my reintroduction to my family, and I had to lay some things out on the table. In particular, I had to introduce Amos. I’m sure everyone was curious about the tall white guy who was towering over us all.

“It’s good to see everyone,” I started. “City life has been treating me well. This guy here is named Amos, and he and I are—we’re—uh, seeing each other.”

Nobody really said anything until my nephew, still in his mother’s arms, waved in our direction and said in his little voice, “Hi Amiss. I’m John.”

Amos returned the wave. “Nice to meet you, John.”

After that, some of my relatives came up to us and we talked for a few minutes. I excused the both of us and we made our way to my bedroom upstairs. We needed to set the bags down and have a moment to ourselves. I wondered what Amos would have to say about everything that happened.

I felt my body relax once the door was closed. After rummaging through his backpack, Amos just stood there, a satisfied smile on his face. He wore a pair of jeans and a short-sleeved collared shirt. He looked good even in casual clothing. His torso was long and lean, and the sleeves of the shirt hugged his arms seductively.

“Russ,” he said in a low voice. “This might not be the appropriate timing, but I need to fuck you.”

“What?” He couldn’t be serious. Twenty of my family members were a floor below us, and this was the time he felt prepared to fuck me? He made his way closer to me, reaching out to squeeze one of my nipples through the fabric of my t-shirt. Ever since the piercings healed a few months ago, they’d become an extra-sensitive source of arousal. I was already getting hard, and he’d barely touched me. “Amos, we can’t,” I whined.

“You don’t want this?” he asked.

“I mean—Amos,” I said, trying to make a sensible decision. But his free hand found its way to my crotch, rubbing my dick gently through the fabric as he continued to work my nipple with his other hand. I closed my eyes, tilting my head back a bit.

“They all couldn’t believe their eyes,” Amos whispered, his voice clear and dripping with lust. Him wanting me so badly was making me feel valuable again. I wanted this more than anything, to be what he wanted. “Your dad doesn’t mince words, does he? ‘Damn, boy. You’ve got more ass than your momma.’”

He turned me around and we stood looking at our reflection in the mirror above the dresser in my room. He didn’t need to say anything. He simply needed to explore my body with his hands to let me know what he was thinking. The way his hands sat under my chest, holding each fatty pec in his strong hands, squeezing them, jiggling them. My nipples were as hard as my dick at this point, and I had no intention of stopping Amos anymore. Not like I ever really would’ve in the first place. He had the control. He always had, even when I thought I was making a choice, Amos was pulling the strings.

His hands caressed my stomach, cupping the bottom of my gut and holding the weight of it up before letting it drop. It was solid from the two hours of snacking, but it was usually firm. He squeezed it again and again in different sections, inspecting every piece of fat he’d managed to pack on my body.

He moved one hand away from my belly, and I could hear the buckle of his belt being undone. Then I felt his hardness pressing into my back, warm and incredibly stiff. I saw him slip a condom and a tiny bottle of lube from the front pocket of his jeans. He set them on the dresser before shimmying out of his pants. I could hear the buckle of his belt hit the floor so I knew his pants must have been around his ankles. He positioned his fingers in the waistband of my sweats and tugged gently, still pressing against me. I watched him closely in the mirror as he worked, my heart nearly beating out of my chest. I had wanted this since the day we met, and it was really going to happen. He tried pulling the sweats down, but the fabric got stuck around my thighs. I wiggled a little, causing the sweatpants to drop lower and allowing me to spread my legs a little bit further apart.

He placed his hands on my hips and I leaned forward, resting my palms on the top of the dresser. He gave my ass a smack and I could feel the sting of his palm resonate throughout my entire body. “Oh god,” I breathed.

“To think you’ve gotten this big in a year,” he said. “It only makes me wonder how much bigger I can make you.”

“You want me to get bigger?” I asked, losing myself in the foreplay.

“I know you’re not that tall, but you could get to at least 400 pounds and get around fine.”

“425,” I countered.

“450.”

He reached for the bottle of lube and opened it effortlessly. He squeezed some of the liquid onto his fingers and his dick, coating his member completely before spreading my cheeks to have access to my asshole. Slowly, he touched me with one finger, sliding it in gently. He worked my hole with the one finger for a few moments before sliding in another. His breathing was deep and intense, his face serious.

“I’ve got to put it in, Russ,” he said, looking at my face in the mirror. “Is that okay?”

I just nodded. He held one cheek in his hand, his dick in the other. He guided himself inside of me, the tip entering me gently. He stayed that way for a moment, not moving a muscle. I knew it was so he wouldn’t hurt me, but I felt perfectly fine. I needed more. I needed all of him inside of me. I pushed my ass against his front, taking in a majority of his dick in the process.

“Aw, fuck,” he muttered as I pounded my ass against his thighs. He gave my ass a loud slap. I was salivating. I could feel the pools of spit in my mouth, and I swallowed as not to make a mess. Every time Amos let me ejaculate this past year, some sort of dessert was involved. I couldn’t help but crave some sort of sweet treat. What I wouldn’t give for a doughnut or one of those Banana Cream Pie cupcakes. I pulled forward and pushed back again and again, his dick hitting what I could only assume to be my prostate. I was in a simple black jock, my dick barely cradled in the front cup, leaking pre-cum profusely. “Whoa, Russ. You don’t have to rush.”

“It feels so good, Amos,” I moaned. “I love your dick.” He just smirked, allowing me to continue my back-and-forth motion. We were at it for nearly ten minutes when Amos came. My dick was dribbling so much, when I went to reposition it, cum shot all over the mirror and dresser.

“Damn, Russ.”

“Amos, I’m hungry.”

We got cleaned up after that and headed back downstairs. I was utterly dickmatized. Whatever my family talked to me about went in one ear and out the other. I just wanted to eat and get fucked again, but one of those things was too risky to attempt a second time, so I simply stuffed my face. Bobby walked up to me as I licked some chicken grease off my fingers. He just shook his head, chuckling to himself.

“What?” I asked. I was closer to Bobby than my oldest brother, so I really was worried about what he had to say about this whole situation.

“You’re not really the little brother around here anymore, are you?”

“I guess not,” I answered, laughing myself. Leave it to him to make a joke. I appreciated it.

“You and the white dude—Amos,” he clarified, to show respect, “are into some freaky shit. You know we could kind of hear y’all thumping around up there, right?”

“Aw, well, that’s my bad, not his.” I did kind of take over up there. Hopefully they just heard the thumping and not anything we were saying.

“And I’m not judging,” he added, throwing up his hands. “You seem happier like this. He’s got to have something to do with that, yeah?”

Looking over at Amos, who was talking to Terry and his wife, I couldn’t help but notice that he fit in perfectly, even in a house full of people who were very different than he was. He did take care of me and make me feel valued. Reflecting on how long it took for us to actually meet up, I could kick myself for thinking that Amos could be anything less than amazing. He was my home now, my family. In one incredible year, my life would forever be changed for the better. And hey, maybe Amos would really get me to 450 (but seriously, that probably was less of sex-talk and more of a promise. Amos was always a man of his word).

“Yeah,” I said, “I feel like when I’m with him, it’s where I belong.”

The End!

#gainer stories #gainer fiction #gainer story #fatfiction #gainerfic #gainerstory #gay feeder #gay feedee #weight gain

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outrunningthedark · 1 year

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Maybe I’m too malicious, but even when I thought 911 og was almost perfect (aka until s3) I saw tarlos as the alternative of buddie, like tim saw how much we loved buddie and thought “ they will never get buddie, but here comes tarlos” and imo it reflects even how in LS everything is done to please the audience while in the og the opposite happens

I think "malicious" is too strong a word, nonnie. Let's go with pessimistic. Or maybe skeptical. Like I said the other day, I don't *normally* engage in the discussion because you're bound to ruffle feathers on both sides and it's just not worth the trouble! However. IMO, the message from Buddie fandom gets lost in translation no matter which ship fans support. When people said/say "Tarlos is the alternative to Buddie", what they're NOT saying is that it's a carbon copy. "Tarlos can't be like Buddie because Tarlos isn't a slow burn." Yeah, we got that part. It's probably on purpose. Who knows if Timothy really was/is trying to pacify the Buddie fan base by creating a new m/m ship for a new show, but what I *am* confident in is the idea that he gave the audience (many of whom came from OG) a m/m ship involving two younger actors that was established from the start to gauge viewer reaction. (Remember, LS premiered during s3 of OG.) (Looking back) If Tarlos caught on, that would/should have given Tim & co. (re)assurance that taking a chance on Buddie wouldn't drive away too many viewers since they were hoping for overlapping ratings from one hour to the next. In all honesty, I think it's easier for Tim & that crew to appease the LS audience when Tarlos has always been part of the plot. They don't have to deal with accusations of queerbaiting and the fans welcome more content (I mean, the homophobes didn't make it past the first two episodes, lbr), whereas with OG we've got people getting heated if you are rooting for the "obviously" straight dude to end up with another. With OG, on the other hand, the showrunners are so concerned with pissing off either side of their audience (can't confirm Buck and Eddie as not straight because homophobia, but don't want the Buddie fandom to feel like we're "doing something wrong" by wanting them together) that the story has begun to suffer due to a lack of consistency. [And that's not just a shipper's perspective. We might question whether Buddie is "actually going canon", but the GA? They don't even know whether to call them best friends anymore.]

#anonymous #tina speaks #tv: 911 #tv: 9-1-1 #buddie #eddie diaz #evan buckley

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the-void-writes · 1 year

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“You broke my heart.”

So these prompts worked way too well together, so you’re getting some not-canon Jason polycule stuff 💖 (I know I said I’d do smut, but I’ll have to do it for another one when my mind’s in the right place)

Freaks of Preston - I Can’t Be Apart From You

Rio could see Henry falling asleep at his desk. They had both stayed after hours to finish all the paperwork the interns had left for them. Their irritating dispositions were already draining poor Henry. When his head started to slump against the wall, Rio walked over and turned off his lamp.

“Henry, you can go home. I’ll finish the rest.”

Henry fixed his glasses. “No, that’s not fair.”

“It’s fine, man. I’m sure Jay’s waiting for you.”

He turned just in time to see Jason standing in the doorway. They shared a quiet nod of understanding as Rio sat back at his desk, trying to ignore the ache in his chest and the stinging in his eyes. Jason walked over and brushed a strand of brown hair out of Henry’s eyes.

“You look exhausted, dear.”

Henry took his hand, faltering when he caught Rio’s longing stare. Whatever Henry wished to say disappeared on his tongue. Jason spared a single glance at Rio before looking at the wall.

“I heard what you said. Thank you for letting Henry come home.”

“Of course,” Rio said, mostly to himself.

“Can we help you with anything?”

“Don’t worry about it, Jay.” He forced himself to smile. “Go and enjoy your night.”

Jason’s heart felt heavy at the sight of him. Nonetheless, he grabbed Henry’s coat for him and made the slow walk towards the door. Henry took him by the arm halfway across the room.

“I know you want to speak to him,” he whispered.

Jason shrugged. “I don’t know what I’d say.”

“Jay, whatever you choose, I support you.”

He glanced down at Henry in shock. “I choose you, dear. I love you.”

“That doesn’t mean you don’t love him, too.”

Jason finally took a good long look at Rio, staring blankly at a mess of papers. He always looked so beautiful when he was deep in concentration…

“You know,” Henry said, “I wouldn’t mind giving him a try.”

“Henry!”

He chuckled. “We both know he’s cute… and he’s been protecting you all this time. I don’t have a problem with him.”

“He knew about Will.”

“He and Avery are the reason Will’s still alive.”

Jason took one more look at Rio, remembering the warmth that always came with his comforting presence. He was the reason Will made it out of the accident, risking his life and his daughter’s safety for a stranger that he just happened to fall in love with. Still, Jason wondered if that was enough justification to let Rio back into his heart. In truth, he wasn’t sure that Rio had ever left.

“It’s okay if you’re not comfortable with it,” Henry said. “I’m just saying, maybe you don’t have to choose.”

Jason closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and walked back to Rio’s desk. He placed his hand over the soldier’s hand, making him drop his pen on the table.

“Jay?”

Rio looked into those pale blue eyes and saw everything he had ever loved about him: compassion, honesty, respect, and the slightest hint of darkness. His voice was as gentle as the night wind.

“You broke my heart.”

Rio closed his eyes and nodded. “I know.”

He shuddered as Jason stroked his hair. When he opened his eyes again, Jason was crying.

“But I can’t hate you,” he said.

Rio sat in silence, unsure of how to respond. Henry joined them and squeezed Rio’s other hand.

“I know you guys still have feelings for each other,” he said.

“Henry, I wouldn’t take him from you—”

“I know, buddy. You’re a good man.” Henry smiled. “We were just saying, if you want to come up with us, you’re welcome to.”

“With— both of you— as in—”

“Only if you’re up to it.”

Rio cleared his throat. “Are you both okay with that?”

Jason trailed his hand down to caress his neck.

“Rio, I can’t stand being away from you any longer. I need you— and Henry. My heart belongs to you both.”

Time blurred as he leapt from his seat and kissed Jason’s cheek, followed by Jason kissing him properly for the first time since the truth had been revealed. His lips were still soft, like cotton sheets on a warm day.

Jason and Henry led him upstairs to their room, much warmer and brighter than his own. As soon as Rio took off his coat, he was surrounded by two warm pairs of arms. Jason kissed the spot on the back of his neck, the spot he had discovered back when they were dating, the one that sent shivers up Rio’s spine. It was like they had never been apart.

Henry placed a soft kiss along his collarbone, and in that moment, Rio could see what Jason saw in him. His kiss was tender, yet so full of affection and playfulness. He loved with his heart and soul. It felt amazing, far too good than anything Rio thought he was worthy of.

“This doesn’t feel right,” he said. “I don’t belong here.”

Jason pulled him tightly against his chest. “You’ve always belonged here, darling. Stay with us, please.”

Rio turned around, unable to resist kissing him again. “I can’t deny you, Jay. I never could.”

#writeblr #writing community #ask games #wip: freaks of preston

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uwukillmenowowo · 11 months

Text

To Wash the Inky Stains of Hate

[Cover by: me/Kumon]

[Dabi X Ink Demon! Reader]

Requested by:

mayaimishigo

[This lovely person right here~!]

Fandoms:

Boku No Hero Academia & Bendy and the Ink Machine

Trigger warnings:

- Blood/Death/Gore/Murder/etc

- Swearing/Foul Language

- Stop, don't touch me there, this is my no no square! [In future chapters]

[Main Characters:]

- Twice and Mange are deceased.

- Dabi - 24

- Reader - 23

- Shigaraki - 21

- Toga - 17

- Kurogiri - Died 17 - Technically 18 [Got off Google Idk I didn't watch/read that far :( ]

- Alice - XXXX

- Boris/Buddy - XXXX

- Alice/Allison - XXXX

Quirk: Ink Demon

This quirk allows its user to manifest a demonic creature made entirely out of ink, this demonic creature is extremely powerful and can cause great amounts of destruction to whoever and whatever it comes into contact with. This creature has great speed, strength and durability. It also has a very high intelligence, capable of devising complex plans and strategies to use against its opponents. The user of this quirk must be very careful in using it and have a great understanding of how to control it. the user also has the ability to produce and control ink, it can make structures, entities, objects and so much more.

[Notes:]

- This is... like season 6 [Of BNHA] but it isn't

- Dabi's hair will still be black because it's easier for me.

- There will be others if I remember them...

Chapter 1: Welcome to the Chaos

1396000 people

2792000 people

5584000 people

The massacre never ends, does it?

{Third POV}

~~~~~

"Whaaa~! She's really on a massive genocide, isn't she? Look at all the blood and corpses~!" A female with ash-blonde hair fangirled with her hands on her cheeks and a blush on her face. "She does have quite the body count..." "And what's with all that black liquid..?" The trio continued to observe, as well as theorize about the so-called "Black liquid" that she was producing.

"It also looks like she's controlling all of that black stuff." The white-haired male nodded, continuing to watch the chaos unfold. 'How many heroes and civilians has she killed already?' He thought as he continued to stare at the ruined city that was once protected. But did he care? Absolutely not, in fact, he actually thinks that all those people deserved it. He's been through all of it before.

"It... kinda looks like ink." The ash-blonde female said as she used her hand to cover her eyes from the afternoon sun. She found the other girls' brutal techniques rather interesting. I mean, the girl has killed millions of people in the span of a few hours. She kind of wanted to learn from the girl. She could get so much more blood that way!

"Using ink to control, create, and destroy? Kinda cringe and cliche..." The black-haired male sighed as he turned his gaze away. Obviously annoyed and seemingly not impressed. In all honesty, he just wanted to join in the carnage to let out some of his frustrations.

"Shut it Dabi. That quirk of hers actually looks kind of useful. Unlike that masked bird bitch." The white-haired male stated, not turning his gaze away from the scene. "If what the wacko said is correct and that's ink then I don't find it all that impressive." "Hey! You burnt chicken nugget! Yours also isn't impressive! I mean- it's just fire but blue!" "What did you call me nutjob?" "*Hmph* You heard me!" "SHUT IT! BOTH OF YOU! I'm already having a fucking headache and the both of you are making it worse!"

The "Nutjob" huffed and crossed her arms while Dabi placed his hands on his hips, both watching as the white-haired male started to leave. "Kurogiri, teleport us back. We need to inform him of our findings. If he deems that maniacal girl worthy then we should try to recruit her. Find out her quirk, wants and dream and then he'll decide what we do with her after."

A purple swirl of clouds appeared and the three started to leave. Leaving leftover heroes to deal with the crazed genocider.

{XXXX POV}

~~~~~

"8375990 out of 8376000 people... Heh- *Smirk* Almost around 60%..." I muttered to myself as I ordered another squad of searchers to destroy another group of tanks that the military tried to send while I dodged more chains from the warden hero: Crushlock. A hero that helps the cops in the crime department in restraining "berserk villains." Did I care that I was killing a lot of people? No. Did I care that the government wanted my head? Pffttt-! Of course not! I needed to make HIM pay for everything he's done to me and all the others and there's no way in hell I'm stopping until I archived that goal.

"HALT VILLIAN!"

I sighed, glaring at the heroes that kept coming. They're not that much fun to fight. Not even good enough to pass the time. Just bugs that hover around a meal that was left unattended. I held my hand out, creating ink in my hands and pointed my palm to the floor, raising an inky barrier as another hero tried to attack me. "Annoying..." I said to myself and then raised both my hands, creating a tsunami of ink.

There were screams, lots of them. Then when the ink faded there were just the corpses of everyone who tried to stop me. Now, I would've used this attack from the beginning but i was hungry and haven't eaten in a few weeks. But now that i've used it I'm hungry again... "Does anywhere have bacon soup?" I questioned myself, looking around the ruined area.

"Hmmm..." I groaned and snapped my fingers, the searchers came back to me and I commanded them to find some food. While I waited I sat down and started to stretch.

It's been almost an hour... I crossed my legs and crossed my arms. "Where are my searchers..?" I know that they're still alive since I could still sense them. They are my creation after all. They haven't run into any heroes either. So what's with the—

One was destroyed?

Two...

Three...

Four...

I glanced around me, expecting another hero. Four searchers died. Burned, disintegrated, slashed, and drowned. I stood up wearily but then I saw some sort of portal appear in front of me. 'It's like my ink domain.' I thought as I raised my hand, ready to attack.

{Third Person POV}

~~~~~

The four beings entered the portal, not surprised when they saw a female in a fighting stance. The foggy-headed male raised both his... hands and walked slowly toward the female. "Miss [Y/n]," He stared, startling the female since she did not expect them to know her name. "We mean you no harm. We are the League of Villains and we've come to make a request." The female furrowed her brows, not trusting them. "What..." was all she asked, still in a fighting position.

"We simply want to examine your quirk. Want to know how it works." The female faltered and sweatdropped. "That's it..?" The foggy boi nodded and the female looked behind him, seeing a white-haired male with hella chapped lips, an ash-blonde girl who looks like she was about to climax, and a black-haired male who looks like the only sane person here. "Hmm? Oh, these three behind me ate my comrades. Shigaraki Tomura, Toga Himiko, and Dabi. As for me, you can refer to me as Kurogiri,"

"So chapped lips is Shiggy, Horny-looking ass is Toga, Burnt nugget is Dabi, and you're Kurogiri." As the female said that they all had mixed reactions, Shigaraki and Dabi looked pissed and annoyed. Toga looked... like herself but was laughing, and Kurogiri appeared shocked. "I... suppose so." Kurogiri said as he clasped his hands behind his back.

"Will you help us with your quirk?"

"Hold up— What am I getting out of this?"

The four froze. They did their research but most of that research was just her birth certificate. And her parents' names were scratched out, they knew nothing of her past or her desires. "Thought so... Fine. I'll help y'all out, but do you know of someone called Joey Drew and Henry Stein." The villains looked at each other before shaking their heads. Who were they? People you cared for or people you wanted to kill?

[Y/n] scowled. "However..." She then perked up to what Shigaraki had to say. "We could help you try to find whoever they are." [Y/n] then pondered on. It would certainly take less time than killing everyone to draw them out...

She sighed and crossed her arms, using her quirk to create an ink hand so that she doesn't have to touch them. She doesn't know what their quirks do after all.

"Fine. I'll let you examine my quirk. In exchange, you gotta help me find who I'm lookin' for... Deal?"

Kurogiri looked at Shigaraki, who in turn walked forward and shook the inky hand.

"Sure... Deal or whatever.

Wooooo! Actual post pooogg!

I am well aware that they are kind out of character

This is actually my first request so eeeehhhhh-

bare with me plz

#batim ink demon #bendy and the dark revival #ink demon #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #dabi x female reader #touya todoroki #Dabi #dabi todoroki #League of Villians #Ink Demon Reader #𝐓𝐨 𝐖𝐚��𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐈𝐧𝐤𝐲 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐇𝐚𝐭𝐞

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tommyswilliam · 2 years

Text

atychiphobia.

a small story in three parts.

1. age 14.

The cold prickles on his skin, a welcome change from just how overheated he feels. He’s been going at this for ages- the sun has set, and the dew is starting to settle in on the grass. He’s tired, exhausted beyond belief, and he can’t feel any of his muscles. Its how he knows hes getting good practice in, pushing himself beyond his limits.

His Dad is sitting alone, up in the bleachers, and even though hes really tiny in the distance, Tommy can almost feel his breath on the back of his neck.

He would’ve quit an hour ago, but his Dad was watching. He wanted to show his Dad he was good at football-- better than the kid who would fumble the ball as they practiced on Saturdays.

The launcher clicks, the rumble of belt an incoming signal that its about to shoot. Tommy starts running, kicking up little droplets of water as he dashes to get the ball.

Almost. Almost. Got it.

He holds the ball up in triumph, before walking out to towards the bleachers, to his Dad.

“That was pretty alright buddy. You wanna go home now?”

Some part of Tommy recognises that his dad didn’t have anything to say, but most parts of him is exhausted, so he nods mutely.

2. age 15.

His first F comes close to the end of his freshman year. He knows what he did wrong. Too many parties this weekend, too much time spent on the couch hungover out of his mind. It had felt like the right thing at the time, his dad had been so proud of him, but looking down at the red F, it felt wrong.

He doesn’t even know why he took spanish, in all honesty. He’s been told, time and time again by his Dad, that his focus this year should be to climb to the top of the social pyramid. He said; Son, all that matters is your football scores, and the girls you score.

He never said anything about test scores, but this settles in his gut like that one time he tried to eat the oatmeal Sarah made.

The next day, he employees his first nerd to make him flashcards, because he doesnt like that gut feeling. It makes him feel hot and icky at the same time, like the moment right before you throw up.

3. age 17.

Its halftime of his first game as captain. He’s been on a high all night, the crowd cheers, the feeling of raw power through his veins as he plays as best he can. They’re down- the scoreboard says so, and even though they’ve landed more plays than the other team, that doesn’t mean more points.

The team is loosing steam, as they all pile into the locker room for their brief repreive, and hes rounding out the back of the pack. He enters last, and all his boys eyes are on him, pouring with need, and excitement, and a handful of other asks that start clouding around Tommy’s head as he glances from face to face, wondering what they want from him.

One of his boys nudges him, and it feels harder. Like the elbow is piercing right into his chest, instead of playfully pushing him inside. Pep talk! Starts as a slow mumur, a quiet ask, but it sounds so loud to his ears.

He’ll give it his best shot.

“Alright boys! I know-” His throat feels like its closing as he tries to work out what hes going to say at the same time as hes saying it “We’re loosing. But- Can we, We can. Recover. Winners!”

None of them look particularly pepped after the speech, and they go on to loose the game. Tommy goes home that night and pracitices his pep talks in the mirror, over and over so that he wont fail his boys again.

#tasks #task 2 #:))

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eusuntgratie · 2 years

Note

FMK Buck, Eddie, Karen

#1 i'm mad at you

#2 if i have opportunity to make karen my wife? YES. hands down. this woman is incredible i cannot get over it. i love her so much. marry me, ma'am. she's so smart and beautiful and funny and thoughtful and every second she is on screen i am 😍😍😍

#3 i'm gonna have a threesome with buck & eddie and kill no one you're welcome this answer is correct don't come at me anything else is simply unthinkable. actually a threesome with buddie might kill me, so maybe it all works out.

honesty hour - ask me anything

#honesty hour #ask grace #i might cheat though #lostcol #🤷🏻‍♀️

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field--guide · 6 months

Text

Autokinetic

All this machinery making modern music

Can still be open-hearted

Not so coldly charted, it's really just a question of your honesty

Yeah, your honesty

- from “The Spirit of Radio” by Rush, 1980

It’s Friday, and it’s raining in Minnesota. We're here to dance Saturday night away in celebration of Intellephunk’s 25-year anniversary, but before these festivities, we get to celebrate another significant piece of Minneapolis’ music history: Autokinetic, aka Mike McClure.

Lauryn and I have spent the morning and afternoon in St. Paul, eating delicious pastries from the French bakery around the block and catching up with old friends, and now it’s time for our interview with Mike. Accommodating as ever, he’s picked us up from our landing pad at flyover HQ, and is taking the scenic route down University Ave to get to his place in Northeast Minneapolis. “We’ll avoid some traffic this way.” Mike has lived in Minnesota his whole life, and it shows. The car ride feels like a tour of the Twin Cities, as he points out areas of historic interest with near-encyclopedic knowledge while maintaining the softness and approachability that make him so comfortable to be around. We cross an intersection in St. Paul and he exclaims, “This is where Freddy lives!” Freddy Fresh is a Midwest musical hero who’s had a profound impact on Mike’s journey. As he praises Freddy’s breadth and humility, I’m enveloped in an inexplicable warmth—the way he talks about his musical forebears is striking. He describes another of his early influences, Woody McBride, as a spirit full of kindness—but Mike, too, is like this, seemingly without even realizing it.

We arrive at his home, and after offering me and Lauryn all manner of snacks and beverages, he welcomes us into his studio, where we hang out and chat for the next couple of hours.

We’re joined by Mike’s cat (read: muse) Pandora, who can be heard mewing and purring at several points during the interview. She and Mike share a special bond—she spends most of our time together sitting on his lap, and is almost always in the studio when he’s working on music. She’s pictured here next to a Roland TR-909, taking a break from sitting with Mike to lay on a pile of designated cassette tape, which acts as a sort of cat bed in the studio.

“We had a big piano in the house. That was the first thing—synthesizers were later.”

Music has been a part of Mike’s life for a long time. He grew up in a big, musical family, getting a balance of “goofy,” collaborative and improvisational family music time at home, with an intense formal music education at MacPhail. He started piano at age 7, and by high school he was a multi-instrumentalist. Despite struggling with stage fright, to the point of even vomiting on a couple occasions (“Luckily, not on anyone!”), Mike’s life revolved around music and performing, spending virtually all his time participating in concerts, jazz ensemble, marching band, parties, and rehearsals.

His love affair with electronic music began when he was 12, playing with his first synth in his bedroom and taking trips to Minneapolis with older sister Carolyn, who brought him to record stores in the city to help feed his interest in hip-hop, breaks, and electro. He recalls loving the 808 hi-hats, but not understanding how they were made. “What are those sounds?” He was young when this curiosity sparked, and it would have a tremendous impact on his life. A few years later, during breaks from cleaning band instrument rentals at his first job at Schmidt Music, he finally came into close contact with the boxes that would give way to his synth fever.

“My buddies were there in the sales room, and when there was downtime, we’d go out there and there’d be like, Alpha Junos, and drum machines and things, and it was like, 'Oh, that’s where those fucking sounds came from,' and then I look at the price tag. [laughs] … But then, the desire to have..to get that sound going, drove me to start trying to find..well, where do you get these things? How do you get ‘em used?”

This desire became fused with introductions to underground sounds through friend and band-mate David Jarosz, who worked at Let It Be records just after their time in high school.

“So during and right after high school, [I was] in a lot of cover bands, we did Poison, and Black Sabbath....one of my best friends, his name is Dave, DJ Drone is what he ended up being in town, but he worked at a record store and he kinda got us all into different...like, he introduced me to Aphex Twin, he introduced me to house music, everything. He was like: ‘This is what you should be listening to. Put the Jane’s Addiction away, listen to Selected Ambient Works, here’s some Guidance, Prescription!’ I was like, ‘Oh my god, this electronic stuff is cool.’”

After he’d spent some years immersing in these sounds, he actually got to meet a pioneer of electronic music: George Clinton. Mike’s older sister was acquainted with the Parliament-Funkadelic founder for a time. During George’s visits, she would ask Mike to be their driver around town (“Helllllll yeah I’ll meet George Clinton!”). At one point, she asked him to bring his music gear along to show George some of the music he’d been working on.

“I was nervous as hell. I got to play him some samples, and he gave me feedback. It was probably pretty scary music to him,” Mike laughs. “I was still kinda learning how to just get loops to sync up with the different machines, so it wasn’t quite in time. But he listened to the stuff and he was like, ‘Yeah! Yeah! This is pretty good, but, it doesn’t have that wiggle.’”

Mike is telling this story quite casually; Lauryn and I exchange looks of disbelief and the three of us laugh together for a moment. “Sorry, who said this?” we ask. “George!” says Mike, and smiles. The point for him is not the association with George’s name, rather, what he learned about swing, and the importance of feedback in the artistic process. George apparently jammed on Mike’s gear for a moment, too: “He’s playing my little PC200 controller with my Ensoniq patches, and he’s gettin’ stuff out of ‘em that I’m not, and I’m just like, wow... It needs the wiggle!” Mike jokes that he still only kind of understands ‘the wiggle,’ but to this day, he looks to other artists for inspiration, and values feedback deeply. “With George, that was important for me, just like, oh shit, I...this is fun...I kept getting feedback on my music, I want this to be better, I wanna learn! So, that’s an important point.”

Mike used this same set up when he played his first rave in 1993—which, if you can believe it, was also his first time attending a rave. Performing there was spontaneous, and unrehearsed, instructed by his friend Dave Drone to “just play sounds over the top” of his DJ set. A photo from the event ended up in the Star Tribune.

“I was just rhythmically playing things that would sorta work, and I think he would bring me in and out, but I had a headphone in, and once in a while I’d be like, ‘Oh shit! It’s playing!’ And then a hilarious thing happened. There’s this company called Menards...”

Mike sings the jingle and Lauryn cackles.

“Early ‘90s, right..phenomenal. People were bringing a lot of samplers out at the time. So I’d record a buncha shit on TV and I had a sample of it, and there’s this drop [in the track at the rave] and I...... “SAVE BIG MONEY AT MENARDS!” is blasting over the sound system and people are like, ‘what the fuck is going on?’ because it wasn’t on a record. People were like, what the fuck is actually happening! So I was happy to be a part of that.”

I immediately think of the ‘DJs Will Put Anything Before The Drop’ videos that have proliferated on social media and laugh to myself. The past inside the present... Mike went on to use this trick at a few other parties, and his skill as a techno performer strengthened over the years as he cut his teeth at some of the best illegal raves in Minneapolis and other parts of the Midwest in the ‘90s, even regularly performing in Europe. This night in 1993 was where it all started.

Mike is credited on the poster as Mindphaseone, a name he would eventually use for an experimental ambient project formed in 1994 with Drone, Matt Gerzema, and John Golden. They opened for DJ Shadow at First Ave in 1997, and one of the songs on their only album was licensed by MTV for the Tony Hawk Show. “Somewhere out there is a recording of Bill Clinton being interviewed and mindphaseone is playing in the background.”

This was the same year he met Freddy Fresh, and together with John Golden, helped start the Electric Music Foundation record label. Releases from this imprint helped to get gigs and push things along, but it was no mere stepping stone; Freddy took Mike under his wing and fueled his desire to create. Mike speaks candidly about Freddy’s impact on him: “We just, we connected... Everything, everything, everything I know how to do in the studio is from him. ... Like, how do you get this sound on this record? And he’s like, this is what they did. … Freddy answered all the questions.”

Freddy was a connector for Mike both in the Midwest and abroad (he introduced Mike to Craig Lambert, aka Midnight Music Club, with whom Mike has spent the bulk of his time creating since 2019 under the combined name AutoClub). He also got Mike performing in Germany in the '90s (“The first one was Fred calling me and saying ‘Hey do you wanna play in Germany at Liquid Sky Cologne next week?”), eventually expanding to gigs in Austria and Slovenia. The more Mike played out, the more he came to value ‘market research,’ or, in his own words: “...Going to shows, going to a lot of parties, listening to what was getting played, watching the dance floor. What makes people leave, what gets them goin’ crazy—what are those SOUNDS?! What are those secret things, trying to figure that out, and that’s going on to this day.” Freddy didn’t just teach him how to find the sounds and turn the knobs; he instilled a deep appreciation for the “beginner’s mind,” combining a steadfast work ethic with a humble, open-minded approach to creating.

Our conversation shifts to artistic process, techno preferences, and authenticity, and Mike refers back to his roots to share a nugget of wisdom. It’s difficult to describe how clear he seems responding to this prompt—a pool of calm energy, rooted in years of experience and humility.

“What did Geddy Lee from Rush say..... It’s a......question of your honesty. That’s really what it’s about. What’s this track, what are you trying to do? Are you trying to trick everyone or are you trying to be vulnerable in your music?”

For Mike, creating impactful art necessitates being comfortable making mistakes, and open to the opportunities they bring. It’s a form of acceptance, both of the present moment and of oneself, which can translate into mindfulness. When practiced, this can create an “imprint” of the artist in the track by capturing “a moment in time.” This is the soul in the machine that makes techno exciting.

“To me, there’s something in the track that’s more than just the recording. Something was imprinted in it, … there's a layer to it that’s beyond what you’re hearing. And I don’t know how to put that into words. But there’s like, ‘What! How did they? There’s another track in there!’ That’s like an emotion..it’s...I...nothing else sounds like it. And if it’s loud and it’s moving your body, now it’s getting imprinted in you and your blood and your bones. That’s why I love going to shows and standing there and just getting hit by sound, I feel like you can record it somehow. And then later when you’re in here [the studio], you’re like, ‘Awh yeah I remember, this might work, I saw people dancing to this rhythm!”

Through his discipleship in the ‘90s, as well as his own trial-and-error, Mike has realized that in order to get to that place with creation, he sometimes has to almost force himself into the studio, even if it’s just to read a manual on a new piece of gear, or record something when he’s not feeling totally inspired. This “do it anyway” attitude is aided by his musical upbringing, improvising goofy songs with family while attending the “intense” MacPhail. Mike doesn’t pretend to have it all figured out. He sometimes struggles with his own creative blocks. But drawing upon his foundation—expanded by his teachers—Mike’s found a process that works for him, and seemingly, his mission is to share that with others. He shares an insight gained from jam sessions with pals, further cementing his belief in honest creation being an ongoing process:

The track is in you by the way – it’s not in the boxes. It doesn’t matter what you’re making. I just learned that recently, with Dustin [Zahn] coming over, messing with the studio. I had some Mike stuff up; after an hour, it was Dustin’s stuff. And he had a Dustin track. I’m like, how did you????! Wait! But how! Like, it sounds so good! [laughs] It’s the same with Lonefront. I wanna be able to do that. Get your track out of whatever the stuff is. It doesn’t matter if you have million dollar gear, or a $100 sampler. These tracks are inside of you. How do you get ‘em out? How do you express that shit? I don’t know..it’s ongoing. [laughs] It’s a continuum, there’s no answer! You just gotta keep doing it.”

If there’s one thing we learned from Mike during this interview, it’s this: creator as conduit. When you come to know Mike, and his music, you can hear the inspiration of his teachers through how he executes his art. You can also see the influence of these teachers in how he interacts with his community, providing undying support and mentorship to other artists in the Twin Cities. The Auto Kinetic project has evolved through many iterations since its formation in the early ‘90s—what hasn’t changed is the deep current of humility and collaboration that gives it motion. [Published June 15th, 2023]

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authenticsexylatino · 1 year

Text

The search for an online sex-buddy

So, I've been frequenting online sex chat websites and others... The reason is not because I can't find a woman in real life, but because I'm currently taking a break from relationships. However! I still have sexual needs-pretty voracious, delicious and adventurous sexual needs, I might add :P The trouble I'm finding is that every time I log onto a site, I need to go through the WHOLE process of finding a woman on a site, and then feeling s out through role play if we have chemistry, and then have a good time, the first two can take hours! First of all, as many men know out there, there are SO many men posing as females out there. I've been lied to a lot, and I don't like it and don't really feel like chatting to men who pretend to be women. I want to chat with a woman and build a sex parternship with mutual respect so we can both explore what we want. Hard to do this when the whole process resets as soon as I leave a site. not to mention that most women (understandably) don't want to share skype or snap information, and those who usually do are often selling their services. So, what is the best way to find an online sex buddy who wants to perhaps video chat, and share some erotic content and just have some fun?! I'm not sure, but this post is an attempt at that. Ladies, if you are reading and you are looking for the same. I truly am a sincere man, who is respectful, quite beautiful, well endowed and really horny haha. Don't be shy to reach out. There is no pressure. If we have chemistry we can keep talking, if not we can just drop it. If we try, I'm sure we won't regret it! haha. Message me or post under here, as you wish! It may take me a little bit to reply because I'm not on here often. Much love and thanks for passing by! PS: Guys, you are welcome to comment below if you have lived similar experiences. I'm also open to dialogue and teach about ways to interact and approach women with the respect and honesty they deserve in an online setting... I have some experience with that.

#mature #in all honesty #friends #friendswithbennys #explore #adventure #manifesting #respect

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coffee-latte-sprite · 2 years

Text

Batboys w/ a Short S/O

Masterlist

Request:

Hi again :) may I request a hc for the batboys with a short (4'10) reader? My life sucks, people always mistake me as a kid, having a older looking partner is hell everybody look at us weird 😖. How do you think the bats would hand it?

Notes: Hi! Welcome back :) I’m short to, and I understand the struggle

Dick Grayson

Thoughts on your Height

Dick would honestly love your height, but not because it’s cute

He would love it because he would make so many jokes out of it

“Dick, can you help me?”

*looks around* “Is someone there?”

*You are like 2 feet away from him*

“Say goodbye to your kneecaps buddy.”

But, in all honesty, he will love putting his elbow on top of your head just to tease you.

It will sort of be his reassurance of you

That you are in fact still there

He doesn’t usually look down during the day, but feeling you there, makes him happy

Height Problems Help

If there is something that is too high for you to reach

Dick will absolutely help you

Then, proceed to say that he needs to buy a stepping stool for you

You don’t know if he is teasing or being serious

It was both

For your birthday, he bought you one

But the card said, “Short people appreciation day :)”

How other people see you

A lot of people think that you are related in some way (?)

“Oh, is this your cousin?”

“. . . No . . .?”

He would be caught off guard a lot

If someone would say anything like how they are related, all common sense goes out the window

He’s always confused about how people think you are related when he literally called you a pet name like 0.5 seconds before

Poor boi

Jason Todd

Thoughts on your Height

Jason actually would not comment about your height at all

He LOVES it

He loves how you fit so perfectly in his arms

Especially when you cuddle

He loves how you two fit like puzzle pieces

(*author crying*)

And when he’s the little spoon, he thinks it’s kinda funny how he just crushes you under him

But, he does worry he’s hurting you

You tell him it’s fine

After that, he is NOT going to leave that spot for hours

Although, he does worry about you in the real world

Seeing how you are so small, he’s worried about someone taking advantage of your small size

So, he makes sure that you have mace on you, helps you in self-defense, and he wants to be with you when you go out

Height Problem help

Jason is like 6 foot, let’s be real here, he has forgotten the struggles of being small

He is constantly putting stuff on the TOP self

Always the top self, nothing lower than that

It drives you crazy

You remind him a lot not to do that because you would have to climb onto the counter, get a chair, or ask for help

Jason always feels really bad about doing that because he keeps forgetting about your height

How other people see you

Honestly, people are scared to comment on you two

They think Jason’s in a gang or gang leader with his leather jacket and his hard stare

But, when someone does comment, he’s always slow on the draw

“Oh, is this your half-sibling?”

“. . . What did you just say about my partner?”

He’s always caught up in why people think that you are so much younger than him, and they think he might be a predator or something

Tim Drake

Thoughts on your Height

Tim is at 5’7”

He understands the struggles with height

He never makes fun of you for it or comments on it

Although, when Tim is on borderline sleep and death rate with coffee

He will not see you

He runs into you a lot when it comes to sleep deprivation

*walks into you*

“Who’s there!”

“Me,” … “No, look down here Tim.” *sigh*

Height Problem help

Tim does not put stuff on the top self

He puts everything lowest self to the upper middle, all of which you can reach

But, when there is something to tall, you’ll ask him for help

And this goes two ways:

1) he can’t reach it either and has to get a chair

2) says he will help you, but gets sidetracked with work for an hour, then helps you

How other people see you

Since Tim has a really young face and is kinda short to, no one thinks anything of your relationship

Everyone thinks that you two are indeed a couple

And some even say how perfect you look together and how cute you two are

But, if someone does say something about how small you are, Tim will be ready to fight

No one disrespects you

Older!Damian Wayne

Thoughts on your Height

When Damian was younger, he was in the short stack group for a LONG time

He did not get tall until he was like seventeenish

So he completely understands your struggles and feels bad for you because of your height disability

Especially since you both know you are done growing

And, he always looks down when he is looking for you

His brother’s say that it’s funny how when he is looking for you, he’s basically staring at his feet

Damian did not appreciate that comment

Height Problem help

Damian puts everything on different heights, but everything you need is in reach

He puts everything he needs up high so you have enough room to put what you need on your shelf

He also gets you custom shoes that have heels in them so you can be taller, or feel taller

He doesn’t do this in a teasing tone either, he’s actually being really considerate

He wished he had heels sometimes when he was younger

How other people see you

You do get weird looks from people when you pass them

But, nobody says anything

But, they do talk about it

“Omg, do you see them? Are they like his sibling or something?”

You and Damian pretend you don’t overhear them talking

But, when you feel self-conscious, Damian tries to help you feel better about yourself

And tries to make you feel not self-conscious

“Don’t worry about them beloved, they are nothing.”

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dk-wren · 11 months

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Week 4ish - 30 Days of Buddy Daddies

Welcome to the final round of my responses to the 30 Day's of Buddy Daddies tag! Thank you for all your support on these posts and @yuraamar for creating all these fun prompts. Let's do this one more time!

Day 22: Favorite Drawing from Miri's Diary

I love how this diary entry either suggests Miri woke up later in the night and got to properly celebrate Papa Rei's birthday or this is what she had planned (before she got too tired to wait for Rei).

While it might be more an expression of surprise, I also kinda love how Miri drew Rei with a big smile.

Day 23: Which Actor/Actress Would You Have Liked to Voice the Characters

In all honesty, I don't know.

Yes, I really enjoyed all the voice actors' performances and couldn't imagine anyone else voicing these characters. But also, Buddy Daddies was I think my 5th or 6th anime, so I have yet to really identify and/or follow any particular VAs to say I would have liked them to voice this character.

Just for a further Yuri on Ice reunion, maybe Junichi Suwabe as Kyuutaro(?), but again idk.

Day 24: Crossover

Not so much a crossover, but rather, something I hope exists in the Buddy Daddies universe is Animal Crossing. (There's Mario Kart/Morio Kart in the Buddy Daddies world, so I think it's possible) This just feels like a game the whole family would love and could somewhat play together.

I can totally see Miri loving to talk with the villagers, decorating her house, and catching bugs/fishes. Rei enjoys doing these things too, but I can also see him grind for hours just to make sure Miri has all the bells/supplies she needs when she plays to buy whatever she wants (perhaps this is how Rei spoils Miri?) or make any furniture she wants. I could even see Kazuki casually playing Animal Crossing. He may not be a gamer, but I think even he could learn the basics and not be too overwhelmed.

Just something about Miri, Rei, and Kazuki playing Animal Crossing together seems like a really cute idea.

Day 25: Things You Would Like to See in Future Projects

Something I would like to see in future projects is Kazuki, Rei, and Miri actually finding the place that became the Dining Nest. Did Kyu or someone else find the place for them, did they hunt for this place on their own, and when/why exactly did they choose to open a diner rather than like a shop or some other business? I'd also love to know if the first time they entered the space, if there was an immediate feeling of "this is our home" or did it take some time for them to adjust to the place and make it feel like truly their own space.

As many people have said before, I fully want a beach day story too. The art Lily recently posted of Rei and Miri finally bringing home a cat also makes me want to see this storyline further fleshed out. Gosh, there's probably a bunch of other things I would like to see, but honestly, I just want to see more peaks into Kazuki, Rei, and Miri's daily life as Miri grows up and as Kazuki and Rei fully(?) leave the organization behind them

Day 26: Playlist

I would like to start by apologizing for my music taste because it unfortunately (for you probably) means that this playlist is basically show tunes. Either way, hope you enjoy the songs and my very brief explanations.

Kazurei Vibes:

youtube

Rei Vibes: (Trust me on this one, pls)

youtube

Final confrontation vibe (Rei singing, but replace "man" with like "dad"):

youtube

Day 27: What Made You Watch the Anime

The first anime I really got into was Spy x Family. Because there were a lot of initial comparisons between the two series, that grabbed my attention. I thought to myself, well I quickly fell in love with Spy x Family, so why not give Buddy Daddies a try since it seems similar.

The two animes I had previously gotten into and watched in the fall (SxF and Chainsaw Man) finished their seasons right before Buddy Daddies began airing. This was another reason I watched since I no longer had a weekly anime/show to watch and to help me keep my sanity because of school.

Funnily enough, I really do think it was because Buddy Daddies kept coming up in the SxF tag here that I watched this anime. Like I legitimately do not remember watching the trailer for Buddy Daddies until way after I got into the series.

Day 28: What Would You Change About the Story

Maybe not change, but I really wished more of Kazuki's past with Yuzuko could have been explored or touched on.

For reasons made clear throughout the series, her death, as well as the death of their unborn child, clearly left an impact on Kazuki for a long time. The circumstances alone are tragic, but to have even a little more information about Yuzuko I feel could have made her death even more emotional and tough for the audience. We really only know Yuzuko as Kazuki's ex-wife, so I kinda have to agree with those who have discussed her death really just being a plot device.

Given Kazuki's sorta self-deprecating humor/behavior and past, he definitely seems like someone who does not view himself as highly as he should. And this behavior is likely not a new development after Yuzuko's death, but a habit he’s had for most of his life. So, to see him be open with Yuzuko would be really sweet because she seems to love him as he is and not what he could be. Also, just to see Kazuki be open/vulnerable for the first time in his life, which we see happen again with Rei and Miri, would add to the parallels and give the audience more information about what make Kazuki feel safe.

Day 29: What Message Would You Leave to the Creators and All the Anime Staff?

Thank you thank you thank you!

This series was such a fun watch. I fully went into this show thinking it was a comedy, but loved the emotional and serious moments. The blending of the two tones was really well done and almost felt complementary. Like it's talked about in the show, light and dark walk together and coexist with each other.

Maybe it's just my nature, but I fully and easily fell in love with Rei, Kazuki, and Miri. The development each character went through, especially Rei, in 12 episodes was really incredible. With Rei and Kazuki, their growth felt earned and natural. I also appreciate how their growth is not linear. They learn and make mistakes and keep trying to figure out what it means to be their individual self and a papa.

And going off of that, the central idea of change and if people can change was just so well done. I feel that "can people change?" is a question many ask and you all did such a great job of illustrating yes, you can change, but again, it's not going to be over-night or easily earned.

If it's not been made clear yet, my love for this show is just so big and it’s really got a firm grip on my mind/thoughts. Like literally, this show was life altering since it caused me to develop another interest that I have just so much love for and am deeply obsessed with.

I hope you all return to this story in the future and add on to it. But if not, I appreciate all the work and love you put into these 12 episodes. Truly incredible stuff.

Thank you again for bringing this series and these characters into my life! - Dakota Wren

Day 30: Incorrect Quotes (Free Day)

I've been collecting a bunch of random "incorrect quotes" for a dnd campaign I'm currently in and had a bunch of fun pairing them with those characters. So, now just gonna bring a few of them over here to further create some Buddy Daddies madness.

Kyu, knocking on the door: Kazuki, open up. Kazuki: It all started when I was a kid. Kyu: That’s not what I- Rei: Let him finish!

Rei: Surgeons just stab people to life Kazuki: Please never become a surgeon...

Kazuki: Bold of me to constantly use the phrase 'no worries!' when I am, in fact, constantly full of many worries.

Kazuki: How did none of you hear what I just said?! Rei: I've been zoned out for the past two and a half hours. Miri: I got distracted halfway through. Kyu: Ignoring you was a conscious decision.

Kazuki: Why is Miri crying? Rei: She saw a leaf on the sidewalk and- Miri: IT LOOKED SO CRUNCHY! Kazuki: Please don’t say what I think you’re going say- Miri: AND WHEN I STEPPED ON IT THERE WAS NO CRUNCH! Kazuki: NO, NOT THAT!

Day 31: Episode I Wish I Could Rewatch Again for the First Time (2nd Free Day)

If I could rewatch any Buddy Daddies episode again for the first time, it would be the finale.

The first time I watched the episode was while I was working (yes, I was that impatient I couldn’t wait until after my shift ended), so I had to split my attention between doing my actual job and watching the episode. I would love to just sit and watch the episode again for the first time with my undivided attention. Not being at work would’ve also meant I could’ve fully lost my cool throughout the episode because there were several moments throughout that I was fully screaming in my head.

Not only that, but to just relive so many of the moments again. Rei and Kazuki driving up to the Suwa Manor like maniacs, bursting through the front door together, the kitchen scene?! And also seeing Miri be so indescribably happy to see her Papas wall into her concert. I’m not sure if I ever talked about it, but during my first watch through, I fully thought the episode was going to end with Miss Anna taking the family’s picture, which is followed by the title card. So my shock to see a grown up Miri was through the roof. I didn’t ever want to see how much of the episode was left because I just wanted to enjoy it. It made me so unbelievably happy that the epilogue kept going to show more glimpses into the lives of Miri, Rei, and Kazuki several years into the future. To watch the epilogue again, with that same feeling of oh my gosh there’s more?! would be amazing.

And that’s a wrap for me on the 30 31 Days of Buddy Daddies tag! I had so much fun and loved that this allowed me to continue to show my love for this anime. Can’t wait to see what’s hopefully next for this family, but like I said above, if we’ve already seen the end of their story, then I’m happy with that being so too.

Thank you again for coming along with me on this tag! It truly means a lot to me!

-Dakota Wren

#30 days of buddy daddies tag #buddy daddies #kazuki kurusu #rei suwa #miri unasaka

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s-brant · 3 years

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The Endless Summer (2/?)

(gif: @beccs) (PART ONE) (SERIES MASTERLIST)

Summary: A day out on the water goes awry and puts JJ, John B, and Y/N in danger. With tensions rising and the stakes higher than ever, JJ finds it difficult to control his feelings.

Word Count: 9.1k

Warnings: Angst, implied sexual content, strong language, graphic violence, and JJ being an emotionally confused asshat.

A/N: Welcome back! Thanks for the love on this series, I’m so glad you guys like it and I hope this part is just as good. Things get a little heated in this chapter, so buckle up. Let me know if you enjoyed this. Have fun!

JJ isn't sure why she did it.

He wasn't sure then and he isn't sure now, but he knows one thing for certain: there isn't any going back to how things once were now that the barrier between them came crashing down.

Sweat drips off of his skin from the relentless heat of the Caribbean that has made their recent lives hell with the painful tinge of sunburn atop their tans and heat exhaustion they must be careful to avoid at all costs. They were educated on both topics by Pope, their godsend of a survival encyclopedia in human form, who advised them to spend most of their day outside of necessary tasks like fishing and constructing stable shelter under the shady cover of the treetops.

The sole reason he and John B aren't hiding in the safety of the shade is that it's their day to fish, but he's not thinking about the sun. In fact, neither of them is. They're both wondering where their third fishing buddy is.

It took roughly ten minutes of spearfishing with him in comfortable silence for JJ to finally break and spill his guts about what happened last night. Though there was an unspoken agreement to never tell anyone that their hatred has turned into desire, he couldn't help it. He was going mad trying to unravel it in his head.

After all, he already had a conversation with JB about the recent shift in their behavior with each other by the ocean last night, so it seems fitting to pick up where they left off with the calm and clear blue water in front of them again.

He walks on the jagged outcropping of rock that serves as their perch to observe the fish without disturbing the pattern of the current they swim through with John B closely behind.

"One second she's pissed at me, the next she's all over me. It makes no sense. Then, she didn’t say anything to me after it happened," JJ says with his face hardened into a look of concentration at the fish he squints against the sun to aim at, "Not even "Fuck you, Maybank" or one of her weirdly creative threats. She just sat there all night and talked to everyone but me."

His gaze slips away from the water as his chosen fish disappears from sight before he can bother to throw the spear, eyeing up his friend's reaction to the news.

John B doesn't seem that surprised by it, because who else, aside from everyone else in Kildare who knows of their "hatred" for one another, could've seen it coming as much as he did? He considers it for a second, then props his arm up on the handle side of the spear he digs into the rock to lean against.

"I'm pretty sure that means she likes you."

JJ retorts, "That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard you say."

Why would anyone ignore a person they like? It makes no sense to him. Every time he wanted a person, he'd simply walk over and make it happen. It's never been difficult for him to pursue the people he finds himself attracted to...Well, except for her. For a guy that also ignored her for the rest of the night and pretended their moment in the woods didn't happen, he has some balls of steel to be chastising her for the same things he did.

John B shrugs and says, "I'm being serious, dude. Sarah wouldn't even acknowledge my existence when I worked on the Druthers, and I thought it was some stuck-up rich person thing but it wasn't."

They shouldn't be talking at all right now as to not scare away the fish, but they do it anyway. They both know he won't let it go until it's out of his system for good. He wouldn't allow himself to forget it if he wanted to, so its better to talk it out than turn stir crazy from ruminating over it 24/7.

Though it's, as he worded it yesterday, hot as balls out, being by the sea lessens the feeling of it by a landslide.

The breeze they crave whenever they work on their huts or forage through the forest for wild berries, coconuts, or potential building supplies blows on them without pause for the time they spend here, which almost makes it more dangerous. They stand under the direct harm of the UV rays frying them without truly feeling it burn yet, and he dreads the next few days in anticipation of the returning sunburn he just peeled off of his shoulders the other day.

JJ walks down the side to get a better view of the water, balancing precariously on the sharpened edge with the spear clenched tightly in one hand. The breeze is strong enough to threaten his balance, but he holds firm and digs his toes into the sedimentary rock for traction. His body sways in the midday sun with the struggle for stability, or, at least he suspects its midday.

Since being stranded here, time is a foreign concept to them. With no phones, clocks, or any guide to go off of other that the position of the sun above to display the hours that pass, they've lost complete track of what day it is, let alone how long minutes or hours truly are in comparison to the endless summer they live within. They suspect it's been a month since they were left here, but, in all honesty, it could be two. None of them had the sense to mark the days in a tally until it was too late.

He says, lifting his arm to throw the spear, "Well, she is a stuck up rich person, so maybe it's just—"

"You know I'm right here, don't you?"

The sound of her voice from a few feet behind them startles JJ into turning around to look at her right when he lets go of the spear.

Unfortunately for him, the jerking movement throws off his carefully distributed weight and skews his balance, making the feet placed on the edge slip from underneath him and send him slipping down into the water. His calf is the first body part to hit the rocks, and the groan of pain he lets out at the feeling of the jagged rock slicing through his skin could make her heart stop mid-beat. But what truly scares her is seeing the back of his head hit the ground too.

Before he can slide the rest of the way into the water, two pairs of hands are grabbing onto his arms and heaving him up with all of their strength. She and John B grit their teeth with the effort it takes to pull him back up, their muscles burning from the strain, and once his feet are over the ledge, he pushes off the rock to help them the rest of the way. Drops of his blood disperse into the water off the edge from where he cut himself, dripping until there's hardly any left.

Once he's safely laid back down a few feet from where he slipped, Y/N is kneeling in front of him in a matter of seconds. The rock beneath her knees opens small cuts into her skin, but she doesn't pay it any heed. She sits on her heels to lessen the minor pain and lean forward to inspect the damage he took with nothing on her mind other than worry.

Soon enough, John B joins her to kneel at his feet as he sits up and watches them eye up his injury as though it’s some sort of ghastly, life threatening thing instead of a gash that won't need stitches. He watches them against the glittering ocean, waves washing up on the rocks around them to sting his wound with saltwater.

"It's a scratch, not an amputation," JJ says.

She ignores him with a frown lining her pretty features and twists his leg by the ankle to get a better view of the wound in the sunlight. It extends up the entire length of his calf, almost from ankle to knee, and dribbles fresh blood onto her hands as well as the ground beneath them. From what he can tell, it doesn't look all too severe. No muscle or bone can be seen, so it's a simple, superficial scratch.

When he doesn't get a response from either her or John B while they're too busy checking out his leg, he says again, "Guys, I'm serious, it's fine."

This time, she doesn't hesitate to answer.

"Yeah, well you may not need stitches but you still have infection to worry about. This wilderness isn't exactly the cleanliest place," she says retorts with as much snark as usual, and he quietly rejoices in the fact that she's finally acting normal after what happened last night, "Not to mention, you hit your head pretty hard. There's no need to act all tough."

He shrugs.

"It's not an act, it really doesn't hurt that bad."

John B stands and smears the blood on his hands off on the front of his shorts.

"I'll be right back, guys, I'm gonna go get stuff to patch him up."

Just like that, they are left plunging into silence as he is running away down the peninsula back to the beach they've claimed as their own.

Silence has always been her least favorite thing to share with JJ. She'd rather anything over it—screaming, fighting, joking, friendly conversation, or even what they did together yesterday night. Anything is preferable over the tense and insufferable feeling of silence when they're alone together with none of their friends, or their playful hatred, between them as a barrier between them.

Instead of seeing the same pestering jerk she always used to when she looks at him, she sees the memory of how he looked at her in the woods. He didn't look at her like she was the worst person to ever walk the planet, or like she was his least favorite Kook "Princess", he looked at her like she meant something to him.

They sit together in uncomfortable silence in the time it takes John B to rush to the beach and back, careful not to slip on the rocks the way JJ did, with the supplies from the dinghy in his arms. It isn't much to work with, but at least it's something to keep the nasty wound on his leg protected from dirt and germs. She's sure he'd leave it uncovered and up to fate if he had it his way.

Before he can set them down on the wet rocks, thus ruining the gauze and bandages in craters filled with ocean water, she gestures at JJ with a stern command, "Take off your shirt."

His brows raise.

"Shit, Princess, take me out to dinner first."

She groans in frustration, "Can you be quiet for a second and actually listen to me for once?"

He catches John B's gaze with wide eyes, but complies nonetheless, reaching down to tug the tank off of his torso by the frayed hem until it's balled up in his closed fist to hand off to her. Her eyes only linger on his body for a quick second on accident before snatching it from him.

Her bloodstained palms lay the shirt out on the flattest stretch of rock she can find to act as a barrier from the small puddles of water to protect the supplies. One nod at John B has him setting them down atop the navy fabric as she glances up at JJ with a smug smile.

"Believe it or not," she taunts, unscrewing the cap to the disinfectant, "I didn't ask for it so you could sit there and look pretty."

The words throw him back in time to their conversation on the beach while they thatched the roof to their hut, and he wonders how long she's been waiting to throw that back in his face since he first said it.

He grins at her as he asks, "You think I'm pretty?" but before he can say more, she's pouring a generous amount of the hydrogen peroxide along the length of his cut without a warning for him to prepare himself. His leg jerks away on instinct to save himself from the burning sensation, but she grips his ankle tightly enough to force him to stay still.

His nose scrunches up with the urge to groan in pain, and he does a little. Through grinding teeth, he winces in response to the peroxide slipping into every cell of open skin and bubbling up like the white water of the waves as it kills the bacteria lingering in the gash.

"Does it hurt now?" Y/N asks.

She's looking up at him through her lashes with her lips curled into a smirk as she packs gauze onto the wound until it's covered to her satisfaction. And it should be the last thing he's thinking about right now after cutting up his leg and hitting his head hard enough to worry her about concussions, but he can't help it. Looking down at her like this, it's impossible for him to not think about the unfinished business they have.

Everything is the same as it was yesterday—the tattered white top, the red panties in place of a bikini, sunburnt cheeks, and a taunting look that he'll never get tired of seeing. But that's precisely why he's reminded of it. She's wearing the same clothes and looking at him the way she did on the beach before any of last night's antics occurred, and he can't keep himself from wondering if it'll happen again.

"Yeah," he finally responds.

Her smirk grows for a second before she gets back to work.

"Good."

JJ subtly eyes her up from where she shifts on her knees to set the open gauze wrappers under the peroxide bottle in exchange for the bandage wrap, but he isn't as subtle as he thinks. She can feel his stare no matter how sneaky he attempts to be. He may be able to evade John B's attention, since he dove into the ocean to retrieve the wooden spear that began to float out in the tide, but she never misses a thing. Not when it comes to him.

When he looks at her, he finds memories.

Her legs folded up beneath her bring him back to how smooth they felt on his palms when he lifted them up around his hips. Her rosy lips pressing into a line in concentration bring him back to the coconut flavor he tasted on them. Her nipples poking against the fabric of her shirt bring him back to when he lifted it up over her breasts to suck at the sensitive skin until he got a moan from her—There isn't a place he can stare without going back to last night.

Part of him hates that.

He can't stand that a girl who he spent the last five years hating has found a way into his daydreams. Why couldn't it have been anyone else? Why did she have to lure him into her trap? He supposes there's nothing he can do about it now, though. After hours of stewing over it, he's reached the conclusion that it was likely a one-time thing, a mistake made in the heat of the moment that she won't make again, and he should get the idea of it out of his head.

When she has to adjust her grip to hold the gauze in place while she wraps the bandage around his leg, he sucks in a sharp breath through his teeth and jerks away again. She glances up at him with her best, "Are you kidding me?" face. Didn't he say he was tough?

"I'm starting to think you're a sadist, 'cause it's like you're trying to make it hurt," he says.

She gasps, feigning offense.

"Me? Enjoying this? It's not like we've hated each other for years or anything."

And though he may not realize it, this is her way of distracting him from the pain of having her apply added pressure to his cut while she wraps the bandage into place. It has to be tight enough to keep water and sand out, but not so tight that it cuts off circulation, and while it may have been tolerable without her touching it, the contact is enough to make it worse for him.

He asks, "Uh, speaking of, why are you the one doing this? Isn't it some kind of HIPAA thing to treat patients you've threatened to violate with tree branches before?"

The sound of her laughter makes his stomach flutter with butterflies, and he wonders what the hell is wrong with him.

"That's not what HIPAA is, genius"—her eyes crinkle at the sides with her wide smile while she wraps his leg—"and I'm the one doing this because I know way more medical shit than the rest of you."

Even Pope.

"Ohhh right, I forgot. Your dad is this hotshot surgeon and that makes you think you know everything," he taunts.

The casual mention of her father makes her chest ache with something not many of the Pogues, excluding Pope, have felt since being stranded on this island. With their parents either disowning them, absent, abusive, or dead, they have no reason to resist the allure of living here for the months or years it may take to be rescued, but she does.

She misses him.

For the longest time since her mom died, it was her and her dad versus the world. In everything they did, they did it together, and before she met Sarah, he was the closest she had to a best friend. Since they had no other family to help watch her as a child, she grew up in the hospital with him, drawing with crayons on his office’s printer paper with her babysitter and picking up small things along the way from watching him for so long.

He could've chosen to leave her at home, sure, but he didn't want to miss out on seeing her more than he already did, so she spent the majority of her childhood in offices, waiting rooms, and the indoor playground of the PEDs wing.

She takes a deep breath to steady herself after the sucker punch of being reminded of her dad and says, "Well, I know enough and, thankfully for you, I'm the one doing this instead of John B."

From far away, twenty or so feet offshore where their friend is paddling through the water with the lost spear held in one hand, they hear John B shouting an offended, "I heard that!" back at her. It draws a soft chuckle from them both, and she silently thanks him for distracting JJ one last time as she finishes and secures the bandage so it won't unravel.

She wipes her hands off on her water-soaked thighs one more time to get as much of his blood off of her fingers as possible before she reaches out with both arms extended to offer him help to stand. He takes them with a murmured, "Thanks," as they both try not to show how affected they are by the casual touch.

It makes them feel pathetic that something as small as holding each other's hands makes them remember what they did and desperately wish to continue it. Her throat bobs with how she must swallow the lump in her throat at their close proximity, barely breathing now that he's standing close to her with less than a few inches between them.

For a second, they don't move away. They stay face to face, and all she can think of is how badly she wants to kiss him again. But she can't do anything yet, not when she hears someone screaming from the water.

"There's a shark!" John B screams as he paddles back faster than he's ever swam in his life, already close enough to the peninsula that they can see the terror in his eyes when they turn to look.

Surely enough, there a tip of a fin too pointed to pass off as a dolphin cutting through the surface of the water to alert them of the fish's presence, but if that weren't enough, the water is clear enough for them to see its outline.

Thankfully for him, it isn't huge. It looks about as long as he is tall, but that doesn't change the degree of danger. Just because it isn't as big as other sharks doesn't make a bite any less lethal, especially when their only form of medical attention rests on her knowledgeable yet inexperienced shoulders.

For once in his life, JJ is frozen with no clue of what to do.

He's always the man with the plan, the one who jumps into action when others choke up and sit on the sidelines, but this makes him falter. What can he do to help other than stand here and pray John B can out-swim a shark? He's helpless, and now that he's faced with the prospect of losing his best friend for a second time, he doesn't know what to do.

It was his blood in the water that must have attracted the shark, and he was so caught up in his own drama with her and the pain of his cut that he didn't consider the danger of John B jumping in to retrieve the spear he dropped. It's his fault. His best friend is about to be eaten by a shark and it's his fault—

The blurred image of her rushing past in his peripheral vision rips him from his stormy thoughts, and right when he thought it couldn't get worse, it does. Water splashes up around her body and swallows her under the surface after she leaps off the edge of the rock with the aluminum spear from the dinghy raised in her dominant arm.

"Y/N!"

Before he even realizes what he's doing, JJ is screaming out her name, screaming it like he cares, and damns the consequences to dive in after her.

While he was frozen, she sprung into action without thinking of her own life first. She knew he was close to the rock, but not close enough to swim faster than a predator designed for the conditions of the ocean. It took one glance at the spear resting to the side for her to lean down, scoop it up, and get a running start to jump out as far as humanly possible. Various joints and muscles ached from how she strained to push herself far off the rock, taking flight with nothing but their survival in mind.

She sucks in a heaving breath upon breaking the surface, but she doesn't take a second to pause with John B paddling up to her so soon.

"Go back!"

The only answer she gives him is, "Use your spear!" before she brings hers out of the water in anticipation of the grey figure bolting straight for them.

It's a stupid plan, but it's the only one she has, and if one of them is in danger, they'd all risk everything they have to protect them. After all, they're already trapped here with the threat of death every day. Is there anything more worthy of dying for than your friends?

Neither of them is necessarily trying to kill it yet either, they're trying to keep it at a safe distance or hurt it enough so it swims away from them, but she puts all of her strength into spearing the fish between the eyes anyway. Her legs kick tirelessly to keep her afloat while she and John B stab as accurately as they can, choking down a mouthful of salty ocean water from how her head sinks at the surface without the help of her arms to keep her up.

Blood stains the water with a crimson hue spreading out around their bodies—whether it's theirs or the shark's, she doesn't know—and she must keep her lips clamped shut to prevent it from spilling into her mouth, breathing solely through her nose. She can tell her legs are soon to give out on her, but then a pair of hands latch onto her body. Call her irrational or stupid, but even with the clear distinction of human hands on her waist, her mind reacts in instinctual fear.

The touch makes her jolt mid-stab and sobers her feral mind back to reality for a moment until she realizes it's a human touching her, not the shark.

It's JJ.

His arms wrap around her thighs and hoist her up out of the water as much as he can while still swimming, effectively pushing himself underwater with one last gasp for air.

The sudden shift in view has her gaze shifting around to take in the new sights with a gush of red water rushing off of her onto the splashing surface: a light grey tail whips around in the chaos, the shark's head oozes blood from the multiple puncture wounds that didn't push quite deep enough, and its jaws snap right where John B's arm is before he yanks it back.

After a fraction of a second, it clicks with her that there's no time to waste watching her friend almost get his arm chomped off while she takes in the unbelievable sight. Her slippery grip on the handle remains as firm as possible, and she raises the spear over her head with an improved accuracy she never could've had from where she previously aimed it before. All of their shots landed well enough, but with the height advantage, she won't allow herself to fuck it up this time with her friend's life hanging in the balance.

She hardly recognizes her own frantic voice shouting at him, "Spear it in the gills!"

Her hands bring the razor-sharp tip of the spear down into its head repeatedly, and she isn't sure whether it's the splashing water or tears wetting her face when she buries the weapon down into it for a final time right when John B lodges his wooden spear in its gills.

Whatever she did, it must've hit its brain, because the animal halts its thrashing. Its teeth no longer snap at her friend, nor does its tail whip around in the water as violently as it did a moment ago.

As quickly as it started, it drops off into a sickening calm that leaves the white bubbles dissolving into a puddle of bloody water surrounding the trio and the fish that dies with no small amount of guilt on her part. There was no choice but to kill it. It makes her ache on the inside, but how could she regret it if she knows it saved them? The guilt might ravage her for the upcoming days, but she can't bring herself to regret jumping in after him.

She hardly has the chance to process it before she's being pulled away by both of the boys, her view of the scene shifting drastically once more with the abrupt drop of JJ letting her down in favor of guiding her through the gentle waves. His calloused hand squeezes her arm enough to cut circulation off on their journey back.

Time rushes past her in the next thirty seconds or so it takes them to reach the peninsula again in a paranoid sprint away from where the dead fish floats. One of them, John B she thinks, tosses the aluminum spear he dislodged from the shark's head up onto the rocks and clambers his way back up on his own. The waves closer to land grow rougher than the tender current out where they killed the shark, and she grunts in pain as one sends her and JJ straight into the rocks. His body hits her back with a solid ‘thump’ and forces her to wheeze with the wind getting knocked from her lungs upon impact, nails cracking on the black rock from the desperate grip she uses in an attempt to lift herself.

Meanwhile, JJ can't seem to catch his breath either, nor can he think of anything other than her once he sees that John B isn’t injured.

As soon as he sees his friend is unmarked from the teeth of the shark after he's out of the water, he positions himself behind Y/N to help her out first. He places his hands on her backside to push her up as quickly as he can. Knowing that the carcass in the water will soon attract more sharks in the surrounding area into a feeding frenzy, he'd rather it be him than her. It's a thought that shoots by too fast for him to fully acknowledge the meaning or weight of it at a time like this.

Somehow within his adrenaline-crazed mind, he is careful not to push her onto the jagged edge that sliced his leg open earlier, then climbs after her with little space left between them.

She's coughing up saltwater onto the rocks as he scrambles over to her, eyes wild with the petrifying worry of anything bad happening to her. They scan over her arms, legs, stomach, and back, and he doesn't even realize his hands are reaching out to inspect her as frantically as she had with him when he got hurt.

His hands cup her face, petting over her dripping hair and forcing her to look up so he can see if she somehow got hit in the face. Never has his mind been so void of rational thought, and, knowing him and his impulsive tendencies, that's saying a lot. The confusion of his contradictory feelings for her muddle his mind. Worry and hatred, attraction and anger—they battle it out, but only two manage to reach him externally.

Worry and anger it is. Worry for obvious reasons. Anger because—

"What the fuck were you thinking?"

She has never heard him sound so vicious since the start of whatever odd relationship/friendship/enemy-ship they have. With his worried expression and how he checked her entire body for injury after helping her out of the water, the last thing she would've anticipated from him was anger. Especially not after she saved his best friend's life. Considering what she just did for him, she thinks he should be thanking her, not chastising her.

Behind her back, she can hear a collection of yelling voices and splashing footsteps over the water dripping from them. It can only be the rest of their friends racing up the peninsula to them, but she can't turn around.

She stares at him with utter confusion flooding her at his unexpected outburst. Speechless.

"What was I thinking?" she asks incredulously with her face still cradled between his hands, "I was saving John B's life!"

Their emotional distance and disagreement are made up for in abundance by how physically entangled they've become. It wasn't intentional. It was a result of him needing to get close enough to scour her exposed skin for any bites, but now that they're sitting so near to each other, they forget to back away.

John B is too busy to engage with them.

He's doubled over on the ground with the compulsion to vomit the contents of his stomach into the ocean, but he doesn't dare get close to the edge again after what they went through. Instead, he positions himself away from them and their approaching friends until the half-digested food is forced back through his mouth. The acidic bile scorches his throat and nostrils on the way out.

JJ doesn't have the opportunity to retort back something about her being stupid, because Pope is the first person to reach them and ask, "What the hell happened?"

The rest of the group isn't far behind. It's Kie who asks the next question, then Sarah, then Cleo. They all pop off in rapid succession before either of the three of them can answer.

"Are any of you hurt?"

"Why is he throwing up?"

"Is that a shark?"

The last question draws everyone's attention over to the half-sunken mass of fish bobbing up and down on the breaths of the sea with a wooden spear sticking straight out of its gills. Though it isn't the biggest, most intimidating shark to roam the ocean, its presence doesn't fail to make everyone who looks at it shudder with the realization of what must have happened.

John B wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and points over at her with his trembling arm outstretched.

"She killed it."

The four of them whip their heads in her direction, jaws nearly falling off their faces in disbelief, but she doesn't say anything yet. Because as soon as they feel the eyes of their friends burning into them, she and JJ realize, as though they're returning to reality from the hazy layers of a dreamscape, that they're still holding each other.

She's slumped halfway onto him from when he hauled her body closer to inspect her, so she's essentially sitting on top of him at this point. Her legs, bruised and scratched up from when the waves crested to send them crashing into the rocks, are entangled around his enough that they look back and forth between them and where his hands cup her face in surprise.

JJ doesn't know what came over him.

Now that he snaps out of it at the same time as her, both of them separating and nudging each other away until their bodies are no longer entwined, he feels his cheeks flush in embarrassment.

When he saw her leaping past him to jump into the water, his mind shut off. He wasn't thinking about himself, or the possibility of getting killed, or anything at all. He was only thinking of the danger she put herself in, then he dove in and the rest of his conscious mind faded away into pure survival instinct. Yet, even after he knew the immediate danger was gone, the adrenaline kept him on edge, desperate to get her back to land and pray none of them were hurt.

"It was trying to attack him," she rasps. Her throat is raw from the saltwater she choked on, and every word burns. "But we did it together."

She pushes herself off the ground with an exhausted sigh.

Muscles spent from the struggle in the water, her legs wobble beneath the weight of her upper body as she takes a few steps to help John B up from his position on his hands and knees. From what she heard, he has thrown up all he has left in his stomach and hasn't gagged again in a minute or so, so attempting to stand again shouldn't be too strenuous for him.

His hand is cold in her grasp from the water soaking their bodies, but it holds firmly enough for her to help him into his feet without their palms slipping apart. No patches of blood are visible on his shorts, nor are there any puncture wounds on him from the sharp teeth that snapped at his arm in the quick but vigorous fight.

They were very, very fortunate to have made it out alive, and when he looks down at her face, he feels nothing but gratitude for the girl he previously saw as nothing more than his girlfriend's best friend. They went into the water as casual acquaintances, companions of convenience and the happenstance of being forced onto this island together, but they've come out of it differently. Now, they're friends.

Now, she's a Pogue.

He smiles at her, glancing up at their friends as their questions die down at the sight of his crazy grin, and says, "That was some real Pogue shit right there, Y/N." His eyes come back to meet hers. "I think it's about time we officially make you one of us. What do you think?"

She's opening her mouth to respond when Kiara cuts her off. The rest of them are staring at the trio as if they have ten heads sprouting from their bodies for not immediately surrendering more details of their near-death encounter other than saying she killed it.

"I'm sorry, can we please rewind to the part where you got attacked by a shark first?"

"Ladies and gentlemen, can I get a drumroll please for..."

The campfire is roaring with the abundance of sticks, leaves, and branches thrown onto the pile to fuel it as she feels a strong pair of arms looping around her thighs to lift her into the expansive, star-flecked sky.

In a flash of haunting memory, she relives the moment where JJ dove into the water after her and lifted her body above the surface to give her the high ground over the shark. She relives its thrashing hunger, the water splashing on her, and the cloudy hue of blood around them that she hoped wasn't either of the boys. For a second, as the world grows taller with her new perspective, she is brought back to the sudden shift she felt then and feels her stomach drop in panic, anticipating the danger.

But then the sound of her friends laughing, as well as the surging fire and crashing waves, comes back to her and forces the frightful flashback away. Her hip fits perfectly in the curve of John B's shoulder, and she lets her head fall back in giggling laughter at how he hoists her up in the air as though she's a holy figure of worship for the Pogues to kneel to.

His voice can likely be heard across the entire island when he shouts, "The Shark Conqueror!"

The group erupts into a triumphant mixture of cheers and laughter that fills the beach, everyone celebrating in their narrow escape earlier today...everyone except JJ.

After John B divulged the gory details of what happened, from JJ's fall to her picking up the spear and jumping in to save him from the shark, they made their way back with enough conversation to last the month. They all asked questions and took peeks back at where it happened in morbid curiosity, wondering how on earth they managed to come out of the situation without a scratch.

The rest of the afternoon continued on with the same buzzing energy that can only be created from the thrill of being alive. She's felt it many times since joining Sarah's group of friends that seem to find trouble wherever they go, but she has never felt it as vehemently as she does tonight. It's a mixture of euphoria, shock, and soul-crushing guilt for having to hurt another living creature, even one that was intending to make a meal of her friend.

No matter how much she grows up or discovers more about herself as a person, feelings never stop being as frustrating as they were to her as a child. You can get better at processing and hindering explosive reactions to them, but they never simplify. She doesn't know why she feels so much at once. She doesn't know why she feels simultaneously on top of the world and thrown off the edge of a cliff, but she thinks it has to do with him.

Since they walked back to the beach and talked about what happened until the day withered into night, which led them here to the “official” ceremony of her being named a Pogue for life, JJ hasn't spoken to her once.

Suddenly, the shoe is on the other foot.

Much like how she avoided him all night last night leading into this morning, he doesn't talk to her. He tries not to look at her too from where he sits on the log of driftwood across the fire, but it's somewhat inevitable with the spectacle John B is making of her at the moment.

Painted in the warm tones of the firelight like a goddess in her own right, Y/N is impossible to look away from, and it makes him angrier than he already is. A handwoven circlet crafted from the hibiscus and hippeastrum flowers growing in the forest around their camp sits atop her head. It doesn't fall to the ground with the movement of her throwing her head back in laughter. It stays in its rightful place against the rule of gravity until her face comes back into view for him to quickly look away from.

It dampers her laughter to see him avoiding her gaze so adamantly, taking a swig of water from one of the small cups they carved from wood and turning to talk to Kie to keep himself busy. The distinct sensation of being on top of the world slips away with the feeling of his cold avoidance and John B lowering her back to the ground until her bare feet sink into the soft sand.

Before she can start sulking about it for the foreseeable future, Sarah steps up beside her.

The familiar touch of a hand on her shoulder brings her comfort amidst her confusion and hurt over the way JJ is acting, and when she turns to see a pretty face looking fondly at her, a warm smile finds her lips.

"Pogue for life?" Sarah asks.

The three words bring make her smile grow the same way it had when she was talking to JJ on the peninsula. It crinkles the skin around her eyes with its unrestrained happiness to hear them because, as much as she pretends to let JJ's comments roll off of her, tonight marks one of the first times she's felt at home with them.

That's not to say they haven't made her feel welcome in the past, they did, but this isn’t the same. This is closer, this is the type of bond that's forged in situations like these where people have no choice but to rely on each other or let their worlds collectively fall apart, and she thinks, for the first time, that she could live here with them forever if she must.

None of them know how much time has passed since they arrived here, least of all her, but it sure as hell feels like an eternity. At first, she could barely withstand the idea of living here for months with the intention of being rescued as soon as possible, but now...

She brings Sarah into an embrace tight enough to force the air from their lungs.

"Pogue for life," she echoes back with her face buried into the salt-scented tresses of dirty blonde hair cascading over her tan shoulders.

Would it be crazy of her to think that this is where they're meant to be? That they're her family and this place she has fantasized about escaping is now their home?

After all, the lush island provides everything they need to sustain themselves with the rationing, scavenging, and hunting routines they adhere themselves to. Freshwater runs down the land in a stream from a water source uphill, plenty of different edible plants grow in the forest, and there's so much left of the expansive land to explore; it's perfect. Everything here is perfect for them, calling out to them to make it their home, but there's one little problem as of right now, and he's sitting across the fire behind her back.

Sarah's arms squeeze around her shoulders once to bring her in even closer.

"Thank you for saving him," her voice is so hushed, Y/N can hardly hear it with her lips brushing the shell of her ear to whisper into it, "I'm not gonna get all mushy with you right now, but I don't know what I would've done if"—Sarah's breath hitches in her throat, and she shakes her head—"I just wanted to thank you."

When they pull apart, Y/N is looking back at her with a knowing expression, one that says everything she can't in the presence of the others, and Sarah can't help but mirror it.

It isn't long before the blonde-haired beauty is whisked away by her boyfriend to help him cook the crabs they caught closer to shore after their encounter with the shark. Not wanting to swim out or risk slipping off the rocks again with the dead fish promising to lure more predators to their area for the next week or so, they settled for hunting for shellfish and making good use of the fruits they find growing in wild abundance in the forest.

The night ticks away in swiftly passing minutes thanks to the humorous company of the people around her.

She nearly chokes on a mouthful of banana as Cleo tells a story from before she met them, when she used to live in Nassau and work jobs with Terence and Stubbs on ships. For such new additions to the group, they both fit surprisingly well with the lifelong childhood friends that sit around and banter with such ease together.

They talk, laugh, dance, and eat together, and there are moments when she feels happier than ever. There are moments exactly like when John B lifted her up and made her giggle at how their friends cheered on her behalf in indulgence of the silly "ceremony" they did, half out of boredom and half out of gratitude for what she did. But then she is reminded of the man sitting on the outskirts of the group with his features hardened into an expression of contemplation she wishes she could decode.

The night breeze feels heavenly on her perpetually overexposed skin. It blows into the fire and allows it to swell from the oxygen supply, crackling and popping embers out every so often like the spark of the zippo lighter JJ fidgets with in his restless hands. The movement attracts her wandering eyes while they should be focused on Cleo and Kie dancing around the fire with boisterous laughter while Sarah and Pope sing for them.

She keeps herself honed in on the opening and closing of the lighter under the guidance of his ring-clad fingers for the next minute or so.

They may have been pitting themselves against each other since they met, but that doesn't mean she doesn't know him well. If anything, the keen attention that her old hatred for him forced her to keep on him made her memorize everything there is to know. And she surely has picked up on the nervous habit of him playing with the lighter whenever he's thinking, whenever there's something crawling under his skin that he can't piece together.

He sits with his back to her, facing out toward the ocean so all she can see is the hand he uses to flick the lighter open and shut with. With a quick glance at the rest of their friends to see if any of them are watching or wanting to speak with her, she pushes herself up from the log and dusts her sandy palms on her shirt.

The tracks of her footsteps lead around the corner of the driftwood he rests against until her feet appear, sunken into the sand in front of him. It takes a lot of control to not allow himself to follow up the length of her body, panning up along her legs until he sees that infuriatingly tenderhearted set of eyes looking down at him.

However, he doesn't have a choice in looking when her hand outstretches in a silent invitation. His first glimpse of her in the last half-hour shows her jerking her chin in the direction of the beach curving around the bend of the island.

This morning, he probably would've taken her up on the offer. He would've done anything to get a few minutes alone with her, but now he can't see past his anger and doesn't know why. He doesn't know why it hasn't calmed yet, but, in truth, it has more to do with him than it does her idiotic yet brave decision to fight off a shark today. Trust him, it still has a lot to do with the idiotic shark thing, but the rest is lost in translation for him.

"Not in the mood," he dismisses her.

Her brows furrow and form a crease between them as she tries to find something to say but comes up with nothing. At least not until it clicks with her what he thought she was trying to do by inviting him to walk with her.

The last time they went off on their own together, it ended in an explosive encounter they have yet to erase from their minds. It's what greets them whenever they close their eyes for a second too long, existing in their wildest daydreams and fantasies whenever they have a spare moment to themselves. Hell, he can't stop thinking about it even when he's already occupied. It was the reason why he didn't catch any fish this morning before the incident that made him pissed at her in the first place. He couldn't stop thinking of her.

"Oh," she murmurs and starts to kneel down until her knees are sinking into the sand the same way she did when patching up his leg. Her eyes peek over his shoulder to ensure the others didn't hear them—"That wasn't what I meant...I was just wondering if you wanted to talk about today. It must have been a lot to process, since he's your best friend and all, and—"

JJ snaps, unable to tolerate it anymore, and stands up from his spot on the sand to move away from her.

"You don't need act all therapist with me, okay? I'm fine, and I don't need you to fix me if that's what you wanted. Today was fine. Everything's fine, so let it go."

Her mouth opens and closes like a fish with a loss for words. For the second time in the span of a minute, she is grasping blindly for something to say in the wake of him shocking her to silence. He's starting to walk past her but she doesn't let him. Her hand shoots out to stop him and holds onto his arm to turn him back despite his rudeness.

Underneath it all, her concern touches him deeply. It shouldn't trigger a reaction like this in him, so why does it? What about today set him off? He hasn't been this genuinely angry with her since before the hunt for the gold began, before she started to blend into their friend group and establish herself as one of them.

"Woah, woah, woah," she says, "I never said that. I thought that you needed someone to talk to. You know, as a friend."

Their friends start to notice their interaction tensing up now. Before, they didn't pick up on her stepping away for a second to check on him. Now, it's impossible to ignore what unfolds hardly six steps from where they watch as slyly as they can. The two of them haven't had a conversation as cold as this one in months, and what he says next takes it to a place that freezes over the connection they made last night and shatters the warm place it held in her heart.

He scoffs.

"We're not friends. If you think you gotta act different 'cause you threw yourself at me last night, don't bother. You hate me and I hate you. That's how it is."

No nicknames, jokes, or anything to act as a buffer, just cruelty. Rejection.

Though they truly were trying to pretend like they weren't paying attention, every single one of their friends stops and stares. A chorus of hushed reactions sound off from across the fire, and the faint sound of Kie muttering, "Oh shit," is the first thing to reach their ears. It's needless to say that none of them could've expected something so callous to come from him, not after what they saw when they ran up to them on the peninsula this morning.

With the way he was holding her then, doting on her and cradling her face between his hands even in the midst of his anger at what she did, they sooner expected the pair to admit they're dating than have a blowout like this.

In the delayed seconds it takes for her to realize what the fuck he just said to her, he watches her face shift from a look of concern to sadness, to flush-faced embarrassment, then finally to anger. Her teeth grind together, nostrils flaring on her inhale, and in one quick moment, she comes to a conclusion within herself.

She reaches up to rip the handmade crown of vibrant flowers off her head with flames to match the camp fire flaring up in her eyes for him. Before she can do anything, he already knows he crossed a line, if not multiple lines. It's evident in everything he sees, from the hurt look on her face to the force with which she shoves the crown into the center of his chest to send him stumbling back a few steps. Just like yesterday, except it couldn't be any more different.

"Fuck. You." She spits the words as though they're venomous, and he almost shrinks away under the intensity of her stare, “Go find somewhere else to sleep tonight, 'cause it sure as hell isn't gonna be with me."

Petals flutter out upon impact against his solid chest and float peacefully to the sand around his feet as he watches her turn on her heels and storm off toward their hut. Though, after what he did and what she said to him as a goodbye, it isn't really theirs anymore, is it? At least not for tonight, tomorrow, or the next day until he finds a way to make her hear him out for an apology.

He stands there, frozen, the entire time he watches her leave. Nothing can move him from the spot, not even Sarah knocking her shoulder against his with a pointed glare on her way past to follow her into the moonlit darkness.

He doesn't even resist the disappointed looks he gets, or the shoulder check from Sarah. This time, he deserves it. He deserves every ounce of their judgment. All she was trying to do was make sure he was okay and he was too consumed in his unreleased frustration from today to see it. And, in a way, he's still frustrated over it, but it's greatly overshadowed by the guilt seeping through him.

The shadowy shapes of the two girls disappear into the small hut further down the beach, and JJ is left with nothing to do but look down at the flower crown clutched to his chest in regret.

Tag List: @gabiatthedisco, @fangirlvoice, @black-syren, @apparrio, @particularcth, @planetdemon, @idk-ijustworkhere, @krisphann, @astrydis, @k-k0129, @zarahsloves, and @stilesflannels.

#jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank smut #outer banks #obx #fanfiction #obx2 #this fic is so over the top and silly but I love it 🥺👉🏻👈🏻

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beauregardlionett · 3 years

Text

i think i might understand the concept of home

AO3 Link

Yasha’s car had broken down on the side of the road in some tiny town she only meant to pass through. She hadn’t even read the welcome sign half-a-mile back, so gods knew where she was. Thankfully, there was a shoulder and a sidewalk, so she wasn’t stuck in the middle of traffic. She had the hood popped and stared helplessly down at the tangle of mechanics she did not understand.

Nothing was smoking, so she figured that must be a good thing.

“Need a hand?”

Yasha glanced up, catching sight of a woman standing just outside the coffee shop Yasha broke down in front of. She stood defined in the sunlight, composed of sharp lines and lean muscle, contained by planes of smooth, coffee-colored skin. She had on a simple grey sports bra under denim overalls littered with stains and distressed patches torn in random places on the legs. Her hair was in a low bun sat over what looked like an undercut all tucked messily beneath a backward cap.

Damn...she was hot.

The woman cocked an expectant eyebrow, reminding Yasha she had yet to answer.

“Oh, um...yes?”

Hot Lady smirked and stepped off the curb to stand at Yasha’s shoulder, leaning over the open hood and inspecting the mess. Yasha was busy inspecting the tanned slope of neck to bare shoulder, all of her quite a sight in the midday sunlight.

Gods, was that a tattoo on her back?

With abrupt yet easy precision, Hot Lady hauled herself up onto the lip of Yasha’s truck and shoved her hand between various pieces of metal. Startled, Yasha looked down at the engine, hoping she wouldn’t have to call emergency services for a hand lost in her car engine.

“The alternator might be shot,” Hot Lady said, squinting as she moved her hand around a little.

“What does that mean?” Yasha managed, only a little strangled.

“Means you need to get your car into a shop because you aren’t going to have much luck getting far without it.” Hot Lady removed her hand and gave a little hop back down to the pavement. She wiped her hand carelessly on her overalls and shrugged a little.

“It’s not a super challenging thing to fix, but it will take a minute. I can point you to a good garage if you need.”

“That would be very helpful. Thank you...um...”

“Beauregard,” the woman said, sticking out her hand with a grin. “Call me Beau.”

After hesitating a moment, Yasha grasped Beau’s hand and gave it a tentative shake, cheeks warm. Her face flushed even warmer when Beau raised her eyebrow again, clearly waiting for Yasha’s name.

“Yasha,” she blurted, horrid awkwardness muddying her chest. “I’m Yasha.”

“Nice to meet you, Yasha,” Beau said as she slowly took her hand back. Yasha already like the way her name sounded rolling off of Beau’s tongue - perhaps far too much for someone she just met.

“You might need to shack up somewhere for the night,” Beau said, pulling her phone from her pocket and texting someone. “Depending on how long the garage takes with your car. I haven’t seen you ‘round here before. You got a place to stay?”

“Oh...no,” Yasha managed. “I’m just passing through.”

“Well, I texted my buddy over at the garage to come get your car. He’ll be here soon. There’s only one hotel in this town, and to be honest, it sucks. My buddy Caleb moved most of his stuff out of his apartment, but he hasn’t turned the lease over yet. He got a big wig job two hours from here and they had him start early, despite the fact he still had a month on the lease. You can crash there if you want. I’m pretty sure he left his mattress.”

Yasha blinked, dazed and flabbergasted at the turn this conversation had taken.

“I...what?”

Beau looked up from her phone, fingers pausing in their rapid texting. She seemed to take in Yasha’s stunned expression and grimaced slightly.

“Sorry, that was a lot all at once.” Beau tucked her phone away and crossed her arms over her chest. Yasha recognized the defensive tactic attempting to look casual with ease. She performed that move often enough herself.

“This ‘helping’ thing isn’t my forte - more Jess’ thing. But uh...yeah. If you need a place to stay, you’ve got one. Promise there're no strings attached or anything like that.”

“But...you don’t know me.”

“True,” Beau shrugged. “But it’s not like there’s anything to steal from Caleb’s place. It’s basically an empty apartment he’s not getting anything out of. Might as well put the place to good use.”

“Okay,” Yasha said after a moment of strange quiet. What else was she supposed to say?

Beau blinked up at Yasha, then grinned, wide and delighted. “Cool.”

A few minutes later, a tow truck pulled up. Beau greeted the driver enthusiastically as Yasha watched on, wondering what she had gotten herself into.

“This is it,” Beau said, shoving open the door with her hip as she wrestled the key out of the lock.

Yasha followed Beau in, fingers curled tightly around the strap of her meager duffle bag. The apartment was near barren, as Beau had said. It had a small living area that faded seamlessly into a kitchenette. Down a short hallway appeared to be a bedroom and bathroom, both doors open. It wasn’t much, but it was enough. The only sign someone had recently been occupying the space was the old mattress just visible through the bedroom door and the sagging sofa in the living room.

“Sorry there’s no food in the kitchen, but there’s a store about a block from here if you’re up for a walk. I’d hang around but I have to get to a class.”

Yasha twisted to look at Beau, something bubbling up in her chest that felt a lot like gratitude and a little like something indescribable. She watched as Beau fiddled with her key ring, only realizing what was happening when Beau pulled a key off and tossed it to Yasha. She just barely managed to catch it and not make a fool of herself.

“That’s the key to the door for ya. And,” Beau pulled a crumpled, folded piece of paper from her pocket, holding it out to Yasha. “My number, in case you have questions or you need anything. I’m a night owl and an early riser, so chances are I’ll answer whenever.”

“Thank you,” Yasha warbled after a long moment, clutching the key so hard the grooves of its identity imprinted into her palm. The notches stung like she would never forget their shape. “I mean it. This is...a lot.”

Beau rubbed the back of her neck, scuffing the toe of her sneaker against the worn floorboards. “It’s nothin’ really...”

“No,” Yasha insisted. “It’s a lot. Thank you.”

Beau’s gaze met Yasha’s intense stare, her bright blue eyes wide as they took in Yasha’s sincerity. A handful of seconds stretched into eternity before Beau ducked her head, rubbing at the back of her neck.

“Yeah...sure.”

Yasha was getting the impression she wasn’t the only one completely out of her depth in this situation.

“I’ll come around tomorrow with updates...bye.”

Yasha watched her duck out the door, disappearing down the hallway before she shut the door behind Beau and clicked the lock.

The garage had Yasha’s car fixed and ready to go after two days. Yasha was still in town three months later.

In all honesty, she’s not sure how it happened.

The night she planned to leave, Beau had swung by and insisted on seeing her off. They ended up at a diner, tucked into a booth, talking like they actually knew each other. Next thing Yasha realized, it was nearing midnight, and they were being asked to wrap up so the diner could close. The chef had called to them from the window, an older looking man with bright pink hair who gave Beau a knowing look and a wink.

Somehow, that unplanned extra night turned into months. Yasha had taken on the lease from the absent Caleb for his apartment. She found a job at the local florist, a job she quietly enjoyed. The gravity of her situation only set in after she bought sheets for the mattress.

She met Jess - real name Jester, or Genevieve, but Yasha couldn’t sure - a bubbly girl with deep blue hair and the sweetest attitude ever. Her fingertips were permanently paint stained, and she left hastily sketched dicks everywhere she went. Yasha also met the tow truck driver from the first day, a guy named Fjord. They were a weird mix of individuals, but somehow they got on just fine. They ate dinner together every Thursday night at the same bar owned by the guy who tended the bar - one of those small town things. His name was Mollymauk - Molly for short and sometimes they instead of he - with inordinately purple hair and makeup to match.

Yasha never really spent a lot of time in her apartment. She didn’t see the point, not when she had access to the florist shop, or the diner, or anywhere else with Jess, Fjord, Molly, or Beau. Especially not when Jess’ apartment she shared with Fjord was so much warmer, much more like a home.

It took three months before Beau stopped mid-sentence of a story and blinked at Yasha over their pancakes in the diner.

“This is probably a stupid question, but did you have somewhere to be?”

Yasha looked up, confused. “Right now? Uh...no? My shift at the shop doesn’t start for another three hours.”

“No, no, I meant like outside this town. You told me you were passing through, before.”

“Oh,” Yasha set down her fork and looked out the window. Her chest felt tight. That afternoon seemed like a lifetime ago - a whole other person ago. “Not really.”

“Do...uhm,” Yasha looked over at Beau to find her pushing her food around her plate awkwardly. “Do you want to talk about it?”

This was difficult for both of them. If Yasha had learned anything in her time here, it was that they both struggled to convey their emotions eloquently. But that Beau tried meant everything to Yasha. The least she could do was meet her halfway.

“I was running, and I didn’t know where or when I would stop. But I guess this place is where I’m meant to be.”

“Why were you running?” Beau stared at her, gaze intense in a way Yasha found endearing. She watched like nothing else in the world could distract her.

“I...I had a wife. And I lost her rather abruptly almost six months ago. I tried to stay for a while, to keep what we had built together, but I wasn’t strong enough. So I ran and hoped that I would find something worth staying for again before I fell off the world.”

Beau stared at Yasha openly over their half-eaten breakfast, eyes wide.

“You stayed here. Does that mean you found something here?”

Yasha looked at Beau, at her messy bun and her undercut that needed a fresh shave. She took in the puddle of syrup, slowly saturating Beau’s pancakes and the half gone pile of bacon. Beau’s cellphone sat face down on the table so her attention stayed on Yasha. She realized the baggy sweater Beau had on was one Yasha had misplaced almost a month ago. Yasha lost her breath at the butterflies that fluttered to life in her stomach.

“I think so,” Yasha breathed, tethered and unhinged all at once.

They didn’t talk about it, because of course they didn’t.

But two weeks after their pancake conversation, Beau invited Yasha out for a night on the town. There were only two bars with decent night life here, and Yasha had been to both of them exactly once during her time here. (The daytime trips to Molly’s bar didn’t count, of course. She had only been to their bar for the night life once.)

She met Beau in the middle, and they walked together the rest of the way.

Beau had gotten her undercut shaved tight again, but it was hidden with the way her hair spilled loose and long down her back. She had a cobalt lace crop top on - the one with the built-in bra. The way it showed off the definition of her muscles was doing things to Yasha. The black cigarette pants didn’t help either.

A few drinks and way too many EDM songs later - or maybe only a few? Yasha couldn’t tell them apart - Yasha remained upright from adrenaline alone. Somewhere between the drinks and the beat of the music, Beau pressed up against Yasha, wiry arms winding around Yasha’s neck as they danced. Yasha wasn’t much of a dancer in any regard, but she was just tipsy enough to not care.

Beau’s hips fit comfortably in the space between Yasha’s hands, and Yasha resolutely tried not to follow that train of thought. For no other reason than she didn’t want to ruin a good thing, and there was no way Beau felt the same.

Beau pushed onto her toes, shiny black boots creasing with the motion as her lace top rode up her enticing torso.

“I really want to kiss you,” Beau called over the heavy thrum of the base. Her voice nearly got lost in the din, but Yasha heard her. She couldn’t pretend she didn’t. The weight of her heart dropping into her stomach hit too heavy and real to ignore.

Fuck, she wanted to kiss Beau, too.

Yasha’s t-shirt stuck to random parts of her torso with sweat, a detail she was now hyper-aware of with how little space existed between her and Beau. The press of bodies around them was abruptly unnerving. So much so, Yasha wound an arm around Beau’s shoulders and steered them both free, ducking into the hallway that lead to the bathrooms as Yasha gasped for air.

Beau leaned her back against the wall for support, peering at Yasha with far too much clarity for someone who could barely stand upright.

“Are you okay, Yash?” Her voice was quieter now that they had moved out of the main bar, but the base still pounded like a heartbeat through the floorboards.

With more confidence than Yasha would ever possess in her life, she caged Beau in, a hand on either side of her head against the wall. As Beau stared up at her with unabashed awe, Yasha’s face warmed with flushed embarrassment.

“I want to kiss you so bad.”

“Then do it,” Beau said. It sounded like a dare, but she said it as if she were asking permission.

With a quick swoop into Beau’s space, Yasha pressed her lips to Beau’s with the barest amount of pressure. A feather-light, electric brush of a promise, a question, and an invitation. Yasha moved no closer.

Beau leaned in, and as far as kisses went, it was simple. Neither of them surged toward the other, or grappled for purchase to deepen the embrace. It was an easy press of lips, testing the waters despite the alluring tug of the tide.

Tipsy seconds later, Beau pulled back first with a soft gasp. Yasha’s eyes fluttered open, and she felt like a cheesy teenager when she realized they had closed without her knowledge.

“Do you want to do this?” Beau asked, voice soft and a little wrecked despite the chaste kiss.

Yasha, never one for many words, gave a quick nod and ducked back in. It wasn’t confidence, more like the beginning of a realization.

Beau held onto her, this time hands back around Yasha’s neck and fingers tangled deep in Yasha’s wild hair. Yasha took one hand from the wall to cup the back of Beau’s head, fingers sliding easily over the short hairs of Beau’s undercut.

It wasn’t a fireball kiss, but it tasted like the whiskey shots they had done half an hour ago. Beau’s lips were soft and a stark contrast to the way she kissed Yasha. It wasn’t falling stars and fire lit in her chest, nor was it a cosmic shift of puzzle pieces snapping into place. As before, it was a realization, a revelation of something that might have been there for a while.

Beau kissed Yasha back, and she thought about pancakes at the diner and memorizing the way Beau’s eyes scrunched when she laughed. Yasha rubbed her thumb over Beau’s jawline and Beau’s sharp grin burst to life behind her eyelids. A tug to Yasha’s hair reminded her of Beau offering to braid Yasha’s messy locks every time they all slept at Jess’ place. Beau licked into Yasha’s mouth and all at once, Yasha pictured her apartment. She saw the walls she had kept carefully bare, the sheets she had bought, but no other furniture. The echoing emptiness of a place abandoned for a better chance, and inhabited by the echo of who Yasha used to be.

And what did people say about echoes being louder in empty rooms?

Beau kissed Yasha, and Yasha realized she didn’t want to be an echo anymore.

Beau made her feel solid in a way that was undemanding. She merely held out her hand and asked for the pieces of Yasha that were real, the parts she was willing to share. She helped Yasha make them into a complete picture.

Yasha kissed Beau back with all the gentle strength she could muster through the weight of her epiphany and the whiskey.

This time, Yasha knew she found something worth staying for.

#cr #critical role #beauyasha #beauregard lionett #yasha #writing #my writing

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bowlegsandbiceps · 3 years

Text

Suptober Day 4: Secret

Secret Agent Man

Mature / Secret Agent!Cas/Domestic Dean / Destiel / 2,726 words

Read on AO3

Suptober Masterlist (A03)

Castiel’s heart hammered in his chest as he rolled to a stop on a nondescript residential street and killed the headlights. The entire mission was FUBAR, was from the start in all honesty but he never dreamed it would end up like this. He rubbed a hand over his mouth hard, glancing up at the small sliver of moon in the sky, and ran the call through his head again.

“Speak”

“C-C-Cas?” He remembered how every muscle had seized at the sound of Dean’s voice, tremulous and staticky on the other end of the line. He’d looked down at his phone, confirming that, no, he hadn’t accidentally brought his personal phone on a job. Dean was on the opposite end of a burner with only one contact and that could only mean one thing.

“Hello, darling.”

“Crowley.” Castiel had done his level best to keep his voice even and calm, no hint of the rage and turmoil roiling in his gut.

“Let’s not dally. You have something of mine. I have something of yours.”

“You’re suggesting a trade.”

“An even trade.” Crowley had emphasized. “I get the weapon, the money, a plane on the tarmac and a twenty-four-hour head start.”

“Is that all?” Castiel had been sarcastic, a knee-jerk response from years of having nothing to lose, and regretted it instantly.

“Buddy boy that’s generous considering what I could do to your young lad here. He’s a pretty one, Angel. Has a lot of fight in him too.” Castiel heard Crowley sniff and he hoped that Dean had broken his fucking nose. “One hour, Angel. Or the body you’ll be collecting will be his.”

Castiel lowered his head, hands still gripping the steering wheel tight as moments with Dean flashed through his mind. The night they met, him working security at an event Dean was catering and Dean permitting him to stop whatever threats emerged as long as Castiel stayed out of his way and didn’t touch his knives. Dean’s husky baritone as he sang “Secret Agent Man” at him from several yards away when they ran into each other at a festival a few days later, Dean tipsy enough to force Castiel to take his number and Castiel smitten enough to accept it, against his better judgment. The night Dean cooked for him and Castiel thanked him by carrying him off into the bedroom like they were in some romance novel, Dean’s ankles locked at Castiel’s lower back as he kissed the life out of him.

Castiel shook his head, cursed under his breath. He knew better than to form personal connections, but Dean with his mega-watt smile and terrible jokes had wormed his way past all Castiel’s defenses one home-cooked meal at a time until Castiel got sloppy. Now Dean would pay the price for Castiel’s foolishness, a burden Castiel didn’t think he’d be able to bear if he were to fail tonight.

So he forced himself to harden, feeling his insides solidify to stone and when he climbed out of the car he wasn’t Castiel, certainly wasn’t the man Dean called Cas in the tender moments they shared wrapped up in Dean’s sheets. He was the Angel of Death and he would neutralize this threat.

Silent as the grave, Castiel made his way up the street, staying in the shadows. When he reached Dean’s driveway he saw the Impala through the open garage door and slipped in next to it. The door was unlocked, a habit Dean had to break goddammit and Castiel slipped inside. He paused in the dark laundry room, startled for a moment to see Dean standing at the stove in his underwear, humming a Metallica song as he sautéed something in a pan. Dean seemed to catch movement out of the corner of his eye and when he turned to look Castiel could see the wound at his temple, blood tacky down the side of his face.

Castiel immediately lifted his finger to his lips but Dean just blinked at him and looked back down into the pan.

“Is that you, Angel?” Crowley’s voice crooned from somewhere past the doorway and Dean’s shoulders tensed, his spatula pausing. “Don’t burn the veggies, Dean. You don’t want to have to start over again.” Dean immediately lifted the pan and shook it, tossing the chopped peppers, onions and bits of ham with practiced ease.

Castiel strode forward, not bothering to silence his steps this time and he couldn’t stop himself from touching Dean’s shoulder as he passed though he didn’t look at him. Crowley was sitting at the small kitchen table, dressed sharply in a black suit with a blood-red tie. His nose was crooked and there was blood in his mustache and beard, something that caused Castiel’s lips to quirk in satisfaction though the gun casually pointed at Dean’s back soured his stomach. The table was set for three and Castiel glanced over his shoulder to see that Dean was now transferring the veggies onto a paper towel then began to crack eggs in a shallow bowl.

“You’re just in time for breakfast!” Crowley crooned, gesturing with the gun for Castiel to sit.

Castiel did so silently, taking the seat across from Crowley and directly behind Dean. Crowley adjusted his aim accordingly.

“So, rough night?” Crowley teased and Castiel merely stared back.

He could feel Dean moving behind him, his bare feet tapping against the linoleum as he turned to shuffle over to them. Dean, pan in hand and spatula poised stood over Crowley, face blank as he slid the completed omelet onto Crowley’s plate and made to turn to go back to the stove. Crowley’s hand shot out, gripping Dean’s wrist and Dean froze as Castiel snatched up a fork, stretching over the table, and pressed it to Crowley’s jugular. The gun in Crowley’s other hand went snuggly against Dean’s lower back, just above the band of his boxers.

“Easy, Angel. Easy now. I’m sure you wouldn’t want your lover here to lose all feeling below the waist.” Castiel’s eyes flicked to Dean’s face and found his eyes closed, face shuttered in forced calm. Castiel slowly lowered the fork and edged back into his seat. “That’s it. Now, Dean, be a dear and bring me the salt.”

“Taste it first,” Dean said over his shoulder and Castiel glared up at him. Dean shrugged his shoulders giving him a come on expression and Castiel was going to absolutely lose it if Dean’s irrational hatred of people seasoning their food before they tasted it was what actually got him killed.

Crowley laughed lowly, giving a tilt of his head as he used his fork to dig into the omelet. Steam billowed out, the scent of cheese and vegetables strong as Crowley forked a piece into his mouth. He rested his hands against the table’s edge as he chewed and gave another tilt of his head.

“You’re right. It’s perfect. Thank you, Dean.” Dean made to walk back to the stove but Crowley’s grip tightened, the gun pressing harder into his lower back. “Manners, lad.”

“You’re welcome,” Dean gritted out and Crowley finally released him, Castiel watching him pass and had to settle himself at the sight of the red mark left by the gun barrel at the base of Dean’s spine.

Crowley grinned at Castiel. “Nice little set up you got here. Stupid. But nice.”

“I don’t have the weapon.”

Crowley lifted a finger. “Ah but you have the location of the weapon. And what protections have gone into keeping nasty men like me from getting to it.”

“I was on the extraction team. You know very well that extraction and security don’t have anything to do with each other once the handoff is made.”

Crowley gave him a tart smile. “I also know very well that they trust you to handle both. Again…” Crowley’s eyes lifted over his shoulder but Castiel kept his gaze on Crowley, feeling Dean move around him to slide an omelet onto his plate. “Stupid.” The whisper of Dean’s fingers on his shoulder made every muscle in his body tense and Dean immediately pulled away.

“I don’t have the location of the weapon. I only have the drop-off location.”

Crowley pressed his lips together, displeased. “You also have the activation codes.”

Castiel hesitated, listening to the sizzle of eggs in the pan. “I have the self-destruct codes.”

Crowley grinned cheerfully, digging into his omelet. “Good enough for me.” Crowley’s eyes moved to Dean again and Castiel fought the urge to snap his fingers to regain Crowley’s attention. He didn’t have to. Crowley looked at him again, then gestured at his plate. “Eat!”

Castiel dutifully picked up his fork and speared into the omelet, shoving a bite into his mouth that took all the skin off the roof of his mouth. He chewed anyway. Dean was making his way back over, sliding his own omelet onto the final plate before turning to place the pan back on the stove. He hesitated there for a moment.

“Sit down, Dean we don’t want your breakfast getting cold.”

“It’s a little early for me.” Dean’s voice was controlled and even as he spoke to the stove.

Crowley rolled his eyes and cocked his gun. Dean’s shoulders tensed. “Get your pretty little ass over here and eat your breakfast, Dean Winchester. Or I’ll put a bullet in your boyfriend’s kneecap.”

Dean turned abruptly, hurrying to sit in the chair between the two men. He grabbed his fork and immediately sawed off a bite and shoved it in his mouth, chewing diligently. Crowley watched him as he opened his mouth to allow steam to exit, continuing to chew laboriously until he swallowed. Crowley grinned.

“He really is darling, Castiel.” Crowley’s eyes were roving over his face as Dean kept his eyes on his plate, cutting off another piece to shove into his mouth. “Didn’t give anything away and I put him through the wringer a bit there.” Crowley used the gun to indicate the hit to Dean’s head.

“Looks to me like he put you through it,” Castiel commented as he speared another piece of omelet contemplating it. “Must be humiliating to have your nose broken by a civilian.” Castiel ate it.

“Not nearly as humiliating as stripping him down so I could really appreciate him before he started cooking.”

Castiel stilled. Dean normally slept in his underwear. Castiel had figured that Crowley had gotten him out of bed at this late hour but then he remembered Dean had an event tonight. Castiel glanced at Dean, sucking in a deep breath, and over the smell of breakfast, he caught a whiff of Dean’s body wash, noted his hair was a little darker than normal, just the slightest bit damp. Dean’s eyes were closed, his jaw set as he held his fork in his fist and Castiel saw red.

Swift as a viper Castiel’s hand shot out, the fork sinking into the tendons of Crowley’s wrist, the same one holding the gun, as Castiel’s other hand went over the barrel, stopping the slide when Crowley attempted to pull the trigger. Dean had flung himself backward, chair skidding against the linoleum until he crashed back into the cabinets. One quick jab to the face, groaning through the pain of a fork stabbing into his chest just over his heart, Castiel managed to twist the gun in Crowley’s hand, his fingers limp from the damaged tendons, and without another thought, Castiel put a bullet in his brain and three more in the center of his chest.

Castiel was breathing hard, adrenaline scalding through his veins as he stared at the lifeless body sprawled back in the chair, brain matter and bits of skull spraying the wall behind him. His heart began to slow. The threat had been neutralized.

“Jesus fucking Christ.”

Castiel’s head whipped to the side, finding Dean still sitting, wide eyes filling with tears as his hands gripped the side of his chair frozen. Castiel hit his knees immediately, moving to tuck the gun into his belt behind his back before he cupped Dean’s face gingerly. Dean was shaking all over, teeth chattering and Castiel immediately shrugged out of his trench, a motion that sent pain shooting across his chest. He cursed, looking down and finding the fork still stuck in the meat of his pectoral muscle. He ripped it out, angrily tossing it aside before looking back at Dean just in time to see a single tear slip over his lashes and down his cheek.

Castiel gathered up the coat and threw it around Dean’s semi-naked form, pulling him off the chair and into his arms. Dean went willingly, his arms going around Castiel’s neck as he planted a knee on either side of Cas’ perching in his lap. Castiel ran one large hand up and down Dean’s back, shushing him as he trembled and cried quietly into Castiel’s neck, his other hand delving back into Dean’s hair. Castiel sucked in a deep breath that was all Dean, shampoo and body wash, and the unique scent of his skin. Castiel huffed it out in a sigh, hands going to Dean’s biceps to push him back so he could see his face.

“Dean.” Castiel held his face in his hands and Dean sniffled, shaking hands coming up to clutch at Castiel’s wrists. “Dean, I need you to be honest with me. Did he hurt you?”Dean shook his head, sniffling again. “Did he touch you at all?”

Dean shook his head again, swallowing hard. “N-no. He just watched me shower. The creep.” Dean let out a breath of a chuckle before he shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut and tears cascaded down his face. Castiel snatched him close and Dean held on for dear life. “C-Cas?”

“Yes, Dean.”

“You killed a guy in my kitchen.”

“I’m sorry about that.”

“You really weren’t kidding when you said your job was dangerous.” Castiel grumbled, holding him tighter and Dean pressed his face to Castiel’s neck. “Is it weird I wanna know how your omelet was?”

Castiel couldn’t help it, he laughed, pressing a kiss to Dean’s uninjured temple and Dean gave a watery laugh of his own.

“It could’ve used some salt.”

“Oh fuck you. Salt. Jesus.”

“Dean I’m-“

“Don’t.” Dean pulled back, reaching up to wipe at his face. “I’ve seen this part of this movie a thousand times. You’re gonna say you’re sorry because we can’t be together it’s too dangerous, blah blah.”

“Actually that’s not what I was going to say.”

Dean’s brow crinkled. “No?”

Castiel shook his head. “I was going to say I’m sorry you probably won’t get your deposit back.” Dean glanced over at the carnage behind the dead body sitting at his kitchen table. Castiel cocked his head to the side. “You’re taking this remarkably well.”

“I’m pretty sure I’m in shock.” Dean gave a sharp shake of his head as he tore his eyes away from the body and gave a shiver. “Do you need to like… call this in or… You’re hurt!” Dean’s hand immediately went to Castiel’s chest which was bleeding sluggishly.

“I’m fine. Nothing a bandage and a tetanus shot can’t fix.” Castiel ran a hand over Dean’s hair. “I’m sorry.”

“I hate that wallpaper, Cas, maybe the landlord will finally get rid of it.”

“No, I mean… when the shock wears off you’ll-“

“Still want to be with you,” Dean insisted arms tightening around Castiel’s shoulders. “Yeah that guy found me because of you but you also neutralized the threat.” Castiel felt a smile tug at his lips at Dean using his jargon.

“I let my emotions get the best of me.” Castiel touched Dean’s face gently. “It was a dumb move stabbing him. It’s sheer luck I didn’t get either of us killed.”

Dean turned his head, kissing the heel of Castiel’s hand. “You’re just a lucky guy, Cas.” Dean gave him a big smile, the one that never failed to render Castiel speechless. “You got me after all.”

Castiel huffed a laugh, his head dropping to Dean’s shoulder, and let his arms curl nearly double around him. Sirens could be heard in the distance, likely one of Dean’s neighbors called the cops at the sound of gunshots and Castiel relaxed into Dean’s hold as he began to hum “Secret Agent Man.”

#suptober21 #destiel #secret agent castiel #domestic dean #angst #mild gore #fanfic: supernatural #writing by me #non-consensual voyeurism

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