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This Is So Perfect - Blog Posts
in sleep, he sang to me.
idea from @grimeshound
I feared Teen Wolf would be some kind of an heir to this Twilight shit. Then I watched it.
Plus, THE MOTHEREFFING FEELS.
Well, without even touching your head, I think I just died of laughter and then ressucitated.
Ms. Bunny, how do you feel about fans touching your head? I know it's a bit weird but I just kinda want to rub it. Like, maybe it'll bring me luck like the whole Buddha's tummy thing XD
There’s tales of one fan who rubbed my bald skull and pooped gold coins for three weeks!
i refuse to stop thinking about the fact that its heavily implied that mob knew that reigen didnt have physic powers. like im pretty sure he only asks reigen once or twice why he doesnt use his powers at like the start of the show as in s3 from what i remember he doesnt really ask him it at all, the only person bringing it up is reigen. not to mention even though mob knew that reigen was using him to some extent he still stuck around because reigen made him feel important. this ALSO collides with reigen lying to mob at the start to use him yes but its pretty clear towards the end that he also did it so that mob would stay with him as he thought that the only reason that mob stayed with him was because he thought he had physic powers that he didnt have. so reigen telling mob that he didnt have those powers broke down two barriers that they set up at once. mob's being that he knew that reigen wasnt just using him anymore and that he did genuinely care for him, and that he was basically telling mob "hey you dont have to be with me anymore i lied all that time and im sorry". and reigens being the fact that mob still stayed with him despite it as mob didnt care that reigen didnt have powers, he never did.
if yakko raps then dot can do this
all I could think during Murph's "war is for non-castle people" speech was God I wanna see Gerard in the Paris hilton stop being poor shirt, so we went from there and then I just had a fun time drawing animorph frog Prince❤️
i told myself "hey i need to stop making uselessly long projects and just do simple easy quick stuff to work on my art". and i immediately got started on this thing
AAAAHHHHHHHHHH OMG ANT I LOVE IT
LOOKIT THIS BOY
THIS SHIT IS GOING TO STAPLES ON A USB AND THEN STRAIGHT TO AN EMPTY SPACE ON MY WALL
HELL YES I LOVE THIS
THANK YOU FRIEND AND BROOM
come over to my house for some porridge, yo!
secret friend day gift for @naturallydark
hitter; hacker; grifter; thief; fixer; maker; mastermind
LEVERAGE CREW MEME ↳ @usergif back to cool event: challenge #2 — color
surfer!stu macher x gn!reader mini blurbs
CONTENT: gender neutral reader (they/them pronouns used), very brief sexual + drug references, stu isn’t a safe driver at all
↪ surfer!stu’s room, hair and car all smell of surf wax. you’ve lost count of the amount of times you’ve stuck your hand into his hair after a day in the water, and he’s coated over sea salt with the product. ‘ew stu, what is that?’ he sticks his hair up into a ridiculously vertical look. ‘you like?’ you frown, and he pouts with a hand held firmly against his heart.
↪ he has a pickup truck he describes as “shitty”, but his frame of reference is completely messed up. his parents stopped letting him drive their sports car after he crashed it (measures only got this drastic after the third prosecuted incident). his board doesn’t fit well in the bed of the truck, but stu does his best to reassure you. ‘no babe, it’ll be fine.’ he turns to check, somewhat unsure of his own statement. ‘no one’s stupid enough to run into this. gonna hurt them more than it’ll hurt me.’ you bite your tongue on his long list of accidents, most his family were able to get him out of repercussions for.
↪ you rub aloe vera into his back when he comes back burnt, which is every time he goes. he winces and whimpers. ‘stop being a baby,’ you chastise. ‘i’m not,’ he whines with a less than convincing pitch. ‘if you just sunscreened, this wouldn’t happen.’ ‘didn’t have time. the waves were too good. you should’ve seen them, babe. picture perfect. just like you.’ his cheesy grin distracts you from your concern, for better or worse.
Keep reading
its always sunny (I promise)
I love these freaks so much that I made a silly little edit based off a my chemical romance music video
visions — abby anderson.
summary: a love letter to trying (or the time when you met your favorite people in the world, an overly stressed med student and her overly adventurous one-year-old, in your apartment's hallway).
notes: constantly suffering from chronic baby fever so this is a present from me to you because i spend way too much time thinking about abby as a mom <3
୨・┈﹕✦﹕﹕✦﹕┈・୧
You’re stepping out of the elevator when you suddenly hear it— a series of light thumps on the floor, fast but determined like a tiny little elephant who really has somewhere to be right now. Another step and then you stop clumsily when a flash of golden hair comes rushing past you. You follow the sight with your eyes, tilting your head. A little girl is walking, no, stomping through the hallway. She’s no older than two years old, her thin shining hair in two short braids, blue jean overalls and red socks on her feet. She moves so confidently that you almost don’t think about it, almost have the instinct to look away as if to not accidentally appear nosy, but her tiny stature and wobbly sense of direction keep your attention.
You look around the hallway, expecting surely the sound of the little girl’s parent calling her name (something sweet and pretty and classic, you imagine; it’d suit her). You picture her name being followed by a tired sigh before her patents rush to catch up, maybe rolling their eyes in a way that pretends to be annoyed but unmistakingly holds a million times more affection. A perfect family, a tiny glimpse of a full life somehow existing right in your unimportant building.
The hallway is long and terribly empty. You look back at the little girl who is striding forward in less of a rush now, with no worries, like this is the same route she’s taken for years.
What are you supposed to say to get a kid’s attention when you don’t know their name? What’s something concise, yet nice, yet simple enough to be understood? Babysitting as a teen has prepared you for a lot, just maybe not all of it. It's been a little too long. You linger on it for just a second before spitting out the first thing that comes to mind. “Hi, princess,” It’s a little awkward, but you’re relieved when she immediately stops and spins around, like something about it sounded familiar— could be your sweet tone or the nickname, you’re not sure. The little girl tilts her head to the side, round cheek lightly squished against her shoulder. It's the cutest thing you’ve ever seen and it makes you giggle like a charmed kid. “Where did you come from?” you ask, but before you have the chance to reach her she pouts her lips, as if just now realizing that you’re not who she thought you were. And then she turns her back, like there's no time to waste, to return to her journey with renewed enthusiasm.
In a scarily fast moment, you realize that she’s going for the stairs. It would maybe be a slightly less terrifying idea if that stupid door actually worked— but it doesn't, it broke sometime last May and now it's awfully easy to open, no strength or shove required. Sometimes, if it's windy and quiet enough, you can faintly hear it swing back and forth from your apartment. The little girl reaches a hand out, not intimidated by the tall door more than three times her height. If you weren’t this terrified, you’d find it amazingly admirable.
You don’t register you’re running until you reach her, don’t register the sound of fast steps behind you or the scream of Rue! or anything else other than the heavy relief on your chest when you lift the baby by her armpits and hold her over your hip against your side. She’s fussing in your arms immediately, upset that she’s being interrupted, especially by a stranger. “I know, I’m sorry, baby. It’s okay, you’re okay,” you coo, though trying to be soothing when your heart is beating this fast is admittedly not the easiest task.
“Rue!” Someone repeats, and this time you do hear it. A woman is running down the hallway, hand coming down to mindlessly drop a tote bag bursting with groceries on the floor by the time she’s in front of you. The little girl reaches out her arms immediately, tiny fists opening and closing furiously and you sigh with relief as you carefully pass her over to the arms of the tall stranger. Her hair is blonde but darker than Rue’s, held back in a braid that looks both pretty and messy, like it was once pristine and then slept on. She’s wearing jeans and a half unbuttoned white shirt, a black tank top underneath. Her chest rises and falls and you notice that yours is no different. Adrenaline is a strange bond to share with a stranger, but it does make things less awkward, knowing you’re both here, feeling the same thing. You meet her expertly focused eyes for just a second before she turns to look at the little girl, searching for anything that could be wrong. “I’m so sorry, sweet girl. You’re okay, right? You’re okay,” the baby flashes a precious, wobbly smile at the sound of her voice, but she’s quickly distracted by the endlessly fascinating rainbow of groceries that lie on the floor. Her tiny head peeks over her mom’s shoulder to observe and it’s like you both can take a more soothing breath now, knowing she’s okay. “Thank you so much,” Abby says. You blink a couple times before you realize that she’s talking to you. “Sorry, I really don’t know how that happened. We were— we just got home from the store and I hadn't even put down all the bags yet and I thought— I was convinced that I shut the door, but…” her rambling drifts off and the stranger takes another breath, reddish embarrassment crawling up her neck.
You understand, suddenly, that she’s not only struggling with the stress of losing and finding her baby, but also the shame of having to face a stranger who might judge her for it. It feels insane to you, to think that she would be forced to prioritize that right now. “Oh, no, it’s okay!” you rush to respond. “I saw her immediately, and you were here in seconds! She wouldn't have gotten any further than that,” your smile is soft, but you speak with enough confidence to be reassuring (babysitting lessons, perhaps), “It was just a scare— don’t be too hard on yourself, please.”
Abby looks disarmed by your answer, her eyebrows raised in surprise. A short moment passes before she nods and smiles back, a small gesture without any less warmth. It’s the most relaxed you’ve seen her so far and it suits her beautifully, enough to make your face feel warm. Her blushing is much less forgiving though, more physically evident on her skin, spread over her cheekbones and the bridge of her pretty nose.
Rue giggles and it distracts you both, her hand waving excitedly at the colorful bird printed on a box of cereal as soon as she spots him. Abby looks at you for a second too long before she clears her throat, joking, “Sorry, she really loves that guy.”
You hum. “He is pretty cool, to be fair.”
Abby tilts her head, copying your sincere tone. “I don’t know, I always thought he’d be kind of a dick in person. He just looks like the type.”
Your startled laugh makes her smirk but she's frustratingly good at hiding it, free hand covering her mouth casually enough that you don’t notice. You look at the grabbing motion of the baby’s hands and pout with sympathy. “She loves him, though. We should probably get him off the floor.”
“Yeah, I should get that— I guess I just ran out with the bag, huh?” Abby huffs. She looks and sounds, physically, a lot less anxious now, less ashamed and more annoyed at herself.
“Would you like some help?”
“That’s okay, I got it,” she’s not sure that she does but she says it anyway, instinctively. Abby tries to lean down and Rue clutches her shirt, pulling enough to communicate that she is not ready to be put down yet. Abby straightens her back quickly enough to communicate that she is not ready to risk getting her any more upset for today. She meets your eyes for just a second. “Well, maybe some help.”
“Sure, just some,” you chuckle. “I’ll get it, don’t worry about it.”
People say that to Abby a lot— don’t worry about it! She hears it from her colleagues when she inevitably asks for the notes from the last class she ran a little late to, from a few of her kinder professors when she’s a day past some assignment’s deadline, from the guy at the grocery store that picks up the packets of M&M bags from the floor when Rue’s curious hands knock them over, from her dad when she asks if he’d be okay with babysitting for just a tiny bit longer. It always makes her stomach turn with guilt, some cases more intense than others, her lips usually pursed as she turns around and takes a breath. This time when you say it, she finds the guilt passing through her with ease, a short visit that makes her shoulders tense before it gets replaced by something else. She believes you, for some reason. Her brain is quiet except for thinking, for once, that there could really be nothing to worry about.
Your hands move casually as you pick everything up, resting on your knees like it’s not uncomfortable, like they might as well be your groceries. The idea is startling. Abby thinks, suddenly, that if someone were to walk into this scene, they wouldn’t read you as a kind stranger. Your ease would hint to something else, a friend, a lover, a picture of a family. Abby finds herself looking at your hands again, brought back to reality only by the slight tug of her hair. Rue plays with her braid distractedly, mumbling to herself about her froot loops friend— except she hasn’t quite learned to pronounce it yet, so it sounds more like oot oops.
Abby chuckles, brushing some of her loose baby hair behind her ears, mumbling back answers to her gibberish to keep her entertained even if Rue doesn’t seem to need it. She’s always endlessly thrilled to just be outside, perhaps the one trait she got from her grandpa rather than her mom. Other than her light snoring.
“She loves you a lot,” you comment, rising from your knees with the bag hanging on your shoulder. You don’t ask and Abby doesn’t think about it— you just start walking back to her apartment together. “Don’t you, Ru-Ru?” the baby giggles, her head turning to you, blue eyes sparkling. You laugh, “Oh, you like that name. It suits you, Ru-Ru.”
“That’s what my dad calls her,” Abby explains.
“He sounds like a man with taste,” you say. “What do you call her?”
“Princess.”
Your smile is wide and pleased. “That suits her even more, I fear.”
“I think so, too,” Abby agrees, a proud little glimmer in her eyes. She stops in front of her door, B06 engraved in silver. Is it always such a short walk from the elevator? She’s seriously thinking about it until, after realizing in an embarrassing second that she never introduced herself to the person kind enough to chase after her baby, help pick up her groceries and carry them home, Abby suddenly turns to you with widened blue eyes and pretty, reddened cheeks. You forgive her before she even says anything, and forget your traitorous reason before it gets a chance to warn you about how dangerous that thought is. “God, sorry, I never told you my name. I’m—”
“Abby, right?” you smile softly at her surprised face, chuckling before you explain, “One of our neighbors is an old friend of mine and she kinda threw this welcome party for me when I moved in. I promise we weren’t gossiping, but I think someone mentioned you.”
“Oh,” Abby nods casually, brushing it off as if she won’t be spending all night thinking about what your first impression of her might’ve been like. Rue fusses in her arms, a little grunt as she kicks her legs to be put down. “Sorry— I‘ll be right back,” Abby shares a quick look with you and you wave goodbye, not surprised to be missing Rue as soon as she turns around. You watch them walk inside together, a tiny hand waving back at you and making you smile as she excitedly makes her way to her playpen, shrieking bye-bye! Abby places a kiss on top of Rue’s blonde hair and makes her laugh with some noise that you don’t quite catch. She’s comfortable here, walking amongst colorful toys and biology books. She moves like an expert, pulling down her shirt where it rode up somewhere along the way. You make half an effort not to stare, but it’s half more than the effort Abby makes to not let it get to her head. The most confident she’s felt so far, she asks you, “Did that totally innocent welcome party of yours happen, like, two weeks ago? I think I heard some music.”
“It was extremely innocent,” you insist, eyebrows raised teasingly, “And no, sorry, not sure what that was— I moved here like a year ago.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah.”
You grace her (or yourself) with a second of silence before you laugh at her awkward expression, the way she brushes a hand over her flushed face and huffs. “Fuck, that’s embarrassing. I’m kinda terrible at keeping up with this type of, uh, social stuff.”
“It’s not embarrassing, I promise. It’s a big world,” you reassure her. “Even bigger when you’re doing a million other stuff.”
You tell her your name and Abby, who is young like you but also highly knowledgeable on little specific human interaction cheat-codes that come with being a mom, nods her head and makes her eyes light up with what seems, to the naive eye, like recognition. “Oh, that’s right!”
You stare for a second before squinting your eyes. “Are you lying to me, Abby from B06?”
Abby grins, wondering when was the last time she found being caught this funny. “Yeah, sorry. I’ve never heard that name in my life.”
You laugh the loudest you have so far and a daydreamed life flashes in Abby’s head— in that big, dramatic way that it does only when you’ve been watching too many rom-coms every night, or when you’re getting too much dating advice from your friend who’s been married since eighteen, or maybe when you fall in love with a pretty stranger who seems to be able to read your mind. It’s an idealized vision of an idealized world, and Abby finds herself being completely okay to clutch it in her fists to keep, because it’s fucking lovely.
“Well, I forgive you,” you tell her, unaware (maybe?) of the chaos that you’ve induced inside of her. “You’re a busy girl.”
Abby tries to think of a good, smooth way to tell you that she could see herself saying your name everyday, placed adoringly after good morning and I miss you. All she comes up with is, “I got enough time to learn it.”
—
You play with the hem of your shirt, pajamas made of mostly Abby’s clothes every night, a scent on them that’s not yours but it might as well be. It’s yours in all the ways that matter, in the same sense that she is. Abby walks out of the bathroom wearing her usual pajamas— a shirt that fits too loose and boxers that are a little too tight around her thighs. She doesn't seem to mind them, and you don’t seem to wanna complain. She knows by the way you look at her. You’re leaning back on your palms, your head tilted, the same shyness and sparkly adoration in your eyes that you’d get when you didn't know each other all that well. It’s not too often that she sees that nervousness anymore, but she still gets glimpses of it, a blink of something on your face or your tone or your breathing that says I have a crush on you and I’m hoping you can’t tell. She likes that nervousness the best right now, the way it’s timid and then settles into something like cockiness when you remember that she’s looking at you just the same, when you remember how much you like the way she copies the tilt of your head and teases you as if she's not also smiling like you’re the most beautiful thing in the world.
Abby loves every moment like this, loves getting home and helping prepare dinner and making Rue laugh before kissing her goodnight, loves doing the dishes with you and flirting and talking about the day. Today, she’s especially looking forward to the latter.
“So, how was it?” she asks, the back of her thighs resting against the dresser. She’s trying to play it cool and she's annoyingly good at it, even now.
“Hm?” you hum, leaning further back to rest on your elbows, your back almost fully touching the bed. Abby feels a little bad keeping you up, but she knows she’ll be tossing and turning all night if she has to wait until the morning to ask.
“The school meeting.”
“Oh,” you smile wide enough to look silly and beautiful, sweet enough to rot teeth. She feels like she could sink in it, your smile and the relief it brings to her well hidden nervousness. “I loved it so much, Abs.”
Abby is smooth when she walks closer, soft when she cups your cheek, but there's something anxious in her eyes if you know where to look. “Yeah?” she insists.
You nod your head and kiss the palm of her hand, your lips pressed together in that funny way of trying to hold back an excited giggle. Abby smiles and feels nostalgic for the time, many many months ago, when she’d bring a finger to her lips to shush you and then remind you in an expert whisper that Rue is sleeping in the other room. She doesn't have to teach you much at all anymore, and every moment that proves that to her feels like the most beautiful, unfamiliar peace.
“I’m so happy,” you announce, looking up at her. You’re tired enough that it feels almost like being drunk, which is maybe why a short giggle manages to escape. Abby finds it contagious, your joy moves through her as naturally and importantly as the pumping of her blood. “I’m so excited for all of it.”
It’s the second parents' meeting that you’ve attended at Rue’s school— but you spent that first one sitting quietly by her side, practically hiding behind her, too aware of yourself and of the fact that you don’t really know what you’re doing. “Nobody knows,” Abby confessed on your way home, a hand on the steering wheel and another over your leg, her fingers tapping a comforting rhythm. “Parenting is beautiful, it just comes a lot less naturally than you’d think. That thing about a biological, primal wisdom or whatever— it’s a nice concept. But the best things I know came from me actively trying.”
Her words echoed in your head when you said yes to attending this school meeting alone, when you smiled and made the effort to look as calm as you could, kissed her cheek and said “of course!”. Being Rue’s parent doesn’t always come naturally, but it comes from the most genuine love, every single time. Of course you can go to her meeting when Abby can’t reschedule work, because of course you want to know about how Rue is doing in school. It’s an honor to be there for her, to speak for her when you know she needs you to. This is you actively trying.
“How were the other parents?” Abby asks, lying on her side now, her finger tracing unreadable patterns on your cheek. She craves physical contact more than she’d like to admit— but it works great, because you never ask her to admit it if she doesn't want to. The pads of her fingers say enough.
“They were cool, they were all very sweet to me. Well, Leo’s mom is a little passive aggressive but she’s that way with everyone,” you comment through a yawn, the side of your face comfortably pressed against your pillow. Abby hums, agreeing. “Sophie’s mom was the nicest, she sat next to me and invited me to join her and Jade’s mom for brunch.”
“Which Sophie?”
“The one that gave Rue a Valentine’s gift, that milk chocolate that she loves.”
“Oh, I like that Sophie.”
“Me too. I think I wouldn't mind joining a weekly brunch cult with her mom.”
Abby laughs in the way that she only does when she’s sleepy, where she sounds almost like her teenage self, shy and sweet. By the time it dies down, you’re almost asleep. But then, softly enough that you almost don’t hear it, she asks, “How do you think you would feel if she called you that?”
You make a questioning little sound that sounds like "what?" but not quite.
“If Rue called you mom.”
Your eyes open in a second, though not without effort. You look at Abby’s face, her pretty, relaxed features, and answer honestly. “I would probably cry. And then kiss her cheeks for as long as she let me.”
Abby chuckles. “Like when she fell off the swing and got the tiniest scratch on her knee?”
“Yeah, just— the joyful version of that, I guess. They would be the happiest tears ever spilled,” you explain, so sincere that Abby almost tells you. And you know her enough to read it on her face, the way she barely parted her lips and then pressed them back together quickly. Your head lifts from the pillow. “Wait, why? She told you something? Did she ask about that?”
Abby is great at keeping it cool, but less so once she’s been caught. Her nervous chuckle says it all. “I…”
“Abby, I swear to god, I will not let you sleep until you tell me.”
She more than believes you, but a flash memory of her pinky finger wrapped around Rue’s holds her back from spilling any more details. “Sorry, baby, I’m not allowed to say.”
“Oh my god,” you drop back onto your pillow, this time lying flat on your back. “You think she’s gonna say it?” you ask, and Abby is unsure if you’re asking her or the ceiling or a godly presence way above it. Or yourself, most likely. “It’s okay if she doesn't, maybe she was just curious. Maybe she needs time. I mean, obviously. She probably won’t say it, like, tomorrow, right?” you turn your head and look at her, so wrapped up in your inner monologue that you don’t process the amusement and adoration that’s all over your girlfriend’s face. “What if I react super weird and she doesn't say it again?”
Abby’s lips stretch into the softest smile, so in love that she almost forgets to answer and instead holds her hand on the back of your neck and pulls you close to press a kiss against your forehead. Your eyebrows are still furrowed worriedly when she pulls away, and she brushes her thumb over your cheek as she lets out the kindest hum, acknowledging your question. “You’re not gonna react weird, sweetheart.”
Momentarily flustered, you shake your head to remember the point that you’d been thinking about. “But I shouldn't cry, imagine how confusing that would be for her— what if she thinks she made me upset?”
“That won’t happen. She cried happy tears when you moved in, remember? She knows what they are,” she says. It’s one of the best memories you have, the nervous look on Abby’s face when she asked you, rambling, “It would be a big change, but not the worst, right? You’d just be a couple doors down the hall. It would be a lot of the same in a lot of ways, just with us.”
After that came the late nights at your apartment, dates hidden behind the excuse of packing, half empty boxes on the floor and Abby stuck to you like glue, a kiss or ten whenever she got too carried away with excitement. A couple weeks later came your clothes in her closet, your favorite blanket on the couch, and Rue’s eyes glimmering with happy tears as she hid her face on your neck and tried to understand her feelings. Then, after a few minutes of patiently rubbing her back, came her little frown of concentration and the way she attentively listened to you and Abby explain that her reaction was normal, that sometimes happiness feels like too much to hold in just a laugh or a dance. “Oh, okay,” she’d said, in this cute proud tone that she gets whenever she learns something new that makes sense to her. It was the sweetest thing. She’s the sweetest thing— and you can’t believe this is your life, that you get to take care of her and hang out and teach her new things to be proud of.
“You think she wants me to be her mom?”
Abby smiles. “You are her mom, baby.”
Rue doesn't say it the next day. You don’t overthink it— couldn't if you tried. It's a nice feeling to be so happy that you don't feel the need to think. She doesn't call you mom that morning, but she runs to the doorway where you’re putting on your shoes to get to work and wraps her arms so tight around your legs that you have to balance yourself with a hand against the wall. Her hair is messy from sleep, her yellow pajama shirt wrinkled, her eyes blinking lazily as she looks up at you and asks, “Back soon?”
“Soon as I can, princess,” you promise, leaning down to kiss her head. What is there to overthink? What more could you possibly need?
You can do this forever, have mornings like this and feel grateful in a way that you didn't know existed until now. You love the way it comes at random times, the way you’re still you, still grumpy when your coffee tastes watery, still a little bad at getting to the train station on time, still learning not to burn the first batch of pancakes. It’s a big change, but not the worst, right? It’s a lot of the same in a lot of ways, except Abby is there at the kitchen kissing your cheek, and a tiny head of blonde hair is peeking from the back of the couch, gummy smile and freckled cheeks, saying, “I like my pancakes like that, mom!”
I remember that night, I just might
regret that night for the rest of my days
to the good old days
19 days
like or reblog n don't repost
I THINK MY HEART STOPPED
Finished the Viktor piece in time for his birthday!
It’s my birthday today and as a treat to myself I’m taking my Persephone design for a test drive
She’s telling him about her trip topside and probably spilling some tea about the other gods, Hades loves some solid gossip 🫣
OH MY GODS??
cosmic kiss
alien!josh kiszka x female!reader
a/n: if this fic is familiar to you that is because i wrote it last year during spooky season & posted it to my old blog, stardustschords. i’ve added to it a bit and now i’m reposting. my best friend @alwayzthere helped me with the ideas here last year when i wrote this. PLEASE READ THE WARNINGS.
warnings: explicit sexual content, 18+. in this fic, josh is an extra-terrestrial being. all parties are consenting. josh has magic hands and an even more magical tongue. (i have added a disclaimer to the end in case the “plot twist” doesn’t make sense.)
tags: pls let me know if you’d like to be added or removed. @alwayzthere @strangersingold @garbagevanfleet @harmonyhous @obetrolncocktails @godlygreta @gardenvanfleet @singingmangoes @tripthelight-fanfic @theweightofstardust @teddiie @gretavanfleas @brokenbellz @jordierama
“aliens aren’t fucking real, daniel. you’re ridiculous. the fact that you drug me out into this cornfield in the middle of the night is bullshit!” you spew, angry that you’d once again agreed to danny’s shenanigans. apparently sam was unavailable, so daniel forced you to accompany him on his overnight attempt at proving aliens did, in fact, exist.
“i brought blankets and snacks!” he says, flashing you a warm smile, but you didn’t reciprocate. “it’s cold as fuck out here danny, this is so dumb.” you chide, smacking him lightly on the shoulder. you watch as he pulls out some filming equipment, and he giggles as you ask where he got it from. “i borrowed it from the twins.” he goes on to explain to you that cell phone cameras are less likely to capture paranormal or extra-terrestrial activity, so it’s better to use film cameras or disposable.
the twins were sam’s older brothers. jake was the younger twin, by five minutes, which josh made known every chance he got, and he was talented and musical and just fun to be around. josh, however… was a different story. to say you had it bad for josh was an understatement. he was theatrical, loud, and he carried himself with such a lovely, confident air. any time you saw his smile you swore you could take off in flight. you’d told daniel about your crush, but you could never tell sam, because you knew he’d rat you out.
you scoffed at daniel, scolding him for borrowing their equipment for such an idiotic idea. he shook his head at you before going back to setting up.
when he was done he helped you lay out the blanket, and you just sat with him for a while and talked. “danny, this is dumb. can we go home?” you question, but he shakes his head no. “we have to wait! i know aliens are real and i saw online that tonight was the perfect night. just be patient, y/n.”
“this is like when linus spent all night waiting for the great pumpkin.”
☆☆☆
you tried to be patient, but you fell asleep. you were convinced you’d been having some strange dream until you opened your eyes to a solid white room, and your body strapped to a very cold metal table. you blinked your eyes rapidly, unsure of what was going on, and you saw two people standing over in the corner.
in your dream, you remembered a bright light droning down upon you and danny, but after that, everything went black. the people in the corner walked over to you, and you noticed a strange looking woman and…. josh?
you looked over at him and he smiled at you, and all you could do was cry. “please let me up from this table, josh. this isn’t funny. you guys got your halloween prank.”
you saw the woman next to him, who had the strangest eyes you’d ever seen, jotting your every word down on to a notepad. “hello, young one,” josh stated, reaching out to wrap a strand of your hair around his finger, “i am not your friend josh. we are extraterrestrials, and i have taken the form of that whom you most desire.”
tears began to flow even more as you realized that danny HAD told josh of your crush. he looked over at the woman, who you’d assumed he’d hired on for the act, and made a face at her, to which she continued to write. “look, i know this is funny to you guys. i’m sure you probably hired all these people that you knew from your acting and had them help you set all this up, but josh, i’m begging you. please let me go home.”
“listen, pet. i’m sorry that this is confusing for you. since you don’t believe me, i can show you if you’d like.” he speaks, his tone soft and endearing. you shake your head yes at him, and he slowly reaches out to trace a finger up your arm. the moment his digit traced your skin, you felt vibrations begin to flow through you, and the place where he touched you began to glow iridescent.
you stare at him with a bewildered look, but he just flashes you that beautiful smile. “i know this is confusing, and you can still call me josh if you’d like.” you aren’t sure what to say, so you keep quiet. he turns to the woman and nods once and she exits the room. once she’s gone, josh unhooks you from the few wires attached to your forearms and lets the straps binding you to the table loose.
you rub your arms to soothe where the restraints had been and you looked over to josh - the alien - to see what he’d say next. you sat up from the table and glanced around the room. he smiled at you before reaching out and tucking your hair behind your ear. “would you like to know why you’re here?” he asked, and you shook your head yes. you still only half believed this was happening. “i’m very interested in human-kind… and their carnal desires. because i can take the shape of your greatest desire, i’d like to know the reactions you’d give to him if he were to touch you. does that make sense?”
“not really,” you respond, “i still don’t really believe you. this is so weird.” he lets out a soft laugh and runs a hand along your arm, sending shockwaves through you. “you should trust in me, pet. i won’t hurt you” he says, leaning in to you to smell your hair. he places a soft kiss to your ear before asking, “is this okay? may i touch you?”
you nod your head yes and so he reaches down to wrap his hand around your wrist before squeezing it. you can feel the vibrations running up your arm again, matching your heartbeat and creating a deep thrum through your chest. his other hand glides along your jawline, cupping it, and he pulls his face away from your hair to make eye contact with you. before you can register what you’re doing, you grab him by the back of the head and kiss him, your lips meeting ungraciously.
you feel him laugh into your mouth before indulging you for a short moment. his lips are soft and pink and taste vaguely of strawberry, and though it may not be the real josh, you feel drunk from his kiss. he pulls away after a minute or so, and you can feel heat rise to your cheeks as you await his reaction. “i see you’re quite impulsive” he says, rubbing his hands up both your arms. you let a soft laugh fall from your lips before telling him, “i’d never have the guts to do that to the real josh.”
he stares at you for a moment before asking if he can continue, and you tell him yes. he leans back into you, pressing kisses to your jaw, and slowly starts to work his way down your neck. he skirts his fingers just below the hem of your shirt, and suddenly, you feel bold once again. you grab the thin material and whip it over your head, tossing it down to the floor. his eyes widen for a moment as he notices your lace bralette, but then he reaches a hand out to cup your breast over it.
he gradually begins to trail kisses down your neck and into the valley of your breasts before he slips a hand under the bralette and works it over your head himself. you let him take it off you and he throws it down to meet your shirt, and then trails even more kisses over your newly exposed flesh. you arch forward into his touch and you hear him hum in satisfaction as he latches his mouth around one of your nipples. the feeling of his mouth on you with the added vibration that you’re given from his touch is making your brain cloud, and you close your eyes so as not to get dizzy. he pulls away from you softly to ask you to look at him, and you try your best to keep your eyes open.
once he’s satisfied with the work he’s done on your chest, he continues down your stomach, dropping to his knees on the floor. he looks up at you through his eyelashes and you feel your heart melt, until he asks you, “may i taste you?”
you don’t think that you can ever speak again, much less answer his question with a single word, so you just nod your head yes and lean back slightly on the table. he slowly pulls your pants and underwear down your legs, and then he helps you position yourself so that your knees are bent and your feet are flat on the cool metal. he leans into you slowly, pressing kisses to your thighs, and then slowly begins to roll your clit with his tongue. you make eye contact with him and he takes it as encouragement to continue, and you mewl as you feel his strong hands wrap around your thighs to hold you closer to him.
at first when you feel his tongue prodding at your hole, you jump, but then your body melts into him as a wave of euphoria washes over you. at first it feels gentle, as it would if you were being eaten out by a normal human… but then it changes. you can feel the muscle begin to grow thicker and longer inside of you, and josh curls it upward to press into your g-spot. his grip on your thighs changes as he begins to radiate vibration back into you, and you’re sure the noises leaving your body are other-wordly.
you stare down at him, his face pressed into you, and you think you’re going to black out when he flashes you a wink. his tongue is so deep inside of you that you can feel it hitting your cervix, and you struggle against his grasp as you try to push yourself farther down onto him, if at all possible. you feel him laugh against you and the added vibration of his voice almost knocks you over the edge. every languid movement he makes inside of you pushes you closer and closer to your impending orgasm, but just before you cum, he stops. he moves his face away from you and stands, and you almost begin to sob from the loss of contact. “it’s okay, don’t cry,” he says softly, leaning back into your neck and kissing you, “we aren’t done. i just want to feel you cum around me, that’s all.”
he begins to suck and bite at your neck slowly, painting the skin with pink and purple marks. you’ll be glad to reminisce over those for the next few days. you grab his shoulders and push him backwards slightly before gripping your fingers into his hair and pulling him towards you, your mouth meeting his clavicle. you bite into it gently, because if you get marks so does he, alien or not. he moves slightly to lift his shirt over his head and you blush realizing that you’re completely exposed to him while he’s been fully clothed.
you watch him as he tugs his pants down his legs, following with his underwear. his cock springs upward against his abdomen and you find yourself blushing at the sight of it. it’s beautiful, like him, and you wonder if that’s what josh ACTUALLY looks like naked. as if he can read your mind, he hooks a finger under your chin and whispers, “what you’re seeing is what you get, baby.”
you lean back a little farther on the table and he places himself between your legs, slowly inching his cock towards you. you whimper as you feel him slide it through your folds and tap it against your clit. once he’s done teasing he pushes into the hilt, and the feeling of him buried inside you is almost enough to make you cum right then. he begins to rock himself in and out of you slowly, and you grab onto his hands and squeeze them hard. you’ve never been made to feel this way before, and your body isn’t sure how to react.
every inch of your body is slowly being coated with pleasure, and every movement from josh is a driving force tipping you over the ledge. “cum for me, it’s okay” he assures you, and you can feel yourself slipping after only a few moments of him fucking you. it doesn’t take long for him to cum either, his body working over yours with soft grunts and pants. once he’s finished he pulls out, and then sweetly helps you clean up before you slip into unconsciousness.
☆☆☆
your body jolts awake suddenly, and after rubbing your eyes a few times you realize you’re in daniel’s room. you look over to the floor and see a pile of blankets there, so you assume that’s where he slept. he walks casually through the door, scrunching his hair with a towel, and smiles at you.
“did you sleep okay?” he questions, and you give him a strange look. “i had this crazy ass dream, actually. how’d we get back here?”
he tells you that he got bored after you dozed off and decided the trip was dumb, so he helped you into the car and you just came back and crashed at his place. you nod, your focus still lingering on the dream you’d just had. “go get cleaned up,” he says, tossing you a hoodie, “we’re picking the kiszka’s up and going to breakfast.”
you walk down the hall to his bathroom and inspect yourself in the mirror, sucking in a sharp gasp when you see your neck littered with marks… so you hadn’t been dreaming all along. you wash up and change your clothes before meeting danny outside, slipping into the front passenger seat next to him. he makes the short drive to the boys apartment, and you laugh as you see them stroll outside.
jake hops in behind you, wishing you a good morning and giving you a soft smile before smirking at the marks you’ve got on your throat. josh clambers into the car next, scooting himself into the middle seat. he says nothing, but he has a playful grin on his face. next comes sam, and as he gets in the car he curses and tells josh to “scoot the fuck over.”
josh doesn’t oblige, but you can tell they’ve been bickering all morning because jake seems to have had enough. he grabs josh by the collar of his shirt and yanks him closer to his side, and your breath hitches in your throat as his left clavicle is exposed to you. a bite mark in the shape of your mouth is forming there, deep and purple.
josh doesn’t say a word, but he meets your gaze in the rearview before winking at you, and then sticking out his tongue tauntingly.
•••
disclaimer: josh was an alien the whole time. lived an entire life on earth as an alien. he probably is one in real life. who’s to say?
"I definitely think I'm ruthless enough but that doesn't have to come at the expense of being calm and a nice person as well."