#again please ignore the weirdness of the half-spanish

[callsign-bunnie]

Hey hey idk if you're taking requests rn but if you're not just ignore me but

Where is David please I'm scared for my boy (roundabout way of asking for grape crush)

Uuuuuuuuuuuuhhhhhhh... Before I post this chapter, I just want to say... I had this planned before I received this ask and my first instinct was "oh no" but it's the only ask I've gotten for it :D

--

Somehow, Gaz and Rodolfo had gotten kidnapped together, again. After last time… Gaz would admit that he was not happy with it. Because it was the same scenario. They were tied with their backs to each other, arms bound to each others, wrists bound to each other.

“Are you alright?” Rodolfo asked, his tone gentle.

Gaz winced. “Yeah… you’re not going to sacrifice yourself this time, right?”

“No promises.” Rodolfo chuckled and then sighed. “We should be in and out. I have a tracker on me, this time.”

“What??” Gaz blinked, surprised. “When??”

“My watch, can you feel to see if it’s still on my wrist?”

Gaz wiggled and then felt along Rodolfo’s wrists, relaxing when he felt that smartwatch Rodolfo wore everywhere. He did remember Alejandro complaining that he needed to upgrade Rodolfo’s, but Rodolfo had complained about only having just gotten used to his new phone. “It’s still there.”

“Good. Alejandro upgraded it without telling me and it’s GPS capable. So, hopefully, he’ll be able to find us. So just… sit tight.”

“Wonderful. You know, I think once all of this is fucking over, I’m just going to retire. I have been kidnapped too many times.”

“How many helicopters have you fallen out of?”

“...Too many.”

Both laughed and then Gaz sighed, closing his eyes. “With any luck, neither of us will get shot, this time.” He half joked and then sighed. “So.. What do we do while waiting?”

“You could tell me the rest of that story?”

“A story?” Gaz jerked back at a face suddenly in his view, cursing. He felt Rodolfo tense behind him. The face had a mask on, and sunglasses too. “I like stories.” Their voice was accented, and if Gaz had to guess, it was Korean.

They were hanging upside down in front of Gaz, just sort of staring at him. Then, they dropped down and another person came into view, tall and imposing. They intimidated Gaz, he’d admit, because they had to be taller than Ghost and Gaz was sitting on the floor. 

“Look, my husband will be-” Rudy started.

“Save it, El Sin Nombre told us to let you go.” The first sat on the floor, cross legged. “She doesn’t want to deal with said husband, apparently. Also, Koenig grabbed the wrong people.”

Gaz raised an eyebrow. “That’s… King in German, right?”

“You know German?” The tall one spoke up, looking excited. 

“I took a couple classes in school.” Gaz winced. “I don’t know much…”

“You know any Korean?” The other asked, chuckling. “Mine is Horangi.”

Gaz winced, because he did not know any Korean. Rodolfo’s head fell back against Gaz’s neck and Gaz could hear him sigh in exasperation. Yeah, him too, Rudy. “No. I don’t.”

“It means Tiger.” Horangi sighed and then he was leaning forward. “You mentioned a story. I want to hear it.”

“I don’t know if we have time for a story.” Gaz tried, though he was wary from Graves. “If we’re being let go.”

“Eh, there’s an emp, that GPS tracker won’t work. So…” Horangi trailed off and Gaz caught the implication. “Koenig, do you want to hear a story?”

“I would, Kätzchen.” Koenig said as he sat down.

Gaz… had to resist very hard not to make a comment on the fact he knew kätzchen meant kitten. It was… almost impossible. But, it was very ridiculous to see this giant fucking man (who had some sort of weird hood over his head…) call the other man kitten in german.

However, Gaz had heard the most ridiculous nicknames in Spanish come out of Alejandro’s mouth. He was… so grateful Alex just stuck to baby. He didn’t need any weird nicknames. Babe and baby were fine.

Rodolfo sighed. “Just… finish the story Gaz so we can get out of here, hermano.”

Gaz… had to resist a very petty moment of groaning and saying he didn’t want to. He was really proud of his restraint as of late. “Well, it won’t work for you to come in at the middle, so I guess I have to tell the first part…”

“Wonderful!” Horangi nodded, sounding amused. “We have as long as needed.”

“Perfect.” Gaz muttered before groaning and sighing, going through the entire first bit of the story.

-

“So, wait, what happened to your brother… David?” Koenig asked, now laying on the floor, his body half in Horangi’s lap. Gaz thought they were both ridiculous, but he wasn’t going to say anything.

Also, somehow, more members of their PMC had came in and were now sitting around the cell.

Gaz sighed. “I didn’t get to that point yet. I was about to and you just interrupted me.”

“You’re a very good storyteller.” Rudy complimented. They’d been untied at that point, since there were now EIGHT mercenaries in the room with them. “Very immersive.”

“Thank you.” Gaz softened, genuinely taking the compliment. “Now, can I tell the rest or…”

“Right, right.” Koenig nodded. “Go ahead.”

Gaz rolled his eyes and then sighed, leaning his head back as he continued.

-

Kyle woke up late, but that wasn’t out of the ordinary. When he woke up, he pulled on clothes for the day and started to think about how he would try to make up with David. He still had some money left, so maybe they could find somewhere to eat lunch and he could apologize for getting so angry.

He did notice that David wasn’t in his bed, but David was late to sleep, early to rise, so he wasn’t too surprised. He was sure he’d have to track him down, but… that was fine.

He decided to ask his other siblings first, since they would probably know. If they didn’t, he’d go and look for Jess. 

So, he went down the hallway to Michael and Brandon’s room, pausing when he saw the door was wide open. Frowning, he walked up to the door and peeked in, realizing all of his siblings were in there. Except Anna, the sister David had to bribe to go with him.

And David…

“What’s going on?” He asked, seeing everyone was sort of sitting around. Everyone immediately turned to stare at him and he backed up before realizing Lena was there.

She was the oldest of them, and she’d recently aged out so she had been in Uni and hadn’t came on the vacation. So, for her to be there it had to be… important. They’d actually been fairly close until she’d left. “Kyle…” She came over and made him sit on a nearby bed.

Kyle frowned more and looked around at everyone staring at him. “Where’s David?”

Michael and Brandon both winced and Lena smiled, though it wasn’t quite right. It was… sympathetic. “As you know, Mum and Dad had to rush to the police station last night…”

Kyle nodded. “Okay…”

“Well,” Lena winced. “It was about David. He went to a party, right? With a girl named Jess?”

“And Anna, yeah..” Kyle tilted his head, now very confused. “Did he get in trouble? I’m sorry, I should have went with him…”

No one answered his question. Lena just took a deep breath. “This party had some… drugs and they didn’t react well with the alcohol in his system. He had a really bad reaction.”

Kyle’s stomach sank. “Wait, he’s hurt?? Is he in the hospital? I should go see him!” He got up and went to leave, but Lena grabbed his arm and pulled him back down. Reluctantly, he sat back down and frowned. “What? If he’s in the hospital, I should go and see him.”

“He’s not in the hospital, Kyle…” Michael spoke up, his voice rough. Now, everyone was avoiding his eyes. “Anna is, but he’s not.”

Kyle frowned. “Is he in Jail?” That wouldn’t be good, he knew bail would likely be expensive. Of course, he knew David would spin it and tell it to everyone at school, that’s just how David was. He’d tell all the girls he had a “record” and try to use it to look cool.

He could already imagine him telling the story about how he got arrested for doing drugs at a party. Mum and Dad would be pissed as hell, but David never gave a shit about that. 

Lena looked away from him, which confused Kyle more than anything else. “Please, just fucking say it, Lena.” He snapped, now getting irritated. “If he’s in jail, I can handle it.”

“He’s dead, Kyle.” Lena mumbled, almost too quiet to be heard, and Kyle almost wished he hadn’t. 

“What?” It was so dumb to be the first word out of his mouth but he still found himself struggling to comprehend what she was saying. “No, no… That’s… No…”

“He is. An ambulance was called… Both he and Jess died, apparently. Curled up together on a bench.” Lena murmured, softly. “The drugs made them both scared so they apparently stayed as close to each other as possible.”

Well, the first thought in Kyle’s mind was… how romantic. The second was that there was no fucking way this was happening right now. “No! That’s not- That’s not fair! I was supposed to apologize this morning! I was supposed to apologize and we were supposed to make up and this was supposed to be something dumb we forgot about, what do you mean he’s dead?!”

“Kyle, please calm down,” Lena pleaded, and now everyone was avoiding his eyes. She took his hands. “He didn’t die in pain.”

“Oh, fuck that, I don’t bloody care about that! He’s dead, who gives a fuck if it’s in pain or not, why did he die?!” Tears welled up in his chest and he refused to cry in front of everyone. “Please, let this just be another prank…” He begged Lena, since David had pulled jokes on him before. “I’ll forgive him if it is, please…”

“It’s not, Kyle. I’m sorry.” She went to hug him and Kyle jerked away from her, not wanting to be touched at all. “Kyle-”

Kyle shook his head. “This isn’t fair…” David had died before Kyle had had the chance to tell him he was sorry and that he forgave him. David had died thinking Kyle was angry at him. That wasn’t fucking fair! For either of them! 

He looked around the room, just more frustrated when no one met his eyes. Fuck this. 

He turned around and left.

-

Kyle felt the water lazily move the board he was laying on his stomach on. He’d used the Kiwi wax, since David had preferred that scent. He’d even marched into the little store and asked for the Sex Wax brand. The guy at the cash register had looked too startled by his confidence to really poke fun at him or anything, which Kyle was grateful for.

Now, he was on his stomach, laying his head on his arms and looking at where the sun was still rising on the horizon. David had preferred sunsets but… Kyle had woken up too early. 

It’d been a week since David had died. Mostly, he just stayed out of the hotel. Thankfully, everyone left him alone about it, too. No one really talked to him, even Lena. Maybe someone else would consider that cruel, but Kyle knew if they’d tried, he would have started to punch people.

They were going home in a week. Kyle wasn’t sure if he was happy or not about that. He couldn’t imagine going home without his brother. Well, he guessed they were. But… he’d imagined being bugged by David for the window seat of the plane, not… having to ship him home. 

Kyle shifted so he could move his right arm, using his index finger to touch the surface of the water. He’d considered wearing David’s wetsuit, but that’d felt wrong, even though he knew he’d fit in it. So, he’d just shoved it in David’s suitcase. His mum had considered shoving David in his suitcase as well and Kyle had had to fight not to laugh, because he knew David would have found that hilarious and would have encouraged it. Instead, they’d paid to send him home and Kyle had hid in his closet and cried.

His fingertip sent ripples through the water, though they were quickly broken up by the motion of the waves. He pulled his arm back onto the board and closed his eyes, trying to focus on the rocking of the board. 

He wished he’d let David drag him to more lessons. He’d go back and fix it if he could. Or at least apologize. He’d let David drag him to a hundred more lessons if he could. Just a few more with him or even one.

Tears ran down his face and he didn’t bother to wipe them. He didn’t care enough to. No one was around, he didn’t need to fight them or hide them.

He heard soft splashing nearby and ignored it, not having the energy to turn his head and look to see what it was. He just hoped it was someone else who’d had 

But, then something was nudging the board, so he had to turn, frowning when he was met with Alex, who was swimming beside the board, his hand on it. “Hey.” Alex smiled, his expression soft, empathetic. “One of the others mentioned a kid came out on the water.”

Kyle bit the inside of his lip and finally wiped his face. “Yeah… I just… wanted to come out here, I guess.”

“I heard about what happened when they told us about Jess.” Alex hesitated. “I’d tell you I’m sorry, but it doesn’t really help, does it?”

Kyle went quiet before shaking his head. It really didn’t. “I think it just makes everyone else feel useful.”

“Yeah, maybe.” Alex nodded and then he was also quiet for a moment. “They want to feel like they’re helping to ease the grief, but time is pretty much the only thing that does that.”

“I don’t think this will ease.” Kyle shook his head. His chest hurt with the grief and there had been a few times he’d genuinely worried he’d suffocate to death on it. 

Alex smiled. “It does. I promise. This is from experience.”

Kyle frowned, but he didn’t want to ask. He really didn’t want to try to relate to someone over a loved one dying. That felt so… cliche. “Oh.” Was all he said and looked back down at the board before finally pushing up so he could straddle it, remembering how he was supposed to. 

“I found something in the lifeguard tower. Well, I think it belongs to Braedon, but he doesn’t have to know.” Alex nudged him. “You wanna come see?”

Kyle still, somehow, blushed when Alex nudged him and he hesitated before nodding and letting Alex guide the board closer to the beach before washing ashore and getting up, detaching his leg from the leash. 

Alex stuck the board in the sand before gesturing him over where a beach blanket had been set up. Kyle sat down and accepted a can of soda from him before watching him sit and get out a little silver box thing. Then, it unfolded and Kyle recognized it as one of those portable DVD players. “I was fucking with it, and you’ll never guess what movie was in it.” 

Kyle tilted his head, watching him put the DVD player on a box which had been on the blanket. “What movie?”

“Surf’s Up. What a coincidence, right?” Alex half grinned at him and then he moved back to sit by Kyle. “I immediately thought of you.”

He thought of you. “Oh…” Kyle blushed and softened. He really doubted it was actually a coincidence, but he didn’t say anything, deciding he’d like to pretend, anyway. He watched Alex hit play and pulled his knees up, hugging them and holding onto his soda. 

Alex leaned back onto his hands and Kyle focused his attention on the movie, listening to both it and the waves crashing behind him. He did manage to laugh at the sea urchin scene and he definitely picked up Alex going quiet at Cody’s speech.

He had to say, in the three years after David’s death, no one had quite managed to comfort him in his grief like Alex had. They’d barely spoken while watching the movie, just occasionally commenting on funny moments. 

Afterwards, Alex had let Kyle talk about his favorite memories with David, and then he’d patiently sat there while he’d cried.

When Kyle had hugged him, he hadn’t pushed him away, just hugged back, and he hadn’t said anything. He hadn’t said any bullshit, like “it’ll be okay” or “I’m sorry” or anything like that. 

People liked to say things and maybe that had been why Alex had been comforting. Because he hadn’t said anything except to ask if Kyle had wanted another soda. 

Kyle would admit, it had eased the grief a little.

“You know…” Alex started as he picked up the portable DVD player, “it really does get better. It’s like breaking a bone. You don’t think your arm will ever get better, but if you let it heal and nurse it and stretch the limb so it doesn’t grow stiff, it does get better, I promise.”

“What if I don’t want it to get better?” Kyle mumbled. “That… that feels wrong. David deserves more than to be a faded memory.”

“All people are faded memories.” Alex said as he held out his hand and pulled Kyle to stand. “One day I will be. That’s how people are. But, you’ll never forget him. There will always be little things that you look at and you’ll think “David would love that” and it’ll bring the memory back.”

Kyle hesitated before deciding to accept that. “I don’t think I’m going to come to lessons this week…”

“That’s alright, Kyle, I wouldn’t ask you to.” Alex touched his shoulder and then he was half hugging him. “I promise and you can track me down and yell at me if it doesn’t, but… it does get better. One day, you’ll poke at the wound and notice it doesn’t quite throb the same.”

Kyle wasn’t sure he fully believed that, but hey, if it didn’t, it was an excuse to see Alex again. “David thought you were cool, by the way.”

“Really?” Alex half smiled at him, picking up the blanket. “I think if I had talked to him more, we could have been friends. Jess really talked about liking him…” 

Kyle watched him pause for a moment before shaking his head and continuing. He stopped and touched Alex’s arm. “You don’t have to pretend to be okay about Jess because you’re comforting me… You two seemed close.”

“We were.” Alex admitted and then sighed. “I didn’t meet her until I got here but… I’m gay, she was trans… We sort of had to stick together, you know? She really wasn’t as cool as she tried to come off. Kind of dorky, honestly. I’m going to miss her.”

Kyle felt kind of bad that Alex had set aside his own stuff to comfort him and he looked down. “I’m sorry… It’s… It’s really horrible. Do you think she would have kept talking to David if they’d um… stayed alive?”

“Yeah. She was already joking about having to upgrade her phone plan for overseas texting.” Alex nudged him. “She really did like him.”

Kyle was glad that David had at least been lucky with his crush. Tears welled up in his eyes, again, and he sniffled, trying not to let them spill. “I’m glad… He really liked her.”

Alex looked at him and then he was setting everything he had down, hugging Kyle again. Kyle hugged back, but still fought away the tears, not really wanting to cry again. He hated crying and he was doing it so much… “I should have went with him…” Kyle mumbled. “I was just frustrated and I thought it would be fine… I hope… I hope he didn’t think I hated him.”

“He didn’t, I’m sure he didn’t.” Alex shook his head. “You’re brothers, you fight. It happens…”

Kyle didn’t believe him. He really didn’t. “I should have sucked it up and went… apologized… He just liked hanging out with me and I pushed him away… I’m horrible…”

“No you’re not, Kyle, you’re 15.”

“And a half…”

“Yeah, yeah. You’re 15 and a half. Trust me, everyone does shit they regret at that age.” Alex rubbed his back and sighed. 

Kyle shook his head. “Not to this extent.”

“Kyle, I told my friend that I wouldn’t go to her funeral and she killed herself the next day.”

Kyle paused. “Okay, maybe to this extent…” He admitted, because holy fuck. Well, that explained how Alex had experience, jesus fucking christ. “You win. That’s horrible.”

“I wasn’t… trying to win, but hey, I’ll take it.” Alex chuckled and pulled away. “Don’t get yourself too hard. Okay? You planned to apologize, right?”

Kyle nodded, because he had. “Yeah…”

“Then… leave it at that. The world had other plans, there was nothing you could have done.” Alex nudged him. “Okay?”

Kyle hesitated before sighing and nodding, again choosing to accept Alex’s words. “Okay…”

“Alright. Come on, kid, let’s go find something else to do, okay?”

Kyle hesitated before nodding.

-

He didn’t see Alex much more in the week before he left. He’d decided to spend it with Lena and she had kept him fairly occupied. He did find Alex on the last day and told him goodbye, and Alex had asked him how he was doing.

Kyle had just shrugged, not doing a good job.

As it was, Alex had been right, as the memory had faded fairly quickly, leaving him with just his grief, which school had done its best to distract him from fairly quickly as well.

Within a few months of being home, that summer had been nothing more than a hazy fever dream, one that he looked at with equal fondness and grief. 

One long grape crush.

-

Koenig and Horangi were both staring at him. “He died???” Koenig exclaimed before starting to curse in German. “That’s bullshit!”

“What can I tell you?” Gaz couldn’t help laughing. “It’s my life, I can’t change it.” Honestly? David would have been laughing too. 

Rodolfo seemed to share their sentiment. “I regret listening to this story.”

“You wanted me to share it!!” Gaz huffed, though he really was amused. 

A particularly terrifying member named Roze was borderline in tears which was… an odd sight. Gaz knew she was an ex member of the Shadow Company, which… What a small world. “That’s so awful…” She said, shaking her head. 

“But sweet.” Another one, who’d introduced himself as Oni, spoke up. “I mean… he died with Jess, his crush. That’s romantic, right??”

“He died!” Horangi exclaimed. “That’s horrible! I thought this would be a fun story, you have ripped my heart out of my chest and stomped on it.”

Gaz rolled his eyes. “I never said it would be fun… I said it was a story.”

Everyone glared at him, but he just shrugged. “Can we go now?” Gaz asked, crossing his arms. “I told the story, can we leave?”

Reluctantly, they were let go, and Gaz was cussed out a few times on the way out, but whatever, as long as he could leave. Rodolfo found them a car and they went right back to the base where Gaz was surprised by Farah being there. She’d been helping to look for him, this time.

“They let us go, apparently Valeria told them to.” Rodolfo explained when they’d finally gotten back, though he was fairly quickly dragged away by Alejandro.

Gross. 

So, Gaz had went to Alex, Price, and Farah. “I am done being kidnapped, I have decided I need a vacation.”

“Oh?” Price snorted, crossing his arms. “Hey, maybe we could go to the beach.” He joked, nudging Gaz. “Go swimming.”

Gaz’s face went dark red and he glared at Price. He went to retort, but then Alex was wrapping his arm around his waist and pulling him close, chuckling. “Not a good idea, sir. Kyle tends to get sucked into riptides.” Farah immediately started to snicker behind Alex and Gaz turned to Alex, his eyes wide as realization struck.

“You remembered?!” Gaz asked, pulling away from him. “This whole time?!”

“Pretty much since you mentioned the lifeguard in Seaporte, yep.” Alex laughed. “I put the pieces together almost immediately. I thought the irony was… funny. There we were, in another beach town, but the situation was flipped where I was the one with the ridiculously inappropriate crush. I told Farah the story when I went back to Urzikstan to help her out.”

“He was kind of a dork about it.” Farah nodded, smiling affectionately and laughing when Alex glared at her. “Came to me all panicked, too, like ‘what do I do??’”

Price snorted and Gaz’s face only went deeper red. “Well, Keller, I can’t say you both aren’t perfect for each other.” He said, clapping Alex’s shoulder. 

Gaz glared at Price before relaxing when Alex pulled him close again. Alex chuckled, softly, and kissed his cheek. “It’s sweet.”

“Yeah, sure.” Gaz rolled his eyes, but he did soften and didn’t pull away. “The beach does not sound nice, however, because I’m still not over Seaporte.”

“Fair.” Alex nodded and then snorted. “Now that’ll be a story one day.”

“Yeah, no shit.”

--

Um... I hope you still keep reading my stuff haha, but this is the last part

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#grape crush cod fic #Kyle Gaz Garrick #Gaz Cod #Alex Keller #Alex COD #Gaz x Alex #Alex x Gaz #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty modern warfare II #gazalex #the gazalex agenda #John Price

[espys-art-stuff]

It has occurred to me that I should probably... publish more of the random, insane things that go through my head rather than keep them locked up in my private digital notebooks forever. So with that said, please have this thing nobody asked for,

PREPARE

FOR MY GREAT EUROSLANDER POST

(disclaimer obvious satire piece is satire)

Directory of Europe (as written by an ignorant US tourist)

BRITISH ISLES, aka the only places we care about (wait they're islands?? I thou--)

England: Harry Potter Land and so London, very Posh, quite barmy out innit, god save the queen King, I want to hop into a queue and buy some fish and chips and good english tea, *waves the union jack aggressively*

(i feel so bri’ish!!1!11 did i do the accent right [is speaking cockney])

Ireland: EIRISH ((does several bad (scottish)ireland imitations)) and so beer and drienk, my grendfather was born ‘ere so I understind everythin’ aboot this playce

N. Ireland: I understand nothing about this place

Scotland: Aye Laddie, kilts and bagpipes and castles and ACCENTS (we're so scottish)

(wait you guys sound irish--)

Wales: tbh we didn't know you existed until we looked up the funny nonsense words

what do you mean there are native languages spoken in ENGland that aren’t english

THE SOUTH (Boonies)

Spain: Mexico 2.0

wtf do you mean it's more similar to california, california speaks Only English, a spanish-speaking country could never be as advanced

Italy: PIZZA (and old people) (and fascists), florida if floridians ate proper food

Greece: boring ruins and so poor, none of this was ever significant

Portugal: tbh we thought you were a territory of Brazil

Turkey: Earthquakes and Muslims (terrorists) (barbarians) (Iran begins here)

THE EAST (Mordor)

Hungary: We know nothing about it except that it's led by that one guy all our Conservatives really like for some reason, but hey he's White and European and Will Smith did a dance video in Budapest so they’re probably fine, also LOL they must be Hungry

Russia: Very Bad And Mean, We Boycott You For 1000 Years :( (but actually we still buy all your stuff and want your tourist traps and money)

Ukraine: *waves flags* (we did not care about you before but you're White and European and frankly Russia just isn't playing to our interests anymore, so we'll back your war while we look the other way on all the ones in those Non-White Countries)

Poland and like 70 other countries: Witcher 3 and commies

THE WEST (Civilised Countries)

Germany: yeah sorry like 85% of us still think you’re nazis, you're sort of just screwed on that front

France: PARIS and EIFFEL TOWER and ROMANCE (and also rude people)

Belgium+Luxembourg+Switzerland: Alps and croissants and swiss cheese and yodelling (and also rude people)

The Netherlands: 67,342 people skipped over this country because "the netherlands" sounds like the sticks

(we later figured out you were the dutch and we apologized that you have to live out in the sticks)

Austria: The Sound of Music

THE NORDICS (Socialist Paradise/Hell, speaks Weird Shit)

Denmark: we thought it was in America (the Actual America, not the rest of it) like all other good companies are tbh, but LEGOS

(you mean nothing to us otherwise)

Sweden: The ones who will take us, but too liberal and socialist high taxes and immigrant for our tastes (ALL (nonwhite) immigrants are illegal) (enlightened Conservatives STAY OUT)

Finland: The forgotten edge of the world, everyone here lives with eskimos and polar bears

Iceland: Hawaii vacation but Cold and Exotic

Norway: So rich and socialist, but they're White and European and sell oil so we can't knock it tbh

Greenland: the USA definitely claims this. we just haven't taken it back yet because there are absolutely no colonies living on this useless rock

(however once we begin shipping all the illegal immigrants out like how our lord and saviour Ron Desanctimonious has shown us, we will require it once again)

tune in next time for my post where I do all 50 states of the USA and destroy half the world as a result

#euroslander #worldslander #satire #shower thoughts #the weird shit that hangs around in my head until I have to post it

[heloisedaphnebrightmore]

lovely don’t apologize, i spent the whole day reading too!!

wow we’re sorta complementary, i live through romance too but more because i’m overly emotional hahaha i feel like it’s way too easy for me to fall for somebody and live in my imagination but that’s a whole other issue. can you explain in which ways you’re cold, like is it really lack of emotional intelligence or are you being hard on yourself? if it’s too personal, only answer if you’re 100% comfortable

you’re from hungary, aren’t you?? i’ve lived there for six months while in college and hungarian is like hieroglyphs to me, i can only make up one or two greetings. and yeah translation can suck and almost always it ends up weird when it comes to specific idioms and expressions. for the last couple years when i read translated books because the english edition was flipping unplayable, i always got the ick hahaha my mother tongue is portuguese, the cover is kinda tacky for us

aaaaaaaah i’m so torn!!!! i kinda ship him with elain though i also ship her with lucien (i love my fox boy) but when i slip down this rabbit hole on tumblr i can’t help but become a bit of a gwynriel fan too which is why i can’t wait for his book and his love story hahaha

oh dear lord i’m sorry!! ignore me please hahaha one of my best friends absolutely loved it so that’s why i started reading but the reason i hated it was the chosen one narrative plus the use of first person you know? “i’m so special everybody loves me i’m a burden poor me” stuff 🙄 i also think alina from the shadow and bone is shudderingly annoying (i almos DNF the first book but the other two were awesomeeee) and their plot lines are kinda similar (never was i so glad to be on anon because i feel like those are slightly unpopular opinions 🙈). okay so i’m gonna try to explain what i said about emily henry’s work without spoiling anything which will not be easy for me haha i guess the thing is that mainly in beach read and book lovers the focus is the FMC character development journey and their relationship with a family member rather than the romance, so the romance side of things can slip into the background, like in book lovers it became a side plot entirely - sorry it was vague but i tried. again, she’s an amazing writer and she inspires me a lot but for me at least the hype makes me like the book less, it ruins the experience for me a little ~goodreads anon

Lol, good to know that we barely have a life xD Though I'll have to get back to having one as my last year of uni starts in August... already dying over it :D Also, I started Book Lovers, so we can discuss it soon, though I might need a bit of time to read it, been battling a migraine. Let me know when you gave Tessa Bailey a chance, I wanna know what you think :D

Oof this is going to be a long message, 1.5k words. I'm going to reply to the last half of your message first and leave the psychological bla bla for the end xD

Don't get me wrong, translation is a good thing for those who don't speak many languages and I respect the people who take the time to translate these books, but yes, it gets so jumbled up sometimes. They don't just change the names of characters and places in books to sound better in the language they translate it to, but many times those names are important and because of those changes, they almost completely loose meaning, unless you focus really hard. Same situations with idioms, phrases and the like. Out of my 900 books, about 100 is Hungarian, the rest are English and a couple are Spanish and Korean, but some of those Hungarian translations really made me rethink the translation process when I read the books in their original language, because some of the things did not make sense. But I do have to say, the Hungarian language has such a very diverse vocabulary, it sounds so beautiful when translated. I just wish some of the important elements didn't get lost in translation. I do have to add that Hungarian covers tend to be quite pretty so that's a good thing. :)

Why on were you studying in Hungary? I mean it is true that Hungarian education is cut throat, been there, done that, compared to that my English uni is a holiday, but it's just strange to talk to someone who has studied there as a foreigner. I'm from one of the uni cities, so I have seen a lot of foreigners back when I lived in Hungary, but funny enough, they didn't like to interact with the locals, at least to my experience xD Well, Hungarian is a very difficult language. If I recall correctly, the 5th most difficult one according to a study which I can't reference now because I can't find it. (Take it as gossip, because I have no evidence to prove it xD) Let me guess, one of the word is 'Szia', because it literally sounds like 'See ya' and means almost the same xD

Portuguese! Oh, no, I'm trying to recall things and I got a block in my brain. My best friend's boyfriend, her baby daddy is from Brazil, hence speaks Portuguese and I have to say, I find it harder than Hungarian. Sometimes, he completely forgets that I don't speak Portuguese and he goes on and on about things like I'm fluent or something and I just nod, waiting for the moment when I can tell him that I did not understand a thing xD I love when Portugese people speak in English though. Like their accent gives the language such a flavour! <3

Okay, fair enough. I love Gwyn for Az because they have this dark and light, complementing each other vibe. Besides, they have this playful energy and I'm here for it. Az is quite reserved so it makes my little heart melt <3 To be fair I ship Elain with Lucien because our baby fox deserves to be loved! And I would love to see them overcome this obstacle they created between each other. Also, have you heard about that theory which says that Elain is not actually Lucien's mate, but Tamlin's and the only reason he thinks he is her mate is because Tamlin's feelings were so overwhelming at that particular scene that Lucien felt it that strongly whilst Tamlin repressed it? Might sound silly, but I do find the theory interesting. (I can't recall who said it, only that it was on TikTok - BookTok) Also from tiktok, another theory for you is that Azriel's true mate was Rhy's sister and it all comes back to that moment when Az said something along the lines of "if you lost your mate, you'd feel it" in this painfully serious tone. I'm just rambling, but I love these theories even if they aren't true. xD

“I’m so special everybody loves me i’m a burden poor me” - Oh no, I hate those vibes! It's the typical pick me FMC. Feel sorry for me and two books later, you must respect me because I can destroy you in two seconds. Shatter Me's Juliette is like that. God, I'm on Book 4, but I'm suffering. But hey, you can always come to me to ramble. I'll take the heat for you. I love judging these books xD

Oh, that's actually disappointing. I love when romance is as important as the plot or more. And whilst character development and their journey is important, I need me a burning hot romance. I started Book Lovers with a very sceptical vibe so hopefully I won't be disappointed.

I have to say, I don't mind the hype around books. By all means hype it so it can be more popular. But I hate when they advertise a book like a romance novel only for it to have literally a sprinkle of romance. I loved Cruel Prince, Cardan is my little marshmallow, I'd give my heart for him, but it was not romance! It was political fantasy, with a romantic subplot. False advertisement is my worst enemy.

And here we go with the psychological dump xD

To be honest, I don't think I'm being hard on myself, though it is possible that I repress some of my emotions subconsciously, because I wasn’t always like this. I wasn’t so cold, so distant before. One of the many psychologists that I went to, told me that it could be a result of... how to say this without having to use a trigger warning... hmm... both my stepbrother and stepfather passed away by unnatural causes. Since then I improved a lot, but in my teenage years I was very violent and aggressive.

You see, I do have emotions, it's not like I'm a psychopath. I do love and hate, I'm happy or sad, I get angry, I feel remorse, guilt or grief, I cry, I get jealous, become anxious and have impulsive feelings just like everyone else. However, I don't feel empathy or sympathy as much, nor do I become attached to people.

Like if you are in a bad mood, had a terrible day and you come to me to comfort you, I will, because I know that's what I'm supposed to do, but I can't sympathise with you, I can't feel sorry for you. I feel nothing. If you have a break up with your partner and you want to cry on my shoulder, by all means do so, but other than the usual, 'it will get better' or 'let it out' and stuff like that, I can't offer much because I don't feel much empathy or sympathy. My brain understands what you are going through, but I don't associate with your feelings even if I've been through similar.

And then there are attachments. I fall in love, I love fiercely, but I don't really form attachments. To explain with an example, I had a boyfriend I really loved and when he broke up with me from one day to another without any warnings, any issues, I cried for a good 5 minutes and that was it. I lost a friendship after 14 years and I was over it in a heartbeat. I know people around us are important, but anyone could walk out of my life and I'd shrug it off. Even when I get into a relationship, I'm already expecting the break up. I don't think of 'forevers' and 'decades' ahead. I don't think of marriage or long term relationships. That's why I leave through romance books. Like I said before. 'Will I ever experience that burning love?'

This is one of the reasons I thought of maybe having attachment disorder. I find it hard to show affection and I find it hard to receive affection, I always play it down. I don't trust a single person on this earth, not even my parents and I'm very impulsive. And to be honest, all those describe attachment disorder. I very much see myself in it, but all that the psychologists I went to could determine was what could cause my emotions to be so jumbled, but we never really got anywhere with a diagnosis because, well, I didn't trust them, so I didn't talk much xD

So when I say I'm cold, that's what I mean. I lack a certain amount of empathy, sympathy and being able to form attachments, possibly because I repress them somehow, somewhere. Sorry for rambling for so long, it's hard to explain xD

#Heloise's inbox #goodreads anon #personal #books #reading #a court of thorns and roses #sarah j maas #book lovers #emily henry #cruel prince #holly black #the folk of the air #tessa bailey

[darkorderaf]

Can I request kiss prompt 16 with mjf set when the inner circle was in Vegas?

Oh, this is a very fun idea. This is a nice little cocktail of shitlord!Max and soft!Max. I took some creative liberties with their time in Vegas. Thank you so much for sending, I hope you like it!! <3

Pairing: MJF x OFC. Prompts: A kiss that isn’t meant to happen but it does anyway. Rating: T. Warnings/Content: Angst and fluff! Some drinking. Word Count: 2,633.

(I don’t own gif; credit to cowboyshit!)

“Un-fucking-believable.”

“Believe it.”

“I hate him.”

“I know.”

“Like, a lot. I deadass hate the dude.”

“I know, Sammy.”

She let out a long-suffering sigh and set her hands against the bartop. From the first proposal of the Inner Circle going to Vegas, Sammy complained. It hadn’t gotten any better now that they were actually in the city. The situation wasn’t great but it was what Jericho wanted and which of them was going to tell them no? At least Wardlow seemed decent enough. He didn’t talk much and hell, that was all she could ask for. She could use less talking lately.

“Sammy, he’s not going anywhere,” she said. Her hand curled tight around her glass. “We might as well just enjoy what we can, alright?”

Sammy frowned and folded his arms as he leaned against the table. Her words seemed to help for the time being. Satisfied that they had, she threw her drink back and rubbed at her temples. They had been away from the table too long and she could already feel her phone vibrating. She clapped Sammy reassuringly on the back and the two made their way back to the blackjack table.

“C’mon, Spanish God. It’s just one night. We’ll be fine.”

---

When the boys drank, they drank. Shot after shot after shot. She had to admit that she was impressed. MJF held his own with Jericho but he was feeling it and she could tell. They stayed longer at the place with the dancing girls that she forgot the name of but she didn’t mind that. It gave her some time to think to herself, appreciate the show from afar unbothered.

“You don’t belong here.”

Or not. She mentally prepared herself with a few deep breaths before she turned around. There he was, in his purple pastel suit glory. In MJF’s endeavor to earn the trust of the Inner Circle, he had been persistent with all of them. She tried not to notice that closely behind Jericho, she was the one he seemed to flock to most. The corner of the club she sat in was away from the red light that covered the rest. The fluorescents overhead made it easier to see the warm flush to his face that the booze brough on, the slight shadows under his eyes. She didn’t know where those came from. He leaned against the bar and took a long drink. She eyed him.

Was he getting enough sleep?

Better question, why was she worried about MJF?

Wait, what did he just say?

“Hi,” she said as she idly swirled the straw in her drink. She jutted her chin at the girls. “Care to explain what you mean by that? I think the club’s fine and the girls are putting on a hell of a show. I like it here.”

He shook his head, clearly frustrated.

“That’s,” he paused and sighed. “That’s not what I meant. You don’t belong here. With the Inner Circle. With them. With Jericho.”

Her eyes flashed and she sat up straight. Narrowed eyes met his and the muscle in his jaw worked. If he was frustrated, she felt it tenfold.

“Oh? And you do?”

“Please, just give me a second and listen to me.”

MJF wasn’t someone that struggled to communicate how he felt or what was on his mind. As far as she knew. Then again, how much did she really know him? She gestured for him to sit in the stool beside her and he took it. He undid the top button of his suit and ran a hand through his hair. He looked borderline unkempt. Vulnerable, even. Her spine softened and she slowly sipped at her drink.

“You’re--” He held onto his drink, sucked in his bottom lip, then ran his tongue along it. “You’re too good for them. I’m up here--obviously--you’re here, and then they’re down there. Do you see what I mean?”

He explained with one hand low and the other above his head. He placed himself higher than her by a slim margin. She didn’t know what to make of the fact that he leaned down to really exaggerate it. The backhanded compliment made heat creep up her neck, her face. She didn’t see herself better than the others of the Inner Circle but there were times where she wondered about going on her own. Even just for a little while. She kept to herself more lately, telling the guys it was fine if they didn’t accompany her to her matches. It would make it easier when she did decide to leave.

If she did.

“Wow,” she said, her brows lifted and her tongue pressed up against the sharp edges of her teeth. “You really know how to compliment a girl, Friedman. If you want a show, it’s over there. I’m not doing this with you.”

She turned away, effectively shutting off the conversation. Her spine straightened again and she caged her drink in with her forearms. MJF didn’t move from his spot beside her. Clearly, he had something on his mind. Max dropped his forehead into his hand then straightened himself back up.

“Max.”

“What?”

“Can you call me Max?”

That made her pause, her brows slightly furrowed. His voice was so soft she barely heard it. Jesus, she didn’t know what to make of this man. This infuriating man that insulted every person she knew and yet, could always be found in the audience during her matches. Who always checked on her in his own weird, emotionally bizarre way.

‘At least you didn’t embarrass yourself.’

‘Well, she looks worse but yeesh, that’s not saying much.’

And then the odd, ‘How are you?’ But that one seemed to make him more uncomfortable than any other compliment veiled with an insult. That one seemed genuine, a removal of some mask, and he never stayed long after she fumbled an answer.

She eyed him carefully on the stool beside her.

“Alright, Max,” she said and the sound of his name brought this strange, hopeful look to his face that caught her off guard. She was so used to it in a sneer, a Cheshire grin. “Come on, let’s get some air.”

She jerked her thumb towards the exit and threw back the rest of her strong drink. Although she hadn’t had as much as the boys, she felt warm and bubbly. Even with MJF, Max, at her side as they walked out into the night air, his hand a vague sensation at the small of her back as he let her go first. Her phone vibrated and she checked it.

Sammy G. - lmk if you need help hiding body xoxo

She rolled her eyes and slid her phone back into the pocket of her dress. Max kept a small distance from her as they walked and he did the same when she found somewhere to sit. She hadn’t banked on it being cold. Goosebumps slid up the exposed skin of her arms. Wordlessly, Max offered her his scarf.

“...Thanks,” she said. “What’s all this about, Ma--”

“You don’t like me.”

His statement cut her off and she cocked her head. She played with the ends of his scarf where it draped over her shoulders. It smelled like him and something sweet.

“It’s more complicated than that,” she offered. The conversation hadn’t initially been about them but with the way her brain lingered on it and how his statement didn’t sit well with her, she shifted it further that way. “You’re not the easiest person to be around. At all. Half the time I don’t know if you’re trying to be nice or if you’re just waiting for me to fall.”

“I’ve seen you fall. More than they have, in fact.”

She shot him a look. He wasn’t wrong. Jericho made a big show of how strong the bonds in the Inner Circle were and yet... Guilt knocked at her skull and she ignored it.

“Max,” she got his attention, his warm eyes on her and his knees angled towards her. Part of the reason she wanted to get away from the others was to get some air, that was true. The other part? To see who she was talking to. Max or MJF. “For once, can you just say what you mean and not be a complete dick about it?”

His jaw worked at that and his hands switched which one was on top quite a few times. Worry overtook her when he looked like he might be sick. Or like he was in pain.

“I like you. Alright? Even though I don’t want to and God knows I’ve tried not to, I do. I think about you literally all the time and it’s awful.”

Her shoulders dropped with disappointment and she shook her head with disbelief. He couldn’t just stop while he was ahead.

“Jesus,” she said, her voice a low and bitter sound. She slipped his scarf off and handed it back to him. “That must be so fucking terrible for you. My condolences, MJF.”

He was strangely silent as they walked back but that changed as soon as they were back in the company of the boys. Loudmouth, smug MJF was back and she receded back to the edges. Sammy approached her and demanded to know what happened, Ortiz as well. She kept it simple. They talked, that was all. The two men seemed to accept that that was all she would give them for the time being.

She had too much to think about and not enough drink in her glass.

---

The next pub they went to felt more up her alley and she sat at the end of the bar, away from the pissing contest between the others. Her sour mood had lifted some, thanks to Jameson and the friendly bartender. She could feel Max’s eyes on her but she paid no attention. She wanted to drink, she wanted to take a long bath, and then she wanted to go to bed. Something simple and not at all complicated like what her heart was feeling.

“Seriously, what did he say to you?”

“That’s between us, Ortiz,” she said for the third time to the man beside her. “It’s really not something I want to talk about.”

“Man, you’re holding out on us,” Sammy cut in from her other side. “Did he say something embarrassing? Please tell me it was embarrassing. It was totally embarrassing, right? Give us the dirt, sister.”

In some ways, she supposed it was embarrassing. Her jaw clenched.

“Is the hotel far from here?”

Ortiz blinked at her.

“No, not really, why?”

“I think I’m done for the night,” she said as she slapped a twenty on the bar and pushed back from it. “I’m getting tired.”

The two men seemed shocked and appalled by such a statement.

“Woah, you serious?”

“Mhm,” she vocalized. “You boys have fun, okay?”

“One of us will go with y--”

“I’ll go with her,” Max suddenly said, his hands in his pockets as he sauntered up to the trio. “You two stay here, huh? Keep an eye on the old man over there.”

Ortiz looked at Sammy, who looked at her, who looked at Max. He was too busy staring the other two down to notice how hard she looked at him.

“Fine,” she said carefully. “It won’t take long.”

She rushed out the door and Max was quick to follow her. That hardened expression of his faded and there was Max again, soft and vulnerable and infuriating. Frustrated tears pricked her eyes and she hated it.

“Slow down,” he called to her. “I didn’t say any of that right, alright? That was a shitshow in word form and I can do better than that because, I mean, I’m me. If I fuck it up again, just slap me and we’ll be done with the whole thing.”

He caught up to her in long strides and gently encircled her wrist with one of his hands. She stopped with a harsh breath in and turned back to look at him, her fists clenched at her sides. He let go of her wrist and guided her to the side, away into one of the alleys of Las Vegas. Maybe Max was serious if he was so willing to stand next to garbage.

“I like you,” he tried again as he stood in front of her. “I think about you a lot and when I think about you, I go looking for you. I don’t even know what I’m going to say half the time when I do, alright? I just go and hope for the best. I don’t do that. Any of that. I don’t like people and I don’t hope for the best for...for anything. For anyone. But then there’s you and I do and it’s weird but I don’t hate it and I don’t hate you. That’s the thing! I. Don’t. Hate. You.”

His hands hovered by her shoulders, his eyes imploring her to listen to what he was saying. What was that one line? The one about how wonderful, how strange it was to be liked by something that hates all else? She couldn’t wrap her head around it but she knew she wasn’t angry anymore. Bewildered and breathless and taken aback and unquestionably warm. That’s what she was. Her silence compelled him to step away and she reached out for him. Giggling grew louder on the sidewalk outside the alleyway. They stared at each other, both waiting for something to happen.

“Max, I don’t know…”

She trailed and it didn’t matter that she didn’t know what to say. Anything she could have said was silenced by Max’s lips on hers, his hands on the wall to brace himself. She leaned up into him, her eyes on his and both just as confused. A giggling couple disappeared down the alley and they must have knocked against Max. His hands dropped from the wall to her shoulders and when he went to pull away, she slipped her arms around him and pulled him in. Their stagnant lips began to move and she could taste what it was that smelled so sweet. He could taste the burn of Jameson on her tongue. Their eyes fell shut and they dove into each other.

The tentative way he kissed her melted like sugar to absinthe. His tongue met hers, her teeth nipped at his lips. Not enough to hurt but enough to get his attention. His hands slid from her shoulders to her waist then finally they came to a stop at her hips. He kissed her hard and she met him on even ground, her fingers curled in tight against his broad back. A sound of disgust from him broke them apart and that scowl of his was back on his face. He breathed hard against the skin of her neck.

“Absolutely not,” he said with a borderline growl as he lifted his head and stared down the alley. “We are not making out in a filthy, scum-filled alleyway. I get that this is Vegas and it’s the bottom of the barrel but there is still a thing called standards.”

His hand slid into hers to lead her away and after a second, she laced her fingers with his. She didn’t know what they were or where the hell they would be when the weekend was over and they left this moment. They could figure it out. He looked at her from the corner of his eye and smiled at her. Not a shit-eating one, not a standing-over-your-fallen-enemy one. It was just a simple one, meant for her, and it made her hope that it wasn’t true what they said about Las Vegas. Just this once.

#mjf fanfiction #mjf imagine #mjf fic #aew imagine #aew fic #aew fanfiction #wrestling fic #wrestling imagine #maxwell jacob friedman imagine

[backburnerdio]

TB: Drabbles –The Vagrant

(Featherfall, 2023, 18 Years Earlier) cw: Language, implied battery Words: 1614 Tag List: @everlastinq, @waysofink, @ashen-crest, @spacetimewraithwrites, @stormharbors, @dustylovelyrun, @jaimistoryteller, @abalonetea (please let me know if you'd like to be added or removed)

Six months. Even after being relocated for six months, Ryker still couldn't bring himself to drive at night. He hadn't gotten used to how restless his medication made him feel and knew adding the stress of dark roads would make for a bad mix. Besides, the autumn chill was good for the lungs.

Bundled up, he trekked down puddle-littered sidewalks taking in the rainbow glow of nightlife. Storefronts, street vendors, clubs, and luminescent parks spilled neon lights into the dark. His stomach rumbled at a myriad of smells flooding what the locals called Pub Street. But he'd heard the bodega a few blocks down was the best of the best.

At least, that's what the kid in Mediator training said.

For almost being midnight, Ryker was half surprised the place was open. Mostly empty, he was confused to find a convenience store. Rows and rows of road snacks with the occasional drug store selection. But there was the smell of something seared and delicious.

He wandered towards the back of the store and found a food counter. There was one man working behind it, skinny as a rail, coils tucked back in a hairnet beneath a ball cap. Spotting Ryker, he tossed up a hand in welcome. There was only one person in line, tucked in a hoodie, not bothering to spare a look. Ryker fell in behind them, waiting patiently for his turn.

The longer he stood there, the more he noticed about the party in front of him. Their hoodie was drenched, soaked head to toe, occasionally shivering. Ryker wanted to guess by their stature they weren't very old or were simply small in stature.

The cook said something to them in Spanish, gaining a response that proved to Ryker this was someone young.

"The fuck you...?" They looked over their shoulder, scowl going lax as they recognized one another. Jaime Garnet-Batista, the kid from Mediator training. But his face was adorned with a new, violent dark bruise running from cheek to chin. He sharply turned away, leaving Ryker frowning at his back. "You're out late, old man. Thought you turned in after the news."

"Does it look like I know how to cook?" Ryker chuckled, ignoring a hundred questions through his head. "Heard from the kids this was the best place to eat –and I quote 'Ya' gotsta'."

"Kids need to keep their mouths shut," Jaime chuckled.

"What would the kids recommend?"

"Bacon, egg, and cheese on honey buns with Takis."

"What?" Ryker couldn't help the laugh, proud that it was infectious.

"Trust me, man. You'll love it," Jaime chuckled, and boldly ordered it with the cook. When his meal was done, he stepped aside as if to wait. "You really just came out here because I suggested it?" He kept his face guarded.

"Yeah," Ryker tossed his shoulders. "So far, you're not wrong. Smells amazing. And it's only a few blocks from my place. Won't lie, I'm a little worried about the honey bun, but I'll go out on a limb."

"Yinz weird, man."

"Yeah, just wait 'til you turn twenty-five, you'll be weird too." He glanced at Jaime, wondering if he hadn't finished his order. In the month or two since they'd started training to be Mediators, he'd yet to see Jaime take it easy on anyone. Defensive with everyone, not shying away from backing up what he said with blows –a perfect explanation for his newest facial accessory.

When Ryker received his foil-wrapped sandwich that was nearly too hot to hold, he was genuinely surprised when Jaime walked out with him. They were met by a wall of rain, hissing as thunder rumbled in the distance. Both waited beneath the awning.

"Shit..." Jaime hissed, stuffing his sandwich in the pocket of his hoodie.

"You live far from here?" Ryker guessed, again studying his soaked clothes. Jaime scoffed.

"Nah. Just down that way," he nodded down the street, towards the industrial district. Ryker considered it, not entirely familiar with Featherfall yet, but sure there weren't any residential in that direction. Not unless it was outside of city limits –far.

"Do you think I'm, like, serial killer weird?"

"What?" Jaime jerked his face up, exposing the bruise that was getting even darker, swelling beneath his eye, a split lip.

"Like when people just say whatever because they think someone's a serial killer or a creeper and don't wanna tell them the truth. You don't live down that way. No one lives down that way."

"I meant that way," Jaime waved generally, making even less sense.

"Which way?"

"Bro, what's it matter?" He looked away with a laugh, going sour. Ryker waited a moment, knowing Jaime wasn't afraid to storm off from a situation.

Ryker gave him a moment before carefully asking, "Jaime, you do have a place to stay, right?"

He didn't say anything. The rain fell harder, thunder bursting down on the street. He tensed in his soaking hoodie, shoulders rising as if trying to bury his head. "Had a place. Fuckin' goons showed up..." he motioned to his face as if to finish explaining.

Ryker's questions doubled. Where were his parents? And if he'd been living on the street, how long had that been the case? How had he gotten into training? Why didn't he join a housing network?

"Well, guess I can't go to your place for dinner," Ryker shrugged instead, "you wanna come eat at mine?"

"I'm not takin' any pity, okay? I've been doing this for months. I'm eighteen now, I know what I'm doing."

Oh, boy.

"I didn't say you weren't. I asked if you wanted to come eat at my place, not adopt you," Ryker mocked his scoff, gaining a glare.

"You couldn't afford me."

"I know." Ryker nudged him with an arm, "Come on, I'm just a few blocks down.

They jogged through the rain, soaking wet by the time they reached his apartment. Ryker let him in and instantly went to the thermostat, bumping the heat. "Why's it get so cold here?"

"If you think this is bad, you're not gonna make it through winter," Jaime stood near the door, scanning the place over. "You weren't kidding, you're so broke you don't even have a couch."

"Yet," Ryker moved for the kitchen, pulling his sandwich from his jacket to set on the counter. "Bathroom's down the hall, the laundry room is at the end. I'll grab you a change of clothes so we can dry yours while you eat."

"You have appliances? Jeez-o-man, you live like a celebrity!"

"Do you ever not say some kinda smart shit?"

"You obviously don't know me," Jaime chuckled, starting for the hall. Ryker changed in his room, digging out some of his old clothes, adding his old army hoodie and setting them in front of the bathroom door. A few minutes later, Jaime emerged in the kitchen, hood down, revealing the number of scrapes and bruises on his head and neck. "What kinda shingle shit is this? You were military?"

"Do you pay attention in training?"

"I thought you were just old." Jaime pulled out a chair, sitting down to eat. Ryker took their clothes into the laundry room, dumping them in the washer for a quick cycle. When he got back to the table, he was surprised Jaime was again waiting on him to eat.

"Okay, let's see what this is all about."

"I mean, if you're military, it's probably not bad."

"Ain't that the truth," Ryker grumbled, taking a bite. Jaime watched him, smiling when Ryker sat back, hand over his mouth.

"Fuckin' good, right?"

"Wow," Ryker laughed, shaking his head. "Okay, you're right. That's really good."

"Told you." He took a bite of his own sandwich, glancing around, "no wonder you're out so late. It's quiet up here." Ryker nodded. "You been here long?"

"A few months, about."

There was another stretch of silence as they ate. "Something wrong with you?" Jaime asked, "Like, you're the only person who talks to me at work. Are you... all good?"

"Are you suggesting something has to be wrong with someone to be friends with you?"

"Oh, we're friends?" Jaime's brows shot up his face.

"I don't know what else you'd call someone you're having dinner with, wearing your clothes that you aren't sleeping with. So, are we friends?"

"Sure," he bounced his shoulders. "You're just super chill."

"Because I'm the only one who doesn't fall for you picking fights?" Jaime chuckled. "I know you're a terror, I'm not braindead. I just remember what it was like being your age. It's tough."

"...Thanks, man." Jaime leaned on the table, weight heavy on one elbow. The more he ate, the slower his chewing became. Ryker finished before him, cleaning up and going to check on the washer. The small load was just about done, having to wait a few minutes before switching them to the dryer.

When he came back, Jaime was slumped on the table, head propped on the crook of his arm, sandwich not quite finished. Ryker debated waking him but knew the stubborn punk would be right back out in the rain. Instead, he snuck to the bedroom, gathering up a pillow and some blankets. Careful not to wake Jaime, he made a pallet in the living room, bumping the heat a little more, and locked up.

Just before turning out the lights, he fetched the sandwich receipt from his jacket as an afterthought. Hunting down a pen, he flipped it over and scribbled on the back:

— Might not have a couch, but you're welcome to stay, roomie.

He slid it just beside Jaime's meal before dimming the lights and heading to bed.

#writblr #my writing #writeblr #wip: tb #garnet oc #ryker oc #TB Excerpts #it's 2am & we're writing about friendships! #local anxious man won't take teens bs #lures him into Found Family with junk food #Ryker: I'm not gonna (adopt you) girl I was just thinking about it I'm not gonna do it....... I did it #Ryker cannot meet someone having a bad time and NOT be like 'well you're my family now #Uncontrollable TeamDad #Garnet: You're weird and broke. // Ryker: Yeah and?

[because-i-am-barely-even-human]

4 times Buck and Eddie pretend to have sex to get rid of someone + 1 time there's no need to pretend

prompt

1) Shannon Diaz

You see, the first time it happened it was totally an accident and misunderstanding (not that Eddie complains how the things turned out in the end).

Shannon just showed up after leaving Christopher (and him) a few years ago. And it seems like she not only wanted to see Chris but expected to get back together with Eddie like there’s no bad blood between them. And that was a firm Nope. No, he does not want to have anything to do with her. He’s not sure he wants to let her into Christopher’s life after her abrupt leave. For Christ’s sake, she didn’t even call to check how their son is doing! What did she expect? A warm welcome? He ranted about this to Buck.

So, the second time she shows up, unannounced, might he add, Buck is conveniently at Diazes’ house. Both of them just came back from 24 hour shift. Chris is at Abuela’s still. So when Shannon comes over she did not expect the half naked guy to open the door to her (technically) husband’s house. He looks like he just came out of the shower and before she can say (yell) anything (like “who the hell are you and what are you doing here undressed like that?”) Eddie comes from down the hall in only a fucking towel.

Eddie: Cariño, who’s there?

Shannon is speechless. She knows enough Spanish to understand this. In all the time that they were together Eddie never called her sweetheart. And by the looks of it she does not need any context here, it’s pretty much obvious what they were doing.

She leaves abruptly without a word, forgetting to ask after Christopher. It is obvious that their marriage is officially over.

Both men quickly guessed to what conclusion she might have came. It was hilarious. And incredibly convenient for Eddie. Buck didn’t mind the assumptions at all.

2) Taylor Kelly

The second time it happened because Buck panicked. Taylor Kelly was at the station. Eddie is not a fan, Buck is not as well. She shamelessly flirts with Buck ignoring the fact that he looks extremely uncomfortable because of her attention. The reporter just does not get a hint. Buck hides in a locker room, that’s where Eddie finds him. He’s freaking out and practically begs Eddie to help him to get rid of Taylor. And Diaz is totally on board with that (not to mention that he might have sought Evan with familiar suggestion).

Eddie just finished working out which helps to reinforce their act. His hair is sticking out like someone ran their fingers through it. And he’s flushed and sweaty, perfect. Buck, though, doesn’t look convincing. So Eddie has some ideas™. They’ve been friends for a few months and they got close quickly. Some might say they ended up real close. They liked to kid around and were shameless and sometimes had no boundaries concerning each other. It felt natural. So Eddie gave Buck some hickeys, both of them giggling the whole time while doing it. Buck gave Eddie some too, you know, to make it look real.

After the dynamic duo’s impromptu departure and then their sudden appearance, firefighters of 118 took a note of how Taylor Kelly was pissed and acted even more bratty than before. She stopped chasing (because that’s what it looked like) Buck and left station with her crew soon after. The team sighed in relief.

No one said anything about hickeys because everyone is used to Buddie’s weird behavior.

3) Abby Clark

The third time, Buck was a bit oblivious when it happened. After Abby came back to LA, and with a fiancé no less, Buck was moody. Not because he missed her (that ship sailed a long time ago), but because he was annoyed and pissed at her behavior. He talked at length with Eddie about his abandonment issues and how Abby contributed to it.

She wanted to talk. Buck did not. Abby kept calling Buck a few times a day but he never picked up.

Then one evening, after a long shift, Eddie and Buck were hanging out at his loft. Evan was a bit distracted at the moment. You see, his bad leg was hurting so Eddie was giving him a massage, it was a normal occurrence. So when Abby fucking Clark called again Buck wasn’t mindful of what kind of sounds he made or what he was saying while answering.

Eddie: Is this ok?

Buck: Of course it is! Fuck, don’t stop, Eddie.

Buck asked what did she want and please, stop calling me, I’m busy.

Abby was mortified. She finally left Evan Buckley alone. Her apologies were too late and not needed anymore.

Though Buck was oblivious at first, Eddie certainly knew what he was doing and how did it sound to Abby. He was a little bit petty, so what? Plus when Buck realized what did they sound like they lost it again. It was like that time with Shannon. When they told the team about it they lost it too, for different reasons though.

4) Ana Flores

The fourth and last time it happened, it turned real.

Eddie was seeing Ana for a few short months, frankly speaking, he didn’t know why he asked her out. She was pretty (not completely his type tho) and nice at first, then she started to act snobbish. They had nothing in common, and she creeped him out after their math date™ or whatever the fuck she tried to turn it into. Ana was pushy about being intimate when he hadn’t felt any sort of attraction to her. He thought maybe it was because she was practically a stranger and they needed time, but she was adamant on getting into his pants and he noped right out of this, because fuck if he was going to let someone to pressure him into doing anything he didn’t want to.

He told Buck about this shit and he suggested to break this thing off and fast, this is not healthy.

So Eddie broke up with Ana the morning the shooting happened after she snooped around on GoFundMe site. Evan was aware of the break up.

So imagine Eddie’s frustration when he was getting discharged and Ms Flores thought it was a brilliant idea to show up and try to convince him to start over.

Eddie got the message from Hen that Ana was coming to his room at the hospital (let’s say Hen was there restocking the ambulance when she noticed her). Buck was trying to help Eddie dress into sweatpants when the door opened and Eddie had a second to come up with their usual plan of making people to fuck off. He put his hand on Buck’s neck and quietly asked him to play along.

Ana determined to make Edmundo see reason and get back together was quite shocked at what she saw. Evan (his best friend, she should have known) was on his knees before Edmundo who definitely wasn’t wearing pants and moving his head quite enthusiastically, while Edmundo looked down with the dark eyes and the hottest expression on his face (she wished he looked at her like that). She should have known this was the reason he was so harshly refusing to get intimate with her. Edmundo was fooling around with Evan this whole time! How many times did they do this behind her back? How dare they?

And yeah, Ms Flores never entertained the thought that she might have been the problem all along and she had some creepy vibes (many of her exes can attest to that).

Embarrassed and angry that another one of her relationships ended in disaster, she stormed away.

The thing is that during their little play Buck actually slipped Eddie’s boxers off, not that Eddie minded. They promptly forgot about Ana or anything else.

----

If someone’s interested in writing this, please tag me when you’re done.

#buddie #buddie prompt #9-1-1 #Evan Buckley x Eddie Diaz #eddie x buck #buck x eddie #Evan Buckley #Eddie Diaz #not Shannon Diaz friendly #not Taylor Kelly friendly #not Abby Clark friendly #not Ana Flores friendly #basically not Buddie exes friendly #though Taylor is not an ex in this one #just annoying reporter #humor #shameless Eddie Diaz #devious Buddie #let's take a B out of our Bromance #4 + 1 things #smut #Eddie is thirsting for one Evan Buckley #and Buck is basking in Eddie's attention

[chicgeekgirl89]

In Between the Highs and Lows, There’s You and Me

Fandom: 911 Lone Star

Characters: T.K. Strand, Carlos Reyes

Rating: T

Summary: A series of missing moments between T.K. and Carlos from episode 2x10 "With a Little Help From My Friends." Featuring: T.K. and his innuendos, Carlos as the most understanding person ever, and both of them being ridiculous and sweet.

A/N: Our boys have moved in together and I am very happy! Huge thanks to @bluenet13 who told me to just write a post-ep and not think about it too much. And who also checks my Spanish because she's a wonderful human being! Enjoy!

AO3/ff.net

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“I’m very handy?” Carlos said as soon as Owen walked out the door. “T.K. seriously?”

“Well you are,” T.K. said, a smirk all over his face as he hooked the waistline of Carlos’ pants with one finger and pulled him close.

“Yeah but in front of your dad? You might as well as have said, ‘Hey dad, my boyfriend and I had sex on that couch two days ago.’”

T.K. rolled his eyes. “He could not care less. He probably didn’t even notice.”

“Yeah well I did,” Carlos protested, though not very strongly considering the way T.K. was pressing up against him right now.

“Apologies officer, it won’t happen again.”

One look at T.K.’s face told Carlos that it absolutely would. “Tu si eres tonto,” Carlos muttered.

“But you love me anyway,” T.K. said with a grin, leaning forward and capturing Carlos’ mouth in a kiss. 

Things quickly got out of hand. Things with T.K. usually did. The kiss deepened, T.K.’s hands coming up to run through Carlos’ curls, while Carlos’ skated up and down his sides. 

When T.K. pulled away and moved to kiss Carlos’ neck, Carlos felt himself sag a little bit into his boyfriend’s embrace even as reason tried to take over. “T.K.,” he said weakly and then swallowed hard as T.K. nipped at his earlobe. “T.K. we have a lot to unpack.”

T.K. paused for a moment to look up at him, lips swollen, chest heaving, eyes full of mischief and desire. “I live here now right?”

“Yes.”

“Then it will still be here to unpack later.” T.K. said, attacking Carlos’ mouth once more, reaching for the bottom of his shirt and stripping it off over his head in between kisses. 

And Carlos gave in. Because he always gave in to T.K. Because he loved this crazy, slightly reckless, sexy man he’d chosen to share his life with.

T.K. moved Carlos backward toward the stairs and then had to catch him because Carlos stumbled over a box of what was probably more of T.K.’s shoes. The man had so. many. shoes. “See, this is why we should unpack first,” Carlos said breathlessly. “This place is a fire hazard.”

“Mmm…pretty sure I’m the former firefighter in this relationship and I think it’s fine,” T.K. said before he leaned in and whispered something so dirty in Carlos’ ear that he forgot how to breathe for a moment. 

“Well I guess the bed is unpacked,” Carlos managed as T.K. grinned, proud of how much sway he had over his boyfriend.

“See, now you’re thinking.” T.K. grabbed his hand and tugged him up the stairs. Carlos smiled that stupid, besotted smile that only T.K. could cause and let himself be pulled along. If this was what living together was going to be like, he could get used to it.

                                                XXXXXXXXXXXXX

T.K. stormed through the front door, letting it slam shut behind him as he hurled his backpack to the floor. “Whoa,” Carlos said, looking up from where he was sitting on the couch. “What’s wrong?”

T.K. bit his lip and put his hands on his hips. “My dad cancelled his fucking surgery.”

Carlos set his book down and sat forward. “What? Why would he do that?”

“I don’t know!” T.K. threw up his hands in exasperation. “I only found out because Mateo told me. Apparently the night after I moved out, the two of them got all liquored up and my dad just…confessed all these things to him. Including that he is no longer scheduled for surgery.”

T.K. paced back and forth, so agitated he could hardly see straight. “He lied to me. Again.”

“Hey,” Carlos got up and gently put his hands on T.K.’s shoulder to stop his frantic movements. “It’s going to be okay.”

T.K. looked up into his eyes, tears pricking at his own. “I don’t know if I can do this anymore,” he said desperately. “Carlos I—”

“It’s all right.” Carlos wrapped his arms around him and pressed his lips to his hair. “It’s all right. I’ve got you.”

They stood there for several long moments as T.K. breathed through the whirlwind of thoughts assaulting his mind. When he finally pulled back he felt calmer, but something like grief still sat heavily in his stomach. “God I swear, sometimes I wonder if he’s ever told me the truth a day in his life,” he said with a sniff, wiping at his eyes. 

“Sometimes parents aren’t very good at being parents; even when they love us,” Carlos murmured, cupping T.K.’s face gently and running a thumb over his cheek. 

T.K. closed his eyes and let his head fall against Carlos’ shoulder, Carlos’ arms tightening around him in another hug. “I just don’t get it,” T.K. said. “Any of it. Why he didn’t just schedule it in the first place. Why he didn’t tell me that he cancelled it. God, it’s like he thinks I’m always about three seconds from a bender. No matter how many times I tell him I’m good he hides things from me. First the cancer, then the baby, now this.”

“For what it’s worth, I don’t think it’s about you,” Carlos said. “I think he can’t handle his own feelings about it. So instead he hides the truth. From himself as much as you.”

The words soothed his raging spirit in the way that only Carlos could. T.K. looked up, frowning slightly. “How do you always know the right thing to say?”

“Lots of practice talking down angry suspects,” Carlos said, cupping the back of his neck and pressing a quick kiss to his forehead. “Come on. I made bolognese. You’ll feel better after you eat.”

Carlos started to walk away but T.K. caught his hand and pulled him back, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. “Thank you,” he said.

Carlos smiled and brushed a hand over his cheek. “We’ll figure it out. I promise.”

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T.K. leaned his head back in the passenger seat a sigh escaping him. Carlos looked at him tentatively from the driver’s seat. “Are you sure you want to leave like this?” he asked.

T.K. blew out a breath. “No. What I want is for him to see what a freaking idiot he’s being and how much the whole team cares about him so that he reschedules the stupid fucking surgery and we can be done with this.” He shook his head. “But he’s too god damn stubborn for that so we may as well go home.”

Carlos turned the car on and they drove home in near silence. He could practically feel the anger and confusion and sadness pouring off of T.K., but the best he could offer was a hand to hold at red lights.

“I think I need some time by myself,” T.K. said when they got home, defeat in every line of his face, the heavy sag of his shoulders.

“Okay,” Carlos said. “I’m here if you want to talk.”

“Thanks.”

When Carlos had first met the Strands he’d been envious; they seemed so close. Weird for sure, but a tight knit unit, the way a family should be. Nothing like the awkwardness he’d felt for so long around his own parents; constantly worrying that he would slip up and say something that would cause them to push him out of their lives putting a strain on their relationship.

But the more he saw of Owen Strand and the more T.K. revealed about his past, the more Carlos saw the cracks. T.K.’s constant need to please, his tendency to shut others out, all brought on by the emotional loss of his dad at such a young age. And the way Owen tried not to bother T.K., not to involve him in any of the more sordid details of his own life, to pretend that everything was a-okay at all time, probably as a result of his own regrets and guilt over T.K.’s choice of coping mechanisms in pills and booze. 

They loved hard, but it was a broken love.

He heard the shower turn on as he checked his email and then busied himself with tidying up the kitchen and living room. They still hadn’t found a home for everything of T.K.’s so he did a little sorting and rearranging, but it was mostly him just trying to keep his hands busy so that he could pretend to ignore the gnawing worry in his gut about his boyfriend.

When an hour and a half passed and T.K. still hadn’t reappeared Carlos started to get concerned. He didn’t want to cross any boundaries, but he was also conscious of how T.K. tended to shut down when upset.

“T.K.?” he called as he walked up the stairs.

There was no response and it caused Carlos’ heart to beat faster as he reached the top and walked down the short hallway to their bedroom.

T.K. was sitting on the floor next to the bed, knees drawn up to his chest, hands covering his face. “Hey,” Carlos dropped beside him so they were shoulder to shoulder, wrapping an arm around T.K.’s shoulders, his other hand coming to rest on T.K.’s knee. “Talk to me.”

T.K. took a shaky breath and leaned heavily into Carlos’ side. “I shouldn’t have left him. This was a mistake. I should have seen it. All the signs were there and I missed them. It took Mateo one night to figure it out.”

“T.K. he didn’t tell you. Did he give you any indication when you suggested moving out that he was upset about it?”

“No. No he was supportive and happy for me. But I should have known that he couldn’t handle it on his own. Heck the last time he got bad news he moved us across the country. My mom leaving…it’s tearing him up. And then I left him too, all alone in that house without anybody but a dog for company.”

Carlos sat with him quietly for a moment. “T.K. what do you want?”

T.K. looked up at him confused. “What do you mean?”

“Do you want to go back and live with him? Because if you do, that won’t change anything for us.”

“No. God, no I…” he swallowed. “I want to be here with you.”

“Your dad is a grown man, T.K. His feelings are not your responsibility or your fault. If he’s struggling, he needs to be strong enough to get some help. Just like you did.”

T.K. blew out a breath. “It’s crazy how he thinks that telling me things will make me fall off the wagon when really it’s him not telling me stuff that drives me to the edge.”

“Do you need me to take your wallet and keys tonight?” Carlos asked quietly.

T.K. shook his head. “No. No I’m okay. I…being here with you is enough.”

“He’s going to get through this,” Carlos told him. “Your dad is a good person. And smart. He’s going to figure it out. And I’m with you every step of the way, whatever that looks like.”

T.K. looked up at him. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” He nudged T.K.’s shoulder. “You know what would help distract you right now?”

“What?”

“Dealing with all these boxes we never unpacked because someone insisted on having move-in sex.”

“Or,” T.K. countered. “We could have ‘my dad is making stupid life choices and I’m upset about it sex’ instead.”

Carlos wrinkled his nose and laughed. “Yeah. As much as I love having sex with you, I don’t think either of us should be interested in that kind. Come on.”  He pulled T.K. to his feet. “Someone has to figure out where to put Marlon Blendo.”

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A/N: I swear it did occur to me until many hours after I wrote this that talking about things being a fire hazard in the condo is...very foreboding considering what's coming in a couple weeks. Ah well! Also I have a personal head canon that Carlos is a big reader, so that will likely be making appearances in future fics.

#911 Lone Star #Tarlos #Carlos Reyes #T.K. Strand #Tarlos Fanfic #Emotional Whump #Missing moments fic #And a little bit of smexy times #In Between the Highs and Lows There's You and Me #911 LS 2x10

[professormembranexreader]

Membrane x Fem! Reader x Clembrane (OOO BABY A TRIPLE)

TW: Toxic Relationships, Mental Illness, Roleplay, Degradation, BDSM

(Y/N)'s POV

It was weird, what we had. It wasn't the norm, but things couldn't be too normal when there is a failed clone of a man along with said man living in the same household.

The norm was very different in the Membrane home. Instead of a nuclear family system,  Membrane allowed Clem to be a second father to his children. Meaning I was unofficially married to both of them. When one was busy, the other was there to spend time with me. Not to mention it meant the kids had more chances to play with their dads.

In reality, the only con was the cooking situation. Both of them were cooking disasters. One made toast with a blowtorch and the other made semi-edible pudding appear out of nowhere. Needless to say, neither were allowed in the kitchen. Due to that, I did all the cooking. Which lead to a good thing about the situation. Every meal, we would eat as a family. And it was comforting to know that no matter what I made, it would be better than anyone else could do.

But I still had my doubts. I try to be a good wife for my husbands. I spend time with the kids with them, I cook for them, I occasionally clean... but it never feels good enough. No matter how much I kid myself, Clem isn't human, and Membrane cares about science more than he cares about me.

It wasn't the norm, that's for sure. But it was our norm. And the closest we could get to a real family. After all this talk, I should probably say where they are. Membrane was going to be coming home any minute now and Clem was currently outside with the kids. I didn't feel like joining them, so I was preparing dinner.

Lately, Membrane has been bringing home his work attitude—not the friendly goofball I fell in love with. He was distant, and more reserved. Outgoing, still, but he was different. He didn't treat me like a wife—more like that of a coworker he was having an affair with.

Distantly, the door slammed. He was home.

"How was work tod-" he cut me off before I could finish.

"Office. Now." His smooth baritone voice whispered. I set down the potato I was peeling and followed him to his office. He only ever ordered me around like that for sex.

My eyelids drooped. I wasn't feeling it right now, but maybe I would once we got into it. It may happen. Even if I had the strength to say no, he wouldn't take it as an answer. I slowly trudged my way to his office.

He was waiting for me. He cleared off his desk and shoved me on it. It hurt.

"You want that promotion?" He asked. So this was our roleplay this time. It took everything in me to shake my head yes. He yanked me off the desk and forced me onto my knees.

"Then you better get to work." I unbuttoned his pants, unzipping them as well. His cock's outline bulged through his underwear and top. It was stuck standing vertically via the waistband. I pulled his boxers down and it landed right next to my mouth.

I took a deep breath and sighed outwardly before running my tongue across his length. After a few licks, he grew impatient and forced me to suck on his dick.

He groaned as I began to hum against him. "Estás como una puta, ¿sabes?" He said. It hurt, but I didn't let it faze me. I just continued to suck and hollow out my cheeks. "Apuesto que te encanta el sabor de mi semen." He moaned out.

Each dirty comment both dampened my mood and my panties. While I hated it, it never failed to get me wet. I began to whine on his dick. The vibration sent him over the edge and caused him to cum in my mouth without warning. The saltiness caught me off guard; I almost gagged.

He wiped some semen off of my lips and kissed me, tasting himself. In this motion he lifted me and carried me up by my thighs and started to go to the bedroom. Despite my safety being secure, I held onto him for my life. We broke the kiss and panted, gasping for air. He continued to carry me to the bedroom as he laid kisses upon my neck.

He pushed the door open and threw me onto the bed. I went ahead and took off my clothes as he did the same. Once we were down to our underwear, he got on top of me and pinned my hands above my head.

He dragged his tongue across my neck, making me shudder in anticipation.  "Me dejas regresar el favor, mi amor." He whispered into my neck. "Quiero."

"Then go ahead." I breathed. He released my hands and shifted his head towards my sex. He spread my legs like butter. He stuck out his tongue and licked up and down my vagina before entering. I felt him from inside me. Tasting me. Teasing me. He shifted my hips and prodded even further. My hands clutched his hair as he pleasured me. The constant sensation of his tongue pulsing within me drove me crazy in the best of ways. I tried my best to stifle my moans and whimpers, but was only partially successful. It was enough for the kids not to hear at least.

It wasn't long before I lost myself to him. I felt my eyes cross as a knot in my stomach began to unravel. And just like that, I came on his face. He lapped up what he could hungrily. After he decided he was done, he lifted himself up and looked me in my eyes.

"Te cogeré muy fuerte, verás estrellas para meses." My face was already flushed, but it somehow got redder at the saucy Spanish.

He smirked, put a condom on, and began to position his cock to line up with me. I was still coming down from my high when, using his hand, he lifted me up by my ass and sheathed himself in me. He paused momentarily to let me adjust, but after that, he was ruthless. He began at a brisk pace, pumping inside me like there was no tomorrow. Maybe he wanted it to be over with. Maybe he was just doing this to get off. But it didn't matter. In the moment all that mattered was us. My nails clawed his back, leaving long red trails down his shoulder blades. He continued to thrust while I tried to keep quiet. If we were lucky, Clem was rebuilding the "spaceship" the kids found and no one would hear.

The act continued until he managed to hit my G-spot. I bit down sharply on my lip and tasted blood. He got the hint and re adjusted his position so that he would be focused on that point. Recklessly, he slammed into me. Over. And over. And over. The familiar knot reappeared and was dangerously close to coming undone.

"Babe- I'm close!" I choked out between moans. He grunted a small "mhmm" and kept thrusting. It quickly turned sloppy as he picked up the pace. A few moments later, I came once more. Seconds later, I felt the condom fill inside me. It was still weird how much cum he actually produces.

Carefully he pulled out and tossed the used condom in the trash. I was still splayed out on the bed as he began to pull his clothes back on.

"Where are you going?" I asked in a moment of clarity. He looked at my trembling form and continued to walk away.

My heart broke as I heard his heavy footsteps echo through the halls. I covered myself with the bedsheets and softly began to sob. I felt used. Abandoned. Neglected. Tears stained the sheets as I heard another set of footsteps near the door.

"Have you come back here to taunt me?" I barked. I pulled the sheets up to cover my breasts as the door began to open. It was Clem. I reached out for him and he came rushing to me.

"What's wROng, (Y/N)?" He asked. (I'm gonna get sick of writing his voice I'm already telling you.)

"He just left me here, Clem." I sputtered. "He fucked me and then he LEFT!"

Clem put a comforting hand on my back and began to rub circles. He let me cry openly into his broad chest as I mumbled about what had happened.

"I didn't even want to do it in the first place! I was just cooking dinner and he said-"

"Shhhhh. (Y/N). YoU nEEd to cAlm dOWn." He didn't looked me in the eye when I finally stopped crying. I tried to meet his gaze, but he kept avoiding me.

"Please don't ignore me, Clem." I mumbled, barely above a whisper.

He took my head in his rounded hands and said in the softest voice he could, "(Y/N). I wOuld nEVer lEAve yOU."

I looked up to him with pleading eyes. "Never?

"NEVeR." He said. I smiled as one last tears rolled down my cheek.

I embraced him the best I could. "Thank you, Clem," I began. "Thank you so much."

He returned the hug and placed his head on top of mine. I heard him whisper several sweet nothings as I began to drift off to sleep.

He pulled away slightly, before I tugged him closer. "Stay with me. Please." I begged. I didn't want to be left again. I didn't think I could handle it.

I scooted over and made room for him on the bed. I gently patted next to me in hopes that he would lay down next to me.

He hesitated, but decided to do it. He laid down next to me and we started spooning. I heard a surprised gasp from Clem when he pulled my closer underneath the sheets.

"(Y/N)!" He whisper shouted.

"Yes, Clem?"

"YoU'Re nAked!!!" I couldn't help but laugh at his childish nature. I turned towards him and pressed myself closer.

"Yes, Clem. I am naked." I laughed. He was so precious and pure. If the the neighbor boy really did make him, he managed to get the best parts of Membrane in there.

"ShOUld I bE nAked??" He asked. Once again, a giggle bubbles up from my throat.

"Only if you want to, Clem. Only if you want to." I said, reaching out and writing something on a sticky note.

"I'm gOing to kEEp mY clOthes On, thAnk yOu vERy muCH." He said, turning up his nonexistent nose to the idea of dressing himself down.

I turned back at him. "Then you don't have to." I snuggled closer to him. He was practically a nonhuman heater.

Smiling, I placed a kiss on his chin as I got comfortable. I smiled. This is what our relationship should be, Miguel. This is what I need it to be.

And though I may not have it with you right now, I'm happy to have it in with Clem.

Outside POV

Miguel cleaned up the half prepared dinner and ordered Foodio to come out of retirement and make something once more, to which he eagerly accepted. For the remainder of time before the food was ready, he simply worked.

Gaz eyed her dad suspiciously as he ate. She was smart enough to know what happened. And she was smart enough to know he should have stayed.

Once Dib left to go back to terrorizing Zim, she confronted her father about it. The argument between the man and his child got heated. Gaz finally convinced him to check on (Y/N).

Trudging up the stairs, he opened the door to see (Y/N) and Clem cuddling and sleeping together. On the nightstand, there was a post-it note with (Y/N)'s handwriting on it.

"I miss the times like this, Miguel. We need to come back to this."

That night Membrane got into bed with them. It wasn't much, but it was the start of him trying to be there.

#writing #membrane #professor membrane #professor membrane x reader

[greenninjagal-blog]

Happy Little Stars

Hello Lovelies! I’m back with more of the Alien au! If you missed the previous parts you can find them [Here] on Ao3!

Previous: [Stars Die (But We Don’t)]

Start: [The Space Between Us]

Summary: Virgil is Happy. Logan helps him realize how much. (ft: Anxceit, gays in space, and good feelings)

Words: 6885

Quick Taglist:@alias290 @chelsvans @coyboi300 @dante-reblogs @dwbh888 @glitchybina @faithfulcat111 @felicianoromano @harrypotternerdprincess @holliberries @jemthebookworm @killerfangirl3 @mrbubbajones  @musical-nerd18 @nonasficcollection @stricken-with-clairvoyancy @the-sunshine-dims @themagicheartmailman @themultishipperchild @thenaiads @treasureofpriam @vianadraws @welovelogansanders  

Read on Ao3 || General Writing Masterlist

Virgil stretched out his shoulders as he walked into the kitchen area. It was somewhere between too-late and why-the-fuck-was-he-awake-this-early o’clock and his body was bemoaning it. But Space revolutions and rotations had long since thrown off his circadian rhythm. He wasn’t sure how much he was sleeping compared to how much he’d been sleeping on Earth: he hadn’t exactly been abducted with a watch and different planets regulated time by different intervals. 

Logically Virgil knew that one rotation of a planet was one day, and one revolution was a year, but aliens used the word “Qisannu” to describe minutes, but their minutes were something like 84 seconds and their hours (“Phisannu”) were about 42 quisannu each and Virgil had decided that he was perfectly happy not knowing what time it was, ever. Logan had been very interested in how humans told time but had gotten distracted by the finger multiplication Virgil had been doing while trying to explain it all and they had never gotten back on track.

The point was that Virgil had slept and that even in the expanse of Space, the Final Frontier(™) he was still not a morning person. Janus and Logan were already up though: the former sipping tea from Patton’s secret stash and the latter reading off one of the Interspace Nook-like devices that usually brought news of the important type to them while sitting at the table quietly.

Virgil gave a blurry, still sleepy nod in the direction of the living beings and shuffled over to the cabinet where food was stored. He poked around for a moment before picking out some weird substance that Roman had specifically told him not to eat. It had reminded him of Jello, but the flavor was more towards cough syrups than fruit. They had picked it up off a distant planet and Roman had nearly paid thrice the amount of griot for it. Virgil didn't see what the hype was, but it was substance and he was hungry and really Roman had practically invited him to take it when he said don’t even look at it, you Deathworlder!

“I was thinking,” Janus started. “Rozario.”

“Rozario?” Virgil echoed.

“Spanish origins to remind us of Spanish class where you repeated embarrassed yourself every single day--”

“Seriously,” Virgil said, “Can’t you wait until I wake up to insult me?”

“--And it's elegant. Listen to it: Virgil Rozario, Janus Rozario.” He paused for emphasis as Virgil blinked at him slowly, “Really it's my favorite so far--”

"FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THINGS SCIENCE!" Logan yelled, "I CONCEDE! I GIVE UP!"

At any other moment this would be a momentous occasion. Logan, the smartest of the Tenekarie, the most feared alien on this side of the cosmos, the relentless scientist, finally admitting defeat. Virgil hadn’t thought that Logan even knew the Common words for "give up" much less how to use them in a sentence. He was passionate and determined and once he set his mind to something there was a better chance of stopping a black hole’s gravitational pull than getting him to back down.

And yet, at stupid-early o'clock on their mostly silent spaceship in the middle of completely silent Space, hearing Logan scream at the top of his lungs was not what Virgil was expecting nor was he prepared for.

"What the fuck!" The human growled from on the floor surrounded by the remains of his breakfast, whatever alien food it was. “Actual fucking Hell! Logan!”

Janus looked down at him from his delicate perch on the table, humming into his cup of tea like he hadn't also startled at the sound of Logan's exclamation and poured half his drink on the ground. "Oh dear," he said innocently, intentionally, asshole-ishly. "That's quite a mess there, Virgil. You should really be more careful."

Virgil flipped him the bird, which of course only made him laugh. He ignored it in favor of turning back toward Logan. The alien was dancing with lights all singing so brightly it was near hard to look at and with so many colors Virgil's empty stomach attempted to rebel.

"What the Hell, man?” Virgil squinted and raised a hand to blot out the sight, while his heart was fluttering like a butterfly over a fucking venus fly trap. “What's wrong?"

Logan's lights briefly concluded, shutting off like he was taking a deep breath and then flickering back on at a less intense, less violent pace. His lower arms crossed themselves while his upper arms kneaded the table. 

"You!" Logan snarled, "You two are my problem!"

Virgil's shoulders tensed and his back straightened and every single thought of his when careening out the goddamn airlock in the void. Because, yeah, this was it! This was the start to every single nightmare Virgil had ever had since joining the crew: Logan the only one who had wanted him around, the one who brought him here and gave him a place to stay, the one was now fed up with him for something he didn't realize he was doing wrong and now going to kick him off into space or sell him back to the Welsors or something equally terrible that Virgil can't even imagine because he's not entirely space savvy yet. And the worst part would be that Virgil didn't even know what he was doing wrong! And he dragged Janus into it by default which meant Janus was getting the same punishment and then Janus would hate him for getting them into the same mess all over again and Virgil can withstand a lot but the mere idea of Janus sneering at him and pushing him away had hislungs shrinking right there in his chest, shriveling up as a way to make it easy for him to just die--

Janus slipped off the table in a fluid motion and landed softly next to Virgil. He placed a hand on Virgil's shoulder blade but used the other to help clean up some of his dropped breakfast and the slipped tea with a towel he materialized out of who knows where. "Breathe," Janus's words ghosted into Virgil's brain without him actually having to say them. "Breathe and relax."

Logan let out a frustrated screech again, "I do not understand! You both are confusing me!" His lights flicked again harshly around his neck notches, "Please just tell me: what is the human greeting custom?"

"The what now?" Virgil asked all eloquently out of breath and strained and near dying. His heartbeat was thumping in his throat, like a frog and no amount of breathing could get the foggy panic to subside.

Logan, though, appeared to be oblivious to his plight. He pulled out a pocket notebook, and flipped through it angrily. "Roman reported that when you two saw each other you had- and I quote-- "open mouth kissed in the grossest display of love I have ever seen, you should have been there Lo it was terrifying seeing Virgil looking so emotional" end quote. However!! I have been documenting your interactions on the ship and out of seventeen times that you two have greeted each other, only six times have those been with kissing and only twice has it been with tongue--"

"OKAY!" Virgil screeched, cutting him off. “That’s enough Science for today and probably tomorrow, too!” 

Logan plowed on like he hadn’t even spoken, “--On the days that you two do not greet each other with a kiss, your interactions range from a nod, to actually speaking words, to brushing a hand over one or the other or to becoming hostile-- although Patton has informed me that those last interactions may be considered as “play fighting” or “flirting”. As you can see there is a large amount of inconsistency--”

“Oh my god, Logan,” Virgil begged, “How long have you been watching us?”

“Eighteen days, six phisannu, and eleven qisannu.” Logan recited.

“Jesus…” Virgil dug his chin into his chest and forced himself to exhale long and slow. Eighteen days? That was just about when Janus and Remus had first come aboard. Now that he was thinking about it….yeah Logan had been watching them closer than normal. Virgil had been so distracted by Janus being alive and breathing and not dead, that he had written off most everything else. 

Speaking of, he peaked up at Janus, at Janus’s stupid smirk and his shaking shoulders and realized, the jerk was laughing. 

“You knew about this?” Virgil accused, launching a hand in the distressed Logan’s direction.

Janus held up a jiggly cube of alien food and ever so sweetly winked at him. “I had my suspicions. He is hardly subtle when it comes to taking notes.”

“And you let him?!”

“Who am I to get in the middle of a scientist’s project?”

Logan gave another frustrated screech and tossed his upper arms into the air. “So you’ve been intentionally messing with my observations instead? You have been manipulating my data! No wonder I cannot get a significant answer!”

“You could have just asked us,” Virgil groaned. He grabbed another Jello-like cube and put it in his empty bowl. His stomach growled faintly at the smell of them, because while they tasted like cough syrup they gave off the aroma of fresh strawberries. Was it wrong to want to eat them off the floor? Surely Patton had just cleaned the kitchen and really Virgil had eaten worse back on Earth and hadn’t died. Could he die of alien germs?

Janus plucked the next Jello cube from his hand and put it in the bowl as if he knew exactly what Virgil was thinking and taking action against it like the killjoy he was.

It was hard to make out Logan’s exact expression because of the thick light blocking glasses he was wearing, but Virgil thought he could guess. Tenekarie expressions were similar enough to humans that he could see the “I’m regretting everything” look from galaxies away.

“Roman told me that it was rude to ask a human about their customs,” Logan said.

“And you listened to him?” Janus asked, not at all delicately. Logan made a series of noises in the back of his throat that sounded suspiciously like an engine dropping out of warp drive.

“Roman literally calls us Deathworlders,” Virgil pointed out.

“Roman is also more experienced in the customs of other species than I am,” Logan said, stubbornly. “I am perhaps one of the only ones of my kind to venture off world. Social niceties of other species do not make sense to me.”

“Logan, you literally taught me how to speak,” Virgil said. “All you had to do was ask. I would tell you anything.” And it wasn’t even a lie. If Logan asked him to explain the governing system from back on Earth, Virgil would begrudgingly rack his brain for all he knew about the Electoral College from eighth grade Government class.

“But you greatly dislike talking about humans!” Logan snapped his pocket notebook closed, his upper hands twisted in the air like he wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do with them. “I do not know much of anything about human expressions and culture, but your mood greatly decreases when Earth is mentioned and you are caused great distress when any one of us attempt to uncover knowledge of your childhood.”

Virgil was well aware of the eyes on him: both Logan’s hidden light sensitive ones and Janus’s curious heterochromic ones. He plopped another cube in the bowl and stood up, measuring out his breaths as evenly as he could.

“I mean, I guess--” Virgil tried to play it off like his mind wasn’t furiously fighting off unwelcome memories, like he was perfectly fine and there was nothing wrong with where this conversation was going at all, period. “You could have still asked.”

Logan’s face pinched. “What sort of friend would I be if I caused you intentional distress?”

Janus didn’t say anything, just sat back on his hunches and watched Virgil with that critical gaze of his. Virgil could barely even remember the last time Janus had to analyse him for information. Was it before the Robotics Show from Hell or later when they were lying on the floor of Janus’s room for the first time so sleep deprived that they were enjoying each other's company? It was the look he used when he was picking apart words and tone and emphasis and intention, the look he used when he was weedling his way into someone’s mind and figuring out how they thought, the look he used when he was filling in gaps of information without needing to ask.

Virgil didn’t necessarily hate when Janus did it to him, but it made his body go rigid and his eyes stiffly avoid contact and connection and all the things that amateur profilists used to determine when one was lying and telling the truth.

Virgil sighed out another breath, “Alright, alright.” He left the bowl on the counter and sat down in one of the chairs at the table, opening his palms to Logan. “Ask your questions.”

Logan’s lights slowed, flooding purple and green with dashes of red in between, Northern Lights style. He tapped two of his four fingers on the table across from Virgil as if he wasn’t satisfied with Virgil suddenly opening up. 

“I do not want to bring harm to your emotional status,” the alien said.

“Whatever he doesn’t want to answer, I will,” Janus offered, pulling himself up off the ground and brushing imaginary space dirt off his pants (which were actually Virgil’s, because they still hadn’t stopped somewhere to pick up supplies. Not that Virgil was complaining. Janus calves really stood out in the slim fit). Janus smiled without teeth and Virgil saw Logan doing an extensive overthinking process before finally nodding.

“Okay,” Logan said. “What is the normal way for humans to greet each other?”

“Depends,” Virgil said. 

There was a beat of silence, before Janus huffed and sat himself on Virgil’s lap. “What he means, Logan, is that humans have a lot of ways to greet each other based on their relationship to one another. The closer the relationship the more personal the greetings tend to be. I might greet a new acquaintance with a handshake, but hug a close friend or ruffle the hair of a younger cousin.”

Logan scribbled something in his notebook, which Virgil knew from experience was in ancient Tenekarie language as well as in a code that only Logan knew the key of. Supposedly it helped keep all his information organized and prevented theft but they had yet to encounter someone willing to fight Logan for his information.

“These things change between humans,” Virgil added, “In some families it might be normal to kiss a relative on the cheek, and in others that can be weird or uncomfortable. Between cultures too.”

“Cultures?” Logan repeated, “How many cultures are on your planet?”

“Please don’t make me count them,” Virgil said. 

Janus shuffled so he was better seated in between Virgil’s thighs. “Perhaps it's easier to explain like this: if there is something for humans to disagree over, there is a different culture for it.”

Logan stopped writing to look up at them. When neither of them corrected each other he hummed. “That sounds truly chaotic and ill designed.”

Virgil shrugged, “Its not all that bad.” He carefully carted his fingers through Janus’s hair. It was soft, a little greasy because it had been a day and a half since he showered and he smelled like the healing aloe even though the scars on his face were as healed as they were getting. Still he was warm to the touch and Virgil felt himself practically melting into him.

“Sometimes it's really cool,” Virgil said. “You meet people from an entirely different way of life and if everyone doesn’t suck, you get to learn something new.”

“Suck?” Logan echoed confusedly, but Janus warded it off with a wave of his hand and a sip of his tea.

“Many cultures,” Janus summarized, “Many ways to greet each other. Next question.”

Logan accepted the answer with all the grace of the Tenekarie. “From my observations, kissing is a very personal act. This means that you two have a very personal relationship, correct?”

“Yes,” They answered together.

Logan nodded. “So what is your relationship?”

Virgil’s fingers froze midway through their path in Janus’s hair. “Uhhh…”

Janus frowned, and looked back at Virgil. Even now their faces were less than a couple inches apart and his breath smelled pretty awful, but Virgil didn’t think he could push him away even if all life in the cosmos depended on it. It was something about his eyes-- always about his eyes. Virgil had probably made a million metaphors and similes about his eyes before and he could probably make a million more and still not manage to capture his quintessential essence of him.

It was nearly embarrassing as all hell. Middle School Virgil who righteously suffered through all English classes would be completely mortified to know that he had turned into a poetic sap who liked to make love songs out of the way that Janus’s lips taste and the rhythm of his heartbeat. All those times he had ripped up his own emo writing and now he was trying to figure out if “vivacious” rhymed with “Janus” because there was no other way to describe how his heart was acting any time the other boy fluttered his eyelashes.

Maybe words weren’t enough, maybe they would never be enough. Janus would probably know better anyway, because he knew so many different words in different languages, but Virgil would rather eject himself into space than admit all those very real, very mushy, very gushy emotions in his head. 

Maybe that was the reason why Virgil was breathlessly staring into Janus’s eyes scrambling for an answer he wasn’t sure even existed.

Poor little Virgil, who never got a chance to tell Janus how he felt three years ago and now chased him down in Space and still couldn’t get the words “I’m super fucking gay for you” out unironically. It wasn’t like Janus didn’t know. Virgil knew he knew already. The words weren’t necessary between them, when they could look at each other and recognize that they’d do anything for each other.

How can he put a name to that? Virgil didn’t think there was a name. 

The emotion in his chest, the burning desire in his heart, the hum in his soul that finally settled when Janus was next to him-- those weren’t things that Virgil thought had a name. It wasn’t simple to explain, not like sadness, or anger, or fear.

It was dangerous, Virgil knew. Because it was the emotion, the feeling, the urge that made him want to bend over backwards for Janus’s smile, that made him bullheaded enough to sneak over the mansion walls into the Ekans Estate and climb the trellis to the Janus’s bedroom window, that made him want to pick out Prom Tuxes and dream of a perfect world where Janus’s parents didn’t hate the mere idea of Virgil. Virgil had done stupid things for the sake of Janus’s real smile already; what was stopping him from doing more? What was stopping him from doing stupider things? Virgil would fight the whole world, dozens of worlds, thousands for the sake of Janus.

And Logan wants him to define a dedication like that in a simple relationship status?

“Oh my god,” Janus said, staring at Virgil, “You are way over thinking this.”

He rotated on Virgil’s lap and faced Logan with a look of determination that Virgil was honestly a little terrified of. “Our relationship is Fuckbuddies, okay? Fuckbuddies with emotions.”

“EXCUSE ME,” Virgil yelped, “What?!” 

“Fuck.” Janus said, “Buddies.” Deliberately. Slowly. Cheekily. “Am I wrong, Virgil?”

And oh. 

Virgil was right there, right next to Janus’s lips, right next to his wide eyes and soft, very kissable lips, right next to--

And then suddenly he was closer.

Kissing Janus was like setting himself on fire, but in a good way or whatever. Virgil didn’t know. In a single breath Janus managed to make him stupid, caused him lose focus of everything around him, drew him in and held him tight in his clutches until Virgil honestly forgot what his own name was. All that matter was Janus, Janus’s hands cupping Virgil's face, and Janus’s sneaky clever little tongue was darting between Virgil’s lips, searching for a gap between his teeth--

“Pardon my interruption,” Logan said. Like a beacon of light in the middle of a rainstorm, like the fire alarm in the middle of the night, like Janus’s mother knocking on the door to ask why he’s still awake when Virgil is not welcomed in her home and he’s currently lounging on the bed next to Janus. 

Virgil yanked back on instinct and Janus gave him a toothy, smug grin in return. The boy in his lap patted Virgil’s cheeks, and licked his lips again because he was an asshole and Virgil was very much blushing across his entire face. 

“But what exactly is a-- What did you say?” Logan tapped his pen, “A Fuckboodie?”

“A fuckbuddy,” Janus repeated the English word which he did not bother to try and convert to any sort of alien language. 

“Yes,” Logan said. “That. What is that?”

Virgil was so lost in the sensation of Janus running his thumb over Virgil’s lips, of the sight of Janus looking all coy on Virgil’s lap, twisting just ever so much….he totally completely missed what Janus said next.

The next thing he knew Janus was plucking himself out of Virgil’s lap drawing his fingers across the underside of Virgil’s chin and walking away with a sway in his hips that definitely wasn’t there before and definitely impossible to look away from. He was hypnotizing all the way out the door and out of sight.

“--Virgil?” Logan said.

Virgil blinked twice. “What the fuck just happened?”

Logan adjusted his glasses, “Janus said that you would be better suited for answering what a fuckboodie was… are you okay?”

Virgil couldn’t help but laugh, “Asshole.” He shook his head slightly, but he couldn’t keep that stupid smile off his face. Absently he wondered if his cheeks should be hurting this much from smiling. When was the last time he smiled this much? Had he ever?

“Virgil, I will admit, you are starting to scare me,” Logan said. “It is very unlike you to act so…aloof and whimsical. Ever since I have known you, you have been very direct and, well, possibly paranoid. Is there perhaps a pheromone that Janus is giving off that is making you like this?”

“Pheromone?” Virgil repeated to make sure he heard that right, “Pheromone? Humans don’t give off like pheromones-- at least I don’t think they do? At least not pheromones that other humans can really pick up on. I think I read a Wikipedia article about some basic stuff that suggested early humans did but Janus can’t and doesn’t-- I’m not acting weird.”

Logan didn’t say anything and Virgil felt the weight of his own words come careening back down on him. Like a guillotine. 

“Okay, maybe I’m acting a little weird,” Virgil allowed, with a sigh. He gently touched the underside of his chin where Janus had drawn his fingers. The ghost imprint of his fingertips made him shiver and maybe hold that stupid fond smile longer than he meant to. 

Logan wrote something in his notebook with the fluidity that made Virgil certain he was writing down possible pheromones types. 

“Janus and I are not fuckbuddies,” Virgil blurted out, if only to distract him. “We’re uh...what’s the word…” Boyfriends. Lovers. Stupid Idiots. Best Friends. Don’t they all mean the same thing between the two of them, anyway? “Partners.”

“Romantic partners?”

“Yes.” Virgil said. He picked up Janus’s abandoned tea and twisted the tea bag around his finger. “Yeah.”

Logan tracked the motion, as shown by the tilt of his head and the press of his lips together. The lights racing through his body slowed further into a contemplative tempo, something that someone could slow dance too, not that Virgil was thinking of slow dancing or anything. He was a scorned poetic, not a masochist.

The tea tasted like Jasmine although Virgil doubted any planets this far from Earth produced the plant they were used to. 

“You are happy,” Logan stated. Which very much sounded like an unchangeable fact than a guess or an observation. 

Virgil blinked at the sudden change of tone, but he nodded carefully. “Yeah?” 

“Janus makes you happy.” Logan stated again.

“Yeah,” Virgil answered again. He couldn’t help but feel like he was taking a test suddenly, like Logan was his Spanish Teacher and he was being graded on his pronunciation in front of the entire class, like there was a lot riding on his every answer but he couldn’t figure out the trick that was going on.

Logan tapped his writing pen on his notebook, and drummed two fingers from another hand on the edge of the table, much like Virgil’s actual Spanish Teacher when she was about to fail him. 

“I am causing you distress,” Logan said leaning back, “I apologize. My line of thinking was not intended to make you uncomfortable. Through my observations and with the help of your answers I am formulating conclusions--”

“That is way too much thinking for this early in the morning, Logan.” Virgil told him, shifting slightly. “Really too much--

“Were you unhappy?”

Virgil froze. 

He felt his blood run cold and turn to ice crystals in his veins, cutting off all feeling to his extremities. He felt the warmth disappear from his cheeks, felt the air in his lungs come to an absolute stop and the vacuum of space suck away every moderately decent feeling he was having. Virgil had never been tossed out into space but he figured that this feeling was pretty close to how his carbon based body would react to Absolute Zero.

“We have known you for two years,” Logan continued, talking much like he was the dam and the words were the water breaking through his barriers and drowning them both. “Ever since we picked you up from TS-1219, you have portrayed a certain personality: you don’t smile, despite having told us that humans smile to show happiness, you’ve always held yourself at a distance and been closed off about your past. You have always been a difficult person to get to know, although Roman, Patton, and I have put forth a valiant effort to befriend you, Virgil. However in just the short time Janus and Remus have been on our ship, you have-- you have--”

His upper arms writhed in the air with hopelessness bordering on frustration that was covering some other emotion Virgil couldn’t quite pick out and was afraid to pick out. This was Logan, and he didn’t do “hopeless”. He had a plan for everything. He was the anchor in the storm, the calm in the chaos, the reassurance in the panic. When Virgil had lost everything and everyone, Logan had shown up and pulled him out of that dark place.

“Were you unhappy?” Logan asked quietly with all his lights going dark, “Did we make you unhappy?”

Virgil's mouth moved, but the lack of oxygen in his lungs twisted his insides into a mess, wriggling like a knot of snakes that were devouring each other. Before he even knew what he was doing he sprung across the table, catching Logan in the Cosmos’s Most Awkward Hug ever. Janus’s stupid tea spilled again but Virgil couldn’t have cared less about getting hot leaf juice on himself when Logan was sitting across from him wondering if he was the reason that Virgil had hated living for so long.

Logan was larger than him, but Virgil fit his arms between Logan’s upper and lower ones and held him as tight as he could, tighter than he could, tightly enough to convey all the words he couldn’t articulate. He buried his face into Logan’s crystal collarbone just as Logan’s probably completely confused, maybe a little terrified arms circle back around to tentatively hold him back.

“Vir...gil…” He whispered. “What…?”

“No, no, nonono,” Virgil said, “No, Logan. I wasn’t-- I’m not-- I swear--”

There was something warm trailing down his cheeks, and it took him a half a quisannu to realize, oh, those were tears. His tears. 

He was crying. 

Logan floundered his upper arms. “Virgil you-- your eyes--!”

“I’m sorry,” Virgil said.

Logan made a hysterical noise in the back of his throat, running lines of agitated lights up and down his arms. Virgil could feel the warmth of them as he pressed his face into Logan’s chest, like holding his palm to a birthday candle. The alien smelled like dish soap-- the fancy stuff that the Ekans kept in their kitchen that made the best bubbles at two in the morning when they were trying to clean up any signs that they had been making cookies.

“I do not understand why you are apologizing,” Logan said desperately, “Please do not apologize! I was the one who asked--”

“I’m sorry,” Virgil said again, “That I made you… fuck, Lo...Did I really…?” He sucked in a dangerous breath, an urgent, determined, dire breath and forced it back out. 

“You guys made me so happy, Lo,” Virgil told him. “You don’t… you really don’t know how happy you guys made me.” 

Because they did make him happy. They made him so stupid happy. Virgil’s favorite memories were the ones where Patton was hopping around the kitchen, experimenting with new foods and sweeping everyone else in to dances, the ones where Roman was polishing his sword collection and telling the corresponding tales for each weapon, the ones where Logan read off science tidbits to the room and got excited for new experiments in testing, the ones where the others let him play around with their broken electronics and he created something ultimately useless but that the others were so amazed over. They were the memories that bandaged up the gaping wound in his heart and finally allowed it to heal over, the ones that reminded him he could smile, that there were still things to smile about. 

They pulled him out of the black hole of despair he’d fallen into, they brushed the Welsor fighting ring’s dirt off of him, and they accepted him-- even when Patton had started out so terrified of him and Roman was so distrustful and Logan was struggling to climb that language barrier between them. 

When Janus had disappeared from Earth, Virgil had been left empty. The three of them had filled him up again.

And they hadn’t asked for anything in return for it.

Virgil wasn’t sure how to tell Logan that in definite words, in concrete breaths, in a way that didn’t dredge up the memories of who he was before Logan, Patton, and Roman. Because he was sorry he ever made them doubt how happy Virgil had been with them, that he made Logan so scared he had to ask the question out loud, that he hadn’t realized his actions could have been perceived that way at all.

Sometimes Virgil forgot as alien as they were to him, he was just as much as an unknown to them.

There were a billion, million, trillion stars in all the galaxies and Virgil would give them all up for the sake of the people he called family. Screw Earth and the Human Race; Virgil had already decided he didn’t want to save his own last name. He didn’t want the people that he had grown up with. 

He wanted the three aliens and Janus and hell maybe even Remus too, when the guy stopped trying to sell them to the Space Pirates of the Caribbean. He wanted to travel and see nebulas, watch the death of a star and the formation of a sun and all that stupid stuff he never thought he was ever gonna see. 

He wanted to be able to turn around and grasp at the nearest person and ask “Are you seeing this?! Isn’t it so fucking cool?!” Because that was his deepest desire, what he saw in the Mirror of Erised, what he would be happy doing for the rest of his tiny, insignificant life. 

There was a thin line between being content and being happy and Virgil had walked on the far side of it for most of his life. Before Janus, he had clawed his way through his parent’s disappointed gazes and he had resigned himself to being content on the days where they’d rather ignore him than ask him if he had gotten any better at kissing his teachers shoes. Before Janus’s death, he had been content with those stolen late nights with Janus and happy with the cherished few hours he could get away with. 

Before, before, before. Virgil had been content with what he had. He wrapped himself around those things that brought him warmth and he held onto those memories even when they burned him-- even when Janus’s ghost had been laughing in his ears and he had torn himself apart missing it, he clung to the concept of it. He had been content once upon a time, and he was content knowing that even if he had never reached that state again.

But now?

Now, he was more than content.

He was happy. 

Because Janus wasn’t dead and he had Logan, Patton, and Roman who wanted him around. Because he was in space and learning new things. Because it was everything he had never dared dreamed of and more. 

“Oh Great Disney,” A voice behind them said, “What did you do to him, Pocket Calculator?”

Logan shifted slightly, but he did not go as far as to try to remove Virgil from clutching him. Even from behind closed eyes, Virgil could tell he was giving off purple flashes in regular slow inverals, the type that usually calmed Virgil down when he was waking up from a nightmare and couldn’t get imaginary alien blood out from under his nails.

“I ah… I’m afraid I’m not entirely certain,” Logan admitted. “He mentioned that perhaps I was doing too much thinking this early in the rotation.”

Roman-- Virgil couldn’t think of another person who’s footsteps could sound so dramatic other than Janus, but Janus didn’t have a tail-- let out a huff, “Yeah well! I would also burst into tears if you started talking about warp cores and all that junk before I got my Shishdouble.”

“Is that what this is?” Logan asked tiredly. “Crying?”

There were some sounds of things being pushed around, cabinets being opened and closed; Roman must have been looking for food. A specific type of food. The food that Virgil had already poured all over the floor and then cleaned up hurriedly and placed back on the counter.

“Uh yeah,” Roman said, “Seriously, what did you say to him? Virge, whatever it was, I’m sure he didn’t mean--where is my Shishdouble?”

Virgil gave Logan another, last tight squeeze and untangled himself from the rocky alien. He was a little wobbly standing back up, but he managed and he even got to rub away the slight tear tracks on his cheeks.

“Sorry, Lo,” He rasped out. 

Logan was peering at him curiously and Roman, too, now. The latter had a spoon in his mouth and was watching from next to the counter, his bone plates clacking together in what Virgil thought might have been surprise.

It took Virgil a moment to figure out why. He was sure he looked great: his bed head was probably still in effect and he was wearing a sleep shirt with too many holes in it, not to mention the way his face grew blotchy when he cried and the red rim to his eyes. 

But even through all that, he was smiling. Teeth and all. Oh God, when was the last time he smiled like this? Had he ever?

“You broke him!” Roman hissed.

“I didn’t--!!” Logan snapped back.

And Virgil laughed. It felt a bit like he was letting go of a weight he didn’t know he was holding, like an invisible straight jacket being cut off him, like he had been drowning his entire life and just now came up for air for the first time. 

“S-sorry,” He laughed between gasps for breath, “I-- oh fuck, god, sh-shit! I’m sorry!”

“Don’t let Pat hear you say that,” Roman said, “You’ll make both his hearts give out with such strong language.”

“I have already said this, but it bears repeating,” Logan said, “You do not need to apologize, Virgil. I appeared to have overstepped your boundaries with my personal questions and that is my fault. I should be apologizing to you.”

“Disney, guys,” Roman moaned. His tail knocked against the counter, “Just how deep did the two of you get this morning? Its only the seventh Phisannu.”

Virgil laughed again, shorter, lighter. 

Because he was happy.

Not just content with things, but happy. 

Happier than he thought he had ever been.

“To answer…” Virgil said, looking at Logan, “to answer your question, Lo, I am the happiest fucking man in the galaxy. I am living my best life. If I die right now I will have, like, no regrets at all.”

Logan and Roman shared a look. Roman sucked on his spoon for a second before popping it back out and using it to point at him. 

“So this whole…. “Pleasant personality” gimmick is sticking around?” The Erefren asked, sounding damn near disappointed. “You’re much less entertaining to make fun of when you’re upbeat.”

“You like kicking men when they’re down, Princey?”

“Only when they attempt to steal the 350 griot Shishdouble that I bought for myself and specifically told them not to even think about taking.” Roman pointed to Virgil’s abandoned bowl of jello like cubes. They jiggled in accordance with the barely recognizable power of the distant engines.

“Who says I wasn’t getting it for you?” Virgil asked sweetly. “Maybe I was being a decent person!”

Roman blinked several times, twisting between Virgil and the bowl. Virgil could see the moment his suspicions melted away: Roman’s telltale tail started wriggling in the air behind him dangerously close to lodging into the cupboards (Which, unfortunately would not have been a new occurrence, but Virgil doubted that Patton and Logan’s combined budget plan included funds for new cabinet doors. Again.) His face flushed purple in a way that suggested he was letting himself be flattered and he picked up the bowl delicately.

“Oh, well,” He said, “That was really nice of you, Vee. This “kind actions” routine is different but I think we could all certainly get used to it! Needless to say no small actions will go unappreciated under my watch from here on out!”

“You trust me way too much,” Virgil told him as he took an exaggerated bite of his stupid cough syrup tasting Jello.

“Wait what--”

Logan winced from his spot at the table, “He poured that all over the floor.”

“Unapologetically,” Virgil added, because being nice was overrated and watching Roman get an impressive distance with his spit take was his new favorite breakfast event. 

The Erefren pawed at his purple tongue and spit the rest of the half eaten Jello on the floor. He cursed in his native language, growled something in Common, and threw the bowl back on the counter. 

“You heathen!” He cried. “You don’t mess with a man’s food! Don’t you know how much that cost me?”

“Is now a bad time to tell you I used the last of your shampoo last night?”

Roman’s bone plates clicked and then fanned out, oozing the red toxin that his race was known wildly for. He growled, baring his teeth and took a threatening step towards Virgil. 

“I’ll take that as a “no”,” Virgil said, and offered a quick double thumbs up to Logan, “Like I said, no regrets!” Then he sprinted towards the door back to the inner bowels of the ship. 

Roman let out an Erefren warcry and charged after him.

Erefrens were fast, but Virgil was faster. By just a little bit. It also helped that Virgil was able to dodge the sleepy Patton coming around the corner when Roman tripped right over him-- if the series of thuds and slew of curses were anything to go by. Virgil thought about turning to check but then a bone lodged into the wall mere inches from his face and the flight instincts kicked in again.

“Hey Pat! Bye Pat!” Virgil yelled.

“Careful!” Patton’s voice called after him. “No Running in the halls--”

“I’m gonna eject you into Space, you Deathworlder!” Roman bellowed drowning out the rest of Patton’s helpful advice. “My Shishdouble! Virgil! Have you no honor?!”

And yeah, Virgil thought that if every morning started like this for the rest of his life….he wouldn’t mind it. At all.

Out here in Space? He was happier than he thought he could ever be.

#sanders sides #Virgil Sanders #Janus Sanders #logan sanders #roman sanders #Alien Au #anxceit #platonic analogical #Sympathetic Deceit #eighteen pages of Virgil being a happy boy in space #humans are space orcs #sometimes I just want them to be happy #okay? okay #1am editing spree #rip Romans Shishdouble #and his shampoo #Virgil being a little shit #wow I said fuck a lot in this

[thatesqcrush]

Soul Savin’

Rafael Barba x Reader. AN: Taking a lot of liberties and using a lot of prompts and part of a challenge here, specifically: @madpanda75‘s “from your smutty prompt list, can you please do “Friends don’t do this kind of shit!” where Barba and the reader go to a bar, have some tequila, then do some body shots” as well as @delia26‘s “I turned out liking your a lot more than I originally planned.” Finally, using Jewel’s “Who Will Save Your Soul” as part of @thefanficfaerie‘s birthday challenge. AN2: Trying to write through grief is weird AF. Apologies in advance for typos & nonsensical shit. 

CW: language, eventually it’ll be NSFW. Angst, slow-burning, fluff. A mixed bag. 

WC: 2K

***

Rafael was surprised to find you at the bar. Normally Forlini’s was his choice establishment. He had been handed a difficult loss so he decided to go five miles upward from home and work. It was a desperate attempt to get away from it all and away from anyone he knew. You were drowning your sorrows with some kind of alcohol – he couldn’t tell what it was. Your back was slumped, your shoulders were curved, and your head was hung low.  You appeared forlorn. It had rained earlier in the day and your hair, which had been perfectly coiffed earlier, was messily undone. Your shirt clung to your skin and Rafael surmised you must have been caught in the earlier rainstorm that took place. He had heard the brontide during his travels.

“Detective Y/N,” Rafael greeted as he took the bar stool to your right. “I see you started without me.”

You looked up at the prosecutor who you’ve come to work so closely with. You gave him a half smile. “What are you doing here?” you questioned, not bothering to greet him.

“I wanted to get away from everyone,” Rafael replied as he motioned to the bartender to come over. You raised your brow at his response - seemed you two had something in common.

“What are you drinking?”

“Grouse,” you replied to which Rafael crinkled his nose. His eyes scanned the array of bottles behind the bar and when the bartender came over, he ordered Bruichladdich Black Art neat – one for you and one for him.  “How you can drink that swill is beyond me,” he retorted.

You narrowed your eyes. “Not all of us have deep pockets counselor. Some of us are broke like a joke.”

Rafael huffed slightly as he handed his card over to the bartender. “Keep it open,” he requested. He waved slightly over your way and instructed the bartender that he would pay your tab. You began to protest but Rafael shook his head, insisting. “Broke like a joke right?”

You swiveled in your seat and turned around, your back to the bar. You watched as the other patrons mingled about. You took a long languid sip of the scotch and let it swish around in your mouth. You appreciated the complex notes and hummed your approval. “This is good. Really good.” Still, as impressed as you were, your voice was quiet, and he could hear the regret and disappointment in your voice.

Rafael cocked his head, looking over at you. Fifteen years his junior, Rafael was completely fascinated with you when he first met you a year and a half ago.  You had made your own lateral move to SVU, transferring over from homicide. Rafael would watch you out of the corner of his eye, admiring your intelligence and quick wit. You showed empathy for the victims. You had a keen sense of skirting the law but were always able to maintain its integrity. A lot of the time, you drove him – and sometimes your commander – ostensibly crazy. To top it off, you were beautiful. Whenever he was in close quarters with you, he felt enchanted, like a moth to a flame.

“Don’t take it so hard,” Rafael replied quietly, trying hard to ignore how your shirt clung to your dampened skin and what it did to him. “You did all that you could. Your testimony was solid.”

You snorted in response before taking another pull of your drink. “I like to think that I knew exactly what to do – with this case. How to approach it and how to solve it. I have the skill, I could see the path, the steps and I keep thinking… why couldn’t the jury see it?” You tapped your temple - your eyes were brimmed with unshed tears. Eventually one lone tear betrayed you and traveled southward. Rafael resisted the urge to cup your face.

You cast your eyes over Rafael, watching him with intent – his strong jawline, his distinguished nose, his pink lips, his seafoam green eyes. If you squinted hard enough, you could make out his five o’clock shadow which stemmed from his greying temples. It was too much at times. His handsomeness was churlish and discourteous.

Working with Rafael was as the cool kids said, wild. Never in your career had you met someone who was so emblazoned and passionate by and of, the law. He was guided both by the spirit of the law and by the letter of it. You were not sure as to when your torch for Rafael was set ablaze, but it was. The embers in your heart were rekindled when you met him. You initially pushed those feelings aside, focusing on work. For you, things in homicide seemed – easier almost; the majority of the time it was black and white. Not in SVU. It was as if you had to work harder to prove the victims, were indeed the victims. The grey, the ambiguity, the dubiousness of consent. Sometimes securing justice was victorious – and other times, like now, it felt fleeting. You worked with a stellar team and you learned so much; it made you a better detective. As complicated as SVU was – so were your feelings for Rafael.

The bar which had been quiet, began to fill with patrons. You looked at the clock and surmised happy hour was starting early.

Rafael set his drink down and unbuttoned the cuffs of his shirt and rolled up his sleeves, showing off his muscular forearms. You took a deep breath and focused your view on the now empty glass in front of you. You motioned for the bartender to refill your drink.

“So, what are you doing here?” you asked as you leaned forward to pluck a cherry from the garnish caddy. “You don’t live this far up, do you?”

“No.” Rafael replied, as he leaned over to snatch the cherry from you. You gave him a pointed look and he gave you a small smile, his eyes crinkling in response. He popped the cherry in his mouth and chewed thoughtfully. “I used to come here back when I worked corporate.”

“You used to work corporate?” you sputtered. You grabbed a napkin and wiped your face and shirt, feeling your face grow hot with embarrassment. “When?”

“How do you think I can afford these suits?” Rafael retorted. He waved his hand, “Don’t answer, that’s rhetorical. I worked in mergers and corporate acquisitions after graduation. They say loyalty lies where money is tied. And for awhile, I stayed. I was fortunate to get a free ride, so I was able to save up. I didn’t have to worry about debt.” A look so subtle flashed across your face that Rafael was not even sure he even caught it.

Rafael continued, “Eventually, my mother needed help with my abuelita; she was getting older - more frail. Like the good little Catholic boy that I was... you know, guilt and responsibility - I came home from Cambridge and worked in midtown to be close by. The work was good, but unfulfilling. I wanted to do something where I could use my Spanish and feel connected to the world. There was a lead on opening with the Brooklyn D.A.’s office, and that’s how I eventually ended up here. The hours were better. I could be with my family more.”

“Well boy wonder, I wish I could say my story was half as good as that. But there is not much to tell,” you replied. You took Rafael’s drink from in front of him and kicked it back.

“Tell me,” Rafael implored. “I want to hear it.”

“Why?” you questioned defensively. “We’re not friends.” ‘We’re not anything.’ you continued in your mind.

“We are friends. We’re colleagues after all. I’m friends with Liv… and don’t tell anyone, because I will deny it, but Carisi too.”

You cocked your head at Rafael’s response. You momentarily sobered up and nodded. “Okay.” And so you did – you told him how like Carisi, you did your own five borough tour – starting in Brooklyn where you grew up and then moved to Queens to go to St. John’s. You moved in with your boyfriend after graduation and lived in the Bronx. But that romance while long lived, caused heartbreak and from there you enrolled in the Academy. You worked your way through and through before you made your move to  SVU.

More drinks were had. At one point, Rafael and you both decided that food was desperately needed to sop up the liquor: bacon wrapped onion rings, pork belly sliders and nachos were just some of the things you both gorged on while continuing to talk. Hours were quickly spent.

You stood up from your seat and felt unsteady. Despite your attempts to fuel, the alcohol had already taken a grip on your system. Your mind was fuzzy and your tongue was starting to feel numb. Two large hands gripped your waist to steady you. You felt your face heat up once more and you mumbled your thanks.

“It’s late.” you replied, feeling his breath on yours. You wondered if Rafael could feel how quick your heart was racing. All the time spent together tonight had only further fueled your feelings. “I should go.”

“Not alone. You’ve had a lot to drink.”

You cocked your brow. “I can take care of myself, Rafael.”

“I wouldn’t feel comfortable. You know the work we do; the people we come across. If something happened to you because you weren’t sound…” His voice was low, filled with concern.

You grabbed his forearm, bringing his attention back to focus. “Okay, okay. You’ll see me home then.”

Rafael paid the open tab and escorted you outside. He stepped off the curb and flagged down a taxi. You managed to mumble your address to the driver and Rafael was pleased to know you actually lived close by to him. He wondered why you chose a midtown Manhattan bar to congregate at.

The cab ride was mostly silent. Finally, the cab came to a stop. Rafael again, took care of the fare and he accompanied you to your apartment door. You fumbled with your purse and it fell to the ground, scattering its contents. Rafael helped you gather your stuff. He handed you the keys and he let out a low hum as your hands touched ever so briefly. You opened the door, and leaned against the doorway. “Thanks for the drinks and thanks for getting me home.”

“You’re welcome Y/N,” Rafael replied looking past your shoulder, allowing a brief glance of what your apartment was like. It was compulsively neat - like his. 

“I’ll see you Monday.”

Rafael nodded, the corner of his lips twitched into a smile. There was something about it that unsettled you - but in a good way.  You shut the door and leaned against it. Confusion settled in. You felt as if everything you consumed was ready to upchuck. Rafael let out a breath as the door shut with a click.

As fate would have it, it began to downpour on the walk home. Rafael quickened his pace through the city streets, getting soaked to the bone. Finally he was back at his own apartment. He slumped against his own door, feeling defeated not just in his court case, but in other matters as well.

He finally pulled himself away and dried off, slipping into black light-knit sweatpants and a Harvard t-shirt. As he settled into bed, his phone buzzed. His heart began to pound - almost foretelling his oncoming hangover as he realized he had a text message from you.

I meant what I said; thanks for everything tonight. It was fun amigo. We should do it again.

Rafael’s dreams that night were filled with longing and desire for you. It was in his dreams, he was with you and he woke up the next morning, filled with bitterness for the unattainable. He just didn’t know that your sleep was fraught with similar dreams.

TBC.

Tags: @madpanda75 @youreverycolor @tropes-and-tales @neely1177 @thebabybookworm @mrsrafaelbarba @skittle479 @ottosuricato @delia26 @sass-and-suspenders @mommakat32 @dreila03 @beccabarba @garturbo @lovebennycolon @imjustreallynosy @sweetsummertime99 @whyissvuruiningmylovelife @scarletsoldierrr @cesarofangirl78 @redlipstickandplaid @redlipstickandblacktea @zoeykaytesmom @differentshadesofgray @misssirenlove @esparza-army @bananas-pajamas @mishaissocoollike @fanficfaeriesrafaelbarbalibrary @theenchantedgalleryofstories @thefanficfaerie @trekinthruthestarwars @catnip987 @choppedgalaxynerd @pieceofshittytitty @melsquared79 - anyone else, just ask.

#rafael barba and reader #barba and reader #rafael barba x you #rafael barba x reader #reader x rafael barba #rafael barba fanfic #rafael barba imagine

[thaliagrayce]

@ephemeren​ this is your fault, I couldn’t stop thinking about that one post and this happened. I changed Annabeth to Piper, because falling into hell and all that.

Jason rolled the blob of wax he had just been handed between his fingers, squishing it around a bit.

“Sirens around here, Sparky. Gotta stay safe.”

“Right.” He looked up in time to see Piper, who was standing just outside of his cabin door, form her own wax ball into two little wedge shapes and shove one of them into her ear, grimacing as she did. “Everyone else already taken care of?”

“All but one.” She smiled at him as she tucked her hair behind her other ear and maneuvered the wax past her piercings. That was gonna be Hades to get out later.

“Shouldn’t you wait to—” Too late. She gestured at her stopped up ears and smiled as she shrugged, holding out one last lump of wax. She smacked his shoulder and moved further into the ship, peeking around corners as she went. He leaned out of his door to watch her make her way toward the engine room.

“It’ll be fine! I got it!” She was a little too loud in the weird silence of the ship, but she probably couldn’t tell.

Jason raised an eyebrow, but if she said it would be fine, it would probably be fine. Piper didn’t play around with her friends’ safety—or her teammates’ safety, if they weren’t quite friends yet. She was probably planning something.

Jason looked back at the wax. He did not want to put that in his ears, but it wasn’t like he had any other options. Earplugs hadn’t been on the provisions list they needed when they left camp. Seemed like an obvious oversight now. He would remember that if he ever found himself on a transatlantic ship to the Mother Sea again.

From the depths of the ship, he heard Piper shout “LEO!” followed by a loud bang and a stream of Spanish that Jason didn’t quite understand, but he didn’t have to know the language to know the meaning. He huffed a little, smiling at the obnoxious laughter that covered up whatever else Leo was saying. Yeah, it was fine.

He stepped back into his room and made his way to the window, absentmindedly squishing the wax. They were nearing land of some sort, but he wasn’t really sure where—their nautical navigator was otherwise occupied at the moment, so their positioning was questionable at best. He only really knew that they were nearing land because of the fog rolling out toward the Argo II. It wasn’t like that on the open ocean.

The open ocean also didn’t have sharp talons of dark rock sticking straight out of the water, hidden by said fog. A dark triangle about his height jutted up from the waves only fifteen yards from his window. His throat suddenly felt a lot drier than it should have, surrounded by all this humidity. It was probably just paranoia from all the everything happening, but it felt like that rock was staring at him through the window. Lurking. Waiting.

“Jason!” He whipped around, forgetting about the menacing rock almost immediately. That was… That hadn’t been Nico’s voice, it couldn’t have been. Jason had only heard him speak louder than a murmur once, and that had been a very stressful situation for the both of them. It was also pretty unlikely that Nico would call for him, specifically—if he wanted anyone on the Argo II right now, it would have been Hazel. He took a step forward without really thinking about it. Nico had a distinctive voice, scratchy from disuse and lightly accented, even after years of living in the States. It was hard to replicate, he knew. He had once walked in on Leo and Piper having a contest to see who could say “blueberry muffins” in the most convincing Nico imitation.

“Jason! Please!”

He sounded scared. If that wasn’t Nico, someone on the ship was using their hidden talent in the worst way possible. Jason stumbled in his haste to get to the door, hanging off the frame and looking frantically down both ends of the hallway.

Nobody else was responding to the call. He didn’t even see anyone else looking. His breathing was coming too quickly, his heartbeat kicking like a rabbit. He forced himself to take a breath. He couldn’t be there for Nico if he couldn’t breathe.

“Nico? Where are you?”

“Jason!” The relief in his voice was audible, but he still sounded scared. “Up here! Come quick, I need—”

His call was cut off suddenly, changing into a mangled scream. Jason’s insides turned to ice. He was sprinting before he knew it, cursing how far his cabin was from the stairs that got him abovedeck. There wasn’t much that would pose a real threat to Nico, but he still wasn’t eating much, and the circles under his eyes had been a little darker for the past couple days—how had Jason left him alone on watch? Had no one else noticed how tired he looked, or did they just ignore it? He was halfway there, but he wasn’t going fast enough. He summoned a harsh breeze to help push. Nico was finally opening up to him, trusting him more. Their friendship had looked like it might actually be going somewhere. Oh gods, if anything happened to Nico because Jason was too careless or absentminded to give him the support he needed—

Something hit his back hard just as he got to the bottom of the stairs, sending him toppling over instead of up and out, where he needed to be. He let out a snarl and flipped around, fist already flying at whatever it was that was keeping him away from a potentially hurt Nico—

And he found Nico blocking his punch, gritting his teeth against the impact. He had caught his fist and was glaring at Jason, dark brows pulled together sharp enough to form wrinkles between them. Above them, Nico’s voice called out again, strangled and more afraid than Jason had ever heard it.

“Jason, save me! Please! Help!”

This had to be an impostor, he trusted that voice without question. It was hard to tell, though. It was a good impostor, one that paid attention to the little details. His lips were chapped, and the top one was curled enough to show his offset tooth. His hair was a little greasy and pulled back into a half-pony, like it usually was when Nico took to training. He even smelled like Nico, the floral deodorant he had stolen from Hazel mixed with teenage boy and something that reminded Jason of cold.

There was a muffled scream above him, snapping Jason out of it. Nico needed him. The real Nico. He shoved hard at the impostor, but he was on his back on the stairs—not the best angle. He would have to fight dirty for this.

The impostor shoved him back and jammed his bony knee into Jason’s chest hard enough that it would probably bruise. Both of his hands scrabbled at Jason’s fist, prying his fingers open. Jason tried to buck him off, but he put more weight behind his knee. Jason could see his mouth moving, but the blood rushing through his ears drown out whatever he might be saying.

He clawed something out of Jason’s fist and shoved it in front of his face, panting for breath. It was a lump of wax. Jason had forgotten he was holding that.

The implication washed over him like an ice bath. Nico’s voice called to him from above again, but he was already reaching out for the wax, watching his hand shake. He fumbled with the wax badly enough that Nico took it from him, less frantic now. His knee had let up some of the pressure, but there was still enough weight behind it to keep him down. Jason couldn’t take his eyes off of his face, the flush in his cheeks from the brief fight. It hadn’t been anger on his face when he tackled Jason—he tackled Jason, tackled him to save him from his own stupidity—it had been concern. He had been concerned for Jason.

Nico handed him two lumpy and lopsided wedges, but they would work. Jason took them, shoved one into his ear.

“Jason, please!” The voice above grew in desperation, becoming almost breathy, tinged with something else. Longing? Jason jolted on instinct, whipping his head to the square of cloudy sky he could see above them. What if this Nico actually was an impostor?

“Jason, I—”

Wherever that sentence was leading was cut off suddenly. His head felt weirdly floaty, the pressure inside it stopped up by wax. Jason looked back at Nico, practically in his lap, one hand right next to his left ear. He must have shoved the other wedge in there himself. His dark eyes were wide and locked on Jason, his chest rising and falling shakily. Jason was helpless to do anything but stare up at him, pressed up against the stairs. He realized his hands were still shaking. The rest of him might have been, as well.

Sirens. He knew they were a danger, he knew they were entering siren territory. He hadn’t thought they would get there that soon.

Nico pulled his hands away from Jason’s face slowly, palms out like he was trying to calm Jason down. He made the “okay” symbol with one hand, dipping his head in question, eyes still locked on Jason’s.

Jason took a moment to consider. He still felt the pull from above, even though he knew now that it had been the sirens calling him. Their magic had been stronger than he was prepared for. Weren’t they supposed to sing, anyway? He swallowed once, hoping some of the residual panic would go with it. He nodded.

Nico took his knee off of Jason’s chest and stood at the foot of the stair. He held his hand out to Jason.

The song of a siren sounded like whatever would get their victim off the boat and into their clutches the soonest. Nico’s eyes were darker than anything else Jason had ever seen, and they still looked concerned, under the eye bags and the tense atmosphere. They were beautiful. Objectively. Jason reached out and took the hand Nico was offering, hoping that if his palm was clammy, the other boy would assume that it was from the siren experience.

Maybe it was from the sirens. He gave a shaky smile to Nico, mouthed “thanks”. Nico looked down and nodded, then jerked his thumb toward his own cabin and gave Jason a wave. It was clear that he didn’t expect to be followed. That was probably a good thing, Jason needed a little time alone.

The sirens knew that he would respond to Nico’s call above anything else in the world. He hadn’t even known that himself. His door was still open at the other end of the hall, and he made his way to it without really paying attention to his surroundings. Above Piper and Leo, who he considered his best friends. He had known the two of them better than anyone else on the ship. Above Frank and Hazel, who shared a home with him, who told him stories about New Rome that made him feel a step closer to remembering the missing pieces of himself. Above Coach Hedge, who was without a doubt the most helpless person on the ship—the one who would actually plausibly be in danger if left alone. (That one wasn’t much of a surprise, but still.)

That last call hadn’t even been a call for help. Sure, it could have been—”Jason, I” could have ended many different ways—but Jason knew where it was going. Jason knew what the sirens were tempting him with, and the knowledge left him feeling as if everything in his head and his chest had been moved two inches to the left.

He finally got to his door, stared inside. The window stared back at him from the far wall. The rock spire was gone, and all he could see outside was fog over the water.

He was a little in love with Nico di Angelo. What a way to find out.

#jasico stans have some food #(it's me i'm jasico stans) #thank you ren for this beautiful idea and thank you for letting me write it #i love these boys with my whole ass heart #jasico #hoo #pjo #jason grace #nico di angelo #mj talks #my writing #i like to think he didn't even realize he liked boys before this

[euariel]

⟨ ARON PIPER. CIS MALE. HE/HIM. ⟩ though the mist might prevent some from seeing it, ARIEL MUELLER is actually a descendent of H E R M ES. it’s still a question of whether or not the TWENTY-THREE year old ASTROPHYSICS MAJOR from AMSTERDAM, NETHERLANDS has taken after their godly parent completely, but the demigod is still known to be quite CHARISMATIC & SELFISH.

STATISTICS

FULL NAME: Ariel Mattiás Mueller de Fonollosa

AGE: Twenty-Three

DATE OF BIRTH: July 27,1997

PLACE OF BIRTH: Bilbao, Spain

GENDER: Cisgender Male

PRONOUNS: He/him

SEXUAL ORIENTATION: Doesn’t know / anything that breathes

RELIGION: Agnostic

ATTRIBUTES

HEIGHT: 5'11

WEIGHT: 170 lbs

HAIR COLOUR: Brown

EYE COLOUR: Brown

TATTOOS: Has a small sun and moon on his chest, has a constellation on his forearm and a wing behind his right ear.

PIERCINGS: Left ear pieced

SCARS: Small scar on his knee from being a child

BODY TYPE: Athletic

PHYSICAL HEALTH: Healthy

             ariel mueller was born in amsterdam to a spanish mother and a german father , or so he thought he was his father but to this day he respects william more than hermes on any good day. his parents were con artists , thieves which is where ariel’s love for thievery began.  ariel lived his whole life with a set of rules so he’d never get caught , but no matter what ariel just seemed to be impossible to catch , trace or anything that could remotely get him caught.  it definitely wasn’t good for the ego , which he had from an extremely young age. however, his father wasn’t so lucky and would often go in and out of jail while his mother would stay watching the young boy. in that time he’d grow close to his mom as she taught him how to gamble and do sleight of hand ---- you know , normal things for young boys.

            their life in amsterdam wasn’t anything extraordinary , his dad was pulling in money by conning and began to teach alex how to fake cashier’s checks and other things at a very young age. after all , no one suspects a child of forgery. ariel went to regular public school , but was a very fast learner , but was kind of lazy.  when he was about six he could remember weird people coming and going from their small home , they were always nice to him but he got curious.  he was pretty handy with a bobby pin ( you would think that a con artist would be handier ) but ariel finally got to see the beginnings of the big plan and he was all in , but his parents didn’t know. 

                ariel’s thievery became more advanced the older he got and he began feeling watched about the age of ten , it was an odd feeling that he tended to ignore but it was still around. his hubris matched hermes , if not surpassed his but at the age of thirteen hermes finally made contact which confused ariel who went to confront his mother.  she told him the truth and he felt conflicted and despite hermes’ offer to go to camp half blood ariel denied because he felt hurt he waited till the last year to make contact.  

                  it wasn’t until he was seventeen , the summer after high school and before his eighteenth birthday that the big plan was finally set to take motion. the big plan was to produce and steal from the royal dutch mint. the heist started on a wednesday morning , his father didn’t want to deal with a large number of people.  his father also didn’t let anyone know ariel was his father — for his safety and assigned everyone roman gods and goddess names his own being jupiter and ariel’s being mercury. things went smoothly and not so smoothly , but they all managed to get out relatively safely with millions of dollars split between the six of them until things went south and his father got caught whale ariel once again got away and he was resentful over the fact that he was safe and his father got sent to prison. his mother stayed home and when he appeared she urged him to go to eonia since hermes had told her his hubris was getting out of control. 

                    so he went to eonia at nineteen, his mother thought he would have done accounting or business but for some reason he was always attracted to the stars. he always did his best work at night and loved learning about astronomy so he decided to become an astrophysics major which he excels at. 

Quick Facts:

he’s a leo — do i need to say more? he’s actually really chill , but is also a little shit raised by a con artist so he knows how to please people.

loves to sing a little too loudly in the shower and play air guitar. He knows how to play actual guitar and cello.

he has major hoe vibez, i feel it

has a very quick mind, almost has eidetic memory but also forgets to take his daily vitamins do i don’t know how that would work

he’s not mad at his dad, he loves him with all his heart, has no problems with loving people — he just doesn’t want to because his heart was broken as a teenager.

but also has commitment issues and an identity crisis almost every month but he keeps those to himself

the heist he was involved in and his capture was really big internationally and only relatively big in the u.s so someone is bound to recognize him

he also thinks he’s always right and is probably more beautiful than aphrodite’s kids and he has no problem telling you. 

Connections: 

fwb

friends who love space too

fellow thieves / criminals

someone to be a good influence

someone who he can be a bad influence to

an ex that lasted like a week max

his platonic soulmate

literally anything pls and thx

#euintro #i love not making graphics bc i dunno how

[casismybestfriend]

are tumblr tags racist?

this is a super clickbaity title to summarize that i thought they were, but it turns out they are not 😅

when i finished watching 911 i reblogged a lot of content from the show, including posts about buck and eddie (buddie). eddie is half mexican and his last name is diaz

on tumblr mobile when you reblog and add tags, tumblr shows you the tags from the op and from the blog you’re reblogging from, to a total of ten tags. if there’s less than ten total, it’ll recommend you your own most-used tags (mine are “not spn,” “gifs,” my queue tag, and so on)

one strange thing i noticed was when i was reblogging buddie stuff, eddie’s name was ommitted from the recommended tags list when op definitely used the tag “eddie diaz”

it didn’t seem like this happened to any other tag, but i soon forgot about it. i didn’t think about it again until i noticed the same thing happened to the tag “diego hargreeves,” the name of another mexican character on the show the umbrella academy

i thought “no way, this has to be some dumb tumblr glitch. this must happen to a bunch of other tags that i don’t even notice or use”

then today i noticed it again with the tag “santa clarita diet,” the name of a show with the name of a californian (ie. ex-mexican) city

this made me check all the tags that did show up when i reblogged posts with the tags “eddie diaz,” “diego hargreeves,” and “santa clarita diet.” the omitted tags are not highlighted:

( @showtimeben @parkerccino @bidoctor i’m using screenshots of your posts and tags as examples. if you’d like me to take them down i will. this isn’t a serious post)

the omitted tags are “diego hargreeves,” “eddie diaz,” “santa clarita diet,” “santaclaritadietedit,” and “myart:santaclaritadiet” (i made videos to prove i did this but i can’t post more than 1 video here and i’m too lazy to make gif versions rn)

so then i thought, “aha!! tumblr tags are omitting hispanic names! i must prove it!”

(as you can see, the tags “buddie” & “buck and eddie” were also omitted, and i made the mistake of ignoring that initially)

i wanted to continue testing my hypothesis by making my own post with some of the tags in question, and more:

here both “eddie diaz” & “eddie díaz” (with an accented í) were omitted. however, the actor’s name “ryan guzman” & “ryan guzmán” (with an accented á) were included. why? guzmán is a very spanish name

test #2:

this time the tags “eddie diaz,” “eddie díaz,” and “santa clarita diet” were omitted, while “david castañeda” & “david castaneda” were included (the actor of diego hargreeves) (also, never spell it the second way, please. ñ is a different letter than n, use them correctly)

i was confused because i thought “castañeda” would surely be identified as a hispanic name, so something else must be going on (remember, “buddie” and “buck and eddie” were omitted, too!!!)

test #3:

this time i added the name “diaz” on its own and i split up the words in “santa clarita diet” to see which would be omitted. “santa” is a spanish word but also the name of mr claus. would racist tumblr tags omit a possibly christmas-related name?

turns out both “diaz” and “diaz” were included...? and if that weren’t weird enough, only the word “diet” was omitted when i split scd’s name in three

instead of focusing on why “diet” was omitted (wake UP! or actually do your homework!), i wondered why it would omit “eddie diaz” but include “diaz.” what about other diaz-es?

test #4:

“eddie diaz,” “diego hargreeves,” and “diego diaz” were omitted, but “carlos diaz” was included

also, “santa clarita diet,” “diet,” and “something diet” were omitted, and “weight loss” was included (i was wondering if tumblr had a thing about diets in general)

and then it finally hit me....... all of the omitted tags have the string “die” in them

test #5 proved this to be true:

so i solved the mystery! tumblr doesn’t hate hispanic names, it just happened to omit “eddie,” “diego,” and “diet” because they had “die” in them

now the question is “why is the string ‘die’ being omitted in the first place?” but i really do have homework to do

#this is what me procrastinating looks like #not spn #my posts

[multiocblog]

Greetings~! Welcome to my blog!

Just a little introduction, and some rules along with it~! ^^

Hello~! My name is Brianna but you may call me Bree~ I like to write stories, and create my own characters and such- It's what makes me happy~! And I love when I get to act like my OCs and interact with people! So, I created this blog~! (Sorry this post is quite long so be ready to read-)

To start out this blog, I have 7 OCs I will be making introductions for, so you can find out some about them, and interact with asks!

I have 2 OCs from Black Butler, 3 OCs from Diabolik Lovers, and 2 OCs from My Hero Academia! (I have many many more OCs soon to be added to this blog once I get consistent and completely settled in!)

Theres a brief intro to each at the bottom of the page!

((I write better than what I did there I swear-))

In the meantime, here are the

Rules:

No NSFW asks PLEASE! They make me very uncomfortable, and any asks I think might be dirty in any way, I will not answer.

Please make sure you put the OCs name in parenthesis or brackets so I am aware of which OC you are talking too! Ex." [To Arabella] I love your outfit! "

Please be kind! I will not accept hate comments or anything of the sort towards a subject, opinion, or an OC!

PLEASE "tag" or label accordingly to anything, slightly, definitely, or mildly triggering, even if you're not sure! I just want to make sure that everyone can scroll through my blog without having to be weary! Ex. [TW death]

Please do not flood the askbox or get mad that I don't answer right away! I can't always be online for I have a life to live outside of social media. This is purely for fun! ^^

Please no asks about r*ape, inc*st, pe*dophilia, or anything of the sort! Talk of those subjects will not be tolerated on this blog!

I am the admin to this account, therefore, I am allowed to reject or ignore ANY ask if need be.

((Rules will be updated, should the need arise.))

Bye for now~!

((OC info under read more!!))

Kyoko Komori (DL) ((OC based off the anime. Though I've heard plenty about the games, I have not yet played them, so if I get some things wrong I apologize in advance.))With Kyoko everything is the same. Yui has Cordelias heart and such and was supposed to be sent to the brothers. However, in this universe, Yui has an older sister, one year apart, whom has also been adopted, except she knows it. When she overhears something about her younger sister, her only sister, being sent away to vampires, she decides to take her place. To protect her.

Alyssa Freeman (MHA) ((I have not watched the entirety of MHA yet, and really I don't plan too anytime soon. So if I get anything wrong please correct me, and spoilers to the anime for me are welcomed. Let's just act like I've seen it all-)) Alyssa hates villains. And heros for that matter. All of them. When her apartment was destroyed from a casualty in a battle, Alyassa labeled heros as reckless and careless of the people around them. Herself and her little brother where heading back to the apartment, when she saw it crumbling down. Her parents and grandparents still inside, along with her best friend who was going to surprise Alyssa with a visit. Now she lives on the streets, doing whatever she can to provide for herself and her little brother.

Ongaku Yamada Aizawa (MHA) ((Again, haven't seen it, let's just pretend I have. Also this OC is in result of a ship. I don't really ship it, but I thought both their powers together would be cool so I thought, why not?)) When Ongaku was young, she was always bullied in 1st and 2nd grade for having two dads. One time, she got in trouble for heavily injuring a student with her voice quirk. You can insult her all you want, but not her dads. So, in 3rd grade, she kept a lie she created, that she only has one dad, Erasure Head Shota Aizawa, and that her mother died when she was born. Turns out the lie worked pretty well, people loved her and she was seen as an icon for having a prohero as a father. Shes was usually a quiet person, kept to herself, no friends, only spoke when spoken too. It was just her, her drawings and her music in her headphones. To this day, she keeps the lie, and keeps her distance, even at her new school, in U.A. (She also develops a major crush on Tenya Iida while there.👀)

Lilly and Lila Sakamaki (DL) ((Just thought I'd make one description for both bc they're twin sisters. This is also result of a ship. Ayato x Yui.)) Lilly and Lila are polar opposites despite their similar looks. Lila loves the cutesy, pink, flower stuff, and Lilly is all "tough" and "all that" (When shes really insecure-) Lilly is extremely protective over her sister, and possive too. She doesn't let any man even glance in her general direction. Basically if a man wants to ask Lila out, hes gonna have to go through some interrogation. Lila loves her sister deeply, and is basically like her sisters personal therapist. Lilly will only vent and show emotion around Lila. Lila tries to get her sister Lilly into pink, but with no prevail. Typically, you'll find Lilly hanging out with "Uncle Reiji", for she has a secret interest in his experiments and such. She'll also cuddle with Uncle Shu whenever she has time. And Lila loves hanging out with Uncle Kanato and Uncle Laito. She'll have tea partys with Kanato all the time. Lilly always tries to get Lila away from Laito. She says he's "demented" and "weird". But, Lila doesn't listen and hangs out with him anyway. Laito and Kanatos typical nickname for Lila is, Lilac or Little Flower. Both twins are vampires. Yui always teaches them about God and how to be selfless and kind, while Ayato plays sports with Lilly and cute video games (like Animal Crossing) with Lila.

Arabella Phantomhive (BB) ((This OC is placed in the future, and based off a ship, Ciel X Lizzy. Please be aware that, even though my OC speaks multiple languages, I do NOT. So, as bad as it sounds, I'll probably use Google Translate if I must use another language-😅 ) When Ciel and Lizzy are older and married, they have a little girl. Half human. Half demon. Arabella was taught how to be a lady, ballet, and sword fighting by her mother. And she was taught chess, ballroom dancing and more sword fighting by her father. Instead of going to a school, little Ara was homeschooled, by Sebastian, the Phantomhive Butler. He taught her multiple languages, such as Russian, Chinese, Japanese, Spanish, and her personal favorite, French. Time skip to the age of 10, she saw her mother murdered before her, and her father taken by some strange light beings. Having been raised by Sebastian since then, now she's 17, running the Funtom company, and determined to avenge her mother and find her father. :)

Robert Trancy (BB) ((This OC correlates with the Arabella OC, and is in the same storyline.)) Robert J. Trancy was his sweet Arabellas betrothed since birth. Even though it is set to be an arranged marriage, Robert always had a crush on his Arabella, and was awaiting the day to marry his beloved. Robert is a sensitive and kind boy, but sarcastic and joking all the same having been raised by Alois Trancy. He has no idea of whom his mother is, and was always told she died when he was born. At the age of 6, it was at a party when he saw his father dead on the floor of the long corridor. He didn't exactly see his fathers death, but he heard it, and knew exactly who did it. Ciel Phantomhive. He was determined to make his revenge. Having made a contract with Claude, his fathers old butler, he now lives alone in the manor, sending all the old servants away, except Claude. He makes frequent visits to his sweet Blue Rose however. He's a very insecure boy, full of anger, bitterness, jealousy, and sadness, but hides it well behind humor and love for his bride-to-be.

That was very long- and for that I apologize-

#new blog #new rp #oc rp #bnha oc #oc #oc x canon #diabolik brothers #diabolik lovers #black butler #sebastian michaelis #diabolik lovers laito #laito sakamaki #ayato sakamaki #kanato sakamaki #my hero fanfic #my hero acadamy #my hero academia #my hero academy oc #mha fanfiction #mha oc #send asks #ask blog #new ask blog #ciel phantomhive

[writethehousedown]

And The Livin's Easy, Chapter Four (Multi) - Zyan

a/n: day 4 is upon us and i tried my best at keeping a balance! hope you like it 💗 thanks to frey for beta-ing. my sideblog is @chachkisalpaca !

It doesn’t take long until Gigi shoots Crystal a DM on Instagram, and Crystal replies with her usual wit, clearly glad to hear from her again.

Their conversation flows naturally, and they hardly let go of their phones throughout the rest of the day. On Gigi’s side, the girls pester her at all times, trying to get a peek at the handle of the mysterious woman she’d hooked up with at the beach — at some point, Gigi locks herself in the bathroom to text Crystal in peace, and only comes out when Nicky threatens to post to her Instagram Stories a video of that one time she gave a motivational talk to a carton cutout outside of the club, completely shitfaced and convinced it was a real woman.

She vaguely tells Crystal that —without going into details about the video, clearly,— and Crystal feels relieved that she and Vanjie aren’t staying at the same room. She loves her friend, but Vanjie snores as loud as she speaks, and Crystal appreciates her personal space, something Vanjie rarely remembers exists.

Crystal checks the weather forecast and smiles upon seeing there’s another full day of heat and sun upon them. Tomorrow they’re going chasing waves at Waikiki along with Vanessa and April, and a thought sparkles in her mind.

She asks Gigi what is she doing the next day, and she replies by saying they still don’t know. Jan has been pleading them to go on this submarine to watch the fishes, Nicky just wants to hit any of the clubs in the city, Jackie and Brita prefer to go back to her uncle’s bar, and Gigi doesn’t even know what she wants for dinner.

She comments, trying to make it as nonchalant as she can, that she’s going to Waikiki with some friends to train, adding that the beach is beautiful and knows a place nearby with great drinks. Gigi sends her a pair of eye emojis before saying that maybe she’ll tell the girls about it.

Crystal goes to sleep with a smile, feeling like a giddy child.

*

“Don’t you think Gigi is acting weird?” Nicky asks Jackie, upon seeing Gigi willfully head to the water alongside with Jan and Brita. Jackie cocks a brow, scrambling to get the sunscreen from her bag.

“Yeah, I think so. I was surprised when she proposed coming to Waikiki, ‘cause, ya know, she hates beaches,” she replies absent-mindedly, triumphantly holding up the bottle and finally pulling her gaze to meet Nicky’s. “Do you think the mysterious woman is here?” Jackie inquires, starting to cover her body in sunscreen.

Nicky shrugs, pulling her knees closer to her chest, watching Jackie closely. She wonders for a moment if this is a good moment to talk about what happened, now that they’re alone, but Jackie’s been avoiding it for weeks, so she really doesn’t know if she’ll be willing to have that conversation.

Before she can say anything, Jackie turns her attention back to her with a sheepish expression.

“Can you help me with my back?” She asks, handing her the sunscreen. Nicky feels her face heat up as soon as she nods and Jackie turns around, the memories flooding back as her fingers spread the cream on her back.

Jackie shivers a little, but stays silent. Nicky exhales a breath she didn’t know she’s been holding and tries to find the right words to express the feelings bottled up in her chest.

But she can’t. She’s afraid she might make things go back to being awkward, as if they hadn’t just moved past that point. There’s a lot of things Nicky wants to say, though, but she’ll just let Jackie live.

“Done,” Nicky musters, setting the bottle aside and wiping the remnants of the sunscreen on her thighs. Jackie thanks her and adjusts her bathing suit as she stands up.

“You coming?” She asks, pointing at the rest. Jan and Brita are splashing Gigi, who just screeches and runs around, trying to escape from them. Nicky chuckles, but shakes her head no.

“I’ll catch up with you later,” she simply replies. Jackie cocks her head a little, opening her mouth to say something. Nicky continues before she can say anything, “I have a feeling it’ll rain,” Nicky explains, and an amused smile blooms on Jackie’s face.

“What? But it’s sunny as hell! And the weather forecast said today would be hot,” Jackie points out, but Nicky just shrugs.

“I have a sixth sense,” she says, matter-of-factly.

Jackie just chuckles, saying she knows where they’ll be if she decides to join them.

*

Crystal bites back a laugh when she meets Gigi, who’s sitting under a palm. She has two smoothies and a shit-eating grin.

“Took you long enough,” she says, handing her the smoothie. Crystal laughs wholeheartedly, settling besides Gigi and leaving her surfboard next to her.

She didn’t lie when she said she takes her training seriously; just because Gigi is hot and they have chemistry, doesn’t mean she’s going to push aside her obligations. At the end of the day, they have a normal life to come back to once the summer is over — and Crystal has a surfing competition to win in five days.

“You won’t be complaining when I win next week and I treat you to a dinner,” Crystal teasingly says, taking a sip from her smoothie. Though she secretly hopes she’s manifesting it into the universe — she could use that money to pay a good chunk of her student loans, aside from taking Gigi to dinner.

“I’ll have you know, I’m not a gold digger and I like complaining. You’re basically fucked,” Gigi replies with a wink. Crystal merely chuckles, bumping shoulders with Gigi.

“Well, if it’s by you, I don’t mind,” Crystal quickly quips, making Gigi snort and spit her smoothie.

“You’re nasty,” she says, smirking, wiping off the smoothie from her chin.

“You like it.” Crystal brings a thumb to the corner of Gigi’s mouth and wipes off some sneaky drops, and the action is so familiar, yet so different, that it sends a shiver down her spine.

Gigi clearly remembers it too, but she doesn’t say anything, just watches her intently with the same hungry eyes as that night at the beach.

There’s something about her that Crystal feels drawn to; like a moth to the light, she can’t help but to gravitate towards Gigi. It sounds stupid, because they’re properly known each other for a day and a few hours, but she feels as if it’s the only appropriate way to put it.

They talk about different topics, but all Crystal wants to do is close the distance between them and capture her lips in a kiss.

Gigi is talking about her major in fashion when the first drop falls. Soon, the pouring rain makes them aware of the dark clouds that had progressively covered the Sun. Something they hadn’t noticed, being too distracted with each other.

“My car’s down the street, follow me,” Crystal soon instructs her, using her surfboard as an umbrella.

They walk rapidly, though they stumble once or twice and bump into people thanks to the surfboard over their heads; with each step they take the rain becomes more aggressive. The people are already leaving, with their things half packed as they cram into their cars, and Gigi lets a sigh of relief when she sits in the passenger seat, that conveniently has a towel already spread out.

“That was for my friend, Vanjie, in case she came back with me,” Crystal explains unprompted, adjusting her seatbelt.

Gigi nods absent-mindedly, pulling out her phone from her shorts and dialing Nicky’s number — she always has her phone glued to her hand. It rings three times before she picks up.

“Geeg, where are you?” Nicky exclaims, there’s noise in the background and Gigi vaguely makes out the girls’ voices.

“I’m fine, I’m with Crystal in her car,” she says, letting it slip. But she figures now it’s not the time to play secretive. “Where are you?”

“Well, we’re going to the bus stop. Can you meet us there?” Gigi briefly glances at Crystal, who’s just staring at her with her brows knitted in a frown.

“I, uh, I guess I can, but—” She says something in French that Crystal can’t understand for the life of her, even though French is technically close to Spanish.

Gigi sighs in relief and bids goodbye to whomever she was talking to, turning back to look at Crystal.

“Would you mind if I come back to your place with you? Until the rain stops, I mean,” she says, and Crystal blinks repeatedly until she catches on with Gigi’s wicked grin.

*

Brooke’s Canadian politeness makes her unable to ignore Plastique.

She somehow regrets having used her as a rebound and at the same time not — Plastique is sweet, witty, and caring, and the fact that she seems to not have a clue she used to date Vanessa is a plus. She doesn’t act awkward around her or makes jokes about it. It’s nice.

Plastique sends her a photo of a bird she saw outside her window before the rain started, because she thought she’d like it, and Brooke smiles; it’s such a small thing, but it makes her giddy.

She giggles and soon hears Yvie mocking her from the other side of the room. Brooke rolls her eyes and throws one of the cushions from the sofa her way — sadly, it goes past her, and Yvie sticks her tongue out.

“Don’t you have a lifeguard to thirst after?” Brooke bites back, making Yvie shut her mouth. But it’s only a matter of time before she speaks again.

“I mean, yes, but it’s funnier to be a pain in the ass for you,” she quips nonchalantly, and Brooke cocks a brow.

“Weren’t you the one telling me to move on just a couple of days ago?” She inquires, and Yvie rolls her eyes.

“Well, yes, but that doesn’t mean I like seeing your ass go back into a lovey-dovey mode. It’s disgusting,” Yvie says, doing an exaggerated disgusted face, and Brooke laughs loudly.

“Shut up and do me a favor — go get busy with the lifeguard and leave me alone, would you?” Brooke requests, throwing another cushion towards Yvie and hitting her in the face. She laughs, pleased, and Yvie throws it back at her.

“Her name’s Scarlet,” she says, “and I might just do it.” Yvie stands up, putting her phone in her pockets and heading towards the door.

“Don’t scare her off with your niche horror movies yet!” Brooke exclaims before she leaves.

Yvie flips her off and shuts the door behind her, Brooke chuckles just as a new text from Plastique comes in.

*

Gigi comes back way past after the rain ended and avoids all of her friends when they ask why did she come back so late — she just tells them she was busy with Crystal. And it takes them less than a minute to put two and two together and figure out that’s the name of the mysterious woman.

They decide to not push it, because even if Gigi has quite a few hickeys, she seems fine, and the dumb smile on her face makes them believe they shouldn’t worry.

Still, Jackie finds it hard not to worry, because she’s their mother hen after all, and she cares deeply for each one of the girls. Some more than the others.

Jackie’s gaze lingers towards Nicky, who’s leaning against the window with her cigarette dangling from her lips. She feels a knot in her stomach when the vision becomes too familiar — it makes Jackie regret not taking the opportunity to talk things out earlier that day and chickening out instead.

They’ve been acting like this for months, ignoring the elephant in the room, the writings on the wall — you name it, they’ve avoided it. Sometimes Jackie swears the girls know, when they shoot her sympathetic glares or joke about Nicky wanting to sleep with Jackie and vice versa.

If only they knew the truth.

Sometimes she misses waking up with Nicky and sneaking out from the others to make out, or how their hands found each other in a crowded space and even when they were alone, they wouldn’t let go.

Jackie misses all of that, but what she surely doesn’t miss is Nicky’s indecisiveness on whether or not she wanted a serious relationship with her.

#rpdr fanfiction #crygi #brooke lynn hytes/plastique tiara #jackie cox/nicky doll #gigi goode #crystal methyd #brooke lynn hytes #yvie oddly #jackie cox #nicky doll #and the livin's easy #zyan #surfer au #lesbian au #summer lovin' 2020 #day 4: heat #submission

[verus-veritas]

Interactive: The Unpopular Kid

- Path One -

David was always the unpopular kid. People had always said he was gay, either because he hung around with too many girls or because of his voice... either way, David had been bullied all his life, and he wasn't very happy. David was sensitive, but didn't let it show. He wouldn't let anyone get through him, and firmly believed if he kept to himself, he wouldn't be hurt. As a result, he didn't have many friends. At 17, nothing really had changed from when he was 5. David was taller then most of the boys at his school, but skinny and not very bright, although some seemed to think he was a bit of a nerd. He doesn't really have all that much going for him, and made him an easy target for those who liked to bully him. In truth, David was bi. He really had no preference to either girls or boys, although being in an all boys school and not going down into town all that much to meet girls limited him quite a bit. David didn't really have much of a social life. He just stayed at home and played games on his computer all night. David had always had a fascination with body swaps, from an early age. For some weird reason, they always made him horny. In his head, before every time he went to sleep, David had made a list of people he wanted to swap with. However, tonight he could only think about one person - Guy.

Guy was one of his "bullies" and yet David found his roughness attractive. A slightly ridge in his nose, brown highlighted hair and a few tattoos on his arms, David couldn’t help but admire the other boy whenever they had class together.  He also knew Guy had a girlfriend too, something David hadn't had in a long while.

One day when he woke up, David found himself in an entirely different room. Dashing in front of the mirror, he found he was none other than...

Guy. 

(Note: Change from Third-Person to Second-Person)

Looking into the reflection you saw one of the guys who had been bullying you for almost four years now. Not only that, you were completely naked, with your nine inch penis hanging down. And as you start to realize that you've swapped bodies with Guy, it starts to stand to attention. Within seconds, it's fully erect. You blink in surprise and gaze down at it - pinching yourself to make sure you aren't dreaming. You aren't.

Reaching down, you touch your new penis, before slowly beginning to rub it up and down. You look back up at your reflection, and it still creeps you out that you're in Guy's body and masturbating - and then you realize... it's what you've always wanted and it just feels so... right.

When you come, it splatters all over the mirror. Thinking you had to clean it up, being a clean freak and all, you soon realize that that was you in your old body. Right now you don't give a shit anymore. After all, you're Guy, Mr. Popular and the school bully. Oh, you are going to have so much fun...

Grabbing onto a discarded, dirty pair of underwear, you slide them on. Grabbing Guy's school clothes from a pile on the floor, you pull them on and quickly race out of the room, without anything else. As you make your swift escape, you notice no one’s home. Memories start to flood you - Guy's memories. His parents and sister are away on holiday in Barcelona, but left him in England to continue with school.

Quickly leaving, you find yourself in a familiar road. It's only two streets down from your own house, so you quickly jog there. You find you don't tire as quickly and stop to feel the muscles on your chest and arms, earning you odd looks from an old couple over the road. Ignoring them, you continue on, to your old house.

Shuffling round to the back, you get to the drainpipe, which is right by your window. Grabbing it with both hands, you hoist yourself up and push the already open window further out. With a little effort, you hoist yourself inside, trying to stay as quiet as possible. Looking over, you see your body is still asleep on the bed, shuffling over, you shake it. You have no clue what's happened to Guy, whether he's now in your body, or tucked away somewhere in this body you're inhabiting. Suddenly, your old body's eyes snap open. Guy's in there. He begins to scream at the shock of seeing himself standing over him, but you place a hand over his mouth, muffling his cries. "Shut it, dweeb." you say in a menacing tone. He immediately goes quiet. "You promise not to scream?" He nods. You remove your hand.

"Wha - what happened?" he asks. You simply shrug.

"I dunno. But..." you say, flexing your muscles, and you give him a sly grin, "I kinda like it." He goes to react, but you backhand him, and his head snaps back. "You can't tell anyone what happened. And even if you did, they wouldn't believe you. Who would believe gay boy David Cook over me, Guy Hill?" you threaten him. He spits in your face, but you just laugh, hitting him again. Through gritted teeth, he nods. Smiling with satisfaction, you climb onto the bed, on top of him. 

"Now, give me some fun." you say with a cheeky smile, undoing the zip on your trousers, revealing your rock hard penis waiting inside the pouch of Guy's boxers, precum creating a dark patch on them. Guy looks from your erection, to you, before Guy... no, David, pulls down your boxers, taking in the sight of your rock hard penis. He grins with delight. It's an odd sight, one you'd never thought you'd see unless it was in a mirror. But anyway, Guy reaches up, taking your cock in his mouth and begins to lick the tip with his tongue. You find yourself incredibly turned on. Coming back up for air, and using strength you never thought your old body had, he spins you around, and pulls down his pants, revealing his own penis. He practically forces it into your mouth and you're forced into giving him a blowjob. And once he's come and you've drunk it all down, he pulls your head back revealing...

... you're both back in your original bodies! Your eyes widen in shock, it's certainly not what you expected just from giving a blowjob, but it's what happened and Guy looks every bit as pleased with himself as you do shocked. You're smaller than Guy now, weaker and more vulnerable. He seems to know that as he places a kiss on your lips, making sure to grind against your waist with his still hard cock as he teases you. "Well, well, well. Somethings gone wrong here, hasn't it?" he taunts, climbing off the bed and checking himself out. "I can't believe you tainted this body with your.... gayness." he spits. You roll your eyes.

"Come on, you liked it as much as I did." you retort, which causes Guy to walk over and smack you! You recoil, clutching your face in pain.

"It's all good though. This was just a plan... because now you will change to whatever I want!" he grins, maliciously. You widen your eyes.

"What?! No, you're joking!" you cry, but you can already feel the changes happen inside you as you fear for what you’ll turn into. You could feel it as it was happening. You didn't know how it was possible, but Guy was transforming you into... something else. To your surprise though, you looked down at yourself and saw that you body began to grow larger and larger... with muscles. And your skin tone turned darker, as did your hair. You still kept your nerdy glasses, but your jaw became angular and black thin hair grew around your mouth, forming a scratchy but well-groomed beard. When the transformation was complete, you discovered that Guy had turned you into a... Latino hunk!

"What the hell?" Guy said. "That's not what I wanted. I already had it all planned out. You were supposed to turn into the type of person that I most desired. A hot busty Latina babe was what you were supposed to become! What the hell happened?"

At first you didn't know, but then an explanation came to you and you grinned. "What the hell is so funny, twerp?" "You say before that my 'gayness' taint you body." you said with a Spanish accent in your voice. Somehow you lost half of your English vocabulary.

"So?" "So you chose to turn me a hunk. You desire man now." "That's bullshit. I don't like men... That kiss that I gave you... that was just... nothing. I'm not like you. I'm not... gay." Hesitation and fear visibly on his face. "You sure about that?" you asked, smirking. Putting a strong hand on his shoulder to reassure him, you then pull him towards yourself and plant one deep kiss onto his lips. If he could change you however he wanted, then the rules must work the same for you. With that you close your eyes and lose yourself in the kiss.

---

It’s been a year since the incident happened where you and Guy swapped bodies. Of course, now he goes by the name Guillermo and is your loyal and loving boyfriend. Though you kept the hunky body you got from Guy back then, you did do a few small changes on Guy. For one, you aged him a few years so he could match yours, then you increased the sizes of his muscles and lastly got him a bunch of new tattoos all over is body.

Life was perfect right now, but sometimes you couldn’t help but reflect on the time you were the unpopular kid at school. Fate had been kind on you, but you keep wondering what would’ve happened if you had swapped bodies with someone else back then...

Original: “The Unpopular Kid” Interactive Story on CYOC

#bodyswap #transformation #jock #bully #racial #straight to gay #interactive #cyoc #unpopularkid