#and just fucked everyone over and made a perfectly good app unusuable

[maybankiara]

wattpad excluding fanfiction from the wattys is actually a joke. just don't give the winner money and give them a nice little sticker to put on their book. this is ridiculous

#d.tag #i feel like i should have a tag for hating wattpad #they went from being the best place to read books to something horrible #and it all happened when some authors went to radish to get money #so wattpad thought they could do the same #and just fucked everyone over and made a perfectly good app unusuable #not to mention that the website has been horrendous since the interface update like ten years ago #and it's only been getting worse #wattpad needs to remember it's not amazon #it's a social media yet they keep getting rid of features that make it social media #i wish someone would explain to me what their 10 year plan is for the company/website #is it going to be a bookshop??? is it going to be a library?? #cause it sure as hell isn't going to be a social media app #i miss seeing what other people read on my newsfeed and the comments and everything #i miss the forums where you could meet people #it's literally losing all the functionality and then just making the only thing it does well (reading) horrible with all the ads #i have no idea how it's still an operational app and i honestly hate that there's no real good alternative #(that is if anyone has one i'm all ears)

[deepperplexity]

Title: Train Ticket Madness [pt.1]

Imagine request by avisfortunae @ Wattpad: "I wonder if Snape has ever been on the internet?"

Summary: "Snape is trying to travel by train but in muggletowns all over the country technology is taking over! So now you need a smartphone or a computer to buy a ticket or refill your travel card - Snape, of course, has neither. So he is forced to visit the nearby library to ask for help, with a disgruntled sneer. But there he is met by you - a muggleborn witch/wizard and former student - who gladly but nervously assists the impatient professor." (Summary accepted by the requester.)

Pairing: Snape x Muggleborn Reader

Setting: Public muggle library in a small town

ABBR.: │ (y/n) - Your Name │ (y/l/n) - Your Last Name │ (e/c) - Eye Colour │

Word Count: 4243

Warnings: Some sexual hints, some sensual thoughts, PG13, Swear words

Masterlist page // Masterlist post

The library was calm, just the ordinary seniors who were reading the morning newspapers and a few commuters who were waiting for time to pass until they could catch their trains; most likely headed for work or school. You, however, already were at work.

It was a temporary station as a librarian in a Muggle library situated in a sleepy little town where nothing ever happened - but you loved it. The friendly people, the routines, the quiet and the calm. It all suited you rather well actually. Lulling around the little library placing books, helping users and keeping everything organized.

It was quite nice most of the time. When the library users behaved as they should and there were no significant malfunctions in the computer systems - as long as those two things worked then your day usually worked out perfectly fine.

As part of the morning routine; you were just turning on the four computers in the library for users when your usual morning was about to become highly unusual. As you rose from having pushed the little start button on the forth computer you brushed the hair out of your eyes and what you saw stunned you. You were literally shocked into a fixed state.

In the doorway, leading out of the library, stood none other than your previous potions professor. Professor Snape, in all his black glory, stood with a sneer and a disgruntled look that covered his pale face in the doorway of your library. What the devil is he doing here?! The thought crossed your mind so rapidly that you barely had time to register it.

You shook your head, your heart was beating a little harder and you closed your mouth as you had apparently been gawking with open mouth and wide eyes. He's not my professor any longer, he's an ordinary user and he looks to be in need of assistance. That's all, okay (y/n), you can do this.

You put on a professional smile, straightened your back a bit and walked over with as much confidence as you could muster up in your rattled state. But, for every step your feet took your heart beat a little harder, your breaths were drawn a little quicker and you could feel a stupid blush spreading over your chest, throat and face. Despite trying to calm yourself down you were a nervous wreck. Chill, stop, just calm down. There is no way in hell that he knows. Just treat him like any other user.

As you got closer your old professor spotted you and started to move towards you, it only took him three strides and then you were just inches apart. "Professor Snape," you said and he gave a curt nod, "I'm surprised to see you here of all places, how can I help you today?" Your voice was calm and friendly, professional. You, however, felt anything but calm.

Professor Snape gave you a weird expression with a raised eyebrow, "You work here Ms/Mr (y/l/n)?" You nodded and locked your hands in front of yourself. A self-defence thing to physically block out others; that you had been working on getting rid of. Yet the professor intimidated you instantly triggering the habit.   "Well," he said with that gruff voice, "I'm in need of a ticket and the infernal machine at the station is turned off or malfunctioning in some way." His voice was low and yet it made you and the air around the professor vibrate with force. His force. The power that you sensed crawled beneath that pale skin of his.

You gave him a wider smile, an attempt to calm yourself a bit in all honesty. "Well just download the app to your phone, connect your email and bank card and then you're good to go, professor," you said with a cheerful voice that barely managed to hide the unstableness you felt. Your pulse quickened still and it felt as though everyone in the damn library could hear your pounding heart.

He gave you another raised eyebrow and you mentally smacked yourself - he probably doesn't have a smartphone; or even a phone... Damnit (y/n), use your head and stop embarrassing him - and yourself for that matter!

You cleared your throat and loosened your hands that had been clenched for a while at that time. "Umh, or you can just use one of our computers to order your ticket. I just started them, please follow me, professor." You turned around and exhaled shakily. You started to walk and the black mass of glorious male fell in behind you. You squared your shoulders slightly, another attempt to calm yourself - you were still failing miserably at that task of course. He did that to you, he had done that to you for many years. Not that he's aware of it. And that's my own fault I guess. But come on, he's unobtainable and closed off. It's not like he'd even ever look at someone like-

"I believe it should be Mr Snape, Ms/Mr (y/l/n). Since I'm no longer your professor there is no need for you to use that term." He said as both of you walked towards the computer you had started only moments earlier; that effectively interrupted your wayward thoughts. Well, I enjoy calling you professor... Mr just sounds, not like you or adequate tot hat power sensation you give of... "Umh, I'd like to keep calling you professor, if you don't mind." You breathed out with caution.

The blush grew ever redder, it made you feel hot and bothered and so damn silly. "Very well, Ms/Mr (y/l/n)." What this man does to me... It's been two years already! I need to just get over these stupid, silly emotions! Pffth, who am I kidding... You can't just get over love, no matter who it is you love or how unreasonable that fucking love is... When the other is exceptionally, annoyingly gorgeous in every damn way it's impossible to get over it. 'innit?

You pulled out the chair for professor Snape as you also moved the mouse and the screen flicked to life. You tried hard to ban your thoughts but they remained persistent as professor dark and dangerous was so damn close to you. You could literally smell him; sage, peppermint and a distinct smell that was all his own. If you could have bottled it you would have. For fuck's sake, this is stupid! But fuck he smells like heaven. Or hell perhaps? I have no idea but I want to bury my face in that chest and just inhale that- wooh tiger, calm down! Your face was getting hotter by the second. You knew nothing good could come from your silly thoughts, only pain and agony. Possibly a muffled orgasm - half-enjoyed in a weird position - in the staff bathroom later...

"Here you go," you said with as much ease as you could force and straightened up as the professor sat down, "the printer is over there and it's free of charge for the first 3 papers." You forced another professional smile for a second before spinning on your heel and heading away from the man clad in black that made your knees weak, your skin burn and your heart pound. Not to mention your mind apparently gorging in heady thoughts not fit for work.

But the retreat was short and you had no time to gather or calm yourself down before the intimidatingly perfect man was stood right behind your back once more. You felt him before you saw him. "Professor?" You said questioningly as you turned around to face him once more. He seemed highly uncomfortable - and that made you curious as hell. What was going on with the otherwise stone-faced man? He almost seemed embarrassed, but that wasn't possible, was it? No, not professor Snape. He'd never be embarrassed, would he?

His gaze shifted slightly from side to side as if he was checking if anybody was within earshot - but you were alone in the furthest end of the library. Hidden among bookcases and displays. "Will you help? I..." He cleared his throat, "I have never- I have never used the computer or the internet's thing..." His gruff voice vibrated through you and for a second you were dumbfounded. You just stood there for a moment until your brain kick-started.

For fuck's sake don't embarrass the man! Speak (y/n)! "You-? Umh, sorry but, what?" Snape narrowed his gaze and you wanted to shrink, fall through the floor or maybe do a little dance? After all, you could help the all-knowing professor Snape with something he was not knowledgeable in. This is just not happening...

"Do you intend to gawk forever or will you be a professional and do your job?" His snarky remark made you giggle and shrink at the same time. It made you weak at the knees and strong pounding erupted, well, somewhere else. "I'll- I'll help professor, excuse me, I'm sorry it's just... Never mind." You walked back to the computer and grabbed a second chair on the way.

"Please, sit." Snape took the seat next to you and the heavenly smell hit you once more, it distracted you on most levels, to be frank.   "Umh, well first we need to go out on the internet and type the address for the ticket company," you said as you followed up your words with actions on the computer. "And then we need from and to where your heading, and at what time." The professor looked on the screen, he's leaning closer, isn't he? Fuck that smell again... You inhaled without thinking about it.

"I need to go from this station to, to Cokeworth." You nodded and typed in the destinations - but you could not quite help but wonder as to what was in Cokeworth and why the professor was taking the train? Surely he could just apparate? "Strange apparatus," the professor mumbled beside you as he leaned even closer as he inspected the screen as you typed.

The page loaded, the screen flickered slightly and the alternatives arrived. "Here's your options professor," you said while your eyes were fixed on the screen. The professor's thick, pale hand appeared and he pointed at one option. You would not have chosen that option but okay. You clicked it and the trip appeared. It showed two train changes and then a bus trip.

"Now you just need to pay and print and your good to go." Your voice was cheerful - a giddy feeling filled you since you could actually help the man you adored and held so high - and you turned your head rapidly. Your face very nearly got pressed against the professor's face. He was so damn close you could see the details of his skin and the exact colour variations in his onyx eyes.

Your breath caught and the professor stared into your eyes for a mere millisecond but it was enough. You leaned back so hastily the chair seemed to disappear and you had definitely landed with a hard knock against your back had it not been for professor Snapes eerily fast reaction. He had grabbed your hand and held you up as you laid parallel with the floor yet had not completely fallen thanks to his ice-cold grip around your warm wrist. Where your pulse was pounding as if you had just run a marathon or two - revealing how flustered you were by him.  

You looked at his hand, the strong grip the only thing that kept you from falling, and then your eyes wandered up the length of his arm clad in black and all the way up to the professors face. The perfectly glorious face clad in pale skin framed by long black hair with two deep eyes, hooked nose and thin lips as the centrepieces of its composition. So fucking beautiful. His eyebrow arched as you looked a little too long perhaps. Surely the rumours aren't true? About his, his mindreading - are they?

"Your pulse is racing, Ms/Mr (y/l/n). Are you, are you alright?" You shook your head and pulled yourself up with a shaky movement. From almost falling or from his touch? You couldn't quite tell at that moment. "I'm, I'm so sorry professor Snape," your voice was shaking a bit and you felt a bit woozy. Having been so close to his face was apparently a bit of a shock for your whole damn body and mind. Everything was tingling and your mind was actually blank for a moment. That never happened.

Professor Snape let go of your wrist and you instantly felt bereft. But you also became painfully aware of how close you were sitting. His knee was touching yours and if you leaned in just a tad your chin would touch his shoulder. His smell made you woozier and his proximity was just too much to handle when the thought of never getting what you had longed for for so many years hit you as hard as a goblin would pound REJECTED on a pour mans loan application at Gringotts.    

You rose from the chair in a panicked movement. It toppled but didn't fall. "I, you, I have, you just need to pay and press print," you stuttered out. Your pulse was truly racing, your heart pounded, the world felt fuzzy while you felt torn apart. In a desperate need to get as far away from the man as you were to get closer to him than his own clothes were. Your head was spinning with thoughts, his smell pressed its way into your nose and you felt helplessly broken for a moment. Memories of longing for him during classes crept up and it made you feel small and unimportant all over again.

"Ms/Mr (y/l/n)? Are you alrig-" "I'm fine!" You held your hands up and backed away as the professor rose from his own chair in sublime composure and grace. "Are you su-" "I'll send Melinda over and she'll help you with your train ticket." The words were rushed out of your mouth and you couldn't look at the man any longer. The perfect man you had before you. I love you insanely, intensely, irrevocably. Forever. I...  

You felt hopelessly entangled with your emotions and thoughts, all things were screaming at you to kiss the man or to run away screaming - neither option felt like an actual option. So the thought reappeared as tears were hardly kept at bay by your weak will. I love you insanely, intensely, irrevocably. Forever. But you...

A cold hand lifted your slimmed chin with power. Forced your head to tilt and your eyes to leave the floor. His touch felt different. His face looked different. Stained with horror and something that looked like regret. Or perhaps disgust? You couldn't quite tell. But why was it even there? "(y/l/n)... I, had no idea you felt that way." Your eyes widened, it can't be? Can he read my-? "I can and I apologies for doing so but-" OH MY GOD NO!  What have I done?!

Your face turned pale, you felt the red colour leave and a cold sensation took its place. He had just read your mind, but how much had he read? Surely he hadn't, before, had he? You were certain he had not read your mind earlier - those thoughts would have warranted some sort of reaction from the man - had they not? Perhaps you were of so little interest that they meant nothing to him?

You shook your head, it didn't matter. What mattered was that the man you loved above all else had just read your mind as you were silently confessing to those feelings of passion and affection. "(Y/n)," his voice was dark and ruff as he spoke your name, "I apologies, I usually do not pillage or invade others thoughts but you-" You janked your head away to avoid eye contact with the man you were certain felt disdain for your feelings, or perhaps for you. Judging by the look of horror he wore.

"Don't, just, don't. I'll leave." The words left your mouth as the tears dried up without ever having been spilt. You felt disgusted by yourself; simply because of what you read in his eyes a moment earlier when your world had crashed around you. Your fantasy world that is - the world where you were free to be with him and he had wanted you. Now that was all smashed and crumbled. Shot to hell so to speak. Not even your thoughts were you allowed to have of him any longer.  

He said something but you didn't have the strength to bear his words and they were muffled out unconsciously as your legs took you away from the computers, through the library and into the staff section where Melinda was sat by her desk - tapping away at the keyboard that you couldn't hear.

You said something to her, she stood up with a strong nod and the next moment you were getting dressed in your own office section. You changed your shoes, put your jacket on and closed the office door. You felt weirdly numb; detached. The world fell away from around you; turned in to a foggy mushy mess of grey. It felt hollow.

You left the building through the back door for staff only and embarked on your walk home - not even remembering your bicycle. Your thoughts didn't even come, it was eerily quiet in your head and your body felt bizarrely disconnected from it.  You were just walking apathy without awareness of your surroundings.

Did he really mean that much to you? Were those silly fantasies really that important? Was he truly that essential to your daily life? Yes, yes he is evidently that painfully and alarmingly fucking important to me. Apparently. All this for a stupid ticket. Because of the muggle world using so much technology... Fucking train ticket madness!  

You sighed a helpless breath out. Your head sank even lower as your shoulders hunched and it felt for a moment as if nothing could fill the void that took up more and more space in your chest for every step you took away from the library. "(y/n)!" You halted mid-step as your name was called with a deep, gruff voice that echoed around you in the short tunnel you apparently were in. You knew the tunnel but that voice felt otherworldly.

You shook your head and took another step - sure that your broken heart filled your head with hallucinations of the man you loved so deeply. "(y/n)! Stop!" The command stopped you right in your tracks. The voice was stern and brusque, almost harshly bitten out - yet it was not. It sent shivers of pleasure and sorrow down your spine as the wind picked up slightly. Howling and whistling through the tunnel.

"Don't run from me young lady/man," Snape said from right behind you, "not after a confession like that." Your face contorted into a sneer for a second and then you turned; a sharp spin on your heels and you were face to face with him. "I made no confession!"  you yelled with a shaking voice, "you read my mind and-" "And I did apologies for that but you-" "You had no right!" Your voice wavered and lowered, "you had no right..."

Your hands were balled into fists and your lip quivered slightly. "I had no right but you gave me no choice." You huffed and turned your face away from the glorious man casting pain and sadness into your life with his internet ignorance and train ticket need. It had been a normal day, you had had a good morning - especially the shower you had indulged in before work that had given you time to fantasies about the man standing before you. Before that whole world crashed. Perhaps that was the last time you came with him on your mind? Probably not, he'd always be there but differently now perhaps?

"(y/n)? You gave me no choice, what did you expect when you acted the way you did?" Your head whipped back so your eyes met. His onyx to your (e/c) ones. "Well, I'm so damn sorry for trying to help you with your train ticket and internet ignorance!" you yelled with a snarly voice, "I'm so damn sorry that this stupid little girl/boy has trivial feelings and stupid little thoughts and ridiculous hopes and absolutely senseless dreams about someone like you! How dare I even think of such an amazing man as you with my tiny brain and feel passion with my worthless little heart?!" His eyes grew darker - how was that even possible?

Your words were harsh, but not towards him. Your words were nastily cruel, but not towards him. Your anger was directed toward him but the callous meaning behind the words was how little you thought of yourself in comparison to the man standing before you who had for years occupied your heart.

"Do. Not. Belittle yourself in that way (y/n). Do. Not. Diminish your feelings in such a manner. I will not stand for such actions by you. Understood?" Snape's voice was a low, vibrating growl. It was amazing you could hear him, yet you heard his voice as clear as your own thoughts. Your own thoughts that were spewing all kinds of horrible scenarios at you as the man you loved seemed to drift further and further away from where you wanted him. With you.

"Well I'm sorry for being a silly little girl/boy with such feelings and thoughts about the perfect professor Snape. I'm sorry I made you take such an important position in such a useless persons life as mine. This little, silly person had obviously no right to fall for such a man... How sickening for you to hear those disgusting thought about love from such a person as me." You could not help but shrink and shake.

You had known your feelings would be not just unrequited but hated by the man whom they were for. So you had never said anything. In the hopes of at least keeping your fantasy world with him as the centrepiece for all things good and lovely.

"I hold no such aversion towards your feelings. Quite the opposite, (y/n)." His hands landed on your shoulders, they were large and heavy yet felt too light. Wait, hold up, what did he just say? "You- you, what?" In that instant, the world seemed to go silent. "I do not dislike, oppose or disapprove of your feelings and thoughts." The words were said slowly and with clarity. But you found them anything but clear. "I- I don't-" "(y/n), stop. I am telling you that I too house those feelings towards you. For a long time now. But you were my student and I never thought such a magnificent person such as you would feel any appeal to a man such as myself."

To you, it sounded as though he managed to squeeze more self-loathing into that second half of a single sentence then you could if you filled a book with it. It shook you to your core. You had never heard his voice as harsh as when he spoke of himself in that short moment of time. "But, you're amazing..." Those were the only words you could extract from yourself as the whole world started to spin with force and full colours once more knowing he was in fact answering your feelings of affection with likewise emotions.

As you looked into his eyes he smiled. It was the first time you had ever seen him smile - in more than a tight tug of the left corner of his mouth - and it kickstarted you. Your eyes watered, your heart pounded and colour flooded your skin once more. Your little words of adoration had made the stern, hard, closed-off man smile. Just the thought of that made your knees weak. No, wait, your knees were shaking and buckling. You were going to fall to the ground at any moment, shit.

But you remained upright. As if by magic. But it was not. "I got you." Those little words of reassurance flooded you with warmth. "Am I dreaming?" 'cus it feels like it... "No. You are not." Without thinking you threw your arms around him and buried your face in the crook of his neck. His smell was inhaled through your nose and you felt another surge of warmth flood you in every way. One arm was laid around your waist - holding you up - and his other hand was placed at the back of your head. He was pressing you even tighter to his body and for a moment you could have sworn he was shaking just as badly as you.

"Severus," you mumbled his name into his neck, "I think I'm gonna pass out." "I got you." You turned your face towards him as he eased up on his grip at the back of your head; you wanted so badly to kiss him. Like you had dreamt of so many times. The thoughts of kissing him invaded your mind but before you could even ask his lips were pressed against yours with desperation and the world exploded in colour and warmth.

I hope you enjoyed this fic! <3 It was only supposed to be about 2500 words but I had lots of fun writing it so it turned out to be over 4000 words - and I might do a part 2 if that's something you guys would want? ^^ Perhaps a little more intimate continuation?    

Masterlist page // Masterlist post

Taglist: @tahliamalfoydepp  @lizlil​ @the-one-who-is-chaoz 

#severus snape #snape #severus #sev #pro snape #fanfic #fanfiction #snape fic #snape fanfiction #severus fic #snape imagine #imagine #snape x reader #snapexreader #xreader #reader #fic #snape fandom #snape fan #snape love #snapexmugglereader #xmugglereader #muggle reader #deepperplexity #deepperplexity fanfiction #my fic #train ticket madness #train ticket #snape writing #fanfic writing

[nervous-ninja]

Untitled (for now)

Kind of a part one of a one-shot. The second part of this is currently locked on a bricked coputer that I am hoping to be able to recover before I start rewriting it. 

Forgive me, I have not written like this in a long time. This is entirely for fun so not to be taken too seriously. 

Mew was trying for very hard to convince himself everything was fine. It wasn’t fine. 

“Cut!” Pique, the director, called out. “Again please.”

Another take. Mew took a deep breath and exhaled slowly though his nose. The scene that should have easily been done in two takes had somehow dragged into double digits. There wasn’t anything complicated or difficult about it. A short and simple shot of Tharn and Type at home in the evening. Type was supposed hold Tharn’s face, “I missed you” he would say, then cue a kiss. Nothing overly intense or complicated. A scene of domesticity punctuated by a kiss to communicate the particular sense of comfort and familiarity, the way messy and clumsy passions of early relationships ebb into something more deeply rooted, familiar, uncomplicated….

“Goddamnit!” Gulf cursed and let go of Mew’s face.

“Cut!” The director called again and an audible collective grunt of frustration resounded through the set. “OK everyone, let’s take five.”

Gulf slumped over, his face buried in his hands to muffle a flurry of mild curses, his right leg rapidly tapping the ground.

“Hey…Nong” Mew began, instinctively reaching a hand to rest on Gulf’s back, but his next words stuck in his throat as Gulf recoiled from him and abruptly stood up.  Without thinking Mew grabbed his wrist. “Gulf!” he exclaimed, his voice a lot louder than he meant it to be.

The younger man hesitated. He stared at Mew’s hand on his wrist as if at some strange animal. It occurred to Mew then that the whole set had gone quiet and were conspicuously avoiding looking in their directions.  “Let go please, Phi” Gulf said stiffly without meeting Mew’s eyes. His tone so uncharacteristically cold that Mew, startled, complied. He watched wide eyed as Gulf stormed off towards Mame and Pique. 

---

For three days Mew tried to convince himself there was nothing wrong and that he simply needed to stop overthinking things. When Gulf’s responses to his LINE messages became unusually short and perfunctory, single word answers, punctuated by long, painful waiting for any reply at all that sent Mew’s stomach into knots, Mew told himself it was fine. They were busy after all. Busier than they had ever been. More and more they were each branching out on their own. Between that and the shooting starting for season 2 they barely had time to catch their break. Mew himself had been more tired than usual. That’s all it was. It had to be.

When every call made went to voicemail and every attempt to do a video chat was rejected with a polite reason through text, like:

-- Sorry Phi, still at dance practice; Sorry Phi, dinner with family; Sorry Phi, need to sleep -- Mew told himself these were all perfectly reasonable excuses. Reasons, rather. They were very good reasons.

Don’t overthink it, he told himself again and again, even as found it harderand harder to eat. You know him. You trust him. He kept reminding himself as he compulsively shut down and restarting his LINE app just in case.

If something was wrong he would tell you. He tried to convince himself even as the lump in his throat became a rock in his chest and kept him awake and tossing into early hours of the morning.  

Calm down. He urged himself even as he rewound days and weeks in his head looking for clues to what he might have done to cause this. Terrified he missed something crucial. Terrified he messed up...again. Three whole days of this.

Last night as he lay awake at 2am he tried to convince himself it would all be fine. It was just that they hadn’t seen each other in far longer than any other time since they start their roles as Tharn and Type. He missed Gulf. He was looking forward to the next few days of shooting. They were scheduled to be on set together the whole time.  Once they saw each other finally things would be like before.  He couldn’t wait to fall back into their familiar patterns: their teasing and laughter, the way they always knew what the other was thinking with a single look, the easy way they fell into and around each other and how those moments felt like home. There were other things he looked forward to, things he often stopped short of dwelling on because these thoughts lead to rooms in Mews heart he wasn’t strong enough to go looking in, like:

The way they sometime abandoned themselves to their roles until the roles just became convenient excuses for….

Gulf’s over eager, hungry kisses that Mew relished and reigned in with reluctance before he lost himself completely and….

The way his Nong shyly broke eye contact after an intimate scene because the feeling overwhelmed him and it was all Mew could do not to…

He shook his head to clear it.

It was nearly 4 am by the time he finally fell asleep. Though calling what he did sleep would be somewhat generous.

In the morning Mew dragged himself to set. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt this tired. For a moment he thought only of finding Gulf and taking him into his arms. This eagerness was quickly replaced by dread when he finally found him, but instead of coming to meet him, Gulf turned around and walked out of the room. 

When they were finally all but forced to be face to face because that is what the scene called for, Gulf greeted Mew with all the warmth one might show a store clerk. Yet still, Mew told himself that he was reading too much into things.  He tried to ignore the way his head ached, and his jaw tightened and his heart lurched when Gulf stiffened the first time Mew tried to touch him. 

Whatever flimsy wall of denial Mew had tried so desperately to build up till now had crumbled into a pathetic heap as pulled away from him with again.

 Something was wrong. Undeniably, unmistakably wrong.

“Wait!” Mew shot up and quickly closed the distance between them, interrupting the conversation Gulf was having with the director and Mame. He saw them both notice the way Gulf stepped back from him when he came close and it was all he could do not to panic. “Um, can you give us a second?” He asked politely of the two seniors.

“Will you tell me what the hell is going on?” Mew demanded, as soon as he felt they were out of earshot. The pleading in his own voice surprised him. “Would you look at me, please?” he added, fighting to restrain the tremor in his voice as he fought the muscle memory to reach out to him. 

Finally Gulf raised his eyes and for a moment Mew thought he saw Gulf’s face soften before he seemed to recover himself.  

“Nothing is going on. I asked if I can have a few minutes with the acting coach.” Gulf replied with feigned ease. Then, as if remembering, “You did great today.” he added and made such a poor attempt at a casual smile that Mew would have laughed if it hadn’t felt like a punch to the gut to realise Gulf, his Gulf, was lying to him. Mew opened his mouth to speak but could find now words.  Before Mew could protest, Gulf turned and walked off the set.

“Mew?”

It was P’Mame. She looked concerned.

“You ok?” She asked “I’ve been calling your name.” She said. “You’ve just been…standing there for a solid minute.” She added carefully. 

“Oh. Sorry. Yes I’m fine.” Mew gave a quick bow. “What’s going on?”

“Did N’Gulf tell you already?” She asked.

“Tell me what?” Mew asked, running a shaky hand through his hair. He was beginning to be very tired of being confused.

“We are not going to do any more takes of this scene today. He asked if we could shoot this one tomorrow.” She glanced at her watch “Since we don’t have a lot of time left today for anything else, P’Pique wants to do a few pickup shots of you from Scene 14. Is that alright?”

Mew looked at her for a moment, his mind turning over the last few minutes, waiting any of this to make sense and for the rushing pounding of blood in his ears to subside.

“N’Mew? Are you sure you’re ok?” She asked gently, putting a hand on his arm.

“Yes. Fine. Of course.” Mew stuttered a reply.  

When Mame narrowed her eyes at him and did not let go he tried again. 

“I’m fine. Really. Just…you know…. “ He trailed off hoping she would fill in the blanks and flashed what he hoped was a reassuring smile. He couldn’t be sure, but her expression suggested that whatever he looked like, reassuring was far from it. 

“Really. Just tired.” He said awkwardly. “I’ll go change now.”

“OK. One of the PAs will get you in five minutes for makeup.” She said, resigned.

Mew was grateful that these were only pick up shots. He tried to focus on the work and fought the urge to keep looking around or checking his phone every chance he got. Gulf never came back on set. As soon as Pique called it a day Mew catapulted off, rushing through his thank you’s, apologies and goodnights. He caught one of the PAs as she rushed passed him.

“Excuse me, Phi. Did N’Gulf go back already?” he asked her.

“I don’t think so. He was back there with P’Mame watching the dailies last I checked” She replied,nodding in the direction of the editing room. When Mew got there, the room was empty. 

There were no messages from Gulf and for a moment Mew reached for anger to try and dull the ache that was quickly becoming too steady in his chest. It hurt less to be angry. It worked for only a moment. When he saw no sign of Gulf’s things in the dressing area either, the anger he was holding on to gave way to simple, clear, sharp dread.

He paced the room as he dialled Gulf’s number. The call went straight to voicemail. Fuck. Mew thought

-- Mew: We need to talk.

He quickly typed into LINE and watched the message status change to read. He waited. Deciding suddenly to sit down before standing up again almost immediately. Time seemed to slow to a crawl.

-- Mew: I can’t make it right if I don’t know what I did.  He added when he could no longer bear the wait. Seconds felt like hours.

The “read”  confirmation hung there, mocking him.

He was about to send a more colourfully worded message when he saw the indicator that Gulf was typing a response.

-- Gulf: Can I stay at yours tonight?

Mew blinked in confusion and reread the message. “Gulf.” he groaned with annoyance.

-- Mew: We. Need. To. Talk.

He replied. This time the answer came quickly.

-- Gulf: Not like this. Tonight. Can I?

Well, Mew thought, at least they were getting somewhere.

-- Mew: Yes. Fine. Where are you?

-- Gulf: In the car. I took your keys.

Mew shoved tomorrow’s call sheet into his bag and all but ran towards the parking lot.

To be continued....

Update: part 2 now available here

#mewgulf #fanfic

[raguna-blade]

Maruki’s Palace

So what's the deal with Maruki having a palace?

So this has been on my mind since I recently wrapped up the game finally.

Why does Maruki have a palace? Or rather, HOW does he have one, when Mona said pretty explicitly that a persona user can't have one.

Now obviously, there's the option that he's wrong. He was lacking in memory at the time, and even a good ways into the game there were things he just wasn't really sure about in regards to how mementos and palaces work. So that's an option.

I do not like that option. It's perfectly servicable true, but I think the explicit statement that persona user's can't have palaces casts an interesting light on them. Palaces form from a person's distorted desires right? That's the rule in play, so the fact that Persona User's can't suggests that they can't have distorted desires right?

Right?

Well...Not really. In fact there's a character in this very game who I feel I can say with a high degree of confidence has absolutely distorted desires despite having a persona. It's not Maruki, cause that'd be cheating.

It's Akechi. Now, again, the obvious problem of Persona User no Palace No distorted desires kinda comes up but...

But hold on. There's something funky about that chain there isn't there? Distorted Desires Come Before Palaces, and it's not like gaining a persona suddenly wipes out what you wanted or thought about the world does it? If it were that simple, Akechi would have never went the route he did right?

His desire, by the by, is seeing his dear old dad get absolutely fucked over. Which lead him to do all kinds of really dumb things that, as someone who could actually you know...Go into the metaverse and effect things that way, he never would have had to do. While the precise mechanisms in play would be a little odd, it's also pretty clear that if you control someone through the metaverse you can basically puppeteer them as you wish, if a bit indirectly. So long as the palace exists at least.

But we see that his desire there, that burning all consuming desire for a perfect vengeance, blinds him to a lot of things that someone who is genuinely as smart and skilled as he is should have seen plainly. Perhaps most critically the fact he would have been gotten rid of after he was of no more use.

So ok, I think you get the point, Persona User's can still have distorted desires...But what about palaces though? That's the key question.

Given Persona are Shadows, which quick explanation includes every aspect of you good bad and ugly, the desires getting absorbed, the palace getting absorbed more or less into a person seems to be why they wouldn't be able to host a palace. That is to say, Activating a Persona closes the Gaps that would allow you to access a person's mind. Not unless you were particularly close to them really.

We'll come back to that.

So if the idea is that a Persona closes the gaps, it still raises the question of how is there a palace? Why is it there as a thing that you can access right?

Well, we'll come back to it in a tick because first I wanna go with another obvious answer that I think is decisively wrong.

Maruki has a Palace because he DOESN'T have a persona. That is, he's possessed by another entity from the depths of humanity much like Yaldabaoth, the entity in this case being Azathoth. And that's not an unreasonable conclusion! His power seemingly activates before he ever accesses the metaverse, which is strange, Azathoth has a tie to the series as a whole greater scope villain in Nyarylotehp, and it does neatly answer the question of how he has a palace and all that because of course he would if he's being used as a pawn.

The problem here though is...How would he actually summon his persona in the real world when he can't physically access the metaverse? Indeed, there is a big scene when he actually makes a contract with azathoth that only occurs when he's in the metaverse, which I suppose would invalidate my argument entirely because it's not like you can use Persona Powers in the real world right?

Except that you absolutely can. You, that is Ren, can do it the whole time in the game with the use of the Thieves vision. You use it when you CHANGE your persona's to better align with people. Using your persona powers without having a fully awakened persona is a thing we see other characters in this very game do, in the case of Haru who can activate the metaverse app (a distinctly supernatural thing despite it's presence as a phone app) despite having an incompletely awakened persona. You see it in the phantom thieves as a whole being able to talk to Morgana even when their persona's aren't quite active yet (Specifically with Ryuji since he's the only one who really get's the overlap proper)

His power's are quite different than Ren's of course, but that's not unusual. A going theme with the games (or at least games 3-5) is that the development of a persona can lead to radically different powers as they develop and are used. Indeed, they alter depending on how the user want's to use them.

So for Maruki, someone who want's so desperately to alleviate people's pain, who understands peoples minds in a way that few others do, who understands the underlying magic/science of the setting in a way few others do, to have access to said supernatural powers outside of that world, if in a limited fashion (he seemingly needed Sumire's permission to actually do his thing before then, as well as knowing the problem and the desired memory/thing to be changed) it's not surprising that he'd have that kind of power.

But then, is Azathoth his persona? Well...Yeah. If not Azathoth, DEFINITELY Adam Kadmon.

And I mean, Lavenza say's it pretty explicitly near the start that yeah he has a persona, despite also having a palace.

But...Hm. Well let's take a look at that a bit again right? In all liklihood that palace has been there for a while right? It's not a new thing that popped up just these past few months in game. And I'm willing to accept that his Persona didn't fully awaken until Yaldabaoth did his thing so maybe it's some muddling going on but...

Well I think there is a different explanation.

Mind the mess of phrasing here, but it's not that Persona User's can't have palaces, it's that the nature of palaces changes once you awaken your persona.

That's a little cheaty I know, but consider this. The Rulers of Palaces are explicitly the Shadow of the person in question. It's why killing the Shadow suddenly offs the person in question right? But Shadows are Also Their Persona, albeit somewhat tamed.

It's not that Persona Users cannot have palaces. It's that Persona Users are their uncontested Rulers, for better or worse.

But...Ok, but wait. Mona SAID that persona user's can't have one right? Palaces are formed from desires run amok and...oh

oh

See, we come back to Akechi again. Just because you have a more thorough understanding of what makes you tick, just because you know what your thoughts and feelings are, just because you've acknowledged them, doesn't mean you've actually you know...fixed the problem.

That is to say, if you have a Persona it's not that you cannot have a Palace. It's that you have to specifically construct one.

But that's not an easy technique to do, nor, for that matter, is it something that you would necessarily WANT to do. It's narrowing your views, it's refining your thoughts in such a way that is potentially incredibly dangerous.

Indeed, Maruki at first did not see his palace AS one, and come think of it I don't know if he ever really accepts that beyond simplification for the sake of conversation. After all, in that regard, he literally, factually knows more than everyone else in that room, save maybe Morgana.

It's basically going “Ok It's not a palace but I understand that it looks feels and acts remarkably like one so ok for sake of simplicity it's a palace”

Again a little cheaty, but ok. Maruki has a Palace because he more or less made it (possibly with a little help from getting the Powers of the God of control)

But...See here's the thing about all of this that strikes me as most interesting.

He evolves his persona. Right? That was wild, and awesome I thought, but the way he went about doing it made me think about the OTHER persona evolutions.

And most specifically, the Ultimate Persona Evolutions that we see in game.

Cause see, it's not that he suddenly got a burst of will power out of nowhere. No. He rather explicitly gained that evolution by embracing his Palace Treasure. Which raises the question.

How do Persona evolutions actually WORK? Like the way the game portrays it, you go about your day, get close to a wild card and suddenly your persona is a different persona.

Well, that's the case if you look at the most recent games. But Looking at 3 (and I assume 1 and 2 but still haven't played em so) the evolution of a persona seems to come about when you have embraced a stronger resolve, increased your focus, have in effect become more of YOU. Or rather, further defined yourself.

So looking back at Maruki specifically here, I think it's telling that the thing that he further embraces is his Palace's Treasure. It's not only positive revelations or beliefs that can strengthen your resolve, as we see, but perhaps more critically in a general sense of the series, Persona Evolution requires a kind of narrowing of view. Not blinding yourself mind you, despite what it may sound like, but taking heed of specific goals and ambitions in order to actually well...Actualize.

Which makes the Wild Card VERY interesting, so I'm gonna see if I can't shake something out of that tree sooner or later.

#persona 5r #Spoilers #persona 5 maruki #Azathoth #Palaces

[selfindulgentpoorlywritten]

Home (T. Konecny & N. Patrick Imagine)

I didn’t finish this, but I don’t have the motivation to either. So enjoy 3k of self-indulgent bs I wrote when I was upset.

Rating: T

Pairing: T. Konecny/Reader/N. Patrick

Words: 3008

Warnings: Food, general negativity

Requested: yes / no

Summary: *Daniel Powter voice* You had a bad day...

Life sucks.

Life sucks and everything is terrible and you’re so fucking tired.

Your shift had gotten changed and no one bothered to tell you, so you woke up at 5:15 to your manager asking why you weren’t there yet, even though you usually don’t start until 7. Thus, you had to scramble through getting ready and driving to work in record time, except you didn’t realize until you’d gotten to the stadium that you’d forgotten your badge, so not only were you late, but they had to make you a temporary. Luckily you’re generally a good employee, so you just had to apologize a thousand times and work a little faster than usual, which is objectively better than getting fired. But it also sucked extra, because the reason your shift had been changed was due to them accidentally giving too many people the day off, so you were understaffed with a 3 o’clock 76’ers game to prepare for. Even on a calm day, hauling around boxes of food and delivering them to the kitchens was enough of a workout to justify not spending money on a gym membership, but with being half staffed and starting late, you were ready to collapse by time you were finished. Your entire body ached.

It would have been bad enough if it were just a rushed day, but everyone seemed to be in a pissy mood as well. The cooks snapped at you, because the chefs snapped at them, except the chefs also snapped at you, so you just got the business end of everyone’s bad mood. Plus you always felt bad when you were late to work or late with a delivery anyway, and you’d barely been sleeping, and you were constantly hungry but too nauseous to eat, and you couldn’t sit still for five minutes but moving was exhausting. So you were just guilty and irritated and mad at the entire world but mostly at yourself.

Once you clock out, you don’t even bother pretending to consider going back to your place. Traffic is a bitch, because you head out at the same time everyone is coming in for the game. You want to scream. You may or may not roll your windows up and do so, but no one can prove anything.

By time you reach your destination, the frustration has faded to leave you empty and apathetic and more tired than you’ve been in a long time. The doorman greets you, and usually you’d ask how he is and make small talk for a minute, but right now all you can do is shoot him as much of a smile as you can manage and thank him as you enter. The elevator ride feels like it takes a thousand years. The sight of their door is your first bit of relief in days; you don’t even have to dig out your key because it’s unlocked. Leaving it unlocked is probably not the most responsible decision, but they’re not the most responsible pair out there, and you might have sent them several frustrated texts during stolen seconds throughout the morning that would imply you’d be coming over.

You stop in the entryway to drop your bag and kick off your (ugly) regulation non-slip shoes. Just being here allows you to take a deep breath and relax, even minutely. You find Nolan in the kitchen, leaning on the island as he reads something on his phone and snacks on something definitely not on his diet plan. For a moment, you allow yourself to simply look. To appreciate the strong cut of his jaw, the constant flush of his cheeks, the curl of his hair against the nape of his neck.

“Hey nerd,” you greet, padding over to wrap your arms around him from behind. He hums, pressing back into you a bit. With your face buried into him, eyes closed, you can hear the quiet clack of him putting his phone down.

“Bad day, huh?” he asks, already knowing the answer. You just groan, pulling away enough to grab his hand and pull him out of the kitchen and toward the couch. He sits obediently, propping his feet up on the ottoman so you can spread out over the rest of the couch with your head in his lap. One hand on the side of your neck, he uses the other to play with your hair and scratch your scalp. It can’t be pleasant for him. You’re still sweaty and grimy from work, desperately in need of a shower, but he continues nevertheless.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asks. You don’t really want to, and you know he probably doesn’t want to either, so you save both of you the trouble by shaking your head.

“When’s Travis gonna be home?” you ask after a few minutes, turning onto your back after breaking the peaceful silence. Nolan checks his watch.

“Like twenty minutes,” he says, settling his hand over your collarbone now that you’ve turned. You let out another groan. Twenty fucking minutes.

“He’s at a meeting, he’ll be home soon,” Nolan mumbles, trying to appease you. Soon, hah, not soon enough. It was nice to mope with Nolan, doing nothing but laying around and letting his calm demeanor soothe you, but you always prefer to have them both around. Nolan can settle you like no other, but Travis was better at actually cheering you up. Working together, they made the perfect resolution to a shitty day.

Twenty minutes ends up being closer to thirty. The first half is spent with Nolan stroking his thumb along the skin under the collar of your uniform shirt, until you start feeling too gross and decide you should definitely get a shower. They have way better water pressure than you do, and you savor the hot water beating over your sore back until you hear the front door open. Trav is home. After giving yourself a cursory towel-dry and wrapping the (ridiculously) soft towel around yourself, you don’t bother getting dressed before bounding out to intercept him before he can even make it through the bedroom door. He laughs when you catch him in a hug, but squeezes you back nonetheless.

The two of you get changed together, chatting a bit about your days. He switches from his suit to a t-shirt and athletic shorts, and you pick out something cozy from your designated drawer. The urge to steal something of theirs to comfort yourself is powerful, but you resist, because you have them already. Who needs one of their oversized shirts when you have the real deal?

Once dressed, Travis wraps his arms around you from behind, huddling up against your back and enveloping you in his perpetual warmth. He waddles the two of you to the living room, keeping you plastered to his front, like a parent helping their child work out their first unsteady steps. The exaggerated swaying is exactly ridiculous enough to get a laugh out of you, the barest giggle that feels cathartic after the awful day you’ve had. The sound makes Travis cheer, pulling your arm up into a fistpump of success, which only makes you giggle more. As previously stated: Travis is really good at cheering you up.

During your time in the master suite, Nolan has gathered various pillows and blankets from around the condo and made a sort-of nest on the couch. You grab your favorite stuffed animal from the pile the second Travis lets you go, fussing with the pile of bedclothes until it’s arranged to your satisfaction. Then you proceed to arrange Travis and Nolan to your liking; Nols on the left with his feet on the ottoman as he likes, Trav wedged into the corner on the right, one leg spanning the back of the couch until his foot can bury itself behind Nolan, while the other leg is bent at the knee to settle his left foot flat on the floor. They are both more than adequately propped and padded with pillows, allowing them to be comfortable whilst providing you the perfect resting place.

The moment you’re fully settled in-- head on Travis’s left thigh, feet on Nolan’s lap, angled perfectly to see the TV without straining your neck or eyes, nor sacrificing full view-- Nolan hands you the remote without debate or question. You click through the usual streaming services for a few minutes, finding nothing of interest. Honestly, you already know what you want to watch, who are you kidding. Rather than continue the charade of considering other options, you click through to a less-than-savory streaming app Trav had installed a while back, despite Nolan’s concern for viruses. You go straight to the search bar and quickly to your favorite cheer-up movie, lodging the remote half under your forearm after pressing play. One final adjustment in position, and you’re set for the next two hours.

Throughout the movie, Nolan absently massages your calves and ankles, which he’s unusually good at, probably from getting so many massages at the rink. Travis scratches your scalp gently, rubbing at the base of your skull now and again, lucky to get you post-shower. They both let you make your commentary without complaint, even throwing their own comments in here and there. Maybe you got a bit too into the things you liked, and learned a gratuitous amount about them, and occasionally wanted to share your knowledge, despite it being entirely useless. You didn’t need to feel smart, necessarily, just heard. Understood.

The screen finally fades to black, jumping back to the preview screen automatically. Though Nol maneuvers your legs so he can stand and hobble to the kitchen, shaking out his knees along the way, you simply close your eyes and appreciate the situation. Yes, you had a shitty day. But you also have two wonderful, loving boyfriends who put off their game tape to watch your favorite movies for the millionth time, curl up with you for hours even if it makes their joints go stiff, listen to you ramble about the things you’re passionate about with admiration rather than complaint… You’re burrowed under your favorite comforter, with your favorite people, in a safe place, with the promise of forever under your tongue.

Nolan brings back two bowls with a properly portioned amount of diet-appropriate snacks, that he hands to you and Travis to hold while he settles back in. One bowl has these weird “bites” that only Nolan likes, so that ends up in his hands before you start the next movie, Trav holding the bowl of home-made trail mix the both of you will presumably share. You all snack and watch your favorite rom-com, probably more invested than you should be after having seen it this many times. But it serves as an adequate relief from the leftover stress of your day. Plus, witnessing TK and Nolan evolve from pretending not to care about the story, to nearly screaming at the TV when the characters do stupid things, is always a bonus and a privilege. It’s difficult for them, especially as professional hockey players, to express anything both genuine and outside the scope of traditional masculinity, you know that; that’s why it’s such a stunning scene to be allowed to witness. Any time they allow themselves to openly feel around you, you feel more trusted, more loved.

After the fade to black snaps back to the preview screen, it’s roundabout time for a slightly overdue dinner. The three of you debate the merits of ordering out versus making the lemon garlic tilapia you’d picked up the ingredients for the other day, deciding to be responsible and cook the fish before it spoiled. They’re both useless in the kitchen, so they mostly sit at the island and provide entertainment while you cook, occasionally bringing you something you need. In the past, you’d attempted to teach them some culinary skills, but in the interest of not burning the condo down most of the cooking is left to you or their chef. Because they have a personal chef, like the rich bastards they are. But again, you’d rather they not die in a grease fire, so maybe that’s for the best. Even if you’re a little jealous.

The recipe is fairly straightforward, so it’s not too much work after your long day. And making food always makes you feel a little better anyway, especially if you’re making it for other people. Food is love, and all that, so it was just nice to work on something and have someone actually appreciate it (instead of yelling at you for being ten minutes late). The boys get into an argument about the best way to counteract some opponent’s play style, or something like that, and you have to give them each a good whack on the arm with the spatula to get them to disengage. Luckily, dinner is ready not long after, so they don’t have time to work themselves back up.

They both help you serve the food, setting out plates and glasses and silverware on the small wooden table as you dish out fish and rice and squash. The larger filets go to them, as well as a heartier portion of sides. They’re gonna need as much as they can get before the official season starts and they end up losing all the weight they’d gained over the summer. When you’re at home, dinner is a quiet affair. Usually it’s just you eating on the couch as you watch a show or scroll social media. With Travis and Nolan, however, dinner is loud and long and engaging. The both of them talk throughout the meal, pulling you into the conversation so often that your rice is almost cold before you finish it. For as long as you’d lived alone, you’d convinced yourself that you were okay with the silence-- enjoyed it, actually-- but after your first dinner with the boys, you couldn’t deny that the commotion was infinitely preferable.

Clean-up is a breeze between the three of you, Trav and Nolan doing the bulk of the work to make up for not cooking. All you have to do is hand the dishes to Nolan so he can wash them, handing them off to Travis to dry and put away. Trav had been banned from washing after a few too many arguments about what constituted “clean”. You’re not entirely sure it wasn’t a ploy to get out of the hardest work, but you and Nolan love him, so you’ll let it slide. On occasion, you’ll play background music while you clean. This is one of those occasions, and you’re caught off guard when Nolan perks up and Travis drops the plate in his hands to the counter with a clatter.

“It’s our song!” he says, almost loud enough to make you worry about retaliation from the neighbors. But it is your song, so you’re not particularly worried about what Mr. Steinberg thinks.

The three of you move at the same time, Nolan placing the cup in his hand into the sink and you setting the pan you’re holding back into the pile, letting Travis lead you into the more open space between the stove and island, where you’re less likely to break something. As the music plays, you all move more-or-less in sync. Travis and Nols swing each other around as you spin around them, only to be pulled in so Nolan can push and pull you around while Trav shimmies around you. You’re all laughing, singing along to the old jazz song, Sinatra’s deep croon guiding you around the tiled floor. This is one of those rare times that Nolan really lets himself go, allows himself to smile and laugh and dance like no one is watching. Or maybe like you and Travis are watching, and he feels safe enough to be open and happy in front of you both.

After the four or so minutes of the song ends, the three of you converge in a standing pile of smiles and laughter. The three of you exchange kisses and nudge heads and shoulders, just enjoying each other’s company. Enjoying the fact that you get to have this, this overwhelming, chest-bursting happiness. But eventually, you have to return to the dishes. Instead of being a chore, it’s significantly more an activity to do together. The three of you chatter as you wash, unable to wipe the smiles from your faces-- even Nolan.

As Travis places the last cup in the cabinet, you allow Nols to wrap his arms around you, enveloping you in his warmth. Rather than complain, as he usually does, Travis simply joins in, wrapping his arms around the both of you. You’re entirely encompassed by their affection, doing your absolute best to radiate appreciation and affection. You’re not sure that you’ll ever be able to express how much their care means to you; but you’re also not sure you’ll ever truly understand how they feel about you, either. But no one does this for someone they don’t love dearly. They don’t watch shitty movies, or pet your greasy hair, or dance around the kitchen to your old music-- not even just to cheer you up. Just because that’s who you are and what you like, and they want to be a part of that-- no one does all of that unless they love you.

Time passes; maybe a minute, maybe an hour. All you know is the hard stretch of Travis and Nolan’s chests against your back and front, their heat, the softness of their lips against your cheeks, neck, forehead, shoulders, nose, jaw…

Eventually, you have to part. It takes a bit of effort to slip out from between them, partially because you’re pressed so closely together, but mostly because you don’t really want to leave this place, ever. If you could stay pressed between them forever, you would, without question. They’re your safe space, your home. More than any physical location could be.

#Travis Konecny imagine #nhl imagine #Nolan patrick imagine #RI #tkonecny #npatrick #andis coping mechanism

[sublimestarker]

Starker smut - Trim my hedges

Peter Parker was loaded. Most of it was family money, inherited by his parents and his uncle, but he still managed to double that amount. He worked on apps, and sometimes invested in properties and stock, with his aunt’s permission. “You’re only 19, Peter live your life while you’re young” she’d say and if he had a penny for every time he heard it and rolled his eyes, he’d be even richer. But even she couldn’t deny that their luxurious lifestyle had it’s perks - a nice apartment in Queens and a vacation home in the Hamptons. They were currently there, the July sun shining on Peter’s Ray-Bans as he watched his aunt showing the new gardener around. He knew that the staff never stuck around for too long, so he opted for scrolling through his phone instead of watching the man. Peter was forced to meet him later, when May introduced them.

“Peter, this is our new gardener, Anthony Stark.”

“Please call me Tony.” He said and stretched his hand out to the younger man. Tony, in his tank top and his dirty gardening gloves shaking hands with Peter who was dressed in Gucci pants and had a new Rolex on his wrist was a sight.

“Alright boys, play nice.” May ordered, before going back in the house.

“Kid, you should go in too, I’m gonna trim the hedges and it will get pretty loud.”

“Don’t worry, I have these.” Peter fished out a pair of Airpods from his pocket, and placed them in his ears, his music on low volume, so that he stayed focused. He wanted to observe the gardener a bit more. That guy wasn’t May’s usual type - tall, blonde, with muscles and blue eyes, like the precious ones. Peter particularly missed Steve Rogers, or Captain America,as they called him and a guy who he just called Thor. He had fucked them both, leading to their unemployment, thanks to his aunt. He still remembers the vicious arguments they got in.

“If you didn’t want me to have sex with guys who are twice my age you shouldn’t bring them over.” Peter yelled as he saw that May had fired Steve. His nerves got the best of him and he knew it.

“I didn’t bring them over, I asked them to work for me. You should really think of who you’re seen with, your little hookups can lead to bad press.” May shouted back. He hadn’t seen her this angry with him since he gambled last year.

“Bad press? What is this the 60s. I can sleep with whomever I want and the paparazzi won’t bat an eyelash.”

“Though you should be free to do whatever you want with your body, I’m still the adult here, Peter. There should be some limits. I just want the best for you, I don’t want you to get hurt like last time.”

“We’re still on that. I told you it was just a one time thing.”

“Is that why you were cooped up crying in your room for months. Because of a one time thing. Look I don’t want another Bucky breaking your heart.”

“Don’t call him that. Only I can say that. To you and everyone else he’s James.”

“But he wasn’t, wasn’t he. He was Bucky to his wife and kids, wasn’t he.”

“Get out.”

“Peter I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to overstep my boundaries.”

“I said get out.” He screamed, face red and tears welling up in his eyes. He even threw a framed picture at where May stood moments ago.

Peter was snapped out of that memory when he felt his gardener tapping him on the shoulder.

“You’re so deep in thoughts that you didn’t feel that the first few times, huh kid. Anyway, I need to mow the lawn, so I’d suggest you move.”

“You don’t make the suggestions here. If I wanted I could get you fired right here on the spot.”

“Nice try kid, but I know that your aunt’s the boss here. Plus what are you going to do after you fire me? Replace me with a blonde, blue eyed muscular jock.”

Peter clenched his fist in anger.

“May told you.”

“Yeah, she didn’t want me making the same mistakes as the previous gardeners. Though looking at your attitude, I’m sure she won’t have a problem.”

“You don’t know anything about me.”

“Oh, I know everything about you. Because I was you. I was a rich brat, with lots of cash and lots of fuck buddies.”

“Anthony Stark, Tony Stark, my father used to know your father. Wait, the Wikipedia article said that you ran away from home one night and that you’ve been MIA ever since.”

“Yeah kid, I know what it says, I wrote it. The truth isn’t that glamorous or mysterious. One night my old man saw me sneaking in my boyfriend. He banished me, it was a different time then. And I’ve been on my own since then. I was 18 and on the street, it was literally rags to riches, but well riches to rags. I tried a lot of things. Took a few odd jobs, went to community college, even tried to get back into the family business after my dad passed. Well nothing worked and here I am, in what I’m convinced is my personal hell on earth.”

“Why did you take this job then? You knew what you were getting into.”

“Because it’s the only way I can get money.”

“You see that little garden over there - Steve planted marigolds for me when he was still here. They should bloom in a week. If you stay at your job until then, you’re free to leave and I’ll even give you an extra 10 k. But if i seduce you before that, you’ll have to work here, all summer, every year. Do we have a deal?”

“Sure kid. Just don’t go crying when you can’t afford to get a new Audi because I can keep it in my pants.”

The next day Peter set his plan in motion, thanking God that May had to go back to New York to handle some unexpected business. He was going simple - sunbathing while Tony was working. So he sat in his chaise lounge, Versace sunglasses on and a tiny pink thong. Better to leave somethings to the imagination. Plus skinny dipping in his pool was one of his other options.

Seeing that his gardener was coming, Peter rubbed some tanning lotion on his milky white skin, before saying seductively.

“Hey, can you help me with the back.”

“Sure kid.”

He spread the lotion down the younger man’s back, obeying every command to go lower.

Tony’s hands were millimeters from Peter’s ass, when the older man leaned in and whispered in his ear.

“Why don’t you get dressed before your neighbor comes over to greet you.”

“Neighbor? Wait someone’s coming over for the summer? Which house is it, the one on the left of the right?” Peter asked frantically as he covered himself with a towel. It couldn’t be, right. He wouldn’t come back here again.

“Right. Why?”

“Did you see who was there? Was it just a woman, or a man, or a couple with kids?”

“It was a couple. What don’t you know your neighbors? If it helps jog your memory, the man had a sleeve tattoo of a biomechanical arm, can’t miss it.”

“Bucky.”

“You do know them. So, what is Bucky some old guy, whose son you fucked or something?.”

“He’s my ex. And he absolutely mustn’t see me.”

As if on que, there was a ring on the doorbell.

“Please get it.”

“Kid you have to reap what you sew. I’m not bailing you out.”

“I’ll pay you.”

“Get in the house before he can see you.” Peter flashed him a smile, before jogging into the house. Locking himself in his room, he peaked through the curtains to see what was going on. He could spot Bucky and Tony arguing, then his ex leaving. His gardener then climbed up the stairs and knocked on Peter’s door.

“Thank Tony. I owe you one.”

“Cash rules everything around me, kid. Now come on, give me the money, Parker.”

“How about a blowjob, it’s worth more than I could ever give you in cash.” Peter tried his luck.

“The money, now.” Tony said through his teeth, one hand gripping Peter’s throat.

“Yes daddy.” The younger man replied instinctively, and made a mental note of how Tony bit his lip at that. Peter grabbed a pen and his checkbook, writing a quick cheque to Tony.

“There’s an extra grand for your silence on everything that happened.”

“Pleasure working with you kid.”

Peter could see Bucky’s car driving away, thanks to someone telling Ms. Barnes exactly where her husband had been earlier.

A few days passed and Peter tried his best to seduce Tony. From skimpy outfits to touches that lingered on for more that they should have, nothing seemed to work. But he had some tricks up his sleeve.

Tony had almost forgotten about the younger man’s seduction attempts and didn’t think much before accepting his proposal of a movie night. He was lounging on the expensive white couch with Peter in gray sweatpants beside him. The movie was Beach rats, Pete’s pick of course. But when them first sex scene started on the screen, Tony noticed something unusual, Parker was moaning. Taking his eyes from the screen Stark noticed that not only was the younger man moaning, he was touching himself. He didn’t stop stroking his cock when he noticed the gaze on him, he even started thrusting faster.

“Peter that’s indecent exposure.”

“But I’m not exposing anything, Mr. Stark. There’s a perfectly good movie and you’re watching me. Seems like you want to sleep with me.”

“Fine, if that’s how you wanna play it, I’ll watch the movie.” Tony said as he glued his eyes to the tv. He was staying focused until

“Tony” a desperate breathy moan cane from Peter’s lips. Ignore it, your will is strong.

“Mr. Stark, please.”. He’s just some little bratty twink.

“Fuck me, Tony.” You could be his dad.

“Daddy”. With that Peter came, his eyes were closed and his cheeks were a rosy shade of pink. Tony still kept his eyes on the screen, but there was a bulge in his jeans. Peter didn’t miss that and quickly came up with a plan on how to work with that.

“Well I’ll have to do laundry now. Mind if I squeeze past?” He said and accidentally fell into Tony’s lap, grinding his hips, feeling the throbbing member beneath him.

“Wow, Mr. Stark, you’re packing. You know I usually don’t care about size, but damn I’m sure you.” Before he could finish his sentence, Tony pushed him away.

“Don’t touch me, kid.”. Well plan failed.

Tomorrow was Peter’s only chance to seduce Tony. It wasn’t about the money anymore, nor was it a matter of pride. The younger man was genuinely in love and that terrified him.

Maybe if Peter fucked Tony all these feelings would just disappear. He was determined to find out. That morning they didn’t even exchange words. Tony was working by the pool when Peter jumped in. He swam a lap, before tossing his swimming trunks by the other man. Then he decided to practice his backstroke, showing off his “technique”.

“Care to join me? You don’t need a swimsuit. Come on daddy.”

Tony just sighed and started stripping. Peter’s eyes sparked up with joy. He was winning. And more importantly he was going to be fucked in his pool. Looking his crush up and down, he bit his lip. For an old man Tony had a nice body. Toned abs, big biceps, that perfect v that drove the guys crazy and his dick. Peter couldn’t wait to have it in his mouth, running his tongue over the uncircumcised length.

“Earth to Parker.” Tony was right next to him, oh god, he was so hard for the older man. “You know this week I realized that you get flustered by me. You, Peter Parker the handsome rich boy who can have any guy, likes me, an old man.”

“You’re not that old.”

Tony took steps forward and Peter backwards, until his back hit a wall. Peter’s breath hitched and Tony leaned into him, their lips millimeters apart.

“Is it worth it, if you loose all the money.” Peter asked, clearly taunting the other man.

“Everything’s worth it for you, baby boy.”

Peter closed his eyes and pressed his soft lips against Tony. But instead of feeling lips, he felt a hand. Anthony had placed his large palm between them.

“Psych.”. He said, before exiting the pool and drying off with Peter’s towel. Peter shamelessly rutted his hips against that same towel before cuming with Tony’s name on his lips.

The next day the marigolds had bloomed. Peter picked one and placed it behind his ear, as a sigh of defeat.

When Tony arrived he wasn’t dressed in his usual gardening clothes, but instead he was in a rainbow crop top and booty shorts.

“Parker where’s my cheque. I’m dying to go to the bank like this.”

“Oh, I was prepared to give you cash.” Peter said, opening his Balenciaga fanny pack to reveal stacks of 100 dollar bills.

“I want a cheque. I want to have physical proof that Peter Parker couldn’t seduce me.”

“Fine.” Peter pouted, stomping his feet up to his bedroom, followed by Tony. When he wrote the cheque, he handed it to the older man.

“Oh, Peter, one more thing.”. Before Peter could say anything, Tony pressed his lips against his. The kiss was hungry and sloppy, all tongue and teeth clashing together. The older man almost ripped off the buttons of Peter’s shirt, playing with his nipples. Tony pulled down his lover’s pants.

“Going commando? I bet you were watch me work and play with yourself, wishing that I was touching your sensitive cock, huh baby.”

“Yes, daddy.”

“Well you don’t have to wish for it any more, cause it just came true.”. Tony palmed Peter’s erection, swirling the precum from his head to the base.

“Need to taste you, baby boy.”. With one bob of his head Tony could deepthroath Peter. His cock was sensitive, he was ready to come just from that.

“Daddy please.”

“Fuck, baby boy, you have to be needier than that. As much as I like having your pretty cock in my mouth, I want you. Get on your hands and knees for daddy.”

“Lube and condoms are in the bedside drawer.”

Tony kissed Peter reassuringly, then coated his fingers in lube. His finger slid in easily.

“Baby boy, did you play with yourself this morning?”

“Yes.”

“And who did you think about?”

“You, daddy.”

“You know that bad boys get punished. Count how many spanks I’m gonna give you.”

Tony’s hand struck Peter’s bottom, loving how the younger man’s hole tightened around him. After 5 spanks Peter was a mess. His ass was red and he was drooling on the pillow, begging for Tony’s cock inside of him.

“Just a but more, baby.” said the older man. He couldn’t take the teasing either. He had to have his baby boy, now. So he just added two fingers and scissored them, opening up Peter. As the younger man moaned, Tony opened the condom and lubed it up, before entering his lover.

“Fuck, baby boy, you’re so tight for me.”

“Daddy, you’re so big, you feel so good.”

“Beg for me, Peter.”

“Daddy, please harder. I need you, please.”

“Okay, baby.”. Tony bottomed out, causing Peter to let out an almost pornographic moan.

“Right there. I’m gonna cum.”

“Say my name.”

“Tony.”

“Try again, baby boy.”

“Mr.Stark.”

“I won’t let you cum if you’re wrong one more time.”

“Daddy.”

“That’s right, baby boy. Now come for me.”. Peter came, making a mess on his bedsheets. He rode it out quickly, cock softening.

“Help daddy come, Peter. Touch yourself.”

“But I’m still sensitive, it hurts.”

“Do you want me to feel good?”

“Yes daddy.”. Peter touching himself and let out a whimper, his hard cock already twitching in his hand. Tony wrapped his fist against him, causing him to groan out and slow his pace.

“Don’t stop ,baby, I’m almost there.”. Just as Tony came, he could feel Peter’s hole tightening, the boy had come again.

“You did so good, baby boy. I’m proud of you.”

“Thank you daddy. Can you help me wash off, all this cum is sticky.”

#starker #tony stark #peter parker #ironspider #iron man #spiderman #peter parker x tony stark #tony stark x peter parker #starker smut #smut #lemon

[artificialqueens]

Laws of Motion / Chapter 1 (Trixya) - DenDenMonMon

Summary: “Every object persists in its state of rest or uniform motion in a straight line unless it is compelled to change that state by forces impressed on it.”

A/N: 

Hi. Hello. How are you? Welcome to another crazy idea that came to my mind and have no clue where it’s gonna take us! Wooh! Usually I’m not a big fan of crude smut thrown at you right from the start, yet, here we are haha so, if that’s not your cup of tea, you can just skip that part once you reach it, there’s no other impact on the story other than it happened. Hope you enjoy the ride. Thanks for reading! -Monkey

AO3 Link

Laws of Motion

Chapter 1 - Pink.

The music was loud.

More than hear it, Katya could feel it.

She could feel the waves of sound pulsing all through her body. She could feel her blood running through her veins to the rhythm of the unfamiliar song. Her eyes were closed as her ears filled with the blaring noises of the club, clashing and mixing together. Her arms were up in the air as she allowed her mind to go blank. Her body responded to the movements dictated both by the music and the hands of the stranger holding her hips.

She could feel the man’s fingers digging into her flesh, but she didn’t mind. She could feel his semi-erection against her ass, but she didn’t care. She liked it. She liked the fact that she was utilizing him. Right in that moment, he was nothing but an object to her. He might as well be a wall she was slamming her body against while dancing, he had as much importance. His reaction to the way her body moved was all she was looking for. She liked that power. Taking advantage of that power, of the symbolic grip she had on the guy, she turned around in his arms. Her hips pressed hard against his. She could feel him through her tight skirt. If there hadn’t been clothes between them, they could very easily be fucking already.

She knew that.

He knew that.

His stare told her as much.

That was the only reason why she turned around and walked away. He called after her but she didn’t listen. One of her hands went up in the air, dismissing him completely. He really had nothing else to offer her.

She made her way through the crowd. The dance floor was completely packed and she loved to feel the pressure of hot bodies against her own, even if it was just for a second. The only problem was, it was too hot and she was sweating. She needed a break.

With a little bit of trouble she managed to step away from the moving bodies, and went to find her friends. They were all drinking and dancing in the little private area. That particular booth was permanently reserved for them. That was the type of privilege they got for being regulars at the club. The seats of the small round tables were not always filled, but that night was a special occasion.

“That was quick. Did you fuck him already?” Violet swung her long ponytail from one shoulder to the other. Her dark hair shone with the fluorescent lights blinking behind her.

Katya laughed at her assumptions, her head shaking in disbelief. “You are rotted!” And that was all the attention she dedicated to the matter.

She went around the circle, pretending to give lap dances to those sitting down, and watched them get shit-faced as she sipped from her tall glass of Coke. She felt happy, she felt alive, she felt completed. There were no visible cares in the world. All the people that mattered to her the most were right there, in that stinky booth, having fun and enjoying themselves. If only things could stay like that forever, or at least for a little bit longer, but they couldn’t. Because time waited for no man, nor woman, and life went on, leaving behind whoever wasn’t ready to catch up.

Suddenly, she noticed the bucket in the center getting empty, when it had been filled to the rim with beer bottles not so long ago. Placing her fingers between her lips, she whistled in the direction of the bar.

Her eyes caught a girl sitting alone on one of the stools. Her hair was blonde, flat-ironed, and parted in the middle. It went all the way down to her waist, creating a remarkable contrast against the bright pink dress she was wearing. Her shoulders went up and down at an erratic pace, not really following the beat of the song.

The bartender whistling back took Katya out of her trance. She shook the empty bucket, the remaining ice cubes rattling inside. No other explanation was needed and the bartender sent a waiter her way, to retrieve the bucket to be filled again.

Her eyes were glued to the girl during this entire time. She watched her fingers rapidly tap against her phone, probably sending text messages that she was going to regret in the morning. Her head hung low. She was most likely crying. Her long fingers wrapped around the neck of a beer bottle, and she seemed to down it all in one swing. Katya had to guess it hadn’t been completely full; the girl didn’t look like the type that could drink an entire bottle of beer at once.

A waiter finally approached her, new round of beers in his hand, making her stop her observations. For the time being, she forgot about the girl drinking alone at the bar, and she concentrated her attention on making sure everybody had a drink in their hands.

It wasn’t necessary, but she couldn’t miss the chance. She drank the last bit of her soda and made her way through the crowd again.

“Hey, Bob!” Katya approached the bar, the empty glass high in the air. “Oops, sorry. I touched you.” She apologized when she felt her arm bump against the person on the tall stool. The girl simply looked away, hiding her face behind the curtain of straight hair. “Another one, please and thank you.”

Bob took the glass from her hand and reached for a new can of Coca-Cola. “Coming right up!”

The process was simple, but took the bartender enough to give Katya time to analyze the blonde girl. She still wouldn’t look in Katya’s direction, which gave her the freedom to shamelessly scan her up and down. She was cute. Really cute.

Bob finally gave her the long glass back, filled with ice cubes and bubbling soda.

“You are the best.” She flashed her biggest smile his direction. “Put it on my tab, and, please, give Depressed Malibu Barbie over here a double of whatever she’s drinking,” she said as she turned around to leave.

She heard a loud ‘I’m not…’ coming from the girl but Bob quickly cut her off.

“Just take the drink.”

Without looking at them again, Katya made it back to her friends. She stepped on the cushions of the booth, holding on to someone’s shoulder for balance.

“Hi, yes, hello. May I please have your attention, you dirty whores?”

Everyone around her stopped what they were doing. They turned to look at her with amusement on their faces. Nobody knew what to expect, but were perfectly aware that there was not one time that Katya didn’t make them laugh with her speeches.

“Thank you, thank you. As you know, Miss Ginger Minj over here, AKA female Danny DeVito, AKA Tony Soprano, AKA…” She had to stop mid-sentence, laughing hysterically at her own words as everybody else chuckled slightly. “AKA my best friend and partner, decided to abandon us all and get an early retirement.”

She exaggerated a face of disappointment, only as a cover-up for the real sadness that had invaded her for months. Ginger had recently gotten married, and she was the happiest she had been in her entire life. It didn’t surprise anybody when she let them know she was leaving, wanting to dedicate her entire attention to her husband and the new life they were about to start.

“You will be greatly missed,” Katya continued with put-on solemnity. “Luckily, your BO will linger around the halls forever.” There was one more pause as she recovered from her own joke, before she actually turned serious. “Come on, now, raise your glasses and join me in the celebration of the one and only, the multitalented, the incomparable, the often imitated but never duplicated, Ginger Minj! May her smoker’s breath continue to infest every room she ever walks into, may her big juicy ass only grow bigger and juicier, and may that new husband of hers fuck her so hard every night that she can never walk straight again.”

There was a round of laughter as her friends lifted their drinks to her words.

“To Ginger!” She ended loudly, making the people around her to repeat in unison. The words were followed by the sound of bottles and glasses clinking with each other.

She got down and hugged her friend. The smile was still on her face when she turned around in the direction of the bar again. The mysterious girl was looking at her, or at them, probably their toasting had called her attention. Katya wasn’t sure. All she knew was that she was intrigued by the girl, hiding behind the heavy layers of makeup that made it impossible to even look at her eyes.

Katya would later learn that her name was Trixie, that her heart had just been broken, and that she tasted sweeter than any other girl that had ever ridden her face. For the time being, she was reduced to a sad woman, drinking alone at the bar, wearing a pink dress and too much makeup.

It was very unusual of Trixie to be doing so, she had to admit as much to herself, but the circumstances called for it. The rough and sudden shift in her perfect little life didn’t seem to have any other solution but to drown it in alcohol.

She had been there before. She had been hurt by a man before, but never like this. This time it felt different. She wasn’t even sure why she had such strong feelings about it. Things had been good, but there was no reason for her to be destroyed about the end of her relationship.

Her finger unlocked the phone, even when it didn’t show any new notifications. She went to the messaging app and opened a specific conversation. It could barely be called that, if she was being honest. Nothing but blue bubbles appeared on her screen, filling up the right hand side of the unilateral discussion. The smiley emoji wearing a cowboy hat, followed by pink hearts and sparkles, at the top of the screen, suddenly made her feel sick.

Drunk texting was never a good idea, she knew as much, she was smart enough to know that. The pressure in her chest, the pain in her soul, and the alcohol running through her veins, gave her enough courage to type yet another message.

Thank you for teaching me what true love ISN’T.

She backspaced the entire thing, deleting the message and starting over.

You just made me realize how much I don’t need you.

That was a lie. She did need him. She did miss him. Or at least she missed how it felt to be loved by someone; but that was a feeling that had been gone for some time now. They had lived miles and miles and hours apart, but they had been able to make it work. She would visit him every other weekend, and he would take a trip down to meet her whenever he was available. Through many phone and FaceTime calls is that they had made it possible to stay together even when being apart. Trixie had to wonder if that was the reason why they lasted so long, because they didn’t really see each other. If she had to put together all the days they actually spent together in the course of so many years, they wouldn’t sum up to more than a few months.

With a heavy sigh, she pushed the button to lock her phone again.

No message was sent.

She looked around instead, noticing for the first time how loud the music was. She had been immersed in her own pathetic little world that she had taken no regard on the people partying behind her.

The spinning of the stool was enough to make her dizzy, she decided to sit still, like she had been doing the whole night, and asked for another beer.

The tall man behind the counter, Bob, looked at her with a side grin. “Girl, don’t get me wrong. I’m from New York. I’m all about getting plastered and then riding the train home at the same time that people are going to work.” He laughed at his own words, taking the empty bottle from her hand. “Are you sure about that drink?”

“Oh, my God! I’m so glad you asked!” Trixie’s sarcasm was not missed by the bartender who laughed wholeheartedly. “Yes, I’m sure about that fucking drink.”

The beer was placed in front of her, then a bottle of water landed right next to it. “Meet me halfway?” The guy asked with the same shit-eatting grin.

Trixie rolled her eyes, but took the cap off of the water bottle anyways. “I’d really appreciate it if you stayed away from my business. Thank you.”

He lifted his hands in surrender and moved along to serve other customers. No other words were said. For a moment, Trixie was sad the interaction was over. She had finally been given a distraction from her own destructive thoughts and she had pushed it away. All she could do now was watch the bald man as he laughed and handed out glasses filled with liquor. Trixie wondered if he was giving them a hard time as well, if he was always protective of his customers or if he had felt pity for her. She was drinking alone, and visibly crying, after all.

That had to stop immediately.

She drank the entire water bottle at once, not really realizing how much her body needed it until the first drops touched her tongue, and stood up. With the phone in her hand, she made her way to the bathroom. Walking was a struggle, and her high heels were not helping. Maybe she was, indeed, drunk.

She entered the last stall of the row. Her body felt heavy as she sat on the toilet. Her elbows landed on her knees and she let her head drop to her hands.

As Trixie was receiving the epiphany that she needed while peeing, on the other side of the club Katya felt claustrophobic. There were too many people in the small space with the extremely low roof. The room felt hot and air was not circulating enough. Ironically, she knew that the thing she needed to be able to breathe at peace again was a cigarette.

She stepped outside and the warm breeze hit her face. It was as much as she could ask for a LA night and she took it gladly. Up until that moment she hadn’t realized just how sweaty she was. The belt around her waist was too tight, making it even harder for her to breathe normally. She liked her top, and was grateful for picking something see-through. It allowed air to flow and her tattoos to show, but the feeling of mech against her arms and torso was itchy. She could feel every piece of clothing sticking to her skin. It wasn’t a nice feeling but it was one that she was rather used to.

The calming effects of the nicotine worked wonders right away. She could feel her lungs expanding as they filled with smoke. Her thoughts immediately stopped racing and a sense of utter peace enveloped her whole.

She kicked pebbles with the tip of her shoe. One arm was wrapped around her waist, the other one finding support on it to place the cigarette to her lips. Everything around her was quiet. And she liked it that way. She could see the cars driving on the street, their lights bright enough to reach her all the way at the end of the alley.

Her peaceful moment was disrupted by the back door of the club opening roughly. The girl from the bar walked out, her steps stomping hard against the pavement as she walked with alcohol induced confidence.

“That’s right,” she said to the phone glued to her ear. “I am walking to the dumpster right now. I am taking the key out of my purse,” she narrated her every move. “If you don’t say anything right now I will throw it in there, and you will never see me again.” There was a pause, which clearly didn’t give her the answer that she was looking for. “Fine. It’s done. Bye, see you never,” she assured as the small piece of metal landed on trash bags with a small thud. “I guess you don’t love me after all.”

Forcefully, she pressed the red button to end the phone call. She turned around and spotted Katya for the first time.

“Ex-boyfriend?” Katya asked, respectfully blowing smoke in the opposite direction.

Trixie nodded her head. “Ex-boyfriend’s voicemail, to be exact.”

Katya smiled, throwing the butt of the cigarette on the ground and stepping on it. “You are too hot for him anyways.”

Her eyes grew wide open in surprise. “How do you know that? You don’t know him, or me.”

“But I have eyes, and I can see you are hot, Barbie doll.”

“Trixie, my name is Trixie.”

“Nice to meet you, Trixie. Say, do you feel like dancing the depression away?”

The girl extended her hand and Trixie took it, allowing the total stranger to pull her back inside. She didn’t realize, but Trixie never got the girl’s name. It didn’t seem to matter then, not when their bodies grinded together and the music did all the talking. The name was going to be a big deal in a few hours, though, when Trixie’s orgasm was going to rip her to pieces and she was not going to know which name to scream in delight. Right that instant, however, it was irrelevant.

Trixie allowed Katya to press her body against hers, to let the song that was playing loudly from the speakers to provide the necessary words to fill up the space around them. It felt good. It felt nice to have soft skin brushing against her own. It felt electrifying when nails dug on her flesh. It felt hot when the perfectly round ass rubbed against her crotch.

Hot.

It was hot, both the room and their dance. Katya was a complete mystery and an enigma. She would whisper silly nothings into her ear, making Trixie laugh with joy, and, at the same time, use her body to set Trixie’s on fire. She had never felt like this before, so free, so careless, so turned on. Trixie knew her heart was still torn into a million pieces, but the thin girl exploring her body with her hands, was melting her in such a way that the broken parts seemed to glue themselves back together.

Everything around her was spinning, and Trixie didn’t seem to find another anchor that it wasn’t Katya’s body crashing against her own. She became the gravity center that she needed. And the pull was so strong that Trixie couldn’t help it when she suddenly found herself pressing her lips against the other woman’s. This was something completely new to her, but the feeling was so amazing that she didn’t want to deprive herself from it.

Katya smiled for a moment, moving her lips to Trixie’s ear. “You are drunk, bitch.”

The new position only allowed Trixie to plant a kiss on Katya’s neck, never stopping the swaying of their bodies. “So are you, so what’s the problem?” she said against her skin. She simply couldn’t stop herself. She wanted– she needed more of her. “Wanna get out of here?”

Katya pushed her away, just enough to look her in the eye. “Are you sure? You may regret this in the morning.”

“Are you really that bad in bed?”

Both looked at each other for a moment, before erupting in uncontrollable laughter. Katya was the first one to recover her voice. “I’ll grab my stuff.”

“I’ll get us an Uber.”

The car drive was made in silence. Katya had enough conscience to leave some space between them in the backseat. Trixie had been drinking, a lot. Katya wanted to give her that time to sober up and think if that was really what she wanted. Trixie seemed to be doing just that. Katya observed her from the far end of the seat, kept a close eye in the way she looked out the window, the city lights making the glitters on her face shine bright. It was a beautiful sight of a beautiful girl.

Trixie was completely aware of Katya’s eyes on her. She liked that feeling. Something in the bottom of her stomach had been set on fire, and the heat spread all the way down to her most private area, making her throb with desire she had never felt before. It was new and interesting and she couldn’t wait to explore the feeling some more.

She turned around abruptly, expecting Katya to look away and pretend she wasn’t watching her, but she didn’t.

“Are you one hundred percent sure you wanna do this?”

If there was any trace of doubt in Trixie’s mind, the sincerity in Katya’s eyes made it fly out the window. “Are you kidding me? Yes, of course I am.”

They both held their stares for a moment too long until Trixie extended her hand, taking Katya’s and interwinding their fingers. Still holding hands, they walked inside the apartment building. It wasn’t until they were inside the elevator that Katya even tried to make a move.

Still holding hands, they walked inside the apartment building. It wasn’t until they were inside the elevator that Katya even tried to make a move.

“Come here, Mamma.”

Trixie did as she was told. With a side smile on her face, she moved to stand right in front of Katya, towering her. Each of her hands flanked Katya’s head as she leaned forward, pressing her lips softly against hers. It wasn’t a kiss, not really, it was a tentative move, almost as if they were testing the feeling under these new circumstances. There was no loud music or sweaty people dancing around them. There was nobody but them in that small metallic box, space that kept feeling smaller and smaller the longer they kissed. Because the elevator was not big enough to contain the immense waves of desire that washed over them like tsunami tides.

The door slid open with a ding, revealing their own image reflecting on the mirror across from them. They looked a hot mess. Katya stared at herself, at the mascara creating dark circles under her eyes, where it mixed with the liner that had already ran. Her hair was gone beyond the point of no return.

If she had gotten into this state, just by dancing, she couldn’t imagine how she was going to look like walking out of that apartment, all fucked out by the real size Barbie doll dragging her through the narrow hallway.

They stopped by the door with the letter F on the front. Trixie pulled her closer, her lips once again meeting Katya’s as her hand fished the key in her purse. Doing both things at the same time proved to be too difficult for her, but she didn’t stop either. She allowed her mouth to continue devouring Katya’s as she pushed the key into the knob. Her tongue was running against each of Katya’s teeth when the front door closed with a bang.

“You need to take off your shoes,” Trixie informed her between kisses. She turned around and found stability on the wall in front of her, trying to kick off her high heels.

That was when she felt Katya’s hands on her ass. “I think you need to take off your panties.”

What happened next, Trixie felt in slow motion. Her eyes closed when her dress had been moved up. Katya’s finger hooked on the sides of her underwear and she pulled it down her legs. Trixie’s hands were planted on the wall, holding on for dear life, when she first felt Katya’s tongue against her center. Her legs spread by themselves, giving Katya more access. Her back arched, as she forcefully pushed herself against Katya’s mouth. She pressed her front hard against the wall, just because her upper half needed some attention as well.

Nobody had ever eaten her out like that.

Nobody had made her legs feel like rubber with simple touches like that.

Nobody had brought her so near an orgasm within the first few seconds like that.

She could have been softly moaning, she could have been screaming loudly, she didn’t care. Except that, when a particularly loud moan escaped her lips, suddenly something came to mind.

“Oh, my God. Kim!”

Katya smiled against her thigh, kissing it softly, and speaking against her skin. “Oh, so you wanna role play?”

“No, you stupid.” Trixie stood up straight, reluctantly moving away from her spot, away from Katya’s hot lips. “Kim is my roommate. I don’t know if she’s ho–” She couldn’t even finish her sentence when she fully looked at Katya, kneeled down right next to the front door, mouth and chin wet, both with saliva and what Trixie could only imagine was her own arousal. She bit her lower lip, her want increasing by the second. “You are so hot.”

Katya took Trixie’s extended hand and allowed her to pull her up. Katya let her take the lead as Trixie kissed her roughly one more time, forcing her to walk backwards and guiding her towards the bedroom. Their lips never parted until they reached the last door at the end of the small apartment.

Trixie walked inside and turned on the light on the bedside table. Suddenly they were surrounded by nothing but pink. The shade on the lamp was bright pink, bright enough to almost drown the different shades of the same color around the room. The pillows, the sheets, the comforter, and even the picture frames on the wall, were all pink.

Her observations stopped once Trixie entered her space again. “I want you so bad,” she whispered so low it barely reached Katya’s ear. But she heard it, and she took the invitation happily.

She reached down and took a hold of the hem of Trixie’s dress, pulling it up and above her head. With deft fingers she found the hooks of her bra and Trixie put her arms down so it could slide off of her. There she stood, one of the most amazingly beautiful girls she had ever seen before in all her naked glory. Her breasts were full, and her small waist provided the perfect contrast for her fleshy hips. She pushed Trixie on the bed, making her land softly against the mattress.

Without even thinking about it, she knelt down between her opened legs again. She could tell Trixie was not expecting to have sex that night, which turned Katya on even more. She ran her fingers through the slightly uneven pubic hair until she found her entrance. The first finger entered with ease, making Trixie’s hips buckle up to the touch. Katya moved it around in circles, preparing the girl for the second one, which she took without a problem. When the third finger found its rightful place inside of Trixie, Katya made sure her mouth paid attention to the delicate bundle of nerves as well.

Katya fucked her with her fingers and her mouth for what felt like an eternity. The scream-like moans falling out of Trixie’s lips were enough to make her feel close to the edge herself.

Just when she felt Trixie’s walls clenching around her fingers, everything stopped. Trixie pushed herself up, propping herself on her elbows. “Can I sit on your face?”

“I thought you’d never ask,” Katya replied with a smile.

She stood up, removing her belt in the way. Her top found the floor right after, and Trixie helped her unzip her skirt and toss it to the side.

It was now her turn to lay her back on the mattress. Trixie’s thighs flanked her head and she couldn’t wait to have her again. She stretched her neck and gave her a quick lick. Trixie giggled and held onto the headboard, asking her to wait until she was ready. Katya couldn’t. She reached up and caressed Trixie’s breasts as her tongue entered her over and over. The mixture of sensations had Trixie reaching her orgasm almost immediately. Trixie’s legs gave out and she literally sat on Katya’s face, her thighs sending her to a blissful state of suffocation. Even that wasn’t enough to stop Katya, she continued licking her, sending electroshocks through her already sensitive body.

“I want to taste you,” Trixie said after a few seconds, her body was still recovering from the earth-shattering orgasm.

Katya didn’t protest. She saw how the girl started a trail of kisses down her body, dedicating extra time to her breasts. Nobody had to tell her, Katya knew Trixie had never been with another woman before, she could tell by the way she bit on her nipples, the way she unskillfully sucked on them. That was the reason why she paid close attention when Trixie’s face got lost between her legs. She wanted to see her reaction, which was just how she expected.

“You know, you don’t have to do it if you don’t like it,” Katya said with a reassuring smile.

Trixie’s face relaxed from its contorted state. “No, I do want to.”

No other word was spoken. Katya closed her eyes to the feeling of wet tongue and hot lips. Turned out the girl was pretty good at it. Her tongue went up and down and around, in patterns of a few seconds that already had Katya losing her mind. Her hands took a hold of Trixie’s hair, trying to find anything that could ground her to her Earthly surroundings. She truly felt as if she could touch the sky in that mere instant. It only took one hard suck from Trixie on her most sensitive spot to have Katya screaming out her name. Her hands pressing Trixie’s face against her core so she wouldn’t move from her spot.

As soon as she relaxed, Trixie moved up to lie down next to her. She wrapped an arm and a leg around her, and Katya had no energy to move her away.

“Will you stay the night?” Trixie asked, kissing her shoulder. Her eyes already closed from exhaustion.

Katya didn’t reply, because she couldn’t. She couldn’t stay the night. She waited until Trixie fell asleep to extract herself from her embrace. Katya found her clothes scattered around the floor and turned off the small lamp. Walking out of the room, she got dressed by the front entrance. When she put on her shoes, she spotted the pink thong she had rolled down Trixie’s legs and picked it up. She stuffed it in the pocket of her jacket as she exited the apartment, closing the door behind her as quietly as she could.

End notes:

Thank you so much for reading, and giving this crazy story a chance. You seriously have no idea all things I have planned for you. Expect the unexpected. As always, would love to hear what you think.

#rpdr fanfiction #trixya #trixie mattel #katya zamolodchikova #violet chachki #ginger minj #bob the drag queen #smut #exploration of sexuality #lesbian au #dendenmonmon #submission #laws of motion

[boogiewrites]

A Girl Walks Into A Bar 3

Characters: Declan Harp x Bella Fiore (OFC)

Word Count: 3900+

Summary: Modern Declan harp AU. Bella returns to the bar. Declan having felt her absence and noticed her lack of communication over the past week, makes an attempt to get to know her better. 

Warnings/Tags: Language. Drinking. 

Positive feedback is MUCH appreciated! Reblogs, likes, asks and comments feed me to write more! Let me know if you’d like tagged in my work.

Click on my screenname then go to Mobile Masterlist in my bio for my other works and chapters. (Had to do this since Tumblr killed links, sorry.)

You had thought about stopping by the bar after work a few times that week. You'd stared at many half-written texts that would be reaching out to Declan., but you'd always found an excuse not to send them.

Work was work, CeeCee being understanding as always of how belittling people who didn't work or make music could be, doesn't berate you much when you return. The father and daughter had gotten themselves added to the list of people to never work with again. You'd take a listen to what the other girls, Mary and Jean managed to put together for them in your absence, and it wasn't their fault it was awful. It was the fad that had made its way into even smaller towns, far away from California thanks to Rebeca Black and her song Friday, of tween and teens coming in with parents that had more money than sense and wanting to cut a track. This one was worse than Friday, by a landslide. It was high pitched, the autotune was lending no favors and super nasally. Friday you had gotten used to, it was an internet classic at this point, but this song would never pollute the ears of anyone else if you could help it, and you deleted it off the drive. Whoops.

You'd gotten word your truck was still being worked on. Being an older model it was harder to find parts and people willing to work on it, but you just couldn't give Betty up. So you were still without a ride and as Friday afternoon rolled around with everyone else busy, you found yourself walking. You followed the same path, this time no looming snow clouds overhead but the harsh biting winter wind was worse this time. You'd been bundled up beyond recognition, beanie over your two-day-old curls, dry shampoo being your best friend this morning. Your scarf was up over your nose, and the sherpa collar of your oversize denim jacket was flipped up. If it weren't for your figure, no one would've even known you were a woman.

The windows in the front of the bar are too tinted to see inside but the neon advertisements were blazing through. Motorcycles were lined up against the sidewalk, more than you recall last time. You notice they're all black and have varied wolf head emblems on them. You hadn't looked at their vests last time when you were stopped before entering the bar, perhaps this was their symbol.

The bar is the same, a steady bass and wavering guitar come through the speaker's placed along the tops of the walls with the blinking strings of lights. The same stained floor creaks in greeting before you look up to see every person in the bar turned to see who came in. You stand your ground, a hard look on your face as you unravel the scarf from around your head. At the appearance of a woman, most of them turn back to their mates and mumbled with raised brows. You see the man who hassled you on your first visit and you give each other a nod in recognition with hard faces.

"Look who decided to show up." you hear the familiar deep, gravely voice come from behind the bar as he wipes his hands down on a towel before throwing it over his shoulder. "Haven't heard from you all week babe, I was beginning to wonder if you were gonna come back." he says in a playfully defensive, whiny way/ He moves around the corner of the long bar occupied by men in leather vests, you now note the banners across their backs that read "Black Wolf". You assume this was the group of bikers he'd been talking about in your kitchen that morning after the storm. You put your gloves and hat on the bar top at the very end chair, a few seats between you and the nearest person. His broad form comes to your side and wraps his around you, you manage a small smile and pay his back in return. He smelled as good as you remembered, masculine and musky with the hint of liquor you're guessing was seeped into his shirt from working.

"It's Friday I needed my ale." you say with the small smile lingering after he stays with his hands on your shoulders, smiling down at you.

"Ah," he says nodding and looking to the back of the bar with a smirk. You were as reserved as ever, you weren't as much of an outwardly animated person it seemed. At least not in public, or maybe it was all the other men staring, making you aware you were the only woman in the bar. "I won't make you wait. Comin' right up, Bells." he says and moves smoothly, shoulders shifting as his long legs carry him to the cooler. You look at the guys staring at you as you sit down, erasing the smile from your face and lowering your brow at them. You're met with mostly indifference to your cold glare.

"Thanks, Declan." you say with a relieved sigh, taking the bottle to your lips.

"So..." he says, leaning his elbows on the bar top across from you. "You have any other crazy customers this week?" he says with a warm smile.

"Nah. I mostly worked with just one band this week."  you say with a  nod and a noisy swallow. "They're out of downtown, a new group that plays up at Stiver's on Saturday nights." you explain, not making so much eye contact, feeling the heat coming off him through your jacket, making you extremely aware of his physical presence. You weren't intimidated, but you weren't used to this sort of platonic attention.

"It's been forever since I've gone downtown for any reason besides business." he shakes his head. "They any good?"

"Yeah, actually. Not a bunch of dicks like the usual dudes we get in there." you let out a huff of a laugh.

"Always good. I wouldn't know anything about that, I'm always surrounded by these assholes." he chuckles and motions to the guys sitting at the bar, some groan in retaliation.

"I'm not interrupting a meeting or anything I am?" you ask, side-eyeing the guy next to you as you take another drink. "I don't recall them all being inside last time."

"Nah." he says with a gritty response. "The cold finally ran them all in here." he dismisses the suggestion.

"Yeah it's fucking freezing out there." you agree, your shoulders starting to lose their tension, remembering how to have a friendly conversation again.

"You still walking in this weather?" he asks with an almost big brotherly scolding tone.

"Trucks not fixed yet." you say with a pursing of your lips.

"Hell, what'd you do total it?" he laughs.

"No, I had to have some work on the transmission. They've had to order parts and it's taking a while since it's an old truck." you say, the Ale warming you as you unbutton the thick sherpa lined denim jacket to reveal a black knitted sweater underneath.

"What kind ya got?" he asks with a tilted head.

"1949 Ford F1." you answer with a small nod.

"Seriously?" he asks with an amused face, his brows shifting in surprise.

"Yeah?" you say obviously, blinking slowly. "Why would I lie about that?" you ask with joking narrowed eyes.

"Just surprised is all." he shrugs and smiles again. "Don't think I really took you for an old truck kind've girl."

"Well, you don't really know me that well do you?"

"Not yet no." he says in a playful way. "But I'm tryin'." he gives you a big charming smile and it causes a much more subtle than his, but a smile nonetheless on your face.

You realize he's making an effort, trying to get to know you. He hadn't made a move on you, not in any sleazy or unacceptable way anyway. So you sigh and take your phone out of your pocket and go to your photos. Remember, you were trying to make new friends, not keep up your old habits. "Here she is this past summer." you say, laying your phone down on the bar top to show him.

"She?"

"Oh yeah, she's a full-bodied woman." you nod and grin.

"This cute lil lady have a name?"

"Betty."

"Black Betty, huh?"

"Maybe." you say with a deep dip in your voice, a half smile that shows your teeth coming across your face.

"Solid choice. Suits her." he nods, "Can I?" he asks, pretending to swipe the screen.

"Since you asked first." you nod and give a subtle thankful smirk, taking another drink. Because you hadn't been with anyone, it wasn't like you had any nudes or even any recent selfies in your phone. Pictures of Robert, mainly. Some of your family, food, guitars you wanted, various other music or work-related things and Charlotte and her new baby. The fact that he asked before scrolling was deeply reassuring to you.

"Declan!" you hear in an English accent shouted from the man you'd seen last time in the bar, even if the memory was fuzzy. "Can you get some money out the safe? SOMEONE's decided to pay with big bills and I need some change."

"Be right back." he looks to you and gives a nod. You return the motion with a face that says it's perfectly fine. He hits the bar in front of you before disappearing through the back door.

"You were in here last week." Mike says, slowly nodding. "You're Bella... right?" he says with a knowing tone and narrowed eyes. He was wanting to meet you again after Declan had talked about you. Declan didn't really discuss women much, he hadn't really given them much attention in a while, having made his way through the available pool of them locally and hook up apps weren't really his thing.

"I am." you say obviously, your face straight.

"You were pissed last I saw ya, I dunna know if ya remember me." he laughs, reaching his hand out. "Mike." he says with a warmer smile and you accept it politely.  "Declan behaved himself at your place didn't he?" he says quietly.

"Yeah, he's been unusually nice. I'm waiting for him to ask me something pervy and weird to be honest." Mike chuckles. "Like he wants to wear my skin or something." you suggest with a shrug.

"Nah he's too big a boy to fit in you innit he?"

You lower your chin and smirk at him.

"Oh, bloody hell." he rolls his eyes. "Not what I meant. I swear it." he laughs. "I was gonna make a joke at his expense, sayin' if he did say somethin' like that it'd be because he can speak without thinkin' but I've gone and put me own foot in me mouth instead." he says with a nod and pout, his eyes away from you as he continues to exhale noisily. "My apologies."

"No offense taken." you say with the smirk still in place. "He... doesn't wear people's skin in his spare time, does he? Just so I know?" you ask with a deadpan delivery that makes him laugh.

"He is many things but he does not wear people's skin, no." he chuckles.

"I'm guessing you'd know?"

"Declan and I go way back. Years and years I've known the big idiot." he smiles with fondness. "We were mates long before we were business partners." he further explains.

It was good he had old friends, showed he could be loyal and manage relationships, you think. "He seems like a really decent guy." you say with hesitation in your voice. "Are you willing to vouch for him? I'd really hate to find out he's only nice to get girls into bed with him and have to kick his ass." you say with a slightly parted mouth and low brow to show your half seriousness.

"I can see why he likes you." he laughs. "I like ya too, lass." he nods and wags his finger at you. "Any woman threatenin' Declan for behavin' in such a way is alright by me." his voice is warm and friendly and you're thankful to hear the tone. He had grown used to new girls coming into the bar looking to bed Declan themselves, seeing this wasn't the case with you set his mind at ease. "He isn't that sorta man, no. Take him at face value, and you shouldn't be too disappointed." he shakes his head and gives you a closed mouth smile with kind eyes.

"Good. I don't need any more jerks disguising themselves as decent in my life."

"I share the sentiment." he nods. "Here's the devil we speak of." he says with a non-suggestive wink, heading back to cross paths with Declan as he walks down the bar to serve.

"Mike not bothering you is he?" he jokes, leaning back on the counter, turning your phone back on and picking up right where he left off.

"No, just talking shit about you." you say with a straight face and he looks over to Mike who gives him a cheesy grin.

"Gonna give me a chance to redeem myself?" he chuckles, eyes moving back over to your face.

"Maybe. Depends on how quickly you notice this bottle is empty." you say with a smirk, holding it up and shaking it.

He gives a low, rolling chuckle that makes a tingly sensation prickle up your neck and into your hairline. With a word he reaches out, his hand over yours with no sign of hesitation and takes it from you, moving to the cooler for another. He gives a rough shove to Mike's shoulder on the way there and Mike laughs, knowing he'll get an ear full later. On his return, he goes back to your phone as you take another sip and you watch his eyes. You see his jaw clench, his face less soft as he comes across something. You take another sip, narrowing your eyes and wondering what he could've come across.

He's found a picture of you that Charlotte took because you were rather pleased with yourself at the time. It was the middle of summer, and you dressed for the heat. High waisted, distressed denim shorts, frayed edges resting over the top of your upper thigh tattoo, a cropped and cut up Led Zeppelin shirt that hung off your shoulder, showing a strap to a bralette underneath.

"You uh..." he begins, carefully considering the direction to take his next words because what he'd found lies beneath all those layers was something he wanted to see more of. He suddenly was very eager for warm weather. "You look almost happy here." he decides to go with the tease, moving the screen to her point of view.

"Ah. Yeah." you nod and the corners of your eyes soften. "I decided last summer to enter her into a car show. So I got her all cleaned up and chromed and apolstered and everything. She needed it anyway, truth be told. She deserved a makeover." you explain. "She actually placed and I was the only woman to place so I was feeling pretty proud of myself."

"Congrats on that. You win anything else?"

"No, that's the only time I entered. Too much money for up keep and cleaning and not worth the payoff. I've got other things I'd rather spend the time and money on."

"LIke tattoos?" he grins. "Didn't know you had any." he muses.

"Well it is winter so... ya know... clothes." you say with an understated laugh.

"What is this?" he almost mumbles, enlarged the picture to your thigh, the only visible one in the photo.

"Ram's head." you say bluntly.

"Dude that's fuckin' sick." he says with a wrinkle of his nose in enthusiasm. "That's bad ass Bella." he says, looking back over to you.

"Thanks. It's one of my favs." you say with a small nod to the bewjeweled and metal inspired ram with large horns that permanently lived on your thigh.

"That one of those, astrology sign things?" he asks. "I dunno which is a ram but one's a ram, right?" he asks.

"Yeah, Capricorn." you nod. "But I'm not one, no. It's just badass like you said." you give him a smile, pulling up the wrist of your jacket to show a small black scorpion tattoo. "This is my sign. First tattoo too." you say rolling your eyes.

"Ah. Scorpion. Nice." he says leaning further forward to look at the now worn ink. "You have more?"

"Yeah." you say flatly, eyes studying his enthusiasm. "And no you can't see them." you chuckle.

"Wasn't gonna ask. Just curious." he shakes his head and hands your phone back to you. "I"ve been told Scorpios are mean, but you've not been mean to me." he says defensively.

"You've not been around me long enough." you huff a laugh into your bottle. "I'm not speaking on behalf of all scorpios but, I'm only mean to people who deserve it." you shrug. "And you've been pretty nice so far so..." you shrug and take another drink.

"Yeah you've been good comapny to keep." he gives you a softer, closef mouth smile. "Especially after being around these dicks all the time." he motions with his head down the line of men at the bar, leaning in and whispering to you.

"Bar needed some estrogen it seems." you grin.

"Certainly couldn't hurt."

"I would say the same of the bands I work with too. Should be more women in 'em." you nod and take another drink, your face appearing mroe serious.

"Not many women working in music?"

"Our studio is entirely women right now. But, with the musicians, the groups themselves, they're mostly men. The women do more solo stuff and don't seem to get booked as much. Which sucks, because it always seems their shows are only on days I can't go." you say more amused and with a tugging back of the corner of your mouth.

He listens intently, chin resting in his hand as his eyes stay focused and yours wander around the bar. He was pleased you were sharing, opening up a bit again. You seemed guarded and even though he certainly understood the compulsion to be so, it was something he worked hard to overcome for himself, and he couldn't help but want the same for you. You seemed really funny and nice underneath the hard leather shell. Or rather, denim shell tonight. "Your job have weird hours?" he asks with a tilt of his head.

"It can. I mean, you gotta follow the muse sometimes, if something's going really right you don't want to just cut it off and try again tomorrow and hope it sticks again. Creativity doesn't really work that way, unfortunately. I gotta travel for training and conventions and stuff a few times a year, sometimes people can only record on weekends so my days off are out of wack."

"That I can certainly relate to."

"Yeah, I'd say so. You probably have to work every day and hour most people are off."

"Yeah. But I'm a night owl, it's not too bad."

"Damn, I bet you never get to go to shows," you say with an almost pout he appreciates. "Having to work nights and weekends."

"Owning the place helps." he grins.

"Yeah you got me there. Not an owner, but a partner so I get a little wiggle room." you shrug. "But my best friend had a baby recently, so I lost my going out partner so all I do is work anymore it seems. You been to any good shows lately?"

"I have not. Live so close to a music town and never take advantage. Seems like you go a lot though."

"I try to. Support local acts, network, try and fail at making friends." you laugh into your bottle. "Without Charlotte it's not as fun. Guys are gross, you know how it goes." you roll your eyes.

"Unfortunately yes." he nods. "If you.. .and if I'm being too intrusive here tell me to fuck off, please." he flashes a wide charming smile your way "But if you ever need someone to go with you..." he shrugs and then places his hand under his face as if he were displaying himself. "I could always help keep the gross guys away." he offers and you study him for a moment. He wasn't being weird about it or nervous or awkward and you chew your bottom lip for a moment. With a giant man with a mean mug like him with you, you certainly wouldn't have to worry about dudes getting near you. And you knew you could trust him to get you home if you got too drunk. A role Charlotte used to take on often.

"Yeah," you say with a drag to your words. "You would." you nod in thought. You're trying to make new friends, Bella, you're trying to make new friends, you chant to yourself. Open up, it's not a date, he's offering to run interference for you. Just accept someone's help. "We seem to have similar taste in music too." you muse, recalling your passionate arguments of rock and metal the last time you were at the bar.

"It would seem so yes." he gives a wide nod. "And I need to get out more anyway, to be honest. All I do is work too. I miss being fun." he laughs.

"Big fuckin' mood, man." you give him a real laugh that reaches your eyes. Just do it Bella, you're the one making it weird now, just fucking let yourself enjoy something for once. "There's one on Sunday, this week." you begin, keeping your exterior cool and indifferent as you swing your eyes to his. "If that's not too short notice. Actually, there are some girls playing I'd like to see." you add with a tilt of your head.

"MIKE!" he yells, not looking away from you.

"WHAT?" he shouts back across the room.

"I WON'T BE HERE SUNDAY NIGHT!" he says leaning back and projecting his already loud and booming voice to his business partner.

"Oh?" he asks, making his way towards you.

"Me and Bella are gonna go see a show. I offered to keep the sleazeballs away." he says almost proudly.

"I see." he says with an insinuating glance. "It's been year's since you've been to a show."

"Yeah give away how out of touch I am, thanks." he chuckles.

"I'm glad someone's gettin' ya out of here. Let me get some fuckin' work done." he teases before he walks away.

He turns back to you to see a smile on your face and he feels hopeful. "So what time is it?" he asks.

You get out your phone, "What's your Instagram? I'll DM it to you, I found it on there." you murmur, scrolling through your likes.

"dhwolff. Two f's." he raises two fingers.

"There. Sent it." you say, already looking forward to stalking his feed later. "It starts at 9. So we can stop by some food trucks beforehand or something, beer isn't too expensive at this place." you say with approval in your voice.

"You want me to pick you up at your place? You're closer to town."

"Works for me." you say with the first smile that had an inkling of real excitement behind in what could've been years.

@vale0413 @littledeadgirlwalking @jaegeeeeer

#Declan Harp #declan harp x reader #declan harp fic #declan harp fanfic #declan harp fan fiction #frontier #frontier au #frontier fanfic #frontier fic #frontier fandom #jason moamoa #delcan harp x ofc #Declan Harp AU #frontier fan fiction #writing #fan fiction