#i am one thousand percent sure this has been done somewhere before

[houseofripley]

Hotel Hell - Part Two

Rhea Ripley x Fem!Reader

Part One Pinterest

WARNINGS: SMUT, 18+, Fighting, Shoving, Oral Sex, Vaginal Fingering, MAKEUP SEX

WORD COUNT: 3,812

A/N: omg i am sorry this took me years to finish, life has been busy but it should calm down soon. i got such a good request the other day and i haven't gotten it off my mind so i will start that tmrw if i have time. also i proofread this at 2am so please ignore any mistakes lol

“The Brutalization Chamber? You want to know what The Brutalization Chamber is?” The Irish man laughed out, his eyebrows raising once you turned your gaze towards him. 

An expression of curiosity displayed on your face as you repeated the name of the supposed ‘chamber’. It was obvious to the man that you wanted to know more.

The man began making his way down the stairs, “No offense sweetheart…but I don’t really think this is the place for a girl li-” He tried to speak before being cut off.

What the hell is that supposed to mean?

“I don’t really care what you think sir, I want you to show me what's down there.” You chirped out, following the male down the flight of stairs, your hand hovering over your aching ribs.

“Well shit, if you insist,” The guy chuckled out, “Feisty, she’ll like you.” He muttered under his breath as he opened the door. 

She’ll like you…was he talking about the same ‘she’ you had spent your night with? The same woman who just got done unleashing pure cruelty onto you? The same woman who disappeared into this exact building moments ago?

“Name’s Finn by the way,” He mentioned, “It’s just us, the big boss is probably around here somewhere as well.” Finn spoke as you scanned the room looking for ‘the big boss’.

Grimy was the only way to portray the room. Rope lights scattered across the ceiling, some were dim while others flickered. There were freezing concrete walls with cracks littered all over. A red neon sign displaying the letters ‘TBC’. A blood stained ring sat taking up a quarter of the room. Various pieces of gym equipment and punching bags were compressed into a room off to the side. 

“So…just a gym?” You questioned the man, there was no sign of Rhea.

“Nah, it’s a little more than just a gym love…think of it as a fight club. A fight club with a fuck ton of money involved.” Finn stated leading into a room the size of a walk-in closet, the room seemingly being a pathetic excuse of a nurses office. 

You leaned against the door frame while Finn babbled on as he started unpacking his bag, “People come to us in desperate need for money. They’re entered into our roster, put in the ring and bet on. If they win their match they get fifty percent of all bets placed. Bunch of sick wealthy men love wasting their fortune on this shit.”

“Don’t you think this is just a tad bit illegal?” You chuckled, sending a small wave of pain to your ribs.

“Eh I don’t worry about that too often,” Finn shrugged, digging around his duffle. “Rhea’s not too worried about the legalities when there's this much money involved, she can pay her way out of damn near anything.”

Rhea.

Despite your pain you perked up at the mention of Rhea’s name although you stayed silent.

“Rhea would like you, you’re quiet but there's just something about you, like there’s a fire inside you.” Finn mentioned, pointing at you. “I would introduce you to her but earlier this afternoon one of her top guys lost her like seven thousand. She stormed off to god knows where. Another one of her main guys has a big match in about half an hour. Going up against some new kid we’ve never seen so I’m sure she’s busy worrying her ass off.”

You heard a scoff echo from the main room as footsteps approached. “Jesus fucking christ Finn! Do you ever shut your goddamn mouth?” You heard Rhea sarcastically laugh trying to cover her anger.

You slowly turned to face Rhea, examining her tensed jaw and narrowed eyes. Reality had finally washed over you. The weight of Rhea’s actions flooded into your brain. You couldn’t figure out if you felt more betrayal or anger in the moment.

“Ah! Rhea mate!” Finn exclaimed, trying to divert from Rhea’s critiques. “I was just telling this young lady how much you’d like her…I never caught her name though.” 

Your face turned to the ground as you tried to mutter out your name. “We’ve met.” Rhea butted in, her voice was fully flat-devoid of any sign of emotion. That’s when the regret hit you. 

You shouldn't have come here.

“I should leave…it seems you guys have a busy night.” You muttered quietly. Rhea took a firm grasp on your forearm, “That can wait, let’s go have a chat.” Rhea said as her head motioned towards what you assumed to be her office.

“No, I-I can come back another time, I really don’t want to be a bother.” You barely managed to stutter out while Rhea’s middle and pointer finger of her opposite hand guided your chin up, forcing you to look at her. “I said let’s go have a chat.” Rhea commanded, her grip on your arm tightening. 

You reluctantly followed the woman as she dragged you in the direction of her office. You knew you were in for it big time.

“You are a fucking insane bitch! What could have possibly made you think it was okay to fucking show up to this place?!” Rhea lashed out at you the moment the latches of her door clicked together. She dropped your arm before shoving you towards the other side of the room. You had been lucky enough to catch your balance as you were just inches away from barreling into the concrete walls.

“I just wanted to learn more! I wanted to figure you out Rhea! Can you blame me for wanting to figure out why you’re so angry and cruel every time I see you?” You said loudly, your voice filled with hurt.

“That doesn't give you the goddamn right to follow me to where I work! You don’t fucking get it, these people I work with are dangerous and I don’t want you getting caught up in this bullshit!” Rhea retorted out as her breaths began picking up speed.

“What makes you think I’m so incompetent that I’m incapable of being around danger?! You put me in danger nearly every fucking time I see you! ” Your hands flew around as you yelled at the woman, tears accumulating in your eyes. 

Rhea began inching towards you, a look of irritation covering her face. “I don’t fucking put you in danger!”

“Yes you fucking do! You have no idea how many bruises you’ve left me with. The other month you choked me till I passed out, yet you didn’t stop fucking me to check if I was okay! For fucks sake Rhea, an hour ago you left me bleeding and collapsed to the floor!!” All hell had broken loose between the two of you as your tears started escaping from you.

“You told me you could take it! I don’t get why you’re bitching and moaning all of the sudden.” Rhea continued arguing.

Your fist crashed down onto Rhea’s nearby desk, “I can take it rough, but you can’t keep disappearing after being borderline torturous! You’re so damn immature!!” Your screaming matched showed no signs of stopping anytime soon.

“I’m immature? You’re the one that followed me to my job and is throwing a tantrum right now!” Rhea’s voice thundered around the room. 

“You don’t get it Rhea! I’m a fucking person and you dont give a shit about me! Why don’t you fucking care?!” You yelled through broken sobs as you started unleashing your sadness and anger onto Rhea, pushing and beating on her chest. 

Rhea made no attempt to stop you. She made no moves, just allowing you to inflict your pain onto her. 

Once your hands had dropped to your sides in exhaustion and your breaths became heavier as you tried calming yourself down Rhea quietly mumbled, “I do care…”

“But you don’t…” You looked up at her with wide eyes, lifting your shirt. You exposed your aching torso displaying your cut up skin, dried blood pooled around your laceration and the letters of Rhea’s name carved into your skin. “Someone who cares doesn't do this and run away.” You quietly said, your voice strained from the screaming match.

The regret in her eyes was apparent as she darted her eyes away from you. The realization she had gone too far had hit her hard, feeling as if she was being crashed into by an eighteen-wheeler. 

Her vulnerability was short lived, Rhea quickly repressed her display of emotion, replacing it with her regular cold and emotionless stare. She had to put on her tough guy attitude. It was her only safety blanket. Emotions are for the weak, Rhea could never be weak.

“You get worse every time I see you, something has to change Rhea…” You breathed out, trying to articulate your speech as you lowered your shirt back down. “If you can’t fix this behavior I’m done.” 

“You know you don’t mean that.” Rhea sighed as she ran her hand through her black hair. She didn’t want to lose you but she could never admit that. “I need to think about…everything. Just give me a some t-” 

Rhea was cut off by a deep voice from outside the door. “Ten minutes till the bell Rhea.” Rhea rolled her eyes and made her way to the door, “Just give me some fucking time Damian! And go get a roll of gauze from Finn. Quickly.” Rhea demanded after opening the door just a sliver. 

You clenched your jaw as you sensed Rhea’s levels of anger were once again rising. The last thing you wanted was to end up back at square one with her. You couldn’t handle another argument with her. Not tonight at least. 

The pair of you stood in silence as you waited for the man to return. Once he had arrived he opened the door, handing Rhea the roll of fabric. His eyes curiously examining you through the crack in the door. 

“I’ll be out in a minute…” Rhea aggressively muttered before closing the door. She mumbled your name under her breath before walking to her desk.

 “You’re lucky Finn showed up early, only God knows what could have happened to you if one of the other guys showed up before him.” Rhea grunted as she unlocked a drawer and began rummaging through the mess inside. 

What is it about her?

“Why such a dark line of work? What made you choose this of all things?” You questioned, you were terrified to set her off but on the other hand you wanted to push for answers from her. It was the only way to get your foot into the door of her life.

Rhea stumbled her way towards you avoiding eye contact, a tube of antibacterial gel in her hand as she shrugged. “Not something you choose. You’re born into it and can’t escape it, you just have to accept it and make the best out of it.” She mumbled while she lifted your shirt up. 

Rhea applied a small glob of the antibacterial gel to her finger while she lowered herself to her knees, becoming face to face with your shredded skin. The woman began dabbing the gel onto your skin causing  you to let out a small hiss from the pain.

Once she finished applying all of the gel she wiped the residue from her fingers onto her pant leg and grabbed the roll of gauze. Rhea cleared her throat before speaking up, “Just stay in here for a while, I can take you home after this match.”

“I’m perfectly capable of walking home by myself, Rhea.” You stated, watching Rhea carefully wrap the gauze around your waist.

“I’m walking you home and that’s final.” Rhea stood her ground, “Seriously though, just stay in here. I’ll be back.”

You weren’t planning on fighting about this with her, deciding to keep your mouth shut you let her take the win. “Fine, whatever.” You gave in as Rhea tied a knot in the gauze to hold it in place. 

“Shouldn’t be more than twenty minutes.” Was all Rhea had said as she stood up. Nothing else left her lips as she exited the room. 

No apology?

You groaned as you sat down in Rhea’s large chair. You blankly stared at the wall for several minutes before your mind started to wander. Exploring anything that popped into your head. Places, things, people, Rhea. 

If you were being honest with yourself you were doubting the woman's ability to change her ways. You assumed she would most likely be this way her whole life, although you prayed she had it in herself to change. She had the potential to be great if she would put her pride aside.

It wasn't long until the cheers of the crowd on the opposite side of the door had started drowning out your thoughts. 

You wanted to catch a glimpse of the madness. You stood up from the large chair, your feet scuffing the ground as you strolled to the door

You cracked the door open, taking a peek of the ring surrounded by a flock of rowdy men that were yelling. The large man you made eye contact with earlier was in the ring brutalizing a much smaller guy who couldn’t even be older than twenty-five. He was putting on one hell of a fight but it was clear he stood no chance.

Rhea was the only woman there, she was stood right against the ring watching intensely. She had caught your image in the corner of her eyes. Her face turned in your direction, she tilted her head as if she was asking you what the hell you were doing.

You mouthed the word sorry to her before quickly closing the door. 

Fifteen excruciatingly boring minutes had passed, the cheers had dispersed into muffled conversations. Rhea had finally arrived back in her office. She seemed content which you enjoyed. 

“You ready to go?” Rhea asked, you answered with a simple nod.

As the two of you made your way out of the building Rhea exchanged goodbyes with some of the strange men.

The entire walk was silent, the both of you reflecting on the weird night you had been through together. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable, it was almost peaceful. Having Rhea in your presence when she was somewhat calm was pleasant. You wanted to hold onto this peacefulness for the rest of your life.

It took you by surprise when Rhea insisted on taking you directly to your door instead of just dropping you off in the front of the large building and ditching. 

“You didn’t need to take me all the way up here.” You quietly mumbled as you unlocked the door to your apartment. “Lot’s of bad people around this time of night.” Rhea muttered as your door swung open. 

You turned around to face the woman, her eyes peering over your head, scanning the entry of your apartment. “There’s bad people around all times of the day. I’m used to it.” You said quietly, her eyes returning to you.

An awkward silence filled the air as the both of you gazed upon each other. Rhea began rubbing her neck, “Uh…I should go. I’m gonna go.” She feebly stated before turning away from you, quickly walking down the hall. She had stormed off before you could even speak up.

Still no apology?

—

Multiple days had passed. Rhea had made no contact yet. You spent a concerning amount of time just staring at Rhea’s contact in your phone, debating if you should press the call button. Yet you couldn’t bring yourself to do it.

She’d call if she cared enough.

It felt as if life had paused, your days seemed empty. The busy streets of New York City felt devoid of any livelihood. The live music that took place at work sounded muffled. The flavor of your favorite foods had been stripped away. Once colorful flowers sold down at the street market now sat dull.

Days just painfully repeated. 

Tonight you had the night off, your only plans were to stare out the window of your bedroom and pray for a text from Rhea. 

You sat criss-cross at the edge of your bed twiddling your thumbs, your mind seemingly empty as you stared into the windows of the skyscraper across the street when the sound of a knock echoed down your short hall.

Groaning in annoyance as you got up you began making your way to the door, chewing the inside of your cheek as your feet shuffled below you. 

You weren't sure who you were expecting to be in the hall but it completely caught you by surprise when you swung the door open to see the dark haired woman waiting for you.

Without a word Rhea launched herself onto your lips, the force causing you to be pushed back a few inches.

Jesus Christ.

This felt like more than just a kiss, it had an intense amount of passion intertwined into it. Rhea’s hands gripped onto your waist as you backed into the apartment, her foot kicking the door behind her closed.

She had never kissed you in this way before. Before tonight you had only received measly pecks while the two of you had sex. It was never emotional.

Rhea slowly pulled away from your lips, both of your breaths were heavy as she finally spoke, “Fuck, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Finally.

“God, I’ve treated you like shit and I have been such a dick. It’s been the only thing on my mind. You don’t deserve that, It’s not okay.” Rhea began rambling as you stared into each other's eyes. “I get it if you never want to see me again but please just give me a chance, I’ll do whatever it takes. I’ll get my temperament under control, I’ll go to therapy, whatever you say I will do it.”

“Rhea-” You whispered, trying to calm her down but she continued her rant. 

“I want to know you, more than just your body. I wanna know everything, The good, the bad, the boring…I wanna know what pisses you off and what makes you cry. I don’t know why I kept you a stranger for so long and I’m sorry for that.”

You led Rhea into your small living room as you listened to her rambling. You took a seat in your chaiser lounge and ushered her to sit in front of you as her speech continued on. “I don’t know why I ran away…I think it's cause I didn't want to hurt you. But I did hurt you, so badly. I don’t want to run away anymore, I had no right to ever hurt you the way I did, just for me to leave you alone right after. It’s the worst thing I’ve ever done and I’ll never forgive myself for it. It’s just that I-”

“Rhea!” You slightly raised your voice causing Rhea to finally close her mouth. You leaned closer to her, placing a quick and gentle kiss on her lips. “You’re okay, don’t worry.” You comforted the woman, softly chuckling.

“I didn’t interrupt your night did I?” Rhea asked, slightly nervous as she scootched up closer to you. You shook your head no as a smile creeped on your face.

It didn’t take long for the two of you to end up in a heated makeout session, your hands roaming over one another's clothing. Rhea groaned your name against your lips before pulling back just a few centimeters. 

“Please let me show you how sorry I am.” She practically pleaded, her eyes full of desperation, “Yes please” you quietly giggled, your eyes adoring the woman's face. The second Rhea heard the word yes echo from your mouth her lips went straight for your neck, causing a whimper to escape from you. 

Rhea took her time as she kissed upon your neck, carefully leaving soft love bites every so often, marking the skin a flushed pink shade. Her lips only leaving your skin as she pulled off your sweater before she began peckering kisses against your collarbones.

Her hands crept behind your back, unclasping your bra and pulling it from your chest. Your fingers grazed upon Rhea’s tense shoulders as she left a path of kisses down your torso.

As Rhea’s face reached the base of your stomach, her eyes fixated on your face as if she was asking for your blessing. You gave her a nod before lifting your hips into the air, allowing her to slide your sweatpants off your legs. 

 “Rhea, please,” You whined out while Rhea’s fingers toyed with the seam of your panties. Rhea grinned to herself as she slowly shed the final layer of clothing off your body. 

The woman wasted no time connecting her mouth to your heat, causing you to let out a breathy moan. “So fucking beautiful…” Rhea praised against your skin.

Truthfully, her tongue felt like heaven as it worked its way around your wetness. Rhea didn't want to rush you. This wasn't for her, she just wanted to make sure you knew she had the ability in her to change for the better.

Your breaths picked up their pace as Rhea’s hand inched its way closer to your core. Her ring and middle finger traced a circle around the perimeter of your entrance before slowly being pushed into you.

“Shit,” You whined out, your back arching as both Rhea’s tongue and digits worked their magic on you. Although you enjoyed roughhousing with the woman, you undoubtedly appreciated the amount of care Rhea was putting into you.

You were a whimpering mess under Rhea’s touch, and she loved every small sound that escaped from your mouth.

“More! Please, I can take it!” You begged for more of her. Rhea obliged, sliding her pointer finger into your tightness causing you to roll your eyes back as her fingers filled your insides.

“That’s it baby,” Rhea preached quietly when your hips began to rock against her fingers, your moans filling the room. “Such a good girl for me.” She added on before her tongue got back to sailing over your clit, her fingers picking up their pace.

Your legs tightened around Rhea’s head as your orgasm quickly approached. “C’mon sweet girl, let go.” Rhea’s encouraging words were muffled, your walls clenched around her curling fingers. 

“Fuck Rhea!” You squealed out as the knot that filled your stomach released onto Rhea’s fingers. Your hips twitched into the air as the fingers inside of you helped you ride out your climax. 

Rhea was grinning ear-to-ear as she slowly pulled her fingers out of your hole. She groaned in pleasure, licking her fingers clean. 

She soon brought her face to meet yours, her plumped lips giving your jaw a kiss before whispering in your ear.

“How’s that for an apology, hm?”

Chapter Taglist: @babybatlover @whiteleoqueen @luvvleah @lovingperson1

#rhea ripley fanfic #rhea ripley angst #rhea ripley smut #rhea ripley x reader #rhea ripley x you #wwe smut #rhea ripley fanfiction

[elvisabutler]

Caught In a Trap (1/?)

Fandom: Elvis (2022)

Relationship: Elvis/Living Past 42, past Priscilla/Elvis, current Priscilla and Elvis loving each other too much always

Word Count (This Chapter): About 1250?

Rating: R, mostly because of quite a number of curses and the obligatory prescription drug use.

TW: Drug Use and honestly descriptions of a potential panic attack/feeling like being drowned. Y'all saw the movie, you know the real life story you know what's up.

Author's Note: I have not written fanfic or honestly done Fandom writing in general for at least half a decade. (Yes, I am old.) Be gentle. Also, this fic is going to play a little fast and loose with real life Elvis and Austin! Elvis. So, certain medical things from his real life may slide in there, his relationship post divorce with Priscilla, etc. Ask box is open for comments and all that jazz, I live for hearing what people have to say. And who knows maybe eventually I'll write other fics if requested and I can do it. Weirder things have happened. 🤷🏻‍♀️

He's tired. There are very few if any things Elvis finds that he's one hundred percent aware of these days. But he knows more than anything that he's tired- the sort of tired that would settle in your bones and wrap it's hands around you choking the life out of you bit by bit. Part of him wonders if he's just getting older, he's certainly noticed his crowds aren't as young as they used to be but no, that's not it. It's something else, something he doesn't have a name for because exhaustion doesn't touch it and just every damn word he can't think of falls short.

The fans used to help. Hearing those cheers and seeing those faces invigorates a man like you wouldn't believe but now all he thinks about is the end of the show where he can rest. He can get his medication and sleep. God he misses being able to sleep without it but his mind races and it- it's not right any more. For God's sake, he's seen their faces- he's managing the shows but he can see it in their eyes, they know something is off. They just keep coming back to see if it'll get better.

"E?" Jerry nudges his shoulder raising his voice slightly louder than it had been for the walk to backstage. "You listening?"

No. He's been trying to but it's taking half his energy to make sure he keeps up with his own imagined pace. But- hell- Jerry's talking about the Colonel. That's right, the world tour, the one that he keeps wanting to do, needing to do still after this damn residency. Damn the death threats, he's a grown ass man who knows karate and has his guns. If his security fails he's got it covered. Focus. Just focus.

Elvis shakes his head, rubbing at his temple before leaning in, "what are you talking about? The Colonel-"

"No passport. He's not from the country, that's why he keeps stopping the world tour. He was never gonna let you do it because he can't leave-"

Jerry's still talking and Elvis opens his mouth to interrupt but all he can hear is his own heart beating and the roar of a thousand thoughts all skittering to a exceptionally abrupt stop. He can't take a breath and before he realizes what's happening he sees the floor barreling toward his face.

"There's gotta be another reason." No BB you were right, should have known it then. Always were smarter than him on business.

"I don't know why the Coloniel turned them down." A million dollars each, should have known something was up, the Snowman doesn't turn down a good offer for money.

"Well when you find out can you tell us?" Someone had told Jerry and-

The water's freezing and his nose is on fire as the water shoots up while he tries breathe. His chest is so tight- it's the shirt- no it's the water- no it's everything crashing into him. Elvis' hands scramble as he feels air only to be dunked back in and finally someone notices and let's him lean back.

The first noise he can hear over the roar of everything is the Colonel's cane. His teeth grit reflexively and he swears he hears a growl come from somewhere deep inside his chest. He wants to snarl and show that goddamn alien a piece of his mind but someone's holding his body in their lap and he's gotta breathe right before he does anything.

Dr. Nick is right there and there's a part of him that wants to ask for something- but he can't. Not when his tongue is lead in his mouth and it feels like all the peanut butter in Memphis is making his mouth so full of nothing. He can't defend himself tell The Colonel he's not going on that stage tonight. Hell, if he has his way not on that stage ever again.

Elvis can't tell if it's his eyes- God he's got to get those looked at again- or if it's the water making everything blur for a minute but he sees his daddy right there and he swears its not just the ice water in his eyes and it might be his own tears making him seem blurry. He's so damn tired.

"If he was my son, I'd put him in the hospital." Lord have mercy he'd have kissed that woman if he had the energy. Mama would have dragged him to the hospital herself come hell or high water. Elvis wants to think Vernon knows the same, wants to do the same but his heart is thumping like a startled rabbit as he watches his father consider what she said as Parker tries to be the snake that he's always been.

"It's a family matter." What a lie if Elvis ever heard one. He knows what Parker wants Vernon to say and it's the only thing that benefits him.

His father's eyes settle on him and Elvis knows he's got to do something, he has to make his father know what he wants- what he needs. His head feels like it's in concrete but he forces himself to shake his head just a smidge. If Parker is paying attention, Elvis is sure it just looks like a twitch but Elvis makes sure to focus on his father's face just enough to try and get his point across.

It's as if he's young again, begging his daddy to not have him leave only this time he's begging him to let Elvis leave. Get him out of his cage just for tonight at least. He can work on it from there.

"He's not going on stage, Coloniel, not tonight. We-" Vernon swallows, "we'll just have to refund the tickets. Find another date for them."

It's like all the air around him rushed back into his lungs and he could take the breaths he needed so desperately as soon as those words hit his ears. He could rest. He could- God- he didn't have to go on tonight, maybe they'll let him go to the hospital, maybe transfer him to Baptist in Memphis and not the one here. He can faintly hear the Coloniel cursing for a moment before the tap of his cane is heard in a rough tapping motion that Elvis knows to mean he's spitting mad.

Good goddamn riddance.

"Jerry, I'll get one of the guys to get one of the cars, you going to be able to get him up and in it?" Vernon asks never taking his eyes off his son's chest rising and falling slowly.

"Yeah, I got him. You want him across the street or-" Jerry starts before getting cut off by Vernon's response.

"Across the street. We'll see about anything else later."

Lord have mercy he's tired, but they're gonna take him to the hospital. He can let go for now. They've got him, but he's got to say something to Jerry before his eyelids droop again now that his father's left.

"Jerry, you tell me everything you know about that bastard again. Slowly."

#elvis movie #elvis 2022 #elvis presley #austin butler #elvis presley fanfiction #elvis #i never know how many tags to do. #ally writes #work in progress #also lord have mercy tumblr formatting is hard.

[the-bastards-of-the-barrel]

Wylan: Got called gay in the Slat earlier

Kaz: Tell us what happened

Wylan: I got called gay in the Slat.

Kaz: yeah but why?

Wylan: I was making out with Jesper.

Kaz: In the Slat?

Wylan: Yeah it was in the Slat

#i am one thousand percent sure this has been done somewhere before #but it made me laugh #so here you go #i also have no clue where it came from #i have had it in my drafts for months #wylan van eck #jesper fahey #wylan x jesper #jesper x wylan #wesper #incorrect soc quotes #incorrect six of crows quotes #incorrect soc #source: the internet probably???

[rowanaelinn]

Kinktober - Day One (handjob)

word count: 1,5k

“You can’t be serious,” Rowan tried so hard to hold back his laugh but Aelin could see it in his eyes.

“Don’t you dare judge me,” Aelin whined, hiding her face in her hand. Even all the alcohol she consumed today didn’t help her to handle the shame. “You’re my best friend, you shouldn’t judge me.”

“I’m not,” Rowan said but it was too late, he burst out laughing. “I’m sorry,” he sounded everything but apologetic.

“You’re the worst,” Aelin playfully punched his shoulder but she ended up laughing with him, drowning another shot.

“Your worst shame is that you’re bad at giving a handjob?”

“I’m twenty-three!” She cried, hoping Rowan’s teasing would end soon. They had been playing truth or dare, using the game as an excuse to get drunk, and Aelin had to tell about her worst sexual encounter. So, obviously, she told her best friend about that time in high school she had been drunk and tried to give a handjob to her boyfriend Chaol, and he ended up crying because Aelin had been a little bit too rough, but how could she know it was so sensitive?

Frankly, Chaol hadn’t been much better when he first touched her either but, still, it had been humiliating.

“And you’ve never done it again?”

“No! I didn’t feel like I trusted someone enough to ask them to teach me.”

Rowan huffed a laugh so she kept justifying herself. “Listen, you know I don’t really trust men. You’re the only one I trust a thousand percent and I can’t just come to you like ‘please Rowan teach me how to give a handjob’.”

“Who said you couldn’t?” He asked, more serious than he had been the whole night.

“You’re not serious.”

“I am.”

She took a deep breath, trying to think straight. Rowan was too attractive for his own damn good and she had definitely blurred the lines of friendship when he was the only thing she could think about when she touched herself.

Surely, if he was the one to suggest it, it meant their friendship wouldn’t suffer from it, right? No matter how much she wanted to do this, she wanted their friendship more. She looked up at him and she only saw genuine care and desire.

She didn’t say anything, she only threw herself on his lap and closed the space between their lips. He kissed her back immediately, sighing into the kiss as his hands found her hair and waist as if he had been waiting for it as long as she did.

She went straight to unbuttoning his shirt, she was here to learn something and Aelin was ready to prove to her friend she can be a very good student.

Rowan helped her, tossing his shirt at the other side of the room as she worked on his jeans. When Rowan was only in his underwear, he broke their kiss. “Take off your shirt and pants.”

“I thought it was just a handjob,” Aelin retorted, bending to take back his lips.

“First lesson, Fireheart, give the man something to watch. Especially when you look so pretty.”

At this, Aelin took off her shirt and bottom, standing in front of him in her underwear. She thanked every gods she had put on something lacy and black, not one of the grandma underwear she had. They were far more comfortable but Rowan’s look of hunger on his face was worth all the discomfort in the world.

He went to touch her but before he could do anything she pushed him to lay on the couch. She went on top of him, her body on display for him to watch.

She let her hand trace patterns on his torso, then, his lower stomach, when her soft fingertips reached the hem of his boxers, she hesitated. Her gaze found his. “Are you sure?” She asked him. They could still pretend nothing had happened.

Rowan didn’t answer, he just lifted his arm and wrapped his hand around the back of her neck, forcing her to bend down to kiss him. "Do your worst, princess."

He raised his hips and slowly she slid his underwear down his legs, her eyes focusing on that part of his body.

Fuck, Mala help her, he was huge. Bigger than anyone she had, not that she has slept with more than two people. She ached to take him somewhere else than in her hand but it wasn’t what tonight was about.

“You’re,” She swallowed, trying not to compliment his dick.

“Big, I know,” He winked at her and she wanted to kick him right now, but she didn’t. She just took his cock in hand, her palm covering his tip. She swore, throwing his head back at the contact. He really was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen.

“What should I do?”

“Spit on my hand.” He ordered her, presenting his right hand in front of her.

She frowned. “Shouldn’t I do this in mine?”

“You will, in a second. When I’m done showing you.” Oh fuck, he was going to masturbate in front of her. Aelin was going to die and didn’t mind it a second.

Aelin took his big hand, and as she kept eye contact she did as he said. When she was done, he smirked at her, his thumb brushing her lips as his hand went down toward his cock.

He gripped it firmly and started pumping up and down, his hand never really reaching the base of his cock. She kept her eyes on him but she knew he was watching her, watching her reactions.

Her breath hitched as he let out a low moan when he tightened his hand, the sound making her core clench around nothing. “My turn,” she stopped him, too eager to have him.

But she didn’t spit in her hand, no, she slowly trailed her hand down her body until it slipped past her panties. She was so fucking wet, so she’d use this. From the carnal look in Rowan’s eyes, she’d say it wasn’t such a bad idea. She moaned when her fingers brushed her clit, but when she gartered enough wetness she took out her hand, placing it gently on his throbbing member.

He was so hard she’d thought it was painful if there wasn’t full pleasure written on every pore of his face as she closed her hand around him. His hand came to rest on hers as he made her start to move slowly. y.

Her grip on his was light but he tightened it. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t,” he said, his breathing heavy, his eyes were half-closed as he made her move faster. “I like it hard.”

She let out a moan at this, and he seemed to deem her ready because he let go of her, letting her work alone. She pumped her fist fast and kept her hold on his hard, exactly the way he said he loved it.

Her other hand reached for his balls, playing with them. It seemed to do the trick because soon, Rowan was thrusting in her hand, silently begging for more and more.

“Fuck, Ace,” Rowan plead. “You’re so fucking good to me.” She bent down to hiss his torso, his neck, as she kept pumping him, her wrist aching but she ignored it. Every single throaty noise that came out of Rowan’s mouth urged her to keep going. “You don’t know how many times I’ve thought about this.”

Aelin couldn’t let herself say the three words she had on the tip of her tongue, so she kissed him passionately, swallowing all of his precious moans.

From the desperation in his voice, the way his hips thrust in her hand, Aelin knew he was close. “Come for me, Ro,” she asked him and it seemed to urge him on.

He threw his head back, incapable of kissing her, as she kept working him higher. After a few moments, Rowan came on her hand, spilling his hot seed on her. His coming face was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. She knew it would haunt every single one of her dreams.

When Rowan finally opened his eyes, trying to catch his breath, Aelin brought her hand to her face and stuck out her tongue, licking his juices. Rowan’s eyes were wide at this as if it turned it on as much as all the work she just did. It didn't taste bad, so she kept liking until her hand was clean.

He reached out for her head, kissing her fervently, tasting himself on her tongue. “Chaol’s always been a fucking idiot.”

—————

taglist: @sheharahu // @morganofthewildfire // @thestoriesyoutell // @fromthelibraryofemilyj // @swankii-art-teacher // @itsforeverinnocent-blog // @becarefuloflove // @imnotsogoodatthis // @rowaelinismyotp // @a-court-of-milkandhoney // @feysand-loml // @themoonthestarsthesuriel // @live-the-fangirl-life // @story-scribbler // @loves-books // @fangirlprincess09 // @theysayitscrazy // @hellasblessed // @danibutterr // @endlessdaydream // @thegreyj // @gracie-rosee

#rowaelin #rowan whitethorn #rowaelin fanfiction #rowan x aelin #throne of glass fanfiction #rowaelin smut #kinktober

[suituuup]

pieces - chapter twelve

Five years ago, Chloe dropped off the face of the Earth. Beca didn’t expect to see her again dancing in a strip club, out of all places.

rated: E (drug use and emotional abuse in early chapters)

ao3 link

*

Chloe was surprised to hear music drifting through the apartment when she got home from her late-afternoon NA meeting that Thursday evening. 

It had been four days since they had come back from Oregon, and Beca had spent most of her time at the label, often coming home after Chloe was down for the night and leaving before she was up. She always left a note and texted Chloe throughout the day to check on her, but Chloe could tell something was off. 

She rounded the corner to find Beca cooking at the stove, and smiled. “Hi.”

“Hey you,” Beca greeted with a matching smile. “You hungry? Making a stir-fry.” 

“Starving. This baby is making me eat for three,” Chloe mumbled as she walked past Beca to pluck a bottle of sparkling water from the fridge. She uncapped it and took a sip, leaning against the counter. “Are you alright? I couldn’t help but notice you’ve seemed off since we got back.” 

Beca nodded. “Yeah, I’m fine. I uh,” she cleared her throat as she reached for two plates in the cupboard over her head. “I broke up with Sarah the other night.” 

Chloe’s eyes popped wider in shock. “Oh.”

Beca set both plates on the island, then opened the cutlery drawer. “Yeah… and I kinda threw myself into work, because that’s what I do to cope with my emotions.” She grimaced again, meeting Chloe’s eyes. “I’m sorry I haven’t been around much.” 

Chloe shook her head. “No, no, it’s okay. I’m sorry, Bec.” She wondered what the reason for the break-up was, but she doubted Beca wanted to get into that. “Are you sure you’re okay?” 

“Thanks. Yeah. It’s, um, life, right?” She shrugged a little as she turned off the stove. “We just weren’t looking for the same thing.” 

Chloe nodded slowly, then pushed off the counter. “Okay. I’m here if you wanna talk, alright?” She hitched her thumb over her shoulder. “I’m just going to freshen up, I’ll be back in a couple of minutes.” 

Beca had scooped food into each plate and poured water into two glasses when she got back clad in comfier clothes, and Chloe perched herself on the stool across from Beca. 

“Thanks for making dinner,” she murmured as she dug in.

“No problem. Did your NA meeting go okay?” Beca asked as she stabbed a couple of vegetables with her fork. 

Chloe chewed and swallowed, then took a sip of her water. “Yeah, it went fine. My sponsor is amazing. We’re meeting for coffee tomorrow morning. Well, tea for me.” Decaf just wasn’t the same. 

“Cool.” Beca smiled. “I was thinking we could get a start on the nursery soon? Have you thought of a color for the walls?”

“You wanna paint the walls?” Chloe asked in surprise. “We don’t have to do that, you know. I don’t want you to be stuck with a nursery-looking room once Bean and I move out.” 

Beca shrugged. “I have another guest room, and I kinda want Bean to have their own room whenever you guys come to visit.” 

Chloe’s heart swelled against her ribs. She wasn’t sure what she had done to deserve someone like Beca back in her life, but she wasn’t going to screw it up this time around. And she had thought about what she wanted Bean’s nursery to look like, but didn’t allow herself to daydream about it until now. “I like those beige walls the way they are, but I was thinking of a woodland theme? Something gender-neutral, for sure. A few animal frames, maybe an animal mobile above the crib?” 

“That sounds nice,” Beca said, smiling. “Are you going to find out the sex at your next appointment?” 

“I think so, yeah.” 

“That’s the 26th at 3, right?” Beca asked, surprising Chloe once more. Upon catching her look, Beca added, “I wrote it down in my planner.” 

It was one thing to have written down, another to remember it off the bat like that, but Chloe didn’t even know why she was surprised. Beca had been nothing short of amazing since Chloe decided to keep the baby, between keeping track of the baby’s growth on her app or making sure to pick up ginger ale every time she went grocery shopping.

“Oh. Yeah, the 26th at 3.” 

As Chloe further settled into her second trimester, her constant exhaustion gradually faded away. She felt more energized from the start of her fifteenth week, which felt like a breath of fresh air. As her OBGYN saw nothing against it, she started each day with a morning fitness walk followed by a yoga session, then settled down to have some breakfast as she read her book. After lunch, she either had a therapy session or an NA meeting, except for Wednesdays and over the weekend. 

The cravings were still there, sitting somewhere at the back of her mind, but she continued pushing through, for the baby’s sake first and foremost, but also because she didn’t want to disappoint her support system and risk losing them forever if she did fall back into old habits. The taunting was strong, every time she walked in front of the liquor store or a familiar street corner where she would get the good stuff, but she resisted, and never hesitated to call Aubrey or her parents when her resolve wobbled a bit too much for her liking. 

“Shit,” Chloe muttered as she tried buttoning her pants up, her more than noticeable belly getting in the way. She had just reached 17 weeks, and her bump seemed to have popped a little more overnight. So had her boobs. She could also start to feel some movement going on in there, which was absolutely mind-blowing. 

Not ready to accept defeat yet, Chloe grunted at the effort of bringing these two stupid pieces of fabric closer together, exhaling with a sigh when they didn’t budge. 

“Chlo?” Beca called out, a knock on Chloe’s bedroom door following. “We should get going.” 

“I know, I just-- can’t get my pants to button,” Chloe muttered with a huff. 

A pause. “Can I come in?” 

“Yeah.” 

The door was pushed open, and Beca appeared, leaning against the frame. 

She Beca looked amused, causing Chloe to glare at her. “Maybe wear a dress?” 

Chloe’s nose wrinkled. “I only have stripper dresses.” That she should definitely donate, or get rid of. 

Beca hummed. “Mesh shorts?” 

“I guess, yeah.” 

“We can go buy some stuff after your appointment if you want?” Beca suggested as Chloe wrestled out of her jeans and slid on a pair of shorts Beca lent her. 

“Yeah, definitely.” She needed bras, too. “Okay, I’m ready.” 

As her last ultrasound at 13 weeks, Chloe didn’t have to change when they got there, and she laid down on the cot as they waited for the tech to come in. Beca stood by her side, scrolling through her phone. 

“So the Bellas’ results are in: 6 say boy, 4 say girl. I said girl.” 

Chloe had broken the news to the girls when they came back from Oregon and had once again received nothing but support. Bets started coming in over the gender, the due date, and whether Bean was going to come out with ginger hair. 

Chloe chuckled as she rubbed her bump with her palm. “You only said girl because I told you I felt like it was a girl.” 

Beca smirked. “They don’t have to know that.” Her expression softened as she pocketed her phone. “You excited to find out?” 

“Yeah,” Chloe breathed out. She was more anxious to hear about how Bean was doing and braced herself for bad news. 

“Hi there,” the tech greeted as she came in. “How are you doing, Chloe?” 

“Good. Hungry all the time.” 

The other woman laughed as she rolled the ultrasound machine closer. “Let’s take a look at that baby. Can you lift your top up for me and lower your shorts a little bit?” 

Chloe did so, reaching for Beca’s hand as the tech squirted some of that cold gel onto her tummy. 

“Alright, let’s see…” the woman drawled out as she moved the wand until she got the perspective she wanted. “Here we go.” 

“Oh, they got so big,” Chloe murmured in awe. 

“They’re moving around quite a bit,” the tech observed with a smile, pointing at the baby’s kicking legs. 

Beca gasped and tore her eyes away from the screen to glance at Chloe. “Can you feel that?” 

“Yeah,” Chloe confirmed, blinking back the tears pricking behind her eyes. “Feels like butterflies taking off in my belly.” 

“Strong heartbeat,” the tech continued. “Baby’s in the perfect position to tell their gender if you want to know?” 

“Yes, please,” Chloe said with a nod. 

“Looks like you’re having a baby girl, Chloe.” 

“A girl?” Chloe croaked out, a lump rising to her throat. The gender didn’t matter to her but knowing made it feel a thousand percent more real. She felt a squeeze to her hand and found Beca smiling down at her. “We’re in trouble. I was a handful as a kid.”

Beca chuckled. “If she has your eyes, I definitely am in trouble. Won’t be able to say no to anything she asks for, I’m warning you now.” 

The way they talked, it almost sounded like they were going to raise Bean together, and Chloe’s heart did another funny thing. Over the last couple of weeks, she had been experiencing weird feelings for Beca that went beyond the friendship line, but she was convinced it was just her hormones acting up like they did with her libido. Chloe felt aroused pretty much all the time, it was getting ridiculous. She also cried in front of a Budweiser commercial because the puppies were cute, so her body and emotions were definitely out of whack. 

The doctor came in shortly after, easing Chloe’s worries when she assured her the baby looked healthy, with normal measurements all around. They scheduled another ultrasound four weeks from now, and she and Beca were on their way with three copies of the ultrasound, one for Chloe, one to put on the fridge, and one Beca requested to store in her wallet. 

Beca drove them to Target next, and instead of heading to the maternity clothing section, Chloe went straight for the baby stuff, pulling a chuckle from Beca as she pushed the cart alongside. 

“Okay, I wanna buy everything,” Chloe mused aloud as she put a onesie back on the rack, even though she found it adorable.

“I know you’re still uncomfortable with it, but please don’t restrain yourself because it’s my money,” Beca said, as though reading Chloe’s thoughts. “I haven’t really had anyone to spend it on, so it’s my pleasure to get Bean whatever they need. Crib, car seat, changing table, stroller, clothes… you name it.” She smirked, nodding towards the rack. “So get that rainbow onesie, because it’s the cutest fucking thing I’ve ever seen.” 

Chloe giggled and nodded, her eyes shining with unspoken gratitude before she reached for the onesie. It was scary to think of how small her baby girl was going to be as a newborn, and Chloe was so glad she wasn’t doing this on her own. 

She selected five more, all animal-themed ones, then moved onto shirts and pants, showing Beca what she thought was cute to get her avail. She kept in mind that the Bellas and her parents were probably going to go overboard with gifts and paced herself on the quantity of stuff she dropped into the cart. 

“I feel like we should get the crib, stroller, and car seat from like, a special store?” Beca chimed in as they strolled through the blankets/swaddles section. She scrunched up her nose. “I don’t think I trust Target brands when it comes to sturdiness. I actually strumbled across a car seat that looks amazing, it goes from that to a stroller in just a few folds and clicks.” 

Chloe cast her an amused look. “How did you stumble across that, exactly?” 

Beca’s cheeks reddened. “By looking up the best strollers on the market.” She cleared her throat when Chloe giggled. “I just have a lot of time to kill on the subway.” Another grimace. “Is that too invasive?” 

Chloe shook her head, reaching out to rest her hand on Beca’s forearm. The contact of her skin under her fingertips made Chloe swallow as her body immediately reacted. Freaking hormones. “Not at all. I promise.” 

Chloe managed to walk away from the baby part of the store before she bought the whole thing, and headed to the maternity wear, buying a couple of jeans with an elastic waistband, a belly band, a few bras, and a pregnancy pillow. 

“Your total is $843,50,” the cashier announced once he had rung everything up, and Chloe swallowed thickly, glancing at Beca with slightly wider eyes. 

“It’s fine, Chlo,” Beca insisted as she swiped her credit card through the device. She thanked the cashier and grabbed most of the bags, letting Chloe carry the two lighter ones. Everything easily fit into Beca’s large trunk, and Chloe slid in the passenger seat, buckling up. “Any particular craving for dinner? We can stop for take-out on the way home,” Beca said as she slid her sunglasses over her nose before pulling out of their parking spot.

“I could go for a burger and fries. And a milkshake.” 

Beca grinned. “Cool, I’ll stop at Shake Shack.” 

Once they got home, they hauled everything upstairs and stored it in the nursery for now, and Chloe changed into sweatpants and Beca’s Bellas hoodie which she had never given back, picking an episode of The Office for them to watch. 

“Oh, I forgot,” Beca said after they were done eating, pushing to her feet. “Stay put.” 

Chloe did as she was told, giving Beca a curious look when she walked back to the couch with a package. Setting her milkshake on the coffee table, Chloe plucked it from her hands. “What’s this?” 

“A little something for Bean,” Beca murmured as she sat back down beside her, folding one leg underneath and hugging the other to her chest. “I ordered it when we got back from Oregon and forgot to give it to you.” 

Chloe ripped the tape over the opening and peered inside, fishing the box out. “Belly headphones?” She asked even though that’s what it said on it, her voice wavering slightly as emotions once again rose to her throat. She could blame that on the hormones too, right? 

Beca nodded. “I read that babies can hear from 18 weeks on, and I thought it would be cool if Bean listened to music before she’s born. And you know nobody takes picking out a pair of headphones as seriously as I do, so I thought I was the right guy for the job.” 

A watery chuckle burst past Chloe’s lips. “This is amazing. Thank you.” She leaned forward to hug Beca, holding her tight. Her scent did another number on Chloe, and she inhaled sharply, willing her body to chill out as she backed away. “For this, and for today…” She couldn’t remember the last time she had smiled so much. “I really don’t know what to say besides thank you.” 

“You’re welcome, Chlo,” Beca said, a soft smile curving her lips. “I’m just happy you’re finding your way back step by step.” 

Chloe nodded, exhaling. The light at the end of the tunnel was just in sight, and while it was another long way to reach it, she felt like she could, and that on its own felt like a victory. 

#bechloe #bechloe fic #pieces

[intheticklecloset]

Dr. Stone Sentence Starters #1-10

A collection of the Dr. Stone sentence starters I’ve done, compiled for the sake of ease. These are all stand-alone stories. Most are SenGen.

~~~

1) Lee Senku, Ler Gen

“You’re such a liar,” Gen accused in his natural, easygoing tone of voice.

Inside the lab, Senku kept his back turned as he worked. “Lying isn’t my style. You know that. Besides, I didn’t lie – part of the carbonated water we used was for the cure-all.”

“But you let me believe that was all it was for.” Gen’s voice was playfully pouty. “That’s cruel, Senku.”

“Gotta be honest, I’m surprised you’re complaining. I figured you’d be thrilled to see the cola, even if you couldn’t watch the grand bout in the village. It seemed a nice compensation.”

“Oh, I’m not complaining. I haven’t had a cola in thousands of years.” Gen’s shadow was right behind him now, merging with Senku’s own. “But it was still a little mean.”

Senku chuckled, shrugging. “Sorry, but I don’t really care one millimeter if you thought it was cruel of me. You got what you wanted, didn’t you?”

“I did. How can I ever repay you?~”

“Not selling me out was payment enough, thanks.” Senku suddenly felt uneasy. He turned just as Gen’s hands shot for his sides, squeezing hard, making him sputter and laugh against his will. “Hey – whahahat the-?!”

“Oh! Better be careful, Senku,” Gen teased, smiling his mischievous smile. “You said that beaker has a dangerous chemical in it, right? Wouldn’t want you to drop it~”

Senku gripped one of Gen’s wrists with his hand as he struggled to hold onto the beaker in question with the other, giggling like a child. He brought his leg up to try and kick, but that only made him lose his balance further.

“Gen!” He cried. “Gen, stohohohohop, this is one-bihihihihihillion percent dahahahangerous-!”

“All right, all right.” The mentalist finally relented, stepping back and sauntering his way out of the lab within moments. “I’ll leave you to your experiments.”

Senku sighed in relief, set the beaker down, and took a moment to regain his bearings. Then he flashed a smirk at the empty doorway and sprinted after Gen.

*

2) Lee Gen, Ler Senku

“There’ll be plenty more before this is over.”

“W-Wahahahahait, Senku! I juhuhuhust wanted to hehehehear you lahahahaugh!” Gen cried, squirming in the scientist’s arms as his ribs were tickled with surprising precision. Well, it shouldn’t have been that surprising. But Gen wasn’t thinking too hard about the logistics right now.

“Which you did,” Senku returned, smirking. He was definitely not oblivious to the hysterics he was pulling from the mischievous mentalist; if anything, he seemed to be enjoying them far too much. “And now it’s my turn. As you always have your feet bare but seem to cover up your torso with quite a bit of fabric even in the summer, I must assume you’re most sensitive somewhere in this region.” He grinned at the panicked squeal Gen let free. “Am I right?”

“Cuhuhuhuhuhurse you!” Gen cried, his cackles turned more and more frantic the higher Senku went. “Curse you ahahahahand your stuhuhuhuhupid science! NAHAHAHAHAHA!!”

“Ah.” Senku grinned. “Jackpot.”

“STAHAHAHAHAHAP!!” Gen flailed uselessly as his underarms were assaulted with the lightest of scribbles and most precise kneading in rapid succession, driving him crazy and reducing him to a helpless puddle far more quickly than he’d have liked. He was on his knees in the grass now, laughing so hard he could barely make sense of Senku’s next words.

“So, science is stupid, is it?” he tsked, shoving him face-first into the grass and straddling him, drilling into Gen’s worst spot with playful malice. “That’s too bad. And here I thought I was swaying you more and more to all the fun things you can do with it.”

“IT’S NOHOHOHOHOHOT – NOT STUHUHUHUPID!! PLEHEHEHEHASE!!” Gen laughed out his ticklish frustration into the ground, kicking his legs wildly to make up for how defenseless he was where he needed defense most. “SEHEHEHEHEHENKU, STAHAHAHAHAHAP!!”

But Senku merely chuckled in his usual way and kept at it. “Maybe next time you’ll think twice about messing with me while I’m handling a dangerous chemical, mentalist.”

*

3) Lee Senku, Ler Gen

“You’re awfully cocky for someone so ticklish,” Gen said with a smirk, wiggling his fingers at Senku, who suddenly looked nervous.

“It’s not cockiness if I’m right,” he muttered in reply, but his smirk was gone, at least. He reached for Gen’s hands. “Put those away, mentalist.”

But Gen fought back, keeping his wiggling fingers as close to the scientist’s sides as possible. Senku struggled to outdo him, a wobbly smile already on his lips. “Don’t.”

“Don’t what?” Gen teased. “Seems to me like you were just asking to be tickled.”

“No, I wasn’t.” Senku tried to sound firm, but it was difficult with the ghost tickles he swore he could already feel. Gen’s fingers were centimeters away now. “Gen, don’t-”

“Gotcha!” The mentalist beamed as he finally made contact, digging into the soft flesh of Senku’s sides with triumph. When the scientist tried to get away, he pulled him back against his chest, wrapping his arms around him and tickling even more. “Where are you going, huh? Where do you think you can possibly go to get away from me, Senku?”

Senku couldn’t stop giggling to save his life. All he could do was grab uselessly at his friend’s arms. “Stohohohohohop! Gehehehehehen!”

“Stop? But Senku, your arrogance got you into this mess! You could at least own up to it~”

“It’s nohohohohot arrogance if I’m r-rihihihiHIHIHIHIHIGHT!! GEN!!” Senku squealed, doing everything he could to get away and failing. “PLEHEHEHEHEHEASE!!”

Gen kept vibrating into his sensitive sides with a soft smile. “Like I said: you’re awfully cocky for someone so ticklish~”

*

4) Lee Gen, Ler Senku

“Tell me, mentalist, how bad does this tickle on a scale of one to ten?”

Gen was currently lying on his stomach in the dirt with Senku on top of him, fingers deep in his armpits but scratching lightly, and Gen was giggling uncontrollably in response. “S-Sehehehenku, stohohohop!”

“That’s not an answer,” Senku teased, digging a little harder. “Well? How bad is it?”

“Ten! Tehehehehehen!”

“Really? Well, that’s unfortunate for you. I wonder what would happen if I went somewhere more sensitive?” Senku couldn’t keep the satisfied smirk off his face as he dragged his fingers down to his friend’s ribs, drilling in deep, knowing it would tickle even worse that way.

And tickle it did, because Gen shrieked and started laughing wildly, crying, “NONONO OKAY OKAHAHAHAHAHAY THAHAHAHAT’S A TEHEHEHEHEN!!”

“That’s what I thought.” Senku chuckled, going back up to his underarms. “Then what number is this here?”

Gen dissolved into relieved, tired giggles. “F-Fihihihihive…”

“It dropped that much? Interesting.”

“Plehehehehease, Senku…”

“Please what? You don’t seem to be protesting too much anymore.” The mentalist’s ears went red, and the scientist grinned. “What? I’m right, aren’t I?”

Gen groaned into the ground, bubbly giggles still slipping past his lips as Senku slowed his tickling to a light, teasing skittering. “Shuhuhuhut up…”

*

5) Lee Senku, Ler Gen

“You think you’re so smart, huh?” Gen rolled his eyes, coming up behind Senku and placing his hands on either side of the table around him, trapping him against it to whisper in his ear. “Then tell me this: what happens when someone scribbles their fingers against your sides, huh?”

Senku froze, his breath hitching slightly. He didn’t answer.

“Well?” Gen pressed, enjoying the pink beginning to coat his friend’s ears. “What’s the natural reaction? Do you smile? Giggle? Try to get away? Or do you stay still and take it like a good little scientist?”

“S-Shut up.” Senku sounded flustered already, and Gen was absolutely living for it.

“Answer me, Senku.”

“This is pointless,” the scientist muttered, but he still hadn’t moved. “Why are you interrogating me?”

“Because I can, mostly. But I’m also a mentalist. I enjoy learning what makes people squirm.” Gen finally moved his hands, grasping Senku’s sides gently and scribbling his fingers over the fabric protecting them. “And I think this is what can get you to squirm, Senku.”

Sure enough, Senku gripped the table as giggles spilled out of him, hunching over instinctively. He lasted about four seconds before he finally turned to try and get away. “Stohohohop, Gen—”

“Ah-ah-ah,” Gen admonished teasingly, pushing Senku up against the table and digging in even harder, grinning wickedly at the brief look of excited panic in his friend’s eyes. “Better not fight me~”

“W-Why nohohohohohot?” Senku gripped Gen’s shoulders but didn’t fight back. “Gah! This is rihihihidiculous!”

“Because if you fight me, you know I’ll win. I’m stronger than you. And if I do win, I’ll tickle you for as long as I want.” Gen smirked as the pink in Senku’s ears traveled across his cheeks. “Unless…that’s what you want?”

“Shuhuhuhuhut up!”

“How rude.”

“You n-nehehehever said I cohohohouldn’t fihihihight with words!”

Gen hummed. “That’s true. But words won’t save you from your ticklish fate, my dear Senku~”

*

6) Lee Gen, Ler Senku

“You can apologize now,” Senku said evenly, “or you can apologize laughing. Your choice.”

Gen looked up at him with wide eyes. He took a shaky breath. “L-Laughing? What do you mean?”

Senku quirked a brow at him. “You know.”

“B-But…I have n-nothing to apologize for.”

“No?” The scientist settled his weight on Gen’s hips and wasted no time in reaching beneath the mentalist’s purple coat, digging at his ribs. “Running off overnight and making me worry about you isn’t something you should be sorry about?”

“Aww, y-yohohohohou were wohohohohorried about me, Sehehehenku?” Gen tried, but Senku only tickled harder, making him laugh. “Okay, okahahahahahay, I’m sohohohohohohorry!”

“Why did you do it?”

“I cahahahahan’t tell you!”

“Can’t?” Senku hummed, finding that spot at the backs of Gen’s ribs that always made him go berserk. “Or won’t?”

Gen’s hands clutched aimlessly at Senku’s arms, his sleeves, his shirt, anything he could grab to ground him and keep him strong in the face of ticklish torture. “CAHAHAHAHAHAHAN’T!!”

“Why not?”

“SURPRIHIHIHIHIHIHISE!!”

“Again?” Senku sighed, but he lightened his touch slightly. “It’s not my birthday anytime soon, you know. What are you scheming now?”

Gen giggled helplessly, gritting his teeth in defiance. He would not give in. He would not. “S-Spohohohohoilers, Senku.”

Senku paused a moment. Then he went right back into tickling Gen silly, smirking down at him. “Very well, mentalist. I can do this all day.”

*

7) Lee Senku, Ler Gen

“Do you want a massage?” Gen asked Senku, eyeing him worriedly as he reached back to massage his own neck.

“M’fine,” Senku muttered, rolling his shoulders and moving to get to his feet.

Gen was behind him in a flash, pushing down on his shoulders to keep him sitting down. “You’re not. You’re overworking yourself. Let me help.”

“I don’t need—” But Gen was already kneading into the tense muscles of his shoulders and neck, and Senku let out a loud groan before he could stop it, leaning his head back against Gen’s stomach. “Ugh, fine, you win this round.”

Gen smiled sadly, working at undoing the tension in the scientist’s shoulders, shaking his head at him. “You really do work too much. You need to take breaks.”

“No one else can do what needs to be done.” Senku sighed. “Well, probably Chrome could, if I instructed him in enough detail. But you and I are the only people here who remember the old world, and no offense, but I don’t think you know how to make a cell phone off the top of your head.”

Gen shrugged. “No, but my point still stands.” He blinked as one of Senku’s hairs fell away from the rest. He’d never seen it do that before. When he moved to brush it away, Senku gasped sharply and scrunched his neck, immediately wincing. “Senku, don’t do that!”

“I couldn’t help it,” the scientist snapped, lowering his voice to a mumble. “It tickled.”

Gen blinked again. He lightly brushed a finger along the back of Senku’s neck, smiling when a giggle slipped out. “You have a ticklish neck?” Senku twisted his head to try and get away, but in doing so Gen’s fingers brushed his ear instead, making him squeal. “You have ticklish ears?!”

Senku tried to stand up. “Let me go—” But Gen was already scribbling his fingers over the scientist’s ticklish spots, and Senku couldn’t stop the soft laughter that bubbled out of him at the touch. “Gehehehehehen!”

“This,” Gen said, beaming, “is officially the most adorable thing I’ve seen since breaking out of that rock. I can’t wait to have all kinds of fun with this information~”

*

8) Lee Chrome, Ler Ukyo

“I’m not ticklish!” Chrome declared bravely, putting his hands on his hips and puffing out his chest.

Ukyo blinked at him. “Okay.”

“Really, I’m not.”

“Okay.”

Chrome narrowed his eyes. “You believe me?”

“Not in the slightest.”

“Hey! I’m telling you, I’m not ticklish!”

“Sure.”

“Well? Test me if you don’t believe me, you know-it-all!” Chrome challenged, immediately wishing he’d kept his big mouth shut when Ukyo’s eyes suddenly went from uninterested to mischievous. He stepped back. “A-Actually, maybe don’t test me—”

But Ukyo was already on him, leaping up and wrapping his legs around his waist, using the force of his jump to tackle Chrome to the ground. Once there, he found purchase in the scientist’s underarms and dug in.

Chrome instantly broke into frantic cackles, kicking his legs wildly behind the archer. “N-No, wait, stohohohohohohop!”

“You’re the one who told me to test you,” Ukyo said with a sly grin. “And you said you weren’t ticklish, which you clearly are. Liar.”

“Okahahahahay, okay, plehehehehehease!”

“Why did you say that? You had to know I was going to learn the truth eventually.”

“I juhuhuhuhust wahahahanted to sound cool!” Chrome admitted through his giggles, squirming desperately on the ground. “Plehehehease!”

Ukyo chuckled, shaking his head as he climbed off the brunette, offering him a hand once he was back on his feet. “You’re ridiculous.”

*

9) Lee Ukyo, Ler Chrome

“Your laugh is so cute,” Chrome teased a giggling Ukyo, easily keeping up with him as he tried to roll away over and over again. “Aww, is someone ticklish? If I’d known about this when you captured me I’d have been able to get away easily!”

Ukyo couldn’t even reply for how hysterical he was. Fingers just kept finding his sides, his belly, his ribs, even his underarms and neck, and all of it was flustering him more than he cared to admit. Curse Chrome and his incessant chatter. The teasing was only making this worse!

“Nothing to say? That’s fine by me. I’m content to hear you laugh all day if you’re willing to indulge me.”

Finally the archer found his voice just long enough to sputter, “N-Nohohohoho!”

“No? But you’re not asking me to stop. I assumed you liked this. Am I wrong?” Chrome grinned, knowing full well Ukyo couldn’t answer when he was giggling helplessly like this. “Well? Better speak up or I’ll end up tickling you until sunset.”

The sun had only just come up! Ukyo whined, rolling onto his back to try and grab the scientist’s wrists, but doing so only left him more open, and Chrome ended up straddling him instead, ensuring he wouldn’t roll away anymore. “Gahahahahaha! Nohohohohoho, Chrome!”

“But your laugh is so adorable.” Chrome winked at him, continuing to tickle him lightly but relentlessly. “I want to hear it all day long~”

*

10) Switches Senku and Chrome

“There’s one thing I’m better at than you!” Chrome said, coming up behind Senku. “Want to know what it is?”

Senku spared him a brief, uninterested glance. “There are plenty of things you’re better at than me. But if you insist, do tell.”

For a moment Chrome was thrown by the compliment, but then he found his resolve. “I can handle being tickled longer than you.”

Senku froze for a brief moment, then turned and smirked at him. “I’m not sure if that’s a challenge or an invitation, but either way, you can forget it. I’ve no interest in finding that out. I’ll take your word for it.”

Chrome had expected some kind of resistance – maybe even flustered backpedaling – but Senku practically owning up to it himself? That he hadn’t seen coming. “Dude, seriously? You’re just going to let me accuse you of being too ticklish to handle more than a few seconds?”

“It’s an honest accusation.”

“Well…shoot. I almost feel bad for what I’m about to do, then.”

“What—?” Senku turned just as Chrome lunged for him, grabbing onto his waist and squeezing his hips. “GAH!! Chrohohohome, I just sahahahaid—!”

“I know, but like…you can’t just own up to it! At least try to bluff back at me.”

“Thehehehehere’s no point! It’s illohohohogical to deny it!” Senku grabbed his wrists but was too weak to do anything more than hold them. “Stohohohohop, I hahahahave work to dohoho!”

“Seriously.” Chrome quirked a brow at him. “You’re not going to tickle me back to see if I’m right?”

“I sahahahaid I’d tahahahake your word fohohohor it!”

Chrome shrugged, letting him go with a smile. “All right, then. That didn’t go the way I was expecting, but at least—”

Senku pounced right back, shoving him against the lab table and tickling his underarms with deadly precision. Chrome shrieked with laughter. “NONONO OKAY I’M SOHOHOHOHORRY, SEHEHEHENKU!!”

“Well, would you look at that?” Senku chuckled, grinning wickedly. “You can’t handle being tickled longer than me.”

#fanfiction #tickle drabble #compilation #quick prompts #dr. stone #dr stone #sentence starters #sengen

[softhxtch]

TITTLE: FBI Charity Blind Date Night SUMMARY: For last four years FBI has been organizing a lot of events for charities. One of them are blind dates. This year Emily, Penelope and Derek decided to join in with Hotch’s name. Let’s just say, that at first he’s not the happiest person in the world.  PAIRING: female! reader x Aaron Hotchner CHARACTERS: reader, Aaron Hotchner, Emily Prentiss, Derek Morgan and Penelope Garcia (at the beginning), Angela, Olivia (OCs), Daivd Rossi and Spencer Reid (literally mentioned once) WARNINGS: none (?), it’s just fluff and cuteness, I mean they go to the hospital, nothing bad happens, but be aware of errors and mistakes. ALSO in this story Jack is not born, not sure why just thought it would fit better. ALSO2: CAC - Crimes Against Children Unit WORD COUNT: 4,5K A/N: i’ve had a long break from writing and with this new year I decided to break it. there’re probably a lot of mistakes, so feel free to correct me. english is not my first language and i’m doing this just for fun!

'Did you send everything correctly? Are you sure?', Emily asked looking over Penelope's shoulder. She tried to keep up with whatever blonde woman was doing, but it was hard since she was moving so fast with her work.

'Yes! Who do you think I am?', Penelope answered with raised voice. Her head was shaking but eyes still glued to the screen. 'Can't you just trust me?'

'I do, we all do. But don't you think it's weird, that we still didn't get anything from-', Emily argued, but didn't even finish the sentence as her work phone started to make sound. She quickly picked it up with short 'hello' and was listening to whoever was on the other side. Her face was slowly changing as more and more words were going through the phone. Emily's eyebrows were risen and eyes bigger, scanning the room around her. Finally she nodded quickly and after adding short 'of course', she put the phone down. 'Hotch wants to see us.', Emily explained.

'Oh god.', was all Penelope could say. She stood up quickly, putting her laptop down on Emily's desk. 'I guess he got the message. Today's the day we die.', she added as dark haired woman also stood up, nodding

'Come on, Derek. You're going with us.', Emily pointed at him, raising her eyebrow.

'Me? I didn't even do anything!', man defended himself.

'It's all your fault anyway. You came up with the idea. Come on.', she added.

'Fine, but to be fair it's our idea. You're as much in it as I am. Just so we're clear.', Derek pointed out, as Emily rolled her eyes. 'Let's go.'

Derek's words were like a signal, because after that all three of them moved towards the Chief's office. They knew it was coming sooner or later. They would be called to see Hotch, he probably would be angry at what have they done, maybe furious and that's it. Maybe they would get more paper work to do. But it was unavoidable, Hotch would find out sooner or later. And some like Derek would prefer it to be sooner, but some like Emily or Penelope - later.

Derek was the one to lead the way to Agent Hotchner's office, with two women right behind him. He knocked two times one the door and opened them after hearing 'come in' from inside. Aaron was sitting in his chair, focused on papers in front of him. Pen in one hand, tracing text that for most people was really hard to understand.

All three agents looked around just to see any signs, that they could help. They paid a lot of attention to the big desk with a lot of papers on it, but everything was the same. Nothing too suspicious, but then in front of there were three chairs. Not one or two as usual. Like especially for them.

'Everything's okay?', Penelope was the first one to break the silence.

'Yes.', Aaron’s answer was short as he looked up from his papers with a raised brow. 'Is there a reason why something's should not be okay?'

'No. Of course no, sir.', blonde woman laughed as all three of them walked more inside the room.

'You wanted to see us?', Emily asked, her voice was quieter than usual.

'Did I?', Aaron answered back with an questions, putting his pen down. All three of the agents looked at each other with confused faces.

'Emily said-'

'What exactly did Emily said?', he asked. Aaron tilted his head, waiting for an answer. His face was stoic and stern as usual, very hard to read for any of them.

'Emily said you wanted to see us.', Derek answered. His eyebrows were furrowed, with thousands thoughts going through his mind per second. He was very much present when dark haired woman got the phone call, but all of the sudden he wasn't sure about it anymore. Maybe she heard something different? Or mixed up his words?

Hotch just nodded slowly. He moved his eyes from Derek to Emily, who was confused with this whole situation. She knew what he said, but just to be one hundred percent sure she went through the short conversation they had, like fifty more times.

'You said, and I quote, 'I want to see you in my office as fast as you can'.', Emily said slowly, her hands in front. It's like she was trying to calm herself down from this confusing situation.

'Exactly. I didn't specify who 'you' is.', man sitting in the chair said, like it was the most obvious thing on the world.

'Oh my God.', Penelope said, waving hands in front of her face as if she was trying to stop the tears. You could visibly see Emily's shoulders going down, her letting out breath she was holding for a long time. Derek just let out quiet laugh and shook his head.

'But since all three of you came here, then I guess something's happened.', he added, putting his hands together on top of the desk. 'You did something, that you know you shouldn't do and now you're just waiting for the consequences. That's why all three of you came here together.'

'I thought we weren't suppose to profile each other.', Derek said.

'Yes, especially when not everyone in the room is a profiler.', Penelope added with a firm nod.

'Garcia, you don't need to be a profiler to see all three of you having weird conversations, barely working in the office and basically being constantly out of place.'

'We didn't do anything wrong.', Derek said, pointing at all three of agents.

'Okay.', Aaron said quickly nodding. 'But next time when you put name that isn’t yours somewhere, you make that person is aware that you're doing this. And they give you their consent.'

'We didn't put anyone's name anywhere', Emily finally said something after, what felt like, hours of standing in their boss's office.

'Agent Hotchner, we write to thank you for joining our 4th annual FBI Charity Blind Date Night. Don't worry we'll make sure to choose precisely your date, just they way you put it in our questionnaire. Thank you so much and see you in February!', man read the email he got few hours ago.

‘You don’t have any proof, that it’s us, sir.’, Penelope said, her voice cracking at the end. Derek just sighed and closed his eyes, knowing how screwed up they are. ‘Anyone could do this!’

‘True, but you three are on the first place.’, he said like it was something obvious. The rest just looked a bit confused how they were first suspects, which made older man sigh. ‘The next one was Rossi, but he’s been out of town for the last few days. In the past he tried to set me up for few dates, but I don’t think he would do it through blind date, that you have to do questionnaire before. Who’s next?’, he asked, making his thinking face for a second, before continuing. ‘JJ? She has her own life and two kids to take care of. I don’t think she would have time to play with something like this. Oh and on top of that, she doesn’t put herself in someone else’s business. The last one is Reid and we all know, that he didn’t do it.’

‘But you have no proof, that all of us did it.’, Penelope started. Her hands were shaking and she started rambling, not knowing how to get out of that situation. 

When Derek and Emily came to her with this whole idea of putting their boss in a blind date she didn’t know what to think about it. She thought that maybe it was a good thing. After divorcing Haley and breaking up with Beth, Hotch didn’t do much dating, or at least that they knew about. And Penelope thought that someone like Aaron Hotchner deserves to be happy. He deserves to laugh with someone who he likes and is not necessarily in a team or a friend of his. She wanted him to have a person, who would be with him in tough times and would take care of him when he needed it. Hotch is a tough person, but Penelope Garcia strongly believed, that there’s a person in this world who would understand him. He just needed to start looking and if she could help, she would do it. 

Of course there’s also a lot of guilt, because whether she liked it or not, she was messing with his boss’s personal life. And how would they even tell Hotch about the fact, that they put him into FBI blind date. Penelope knew he would be furious and angry. So this kind of reaction was weird for her. Hotch wasn’t screaming, showing any anger. Nothing. Maybe a little annoyed, but that’s it.

‘Penelope.’, Derek started, trying to make her stop. She was only making it worse, by digging the topic. 

‘You can be mad at us all you want, but a date would be a good thing for you.’, Emily started, making Hotch raise his eyebrows. Derek just groaned in the back, wishing for it to be over. ‘You know, sometimes it’s good to get out of your comfort zone.’

‘My comfort zone?’, he repeated.

‘Yes.’, dark haired girl answered. She put her hands together in front of her, not knowing where she’s exactly going with this conversation. ‘You have to go out sometimes, Hotch. Have conversation with someone, that’s not us. Have a meal, that wasn’t pre made months ago, drink wine and make jokes. And maybe, just maybe, you’ll meet someone wonderful.’, she ended, going closer and closer to the man as she was going on with her speech.

‘I’m not in a mood for a relationship, Prentiss.’, Aaron shook his head, putting some papers together on his desk.

‘That’s why we put you on a ‘friendship list’. It means, that you’re there as a friend and for chairty, not really looking for a lover.’, Penelope said quickly, stepping forward towards Emily. 

‘The answer is still ‘no’, so please cancel my application.’, he shook his head, looking at the papers in his hands. When he hear any movements or complaint  from the three agents in the room, he looked at them again. ‘I will pay the charity in return. And I guess you had to put some money into it too, so I will pay it off. But please withdraw my name from the list.’

‘But sir.’, Penelope started again, bringing his attention. ‘Maybe you should consider what Emily’s said. You know, new experiences.’, she added with nervous laugh.

‘So what’s the bet about?’, Hotch asked, leaning back with curious face. 

‘If you go Rossi said, that he’ll do our reports for a month.’, Emily said after few seconds of debating if she should actually say anything else.

‘And if I don’t?’

‘We have to do this for a year.’, Derek admitted.

‘Please, Hotch.’, Emily begged, coming closer to his desk and leaning on it. She looked into his eyes for few seconds, trying to get some mercy from him. ‘I’m still half way through Reid’s reports from last month. I can’t lose this one!’

‘Well, you should’ve thought about this before going into another bet.’, Aaron answered, trying to keep his stern face, but Derek saw one side of his lips rising for a split of a second. ‘Now like I said, withdraw my name from that list and please go back to work. All of you. You can go and please close the door.’, he added. After finishing the sentence he went back to his paper, waiting for them to leave and when they did, he just couldn’t stop himself from small smile. 

'I thought you wanted to go.', Angela said as we entered my office. She had one of the flyers of the charity events that she took from the entrance to the FBI building.

'Yeah, I did. But half of kids at the kindergarden are sick, I have a feeling, that Olivia is next.', you said, putting bag on the desk. You turn around to your friend and gave her apologetic smile. 'And I don’t wanna leave my sick child with my sister-in-law. She already helps me enough.'

'I'm sorry.', Angela just said, not knowing how to actually react. 'I know, that after last year you wanted to go.'

'Yeah, it sounded pretty fun.', you nodded. 'Plus it would be nice to finally get a kiss on the lips. Or talk to someone in full sentences.'

'Excuse me?', Angela joked, pointing at herself.

'Outside of this office.', you shook head, letting out quick chuckle.

'Someday you'll find someone. I'll make sure of this.', she said, coming closer to you. She stopped for a second and gave you quick hug, trying to make you feel better.

'It'll be kind of hard. Usually when they find out, that I have three year old child, they run. If they don't, then they get scared when I tell them I work for the FBI. And when I go on a date with agent they usually do this, because I'm a Unit Chief and have connections with a lot of important people here.', you explained with a sigh. 'I was excited for this blind date not only for meeting new people, but also because we will be on the same position. I won't be used and person who will be choosen for me would understand where I come from.'

'I know.', she said truthfully, caressing your shoulders. 'You know what? Screw it. I'll take care of Olivia.'

'Really?', you said shocked about the proposition. You knew, that Angela was the last person on earth who would offer herself to take care of kids. It's not like she hated them, just she's not the best with them. Mainly the youngest ones. But kids found their ways to her. Especially Olivia. She always loved being next to Angela and you could be sure, that she would be happy to have her as a babysitter for few hours.

'But it's just this one time.', Angela reminded, putting one of her fingers in front of your face. You immediately agreed and hugged her as a thank you.

'So? How do I look?', you asked after walking to the kitchen. You looked at both Angela and your daughter sitting at the dinning table, consuming their supper. Your friend made circles with her fingers, asking you to turn around so she could see the back of the dress.

When the email with the set up date finally came, you were the most excited since you could even remember. It was something you looked forward to for days or maybe even weeks now. Nobody in your team didn't know about this, except Angela. And she also was very excited for you. Whenever you had breaks from cases, she would come with new ideas for a dress or make up. And even though she'd be brushed off, you actually liked it.

For a long time you had no idea what to wear. Should it be something less formal? Or full on glam outfit? But when Angela came to you with a picture of navy bodycon dress, you knew it's the one. She advised you to wear it with simple black sandals and light make up, adding darker lipstick.

'Mommy! You're so pretty!', Olivia exclaimed from her chair. She still had her mouth full from the sandwich, that you made her few minutes ago. You could see her be really excited about this night, not because you're going out, but mainly that she's gonna be playing with Angela.

'Thank you, sweetheart.', you skilled, coming closer to them. 'I'm gonna be out for few hours and you're gonna be with aunt Angela, okay?', you explained, playing with her hair. Little girl nodded, taking another bite of her sandwich. Then you stood up facing your friend. 'Okay I should be back before midnight. If I don't call you and I'm not home, then you can track my car or phone.'

'Of course, as always.', she said with a wink, which made you laugh.

'And remember, if anything happens - call me. You've been in this house so many times, so you know where everything is. But if you're unsure or Olivia does something, call me okay?', you said, raising a brow.

'Hey! Don't use your 'I'm your boss' voice!', she said, putting finger in front of your face, which made you laugh.

'That's actually my 'mom' voice.', you shook your head.

‘Doesn’t matter. Just go before you’re late.’, she said, pushing you out of the room. ‘Remember it’s really bad to be late for a date, but it’s just awful to be late on a date with FBI agent.’

Aaron was sitting in one of three restaurants, that bureau offered to cover the expenses in. He told Penelope and Emily many times to pick the table somewhere in the corner, where he and the person who was a match to him wouldn’t be in a center of attention. It was a really long time since he went on a actual date or even out with someone, that’s not on his team. For a really long time he hated this whole idea. But the one night he was sitting in his flat with a glass of whiskey and thought, that maybe, but just maybe, it’s a good idea. That maybe Emily was right?

‘I’m really sorry, I’m late.’, female voice took Aaron out of his thoughts. He looked up, expected to see someone familiar, but that wasn’t the case. He thought, that maybe it would be someone that he knew. It definitely would be easier, than starting from zero.

But even if Aaron didn’t know personally the person he’s meeting, maybe he could just recognize the face? Place it with unit, that they’re working in or at least department. But as you appeared it didn’t ring any bell. Aaron furrowed his eyebrows, which made you immediately confused and started looking around. 

‘You’re from FBI, correct?’, you asked, pointing at him and then at the back, getting more and more nervous. ‘The woman in front told me to go to table number eight. And that’s it, but maybe I said something wrong and she didn’t understand-’

‘I am.’, Aaron said immediately, standing up from his seat. ‘I was just expecting someone-’

‘Different?’, you asked, smiling a bit.

‘No, no!’, he answered right away with his hands in front, like he was trying to stop you from something. ‘Someone, that I know.’, he ended, explaining. 

‘Oh, of course.’, you nodded. ‘I’m Y/N Y/L/N.’, you extended your hand with greeting, after what seemed like liftime in silence.

‘Aaron Hotchner.’, he answered, shaking your hand gently. Then he motioned to the table. You just nodded as both of you sat down. ‘Which department are you from? Sorry to be put it so bluntly, I just don’t think I’ve ever met you in the bureau.’

‘CAC.’, you answered, looking up from the menu. ‘I came here from New York few months ago. Got offered Unit Chief position, better salary - guess didn’t have to think through it twice.’, you shrugged.

‘That explains a lot.’, Aaron said with small nods. You just raised a brown, silently asking the same thing he did few seconds ago. ‘I’m from BAU.’

‘Oh ‘The Dream’ unit.’, you said. The statement made Aaron very much confused. ‘When I arrived in Quantico, there were actually quite a lot of changes and I had to hire new agent to my team. And about half of them started the interview with  ‘well my dream is to be in BAU, but this unit could be a good start’.’, you explained.

‘I’m sorry.’

‘It’s not your fault. More of a complement. It’s very rare, that most of agents, that want to work in a field also want to work in your team. And I’ve also heard only good stuff about BAU.’, you said, trying to keep the conversation light. 

In fact this was the last time your conversation went to the topic of work. As soon as some of the comments, that either one made, were about work, you immediately would change the topic. You promised yourself, and Angela of course, that today won’t be about work. It’ll be about having fun and going out with not-so-stranger. 

Aaron saw the effort that you made and he actually really liked it. No work, no phones, no cases, no murders. Just the two of you, great food and wine, that he didn’t even drink yet. He didn’t expect it but he was actually having a good time. So this one time he would answer his previous question: Emily Prentiss was, in fact, right.

‘Excuse me for a second.’, you said, hearing vibrations of your phone from the bad. Aaron just nodded, understanding as you opened bag and looked for phone. When it was found, you immediately opened it and panicked right away.

3 missed calls

2 unread messages

9:39 I know I was supposed to call only when there’s an emergency, but I think it is. 

10:21 We’re going to ER.

‘Everything’s okay?’, Aaron asked, observing very closely your reactions. 

‘I-I have to go.’, you said stuttering. You picked your bag and coat, wanting to leave as fast as you can. ‘I’m really sorry.’

‘What happened?’, he stood up quickly. He grabbed you by the arm, stopping from leaving the room.

'My daughter is in a hospital. And my friend, that's babysitting her won't tell me what happened.', right away the worst scenarios came to your head. What's could actually happen, that the two of them had to go to the emergency room? Did she broke a bone? Or just hit herself and needed few stitches? Or maybe she fell down the stairs and is unconscious? The questions, that were driving you crazy.

'Let's go.', Aaron just nodded and took you out of the restaurant, after paying for the whole meal.

'Wait, no. I can't ask you to come with me. I've already ruined your evening.', you shook your head as Aaron was taking you to his car.

'Don't worry about it. We can do it on a different day.', he waved you off, getting into his car. The comment caught you off guard a little. And you didn't even realize, that you were still standing on the streets until Aaron knocked on the window, getting your attention.

'Sorry.', you whispered, getting inside. He just started the engine and drove as fast as he could to the hospital that Angela land Olivia were at. 'Wait. Different day? We'll meet on a different day?', you asked, thinking about the whole conversation from few minutes ago. He laughed at how at first you didn't realize what he meant.

'If you want of course.', Aaron explained, getting slow nod from you. It was still funny for him how long it took you to get through it all. 'Look, I'm not a parent, but I can just assume, that your daughter comes first for you.'

'True.', you agreed.

'So, I could make huge scene about how you literally stormed out of our date.', he continued to explain his thoughts. 'Or just understand where you come from and help you.'

'Thank you.', you said, looking at him for the first time since you walked inside the car.

'No problem.', he said with a smile.

If it wasn’t for Aaron, you would probably be panicked, running around the hospital. Well, you still were panicked and scared of what exactly happened, but he made you a bit calmer. Told you to step back and he was asking all questions of where to go and what happened.

After twenty minutes the two of you ended up of third floor. Your heart was beating so fast, searching for either Angela or Olivia, but you couldn’t see them anywhere.

‘Y/N, you have to calm down. It won’t help-’, Aaron started, grabbing your arm. You stopped, but didn’t look at him, only scanning the room. And then you saw it. Familiar dark hair and the handbag you bought her for Christmas. 

‘Angela!’, you called her name, bringing the attention. Woman turned around and let out deep breath, being visibly relieved.

‘Oh my God!. You’re finally here. I didn’t know how long I could keep her attention. She was constantly asking for you.’, Angela said. Then she looked behind you, seeing Aaron running after you. ‘Sorry for ruining the night.’, she whispered. 

‘It’s okay.’, you shook your head. ‘What even happened? I leave you for few hours and you end up in hospital.’

‘We just were having fun.’, she explained and you just raised a brow. ‘Okay, we were playing tag. And then Olivia got tired, so we sat down on your bed. Then obviously she wasn’t tired anymore and started jumping up and down on your bed. And she asked me to join her, so I did. And then it broke.’, she started talking very fast and chaotic.

‘You broke my bed?’, you asked as if that was the only thing you could make out of whatever she said. 

‘But I didn’t mean it. I tried really hard.’

‘And where’s Olivia now?’, you asked, trying not to get angry.

‘They took her to a cat scan. Doctor said, that her arm is probably broken.’, Angela explained, seeing you get more and more annoyed. ‘Anyway, nurses asked for legal guardian or parent, so I’m gonna go and tell her, that you’re here.’

You nodded and let her go. Your eyes were closed and head hanged down for few seconds. Were you angry? Yes. Were you annoyed? Yes. But your daughter was fine. She was alive and even though having a toddler with broken arm won’t be fun thing, you’d take it. 

‘Again I’m sorry.’, you turned around to Aaron. He was still standing behind you, just watching the whole situation. ‘I won’t hold you up anymore, you can go. Thank you for everything.’

‘It’s not a problem for me to stay. If you-’, he said, coming closer to you.

‘You’ve done a lot for me today. Beside we have work tomorrow. So let it just be one of us who’s gonna stay up all night.’, you cut him. Aaron just nodded, understanding everything.

‘So, until next time?’, he asked, slowly taking few steps back.

‘That would be amazing.’, you answered. But then realized something. ‘Hey, but I don’t have-’, you started and put hands in coat pockets. Then felt something in one of them. You took it out and made on ‘oh’ sound as you read: Aaron Hotchner, Federal Bureau of Investigation, Behavioral Analysis Unit with phone number. You looked up to look at him one last time. Aaron just shot you a huge small and waved before turning around and going to the elevators. 

#criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fan fiction #criminal minds scenario #criminal minds x reader #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner scenario #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner fan fiction #emily prentiss #spencer reid #penelope garcia #derek morgan #david rossi

[daggryet]

this might be a lot, but do you have the entire punz and dream convo transcribed?

i do!

i couldn't find the vod, but here's the video i used (i transcribed pretty much everything but the first few seconds).

i used the timers i did so people could go back and find the most important subjects:

- c!punz and c!dream's conversation about loyalty and him becoming a spy

- c!dream tells c!punz about the prison, what he intends to use it for and the technicalities of the prison

- c!dream says c!tommy has left exile

CONTEXT: DREAM wants to speak to PUNZ, PUNZ is currently thousands of blocks away and says it’ll take him a while to get back to the main SMP area. DREAM teleports him back.

0:24:

PUNZ: I am one of the most powerful on the server, so… I have a shulker box.

DREAM: Yeah, I never would have thought- I don’t know how you got here, I thought you said it was gonna take you a while

PUNZ: No, yeah, I was just bluffing. But I’m here now, so that’s all we needed, so-

DREAM: Let’s go for a walk, let’s go for a walk together.

PUNZ: Alright, Dream.

DREAM: Ehm, so you have been one of the only people that have been on my side since the server started. Every time there’s a conflict, you know, you’re always there to help.

PUNZ: Of course, of course.

DREAM: And you’re always there to have my back, and I know that I pay you - but still, it’s a little beyond that, I would think. And ehm-

PUNZ: Yeah, we’ve definitely grown a strong alliance, I would say. A strong friendship.

DREAM: And recently, everyone’s been turning against me. I don’t know who I have on the server, other than you right now, that’s on my side and that’s dangerous because - I mean - if they got together and were organized, I’m not sure I would be able to- however many of were on the entire server.

PUNZ: Yeah, there’s quite a bit of people on the server nowadays.

DREAM: Even if it was me and you, and I know we’re both very powerful, I don’t know what a 2v20-or-whatever would be, I think we would definitely lose. So-

PUNZ: Yeah, it wouldn’t be good, it wouldn’t be good. It would be tough, to say the least.

DREAM: So, yeah, I guess, I’m getting a tad worried. Ehm, I know… they went after Techno, and I can assume that means that they, you know, will probably go after me. I don’t know because I have no reason to believe that now they went after Techno, I feel like I’ve done way worse things to, eh… L’Manberg than Techno.

PUNZ: They’re going after people that just don’t, that don’t side with them, I guess you could say. You put the walls around L’Manberg so they probably really don’t like you for that.

DREAM: Yeah, and I helped Wilbur, I gave him the TNT to blow it up, and also I- I did a lot of things that even though I’m being good now, I am nervous.

PUNZ: Understandably.

DREAM: And I think that- there’s a couple things that we should talk about, but one; I think that you should… not be on my side.

PUNZ: Really?

DREAM: Well, you should, but you shouldn’t. Act like you’re not on my side. Because if you’re on my side, then you’ll be in danger, and probably before they take me out - they’ll try and take you out, and then I won’t be there to help you, and then… that would not be good. But if you’re not helping me, and you’re not on my side, then they have no reason to go after you, right? And you can always- you can tell me things, and you can keep me updated, and you can…

PUNZ: So, we’ll still be friends though, correct? I’ll-

DREAM: Yeah, no, no-

PUNZ: It’s just a show thing? DREAM: I mean, you’re essentially a spy.

PUNZ: A spy?

DREAM: Yeah.

PUNZ: Okay.

DREAM: But, in order for this to work, we have to do something that splits us apart. So, I don’t know what we can do, but we can think of something that I do to you, that you don’t like. That you then pretend like you’re outraged about, even though we planned it, right?

PUNZ: Okay, yes, more of like a- just to show everyone that… we have kind of disconnected.

DREAM: That you’re no longer on my side, that we disconnected, that you’re not on my side.

PUNZ: Exactly.

DREAM: That you’re done with assisting me.

4:12:

DREAM: So this is a prison.

PUNZ: Wow.

DREAM: Ehm, this is Pandora’s vault. And me and Awesamdude have been constructing it for a very long time, and we will continue constructing it. It’s not done, ehm, but-

PUNZ: Looks crazy.

DREAM: It does look crazy.

PUNZ: It’s massive.

DREAM: We’ve been doing a lot of- there’s a lot of stuff about it. But, Punz, when it’s done - any of our enemies, we can put inside it.

PUNZ: Any of them? Of our choosing?

DREAM: There are over 20 cells in the prison. And there’s a main cell that can have as many people as we want in it, that is inescapable. Like you literally can’t get out of it.

PUNZ: It’s insane.

DREAM: We’re gonna have elder guardians that give you mining fatigue, we have layers of obsidian with - you know - what inbetween for preventing withers and other countermeasures for withers. We have- we’re gonna fill the nether area with obsidian, that way no one can infiltrate that way. We have guards on duty 24/7. We have everything we can possibly do, and no one to oppose us.

PUNZ: This is absolutely mad, this is massive. And it looks good.

DREAM: Yeah, and until it’s done, though, obviously we can’t let anybody know that, you know, that’s even an idea, right? PUNZ: Oh yeah, for sure, does anyone even know about this? Besides Sam

DREAM: Well, I think there’s a few people that know about the prison. I know Bad knows about it, and some other people know about it, but nobody knows what it’s for. And no one from L’Manberg knows about it yet, other than- I think Quackity has seen it, but I don’t think that he understands what it is. And understands what it’s constructed for, so he’s- I don’t think anyone’s worried yet.

PUNZ: That’s good, that’s great. Even if Quackity, like, saw it, yeah I don’t think he’d understand what it is. He’s not the brightest, you know.

DREAM: And nobody can even- even once they know, at this point it’s too far into construction that they can’t even take it down or do anything.

PUNZ: Oh, definitely not.

DREAM: I mean, as soon as we put the elder guardians in, they can’t even- it takes 9 hours to break a single block. They won’t even be able to take it down.

PUNZ: That’s insane. So when-

DREAM: This is-

PUNZ: When is it gonna be put to use?

DREAM: Well, the prison should be done shortly after Christmas. Everything’s gone to plan so far, it’s just- things are speeding up a little, and it should be done shortly after Christmas.

PUNZ: Wow, that’s pretty soon.

DREAM: It is very soon. But the problem is that, until then we can’t, you know, we can’t- as long as, right now the server is kind of against me, we can’t be seen together, we can’t be- you know, right now we’re the only ones on the server, so this is fine. But we need to do something to make people think that, you know-

PUNZ: That we disconnected like we talked about, yes.

DREAM: Yeah, and once we do that, I think it’ll be good to stay like that for a while until we eventually, you know- the Dream SMP always, that’s something I’ve talked to you about before, it’s always been the goal that it’s all one united server, that everybody follows the same rules, there’s no countries, there’s no - you know - any of this. It’s just one giant, like family, right?

PUNZ: Yeah, a hundred percent, I agree. Everything you’ve done is just try and keep that feeling, I know what you mean.

DREAM: Before L’Manberg, there weren't any wars or anything, because there wasn’t any countries to have wars with, right?

PUNZ: Yeah, exactly.

DREAM: So I think that… there’s a lot that we can do, but there’s something, there’s something that I’m doing soon that- nobody’s gonna like me. And-

PUNZ: Alright. We need to disconnect as fast as possible, we need to think of something right now. that you can do- I don’t wanna be dragged down with you, if you-

DREAM: Yeah, yeah, we need to- I also have to say, I, at some point, will have to leave you. Leave you in charge here while I go far away to avoid death.

PUNZ: Leave me in charge? DREAM: Secretly. Your job would be to keep an eye on things and make sure that, you know, the Dream SMP thrives and doesn’t lose all of its power.

PUNZ: Yeah, yeah.

DREAM: ‘Cause even though we’re outnumbered, we’re still the most powerful.

PUNZ: Oh, by far. I mean, I have a shulker box, have you seen it?

DREAM: Yeah.

PUNZ: I’ll pull it out right now.

PUNZ takes the cyan shulker box out of his ender chest. Inside it is an enchanted netherite axe.

9:40: DREAM: Tommy left his exile.

PUNZ: He left his exile?

DREAM: He left. I went, he was gone, I don’t know where he is.

PUNZ: Really? That, that doesn’t seem- I feel like he was being so well behaved, and he’s left. Wow.

DREAM: Hm. I think that- you know Tommy.

PUNZ: Well, yeah, I know Tommy, of course I do.

DREAM: Yeah, I’ll- he, he doesn’t- he doesn’t like listening to people, but the thing is, I don’t know where he went. And I am going to have to go and find him, but I have other things I need to do as well, and like I said; people won’t like me very much, and as long as people don’t like me, they’ll be coming after me. And so, we need to do this. Let’s come up with what we need to do.

PUNZ: Well-

DREAM: What’s something that’s reasonable, that if I did - you would turn against me?

PUNZ: I mean, I think, a lot of people on the server know me for my build. My property, you could say, like the Christmas tree, my tower, my walls. You could break something of that, of a reasonable size to so that I’d have to repair it. I think that’s what people mostly know me for. Or I have Bumpkin, but I don’t really want you to touch Bumpkin.

DREAM: Yeah.

PUNZ: I’ve had Bumpkin for a while.

DREAM: What if we made a fake Bumpkin?

PUNZ: That sounds like a good idea.

DREAM: And we have to stage it so I kill Bumpkin in front of people. But not Actual Bumpkin, Fake Bumpkin.

PUNZ: Yeah, yeah, Fake Bumpkin. I’ll have to hide Bumpkin, I’ll have to make somewhere to hide Bumpkin for a little while, I guess.

DREAM: Yeah, yeah, just for a couple of days and then you have a new one, and you can always just say that it’s a new Bumpkin when really it’s not.

PUNZ: Yeah, that sounds like a relatively good idea.

#ask #anon #long post #in case it doesn't cut off at the read more mark for someone

[annabethy]

Teach au like slightly needy percy where annabeth has been busy and percy is missing his annabeth tiime i see a lot of clingy annabeth but never percy and hes obsessed with his girl.

attention-seeking percabeth!

Percy quietly sulks from Annabeth’s chair, his arms crossed over his chest and his face morphed into a pout.

He’s a little bit insulted that Annabeth wasn’t paying any attention to him. He came all the way from his classroom, unannounced, only to have her steal his food and ignore him. Percy isn’t one to be self-absorbed but come on. He deserved attention more than her students, he likes to think.

“What’s up with you?” Annabeth calls from across the classroom. She’s leaning over a student’s desk, helping them with a problem from the homework.

Percy looks up for a moment to glare at her before sliding further down the seat and pointedly staring at the ground.

“What did I do this time?”

People are starting to look at the couple, amused and intrigued by their teachers’ bickering that was sure to come. He should probably be alarmed that the students are already butting in, but now the attention is on him, and this is his time to shine.

“You’re ignoring me,” he tells her.

“I’m doing my job.”

Percy feels a stab of pride through the thick haze of jealousy, because yes, she was doing her job, and she looked damn great doing it. He took a few seconds before responding just to trace over her body, appreciating the way her hair was thrown up in a messy ponytail and her hand was gently tapping a whiteboard marker against the desk. He always loved to see her in her working mode, the way her face morphs into one of concentration, the way she bites at her lip while grading papers or solving a problem.

Being ignored might not be so bad, now that he thinks of it. It just means he gets to watch her in her natural environment without judgement.

Without judgement from Annabeth, anyways. He’s pretty sure Piper is in there somewhere, but Percy can’t be bothered to tear his eyes away from Annabeth, who was now looking at him, clearly amused.

“You sure you want me to talk to you?” Annabeth asks, smirking. “You seem to be having fun all on your own there.”

Percy has half a mind to quickly dart his eyes down before he’s planning his revenge for her actually tricking him into thinking he—

He clears his throat and sits up straighter, raising an eyebrow at her. “Go back to teaching. I’ll be okay. It’s not like I need my girlfriend to love me or anything.”

Annabeth shrugs, a twinkle in her eyes, and then she goes back to helping a freshman he’s never seen before. Percy is only a little bit sad because he at least managed to get her to look at him. It’s more than she’s done in the past week.

Percy jumps when Piper slides into the desk next to him. She leans forwards, and Percy just stares blankly at her until she speaks.

“I’m here to help you,” Piper explains.

“I’m the one who needs help?” Percy says.

“That is not a conversation you want to get into, Mr. Jackson.” Piper smiles innocently. “As you probably know, I am very invested in your relationship with her. I’ve noticed that she’s a little bit preoccupied. I’ve also noticed that one of the reasons you love her is because she’s very focused, which we both know means she won’t be coming to talk to you as long as there’s a student that needs help.”

Percy’s mind is trying to play catch up, completely confused by where Piper was going with this.

“I’m going to ask her a lot of stupid questions to lure her over here. While she’s here, you start up a conversation.”

“I’m not in high school, Piper.”

“You’re teaching in one,” she challenges dully. “I need my daily dose of teacher love. It makes the tests easier when you’re both happy.”

“I feel like I’m a part of some devious plan.”

Piper pats his shoulder. “Oh, Mr. Jackson.”

A second later, Piper is flagging down Annabeth, leaving Percy to try and pull on his poker face. Annabeth would know something’s up in a second.

“Ms. Chase, how do I find the slope of a line?”

Percy can’t help the snort he gives because he didn’t think Piper was going for a question that stupid. Even he knew that one.

“Is that a serious question?” Annabeth asks. She glances at Percy out of the side of his eye, but otherwise doesn’t question why he looks ominous sitting in the corner.

“I can’t think of it.”

“Difference in y over the difference in x,” Annabeth tells her slowly.

Piper nods as though she knew this all along, and she motions for Annabeth to get closer so she can point to a specific question. When Annabeth kneels down in front of the desk to help her, Piper shoots Percy a look over Annabeth’s shoulder, mouthing something indistinguishable.

It’s kind of weird, conspiring with an eighteen-year-old. He doesn’t think he’s ever had a student as unashamed and gutsy as Piper. Maybe that’s why she was Annabeth’s favorite student. She used to be his favorite too until she started making fun of him.

Piper once asked him if he was getting grey hair. He’s only twenty-five.

“What did you eat this morning? Stupid loops?” Percy says, it being the only think he can come up with in the moment. Both Annabeth and Piper look at him in shock, and he can tell that Piper didn’t think he would start a conversation with Annabeth at the expense of her own dignity.

Piper just scowls, knowing her promise to him, and she continues on with the dumb questions. “When there’s a negative sign outside the parenthesis, what do I do with it?”

“Oh, come on,” Percy groans dramatically, internally grinning when Annabeth’s attention turns back to him. “You don’t want to deal with this sort of stupidity this early in the morning, do you?”

“You’re mean today,” Annabeth notes.

“I think it’s well deserved,” he says, gesturing towards Piper.

Annabeth doesn’t argue, and Piper looks even more insulted that her teacher didn’t defend her.

“But since I have you here,” Percy continues, “what do you say to going out to dinner tonight?”

“I say that it’s a school night and you’re being mean.”

“Nonsense. I’ll pay.”

Annabeth looks highly unamused as she stares at him, and her eyes quickly look to Piper before going back to him. Percy’s heart stops for a moment, fearful that she had discovered their conjoined plan, but then he calms when he realizes that it wouldn’t actually matter if she found out he lured her here because she would one-thousand percent not actually care.

“We’re going!” he announces, loud enough for the whole class.

This time, Annabeth does smile, taking a step towards him to nudge his foot with hers. “You’re such a romantic.”

Percy preens, even moreso when Piper gives him a big thumbs up. “I know I am.”

He’s much happier now than he was five minutes ago because Annabeth’s eyes are on him and that’s all he ever wants. She’s gazing at him softly, and he sees the marker still in her hand. Up close, he can see the small strands of hair falling from her ponytail. He can see the faint splay of freckles on her skin, the pink flush on her cheeks, and the shimmer of her grey eyes, like the calm before a storm.

“Are you planning on tricking me onto that date too?”

Percy comes reeling to reality. “Huh?” he says, and it’s not his most eloquent moment, his mouth gaping slightly.

“You think I didn’t realize you planned… whatever this is? I’m not stupid.”

“I didn’t do anything,” he denies, but there’s a hint of a smile on his lips.

“Piper’s stupid, but she’s not that stupid,” Annabeth says, ignoring Piper’s hey! “You two play dirty. I have to watch my back.”

“It was Piper’s idea.”

“Way to throw me under the bus,” Piper mutters.

“I only did it because I missed you,” Percy says. “I know I interrupted your work time, but you can’t be mad at me because you were ignoring me. Desperate times call for desperate measures.”

“Desperate times?” Annabeth asks, humored.

“I need attention, Annabeth!”

Annabeth shushed him, stepping closer again. When she spoke, only he could hear her.

“I promise to give you as much attention as you want later today but let me have my math fun.”

“You would want to have math fun,” he teases. He knew he wasn’t going to be getting her attention anymore, but the unsaid promise of her hugs and kisses was enough to battle the disappointment. “Fine. Later then.”

“Later,” she repeats. He wants to kiss her so badly, but there are too many people around, so he settles for taking her hand and squeezing three times, awaiting the three squeezes back.

“I love you so much,” he says, because he can’t help it.

Annabeth gives him a scolding look, but she still says, “I love you too.”

#percy jackson #percabeth #pjo #annabeth chase #percy jackson and the olympians #teacher au #anon #asks #my writing

[codythecheshirecat]

Binary Sunset Ch 2: Seemed Far Away

Story Summary:  Obi-Wan finds himself decades in the future on the ship of a Mandalorian  that seems like the last thing he wants is to be sidled with another  lifeform. Or two, because suddenly they have a little...tiny... Yoda to  deal with. Not actually Yoda, Obi-Wan knows, but still. It's weird, and  stressful, and there's an entire Empire that's come and gone (going?).  He just wants to rest. Figure out what exactly has happened and maybe,  maybe find a way to stop it, if he ever gets back to his own time.  Better that than wallow in misery and pain of a past he got plucked  from, yet still feels the pain of.

Read on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30771671/chapters/76338152#workskin

    Saleucami is a fairly nice planet, Obi-Wan decides as he steps from the ship. Warm, for sure, but not overbearingly so. They’ve touched down in one of the more swampy areas. Obi-Wan cranes his neck to get a good look at the area. A bird flies overhead. Mando puts his arm out, stopping him in his tracks.

    “Yes?” He asks, raising an eyebrow.

    Mando turns his head to look at him. “You’re staying here.”

    “Excuse you?”

    “You’ll only get in the way. I’m used to working alone. I don’t need your help.”

    Obi-Wan crosses his arms. “What, exactly, do you expect me to do while I’m waiting for you to track down your bounty, then?”

    “Don’t know, don’t care, as long as you don’t get into what isn’t yours.”

    Obi-Wan tosses his head. “Ah, so I’m to sit quietly in the dark of your ship.”

    Mando shrugs. “Maybe there’s something in the area that’s edible. You could resupply the food stores so we don’t have to purchase anything.”

    Obi-Wan just sighs, turning back to the ship. “Do I at least have permission to get into the weapons if danger occurs?”

    “Sure.”

    Obi-Wan looks over his shoulder, watching somewhat petulantly as Mando walks away, following his tracking fob. He sighs again. He’d have liked to have something to do to keep his mind off things. Clearly that won’t be happening. So he walks back into the ship, closes the door, and sits on the floor next to his still-discarded robes. He runs his hands through the fabric.

    “The Galactic Empire destroys the Jedi Order.” He says softly, the same words he’s been thinking since he talked to the Mandalorian Armorer. “Wish I knew more about that.”

    He’d been a little overwhelmed during his talk with the Armorer. After leaving he’d thought of a thousand questions, ones she may or may not have had answers to. Asking Mando had been… unsuccessful. He should have realized that Mando had limited knowledge, after all, he had said he’d never heard of the Jedi Order. Further questioning had brought forth similar answers.

    Obi-Wan is disappointed, but not surprised. Surely the Empire had done as much as it could to control information as much as people and planets. And Mando, living among the Outer Rim, wouldn’t have had much reason to bother with the Empire. Obi-Wan’s fairly certain that the Empire’s control over the outer rim had been as thin and fleeting as the Republic’s. The Outer Rim is often simply uncontrollable from those in power at the Core Worlds. So it would have been advantageous for Mando to know what he had to know to survive, and little else. And he wouldn’t have gained anything from knowledge about the Jedi. At least, that’s what Obi-Wan rationalizes to himself. What other answers are there, after all?

    He must stay there for hours, thinking about everything and nothing, and absolutely, completely, one-hundred percent meaning to get up and have a look around the area. Maybe find some food like Mando suggested. And yet, he’s barely moved a muscle when the door opens again and Mando strides in, dragging a shaking human man behind him. He locks eyes with the man, and then decides that he’d rather not have any reason to feel for him; he’s going to have to get used to the bounty hunting life, and the good and bad people that get caught up in it. The man yells as Mando shoves him into a carbon freezing unit.

     Mando turns to him. “You haven’t moved at all, have you?”

    “Not a bit.” He admits. “Where to next? Nevarro again?”

    Mando walks to the ladder heading to the cockpit. “Crait.”

    Obi-Wan follows him up. “How many bounties do you have?”

    “Several.”

***

    Crait is as boring as Saleucami, as are Galidraan and Gamorr. Mostly because Mando refuses to let Obi-Wan help, and so he sits, bored, on the floor of the Razor Crest. Alone with his thoughts. Alone with his fears. Mando isn’t even particularly talkative, so even when they’re in the cockpit traveling together through space it’s boring.

     After a day of traveling, Obi-Wan finds a pen. He promptly spends two hours drawing all over himself for lack of anything else to do. It’s something he’d ordinarily scold Anakin for doing. Had, in fact, several times over Anakin’s padawan years. There’s something freeing in it, though, knowing that the only person that will know is Mando and Mando clearly doesn’t give a kriff. There’s no rhyme or reason to what he draws-- the symbol of the Jedi Order, a five pointed star, the Basic Alphabet. Birds and loth-cats and a badly-drawn wampa. Random lines and squiggles, until his arms and legs are covered and he’s made a fair dent everywhere else, too, using the mirror Mando has in his refresher. They almost look like tattoos.

     Other than drawing, he spends his time meditating, and when that only manages to make him more anxious, he sleeps. And dreams-- nothing that seems to be prophetic, just dreams of his past, dreams of nonsense, nightmares of his anxieties come to life. A particularly rattling one has him waking, gasping for breath, with screams of the dying thundering in his ears.

     When he can’t sleep any more, he stalks around the ship, committing as much of it to memory as he can without prying. How many steps can he take, going from one side to the next? Where are the control panels? How many people, frozen in carbonite, can fit in the ship? There isn’t much of a kitchenette-- actually, there’s little more than 2 cupboards, a small box for cold foods, and a small oven that really serves for reheating more than actual cooking. Obi-Wan counts the ration bars, the cans of soup, the few bits of frozen meat. The rations will last them for quite a while, despite the small space.

     And just like that, three standard weeks pass.

***

    Maldo Kreis is as boring as everything else, at least until Mando shows up with his bounty with a hungry ravinak following. His bounty-- a blue Mythrol-- screams bloody murder. Obi-Wan lifts his head from where he lays on the floor and watches the two move past him, heading for the cockpit. He looks out the door-- the ravinak’s bitten down on the landing gear.

    There’s no way they’ll be able to lift off with that hanging on the way it is. In fact, it’s more likely that the ravinak will drag them under. He springs to his feet. Mando’s Amban Rifle is around here somewhere, where had he last seen it..? Oh, right, by the door to the cockpit. He follows them up the ladder, grabs the rifle, and jumps back down. The ship shudders. He grimaces, charges the rifle, and braces himself at the door.

    Here goes nothing. He lunges forward, shoving the prongs of the rifle into the ravinak’s face. Electricity dances across and under its skin. It lets go of the ship with a roar, sinking back into the icy water. Unfortunately, without the ravinak holding it down, the Razor Crest lurches into the air with enough force that almost sends Obi-Wan tumbling into the water with it. He climbs into the ship and closes the door. He lets out a breath. I’m out of practice.

     He joins them in the cockpit. The Mythrol chatters away about nothing in his best attempt at persuading them into letting him go. After getting nothing from Mando, the Mythrol turns to him. Obi-Wan gives him his best unimpressed look and turns back to looking at hyperspace. Is this how I sound to Mando? He wonders. It’s exhausting. He’s honestly thankful when Mando gets the chance to put him in carbonite. When he returns to the cockpit, Obi-Wan offers him a smile. 

     “You probably wish you could do that to me, hm?”

    “Maybe a little.” Mando admits. “And before you ask, now we’re heading to Nevarro.”

    “Ah, wonderful. I could stretch my legs.” I’ve already been out of the ship there, you have no way of arguing me into staying hidden.

    “We’re only stopping to turn in the bounties and get new ones. It’ll be quick.”

    Obi-Wan hums. “If you say so. I could buy new supplies, then, while you deal with Guild business?”

    “Sounds like a plan.”

    Obi-Wan glances at him. “You know, I still don’t know your name.”

    “And?”

    “I think it’d be helpful to know it.”

    “No.”

    Alright. “Were you born a Mandalorian?”

    “Why do you care?” Mando asks slowly.

    Obi-Wan shrugs. “We’re going to be traveling together for an undetermined amount of time, I’d like to know at least a bit about you. All I know about you is that you’re a Mandalorian bounty hunter, you don’t know anything about Jedi, and you’re much better suited to long space travels than I am. Well, I also have nothing to do, but I haven’t exactly seen you do anything more than eat, sleep, clean your weapons, and fly this ship, none of which actually take that long. Also, I spent a year on Mandalore when I was younger, during the civil war.”

    Mando fully turns to look at him. Obi-Wan offers another smile. Focus on the future right now, not the past. Nothing can be done about the past, so make sure the future isn’t going to be a mess.

    Mando sighs. “I was a foundling, taken in when I was a child. I was raised in the Fighting Corps. I work as a bounty hunter to support the Tribe. Is that enough?”

    “If that’s all you’ll give me.” Obi-Wan acquiesces. “Would you like to know more about me?”

    “Which side were you on?” The question is immediate.

    “Er-what?”

    “During the Clone Wars.”

    “Oh.” Obi-Wan pauses. Not a question he expected to hear. “I was fighting on the side of the Republic. So, the clone army, not the droid army.”

    “Good.” Mando says darkly. “You said you’re from the beginning of the war?”

    “Well, I assume so, unless the War was done and over in a matter of a few months.” Obi-Wan says, falling into the sort of sarcastic indignance he often does with Anakin. “I’d just fought at Christophsis.”

    Mando hums. “Alright.”

    And that’s that.

***

    Obi-Wan stares at his reflection in the mirror of the Razor Crest’s refresher. He’s let his hair grow too much for his tastes over the past few weeks. He hasn’t trimmed it at all, and now he hardly looks the part of Jedi Master. Well, he does want to blend in, but… it’s really a matter of self-care, in the end. He runs his fingers through his beard.

    It’s doubtful there are many people in the galaxy now that would recognise him. He imagines they’re dead, old, or simply wouldn’t expect him to look so young. So really, he could probably get away with keeping the beard. But it would be his luck, to manage to run into someone that would recognise him, his look. And it would be his luck that said someone would be an enemy, too. It can’t hurt to be cautious.

    He glances at Mando, standing at his weapons cache. He’s not sure what species he is, still, seeing as he never takes his helmet off. Nor does he particularly care what species he is. But if he’s a species without hair, it’ll be rather hard to cut his own. “Do you have something I could cut my hair with? And shave my beard?”

    Mando turns to look at him. “There’s a razor and a pair of scissors behind the mirror.”

    “Ah, thank you.”

    He finds them where Mando says they are, strapped in so they don’t fall out and make a mess during rough travels. That sort of thing isn’t typically a worry on larger ships, but one as small as the Razor Crest, it’s practically a necessity. He pauses. He’s well versed in taking care of his beard-- that’s not exactly hard, and not something one would want to go to a barber for. His hair, though… well, he’ll just have to give it a go, won’t he?

    So he shaves his beard, leaves only stubble. He’d been completely clean shaven as a padawan for several reasons and only some having to do with his age, but the moment he’d no longer been a padawan he’d happily grown a beard. Partially just to prove to Quinlan he could. Obi-Wan frowns at his reflection. It’s… strange, having hair as long as he does without the beard to match. Luckily I’ll be dealing with that shortly enough.

    Cutting his hair goes about half as well. He leaves it just barely longer than he’d had it as a padawan, minus the ponytail. And a lot more messy, actually. As it turns out, he’s very bad at cutting hair. It doesn’t look terrible. It just doesn’t look very good, either. And it certainly doesn’t look like it was on purpose.

    “Oh well.” He mutters, and starts cleaning up. It’ll just have to do.

    Mando chuckles. “Having trouble?”

    Obi-Wan eyes him. “Not everyone is as used to cutting their own hair as you are.”

    “Maybe you should shave it. Go bald.”

    Obi-Wan thinks about that. “That is a cursed image and I hate that you’ve made me think of it, Mando.”

    Mando’s laughter gets louder, and he counts it as a win.

#Star Wars #Clone Wars #The Mandalorian #Obi-Wan Kenobi #Din Djarin #Binary Sunset #Chapter 2 #Time Travel

[poisxnyouth]

bad influence dave part 4 (d.d)

A/N: hey whores!! surprise. it’s done early. enjoy. talk to me as you read and let me know what you think, as always!!! love you so much babies. -hailey

WC: 6.25k

“Then I guess I am,” you say confidently, kissing him delicately and moving back to rest in his neck. You feel his heart beating, speeding up with your every slight movement before David responds, tutting and affectionately rubbing at your hair:

 “No, sweetheart. Not yet,” he promises, unapologetic but hating the fact he has to tell you no on this one, “You don't know everything I do yet. Once you know, then we can have this conversation again.” 

 “You probably shouldn't be dating a drug dealer anyway,” David says matter of factly, shrugging, “You’re too good for me, babygirl. It’s the truth. Don’t get mad at me for it.” 

 “I get to decide that, not you,” you reply, eyebrows scrunching together, “That’s up to me, and I want you. Tell me everything so I can just say yes and be with you.” 

 David stares blankly at you, clearing his throat and sighing, “There's five guns under this bed, four in my chest of drawers, two in my bathroom, and two in my car. They’re all over the house and they’re all loaded. I don't deal only weed; that’s just what you’ve seen me deal. I didn't want to scare you away. Me, Dima, and Ilya have all had guns pointed at us, or been the person pointing it at someone else. It’s just how this shit goes.” 

 “What do you-” you clear your throat, too, trying to process his words, “What do you deal?”

 “It’s not all at the same time. I really don't have that much on me at a time, either, but-”

 “David. Answer the question.”

 “The most at a time that I would have of each drug is six ounces of coke, two ounces of ecstasy, about four hundred Xannies, a pound of weed – you know that, fourteen sheets of LSD, a pound of shrooms, and, like, small amounts of ketamine or DMT,” David sighs, eyes flickering across your face, “Please don't look at me differently for it. Honestly, sweetheart, it’s not that much. It’s not like Scarface kingpin shit.”

 “I’m sorry, but – How much money do you even make?” You're half surprised and half not; half confused and half not; half horny and half not. 

 “I could quit my job if I wanted to,” he says, fingers in your hair, “But then it looks suspicious on paper. Obviously, I make all of my money under the table in cash. You have to understand, baby – Look at me.” 

 David turns your head by your chin, forcing you to meet his eyes, “If you’re my girl, and I get caught – you’re an assumed accomplice. They’d go after you too. I’m not a huge dealer, but I’m not small either; I’m mid-sized and I make good profits, but with the amounts that I said I have? Any of that will get me at least twenty years, easy.” 

 “Why is that hot?” you ask dumbly, clearing your throat as David sits up, tugging you to face him in his lap. 

 “Think with your brain and not your pussy, sweet girl,” he says, the most serious you’ve seen him, “I could give you anything you want – I have fifteen thousand in cash in one of my drawers, not even counting what I have saved. We could go somewhere. But you need to know what the fuck you’re in for before you commit to me. I know it’s baggage.” 

 “Um,” you stutter, still overwhelmed at his admissions, “Do you think you could be caught?” 

 “I cover my tracks well,” David ensures, “But that's not ever one hundred percent. One person could get caught and all of a sudden, they have a list of names of everyone else. People snitch for less time.”

 “You didn't answer me.”

 “If I stop before I get too big,” he pauses, pushing your hair out of your face, “No. I don’t think so. I have another six months before I should cut the shit for a while.” 

 “But you like the money,” you say simply, realizing what he’s saying, “How much money do you have right now?” 

 “With savings? Fuck, three hundred thousand? I move two ounces of coke a week and make an easy two grand, maybe five G’s if I play my cards right, and then the weed and other shit. I’ve been doing this since I was nineteen while still working, so I’ve been making pretty good.” 

 You cough, choking in disbelief, “Holy shit. That’s…better than pretty good. Do you...do you do them?”

 “The drugs? Not really,” he shrugs, eyes on yours, “I mean, you know that I smoke. I’ve done them, sure, but I don’t do them...They’re party drugs, for the most part. I don't sell to end users, by the way. Only with weed.” 

 “I don't even know what that means-”

 “It means that I only deal to other smaller dealers that buy from me in bulk,” he explains, kissing your forehead, “Except for weed – those are end users because they buy from me and go home and smoke it.”

 David sighs, looking at you, “I’m not going to let you blindly walk into a commitment like this. This isn't just, ‘Please don’t break my heart!’...You know that, right? This is, ‘I am sharing this with you, and you could go down with me.’ And if we do become something more than whatever we are, we cannot step on your family’s toes. If they find out anything, we’re fucking done, babygirl. You know they would turn us in.” 

 “Why me?”

 He sighs again, taking both of your hands into his, “Do we ever pick who we want to be with?” 

 “That being said,” David continues, “This is entirely your choice. It's not as simple as, ‘I want you, you want me, so let's be together.’ Yes, I want you to be my girl, and yes, I want to blow all of my money on you – every last dime – but you have to know that this is your decision to make. I won't make this one for you. You need to know what you're getting yourself into, honey.”

 You kiss him deeply as a response and you feel him deflate into it as he exhales, hands moving to your waist as he pulls away and rests his forehead on yours. David breathes heavily, eyes closed, “I’m not letting you answer today just so you can make a stupid, hasty decision.” 

 “It’s a yes.”

 “Stop,” he shakes his head, pulling away, “No. Stop it. You don't mean that. Use your fucking brain, baby.” 

 “I want you, David-”

 “You might want me but I am not worth risking getting a few first degree felonies on your record and serving time,” his tone is harsher now as his hands grip your waist, fingertips digging in, “Fucking think about it, Y/N, I’m serious. You went to a good college you’re probably still paying for, you have a good job, you’re smart, you’re on your way to doing what you’ve always wanted to...”

 “Do not,” David continues, repeating himself, “Do not risk all of that good shit you’ve worked so hard on for me.”

 “It sounds like you don't want me to say yes,” you comment, confused.

 He sighs and brings both hands to the tops of your arms at your shoulders, rubbing affectionately, “Of course I want you to say yes, baby. I just want you to be sure.”

 “I’m sure.”

 “Fucking stop it,” David says harshly, “I’m not taking an answer until tomorrow.” 

 “David, it’s going to be the same fucking answer whether I give it to you right now or tomorrow when I come see you after church,” you’re frustrated with him, now, as you wrap your arms around his shoulders and hug him, “It’s a yes.”

 “Then I just won’t believe it until tomorrow,” he replies, too obstinate and hard-headed to take an immediate answer as he tugs you closer to him, asking, “Why? I don’t want you to go down with me.”

 “You said it, David,” breathing him in and repeating his phrase back to him, “Do we ever pick who we want to be with?”

 “Look at me,” you tell him, pulling away and taking his face into your hands, “I will do anything you need me to. Just say the word.” 

 “No,” he shakes his head, eyes wide, “Absolutely not. Fuck no. You’re going to be involved with this as little as possible.”

 “Then what am I supposed to be doing?”

 “Your job is to sit there and look pretty. Let me take you on those stupid dates where we ask each other questions and act like we don't know the answer to every single one, do drug runs with me, let me take you places, let me buy you shit, and be fucking quiet. You have to be discreet and you cannot be doing my dirty work for me. I won’t let you.” You're still sat in his lap, legs wrapped around his torso and arms draped around his shoulders as he explains the vitality of you keeping your mouth shut.

 “This is so much bigger than just us,” he sighs, “You can't freak out when a gun is pulled on me and you can't freak out when I pull a gun on someone, babygirl. It happens, and sometimes you have to remind them which side of the barrel they should be on.”

 “...What if they pull a gun on me?”

 David clears his throat, not meeting your eyes, “About that...you’re going to have to carry and know how to use it, too. It’s not hard. I’ll teach you. They usually don't fuck with, you know, peoples’ girls, but it has happened before.” 

 “But...that’s the worst case, baby,” he attempts to reassure, “Because I’ll have at least one pulled on him, so…If I’m there, and there’s no reason I wouldn't be, I’ll be protecting you. It’s still a good idea for you to carry, though.” 

 You sigh, glancing around the room as David anxiously stares a hole through you, listening to you as you speak, “Okay. So…”

 You clear your throat and chew at your lips, plan already devising in your head, “Here's what we have to do. Use the church as your cover. Meet my parents, make them love you, go to church with me – whatever, I can help you. It’s less suspicious. You don't have to actually believe.”

 “I’m not asking that of you, baby-”

 “Listen to me, David,” you say harshly, eyes now on his as you grab his chin to force him to look at you, “You can make more this way. We can do this. Buy new clothes to blend in. Go along with whatever they say. Wear a cross. Spend time with my family and they’ll stick up for you. I promise.”

 “What about Michael and Abs? They know.”

 “Fuck Michael and Abby. They won't say shit,” you shrug, swearing, “I know they won't. I can handle that. Get along with my brothers and they’ll be up your ass forever. You don't actually have to be devoted; you just have to act like you are so people don't suspect you. They’re never going to think that a clergyman’s daughter and her cute, Godly boyfriend that everyone approves of deals drugs on the side. I’m a good girl. I’m your cover.”

 “Hide the cigarettes and weed and their smell, get some Sunday best clothes and a cross, and buck up, David. We can do this. I’ll help you.” David says nothing, your offer weighing heavy on his chest as you reach for his hands and press a kiss to his cheek.

 You continue, “You like telling me what to do and I like it, too, but I’m telling you what to do with this. It’s better than doing everything on the DL and hoping no one catches on. You know it is.” 

 “Okay,” he nods, repeating himself and wiping at his face, “Okay. Fine. You’re right. It’s solid. God, Dima and Ilya are going to kill me.”

 David kisses you, murmuring, “You’re too fucking good for me. I don't deserve you. Deadass.” 

 You reach around to the nape of your neck and unclasp the chain, holding it up to his neck before he stops your hands.

 “No,” he resists, shaking his head, “Put it back on. I have one. My mom made me take it with me when I moved out.” 

 David gently pushes you off of him and stands, making his way to his chest of drawers and digging through one of them haphazardly. You watch him as you clasp your necklace back together by yourself; he locates it, buried at the bottom of his sock drawer. It's large enough for him to easily slip it over his head, planting his palms against the edge of the chest and leaning over it. He feels the weight of the chain move forward with him, and David looks down at it, sighing softly.

 “Fuck,” he curses, turning back around to face you, “I never thought I’d be wearing this again.” 

 You stand and move over to him, palm covering the cross and affectionately rubbing it into his chest, “You don't have to believe, David. You just have to act like you do.” 

 “I know,” he promises, waving your hand off, “I know. I just haven't been to church since Slovakia.”

 “Jesus,” David rubs at his face, slightly overwhelmed, “Fuck. Do I meet your family before or after going to Mass tomorrow?” 

 “Oh, shit,” you say, “Um...which one would you prefer?” 

 “You pick, Miss Priss,” David picks up an unopened pack of cigs and tears the plastic open, slipping the sleeve off and opening the top. He tears at the excess foil and gets out a Camel, placing it between his lips and reaching for his Zippo, eyes on yours. “Either way, I have to meet them in the next twenty-four hours.” 

 “Um,” you ponder as he lights it and takes a drag. You sigh heavily and reach for your phone, “Fuck, let me ask about tonight.” 

 David shakes his head and makes a noise of disapproval, exhaling smoke from his lungs, “No. Don’t ask. Say that we're coming. Say I insist — and stop cursing, baby. Bad habit.”

 ++

 “God, David,” you complain, going through the clothes in his drawers, “Everything you own smells like fucking weed and cigarettes. You need new clothes. Clothes that smell, like...not pot.” 

 “Well, what am I supposed to do, sweetheart? We need to go shopping.” David replies, hands going in the air, “I didn't really count on dating a Catholic girl and having to clean myself up. Stop fucking cursing.” 

 “Oh, so we’re dating now?” you ask, ignoring his demand and smelling a black polo of his, “This smells fine.” 

 “Yes, we’re dating, fucker,” he rolls his eyes, removing his shirt off his back and moving to pull the polo on over his head, “That’s what being my girl means.” 

 “I never said I’m your girl,” you roll your eyes, moving to the drawer with his pants, “I said I wanted to be.”

 “Stop with the attitude,” David bickers, reaching around you for a dab pen on the surface of his chest of drawers, “You’re my girl. Period. End of. You’ve signed up for this shit with me, so you’re my girl.” 

 “What are you doing?” you ask, eyeing the dab pen as he adjusts the power and hits it, eyes on yours, “You cannot be high when you meet my family.” 

 “I won’t be,” he promises, exhaling and tossing it back on to his dresser, “Even if I was – is that a crime? If they meet me high, and I’m high every time I’m around them, they’ll think I’m just acting normal. Like, I’m high in my driver’s license picture so that if I get pulled over, they think I just look like an idiot.” 

 “No, David-”

 “Since when do you feel like you can talk back to me?” David quips, leaning against the dresser as you continue to go through his clothes, smelling them, “What did I do to make you think that’s okay?” 

 You scoff, ignoring him and returning to your work, before he leans down and grabs your chin, forcing you to look at him. 

 “Open,” he orders, fingers going down the length of your throat until you gag. The newly present cross dangles from around his neck as he removes his fingers and spits down your tongue, “Swallow and stop talking back. I’m still in charge here.” 

 You go quiet, passive aggressively still unfolding and refolding pairs of jeans before finding a pair of skinny jeans, asking him, “Can you put these on, please?” 

 David shakes his head, “No. I need to throw those out. My dick looks huge in them and I have a fat ass, anyway – they just make it look bigger. Ilya might have something. Let me go look.” 

 He leaves, and you take his absence as an opportunity to snoop through his drawers. At the bottom of his hoodie drawer, underneath the many items of thick, rolled fabric – lies fifteen bands. You dig around some more and find the four guns he had mentioned scattered throughout the different drawers; all pistols. You don’t touch them, just stare momentarily, before you hear David’s voice.

 “They’re Glock 17s,” he says simply, leaning over you and grabbing one casually. 

 “Four hundred bucks apiece. Hit the magazine release button and the mag slides out,” he presses the square button on the handle, sliding the magazine into his hand and dropping it haphazardly onto the top of his dresser. “Pull the slide back and make sure it stays put with the slide catch.” 

 He drops it, “It’s unloaded. Easy.” 

 “Glock 17s hold seventeen rounds,” David explains, “The magazine is fully loaded right now. Every gun I have is. When you load the bullets, though, wear gloves or something, so your fingerprints aren’t on the bullets. Now, to reload it:

 “Put the magazine back in,” he grabs both the Glock and the magazine, sliding it back in and clearing his throat, “Keep your pointer finger off of the trigger and straight, flat on the frame. Pull the slide back…”

 David pulls it back harshly and lets go, the slide lurching forward loudly, the hottest sound you’ve ever heard, “And now it’s loaded again. You don’t need to put it on safety.” 

 “What? Why not?”

 “Because it’s already on safety, sugar. That’s how Glocks work. You see this little lever – hold on, let me unload it and shit again.” You watch him quickly light a cigarette and hit the magazine release, sliding it deftly into his free hand and placing it on his dresser, taking his cigarette back between his fingers. David slides the top of the gun back and passes you the cig, quietly telling you to hold it. 

 You take a drag and exhale as David hits a button and slides the entire top of the gun off, “I just disassembled it. It’s safe. So, you see this lever?” He points at it, a slightly shorter lever than the actual trigger, “The gun will only fire if both of these little triggers are pulled. There are three safeties on a Glock: one, trigger safety, which I just showed you. Two, firing pin safety, which is both of these guys,” he points at the matching joints in the middle of the two disassembled parts, “And three, the drop safety back here at the butt of the gun.” 

 “I’ll get you one and I can explain it better later,” he shrugs, quickly assembling it and loading it again, placing it gently back where it belongs and shutting the drawer, “Don’t touch it until I do, though.”

 David swipes his cig back from you, laughing as you tell him, “That was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.” 

 “Ugh, David, you’re smoking!” you roll your eyes, coming back to reality, “I’m gonna have to spray you down in cologne.” 

 “Whatever,” he takes a drag, “That pile is what I found in Ilya’s room.” 

 “Ilya has better style than you,” you comment, plucking a pair of chino khakis from the stack and passing them to him. “Put them on.” 

 You watch him stub out his cig and slip his shorts off, the outline of his soft dick painstakingly obvious in his underwear as he grabs the pair of pants. “Jesus fuck. Stare much?” 

 You blush involuntarily, David pulling them on, “Whatever. It’s staring straight at me. It’s mine now, anyway – I can stare if I want to.” 

 “Is it now?” he mocks, buttoning the pants and tugging the zipper up and looking in the mirror, “Bro, why is my ass so fucking big?” 

 “Stop bragging,” you say, “Also, I have to drop by my place so I can change.” 

 “Oh!” David exclaims, moving to his closet, “Um...I actually have one of your dresses. You left it here a few weeks ago when you spent the night. I kept meaning to tell you, but I’m an idiot and kept forgetting...It kind of felt good to have your shit mixed in with my shit, no cap.” 

 You stand next to him as he takes your missing dress off of a hanger and passes it to you. You take it from him and wrap your arms around his neck, elbows draped over his shoulders as you lean up to kiss him. 

 “David,” you say, meeting his eyes, tone light as to not press any unknown buttons, “We’ve been talking about fucking for two months – since the first time we met. Why haven't we yet? Do you not want to anymore?” 

 He sighs as you fix his necklace, placing the clasp at the back of his neck and tucking the chain underneath the collar of his polo. “I don't have an answer for you, sweetheart. Of course, I want to.” 

 David’s palms find your waist, “But would it be so bad if we waited a little bit?”

 “What?” you ask, genuinely baffled, “You’re the one who even mentioned it first. You said you wanted to ruin me.”

 “I didn't think-,” he cuts himself off, clearing his throat, “I don't wanna start fucking you and it ruin shit between us. Maybe we should just keep taking it slow...and do something just every once in a while?” 

 David grabs your chin and presses a quick kiss to your lips, exhaling disappointedly, directed entirely towards himself as his fingers run over your lips. You’re looking up at him with the doe eyes he finds so fucking difficult to resist, but he does, speaking, “I’m sorry, sweet girl. I know you want it, I know you want it to be me, and you know I want it – but we should wait. The sex is always better when you’re in love, anyway. Give it some time.” 

 His words are disheartening, but loving, and he continues, pushing your hair out of your face and kissing your forehead, “The day will come where you can't walk because of me and the day will come where I’m fucking you on a mattress made of money in Vegas. Change will come, babygirl. I’ll eat you out and shit whenever you want, but you have to be patient.” 

 You’re visibly disappointed, not wanting to meet his eyes as he holds your face, eyes scanning over your features, “Hey, now, you don't have to do all that. It’s okay. It’s not as big of a deal as you think.” 

 David tugs you into his chest, hugging you and holding you closely, rubbing your back comfortingly, “Baby – I’ve got you. You know this.”

 You say nothing as you're wrapped up in his chest, eye to eye with his crucifix, and for a split second, you agree with him. You talk yourself into not being upset, allowing yourself to breathe deeply, taking in his signature scent – a colossal mixture of cigarettes, weed, spilled alcohol on him from work somehow ingrained into all of his clothes, and his cologne. It’s comforting, now, the more you get to know him.

 David pulls away slightly, arms still tightly wrapped around you, “You okay, my love?”

 Your ears perk up at the new, endearing name, and you nod against him, your dress still in your clutch as he releases his hold on you. He kisses you gently again, “It changes nothing. I was going to take it slow regardless.” 

 You nod, meeting his eyes and murmuring a quiet Okay, before you speak again, louder this time, “You might not be nice, and you might have, like, twenty guns in your possession...but you’re a good man.” 

 For the first time, even if it’s only a tiny amount, you see him flush a pale pink, quietly speaking before he attaches your mouths, “I’m glad you think that of me.” 

 “Sweetheart,” he says, “Just curious. You on birth control?” 

 You nod against him and you watch him roll his eyes back in response, “Fuck. I might take back everything I just said.” 

 You scoff, laughing slightly, “Why?” 

 “Because it would be so satisfying sitting in front of your dad or sitting in church,” David pauses, tugging you closer, “and you’ve got my cum running between your legs? What a fucking dream. And you’re as tight as you are? Ugh, that shit would feel like vacuum.” 

 You shove at his shoulder, giggling and moving away, “You’re disgusting.” 

 “I saw that look on your face,” he shrugs, “You think it’s hot too. Whore.”

 “Shut up.”

 ++

 “Stop smoking,” you tell David as he moves to light another cigarette in the car, “Hit your fucking vape or something. You can't smell like cigs right now.” 

 “Ugh, fucking Christ,” he gripes, putting the unlit cigarette back in the package as he drives the unfamiliar route to your parents’ place, “It’s not the same. Why are you cursing so much?” 

 David digs through his center console, stopped at a red light, fingers fumbling for a half-empty Stig before taking a hit, “What am I even allowed to do in front of them? How old are your brothers?” 

 “You know, hand on the waist, on my back, hand holding,” you shrug, “No kisses yet. No pet names yet. We’re just David and Y/N. They’re eighteen and nineteen. They both still live at home.” 

 “Jesus, I’m nervous,” he admits, fingers running through his hair, “Are we almost there? I’m sorry, but I want to get this over with.” 

 “Yeah, we are,” you nod easily, reaching for his free hand, “Turn left here. It’s okay. I’d be nervous too.” 

 David drives silently as you give him sporadic directions before you arrive; he clicks his seatbelt off before sighing deeply, quietly murmuring an Oh, fuck, baby.

 “What?” you find yourself asking before you get out, bewildered, “What’s up?”

 “Um,” he sucks his teeth, looking straight in front of his steering wheel, “How do I say this?...”

 David anxiously taps the top of the wheel, turning to you, “I’ve been here before. A lot, actually. Please tell me I’m not your brothers’ dealer.”

 You choke slightly, coughing, “What? Excuse me?”

 You hear him swallow nervously as he sinks backwards into his seat, car still running, “Are your brothers...oh, fuck, whatarethosekids’names? Mark and Matthew! Are your brothers Mark and Matthew?”

 “Those little shits-”

 “Oh, fuck, that’s them?” David whines pitifully, leaning his head against the top of his steering wheel, “If it makes you feel any better, I really like them. They’re good kids. God damn it, though!” 

 He hits the steering wheel slightly, leaning back up and sighing, “God, I’m not ready for this. Let’s just go.” David quickly turns the key in the ignition and opens his door, hopping out and slipping his keys and Stig into his front pocket. 

 He’s not nervous about being a good boy; he knows how to act, all of the things to say and promise – but now, instead of one pair of eyes watching him act differently and unlike himself, he has three. David’s anxiety is now through the roof, something rare for him to experience. 

 You kiss him quickly and tell him it’ll be okay before you open the front door, quietly saying, “I’m going to introduce you really quickly, but can you fend for yourself for a few minutes? I’m going to chew the fuck out of my brothers.”

 “Yeah, I’ll be fine,” David ensures, hand on the small of your back, “Be nice to them. They’re good customers.” 

 You roll your eyes, moving to open it, before he tugs you back slightly, making you meet his eyes.

 “Tell me you’ve got me,” he asks, “Sorry, I’m so fucking nervous, dude.” 

 “I’ve got you,” you nod, repeating assuringly and kissing his cheek, “I’ve got you, David. It’s okay.” 

 You open the door, him carefully following you in. Everyone is in the kitchen, it seems, so that’s where you head, saying hello as they all pitch in for dinner. 

 “Hey, guys,” you greet nervously as they all acknowledge your presence, “This is David. He’s my – um, boyfriend!” 

 You make eye contact with both of your brothers as their faces go white at his presence, David moving around you to shake your father's hand and hug your mother. 

 “Mom, David,” you introduce, anxious, “Daddy, David. Matt, David. Mark, David.” 

 “Nice to meet you, man,” they both feign loyally, shaking his hand as they flush a deep red. 

 “Can I talk to you guys?” you ask, eyes glued on them and faking a smile, “Alone?” 

 You pull them to the side, another room entirely, still dropping your voice, “You’re fucking buying drugs? What do you buy from him and how much?” 

 “Y/N, you’re dating him!” Matthew exclaims in a whisper, hands going up in the air, “How did you even meet him? Are you having sex?” 

 “Answer me,” you press, arms crossed as you hear your parents laugh loudly at something David said, “Literally, neither of that matters! It’s my business, not yours. And it’s my body – Ew. You sound like Dad.” 

 “It’s our business too!” Mark says, answering your question, “We only buy weed, Y/N. Like, an eighth of an ounce at a time for each of us. Not that much. Wait, does he sell other stuff?”

 “Shut up. I’m not answering that. Fine,” you give in, eyes rolling, “That’s fine. He’s going to be around more, and he’s going to go to Mass with us, so keep your mouth shut. Mom and Dad can't know. You know that they’ll turn him in.” 

 “I mean, obviously,” Matt shrugs, “We want our weed, and he’s the best dealer who stays lowkey in town – Is he even Catholic?”

 You sigh, hearing them laugh again, “No, but he likes me, and I like him – so, like, shut up about it. Weed and weed only, shitheads. Let’s go.” 

 Although David can carry his own weight in polite small talk, it’s difficult to hide his relief once you return to his side and his arm wraps around your waist. You’re impressed with his good boy act as he aids your mother in setting the table. He is still tense, no matter how hard he attempts to get lost in conversation and what he’s doing. 

 You all sit down at your places – your father and mother at each head – and wait patiently for him to say grace, but he pauses, speaking: “David, can you say grace for us?” 

 Oh, God, you think, waiting for the shitshow to begin, but David nods confidently and takes your hand and your mother's hand in his, clearing his throat. 

 You shut your eyes and pray for whatever’s about to occur, and he speaks, “Um...Father, We have gathered to share a meal in Your honor.” 

 David’s trying his hardest to flip through his Rolodex of memories that feel jurassic from Slovakia, quickly translating to English, “Thank You for putting us together as family, welcoming me into this lovely home, and thank You for this food. Bless it to our bodies, Lord. We thank You for all of the gifts You’ve given to those around this table. Help each member of our family use these gifts to your glory. Guide our mealtime conversations and steer our hearts to Your purpose for our lives. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.” 

 He sighs deeply in relief as your father compliments him, and you’re right there with David, hand comfortingly squeezing at his knee under the table. 

 Good job, you say quietly, and David grunts, murmuring under his breath, You’re lucky I like you as much as I do. Your brothers clock it as they load their plates up, eyes on yours, before Matthew says, “So, David, what do you do?” 

 Your eyes zero in on him, kicking him slightly under the table, before David replies, nonchalant, “I bartend in the city. Morning shift. Nine to six on weekdays.” 

 “You don’t go to St. John’s,” your dad comments, changing the subject to his only interest, “Where do you go? How did you guys meet? Not drinking, I hope.” 

 His attempt at a joke falls flat, David’s brain working quickly to fabricate a lie, “I’m from Vernon Hills. I just moved here – I went to St. Vincent de Paul back home. We met through Michael and Abby.” 

 “Oh, okay,” your dad nods understandingly, “What’s your favorite verse? Recite it.” 

 “Daddy, why are you testing him?” you ask him, anxious that David doesn't have an answer for him, attempting to have his back, “Do you doubt him?” 

 “No, it’s okay, Y/N,” David ensures, nodding at you and clearing his throat, “He’s just asking. Philippians 4:8 and 9, sir. ‘Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable — if anything is excellent or praiseworthy — think about such things. Whatever you have learned or received or heard from me or seen in me — put it into practice. And the God of peace will be with you.’ It’s how I want others to perceive me...I want to be someone other people can look up to.” 

 Who is this guy? you find yourself asking as you listen to him speak, quietly eating as David lies through his teeth about his faith for forty-five minutes straight. He’s a great liar, and you try to not think about how hot it is as he stands at the end of dinner, plate cleaned, and silverware crossed. He helps clear the table, and by the sweet end, your father likes him a great deal and makes his excitement about David joining their service known. 

 You bid your goodbyes, and you’re about to make your way through the front door, before your brothers say David’s name and follow you outside. David seems to flip the switch immediately, dapping them up and saying, “Wassup? Do you guys need something?” 

 “Will we be seeing you tomorrow?” Matthew asks, fingers running nervously through his hair as he looks between you and David.

 “Yeah, why?”

 “Can we both get an eighth? Tomorrow morning?”

 “Dude,” David rolls his eyes, “I just lied to your parents for, like, an hour and a half, about me being Catholic, and you want me to deal to you at church?” 

 They both shrug, and he looks at you – shocked when you shrug, too – sighing and replying, “Fucking fine. Thirty-five bucks. Cash. Each. You know the deal. You’re going to Hell. Goodnight.” 

 Wordlessly and rudely, David gets in his car and you follow him, bidding goodnight to both of the boys. He groans once you climb in and puts the key in the ignition, turning it and sliding his seatbelt on. 

 “You did so good,” you say, reading the frustration on his face, “He loves you. Where did you know all that?”

 He scoffs, pulling out of the driveway, “Whatever. I was raised Catholic, too, you know? I know what they like to hear. Fuck, I need a fat ass blunt after that shit.” 

 Once further down the road, David rolls the window down and moves to light a cigarette, groaning at the taste, “I missed you so much.” 

 He drives quietly, smoking one cigarette and then smoking another, indulging his addiction. He’s halfway through his second cig before he speaks, laughing slightly, “Daddy, huh?” 

 “Shut up,” you blush, “I know it’s weird.” 

 He shakes his head as he exhales the smoke, smile playing at his lips, “I don't think it’s weird, but you should be calling me that — not him. Just saying. Too sexy when you say it.” 

 You choke, “Excuse me? We’d have to have sex for me to call you that.”

 “Nah,” he tuts, cig between his lips, “Not true. And you’ve got daddy issues like a bitch. I think I deserve that title.” 

 “Whatever,” you roll your eyes, moving to steal a cigarette from him and lighting it.

 “Say it,” he commands, eyes on the road and free hand coming to the inside of your thigh, “Let me hear it, sugar.”

 You pause for a moment, holding your breath, “Daddy.” 

 “Oof,” he actually says, shifting in his seat, “Fuck, yes. My dick twitched.”

 He grabs at his dick, “Ugh. I need to hear that more often.”

#david dobrik #david dobrik fic #david dobrik fanfic #david dobrik fanfiction #david dobrik au #david dobrik imagine #david dobrik imagines #vlog squad #vlog squad fic #vlog squad fanfic #vlog squad fanfiction #vlog squad au #vlog squad imagine #vlog squad imagines #bad influence dave #ENJOY #LOVEEEEE YOUUUUUUUU!!!!!!!!

[tisfan]

The Works

Title: The Works Written by: @tisfan (3023) Square: R2 - Hydra Won (swapped square) Rating: Mature (for horror) Triggers/warnings: Tags: Hydra Won, ambiguous ending, incomplete Created for: @tonystarkbingo Word count: 2346 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23753566/chapters/59696779 Summary: It had been his last act, getting the sleep-pods onto the ship and launching it, the whole time, holding Hydra at bay, keeping her here, keeping her distracted. And then she’d struck, casting some evil magic over him, over--He couldn’t remember.

__________

¬░▒╛┐z░¬ date ┴╗╣⌐g__d morning soldier ▒¬º╖ç

The old AI wasn’t working. 

Which had been the plan, Barnes, get it together. 

The man above him -- well next to him now that Bucky had sat up -- was something like a vision. They exchanged names, greetings. The man. Tony. Had asked some questions.

Bucky’s lips were warm. Tingling. 

Tony had kissed him. To wake him up. To break the spell.

“Hydra won,” Bucky said. He wasn’t even sure he was speaking out loud, but he must have, because Tony was responding.

“That’s long since over,” Tony said. “There’s no Hydra anywhere in this sector.”

“She’s sleeping, because I was sleeping,” Bucky said. “I shut her down by shutting myself down. She might be back.”

“I didn’t see anyone else on this ship, except you and an awful lot of rabbits.”

“Rabbits?” Kobik had had some pet rabbits; a whole hutch of them. Part of the experiment. Could a space station become truly self-sufficient? The answer still looked like no, but some hutch and farm animals did function pretty well. There’d been goats at one time, too, but in the last days of the war, Bucky thought they’d all been eaten.

“They’re all over the place. My AI tells me they’re rabbits. I’ve never seen one, honestly.”

“Where th’ hell’d you grow up you ain’t never seen a rabbit,” Bucky wondered.

“I did mention the part about three hundred years, right?”

“Right, yeah,” Bucky said. “Uh, is there anything to eat?”

“There’s some mealpacks back at my ship,” Tony offered. “But unless your stuff is in permastore, I don’t think anything from here will be safe.”

“Water?”

Tony pulled out a canteen. That, at least, hadn’t changed much in form or function for centuries. Spout to put liquids in or to drink from, a standard filtration system, and a strap to carry it with. Why improve on something that was already perfect? Filters would, of course, adapt over time to whatever contaminants were in the water. “Human physiology hasn’t changed all that much,” Tony said. “I don’t think my filters will hurt you. But you have to be careful. Don’t drink from a Centurian’s canteen. They add in a lot of stims and endorphins to their water. Warrior race, but it gives the rest of us a twitchy stomach.”

“Good to know,” Bucky said. “How will I know who they are?”

“Don’t worry, they’ll usually tell you,” Tony joked. “They’re blue-skinned marsupials, with a red crown of-- head spikes, for lack of a better word.”

“Marsupials?”

“They carry their young around in a stomach pouch until they’re old enough to walk around. It’s a convenient arrangement,” Tony said. 

“Okay, then,” Bucky said. He took a few sips of Tony’s water and then returned it to him. The nanites in his system would filter anything harmful out, and if he could eat soon enough, would get him back to fighting fit. Otherwise, he might possibly go into a cyber coma. He didn’t see the need to alarm Tony just yet. It wasn’t urgent. “We can check the mess, see if there’s any supplements left. They won’t go bad.”

Worst case, he could probably chase down one of the rabbits and skin it for food. 

The whole station was both dead and alive at the same time. The hydroponics bay had escaped containment; there were vines and plants everywhere.

They’d probably grown, at least somewhat, in the remains of the dead. Bucky shuddered. 

The rabbit colony hopped in and out of the dense plant growth. Unafraid, and why would they be? A rabbit only lived nine or ten years. There had been generations of them, since they last saw humans.

“Did, uh, did the colony ship get away?” Bucky asked. 

It had been his last act, getting the sleep-pods onto the ship and launching it, the whole time, holding Hydra at bay, keeping her here, keeping her distracted.

And then she’d struck, casting some evil magic over him, over--

He couldn’t remember.

»£┼¬░▒-▒¿╟┼longing▒░┼╝º

“We never came across any ships from the Ring,” Tony said, as if apologizing, “but if you can give us mass and trajectory, I might be able to track it down for you.”

Sleep pods would last. If Bucky’s lasted, theirs would last.

He shook his head, wondering. Maybe they’d gotten out, maybe they’d gotten away. Away from Hydra, locked in her cold sleep with Bucky.

He wondered where she was.

She might still be on the station. He turned his gaze on Tony. That would be a strange form for her to take; Tony seemed sincere. But then, witches always seemed sincere, didn’t they?

“Sir, I’m reading some strange energy spikes in the station,” a voice said, coming from-- from Tony.

“My AI,” Tony said, as if apologizing. “Anything hazardous, Jay?”

“Not as yet, but you might want to consider retreating in the next few hours. Radiation levels are rising.”

“What’s the plan with the bunnies?” Tony asked. “Can we evacuate them to a planet?”

“I’ve already sent out a beacon pod, locating the station. Hopefully it will be able to float through the Ring, and broadcast from there.”

“Good job.”

“Of course, sir.”

“You’re worried about the wildlife?” Bucky asked, incredulous. Definitely not the witch, then. She wouldn’t have cared about the life of a bug, beast, or boy.

“They’re alive,” Tony said. “There’s no point in killing them. We’ve got biologists back on the various Initiative ships that can relocate them somewhere that they won’t be an invasive species. Well, technically, they’ll be invasive, but a careful selection will make sure they will fit in with the local ecosystem. Worst comes to worst, we can sell them as pets and novelties on Knowhere Station.”

“We do have cargo space in the lower deck,” JARVIS pointed out, “if you’re not planning to salvage much.”

“Salvage, right,” Tony said, snapping his fingers. “I got so carried away by Sleeping Beauty here that I forgot I was looking for valuables. What say you, hot stuff? You got anything worth selling on this floating coffin? Split it with you, 50/50.”[]

¥ƒ▀¥▒╜┼┼pжавыйÉ»¥┼╟╞─rusted▒╗▓

Bucky shook his head. “I think it’s all salvage now, rules of the drift,” he said. “Do you have policy in place for survivors?”

Back in his day, anyone found on the drift in space -- hypersleep accidents happened often enough that people could outlive their assets, their grandkids, their governments -- that some effort was made to track down any remaining property, they got a six month high intensity sleep-learning degree, and sent off into the world with a small stipend.

Bucky’d known a couple of them. Steve Rogers had done a Big Sleep, seventy years or more. Gone to sleep as a Private, cook’s assistant during the war and woke up as a Captain through time in rank.

Strange thing, really. 

“You might be considered the longest standing prisoner of war,” Tony said. “Not that it matters, there’s a fortune to be had on this station. Split it with me, you won’t have to worry about it. This is all approved salvage. I have a license.”

He knew his way around the station, even with the plants and the rabbits. The rabbits were freaking him out a little; they kept following-- sticking their curious noses out of the underbrush. He wondered how they’d lived so long. Usually life support shut down when no one was breathing it.

Which meant Hydra had to be on the station somewhere.

“Why split it with me, then?” Bucky wondered. “License for salvage, you don’t need to--”

“Because I may be an asshole a lot of the time,” Tony said, “but I am not one hundred percent a dick.”

╜£Éëδ╗»╟┼╞─┬┴seventeen╜╝╗▒»▒┼

“If you want,” Bucky said. They finally made it to the messhall, and the sub-freeze was still reading green, so Bucky used his thumb print to open it. “I can recon some of these food packs.”

“You call this stuff food,” Tony said, incredulously. “You, my friend, you have been suffering. Recon has come so far since your day. Jay, can you dish up a four course for us?”

“Of course, sir,” JARVIS said. 

“What’s considered a high value item?” Bucky wondered, picking out a few recon packs. He added water to the cooker, stuffed the packet in the slot and watched as the not-particularly interesting, but high calorie, high vitamin cereal poured itself into a reusable cup. The spoons were a little iffy, so Bucky added more water, and then drank it as a gruel. Yuck, but it would keep his systems intact for a while longer. Just a little while longer.

He just needed to know what happened to Hydra.

Where was she?

Not in the messhall, that was for sure.

Tony was still running down a list of items -- elements that could be repurposed. Titanium, protactinium, thorium. They’d had those in ample supply at one point. Potable water, preferably in ice form, which was easier to tow. 

“Wait, what was that last thing?”

“Etherium gas,” Tony said. “Might as well as for unobtainium, or wishalloy.”

“What, why?”

“As far as we know, stable etherium is a fantasy,” Tony said. “We’ve got plausible theories, but no one’s ever gotten a hold of the stuff before. I was spinning castles in space.”

“Um.”

╟S│ªS▒»░▒O1█┼daybreak▒»╟╗╣╕ë

“We have a tankful, at least,” Bucky said, “if nothing’s changed. That’s what we were mining, here--”

Tony was staring at him as if he’d said the moon really was made from green cheese.

“A-- let me get this straight. A tank. How much is in a tank?”

“It’s not really my department,” Bucky said, “but last I checked, about twenty thousand gallons of liquid etherium.”

Tony stopped moving, he seemed to stop breathing.

“I think we just became the richest men in the galaxy,” he said, finally. “Show me where this tank of yours is. Can we detach it for hauling?”

Bucky nodded. It was the gas, he thought. That attracted Hydra. She’d come because of the gas, and they’d fought her over the gas.

Witch.

Monster.

╟╗▒░ªÜfurnace▒»½▒╟┼╣

“Tony--” Bucky said, reaching out his hand. He caught hold of the other man’s wrist. “The gas--”

“Perfectly safe, cupcake,” Tony said. “We’ll make sure there’s no leaks, then we can just haul it away. Easy peasy, nice and cheesy.”

Bucky was pretty sure the phrase didn’t go that way.

And it wasn’t safe.

If Hydra was still on the station, that would be where she was.

Hibernating, maybe.

Or just waiting. Lurking. 

He wanted to speak, it was like he’d forgotten the words, and so instead of saying anything, he just turned and led Tony deeper into the station. Down into the Works, the mag-engines and the hydropods, the storage and the plumbing, the fuel cells. It was dark there, wet and heavy somehow. The plant life stopped, which wasn’t surprising, and while there were a few rabbits down this deep, they didn’t seem… normal.

Mutations, perhaps.

Bucky shuddered the thought away.

Tony had said he’d sent out a beacon.

Help-- someone could help them.

Maybe someone would come.

I don’t have to run faster than Hydra, I just have to run faster than you.

Not true, and everyone knew it. Hydra was so fast. She was there before you even knew it. She wasn’t a sight, or something to touch. A witch, some sort of presence.

“Here,” Bucky said. “This is the shut off station. We’ll need to disconnect, and run diagnostics. That can take a few hours--”

“Don’t worry, Jarvis is already in the works, he’s a lot faster than your old systems,” Tony said. “We’ll be on our way back to civilization before you’re even sleepy.”

╟»▒░½Ü¢Ö▒»╟┼nine┼»Q▒»░▒╟┼

“Do you hear something,” Bucky said. He took a few steps down toward-- he didn’t even know. Something was down there. Calling him. Like a magnet that he was too pinlike to resist. A flame, to draw away a moth. It would burn him up, and he knew it, but he could not--

“Hey!” Tony’s hand was hard on his wrist, the fingernails biting lightly into his skin. “Hey, Bucky. You okay?”

“No, I don’t think I am,” Bucky said.

“Jay, how’s it look?”

“You may come back to the ship at any time, sir,” JARVIS said. “I can handle the disconnect from here.”

“Gotta be sleep-shock,” Tony was saying, “I’m so sorry, you seemed okay, let me just--”

Tony was leading him away. 

Away from answers.

Away from--

▒┼╟╗╦Ñ▒»╟benign▒┼╫D░▒½¬

“It’s all right, you don’t have to do anything else, I’ve got you,” Tony said.

And he did. Somehow, this man was… carrying Bucky. Like he was a sleepy child. Bucky blinked.

“Nanites,” Tony said. “They’re pretty amazing. I know you had ‘em back in your day, my scans show you’ve got some yourself. I think there’s something interfering with yours, though. Maybe they’re just old. We can do a filter, get you fixed up. It’s all right, just let me take care of you.”

That was nice, somehow. The idea of just letting go. Of letting Tony take care of things. Letting him take care…

Of Hydra.

Would it even be possible? That the witch could be defeated by something as simple and small as human technology?

“Jay, get me a stretcher, would you, buddy?” 

Bucky couldn’t see anything; everything was getting cold, frozen. His eyelids were frozen shut. Winter--

Winter was coming.

The winter. 

He remembered climbing into the sleeppod, knowing she was right behind him, knowing--

He’d known something, once. 

What was it--

▒┼╟»ª╣╝»homecoming▒»╣¥╝¡☺”

Static in his head, like snow. Freezing. He was so cold. Tony’s hands were on him, but he couldn’t see, and if Tony was talking, he couldn’t hear it.

She was coming.

Hydra was coming. 

They’d woken her up, somehow, and she was on her way to claim him.

“You need to run,” Bucky said, hoping Tony could hear him. That he could do something. Anything.

Live.

Run.

Run.

▒»╟┼┴▒½¡╝one▒ªñªú┼╝│

“Tony, run--”

“Freight car.”

Bucky closed his eyes and went away.

The Winter Soldier was here.

“Hail Hydra.”

A/n - @27dragons wouldn’t let me post this until everything was resolved, so, I have written 2 more chapters and I will post them in the next 2 weeks or so.

#tonystarkbingo2020 #winteriron #horror #space bunnies #not mutually exclusive #apparently

[k-writer1998]

Rebel Hours (11/18)

Kwon Jieun always fit her parents’ image of the “perfect” daughter… at least to their knowledge. Away from prying eyes she was like any other girl living life to the fullest doing what she wants. When a little someone named Bang Chan comes into her life priorities are changed, mistakes are made, and her life finally becomes her own.

Fluff

w.c: 1.9k exact :)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

      A headache greeted me in the morning and I internally scolded myself for trying to keep up with the boys. As the memories of last night came back to me, one in particular made a smile freeze onto my face… the kiss. Sitting up I grabbed the note I scrawled myself reminding me to plan the hang out, just like I said. I chuckled at how well I knew myself before grabbing my phone. All the smiles dissipated the moment I spotted the time. Shit, I’m gonna be late for class! Ignoring the throbbing in my skull, I rushed to grab an outfit before running to the bathroom to go through my morning routine. After throwing on my clothes I checked the time and cursed, this is one of my major classes and the teacher is strict on attendance so I can’t miss it! Struggling to pull on my sneakers,  I grabbed my backpack and ran to class. As I reached the door I spotted the professor down the hall, a glare settling onto me, before ducking into the classroom and taking my normal seat. 

      Now secured at my desk I could finally take the time to dwell on this weird vibe I’ve been getting from people since I arrived on campus. There were so many eyes on me it felt as if the whole class was looking at me, why did I have to sit in the front? I looked over my clothes and shoes and nothing seemed oddly matched or out of place so what was it? The professor entered and did roll, once he called my name and I replied I heard a series of gasps around me… okay seriously what was going on? Once roll call was over, my mind was able to slow down, taking out my textbooks, and that’s when I saw it. My hair had fallen into my face as I moved about and before I caught the chance to move it the light hit my locks revealing its silver shine rather than the raven black of my wig. Shit. There was no point in hiding now, they heard me during roll call, so I turned the panic out and focused on class. Once class was over I swiftly packed my things and was one of the first people to duck out of class. I immediately called Seunghee as I tried to keep my head down and find somewhere quiet to talk.

“What’s up? Don’t you have a full day of classes today, why are you calling?”

“Seunghee I messed up…”

“What?! What did you do? I swear Jieun-”

“I didn’t mean to, I swear! I went out without my wig and didn’t realize until I was in class. Everyone heard me during roll call and I’m one thousand percent sure I won’t be coming back to the apartment until late. I’ll be ordered home before lunch I’m sure of it,” I sighed.

“God Jieun, why would you drink when you know you have class?”

“I don’t know Seunghee- jeez. What do I do?”

“Well the damage is already done, even if you put the wig on now a handful of people already saw and who knows how many took a picture. Just take this as God’s sign that it’s time to come clean.”

“Ugh this is such a headache. I can already hear the impending argument.”

“Just stay calm and stand your ground. At the end of the day this is your life and you are the one in control. These things make you happy, remember that.”

“Thanks for the support Seunghee.”

“I’ll see you on the other side,” she joked.

“For sure.”

      I responded with a small chuckle before hanging up the phone. As if he had sensed something wrong, not even a few moments later I received a text from Chan checking up on me.

To: Princess

How’s my girl? Did you make it to class on time?

To: Chan 🖤

Definitely made it to class on time but at the price of my sanity (:

To: Princess

Why, is it the hangover? Sorry, I should’ve stopped you sooner

To: Chan 🖤

Don’t worry about it, the hangover is the least of my problems

To: Princess

What happened? Are you okay?

      The concern in his texts made my heart swell, what did I do to deserve someone like him? Rather than trying to explain it fully, I took a quick picture and sent it to him before I answered back.

To: Chan 🖤

Forgot my wig so that cat’s out of the bag. Definitely gonna get scolded by my parents today.

To: Princess

Will you be okay?

To: Chan 🖤

This was bound to happen so I’ll be fine. Plus Seunghee gave me a pep talk already.

To: Princess

That’s gonna be harsh, call me when it’s over?

To: Chan 🖤

Definitely

      I continued through my classes with the whispers following me everywhere I went. It wasn’t until after my third class that I got a text from my mother ordering me to come home immediately. The news spread slower than I expected. I simply replied that I will once classes are over and left my phone to buzz at my mother’s outraged messages. Once my classes were finished I went back to my apartment to grab my car keys and left a note for Seunghee to do me a favor. The drive home was oddly peaceful, no anxiety or worries just… calm. When my foot entered the threshold my mother went at me, dragging me to father’s study and sending the maids away. 

“How dare you ruin your father’s campaign like this?!”

“Dying my hair is hardly going to ruin father’s campaign,” I rolled my eyes.

“We are campaigning a modest family yet instead you not only went out and dyed your hair that atrocious color you’ve been out fraternizing with boys and wearing ungodly clothes.”

“Excuse me?”

“Do you think we wouldn’t know what you’ve been up to? I’m sure it's the boy you’ve been seeing, he’s corrupting you.”

“He’s doing nothing of the sort, how do you even know all that… have you been having people watching me?!”

“Well it was the right move to do, seeing as though you were waiting for a critical time during my campaign to act out like this.”

      It was the first time father spoke this whole argument and of course it’s about his stupid campaign. Again they are disregarding my privacy and my choices, typical. My fingers curled into fists as I tried to control my temper but the fire was already beyond control and the flames spilled into my words.

“I’m sorry to disappoint your expectations but Chan has nothing to do with my hair. I’ve been dying my hair since my first year at college, oh I got a tattoo too if your spies didn’t already tell you that. I’ve been keeping up appearances for your sake but I’m tired of it. The wigs are itchy and the clothes you have me wear can barely be called fashionable.”

“Then you will dye your hair back to its natural color and you will not see this “Chan” boy anymore because obviously your tastes have changed because of this trouble,” the venom that dripped from Father’s voice as he spoke about Chan made my blood boil.

“You’re not listening! Chan has nothing to do with this, I’ve had my hair like this for years and had those other clothes far longer. I’m tired of living like your doll, me! Why are you trying to blame someone else?”

“It’s already too late, she isn’t in her right mind right now.”

“Kyunghoon is such a good boy, better than this other one. You were barely at the gala before this other boy whisked you off to god knows where. Obviously, you're not thinking clearly. I should talk to Kyunghoon’s parents and-” Mother mused.

“You will most certainly not. Kyunghoon is a sleaze bag. For your sake I’ve been polite to him but I will not have him around me any more than the occasional passing during functions,” I shot back instantly, my skin crawling as flashes of that night flew through my mind once again.

“You will not speak about President Jeon’s son in such a way! If you do not adhere to what I have told you do not think that boy will be safe from harm's way?”

“I won’t. Before I am your daughter, I am my own person. I’ve allowed you to control too much of my life that you are forgetting that this life is my own. If you want to keep your “beloved” daughter and your image of this “perfect” family, then you will let me live my life as I choose because I will not allow you to control me anymore. I am actually happy for once and I will do everything within my power to protect it. I won’t let you guys ruin it again.”

      I made direct eye contact with my father as I spoke, challenging him to test the truth behind my words. My father sputtered at my response, his face going red with anger, as I stood there calmly with my head held high. My mother shrieked at me with threats and insults, telling me to leave immediately. I gave a polite bow of my head before turning on my heel and walking out. Sitting in my car, I rested my head on the steering wheel as I let the conversation sink into my mind. Will this probably blow up in my face? Yes, but I’m not alone in this. Things will work out… I’ll make sure of it. I lifted my head and started the car, allowing the drive to calm my nerves. Before I got out of the car to go home I dialled Chan, I wanted to hear his voice.

“So what do I owe the honor of your call tonight?”

“I’m pretty sure we agreed I would call Chan,” I chuckled at his greeting.

“That we did… how was it? On a scale of one to ten, how bad?”

“I would say it was a solid eleven on my parents side but for me, hmm… a good four?”

“You took them for a few rounds didn’t you princess? Finally showing your bad apple I see.”

“I learned from the best didn’t I?”

      We both laugh quietly as a silence settles between us, comfortable and warming. His voice wraps around my heart and calms the anxiety that was chewing away at me. That feeling was sadly unavoidable when this was the first occurrence where I stood up to my parents. Before I could really go into a spiral his voice pulls me from my thoughts.

“So did you make it home safe?”

“I am safely in my car at the apartment parking lot. I didn’t want to wait so I called you once I turned the car off.”

“You should go in now, it’s already really late and it’s not safe to lurk in your car at this time of night.”

      His voice softened as he urged me to go inside causing a faint smile to grace my face. After a bit more coaxing on his side I reluctantly left the car and made my way up to the apartment where we said our good nights before I slipped in.

#stray kids #stray kids imagines #stray kids scenarios #skz #skz imagines #skz scenarios #bang chan #bang chan imagines #bang chan scenarios #my writing #rebel hours

[lornahansonforbes]

Prologue

If you’re reading this today, then you know I’m dead, dead to you as you are to me, and that should make you so very happy.

I gave it all up sitting at a red light.

This last piece is the final chapter of “The Emesis Tray of Feelings,” it’s a trilogy.

The trilogy contains one play, “Hot Neon Lights” and “Patina on the Edge,” which is a series of monologues and now this, “It Didn’t Happen,” a one act play.

The first installment, “Hot Neon Lights,” tells the story of two events. Act One is a very messy breakdown followed by the fourth and final attempt of my taking my own life. I failed four times. Act Two is about six to weeks later and the family meeting with the psychiatrist where they decide if I should be locked up in hospital or go cold Turkey. There was no option, no Grey area, only black and white.

“Patina on the Edge,” is a series of monologues that highlights moments of grand and glorious to being a homeless junkie who was sucking dick, meanwhile being a thief and a shitkicker was a great way to being truly infamous. Lofty goals. It parallels the story that’s laid out in “Hot Neon Lights.”

“It Didn’t Happen.” is a one act play with four scenes. Scene one, the night of the breakup and a month after the breakup. Scene two, a phone call about the breakup. Scene three, a group of friends who just saw the two aforementioned plays and are in a bar talking about what The New York Times will say about “Hot Neon Lights” and “Patina on the Edge.”

As you read this, do know that this is like Ivory Soap, ninety-nine and forty-four one hundredth percent (99 44/100%) true.

Several people have been merged into one character and not vice versa.

You should know that I died alone and bitter that I was never truly loved by anyone except by my dogs, Zoey, Chase, Auggie, The Brother Levi, CoCo and Harry; and my three cats, Rasselas, Othello and Belle Kitty.

I sadly cannot think of one person, past or present, who ever truly loved me.

I suffered with Bipolar Depression and Anxiety for a large portion of my life. The three guys who I stupidly referred to as my boyfriend, I see now that they barely tolerated me as did my family.

I don’t give a shit. You and whomever can say what you want about me and pepper it generously with Drama Qween. You do know that but I can only tell you what my perception was and how I saw things, but as usual, you’re right and I’m wrong. Fuck you, your opinion is paying for my funeral and you had the option not to read this.

Lastly, all the things I’ve written starting in the 1980’s and in between has been thrown out and erased etc. Yeppers. All gone. I kept it all but as of this entry, I threw it all out.

Since I’ve submitted to various outlets and people yet only to learn I’ve been ignored.

But you can find me on Tumblr and not on Tinder. Good luck with that.

Post Script:

I’ve told stories about how I lived and how I overcame. “You should write a book.” Motherfucker, don’t play with me. You ain’t gonna fucking read it. Why even bother existing? I’m done. If you really want to know, actually pick up the phone and call me. Bye, Felicia.

I forgot to tell you that someone asked me not to give up writing. Sorry but I’m not gonna change my mind about cutting off my nose to spite myself.

Scene One

The late summer sun was slowly going down as we approached the corner of Melrose and North Robertson.

Granted it was nearly 8:00 PM, the sun was still blazing away. I turned to look from the passenger seat to see people milling about waiting to go inside but also the paparazzi was there gawking and snapping pictures.

She slowed the car down for just a millisecond and then took a sharp left turn. Then Sister Mary of the Perpetual Parking Spot smiled down upon us and she pulled in and parked the car.

The restaurant sign read Ty’s Thai Tie Dye, an Indochina Conglomerate. We went inside and were seated way in the back. It was a jungle, flowers, potted trees and Passion Flower vines everywhere. The sun broke through like mosaic tiles.

Dinner was delicious and uneventful. She was now pulling up in front of my modest flat.

“Darling, I’m sure we’ve had a wonderful evening but I feel that my husband is all over us these past few weeks. I’m just so sick and tired of seeing his Gold Audi here and there every time we go out. Why can’t we agree to disagree with the fact that I’m who I am and you are you we aren’t able to carry on like this anymore. I know that I should break it to you gently, but let’s rip the fucking Band-Aid off, it’s over. Don’t speak. Let’s go our separate ways with our splendiferous memories and as the cliché states, when you do speak of me, be kind,” she blurted out without looking at me.

It took me a moment and then I watched her Black Jaguar Vandam Plas glide away and disappear. Nearly comatose, I fumbled for my keys and took those first tentative steps towards the front door. I saw my cat in the window and her deep gold eyes. We looked directly at each other. I got in my car only to pound the steering wheel with tears in my eyes.

“You ungrateful bitch,” I screamed so loud that my ears were ringing worse than being a rock concert.

I drove into the night with flashes of our tongues lashing about like in some porn as we tore our clothes off each other. She was moist. My turgidity.

I landed at Pfeiffer Beach and I saw a Sandpiper. Fuck my life. The sound of the crashing waves and the sun rising. Stumbling back to my car I spied that CHP had paid a visit with a bright orange parking ticket tucked neatly underneath the wiper blades. God damn it to hell.

When I turned the car over, the radio was blaring, some static but nonetheless it jangled my nerves.

“Now, I am strong enough. Now, I’m strong enough to accept change. Yes, my darling, if you want to live in another place, I can understand it. It’ gonna hurt for a little while, but I can understand it, but before you walk out that door, touch me in the morning,” this woman’s anger and hurt were front and center. We were simpatico at that moment. We were both in a world of hurt and she like me, we were not feeling it.

I tapped a button on my car radio and my playlist replaced her voice as I pulled into traffic on Route 1 South heading home leaving Pfeiffer Beach in my rear view mirror.

Whoever that female voice was previously on my radio, I felt like Kathy Bates and I was swinging that sledgehammer and I left her there to suffer.

Normally I’m not that guy who “gets in touch with their feelings.” It’s just not in my DNA and when I do “get in touch,” it’ll be like a Gatling gun. Crumpled up like a wad of paper, riddled with bullets and left to die gasping for breath in a pool of blood.

This morning I got up and was meandering around my neighborhood. I have absolutely no idea how it happened but I stopped into a local coffee shop and got a Chai Latte. I usually get a green juice with pomegranate and Acai.

I was in a deep, deep funk since I had dinner with my friend and she dumped me. Who was she to me? My girlfriend; friend with benefits: fuck buddy; mistress or just another conquest? Whatever it was, it was good and it lasted but it wasn’t like this hadn’t happened before and so this came to pass and now in my mind I heard Louis Prima singing, “…everywhere I go.” If I really wanted to hear that song, I’d rather find the David Lee Roth remake.

Apparently I got my steps in this morning without some contraption attached to me or some app on my phone. I plunked my narrow behind down on a concrete Jersey barrier and I looking at the waves crashing onto Dockweller Beach. I know it’s not Malibu Beach just a short drive North and it certainly wasn’t Malibu Beach in Boston. From that vantage point, you’ll see the highway and Sister Corita Kent’s artwork in the distance.

Seriously what the fuck, yo? Processing, tabulating, analyzing, and parsing the events of being dumped. I know I saw the data, but what did it reveal? Was it actually that simple or was I looking at the galley’s for the unabridged Cyrillic version of Tolstoy’s tome with copious notes in the margins. Could I decipher The Daily Jumble? Was I looking at some foreign language? Was I experiencing some sort of dyslexia? Sigh! Could I really clean this mess with a piece of used snotty paper?

I’m solving Pi!! Yeah, yeah!! That’s the ticket!!

I clenched my hand around my paper cup and almost spilled my Chai latte. I was fucking pissed.

“Ungrateful BITCH,” that right I said it and I said it with such furious anger venom was dripping of my fangs.

What a difference a day makes. Bull-fucking-shit. Something felt dissimilar yet had I seen the same thing from a different vantage point?

At that exact moment I heard one of those thumper cars approaching blaring something I didn’t understand  anything but I did hear, “Baile, baile con El General” and just like that the car was gone. Was Joy Division only for headphones? This is Los Angeles not Colby College.

Perched on the Jersey barrier, I wasn’t contemplating why lint gets in my navel.  I couldn’t dodge raindrops. Had I tabled my ego? Were my expectations quickly quieted? Was it like that thumper car; was I blaring or amplifying some sort of acceptance of defeat? The hounds had been released at the same time as I gave up my control? I can be that Type-A personality, driven and getting in touch with my feeling resided in an abyss somewhere, but the fuck if I know.

I felt dampness. Where am I now? Am I on the Maid of the Mist or standing underneath Niagara Falls? God damn it to hell!! I was crying. I normally don’t do that. I clenched my jaw so tightly I had TMJ.

“Mission Accomplished,” I think was actually the last time I did cry, but that was for my furry friends, Mickey & Minnie and then it was Stanley & Blanche. Do I get ahold of the anger in me? What the fuck? Maybe a word, a smile, an hour of happiness? NETX??!! I picked up my phone. I scrolled through my contacts. In a parallel universe, I called you a thousand times when I know I did not and I never will call you.

A boisterous and vociferous colony of seagulls appeared just a few yards away from me. Fuck. Hitchcock.

My paper cup is empty. I knew I had to dispose of it. Recycle, reuse, repurpose or like this affair, would it end up in a landfill? Just another thing to be unceremoniously and recklessly tossed away. It’s just a thing.

With a great exasperated sigh, eight months, two weeks and a day. That’s how long it lasted without me actually keeping track of it. Don’t go there. Don’t judge me. Men and women silently judge me and you but I can only assume they leave something on me so I don’t catch cold. Oh, shit. We had seen other naked. She fucking hurt me. Okay, I’m not that person, who’d scrawl, No Sale, on a mirror if I found a check and a note that read, “Last night was dope.”

My phone beeped, a text message letting me know I had to drive to Pacoima.

Gotta bounce. Later. Onto embrace the new challenges ahead and channel them into existence.

Scene Two

Part Three.

A Hello, bleep.

B How did you know it was me?

A I’ve known for a long time and plus it’s out there.

B Why did you say that?

A What did I say exactly?

B Don’t give me that bullshit. I saw it.

A I told you about how I felt but then I felt around in the dark and I didn’t know how that single cell actually started to feel like encouragement.

B What I said was to do it for yourself and not me.

A I did it for you first and then afterwards I got to me.

B You took more than you should have and you took it to another place. Also that’s not how it went down.

A It’s how some people work. As I told before, give me a thing to work with and I can easily create from there.

B I only told you about a sixteenth of what happened.

A But that was enough for me and those three sentences told me everything I needed to know. Fuck bleep, I told you recently about my Bipolar Depression and how I grapple with it hour by hour and mostly by myself with no assistance or guidance from anyone.

B I appreciate that and your candor but it makes me crazy. But fuck bleep, I know how mentally exhausted some people feel being in your orbit.

A Bleep, dude, we’re trying to get to that place in the day where we can say, I’m still here. First we get out of bed unassisted and the rest is gravy.

B Why such labels? I mean I know most of the names but you know I’m a tee shirt and jeans.

A Without inferring or intimating the slightest thing, I had a good feeling that who she is and most likely she has her own money but she doesn’t dismiss her husband’s money.

B I have my own money too but I’m not going to be seen eating on North Robertson.

A Possibly I’d see you at one place on Melrose or on Alameda and they’re not that far from where I put you. Then again, there’s a place around the way and you can walk there. I pay attention to things like that ever since I saw Russell Simmons ex wife Creamora eating at raw restaurant in LA a few years ago.

B Wow. How did find that out?

A She had a reality show and they showed her eating there and as a woman of color, she nearly lost her mind. One of things they served was a pizza but it wasn’t a New York pepperoni pizza all hot and gooey with cheese. I yelled at the TV, Gurl, I’ll take a slice. I’m in.

B Wait a minute, bleep. You told me you have issues with food.

A I do but sometimes I’ve got to throw caution to the wind and suffer with each delicious bite.

B So that’s why you fabricated that restaurant.

A Well, kinda sorta. When I was in LA, I found a great little Thai place a few blocks away from The Dolby and if I remembered the name I would’ve told you about it. They’ve got some amazing vegan options.

B This is one of the things I find about you, you know some of the most trivial things and it’s fucking scary.

A Bleep, I just hope I don’t actually lose my mind. I’d hope that you or someone else would put me down if dementia or Alzheimer’s effected me.

B Don’t say that. I sometimes like it when you remember what happened way back when.

A I’m not sure what’s going to happen but I’m still here regardless.

B I’ve got to ask why you said I cried.

A Bleep, you are but one of many Taurus men I know and if they do actually cry, it’ll be in the shower and they’d never admit to knowing how to cry. They might well up with tears but never cry in front of anyone ever.

B That’s fucked up.

A Taurus men do write but never about their feelings nor do they own a diary or journal. If that April born man exists who shares their feelings, they are a very rare breed of man.

B Well writing isn’t my thing.

A You sound exhausted.

B I had to compose myself and all the while I cursed your name.

A Oh it’s because I hit a nerve?

B You’re the last person I’d ever, of course, I think of to wax philosophic and then admit it to someone else let alone admit it to myself.

A Bleep, motherfucker, I’m completely aware and yet I’m not living under the delusion by pining away waiting for you to ask.

B No, it’s not that but does fall in the same zip code and then I used one word, empath. You dug as deep as you could and I’m like, fuck, man, I’m on the phone with you.

A Bleep. Bleep. I’ve known ever since your old EarthLink email and I never and I wouldn’t unless you asked. I told you before I see things that I don’t necessarily understand and with each message, I just end up seeing something.

B I gathered as much. There’s my Nou-Nou. Come up. It’s okay. Come on, Nou-Nou. Move your lard ass, Janx. There you go. All better. Rumple, not a word. You stay right there and let Nou-Nou get some.

A The kittehs!!

B Don’t distract. I’m not sure if you have a malignant will or you gave me something to think about.

A I can’t apologize more. I’m truly very sorry. I riffed on an idea and here we are.

B Life isn’t over as you think of it just because you’re alive. There’s more.

A That’s why I told you that I wouldn’t write again. Stirred the pot.

B You’re a dick.

A And your point is? A cunt? I’m The Dowager Empress and that’s all there is to that.

B You’re so full of shit.

A We’re not going to snap at each other like two terriers.

B Is this what we’ve been reduced to? Bickering just for arguments sake?

A You’re the one with the brown eyes, so you could possibly be full of shit. I’ve got green eyes, pea green with jealousy.

B You said some shit and it hit me. What’s that thing you usually say? Oh yeah, it’s a punch in the face you can’t take back.

A Bleep, dude. Most people want that moment in life where someone grabs ahold of you and pleads with you not to leave. It’s been played out in the movies, but not in our lives, right? I don’t know the life you led but I’ve had three boyfriends and each one of them dumped me. I’ve cried and played all the sad songs. You could have possibly done the same thing but let’s face it fucking Cher said it best, we all sleep alone.

B Whitney clapped back and said I’d rather be alone than be unhappy.

A True. But I had the near perfect relationship with The Beast. More than 40 years together. We both had separate lives and we were celibate lovers. We had each other’s back we did everything for love but we never did that. I knew that he wasn’t some Sir Galahad to love from afar, motherfucker was two legged boa constrictor. I’m okay with dying alone and unloved.

B That’s really a fucking bleak future. Well insert a happy go-lucky cliché here followed by Shady Pines. I can’t with you, bleep.

A I know that we’re estranged but don’t divorce me or fire me just yet.

B Okay.

-The curtain comes down and the audience breaks out in an uproar of applause and cheers-

Scene Three

E What was that we just watched?

CI wish I knew.

E 90 minutes of a conversation that never happened?

D Clearly you’ve missed the point of it. Two guys who knew each other since high school and they meet up years later. One guy had a bad break up and the other guy was now, as he said, a widower.

C Excuse me?

E Yeah excuse me. I don’t see it. Okay high school is one thing but forty years later, they’re talking like that?

D Okay let’s go for a quick pop at The Stone and we’ll go home afterwards.

E Which stone?

C I think that the closest one is Rosetta.

D No. That’s by Park Avenue. I think this one is Killarney but is it Kilkerry? Fuck. It’s right here at 8th Avenue.

C Don’t make thing of it but look over getting of that cab, Miles Silverberg.

E I know that name.

D Murphy Brown.

C It is him. Not bad looking but not my type.

D Bitch, your type is anyone who can make the letter O.

C You should talk. You’re still paying off that asbestos abatement from the last one.

D The two of you are practically virgins again, but then again Father Frank doesn’t give confessionals.

C/E Fuck you.

D Oh look, we’re here.

E I’ve always wondered exactly how many bars in Manhattan are actually Irish bars.

C Probably a few but I’m not sure. There’s only one Blarney Stone and I think it’s in Lower Manhattan not here in Midtown. I’m thinking that anything above 23rd Street is either owned by The Vara or Lyons’ Brothers.

E Damn.

D Hello, Merrick. We like a bottle of your best Shiraz and three glasses. We’ll be over here. Thank you. Yes, Merrick, yes you’re all that but put a ring on it.

E Why won’t you just fuck him and get it over with?

D We like this game. We just love to flirt with each other. No harm, no foul.

C She’s been playing with Merrick for years and he loves the attention.

E I wonder what The Times says tomorrow.

D This is the the last chapter of the trilogy. Uh…

C First was Hot Neon Lights, second was Patina on the Edge and now, It Didn’t Happen.

D I can’t get it out of my head that one scene with the mother fighting with the dad. She was so mad at him, she put out a cigarette in her hand.

C Oh fuck yeah, that was fucking brutal.

E Can someone get that mad?

D She’s his mother and momma bear wasn’t having it.

C True but I’m not sure about the pretentious names. Trenton Burroughs English and Daniel Charles Snyder. But you know what? They’re actual people. I found out that Trenton is some how many times removed from the Queen of Norway and Daniel is a surgeon with Doctors Without Borders. AND the most fucked up thing is that they don’t know each and have never met.

D You know what’s even more fucked up than? There’s an actual family here on the social register here in New York with the last name, Frankenstein. Google that.

E Thank you, Merrick. Ladies, a toast?

C Yes please and don’t be stingy.

D Miss Thing, leave some for the rest of us.

ALL 3 Cheers! Give my regards to Broadway!!

E Hot Neon Lights was excellent, though I thought the two fantasy moments were beyond me.

D Why?

E Is that what you’d expect from dropping a hit of acid?

C Not all the time. It’s different from person to person. I did it once and I had goosebumps most of the time and I saw these white penny tiles dance like waves and I was surfing.

D I went to see a midnight showing of Eraserhead in college and I hate that fucking movie. Sigh. I cringe whenever I hear, Eraserhead is dead. I wanna punch someone in the face.

E Damn and I said I was traumatized by seeing Gina Gershon’s pubic hair in Killer Joe. I’m sorry but on the silver screen in a crowded theater. I shudder to think.

C A straight guy cringing at the mound of Venus? What happened? Did you see your mother in the shower?

E It’s not that deep. My face is one thing but on a forty-foot screen? Shit was scary.

D Yeah that is unforgettable. Besides that, was the movie any good?

E I don’t know. I mean William Friedkin directed The Exorcist. Both are going to fuck with your head, period.

D Oh yeah he did but what was really fucked up was in Patina on the Edge when he told us how his father and stepmother thought that they were watching his life story on the silver screen.

C What fucked with my head with my head was when he told us that he actually went to M Street and those stairs. I saw the picture and it was daytime and the caption read, Here laid Father Merrin’s body. Regan MacNeil astro-projected his priestly self right out the window. Rest in Power, Mercedes McCambridge.

E What?

C Yeah. Gimme a second.

D You’re obsessed much?

C I couldn’t believe it myself and I took a screenshot. Look.

E Damn. That’s really fucked up. Here.

D Oh my God! That is fucked up.

C I know reality stranger than fiction.

E It wasn’t science fiction or was it tonight?

D Whatever it was, it was some great writing. He can tell a story.

C What did you get out of it?

E I’m thinking that after seeing Hot Neon Lights, Patina on the Edge and tonight’s It Didn’t Happen, I think they should have a face to face and make a decision if they’re going to be actual friends and figure out if they want to be celibate lovers and in a platonic marriage.

D Fuck that bullshit. It’s obvious that they are actually going to have a contentious relationship and they’re not going to find each other sitting together chatting it up in Shady Pines. The only thing that they can have is a hidden mutual respect for each other and the rest of us can only imagine that since neither one of them will admit to anything. He’s a whore and he’s a prude. They don’t know what they want, but can they be friends in any iteration of the meaning. We’ll never know.

C Well…unrequited love can keep you going. Okay I’ve got unrequited love too but I see mine as that song, All American Boy by Steve Grand. I just love that song and I’m obsessed with the media calling it Brokeback Breakout and he’s like the Gay Cowboy. That’s really a bad cliché but it’s even worse to know that not every fag wants to suck the quarterback’s dick. Yeah let that big man on campus get a pot belly and go bald, and at the 40th high school reunion you’re still in a size seven like me and what’s even worse is that all the girls want to kill me.

D Do let me know when old and bitter arrives.

E Oh c’mon. It can’t be all that bad. You’re supposed to live off a compliment for two weeks, but I always hope for the best. I mean I like my family and we all get along.

C Well how nice for you but I doubt it. It’s like Homer isn’t going to strangle Bart for the umpteenth time.

E Back to the other moment in Hot Neon Lights, what was up with that Diana Ross scene?

D That was explained in Patina.

C Yeah. He went to the Diana Ross Live at Caesar’s Palace show on two hits of mescaline but I think the point was like she said, I am and I’m going to be.

D Powerful.

E Didn’t he also explain how he could actually touch the guy on the flying trapeze at the circus. Apparently he likes dropping acid.

C Patina had that whole conversation about “Gee whiz. Boy I was drunk last night.”

D Yeah it was consensual but I’m not sure if they were that drunk or that high.

E I know right but he did fuck that girl after an eight ball.

C Oh yes! He was up to THANGS!!

D Indeed he was but that failed threesome was even funnier.

E Give the guy a break. I’m not sure if he wanted to fuck the husband in front of his wife or fuck the wife as the husband was going to fuck him.

C YES!! The bamboo chair hanging from the ceiling. If I was in that same situation I have no idea how to proceed.

E True, true, but I’m glad he told us from the jump, we’d never believe it actually happened. My mind hurts.

D Look gentlemen, the bottle is empty and we all have to go to work in a few hours. Let’s table this for the next time. Until then.

E Okay but it’s Romeo & Juliet with social media at The Public.

C That’s got to be something else. We’ll text after we read the review in The Times.

ALL 3 Good night, Merrick!!

[your-daily-dose-of-fandoms]

Senku x reader x gen Senku and gen plan a romantic date for the reader as a surprise (stone age)

Ah! This was so fun to write! I hope you enjoy!💙🌌

Senku x Reader x Gen

Like a Sunflower

"Okay, okay, now remember the plan", Gen told to Senku, as he took one last glance at him in suit with a chuckle. Gen wore black pants with a white button up shirt, as Senku looked at himself.

"This looks so ridiculous..!" Senku told, wrinkling his nose in distaste. Yes, he had wore a suit before, but not in occasions like this, and he felt utterly stupid from wearing the clean and formal suit in a stone world like theirs. The suit wasn't stupid, no, Yuzuriha had done a good job, but the suit ironically didn't suit him at all. To Senku's irritance, he heard Gen laugh.

"Relax, this is for Y/N, remember?" Gen told and Senku sighed. Yes, he wanted to give you something as a birthday gift, maybe chocolate or an instrument, something scientifically possible to do, but not even a thought of something like this had crossed into his mind. And he did not know how Gen had talked him into this. Maybe some subconscious part of him wanted to try this out, for once, but he had come to the conclusion that he could not back up now.

"Ha.. I guess I'll have to roll with this.." Senku sighed in defeat and Gen clapped his hands in excitement. Senku was by all means glad that Gen was there, because without him, Senku would not had any idea how to handle a date.

"Brilliant! Let's go now, Y/N is waiting!" Gen announced with his happy-go-lucky personality, as he grabbed Senku by his arm, pulling him to go along as Gen skipped away. The two of them had told you to come to the bridge at 5pm with clothes for something little more festive, and you had obeyed, now waiting for them to arrive. You were jumping on your place, excited to see what the two of them had planned for your birthday.

Knowing Senku, you could guess that he'd make you something that you had enjoyed in your life before the stone age, but what it came to Gen, you had no idea.

You were looking around nervously, fiddling with the hem of the new blue dress that Ruri had borrowed you, as you felt like it was showing too much skin. You had gotten so used to the leather dress that almost covered your whole arms and legs, reaching them to the midways, softly falling over your form, that you felt suddenly so exposed in the dress that was bringing out your curves for everyone to see.

Soon enough, a pair of men walked into your vision, with quite formal clothes on. Whilst Gen was only wearing black pants with white button up shirt, the two of upper buttons open to show his neck, Senku was wearing a cheap version of a suit, not having a cravate and the black jacket over the white turtleneck shirt not closed. He was clearly uncomfortable, and you chuckled at the sight.

You gotta admit though, man in a suit is the hottest thing ever.

Soon the two of them made their way to you, and whilst Senku gave you an awkward pat on the shoulder, which made you roll your eyes and give him a quick hug, Gen gave you a small peck on the cheek whilst chuckling.

"So.. What have you two planned?" You asked whilst crossing your arms over your chest, and raising your eyebrow.

"Kukuku~ It's a surprise", Senku told whilst Gen enthuastically nodded his head at. Gen had his arms folded in front of him, as he gave you an unreadable smile. You cursed in your mind. Having a mentalist as your boyfriend was frustrating, you never knew what was going inside his head.

Suddenly, Gen turned you around by your shoulders, making you face the direction of the bridge, as your vision suddenly went dark. There was a black cloth tied over your eyes, covering them completely, as you let out a gasp between your parted lips.

"Just trust us, and we'll lead you to the birthday gift!" Gen exclaimed, as a wide smile formed on your lips when two hands grabbed both of your arms, from each side, and started to lead you somewhere. Excitement was bubbling in your stomach, like butterflies, and you let out a nervous and excited giggle.

"Where are you taking me..?" You asked, as you felt how the path you had been previously walking on changed to the forest, the ground under your feet becoming bumpy, the grass and vines brushing against your bare ankles, tickling you.

"It's a secret", You heard Senku tell, his voice calm and focused as he was concetrating on walking and not tripping over any vines. At times, you tripped over a root or vine, but the two boys managed to catch you everytime, which made you glad. However, the rest of the trip was completely silent, only the wildlife of the forest being heard. The singing of the birds, rustle in the bushes, and wind swaying the tree leaves filled the air, as the forest never actually was quiet. You enjoyed the noises, feeling your other senses sharpen over the time, as you could not see anymore.

Abruptly, the three of you came to a stop, as the blinfold was taken off from your face, your eyes trying to get used to the sudden light of the last rays of the sun. The blindfold gently fell on the ground, as you blinked, squinting your eyes and rubbing them, as the two men looked at you with amused expressions. You felt like the three of you had walked for hours, and the sudden ability to see overwhelmed you.

After your eyes got adjusted and you could see better, your eyes first landed on the thousands of sunflowers gazing at the setting sun. There were countless of them, at every direction, so all you could see was the endless field of the yellow flowers, shape as if resembling the sun. The boys were waiting for your reaction, as your eyes then landed on a circle table, with three chairs around it, a single candle lit on it. There, on the table, was three simple bowls full of soba, the heavenly scent reaching your nostrils before your eyes even landed to it. You gasped, a bright smile making its way on your face, as you placed your hands in front of your mouth and looked at the two, shocked.

Senku scratched the back of his head.

"We made some soba for you of the foxtail millet we had in our storage. It's not the same as the soba back in our days, and it tastes bitter, but I hope it's enough for you to be happy", He explained, raising his hand on his chin, as he avoided your eyecontact purposely, or subconciously, you did not know.

Before either could say a thing, you had already ran to them, enveloping them in your embrace, as you let out a hearty and rich laugh. You were almost crying at this point. During the few years of living in the stone world, you had almost forgotten what the rich taste of soba in your mouth had actually tasted like, and how much you actually missed it.

"Thank you!! Both of you!! Thank you so much! I love soba! I love you!" You rambled, nuzzling you face into the hug, as Senku patted your back and Gen let out a hearty laugh, hugging you back. You were practically crying at this point, thanking the both of them alternally. Senku rolled his eyes, cracking a smile.

"Are you just going to thank us, or eat? The food is about to get cold and I'm ten billion percent sure that it will be even worse then", He told and you jolted back up from the embrace, excitement seen in your eyes, as you quickly wiped your tears away.

"Right! Let's eat!" You told, straightening your back and dragging the two men to the table, sitting down and immediately grabbing the chopsticks, starting to push the noodles down your throat. The taste of the noodles was bitter, but the seasoning was able to mostly cover it, as you closed your eyes, cherishing the moment. Then you stopped, opening your eyes to look at the men, as you gulped down your food. The both were staring at you.

"I'm not being very romantic, am I?" You asked, as you blushed, realizing how rude you had acted. Gen burst into a vivid laugh.

"By all means, don't worry about it, it's nice to see you this happy, even if it's just because of the food", The mentalist told, gulping down some of his Cola, which he of course had insisted for Senku to make for this occasion, and you pouted.

"Heyy! Of course I'm happy that you two are here too! It's just that food is techically more important scientifically for surviving", You told and playfully kicked Gen under the table, which he let out a soft 'ouch' at. The sun was setting, the last rays of the sun casting over you three, as the sky was clear, made of warm and welcoming colors, which reminded you of autumn. Few stars were already starting to get visible. Suddenly a light laugh of Senku filled the air, as he was almost finished with his bowl of soba.

"That you definitely got from me", He told, leaning on his hand as he looked at you for a little longer than usual. Unknown to you, Senku was always counting the seconds, and he stared at you exactly for 8.1 seconds, before turning his gaze away, forcing his eyes off from you, as he had not yet gotten used to the fact how much he wanted to lay his eyes on you at any given moment.

Gen laughed too, and nodded along.

"That, she definitely caught from you"

#asagiri gen #dr stone gen #dr stone senku #dr stone #dr stone scenarios #dr. stone #senku ishigami x reader #senku ishigami #gen asagiri x reader

[sunmontuewrites]

Tale Feather (Kurtofsky fanfic)

So I wrote a fic, and then I wrote some more of it, and now it’s complete. I don’t even know what I’m doing with my writing anymore... Apparently 3.3K of Kurtofsky smut is where we’re going this weekend.

Based on this mood board that @team-lionheart7 made for @blueorchids (I don’t know if I should apologise for writing fic or not? Sorry if I stepped on toes - I am not sure if this is a done thing or not...?)

I will post this on AO3 once I have got my lycra and lowboys in order (i.e. corrected the spelling to ‘American’ English and if you catch any blatant non-American turns-of-phrase which are confusing let me know!)

SUMMARY:  David Karofsky runs a successful bar in the city, into which one Kurt Hummel stumbles, complete with startlingly high heels.

TALE FEATHER

               The music is loud enough that Dave can feel it in his chest as he mixes and pours drinks, feet shuffling to the beat occasionally. It’s not like he doesn’t trust his staff but he loves the buzz of a busy Saturday night, people moving on the dance floor, the energy is electrifying and he never gets bored of it. They’d bought the entire ramshackle building when it was barely compliant ten years ago in a forclosure sale and now it’s this. Offices on the first floor, apartments on the second and third, on the ground floor a café-restaurant, a couple of boutique shops and his bar. The entire building is special to him, but Tale Feather has been his special project for the last five years and he has poured his life and soul into it, the returns have been a thousand fold. It had started as a high end cocktail bar with a dance floor on Saturdays and it had been his baby. Then it had grown and matured, his cocktails somehow catching the eyes of several people, and then… it is the place to be.

               Dave owns it. Mostly. He has two investors with a 30% interest each, Wayne and Tam, but they trust him and it’s not like he would screw himself over with bad business decisions. He got his business degree and then didn’t know what the fuck to do with it so had just kept making drinks, his part-time job that had helped put him through college. He’s lucked out on having Wayne as a boss who coached him, acted as a mentor, invested and got him through the first couple of years. He obviously had self-interests but Dave knows his life wouldn’t be anywhere as good as it is without his help and is lucky enough to count him a good friend now.

               A bump to his hip from Lee has him looking up and Lee’s jerking his chin to the door and he tenses, wonders if he’s going to need to act as an additional bouncer, because he’s done that before, except no… it’s just a bunch of new people and okay, they’re all young and hot, but Dave is on the other side of thirty and all he’ll really do is enjoy looking. He lets his eyes run over them, appreciates the toned flesh on display and clothes chosen specifically to show their bodies and then notes that they’re all in heels, even the guys. His eyes skitter back, because there was…

               “Oh shit…” he says under his breath, and Lee is cackling like he’s just heard the best joke ever and Dave shakes his head.

               He recognises him of course, because he still looks the same, his body larger, more muscular, a man’s body rather than a teenagers, older than most of the other people’s he with but… Dave would bet money he’s a dancer. That they’re all dancers. He’s dressed in tight black pants and he can’t tell whether they’re leggings or jeans without getting his hands on them. The top is a simple white dress shirt, meant to be too big and tied at his waist to accentuate the hips. He doesn’t know if Kurt will recognise him but he’s approaching the bar fast and Dave lets his eyes travel up Kurt’s body. Heels. Four inch stilettos and Kurt is moving like he’s wearing regular shoes. Definitely a dancer then and the way his hips snap has him swallowing and wondering if he can maybe beat a hasty retreat to his apartment on the top floor. Instead his second of indecision has him faced with Kurt who isn’t even looking at him, which okay, he can work with that.

               “What can I get for you?”

               Kurt’s head snaps around at that and there is definitely recognition there. He’s not sure if that’s a good thing.

               “David!”

               “Kurt. Hi. What can I get you?”

               “A bottle of water to start would be great thanks,” Kurt says, and his eyes are travelling over Dave and he’s pretty sure he’s being checked out. Dave quirks an eyebrow as he cracks open a new bottle and slides it toward Kurt. He’d return the not-so-subtle once-over except he already did that when Kurt was approaching the bar and he doesn’t know if it was really Kurt checking him out or assessing how much he’s changed since school.

               “So, what’s good here?”

               “To drink?” Dave asks, and he didn’t mean to add any innuendo to that, but it’s too late now and Kurt’s lip is curling and okay… he was being checked out. His lips twitch in amusement.

               “Are there other things on offer?”

               He freezes, looks at Kurt and there’s almost a challenge in his eyes. Fuck, that was definitely a proposition. He hasn’t done casual sex in years, not since college really, and his last boyfriend and him broke up four months back. But he knows Kurt. Obviously not well, because it’s been nearly twenty years since high school, but his teenage self is hyperventilating somewhere in his chest and he’s glad that at least he’s in control. It’s not the first time he’s been propositioned in his bar, it is the first time he wants to take them up on it.

               “They aren’t printed on the menu…”

               “Maybe you can tell me about them?”

               Dave swallows and licks his lips, watches Kurt watch him and yeah okay, he’s going to do this.

               “Lee! I’m out!”

               “Sure thing!” Lee calls back, eyebrows wiggling and Dave rolls his eyes, because he’s never going to live this down. Fucked if he even cares right now. He isn’t even needed behind the bar and he comes around the side, lifting the divide to stand beside Kurt.

               “I have to check, you’re sober right?”

               “One hundred percent…” Kurt says, and his eyes are intense and Dave can feel his heart rate picking up.

               “Good. That’s good…”

               “Where are you taking me?”

               “The office, I can lock it behind me…”

               The grin Kurt gives him is filthy and he lets out a bark of laughter, fingers circling Kurt’s wrist to urge him to follow, his other hand going into his pocket to fetch the keys, and he’s impressed he doesn’t even fumble as he swipes the security fob that takes them out the back. There’s the stock room and staff bathrooms and then the little office where Dave tries to do all his business related work… Getting the key in the lock proves more difficult, especially when Kurt presses his chest against his back and lets his hips undulate.

               “Fuck, you’re hotter than you were in high school…”

               “Uh, thanks?” Dave says, a little surprised because he’s pretty sure he was never on Kurt’s radar in high school, not in that particular way anyway. He manages to get the key in and turn, pushing the office door open and pulls Kurt in, shuts the door and presses Kurt back against it, presses a knee between Kurt’s and lets his hands run up his thighs, can feel the muscles and knows the fabric is that weird stretchy-hybrid made to look like denim but which will, in fact, be conveniently easy to peel off… He runs his hand over Kurt’s cock, gets a little thrill that he can already feel it plumping up before he lets both hands rest on Kurt’s hips. Kurt’s own hands have been skating over his arms and shoulders, all covered by the leather of his jacket and he realises he should probably take it off. He shrugs out of it, tosses it toward his desk chair and ignores the fact he missed. The floor is still preferable than getting come stains.

               He’s not sure what they going to do, it’s not like he keeps supplies in his office when his apartment is five floors away. Part of him doesn’t want to take Kurt there, wants to either blow him right here, or a hand job or… He feels the fingers in his hair, curling and pulling his head down and then they’re kissing, Kurt’s body is arching away from the door to press toward him and he leans into it, pulls Kurt’s hips tighter and swallows their moans. It feels like they kiss forever, his lips become swollen and sensitive, his hands moving over Kurt’s body trying to touch everywhere the same way his tongue is trying to learn Kurt’s mouth.

               He finds the tiny patch Kurt missed when he shaved, his hands ghost under his shirt, brushes over a nipple that pebbles into hardness under a flick of his thumb and he wants to get his mouth on it. Kurt’s hands move over his shoulders, finger tips raking down his back before gripping his hips and pulling him closer into a grind before they move back up, skirting under his t-shirt. Dave focusses for a few moments on undoing the fucking buttons on Kurt’s shirt, pulling at the knot in the fabric, patience wearing thin.

               His lips have moved across Kurt’s face, teeth nipping at his throat and then Kurt’s hands are helping, stripping the shirt off and tossing it in the same direction as Dave’s jacket. There’s a fucking tank underneath but before he can swear about it Kurt’s stripping it off as well and yeah… Dave lowers his head to a tan nipple, gives it a broad swipe with his tongue before circling is a couple of times with the tip before grazing across it with his cheek, knows his facial hair isn’t short enough to hurt, but will still hopefully elicit a positive response. Kurt’s gasping moan is gratifying and he moves back up, trailing kisses and scraping his teeth across his collar bone before sucking gently at the juncture in his neck.

               “David… fuck…”

               He captures Kurt’s lips with his own again, moving his hand to stroke Kurt through his ridiculous pants, which he has to be thankful for right now because they hide absolutely fucking nothing and Kurt is scrabbling to push them down and Dave just murmurs I got you under his breath and slips both his hands down the waist band and cups Kurt’s ass cheeks in his hands, grinds them together as he feels Kurt pant warm breath against his neck before he’s sucking and biting as well. He grunts, hooks his thumbs and pulls, knows it can’t be comfortable because the fabric is tighter across the front now, not that Kurt can probably tell with how hard he’s riding Dave’s thigh. Then he’s rolling the pants down, bunching them under the crease of Kurt’s ass, can feel Kurt squirming to roll his pants down and Dave is suddenly appreciative of the easy access fly on his jeans. He slide his hands around, moves back slightly to make room and pulls both underwear and pants down so they’re around Kurt’s well muscles thighs; flushed cock straining upwards and he had absolutely zero regrets about deciding to go with this decision tonight.

               He circles his fingers around Kurt’s cock, firm but not too tight. He doesn’t know what Kurt likes and this is why he doesn’t usually do casual. Kurt isn’t complaining though and Dave watches Kurt’s cock move in his fist a couple of times while also watching Kurt’s hands lower his zipper and then Kurt’s hand is pressing against his erection and Dave groans, pushing against Kurt’s hand and shifting so his own jeans and underwear are now halfway down his thighs. Kurt shifts then, and he’s not sure how, but their cocks seem almost perfectly aligned, Kurt’s hand circling them both and Dave lets him, squeezing his own hand over Kurt’s. Fuck.

               They move that way for a while, one hand on their cocks, hips grinding a little, their free hands scraping across exposed nipples and Dave is still wearing his t-shirt but he doesn’t care, because Kurt is letting that stop him from biting at the fabric covered skin.

               “Can I blow you?” Dave asks, whispering the words after licking up Kurt’s neck, stopping and nibbling and sucking and it’s all slick heat between them. Kurt’s entire body surges toward him.

               “Fuck yes… please…”

               He kisses his way down Kurt’s chest, paying attention to each nipple before moving lower, enjoys the feel of Kurt’s ribs moving as they suck in fast breaths under his fingers and he grasps Kurt’s ass again, runs his nose up along the length of Kurt’s erection, watches Kurt as he throws his head back to only hit the door with a thunk. He runs his hands down Kurt’s legs then and… he’s still wearing the fucking heels. He groans, grips Kurt’s ankles and then runs his hand back up, hope Kurt’s aware of just how much he turn him on, how much he likes feeling the firm muscle beneath his fingers.

               His lips and tongue have been butterfly soft on Kurt’s cock, passing time while his hands explored and he lets himself press firm licks and then, lips wet, he sucks the head of Kurt’s cock into his mouth, cheeks hollowing and moves his hands to grip Kurt’s hips and ass, fingers spreading wide to hold him still while he gets a feel, Kurt’s cock dragging across his tongue, moving his head back and forward, lips and tongue moving in unison to provide as much pleasure as he knows how. Kurt’s hands flutter, seemingly undecided on where they should stay. One settles on one of his own hands, pressing it harder into Kurt’s hip and he can feel the tiny prick of nails digging into skin. The other hand combs through his hair, scraping over his scalp which makes his skin prickle, move to dig into his shoulder before running through his own hair.

               The noises they’re making sound loud over the distant bass of the music, Kurt muttering under his breath and Dave hears his name enough, it makes him suck a little harder each time, move a little faster. He lets his hand not covered by Kurt’s drop to his own cock and he just grips, focussing on Kurt’s pleasure for now. He can feel the small aborted flexes of his hips beneath his hand, against his tongue and he lets his hand holding Kurt still relax a little, urges him into a little motion; feels smug at the gasping shudders and he shifts his knees, raises his head and so he’s just got the head in his mouth. Wraps his hand around the base of Kurt’s cock and jerks hard and fast, continuing the sucking, head bobbing in synch with his hand; ignores Kurt’s scrambling fingers trying to warn him because he’s not new to this, he can tell Kurt’s close and he isn’t taken by surprise when he feels his mouth fill and he swallows, throat working and it always reminds him of oysters.

               Kurt’s finger grip his t-shirt and he lets Kurt drag him upwards, then he’s being thoroughly kissed, glad Kurt doesn’t have any hesitation about kissing him when his mouth still tastes of come. It clearly isn’t a turn off at all and it suddenly feels like Kurt has grown an additional pair of hands, they’re moving over Dave’s body like he can’t get enough of him. One hand seems to stay on his cock, he’s not sure if Kurt is trying to keep it in time with the beat of the bass but that’s what it feels like. Kurt’s teeth scrape down his neck and Dave groans, hips jerking and he lets his hands hold onto Kurt’s ass, think about what it might feel like if they ever did this properly.

               “Fuck Kurt…”

               He moves a hand to cradle the back of Kurt’s head, kisses forcefully, rougher than before, more teeth and biting and his cock is starting to ache with the need to come and he knows the space between them isn’t giving Kurt any room to move his hand, not really, but he knows what he wants; braces an arm on the door, wraps his hand around Kurt’s hand on his cock and jerks off, hard and fast while his lips, teeth and beard absolutely wreck Kurt’s pale skin. When he comes it spurts between them and he can barely breathe with watching, feels a little hysterical as it runs down Kurt’s chest and he resists the urge to run his hands through it, rub it all over him.

               He sucks in a few lungfuls of air in between some softer kisses, tries to force his heart rate to slow and ensure he’s steady on his feet before he steps back. He pulls his t-shirt over his head uses it to wipe Kurt’s chest. It won’t be the first time he’s had to go to his apartment with no shirt on, but it’s always been spilled drinks to blame before. He doesn’t miss the look Kurt gives the ink on his upper arms and chest; now that they’ve gotten off Dave has no idea what to say. He picks up Kurt’s clothes and passes it to him and watches as he dresses. The skin on Kurt’s face and neck is red-raw and Dave would feel bad if he hadn’t just had Kurt gasping against him. Beard burn is a thing he can’t avoid giving his partners, however there are probably a few bite marks which he maybe should have avoided, because he hadn’t really meant to leave those. Not that Kurt was complaining.

               “I’ll, um, see you…” Kurt says, waving a hand back in the direction they had come and Dave nods, leans forward for a final kiss and lets him go.

---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ----

               “Boss! There’s some guy peering in the window. You want me to go tell him to go away?”

               “I can do it…” Dave says, stretching out his neck and back from where he’s been crouching to count stock. It’s only just past lunch and they don’t open on a Sunday anyway, so he’s hoping it’s just someone being nosey. Or after lost property, which is pretty common. He walks to the front, slows when he sees Kurt and then speeds up again, unlocking and opening the door to the street quickly.

               “Kurt. Hi…”

               “Ooohhh… so this is Kurt huh?”

               Dave pulls a face at Andreas because he hasn’t said anything about anyone, but of course Kurt is now looking at him with one eyebrow raised and Dave just shakes his head

               “You can go and continue the stock take…” Dave says, shoving the tablet into Andreas’ hand and shooing him back to the stock room, watching him go with a pointed look that he hopes tells him to not fucking eavesdrop.

               “Sorry about that. How can I help?” Dave asks, and he smirks at the little flush of pink in Kurt’s cheeks.

               “I didn’t get your number.”

               “I didn’t think you wanted my number…” Dave says honestly, because it hadn’t really occurred to him that Kurt might want… more.

               “I waited at the bar but you never came back to work… I worried that you maybe got fired. The whole sex in the office…”

               Dave laughs, shakes his head slightly. Kurt doesn’t know he can’t get fired and he’s not sure what to tell him.

               “Why do you want my number Kurt?”

               “Honestly?”

               “Always.”

               “I’m interested in more than… just last night.”

               “Okay…”

               He reaches into his back pocket and pulls out his wallet, flicking through to the fancy business cards shaped like a feather that he had made that have all his details. Passes it to Kurt and feels a little smug as Kurt takes in the logo on the frosted glass, the business card that has David Karofsky – Owner/Operator on it and then Kurt is laughing, shaking his head.

               “You have any other surprises you want to tell me about?”

               “That would be telling. You’ll just have to find them out the old fashioned way.”

               “I look forward to it.”

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