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house-of-kolchek · 10 months

Text

Dress (Part Two)

Leon Kennedy x Reader

OK I KNOW ITS BEEN A HOT MINUTE SINCE PART ONE BUT I LITERALLY REWROTE THIS THREE TIMES I APOLOGIZE

Also I love you all.

Word Count: 3.6k

Part One (18+)

Ok this is slightly (significantly) more drama than I was initially planning so. Enjoy my tears.

You didn’t get your dress dry cleaned.

In fact, for a long time it remained in that pile, pooling at the foot of your bed. You were too afraid to call at first, your stomach churning with guilt, rejection and most of all, shame. And finally, two weeks later when you did try to call, the phone didn’t make it three rings before it was sent to voicemail.

So, with growing resentment in your eyes, you turned your phone off completely.

But still, as you stopped seeing him at work, that nagging itch in the back of your mind convinced you to ask around - even begging Hunnigan to assure you that yes, he was still alive in the least.

With that knowledge, you resigned to staring at the dress on your floor. The rumples in your sheets from your unmade bed - having not properly made it since that night. You felt like you were going crazy, biting at your nails and asking question after question to yourself in the silence.

Was he more drunk than you thought?

Did he think it was something else?

Did he regret it - did you ruin something over a one night stand?

The six week mark came and went. You’d finally picked up your dress a week prior, dumping it into a bag for donation, or just garbage, you weren’t quite sure. At this point, that stain was probably cemented into the fabric. You’d gone through a deep cleanse of your room, your apartment, anything to push away the plaguing memories of that night. If Leon wasn’t going to get back in contact with you, you would just have to move on.

Which was, of course, easier said than done.

“Raven two- are you still with me?” The voice in your ear snapped. You cursed, glancing back at the smooth wall in front of you. The questions in your head were starting to follow you everywhere - even into work. You couldn’t help but wonder if you should have been working in the state you were in, but who would accept “My best friend and I slept together and then he disappeared” as an even remotely valid excuse?

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just looking for intel,” you muttered into the piece, picking at your nails, and the bits of dirt catching underneath them. The hallway behind you was long, leading to a sealed door. “There’s a door here that’s locked with a biometric scanner. The name matches our guy though.” You continued to study the panel, lightly running your fingers along the seams until - bingo.

With the edge of your knife, you pried against the gap in the panel, until the screen flew off, falling to the floor with a crack. Within a second, the lights had dimmed, a faint echo of an alarm bleating across invisible speakers. You cursed under your breath, taking a moment to analyze the collection of wires and motherboard looking things beneath the panel.

What the fuck did any of them even mean.

“Fuck it.” You grabbed a handful of wires, and in a final hail mary moment, yanked them all from the panel. The alarm grew to a shriek, though you caught sight of the door shifting, just enough to indicate that the lock had faltered. Honestly, you had no idea how that even worked.

“What the hell is going on in there?” your earpiece rang again. Your operative sounded less than thrilled.

“Well, let’s just say the security in this place is weird,” you huffed, reaching to pry the door open enough to slide into the office. “I made it into Brown’s office though.”

“Good,” she sighed. “From what I can tell they’ve dispatched a team towards the office. You’ve likely got two minutes before you need to be out of there, so get the notes and go.”

You nodded to the empty room, your brows furrowing as the lights within the office continued to flash. A computer was still on, the login information filled in.

How convenient.

You raced over to the computer, snatching a random flash drive from the desk. Clicking the login button, you watched the foreboding circle on the screen as the information loaded, your heart soaring as the desktop flashed into view. Wasting no time, you hit the files tab, plugging in the USB and copying anything, everything that you saw. You filtered through the email tab, copying the most recent files onto the drive as well.

And then, a chorus of voices caught your attention.

As the drive process edged towards completion, you searched through the room again, your attention catching on a door on the opposite wall. Praying that it wasn’t a closet, you ejected the drive, your arms flailing to grab at a pile of file folders, each labelled with three lettered initials. Hopefully they were important; you didn’t have the time to care.

In a haste, you wrenched the door open, and-

“Fuck me.”

It was a closet.

“Harper,” you hissed into your piece, pushing forward between the hanging jackets and a mop handle. “I’m a little stuck in place right now, and I would really appreciate any backup.”

“Where are you?”

“In a broom closet. In Brown’s office.”

You heard a frustrated curse. A chorus of frantic typing on a keyboard before Harper’s voice was back in your ear.

“Okay, hang tight. Kennedy’s on his way.”

Wait.

“Fucking hell,” you cursed, wondering why the world had decided to curse you further in this clusterfuck of a mission. “How far out?”

“Five minutes. He was already on his way to the building.”

???????

You let out a whispered acknowledgment, falling silent as the first voice burst through the room. And then another, and another, until you were counting five low voices, assigning each other different areas to scout.

There was no way you could hide in here. Your free hand fell to the knife at your waist, shifting to the holstered gun along your thigh, and then back to the knife. It was safer.

Better for close combat.

As Harper’s voice echoed “three minutes” into your ear, you heard a shuffle of footsteps halt directly in front of you. You held your breath, unsheathing your knife and loosening your knees into a short crouch.

The door flew open, and you lunged.

The first man let out a shout as you barrelled straight through him, sending him stumbling back off his feet. The four others - plus another surprise attendee - all whirled around to face you, their guns drawn. In a second, you ducked to the side, shuffling yourself behind the computer desk. You gave up on the file folders with a curse, throwing them over the desk towards your attackers.

In the distraction, you unholstered your gun, switching your knife to the other hand and crossing them together. Ducking your head over, you took a shot, hearing a pained cry. You shot again, creeping closer to the side of the desk. If you could sneak your way around and out the door, you could-

“He’s there.”

Another round of gunshots, ringing with that familiar weight, cut through the room. It felt quicker than three minutes, and you couldn’t help but peek your head over the desk.

Leon’s expression was stoic, his brows drawn into a line as he let loose another spray of gunfire. Two men fell to the ground, clutching at their legs. You took the opportunity to shoot out from your position, circling around towards the door. You took a few shots of your own, downing another two attackers as Leon’s arm reached out to force you behind him.

You didn’t waste any time, grabbing his wrist and running from the room.

“Are you okay?” He huffed from beside you, having just barely caught up to your pace. You nodded, not trusting the words in your throat. His hair had gotten longer in the weeks, and there was a new hollowness just below his cheekbones. The sight of him sent a pang of emotion through you, and you chose to ignore it, keeping your expression blank as you raced towards the lab entrance.

Leon called your name as you escaped the building - surprisingly easily as no other security detail came after you. Your back flared, but your feet ignored the will of your mind, turning you to face the agent. With his long hair, wearing that familiar leather jacket and a pair of knitted brows. The sight of him, after those weeks of radio silence, of forcing you to question yourself over, and over again.

You weren’t relieved to see him. There was no spark of joy, no twinge of grief in your heart. You were angry.

“What the fuck do you want, Leon?”

He recoiled at the venom in your voice, his lips tightening further into a frown. You wanted to feel bad, to apologize and reach out for his hand, as you’d done in every argument before. But you couldn’t allow yourself to do that.

Leon cleared his throat.

“You’re bleeding,” was the only thing he said, directing his gaze to your side. You glanced down, taking in the dark, damp spot against the navy fabric of your shirt. The pain in your side didn’t even flare up until you pressed a hand to the wound, a sharp breath hissing between your teeth. Leon stumbled forward a step, his arm stretching out, until you caught his gaze, and he faltered.

It was quiet for a moment, the dull throb in your side beginning to grow in intensity. Leon’s gaze fell to the side, his teeth catching his bottom lip. If you had to hazard a guess, he looked angry, but you couldn’t tell why.

“Just get me out of here,” you breathed, after another moment of silence between you two.

—

You didn’t let Leon come with you into the infirmary, much to his vocal protest. You received a visit from Ingrid, her expression remaining mostly concerned, though her lips held a tight line, and some prodding got her to admit that the agent had mercilessly been pestering her regarding your wellbeing.

Why now?

You remained steadfast, refusing to confront him and allow yourself to fall back into whatever spell had prompted this whole disaster in the first place. You wallowed, you caught yourself staring at his contact in your phone. You listened to the low, muffled timbre of his voice outside your room and fought the urge to call him in, face the time, the distance that’d been placed between you two. You forced a wall up, defensive and as strong as you could muster.

You kept that wall up for five days. And then Ingrid decided she’d had enough.

You were leaning against the bed, packing up your few personal items to take home when the door opened, signaling Ingrid’s arrival.

“Hey - do you think we could stop at a drive thru on the way? I swear to god I need an actual meal-”

You shut right up as Leon Kennedy stumbled into your room, looking like a feral cat as he shrugged Ingrid’s hands off his shoulders. Her gaze found yours, unrelenting as she gestured between the two of you.

“Change of plans. Leon’s driving you home. Figure out whatever the fuck is going on between you two or I swear to god I am leaving you to die on your next missions,” she hissed, slamming the door shut without another word.

You all but shriveled into ash, your throat tightening as the man that had plagued your mind for the past two months scowled at the wall. He rolled his shoulders, biting the inside of his cheek as his gaze slowly, sloooooowly found yours.

“What have you been doing here, Leon?” you finally sighed.

“You need to be more careful.”

You huffed. “Noted. As if you have any right to tell me that. I’ll ask again: what are you doing here?”

“If I hadn't shown up, who knows what could have happened.”

“Leon-”

“You know, you’d most likely be dead!” His voice grew in pitch, his gaze growing harder as he took a step towards you. You took a step back.

“Leon-”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you that reckless,” he hissed.

“Well, what the hell do you think caused that?” you shouted. Leon’s mouth finally snapped shut. His jaw clenched, his gaze falling away from yours.

“You can’t just disappear for six weeks and-” you cut off with a hissed curse, reaching for the sudden flare of pain in your side. Leon’s arm shot out, and against your better judgement, you stepped away from it, holding a hand out to stop him. You watched him wince.

“You can’t just do that to me and pretend everything’s fine, Leon,” you finished. He looked hurt, his hand coming up to cover his face under the facade of brushing a stray hair away from his eyes. And the silence between you grew for a long moment.

“I know,” he finally breathed, his voice clipping at the end of its sentence. When you spared him a glance, you noticed the tightness of his fists, his nails digging hard into his palm as his gaze remained unfocused against the floor. You swallowed against the lump in your throat, forcing the words out from your lips.

“Did I do something wrong?” you asked, and his gaze snapped back to yours in a moment. Before he could get a word out, you were talking again. “Did I take advantage of you? Because I swear, I thought you were fully coherent. Hell, I’ve seen you in a much worse state without any problems, but maybe I read into something and I forced your hand and-”

Leon’s hands found your shoulders, and you physically jerked out of your thoughts. You watched his face twist into something that looked like pain as his hands flew off of you with a muttered apology.

“You didn’t do anything wrong, I swear,” he muttered. “I did everything wrong. I just…”

You waited. And he took a breath.

“Let’s get you home.”

You let his words balance on your tongue, your gaze slipping away from him. Your brain felt like mush, both relieved and disappointed. Overall, entirely unsure of what to think. So, with a silent nod, you let him slip your bag over his shoulder, his hand hovering over your shoulder as he led you out of the infirmary and to his car.

God, you’d missed his car.

The door shut behind you, and you immediately noticed your chapstick, still settled in the second cupholder between the seats. His bags were still strewn across the backseat, along with one of your old hoodies, the only neatly folded item on the seat. Leon flicked on the radio as he drove home, keeping the volume low enough that it almost blended with the noise of the car along the road.

You recognized the song, something you used to sing to your curtains at night. Something about a fancy dress, bought for a single person.

You reached across the dashboard to switch the radio station.

Throughout the drive, you made too much effort to sneak some glances at him. He looked tense, his grip on the wheel almost as tight as his jaw. He had that familiar knot in his brows that told you of the racing thoughts in his own head. And every once in a while, you’d catch him as he snapped his attention back to the road.

By the time you arrived at your home, you’d actually tired yourself out trying to analyze his thoughts.

Leon parked the car, glancing towards your front door. Though it wasn’t dark, the moment felt familiar. The awkward silence, the silence that thickened the air. So, before it could get too reminiscent, you practically threw yourself out the car door.

Leon was on his feet as you shut the door, looking over the roof of the car to meet your gaze. He’d already reached to grab your bag, hoisting it over his shoulder.

“Can I help you bring this in?”

You fucking hated this distance between the two of you.

“Do you want to come in?”

Leon barely hesitated - only enough for his shoulders to relax - before he nodded, circling around the car to follow you into your home.

You shut the door, directing Leon to just drop your bag by the pile of stuff in the hall, before you trudged over to the couch, falling into the comfort of the cushions. He sat next to you, much closer than you would have expected. You spent a long moment staring into space, mustering up the words you needed to say before finally letting out a heavy sigh.

“Why did you disappear for two months? And then why did you show up? Why did I have to listen to you outside of my hospital room? Why did you leave in the first place?”

As you asked them, your questions didn’t seem to stop, and Leon seemed to pick up on the increasing urgency in your voice as he caught your hand, rubbing a circle along your knuckles because he knew it would calm you down. You wanted to pull away from it, to keep that fiery wind in your sails before your resolve completely crumbled. Yet as you started to pull away, his grip tightened on your hand, a sharp breath sounding from his lips.

“I don’t know,” he admitted, his own nose scrunching as he thought. “I thought I ruined something, that maybe I took advantage of you and ruined things.”

“So why not just talk about it?” you pressed. “I mean, we’ve seen each other through much worse.”

Leon was quiet. (I’m about to hit you with the cheesiest fucking line known to man)

“I mean, what could be worse than fucking that up and losing you?”

There was a strong wave of pure feeling that crashed through your chest. Something that felt like grief, like adoration. It felt like pain and bliss all tied up together in a bow. It was like you were teetering at the edge of a cliff and something in his words had just anchored at you. But at the same time, it felt like you were watching each other crumble apart next to each other.

Without any warning, you burst into tears.

Leon’s breath caught in his throat as you flew into him, wrapping your arms tight around his neck and pulling him as close as possible. He was trembling, his own arms wrapping around your waist, as he buried his nose into your shoulder.

It was rare to see this kind of emotion from him. His voice was trembling, and his grip on your waist was tight enough that you wondered if he was scared to let go. Those walls you’d watched him carefully craft over the years crumbled right in front of you, and your heart couldn’t help but swell at the outpouring of those emotions he’d locked up for so long.

“Can you forgive me for running away?” he asked. Pleaded, really. His eyes grew wider in your silence. A part of you wanted to wash away the past weeks, draw him right back into your arms without another battle. The smaller, more bitter part of you wanted to keep arguing, to show him just how much he’d hurt you.

But this was Leon. He was your closest friend…. And he was looking at you without any defense in his gaze. He held only sincerity, if not a little bit of fear as he waited. You’d been more honest with him than anyone else, and in a moment you simply knew with utmost confidence he would offer you the same. So you asked.

“What did that night mean to you?” you asked, fighting against the tightness in your chest for volume. As you pulled away to face him head on, his gaze softened. His lips twitching in the first smile you’d seen in months.

“You said you bought that dress for me,” he started, his gaze unwavering. “And I swear I saw heaven. I meant every word I said. And I want you. I want to be with you.”

The words were simple, but they made your heart soar.

“You’re my person,” you muttered. “Always.”

And Leon let out a huge breath, his eyes falling shut and his shoulders sagging before he surged upwards to kiss you.

When he kissed you, it felt like he craved you, like he couldn’t live without the feeling of your lips against his. He held you tight, his fingers digging softly into your back. You let your own hands curl into his shirt, your lips parting just enough for his tongue to prod against the seam.

Leon broke away from you for barely a second before he kissed you again, soft and so tender that you felt like glass about to shatter. Your thumb brushed against his cheekbone, feeling the warmth of his skin, the tickle of his hair, simply reassuring yourself that he was actually there in front of you.

He pulled you close, closer than you could even have thought possible, his hands curling into your shirt. When he finally pulled away from you, his forehead resting against your collarbone, his breath shook. Your shirt grew damp, and your arms tightened around him.

“Y’know how much I missed you, you fucking dumbass?” you sighed, and Leon let out a weak chuckle. He lifted his head slowly, his nose barely brushing against your jaw as you found those ever familiar baby blues of his.

“I think I have some idea,” he whispered with a short grin.

And you kissed him again.

TAGGING:

@chaosandbubbles @obsessedwithtoomanythings @navstuffs

#leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #resident evil x reader #leon s kennedy x reader

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mediocre-quill-ink · 10 months

Text

Sarcasm

Gavin × reader enemies to lovers pt 1

Content: lots of swearing, two (2) furby references, a little violence, gender neutral pronouns, but use of "good girl" in one part. Connor is readers' best friend, reader is also a hot head, cringe come backs, I don't know how police work works.

Gavins fucking smirk

A shit eating grin spread across Gavins face as he laughed about whatever he and his friend were talking about, whatever it was it was funny enough for gavin to slam his hand against the table a couple of times too. God can he be quiet for one fucking second?

My jaw clenched looking at him.

Gavin fucking Reed. The office shit head. Honestly, what can't I say about him. Loud, rude, perverted, and generally just safety hazard. He walks around like he owns the fucking place and dosnt give two shits about people. Partners coming and going like a rotating door, I can only imagine why.

His friend, I often forget her name, gives him a smile before what looks like warm goodbyes followed by her walking out of the break room. I've never really gotten to know her. At first glance, she looks like a decent person, maybe even someone I'd hang out with, but if she's such chums with Gavin, then I can't imagine how she must be like. As his smile faded, he took a final sip of coffee, paper cup crushing in his hand shortly after before he finally tries to throw the trash in the metal garbage basket. He misses.

I couldn't help but let a snicker slip between my lips. he suddenly turned his attention to me, eyes narrowing. His expression hardens almost immediately as he walks over to pick up the crumpled up paper coffee cup and drop it in the trash. "Fucking great shot." I whispered to myself, suppressing a smile as I looked back at my work, trying to focus on the case in front of me.

The computer displayed a file about a recent robbery, a man decided to rob his friends home because he didn't pay him back. Not only did he break and enter to get his money back, but he stole various other items from the house. Mostly items of value like jewelry but also strange random stuff like packs of gum and a furby? In all honesty, I couldn't blame him, but it was strange non the less.

I pulled out my note pad, jotting down important details, occasionally throwing in my own theories for motivation.

My pencil skid across the paper as something heavy bumped into my desk. I quickly looked up to be met with narrow brown eyes "y/n." Gavin spat. "Reed." I shot back

He pressed his palm onto my desk, trying to take a more relaxed pose, though he still looked ridged. "wanna tell me what you were laughing at?" He demanded rather than questioned. A small smile cracked on my face again, thinking about it. I quickly forced it to disappear. "Oh, nothing. you're a star shooter, maybe even have a chance on the NBA. Though... you would have to be a bit taller." I quipped, the smile I was suppressing slipping back on my face. The palm that sat relaxed on my desk tightened, fingers flexed in uncomfortable forms. "You think you're so fucking smart-"

"not really. Just better."

His tongue stabbed his cheek, looking around the room with a fake impressed face. "Oh! Oh, you think you're better?" Gavin snickered quietly, looking at whoever was walking by as he spoke."They think they are better than me! Ooo!"

My lip curled in disgust. Absolutely childish. I fought off, rolling my eyes to no success. "Well then, tell me how. How are you better?" I opened my mouth to speak, but then he cut me off. "Go on, tell me. How." My brows frowed for a second before breathing in to speak, and he once again cut me off. "How?" I squinted at him slightly, opening my mouth, and he did it again. "Go on. say something." His eyes held a knowing look, a smile slowly creeping on his face. I just stared at him, jaw clenched, a warm rage shooting through my veans. He nodded slowly. "That's what I thought." He whispered. Tapping my desk, and gave me that fucking. Smile. "Eat shit, Reed." I spat. He clicked his tongue at me and winked. "Aww, love you too." He hummed sarcastically. Finally walking away, stuffing his hands in his jacket pockets.

My head began to sting as a sudden headache washed over me. All the focus I had on my case disappeared, placing my hands on my head, I sucked in a deep breath, the pain taking over my skull. I pulled open a drawer at my desk, looking for my mini bottle of aspirin. Rummaging my hand around, I realized to my dismay that I ran out two weeks ago and I forgot to get a new one. Fuck. I shot a glance at gavins desk, he sat relaxed, scrolling on his phone, feet propped up on his desk, one foot tapping to a nonexistent rythem. The headache grew worse, a small groan escaping my lips.

I flenched as a hand rested on my shoulder. I quickly spun around, in doing so, ripping the hand off me,to see Connor, looking down at me with a soft expression. "Sorry to disturb you, detective l/n. I just came to check on you. I noticed your stress levels were higher than normal, are you alright?" He quirked his head slightly. I let out a low sigh, out of relief and frustration. "Yeah, I just- Gavins being... Gavin." I mumbled. "I think he gave me a fucked head ache, too." Connor nodded, his gaze falling over to Gavins desk. "What did he do this time?" He asked calmly. I groaned at the fresh memory. "He was being an immature brat." Connor hummed in response "ah so nothing new." He shot me a soft smile. I huffed a laugh in response. "Nothing new." I agreed, small smile spending across my lips.

Hours passed, and I finally finished my work, getting ready to leave. I grabbed my things, sliding my phone and other items on my pockets. A sense of relief washed over me when i realized my head ache finally disappeared.

I walked over to Connors desk, and he was already prepared to leave, patiently standing as he waited for Hank to gather his things. "Wanna do anything today, Connor?" I asked, pulling out my phone to look for any local events happening. Connor and I usually hang out every Thursday, something we sorted out once Connor deviated. He said it made him feel more human, and i loved hanging out with him, so who am i to deny him such luxurys. "I was hoping we could go to a bar. I haven't had a drink in a while, and I've been craving a nice cocktail." I offered. "Maybe. I thought it'd be fun to attend a dog show. There's an event happening in an hour just a few miles away." Connor stated.

A smile cracked on my face. "Decisions, decisions." I tisked, slipping my phone back in my pocket. "How about we go to the dog show and then the bar?" I offered. The android nodded in agreement. "we can do that." I nodded back, then turned to Hank. "wanna join us?" Hank shook his head, flicking his hand in dismissal. "No, you kids have fun. I just wanna sit around my house today." I sat my fists on my hips and replied,"Not even for the bar?" At that hank let out an almost frustrated sigh. "I'd love to, but Connor made me promise I'd cut back on drinking."

I glanced over at connor for a moment, who stayed neutral before looking back at Hank. "Huh. Well, I'm proud you're sticking to that, see you later, Hank." I replied, waving to Hank as I started to leave. "I'm only doing it cause connor will never shut up about it. Don't be so proud." He grumbled, patting down his pants for keys. "Mmm hmm, bye hank!" I called again, exiting the department.

Connor sat with perfect posture in the plastic fold out chair next to mine. The auditorium was filled with bustling voices, most excited for the upcoming dog show but behind us I could hear some whispering voices.

"Are they with an android?"

"Do you think they are dating it?"

"Wouldn't surprise me. Everyone's doing it now a days."

"I know, what has humanity come to?"

I tensed at the hushed gossiping behind us, glancing over at connor. He returned a confused look. I shrugged, baffled, not knowing what to say. We weren't dating, never have, and I didn't really have plans to, connor and I were nothing more than good friends, but even if we were, I didn't see the big deal. "Are you alright?" Connor muttered, leaning in slightly. I nodded, glancing around briefly. "I'm fine, are you fine?" He gave a single nod, smiling softly. "I hear enough anti-android speech, I'm fine." My jaw dropped slightly. "That response doesn't comfort me, connor." I breathed. He leaned back into his seat, nodding over to me. "I'm fine. If you want to talk about it, we can do that after the show." I sighed, bringing my attention back to the bordered off center of the gymnasium. A woman appeared with a microphone in her hand, introducing the show.

"Hello everyone ! Welcome to the..."

As she spoke, I replied to connor, "No, it's alright, we don't have to."

"Yes! Thank you!" I groaned, taking a sip from my martini. Connor and I were deep in conversation. "The bull territor should have won! It was so obedient! And so cute! And- and- it's tricks were so well done and timed and ... dude, I'm so mad." Connor nodded in agreement. "I'm very upset as well. Either the bull territor or the corgi." He was leaning against the bar counter, I always felt awkward taking connor to bars and restaurants because he couldn't eat. I often felt rude because of it. I've caught myself offering my own drink or meal to him and then immediately becoming intensely embarrassed.

"The corgi? I mean, she was good, but that husky, rot willer thing was better." Connor shook his head in disagreement "no he wasn't! His routine was sloppy!" My eyes widened."Sloppy?? It was graceful! And adorable!"

Before I could finish my thoughts, a new objective came to mind. I sighed. "I'll be back, I gotta go take a piss." I grumbled. Connor just nodded in response. I quickly hopped off the bar stool, walking past the arrangement of dining tables filled with people eating greasy burgers and dry chicken fingers, squeezing behind patrons playing pool under warm yellow lights. Suddenly, I was knocked back, spinning around. I bumped into someone leaving the men's restroom. Forcing a startled yelp out of me. "Oh my god! I'm sorry, are you okay?" I turned around, disoriented to see a familiar pair of brown eyes staring back at me.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" Gavin asked anger and shock laced into his voice. My eyes widened. No fucking way. "I'd ask you the same thing." He stepped closer to me, tilting his head slightly "I was trying to relax and have a good fucking time until you showed up." I stared at connor, a sudden wave of fear stinging in my chest. I can deal with Gavin on my own, but Connor has told me about the awful shit he's tried on him. I don't want to know what kind of scene Gavin would cause if he knew he was here. He noticed my split attention and followed my gaze, looking at the android, idely sitting on the bar stool with patience. "And you brought the fucking plastic prick? God, I knew you were lonely, but I at least expected you to hire a hooker or something, not bring the human shaped furby."

My blood turned to fire, fist clenching tight to my thigh. "Reed, you're so noxious, not even a furby could talk to you, and they are one of the most basic robotic toys." He rolled his eyes. "That's the best you could come up with?" He hissed, almost smiling. "I don't need to be clever when you're the biggest joke in the whole bar." At that, his face went red, he snached my wrist, pulling me so close I could feel his breath on my face, he smelled of cigarettes. "Got any more little quips?" His grip was tight around my wrist, eyes boring into me.

My breath began to shake. He was always a ball of rage, but this was the first time he got physical with me. I swallowed hard, trying to keep my courage. He simply hummed, a pleased smile spreading across his face. "That's right, quiet." He lulled. A sudden warmth spread across his cheeks, my heart skipping a beat. He was so close, so warm... No. No! I can't think that shit about Gavin. He's Gavin fucking reed!

His messy hair hung over his face slightly, framing his features in a way I never really observed. His eyes as intimidating as they were were also gorgeous, hot coffee colors burning holes in my face. His lips were... Was he kind of... handsome?

My vision went white

My hand stung with sudden force. As I opened my eyes, vision clear, I just realized I slapped him. His face will plastered with shock, a red mark quickly appearing on his cheek. The outline of my hand singed into his stubbled face. Once I realized what I've done, Gavins' expression started to change. What ever shock he had melted away into something more unsettling. His brows arched, nose crinkled, teeth slightly bared. "You bastard!" He quickly realed back his arm and I braced for impact, moving my hands up to cover my face.

And waited

The impact never came. I opened my eyes to see Connor standing next to gavin now, a firm grip on his wrist. Gavins hand was curled into a fist. "I would advise you dont do that." Connor stated firmly, his expression hardened.

Gavins jaw clenched, nostrils flaired and used his other arm to sock Connor in his stomach. Connor flenched, wavering slightly as his knees buckled. Not falling, but his stance was no longer ferm enough to hold onto Gavin.

He quickly snapped back to me, grabbing me by the collar of my shirt and yanking me twords him. His breath was hot against my skin. "Get. out." Was all he stated. My breath began to tremble, and he shoved me back with force, pointing at the door. "And take that aluminum peice of shit with you!" I could feel myself shaking. Not just from fear but from rage. I clenched my fist, taking in deep breaths, and walked over to connor, grabbing his arm. "Come on, the human sewage is starting to make me nauseous."

I could feel all eyes on me as i dragged connor out of the restaurant, whispers and mutters, filling the air. a wave of heat washed over me, embarrassment pricking at my neck. Among the eyes and disembodied voices, one set stuck out to me. An almost burning sensation on the back of my head, I knew it was Gavin watching with pride as I ran away. Running away like I always do. Why can I never finish the fight? A single voice, though the muddied whispers, stuck out to me. "That's right, walk away like a good girl."

Connor, now caught up with my pace, pushed open the glass door in front of us. I could feel my face turn warm from rage. I wanted to turn around and sprint at Gavin and knock his teeth out with full force. But Connor simply tugged at my arm, swaying me enough to follow him out the bar.

I stepped out, a mix of shame, rage, and a new sense of... aroused confusion all pummeling at my stomach. As I turned around, looking into the restaurant for a final time and all the way in the back I could see gavin standing with his arms crossed, wearing that fucking smirk.

Pt 2

#dbh #detroit become human #dbh gavin #gavin reed #gavin reed x reader #gavin reed x oc #gavin reed enimes to lovers #enimes to lovers #dbh fanfiction #gavin x reader dbh

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tabdabble · 2 years

Photo

I empathize with the existential terror puppet Spamton G. Spampton a normal amount and for only comical reasons.

Why is his suit so big? It’s full of secretsTrash.

[Image ID: A 3-panel comic featuring Spamton G. Spamton from the video game Delatrune. All text is glitched and written with numbers, but here I will write them legibly.

Panel 1: Spamton is sitting in his cobbled-together store at his ‘desk’ (an upended cardboard box). There is a computer mouse nibbling at one of the box flaps, and a sheet of heart stickers half-used, three of which have been stuck to various places on the box. The box features text from Spamton’s store menu screen in-game, such as a list of items and prices, a description of one item, and the words “Deals so good I’ll [$!$$] myself! 116 K“. In the center of the box front is written “SPAMSHOP, Welcome! Open 25/7″ in crooked writing. Finally, there is the option to “Run Away” to leave the shop menu. Behind Spamton is a wall of bricks painted loosely to resemble a blue sky with clouds and a bright yellow sun. At the right, the wall falls away to reveal a black rotary phone sitting in a pillar of light on a stool. Upon the desk rests a large, blue egg. Spamton is sitting with his shoulders back and his hands held before him with fingers outstretched and interlaced. His suit is obviously with padded shoulders and several holes and patches. He sports a small red bowtie and his hair is in a luxurious swoosh to feathery ends. Spamton resembles a ventriloquist dummy with red cheek circles, very long teeth, and a much longer, pointier nose. He is wearing glasses with oblong frames of a bright yellow and pale red, and his pupils are large and pointing in opposite directions. His smile is huge, and his teeth are slightly parted. It is not clear if he’s paying attention to anything in particular. Around the panel are black boxes with white pixelated texts including “Kromer” in front of Spamton’s face, “Hot Singles in your area!” on the left, “Hyperlink blocked” above his head, “Where are my ****ing [Custom and Replacement Keys open 24/7!]” at the bottom right, and finally a small text box stating “Pipis.”, with an arrow pointing to the large egg.

Panel 2: Spamton fills the frame, and is hunched over with his fingers interlocked more tightly, with his index fingers together pointing upwards, resting against the front of his teeth. We can see at this distance that his wrists, hands, and fingers are jointed like a doll or mannequin. He is shadowed starkly, throwing his face into a darker shade. His glasses are perfectly circular, and lit from the inside as their lenses are filled with a glitching .gif texture. His smile is not as cheerful looking as panel 1. Around him are many instances of black pixelated texts, which are glitched and written in numbers but will be written more plainly here:

I work so [Rare, Hard-to-find treasures, only at-] but I’m still in the [Garbage? We’ll haul it away for you!] What else could I be [Doing only the best work!] If everyone doesn't buy my [Carefully crafted and completely unique] [Pipis], they must be [Trash! Trash everywhere!] I’m so [Tired of ads? Block now for only 9.99 an hour!] I [Prey vs. Predator special, only on Animal Planet] so hard. Can anyone [At Ken Garth we hear you!] me? Do I [Deserve only the best!] this? Do intentions change [Anything and everything on sale this weekend!] Am I a [Michael Jackson’s new hit single Bad] person? [Is God real? Call [hyperlink blocked] for answers!] Does [God] hate me? I am in so much [It Burns! Ow! Stop! Help Me! It Burns!] The phone is now very close to Spamton over his left shoulder, and much more detailed. Across it are several blocks of texts that are “Don’t look at the phone” without spaces and over and over and over, eventually trailing off into “H”’s and the number 5 repeated many times. Finally, at the base of the panel in much larger text, is “Can anyone [-we hear you!] me?

Panel 3: Panel 3 resembles panel one, but Spamton’s face is now glitching, apparently duplicated over the first drawing, and his pupils are much smaller as he stares somewhere in the distance. Despite his smile, he seems quite alarmed. The text on the box “Run Away” has been duplicated to cover “Welcome!” as well as the list of items. The only black-with-white-text box left is in front of Spamton’s stretched-open mouth: an “A” in brackets, stretched so that it no longer fits in the black text box.

End of ID.]

Non-gif second image under cut:

#spamton #deltarune #spamton g. spamton #my art #fanart #image id

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sio-writes · 1 year

Text

Botanist's Guide - Chapter 12

<<Chapter 11 (NSFW)

<<< Chapter 1

Summary: Cassandra Rowland, PhD, finally has the chance to work on an experiment that really matters: growing Earth crops on another planet. Too many overdue reports and marked failures have put her in hot water with the board, and this is her last chance at redemption. So when she finds herself railroaded by a seven foot tall, glowing alien named Kri, it won’t be as easy as sticking some seeds in the soil and running them under the tap. Tack on the looming repossession of her lab contingent on her success in Kri’s reports, and Cassie realizes she may have her work cut out for her.

Looking into the microscope I see exactly what I should be seeing: The box-like cell structure of a plant, no different than one I'd see on Earth. It's sage, so crushing it between the slides released it's earthy aroma, and now my whole station smells like the greenhouse, but that's not a complaint.

Mutations are non-existent, cell walls look good, chlorophyll is bright green. I check off the Salvia officinalis box on my laptop as well as transfer any notes from my head to the computer, and then I pick up the next slide.

Lactuca Satvia, iceberg lettuce, also looks like every slide I've made. No mutations, it's bright green that fades into a white at the stalk, and if it weren't currently doing a job for science, I'd definitely add it to a salad. I note it down right next to the sage, humming something off-key as I do. Maybe I'll grab a salad for lunch.

There's only a few more slides to go through, I'm making great time today. My mp3 player crapped out on me, a victim of getting slammed against the wall the other day. I have a little funeral planned, which just consists of putting her into the garbage cube-maker thing. If I had funeral music to play I would, but…well.

It's absence has left the lab deathly silent, but I think my coworkers are thankful for it. At least, no one's said otherwise. The change in pace has kept me focused, a good thing for today with so much technical work to get done. Staying on task is my number one priority.

And Jillie won't stop staring at me.

All day now, she's been throwing me glances, flat out staring me down, she even sent a paper note over. I've been pointedly ignoring her in favor of digging into my work, with huge success on my end. I'm apparently very good at my job when I'm avoiding something else.

I'd tried the silent treatment when the door first opened-- two hours later!-- but once she started crying I felt too bad to keep up the charade. Then she'd shoved these nasty granola bars and an ice-cold water in my face, and I ate only to appease her and not because I'd skipped dinner to head back to the lab in the first place. Besides, a few minutes of pretending to be mad told her what I needed it to, and it was about all I could handle anyway. She's my friend, I can't be mad at her for trying to hook me up. But I can pretend to withhold the information to torture her for a few days. Just a little.

The first day back had been the worst of her prying. Kri had decided to keep up his schedule of only showing up once a week, giving her permission to blabber away.

"So. Is it big?"

"Hand me the pipettes, please."

"Aw come on! At least tell me if he was good!"

"Pipettes. Please."

But Kri is here today, thank god, so her barrage of questions has stopped for now.

Eventually I will share, because I want to, but Kri and I didn't actually talk about anything. He didn't wake me up after ten minutes like I'd asked him to, instead the shrill metal of the door sliding open is what woke me up. And then Jillie rushed in with her terrible food, and we all went home. It felt particularly anti-climactic compared to the heated confession and fucking.

Part of me is hopeful, but it's nearly drowned out by the cynic in me. Until we parted ways, Kri kept constant contact with me-- a steadying hand on my back, an arm around my waist, and once, for a glorious moment as Jillie walked out ahead of us, he interlaced our hands together and squeezed my fingers. I think my heart actually leapt into my throat, and then he was walking away without a goodbye.

It's left this…whatever we have going, undefined and hazy. We exchanged pleasantries this morning, but that was all, and it's been nothing but work since. I'm not picking up any anger or malice, but it's also awkward as hell, especially with an extra set of blue eyes watching my every move. "Ignore us Jill, but hey Kri, remember when we fucked? That was great, wanna do it again? On a regular basis?"

It's not like I can call or text him, I don't have a phone that connects to Summanus' sat-system. Just the chunky brick they gave at landing that connects to the handful of satellites we ground out of the military's original plan. I don't know where Kri lives, either, and they don't have any kind of directory in English. But it's not like Kri's made any moves either, and he actually knows where I live.

I sigh through my nose as I prep the next set of slides. Maybe I'm making excuses, flimsy reasons to keep this going as a casual thing instead of what I'd hoped it would be, what I want it to be. But we need to talk, hands down. Because not knowing is driving me crazy.

Stealing a glance at Kri is easy, just pretend to hold the slide to the light. I simultaneously want to catch his attention as well as have him keep ignoring me so I can keep staring like a creep. There's things I hadn't picked up on before, small details. The line of his shoulders, the angles of his wings. He's still so pretty under the lights with the flecks of opalescent color in his plating, but it feels like I'm seeing him in an entirely new light. Has something in my brain switched?

The cosmos grants me a favor when Jillie walks to the bathroom. Immediately, I step away from my desk and towards Kri.

"Hey," I say.

I probably should've thought of something to say.

"Hello," he says, resting his hands on his lap and giving me his full attention. "Is everything alright?"

I fidget with my coat, trying not to remember how it felt to take off for him. "Can we--Can we talk?"

He glances sideways at the bathroom door, then back to me. "Right now?"

I've come to realize that Kri isn't cagey like I once thought, he's just intensely private. He doesn't broadcast things, doesn't offer information like I do, isn't loud or boisterous. He flies under the radar a lot, and I think it's on purpose.

"Later," I assure him. "Later-- um, do you wanna-- I mean, would you mind, maybe--"

As I talk and fidget, Kri stands from his chair and steps up to me. He grabs my face gently between two hands, and tilts my head up to his, both thumbs tracing lines over my cheeks.

"Would you like to talk over dinner?"

"That's a--" I clear my throat, and Kri's eyes crinkle as he smiles. "Sounds great."

His fingers are soft and warm, thumbs tracing over my cheek again, and his gaze falls to my lips.

Nothing's been set in stone, but this, and the reminder of everything else, makes me want something solid. Something real, tangible.

I've tried to think about what I want to say, but I've never been good at stringing words together. I'm more a woman of action than speaking, I'd rather just push Kri against the desk and kiss him until my lips bleed.

We lean closer together, almost kissing, until the sound of a soft 'ahem' makes us jump apart, and we both turn to the source of the noise. In the doorway, Jillie has the biggest, shit-eating grin on her face.

My jaw works on several starting noises, but none make their way out. I wind up looking like a fish.

She holds up her hands, placating. "Hey don't let me interrupt." And sits back at the countertop as if nothing happened.

Heat rises to my cheeks, even more so when I hear Kri softly chuckle behind me as he steps back to sit down. I grumble back to my desk, and Jillie's pointed looks burns a hole through my spine. But we work through the next thirty minutes without issue. It's boring as shit, and the tension in the air makes my leg bounce up and down.

After a few more minutes of tense silence, I'm ready to burst. I'm going to explode.

"I'm holding a funeral for Emmie."

The two of them look to me, but their expressions couldn't be further apart. Kri looks shocked, genuinely concerned that I have a deceased friend, and Jillie's look is flat, very much done with my shit.

"Your mp3 player, really Cass?"

Kri's expression resolves into understanding, and then falls to match Jillie's. "Hardly grounds for a funeral."

I chew on my bottom lip and stare at the floor. "Yeah the, uh, the screen cracked." I pull Emmie out of my back pocket, where she usually lives, and display her in my cupped palms like a baby bird. Behind Jillie, Kri sucks in a breath, but says nothing. Jillie either doesn't notice or doesn't care, because she scoffs, smiling.

"You're so dramatic."

I pocket Emmie again, my brows pinching in mock-offense. "She was a member of this family!"

"It was outdated before your grandparents were born!"

"She was reliable," I hold my hand to my heart, and wipe away a tear. "Three thousand songs, no internet required. Now I have to find something else."

"God forbid you talk to us instead."

I hold my sordid expression. "No one here understands me."

"You listen to your sad music too much, hun."

"It is rather whiny," Kri chimes in, and I shoot him a dirty look over Jillie's shoulder. He shrugs.

"You're both bullies, I'm putting in for a transfer," I say very mildly as I grab the next slides.

"Good," Jillie sniffs. "You can smooch it up in someone else's lab."

As slowly and dramatically as possible, I turn to her. "I'm sorry, who stuck us in a room for three hours?"

"Two, you drama queen."

"At least Kri likes me," I say and Jillie shoves my shoulder.

"One of us has to."

Our shoulders shake as we hold back laughter, and for the first time all day, I feel light. Like a seal has been broken and released all the pressure in the room.

Jillie doesn't stare at me anymore, instead she focuses her efforts on the experiment, and even hums a few songs to break up the silence. We hit a flow again, something that's been sorely lacking the past few weeks, and zoom through the required tests. Despite the crushing quiet, it's been nice to sink into a routine that we both know, stepping around each other like a dance.

I keep my eye-contact down to a minimum, because my thoughts will scatter to the wind again. And it's hard enough reigning them in even when I'm focusing on my work. Looking at Kri only makes me think of the other day, and then what may happen later. It opens up a question that I desperately need an answer to, but won't get until later. But I need it now, and the anxiety of not knowing is ramping up my anxiety to a twelve.

We all break for lunch, the three of us walking to the cafeteria. Jillie and I snag a booth with our food, and Kri splits off. I look around to see if I can find him in the mess that is the food prep stations, but I don't see him. He chose to eat by himself those first few days, a habit that carried over even when Jillie was out sick, but I wish he'd sit with us now.

Turning back to the booth, I accidentally make eye-contact with Jillie. The flame of curiosity is back in her eyes, and I shrink down in my seat. I suppose it's time to end her suffering.

"This is killing me," she says. "Are you guys a thing now?"

She looks so excited, so hungry to hear about everything. I push out a sigh. "I have no idea. We didn't talk about it."

Leaning back, Jillie's face falls into an impressed expression, and I fail to suppress a responding smile. Jillie slaps her palms on the table and barks out a laugh. "I knew it!"

"Shush!" I hiss, reaching over as if the motion would quiet her. "Not so loud."

Jillie's eyes are glittering as she reaches for my hands across the table. "You have to tell me everything."

In as many words, I try to surmise the evening, from the fight to falling asleep, with Jillie interjecting with questions every now and then. Some details I keep to myself, I'm allowed some secrets, but Jillie's my best friend. We try to eat in between, but eventually wind up setting down our food to focus on conversation.

I finish with her opening the door, and she squeezes my hands. "So where should I disinfect? The countertop? The floor? The shower in the bathroom?"

"He held me against the wall," I say, pulling my bottom lip between my teeth.

"Ooh, standing?"

I shake my head, and her look of realization is priceless.

"You have to tell me how big he is."

I groan to the ceiling. "I wish I knew. I couldn't see it."

"Then you gotta look again, hun!"

Leaning back, I grab my water bottle and take a swig. "He did invite me to dinner."

Jillie nods sagely. "You're definitely gonna get some tonight, then."

I open the wrapper for my salad and mull it over as I pour the dressing on. "I don't know if I want to. At least not tonight. I was hoping we'd talk instead."

"Talk?"

I nod. "We didn't do much talking-- shut up-- so now I don't know what this is. Friends-with-benefits? Something serious? And what do I even want? What does he want from me? What is he--"

"Cass, calm down. Nothing's happened yet."

"That's the problem! I don't know what's going on."

Jillie scrunches her face, her head falling to one side. "Then ask him?"

I plop my cheek into my palm, squishing my face on one side. "Not like we've had time."

Jillie offers me a sympathetic look. "Maybe you need to be more upfront. Instead of making out while I'm in the bathroom, you have a little chit-chat. I can disappear for a while."

"We already agreed on dinner," I say, smiling.

"You sure?" She raises her eyebrows. "You just say the word, and I'm gone for fifteen to twenty minutes."

I shake my head again, filled with warmth that she's so insistent. I am anxious about it, but things can wait. It's not worth putting the experiment on hold for. Besides, the lab is hardly a romantic setting to have a serious conversation.

With a deciding nod, Jillie starts to clean her space, and I'm short to follow behind. The rest of the day runs as planned, no interruptions. Jillie stays in her seat, and I'm not thrown into a panic.

I'm actually looking forward to dinner with Kri. The restaurants here are okay, and there's even a few with that warm, low, romantic lighting that's perfect for dates. And honestly, I'm more excited to spend time with Kri. A small, girlish part of me wants to go home to freshen up, make myself look nice instead of the lab rat I must resemble.

All three of us head out of the building, Jillie heading west, Kri and I heading south. The restaurants are all in the northern quadrant by the Capitalism District, there's none in this direction. The only thing this way is housing.

I fake nonchalance as we walk. "So, where're we headed?"

"The…" he trails off, frowning and speaking slowly like he's testing out the words. "Food storage facility."

I raise an eyebrow. "The grocery store?"

He looks down at me, concerned. "Is that okay?"

The grocery store is closer to a MiniMart or a gas station. A handful of isles of instant meals, comfort foods, and frozen produce shipped from Earth. But there's also the ento-run store to the east with more selection. It's open to the public, but everything is labeled in Universal, and I have no idea what's good or not, so I've been too intimidated to go on my own. "Which store?" I ask.

"The eastern building, I just need to pick up a few items."

I feel my stomach grumble. "And food after?"

"I was hoping to cook for you," he says, wings fluttering. "If that's alright."

I haven't had anyone cook for me since I visited my parents. Warmth settles in me, not quite arousal, but something else, something heavier. Kri wants to cook for me.

"That'd be awesome."

The walk to the grocery store runs through another block of buildings, all of them painted in subdued, warm tones. They're all short, maybe three stories at the tallest, and the terrain reminds me of a seaside strip mall-- laid brick and cobblestone. I've only ever been to this side once on a tour, this is where it turns into culture and arts.

The store is nestled at the bottom floor of a deep red building, a carved out space that may have once been a multi-vehicle garage. Inside are several rows of foodstuffs, some packaged, some open. There's an assortment of fruits that I have no idea the names of as well as what look like a few rows of packaged instant ramen. Some things are universal, I suppose.

The store is empty, so it's just the two of us looking through the isles. I wander the isles while Kri picks up several fruits. He grabs a plum-sized blue seed, a handful of bean pods the size of my finger, and two green vegetables that look like potatoes. I'm examining the isle of drinks, wondering what tastes like what, when Kri grabs my attention.

"Would you prefer sweet, or savory?" He holds up two nearly identical looking spheres that look like dark red coconuts. I walk up and pretend to inspect them, humming as I think. I have no idea what he's doing, but I appreciate that he's including me.

"What do you like?" I ask.

"It's your decision."

I blink at him. "But I don't know what you're cooking. What's easier for you?"

Kri regards me, head tilted, and puts the coconut in his left hand back on the pile. He doesn't say anything, remaining silent as he grabs several other things, all the while catching glimpses of me as he does. I sidle up to him as the cashier bags his stuff.

"What'd ya go with?"

The cashier extends one long arm and hands Kri his things, and Kri quickly closes the bag so I can't see inside. "You'll have to find out."

I balk. "No fair!"

He smirks at me sidelong. "You insisted it was my decision."

"But I need to know the results."

"You will."

***

Kri’s apartment isn’t far from the store. I have to wrestle one of the grocery bags out of his grubby hands so I can I carry it and feel useful as we wind around buildings and cross a few streets. We walk quietly, not quite awkward enough for my reflexive talking to kick in, but I feel the need to fill the space simmering under my skin.

I want to say something. I should probably say something. It's only fair, and would help my anxiety so much more than waiting.

We wait in the elevator to his floor and I need to say something. We're approaching his place and I need to speak up, but I say silent.

It's too much, it would break this easy flow. The timing isn't right and god damn it, we're already at his door.

Stepping through the doorway feels simultaneously like jumping off a cliff and nothing at all. I'm aware of how huge this feels, my stomach lurches and my hands go clammy, but I'm also aware of the world continuing to turn around me. This doesn't feel real, but I want to grab at it with both hands and take it before it disappears.

Kri flicks the lights on, and I don't know what I expected, but a mirror of my own place wasn't it. This building is supposed to have the nicer layouts, with actual bedrooms instead of a studio layout. It's not surprising though, us Earth scientists are about as creative as socks for Christmas when it comes to designing buildings. I hope Kri isn't paying extra.

Everything is scaled up for someone of Kri's size, and there's a massive cloth hammock where the bed should be that's piled high with pillows. Along the living room wall on the right are shelves of books, interspersed with plants of various sizes that hang down almost to the floor. To the left of the sliding glass door to the balcony is another bookshelf, with a screen and speakers, and the light reflects off several picture frames that flick through a few photos.

Giving in to my base urge to be nosy, I set my bag on the kitchen counter and wander over to the television set. Under the coffee table is an ornate looking rug that's definitely too expensive for my apartment, and I try to tip-toe around it to avoid leaving any dirt, when something catches my eye.

In the corner, on a bottom shelf, is a taxidermied rat on a tiny skateboard. It's in the middle of popping an ollie, sitting in the center of some kind of ceramic crown of Summanian flowers. The frame above it swipes to a new photo, and in my peripheral I see Kri

My anxiety flares, and I turn away from the shelf of picture frames and other memories. Focusing my attention on something else is all I can do not to feel like a trespasser here, and I wander to the kitchen where Kri is grabbing several items from the fridge. The feeling of inadequacy swells, gelatinous and without form, and I try to push it down. It squishes between the bars of my mind, an imprint reflected back at me that tells me I’m not welcome here.

Instead, I step up to Kri and wrap my arms over his waist. The chitinous plating covering his body draws lines over his form that lead my fingers to his front, and I lean into his frame. Even bent over, my arms are level with his waist, and when he straightens, it pushes my face into his wings. Their whole structure is split into two sets, the bottom that folds open like a fan, and the top shaped like a dragonfly’s wing. They’re cool under my cheek, catching the light and shimmering.

“Yes?” He asks, two hands coming to pat mine.

I sigh heavily against his back, trying to sort my thoughts and coming up short. Taking my silence for an answer, Kri turns in my arms and cups my face in his lower hands.

“Am I not paying you enough attention?” He teases gently, running a free hand over my head. “Because I’m trying to provide you with a meal.”

Shame wells up behind my anxiety, hot and present, and I puff my cheeks and stare at a spot on his shoulder. I know talking is the right choice here, but my head is too much of a mess to talk about anything.

Ignoring the swirling feelings in my gut, I push up on the balls of my feet and press our lips together. He hums, a surprised note deep in his throat, as the hands gently cupping my cheeks firmly hold me and he pushes back. It’s a different kiss than the first one, softer, sweeter, holding promise. He’s slow to lick in my mouth, but it adds heat that reminds me of the passion of last week. He can pick me up and set me against the wall, can hold me with two arms and work me over with the other two.

I push my tongue into his mouth, wanting to make up for the interrupted kiss earlier today. My lips slot against his and he hums another satisfied note as he skims his tongue against mine and starts exploring my mouth.

I want more of this, I want this all the time. I can’t imagine giving up the way he slots so perfectly against me, like a puzzle piece I didn’t realize I was missing.

Kri pulls away from my mouth with a pained sound, but I can hear the smile in his voice. "I thought you wanted to talk first."

I lean into him and push my lip out in a pout. "Changed my mind."

And then he smiles against my lips and pushes forward again. It's so easy to give in, like falling into a soft bed. I'm surrounded by comfort and warmth.

Taking the lead, Kri steps me over to the counter and, without breaking the kiss, picks me up by the waist and lifts me onto the countertop. The ease that he picks me up makes me feel hot, and I moan softly against his lips before Kri pulls away.

"What would you like to--"

"Anything you want," I breathe. "What do you want?"

Kri laughs, low and dangerous. "From you? Everything."

He leans forward to kiss me again, but the silence of the room makes my growling stomach practically echo against the walls, and Kri's hands stop halfway to my chest.

"You need to eat," he says, smiling.

With that, he straightens, hands smoothing down my hair, and turns away from me and back into the kitchen.

"What would you like to drink? I have water, and I'm quite fond of Earth's orange juice."

I snicker. "Orange juice is actually more of a breakfast drink."

Kri presses his lips together and looks away, wings fluttering. "I also have lifrit juice, and wegol soda."

I hop down from the countertop and walk around the island to a stool. It's tall enough that when I sit, my legs swing freely. It's been a long while since my feet haven't hit the floor, it makes me feel like a kid again.

Humming, I tap my fingertips over my lips. I'm not sure what those last two were, and I'm up for trying something new, but I also want tonight to mean something. It feels important that everything go right. "What would go with tonight's meal?"

He perks up at that. "I may have something," And starts rooting around in his lower cabinets. I hear him knocking about lots of metal objects-- pots and pans maybe, before he straightens, holding a bottle of wine.

"Is this acceptable?"

I drag the bottle closer and spin it around to get a look at the label. It's a Sauvignon blanc from a few years back, unopened. What a random thing to have in his cabinet. "Why do you have this?"

"I bought it to sample the taste, but never got the chance," he says as he roots around in the drawers. He opens a few before finding the little corkscrew opener and hands it to me. The bottle pops open easily, and I pour it into the two glasses Kri sets out for me. I bring the glass to my lips and sip at it while Kri watches and mimics me. I'm not super into wine-tasting but this one is good, it would pair well with a fancy meal.

The face Kri makes after he sips is the same face I make when Jillie orders tequila shots, and I have to be careful not to inhale my drink. Kri immediately sets his glass down and shakes his head.

I hide my smile behind my glass. "Not a fan?"

"That is quite awful," he says with a shudder.

I take another sip of mine and then swirl the glass because I feel fancy. "It's pretty dry, you may be a fan of the sweeter stuff like Moscato. That one tastes like ginger ale."

Kri eyes my glass and purses his lips, skeptical, "I'll take your word for it."

As he turns back to the stove, I tip the remnants of his drink into my own, nearly filling the glass to the brim. Drinking on an empty stomach is a bad idea, especially if I'm going to need to find my way home later, but if I take little sips instead of trying to gulp it down like I usually do, I think I'll manage.

I watch Kri as he cooks, sitting on the opposite end of the countertop island to stay out of his way. As always, he's graceful in what he does, even with his back to me. All four hands doing something different, always switching focus and lasering in on it, not a single mistake is allowed, and absolutely hypnotizing to watch.

"You're an alien of many talents," I say, and he glances at me over his shoulder.

"How do you mean?"

"I didn't know you could cook."

"Oh, I quite enjoy it. I can make you all manner of things."

I ignore the flutter in my stomach at the idea of him making me food regularly, and try to peer around him as he works. "What's your favorite thing to make?"

"Lepsc'it, it's a fried Trokk root stuffed with vegetables and spices. It's very easy, only a few ingredients, and there's many varieties all over the globe."

"Are you making that now?"

His wings flutter. "I thought I'd attempt something a bit more complicated."

"Are you trying to impress me?" I ask with a smirk.

He's too slow to cover his smile, "Only if it's working."

The smell of spices and vegetables fills the small space, like thyme or rosemary, with a hint of heat behind all of it, mixed with whatever main dish he's prepping. There's large puffs of pink something resting on a pan in the corner, a thick brown sauce that he scraped cubed veggies into, and something else that's blocked by his frame. It all smells heavenly.

My mouth is watering by the time he sets a large plate in front of me with one of those pink bread rolls on one side, the sauce and cubed veggies on the other. I smell more spices and heat, and it's agony to wait for him to sit next to me at the countertop.

"Is it rude to just dig in?"

"Absolutely it is," he says, smiling. "But we're not at a paid dining establishment." He motions to my plate. "Eat."

This dish reminds me of curry but with bread instead of rice, and smells the same. Kri hasn't laid out any utensils as most ento eat with their hands, so I tear a piece of the pink bread off, dip it in the sauce, and pop it in my mouth.

Spices and flavor dance over my tongue, things I can't name but are still delicious. It pairs with the bread so well, I'm barely through the first mouthful before I'm shoving a second bite in my face.

Kri eats opposite me, slow and careful, trying to casually glimpse up at me like he's checking in on me, and I cover my smile around another bite of food. He's worried, I can tell, and it's kind of cute.

I wolf down my food and say nothing, and normally I would feel bad about the silence, but Kri doesn't say anything either.

"It was acceptable?"

"Don't kid yourself, it was delicious. I'm so full," I say, patting my stomach for emphasis.

It's not just the food that keeps me quiet. I also don't want to talk about how I feel. Being emotionally honest makes me anxious, makes me think of all the ways it could be used against me. I don't want to scare off Kri with all the issues I have. He listened to me in Igrien, but how many more times will he listen to me say, "Oh, Stephen made me this way," before he walks out?

But as we both set our plates aside and sit awkwardly in the kitchen, I realize that this is it. That if I want something to happen with Kri, I have to grab it with both hands myself. Even so, I still fiddle with my hands as I speak up.

"So uh, is this the part where we talk about feelings?"

Kri tilts his head, probably picking up on my mood, and quietly says, "If you'd like."

"Not really," I laugh, nerves making the sound shaky. "But I just want to know that we're on the same page-- that we're at a complete understanding," I correct when Kri narrows his eyes in confusion.

I focus my attention to a spot on the table. "I'm not good at words but I want…this. Us-- something…Something."

Even to my own ears it sounds horrible, and I grimace. God damn it, I should've thought about it before we got here. But all I have is feelings, emotions that push at my heart and flood my senses. I don't know how to describe my anxiety any better than describing the color red. Sometimes it feels like too much, like if I acknowledge anything it'll turn into too much to handle.

Kri only stares at me, giving me more space to talk, and my teeth creak as I grind them together anxiously. "Okay, it's your turn."

And then he looks away, down at the table, at his hands. His expression shutters off, a blank face, then darkens into something profoundly sad, and it's like I can hear his thoughts across the table. I appreciate the romp in the lab, Cass, but this just isn't for me. You're too fucked up, and I'm not about to deal with all of that. Except he'd say it nicer, with bigger words. Taking a shaking inhale, I hold my breath as the tightness of anxiety starts to coil around my chest and wraps fingers over my brain.

Then Kri sighs, a heavy movement of his shoulders, and he looks back up at me. "I admit that my thoughts are scattered. Between wanting to breathe you in like oxygen, and questioning whether I've earned the right to inhale. You've already bared your feelings for me, and I did not tell you mine at the time as I was--" he pauses to think, then huffs a laugh, "distracted. But I believe I have words for you now."

He reaches across the small table, taking my hands in his. He's warm as always, and his thumb rubs the back of my hand comfortingly. The tightness in my chest eases, ever so slightly.

"Cassie," he says. "I have a great many feelings for you, some of which I'm prepared for, and others that frighten me deeply. I am well aware that I come with a history, and the weight that it implies. But if you'll allow me your patience and understanding, I'd very much like to explore what a relationship with you would look like."

It's so earnest, so bare, that I'm hit with a wave of emotion that completely drowns out any other thoughts I have in my head. I want to lean forward and kiss his hands. I want to vault over the table and climb into his lap. "Jesus, did you prepare that?"

His eyes widen a fraction, like he didn't expect me to respond like that, and then he nods. "When confronted with interpersonal problems, I know that I tend to recede into myself and minimize the words leaving my mouth, and I'm trying not to do that so we're, what did you say, on the same page? You deserve my transparency in this, especially considering how I've been acting. I was trying to push you away when you wanted to be close, and you deserve so much better than that."

There's so much he's saying without saying it, and I can analyze why he thinks I deserve better, or inspect why all I want to do is jump over the table and give him the ride of his life, but my brain only latches onto my own insecurity. "You prepared a speech for me and all I had was, like, five words."

With a free hand, Kri rustles around in his bag and produces a small square of paper, folded very neatly. "I also wrote down several non-starters in case you realized that you're too good for me, so I also had a handful of words prepared."

It's said so casually, so matter-of-fact, that I can't help but snort. It breaks the tension in the room and my smile feels easier than before, keeping eye contact isn't as difficult.

"And to be fair," he continues. "You said more than enough the other day. I was worried that you'd take it all back."

Something clicks into place in my head, a small, flighty piece of Kri's psyche that I've been seeing without noticing. That despite his attitude, or ego, or anything else, he still craves a form of validation, still vies for approval. And I desperately, so desperately want to know what he's afraid of. But that's a whole other conversation, a heavy and upsetting one. One that I don't think either of us are up for right now.

So I squeeze his hands in mine. "I…really like you," I say. "I think we just need to get better at showing it. I guess we could…figure it out together?"

"That sounds lovely."

Kri tries to clean up on his own, but I butt my way in when he starts to wash the dishes. I'm off to his left, drying and setting them aside, and we fall into a good rhythm that reminds me of his time helping in the lab. We don't need to speak to fill space, I'm guided by his movements, and he's guided by me.

This is nice. Domestic, even. My heart stutters at the idea of doing this again, of sharing a space, of being welcomed into his home.

As I'm drying my hands on a towel, Kri steps around and in front of me, close enough that I can smell fresh water, and I look up at him and offer a warm smile. Taking my chin in one hand, he presses a kiss to my lips, chaste and simple and wholly perfect. This is our first kiss as a couple, I realize as his other hands carefully take the towel from me and rest it on the counter.

The first of many, hopefully.

Is that sappy? I don't care, as long as they keep happening. I press up to continue the kiss, a deep-seated need shocking through me at the soft noise he makes against my lips.

Then Kri searches my face, and I hear the chitter of his wings as they flutter against his back. "You're more than welcome to stay," he says, voice low, leaving no room for misinterpretation.

It physically pains me to be responsible and say, "I have to clock in tomorrow."

He nods once, decisive, and quickly pecks my cheek again before straightening. "I will fly you home, then."

"Sounds goo-- wait what?"

Kri doesn't answer me, only walks past me and into the living room.

Surely, surely he can't mean literally, I continue to think as I grab my stuff and we head out the door.

But sure enough, we walk outside and he picks me up like I'm a princess, something that still shocks me that he can do, and off we go.

I've never seen the Outpost from above, and it's kind of beautiful. I can trace the lights of the walking paths and the hovercar roads, I see single rooms lit from the buildings, other residents up late like me. And outside the border of the Outpost is the pure, unfiltered landscape of Summanus, with its primordial trees and glowing underbrush, like the ground itself is framing us with light. I've seen Kri fly faster, he must be slowing himself for my benefit. And Kri is glowing too, not nearly as bright as the electronics around us, but more subtle, softer. It's still that pale blue, rivers of light lining his chitinous plating. I want to trace them with my fingers, before I remember what it does to him.

We land in front of my building, so gently that Kri's feet don't make a sound, and he sets me down just as carefully.

"Thanks," I mutter, suddenly shy and awkward. I feel like he's bringing me home from prom and it's past curfew. I clear my throat. "Thank you for dinner. Not bad for a first date."

With his two lower arms, he grabs my hands and brings them together. "You will have to decide the next one, then."

I huff an exhale, smiling up at him. "Okay."

He smiles back, soft, relaxed, totally content. Dark eyes search my face, and even in the low light I can make out my reflection in the inky blackness. Two hands come up to cup my cheeks, fingers wrapping around to the base of my skull, as Kri leans down and gently kisses me.

I tilt my head and sigh into it as my eyes fall shut, wishing I were taller so he wouldn't have to bend down as far and I could press up against him. This is still good, though, he can still rest his other hands over my hips, and I can wind my arms over his shoulders.

This is all going to hit me later, a hurricane of repressed feelings. It's going to be a lot of good emotions though, I can feel them boiling behind my chest. Giddyness and arousal alongside anxiety and dread. I'm both excited and terrified of what could happen.

I can still feel the warmth coming off of him even when he leans back. His hands stay on my face, steady and comforting, and he leans forward and quickly kisses me again.

"I should go before I follow you inside," he says around a laugh, and I nod sadly.

"Or before I drag you in."

He chuckles, low and sexy, and squeezes my hands.

"Goodnight Cassie."

"Goodnight Kri," I mumble, and he steps back, dropping my hands from his.

I watch him take off before going inside, and I couldn't wipe the smile from my face if I tried.

Chapter 13 >>

#my writing #A Botanist's Guide #monster writing #monster romance #terato writing #monster x human #exo writing #and with this chapter we start the second arc of the story #focusing on their relationship #we're at the halfway point folks!#they're gonna be disgustingly in love i'm so excited

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agent-green-ultra · 1 year

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"God, did you get schedule with that shithead?"

"Yeah, nurse already got burn paste or whatever, it is going to be a pain in the ass"

"Danm Kohaku bastard, couldn't he take a leave literally any other day when that gremlin isn't around."

"I heard is something with his spouse."

"Idiot, should have dodged that bullet."

"Hey, that isn't always the case you know."

"O yeah absolutely because you still has eyes for-."

"Shut up!!"

Kurorgiri wanted to sigh, but he doubted the spyware didn't have a two way access and accidentally set the two morons about a breach, and then he wouldn't hear the end of it from Tomura.

But his attention was snapped back into the conversation with the sharp crack of the rage in his heart.

"I bet the Shimura kid would be so much better-."

"O my god-."

"I'm serious! he-."

"Just because a kid 'presumaly' matches well with your quirk.-"

"It would and you know it! And our tag team always get to them sometime."

"It is unfortunate that i have to agree with you."

"You would liked to see what we could do with such powerful quirk, jujst admit it."

"I plead the fifth."

"That's a american thing and you know it."

"Fuckin' shut it you dumbass."

"I think they would go with something like Agent Ash Dusk."

"As if the superiors have any poetic taste to come with that."

"Suggestions are open the last time i saw."

"Not like, 12 years ago tho."

"I bet we could still make him an agent today tho-."

It is with every fiber os self restrain that Kurogiri doesn't imediatelly shut the transmissor with a slam of his hand, instead, he got to the simple task of filing the real names and quirks of the agents still chattering in his ears that he was trying to not even listen, but he could hear his grip on the pen make the plastic creak dangerously.

Finally, he could shut it off.

Yasu Hikaru, Quirk: Sanding. Shiori Katsumi, Quirk: Good Neighboor. transformation and mutation, doctor would like the former and Sensei would definetly enjoy the latter, and their bodies would be sure candidates for more trials of the vessel project.

Kurogiri forwards those to both Doctor, who is sure to inform Sensei, and their usual harvesters of their new target, and now with a turned off computer, Kurogiri exits the room.

The Bar was quiet, Tomura may enjoy violent games with all sorts of visuals of violently doing things, but there is agreement betwen the two that the sounds and "music" most of those port are too grading to any ear.

It is with strides that Kurogiri get's behind the bar counter, he knew like the back of his hand where every beverage and items were, so it was effortless to pick one of the low names in one of the shelfs, it was some sort of beer like one, more to sweet fruit than the everyday can.

Kurogiri slammed it down the sink, not shattering it at first, but opening and closing of a portal pair soon made the somehow soothing clinking sound to the enraged mind, and with the tap water running, he nailed the coffin shut by turning up the garbage disposal, their industrial grade quality soon giving an end to any shards into fine dust and down the drain with the beverage it cointained.

"So, who's dying tonight?" The snapping attitude imediatelly left Kurogiri, turning to look to his ward inputting a series of rapid commands, Kurogiri breathed easy.

They could do nothing to him, they couldn't twist Tomura like Eraser had, and if they tried, Oboro Kurogiri wouldn't save qualms to revert the act and make sure they payed double over it.

"None of your concern, Young master."

"Tsch, fine, keep to yourself, i don't care."

Kurogiri wouldn't dare to laugh at the tension now presenting from his ward shoulders, but he did find comedy in it.

"Could I suggest you go over your studies one more time instead of stressing over this level?"

"Shut it, i got everything and we both know it."

Kurogiri did chuckle at the petulant cute tone of hiw ward.

"Then perhaps you would find okay to invite those two, hot and red ones."

Tomura hissed, but Kurogiri atributed it to the game over screen he just gained then his offer.

"Do whatever, i'll stay here."

Kurogiri nodded, satisfied with the answer and the knowledge that he would stay there, and no one would make him otherwise.

Well, there is always Sensei, but Kurogiri trusts his judgement.

The dark body darted behind the crates, no sound came from their steps as the took their way around any wandering eyes, just a bit more until she reached the desk, ignoring the papers on top, the figure took to the bin next to it, swinddling four crumpled papers.

The figure rested a hand on the top of the desk, filling their quirk do it's ways and much information away, it was just two minutes they stayed station, but she didn't want to test luck, and soon made their way in the warehouse until a door to exit was meet, She would count victorious to not being caught, if the door didn't open itself to show a burly man walking inside.

He hesitated in the sight, She didn't.

Darting bellow the leg pair, she took sprint, making sure to be near any wall, they pivoted turn and turn almost to not hearing the screams of those working in that place.

It was with a welp and hearing the majorly distant shouting that the figure tripped forward, not stopping down, with hand and knees she pushed until they were safely hidden behind a dump, and so she held her breath in 5 seconds, slowly realeasing through her not visible mouth.

The was the suspense for several minutes, but the was no thumping feet or shouting anymore, so she could finally relax and close their only eye.

Northern breathed safe, and let their quirk eat away the information at the paper she held, and discard it too in the dump when standing up and slowly making her through the streets, exchanging the dark shirt for long red sleeves and downing a skirt over their pants.

Some blocks away and finally they started to look over the information gotten, and hoped it wasn't just tax balances that she was almost killed over, because that moving company was a cover for fitting ring with perhaps some mercenary deals, and they would be the first to know-.

BINGO!!

Northern exhaled relieved, it was an order for sure of elimination, there was no receipient but the pay was already given, and their targets were workers in the wrecked facility, but why-

A Fae like quirk??

Nothern fastened their step, wishing they did buy that discount retractable cane, this didn't sound good if the other leads were pointing.

It is one thing a nobody have that overpowered thing.

Another to have the king of underground crime to have it.

#kurogiri #shigaraki tomura #agent northern #fic #d biok au #d-biok au #don't blame it on the kids au #murder plan #kurogiri is very pissed hehe #mother hen #and plot thickens hehe #dad-ect-events #Obscure-DadsWeek1 #yes this was for an event no my disappearance WASN'T #sorry sorry but i'm back (i think)#so everything's alright

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amandae2006 · 6 months

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Fangs Claws and Kisses

Sterek Fanfic

Derek hale/ stiles stilinski

Chap 1 - Cresent moon smile

In the city of beacon hills, there lies a secret that most humans citizens do not know about. The town's name is based on what some consider folk lore, but to the supernatural it means hope, a beacon of hope, for all supernatural creatures to come and live safely. In the middle of the humans and creatures stands a werewolf pack who tries to keep things under control. The biggest family and pack around known as the Hales.

The leader is Talia, she has 3 kids. The oldest is Laura who is married to Henry and they have 2 pups named rika and reese. They run the inner city pack. The youngest who is barely in high school at 14 is Cora. Start student and athlete. Finally the only son at the age of 21 is Derek. Mechanic, wild, and searching for his mate to tame his wolf.

Everyday after working at the junk yard derek goes on a run through the woods. He loves the breezy air going past his ears, the feeling of the grass and leaves crunching under his paws. There is one big rock cliff that stands above beacon hills at the edge of the woods, it was the perfect place for howling especially at the moon. The way the moonlight hit Derek's yellow eyes, made then shine brighter thab normal. The wind would blow his fur so lightly. He was a beautiful pure black wolf.

After a good run and howl, derek takes off back towards the junk yard to gather his clothes and head home. As he enters the grounds he smells a scent hes never smelled before. He could tell it was human. But something smelled sweeter about them. He darted behind a broken car, still in wolf form. His clothes were in the garage on the other side. The more he smelled the sweet aroma the closer he would get. It felt like a pull, something that lingered inside himself but never made its self known.

Peeking around a power line post he caught a glimpse of the face the sweet aroma belonged too. It was a male maybe 18 or 19. Slender, brown hair, hoodie and jeans, hands in his pockets, he was standing there just swaying,looking around then he heard what sound like a music to his ears.

"Hello, anyone around?"

The boy mumbled to himself while kicking the dirt " damn it, they're closed". Derek darted behind some garbage cans then the dumpster managing to hit one in the process. The loud rattle scared the young man. He started to run derek darts from behind the store quckily putting his shirt on.

"Hey, hello, sorry"

The young man stops and turns to see Derek standing there, jeans on, belt unbuckled, boots on yet loosened, white tee with grease stains. Derek looked up at the young man as the wind blew that sweet scent across his nostrils. It sent electricity through his bottle.

" hi, i was wondering if you had a radiator for my jeep"

Derek took a deep breath, cleared his throat, trying to contain his composer.

" do you know the make and model?" "1980 CJ5"

" right this way and Ill look it up in the computer"

Derek dusted his hands off, held it out towards the man "I'm derek" The man grabbed dereks hand, immediately felt like his body was burning all over, he had to let the man's hand go, stepping back. The shockwaves from his touch, it was like all the air in his lungs left then returned.

"Im stiles, am I crazy for, is it too hot out here to be fall"

Derek senses noticed the swear dripping down stiles's neck, his heart rate racing and that sweet smell flooding his whole body.

" yeah, ill turn the air conditioner on inside, while i check out your jeep, you are welcome to follow me back into the garage"

Derek managed to avoid stiles eyes as he searched the computer. His body felt like fure was burning him from the inside, his inner wolf was trying to get out. It felt drawn to stiles. Derek could feel a connection when their eyes finally caught one another. Was this the feeling of his mate, or was it an omega in heat. At this point stiles is sitting down fanning with his shirt. His face flushed, body sweating thirst feeling in the back of his throat.

" do you have any water? Im sorry i don't know whats coming over me" Derek's vision blurred he couldn't concentrate on the computer anymore. His wolf was screaming take him, mate him. Derek's willpower was losing as he walked closer to stiles. And to much of dereks surprise stiles smiled back before reaching out to Derek's face.

" hey man i think something is wrong with us. Gas leak or something. I feel all kinds of strange and hot, do you?"

Derek was salivating, the color of his blue eyes flickering, his body inches from stiles. Stiles hand brushed against Derek's cheek. The rugged beard felt grainy and rough against his hand. Derek couldn't stop. He grabbed stiles face just planting their lips against one another. Both men felt like their heart was beating out of their chest. Stiles pulled back only to be met with derek nibbling his bottom lip. Control was gone. Instict had taken over. Stiles arms went around Derek's shoulders as he lifted up his slender body onto the big black table covered in tools.

Lips colliding harder, fingers running through their hair. When stiles tongue grazed against Derek's it drove him crazy. His inner wolf pushing his way out. Derek was fighting hard to resist. He didnt even know who stiles was. A stranger. Here he was ravaging a guy he had never met and yet his body was so turned on his pants. Stilles tilted his headed, napping at Derek's neck. Derek felt a howl coming through his chest. He wanted to bite stiles, make him his. Only by his strong will did he manage to bite his own arm. The pain put clarity in his mind long enough for him to step back, whisper "sorry" and run out of the garage.

The wind whistling past his ears, his body wanting to shift, it was like the air in his lungs was gone. He managed to lean aagainst a tree long enough to think about what he had done to stiles. He slide down to ground, head tossed back the pounding and heat between his legs was excruciating. He loosened his button, slide down the zipper the thickening of his member out lined by his briefs. He shifted his hands around the bands against his waist, his cock now throbbibg in hands. A few slow pumps, a flick of his tip, his whole body rippled as his white cum poured down the pants.

He was panting, taking in the air. Not fully satisfied as it would have to have been inside stiles. Enough for his body heat to die down, his mind to become clearer. His heart rate finally slowing. He had the energy to stand and head home.

#sterek #teen wolf #derek hale

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fanfoolishness · 11 months

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So this is funny. I’m literally 43 hours into Jedi: Survivor, which I saw an article state was like 16 hours of main storyline, so this is already hilarious. I swear I am not even close to 70% of completing Koboh. But I figured okay, 43 hours in, I must be getting close to the end now! Dagan Garra is such a boring villain but I’ll defeat him, so Tanalorr must be coming along soon. Besides, I finally kissed Merrin back!! Fuck yes! Everything’s coming up Cal!

Now I was looking on YouTube for a clip from Fallen Order a few days ago and saw a thumbnail that squawked “Bode’s betrayal!” and showed him with a red lightsaber. Noooo thought I, a spoiler!! But as I kept playing Bode clearly wasn’t Force-sensitive, so I wondered if it was just a “theory” vid or something, or if maybe he did betray me to help his daughter, he’d be like the regular dudes Dagan had armed with lightsabers. Or maybe he’d be brainwashed by Dagan! My brain spun out possibilities. It became clear when I did duel Dagan that Bode was obviously affected and yeah, he was gonna turn.

BUT! Master Cordova noooooo 😱 That was bad enough. BUT BUT!!!

THE FUCKER USED THE FORCE ON ME

HOLY FUCK

my jaw LITERALLY dropped and hung open in a comical fashion and then that’s when I realized I’d left BD behind and then I got fucked and fell off a cliff and died. I can’t believe that even with getting spoiled my ass was still SHOCKED. So well done game!!!

BUT NOW I GET TO PLAY AS CERE FUCKING JUNDA????!?!?!?

😱😱😱😱😱

MY HED A SPLODE

Okay I keep dying SO I haven’t gotten past this part yet, so please, please, no further spoilers 😅 but it’s amazing how Cal, who has grown so powerful throughout the game, is again just OUTCLASSED by this incredible woman, hot damn, she is just slicing every damn trooper like it’s nothing at all! Fuck! Okay game, you got me!! You got me!!

Okay. I need to go settle down. And try to survive just a little longer. I swear if we lose Greez or Cere or Merrin or BD I will fucking throw my computer in the GARBAGE

*ranting continues faintly off in the distance*

#Jedi: survivor spoilers #Jedi survivor spoilers #Star Wars: jedi: survivor spoilers #spoilers #my rants #live slug reaction here

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byz-was-here · 1 year

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Single Board Computers, They’re exactly what it says on the tin. It’s essentially an entire computer soldered to a single circuit board. I like SBCs because of the most well known one, the Raspberry Pi. I’ve used a pi 0 (that cost me 15 bucks) to run an adblocker across my whole wifi network, and I’ve used raspberry pi 3b+’s, which cost me $35 each, to run home-built network storage drives, media servers, retro game emulators, and as a cheap desktop alternative on occasion.

However, I’ve hit a snag. Raspberry Pi’s ain’t cheap anymore. (presumably because they’ve started selling them en-masse to businesses who want to use them for commercial applications instead of to enthusiasts (like me)

So, I wanted to see what was out there for a decent price range. Ramble under the cut. Its a longish one.

Now, I’ve used mini pc’s before, and those usually run windows and are, to put it mildly, hot garbage. Those rely on x86 processors, who take up more resources and really aren't suited for SBCs. (For a small, cheap windows pc, you’re usually better off buying a refurbished business pc like a dell optiplex or lenovo thinkcentre. Those will usually run you about 80-90 USD and aren’t that bad a value for money, especially if you want something for a home office.) SBC’s usually have an ARM processor like you see in a smartphone or tablet. They take up less resources, draw less power, but currently, you can’t get windows running on them.

Which brings up the first barrier to those wanting to use them.

Linux Operating Systems.

I like to describe Linux as being like Mac OS, if a mac took a STEM degree instead of liberal arts. (Apple can bite me. Screw you and the garden you walled off)

However, there’s a lot of linux distros that are pretty user friendly nowadays, like Ubuntu or Mint. And you can absolutely run Ubuntu on an Arm Processor.

(Rasbian OS is also an option, but as it’s optimized to work only with raspberry pi’s, it usually has issues on other SBC’s.)

As for the computers themselves, I found myself looking at the boards made by the Libre Computer Project. They have computers with about the same price and size as a standard raspberry pi 3b+, and the gpio pins are largely compatible.

However, I would note that none of their models have a wifi radio on the board, unlike most raspberry pi’s do. So if you get one, you will have to hook it up via ethernet or resign yourself to sacrificing a usb port to the wifi gods.

Another thing I noticed, is that while the specs for their bottom two boards match up with the raspberry pi 3b+, they apparently have issues with running hot and throttling, so you will want to get a heat sink and/or a case with a fan. (Chill. The heat sinks usually have adhesive and you just stick em on.)

There’s a $20 model, the ‘Le frite’ which WOULD be a very good replacement for projects involving something like a pi zero, however, instead of using an sd card for memory, it uses eMMC cards. Which most people lack a reader for.

Bit of an issue, there. They do sell them along with the SBC on the site, but. Nah.

Next is a charmingly named $35 model called “Le Potato” It’s essentially the same dimensions as a pi 3b+, which is nice since while Pi Boards are expensive as hell, you can still get their accessories for relatively cheap. It also uses an sd card for a hard drive, which is much easier to deal with. It does not have usb 3.0, which is a bit of a bummer, but, it does have 4 ports like a pi. Still need to sacrifice one of em to the wifi gods if you don’t want to hook it up via ethernet. For most projects, this will probably work fine. Just get you a heat sink.

Finally, they have an exciting 40 dollary-do option called the renegade. (It’s edgy because this one comes in black.)

It’s essentially punching into Pi 4 Territory, except it only has a 3 usb ports, one of them being 3.0. It seems to lean more into video encoding, so if you want a cheap media server or a retro game emulator, this one’s probably ya boi. It also has a 50-dollar option with 4 gig of ram. If you want a cheap desktop you can keep in your pocket, this is what I would get.

Again, unfortunately, one of those 3 slots will probably be sacrificed for a wifi dongle, and it also seems to have an issue with overheating, so you WILL need to shell out for a heat sink or a little case with a fan. Again, luckily, accessories for a Pi 3b+ will fit it just fine.

I am probably going to buy one of these, either the renegade or the potato, and give em a whirl for a week or two. After that, I’ll give more of my thoughts

#byzrambles #computers/electronics #single board computers #raspberry pi #not an ad #I would rather eat my fuckin keyboard than promote BRAND for money

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channeleven · 1 year

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American Nightmares Review

I used to be a big fan of Ralphthemoviemaker, still am, but it’s not as big as it was then. From the influence he has over his fans, to him unironically enjoying modern Marvel movies, seriously Thor Ragnarok is hot garbage. One of the videos I saw by him was his coverage of independent talk show Scorch PFG TV. I decided to do my own research on the guy and located his IMDb page, and it had a listing for a horror anthology film.

Now, I love horror anthology films, though preferably the B-grade ones, as those have more character. in general, horror anthologies have the opportunity to go any way, as they’re really just a collection of self-contained stories most of the time, you never know what you'd get with them. I loved Terror Tract, Tales from the Hood, Creepshow 2, Campfire Tales, Tales from the Crypt, I also like most old religious thrillers, b-movies and Sonic games from Adventure to Unleashed, so take my musings with a grain of salt.

I told myself, if this movie were to ever pop up on YouTube, I would check it out and do a review of it. And here we are today. I mentioned this movie in my review of Campfire Stories, and I think it’s appropriate this would be next on the chopping block.

Background

This movie is an enigma. It has nothing much beyond an IMDb page. The film was helmed by two directors, Rusty Cundieff and Darin Scott. Both had previously worked on films like Tales from the Hood, which I actually enjoyed. The sequels? Not so much. Because of the socio-political themes of Rusty’s prior films, something I immediately picked up on in Tales from the Hood, I can expect the same here, but my issue is not that they’re present, but because of how its carried out without much nuance. Stuff like The Twilight Zone worked great because of subtlety. Hint hint.

It's fair to assume this was produced on a very low budget, probably because it was. The film was produced by Patriot Pictures, a low profile company specializing in low end genre films, and it was released by Moonstone Entertainment in 2018, with Quiver giving it a wider release in 2021. Looking at the cast, this seems to be a who's who of washed up actors looking for any form of publicity. The film stars Danny Trejo, of Breaking Wind fame and Jay Mohr. Not ringing any bells? He stared in Action and appeared in an episode of Night Visions, and both of those are objectively good TV shows, don't get it twisted. Vivica A. Fox is also in this, bless the soul of her career. Also this was one of the final roles of Clarence Williams III, who starred in Tales from the Hood hence his involvement at all.

The Film

You can check out the movie on Tubi, and a YouTube upload will be included too: https://tubitv.com/movies/544844/tales-from-the-crib-american-nightmares

youtube

This is a horror anthology film, featuring Danny Trejo hacking into the computers of some millennials to tell them some stories. Right off the bat, we got some neat star power, James Duvatl, Vivica At F-Zero-X, Noel G, wait who? Yeah, they think 1337 is the way to go.

The opening crawl is hammy at best. The anthologies I've mentioned before, even those beyond, establish a certain vibe or atmosphere. This just suggests they know what they're doing is low budget and destined to be on a rack at your local Dollar Tree. Best way to compare this intro is to that of Noon Blue Apples, or New World Order. It throws in a lot of imagery, but it is relevant to the theme of obsession over conspiracy theory, there was a method to its on-the-nose nature. Whereas this, it’s your alphabet soup of social causes and topics that spell out the lack of subtlety we’d be in for. Hell even Tales from the Quadead Zone had a better intro, and even less of a budget.

After the last shot shows people that really love Christianity, we get the age all classic cliche of making computer hacking look more exciting than it actually is. Naturally they scour for porn. I could rage about women's rights, or I could just consider this to be a constant cliche. Said cliche is mercifully ended, as Danny Trejo hacks their computers, likely wanting to become the next Joss Wheadon and cover shit up through activism. I may be half right on half of what I said. I'd question if hacking is similar to TV interference, but I don't want to know.

Anyway, without any delay, we have our first story, and an issue I wanna bring up. There's a lack of a flow between the segments and the framework. In other films like Tales from the Hood, Crypt, Quadead Zone, Campfire Tales, and Terror Tract, the story is brought up after something related to it is before. Here, the stories are just told as they are, coming without any prior prompt. I dunno, it just breaks the flow some.

Mates

Unfortunately due to a lack of detailed plot information, I'd have to guess most of these stories as I go along.

So this one starts of with a woman and her deadbeat boyfriend. We get some serious whiplash at the start, cutting between the woman at a bar and her talking with her friend somewhere else. I have no idea what this is building up to, all I wanna do is tell her that being single won't be the end of the world. You really wanna be tied down in a relationship that probably won't last? Think about it.

The main woman, Shanika? Runs the risk of getting driven off of Twitter for her love of straight relationships, and gets a package, not one attached to a man but a box, not attached to a woman but, wait it's an envelope, which isn't a euphemism.

It looks like this story is gonna go into the evils of internet dating, or she would set up her own demise with the creation of an ideal man. If it were up to me, I'd say the twist is her definition of a perfect man is the asshole who got this started in the first place.

So far the quality of this... is at 240p, so I can't complain about the quality, and I had a good joke comparing this to something by Charles Band. Check out Kill Joy and you'll see what I mean, and for a great movie recommendation.

And soon, Shanika meets long, tan and unsure of who he's looking for. Credit where it's due, this dating scene doesn't seem too forced. I mean you gotta force yourself in these situations so it's always gonna seem forced. I mean it's less forced than the sex scene. I'm just saying, if you make The Room's sex scene look more natural, then this is unnatural. I blew it.

At this point I'm still speculating. Is her date like a vampire, who sucks out souls and energy from women through sex? Actually no, I spoke too soon. He is a robot, and the dating site she found sent him as part of a free trial. I mean I guess that makes sense, how else can the perfect date be crafted? I honestly didn't know what to expect. And that includes how her deadbeat old boyfriend was in on it, to teach her a lesson relating to perfection.

I assume he's gonna die soon. He is more hammy than a comedic actor trying to play an abusive father. Yes, that was a Tales from the Hood reference. For however shitty he is, I admire his patience, he allows Shanika to dig through her purse to find a credit card so she can activate the robot again and let him get killed. You don't find patient individuals that often anymore.

Oh wait he was getting the robot, apparently he's as patient as he is strong to lift human AI, also can't believe how hilarious he is. So yeah, he tries to strangle her, the robot saves her and that's essentially the end. He could lift him but he can't so much as punch him in the face. But wait, he shoots him, and the bullet... hits the shooter in the chest? Death by convenience, go figure.

Though I understand the broader implications of having AI in our lives, something you can control can make life easier. Marriage is always a gamble.

Anyway, back to the hackers, almost abruptly, maybe Danny's just shooting the shit with those willing to listen to him? Our next tale, point blank, deals with judiciary concerns. If this is a story about Brett Kavanaugh I'm gonna be pissed, it’s a groaner no matter where you lean politically.

The Prosecutor

Oh gee, white judges cracking down on black defendants, how is this gonna go down? This was years before June the fifteenth at least when things really went down, and look, of course I don’t favor prosecution based on race, I just don’t like it if its portrayed in the most straightforward way possible because you can make immediate guesses to what happens, and know who is gonna die at the end.

So, is the crook innocent? Is the prosecutor who's running for governor racist? Did he kill the people the crook is accused of killing? Is this gonna be where I find Scorch because he’s credited as an inmate on this.

I'm probably more concerned this is gonna be a rehash of a story from Tales from the Hood, where a black gangster is put into a prison system which is actually an attempt at redemption which he blows. Rusty, Just because you directed both movies doesn't mean you should copy them. But wait, he didn't, the real killer was found, and the prosecutor, Mooreland, doesn't want to change the verdict. So he's gonna die, this is clearly a message about our corrupt legal system, and showing me how inconsistent the movie is with its accents, southern or not southern, that is the question.

Apparently this segment is big on family. Either this is a metaphor or setting up the end twist, or maybe Mooreland is a huge Fast and the Furious fan. Nah, it’s meant to establish a dilemma and character quirk.

With the crook escaping from prison and a sudden power outage, I feel like poetic justice is about to happen. After a scene of the crook reading the bible and praying to God, I mean before, he breaks into the house and shoots at Mooreland. Is this a nightmare? A stab at religious hypocrisy? Did he actually kill his family? Did Mooreland have a hand in killing the crook's family? There’re some pretty obvious routes to take, especially since this movie takes an incredibly straightforward route.

I'm not in suspense, or interested, I'm not even 30 minutes into the film. So it cuts back to the crook in the cell. Was this a revenge fantasy? Was this actually why he was on death row? Did he use telepathic means to conduct the murders? No, poetic justice. The crook kills Mooreland's family, and he is framed for it.

Okay, how? Did the crook break out of prison? Did he make a pact with a demon? Those would’ve made more sense, but no, Mooreland is arrested and executed, I take more offense to reducing a legitimate issue to a ill-thought out horror tale that can vindicate the average Dhar Mann video.

What's next? Wait, a confederate flag? Nevermind.

White Flight

A white family moves out of a neighborhood with black residents, they suffer in the end that’s about it. Read on for the long version.

Let me reaffirm this, while going on a tangent. My problem with most movies like these is predictability, they carry these messages out with no nuance. It’s a bit like that movie Karen, remember that shit? Where they took a meme and reduced it to a bare basic degree. People focus so much on representation alone that they do not pay any mind to the quality, it is shit like this that blurs the line between representation and good writing, and half the time it’s just used for the sake of it rather than doing a meaningful portrayal. They made Betty DeVille a lesbian in the Rugrats reboot because she looked the part, I bet, they gave Barney a stereotypical haircut and dye to indicate a trans identity, and don’t get me started on the wet fart that was High Guardian Spice, I think some already know.

Now what the hell am I talking about? A show or movie can deliver a message about modern issues, but this is a show or movie, and a compelling story is needed to tie it all together, and more importantly avoid making it too on the nose, otherwise it feels less like they want to give it any meaning and just appeal to people who would accept it no matter what. There’s portraying racism, then there’s reducing it to incredibly basic elements.

Either that or I don’t know what the hell I’m talking about, but unlike Turning Red, this is a low budget poorly written horror anthology through and through, and there’s more meaning to my inane ramblings than what this movie has to offer on portraying real world issues, which this is what it’s about, a collection of stories mostly themed around social issues.

We will now return you to your regularly scheduled crap.

We see a man walk up to a house. This man apparently has telepathy, because he could knock on a door even though he's nowhere near it before jump cutting to the front of it. We meet our dead meat Thomas, and shock of all shocks, its exaggerated to the point of being stereotypical.

Oh and he's a racist cop too, all he needs to do is be ultra-conservative and he’d have everything. By the way that was a joke, I’m not political I just wanted to seize an opportunity.

So, Stromas McWallaceByrdMetzgerPerezWaters gets a package, and it's a means of sending them to an all white area, a literal fucking dimensional transporter. As if our sense of disbelief can’t be any more limited. I mean I can accept it if the movie was good, Tales from the Hood had paranormal occurrences which suit the horror element, in case anyone says so, but everyone has limits.

And now for a strange trivia factoid about this movie. Another familiar actor from Tales from the Hood appears in this, Duane Whitaker. He played a corrupt cop in the first story of that movie and was notably the first to die, spoiler, he has better luck here. Wings Hauser is a no-show though, and I bring him up because he has appeared in multiple b-movies.

The racists get sent to a dimension where minorities don’t exist, and adding to some cartoonish cringe, they even have an over the top sign to that effect. So, what do you think the twist is gonna be? Will the transporter make them black in the eyes of everyone, doing the Watermelon Man twist? Well, it seems so. After an alarm is sounded, a police car door is slowly opened and a man is seen drinking in a diner. These are apparently important enough to show, but wait, they are, the sequencing is just total ass.

Okay quick delaying the inevitable, we know they're gonna get hassled.

But what is the actual twist? The people in this town aren't racist, they just didn't want people with black hair. It's stupid, but you know what? I'll take it. I didn't see it coming, and it kinda fits with the discussion on racism, and there is a lynching... a baby lynching, and he gets arrested. This is sorta like the end of the first segment in The Twilight Zone movie, but at least the actor in this got to live to see another day, or maybe a little longer. However, the way they phrased their tagline, it causes the twist to feel forced. Is this because people with black hair don’t have a term like blondes or brunettes to go for a stronger twist?

So, they set this up like a very basic racism revenge plot, but threw in a twist, no matter how stupid it was, which still fits the allegory they were going for. This has the most palatable twist I've seen in the movie just far, and I still have a ways to go.

After that, we get insight that the millenials spammed nudes of a girl who owed one of them money on social media, and I assume they're gonna die, and this is looking to make Feardotcom look like a great movie, it’s already free to watch.

So I did a little looking around, and I either have only four or five stories to go.

The Samaritan

I noticed a theme around clowns for the first few seconds, let's see where this goes. And that’s another thing about the lack of a proper flow, random things happen with no proper transition, I mean... best you see it for yourself to hopefully get what I mean.

After close to a minute of establishing shots, a man and a woman hold up a sick man for... ransom? Rent payment? Is he a hitman? Does he work for tips? This next scene has him offered to dress like a clown. I'm lost, I'll be right back.

So apparently the woman with the money collector is a prostitute with a pimp, and dressing as a clown is a sexual favor, where the payer is actually a murderer, turns out to be one anyway.

After finding her pimp asleep with his eyes open, she attempts to escape. I'll give it this, I like the mannerisms of the psycho in this. Could make for a b-grade Joker if anything. Somehow, upon giving a ghost her crucifix, both girls kill the clown. There was no socio political slant, though the clown actor once played John Wilkes Booth in The Ridiculous 6. This was actually a nice little diversion, I’ll give it that.

Okay, seven minutes to the hour mark, no use quitting now.

Hate Radio

Believe it or not, it's not what you think. It's not about racism, it's about everything including racism. Alec Baldwin's long lost twin brother, or Hugh Bluff, is our lead in this. Hugh Bluff? Why not Hugh Jastle? It's every right wing stereotype stuffed into one. This would've been a perfect time to have Scorch do his best Alex Jones impression, but I guess Rusty is a huge Opie and Anthony fan.

It's an AM radio show, meaning this movie would be right down Cinema Snob's alley.

Okay, with the over the top nature presented here they're not going after moderates at least. I can understand there are plenty of dickbags out there that function like this, but the issue here is a lack of a balance. We're equal, not one above another. Otherwise we're gonna see a white Martin Luther King Jr. one of these days, you want that on your conscious? A continuous debate that would inspire more hatred than anyone's comfortable with?

Look, I don't agree with anything he's saying, I promise. If you want to see a good story with a hateful radio show host, check out the Tales from the Darkside episode Devil's Advocate, or the Night Visions episode Dead Air.

He gets a call from New Mexico, and rather than the caller voicing his grievances with Woodrow Wilson, well you can guess.

Best case they're going for a show don't tell approach, or maybe it is tell because they just keep stretching this out. Again, I don't agree with a word coming out of this guy's mouth, or the callers for that matter, but it did do one thing for me, it made me appreciate commercial breaks.

Things are straightforward after that, butthen... Make America Great Again.... okay, just a statement, not gonna complain about that, just them including an image of Donald Trump for good measure because they think we’re idiots who’ve been living under a rock. I just take offense to the people thinking I’m stupid for not picking up on subtext.

Hey guys, he's a Republican, he's bad. We assume you don't know that because we have no respect for your intelligence. Take our side you dummies, otherwise you're as bad as this potato sack we keep parading around.

The deal with this is that this man is turned into a woman, also evil portrait. It worked better in Tales from the Hood with a racist man inhabiting a plantation and him getting attacked by living voodoo dolls, he deserved what came to him and it makes sense in the grand scheme of things.

He turns into the woman in the portrait and out of awareness for how bad the effect would look, covers any parts that would need to be seen to properly display the change. Also a bad wig worse than Kate Mara’s on Fant4astic. This movie has a fascination with dragging scenes out, at least right here. It seems most of the budget was put toward that fake penis that fell out.

Though it may be racist to do so, I'd have to question Cundieff and Scott on their closeted sexist beliefs. They gave Hugh giant breasts, with clear clevage. Hell I'd even go as far as to consider this a touch transphobic because of how exaggerated it is.

Or maybe I’m just trying to one up these guys.

If I say I'm glad it's over, it's because this dragged on for so long I got the sum of it well before it ended. I was able to pick up everything in that overlong tirade at the start, so I have an idea how this ends. She claims that women deserve to be killed by serial killers, or something similar, and the same thing happens to her. And I guess the killer is one of the callers from before, somehow I was able to piece that together, I'm smarter than this movie gives me credit for it seems.

So what's the moral of this story? Just transition to a female actor if you're gonna make a TG look half-assed. Also don't leave discussions on sexism in the hands of someone who thinks lowly of their audience's intelligence.

The Healer

Is this gonna be about religion? Evangelics? Faith healers. Yeah.

So the plot of this is that a faith healer uses fake holy water for his miracles, and he is a fraud. It's obvious, and making me hanker for Moses Gunn in that episode of Tales from the Crypt. At this point I'm surprised they have an African American as a villain, I mean to be fair the first segment did. I'm forgetting already.

Clarence Williams III comes out of nowhere and knocks out the pastor, who's name is Bishop Love. Apparently Fazion doesn't talk much about his conniving brother. Anyhow, this is about the kidnapper's daughter dying, owed to the faith she put in Bishop's false faith.

Also the kidnapper knows voodoo now, plaguing Bishop with imperfections fraudulently dealt with.

Okay, think we have one more, right after the wraparound. Things go all occult real fast. I consider Jesus to be my lord and savior, but at the same time I'm so desensitized to basic horror this just doesn't phase me.

Thy Will Be Done

...if it ever starts. They linger on a summoning scene. Wait, is this the final segment? No, that would've been a neat little twist.

I assume this story is about pregnancy or something related? Yes it is, she gets kidnapped by an anti-abortion cult, and I’m just gonna guess what happens? She wants to abort the child fearing evil will come of it, they don’t want to, evil comes of it, and this is a pro-abortion segment.

It very well is, and it was there I just called it quits. I don’t know what the hell happens at the very end, but I don’t care, maybe those millennials die at the end, I don’t know, it’s probably gonna be incredibly predictable and a waste of time.

Final Thoughts

This has to be the worst horror anthology movie I ever had to watch, regardless of where one leans politically. As a horror anthology it doesn’t work because it’s simply not scary. Hell, even compared to most cheesy b movies things are just so cartoonishly over the top that it would make Battlefield Earth look dignified.

And when this movie incorporates real world issues that are relevant to today’s standards, that just makes it worse. I’m more mad these issues are not approached with the seriousness they deserve, and sensible people should feel the same. This means as a political thing it doesn’t work because rather than engaging the audience or confronting issues they resort to over the top tales that come off as a mockery of issues rather than anything legitimate. The only thing this works as is satire, but even that is weakened by most segments.

Fear of a Black Hat is considered to be Rusty Cundieff’s best film, and frankly, even though I do like Tales from the Hood, I’m beginning to feel like Cundieff is a one-trick-pony. Just previously Rusty and Darin Scott both directed Tales from the Hood 2, a terrible movie.

Bottom line, I don’t hate this movie because I disagree with the messages, I hate the movie because it handles them incredibly poorly, and coming from someone with a hearty appetite for trashy movies, this hurt, it really did.

And by the way, Scorch appeared as an in-mate in this movie, but without the signature crusty voice, lest Ralph’s fans decided to pull a fast one.

#worst movie #worst movies #horror #horror anthology #review #movie review

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mypoisonedvine · 3 years

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𝖙𝖜𝖎𝖈𝖊 I || professor!helmut zemo x reader

𝖘𝖚𝖒𝖒𝖆𝖗𝖞 : history is so much more interesting when he’s teaching it. you’d better be careful before the two of you end up with a history of your own.

𝖜𝖔𝖗𝖉 𝖈𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖙 : 6k

𝖜𝖆𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘 : smut (incl. semi-public sex in an office and oral f receiving), significant age gap (reader is 20, zemo is 39; it isn’t actually mentioned though but it comes up in the next part), the slightest bit of angst?, nearly pwp at this point lol

You wouldn’t know it by the way you were enraptured with his lecture, but you weren’t even a history major.

Quite far from it, really, well outside of the college of liberal arts, and yet here you were in the front row, watching him gesture over a large map of Western Europe while he explained the sociocultural impacts of the Treaty of Versailles.

It was probably pretty obvious why you took such interest in all this, though. After all, you were the only one who dressed as well as he did, your blazers and skirts and loafers standing out amongst a sea of hoodies and sweats and flip-flops; and, you were the only one who paid close attention and yet never seemed to be taking any notes…

Why would you, after all? Looking away to write in your notebook would mean missing out on all the fun, and unfortunately you had found that when you copied down the words he spoke, his accent was not retained in writing.

Some kid in the back of the class had asked about his accent the first day; you thought it was kind of a rude question, if you were being honest, but he didn’t seem to mind too much (if perhaps a bit surprised that anyone cared). He explained he was from a small country called Sokovia, but that his accent was a bit unique since he spoke Russian, German, Spanish, and Italian as well.

Because of course he did. Like he was specifically designed to target all your weaknesses.

“Well, I could talk about that for the rest of the evening but I’ll spare you all and let you out a bit early today, how does that sound?” Professor Zemo offered. The other students weakly cheered, a few claps here and there as you heard binders shutting and backpacks being zipped, but you were disappointed. You didn’t want to go back to your dorm, all you were going to do there was think about him anyways.

Damn, I’ve really got it bad, you thought to yourself, shaking your head as you stood up and gathering your things, slinging your bag over your shoulder. You glanced up at the podium where another student was chatting with Professor Zemo, and either he said something really funny or she was trying way too hard to flirt with him. You rolled your eyes, irritated by the display and yet envious of her audacity to just go up there and talk to him. Imagine having a crush and actually being able to look them in the eye and hold a conversation; you could barely do that with people you didn’t happen to find attractive.

Just as you were about to make it out the door, you heard your name and spun around. You were shocked to realize it was the Professor trying to get your attention. If only you’d thought to pretend you hadn’t heard him.

“Could I speak with you for a moment?” he requested, motioning you over with two curled fingers. With a swallow and a nod, you stepped out of the flow of students exiting into the hallway and approached the desk at the front of the room.

“What is it?” you asked.

“I just wanted to discuss your most recent paper, if you have some time,” he explained, and your heart sunk. Of course it was garbage, you’d written the whole thing last minute during a near-all-nighter. “I still have the copy you turned in here in my bag.”

“Right, of course— sure,” you nodded. By now the classroom was empty spare for the two of you, your words echoing slightly; presumably that was intentional, since these places were built for acoustics, but it made you worry you’d have to hear whatever criticism he had for you multiple times.

He pulled out the slightly-wrinkled paper and took his glasses off of his vest to wear (fuck, did he have to wear the glasses, just to personally attack you?) as he glanced over the top page before folding it over the staple.

“This essay,” he continued, “it’s—”

Ridiculous. Idiotic. A blight on humanity and a waste of printer ink.

“Fascinating,” he finished, surprising you. “After I read it, I searched your student profile on my office computer—”

You gulped, trying not to take that as a compliment.

“I’m looking at your information and I’m seeing you aren’t even a history major— is this a mistake, when it says your major is computer science?”

“No, that’s my major,” you nodded.

“Well, that’s a shame,” he decided, “because you have some really interesting ideas in here, clearly you must have studied history before.”

“I mean, not really,” you shrugged. “I didn’t even care that much about history until, you know, you...r class,” you finished quickly, realizing it sounded too odd otherwise.

And that smile, the way he looked down at the floor suddenly, was he blushing? “Thank you. I’m always… glad to inspire.”

If only you knew everything you’d inspired in me, Professor.

“If you didn’t care about history, what would motivate you to register for an honors history seminar?” he asked suddenly.

“Well…” you trailed off, reaching up to scratch the back of your neck as you dodged his gaze.

“It couldn’t possibly be because I’m teaching it,” he realized.

“I came to your talk last year, the one you did about the Sokovian civil war,” you finally admitted, letting out a lungful of air as you said it and looking up at him sheepishly.

“Ah,” he nodded, “yes, that might make a bit more sense. But we still haven’t found the real reason, have we?” His eyebrow raised slightly and you felt like he was toying with you— but you liked it, the shiver that ran up your spine made that obvious. “Because the question remains of what would possess a computer science student to take time out of her busy schedule on a Friday night— if I recall the night correctly— to listen to some stuffy visiting scholar talk about a bloody war in a country she may not have even heard of before.”

“My friend brought me,” you defended.

“Under what guise?” he pressed.

“She… may have mentioned something about… a cute professor with a sexy accent…” you stammered, cringing slightly as you spared a glance back up at him. He was staring back at you with the most bewildering expression. His eyes said ‘you thought I was cute?’, and yet his smile said ‘I knew it.’

“You must’ve been horribly disappointed when I took the stage,” he finally replied, voice a bit lower, softer, not echoing around the room anymore.

“Not at all,” you returned, almost below your breath now, and suddenly you became very aware that you were standing too close to him, but you couldn’t move away, you couldn’t even look away anymore. “I’m here, aren’t I? Taking your class?”

“And you make it nearly impossible to focus, did you know that? I swear your eyes never leave me, I can feel them on me. It’s quite unfair, because I can’t stare back at you no matter how much I want to.”

Just as you looked down at his lips and back up to his eyes, which seemed to be following a similar pattern on your own face, just when you thought this might be it and you were about to do something you really shouldn’t (but really wanted to), you heard the door open behind you and you spun around so fast you nearly hurt your neck.

“Oh,” the man in the doorway mumbled, apparently surprised to see you enough to nearly drop the papers tucked under his arm. “I’m teaching the next class in here— Honors History of Islam?”

“Professor Waters, yes, my apologies,” Zemo nodded, “we were just… our discussion ran a bit long, we’ll get out of your way.”

You and Zemo awkwardly gathered your things and made a dash for the door as the older professor took his place at the podium. Once the two of you were out in the hall, you let out a sigh and gave each other a glance, like you were each waiting for the other to either acknowledge or ignore what had just (almost) happened.

“I have my next class across campus in a half hour,” he remembered suddenly, lifting his arm and pulling back the brown sleeve of his coat to look at his watch.

“Right, you should… get to that,” you nodded.

“Walk with me?” he proposed, and you hoped your smile wasn’t as beaming as it felt.

“I’d love to.”

So maybe you ended up skipping your evening class to sit in the back of his History of England course. And, perhaps, he ended that one early, too, this time to buy you coffee at the student center; and your discussion ended up going on so long that the coffee shop closed and you had to go to his office to finish the conversation.

But, in a certain sense, it could be argued that you never really got a chance to finish that conversation after all… because a few moments after he shut the door to his office, you, for lack of a better term, jumped his bones.

“Fuck,” he mumbled against your lips as you pulled him closer by his jacket, “we can’t do this.”

You nodded, reaching up to wrap your arms around his neck. “Mhm, yeah, you’re right,” you agreed breathlessly.

His hands took their place at your waist as you both stepped back, the back of your legs bumping into his desk which you jumped up slightly to sit on.

“I mean, we really can’t do this,” he continued, kissing your neck instead now while your legs wrapped around his hips, your skirt riding up slightly, your fingers fumbling with the buttons on his collar. “I want to, overwhelmingly so, but we can’t.”

“I know,” you sighed; your head fell back when his teeth grazed over your pulse, and his hand was right there to catch it and hold it up, gripping the back of your neck.

“This absolutely cannot happen,” he groaned when your legs pulled him closer, something hard and hot pressing up against your thigh through his trousers and you were really hoping it wasn’t just his cell phone.

Then he rocked his hips, just barely, and you felt the outline of the ridge of his head and it was definitely not his phone unless he had the most suggestively-shaped phone case of all time. You gasped and grabbed his face to kiss him again, shamelessly desperate now, weaving your fingers into the hair just above the back of his neck.

By now you had managed to get a few of his buttons open so when you slid your fingers down from time to time, they ran over his chest and the patch of dark blonde hair there. Funny enough, you couldn’t remember having any strong opinions on chest hair before this afternoon, but now you felt your walls fluttering around nothing.

He helped you shed your blazer just before tossing his own coat aside, never breaking the kiss, holding your face gently while he pushed you down to lay on his desk— he reached behind you to clear a few stray papers out of the way first.

Your back hit the glossy wood and his weight pinned you down, rough hands sliding up your legs and under your skirt as you tried to push your hips up for more friction where you needed him most.

He pushed your hips back down, not too roughly but definitely enough to get your attention, before sliding his hands up your skirt again where he toyed with the hem of your panties.

You wanted to say something, more specifically you wanted to beg him to touch you, but you had this fear that if you spoke now it would all become real and he would stop because, as he had so poignantly noted, this can’t happen. And both of you knew that… so maybe it would be easier to let it happen if neither of you really acknowledged it.

Luckily, he didn’t tease you too long, reaching under the fabric and swiping the rough pads of his fingers over your slickened folds. You choked on your gasp, accidentally digging your nails into his shoulders when he drew delicate circles around your clit. All at once, he suddenly pushed those fingers right inside you and your back arched; you needed so much more than just his fingers but the way they twisted and curled against your walls was nearly perfect as well.

They didn’t stay long, quickly pulling back as you watched him quickly open his trousers just before you felt the head of him pushing up to your entrance.

His eyes met yours, dark with need, yet somehow clearly asking you for permission, making sure this was what you wanted: and fuck, you wanted it more than anything. The moment that you nodded, he began to push forward— slow and deliberate, but unyielding.

Perhaps as a perfect healthy college student in a male-dominated major, you had no real excuse for it to have been so long since you’d had sex. As you liked to put it: dating as a woman in computer science means the odds are good but the goods are odd. Truth be told, you weren’t sure at this point if having had sex any time in the past year would’ve prepared you for him anyway. It felt like he was forging a new path inside you— certainly a wider one than anyone else ever had since he was so thick.

With his hips fully seated against yours, the tip of his cock just reached the end of you, just barely brushed over those sensitive spots you didn’t even know you had before.

It stung a bit to be filled this thoroughly, so it was no wonder you were biting down on your lip hard enough to bruise it, your fingers clutching at his shirt tightly.

“Am I hurting you?” he whispered, finally breaking the silence, voice strained like he was struggling just as much as you were (though in an entirely different way).

“A little,” you admitted. “Please don’t stop.”

He groaned a few curses as he started to move back, and forth, and so slow you could hardly stand it.

“Fuck,” you breathed, “oh my god, harder, please…”

A little smile crossed his face, a sharp exhale almost like a laugh, and it made your cheeks burn even hotter than they already were. But, he obeyed, regardless, more aggressive in his movements yet not any faster as he held your hips to keep you from sliding across the desk’s glossy wood surface.

Your moans were starting to echo around the office’s beige walls at this point, and he snarled as he bit down on your neck. “You need to stay quiet,” he hissed in your ear. “Can you do that for me? Can you stay quiet even when I’m making you feel so good?”

“I-I’m trying,” you whimpered, “your cock is… so deep…”

“Oh, I know,” he cooed, voice heavy with faux pity, “poor thing, you can’t take it?”

“No!” you yelped. “I can take it! Please, please don’t stop.”

“I won’t have to if you stay quiet, darling, we can’t have somebody hearing you now can we?” he chuckled, licking and sucking at your pulse point as your eyes rolled back in your head. “We can’t have somebody hearing you cry for me, and coming in here, and seeing you laying on my desk getting fucked by your professor, right?”

What the hell was wrong with you that that idea actually turned you on? Why did it actually make you want to moan louder until everyone could hear you?

And when his cock speared right against that spongy spot inside you, you did exactly that and he had to suddenly clamp his hand down over your mouth.

“Fuck,” he growled, “you’re going to get us both in trouble.”

Your attempts at apologies were totally incomprehensible with his hand over your mouth, not that they were likely to have made much sense either way.

Blinking your eyes shut, your legs began to quiver slightly as he rutted into you, your toes curling inside your loafers. You felt so full you could hardly stand it, stretched so wide that you were forced to feel every detail of his cock as it filled you. Already your walls were bearing down on him; you couldn’t help it, it was like your body was just his instrument now and instinct had taken control of your movements.

His accent was definitely stronger now as he whispered in your ear, praising you gruffly. You knew from the beginning that you loved high marks and encouragement from your teachers, but this… this was different, and you hadn't known how much it would affect you.

"Good girl," he breathed, "you're taking me so well, draga, you feel so perfect around me."

You whined from behind his hand and he chuckled at your obvious neediness.

"You like making me feel good, darling?" he presumed, his smile pressing against your neck between nipping kisses to your pulse point. "You like knowing that I can barely take this tight cunt gripping me so well, that I'm already addicted to your precious body and want to fill it with my seed?"

With your eyes rolling back in your head you nodded feverishly, heavy in your state of total delirium as he pumped his cock deep into you over and over.

You reached up to try to pull his hand away from your mouth, and he met your gaze with fire in his eyes.

“If I take my hand away, will you be good?” he challenged, and you nodded feverishly. He was a bit hesitant but slowly moved his hand down, and though you did have to keep biting your lip, you managed to restrain yourself.

Every drag of the ridge of his head inside you was somehow more intense than the last, somehow hitting right at your spot and it was like each rough thrust knocked his name out of your mind and onto your lips until you were chanting it like a prayer, or a plea.

And each time you said it, he fucked you harder, snarling and whispering your name back to you a few times, in between little praises; "Beautiful," he mumbled, "such a sweet little girl… such a perfect cunt."

“I— fuck, I’m gonna—” you stammered your warning.

“Will you come for me?” he finished for you, and you nodded quickly.

“Fuck, I’m so close,” you hissed.

It was obvious just by the build-up that you were going to come hard, pleasure tightening in your core until you were sure that it would spill over but it just kept going, making you wonder if it would ever reach the breaking point.

And oh boy did it, it slammed into you in fact, and your legs quivered as you struggled for air. He growled in your ear, fucking you harder through it all, stroking every place that had only become even more sensitive. The moment you could form words again, you were wasting the ability on a string of swears and promises you couldn’t keep.

“Yours, fuck, it’s yours,” you sobbed. He chuckled a little, pulling back to examine your face which must have given away how fucked-out and cockdrunk you were already.

“Say it again,” he demanded darkly, holding you tighter, fucking you a bit more deliberately though not any less aggressively.

“Yours,” you gasped, cut off by a rough and dominating kiss. Your moans were lost to his tongue but he didn’t need them to know you were coming, the way your body gripped him tighter than ever was sign enough.

“So good,” he whispered against your lips, “you’re doing so good for me…”

His words washed over your skin and soothed you like a salve, bringing some relief from the overwhelming feelings his body was assaulting yours with.

All things considered, he was still moving rather slowly, each of his thrusts measured and patient, and never really changing speed even as you were coming around him. Weak little cries fell from your throat each time his hips met yours and the tip of his cock kissed the deepest parts of you.

Your body went limp in his arms and you hadn't noticed before how good it felt for him to hold you, for his strong hands to support you like it was nothing. His thumb gently stroked your back through your shirt and you mewled weakly into his shoulder.

"So good, draga, so fucking good," he mumbled, holding you closer.

"Please… faster," you whimpered, "I want you to come."

"Is that what you want?" he taunted, ignoring the way you nodded immediately. "You want to make me come, darling?"

"Yes, please, want it so much," you gasped.

He finally sped up, though it was still nothing like the lightning-speed jackhammering you were used to from guys your age: it was better, certainly, especially when he lifted your leg onto his shoulder and pushed so deep you saw stars.

The second one seemed to hit you all at once, almost out of nowhere, and you heard yourself mumble, “Professor, I’m coming.” It sounded a bit pitiful, the way you said it, but he apparently didn’t mind as you felt him nod encouragingly in the crook of your neck.

You felt totally drained by now, exhausted even though all you’d been doing was lying there and taking it, but you knew he wasn’t done with you yet. But, if the way his thrusts were becoming more desperate and erratic were anything to go by, he might be done with you soon.

"I'm going to come inside you," he groaned against your ear. You were, like, 99.9% sure that if you told him not to, he would pull out, but the way that he phrased it, like a demand, like you didn't have a choice and he would do it either way… it had an effect on you, one he noticed when your channel tightened around him instantly. "Oh, you like that idea, hm? You want to be full of my come? Your sweet little cunt is already trying to milk every drop from me."

"Yes," you breathed, "fuck, I want your come in me, please!"

He sped up quite a bit then, each slam of his hips into yours making you choke on a whine, your arms weakly clinging onto him for dear life.

You could feel his cock swelling, flexing, pushing your body to its limits as he moaned lowly through his teeth, streams of come making you feel warm and full.

He didn't stop until every drop was in you, thrusting in time with each pump of his release until he slowed to a stop.

Strands of hair fell into his face as he hung his head, panting hard and fast. You melted back onto the desk, realizing this might be the first time in a solid half hour your back wasn’t arched.

It was a bit of a struggle to keep your eyes open against the heavy fog of afterglow that filled your mind; you couldn’t remember the last time you felt so… satiated. As a college student, you were always thinking about the next assignment, mentally re-evaluating your calendar, or preparing for something— and usually all on less than six hours of sleep.

But now your mind was as close to a blank slate as it had been in at least a decade. Even though you probably should’ve been, you weren’t even thinking about the potential consequences of this, the implications, the risks. No, you were just staring up at him, thinking about kissing him again.

He would have to lean down for that, though; there was no way you were going to sit up now.

You hadn't even noticed that you had closed your eyes, almost falling asleep right there on his desk, until you felt his hand cradle your face softly, a calloused thumb rubbing over your cheek.

In unison, the both of you sighed deeply.

As much as it felt like a real effort, you blinked open your eyes and looked up at him, watching him comb his fingers through his hair. It only messed up the style even further yet he looked better than ever.

He slowly moved his hips back, leaving you annoyingly empty, and readjusted himself until he almost looked put together again… but his collar was still uneven and his lips still looked bitten and there was still that precious pinkish hue on his cheeks. If anyone else saw him in this state, they’d either know what happened between you two or think he’d just run across campus or something.

If anyone else saw him in this state, you’d be a little jealous, to be totally honest.

You got back to work trying to right your appearance as well, though you knew the best you could hope for was only mildly presentable; he looked at you like you’d never looked better, though.

“Well, this was fun,” you chuckled breathlessly, “but it’s getting pretty late and I have an eight a.m. tomorrow…”

“Yeah, so do I,” he nodded, glancing away.

You picked up your bag from where you’d dropped it by the door, lifting the strap over your shoulder and starting to turn to leave.

"I… I should walk you back to your dorm," he announced, making you smile.

"That's sweet, but save your chivalry. I can take care of myself just fine."

"But—"

"I think it's safer if we're not seen together walking together by my dorm," you interjected, "especially when I'm walking a little funny…"

"I hope I didn't hurt you," he winced sympathetically.

"No, trust me, that was… exactly what I needed," you breathed. He smiled a little, looking down at the floor.

"Then I'll see you in class," he nodded, watching you closely as you stepped back and picked up your bag, starting to leave his office with one last small wave goodbye. “Wait, wait!” he whispered harshly just before you could let go of his door, and you giggled as he leaned out into the hall and glanced around to make sure no one was nearby.

When he confirmed the coast was clear, he smiled and grabbed your face with one hand, pulling you into a sudden kiss. And you smiled too— you couldn’t help it— as you kissed him back, almost ready for him to drag you back into that office and start this all over again. He did let you go, though, with one more whispered ‘goodnight’ and a look that made your heart do little somersaults.

As you finally did make your way back to your dorm, you tried to figure out if that was a goodbye kiss or a ‘see you soon’ kiss. Or maybe a ‘thanks for the one-time office quickie’ kiss? But you didn’t know enough about this sort of thing to know if that was even an option.

All you did know was that you really hoped it wasn’t the last kiss you’d have with him.

Can I speak to you in my office today after class? Thank you.

-Z

You may ask yourself: can one simple email, in only thirteen words, strike fear into the hearts of those who read it? And the answer is yes, assuming that email is from Professor Helmut Zemo and read by the lovestruck student who slept with him two days ago and hasn't stopped thinking about it since.

Only one of a few things could happen in his office after class, and there was a massive gap between the best and worst case scenarios. You dressed for the best but prepared yourself psychologically for the worst.

You caught him staring as you walked past the teaching podium to your seat in the front; you just hoped nobody else caught him. And if you'd thought paying attention in class was tough before, boy oh boy was it a challenge now. The nerves of what he wanted to discuss with you were bad enough alone, but that combined with memories from two days earlier randomly assaulting your psyche was just overwhelming.

When he pointed at the map with two fingers, you could remember exactly how those fingers had felt inside you, twisting and curling and getting you ready for his cock.

When he spoke, you could hear the difference in his voice compared to how he groaned out his praises while he was fucking you within a damn inch of your life.

And every once in a while, when he couldn’t help but glance at you for a moment, his gaze burned right through you; you were helpless to those brown eyes, completely paralyzed by them, and it must’ve been hours of that before class finally ended.

For the first time, you were the first person out the door when he released the class. As much as it was going to be a little bit weird to beat him to his office, it was certainly better than any of your other options. There was a chair in the hall beside the door, and you took a seat and pretended to read a book just to look busy (there was no way you could actually turn symbols on a page into readable language right now, not when you knew he’d be here any minute to talk about… something).

Your peripheral caught him coming down the hall, but you pretended to be deeply immersed in your book until he was right beside you, unlocking his door and opening it for you and himself. Tucking your book away and following him inside, you found him already staring at you, expression completely unreadable. Your gut sank in anticipation of whatever conversation this was going to become, and a moment passed in heavy silence.

"Hi," you greeted plainly, letting out a quick breath.

"Hi," he returned. "Close the door behind you."

You nodded and did as you were told, quietly pushing the wood back until the door latched before approaching where he had come to stand beside his desk. Though you didn't originally intend to, you found yourself standing a bit too close.

"I'm not quite sure where to start," he admitted, chuckling breathlessly as he reached up to rub the back of his neck. He looked cute flustered, which was a shame because his tone seemed to imply you needed to not be thinking about how cute he was. “Listen, you should know that what happened before… it was a mistake,” he sighed. “It can’t happen again.”

“Do you regret it?” you asked point-blank.

“It can’t happen again,” he repeated in lieu of a real answer, and you looked closely at his face; you didn’t find as much confidence there as you were looking for, it wasn’t the face of a man who knew he was making the right choice. You certainly didn’t think he was making the right choice.

“Why did you want to have this conversation alone in your office, then?” you challenged.

He cleared his throat slightly. “So no one would hear us.”

“Hear us talk?” you pressed. “Is that all?”

“That’s… definitely the plan,” he nodded, swallowing dryly. "Like I said, it was a mistake— my fault, not yours. And I just hope we can put it behind us respectfully."

“All the best mistakes are made at least twice,” you whispered, reaching up to trail your finger down his lapel. “Don’t you think?”

“Don’t do that,” he requested tensely.

"Do what?"

"That," he hissed. "Stop being… irresistible," he clarified, eyes darting from your lips to your finger to your eyes and back again. "A man can only take so much. I'm trying to do right by you."

"You already did when you fucked me that good," you smirked. "Nothing else could be as right as that."

Your fingers were just barely brushing over his belt when he grabbed you by the wrist. Jaw tight and eyes solemn, he shook his head.

You wrenched out of his grasp with a nod. It was worth a shot, but you didn't want to be that person who couldn't take no for an answer— so, you gave him a little smile and readjusted the strap of your bag. “Well, if it was just the once, then you should know that I’m still glad it happened. Even if it shouldn’t have.”

He nodded, strategically not speaking— but you knew he would agree, if he could.

“And if it’s any consolation to you now, you were the best I ever had.”

You reached for the doorknob, just starting to turn it and open your way out when he suddenly slammed it shut with a hand right above your head, making you gasp and spin around to look up at his dark gaze.

“Professor…” you whispered.

“The best you ever had?” he repeated, grinning proudly when you nodded. “Oh, sweetheart, I wasn’t even trying.” He leaned down to brush his lips against your ear as he whispered to you: “You don’t even know yet how good I can make you feel.”

A shiver ran up your spine; your tongue darted out to lick your lips. “Are you going to get on with it and show me?”

He didn’t even let you step away from the door, dropping to his knees right there and pushing up your skirt to kiss and bite your thighs. “Only if you ask very nicely,” he taunted with a brow raised in challenge.

“Please,” you breathed, “fuck, please, want you to taste me.”

His hands slid up your legs, grabbing the hem of your panties before sliding back down.

It wasn’t like you’d never been eaten out before, but this still felt like a first considering your skirt was pushed up to your waist, your panties were pulled down to your ankles, and even just one slow lick over your folds made it obvious he knew exactly what he was doing.

“F-fuck,” you choked, reaching down to weave your fingers into his hair. He grinned against your skin and kept going, exploring you carefully before finally sucking on your swollen clit. Your knees threatened to buckle, your head fell back against the door so hard it almost hurt, but all you could really feel was his mouth on you, moving like he knew your body better than you did.

So it was no wonder, then, that you already began to spiral towards your release, legs shaking around his head as he devoured you mercilessly.

"Oh my god, I—" you tried to warn him, but he already knew, and he pulled back to wipe his mouth with his sleeve and stand up. He grabbed your jaw and kissed you roughly, stopping to whisper to you so close that his lips brushed against yours.

"I'm sorry, draga, but you've spoiled me… now that I've felt you come around my cock, I can't imagine making you come any other way. I need to feel your cunt grip me so fucking tight… it's all I've been thinking about since I last saw you," he admitted.

"I thought about it, too," you sighed. "I was up all night trying to make myself come as good as you did but I couldn't… your come was still leaking out of me."

He growled and leaned in to nip at your ear. "Oh, poor thing… I can imagine it so easily, you laying in your bed with your legs spread, fingers getting exhausted from playing with your little pussy too much, these perfect lips whining for me because you need me to take care of you."

"H-Helmut, please," you whimpered.

"Yeah, something like that," he smirked.

"I can't wait any more, just fuck me. Need you inside me," you breathed.

"Then bend over my desk."

{part 2}

#baron zemo x reader #helmut zemo x reader #helmut zemo smut

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teacupcollector · 3 years

Text

Rebel - Chapter 3

Main Masterlist Series Masterlist

Summary- (Y/N) Is a Matt Murdocks 14 year old daughter who is just entering high school and is really struggling. She doesn't have a regular life having a blind father. He can't help with homework, Can't give her a have a ride to school, He can't see how often her face falls when she lies to him. Of course she has her Uncle Foggy and Aunt Karen but (Y/N) feels like to much of a burden until the one and only Frank Castle comes into her life and seems to be more of a father figure then Matt ever has.

After the call with your friend Jenifer you began getting ready. You put on a short sleeved striped shirt with a cute (F/C) (F/A) on it then you put on some skinny jeans with a matching color. You do your hair up in a messy bun then putting some flip flops and then finally topping it off with some of your favorite jewelry pieces that would look nice with the outfit. You grab your phone off from your bed then look at the full length mirror in your room looking yourself up and down and you may or may not have done a few poses.

"Hey dad!" you shout from your room as you walk out of your room while looking at your phone. "Yeah sweetpea?" he says "looking" up at you. "I'm going to head out now. We are meeting at our street corner then we might walk around a bit." You smile at him as you look only for it to turn into a frown. 'Of course he is working... He never takes breaks.' You think looking down at the computer along with the case files and the translating pad (I don't know what its called) from the computer to his fingertips. "Alright you be safe now okay? Call and update me on where you are and I promise we will go out to eat when you get back." He says as a smile graces his features. "Yeah see you then..." You says quietly as you walk over to the door. "1:30?" You ask. "1:30." He answers back with a firm tone, not to you but seemingly to himself to remember that he needs to be present at that time.

Walking down the stairs of the apartment building you were in you hum to yourself. 'I wonder if Abigail decided to hang out with us. It has been a while since all three of us hung out together.' You thought as your feet carried you to the corner street of where your meet up was scheduled. After a few minutes you hear your name being called. "(Y/N)!" You hear both Jenifer and Abigail call in unison. You wave back and run up to them. "Hey guys! So what’s the plan stan?" You ask. "Well I was thinking we could walk around for a bit." Jenifer says. "Oh! and we can go to that alley way we found a few days ago. You know the ones with all the graffiti?" Abigail adds. "And oh my god I wonder if we will see that hot guy again!" Abigail starts bouncing up and down and grabs both Jenifer and your arm and starts speed walking. "Wasn't he high when we saw him? He has to be high with the type of art work he is making." Jenifer laughs. "Probably but who cares!" Abigail says. "I just want to look at the graffiti." You smile. "Yeah I guess... But if he is there its a big bonus!" Abigail says happily.

After about a 10 minute walk all three of you arrive at the entrance of the alley way which is in between a diner and a small thrift store. There is an array of colors like pink, blue, white, and many more. There is bubble letters that spelled words that you couldn't read. There was the occasional 'I LUV POT' or some peace signs. There was garbage all over the place and two huge green and rusty dumpsters at the end which was also covered in graffiti. Abigail sighs. "Darn he isn't here." She pouts. "Is that the only reason why you wanted to hang out with us?" Jenifer asks in a teasing tone. "N-no! I was just wondering..." Abigail says the pout still present on her lips. "Guys we are only 14 and 15 and we just got into high school. We shouldn't be focused on guys anyway. Now lets look around! The first one to fine a pink shape wins!" You say running down the alley way.

The three of you spend about ten minutes each on finding shapes. All of you have known each other since diapers and this is one of the many games you guys play. "We are such losers for playing these games" Jenifer laughs. "We are the best losers then! No one can compare to us!" You shout then sigh. "Come on I want to go stare at the water and it might take us maybe 20 minutes to get there." You say. "Did any of you bring money? Maybe we can call a cab and make it there in minutes." Jenifer asks. Abigail pats her pockets down. "Nope I'm broke." She says chuckling nervously. "Same here I got nothing." You say shaking your head. "Come on I'm sure your lawyer of a dad has to give you some money! He's a lawyer!" Abigail says. "He is self employed and I don't need money really so I never ask." You shrug. "He already has you doing all the chores in the house pretty much, the least he can do is give you some money." Abigail grumbles. "Hey! I don't do all the chores and my father is a hard working man! If I can help him I will!" You say starting to get irritated. "Doesn't he leave you alone all the time though?" Jenifer asks. "Not all the time!" You let out a slight growl. "When did this become all about me all of the sudden! Can't we just get going!" You say raising your voice. "Alright fine! Jeez we are just worried about you (Y/N)." Jenifer reasons.

"Well lets quit worrying and get going..." You mumble as you walk out of the alley way looking down at the ground only to bump into someone as hot coffee spills onto both of you. The man lets out a grunt and grumbles. "I-I am so sorry sir I didn't mean to spill your coffee!" You look up at the man who has a grey hoodie that is now wet and a dark brown spot that had formed then going up to his face that has an assortment of bruises that he was obviously trying to hide under his cap. "'s fine." He grumbles. "I am so-" You were cut off by Abigail who grabs your wrist and starts tugging on it "(Y/N) lets go! He seems sketchy!" She whispers harshly. "Don't say that! That could make him upset!" You hiss but when you look back he is gone. "Great he is gone! You probably hurt his feelings!" You say. "You need to quit being so naïve! Not every person you bump into on the street will be a nice guy! Listen to your gut feeling!" Abigail says her anger slowly rising. You respond with the same rising anger "My gut feeling said he isn't dangerous! My dad says I have good intuition and can tell if someone is bad or not! He didn't seem bad!" Jenifer intervenes "Okay hey! Calm down this is suppose to be fun... I think you guys need some time away from each other so lets just call it a day alright?" She says and both of you sigh and nod. "I need to change anyway..." You mumble looking down at your now soaked shirt. Jenifer nods. "Do you want us to walk you home?" She asks and you shake your head. "No I'm okay... See you later." you take a few steps backwards then turn on your heels and head back home.

#matt murdock #frank castle #matt murdock x daughter reader #father matt murdock #platonic frank castle #platonic frank castle x reader #some angst #father daughter fluff #fluff #eventual angst #father daughter angst #daredevil #the punisher #marvel

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q-gorgeous · 3 years

Text

Ghost Farm

fanfiction

ao3

The GIW need ghost samples to conduct experiments. Why capture ghosts when you can make your own? prompt by @mystyrust

word count: 2609

warning: offscreen character death

gosh this prompt

Danny yawned as he walked into the school. He walked up to Sam and Tucker and was just about to greet them when heard Paulina sobbing into Dash’s chest by her locker.

“Woah.” He said. “What’s happening?”

“Star’s still missing.” Sam whispered.

“It’s been a week since her parents filed that report and no one’s seen any sign of her since then.” Tucker looked at his PDA. “No one has anything new to report online. I think it's starting to really wear on Paulina.”

“Maybe when we patrol later we should check up on some other places rather than just the ghost hot spots.” Danny said, looking back at Paulina. “Maybe we’ll be able to find something while we’re out.”

“Maybe.” Sam said. The first bell rang and they started heading to class. “But if we’re being realistic, a week is a long time with this kind of thing. She could be long gone out of Amity Park by now. Or, you know.” She whispered that last part.

“It wouldn’t hurt to try looking around though.”

The three of them walked into Lancer’s class. The empty desk next to Paulina felt like it took up the entire room and many of their classmates were trying not to look at it. The final bell rang and Mr. Lancer turned from where he was writing on the board.

“Alright, class.” He said somberly. “Let’s get started.”

QQQQQ

“We’re having no luck down here, Danny. What about you?” Tucker called through the Fenton phones.

Danny flew past the arcade and an ice cream shop and stopped, floating in front of an alley. “Nothing here. I think we can call it for-”

Danny’s head whipped towards the sound of trash cans crashing around. He floated into the alley slowly, looking around. When he came out the other end there was no one there.

“Are you okay, Danny?”

He turned back around. “Yeah, I think some cat was getting into one of the garbage cans over here or something.” He flew back out of the alley.

“Okay, well then-”

Danny stopped listening to her when he saw something laying on the ground. He touched down on the concrete and bent over to pick up a pink clip.

“Hey Sam.” Danny asked. “Dash and Kwan were talking about taking Paulina for ice cream, right?”

“Yeah?” She said, confused. “Why?”

“I found Paulina’s hair clip on the ground.”

A heavy silence settled between the three of them.

“She probably left with them, right?” Danny asked. “They wouldn’t have left her alone here?”

“There’s no way they’d just leave her there. Not with Star missing.” Tucker said.

Silence hovered over them again for a few seconds before Danny spoke. “You guys go home. I’m gonna fly up and down the streets over here again.”

“Are you sure?” Sam asked.

“Yeah.” Danny took off, flying above the buildings and scanning the ground below him. “Be careful getting home and let me know when you get there.”

They both gave him affirmatives and he looked up and down each street. In fifteen minutes he got notice that Sam was home and ten minutes after that so was Tucker.

He let out a deep breath, a bit more relaxed now that he knew Sam and Tucker were safely at home. He had a bad feeling, but he hadn’t seen anything suspicious along the streets or in the alley, so maybe Paulina did leave with Kwan and Dash and she just dropped her hair clip.

He turned around to start heading back home. He dropped down in between his house and the neighbor’s and transformed. Before heading inside, he let Sam and Tucker know he was home and he turned off the Fenton Phones and put them in his pocket.

Danny opened the door and stepped inside, shutting it behind him. He greeted his parents who sat waiting on the couch, his mom reading the paper and his dad cross stitching something. He yawned and started heading upstairs to get ready for bed.

After brushing his teeth and changing in the bathroom, Danny crossed the hall into his room, closing the door and turning off the light. He flopped down onto his bed and pulled the covers over himself.

He hoped Paulina was doing better tomorrow.

QQQQQ

Paulina was missing.

She had never come home last night and her parents called all her friends, asking if they knew where she was. No one had seen her since yesterday, and her parents filed a missing person report. It spread like wildfire through the school.

Dash and Kwan in particular looked horrified and close to hysterics throughout the day. They didn’t talk to anyone, didn’t even really look in anyone’s direction when their names were called.

It took until lunch, but soon word spread that one of the underclassmen was missing too. One of the band kids. No one had seen him since last night either and he just happened to live in the area that the ice cream shop was in.

It didn’t stop there either. Day after day, more and more kids were disappearing. Mikey, Dale, Sarah, more underclassmen. It was getting to the point where they cancelled school until someone had some answers.

That didn’t stop Sam from going out and searching for any clue she could find though. The first time Danny had seen her when he was patrolling on his own, he scooped her right up and took her home, scolding her.

When his mom got a panicked phone call from Sam’s hysteric mom, his heart dropped into his stomach. His hands went numb and he stared at his mom until she got off the phone and walked over to where he sat on the couch.

She pulled him into her arms tightly and whispered into his hair.

“Sam’s missing.”

QQQQQ

“Come on, Danny!” Tucker yelled through the computer. “You can’t just walk around waiting to be kidnapped! If you get kidnapped how are we gonna fix this?”

“What we’ve been doing hasn’t been working, Tucker!” Danny yelled back. “I can only cover so much ground when I don’t know what I’m looking for and you can’t be out there. I can barely do any patrols as it is, my parents are always coming up to my room to check on me. I don’t see any other way to do this.”

“What if you don’t come back either?”

Danny paused. “I have to come back. If I don’t come back then neither does Sam.”

Tucker sighed. “Just. Be careful.”

“I’ll try to be as careful as I can while being kidnapped.”

Tucker made a face at him just before Danny logged off. Transforming, Danny jumped into the air and flew out the window. He flew around town a bit before dropping off into the alleyway he found Paulina’s hair clip in. The areas that the kids were last seen in seemed to be all over town, but he couldn’t shake the sound that the garbage cans had made that day out of his head.

Pressing his back against the wall, Danny transformed and strolled out, walking down the street. There weren’t many people out most days now. Most of them were too afraid of going outside and getting snatched up like all the teenagers.

He’d been walking for fifteen minutes before he heard the crunch of gravel underneath tires behind him. He didn’t turn around and kept walking forward. Footsteps rapidly approached him and suddenly a bag was over his head.

“Hey!” He shouted.

“Are you sure we should take this one? What about his parents?”

Someone else scoffed. “They’re too dumb to do anything about it. They won’t even know where to find him. Just help me get him in the car.”

They picked Danny up and hauled him back towards the car. He heard the trunk open and they tied his wrists together before shutting the trunk heavily above him. Soon the vehicle was moving and driving away.

Well, he accomplished what he sent out to do. It wasn’t very comfortable though.

They must’ve been driving for at least an hour because by the time they stopped, both of Danny’s legs were asleep. The trunk popped open and he could feel the cold air rushing in. They pulled him out and placed him on the ground, yanking him back up after he almost collapsed from the pins and needles feeling in his legs.

They walked him to an entrance where he could hear key cards being scanned at multiple points. They led him through squeaky hallways until they stopped and were suddenly lifting him up onto a bed? No, a stretcher. They strapped him down and once he was tightly bound they ripped the bag off of his head.

Danny scrunched his eyes up at the white light bouncing off the bright white walls. Looking around, he saw two faces staring down at him. Agent K and Agent O.

“The GIW?” Danny said. “What the fuck? Why are you kidnapping humans?”

They ignored him and started pushing him down a very long hallway.

Rolling down the long hallway, Danny can hear the moans and groans, most of them coming from ghosts. He looks around and sees room upon room, windows letting him see the people inside each of them.

His heart drops when he sees Star. She’s floating inside her room, a small husk of a ghost. When she sees him, her eyes immediately light up with rage and sparks fly off of her as she bounces all over the room.

In the next room is Paulina. It doesn’t look like she’s a ghost, but it looks like she’s sick with ghost powers again. She’s pressed tightly against the wall she shares with Star. She hiccups and a ghost sense floats out of her mouth.

As they push him by, he sees everyone. Mikey, Dale, Sarah. All of the underclassmen that went missing. Even Dash was there. Each one various levels of dead, alive, and sick.

They reach the end of the hallway and his pulse is spiking, his heart hammering in his chest. He hasn’t seen Sam anywhere.

He clears his throat. “So, uh, wanna share what you guys are doing here?”

“Ghost studies.” Agent K clips out.

“Right. Why are you kidnapping humans then?”

“It’s easier to make ghosts than to catch them.”

“What-” Danny stops and his eyes widen. They can’t be serious. Making ghosts? His thoughts go back to Star, bouncing around her room like a comet and his blood runs cold.

They roll through a set of double doors and when they open they’re in an operating room. His thoughts are buzzing and he can hear the click and ping of metal objects being placed on the counter. They’re just about to roll a utensil cart over to his stretcher when he hears a scream that fills his veins with fire.

Without even thinking about it, Danny rips his wrists out of the restraints and punches Agent O in the face. He falls into the cart and all of the tools clatter to the ground. Danny shoots an ectoblast at each belt binding his ankles to the stretcher and hops off the bed, facing Agent K, glaring at him, hands filled with ectoplasm.

“You’re a ghost!” Agent K exclaims before Danny kicks him in the stomach.

“And you’re scum.” Danny snarls. He shoots an ectoblast into the side of Agent K’s head, knocking him unconscious.

Transforming, Danny jumps up into the air and starts flying from room to room, looking for Sam. He finally finds her in another room in a different hallway, another agent sticking a needle full of ectoplasm into her arm. She screams again.

As the agent is reaching for something else from a tray, Danny picks up the tray, sending its contents flying, and smashes it into his face. The agent tumbles to the ground and Danny grabs his keycard. Picking Sam up, Danny phases them out of the room, locking the agent inside.

“Sam! Sam, are you okay?” Danny asks shakily.

She shakes her head. “We can’t worry about me right now. We have to get your parents and the cops.”

“But-”

Sam shakes her head again. “Some of these kids won’t make it long enough for you to patch me up. They’ve been sick for too long.”

He looks at her for a few seconds before nodding. He shoots up into the air, holding Sam close to his chest as he flew as fast as he could back home.

He flew straight into the living room, halting abruptly when he saw his parents standing there. They stared with wide eyes at Sam in his arms and started reaching for their guns.

“Wait!” He shook his head. “We need your help! I found out where all the kids are!”

Maddie’s gun clattered to the ground. “Where are they? Was Danny with them?”

“Danny’s fine, he’s not there.” He said hurriedly. “They’re in a GIW compound outside of town. We need to hurry.”

“Let me just-” Maddie started reaching for Sam.

“No! We can’t waste any time.” His grip tightened on Sam. “She said she’ll be fine for now but there are kids who won’t make it much longer. They need our help more right now.”

“Okay. Okay, Jack. Get the keys for the van and a couple of bazookas. You take Sam to the van and direct us to the compound. I’m going to get in touch with the police.”

They all piled into the van and Danny directed them toward the compound. Danny kept a close eye on Sam and Maddie stayed on the phone until they reached the compound, giving the police the address. The van slammed through the brick wall surrounding the compound and straight into the front wall of the building.

They all jumped out, Danny still carrying Sam, and he keycarded them through all the locked doors until they got to the wing full of students. Maddie covered her mouth as she looked at them.

Soon the police got there and they began to cart out the agents that remained in the building. Paramedics came in to take care of the kids who were still alive while Jack and Maddie worked on calming Star and the other ghosts down.

Danny let go of Sam’s hand slowly as the paramedics loaded her into the ambulance. He turned around and flew back into the building where he found his parents trying to comfort a distraught Star.

He floated up to her and held a hand out. She looked at it and her eyes darted up to his face, recognition flashing through them. Tears welled up in her eyes and she stood, wrapping her arms around him as she sobbed.

He loosely wrapped his arms back around her and waited with her until she was ready to go.

QQQQQ

Danny, Sam, and Tucker sat closely together on top of Danny’s bed. They had just gotten back from the memorial held for all the kids that died inside the compound. Danny and Tucker each held one of Sam’s hands, gripping them tightly.

Sam took a deep breath and let it out shakily, her fingers twitching and going through Danny’s hand before settling back in place.

Danny hoped to whatever deity there might be that this would never happen again. No matter what anyone thought of the ghosts in Amity Park, they had never stooped low enough to kill someone. They weren’t collecting humans for a ghost farm.

He glanced up at the window, looking at the night sky. A ghost flew through the night, sparking brightly like a comet.

#gorgi writes #danny phantom #phic phight #phic phight 21 #phic phight 2021 #danny fenton #sam manson #tucker foley #star #paulina sanchez #fanfiction #fanfic #fic #phic

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sombreboy · 3 years

Text

Quality time⇢kth x jjk

⇢18+ ⇢pairing: Taehyung x Jungkook ⇢genre: Smut, fluff, mxm, married couple ⇢word count: 3.7k ⇢warnings: Profanity, fluff, smut, daddy kink, sub!jjk, dom!kth, dirtytalk, masturbation, anal, please its fiction use lube and be safe, creampie in da ass

A/N: Serves as a oneshot within the Love Maze series AU, however can also be read on it’s own. Co-written with my lovely @velvetwicebang <3 Banner made by lovely @chimoona <3 Thank you xoxo

Jungkook & Taehyung absolutely loved and adored being fathers to little Taeyeon. There's no amount of riches in the entire universe that'd make them even consider trading their lives away. But... they'd be lying if they said they didn't need a break.

Ever since their little girl joined their family, both men have been busier than ever. With Jungkook being a very high demand tattoo artist, he spends the majority of his day putting art on people's skin. Sometimes he'd be able to bring the small one to work with him, but only when all he had to do was sketch-- and even then he'd get less than the ideal amount of work done. But he refused to let Taehyung take all the responsibility by himself. Luckily, Tae's job was not nearly as demanding. He could work on edits of his photos from his very couch with a baby in his lap without issues. Except for when the child was insatiable and wanted her other daddy. Adding to their exhaustion, when they both were actually home, all their energy went to keep Taeyeon happy, fed and clean. They love her so much, but... They've barely been able to show this love to one another.

With all this in mind, Jungkook had decided to plan a surprise for the night dedicated to his husband. From the amount of times he's been babysitting Joon and Jisoo's kids, they finally helped convince Kook to let them take Taeyeon for one night to let them breathe. Jungkook was very hesitant until he finally gave in; only with Taehyung in mind. He needed it.

Jungkook knew Tae would be waiting at home, as Koo had brought their baby with him to work to let the elder get some peaceful work done. After leaving his child at Joon's, he drove home feeling excited. On the way, he picked up some pizza. A simple luxury they've also rarely indulged in lately. Tonight was going to be simple, yet not. Jungkook felt his mouth salivate as he pulled up in the driveway, and it was not because of the pizza.

The exact moment Taehyung heard the familiar squeak of the doorknob, he dismissed his computer to the empty side of the couch. The elder was expecting to be greeted by Jungkook and Taeyeon— like always— but instead, he was met with a box of pizza in place of their baby.

“Kook, where’s Yeonie?” The little girl has been with them for months, it felt out of place not seeing her cute face after a long day of work, “Is she okay? Did something happen to her?” Tae’d been so busy thinking of the worst, that the rare box of pizza in Jungkook’s hold was momentarily forgotten. It was only when his husband had explained to him about the night’s plans that Taehyung visibly relaxed.

“Shit.. I’m so stressed out these days.” The elder sighed, finally looking into Kook’s soft eyes once he’d gotten a hold of himself, “You did this for us?” He looped his arms around Jungkook’s neck, “Baby, thank you. That’s so thoughtful of you..” Taehyung took the box of greasy pizza from his husband’s hand, careless as he sat it down on the coffee table. He plopped down onto the couch, forgetting about his ‘parent image’ for the moment. Tae brought a slice of pizza to his mouth, outwardly moaning at the forgotten flavor. He’s missed this, that’s for sure. “I missed pizza, thank you.” He was clueless as to what Jungkook’s motive was, “Want to watch TV? We still need to catch up on that show.”

"Sure, let's." Jungkook grabbed the remote as he plopped down next to Taehyung, turning the tv on to resume where they had previously attempted to finish half way through a show on Netflix. Kook reached for a greasy piece of the blissful garbage food of his own and quickly had it devoured, all while glancing over at his husband more than he was focusing on the movie. Without their child, it seemed like Taehyung really savored the moment to just be. It was like pieces of the old Taehyung seeped through the cracks of his father persona. Jungkook didn't really need nor want any more pizza, letting Tae eat most of it. The youngers appetite was for something else entirely.

As time passed, Kook allowed Taehyung to enjoy the relaxation of digesting and watching his show, but when deemed enough, Jungkook's patience ran low. Now that the elder got some time to breathe, it was Jungkook's turn to get what he's been yearning for.

"Daddy," Kook murmured coyly, knowing this specific word stirred something in his husband. He reached to caress Tae's cheek with his tattooed knuckles, a gentle way of asking the elder to look at him, "I have something else for you."

The elder found it exceptionally hard to digest his bite of pizza, so he sat the half-eaten piece down, now more intrigued by his husband’s daring words. It’s been so long; his needy cock was extra responsive compared to a few years back. It was obvious he’d been starved of sexual intimacy, every graze of Jungkook’s knuckles drove him mad with lust.

His inviting words were simply the strawberry on top. It was the extra boost the elder needed to finally attend to his own needs. And by the looks of it, his husband desperately needed it too. It was about time they looked after one another.. “Oh yeah?” Taehyung’s tongue swiped over his lips, “What is it?” Excitement was an understatement, and the growing bulge poking at his sweatpants proved that.

Jungkook had Taehyung exactly where he wanted him, aching with anticipation and excitement. It was endearing how easily affected the elder was-- but he couldn't blame him. Kook was just as needy after this long without any intimacy aside from kissing. ''You've been a bit tense lately,'' Kook's words were innocent as he leaned in to place one last sweet kiss on his lips. Now, he wanted anything but sweet, ''Let me take care of you.'' He murmured as his kisses traveled down Taehyung's sharp jaw, groaning into his tanned skin as one hand eagerly tugged at the button of his husband's pants to undo them and slide his long fingers underneath the waistband, ''Missed your big cock,'' Jungkook's words grew filthier, his hot breath moving to caress Taehyung's ear whilst his hand firmly gripped the hardening length, ''Did it miss me?''

Taehyung didn’t know when, but he threw his head back in a moan; the mere touch making him breathless. He’s been deprived of any kind of attention, and with Jungkook’s sneaky hand tightly holding on to his length, Tae felt like he could cum right then and there. The elder held himself back, though. Something told him they wouldn’t have time to themselves often, he wanted to make the moment last. “It missed you so much.. fuck. Wanna be inside my gorgeous husband..” The last part came out breathy, still heavily affected by the younger’s sudden need to take care of him. Hell, Taehyung wasn’t complaining in the slightest, “Bet it’s so tight too after all this time. Lemme get a feel, babe..”

"Anything you wish for," Jungkook cooed as he tugged the elders pants down to pull out his heavy length, grasping Taehyungs hand to place it on his own girth, "Touch yourself slowly." He ordered as he stood up to undo his own pants and pull them down with his underwear in one go, shamelessly exposing his already turgid cock. He pulled his shirt off too, making sure his husband could see everything, "You love seeing me like this?" Kook smile playfully as he grabbed his own length, making a show out of the way he rubbed circles on the wet mushroom head with his thumb. "Wanna help stretch me out with your cock, baby?"

“Mhm..” A strong gulp rippled in Taehyung’s throat, feeding off of his husband’s undivided attention as he stroked himself— slowly, like Jungkook had ordered. He didn’t want to upset the younger; Taehyung wanted to please, “Fuck, I wanna stretch you out like old times, fill you up with my cum..” An excited groan excited past Taehyung’s slightly parted lips. He couldn’t help it; he pumped himself faster. His brows knitted closer together, the wet sounds of his throbbing dick now more alive. “Baby sit on my cock, please.. wanna be in you again.” Taehyung didn’t care about how pathetic he sounded, if it’d get his point across, then he was pleased.

''Ah, how I've dreamed of hearing you say that.'' Jungkook whined as he firmly squeezed his cock, earning an aching throb from it. He felt his ass clench around nothing just from the mere thought of being stuffed full; the memory far from faded. He would never forget how good Taehyung feels, and he couldn't wait to refresh his memory further. Kook let himself go, his rock solid length wet and needy as he leaves it untouched and bobbing while straddling his husband. using his strong hands, he quickly makes work of taking Taehyung's shirt off to make it more fair in terms of nudity, ''Ah, my gorgeous husband... my sexy daddy.'' Jungkook purrs when he feels Tae's cock twitch against the skin of his ass, allowing his large tattooed palms to smooth over the elders soft stomach; less firm these days, a little plushier-- but no matter, it only made him sexier, and a perfect cuddle pillow. Kook's hands continued to travel upwards over Tae's still firm chest as he leaned forward to kiss him deeply, tongue finding it's way to slip into the elders mouth.

Taehyung’s wandering eyes throughout his husband’s face ceased their wandering, now fluttered shut whilst he drowned himself in the heated kiss; not failing to take notice of the bundle of unspoken emotions behind every brush of their tongues. His hands settled on Jungkook’s hips. They itched to pull him down— to give him a taste so he’d return the favor, but instead his warm palms ran along the curve of the younger’s ass, groping the rounded, firm skin. Tae pulled away from the kiss, rosy lips now a small trace of what’s to come, “Sit on daddy’s lap, baby boy. He also wants to take care of you..”

Taehyung roughly parted his husband’s flushed cheeks, flashing Jungkook’s pathetic little hole; just begging to be filled to the absolute brim.

Jungkook's eyes darkened with his growing need to feel Tae's cock stuff him full to the brim, a gasp pushed through his lips when he felt the elders rough, warm hands spread him open, his little hole clenching and unclenching around nothing--but not for long, ''Please, take care of me well..'' Jungkook's words were breathy, he'd spit in his hand before reaching back to wet Taehyung's cock, aligning the thick head with his needy entrance before slowly pushing himself down, far too eager to care about proper preparation-- it was worth it any future discomfort. A drawn out, breathy moan rumbled in Kook's throat at the stretch, eyes never wavering from his husband's expressions, observing and visually devouring every sign of pleasure in his face, ''I'm so tight for you, fuck...''

“O-oh..” Taehyung’s brows knitted closer together, and his eyes vaguely dimmed once Jungkook’s chamber of warmth fully settled in. His cock throbbed inside of his husband, trying to get accustomed to the tightness he once knew so well, but now lacked. “God, you’re so gorgeous..” Taehyung squeezed the younger’s ass, controlling the latter’s movements as he slowly rocked Jungkook’s hips into his own, holding eye contact throughout it all, “My fuckin’ husband, shit, I missed this.” He hissed out loud, drawn to every twist and tug of Jungkook’s face.

"We're g-gonna have to do this more often..." Jungkook's voice broke into a whine when he sunk deeper down on Tae's length, slowly but surely until he's fully stuffed, halting his movements to adjust to the stretch. He took a deep breath to relax his muscles, placing his hands on Taehyungs chest for leverage, "Can't go this long without feeling you again. It's too fucking good.." Kook's eyebrows furrow as they're drawn together, his expression a mix of the pleasure and faint pain. He gently started to grind his hips on his husband, moaning when he feels the bulbous tip brushing against his prostate, his own cock dribbling with beads of precum, "I missed this so much, god.. it feels amazing."

The elder peeked one eye open, his sealed lips twitching as if he was trying to conceal a smile, “Of course it feels amazing, it’s my cock.” A hint of the old Kim Taehyung peered through the cracks, and he had to admit.. it felt fuckin’ great to have zero responsibilities even if it was just for the time being. With his beautiful husband on his dick, Tae was reminded of their earlier; less demanding years. Suddenly, the ‘perfect father’ façade he’d built up in front of everyone else came plummeting down; he felt the most comfortable when faced by Jungkook.

“You good? I know it’s big.” A small smirk quickly shifted into an ‘o’ the moment his husband willingly rocked his hips faster against him, deteriorating Tae’s composure little by little, “Ah shit.. n-not too fast, don’t wanna cum in you yet..”

"I'm great." Jungkook's eyelids fluttered shut in bliss every time his small movements had Tae's cock prodding just the right spot, keeping his hips slow, simply rocking back and forth to still get himself used to the stretch his husbands blessed girth provided. Kook stopped for a moment, letting Taehyung truly feel the warmth embracing him tightly. His eyes opened once more before he leaned forward to cup his husbands face in his hands, stroking his thumbs on the soft skin of his cheeks, "I love you... please fuck me now." Jungkook begged, his doe eyes sparkling with need, "please, baby." Jungkook didn’t have to strain his voice when begging, or get down on his knees— Taehyung was already sold a while ago. He sensually traced the sharp outlines of his husband’s tattoos with his fingertips. And as if the responsive shivers from Jungkook’s painted canvas transmitted from the younger’s biceps to the rest of Taehyung’s body, the elder bit back an eager moan at the familiar sensation. “I’m gonna fuck you so fucking hard for all the other times I couldn’t..” With a feather-like touch, Tae’s bottom lip grazed upwards against the slope of the younger’s neck, gently sucking onto the latter’s unsteady Adam’s apple, “You’re gonna take all of it like a good boy, aren’t you?” His words came out as a low growl, and Taehyung’s hips teasingly grinded into Jungkook’s ass. “You’re gonna make daddy feel so fuckin’ good, there’s no doubt in my mind about it.” The elder pulled back from the other’s flushed skin, seemingly proud with his creation, “gorgeous.” The sweet moment didn’t last long, as Tae grew even needier from the way Kook’s walls closed in on him. He quickly flipped Jungkook over so his back laid on the couch, staring him down like a predator would his prey. Everything about the younger was so... addicting. Even after many years, Taehyung found himself throbbing from his husband’s expressions as he slowly thrusted into him, bending Jungkook’s legs down to his chest for better access, “F-fuck..” Tae bit down on his lip, the small scar on his forehead visible whenever he ran his fingers through his hair, wanting to see the younger clearly. “Want me to go faster?” He raised his brows, “beg then. I love it when you beg for me..”

''Yes,'' Jungkook's dark curls fell off his face to expose his glistening forehead, eyes blown out in the pure admiration and lust that swirled in his dark pools of brown, ''Please go faster, I need it so fucking bad... please." Kook cried out, his hands settling on Taehyung's lower arms in a tight grip to stay grounded, his ass clenching down harshly on his husband's thick girth. The initial pain from the stretch faded with every thrust, instead replaced with nothing but pleasure and feeling so full it makes his heart want to burst out if his rib cage, ''It feels so good, I want more, harder... Don't be gentle.'' His last words came out like a gasp when he felt his cock throb at a particularly angled thrust, pressing his head back against the couch with gritted teeth.

‘Harder’, ‘Faster’, ‘More’... Jungkook’s breathy moans in the shapes of incoherent phrases urged Taehyung to do just that. The man slammed into him— harder. “Wasn’t planning on being gentle, sweetheart,” The elder groaned at his increase of pace, faster like his husband wanted. Like how he wanted; Tae was only playing the superior part, he would’ve drilled into Jungkook minutes prior. But then again, it wouldn’t of been anywhere near as fun.. or thrilling. Taehyung fancied this best, he enjoyed hearing the younger plead for his utmost attention.

“T-tight... so tight.” More. Taehyung's hair dangled over his narrowed eyes, showing Kook no mercy whilst their sweaty skin continuously slapped against one another, the striking sound echoing throughout the empty house, “Tell daddy how you feel, baby..” The muscles in Taehyung’s chest clenched closer together, further showcasing the small tattoo layering his heart; one Jungkook had formerly etched onto his honey skin. Three daffodils; a smaller one in the middle.

"Feel so full, it's so good.." Jungkook's throaty words come out shaky every time Taehyung slams into him, causing his body to jolt upwards. With one hand, he reaches to smooth his palm over the pretty, small tattoo on Tae's chest, his heart swelling with the love he feels for his husband. After everything they've been through, ups and downs-- many downs, here they were still as head over heels for each other as they've always been; now with a family. Another thrust brought Kook back to the present, his blunt nails digging into Tae's arms as a loud cry in pleasure was forced out of the younger. Jungkook's hands travelled to run through his husbands hair, moving the sticky fringe away from his face, "you make me feel so good, so loved. I love your cock." Kook was greedy, and a glutton for being manhandled, and he wanted Tae to really fuck him dumb, like only he could. Both men have pent up stress, and what better way than to fuck it out. “I-I love you— fuck..” Taehyung’s brows furrowed in concentration, jaw slack as he moved his hands to each side of Jungkook’s head, still tightly engulfed by his husband’s radiating warmth. The elder hazily gazed down at Kook, putting a momentary pause to his hips’ rhythm before leaning down to press a sweet kiss onto his forehead, nose, cheek, chin— and lastly, lips. Taehyung knew he was supposed to be fucking him dumb, but he couldn’t help it. They rarely spent time alone, Tae felt guilty for not expressing his love more often.. Shit, he was being annoying. The movement of their lips turned less sweet, moving eagerly as it muffled their reactive moans when Taehyung began putting his hips to work once again, hitting Jungkook’s deepest places and rubbing against his prostate. Tae pulled out halfway only to ram into the younger, his movements slick from the sweat found all over their bodies. A low grunt followed after every sharp thrust; Taehyung felt like he’d lose his mind. He was deprived of sex, and now that he got it, he was far more sensitive. “‘M gonna cum soon baby boy, y-you close?”

Jungkook's haste nodding followed by short, clear chants of the word 'yes' served as his only reply as he was unable to form any coherent sentence. He was too far gone, too drunk on the pleasure he was experiencing with every loud snap of his husbands hips. The younger reached between their bodies with one hand to squeeze his aching length, too weak to ignore the almost painful need throbbing between his legs. He began to stroke himself in tandem with Taehyung's thrusts, doubling the speed to where his upcoming orgasm was building up, "I will--- slow down, just a bit..." Jungkook suddenly asks for the opposite, his free hand settled to cup Tae's cheek, the other still working his own cock, causing his insides to clench down harder on the elder, "I'm gonna cum so much, fuck... please fill me up."

Jungkook's warning only lasted for a mere minute before his whines grew higher, jerking himself off at a torturous pace until he finally reached his peak. A raspy moan-- almost a scream erupted from his throat at the intensity of it, letting go of his cock to let it pathetically gush hot ropes of his cum between their bodies, his insides spasming and gripping Taehyung like a vice grip, "Fuck, fuck, fuck!"

Taehyung couldn’t handle his husband squeezing down on him with such force. It was as if Jungkook’s fleshy walls were pleading to be filled up with his cum, as if they’d missed squeezing every last drop out of his pulsating cock. Despite Jungkook reaching his climax, the elder still chased after his own. He was close, so close.. His hips snapped sloppily into Kook, losing the drive they once had. With every harsh slap of his balls against the younger’s ass, Taehyung felt himself gradually crumble down as he dug deeper into Jungkook’s clenched insides. “Gonna cum—“ Spurts of white shot into Kook, catching them both off guard, “shiiit, fuck yeah..” Taehyung threw his head back with a strained shout, tensing up as he disposed of his warm load into his husband. He pulled out to watch it dribble down out of his hole, only to push himself back in; not quite finished, “Fuuuck, it feels so good.. you feel so good..”

Once he was sure every last drop was snug deep inside of Jungkook, Tae withdrew for good. His slick tip came out with a ‘pop’, and a low whine slipped past his lips at the cool air that clashed against his wet length.

“That was amazing, I really needed that.” Taehyung leaned down to press a kiss onto Jungkook’s lips, unbothered by the pool of cum on the younger’s stomach, “I love you, you know that?”

#fic: quality time #taekook smut #taekook fic #taehyung smut #jungkook smut #dom taehyung #sub jungkook #bts mxm #bts mxm smut #bts smut #boymeetsmxm #bangtanarmynet #sombreboy

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mldrgrl · 3 years

Text

His’n

by: mldrgrl Rating: PG Summary: A Hanella Twitter prompt, of sorts. Hank introducing Stella as his wife. https://twitter.com/hole4gillian/status/1411255101990203392?s=21

The whole Zoom appearance thing was getting to be old hat, so when Hank was asked to appear live and in person at the reopening of an independent book store he frequented, he jumped at the opportunity. He missed reading to people that actually existed and weren’t just little boxes on a screen. He missed that instant feedback and energy that only a live audience could provide. He missed being the center of attention.

The appearance was on a Tuesday evening. He asked Stella to go, but she had a late class that night. He asked Becca to come, but Ziggy had a puppy training session. He wasn’t terribly disappointed. It was a rare occurrence to have any of his family at an event and he was fine with it.

Hank was greeted by the owner and manager of Read This, a man named Philip, who he considered to be a step above an acquaintance, but not quite a friend. They had a relationship built upon reciprocity. Hank was a regular customer, even name dropped the store a few times in interviews to give it a boost, and Philip always stocked his books and made sure signed copies were on display.

The event space in the store was just a small stage at the back, barely large enough to fit two chairs comfortably, and an assortment of mismatched folding chairs scattered in front of it. The bookstacks were at angles, pointed towards the stage in a vee formation like an arrow down the aisle. Hank had done a few signings there in the past and they always felt more like intimate gatherings than events.

Philip kicked off the appearance with a short speech thanking everyone for coming out and for supporting the store over the years. He kept it short and simple and then gave Hank the floor to a round of applause. Hank stepped up onto the stage and gave Philip a quick hug before he sat down. All the seats out in the audience were full - all fifteen or twenty of them. He took a passing glance at the crowd as he unfolded the pages he’d brought with him that had been tucked into his back pocket.

“Any of you motherfuckers blog about this later and call me an old man for what I’m about to do, fuck you in advance,” he said, taking out the reading glasses he had hooked to the collar of his shirt that had recently become a necessity.

Everyone laughed. Someone woo-hooed from the audience and Hank dropped his chin to look over the rim of his glasses.

“Philip said I could read whatever the hell I wanted,” Hank said. “So I’m going to read an excerpt from a new novel I’ve got coming out in a few months called Alone Together. A couple things you should know going in, the novel follows the story of Miranda and Scott, a married couple who are on the verge of calling it quits after fifteen years when the pandemic hits and forces them hunker down together when they’d really rather be anywhere else. This bit I’m about to read is about half-way in, when Scott is starting to reflect on what exactly went wrong and when.”

Hank paused to smooth his pages again. When he looked up, he straightened his shoulders in surprise. He saw Stella, leaning against one of the bookstacks with a mild smile on her face. She was in her work clothes, a white silk blouse and fawn colored pencil skirt and tan heels. She had a tan blazer over her arm and her briefcase in hand as well. He took a subtle glance at his watch as he adjusted his pages. Her night class should have only started a half an hour ago.

“Uh,” Hank started and then hid a grin behind his fist as he cleared his throat. “Scott watched his wife at her computer from across the room. She had her headset on and she was laughing. He couldn’t actually remember the last time he’d heard her laugh. It occurred to him that he’d forgotten what it sounded like.”

It took about fifteen minutes for Hank to read the full excerpt. He was momentarily distracted when he saw Becca walking down the aisle. She went straight to Stella, gave her a hug, and then turned towards the stage with Stella’s arm across her shoulders. The surprise of having both his wife and daughter there for him almost made him cry.

When he finished, the audience clapped, and Philip came back onto the stage to moderate audience questions. All the questions were the same variations of questions he had been asked his entire career. He could answer them in his sleep. While he was droning on about his routine and writing habits, he saw Becca tip her head back, whisper something in Stella’s ear, and then duck out from under her arm and walk away. He hoped she wasn’t leaving without saying goodbye.

“Gentleman in the green shirt,” Philip said.

“You said earlier that you were inspired by the pandemic, so I have to ask, how much is fiction and how much is reality?”

“Are you asking me if I based it off my own life?” Hank asked. “Well, first of all, I want to make a broad statement about writing in general. That whole ‘write what you know’ garbage that people, mainly professors, let’s be honest, try to instill into you, is bullshit. Do you think Bram Stoker was a vampire? Do you think Thoms Harris was a cannibal? And believe me, I’m not saying that writers don’t cull from their real life when they’re putting words to paper, but there always seems to be this assumption that if you’re writing a modern story, set in a modern world, that somehow that must be your life and your voice.

“Unlike Scott, I am happily married to the most beautiful, intelligent, way out of my league woman and I would never forget, not even for a hot second, that I am the luckiest bastard alive. We started off the pandemic in very close quarters and when I was trying to think about what I might be interested in writing next, it occurred to me that I could very well be in a miserable position if my life was different. But, it’s not my life that I was imagining when I finally sat down to write. It was two people who were at odds with each other and how would they respond to this?

“I’ll say this, though, and then I’ll get off my high horse on the subject. There is one thing in the story that I gave to Scott that belongs to me. I even read from that passage tonight, and I’ll read it again.”

Hank put his glasses back on and flipped through his pages until he found the paragraph he wanted. He glanced up and out to where Stella was before he re-read the lines.

“He could recall in stunning detail the moment he knew he was in love with her. It wasn’t a romantic moment. They weren’t out on a date. It wasn’t during or after sex, when he was naturally euphoric. It was on a hot summer morning in August when the air conditioner had gone out overnight and they’d both slept poorly and were pissed off at the world. He watched her angrily brushing her teeth with her pink cheeks and dark circles under her eyes and in his exhaustion and anger he wished for a moment that she wasn’t there, but then he had a flash of his life without her and suddenly he felt a swelling in his chest that stole his breath. He never wanted to envision a life without her again, not for a minute.”

Hank stared at the page for a few beats before he finally took off his glasses again and looked up. He first looked for the man that had asked the question and then he turned his gaze to Stella.

“The fictional situation was different,” he said. “But, the feeling was the same.”

Stella gave him a subtle smile and her lips puckered very briefly. His own lips twitched in response and he finally cut his eyes away. He took a few more questions and then Philip thanked him for his time and invited anyone that wanted to stay to have a book signed to wait for a few minutes as they set up the table.

As people began to talk amongst themselves, Hank left the stage to go to Stella. She was chatting with Becca, who had returned with two cups of coffee from the cafe next door.

“Hey,” Hank said, sliding his arm around Stella’s waist and squeezing her hip.

Stella put a hand on Hank’s face and her thumb briefly circled his mouth. She didn’t say anything, but her eyes held his in a warm gaze. She tilted her chin up at him and he leaned down and kissed her cheek.

“Daughter,” he said, turning to Becca while still holding onto Stella. He put his hand on the top of her head and kissed the part in her hair.

“Father.”

“I’m glad you came.”

“We thought we would take you to dinner,” Stella said. “When you’re finished.”

“I would love that.”

Philip came up from behind Hank and said his name. “We’re ready for you,” Philip said.

“Philip, this is my wife, Stella Gibson. And my daughter, Rebecca Moody.”

“Lovely to meet you,” Philip said to Stella and then nodded to Becca. “We sold out of the hardcover of your last book. Please, let me know if you’d ever like to do a signing.”

“Sure,” Becca said.

“You’d have to put twice as many chairs out,” Hank said. He could tell Becca wanted to roll her eyes at him so bad.

“Go do your thing,” Stella said, putting her hand over Hank’s on her hip. She rubbed her thumb over his and he captured it and pinned it down for a moment. He nodded and then kissed her cheek again.

“Love you,” he whispered into her ear.

“I see what you mean,” Philip said, walking Hank back to the stage where a folding table was set up. “She is out of your league.”

“Right?” Hank said with a laugh. “And she married me. Unfuckingbelievable.”

The End

#i wrote this #hanella #hank moody #stella gibson #marrieds #the fall #californication

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