#Finally got around to taking photos off my phone may as well upload some pictures I took off of it

[cutelittlestar]

Steal My Girl || Peter Parker x Reader {Smut!}

Summary: While on a trip, Peter plans to confess his feelings to you but everything is ruined by a boy who also has his eyes on you. Once Peter finally unveils the truth, things get steamy... 

Word Count: 5.7k

Warning(s): fem!reader, fluff, slight angst, SMUT, language, MATURE CONTENT, 18+ (you & Peter are 18)

A/N: lordtt.....plz forgive me, for I have sinned. This has been secretly written in my notebook for quite some time, and I was always too scared to post it online. Now, I say fuck it. As always, I love you all and I hope you enjoy!!!😘💕❤️ 

For those of you who may be wondering about my other series, Maniac and Lone Wolf, it may be a while bc of college and work (being an adult SUCKS). But, I promise I’ll try and upload the chapters whenever I can! 

*gif is not mine!

Once again, Midtown’s decathlon team was given another opportunity to travel to a different state for a tournament, where they would compete with other high schools for the national title. Peter was extremely excited because this was your first trip with the team, and he wanted you to have an unforgettable experience; that’s why Peter created a meticulous yet worthy plan that would help him accomplish his goal. His plan consisted of various things, such as taking you to popular locations, exploring the city late at night -despite curfew- and doing spontaneous activities he knew you would love. Most importantly, Peter made this plan in hopes that he could confess his feelings for you. He’s had a crush on you since freshman year, but he was always terrified to tell you the truth. Now that senior year was almost over, the pain of withholding his raw emotions was too unbearable to handle. It’s now or never, Peter thought to himself, and for a while, Peter believed his plan was going to work. 

But, he was wrong. 

Peter’s plan began to crumble the minute that Daniel Miller entered the picture. Daniel was everything that Peter wasn’t - he was perfect, a star-athlete, tall,  and he had an impeccable character that made him lovable. Every girl had a huge crush on him, and they had every right to find him appealing. In the beginning, Peter didn’t really seem to care about Daniel, but now that Daniel was purposefully sabotaging Peter’s plan, Peter was beyond angry. Anytime that Peter was with you, you were whisked away by Daniel for various idiotic reasons. 

The first time Daniel took you away, he lied and asked if you could switch seats with Flash because he was ‘severely’ allergic to peanut butter crackers. You, of course, offered to change seats, completely unaware that Daniel was luring you towards him. Peter felt his blood boil; he clearly remembers seeing Daniel eat a Reese's Peanut Butter Cup a couple of days before. The second time Daniel took you away, you were sitting next to Peter in the dining hall at the hotel before Daniel ‘accidentally’ spilled hot coffee all over his body; once again, you fell for his trap, and you offered to help him, despite Daniel being eighteen years old. The third time Daniel took you away, you were watching a movie with Peter; Daniel somehow convinced you that he needed your help and asked if you could quiz him for the upcoming competition, to which you agreed. Every single time that Daniel succeeded, he would give Peter a relish sneer, mentally gloating that he had successfully stolen you away. 

Although Peter absolutely hated Daniel with every fiber of his soul, It’s not like Peter was going to force you to stop talking to Daniel - that would be a dick move - but if Peter had the chance to throw Daniel off a building, he would happily do it in a heartbeat. However, as you were spending more time with Daniel instead of Peter, Peter’s hope was gradually disappearing. 

Now, Peter morosely sat in his hotel room alone, imagining Daniel constantly flirting with you the whole afternoon and evening. By making up a quick lie and telling Mr. Harrington that he had a stomach ache, Peter was able to sulk in his room while the rest of the group was exploring tourist areas in the city before the big competition. Peter had come to believe that Daniel had won and decided there was no point of trying to win you back; there was no way that you would ever love him, Peter thought to himself, not when Daniel is still around.

Meanwhile, as Peter was sadly believing that Daniel was now professing his love for you, you were sitting on your bed, your room right in front of Peter’s door, completely unaware that Peter stayed behind as well. You, too, lied and said that you were feeling sick, but in reality, you wanted some time away from Daniel. He was becoming extremely annoying, but you didn’t have the heart to tell him the truth. While you assumed that you were going to have some peace and quiet, that dream was utterly destroyed. As usual, Flash opened his big mouth and told Daniel that you were in your hotel room, so now, you were sitting inches away from Daniel as a movie was playing in the background. You pretended to listen to the movie, but you constantly thought about Peter, wondering how he was doing. You felt horrible for leaving Peter alone so many times, and you wanted to apologize but you never had the chance to. 

“You okay, Y/N?” Daniel confronted, noticing how your eyes were not watching the screen. You rapidly blinked, turning to look at Daniel before giving him a half-hearted smile. 

“‘M fine, just thinking about Peter,” you honestly confessed, hoping that Daniel would further question you, wondering why you were so worried about Peter. Instead, he said the exact opposite. 

“Meh, don’t worry about Parker right now. It’s just you and me, pretty girl.” You let out a frustrated sigh, to which Daniel didn’t pick up, and you mentally rolled your eyes, hating how Daniel always changed the topic whenever you would bring up Peter. If you knew that Daniel had this fuckboy persona, you never would’ve given him the time of day. You remained quiet and glued your eyes to the screen, hoping that Daniel wouldn’t notice your disinterest in the horrible movie he picked out. You faked a laugh as something ‘hilarious’ showed up on the screen, but then you felt your phone vibrate on the nightstand. You leaned towards the furniture, detaching your phone from the charger and unlocking your phone. MJ sent you a text; you assumed she sent you a photo of where they were at, but when you read the message, a frown settled on your face. 

Peter is in his room right now, very upset. Do you think you could check up on him? 

Without needing any more information, you turned off your phone and jumped out of the bed. You turned to look at Daniel, who paused the movie, and you gave him an apologetic look, hoping that he would understand what you were about to tell him. 

“I’m sorry, Danny, but I just got a text from MJ. Peter is upset and I have to make sure he’s okay.” 

“What?” Daniel responded in an annoying tone, hating that Peter, once again, was ruining his plans. “Are you serious right now? We’re watching a movie, you can’t just leave me here.” 

You glared at Daniel, deeply despising the way he spoke to you, but you bit your lip, not wanting to argue back and forth. You slipped on your shoes and proceeded to ignore Daniel’s snarky attitude. 

‘Daniel, I don’t get why you’re so mad. I’m checking up on one of my closest friends, what’s your fucking deal?” you snapped at him, causing Daniel to lean back in shock. 

“My deal?” Daniel angrily repeated. “My deal is that you’re paying too much attention to him. We’re having a great time together, I just hate that Peter is getting in the way of that.” 

You rolled your eyes, unable to believe that Daniel actually thought you were having a great time. The boy merely spoke about himself and nothing else, and you found him extremely boring. You let out a laugh, to which he didn’t like, but you didn’t give a fuck anymore. “Danny,” you started, “don’t try to control what I do. I’m leaving and that’s final.” 

You angrily grabbed your phone, ignoring his protests and pleads, but just as you were about to open the door, the idiot had the nerve to open his mouth once again. 

“Whatever, go run to Peter. But, I promise you this, he can’t show you a good time like how I can.” 

You remained still, feeling your blood boil due to his vulgar comment. You were trying your hardest not to chuck your phone at his face, but instead, you turned around and gave him a smirk.

“I doubt that, Danny. From what I heard, you barely have four inches,” you retorted before opening the door and slamming it shut. 

You mumbled curse words under your breath, wishing you could’ve smacked Daniel across the face, but Peter was your top priority. In a quick second, you were now standing in front of Peter’s door, and you anxiously knocked on it. Peter was pulled out of his thoughts once he heard someone knocking, and he got up off of his bed and walked towards the door, opening it halfway. To say the least, Peter was surprised to see you standing right in front of him, and he wondered why you were back so early. Judging by your irritated face, Peter knew something was on your mind and you wanted to get it off of your chest, so he moved to the side and fully opened the door. You walked inside, continuing to spew out profanities, but then you closed your mouth, remembering why you were here.

“Peter, is something bothering you? MJ told me you were upset,” you said, causing Peter to stiffen. Peter hoped that MJ didn’t tell you the real reason he was upset, but he remained quiet, wanting you to continue speaking. You walked towards the bed and plopped down, patting the empty spot next to you, signaling Peter to sit down. Peter obeyed, and you instantly leaned into him, laying your head on his shoulder. 

“You can tell me anything, Peter. I’ll listen,” you remarked, hoping that Peter would tell you the truth. You hated seeing him sad, and you were willing to do anything to make him happy. Peter let out a big breath, slowly working up the courage to say what’s been on his chest for the past four years. You lifted your head, shifting your body so that you were now fully facing him. You watched as a shaky Peter was fidgeting with his fingers. 

“You want me to be completely honest?” Peter timidly whispered, deciding that now was finally the time to say he’s had a crush on you since the moment he laid eyes on you. You nodded your head, eager to know the cause of his sorrows.

“Yes, of course, Pete,” you replied, getting anxious by the second as Peter was stalling time. Peter bit his lower lip, not knowing how to perfectly form his emotions into words, but when he opened his mouth, everything came spewing out. 

“I’ve been in love with you since the day I saw you, and I made this very tedious plan to confess my feelings for you while we were on this trip - but then fucking Daniel ruined everything - and that’s the reason why I’ve been so moody. I was going to take you to various places in the city - and I even bought you a bracelet with our initials on it - but now that I’m saying it out loud, that’s kinda creepy and I’m sorry, and I’m rapidly speaking so I can run away from the inevitable - which is you turning me down because you don’t feel the same way.” Peter heavily panted as he finished his rant, but there was a long moment of silence as you stared at Peter with wide eyes. 

“No fucking way,” you breathed out, unable to register what Peter was saying. All of this time, you thought that Peter didn’t like you, but when he finally admitted his feelings, you were completely taken aback. Holy fuck, you thought to yourself, Peter loves me. Peter loves me.  

“I know, I know-,” Peter sorrowfully replied, rubbing his forehead, hurt that you were ridiculing him because of the way he felt about you. “It’s hilarious that a guy like me thinks that he can get with a girl like you. Hahaha, but it hurts, Y/N, I have feelings an-”

“Peter,” you interrupted him, moving closer until you were inches away from his face. Peter closed his mouth, feeling his heart rapidly beat in his chest as he began to cherish every feature on your face; his heart felt like it was going to explode due to the lack of distance, but you didn’t seem to mind. In fact, you loved the effect you were having on Peter. You delicately placed your hands on his chest, and you discreetly remained calm, despite you being able to feel how strong his chest was.

“I love you, too” you heartedly declared, anxiously smiling as you waited for Peter to respond. You watched the corner of his lips curve upwards, and you lovingly stared into Peter’s eyes, noticing the crinkles around his eyes become more prominent when he grinned, and you absolutely adored it. He was like a ray of sunshine, his smile was more than his mouth; it was his voice and his words, and it was utterly beautiful. 

His eyes briefly widened, but then they became soft as he now watched your cheeks turn pink like a spring tulip. 

“Are you like, serious? You’re not messing with me right now?” Peter managed to say, unable to accept that the girl of his dreams just told him she liked him. You let out a slight chuckle, running your hands up until they peacefully rested on Peter’s neck; you slowly leaned your forehead against his, deeply staring into his eyes.

“I’m a hundred percent serious, Peter. I love you so fucking much.” You drew Peter towards you as much as you could, and in the first second, he inhaled your enticing scent. It smelled pleasant, light, and refreshing - there was a slight hint of fruitiness, but it wasn’t overbearing nor masking your natural scent. The next second, your lips are on Peter’s, and he openly invites you into his arms. For such a long time, Peter kisses you with such delicately and tenderness, and you didn’t want to pull away. This felt right, and you knew that Peter felt the same way. Peter was your perfect guy, and you were going to make sure he knew that every single day of his life until the day he dies. 

Peter departs his lips from yours, despite you moaning for more, and he takes a moment to lovingly stares into your eyes, gingerly holding your face in his hands. Your eyes sparkled with delight, and if Peter could, he would freeze this moment forever, never wanting to move forward. Although Peter’s plans didn’t go the way he wanted it to, the outcome was, nonetheless, just as beautiful as he imagined it. 

“Kiss me again, Peter,” you quietly demanded. 

Peter leans into your touch, finding your lips once again - but then something inside of you changes. The soft tender kiss turned into a vicious, needy make-out session. The sweet, timid, and friendly girl Peter used to know was completely gone and was now replaced with a rough and aroused one. You gradually climbed onto Peter’s lap as you hungrily kissed him, and you feel a patch of wetness drip onto your underwear as your tongues fight for dominance. Peter is so enticed on kissing you that he fails to notice one of your hands firmly grasping his cock through his pants. The sudden touch causes Peter to ripple out a low groan, and you smile into the kiss, content that you were able to make Peter wither from just a single touch. 

You repeat the same noise at a higher pitch as Peter roughly rubs your ass, disconnecting his lips before attacking your neck. You throw your head back in utter bliss, granting Peter more access, and you feel a bruise form as Peter continues to suck on a particular spot. While one hand is stroking Peter’s enormous cock, the other hand snakes its way under his shirt; another moan comes out of Peter’s mouth, and you loved hearing it. 

In a blink of an eye, Peter’s shirt is on the ground, and yours follows as well. You push him down against the bed, and you seductively crawl towards him until you’re straddling his waist. 

Your lips reconnect once more, and Peter’s fingers manage to unclasp your bra, which he recklessly tosses to the ground. “Peter,” you moaned in delight as his hands raked over your exposed chest, firmly gripping your breasts. Just as Peter is about to place his lips on your sensitive bud, a loud banging on the door prevents him from doing so. You let out a gasp, frightened at the sound, but then you hear the voice yell. 

“Open up, Parker!” Daniel angrily announced, continuing to slam his fist on the door. “I know Y/N is in there! We need to talk.” You and Peter stare at each other, not knowing what to do, but then you vividly remembered Daniel’s words. I promise you this, he can’t show you a good time like how I can. A smirk grows on your face as you think of an elaborate and mischievous plan. Oh, you were going to prove him wrong. As Daniel kept screaming, demanding you to come out of the room, Peter became exasperated, completely annoyed that Daniel was ruining your intimate moment. Finally, Peter lets out an irritated groan, but just as he’s about to move you to the side so he can answer the door, you place your hands on his chest. 

“Don’t move, I have an idea,” you say with a sly smug, but before Peter can ask you what your plan was, you let out a loud, compelling, and pornographic moan.

“Oh, God! Peter!” you yelled in pure ecstasy, grabbing your breasts in the process to keep you riled up. “Don’t stop! Keep going, baby.” The banging immediately stops, and you mentally give yourself a pat on the back, knowing that on the other side of the door, Daniel was extremely jealous, embarrassed, and frustrated. Peter’s eyes widen in shock at your reaction, but he’s ultimately aroused once more, loving how you wanted Daniel to know that he was fulfilling your sexual desires. 

Peter disregards Daniel’s presence and attaches his lips on your nipple, causing you to loudly sigh in bliss as Peter sucks on it. The fake moans you were forming were now real, and you held Peter’s head in your chest as his finger roughly rubbed the other nipple. 

“Fuck-” you loudly whined, unintentionally rubbing yourself on Peter’s crotch. A hefty groan comes out of Peter, and he detaches his lips from your breasts, easily lifting you up with one hand while the other begins to undo his pants. You mirror his actions, doing the same to your pants, tossing your bottoms and underwear to the floor. Peter wiggled out of his pants and boxers, his cocks twitching and springing up as your exposed core slowly rubbed itself on his shaft. You can already see the pre-cum forming at the head, and you eagerly lick your lips, wanting to wrap your mouth around his member. 

Suddenly, Peter grabs you by the waist and flips you over so that he’s on top. As you expect him to unleash all of his strength onto you, Peter delicately kisses you, as if he’s afraid he’ll break you. While his touches send shivers down your spine, melting your heart, you’re impatient, wanting more. You softly push him away, and for a moment, Peter thinks he’s done something wrong. 

“What is it? Did I do something wrong?” Peter anxiously asked, scanning your face to see if he could detect what was bothering you. You bit your lip in anticipation, petrified that if you said what was on your mind, it would ruin the mood. A million reasons swirled around his mind and he feared that he’s gone too far; he assumed you didn’t feel comfortable anymore to continue your sexual activities. What Peter failed to realize was that you didn’t regret anything. “Tell me, baby,” Peter reassured you, placing light kisses on your face and neck. You cave into his touch, and you feel your muscles relax.  

“I want you,” you started off, raking your fingers across his chest. “But, I need rough sex, Peter,” you needily whimpered, biting your lip in the process, causing Peter to lean back, his eyes widening. “Please, fuck me as hard as you can. I want Daniel to know how good you’re fucking me.”

You intently stare at Peter’s face, scared that he was going to say no, but then you notice his pupils dilate, his eyes darkening as he listened to your words. The mere mention of Daniel’s name caused Peter to shake from rage, but then something switched inside of Peter, and a huge grin spread across his face. 

“Damn Y/N,” Peter replies, biting his lower lip. A small moan escapes Peter’s mouth as he realizes what you’re asking of him, and he absolutely loves it; Peter feels his cock twitch from excitement as he repeated your words over and over again in his mind, and it drove him insane. Peter couldn’t believe it; here he was, thinking you were going to be an innocent girl, but oh no - he was wrong, and boy did he love it. Peter bit his lip in hunger, his eyes taking in your body once more. The thought of mercilessly pounding into you without anything stopping him caused more pre-cum to leak out of his cock, and Peter was more than prepared to grant you what so deeply desired.

“As you wish, darling.” Peter peppered kisses against the nape of your neck and before you know it, Peter firmly grabs you by the neck. You let out a soft gasp at his sudden change of behavior, but then a whimper escapes out of you as Peter crashes his lips onto yours, and you allow him to take full control. 

“Fuck Peter.” You moan as you buck your hips up, needing him to be inside of you. You were becoming impatient, but Peter darkly chuckled as he brought his face close to yours.

“Oh no baby,” he scolds, a smirk forming on his face. “I’ll be inside you when I want to. You understand?” You feel as if you’re about to cry out in pain and pleasure, but you’re willing to do anything for Peter. You frantically nod your head, hoping it will satisfy Peter. 

Peter’s grip got tighter, unhappy that you didn’t verbally respond. “You better speak right now or I swear, I’ll tease you until you’re a crying mess.” 

“Yes, Peter. I understand, baby,” you affirmed as Peter hummed in satisfaction. Peter slowly released the tight grip he had before rummaging through the nightstand. Peter pulls out a condom but before you even have time to ask him where he got it, he tears it open with his mouth and puts on the safety. Without any warning or hesitation, Peter roughly turns you around, your chest pressed down against the bed. You immediately understand what he wants, and you quickly get on all fours, laying your head on the pillow and perking your ass up, giving Peter a complete view of your core. Peter groans at the sight as you flirtatiously wiggle your bare ass in front of him, and he leans back to admire the view for a short moment. 

“Look at you,” he seductively whispered, causing you to become even more aroused as his words drip out of his mouth like sweet honey. “All ready for me, such a good girl.” 

Suddenly, Peter slams into you, and you let out the loudest noise you’ve ever made, finally satisfied that he was inside you. However, Peter doesn’t move, allowing you to adjust to his large size, but you cry out in frustration, wanting him to pound into you mercilessly. You attempt to move, but Peter roughly grabs your hips, refraining you. Peter lets out a heavy exhalation, absolutely melting into you as he felt your pretty folds swallow him up. It was majestic. 

“Shit,” Peter mutters, “You’re so tight, Y/N.” Peter slowly begins to move, but in an instant, his pace starts to accelerate. Peter pounds into your cunt; it was ruthless, exhilarating, and animalistic, and you rolled your eyes in utter pleasure, your mouth hanging open.

You’re a writhing mess, spelling out incoherent words as Peter tightly held onto your waist and slammed into you. You knew there was going to be bruises due to his death grip, but the feeling of his cock sliding in and out of you made you totally forget. The slight pain was gone as pleasure overstimulated your body, and you arched your back in response, repeating Peter’s name. You clamped onto the sheets for dear life, your head laying on the pillows, your sounds being muffled. The sound of skin slapping echoed around the room, and Peter gasps and curses, becoming a panting mess as he doesn’t intend on stopping anytime soon.

Peter grabs a handful of your hair, forcing your head off the pillow, and your moans become louder. “That’s right,” Peter reassured, releasing your hair and moving his hand towards your neck. “Scream for me, baby. Let him know who’s fucking you this good.”

“Ah, Peter! Faster, please! Ohh fuck Peter, shit!“ you scream, holding onto his arm for support. 

“Can Daniel fuck you like this?” Peter asked, digging his knees deeper into the bed and moving his hips at a faster rate. Peter’s cock was stretching you out, and you were loving every minute of it. 

“No! Peter -Shit!- only you can! Only you can make me feel like this.” You cry out in pleasure, your hair sticking to your sweaty back and chest. Peter groans in satisfaction, your words encouraging him to move faster.

“Exactly, you’re fucking mine - all mine.” Your walls contract around him at his words, and Peter feels a familiar feeling growing in the pit of his stomach. He detaches himself from you, pulling out for a brief moment before forcing you to lay on your back. Peter’s hand gingerly returns to your waist, savoring this moment. Both of you heavily pant as you stare into each other’s eyes, and Peter leans in, passionately kissing you.

“Shit Peter!” you squeal in shock as you feel his cock enter you without hesitation, your nails clutching onto his contracting muscles. 

“Whose pussy is this?” Peter grunted, fully slamming his cock into your pussy. A high pitch scream comes out of your mouth but you’re unable to form coherent words, completely discombobulated. Peter’s cock perfectly fills you up, and you desperately stare into his eyes, digging your sharp nails in his back. “I said,” Peter angrily repeated, tightly squeezing your neck. “Whose pussy is this?” 

“Yours,” you mewl as you began to feel a knot form in your stomach. 

“That’s right, baby,” Peter asserted, sweat trickling down his face, chest, and back. You closed your eyes, completely aroused by Peter’s rough side, and Peter couldn’t help but trace over your body. He admired the way your breasts bounced as he pounded into you, the way your face contorted in total ecstasy, and the way your hair was a mess - a mess that he made from fucking you so good. 

“I’m so close, baby -Fuck I’m s-so close-“ You feel the knot get stronger. Peter continues to thrust into you, watching as your eyes roll to the back of your head. Peter’s fingers find its way to your clit, rapidly rubbing circles, and you let out a whine. 

“Come for me, darling. Come all over my cock,” Peter coaxed you, his words sending you over the edge. Your hands grip onto his arms for dear life as you let out a throat-ripping moan, your body shaking in the process. Peter comes right after you, his hands resting beside your head, firmly clutching onto the sheets as he, too, let out a groan. Peter’s body collapses onto yours, and your fingers find its way to the curls at the back of his head, burying themselves in his smooth hair. For a while, the room goes silent, and all you can hear are the heavy pants coming out of your mouths. Peter is still inside you, but you don’t mind at all. Peter’s body slowly rises and falls as he comes down from his high, and his hands cradle your face; Peter leaves a sloppy yet passionate kiss, and once again, you melt into his arms. 

You whimper as you feel Peter’s member pull out, and you watch as Peter wobbly stands up to throw away the condom. You intently stare at his chest as he walks back to you, and you notice the fresh scratch marks you left. You feel your cheeks turn red, but Peter gives you a soft smile, mentally telling you that it was fine. Finally, Peter gets back into bed and pulls the covers over your bodies. Your turn to lay on his side, lovingly gazing into his eyes. 

“Wow,” was all you managed to say, “That was fucking amazing.” Peter lets out a chuckle, becoming flustered as you continued to praise him. 

“Do you think Daniel heard?” you wondered, softly rubbing Peter’s chest. 

“I think the whole floor heard,” Peter truthfully responded, scratching the back of his head. You lightly laugh at his comment, your eyes glistening with joy, before pressing a tender kiss on Peter’s lips. Good, you thought to yourself, now everyone knows how great Peter is at sex. 

“Are you okay?” Peter asked. “Did I hurt you?” Your heart melted in your chest as you realized how worried Peter was. You shook your head, easing him. “I’m fine, Peter.” However, the dryness of your throat made it hard for you to speak, and Peter knew that you needed something to drink. 

“Let’s get you something to drink, there’s a vending machine right out the door,” Peter offered, to which you accepted. You were desperately craving water, but you also fancied a small snack to munch on. Peter and you got out of bed -despite how sore your bodies were - and you instinctively bent down and grabbed your underwear and Peter’s shirt. Peter felt an enormous grin grow on his face as he watched you, and you returned the smile when you felt his eyes on you. 

You walked towards the door with nothing but his shirt and underwear whereas Peter was only wearing his boxer shorts; just as you opened the door and stepped out of the room, with Peter right behind you, your eyes landed on Daniel, who, as well, opened your hotel door the exact moment you did. Daniel tightly clutched his book bag, but as he turned around to head down the hallway, his eyes found yours. He deeply stared, noticing how your makeup was smeared, your hair was tangled, and Peter’s chest was covered with scratches and bruises. 

You broke eye-contact, your face expressionless, as you turned to the left, heading towards the vending machine that was feet away from where you stood. 

Peter bitterly glared down Daniel, but then Peter mirrored your movements, leaning against the machine. Peter took notice of how Daniel was glued to the floor, and Peter flared his nostrils, disliking how Daniel continued to gawk at you. 

Yet, Peter didn’t mind that you were only wearing his t-shirt in the middle of the hallway. He knew Daniel had a perfect view of your ass, which was barely covered by the thin fabric, but Peter didn’t care because he knew that the moment you entered his hotel room, he was going to relentlessly fuck you again until you couldn’t walk anymore. As you were still deciding what snack to choose from, Peter slightly turned his head to the side, a smug expression cemented on his face as he watched Daniel awkwardly stand in front of your door. Daniel’s face was bright red, most likely due to his rage of knowing what you and Peter were doing, but Peter remained unbothered, rejoicing that he was able to rile up Daniel with so much ease. 

Peter sent a coy wink to Daniel as he wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you into his arms and placing sloppy kisses on your exposed neck while still holding eye-contact with Daniel. You leaned your head back, exposing more skin for Peter, knowing fully well of what he was trying to do. However, you didn’t object at all. A pool of your wetness started to drip onto your underwear, and you softly let out a discreet moan as Peter’s hand tightly clutched your ass. You loved how Peter was gloating to Daniel, reveling in the fact that you were Peter’s and only his. Your lips curved upwards as you heard Daniel let out a huff of frustration, mumbling incoherent words as he stormed down the hallway.  

Once Daniel was gone, you wrapped your arms around Peter’s neck, your fingers delicately playing with the strands of his hair as a giggle escaped from your lips. You placed a soft kiss on his lips before pulling away.

“You’re such an ass,” you joked, shaking your head as you divert your attention back to the vending machine. Peter shrugged his shoulders, not caring that Daniel was probably going to cry in his room, knowing you slipped away from his fingers. “Asshole deserves it,” Peter blankly declared. You bit your lip in frustration, your eyes glancing at the snacks before Peter rested his head on your shoulder, wrapping his arms around your waist once again.

“C’mon baby,” Peter seductively whispered. His hands discreetly snuck underneath your shirt and his fingers started to play your nipples, slowing pitching them in the process. You let out a soft gasp, shocked that Peter had the courage to do this in the hallway, but then you felt yourself become aroused, ready to start round two. “We still have a few hours before everyone comes back,” Peter murmured, biting your earlobe in the process.

You let out a big sigh. “Screw it,” you said, quickly forgetting about the snack and grabbing Peter’s hand. Peter bit his lip, a devious smirk forming on his lips as you dragged him back to the room, eager to continue your previous activity. 

Despite Peter’s plan not going accordingly, he was’t complaining. To say the least, Peter was fully satisfied, especially after the several rounds he had with you. 

[dawnie1988]

Summary: When setting up a dating profile, a picture really is worth a thousand words. And it turns out that, sometimes, getting that perfect photo requires the assistance of a helping hand

Words: 1,853

Pairings: Dean, Unnamed OFC - Who may or may not be loosely based on the same woman who inspired this whole thing in the first place

Warnings: Language, Bad Lighting, Impatient Doggies......That should just about cover it

A/N: Umm, so surprise! I did a thing! Inspired by this *gif set* and the subsequent conversation after with the amazing @thoughtslikeaminefield​​ regarding just how it was Dean got that profile picture for the dating app. It was only meant to be a fun little joke type thing of sorts, but after getting love and encouragement from some very fine ladies that I admire greatly, it is now seeing the light of tumblr. Miss MJ was also kind enough to give it a look through for a little clean up and any major mistakes and created the fantastic header! It really does pay to have friends in high places 😊

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This was stupid.

 He was, he had no problem saying, one of the best hunters in the world. He had saved the world multiple times. Yeah, ok, maybe Sam helped a little, but still. He had fought both heaven and hell more times than he could count anymore.

 And yet, here he stood, unable to get one decent picture of himself.

 Stupid.

 It was the only thing left to do to complete his profile, to add his profile picture. He had been very tempted to just leave it blank, or just put a logo of something he liked. But that wouldn't do. You go on a dating site and refuse to put up an actual photo of yourself? Pshhh, yeah, because that doesn't just scream: STRANGER DANGER! I HAVE SOMETHING TO HIDE!

 The whole point was to attract potential dates, not scare them away before he even had a chance to lay on the charm. And, plus, how would he attract anyone without actually showing off the goods?

 Advertising. It's all in the advertising.

The problem was, try as he might, he couldn't get a fitting picture of himself. Not one that truly showed off his full appeal.

 What? He wasn't allowed to think himself a handsome son of a bitch without being considered arrogant? Screw that! Body positivity, man. We're all beautiful in our own way, we should all believe it.

 Maybe he should put that in his profile too? Didn't chicks dig shit like that? Whatever…

 The photo. That was the issue. He couldn't ask Sam to do it, fuck no. He'd never let Dean hear the end of it if he knew he even had a dating profile. Besides, this was none of Sam's business. What Dean did in his private time was his and his alone.

 But, as it turned out, Dean wasn't very proficient in the art of selfie-taking. For one, the lighting in the bunker was horrendous. He'd gone all throughout their underground home and the results were either him bathed in shadows or being completely washed out underneath the harsh, fluorescent lights.

 And trying to find a flattering angle was damn near impossible! How the hell all those social media people did it was beyond him. Clearly, they were using every filter imaginable to improve their outcome. Not him though. Artificial was not his style. No enhancements needed.

Self. Love. People.

 It was as he was pacing around in the garage, trying to formulate his next plan of attack when inspiration struck. He caught Baby's eye — er, headlight, and Yahtzee!

 Baby was a total chick magnet. And, where did they both shine the most? That's right, out in the clear wide open. On the road, sun shining, not a care in the world. Natural lighting.

 Perfect.

 He drove for a while, scouting possible locations along the way while also simply enjoying the quiet time with Baby. Even if he was on a mission.

 Eventually, he pulled off the road near a lakefront that also served as a nice walking path for nature lovers. It was a beautiful, clear day, the whole scene very idyllic.

 This was it. This was the spot.

 However, there was still the hiccup of actually getting the picture taken. After the slightly traumatizing experience of trying to take his selfie, he couldn't bring himself to attempt that avenue again. He thought he could still do it himself regardless. There was a fence nearby, all he had to do was set the timer on the phone and presto! Done!

 You would think, that is.

 In reality, every time he tried to prop his phone up it would fall back down before he could even make it back to Baby.

 Just as he was about to throw the godforsaken device, like an angel from heaven — the fairytale kind, not the dicks with wings — she appeared.

 "Need some help there?"

 As if he had been caught doing something he wasn’t supposed to, Dean quickly whipped around and was greeted by the lovely sight of a woman, perhaps a little older than himself, walking her two dogs.

 He took just a moment, because he simply had too, to admire her beauty. Sun-kissed skin, freckles that put his own to shame, friendly hazel eyes that held a multitude of warmth…

 Yes. An angel seemed a very apt description.

 Dean cleared his throat before an uncomfortable amount of silence was allowed to pass between them, feeling a slight blush tinged his cheeks when his mind came back around to acknowledge her question.

 "Uh, actually I umm… yes," he fumbled out.

 Why was he suddenly nervous? He felt so out of place now, he didn't like it. Still, he continued.

 "You see, I…"

 The woman cut him off — a mercy killing, it felt like to Dean — with a raised hand.

 "Let me guess, dating profile?" she asked, not at all trying to hide the knowing smirk.

 Something in Dean loosened at the understanding he found in his new acquaintance’s gaze. Shoulders relaxing, he let out a slightly bashful chuckle while giving a one-shoulder shrug.

 "Guilty. That obvious, huh?"

 She gave a small shake of her head. "Game recognizes game. I have my own experience and horror stories involving the dreaded profile picture. If you want, I can give you a hand?"

 Dean's eyes lit up at the offer. He knew it. He was not ashamed of it.

 "Yeah?"

 She laughed at his eagerness, a sweet-sounding melody, Dean noted to himself.

 "Sure. After all, I couldn't just leave you here without putting you out of your misery first. I'm no monster."

 She was teasing, of course. It didn't stop Dean from having to bite his tongue and swallow the comment about monsters that begged to be spoken. If only he had a nickel for every time he had heard that line.

 "Okay, awesome. Thank you."

 "No problem," she replied easily, accepting the phone he was handing over. "And I'm assuming you want that beauty in the photo with you?" she asked him, indicating Baby, earning a proud smile from Dean in return.

 As he said, Baby was a total chick magnet.

 "Duh."

 She laughed again, much louder and freer this time and the sound again had Dean grinning as he made the walk over to his trusty wing woman.

 "Nice choice. Okay, then, handsome, what are we going for here?"

 Dean faltered in his step slightly. "Uhh, how do you mean?"

 "I mean," she paused for a moment, readjusting the grip she had on the two leashes when the pooches started getting antsy. "What vibe are you trying to portray here? Brooding? Mysterious? Friendly?"

 "Oh, right!" Dean nodded his understanding.

 He thought it over, tilting his head slightly as he contemplated the pros and cons of the different choices in his head.

 "May I offer a suggestion?"

 "Sure, by all means."

 "Well, online dating can be intimidating enough as it is," she began matter-of-factly. "All you've got is a picture and a few words to go on. So, speaking solely on my own experiences, I tend to gravitate towards the more friendly option. You try to be sexy and it feels too put on and forced. You try to be mysterious and all I'm left thinking is what are you trying to hide. But friendly, easy-going and approachable is always a winner. That, makes me want to get to know you a little more. At least enough to read your profile anyways."

 Dean, eyebrows raised and mouth pulled down some, nodded in appreciation. This lady really knew what she was talking about.

 "Right, so friendly it is, then." He clapped his hands together and went to lean against Baby's side before stopping, thinking it over a second and deciding to hop on the hood instead, talking out his thoughts as he tried to determine the perfect pose.

 "So, not too posey, don't try too hard but at least put a little effort in to show I care…." he fidgeted around for a few moments more before falling into a comfortable, casual feeling position. "How's this?" he looked up, waiting for some affirmation.

 Dean would be lying if he said her genuine smile didn't make his stomach flutter a bit.

 "Looks good. Okay, on the count of three, give me your most inviting smile. No teeth though, just easy breezy. Ready?"

 "Ready."

 "One, two, three."

 She tapped the screen to capture the shot and immediately started walking over after checking the results. "I think we have a winner here."

 She handed the phone over to him and he couldn't help the satisfied smile from gracing his lips.

 Damn, he looked good.

 "Nice," he complimented her photography skills. "Well, Hell, I think you're right, I think this is it."

 He made quick work of uploading the photo to the app and confirming his information before finally hitting the 'submit' button to post his profile. He then turned the phone around for her to see again. "Whaddya think?"

 She leaned in closer, shoulder bumping his and dogs yapping around their legs as she looked over his full profile before nodding in approval. "Yup, you'll be beating them away with a stick in no time!"

 His chest may have puffed up with pride a little. Only a little.

 "Yeah? Awesome." He exited out of the app, ignored the text message from Sam wanting to know where the Hell he was and slid his phone into his back pocket.

 "Thanks again. It's, ah…" he brought a hand up to rub at the back of his neck. "All pretty awkward, but you were a big help."

 She gifted him with a megawatt smile as she untangled her dogs from around his legs, getting them ready to continue their walk. "No problem. Good luck with all that. Stay safe out there!"

 She began walking away and Dean found that he couldn't not do it. He had to, right?

 Right.

 "Hey!" he called out, switching gears and putting on his 'wooing' smile, lowering his voice an octave. "Ya know, maybe if you're not busy, I can take you for a cup of coffee or something sometime? My way of..." Dean let the tip of his tongue sneak out to wet his bottom lip while giving her a once over. "Thanking you, properly?"

 She was silent for a moment, brows raising slightly in surprise before a slow smile started to brighten her face up once more. She looked down for a tick, letting out a sound of amusement before meeting his eyes once again.

 "That's sweet, and I'm flattered, really, but I'm afraid I can't."

 Dean's smile fell some in disappointment. "Oh."

 "It's just — your profile says that you’re seeking woman,” she explained, much to Dean's confusion.

 "Oh...?" he trailed off, brows pinched as she started walking backward and away from him.

 "So am I."

 She gave him a wink before turning fully and continuing on. Out of his life.

 Dean could only roll his eyes.

 "Figures," he muttered grumpily to himself as he made his way back to Baby. "All the good ones are either taken or gay."

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Tagging the cheerleading squad I had behind this: @thoughtslikeaminefield​ @fangirlxwritesx67​ @itmighthavebeenintentional​ @there-must-be-a-lock​ @cracksinthewalls​ @rockhoochie​ @mskathywriteswords​ @fookinghelljensensthighs​ @cherry3point14​ @lastactiontricia​ @icemankazansky​ @stusbunker​ @justcallmeasmodeus​

[imjeralee]

Wallflower: Chapter 4 - Open Me

Raihan x F!Reader

Disclaimer: Do not own Pokemon

Note: This is my first Pokemon fanfic. I hope you enjoy it :) Originally posted on Archive of Our Own.

Summary: You’re an unassuming Pokemon breeder who works at the nursery in the Wild Area and he’s Raihan, the fearsome gym leader of Hammerlocke who has more than a million followers.

You don’t want anything to do with him but he’s…persistent.

Rating: Mature/Explicit

Warnings: Lemon, smut, violence, language

OPEN ME

...

...

"Some time ago, this woman did this, uh.... this art performance. It was extreme art, using herself. Basically, she stood with this sign saying that she was letting the public do whatever they wanted to do with her - and she was gonna stand for seven hours and do nothing. She laid out some stuff in front of her - amongst random objects, I think there was a pen, a flower, a gun, a knife...So anyway, she stood and at first, people just stared and watched her. Someone went up to her and gave her a hug. Gave her a handshake. Someone gave her the flower to hold. Someone kissed her on the lips. The public chuckled and laughed, watching this woman stand there like a living dummy. They used the pen and drew on her or something. It began to escalate: someone started taking off her clothes. She stood semi-naked until someone covered her up. Someone slapped her. Someone punched her. I think she started crying but they didn't stop. Someone grabbed the knife and cut the side of her neck. Someone took the gun and put it in her hand, pointed it to her own head. When the time was up and the woman started moving again, the people who hurt her ran away immediately, afraid of the repercussions. When I read that article, I knew: human beings are absolutely disgusting to the core."

She lifts up a knife next. A terrified Deerling trembles in the corner of the room whilst Banette grins.

"That being said, I guess I'm no exception. I'm sorry it had to come to this."

....

Detective Looker is hard at work.

He's got a few things going on - not only has he taken over Raihan's social media account for the time being (it took a lot of persuasion but Raihan finally agreed, vexingly... if he might say so himself) and now he has taken it upon himself to personally investigate the hotel, in particular, room 241. It's Raihan's designated room should he ever visit Circhester, Spikemuth or Wyndon, and Looker's interrogated the majority of staff and checked out all CCTV. No-one reported witnessing any unauthorised persons going in and out of the room and the CCTV does not accurately show the hallway, indicating several blindspots. They also tell him a keycard went missing which was not replaced or brought to management's attention. Looker is not surprised. Of course, there's a hiccup...whilst the hotel staff apologise profusely for their blunders, Looker dismisses them. It sounds like they'll improve their security from now on.

Looker heads to the room, opening the door. Everything is evidence and should be treated with utmost care...he unleashes his Growlithe to sniff out anything. He wouldn't be surprised if Raihan and the girl were snorting up berry dust or anything. Who knows what kids these day were up to...who knows.

Upon checking the room, he stands where the camera in the DVD was facing and finds two light switches in the wall that faces the bed directly. Attempting to remove them, he gets Magnemite to ease it off using it's Magnetic Pull ability and it manages to take the cover off, revealing a square slot where any sort of camera could be placed there, perfect for recording. He takes a few snaps of it using his Rotom phone and inspects the area where the dust doesn't settle. The camera was placed here for some time (a long time, perhaps) but it's long gone now.

Someone had set up a camera way before the one night stand and removed it during the night when both were sleeping. Pretty ballsy, if Looker admits; the perp had gone into the room when Raihan and the girl were in it. But from the testimony, the young couple were drunk as fish so it's not surprising they were out cold for the rest of the night and didn’t notice. The next question is - if no-one saw anyone go in or go out, how did the culprit escape? Looker turns to the window, finds that it's easily opened and proceeds to look outside. Anyone could just use pokemon to fly out here. Also, how did the culprit know where the girl worked to be able to deliver the DVD directly to her workplace?

She probably works for Macro Cosmos. It's the perfect setup - she's Raihan's biggest fan and being an employee of Macro Cosmos, she could have access to what hotel he stays in. Macro Cosmos also has their paws stuck in the Pokemon Nurseries; they pretty much run everything in Galar. They may as well be the government, Looker thinks to himself. 

He grabs a pokeball and presses the button. "Go, Dustox." And the large moth pokemon abruptly appears and Looker issues his command: "Dust it."

Dustox flutters around, sprinkling some dust over the window pane where it reveals two handprints.

"Good job, boy." Looker says as Dustox lands atop his head and he pulls out some equipment to take prints. They look small - most likely a female's. Next, Rotom buzzes, indicating a new message. "Talk." Looker mutters, as Rotom flies out.

"Zzrt, I've got the report; I've also got the address of the fan who told Raihan to go to Spikemuth!"

"Thanks, Rotom. This is coming along nicely." He mutters to himself. Grabbing Rotom, he checks the rest of the statistics report; looks like the person has also commented on every single photo and video Raihan has uploaded since...ever. It's simple. Real simple. Just a case of blackmail and obsession after all.

...

Looker arrives in Spikemuth and looks up from his Rotom phone. He's standing in front of an apartment block that looks very rundown. Of course, everything in Spikemuth is grizzled and decrepit, but somehow this sad building really takes the cake. Rotom's provided address mentions the third floor so he quietly makes his way up and stops at the front door. This is it.

Letting go of Rotom, he makes a circle with his finger. "Scan it."

"You got it, champ." Rotom says, before he zooms into the air and a dim blue light glows. "There'zzz only one person inzzide. A man."

"Thanks, I'm going in." Looker knocks on the door and waits.

A few seconds later, the door opens and a middle-aged, bald man in a tracksuit opens it. "Whaddya want?" He slurs, clearly drunk.

Looker holds up his badge. "I'm with the police; I'm looking for - "

He doesn't even get to finish his sentence because the man yells over his shoulder, "What are you in trouble for this time?! Now the po-po's here!"

There is no response.

The man sighs, opens the door and grunts at Looker, "C'mon in."

With an eyebrow raised, Looker steps inside. The flat is in a disgusting state and there's a terrible odor. Feces, perhaps. Looker follows the man down the small hallway of the cramped apartment, stepping over heaps of trash and boxes and upturned furniture on the floor and they stop at a random door. The man proceeds to slam his huge fist over it and it rattles in the doorframe

"Hey, are you in there?!" He yells, before he tries again, but there is still no response.

Looker holds out his arm. "Stand back." With a hefty kick, the door opens violently and swings on the hinges.

Inside, it's a fairly normal room, save for the numerous posters of Raihan pasted to the walls and a bunch of magazines on the floor with Raihan's picture on it, along with the mangled carcass of a dead Deerling. The man gags and runs back towards the direction of the living room whilst Looker steps in.

"Rotom?"

"Yezzzir?"

"Let's get a team here."

"Okay-doo."

...

The Wild Area...

"I've got two wonderful arms, I've got two wonderful lips, I'm over twenty one and I'm free…Oh, I've got a hive full o' honey, for the right kind of honeybee…"

In the Rolling Fields, a young man sits in the middle of a patch of tall grass with a jar of honey in hand and a small plastic knife in his other which he's using to spread over his face.

A group of trainers pass him whilst chatting animatedly and giggling, all female - looks like they're heading to Motostoke - and they stop as soon as they spot him, eyes wide. Realising he's being watched, he grins and waves at them. "Ladies! You wanna see my Lickilicky? He's big and pink - "

"Ewww! Weirdo!" They scream loudly before quickly scampering away.

He looks upset. "What's wrong with Lickilicky?" Rummaging a hand through his pockets, he takes out a pokeball and presses the button, releasing a large pink pokemon and he continues spreading honey over his chin. "Wait," He pauses abruptly, frowning. "How does this work again? Was I meant to put honey on myself, or on a pokemon? What do you think, Licky?"

His pokemon turns to him and sticks it's massive pink tongue out in response.

"Eh, fair enough. Okay, here goes nothing. Let's give it a shot." Once he's finished giving himself a honey moustache, he moves to stand up and holds his arms out, dropping the knife to the ground - but then his phone rings and he fishes Rotom out from his pocket. "Yello."

"Um, it's me."

"What's up?"

“I...I think I have a date. Can you help me?”

“Hell yeah, I will!” He shouts down the phone before he hangs up, then - "Frick, why'd I do that? Damn, where we gonna meet?"

He immediately calls her back.

"Yeah?" She sounds exhausted.

"Where we gonna meet and when?"

"Can we meet right now? The date is tomorrow. Are you in Galar? Sorry for the short notice..."

"Nah, s'alright, I wasn't doing anything important anyway," He replies, "And yeah, I'm in the Wild Area. Meet you outside your workplace?"

"Sure."

After he hangs up a second time, there is a loud rustling noise emitting from the right. He gasps and whips his glance over over. "What was that?"

There's another loud rustle to the left which makes him leap frantically in the air.

"Huh? What? Who?"

Another rustle.

"Who goes there?"

Glancing left and right, he can't tell where the noise is coming from but then the grass parts and a dark shadow leaps out. His eyes widen.

…..

You're waiting outside the nursery as agreed, checking your phone for any messages when you see a figure sprinting towards you from the horizon. It's some dude dressed up as a Galarian Ponyta. Oh, wait. You know this dude.

"Help! Help me! Demon cat! Demon cats are chasing me!!" He yells, waving his arms around.

It's Glenn. Finally, he's here. Took him long enough. He's rushing towards the nursery with his Lickilicky waddling after him and there's something chasing him; you notice it's a couple of Purrloin that have all set their eyes on him.

Throwing a glance over his shoulder, he hisses, "Back, I say! All of you, stay back! Oh? You want a battle, do you? Fine!!" He grabs a pokeball from his belt and tosses it without looking and throws his arms in the air, "Go Kricketune! Delelele whooooop!"

You continue to watch as a large, reddish insect pokemon appears in a burst out of light and it stands its ground in front of the rampaging Purrloin - however, it's quickly pushed to the ground and trampled over.

"No!" Glenn yelps, before he spies you and proceeds to hurriedly make his way towards you, hiding behind your back, "Oh good, you're here. Do something!"

"Okay, I got this." You mutter; the Purrloin stop before you, peering up at you inquisitively whilst Glenn quivers in fear. You quickly fish out some spare berries from your bag which you keep handy for these sorts of situations and squat down to hand the fruit to them. They surround you at once and you distribute the food in an orderly fashion. "One for you...one for you.... aaaaaaaand...one for you." You mutter as they line up, single file. Once each pokemon has a berry, they purr and meow appreciatively at you before turning to leave quietly.

From behind your shoulder, you hear: "Are they gone? Are the demon cats gone?"

"Yeah."

"Phew!" Glenn pokes his head out and sighs. "Thanks for taking care of that, sis. These Purrloin walk on their hind legs! That's not normal!" He exclaims as he returns his Kricketune and Lickilicky into their pokeballs.

"It's a Galar thing." You reply, before you squint your eyes at him, "Are you high?"

"Me? High? No, of course not. I've been clean for years, sis. Years."

"Right, okay. Come on then, let's go. It's getting late."

"Sure, sure. I'm so happy you called me." He gushes, as you both begin your trek down the beaten path of the Wild Area that will lead you to Hammerlocke where you will get the train; Glenn quickly falls into the same pace as you, folding his arms behind his head - which he does all the time but suddenly it reminds you of Raihan.

Glenn is your foster brother and a self-proclaimed Pokemaniac, choosing to dress up as random pokemon depending on his mood. A week ago he was a Bidoof, a few days ago he was a Weedle. Today, he is a Galarian Ponyta, a pokemon he's been on the lookout for a long time since he read about them. He still stays in Johto somewhere in Mahogany Town, but he likes to visit you a lot on sporadic occasions and luckily for you when you called him - he was in the Wild Area. You've asked Glenn to help you choose an outfit for your date. He was responsible for picking out the black dress from Goldenrod department store - the one you wore to the club - so overall, he's good with fashion and naturally you called him first because you trust his opinions.

He was also a berry addict. Specifically, the lum. Yes, that one. Out of all the berries he could get addicted to, it had to be that one. He got addicted to lum berries at a young age and spent much of his youth going to shady places, throwing most of his cash to dealers just to snort some lum dust. He’s been clean for years, or he says, but sometimes you’re not sure. There's no telltale sign right now - no red, watery eyes and there's no distinct smell of the lum either. You guess you have to take his word for it.

"Wait, before I forget - " Glenn removes his Ponyta hood, leaving himself in his white sweater and slacks with the pink-blue edges, and he proceeds to take out two pokeballs, handing them to you, "I brought your pokemon."

You grin widely as you take the pokeballs off him. "Thanks!!" You'll let your pokemon out later, and stuff their capsules into the pocket of your bag.

"I guess the only pokemon you're missing from your team would be a Goodra, Dragonite, Kommo-o and a Hydreigon, right?"

"And a Dragapult." You remind him.

"Why do you want one so badly? Is it because they look like they're so done with life and shit?"

"Uh, no, but - hey, what happened to that Dreepy trader?"

"He said he wanted your Metagross in exchange."

You make a face. "NO."

And he snickers, crosses his arms over his chest. "Yep, I called the trade off.”

"Thanks. So, what pokemon were you looking for this time?"

"A Vespiqueen, but no luck." He says with a sigh.

"You should've dressed up as a Combee."

"I wanted to but I couldn't make the costume in time." He sighs again, "Anyway, this isn't about me. This is about you. How's it goin'? How's Galar? You got a date, right?"

You immediately throw your glance to the ground and kick a stone away from your path, cheeks going pink. "...Yeah."

"Who's the lucky dude?"

"Um...it's Raihan."

Glenn's eyes bulges for a split second but then his expression returns to normal. "Oh. Figures. He loves dragon Pokemon and you use some dragon pokemon, so you got something in common." He scratches his chin next, "Raihan, huh. He's a bit of a celebrity around here; didn't know you would like his type."

You blush furiously in response. "I don't know if I should go."

"Huh? But you called me for help, didn't you?"

"Well, yeah."

"Then you should go. Give it a shot. Ahhh, my little sis is going on a date with the hot-blooded dragon tamer. That's adorable." Glenn reaches over and pulls at your cheek affectionately.

You smile awkwardly in response. There's more to it, of course, but you're reluctant to tell Glenn the entire truth. Once you're at Hammerlocke, you take the train to Wyndon - even though you're heading there tomorrow - and upon arrival, you and Glenn head to the boutique. Raihan's asked you out on short notice and you're sure there's nothing in your current wardrobe, so the Wyndon boutique will have to do. Compared to the boutiques in the region, the Wyndon store offers some of the best selection of clothing. Stepping inside, you're greeted with hundreds of clothing racks and your eyes are assaulted with dozens of colourful garb, shoes and handbags.

As you grimace under your breath, Glenn rolls his sleeves up and grins widely. "Right, let's get you sorted!"

...

Wyndon, next day.

Needless to say, you didn't get a very good night's sleep and when you had heard a Corviknight crowing, indicating it was morning, you groaned and sat up in bed, glancing over to the folded clothes on the stool which you had bought yesterday with Glenn's help. It was rather exciting at first and shopping with Glenn is very much fun and games, but now...not so much. The initial excitement is gone now, replaced with an underlying sense of dread. You're afraid. Why are you doing this? What will you say to Raihan when you see him? What will you talk about during your time together? What if it gets awkward? What if he thinks you're boring as hell and that you have nothing in common? You smacked a hand to your forehead as you slipped out of bed, full of regret and feeling sick to the stomach; it's not like you agreed to go on the date either but he's expecting you to turn up now and you're too afraid to message him saying you don't want to go anymore.

Glenn said he could wait with you at the Wyndon pokemon centre for moral support which you didn't think was necessary; it doesn't make you feel any better.

Yet, you're waiting in the Pokemon Centre; Glenn stands at the rounded table, going through photos on his phone whilst you peep outside the double glazed window. Here you are, dressed and dolled up. It took you almost three hours to get ready. You look the same as you did at the nightclub but the makeup's a bit toned down, especially with your eyeliner. There's still ten minutes to go until the date officially starts but your indication of Raihan's arrival is a cacophony of manic female screaming and cheering. People are pointing to a specific direction so you follow where their fingers are pointing to and you see that Raihan has appeared, having just arrived at the large fountain in the town square; he smiles and waves at a few shrieking fans - he's donned in a casual black t-shirt and denims (and looking very much like the way he did at that talkshow) - before he abruptly steps towards the fountain and plops himself down on an empty, dry space, bringing out his Rotom phone. High above and the sky is turning grey, indicating that it will be raining soon.

Your eyes grow wide as your Rotom phone buzzes and he flies out; you have received a photo from Raihan - he just snapped a photo of himself at the fountain and has sent it to you. The caption below says:

Doofus: I'm here :)

You don't know how to reply, your feet suddenly anchored to the spot. "...He's actually here." You croak out. "He's here, Glenn."

Glenn doesn't look up from his phone. “You thought he wasn't serious? That he was playing a cruel joke on you? This isn't prom night or high school or whatever.”

“Y-yeah...”

"Well, now that he’s here and obviously very serious, what are you waiting for? Go to him."

You shake your head furiously, taking a few steps back from the window. "Um...not yet."

"Huh?" He looks up, confused. "You're gonna make him wait?"

"...It's not that. I...I don't think I can do this."

"What do you mean?"

"This is a bad idea."

"No, it's not."

"Yes, it is."

"You can't keep letting whatever you're scared of stop you from doing things, sis." Glenn says, but you don't leave the safety of the pokemon centre.

As the minutes tick by, you see Raihan occasionally checking his phone, talking to some fans who would go up to him for selfies and autographs. Once that's done, he would look up and around and check his phone again for updates from your end (but obviously there's none because you didn't reply to his message). You hear a loud booming clap of thunder overhead and it occurs to you that the weather's getting worse and soon, the window becomes streaked with droplets.

"Look, it’s raining now." Glenn adds, "And it's pretty bad. Go and get him. Go get your man."

You stare at Raihan, who is still rooted in his seat on the fountain. He hasn't moved at all. Glancing at your phone, you realise you've left Raihan waiting for almost ten minutes. And as Glenn pointed out, it's beginning to rain heavily.

"Shit. You're right. Goddamnit, he's gonna get sick." You utter under your breath, "Glenn, I'm going."

"Whoohoo! Good luck! And most importantly, have fun!”

You pull your umbrella from your bag and open it as you rush out of the pokemon centre, running over to the fountain. Raihan doesn't notice you coming and since he hasn't moved from his spot at all, he's very drenched; once you arrive, you hold the umbrella over his head and he promptly looks up.

"Sorry, I'm late!" You exclaim, "Well, no, I wasn't late, I was - uh, never mind, I-I have kept you waiting and for that I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry."

He stares at you from head to toe; you're wearing a long-sleeved shirt dress with a belt and black shorts underneath, along with matching black chelsea boots. After he's had a good look at you, he immediately stands up and envelopes you into a tight hug. The umbrella jiggles in your hand and almost threatens to fall but you manage to hold onto it. Despite being completely wet, his body is warm.

"It's okay, I didn't wait for long." He says, as he nuzzles you affectionately. He sounds happy.

What a doofus, he clearly did wait for a long time. 

"You came." He adds.

"O-of course I'd come." You utter, and you exhale quietly under your breath as he bundles you up in his arms and gives you a tight squeeze. "...Sorry." You mumble again, throwing your gaze to the side as your chin rests on his broad shoulder. You can't help but apologise again and again.

His arms lower from your waist, large hands resting on the sides of your legs and the contact makes you blush heavily, your fingers clinching the damp fabric of his t-shirt. “Your outfit is too short.” He murmurs as he strokes the sides of your bare thighs before he slips his fingers underneath the material of your shorts - he’s almost at your ass - and he succeeds in sending a few shivers down your spine.

”You don’t like it?”

“No,” He mutters, “But it’s dangerous to wear something like that in front of me.”

Honestly, it’s quite a tacky thing to say but somehow he can get away with it because your face ends up a thousand shades of red before you defiantly turn your head to the side. “S-shut up.” You mumble as he leans over to press his lips over your cheek and you close your eye as he begins to trail little kisses over the side of your face. What were you expecting? Heck, you are deliberately wearing a sexy outfit for this date.

He moves towards your mouth and presses a deep kiss on your lips which kind of takes you off guard but before you can react, he pulls away and says, "What do you want to do first?"

"You're soaked." You squeak out, "I'm sorry."

He plants his hand atop your head, ruffling your head as he grins at you in response.

"Okay, I'm here and you're here. Your obsessed fan could also be here and watching us this very moment. What the hell are we doing, being in the wide open like this? This is bad. We should not be doing this." Glancing around, you see some of the Wyndon locals running for shelter from the rain, disappearing into their homes or nearby restaurants which now look pretty full. You're not too sure if it's a good idea if you should go with Raihan to such a busy place. You ponder to yourself briefly and it hits you. "Never mind; I have an idea."

....

Glimwood Tangle.

"Ahhhh. This is so much better." You sigh, wiping your brow with relief, "It's nice, dark and quiet here. No-one will see us."

The Glimwood Tangle is the perfect place - maybe not so much for a date, but if Raihan insists in spending some time with you, this is a good option. It's not raining here either, thank goodness. Of course, you're just a few paths away from Ballonlea as well, so you guess you could invite Raihan for tea or something nearer the end (and not for sex, nooo... and you hope he would respect that too). You took the Corviknight taxi - which was a bad idea because it was really cramped inside and you were both basically rubbing shoulders - which he didn't object to or anything, in fact he pretty much wanted you to sit in his lap but luckily for you and unlucky for him, there was just enough space.

You found the entire taxi ride darn near claustrophobic and he had his hand planted over your bare leg the entire time so you're relieved to have finally arrived at the woods - even when you exited the taxi, he let you go out first and the damn cramped cubicle meant when you both stood up and turned, your ass basically grinded invitingly against his hips. If it couldn't have been anymore damn obvious, there's tension between you and Raihan and you're not sure what will emerge from this.

In the woods, you look around whilst Raihan tries to get a signal on his phone. There's not many people around at all and as you mentioned, it's dark and quiet. You prefer this more than any other town or city. You take one step forwards and -

SQUELCH.

Throwing your glance down, you see your foot is stuck in thick mud, fast. "Motherfu - “

Raihan’s watching you.

”-Fuh...Furret. These are brand new."

He chuckles as you try to pull and tug your leg free but to no avail. Raihan steps over, invulnerable to the mud (but of course he is) and reaches for you, scooping you up with one hand under the back of your knees and the other around your shoulder and with unimaginable strength, he hoists you out - but now you're stuck in his hold, being carried bridal style which embarrasses you greatly.

"What are you doing?"

"Saving my princess." He replies cheerfully as he carries you through the woods. You blush the entire way; when you're away from the muddy terrain and back onto the path, you both find a large glowing mushroom and decide to sit down and Raihan looks around inquisitively. You get the feeling that he doesn't come here often, and you wonder if he has even come here before at all. He doesn't look used to his surroundings.

"Are you okay?" You ask, as Raihan looks up at the non-existent sky. "Is it too quiet here? Too dark? Some people find the Glimwood Tangle unnerving."

"It’s not so bad here.”

"Yeah, but people are rumoured to disappear or get lost for days. Weeks, even. So, not many people like passing here and as you can see, it's really dark. Like it's almost noon but it looks like it's night-time right now. It can really mess with your biological clock," You muse out loud, "N-not that I chose to stay near here because of those reasons, of course. “

You go silent; it occurs to you that he was observing you as you babbled and now you’re scared to death that you’d put him off with your ramblings. Did it make any sense? Or was it all garbage? Why did you say those things in the first place anyway? You couldn’t help it - it was like verbal diarrhoea. Have you made things awkward now?

As you worry, he asks, “Do you live in Ballonlea or Stow-on-Side?"

"Ballonlea. You can see my cottage over there." You point to the left where between some giant, neon mushrooms, you can see the roof of your cottage in-between the stems.

"Nice." He comments with a grin, before he takes off his orange sweatband which is damp with rain and as he wrings it dry, you get a rare view of Raihan without his headband, revealing the sides of his shaved head and his dreadlocks. You can feel your cheeks heating up as you look at his rugged side profile and angled jaw, the amount of manly appeal he oozes is enough to reduce you to a blushing mess. He's still fairly damp, his black t-shirt clinging to his muscles and you can see the lean outline of his biceps. Looks like he works out a lot...hot damn, you should've paid more attention to the training videos he posts up online. There's a reason they're insanely popular with fans.

You try to focus on the topic at hand here, clearing your throat, "My pokemon like it a lot here, except Espie. She prefers Johto."

"What other pokemon do you have?"

"I have a Drifloon; he's been with me for a long time. And I have a Poliwag. He refuses to evolve though, so we tied an Everstone around his tail. He lives in my bathroom."

Raihan chuckles again. Surprisingly....the conversation's been pretty fluid and he's extremely easy-going. “I got something for you.”

”Huh?”

Delving into his pocket, he takes out a pokeball with a ribbon tied neatly around the middle. Fancy. “This is for you.”

You don’t move. Your gut feels like it’s twisted into a tight knot.

”Go on, it’s yours.”

You nervously accept the pokeball from him and he gestures for you to open it, releasing whatever is inside. You press the button and a red light flashes briefly before the Pokemon appears. Your eyes widen at once. It’s a round purplish-pink blob that blinks it’s little eyes at you before opening its mouth wide. It makes a gurgling noise and your jaw drops.

”A Goomy!!?!” You exclaim, and you can’t help the smile that blossoms on your face; Raihan watches, grinning at your reaction. “But...why? You didn’t have to.”

“He needs a home and I know you’ll take good care of him.”

As the Goomy looks between you and Raihan, you hold your arms out. It slowly slithers over to you and you lift it up and into your arms. Uh, okay.... now your clothes are feeling a little damp. There’s a slime trail over your front and as Goomy gurgles happily, you smile cheerfully at it and rub at one of it’s little horns.

”Oh, so cute...” You can’t wait to raise him into a Goodra that will destroy anything and everything. Oh yeah. Turning to Raihan, you grin, “Thanks. I’ll look after him.”

He grins at you in response as you return your new Goomy into the pokeball. Shit, you didn’t get anything for Raihan. But his gift was totally unexpected! You weren’t expecting any presents!!! What are you going to do?

“What's it like being a Pokemon Breeder?" He asks, snapping you out of your thoughts.

"O-oh, well, I like it very much, I get to see lots of pokemon everyday. I look after a lot of pokemon everyday." You babble again, "I look after the babies, I look after the eggs, and I deliver eggs. For EV training, I only accept up to five pokemon; I take them to places with specific pokemon to battle for stat gain."

He rubs his chin in thought, "Where did you learn how to EV train?"

It's then you throw your glance to the ground and bring your knees to your chest. "....When I was a kid, I brought Beldum to Show and Tell. My classmates laughed at him and said mean things so I wanted to train him up to become stronger. I took him to the mountains and we battled a lot of Trapinch. Along the way, I noticed his attack stats kept increasing as I levelled him up." You mumble, "I never forgot that moment, not once."

"I know." He says nonchalantly, "You told me."

You whip your head to him in confusion as he smiles coolly at you. "When did I ever tell you that?"

"Didn't you watch the rest of the video?"

Your cheeks go red. "Uh........No." You utter, after a pregnant pause, "...No, I...I didn’t."

His expression gradually dissolves into one of disappointment and his face crumbles slightly. Oh shit, now that you think about it... you didn't finish watching it. You scratch your elbow, pondering.

"What's it like being a gym leader?" You ask timidly, and also wanting to change the subject, "And why did you decide to become one?"

"Hah, good question." He replies, "I like battling and training pokemon. Being a gym leader means I constantly get challenged by people from all across the region; there's always something new to look forward to everyday and my pokemon can get stronger. One day, when we're strong enough, we'll beat Leon."

You admire his positivity, you really do. And his energy. You give him a small smile as he grins at you again and a comfortable silence settles between the two of you; inwardly, you’re quite happy that the date seems to be going in a good direction. You muse silently whilst Raihan takes out his phone and attempts to take a selfie of himself with a green mushroom behind him. It's too dark for him to show up properly, however. You're about to say something when you hear a rustle in the grass below you and you turn your head to the source of the noise.

“Did you hear that??" You whisper, leaning over to see who or what is making the ruckus; when a pokemon emerges, your eyes widen and you unconsciously grab his arm. "Raihan, look, it's a Ponyta!"

"Hm?" He peers over the edge of the mushroom beside you.

As you point excitedly to the grass below, the small horse pokemon trots out from the undergrowth and glances around cautiously before it begins to feast on the grass. "Damn, all my pokemon are too strong. They'll just kill it - I mean, make it, er, faint - in one move."

"I'll catch it for you." Raihan says; he stuffs his headband into his pocket, hops off his seat and drops to the ground carefully and quietly before reaching for you with arms outstretched.

You swallow down slightly and gingerly slide off the mushroom, holding onto his shoulders for support; he slips his arms around your waist securely and effortlessly hoists you down and when your feet touch the ground, he's still holding you tightly and your noses are almost touching. You mutter your thanks as he lets go of you slowly before reaching for an ultra ball that's nestled behind his back. Approaching the Ponyta, he tosses the ultra ball and a large pokemon emerges - it's his Sandaconda. The Ponyta, startled, decides to face it head on. You look at it's multicoloured mane that is a beautiful shade of mixed pastel blue and pink. So adorable!!!

"Go, Sandaconda! Use headbutt!" He instructs, and the sand snake pokemon proceeds to ram itself at the pokemon. It didn't get a chance to retaliate at all! The Ponyta drops to the ground, not exactly knocked out but reeling from the impact. Weakened, Raihan grins and then grabs a spare pokeball from his pocket and throws it at the downed pokemon. You're surprised he's helping you catch it, and when the ball clicks shut successfully after wiggling around for three times, you watch numbly as Raihan collects it, returning his pokemon at the same time. With the pokeball in hands, he heads back to your direction and hands you the capsule. "There you go. She's all yours."

He’s surprising you a lot today. And he’s gotten you another Pokemon.

"Thanks, Raihan."

“Whatever Pokemon you want, I’ll get it for you.”

”You don’t have to.”

”I want to.”

Your cheeks flame up immediately.

”What’s next on your list?”

You think about Dragapult and an image of the ghost slash dragon type appears in your mind. Oh, Glenn is right. Dragapult really does look like he is done with life and shit. Now you really want one. “Dreepy....” You mutter, in a slight zombie trance.

”Okay, I’ll get you one.”

”Wha - ?! Raihan, I didn’t mean it, I was just - seriously, don’t. It’s okay.”

As you splutter, clearly flustered by his generosity, he chuckles. You give him a timid smile, throwing your glance to the pokeball in your hands, then back up at him. He hasn't looked away from you at all. It grows silent for a while between the two of you where you're both staring at each other - to your surprise, you’re able to maintain the eye contact without wanting to look or turn away.

Maybe it’s because you’re anticipating him to kiss you and as predicted, Raihan slowly begins to lean in. You freeze on the spot then, watching as his face comes closer and closer and your heart beats harder. It’s that giddy Butterfrees-in-the-stomach feeling again but this time, it’s strangely pleasant. His gaze lands on your lips and when he finally nears you; he pauses and flicks his glance up at you as though he’s waiting for something. Your permission, perhaps? When you don’t move, he closes the gap and gently pecks you on the lips, reaching for your hand and squeezing it. You force yourself not to move and discover you’re able to stand still. The corner of your lip tugs upwards against his mouth which causes him to grin in response as he smooches you again quickly.

When you both pull away, you mutter, "...Shall we head to Ballonlea?"

"Sure."

You place the pokeball with the newly captured Ponyta into your bag beside Goomy’s and once that's done, Raihan begins to guide you out of the woods. Hand in hand, you both walk towards the direction of Ballonlea where he would occasionally nudge you playfully using his shoulder and you would nudge him back. The only source of light comes from the glowing mushrooms but it's really relaxing to be here. You see some other pokemon in your path, including some Shiinotic and Morelull who all hide away from you, disappearing into the darkness. Up ahead and you see some gym challenger being pranked on by Impidimps. Soon, the town comes into view and you lead the way to your house where you see a cardboard box on your doorstep.

Huh, that wasn't there before...and it couldn't be mail, either.

Stopping directly in front of it, you and Raihan stare at the box and then look at each other. It says 'Open Me' and there's an awful stench emitting from inside. That wipes the smile clean off your face; Raihan steers you behind him and you quickly grab his arm. "Wait! No, don't open it. Call Looker."

He eyes the box cautiously, "...Yeah. You're right." Just as Raihan pulls out his phone, his screen flashes, indicating a call from the detective you had just mentioned. "You called at a great time."

"What happened?" You can hear Looker's gravelly voice from the receiver.

"I'm with her. There's a weird box outside her doorstep."

"Okay, I'm heading over. Don't open it."

"What do you think is inside?"

"...A dead pokemon, or parts of one, probably."

There's a brief silence before Raihan hangs up.

"A dead pokemon?!" You exclaim in shock; Raihan returns his phone and turns to you, then encircles his arms around your waist wordlessly and holds you tight against him; he's strong, you can't wriggle free from his embrace. "Raihan, we shouldn't have - this person knows where I live! And now this... this is awful!”

Raihan doesn't say anything except press his lips against your forehead in an effort to calm you down whilst rubbing your arm soothingly.

The wait for Looker is excruciatingly long.

[calpalirwin]

Photographs and Tattoos

Summary: Maxine “Max” Green was never the girl to pass up a challenge, and she may have just met her match in the form of sullen drummer boy, Ashton Irwin.

A/N: Slow burn relationships are utter perfection and I am too soft of a writer to have the patience to write them. But, I tried. And I had fun doing it.

Content: Bad hairstyle jokes. Cussing (as per usual). Mentions of drinking.

Word count: Who counts words? The same like 6 of you are gonna read this whether it’s 1 word or a million, so who cares? Then why are you adding this Bri? I don’t know, trying to be professional?

And away, and away we go!

~~~

“Max, these are the guys. Guys, this is Max. She’s your photographer,” Steve Lewis introduced.

The teenage boys eyed the girl up and down. Maxine “Max” Green stood a good foot shorter than the tallest boy, her black brown hair held back in a ponytail, brown eyes hidden behind black glasses. She was dressed simply, much like they were, in jeans, a t-shirt, and sneakers. Her fingers unwrapped from the camera she had dangling around her neck as she extended her hand to the boys. “Pleasure,” she said, shaking each of their hands in turn.

“Lil young to be a photographer aren’t you?” one of the blonde haired boys asked her, a hand going up to push his fringe out of his hazel eyes.

“Lil young to be a rock band, eh?” she shot back, hands going to her hips.

“Watch yourself,” Steve told them both. “Max, curb the attitude. Ash, she’s older than even you, and if you disrespect her, I’ll let her lay you out.”

The hazel-eyed boy deemed Ash smiled wickedly at Max. “Oh, yeah?”

“Stop flirting with her, and let’s do this!” the dark-haired boy said, putting his hand on Ash’s shoulder.

Ash let out a boyish giggle as his cheeks flushed.

~~~

“So, you guys are from Australia?” Max asked as she scrolled through the photos she uploaded to her computer.

“Yup. We even went to school together. Well, all but Ash,” one of the blonde boys who wasn’t Ash, spoke up. Max glanced over at the voice, noticing the green eyes. Mike. Mike was the blonde with green eyes. Mike also had a wild streak a mile wide. Max liked Mike.

“So, how did Ash get in the band? And is Ash short for something?”

“Is Max short for something?” Ash retorted.

“It’s short for shut the fuck up,” Max smiled sarcastically at him. She wasn’t sure how she felt about the oldest band member. One second he was happy and giggly like the rest of them and the next he was grumpy and sullen.

“Hey, don’t swear!” he scolded her.

“It’s short for Ashton, as in Ashton, stop being an asshole,” the other blonde haired boy explained. Luke, the baby in the band, Max remembered. She also liked him and his bubbly personality. She was sure the smile on his face was permanent.

“Stop swearing!” Ash said, throwing his hands in the air in a huff.

Max and the other three boys laughed. Then, “It’s short for Maxine. But I’ve always gone by Max. And ease up with the not-swearing bit. You’re a punk band.”

“You really think we’re punk?” Mike asked, his green eyes lighting up.

“I mean, you guys don’t dance ,and you actually play your instruments, so you’re not a boy band…”

Mike let out a squeal of excitement before giving her a rib-crushing hug. “She thinks we’re punk rock!”

“You’re not punk rock,” the dark-haired boy, Calum, by process of elimination, spoke up finally. “You’re hugging her.”

Max liked Calum too. He was quiet but when he did talk, he was downright funny.

“Hugs are totally punk rock,” Max and Mike said. Then, just Max, “Now ,let me go, so I can get back to work.”

“Are any of them good?” Ash asked, peering over her shoulder.

“Are we done being grumpy?”

“I’m not grumpy,” he told her, crossing his arms over his chest.

Max rolled her eyes and pulled her bag towards her. “Here,” she said, tossing a granola bar at each boy. “I’ll tell Professor Lewis to get us some real food.”

~~~

“Max!” Steve’s voice called out as Max headed for the door of the classroom.

“Yeah?” she asked, stopping and turning back to look her professor.

“I have an opportunity for you, if you’re up to the challenge.”

She absent-mindedly rolled up the sleeves of her sweater. “Always,” she said, feeling the grin spread across her face. Professor Lewis believed in her skills in a way no one ever had. He had let her take total control over the photoshoot of the punk rock band a few weeks ago, letting her and the boys decide which ones to use. And now he was ready to trust her with something bigger, she could tell.

“Alright. 5 Seconds of Summer is touring and they need a photographer. I can’t go because I have classes to teach. Would you be willing to go in my place?”

“5 Seconds of Summer?” she asked, cocking her head to the side in confusion.

“The band you helped me with a few weeks ago.”

Her eyes lit up in recognition. “Oh, yeah! Alright, cool. Wait, did you say tour photographer?”

“I did. Keep up, Max.”

“Professor… I… I’m in school…”

“I already talked to the department. Send me every shot you take so I can put it in a portfolio and we’ll make it count for as many classes as we can. Be sure to experiment with different ideas.”

“Do I get paid?”

Steve chuckled. “Max, it’s an all expenses paid tour. This is a free ticket to travel the world with a camera. But yes, when you get home, my company will cut you a check for your work.”

“And you trust me?”

“Of course I do.”

“What if I mess this up?”

“Retake the shot,” he winked. “Don’t worry so much. Trust your gut. There will be a whole crew along for the ride, and I’m just a phone call away. So, can you do it?”

Max weighed through the options in her head. This was the chance of a lifetime. Her teacher believed she could do this. She was going to prove that his trust in her was well-placed. “Hell yeah!”

~~~

“Max!” Mike said, happily, doing a little run to hug the girl.

“Mikey,” she grinned, reaching up to ruffle her hands through his hair which was now bright red. “I like your hair!”

“Mum said I looked like a Skittle. I showed her!”

Max laughed, “You’re such a brat. Looks good, kid.”

“He thinks it makes him look more punk rock,” Calum said. Then, with a loud whisper, “It doesn’t!”

Max cupped her hands to her mouth and stretched up to whisper in the brown boy’s ear just as loudly, “Yes, it does!” before shooting a grin at Mike who grinned back.

“Steve sent you?” Ash’s voice said from behind her.

“Is that a problem?” she asked, turning, hands going to her hips.

“No,” the tall boy shrugged, a hand pushing his blonde fringe out of his eyes.

“You should really try a new hairstyle,” Max suggested. “The emo fringe is a little 2007.”

“I like the fringe,” the boy pouted.

“It’s not bad,” she admitted. “But, it’s gonna be a problem if you keep having to push it out of your face.”

~~~

Ashton looked over at Max. Her glasses were hanging off her shirt, her head leaning against the window of the plane. She had her earbuds in and her lips parted a little with every breath she took as she dozed. He wasn’t sure how he felt about the 3-months older girl who he thought was too young to be trusted to be their tour photographer. But, he couldn’t deny the talent she had. Not that he knew much about photography, but all the pictures they used from their photoshoot a few weeks ago had been from her camera. 

Still, he was hesitant towards her and he couldn’t figure out why. He wondered how much was his own nerves around the admittedly pretty girl, and how much was jealousy of how friendly she was with the other 3- especially Mike- and so cold towards him. Had he said something to upset her, and she was still feeding off of that? Was he really just a grumpy, moody teenage boy and she was a grumpy, moody teenage girl?

He shrugged the thoughts away as her head rolled from the window to his shoulder. He smiled and pulled out his phone, taking a quiet and quick selfie of him and the girl asleep on his shoulder. He bet that the girl spent so much time behind the camera that she didn’t spend a lot of time in front of it. He was going to do what he could to remedy that, and that mission started here and now.

~~~

Max sighed and paced around the room. “I can’t keep doing this back and forth with you, Owen. This is my job. I can’t just come home because you miss me.”

The 4 boys frowned as the girl continued to pace, sharing confused glances at each other. None of them had any idea who this Owen was. At a year and a half of knowing the girl, all they knew about Max was that she was good at photography and had dropped her college education to be with them full time. That and that they liked her. She, much like each other, was a constant in their ever-changing, chaotic lives. She was their much needed-stability and they were her much-craved adventure. She was their girl, and they were her boys.

“No, Owen, you’re not listening to me! I got to live my life. It would be nice if we could work out. No- I know! I know you’re fighting for us, and that’s nice. But, I’m done fighting. I’m over this. No! I’m not saying that to hurt you! Look, we lost control of this long ago. We just need to let go, okay?”

“What are you doing?” Calum asked, as Ashton pulled out his phone to record Max.

“Shh, her words. Listen!” Ashton hushed. He knew he could turn those words into a song, but he needed to be able to remember them. And in order to do that, Calum needed to shut up.

Max sighed again, her glasses sliding up her face as she rubbed at her face. “I’m not cheating on you, you insecure little bitch boy! God! See, this is why we’re breaking up! I can’t live my life if I have to constantly reassure you of our relationship! I’m claiming my independence. Goodbye.” She hung up the phone and let out a small disgruntled scream.

“You okay?” Mike asked.

“Hmm?” Max said, taking notice of the four boys. “Oh, yeah, I’m good.”

Luke frowned. “Sounds like you just broke up with your boyfriend. Didn’t even know you had one.”

She came over to mess up the blue-eyed boy’s hair. “Boyfriends are overrated,” she smiled at him.

“I think we have ice cream,” Calum said, getting up. “Mali always eats ice cream after a breakup.”

Max laughed, “Honestly guys, I’m fine.”

“Are you turning down ice cream?” Luke asked.

Mike clutched a hand to his chest in mock-shock. “How dare you!”

Max laughed and pushed the wild boy, knocking him off balance. “Better bring the whole carton, Cal. And 5 spoons,” she said, expectantly, looking at Ashton who was staring at his phone. “Ash?” Max asked, poking the boy’s shoulder.

His head glanced up. “Hmm?”

“Ice cream?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“You good?” she asked, eyeing him suspiciously.

“Are you?” he challenged. The emotions in his head and heart swirled dangerously inside him like a storm. A year and a half later and he still wasn’t sure of his feelings towards the girl. He liked her. They were friends. But there still remained the level of coldness that neither of them had been able to crack through.

She narrowed her eyes at the boy, who’s fringe had been replaced by soft brown curls. Black frames covered his hazel eyes, much in the same way black frames covered her brown ones. His apparent coldness still stung as it seemed to be more in full-effect when he conversed with her, but she had come to learn that’s just how the boy was. A tough facade to hide the soft boy he was inside. He was the oldest in the band, he had to act the part. Still, she wasn’t sure why he had to be so hard around her. But, she was still clueless to just how soft the boy actually was towards her, photos of her taking up most of the space on his phone, but he refused to delete a single one.

~~~

“That looks like it hurts,” Mike winced, watching Ashton sit in the tattoo chair.

The needle buzzing had already sent Luke running from the shop. Calum and Max were leaning against the counter with Mike, watching the needle work itself into Ashton’s wrist. The hazel eyes went wide, “What?! I thought we were all doing this together! Cal!”

Calum shrugged. “Sorry, mate. You’re on your own.”

“Mike!” Ashton continued to beg, stunned amusement in his eyes as he realized there was no going back for him and that his bandmates had bailed.

“Maybe next time, sorry Ash. I’m gonna go check on Luke.” The boy with wild hair colors Max couldn’t keep track off left the shop.

“Max?” Ashton asked, a final plea to not be alone in what was supposed to be a bonding tattoo experience.

“I’m not in the band,” she said simply, holding up her camera and snapping a picture of Ashton for proof. “Just the photographer.”

“Aw, c’mon, you’re as much as part of this band as the guys are,” Ashton said, continuing his plea.

“I am?” Max asked, her brown eyes going wide. Ashton had remained his rather cold self to the girl in their now 2 year long friendship. While it was an unspoken aspect that she was the honorary 5th member, hearing Ashton admit it made her insides twist in the most pleasant of ways. Unless he was just saying it to get her to get a tattoo with him. Either way, it was quite the line.

“Course you are.”

“Oddly suspicious coming from you while you sit in a tattoo chair, begging not to be alone.”

“How is the truth suspicious?”

Max snorted. “Oh, c’mon, Ash! We all know you just tolerate me.”

Ashton ducked his head. “Have I really been that mean to you?” he asked, his voice small.

“No,” Max told him, reaching for his hand that wasn’t being tattooed on. “You haven’t been mean. You’ve been a grump the entire time I’ve known you. But, I know it’s not because you’re mean.”

“I’m a jerk, huh?”

She held her thumb and index finger together. “Just a smidge. But, I’ve been a jerk back, so I guess we’re even.”

“So friends?”

She snorted again, this time a happier sound. “We already were, dumbass.”

“Stop swearing,” he giggled.

“Alright, who’s next?” the tattoo artist said, wrapping Ashton’s tattoo. “Keep an eye on that. You bled a lot, kid.”

Ashton’s face blushed as he hurriedly pulled down his sleeves to hide the scars on his wrists. “Thanks,” he mumbled, pulling out his wallet to pay.

“My treat,” Max spoke up, her hand reaching out to stop Ashton.

“Max, it’s fine,” Ashton protested.

“Consider it your birthday present,” she said.

“My birthday’s not for another 2 months,” he continued to protest.

“Fine. Pay for mine, I’ll pay for yours.”

“You’re gonna get one?” he asked, his hazel eyes lighting up.

“We’re a band, right?” she asked. She reached down to roll up her jeans. “Can you do the same thing right here?” she asked the tattoo artist, pointing at the soft flesh on her ankle.

“Have a seat,” he said.

Ashton scrambled up from the chair and moved to stand next to Calum while Max moved to take a seat in the chair. “Here goes nothing,” she winked at the boys. “Cal, go tell the others we’re gonna be a minute.”

~~~

“Moment of truth?” Ashton asked, hands ready to peel off the bandage on his wrist.

“Moment of truth,” Max grinned, her hands on her own bandage. They had waited until the other boys had gone to sleep, keeping the bandages on longer than necessary, wanting to save this moment for when it was just the two of them.

“Cool,” they both marveled their own tattoo, the simple tally mark etched upon their skin, before their eyes moved to admire the other’s. Max’s fingers grazed around the tattoo on Ashton’s wrist, feeling the scars underneath. “What happened?” she asked, her voice barely higher than a whisper.

Ashton jerked away, his sleeves moving to cover his hands. “It’s nothing,” he muttered, his hazel eyes growing dark.

“No, it’s not,” Max said, keeping her voice soft. “Don’t push me away, Ash. I’m not judging you.”

“Everybody else does,” the boy said sadly.

She sighed. “What is it with you and these walls? Those are more than your band mates over there. Those are your brothers. Me and you? We have matching tattoos, now. C’mon. Lower your defenses.”

“Says you. You didn’t even tell us you had a boyfriend.”

Max sighed again. “Are you tired?”

“No. Why?”

“Stay up with me. Tell me your life story, and I’ll tell you mine. Let’s get real. No secrets. Everything out in the open.”

Ashton gulped. He wasn’t sure he liked this plan. There were some secrets meant to be kept. Like his growing feelings towards her he still couldn’t figure out, and the pictures he had of her on his phone. But, he met her brown-eyed gaze that was as steady as it ever was and nodded. “Alright, who starts?”

“I’ll start,” Max decided.

~~~

“Lemme tell ya how it went down,” Calum told the camera and Max had to clap a hand over her mouth to keep from laughing.

A small party had formed in Ashton’s home as the men grew progressively drunker and talked about their new album. Max, clung to her cup, sipping slowly. Not being a big drinker herself, she had taken the role of designated driver many a time for her boys. But, having the party at Ashton’s meant she was free to drink a little herself. Just enough to get a small buzz going. Not nearly as plastered as her friends were becoming.

“Need more?” Ashton’s voice asked her, a blue bandana still stuck to his head.

She shook her head, reaching her hands up to tug the bandana off his head. “Remember when you used to wear these all the time?” she asked.

“Why did you let me do that? You told me the fringe was a bad idea, but you let me wear this every day for a year? Monster,” he giggled. He was pacing himself with his drinks, but Max knew her friend well enough he was walking a fine line from strong buzz to straight up drunk.

“You had worse hairstyles,” she assured him, patting his chest affectionately, trying not to take too much pleasure in the way his heartbeat drummed against her fingertips.

He winced at the memory of his long shaggy hair. “Ooo, yeah, that was bad,” he admitted with a hiccuped giggle.

She smiled as she reached up to comb through his short brown hair. “Your hair’s fine now, don’t worry. And slow down with the drinks.”

“But, I’m having fun,” he winked, his hands resting on her waist.

Her hands moved again to hold his chin. “Slow down,” she said again, her voice firm.

“You’re drinking,” he pointed out, his fingers dancing across her skin.

“Ash,” she said, pulling out of his grasp, her skin on fire. “Sober up. C’mon, I think I saw KayKay in the kitchen.”

“How come you don’t date?” he asked at the mention of his girlfriend’s name. “You’ve watched all of us date. We’ve never seen you date.”

“I date,” Max assured him, tugging him towards the kitchen.

“I’ve never seen you date,” he said, following after her.

“Drink this,” she said, pressing a water bottle in his hands. “Your buzz will keep you feeling good for a while. But you need to start drinking water.”

“You take such good care of us, Max. All of us. We wouldn’t survive without you,” he said, a finger tapping her nose affectionately.

Max let out a low chuckle. “You’re my boys. You’re my band. Of course I’m gonna take care of you.”

“Okay. I’m gonna tell you something,” he said, taking a sip of water. “Damn, that’s good,” he said, taking another sip. “Okay, the thing. And, you can’t hold this against me. I’m kinda drunk right now.”

Max chuckled again, “It’s me, Ash. You can tell me anything, you know this.”

He grinned, “No, I really can’t. Because I bet if you knew I have pictures of you on my phone- not bad pictures, I’m not a perv…- but pictures. Of you. On my phone. I’m betting you’d be mad. But, that’s okay. Because I’m pretty sure I love you. But, we can’t let Max know. This,” he said, waving a finger between the two of them. “This is a secret. So, we can’t tell Max. And we definitely can’t tell Kay. Alright.”

Max had stopped breathing at his drunken confessions, unsure of what the truth really was, and scared to find out. “Okay, Ash. We won’t tell Kay or Max. This is just between you and me.”

“Promise me,” he said, his hazel eyes dark with their seriousness.

“Cross my heart,” she told him.

“Alright, good. Now, I gotta go get Cal off that stool cuz I think he broke it.”

Max watched as he staggered off, crouching under the stool, Calum was trying to twist back into place. “Twist it, mate,” Ashton’s voice said.

“I’m twisting, bro!” Calum answered back angrily.

Max chuckled to herself, leaning against the kitchen counter, her head reeling. 5 and a half years of friendship and he finally admitted he liked her. He had admitted a whole lot more too. But it didn’t matter what his confession meant, even if it was true. He had a girlfriend. And Max had ignored her feelings for Ashton for far too long to be certain of what feelings classified as friendship and which ones crossed the line in something more.

~~~

“Hey,” Max grinned at him as he stumbled down the stairs the next morning.

“Shh,” he said, one hand waving her off, the other rubbing at his head. “Lower your voice. What are you doing here?”

“I drank, so I just crashed in the spare bedroom. Figured it was okay.”

“And you’re not hungover?”

She shook her head. “I only had like 2 drinks.”

“Mmm,” he nodded. “How’s the footage. Is any of it usable?” he asked.

It was her turn to nod. “Yeah, it’s all usable for the most part. I think the drunker you guys got, the better the videos got.”

“God, that was so stupid. Why’d you let me drink so much?”

Her eyes narrowed. “I told you to slow down.”

“Are you the one who gave me water?”

“Mhm,” she said. And the one you confessed your attraction to. And the one who put your drunk ass to bed. And the one you tried to kiss when I put your drunk ass to bed, her thoughts concluded.

“Did I do anything stupid?”

“No stupider than usual, Ash,” she assured her friend.

“Good. Cuz I thought…” He rubbed at the back of his neck, and Max leaned forward slightly in her seat, eager to hear if his sober confession matched his drunken one from last night. “Nevermind,” he finished with a sigh. “I’m gonna go do some yoga. Wanna come?”

“Sure,” she said, getting up. Damn, another time, I guess, she thought, wrapping her arm around the man’s shoulders.

~~~

“You good?” Max asked her friend. Ashton had seemed down for days, his social media accounts eerily quiet despite all the tour buzz.

“Hmm? Yeah, I’m good. Why?”

“Nothing, you just seem… I dunno, quiet I guess.”

He shrugged. “I mean, I dunno. Maybe I’m a little sad. I was with Kay for like 2 years.”

Max nodded, biting into her lip. The drummer and his girlfriend had called things off right before he left for tour, reasons unknown to everyone. “Wanna talk about it?”

Ashton shook his head, “Nah, I’m good.”

“Alright then,” she said, pulling up her camera. “Say cheese.”

~~~

“Whoa, mate…” Calum said, looking through the pictures. “Does Max know about this?”

Ashton shook his head. “At least, I don’t think she does. I might have mentioned it when we did those videos for Youngblood, but I can’t remember. She never brought it up, and I’ve been too scared to ask.”

“Mate…” Calum said again, running his hands through his blue hair. “And you’re gonna give this to her as a Christmas gift?”

Ashton nodded.

“How long?” Calum asked the obvious question.

“Honestly? Probably the whole fuckin time.”

“Doesn’t she like Mike?”

“That’s what I thought. But, then… we got these right?” he said, showing Calum the tally tattoo, and then the story of the night he had stayed up all night with Max was rolling from his lips. “And I think that’s when I actually fell for her. Just… she feels like home.”

~~~

Merry Christmas, Max! Check your email for your gift! the text from Ashton read.

Merry Christmas, Ash! she texted back, even though it was still Christmas Eve back home. Her email app pinged as she switched over.

The girl who notices the world through a camera lens, never noticing the focus was always on her. the email read, with an attached file.

Max clicked on the attachment and had to scramble to catch her phone as it slipped through her fingers. 8 years of pictures filtered through her senses. Some had simple captions like “Max having her first gelato in Italy”. Some were funnier like “Girl snores like a freight train.” But it was the first and last picture that held the words that pulled forth the tears welling in her eyes. The first picture was of her head resting gently on Ashton’s shoulder, his blonde fringe forever cemented in time with the caption “I think I love this girl.” The last photo was only a week old, and- much like the first picture- featured Ashton. He was sitting down on the couch and she was standing up behind him, marveling his black hair. In a moment of softness, she had pressed a kiss to his hair, never noticing Calum taking the shot in the corner. The caption for this picture was nearly identical to the first photo’s caption: “I know I love this woman.”

Max clutched the phone to her chest tenderly. Ever since his confession, she had gone back and forth with her own feelings. She had realized what she had always known to be true, that she was in love with the man she had watched grow up in front of her camera. She was in love with his wild streak that was larger than life and left her head pounding for days. She was in love with the gentle boy who wore both his heart and scars on his sleeve. She was in love with every version of him he had ever been, and with every version he would ever be. And here was the proof that his drunken confession had been real, solidifying both of their feelings.

But, and there was the nagging thought. But, she had seen the photo of him with KayKay at the Christmas events when they got done touring. Maybe the love Ashton was saying he felt towards her was platonic. She wasn’t sure what she wanted the answer to be.

~~~

“Hey,” he smiled at her.

“Hey,” she said, returning the smile and taking a seat next to him on the couch. “Listen,” Max started, needing to speak before she lost her nerve.

“I-” Ashton started at the same time she did, also needing to get his feelings out in the open before he lost his nerve. “I lied. Before.”

“What?” Max asked, looking at him in confusion.

“The day we got the tattoos. We stayed up all night talking. I didn’t tell you everything.”

“You didn’t?”

He shook his head. “I left out the liking you part. I thought… I was scared. I still am scared. You’ve been this… constant steadiness in my life that I didn’t know I needed, and that I would be completely lost without. I can’t even begin to tell you how many songs I helped write because I needed a way to process what I felt towards you. And… I…” His hands were running wildly through his hair, searching for the words he had never been able to say to her face.

“I know,” she interrupted, grabbing his hands and pulling them down between them. “You told me this already.”

“I did?”

She nodded. “Youngblood album. You were drunk, so I wasn’t sure how much of it was true or not.”

“I thought that was a dream…”

“Nope, it was real.”

“Shit…”

“Ashton,” she said, getting him to look at her. His hazel eyes held a look she had never quite seen. She had seen those eyes dance wildly in his happiest moments, the cold hardness when he was angry, the dangerous flashing when he got intimidating, the soft sorrow of reflection. Every mood she had seen in his eyes. But this? This wasn’t sad. It was… she wanted to say scared, but in all her days she had never known the man sitting next to her to be scared. Scary, yes, but not scared himself. Ashton Irwin was many things, but scared was not one of them.  Yet, here he was, scared absolutely shitless as 8 years of feelings lay between them. “I lied, too.”

“What about?” he asked, swallowing his fears, but not allowing himself to be hopeful either.

“Ashton, you’re my best friend. And I struggled for a long time trying to break down your walls without knowing why. And then, you finally let me in. And… God, it was like a switch flicked on. At the time, well, maybe always, I thought that our friendship meant more to me than the possibility of what we could be. But, then you kept being you. And then you told me how you felt. And I didn’t want to believe it, because I wasn’t sure if I wanted it to be true or not. And then you sent me the pictures and I knew it was. And, I value our friendship, I really do. But, I’m also really wishing you’re gonna ask me for more than a friendship, so I can say yes.”

“You are?” His voice was a low whisper, like he was afraid that talking too loudly would shatter whatever this moment was.

Max nodded. “I just have one question. Kaykay?”

“Just friends,” he answered.

“So, are we,” she countered.

“You and I were never just friends,” Ashton said, and then his lips were on hers. “You are my best friend. And so much more.”

“Shut up, and kiss me,” she said, grinning.

[melikeylikeyjimin]

Noir || Eleven

(I don’t own this gif)

Word Count: 2.9k

Genre: Mafia AU! Sugar Daddy AU! Jungkook X Reader, fluff, angst.

Warnings: none

A/N: Here is the eleventh chapter of Noir! YAY for the first meeting and date! I might be a bit busy this week and next week so updates might be a bit slow! Thank you for your patience ahead of time. In return, I have written a JK one shot that I hope will satisfy all of you while you wait! I’ll upload it sometime later this week! If you’d like to be tagged whenever I post a new chapter of Noir, please DM me, leave a comment on this post, or send an ask and I’ll add you to the list!

Tag List: @yeontanie21 @moniebuns @writemywaytoyourheart @flamingorosette @trueelee-dj @melonkooky @kawaiimusiccollection @selugis @ellsbells72 @shadowstark @fluffybunnybaekhyun @geekyfangirl-rikachuchanx777

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“So, why did you call me over exactly?” Nicci asked uninterested.

I sighed, “You know very well why I called you over! I told you the very night he asked me to dinner that I needed your help picking an outfit.”

“Oh yeah, you’re having dinner with your lover boy, right?”

I rolled my eyes, “Nicci, please?”

“Alright, alright. What time do you have to be there?”

“Six thirty.”

“Alright, so I have to make you perfect obviously. You need the money and I can’t send you out looking like...well...you.”

I glared at her, “There’s nothing wrong with being comfortable!”

“Righttt,” She said as she browsed throughout my closet trying to find the perfect outfit. “Where are you going?”

“Some fancy dinner place, it was in French so I wouldn’t know how to pronounce it even if I wanted…”

Nicci whipped her head around, “Wait, are we talking about the same restaurant? Show me the text!” I showed her the location and she squealed, “You lucky ass bitch! He’s taking you to the best restaurant in the entire country! You better give out as payment. Do whatever he asks!”

“Nicci!”

“What? He’s treating you like a fucking queen, so do the same!”

I ignored her comments and let her go back to picking an outfit. “Now that I know you’re going there, I’m more interested.”

She found an emerald green gown that went down to my ankles and was strapless but had sleeves over the tops of my arms. She laid it on my bed and found some black strappy heels, setting it next to the dress.

“Go get dressed in that, and then we’ll talk hair, makeup, and accessories.”

I normally would fight her, but I decided not to bother. She wouldn’t let me get out of this even if I tried. I sighed and took the dress and heels into the bathroom with me and undressed. I slipped my feet into the dress and pulled it over my torso. I put my arms through their little sleeves and moved my hair to the side to zip up the dress. I zipped it up and situated my hair again. I sat down on the bathtub’s side and slipped my feet into the heels, zipping the backs up.

I looked at my reflection one last time before stepping out of the bathroom. Nicci’s eyes flew to my body as she drank in the look. “Why don’t you give up on being a doctor and instead be a glorified escort or trophy wife?”

“Why would I do that?”

“Because you’re smoking!” I ignored her comment and sat down at my makeup table, letting her take over. She started putting light waves into my hair, making sure that everything looked natural and loose.

Once she had finished that, she started on my makeup. She chose a few different shades of brown to match with the green of the dress, going for a beautiful but not heavy look.

Suddenly I heard my phone go off. I had Nicci grab it and tell me who was calling me, “It’s Dylan!”

“Shit, what should I do?”

“You have to lie, Y/n! I did not spend so much time on your look and getting you to finally do this just for Dylan to try to cockblock you!”

I nodded and answered the phone, “Hello?”

“Hey Y/n!” Dylan called out from the other side of the line.

“What’s up?”

“I was thinking we could go out tonight and get food and walk around town! What do you think?” I looked at Nicci and she shook her head saying I had to give an excuse.

“I’m sorry I can’t tonight.”

“What? Why not? Do you work? I can just visit you if that’s it.”

“No, no, I don’t work, I just have a lot of assignments I need to work on.”

“Well, I could help you?”

“We both know I won’t get work done if you come over,” I sassed.

He scoffed, “Fine I see how it is. Guess you really hate me.”

I sighed, “I’ll make it up to you, I promise. We can hang out another day. I’ll let you know when I can, okay?”

“Okay…”

“Alright, I gotta go, bye!”

I hung up and set the phone down. It was silent until Nicci broke the silence, “Where do you keep your jewelry?” I pointed to a small box on one of my dressers and she moved to sort through it. She grabbed a pair of dangly silver earrings and a nice silver necklace that would hang perfectly over my bare upper torso. I put the earrings in my ears as she latched the chain on my neck.

  “Do you have some purses too?”

I nodded, “In the closet.”

She sorted through them, “I don’t get it, you have a bunch of fashionable things, yet you never wear them.”

“I save it, doesn’t mean I have to wear them all the time.”

Nicci scoffed but continued searching through my numerous purses. She finally handed me a plain black clutch that matched my heels perfectly. “There, you are done!”

I looked at myself in the body mirror and admired Nicci’s work. “Thanks as always, Nicc.”

“Of course, I may not be a professional makeup or hair artist, but it’s one of my favorite pastimes, so it’s nice to experiment on people that aren’t me.”

“What time is it?”

“Quarter to six.”

“Alright, I should get going then,”  I said.

Nicci nodded in agreement, “Make sure to tell me what goes on!”

I smiled, “Of course, you’re the only one who supports this decision, so it’s only wise I tell you what happens.”

“You got it, girl.”

I ordered an uber to take to the restaurant that I was supposed to meet Jungkook at. It was in the center of the city so it would take thirty minutes to get there. The uber got there a little bit before six and I had already sent Nicci back home and texted Jungkook that I was leaving the house.

I got in and told the driver the address. As we drove, I looked out the window as I tried to calm my nerves. I wasn’t sure why I was so nervous, but I had just hoped that Jungkook was all that he was behind the screen. I had seen multiple pictures of him so I knew his face well, but that didn’t mean I knew if he had a completely different personality offline. I played with my hands in my lap as we continued to make our way down the different streets of downtown.

I looked around at the flashing lights and the illuminated sidewalks filled with people of all ages. They were all conversing and talking to one another. Some outside of restaurants enjoying the warm nighttime temperature, others smoking and laughing, and many people walking around with groups of friends from store to store.

It had been a while since I went downtown to do anything fun. The drive is not always the best from my apartment to downtown, the traffic had never been nice either. Over the past few years, the city had become increasingly populated without the correct amount of lanes or streets towards downtown as needed for the abundance of people living in it. The city had changed so much over the many years I spent living here. It used to be much more calm, with the regular sports events and musicals, but now it had become a big party central. Strip clubs and bars lining the streets.

Driving past the craze, we finally got to the nicer part of downtown. Where all the rich lived comfortably, close to all the top rated restaurants, stores like Gucci, Louis Vuitton, Versace. The options were endless. This part of the city was always much more hush. People conversed but it was not yelling and laughter like the other part of downtown. There was a clear distinction between normal people and the rich.

Seeing the restaurant in my sight, I waited for the uber driver to pull up to the front of it. He did and I gave him the fare for the drive there. Checking the time, I made sure I was not late and thankfully I was five minutes early. I walked in feeling more than slightly out of place in this time of crowd but tried to push past it. I walked up to the hostess and she gave me a glance over. It was as if she was checking out my clothing to see if they were high class, expensive brands. I smiled as I tried not to think too much about her obvious judgment of me, “Hi, I have a reservation for 6:30 for Jeon Jungkook.”

The lady’s eyes seemed to panic at his name. I frowned ever so slightly at her face wondering why she seemed so panicked. “O-oh, y-yes. Right this way Mrs. Jeon,” she stated. I was ready to correct her as there was no way Jungkook and I were married since we hadn’t even met yet, but I decided not to waste my breath.

She led me to a secluded part of the restaurant that seemed like it could be rented out for private parties. Behind a velvet red curtain, I saw a man sitting at a table. “Here you are, miss. Please enjoy.” The hostess’s voice caught the man’s attention and I was met with a deep dark abyss.

His eyes were piercing right through me, not letting me move or even form coherent sentences in my head. He was breathtaking. His dark hair that was parted and pushed up slightly, his piercing yet doe-like eyes, and his thin beautiful lips. I was speechless. He looked even better in person than he did in photos. The air in my lungs was gone as I continued to stare at him. How could he possibly be interested in someone like me when he was walking around looking like that?!

He finally smiled and stood up, “I’m so glad you could make it, Y/n. Please have a seat.” I knew all too well that I would not be able to speak so I nodded my head, or at least I tried my best to. I moved and sat in the soft cushioned seat opposite of him. It was easily the most comfortable thing I had ever sat on in all my life. He moved my chair, pushing it in for me. I let out a meek thank you at his gentlemen like gesture. “Is something wrong?” He asked taking his seat again.

“A-ah, no, it’s just you’re even better looking in real life than you are in the pictures,” I said as confidently as possible.

He smiled, “Thank you for the compliment. I don’t want things to be awkward between us, so I’ll go ahead and introduce myself. I am Jeon Jungkook, the same guy you have been talking to over the phone for a little bit. It is nice to meet you, Y/n. You are even more stunning in person than over any photo you’ve sent me.”

I swallowed hard knowing very well my face was extremely flushed, “T-thank you. Um, I’m y/n as you know. It’s a pleasure to meet you finally…”

“I can tell you’re nervous, but hopefully that will dissipate throughout the night.” I nodded. “Would you like some wine?”

“Yes, I think that would be helpful.” I knew very well I would need liquid courage running through my veins in order to be normal. He ordered over a waiter that I had not even seen waiting and asked for a bottle of red wine that I did not know the name of.

Once there was wine in my glass, I took a sip and could feel the small burn help rid of my nerves. “So,” I started, “Where would you like to begin?”

“I feel like I know quite a bit about you, but why don’t you go ahead and explain what you do, your hobbies, anything you think is individual to you.”

I nodded my head, “Well, I’m a college student. I am in my third year of college and I dream to become a doctor. I really like the idea of helping others, I don’t necessarily have a certain field that I study as far as medicine goes, but I like the idea of being able to have a purpose or have the power to help or even change someone’s life. I don’t have much free time between college and work, but I enjoy I think anything else a girl my age does. I like staying in and reading, going out with friends, movies, those kinds of things. I’m not really special I don’t think but I enjoy what I study and do with my free time nonetheless.”

“What do you do for work?”

“I work part-time at a cafe near my house as a barista and waitress. It’s not what I want to do but it pays for some things and I like the people I work with, so…”

Jungkook’s face had not changed all throughout my explanation of my current life. It was odd that he seemed to find it interesting as I didn’t think there was anything particularly special to me. Many other girls had a more interesting life than I did. “I guess it’s my turn then?” I nodded happily. Jungkook even over text never talked much about work, but I figured it had to do with not wanting to brag over it or bore me.

“Well, I’m a CEO for the Jeon company and I work under my father, but I, for the most part, do all the work now as he is mostly retired. I don’t have much free time either with all the work, but I enjoy spending time taking pictures and making videos and gaming. I’m quite boring as you can see, so there isn’t much to say about myself.”

I smiled, I could see the happiness in his eyes as he talked about his hobbies. They were something that he obviously really enjoyed. “I would love to play some video games with you sometime” I spoke softly.

His face softened at my words, “I’ll definitely let that happen.” I took another sip of my drink. “Are you ready to order?”

I nodded my head, “What do you usually have here?” He rattled off multiple different dishes that I didn’t know how to pronounce or even know what they entailed.

I laughed embarrassed, “I’m going, to be honest with you, I don’t know much of what you said so I’m going to leave it to you to order whatever you think I’d like.”

He let out an authentic laugh, “Don’t feel embarrassed, I get it.” I grinned and he waved over the waiter. He let our orders slip off of his tongue easily as the waiter bowed and left. “I don’t know if it’s too early for you, but I’d like to talk about why we’ve both come here tonight.”

I nodded knowing the topic was bound to show up eventually, “You can ask whatever questions you have.”

“I only have one, but it won’t really change my decision on the matter. You, of course, don’t have to answer it if you don’t feel comfortable, but why?”

“I won’t tell you a big sob story as to why I need money, other than money is difficult to come by without a college degree. I pay for my rent, food, living expenses, transportation, and my college. I just thought it would be nice to make more money on the side to help myself out.”

“What about your parents?”

“We don’t have a good relationship,” I answered simply. I wasn’t about to go into detail about my parents. They were still a heavy topic for me that I would rather not think about.

“That’s fine, I don’t expect more. But I already made my decision many nights ago about you. I want to support you for whatever reason it is you need money.”

“Really?”

“Yes, I’m genuinely intrigued by you and would like to continue this.” I could almost scream from excitement.

“Are there any like conditions?”

“Not really, I’ll just pay you for each date we go on. I’m not going to force you into anything non-consensual, so if spending time together is all you want, then that’s all we’ll do.”

“Okay, yeah that’s fine with me too.”

“Is one okay?”

“One?”

“One thousand each date or time we hang out.” My eyes bulged out of my head as I heard this.

“A-are you serious?”

“Is it not enough? I can add more if you nee-”

“No, no! Not at all. In fact, I’m surprised you’re giving so much.”

“I don’t really think it’s that much, but if that amount is fine, then…”

“It’s more than okay. I don’t know what to say, thank you so much.”

“I’m glad I can help you out.”

The food arrived and I saw a form of pasta sitting in front of me. I smiled at the dish and took the first bite as we both sat in comfortable silence as we ate. The dinner had gone well and I couldn’t wait for our future dates together.

NEXT PROJECTED UPDATE: 06/18/19 (This is a very very very rough estimate! It all depends on how busy I am throughout the week and weekend, but I will try my hardest for you guys!)

[free-notion-alternative]

Taskade is The Only App You Need for Work-Life Productivity

Forget email drafts, notes programs and to Do list supervisors: Taskade does everything and much more

Everything I have to keep my entire life is stored on line. Somewhere. I just can not think it is.

I'm discussing all of the account numbers, meeting notes, todo lists, contact info and column info I want to observe daily. And also the recipes I desire to cook, perfumes I want to decide to take to, also YouTube videos I should see. A number of the stuff resides within my email in box, and also even some in Google Docs. Then you can find really my Pinterest planks, miscellaneous bookmarks and also the Evernote accounts I cannot organize coherently.

In theory, the web can make it easier than ever before to maintain all I want a couple taps off. In fact, the world wide web has a method of fragmenting our own lives. It's like I wrote what in a laptop and got drunk, torn out every page and concealed them in various places around my property.

Taskade produces a excellent tool for simple todo lists, also also you're able to utilize photos, emojis and stock artwork to liven up them.

Photo: David Pierce/The Wall Street Journal

Over the last couple of weeks, an program named Taskade has let me turn chaos into order. Taskade combines a number of their most useful features of both all Google Docs, Excel and Dropbox, together with a great deal of task-management and organizational applications. Taskade Labs Chief Executive Ivan Zhao explains the product as"the next generation of Microsoft Office," that really can be really a small hyperbolic and much rough. Nonetheless, it's the very ideal life-organization tool I've tried.

Taskade combines the characteristics of a notetaking program, a task-management program and also a spreadsheet tool that the manner that Steve Jobs joined an I pod, a phone and an internet browser in to the iPhone: All the tools interact to make some thing more than its own parts.

I have to state that Taskade is quite costly: It features a small free routine, also costs $8 per month to get significant usage. Still, it may pay for itself from the programs that it stinks, and I've found it easily worth the price.

I finally have a full page together with of my airline and hotel devotion amounts at a bulleted list, above an image of my dental card and also an embedded map with instructions to my physician's office. I left data bases together with most of the current pictures, novels, TV shows, along with YouTube videos I want for at --each phone opens into a rich record along with my notes and thoughts. 

Taskade includes each of the interviews, research outlines and material for my own columns. I am getting married soon and'm bogged down my nuptial todo list daily.

One of Taskade's brand new features is that a database application, that you are able to view like a desk, a calendar and much more.

Photo: David Pierce/The Wall Street Journal

I was able to want five distinct programs to maintain all of this stuff directly. Now it has all in Taskade, a couple clicks or even a easy hunt off.

Block by Block

It may be a lot much simpler to believe about Taskade as being a super-simple site builder compared to a productivity program.

When you start a brand fresh page at the program, you are really creating a sterile grid on which you'll be able to set and arrange virtually anything. The program's basic element could be that your cube, which might possibly become considered described as a paragraph of text, a bulleted list, a desk, a graphic, a code snippet, a YouTube video, even a PDF plus much more. You add cubes using a faucet or computer short cut, then reorder and arrange them to a heart's content. You are able to very quickly alter the essence of a cube, too. As an example, you are able to choose a lot of text and then change it to a to do list. Taskade's basic part could be the cube, that carries many forms: links, text, graphics, bookmarks and much more. Click here Free Notion Competitor

Photo: David Pierce/The Wall Street Journal

Taskade is similar to baseball: easy to learn, difficult to perfect. The program itself looks fairly comfortable, with a tap to the left and also your receptive page about the correct side. It's a couple of decorative niceties, just such as the solution to bring a cover photo to the peak of every page.

When you first start the program, though, it will not have enough to help you know what it could perform. Even with weeks of using Taskade each day, I'm just figuring out the best methods to accomplish things while attempting to stay clear of making layout decisions that are horrible. Can I actually require a fullpage photo inside my to do list? My information: Make substantial utilization of Taskade's templates, just since they assist you to set pages out and reveal what the program's effective at.

There are Indigenous Taskade programs for Windows, Mac and also iOS. Mr. Zhao states that a Android program ought to be available within fourteen days. The internet program works superbly on mobile and desktop, too, also it has the specific same experience whichever platform you are using.

Taskade is very determined by connectivity. It works off line just with pages you've opened recently while attached which means whatever you could do is cross your hands each single time you start Taskade onto a plane. On the up side, you are able to upload tweets and YouTube videos, also entire pages, in just a Taskade record.

Photo: David Pierce/The Wall Street Journal

Though I utilize Taskade to remain in addition to my work and life (and you must too),'' Taskade is created for business organizations. It gives collaborative editing, in line opinions and useful tools for managing permissions and delegating tasks. In the event you utilize Slack, then you could possibly get alarms whenever somebody comments changes or on that a Taskade document. It's not a replacement for Slack or even Salesforce, nonetheless nevertheless, it can replace lots of the various equipment therefore many businesses utilize to store and share advice.

One-stop Shop

Matt Galligan, creator of those Picks and Shovels Co., also a Crypto Currency providers startup, provided a useful adviser for Taskade. He says with the program is like buying Amazon. Earlier,"stores specialized," he stated,"and they did a good job." Subsequently Amazon came and aggregated every thing. It maybe was not the ideal store for almost just about any single thing, however the onestop advantage managed to get unbeatable.

That's simply itTaskade isn't as successful a translation instrument as Excel, also it generally does not always possess a number of those task-management features I need --if an activity is expected, I would prefer a alert, for example. (Taskade states that is forthcoming.) The program has let me whittle the regions I maintain down stuff to two. I can not prevent email from arriving ; I could put every thing in Taskade.

Photo: David Pierce/The Wall Street Journal

There's many left to your own Taskade team todo, needless to say. Along with task alarms, additionally it is taking care of calendar sync, and PowerPoint-style demonstration features, a internet clipper, better off line service plus Android program. Additionally it is about to guide services like Zapier and If This Then That (IFTTT), that assists move data between programs. However, it does a lot more than some one of its competitors.

For years, I've slid around various notetaking programs and productivity programs, never quite pleased. Evernote makes it simple to catch information, however I liked the port. Google Docs and Keep do not provide enough capabilities. Trello, Asana along with other projectmanagement applications do not benefit notetaking.

Taskade combines the very greatest of every and every --along with many others --to some infrequent renaissance program, skillful in countless procedures of creation as well as company. I can not set a cost on the reassurance that originates in the unfragmented daily lifestyle. Waityes I will: It's eight bucks monthly.

[metaphorical-love-for-a-car]

Man Out Of Time-- Brian May x Reader

Prompt; none!

Warnings; language

Word Count; 1.8k

Notes; This is an idea that I’ve been toying around with for a while. I’m not too fond of the ending, though :/

Almost everyone has a soulmate, somewhere out in the world. There are numerous ways to discover your soulmate. Some people just have one symbol or sign, while others have multiple. Brian May was one of those. He was born with a ‘soulmark’ on his forearm. It was a constellation, and when connected, it resembled a guitar. He then received his second sign as an adult. Brian didn’t notice until someone— Roger Taylor, one of Brian’s closest friends— had pointed it out. Brian hadn’t aged since he was eighteen. At first, the idea excited him. Not aging would allow him plenty of time to find his soulmate, and they would be able to grow old together. However, as the years went on, Brian grew to resent his inability to age. He had to sit by and watch as his friends began to grow gray and find their soulmates. He’d be a liar to say he didn’t wonder if finding his supposed soulmate was worth living like this. Instead of doing anything he would later on regret, Brian expressed his emotions through music, writing songs like Who Wants To Live Forever.

As much as you wanted to find your soulmate, you put it on the back-burner. You, quite literally, had all the time in the world to track them down. Much to your friend’s annoyance, you just continued living your life as normal. “Seriously? You’re not going to do anything to try to find them?” You glanced up from your laptop.

“You know that’s not true. I look! I’m just not dedicating all of my time and energy into it.” Your friend raised their brow at you, causing you to scoff. “Look, it’ll happen when it’s meant to be. And I’m a travel journalist. I meet lots of people. One of them is bound to be my soulmate.” Your friend groaned and sat down next to you.

“Can I at least do one of those soulmate search things?” You pursed your lips. “You know, where you upload a picture of your soulmark, and it scans the internet for anyone that has one similar to yours.” You sighed, knowing that they wouldn’t give up on the subject.

“Fine, but if there’s a fee, you’re paying for it.” Your friend cheered before snatching your laptop from your grip. You warily watched them type away. They snapped a few pictures of your forearm and put them into the computer. The two of you watched the loading bar slowly inch its way across the screen. You couldn’t deny that you were anxiously awaiting the results, curious to see what it would bring up. Chewing on your lip, your eyes quickly skimmed the results as soon as they appeared. Your eyes widened as your jaw dropped. This couldn’t be real. It had to be a scam or some sort of spoof.

“No fucking way. Brian May?” Your friend’s voice was barely above a whisper. They turned to look at you with the same shocked expression that you were wearing. A smile crept across their face. “Oh my god! You have a famous soulmate, who’s also hot as hell!” they screeched. You shook your head.

“There’s no way. Give me the laptop. I wanna see their ‘evidence.’” You pulled the laptop back into your lap and started scrolling down the webpage. It felt as if your heart started hammering harder with each picture you inspected. His soulmark did resemble yours. But still… you couldn’t bring yourself to believe it.

“You’ve got to reach out to him! DM him on Twitter or something.” You looked at them as if they were crazy.

“What? No! I can’t do that. Besides, he probably wouldn’t even read it.”

“You won’t know unless you try.” You stared at your phone, which was sitting on the coffee table in front of you. After a few moments of internal debate, you finally gave it. Your friend was right. What did you have to lose?

It was late, but sleep seemed far away. Brian’s mind was running in a million different directions as he stared at the ceiling above his bed. Sleepless nights weren’t uncommon for the guitarist. He rubbed his face with a sigh. Brian reached over towards the nightstand, pulling his phone from the charger. He opened and closed several apps before finally settling on Twitter. With nothing better to do, he started scrolling through his timeline, occasionally liking or retweeting something. A notification popped up and caught his eye. Every once in a while, Brian would read and respond to a fan’s message. He tapped on the notification, and his brows furrowed as he read the message.

You drummed your fingers on your thigh, anticipation killing both you and your friend. The two of you had been waiting for what seemed like forever for a response. You were skeptical about the whole situation, but there was still a part of you that held onto the hope of a possibility. As soon as your phone buzzed, you snatched it up. Your friend peered over your shoulder, watching you open up Twitter with wide eyes. “As much as I’d like to say that I’ve finally stumbled across my soulmate, I can’t trust a photo someone sent me online. You never know what has been edited. Flattered by the effort, though. Bri,” You read the message aloud. You locked your phone, setting it back down. Without warning, your friend started shaking your shoulders.

“Oh my god, (Y/N)! Don’t you see what this means?” they shouted. You opened your mouth, but they didn’t give you a chance to respond. “Brian said that he would like to believe he finally found his soulmate. That means your soulmarks match!” Your breath got caught in your throat. This couldn’t be real. There was absolutely no way.

“Well, what the hell am I supposed to do about it? He clearly doesn’t believe me, and I honestly don’t blame him for it. He probably gets random ass messages like this all the time.” Your friend pursed their lips and hummed. Their face suddenly lit up.

“Idea! Ask him to Skype you.” You rolled your eyes.

“Yeah, as if he would do that,” you scoffed. They poked your shoulder, urging you to just do it. You leaned your head back and groaned dramatically. “Okay, okay. Give me the phone.”

Brian raised a brow as he read the newest message. He was surprised. Most fans would try to convince him that they were his soulmate, but this one seemed to understand his hesitations and sent him their Skype information in an attempt to prove that it wasn’t fake. He debated on whether he should go through with it or just ignore it. With his curiosity getting the better of him, Brian decided to make a fake Skype account to use for this occasion.

You were munching on a bag of Cheetos, waiting to see if anything would happen. When your phone lit up, you nearly started choking. “Holy shit. Is that him? Do you think it’s him?” Your friend picked up your phone and snorted, showing you the username that was displayed on the screen— definitelynotbrianmay.

“At least he has a sense of humor. Hurry up and answer it before he changes his mind.” They tossed you the phone. You quickly wiped your mouth off and ran a hand through your hair, hoping that you looked somewhat presentable. Your friend flashed you a smile and a thumbs up before you swiped to answer.

You sucked in a breath and tried not to pass out. This was actually happening, and you were struggling to wrap your mind about it. There he was, musical genius Brian May, skyping you. “Hi,” you awkwardly greeted. He grinned, giving you a small wave.

“Hello.” The two of you stared at each other for a moment, not really sure what to say next.

“Oh my god. You’re insufferable. Just show him your damn arm already,” your friend called out from their spot on the other side of the room. A nervous laugh shook your shoulders.

“Yeah, right, sorry.” You held up your arm and angled your phone in order to show him the markings on your forearm. “See? One hundred percent genuine. Gifted to me by the universe itself.”

Brian’s face inched closer to the screen. His eyes briefly narrowed before widening again. He leaned back, opening then closing his mouth. Brian just couldn’t get any words to form. His mind was blank. After all these years, he had finally found you, his soulmate. You found yourself holding your breath as you studied his facial expressions. You just wanted him to say something, anything. You would have rather him say “Nope, not real. Leave me alone.” than just sit there like he was. Brian’s posture straightened as he looked at the screen with a serious expression.

“When can we meet?”

You sat at a small table in a cozy café. You bounced your leg and chewed on your lip, nervousness taking control of your entire being. Your friend patted your shoulder. “Don’t worry. I’m sure it’ll be fine. And if you need anything, I’ll be lurking about. Incognito, of course.” You raised a brow and started to ask what that was supposed to mean, but they just put a finger against their lips. “It won’t be incognito if you know.” They glanced up at the window, and a smile spread across their lips. “Looks like he’s here. Have fun!” Your friend scurried away, leaving you to flounder on your own.

When Brian walked in, you waved him over. You couldn’t help but smile at the sight of him. His hair was even curlier in person. Brain took the seat across from you. You could already feel yourself blushing, and all he had done was smile. Christ, this was going to be a long day.

Brian was looking at your arm. “Can I?” he awkwardly asked. You nodded, turning your arm over. He gently traced the constellation that was spread across your forearm. Brian took your hand into his before glancing up at you through his lashes. “Can’t tell you how much of a relief it is, to have finally found you.” Your smile widened as he pressed a light kiss to your knuckles. “I’d like to take you out tonight and get to know you better.” He paused, lowering his voice to a whisper. “That way, we won’t have an audience.” Brian glanced over to the side. You followed his gaze, only to discover your friend sitting not to far off with a fake mustache, large sunglasses, and a fedora. You snorted and quickly covered your mouth to keep yourself from laughing. When they realized that they had been spotted, they quickly held up a newspaper with two, painfully obvious, eye holes cut out. Brian made no attempt to hide his laughter, and you just shook your head at their antics.

“Yeah, that’s probably a good idea.”

“If it makes you feel any better, my friends would have probably done worse.”

Tag LIst;

@mothermercuryy @mmmmmitslikeadiseaseson @loveofmychips

[ghostofviperwrites]

Pentagon

Requested by @empress-with-the-crown

Pairing:  El Desperado/FC/Bushi

Category:   Smut

Word Count: 2100

Warnings: Smut, spanking, verbal humiliation, punishment

42.          “Are you trying to get me to punish you?”

Things had been going well in your relationship.  Unconventional though it may be.   For seven months now you had been dating both Bushi and El Desperado.  It had been a bit rocky at first, but eventually the three of you had settled into a rhythm that worked for all of you.  They were both busy men, but their schedules seemed to work out perfectly so you always had attention from at least one of them.  Though you would willingly admit your favorite times were when both of them were around.  They liked to share and you liked to be shared and that led to some wild nights.   You were definitely needy and they were more than happy to shower you with the attention you craved. 

Then Battle of the Super Juniors happened.  You loved your boys and you wanted the best for them, so you were thrilled that they were both in the tournament.  What you weren’t thrilled about was the schedule.  The tour consisted of a lot of traveling and both of them being on the road for weeks, leaving you alone.   Which meant many lonely nights with nothing but video calls to sate your needs.   It had been three nights since you had talked to either one of them.  Just a text here and there.  You understood.   You really did. Their respective stables were clashing and tempers were flaring.  They were being run ragged.  Understanding didn’t stop you from getting antsy.  You were restless and bored. 

Boredom led to you mindlessly surfing on Youtube and watching wrestling clips of your two men.  Watching them in the ring always got you hot and bothered, especially when they were against each other.  The way Bushi taunted Despy with a grin, the way Despy always lost his temper and went full throttle usually with bad results.  It excited you and usually you were the beneficiary of their aggression when they came home and spent the night proving who was the best to you. 

As you were searching for videos your attention kept being drawn to one particular thumbnail in the recommended videos.  You weren’t sure what about it caught your attention but time and again it showed up and your eyes kept drifting down.  Finally your curiosity won out and you clicked on the link next to the man in the black and white mask.   From there you were lost, watching every video you could get your hands on of Pentagon Jr.   You had a thing for aggressive masked men and he fit that description to a T.   Hardcore matches, street fights, death matches you watched them all.   His voice sent shivers through you and his cold blue eyes made you feel things that made you a bit ashamed.  

You felt extremely guilty as more than once you brought yourself pleasure to thoughts of him.  He had his hooks in you good and you were crushing hard; following his social media accounts and stalking them like a junkie.  

Finally BOSJ was done with and your boys were back home and on a less hectic schedule.  Unfortunately that didn’t lessen your newfound obsession with Pentagon.  As things as things settled back to normal you were back to ingesting anything you could find on Pentagon.  You had thought Bushi was bad with the social media teasing, but he had nothing on Pentagon.   You were practically hypnotized as you watched his instastory over and over again, staring at that tongue he stuck out.

It was only a matter of time before your two lovers noticed your distraction and found out about your obsession.  What you didn’t expect was for them to take it quite so personally that you were infatuated by another masked man.  You should’ve been paying more attention, but you couldn’t drag your eyes from the screen, allowing Bushi to appear without your notice. 

“What has you so hot and bothered?”  Bushi asked coming up behind you and wrapping his arms around your shoulders, pressing a kiss into the side of your neck.  You weren’t quick enough at exiting and Bushi got a glimpse of the gym photo of Pentagon you had been drooling over.  He reached for the phone and you reluctantly handed it to him, cheeks heating as you imagined what Bushi was seeing as he flicked through your phone.   You really had meant to delete all those photos as soon as you had uploaded them. 

You could feel the anger setting into Bushi as the arm still around your shoulders tightened until it was pressed against your throat.  You followed his lead as he pulled you to your feet, moving you around the chair until you were pressed firm against his body, his hand clenching lightly on your throat but not constricting the air yet. 

“Care to explain?”  Bushi asked, his breath hot on your ear.  Your mind raced as you tried to come up with an explanation that wasn’t going to land you in hotter water than you were at the moment.  

“They’re nothing.  Just some pics.  They don’t mean anything.”  You mumbled, wincing because you knew it was a pathetic excuse and not going to help your situation.  “I was just looking.” 

“Just looking at another man.”  Bushi hissed.  “What’s the matter?  Two of us not enough?  Are we not satisfying you?” 

You kept silent. There was no answer that wasn’t going to land you in deeper trouble.  As much as you wanted to protest and assure him, you knew he was not in the frame of mind to accept that.  

“Answer me.”  He growled his fist tightening making it more difficult for you to breathe.  You shook your head in denial.  “I said answer me. Are you trying to get me to punish you?” 

“You’re going to punish me anyways.”  You gasped out before thinking twice, immediately regretting it as your air supply was completely cut off.  The front door opened and Desperado entered and immediately stopped, surveying the scene in front of him as he kicked the door shut behind him.

“Looks like somebody’s in trouble.”  Desperado said walking towards the two of you with a grin.  “What did you do beautiful?”  Bushi tossed your phone to him and Desperado took his time glancing through your gallery as Bushi released your throat and pushed you onto all fours.   “Lusting after another masked man are we sweetheart?”  Desperado asked after completing his perusal, his grin dropping as he glared at you.  “Are we not fucking you enough that you have to look elsewhere?”

“I’m still waiting for an answer to that question.” Bushi told him.  “She’s refusing to answer.”   

“That leads me to believe we’re lacking.”  Desperado said kneeling down in front of your face, hand reaching out to clench around your jaw.   “If we were satisfying her she would tell us so.” 

“You are…” You tried to tell them that you were happy and well satisfied but were cut off by Despy slapping his hand over your mouth.

“No.  You had your chance to talk.  You lost that privilege.”  Desperado said removing his hand and rising to stand.  “Crawl to the bedroom and wait for us.”   

Head hanging you slowly crawled across the marble flooring and down the hall towards your bedroom feeling the weight of their stares on you as you moved.   Once there you stripped before kneeling again with your hands behind your back and eyes lowered.   

They entered silently, startling you when Bushi spoke.

“Have you cum to him?”  He asked mincing no words.  You hung your head further, shame coursing through you, giving Bushi all the answer he needed.  Desperado’s hand grabbed your hair and twisted it around his fist, forcing you to look up at Bushi who was staring down at you with hurt and disappointment in his eyes. 

“Which one was it honey?   Which of these pictures had you squirming for Pentagon?”  Bushi asked, idly flipping through the photos.  “Or was it one of these many, many videos you have of him?”  Your eyes widened as it sunk in that they knew a lot more than you thought. 

He pressed play on one of them and held it in front of your face. 

“Touch yourself.  I want to watch you get yourself off to him.”  Bushi commanded. 

“I…don’t want to Bushi.  Please, I’m sorry.”  You entreated. 

“Isn’t that what you want?  For him to make you cum?  For him to fuck you? Wishing for your little boyfriend to give you his cock.”  Desperado taunted you. 

“He’s not my boyfriend.  I don’t even know him.”  You argued.  “It was just a stupid crush.  I was lonely while you were gone.  It doesn’t mean anything.”

Bushi lightly tapped your cheek with his palm a condescending smile on his face.

“We may be inclined to let it slide if that’s all it was.”  He said.  “Yet here we are weeks later with both Despy and I here lavishing you with attention and you’re still staring at your phone all the time. Saving more pictures and videos.” 

“Did you think we didn’t notice?”  Desperado took up as Bushi fell silent.  “You think we didn’t see all those smiles?  Were we too stupid to understand when you approached us pussy dripping down your thighs after watching him?  How do you think that makes us feel?  That we were nothing more than a means to get off after you were lusting over someone else.”  

“I wasn’t cheating on you! I told you I don’t know him.” You argued. 

“You may as well have.”  Bushi sneered.   “How many times have you wished it was him fucking you while you were with one of us?  Were you imagining him fucking you when I took you from behind?” 

“Or wishing it was his cock as you squeezed your eyes shut as I fucked you?”  Desperado asked. 

“Well here’s your chance baito.” Bushi sneered. “You can think about whatever you want while we’re fucking you.  Go ahead and call us Pentagon.  Cum all over our cocks while thinking about him.”   You were pulled to your feet by the hair, Desperado pushing you to bend over the end of the bed.  

Desperado climbed on the bed and knelt in front of you, pulling his thick cock free of his pants and pushing it against your lips.  

“Do you want this to be Pentagon’s dick?”  Desperado asked as he pushed it into your mouth. 

“Or do you want this to be?”  Bushi asked thrusting his cock inside your cunt with a brutal snap of his hips. 

“What is it slut?  Do you want to fuck him or suck him?”  Desperado asked as he rammed into your throat. 

“You’re such a fucking whore.  Do you think you would be satisfied with one man?”  Bushi asked thrusting deep into you.   “You think Pentagon would share you?  He does have a brother.  You think he would let his brother fuck your face while he takes your pussy?” 

You cast pleading eyes up at Desperado as the men mercilessly used you hoping he would take it easy on you to no avail.  

“Stupid fucking girl, lusting over what she can’t have.”  Desperado sneered down at you.   “You think Pentagon would be interested in a used up slut?  He’d be disgusted by you.”  

Shame coursed through you at his degrading words, your cunt shuddering around Bushi’s dick as you felt yourself closing in on orgasm as the two worked you to perfection, knowing as they always did exactly what to say to drive you over the edge.  

Bushi’s hand landed with a sharp thwack across your bottom as you came around him, moaning against Desperado’s cock as Bushi spanked you repeatedly.  Your ass felt like it was on fire as he didn’t let up on the slaps until his seed spilled inside you and Desperado filled your mouth.   Pulling out of you Desperado joined Bushi at the foot of the bed, the two glaring as you peeked over your shoulder at them. 

“You stay right like that.  We’re not done with you yet.”  Bushi commanded and the two left the room, leaving you bent over the bed, red ass in the air wondering what they had in store for you. 

[lady-divine-writes]

ACITW AU -Here’s what the fuck is left

I’ve had it with this fic. And I’ve had it with this fandom. I really have. Why I continue to write for it, I don’t know. The fact that I’ve been insulted up the ying yang, called names, dirt, threatened, and otherwise intimidated (tried) by you all doesn’t seem to matter. The fact that what I have written so far has more words than the original doesn’t matter. The fact that when I started this, I was going so far as to email chapters to people individually per request, drop them in inboxes on tumblr didn’t matter. Those chapters still went un reviewed, uncommented on. There have been many lovely people who have supported me, but the majority have been real rats. You don’t support my other work. You couldn’t care less. All that matters is ACITW AU. You want to talk about me, and my effort, as if I’m some lout who doesn’t want to fulfill her promises because y’all are sucking your thumbs singing, “A drop in the ocean ... a change in the weather ... “ Here you go. I’m putting up what I have, unfinished, chapter by chapter. Why? Because I’m an old lady with health issues and I COULDN’T CARE LESS! Most of y’all didn’t like my version anyway. So here’s the end of it. Have fun!

“Who in the world needs three trousseaus?” Sebastian moans, trudging behind his boyfriend and his sister through, what Olivia obnoxiously referred to as “the hallowed halls of Carolina Premium Outlets”. Kurt was surprised that a woman with the financial means of Olivia Smythe would opt to shop at an outlet mall instead of all the other upscale clothing stores within a hundred mile radius, but it also made him adore her even more.

“I do,” Olivia says, grabbing Kurt’s hand and bolting towards Talbots, as if trying to outrun her brother’s cynicism and sour attitude. “Now, hurry up! We’ve got seven more stores to hit.

“Why bother?” Sebastian grabs for Kurt’s other hand, frowning when his hand closes around air. “I think you’ve bought every white outfit in this place.”

“Hmph. You can never have too much white,” Olivia tosses over her shoulder, smirking when she notices her brother’s ineffectual attempts at retrieving his boyfriend.

“Should you even be wearing white at this wedding?” Sebastian retaliates. “I mean, isn’t white reserved for the virtuous?”

Olivia and Kurt stop speed-walking. Olivia gasps, and Kurt wraps an arm around her, carefully shielding her ears with his hands.

“That’s a low blow,” he says.

“Yeah. And besides, if I was worried about a higher power sending lightning down to smote the impure, I wouldn’t have invited you or Julian. Between the two of you, you could set the entire place on fire.”

Kurt feels guilty spending money, but since he has this new plan to put into action, he breaks down and buys a shirt or two.

“You know, you should just go crazy,” Sebastian says. “It’s all good. I’ll pick up the tab.”

“I don’t want you spending money on me.”

“Why not? I have it to spend.” Sebastian playfully bumps Kurt’s hip. “What’s a couple thousand between boyfriends? Besides, I like the idea of spoiling you.” He leans down close to Kurt’s ear and whispers, “If you want, I can take it out of what I owe you.”

Those words, in contrast to the heat of Sebastian’s breath, make Kurt’s skin cold. It’s just a joke. Sebastian is teasing. And Kurt should be happy that he feels free to tease him about this. Things are slowly coming out in the open, people are finding out about their ruse, and they don’t care, because in the end, the two of them fell in love.

It may not mean anything to Sebastian. It shouldn’t mean anything to Kurt. So why does it?

Kurt sees pic text from his dad; can’t open pic for some reason

“Oh, can I see those pictures now?” Olivia asks, looking over Kurt’s shoulder. “From the hot air balloon ride you guys took?”

“Oh, yeah,” Kurt says, slightly distracted by this new issue with his phone. “Let me just …”

“What’s going on there, babe? Forgot how to use your phone? I mean, you haven’t really been using it the past week. I can see how you might have forgotten.”

“It’s not that,” Kurt says, not even surprised anymore by how easy it is to simply bypass Sebastian’s humor and see the real message inside. “This has happened to me a few times before. It won’t let me access my photo gallery.”

“I should really upgrade your phone,” Sebastian says offhandedly.

“My phone’s fine, Bas,” Kurt says, more annoyed at his phone than he is at his boyfriend.

“Well, I don’t want your wack ass service to go out when I need to get a hold of you. What if we’re sexting and your phone drops the signal?”

“It’s not the service,” Kurt grumbles, then gives up, accessing Facebook for the photos instead. “It’s the phone.”

“Ergo why I should upgrade it.”

“Grr,” Kurt groans, not bothering to glare at Sebastian since he realizes he just made his point for him. Yes, it would be nice to have a new phone. This one’s been giving him grief for a while. But, it still works, and it’s decent. Why toss something away just because it’s temperamental and frustrating? By that logic, he should break up with Sebastian. He laughs out loud when that conclusion pops in his head.

“Okay,” Kurt says with satisfaction as his Facebook page pops on to the screen, “here’s the one at holy shit!”

“Holy shit?” Olivia repeats.

“I don’t remember us going there,” Sebastian says, crowding, along with Olivia, around Kurt, and looking at his phone. The first photo that comes up is the exact photo that Kurt wanted – the two of them kissing in the basket of that hot air balloon, with the caption he wrote Love Defies Gravity. That’s not the issue. The issue is:

“Seen by … 1,452 people!?”

Even Sebastian gasps when Kurt reads it, and the four of them stop walking.

“That’s … a lot of people,” Brian comments.

It’s not just the seen by list that makes Kurt’s jaw drop, but the comments, only the first four displayed, but when he clicks the View more comments hyperlink, they shoot down his screen.

Kurt scans the list of names quickly, noting that pretty much every member of the New Directions has not only seen the pictures, but has had something positive to say, and that makes Kurt giddy with happiness and relief. Not that their disapproval would have had any influence over whether Kurt stayed with Sebastian or not. He doesn’t need a single one of his friends to approve of what they have to know that it’s what he wants. It’s just nice to know that his friends are happy for him regardless…even Rachel Berry, who has left him a string of heart emojis and the almost impossible to believe comment – I’m so sorry. About everything. Call me soon. I want to talk about this.

Kurt doesn’t read each name one by one, so he doesn’t see one name in particular at the way bottom.

One of the first people to see the photograph, even though they didn’t leave a comment.

They couldn’t bring themselves to.

And had Kurt looked at all of the other photographs that he’s uploaded while he’s been at the beach house – the ones he took of the ocean view from Sebastian’s room, the selfie he took with Sebastian on the porch swing, and the one he took of Sebastian asleep in bed – he would have seen that one person had already seen each and every one of them.

Blaine Anderson.

Converses with Rachel (who apologizes)

Finds out about how Seb knew about the coffee (from Mercedes) and the single ladies video (from Brittany)

Kurt wonders if Sebastian knows, the way he seems to know about everything, that forehead kisses are one of Kurt’s hidden weaknesses? Blaine could never quite pull it off the way Sebastian does. Kurt would always have to tilt his head a bit for Blaine to reach. But Sebastian doesn’t, and that little item makes a world of difference.

 Several times on the car ride home, Kurt tries to download the message. He waits while an icon circles around, around, around, but all he gets back is the error message, “File not available for download.”

“Shoot! But why aren’t you available for download?” Kurt asks.

The phone doesn’t answer, but Sebastian does.

“Because I’m a shit phone, Kurt. Let your sexy boyfriend upgrade me.”

“Shut it, Smythe,” Kurt says and raises the volume on the radio.

 Kurt decides to do a hard reboot.

To Kurt:

Call me as soon as you can. We really need to talk.

Along with that ominous message his father sent a picture – a photo of an envelope, the return address, NYADA, specifically the financial aid department. And across the bottom of the envelope, where Kurt has gotten used to seeing the words AMOUNT DUE are stamped the words FINAL NOTICE.

Kurt swallows hard. No, he thinks. Not now. Not when I’m here, in this sanctuary, when nothing bad can touch me, still trying to sort things out. Not when I don’t have a clue how to fix this, where to even start.

But maybe that’s the rub. Maybe he was never meant to figure this problem out. Maybe his acceptance to NYADA was something he was meant to lose, like Blaine. Just another part of his life he arrogantly thought was a sure thing, something he didn’t bother worrying about once he’d gotten it, slipping through his fingers.

“Hey. You figured your phone out.”

“Yeah,” Kurt says, quickly closing the text. “I just turned it off and turned it back on again. Worked like a charm.”

Sebastian looks his boyfriend over, but most particularly his smile - two-dimensional, not doing its usual job of lighting his eyes - and starts to worry. “What did your dad have to say? Nothing bad, right? He’s not … he’s not sick or anything?”

“No. No, he’s fine. He just got home, I guess.” Kurt tries to stuff the phone in his pocket, but his numb fingers refuse to move.

“You know” – Sebastian sits beside Kurt, his eyes on the phone that Kurt tucks out of sight – “I never did ask you what you needed $10,000 for. I mean, did you pick that number out of the air at random? Or was that what you thought dating me was worth, because, if that’s the case, then frankly I think you sold one of us short.”

Kurt nods tersely but doesn’t answer. He can’t. He’s paralyzed. Now is definitely the time to own up to something, but what? To his old plan of needing the money to go to NYADA? Or this new plan of moving wherever Sebastian is going that he’s become recently attached to? He knows he’ll tell Sebastian both, but which one takes precedence? If emotion weren’t entering in to it at all, if he wasn’t still slightly confused about this relationship with Sebastian, than the answer would be NYADA, definitely. And even as that new plan, glimmering in his head, is tickling his lips to make its way out, he knows the answer is NYADA, no matter what, above all.

Sebastian puts an arm around Kurt’s shoulder and pulls him against him as he reclines. He pushes off the porch with his feet and starts the swing rocking its soothing rhythm.

“Originally I thought it was so you could buy yourself a new wardrobe,” Sebastian continues, hoping to get Kurt relaxed enough to spill, “and I have to say, I was all for that. Hell, I was going to up it to $50,000 and just take you shopping myself. Make sure you got your money’s worth.” Sebastian waits for a comeback, a snide remark, anything. But when Kurt remains quiet, Sebastian kisses his head. “Talk to me, babe. Tell me what’s going on.”

Kurt sighs. He can’t put this off any longer. Putting it off, coming up with some excuse not to talk about it, would feel like lying, and he doesn’t want to lie to Sebastian.

“It’s for … it was for college. NYADA.” God, he isn’t prepared to admit this. Not yet. Even after the time he’s given himself, he’d never wanted to admit to any of this out loud. That was worse than not having the money, so he’d been doing everything in his power not to. “I had gotten some scholarships and some financial aid, but I was approved before my father was elected to Congress.” Kurt hears Sebastian sigh, and he knows he can fill in the rest, but Kurt feels like he has to keep going. “It never dawned on me to call and update them, but they found out on their own anyway. They readjusted my aid and, in the end, I came up short. Without that money, I … I can’t go to college.”

Sebastian sighs again, but instead of sounding frustrated, this sigh sounds hurt. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because it doesn’t matter, Sebastian. I can’t take that money now. Not after …”

“Stop, Kurt,” Sebastian says, reaching for his wallet. “Just … just stop.” He pulls out a piece of paper, folded once, and hands it to Kurt. At first, Kurt has no idea what it could be, though he has a nagging suspicion. But that suspicion can’t be correct! It would be ludicrous if it were.

But since ludicrous seems like par for the course this summer, it’s exactly what Kurt thinks it is – a cashier’s check for $10,000, made out to Kurt Hummel, dated the day after Kurt agreed to their boyfriend arrangement. And even though Kurt is teetering on the brink of incredulity, he has to smirk at the comment Sebastian had the bank print in the memo line – For services rendered. Bow-chicka-bow-wow.

“You’ve … you’ve been carrying this around with you this whole time?”

“Well, yeah.” Sebastian shrugs. “Regardless of what you see on TV, you can’t just write a personal check for ten grand. And I had every intention of keeping up my end of the bargain so …”

“Thank you, but … but I … I can’t,” Kurt says, those words killing him, driving nails into his heart and twisting, as he stares at this check, made out for more than he needs and his name in the pay to the order of line. It’s the answer to all of his prayers, but for the sake of his conscience, he has to turn it down. Goddamned conscience! Fuck you! “That’s very generous of you, but …”

“We had a deal, Kurt,” Sebastian interrupts. “You more than held up your end. In fact, I would say you went above and beyond, considering.”

Kurt nods. Objectively, he has to agree, but the way Sebastian chose to phrase it makes him feel sick. Plus, and he doesn’t know why, he feels offended. He doesn’t know what he expected Sebastian to say about the matter. He’d prepared himself for Sebastian to give him the money. He’d prepared to refuse and for the two of them to fight over it. But instead of indignant, he feels insulted.

“Then … then what does that make us? What does that make this? Everything we’ve done so far?”

“It makes it what it is, Kurt,” Sebastian says, throwing an arm in the air. “I love you, and you love me. And this …” He gestures to the check in Kurt’s hands like it’s an annoying fly he’s shooing away. “This is ancient history. Tying up loose ends.” Kurt starts shaking his head. It’s a reflex to object. This doesn’t seem right. It doesn’t seem like the kind of thing that boyfriends did for one another. It’s too much.

Sebastian, facing down his obstinate boyfriend, groans. “Kurt! Are you really going to throw your dreams away, your entire future, for something as stupid as money?”

“Well, you can call money stupid,” Kurt argues, his hand holding the check shaking. “You have it, alright? But when you don’t have it, it’s not stupid! It’s actually kind of important!”

“You’re right,” Sebastian agrees. “You’re absolutely right. It is important. It’s important, and you need it. You need it to go to college. So why the fuck aren’t you taking it, Kurt? I’m fortunate. I happen to have more money than I can use, sitting around, doing nothing, so let me give you some …” Kurt scoffs and rolls his head away, and Sebastian amends his statement. “Or lend you some, or however you want to do this. Remember when I said that money doesn’t matter to me beyond enjoying all the things my wealth can buy me? Well, I would enjoy the opportunity to do this for you. Look, if you don’t take it, I’m just going to send it to fucking NYADA with your name plastered all over it, so you might as well stop being so fucking stubborn and do it your damn self! If you and I hadn’t gotten together for real, if we hadn’t fallen in love, you’d be taking this check, conscience clear, and on your way to New York. But we lucked out, Kurt. We got something better out of this in the end, and being able to call you mine is worth the world to me. But if it causes you to give up your dream, Kurt, then it’s a bad thing. I don’t want what we have to be a bad thing. I want it to be a good thing. I want it to grow and last, and that will only happen if you live out your life. If you follow your dream.”

Sebastian takes the check from Kurt’s fingers. He folds it, and slides it in Kurt’s pocket. Kurt doesn’t move to object. He can’t. What Sebastian says makes sense to him logically. It’s his pride that has a problem with it. This isn’t the end. Sebastian isn’t Blaine. He isn’t just going to let go of Kurt because they’re going to schools in separate states. Kurt is finally seeing an ending to all of this where he gets to have it all – the school of his dreams, the future he planned, and the boy he never planned on. This wouldn’t be a loan, he promises himself. He’ll pay back every single cent somehow, even if it takes him a lifetime.

“You’re going to NYADA, Kurt,” Sebastian says, kissing Kurt on the forehead between words, “one way or another. And there’s not a force anywhere on earth that’s going to keep me from making sure you get there.”

 ***

They go horseback riding.

Sebastian shows Kurt a secret overlook.

“You know, if I wasn’t here, seeing it for myself, I don’t think I would ever believe any of this about you.”

Sebastian looks like he’s about to get offended, then says, “I guess I didn’t really give you the chance to find out for yourself.”

 (Kurt starts thinking that Charlottes throwing him looks.)

“Sebastian says you have quite a fondness for this old swing. You know, before you, he’d never come out here. Ever. You would think he was afraid of heights or something the way he avoided it, and my son is definitely not afraid of heights.”

“How did you figure us out?”

“Because whether they like it or not, I know my children, and to be honest, because he’s my youngest, I probably know Sebastian most of all.”

“Kurt, I’ve walked in on my son mid-coitus more times than any mother should, and what I saw when I walking in on the two of you…that wasn’t my Sebastian. Not the one I had seen torturing himself with boys and men for years. The laughing, the smiling, that was different. It was honest – real. It’s what I’ve wanted for him for longer than I can tell you.”

“You raise your kids the best you can in the hopes that they can make the right decisions on their own. I may not agree with all of the decisions my children have made, but they’re their decisions to make. I can’t micromanage their lives. I have to trust them.”

“Well, for what it’s worth, I think you guys did an amazing job.”

“Thank you, Kurt.”

 ***

 Kurt began to notice that those long conversations that Julian used to have with Cooper seemed to be less and less. He remembers that their relationship has always been a volatile one, but Julian seemed so happy when he first arrived. Kurt hoped that their flame hadn’t burned out so quickly.

“Hey, why don’t you take a picture? It lasts longer? In fact, I have a few I can just text you, if you want to take a peek…”

 “So, what are you guys doing later on? I mean, between the sex, and more sex.”

“Have they been having a lot of sex?” Olivia asks.

“As far as I can tell. I don’t know, I haven’t been watching.”

“Yeah, right.”

 “Here. I was gonna take Cooper, but he hasn’t called me yet. Anyway, no reason for them to go to waste.”

   “It’s great, except, this chic keeps elbowing me in the ribs, and she has really sharp elbows!”

Sebastian looks over their heads towards the stage. He must see someone because his eyes light up, and he waves. Then he nods, and takes Kurt’s hand.

“Come on. Maybe I can fix that.”

 “Hey, Viola.”

“Hey, Sebastian. Long time, no see.”

“Well, I’ve got a good reason. This is my boyfriend, Kurt.”

“Very nice,” she says, giving Sebastian an approving wink. “So, you guys through mixing with the rabble.”

“Absolutely.”

“Well, you guys are welcome to hang here for the rest of the concert. And here…” she reaches into her pocket and pulls out two stickers, taking the liberty of affixing one to each boys’ thigh before Kurt can complain about adhesive on his Gucci jeans. “These’ll get you back stage after.”

“Thanks.”

“Anytime.”

“Of course, you would know the manager of a big name band.”

“No, Julian does. I just know Julian…unfortunately.”

“And that’s apparently enough,” Kurt chuckles. “I would have thought you’d be just as famous. You know, your name and number written on bathroom walls from here to the space station.”

Sebastian’s expression changes – becomes tight, a little muddled, sort of like every default expression he has is scrolling by on his face, trying to land on an appropriate one. When he can’t seem to settle, he shoves his hands in his pockets and looks down at his shoes, still trying to choose.

Kurt doesn’t know why, but he feels like he needs to apologize. “I’m sorry. I…insulted you.”

“It’s not that,” Sebastian says, shaking his head with a look in his eyes like even he’s trying to make himself believe that that’s not what he feels. “It’s just…” Kurt watches Sebastian’s lips…lips that were kissing him not moments before, warm with just an underlying hint of beer, now trapped between words. “I’m not ashamed of who I am, and…I’m not going to apologize for who I was, but…I don’t want you to look at me and see the Whore of Babylon.”

Kurt wants to tell him that he doesn’t. It’s simply a fall back joke. The two of them have tons of them. It’s not even one of the crueler ones as far as Kurt is concerned. It’s never bothered Sebastian befo---

No. Actually, Kurt can’t say that. It bothered Sebastian when Julian calls him that.  

“Who do you want to be?”

Sebastian loops his arms around Kurt’s waist

“I want to be yours. Just…your man. Kurt Hummel’s boyfriend, and that’s all.”

“Just Kurt Hummel’s boyfriend?”

“Well, Kurt Hummel’s sexy ass boyfriend.”

“I’ll look into having a shirt printed up.”

 ***

“Okay, so that’s Ursa Major,” Sebastian says, pointing to a series of stars up and to the left above their heads. “And that’s Ursa Minor. And that over there, that’ Orion’s Belt.”

Kurt turns his head from where it rests on the windshield of Sebastian’s Mustang, both boys staring up at the night sky from where they lie on the car’s hood.

“Really?” Kurt asks, partly impressed, partially skeptical.

“How the fuck should I know?” Sebastian asks while Kurt laughs. “They’re all stars,” he says, waving his hand towards the clear night sky. “That’s just what guys do when they look up at the sky, they identify shit.”

“Damn, and I was all impressed,” Kurt says. “And you know, smart guys get me hot.”

“Actually, I do know a few of them. “

“Ah,” Sebastian says, sliding over closer, “luckily, I have an app for that.” Sebastian reaches into his pocket and pulls out his iPhone. He sweeps his finger over the screen, looking through his apps until he finds the one he’s looking for. He raises his phone and takes a shot of the night sky.

Sex in the car in the rain.

“Have you guys seen Julian?”

“No. We’ve been out looking at the stars.”

“So, no phone calls or anything?”

“No. Why?”

“Because, we can’t find him. He’s gone.”

***

“I even called the house,” Julian says, staring ahead of him with blank eyes, talking sotto voce, as if the two of them aren't standing there beside him, listening to every word. “Emily says he just…he just left. He didn’t pack a bag, didn’t tell anyone where he was going...just pfft. Gone.”

“Julian, I'm...I’m so sorry,” Kurt says sincerely, his heart sinking when that light that always lingers in Julian's eyes, the one that blazes hot behind the ice blue of his irises, starts to burn low, threatening to go out.

“So many secrets,” Julian says, shaking his head, looking down at his phone clutched in his hand as if any moment it might spring to life with a call or a text. “We’re so good at keeping secrets, aren’t we, Sebby?”

Kurt feels Sebastian go rigid beside him.

“Julian…”

Kurt has heard Sebastian say his brother’s name dozens of times, and as many different ways.

He’s said it jokingly.

He’s said it seriously.

He’s spat it like a curse.

He’s said it with affection.

But this was a plea.

He was begging Julian to stop.

“We keep secrets from mom and dad," Julian continues, again to himself as if they aren't there, "secrets from Liv, hell, the two of you kept the biggest secret of all…you even had me duped, though, apparently that isn't as hard as I thought.”

Julian laughs, sad and hollow, until it becomes a cough.

“Julian…” Sebastian repeats his plea softer, subconsciously searching for and taking Kurt's hand. He squeezes it tight and Kurt can't help noticing how it shakes.

Julian looks at his brother with a wry smirk, lifting the shot glass in is fist in an unspoken toast and downing it in a single gulp.

“Now why haven’t you told him yet, Sebby? You know it wasn’t your fault. At least, if you do, he’ll know exactly how much of a bastard I really am.”

Kurt’s eyes meet Sebastian’s, but Sebastian isn’t looking at him. He looks frozen. Numb.

“Come on, Sebby,” Julian says with tears burning in his eyes, “you love him. He loves you. He should know, dontcha think?”

Sebastian stands paralyzed, his mouth agape, unable to breathe a single word. Whatever Sebastian hasn’t told Kurt yet, whatever this pain is that the two of them hold on to, that the two of them share, Julian is getting ready to spill it. Kurt won't deny that he wants to know - he wants to help - but this is not how Kurt wants to find out. Not like this.

“Julian, no,” Kurt says, even though he’s sure what he’s saying no to is the one thing he’s wanted to know all summer.

“No, Kurt, it’s my story, too, and I need you to forgive me because what I did made this…” He flicks a finger between Kurt and Sebastian “…so much harder for you.”

“It’s fine,” Kurt says in a thick voice, “truly. I…I forgive you, it’s…”

Julian shakes his head. “Don’t, Kurt. You don’t understand how bad I hurt him…”

“Julian,” Kurt says firmly, putting his free hand on Julian’s knee and squeezing, trying to get through his haze of whiskey and self-pity, “please, stop. I don’t need to know.”

“Yes,” Sebastian agrees quietly behind him. “Yes, you do.”

Kurt turns to look at his boyfriend, expecting him to be looking away, off in the distance like Julian, or maybe down at his shoes, but he’s looking right at Kurt instead.

Kurt slowly shakes his head.

This time, it's Kurt's turn to plead.

"Sebastian..."

“That’s the spirit, baby brother,” Julian cuts in, taking his next shot off the bar and passing it over to Sebastian. Kurt watches Sebastian sadly put the shot glass to his lips, snap his head back, and down the drink, a single tear racing down his cheek and getting lost in his hair. “Let’s tell our story together.”

 “There was this guy. Seb fell so hard for him, so fast. He called Seb all sorts of cutesy nicknames. They were so adorable together. Frankly, it made me kind of sick. I wanted to help Sebby land this boy, so I got them some fake IDs, and I took them out drinking.”

“It might have been love,” Julian says. “Was it? I don’t know. It could have been.”

 “But right before we went out, I got into a fight with Cooper, and I was an asshole. So, I got them both drunk, and then I seduced this poor boy of Seb’s.”

“Well, Sebby, he got mad, had one too many to drink. He got real sick and went to the bathroom, and while he was in there, there was some guy.”

“Don’t…stop…” Kurt shakes his head.

“No,” Sebastian says quietly, “let him finish.”

“When I got to them,” Julian squeezes his eyes shut, tears leaking out the sides, “he had Sebastian pinned between the sinks, had his pants unzipped and his hand down them, he was trying to kiss him, kept saying…kept saying that he wanted to taste himself on Seb’s lips.”

“So…so, he…”

“Yeah. Big brother charged to the rescue about a minute too late.”

“Oh…oh God.”

“So that’s the story of how big bad Julian forced his baby brother away.”

 ***

“But, as soon as I can, I’ll drive up and meet you. We’ll have that big house all to ourselves. Who knows what kind of mischief we can get ourselves into?”

“What sounds like a…”

Sitting on the steps to Kurt’s patio is Cooper. And beside him, curled into a ball, hugging his knees, is Blaine.

Kurt thinks he should feel an overwhelming tide of emotion. That it should knock him back about twenty feet, transport him through time to a place where he swore he would always love Blaine. But what he felt was barely a swell. The boy who used to be perfection by Kurt’s standards was riddled with flaws. Kurt found himself comparing Blaine to Sebastian the way he used to compare Sebastian to Blaine, but this time Blaine was the one didn’t measure up.

 “Maybe you should go check on Julian.”

 “So, what, you owe it to him to hear his side?”

“No. He owes it to me to tell me why he took everything and through it all away.”

Kurt hands him the check.

“Wh---why are you…?”

“This way, when I come back, you’ll know it’s not because of obligation. It’s not because of the money. It’s because I love you. I love you, I love you, I love you, and nothing he can say is going to change that. Have a little faith in me.”

***

·         Kurt rips up Seb’s check so he’ll know he’s not coming back because of the money

·         Kurt drives Blaine home

·         Kurt figures out that Blaine met his friend on Facebook before camp

·         Mr. Anderson tells Kurt how he planned to get Blaine away from Kurt

·         Burt tells Kurt he paid the $10k

 “You know, I always wondered…when you drove away, you had this look in your eyes. It’s haunted me. You knew. Before you left, you knew you were going to hookup with someone, didn’t you?”

“I met him on the camp’s Facebook page.”

 “It’s love! It’s supposed to mean everything. It’s not the kind of thing you can dump and pick up again when it’s convenient. That’s not how it works!”

  “I know I was with someone!” Blaine said, shocking even himself with the volume of his voice. “I know I did! I know I hurt you, and I’m sorry! I didn’t mean for it to happen, but it did. I had every intention of coming back to you, of moving to New York with you, of living happily ever after with you! But I didn’t ruin that, Kurt! You did! You did because what you did was way worse!”

“What? What did I do that was way worse?”

“You….you fell in love.”

“What do you expect me to do?”

“I expect you to grow up. I expect you to learn from this. I expect you to accept that it’s over, and maybe, in time, we might actually be able to stay friends.”

“I will never forgive you for this.”

Kurt wants to ask him, “Did you think of me at all when he kissed you? When you were fucking him or he was fucking you, did you almost say my name? Was my smell still on your clothes, or did you make sure to wash it completely away?”

“Look, we loved each other, so much. But we’re so young, so immature, made so many bad choices…” Kurt says that word we, we, we over and over even though he doesn’t entirely mean it. But he doesn’t feel right saying what he wants to say - you did this. You ruined it. You made a bad decision. Because deep down, there’s a part of Kurt that’s culpable. He let Blaine make that decision instead of taking ownership of his own feelings. He let Blaine command the conversation when he had so much more to say. Blaine controlled how they communicated, even with their mutual friends, but Kurt went along with it. The best he can do now is try to leave the hurt feelings in the past and let it go - not necessarily for Blaine. Not to make Blaine feel better. But so that Kurt can walk away with his head held high, into a future that he deserves…with someone he loves. “Let’s just…remember that, and part as friends. Good friends.” Blaine drops his head and looks off to the side, like he’s already turned his back on the conversation. "Maybe we weren’t meant to be together,“ Kurt continues, "but that’s not a horrible thing. It’s not going to…not going to kill us.”

Funny, since that’s how Kurt felt for the first month at least, but now he sees how ludicrous that was. He’s young. They’re both young. And this, too, shall pass.

Kurt waits for Blaine to speak - to agree, to argue, to try and win him back, to sing - but he says nothing. Just stares at the carpet beneath his feet, putting Kurt’s words together…or maybe shoving them away.

Kurt sighs, putting a hand to his aching forehead. Too much drama and too little sleep. He doesn’t need this right now. What he does need…or correction…who he needs, is driving back to Westerville this very moment, and all Kurt wants is to be with him.

Why did he offer to drive Blaine home again?

Kurt looks at the boy in front of him - the boy he pined over, the boy he obsessed over, the boy he loved, for a while, more than he loved himself.

But that was over. Now, he has someone else in his life he needs to return to.

Kurt stares at Blaine, but Blaine’s eyes shift to stare at his hands, as if they somehow hold the key to changing Kurt’s mind, but Kurt isn’t about to wait.

‘If I leave now,’ he thinks, 'I can get there only twenty minutes after he does.’

"Good-bye, Blaine,” Kurt says quietly. He doesn’t reach a hand out to hold him, to hug him, to give him any comfort.

That’s not what their 'relationship' is anymore.

Kurt turns and walks toward Blaine’s bedroom door when he hears Blaine’s voice, shaking with rage, maybe some embarrassment, and thick with tears, talking to his back.

“I…am never…going to forgive you for this, Kurt,” he says, sniffling through gritted teeth. “Never.”

It’s a harsh sound, Blaine’s voice. One Kurt had only heard once before - when Blaine fought off Dave Karofsky in the halls of McKinley on the night they went to watch the New Directions perform.

When he fought Dave off to defend Kurt.

Now that anger is directed at Kurt, and it makes Kurt’s blood run cold.

It zaps any sympathy he might have had for Blaine straight from his body.

He can’t even turn to look at him when he gives him an answer.

“Good,” Kurt says, barely turning over his shoulder so that Blaine can hear him clearly. “Now you know how I felt most of this summer.”

   “So, does this mean you’re finally gone for good?”

“What does that mean?”

“I was never too thrilled with Blaine dating you. The idea of you became more palatable when you became a congressman’s son.”

“Palatable?”

***

            “Cambridge, huh. No chance he’s talking about Massachusetts?”

“No.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I only found out before we left for North Carolina, and I haven’t even decided whether or not I want to go.”

“I’m not Blaine. I’m not stupid. I want to be with you, and I have no intention of letting you go so easily. Please…have a little faith in me. Please. Just this once. Alright?” ”

  But Sebastian doesn’t go to Cambridge. He goes to NYU.

“Do you miss me yet?”

“No.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Yes, I miss you. Of course, I miss you.”

“You gonna show me how much?”

“What, like on Skype or something.”

“Or something.”

The End

[georgialouisea]

Don’t Tell My Wife - Part 1

Characters - Reader, Patrick Dempsey, Ellen Pompeo, Justin Chambers, Kevin McKidd, Jensen Ackles, Jared Padalecki, Misha Collins, Richard Speight Jr.

Warnings - Fluff, drinking, flirting, future affair.  Word count - 2.4k. Summary - You were happy on Grey’s Anatomy, you felt at home there but when a guest role on Supernatural is offered you’d be a fool to say no. When the guest role becomes a more permanent thing, your relationship with your co-star Jensen Ackles develops too, into something it really shouldn’t.

A/N - So ... just a quick heads up characters mentioned not from the cast of supernatural will be the cast  of Grey’s Anatomy, if you don’t watch the show it doesn’t matter at all just see them as ocs unless you’d like to google it’s completely up to you and your reading preference. 

“That won’t work Derek and you know it, it was a stupid idea and you shouldn’t have ever roped me in, if you’ll excuse me, I have to tell a woman her son will not be making it off the table.” Ripping off your scrub cap you turned on your heel walking out of the shot.

Behind you, the rest of the scene played out Patrick acting everything out perfectly.

“Cut!” The director shouted across the small room. “That was perfect! I love working with you two, always means I can go home early.” She smiled at you. “Take ten and we’ll crack on with this afternoon shall we?”

Walking back to your trailer it still hadn’t fully sunk in how lucky you are even after all these years. Acting was hard, getting a break in acting harder however you seemed to be one of the lucky ones. All your previous roles had been at home in England until you made the move to LA. Grey’s Anatomy had been one of your favourite shows for years, so when you got cast as Doctor Lily Grey a long-lost sister of the main character you felt like you’d actually made it somewhere in life.

“Y/N!” Ellen shouted running to catch up to you.

“Yeah?” Spinning around to face her.

“Meeting.”

“Since when do we have a meeting at a quarter to four?”

“Since now.” She shrugged walking back towards set next to you.

“You know you play my sister you’re not actually my sister.”

“Sometimes I feel like I am.” She stopped walking her hand on your back ushering you towards the closed door to one of the operating room setups.

“Why are we here? What’s happened to the conference room?”

“Nothing, just open it and go in.”

“Are you going to kill me?” Laughing you turned to face her.

“Just go on.” Rolling her eyes she gave you a small push.

Opening the door the room was pitch black, stepping in the room the lights flicked on, the whole cast and crew stood in front of you, party poppers went off as everyone shouted “Happy Birthday!”

“Guys!” Smiling at them you were pulled into a group hug.

The afternoon was spent eating snacks and cake with the cast and crew before rushing home to get ready for the surprise meal and drinks Ellen had planned for you.

-

Walking into the restaurant the table was covered in pink and black glitter, matching balloons floated above the table. “Happy Birthday!” Everyone shouted raising their glasses, a glass of champagne handed to you by Patrick Dempsey.

“Happy Birthday darling.” He whispered kissing your cheek. “Enjoy tonight.”

“Thanks, I will.”

Hours ticked by as you ate and drank with your friends, drinking maybe a little too much.

Staggering outside the warm LA air not doing much to warm you up, wrapping your arms around your waist you waited for the stragglers to follow you out.

“Y/N! You left your coat inside.” Justin Chambers walked toward you your leather jacket in hand.

“Thanks, babe.” Taking it from him you struggled to put it on, staggering away from Justin your back collided with something solid.

“Oof.” Someone huffed behind you.

Turning around you finally got your arm in the sleeve. “I’m so sorry.” Pulling your sleeve down, looking up you took a step back. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” The man smiled down at you.

Your brain finally caught up with your eyes, you’d fallen into the chest of Jensen Ackles. “You’re Dean Winchester, oh God you’re so pretty.”

“You’re Lily Grey, you’re pretty too.”

“I’m so sorry.” Apologising again you tried to sound as sober as you could but couldn’t help but grin at him.

“Y/N.” Justin walked towards you. “You good?”

“Mhm fine.” You watched over Justin’s shoulder as the rest of the group practically fell out of the bar door. “Mr Dean, Jensen, I’m sorry.”

“Stop apologising.” He laughed, his hand reaching out grabbing your bicep he steadied you. “Have you had a good night?”

“So fun.”

“Good.” Smiling down at you his eyes crinkled as he let you go.

Kevin McKidd walked towards you plonking a tiara on your head and kissing your cheek.

“Is it your birthday?” Jensen asked. Nodding your eyes shifted to the two men who had stopped next to Jensen. “Y/N, this is Jared and Misha.”

“Hi.” You waved at them despite how close you were to them.

“Y/N! Where’s Y/N?” Ellen called from the main group of drunk tv Doctors.

“She’s here!” Jared called raising a hand giving her a wave.

“Oh my God.” She sighed walking towards you. “I’m sorry.” She took your hand properly looking at the men in front of her. “You’re the guys from Supernatural.”

“Yeah, we are.” Jensen nodded with a smile.

“Y/N, come on!” Kevin called waving you toward him.

Turning you tried to walk towards him, Ellen quickly pulled you back. “Hey, no, you’ll end up coming home at seven am again.”

“Mhm okay.”

“Cabs are here!” Someone from the group called.

“Okay, so we’re going, enjoy the rest of your night.”

“Bye Mr Dean, Castiel and Sammy!” Waving at them Justin wrapped his arm around your waist walking you towards the taxi.

-

With each blink, the pounding in your head intensified. A glass of water sat on your bedside table half drunk with a bottle of aspirin and a note.

‘I’ll explain everything you’re fuzzy on, take a few pills, drink up, I’m on the couch.’

After reading Justin’s drunkenly scrawled note you threw your arm over your eyes trying to block out the light. “Justin?” Calling out your voice cracked.

Your bedroom door opened, Justin walked in 2 cups of coffee in his hands. “How’re you feeling?” He handed you a cup of coffee.

“Like I was hit by a truck.” Sighing you rested back against the pillows.

“Give me a few.” Justin put his coffee cup on the empty bedside table leaving you alone in bed. You listened to him shuffling around in the kitchen. “Here.” He walked back in with a pizza box in his hands.

“Oh thank God!” Grabbing a slice you sat back, Derek, your Dachshund jumped up on your bed staring at you wide-eyed. Taking a picture of your coffee cup on your bed you uploaded it to Instagram, thanking your friends for last night.

“Did you feed him?” Asking him you stroked Derek’s fur as he nuzzled against your side sniffing at the pizza crust in your hand.

“Yeah, I did.”

“Thanks.” Taking another bite of the crust you gave the rest to Derek. “I don’t know why you put up with me.”

“I just do.”

“You seriously slept on the couch?”

“Yeah, I’m in the same state you’re in.” Justin groaned falling back next to you.

“Someone should have cut us off.”

“Yeah.” He laughed. “You were funny though.”

“What?” Why? What did I do?” You sat up looking at him.

“We ran into the guys from Supernatural.”

“What?”

“You walked straight into Jensen Ackles literally, then you had a little chat with him, I think you called him pretty at one point.”

“No-”

“Yep, they didn’t seem to mind though.”

“Oh my God.”

Your phone dinged from your bedside table.

‘Jensen Ackles followed you.’

‘Jensen Ackles liked your photo.’

‘Jensen Ackles commented on your photo ‘Enjoy your pizza, Miss Lily, Y/N and happy birthday.’

“Well, he’s fine with it.”

“Who?” Justin asked gulping a mouthful of coffee.

“Jensen, he just followed me and commented about last night, can I go back to sleep yet?”

“God yes.” Taking the pizza box off the bed he put it on the table next to him. “I already need a nap.”

--

“How’s your head today?” Patrick asked a day later handing you a cup of coffee.

“It’s fine today, yesterday was the killer, there was a lot of coffee and pizza.” Fixing your scrubs you looked back up at him. “You?”

“Fine.”

Your phone rang in your pocket, not looking at the caller ID you answered. “Hello?” Patrick smiled at you taking a few steps away from you, leaving you to talk alone.

“Good morning Y/N, how was your birthday?” Dave your agent asked.

“It was great thanks, how are you?”

“I’m good, so I have some news for you.”

“Which is?”

“You’re wanted.”

“By -”

“Supernatural.”

“What?”

“There’s a guest role, a hunter and you’re perfect for it, honestly you are, they’ve reached out asking if you’d want to play a badass hunter.”

“Do you have the script?”

“Already emailed over to you.” You could hear Dave smirk down the line. “Have a read through and let me know as soon as you can.”

“Will do.”

“Bye.” Dave hung up.

Patrick smiled at you. “What are you so happy about?”

“I may have just got a guest role on Supernatural.”

“You love that show.”

“Yeah, I do.”

“How are you going to work on two shows?”

“It’s only a guest role I can juggle it, I haven’t even accepted it yet.”

In the 3 years, you’d worked on Grey’s you’d quickly made friends with everyone, Patrick and Ellen were closest, they were practically your on and off screen parents, always keeping you in check.

-

“Y/N!” Jared shouted you from across the lot as you were halfway through your tour.

“Jared! Hey!” Grinning at him you gave him quick hug.

“Are you filming today?”

“Not today, we’re on a little tour.”

“Want me to take over?” Jared looked at the PA whos name you were yet to learn.

“If that’s okay, I have a load to do.” She pulled out her phone almost running off immediately.

“Lead the way, Padalecki.”

“Sure thing Y/L/N.” Crooking his arm he held it out for you, linking your arm through his he led you around the set.

Hours later you held a cup of coffee in your hands allowing the heat to warm up your hands. “It’s so cold, oh my God, I hate winter.”

“Yeah.” Jared nodded. “It is.”

“I thought you’d be used to the cold being British.” Misha smiled at you.

“Kind of, I think over the years I’ve got used to LA weather.”

“Wait how long have you lived in LA for?” Misha asked Jensen walked toward the 3 of you.

“Hi.” He smiled at you.

“Hi, erm 3 years.” You answered Misha.

“Have you been home a lot?” Jared asked.

“I go back every few months when I can.” You tried to focus on Jared as Jensen sat opposite you. “I actually want to apologise for my state in LA.”

“It was interesting.” Jensen winked at you.

“I’m sorry.”

“Stick around here for long enough you’ll see us all in much worse states.” Jensen chuckled his eyes drifting to Jared. “In fact, we can tell you some stories.”

Crawling into bed 4 hours later you were still giggling at the tales the boys had told you, pulling the sheets up checking on your phone you dropped it down onto the bedside table. Falling asleep with a smile on your face you were going to enjoy spending time with this cast, they’d already made you feel at home.

-

“Morgan.” Dean ran across the parking lot as you threw your bag onto the back seat of your car.

“Yes, Winchester?” Turning to face him, you caught a glimpse of Sam disappearing into the motel room.

Dean came to a stop in front of you. “Hey, erm listen, I just wanna say thank you, I know we barged in on your hunt, took it over and in the end you were the one to save our asses.”

“Damn right.” Smirking up at him.

“So I just want to say thank you and if you ever need any help you have my number.” He took a step closer to you, closing the gap.

Smiling up at him your back was pressed up against the side of your car. “I’m sure I can cope.”

“If you need me.” Dean’s fingertips tucked hair behind your ear. “For anything.” He leaned in his lips brushed against yours waiting for you to kiss him or kick his ass.

Your hand ran up his chest, patting it you pushed him away slightly. “If I need you, Winchester, I’ll call.” Your hand moved across his chest grabbing the lapel of his suit jacket pulling him back against you, leaning up you kissed him hard. Pulling away you smiled up at him. “Like I said I’ll call.”

Dean took a step backwards.

“Goodbye Dean Winchester.”

“See ya around Wilson.” Dean grinned at you as he watched you get into your car, roaring your car to life, your eyes roaming his body.

“Need you, call, I got it, Dean.” Slamming the door shut you opened the window.

“Morgan.” Leaning down he rested his forearms on the door. “Don’t be a stranger.”

“Dean, I’m sure we’ll be seeing each other very soon.” Dean took a step back from your car.

“And cut!” Speight shouted from behind the camera. “That’s a wrap on the amazing Miss Y/L/N!”

Getting out of the car Jensen’s arms wrapped around you. “It’s been great working with you.”

“You too.”

“We’re going for drinks tonight right?” Jared asked, as soon as you were out of Jensen’s arms Jared gave you a bone-crushing hug.

“Hell yeah.” Nodding, Jared let you go. “I have a few people I need to talk to before I leave set, I love you both I’ll see you tonight but I gotta run.”

“You go, we’ll pick you up at seven.” Jensen smiled down at you.

-

Leaving Vancouver was hard, sure you’d been here for a week but the friendships you’d formed were real. Arriving back in LA taking the time you were stuck in traffic to call Dave.

“Hello?” He answered.

“Dave, Hi I -”

“Y/N, I was just about to call you, the guys over on Supernatural loved you and they want to talk about making your role something more permanent.”

“What?”

“Yeah, they adored you, they want to progress her relationship with Dean.”

“Really?”

“Yes, they think there is a real connection and chemistry between Morgan and Dean.”

“You’re kidding?”

“Nope, they want to explore it.”

“Yes.”

“Yes?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll let them know, congratulations.” He hung up quickly, obviously wanting to get the ball rolling.

Finishing your phone call you dropped your phone into your lap slightly in shock, you’d just landed another role on a TV show you’d loved for years, this wasn’t real, this was a dream. Your phone vibrating in your lap.

‘Welcome to the family.’ Jensen’s text lit up on your screen.

Part 2

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[365daysoftododeku]

19th February 2019

Author: Kenyoda

Admin’s Note: The following work was written by @ebonyphd, inspired by one of @crzangel’s headcanons. You can find the headcanon here if you want to know more!

________________________________________________________________

Candid Shoutos

Izuku bit his lip as he tried not to laugh. How anyone had found a copy of Vib Ribbon and an emulator for it, Izuku would never know. But Todoroki’s absolutely perplexed expression was one for the books. He discreetly took a picture with his phone. The teen eventually gave into his urge when Shouto’s face morphed into horror when the stick figure rabbit squealed while demonstrating what happened when you missed a combination. As the others chattered around Kaminari’s emulator running laptop, Izuku pulled up the PlusInsta page on his phone and logged into the page that he ran for Todoroki. He quickly uploaded the photo with the caption:

#his face #he looks so lost #lol

Almost instantly, the like counter started climbing and comments starting flowing about 5 minutes after. They ranged from: ‘he’s so adorkable’ to ‘what is he even looking at?’ Izuku fielded a few of the questions as he chuckled at other comments. Eventually, Shouto gave up the computer after playing a few levels. The game was passed around to several of their classmates until someone suggested a new fighting game and the TV became the main source of entertainment. They both watched the tournament and both cheered when Yaomomo won. After a fuming Bakugou stormed off muttering halfhearted threats under his breath, the class dispersed.

Izuku remained parked on the couch with Todoroki right next to him. He continued to watch all the reactions to his newest post. He had been running candid_shoutos for about six months. Actually, the silly little side project had actually gotten Izuku a boyfriend. He looked over to his right to see said boyfriend had conked out on his shoulder.

His hair had fallen over his face casting a red haze over his pale skin. Shouto’s glasses were precariously hanging onto the end of his nose. Izuku’s heart melted at the sight. He was so cute. The teen took another picture. He did not post it though. That was for him alone. Izuku finally chanced waking Shouto up and removed the glasses from his nose. Shouto wrinkled his nose and muttered some garbled protest at being disturbed. He sighed and snuggled deeper into Izuku’s shoulder. Izuku flushed. Adorkable, indeed. He remembered how it had all started quite fondly…

Izuku had started the whole silly page because Shouto was convinced he wasn’t attractive. Izuku and majority of his classmates had protested vehemently that it wasn’t true. Shouto would only scoff and claim they were biased.

So, Izuku bet Shouto a favor that he could prove Shouto wrong. Ashido, who was in charge of the Class 2-A social media pages, suggested that Izuku start a PlusInsta account and post pictures. It would be simple to post things and let other people decide. Shouto agreed to the page idea with the caveat that the pictures are only candid shots, with no explanations, and that only Izuku could take them. This way the bet stayed among the three of them and Izuku couldn’t doctor the photos. They decided that they would give it two weeks. Ashido also promised to reblog the page link on the Class Insta once Izuku had it up and running.

So the following Monday, Izuku started snapping photos of Shouto doing various activities during the day, save for bathroom activities. Once classes were over, he shifted through the shots and picked the very first picture for the blog. It had simply been a picture of Shouto working on some homework during study hall. He had been perfectly poised at his desk, almost statue-like. But Izuku had zoomed in on his face, you could see the shadow of his hair on his cheek and the determined set to his eyes and jaw as his hand flew elegantly across the page. He had posted the picture with the caption:

#hard at work #go Todoroki

The first picture had gained 100 likes in an hour after Ashido had reblogged it. The blog itself had 30 followers. Izuku had posted another picture before dinner time, this one of Shouto leaning over and holding his knees after he and Izuku had come back from a run. His hair had begun curling at the ends from the sweat and his face had been flushed pink. He ended up looking at Izuku in surprise right as he had taken the picture. The number of likes it got was tripled what the other one had. The blog had a hundred followers by the time Izuku had gone to bed. The blog had also received some of its first comments. Some of them had Izuku laughing out loud:

Dear Lord! That should have come with a health warning!!! *fans self*

*sees curly ends* Omg! Todoroki has curly hair! I wonder how long it takes him to get straight?

Those eyes… just… sigh

Dude… I am kinda questioning my sexuality…

I have been questioning mine since he set himself on fire in the Sports Festival during my first year! #TodorokiShoutocausedmygayawakening

Same.

Praise whoever captured such a blessed image!

He had gleefully shown Shouto the page during breakfast the next day. The gob smacked expression on his face had left Izuku in stitches and feeling light as a feather. As the two weeks wore on, the comments and likes kept coming and Izuku kept supplying pictures. Around day 8, however, Izuku hit a bit of a snag. He was beginning to notice that he was taking far, far more pictures of Shouto than was warranted for the 2-3 random posts he made in a day. And many of those pictures remained in his phone after he deleted all the ones he didn’t like or need.

Izuku was no fool. He was well aware of his feelings for Todoroki. He just wasn’t sure how and if he should act on them. But he was forced to make a decision when he posted a picture of Shouto smiling. It had not been a huge one. A small part of his lips and his eyes squeezed shut. He had been mid-chuckle at a bad pun Kaminari had told. The comment section lost their collective minds. To this day, that photo was one of the most liked pictures on the blog.

At the time however, the picture’s popularity had left Izuku feeling sick and cold. It had occurred to him that if people loved Shouto when he was scowling, sweaty, and flat faced; they would be besotted with him when he smiled. Just like Izuku. He had spent some time looking through some of the pages that were following the blog. There were so many beautiful people on the site. People that weren’t too afraid of taking the chance to ask that beautiful boy out. People that Todoroki might say yes to. Finally, in the midst of his jealous fit, Izuku decided that once the dare was over he would make that favor count.

So, he still posted candids of Shouto like always, however, there was only that one smile picture for a long while. But as soon as the two weeks were up, the two friends had met up in Izuku’s room to discuss the outcome.

“Well…” Todoroki had said, “you won. I never realized that people actually believed that I was attractive.” He had then hung his head between his hunched shoulders. Izuku felt bad. He hadn’t thought about how weird it may have been for Todoroki, who was an intensely private person despite his tendency to be forthright and brutally honest.

“I am sorry if any of this made you uncomfortable, Shouto. Eek! I mean, T-Todoroki!” he blurted out. Shouto’s head snapped back up. His mismatched gaze pierced Izuku and made his chest tighten.

“I wouldn’t call it uncomfortable, just surprising, I guess? And no need to apologize. I agreed to the terms too after all. So, don’t worry about it… Izuku.” Shouto said after a moment. Izuku’s eyes widened. He knew that Shouto expressed a lot of himself through his actions. Izuku could easily read the permission in the use of his own given name. Izuku’s heart began gallop giddily in his chest.

“Ok, Shouto.” Izuku said with a nod.

“So, I owe you a favor now. Do you need time to think about it?” Shouto asked. Izuku hummed thoughtfully. His eyes were drawn to his desk where there was a pair of tickets to a single day pop up hero convention. It was the following weekend. Izuku had been wanting to ask Shouto to go with him but he had been too timid to do so. But now that such a gifted opportunity had presented itself…

“Nope. You’re going with me to this!” answered Izuku. He picked up one of the tickets and handed it to Shouto with a flourish. The other teen pulled his glasses from his hair and shoved them on his face. Shouto took the ticket and looked it over,

“A hero convention?” he asked. Izuku nodded nervously.

“Yeah, it’s a small one day thing. I won a pair of tickets from a podcast.” Shouto blinked at him. He then nodded.

“Ok. But are you sure you want to waste your favor on this? Wouldn’t you have more fun with Kirishima or Uraraka? They seemed to love this kind of thing.” Shouto said uncertainly. Izuku’s heart clenched. Despite being shown that he was attractive, Shouto was still a horribly insecure teenager. Much like himself.

“Well, I kinda wanted to ask you from the get go… I just didn’t want you to be weirded out or anything,” Izuku admitted quietly as he scratched at his cheek. Shouto’s confused expression turned concerned.

“Why would I be weirded out that you wanted me to go places with you?” he asked.

“W-well. I mean, you are not really a fan of crowds and I know you have some—issues with the hero industry… and I really like you and wanted to- eep!” Izuku blurted before clamping his mouth shut. Dread spread through him like tar, thick and sticky. Why did he have to ramble so much?!

“You, you like me?” Shouto breathed after a moment. Izuku looked skyward for divine intervention. But when no lightning manifested and struck him where he stood, Izuku just nodded his head meekly. He knew his face was red. After several agonizing moments, Izuku heard a quiet, “I like you, too.” His heart went wild. He stared at Shouto, trying to decide if he were kidding or not. The only thing reflected in those gem colored eyes was affection and some bashfulness.

“Oh,” he breathed giddily. “Well… how about we hold off on the favor and you just be my date instead? I’ll even buy food!” Shouto’s face turned pink and small tongues of flame shyly came to life on the tips of his red hair. Izuku wanted to die. He was so cute! So very cute.

“Um… ok. I would, like that.” He replied softly, a half smile curling at his lips. Izuku beamed back. This only caused the flames to grow. Now his entire red half was engulfed in flickering flames. It was probably warm enough that Shouto could tell the temperature change. The fire user squeaked in embarrassment before he used his right side to extinguish the flames. He groaned softly as he buried his face in his hands. Izuku could only laugh in response. He was punch drunk on affection, relief and happiness. So much so that he had no fear over going over to Shouto and prying his fingers away from his face.

His friend’s face was still pink and his eyes were wide and sparkling. His lips were twitching as if he couldn’t decide whether he wanted to scowl or laugh. Izuku cupped Shouto’s face and pulled him closer. He pressed his forehead and nose against the other boy’s as his chuckles dissolved into soft giggles. He rubbed against Shouto’s nose affectionately, reveling in the ability to touch him. A soft swooshing sound brought Izuku out of his happy high. Izuku took a step back from Shouto and gasped in awe.

Shouto’s hair had turned into wreathing flames and dancing flurries. One side white and the other a deep red. The two spectacles danced around Shouto’s head like a living halo. Izuku could only gape wordlessly. Shouto’s eyes were glowing, too. He looked like a God or a spirit. Devastatingly beautiful.

“Izuku?” Shouto called worriedly. The God comparison wouldn’t leave especially when his named sounded heavenly coming from Shouto’s lips. Izuku tried to answer but words continued to fail him. Almost robotically, Izuku withdrew his phone and snapped a picture. When Shouto gave him a mildly irritated look, he just turned the screen around. Shouto’s jaw dropped…

Izuku chuckled quietly to himself as he finished revisiting that old memory. Shouto did eventually get the flames and snow to go away and thankfully his hair just returned to normal. That was how they had found out that Shouto could turn parts of his body into flames and snow. Izuku had a field day helping Shouto master this new part of his quirk. The two had actually ended up going on a small dinner date a few days before the convention. Shouto had claimed it was a thank you for helping him with his Quirk. They had been together ever since. Their relationship was a quiet one. It was not hidden amongst the class, but it was a secret to anyone outside of the dorm. Maybe one day it could be public. Izuku grinned to himself at the thought of the collective mayhem that would ensue on the candid_shoutos page when they did.

________________________________________________________________

Would you like your work to be featured in the 365 Days of TodoDeku Project? Apply here! (≧∇≦)/

[bmmurdock]

Third part of my 5+1 fic, some fluff this time! May can’t attend parent-teacher conference so ofc Tony goes instead.

(Part One) (Part Two)

5 Times Tony Helped Peter

+1 Time He Didn’t

3 (1,7k)

Tony’s concentration was disrupted when an annoying noise started to ring out in his lab, and he realized, after a few seconds, that said noise came from his phone. 

“FRIDAY, answer it and tell whoever it is I’m in meeting or something, you pick.” He said, not even lifting his eyes from the careful work he was doing on a particularly intricate part of his suit.

“Sir, it’s May Parker.” 

Ah. Luckily FRIDAY knew better than to always listen to him. 

Suddenly reminded of his last call with dear Aunt May, when she freaked out at him after finding out about Peter, he decided he didn’t want to take any chances in making her angry again and picked up. 

“Hello, Mr. Stark-er, Tony?” She corrected herself. It was weird for her to still call him Mr. Stark after screaming at him over the phone for over half an hour. “It’s May Parker. Is it a bad time?” 

“No, not at all.” He said, eyeing his tools left by the suit. “I’m always free for the Parkers. How can I help you?” 

“Well, you see, today is the day of parent-teacher conferences at Peter’s school, and I can’t really afford to skip another shift, so I thought maybe you could go instead? Please, don’t feel obliged, I know you’re a busy man, if you can’t it is totally okay, but if you can just know Peter would love it. He looks up to you, and I understand the two of you have been getting closer, recently.” May told him, and Tony didn’t need to hear anything after that first sentence to know he would go. 

It would be a little weird, maybe, to attend a parent-teacher conference. He was definitely becoming something akin to a father figure to Peter, but Tony hoped he wouldn’t think he was trying to replace his late uncle. Still, he cared about the kid, he cared a lot, and he was proud of him. Nothing bad in listening to his teachers gushing about him, right? He had seen it in his lab multiple times, the kid was nothing short of gifted, if not a genius for his age. The first proof he had of that were his web-shooters, which he made by himself, and by scavenging components God only knows where, when he was only 14. 

So yeah, his teachers would have nothing but great things to say about him, he was sure about that, and he wanted to hear all of them.

“Of course May, no problem. Send me a text with the time and place and I’ll be there.” He answered, the updates on his suit already forgotten in his mind. 

“Oh, that’s great, thank you! Another thing, I haven’t actually told Peter about this yet as I didn’t want to get his hopes up in case you said no. Do you want to tell him?” 

“You know what? I think I’m going to make it a surprise. Just to embarrass him a little in front of his friends.”

“That’s actually a good idea. These last few nights he came back home way after his curfew, and he thinks I don’t know. So, be as loud and obnoxious as you can be, I’m totally on board with that.” She said, and he could hear the smile in her voice.

“Oh trust me, I will. Thank you, May. Bye!” He said, ending the call. Obnoxious? Yeah, that wouldn’t be difficult for him.

“Peter! Hi, I’m here!” He shouted from the end of the hall, making all the parents and students in it turn to look at him, dressed in an expensive suit and his orange glasses. As people started to recognize him, the looking rapidly turned into openly staring. He was used to it, of course, but the kid was not. Oh, this was going to be fun.

“Mr. Stark? What are you doing here?” Peter said urgently yet almost whispering, rapidly walking towards him with wide eyes and grabbing his arm, probably to lead him somewhere more private, but he wouldn’t budge.

“Ah, yes, I forgot to tell you. Your aunt called me to tell me she wouldn’t be able to make it, so I came.” He answered, keeping the level of his voice way louder than Peter’s. People were starting to take pictures now, as he was able to tell by the raised phones and the occasional flash.

The kid was about to say something but Tony interrupted him before he could start, turning towards the teenagers who had followed Peter.

“Oh, hi, you must be Peter’s friends. Ned, right? And MJ? I heard a lot about you. I’m Tony.” He said, offering his hand to the two teenagers, who shook it one after the other. He barely kept in a chuckle after seeing Peter’s face become completely red.

“Oh, my God, Tony Stark knows who I am,” he heard the kid whisper to himself, staring at Tony. From the looks of it he was about to hyperventilate. The other girl, MJ, was way calmer, and seemed to be eyeing him critically. She didn’t say anything. He could kind of see why Peter both liked and feared her.

“Mr. Stark you didn’t have to come, I mean, I know you have a lot of important meetings to attend and people to meet, this is just a stupid school thing. Really, it’s no big deal!” Peter said, and Tony realized that he meant it. As if Tony didn’t care about any aspect of his life other than his being Spiderman, as if Tony didn’t care enough about him to do something that would make him happy. The kid really needed to work on his self-esteem.

“What? Please, Peter. Of course I came. Besides my wanting to check on you, I also need to check how my interns are doing in school, don’t I?” He told the kid, hoping he would understand the underlying message.

And it seemed like he did, as something flashed in his eyes, something Tony wasn’t able to decipher, yet.

“Yeah, well, I guess so.” He answered, when he seemed to notice the crowd that had gathered around them during their conversation.

“Please Mr. Stark we’re making a scene, can we go somewhere else?” Peter asked, while continuously sneaking glances to the people staring at them. And they were, in fact, causing a bit of a scene in the middle of the hallway. Nothing unmanageable, though.

“No way, kiddo. And please, I told you a million times, call me Tony.” He told Peter, even if he knew it would probably take years before he dropped the ‘Mr. Stark’. The kid was just like that.   “So, where do I have to go? Who do I talk with first?” He said, taking off his glasses and acting normally, as if people weren’t taking photos and videos of him at that very moment. He was used to it, after all. And even if Peter was acting like he was embarrassed, (which, well, maybe he was a little bit) Tony knew that he would be happy about his classmates knowing he was on a first-name basis with the Tony Stark. It was only fair, as he bragged with his friends about Peter every chance he got.

“Oh, uhm, I think Mr. Bennet is free, room 5A. He teaches Spanish,” Peter told him after briefly checking the list in his hand.

“Great. Come on, let’s go then.” He said, putting a hand on Peter’s back and letting himself be guided towards the class.

Well. To say he was proud of the kid would be an understatement. All of his teachers, as he predicted, gushed about him and told Tony how talented he was, especially in science (which was nothing new to Tony, but he still swelled with pride as he heard somebody else tell him).

He was also sure that none of them had exaggerated in telling him these things just to please him (some of them did look a bit star-struck) as Peter’s grades were proof enough of their truthfulness, and he was told that if he kept it up, with all his extracurriculars and the fame of his school, he would easily get in any college he wanted. Of course he would go to MIT but Tony wasn’t going to press the subject for, like, another week, at least. The kid had better be prepared for it.

Even though he didn’t want to let on how proud he actually was, he still decided to tell the kid that, he deserved it.

“Peter, I know I don’t tell you this very often, and I am not good at all that touchy-feely stuff, but you did good, kiddo. I’m proud of you.” Tony told him as they entered his flashy orange Audi, which gathered a lot of stares itself.

“Thank you, Mr. Stark. It means a lot to me that you came. And also, people at my school will finally believe that my internship with you is real, that’s a plus!” He said giddily, in his seat.

“What? Why, didn’t they before?” He asked, surprised, turning towards Peter.

“Well, at first they did, but then someone convinced them that it was a lie and no one believed me anymore. Besides Ned and MJ, of course.” Peter explained, and things started to add up in Tony’s brain.

“Is this ‘someone’ the same someone that has made you feel like shit multiple times? You think I don’t notice, kid, but I do, even when you don’t want to talk about it.” Tony said, brows furrowing.

There was a moment of silence before Peter talked again.

“Yes, it is. But I’m sorry, I’m feeling very good right now, maybe we could talk about it some other time? I swear I’ll tell you, I just want to go take a walk or eat an ice-cream or something.” He said, the little smile he had plastered on beginning to falter.

Tony decided to let it go, for now, not wanting to ruin either his or Peter’s mood. But he would definitely not forget about it.

“Alright, Peter. You know what? Hell, we’ll have ice-cream for dinner. Just don’t tell Aunt May, please.” Tony answered, causing Peter’s smile to return in full force to his mouth.

That night Peter ended up sleeping at the compound, after eating a full tub of ice-cream and falling asleep on the couch during the second (or was it the third?) film of their Star Wars marathon.

As he watched Peter drool on a pillow, feet draped on Tony’s lap, he felt happy.

(Part Four)

Thank you for reading this, hope you enjoyed it! So I also need to thank my fantastic beta who I haven’t mentioned in the other two parts (sorry i’m an asshole) @peterisspidermanconfirmed, you’re a lifesaver!

Also, if you’re interested, I have finally uploaded the story on ao3 (link).

Next part Tony will deal with Flash, so expect some protective!Tony coming your way!

[dansnaturepictures]

Picture context post-Spotted Flycatcher at Fritham in the New Forest yesterday 

For last week I reached an interesting point for my (now occasional) casual end of week photo review posts which replaced my old photo of the week picking system coming up to a year ago next month. I had decided now I would only do the Twitter reply to or quote the tweet that had my favourite or one of my favourite pictures taken in a week when I had a clear theme within my photos. 

Last week a good theme developed because after a bit of a drought over August I took more butterfly and as it happened rarer for me moth pictures with my macro lens. But last night when pulling some together I decided yes this was a big theme but none of what I saw as my better macro pictures last week I could genuinely call “One of my favourite pictures I took this week”. Instead I felt clearly that this picture of one of my first Spotted Flycatchers this year yesterday was one of my favourite two pictures taken last week clearly, the landscape at Fritham the other, but this one brought me the most joy and deserved the repost. 

Now with the reposts on Saturdays or Sunday mornings via doing a picture context post its tended to be landscape and other non-wildlife pictures I’ve done it for as it can be tricky linking them to a clear theme and I find there is always so much more around the view they’re showing to talk about like things I saw that day or things I felt. So I don’t usually do this type of post for my wildlife pictures that slip well into themes within these casual and occasional reposts. But I felt I could use this post to give you an insight into my process of taking the pictures in the field and how they make it to your computer/phone screens in the evenings.

As I mention how this picture was taken it will overlap with my blog of the trip yesterday, posted here: http://dansnaturepictures.tumblr.com/post/177627353332/010918-fabulous-fritham-in-the-new-forest-today So I don’t have to do the usual bit for these posts about what else I saw and did and why it was a top afternoon for me yesterday or even what seeing these birds meant for my year as you can or may have already read about it. 

But I would like to go specifically to when I was in that magic piece of woodland and little bit of heath and the Spotted Flycatchers were gliding in and out of trees. It was a truly amazing experience. The bird in the picture was about the 4th we clearly identified as a Spotted Flycatcher, I maybe had about five or six different shots (all with 3 or 4 different versions of as I often do to cover all bases) to select one from of the Flycatchers and the little series of them this came from were by far the closest up. As we were watching one in a distant tree this one just glided over and I could clearly see it was going to the top of one of the nearest trees to us. It was similar to what the year tick bird minutes earlier had done, only it just missed the tree in front of me and I had to walk behind to another tree to see where it had landed. The one I photographed stayed for a while and was even joined by another bird before flying off. 

When I got the pictures onto my laptop from my camera memory card my thoughts were confirmed that I wanted to take one of these specific shots forward, I deliberated between two near identical pictures for a bit before making the decision. But at this stage I was still thinking it’ll be a record shot so one I think isn’t my best quality but shows well a rare species or one I don’t often photograph, had this had been of a Robin for example my history with photographing that bird may have lead me to overlook it. But I was happy with that as in my five recent sightings of these birds (two in 2015, then 2016, 2017 and yesterday) it was only the first where I got a very far off record shot of it at Godshill in the New Forest. 

After running all my pictures yesterday through photoshop I came to look through them all on Windows Photo Viewer as I do before uploading and I was stunned when I came to this one honestly. I found it to be of such clear and sharp quality compared to what I maybe thought it would be once I had finished the processing and it blew my only previous Spotted Flycatcher attempt out of the water. It was a moment of pure joy which I have a lot when I finally see what my creations will look like and that’s one reason I love wildlife and landscape photography because the enjoyment especially within the day doesn’t stop when I turn my eyes away from a bird, other creature of scene. This picture for me probably sits in a category of hyper record shots where yes they are maybe not my best ever bird pictures or this year but their quality goes beyond simply serving as a sole memory, it joins such pictures as my Little Owl at St. Leonard’s Barn and Corn Bunting at Martin Down ones this year in this class.

[angelkurenai]

Imagine getting married with Jensen in secret and going on your honeymoon.

“Jensen stop!” you shrieked when you felt the top of your bikini loosen around you. Your hands instinctively went to your chest to hold it in place and you turned around to glare at the green-eyed man that was smiling at you like a young boy.

“Funny how after so many years this is the first time I hear you say this.” he chuckled, swimming around you as you glared at him “Wow things do change after marriage.”

You scoffed at him, trying to tie back the strings after he'd undone them “You were the one that insisted, mister. Don't put the blame on me now.”

“Just kidding.” he chuckled, wrapping his arms around your waist and kissing your bare shoulder “You know, I wouldn't trade this for anything in the world.” he buried his face in the crook of your neck “For anyone. You are the woman I love and will always love. I proposed to you because I want to spend the rest of my life with you, have kids, growl old together. You know how much you mean to me.”

“You're so lucky I actually do.” you whispered, turning around to look at him, cupping his face and pressing your lips to his in a sweet kiss.

“Why do you have to be such cheeky ass huh?” you asked as he spinned you around in the water with his arms around your waist.

“If I remember correctly you like this cheeky ass quite a lot?” he smirked, raising and eyebrow at you giggled.

“Guilty, but sorry not sorry.” you pecked his cheek “I just don't understand how you do this every freaking time. All it takes is a few words and you have me melting in your arms and acting like a lovesick teen.”

“Feelings mutual, though.” he shrugged with a soft smile “We wouldn't be married if we weren't soulmates, right baby?”

You giggled, resting your forehead against his “You sap. Will you just tuck Dean away for a moment to let me have time with my hubby?”

He chuckled, kissing you fully on the lips “Gosh, I am never going to get tired of hearing you say that.”

“Yeah, well we are still on honeymoon. Let's see in a year or two.” you shrugged, looking away to hide your blush.

“We've been together for five years, sweetheart, I don't think there is a single thing you can do to make me feel bored with you.” he kissed your cheek “I love you (Y/n), and I promise to prove it to you every day of our life together.”

“You already have.” you smiled at him “But I almost forgot- what the hell was that for?”

“Wha- oh, that!” he chuckled, grinning at you mischievously “What? Can you blame a guy for trying? We're all alone here anyway.” he shrugged and you glanced around.

“That I do know. “ and you really appreciated that he had rented a small cabin for the two of you, next to such a beautiful lake for your honeymoon; proving everything you needed and above all privacy “But if you're trying to reenact The Blue Lagoon then I must apologize but I am not doing any acting Mr Ackles. Not for this month.”

“As interesting as that may sound now that you mentioned it Mrs Ackles-” he winked “No, I just think that you should bemore free around your loving husband. That's all.” he shrugged.

“Yeah, right.” you scoffed with a smile “As if we've gotten out of bed for longer than an hour ever since we came here.”

“Guilty but-” he kissed your neck “It's just that I don't see you wear bikinis that often and you look really freaking good in it.”

“I'd wish.” you shook your head but he gave you a look “Fine, fine. I get it. But- you like it so much that you wanted to take it off of me?”

“That doesn't change the fact that I like it better on the floor or off of you in general.” he gave you a cheeky grin and you scoffed, but smiled down at him.

“You're an idiot.” you whispered.

“But I am your idiot.” he said matter-of-factly and you nodded your head “So how about you let this idiot make something for us to eat, because I am starving, and we can continue swimming later?”

“Sounds like a plan.”

~*~

“How do you think the fans would react if they saw us like this? If they knew about all of it.” you asked as you fixed the button of his flannel, sitting on the kitchen counter after your were a little more dry.

“We've been able to hide this for as long as we've been together, even if some do suspect it after our movie, it would rock their world to find out we actually got married in secret.” he chuckled, eyes fixed on the food cooking in front of him.

“I would love to see their reactions to be honest. Not tell them about the wedding yet but maybe- tease them with a pic or two?” you shrugged innocently and he laughed at you.

“Well, the phone's on the table.” he said with a smirked and you squealed slightly, jumping from the kitchen counter to grab it.

“What though?” you asked, already opening the camera.

“Don't know. You're the expert in teasing.” he said with a smirk as you rolled your eyes.

“Idiot.” you mumbled “Alright, something cute.” you mumbled, you stood on your tiptoes and wrapped an arm around his shoulders from behind him, snapping a picture when he was smiling at the camera. He was shirtless and your hair was wet. You were wearing his flannel and half of the pan was showing, it seemed cute enough.

“Looks good, how does “With my favorite cook” sound?” you asked, ready to upload it and he thought to himself, nodding his head.

“Sounds good to me.” he said with a small smirk that made you narrow your eyes at him.

“I know something is in your mind but- I'll let it pass.”

“Don't you have some faith in your husband?!” he asked in mock shock and disbelief and you chuckled.

“I'm gonna say I have because I have no other option. I need to go get my charger, don't break anything while I'm gone.”

“Gosh you're gonna be such an amazing mother.” he grinned and you giggled, pecking his lips “Our kids are gonna be so lucky.”

“Kids huh?” you raised an eyebrow “Well that does sound like an interesting topic to talk over, Mr Ackles. Be back in a minute and I'd love to hear more about this theory of yours.”

“Well, the process is fun- we've already established that and you know-” he shrugged, pouting “Our house is big enough for two or three, right?”

“Oh ok, so you have really thought this out hm. Hold of for a sec, I'll be quick.” you said before running upstairs... giving Jensen the perfect opportunity.

The moment you finally found your charger and plugged your phone I you saw a notification pop in. Other than those of fans you spotted a comment from your husband on the photo you had uploaded not only three minutes ago, and needless to say it left your mouth hanging agape and your eyes wide.

Jensen Ackles commented on “With my favorite cook”: And my favorite person to eat! ;)

[transcendence-au]

The Manor of Alcor (2/?)

AN: Whoops! Didn’t realize this hadn’t been uploaded last month. Chapter 3 is coming soon.

Also on ff.net

Orrie walked down the east wing of the manor with his strip of paper in hand. He passed several doors with names written on them. “Sarkozy…Jans…oh, Keller.” His room was second from the end on the left side. Turning the knob, Orrie stepped inside.

The room was fit for royalty. The ceiling was high with a pretty crystalline chandelier hanging in the center. The king-size bed was lined with white, fluffy pillows and framed with silky light-brown curtains. On the other side of the fairly large room were a small walk-in closet and a tiny washroom. Around the room were other pieces of furniture, a dresser and full-length mirror to name a few. Orrie dropped his belongings by the side of his bed, taking a moment to let everything sink in.

He was actually at the Manor of Alcor, picked against all odds to solve its mystery. He managed to befriend (at least he hoped) three people already. Smiling widely to himself, Orrie pulled out a sketchbook and pencil from his backpack, flipping it to the first available page not filled with miscellaneous scribbles and doodles. Concentrating, he began to sketch an outline of the mansion, taking notes and adding details to the rooms already visited or seen. There was the parlor room, the foyer, and the east wing where the bedrooms were located. They passed several other rooms and halls, of course, but he hadn’t yet seen where they led. There was still so much to explore– judging by the building’s size and what he’d seen, he hadn’t even covered a tenth of the whole area.

There was a knock at the door. Looking up from the last of his drawing, Orrie answered it. “Yes?”

“May I come in?” someone asked. Orrie put away his belongings and went to open the door. On the other side was Cliff, no Zahia in sight. “Hey there. Just wanted to know if you want to have lunch with us. Many of the others are heading out now to enjoy some barbecue.”

“Oh. Yeah, I’d love to,” Orrie answered, stepping outside. He followed Cliff down the hall. “But, um, aren’t we supposed to be solving a mystery soon?”

Cliff waved off his words. “That can wait a bit, don’t ya think? I mean, none of us really know each other very well, and this is the perfect opportunity to talk to one another. I’m sure afterwards we’ll all go our own ways to solve the mystery, but until then we should all relax and enjoy ourselves.” Orrie couldn’t argue with that. They traversed through a few halls and a magnificent kitchen with a dining nook, spotting the old couple—the Tosettis, if what Orrie read on their envelope was correct—making their steady way to the back door. Cliff held the door open for them, which they were quite thankful for, and the four of them went into the yard where the housekeepers and some of the guests were all hanging about.

It was bright and sunny, and Orrie regretted not bringing along some swim trunks so he could enjoy the pool. If he really wanted to, though, he could always just dip his feet into the cool water like Zahia was doing, several white lotuses floating daintily around her legs. Belle, Dipper, and Dug were sitting at the table, watching some game show on an outdoor TV connected to the wall. Orrie looked around, noticing a few people missing.

“Where’s Flynn? And Mr. Connolly?”

“Siegfried was busy looking for clues already,” Cliff answered, taking a seat next to Dug. “I have no idea where Flynn is. Probably wandering around himself.” While a bit disheartened he wouldn’t be joining them, Orrie still enjoyed his time with the others through talk and games, even watching and cheering Dipper on as he, Dug, and Zahia took part in a grilled-burger eating contest. They heard the story of how the Tosettis met and saw the pictures of the Lionharts’ wedding from two weeks ago. In return, Orrie showed them all photos of his family stored on his phone.

“Oh, you get your lovely hair from your father, I see,” Mrs. Tosetti exclaimed, “When did you both decide to dye it?”

“What? Oh no, it’s natural for us,” Orrie said, subconsciously fingering his blond hair streaked with strands of royal blue. “We’ve got Kinnara or something like that on dad’s side of the family. See? My cousin’s is green.”

“I wish my hair was blue,” mused Belle, “Or– no, purple! No, I’d want it to have, like, a rainbow of streaks!” Dipper just smiled, rolling his eyes at his twin.

Hours later, when the mosquitoes proved to be too much, they went back inside. Not even one minute after the last person entered the kitchen a housekeeper walked up to them. “I’m sorry to bother you at this time,” she apologized, “But Ms. Wheatly would very much like to speak with you all right now. She’s in the parlor room. If you’d be so kind.” And she bowed and left the kitchen. The group of eight made their way toward the parlor. Entering once more, Orrie spotted Flynn and Siegfried already inside. He split off from the others.

“Sorry you missed the gathering in the back yard. We were all outside hanging out. Cliff said he couldn’t find you.”

Flynn didn’t seem perturbed. “I was in the library while you were all outside. Figured I might see if there was a clue hidden in one of the books there.”

“Wouldn’t that be a bit cliché if it were?”

“Perhaps.” That was all he could say before Ms. Wheatly scuttled into the room, closing the doors behind her.

“Apologies for interrupting your activities, but may I be so bold in asking how committed you are in solving the mystery of this manor? The Master is growing a bit impatient that none of you has found the first clue yet.”

“We’re serious,” assured Siegfried, crossing his arms, “Just some more than others. Besides, we only just arrived some hours ago. And some of us here don’t know how to hunt for clues.” Every time Siegfried spoke it was like he was in on the act. Which Orrie didn’t mind at all because that meant he could hurry the process along for them learning what they needed to do. And indeed Ms. Wheatly nodded in agreement to his words.

“I see. So you don’t know how to search for clues. In that case I’ll tell you. Listen closely. In this mansion there are a total of seven clues you need to find to solve the mystery. For all but one of the clues you will first need to find a key. The locations of these clues and keys can be deduced through the numerous hints scattered around the house.”

“What kind of hints?” Zahia asked, “They’re not super hard puzzles, are they?”

“Nursery rhymes,” Ms. Wheatly answered, “In the form of a riddle. Solve the riddle and you’ll find the key or clue. But I must inform you that not all keys are in the same room as their corresponding clue. The same goes for hints.”

The guests gave varying remarks of understanding. “So hints lead to clues or to keys that unlock clues,” Dipper clarified.

“Correct. But finding the hint is no easy task. Here, I’ll help you search for your first hint.” And then she made quite a show looking around. Exaggerated motions of opening cabinet doors and gazing all around its interior, of ruffling pillows and examining every inch of them, or checking underneath every single piece of furniture. Silly as it looked it did tell Orrie one thing: the hints would not be in obvious places.

“Oh! What do you know?” As if to prove his theory, Ms. Wheatly, while moving aside some books on a shelf a little too enthusiastically, knocked a bust of an old man over. Beneath the marble statue was a hole– the bust was hollow. Ms. Wheatly reached inside and pulled out a tiny brown scroll, beckoning the guests over to her. Orrie was able to read it as she unfurled the paper:

“Buried atop Old Smoky.”

He blinked. Old Smoky? Like ‘On Top of Old Smoky’? So were all the hints based on classical Pre-Transcendence nursery rhymes? Depending on which rhymes were used this mystery might be a little harder to solve than he thought.

“What’s Old Smoky?” Cliff asked, “Sounds like a volcano’s name.”

“Very close,” Ms. Wheatly smiled as she put the scroll in her pocket. “A mountain. Based on the old nursery rhyme ‘On Top of Old Smoky’. Does anyone know how the first part of the rhyme goes?” Orrie refrained from raising his hand, wanting to know if anyone else was familiar with the song. Nobody spoke up. “I’ll tell you then. ‘On top of Old Smoky, all covered in snow’. That’s the line. Now where or what resembles a mountain with snow on top of it?”

She let the guests explore the room themselves. Orrie saw from the corner of his eye Siegfried step away from the party. To anyone who knew his little secret they’d perhaps assume he didn’t want to give the answer right away, and to those who didn’t he looked like someone who’d rather have others do the work. But the look in his eyes implied otherwise. He was watching them. Judging them in their ability to deduce. Orrie hadn’t solved the hint yet, but there was no way he was going to let the man assume he was on to him, so he opted to look around a lamp with a white lampshade over it.

It was Dug who finally figured it out. And by complete accident too. “Whoops! Didn’t mean to!” he hurriedly said, grabbing the fishtank in the corner he nudged off its stand. He straightened the box up before all its contents, inhabitants, and the items on top of it could spill over onto the floor. He sighed with relief before blinking his eye at the tank. “Wait…is that Old Smoky?” He pointed to one of the little plastic decorations inside. Orrie had already seen the aquarium that was designed like multiple biomes had merged into one, but even he overlooked the small toy that looked exactly like a snow-capped mountain.

“Buried atop Old Smoky you say?” Dug shuffled through the items resting on top of the tank, most of them folded newspapers. It was between two newspapers that a piece of a third slipped out. Dug caught it before it landed on the floor. The piece of paper was significantly older than the rest, browner and far more wrinkled. Dug had to squint to read its faded text.

Ms. Wheatly stepped over to him. “Would you like me to read it for you?”

“Yeah please.” He handed her the paper. She cleared her throat, and everyone paid close attention as she read the article:

“Six Found Dead, Suspect At Large

Police responded to a silent alarm early Friday morning. The bodies of six victims were found scattered inside an unaddressed mansion miles outside the city limits. Investigators believe the victims were all members of an illegal cult as only two of the victims had visible injuries. It is presumed a seventh cult member was the perpetrator and fled the scene. The identities of the victims have not yet been revealed at this time.”

Dipper crossed his arms. “That wasn’t very helpful as a clue. But I can’t say this exercise wasn’t informative. Thanks for showing us the ropes on how to look for hints.”

“And who to keep an eye out for,” Belle teased, pushing Dug gently, “We may have ourselves a Sherlock in our midst.” Dug blushed faintly.

“I’m so happy to have helped,” Ms. Wheatly said, beaming. “Now you only have six more clues to find. I’ll leave this one right here in case any of you wish to read it again. If you need any more help just come find me. But first I must help prepare dinner.” She guided everyone to the doors, closing them shut behind them once they left.

A sudden grumble made them all look around. “Hrm, I’m still hungry,” Dug moaned, patting his belly.

“But you ate twelve hamburgers,” said Zahia, eying him incredulously, “I couldn’t even eat half that and I still feel a bit nauseous.”

Dug shrugged. “Can’t be helped. I guess I’ll check to see if there’re any leftovers I can have.”

“I wouldn’t mind a quick bite to eat myself,” said Flynn, “May I join you?”

“Sure. Don’t see why not?”

“I’d like to get started looking for the clues,” Dipper stated, turning toward his sister. She nodded in agreement.

“I think I’m going to take a quick rest before dinner, dear,” Mr. Tosetti said to his wife.

“I want to relax a bit too,” Zahia wrapped an arm around Cliff’s waist. Her husband hugged her back with one arm.

“Yeah. We’ve got all the rest of the day to find hints. Let’s enjoy our honeymoon a little longer.” He playfully bopped her on the nose before leading them toward the stairs. After quick deliberation, Orrie decided to follow them and the Tosettis. He was not, however, expecting Siegfried to come along.

“Are you taking a break too, Mr. Connolly?”

“I may as well. The remaining hints, keys, and clues won’t be hidden until tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow? So the rest of the day is just for us to, I don’t know, relax?” Let us familiarize ourselves with our environment is what he wanted to say, but the less he made Siegfried suspicious of how serious he was in solving the mystery the less he’d have to worry about him. There was just something off about the man. Siegfried nodded.

“Precisely. Also, I wouldn’t get very comfortable with the idea of Ms. Wheatly helping us on the case.” Orrie looked ahead to make sure the Lionharts and Tosettis weren’t listening in before slowing his pace to walk beside Siegfried.

“Why not?” he whispered. Siegfried gave him a curious glance before opting to reveal his knowledge to the boy.

“Alcor is going to get a little impatient with us tonight and eliminate her as a means to encourage us to search faster.” Orrie looked up at him, horrified, but Siegfried chuckled. “Don’t worry; it’s all an act. The scene will be very convincing, though.”

Orrie nodded. “Okay then…” He wasn’t sure if he should feel impressed on how realistic the staff was going to make this an authentic murder mystery or unnerved. Maybe unnervingly impressed. He smiled at that silly musing before splitting from the group and heading into his room.

That evening—after dinner and while Orrie was lying content on his bed, drawing in his sketchbook—there was a loud shriek from downstairs. There were soon the sounds of footsteps racing down the hall and, while aware of what was probably going on, Orrie couldn’t help peeking his head out in curiosity. Cliff followed closely by Zahia rushed down the stairs. Orrie hurried after them. He caught up with the couple quickly enough and wordlessly the trio burst through the doors to the parlor. Everyone save the Tosettis were already present. And everyone included ‘Alcor’.

He was standing over a very realistic corpse of Ms. Wheatly, which was face-down in a growing pool of red liquid. Strips of clothing lay tattered beside it. Ripped pillows and bloody papers were strewn around, hinting of the struggle that transpired. Zahia gasped, hand over her mouth. Dipper and Belle stood frozen, barely able to believe what they were seeing. Dug looked ill, moving as far away from the body as possible. Siegfried seemed uncomfortable but stayed where he was at by the doors. Flynn was glaring at the perpetrator.

‘Alcor’ stared back, amused smile on his lips. “Y͟ou a̸ll̴ ̢see̕m a̷ b̨it u̸p̸s͠et͠.” He spotted the latecomers. “I d̕id̸n̷’t̨ ́th͟ink ̴s͢he’d caus͏e t͢hąt̨ m̢ucḩ of a̷ c̸ommo̕t̶ion͝.” Flynn flashed a glance back at Orrie before clenching and unclenching his jaw. When he spoke, though, it was with collected calmness.

“Why did you feel the need to do this? You are aware there are children present.” Orrie hoped Flynn wasn’t insinuating he couldn’t handle a little violence. Granted, murder wasn’t ‘a little’ violent, but considering who the star of the attraction was and the fact they were supposed to be solving a murder mystery in the first place…

‘Alcor’ chuckled. “W̷hy? Be̡ca͠us͟e yơu̵’re͏ t̨aki͟n͡g̸ to̧o lon̸g.” He rose into the air, settling into a cross-legged sit. “D̛on’t̡ t̴h̀ìnk I̶ h̨a̛d́n’͢t not̶iced M͠s. W̡hea͡t͠ly ̡hel͡p̢įn̵g y͝ou ơut̡ ea̧rlie͠r. He͝r͠ as͡s̀i̧st͢ance w͡as ͝no̶t par̵t̨ o͠f t̀he dea̢ļ. B̢ut I dec͠ide͞d to ̀let it̡ s̢l͢idè…until͝ I notįc̨ed how littl̨e h͞e͢ad̢w̵a͠y̕ th̷e teǹ of̛ yo̡ų were ̡ma̷king. So̴ I͡ go̵t r̵id̵ o͏f h͠er.”

“Wait, we were taking too long to solve the mystery with her help, so you decided to kill her?” Belle frowned. “What kind of sense does that make?”

“Why ̶do͠e͡s ̷ít̵ ͟ha̢v͟e to̡ ḿake ̡s͢ęn̴s̛e?” asked ‘Alcor’, “I̷ ex̸pected�� ͠y͡ou to̢ ̷t̢a͟k̵e t̀h̨e mys̷t̕er̡y͞ se͟riou͞sly, s̸olv̶e it͏ q͠u̵ickĺy, and͠ yo̷u d͏i̛s͢app̕ointed̸ m̶e. I̴s͞ i͏t͠ tha̡t muc̀h ̛a su̷rp̸rise ́I too̷k̢ out̶ ḿy̡ f͏r̨ustra͢t͢íon on͡ o͟n̶é ̕of m̀y s͠erv̡an͞t̶s wh̛o, in͡c͡idenţall̵y, h͠app͟en͠s t̕o̶ b̛e̴ th̵e ón̸ly ̵o̷n̵e͏ he̶lping y̨o̡u al̕onģ?” He shook his head in mock disappointment. “Th̴is is ͏a͞ll y̧o͞ur f̡au̸lt̨, y̧o̷u ͡k̡now. S̷he̢ c̷ou̢ld hav̴e liv̶ed. B̢ut, ąl̴as͡, yo͏u lo̧st́ y̴ou͠r̨ t̷r̛ue͏ ĺover͡ fo̡r̀ c̢ourtin͡g too̷ slow͠. My ͡s͞u̸g̨gestion? Hùr̀ry i͠t ̕ùp.”

“Oh yeah? Then why don’t you do it?” Dipper narrowed his eyes at the person above him, the challenge in his tone heavy. Orrie felt a chill in the air; the teen’s anger was nearly tangible. “You’re so all-knowing, huh? Why don’t you use your omniscience to solve this stupid mystery yourself? I’m sure you could do it in an instant instead of toying with human lives.” He looked down at Ms. Wheatly; his face was unreadable. Belle, clearly troubled by her brother’s outburst, touched his arm.

“Dipper?”

His head whipped around toward her, his eyes widening slightly like he just remembered she was there. He again stared at the body on the ground before shaking his head. “Sorry. Forgot this was all an act. Just looked really…convincing.” He directed his leer towards ‘Alcor’ who, for once, didn’t look smug. “You know, I remember Alcor being someone who hated human sacrifices. Killing innocents because he was mildly upset was not his M.O. Only the worst of imposters would have gotten that tidbit wrong.”

‘Alcor’s’ eye twitched, indignation flashing in his sharp gaze. “P̷er̢h͡apş I ̢àm not̸ ás al̡l-pow̶ęrful̶ as͠ yo̧u̕ l̨ik͝é to̷ be͠lieve,” he growled. “Ńo͝r̸ as̶ m̵agn̶a̡ni̵m̸ous. Bưt…” He hovered closer to Dipper, nearly face-to-face with the boy. “I̴f you̢ k̵eep te͝s̵tíng m͡y pátįenc͝e, D̶ipper S͏t͟erl̨in̵g̛, o̡ne wo̴n’t ne͝e̡d o͠mn̛isc͡i͏e͡n͠ce t̷o fi͢g͡ure ou̷t͏ ͏wh͡o k̸i̴lle͞d ou̢r̸ ņex̛t̢ ͠p̧oten͠t͢ial͝ vìct́i͠m.” He snapped his fingers and Dipper was lifted right off his feet. The teen, completely taken aback, was too bewildered to fight the invisible force holding him. Another snap and he was thrown across the room, crashing into the opposite wall with a heavy thump! Everyone stood shocked by the action; Belle was the only one with enough sense to run over and check on her twin.

“Dipper!”

Her shout stirred Orrie to face ‘Alcor’, to call him out on his trick that went way too far. But when he turned ‘Alcor’ was gone. Beside him he heard Flynn curse in a weird language. “Where did he go?” he heard the elf mutter lowly.

The doors flew open, and two housekeepers rushed inside, one of them carrying a tarp. Cliff grabbed one of them by the arm. “Hey! This is getting a little—”

“Please sir,” the housekeeper interrupted, “We’ve got this under control.”

“You’ve angered him enough,” the other worker added, laying the tarp over the corpse. Orrie watched as the sheet’s pure white was slowly consumed by the absorbing red. “Just do what the Master has asked. Please go and solve the mystery quickly. We’ll take care of this.”

“Come on, Orrie.” Orrie felt strong hands pushing him out. Cliff stubbornly kept his sight away from the bloody mess as he guided the boy away. Zahia starred at her husband, worried.

Behind him, Orrie could hear Flynn speaking tersely with one of the housekeepers. “Quite graphic” were the only words he managed to overhear before being escorted outside. Siegfried and Cliff then herded everybody else upstairs.

“That looked scary real,” Zahia mumbled to Cliff, who nodded.

“Thought this would be a bit more family-friendly,” her husband agreed.

“Perhaps that’s just how their script was written.” The others looked at Siegfried. “That was almost the same scene they played out last time, and there weren’t any children present then. I’ll admit, though, they didn’t use magic on the guests.”

“Which was completely uncalled for,” Belle angrily spoke. To her brother and with a lot more concern, “You alright?”

“Well, I’ve been a whole lot worse,” he chuckled humorlessly. But Orrie could still sense the resentment around him.

“I wouldn’t worry too much about it, Dipper. I think it’s illegal for them to actually hurt their guests. Perhaps they overdid it with the effects.”

“Perhaps.” Though Dipper didn’t look convinced. “And maybe you’re right. That was some low level magic he used. I really wasn’t that hurt.” Orrie sighed internally with relief. The party made it to the east wing. As they dispersed to their rooms, mostly gotten over what had happened, Orrie finally mustered the courage to ask the twins a question.

“Um…I know it’s kind of in bad taste to ask this now after, well, you know…but can I team up with you? For the mystery?” Belle and Dipper stared at him, a bit confused.

“You mean after what that jerk did to my bro you still want to go through with this?” Belle wondered, though she at least didn’t sound very offended. Orrie felt his face redden.

“Please don’t take this the wrong way but yeah. I’m not interested in the prize and, to be honest, the acting is a bit over the top. I came here to have fun and enjoy myself. It’s another piece of Alcor I can learn about, and that’s exciting to me.”

Dipper nodded, his expression finally brightening somewhat. “I know what you mean. That challenge you just can’t ignore. Like a puzzle that needs to be solved and answers that need to be discovered.” He smiled. “Yeah! Let’s team up. We’re here to have fun after all– to learn about Alcor and solve an unsolvable mystery.” He held out his hand. Orrie took it, gripping firmly, his own smile broadening. Belle wrapped her arms around both of their necks.

“Alright! Nerds unite!”

Orrie laughed. “Well, we can start looking for clues in the morning. Siegfried secretly told me the hints won’t be hidden until tomorrow.” “Oh! So that’s how he knew what was going on,” realized Belle, “He’s been here before. Wait! Doesn’t that mean he has the advantage? He knows where all the hints are!”

“I’m going to assume the hints change locations each time guests come,” Dipper reasoned, and Orrie agreed. He bade them goodnight before entering his own room.

The sketchbook was still on his bed where he’d left it. He debated finishing the final details of what he could remember of the garden but ultimately decided against it, figuring he’d have plenty of time tomorrow. He changed out of his day clothes and grabbed something from his suitcase that was more comfortable to wear in the evening time. Sliding into bed, he looked around his room once more.

It was still just as beautiful as when he’d first entered. But…the space, the extravagance, the lingering amazement of being here…it was too foreign. Too lonesome. Orrie was familiar with it. A bit used to it. But that didn’t mean he liked it. Didn’t mean he’d admit to his new friends that he was scared to explore the entire manor all by himself. Because he liked their companionship; it was something he admittedly didn’t have a lot of back home.

Orrie settled into the sheets, wondering briefly what tomorrow would bring. For now he was comfortable and safe and had companions nearby. And in two days time, when this was all over, he’d be ending one adventure as a pre-teen and starting another by officially becoming a teenager.

Pleased by the thought, Orrie drifted contently to sleep.

Deep in the lower levels of the mansion, the man in front of the monitors smiled. His staff had pulled off yet another spectacular performance today. Mr. Goodman leaned back and stretched. With his guests full of food, sound asleep, and certainly excited for tomorrow’s mystery he could sit back and watch with ease, the greatest of the attraction’s hurdles finally crossed. It’s never easy to set a calming, relaxing air in a home blanketed with betrayal and death, but his dear employees were always up to the task of doing it, exceeding his expectations every year without fail.

He grabbed the cane by the side of his chair and used it to stand. Leaving the office, Mr. Goodman sighed to himself. Such a shame he only caught the tail end of Terry and Ms. Wheatly’s act due to helping some crew members—the realism of her death scene always unnerved even the toughest of men—but he’d be sure to congratulate them nonetheless.

And speak of the devil…

“There you are. I’ve been meaning to talk to you, Terry.” The star of the attraction was standing by the costume closet. Already he was unvested from his suit, most of his make-up gone, his voice modifying mic removed. Terry looked back, a light smile on his lips.

“Oh, hey there, Mr. Goodman. You need something?” he asked as Mr. Goodman hobbled up to him, his cane clacking loudly against the stone tiles.

“Mostly to congratulate you on another great performance. It’s not natural to keep saying this but you are perhaps the best Alcor impersonator I’ve ever had the fortune to have.” He laughed. “I bet even the real one would agree, don’t you?”

“Thank you. That means a lot coming from you.” Terry gestured for the elder man to follow; the latter did so slowly. “You probably didn’t hear but the kitchen’s a mess after Duglas Segal requested we make him a late-night snack. We’re cancelling the staff dinner.”

But Mr. Goodman shook his head at the news. “And miss out on your friends’ cooking? For shame, Terry. You know better than to let that happen.” He and his employee chuckled at the good-humored chiding. “But,” he continued, his smile fading, “on a more serious note, Terry, I did not appreciate what you did to our guest.” He stopped walking. “Did to whom?” Terry’s attempt to look innocently perplexed did not bode well with Mr. Goodman.

“Dipper Sterling. The one you used magic on to toss against the wall.” He darkened his expression enough to tell Terry he messed up. The young man at least had the decency to look guilty. “Magic of any kind is expressively forbidden on these grounds, except in—”

“—In a case of emergency,” Terry finished, interrupting the old man. “I know, I know. But that kid was so irritating. Made me look like a fool despite all the research I’ve done on the demon. And—” He paused, noticing the leer from his boss hadn’t lessened. “And I shouldn’t have retaliated like that.”

“You shouldn’t have retaliated at all,” Mr. Goodman corrected.

A faint scowl. “…Right.” Terry, after a silent moment, took a step forward. Mr. Goodman didn’t follow. “Coming?”

“I’ll meet you in the inner chamber in a short while. I first want to congratulate Ms. Wheatly. I wonder where she went off to.”

“I heard in passing that she’s already inside the chamber. If you want to catch up with her before she heads to sleep we should probably hurry.” The other frowned. Why would she be there? She always came to see him first after her act.

“But why?” he voiced his concerns, to which Terry shrugged. So Mr. Goodman followed. He would have made it to the end of the hall, too, were it not for the muffled thump! of something heavy collapsing. Mr. Goodman stopped in his walk, turning his head slightly to the side. “You hear something?”

Terry didn’t stop. “Like what?” “Sounded like something fell.” The sound of a door slowly creaking open sent his nerves tingling, sharp and echoing in the mostly empty hall. He spun around, noticing the closet door opening up to reveal a bunch of fallen costumes piling out.

Mr. Goodman hurried to the pile. “I’ll get that!” Terry, just then noticing the old man’s action, hastened over to him. But Mr. Goodman beat him, already bent and picking up the clothes. He froze when a hand caked in dried blood appeared from underneath a large shirt he’d lifted. Props had their own room, and besides he couldn’t recall ever owning a prop like this. He started to pick it up when he saw it was connected to an arm. Confusion and unease growing, he shifted the costumes away to—

“What…Terry– Terry, what is going on here!?” That was Ms. Wheatly. Bloody and dead and buried beneath the clothing. A nasty wound was torn into her front side, chunks of clotted blood still seeping out. “H-how did Ms. Wheatly end up—” He happened to look to his side. Notice the black shoes of the person beside him. Spot the smudge of equally dried blood on their tips and edges. His increasingly frightened gaze slowly lifted.

The cold fury on Terry’s normally calm face was intimidating enough for the old man. “I was hoping this’d go smoothly.” He snapped his fingers, and Mr. Goodman was lifted off the floor against his will. Terry’s scowl deepened, and with a swift flick of his fingers, the costumes and body of Ms. Wheatly were flung back into the closet. “Can’t believe dumb luck of all things cost me my cover. Doesn’t matter; I’ll have the others move her when I’m ready.”

“Others!?” Mr. Goodman’s eyes widened. Was the rest of his staff in on this? Terry smirked.

“Oh, they aren’t the ones you should be worried about. Now, why don’t you come with me to the inner chamber, hm? I’ve got big plans for you.” Mr. Goodman had no choice as he was levitated through the dark hallway, knowing full well they were too far underground for anyone to hear his cries for help.

[grays-library]

Jessica (First Half)

Nobody likes working in retail. That's a basic fact. The hours suck, the customers suck, the pay sucks, and it's a dead end job. You wear the same ugly, ratty polo, park in the same dingy spot, and eat the same lunch from the same fast food joint every single day. You make too much to quit but not enough to improve your life. Working a retail job is the closest you can get to purgatory while your heart is still beating. 

But it's so much worse when you have a terrible boss. You see your boss every single day, and depending on how much they do or don't like you, they can make your job and life miserable. When you've got a terrible boss at your retail job, you're not in purgatory my friend. You're in hell. 

That's how my story starts. I work at a pharmacy/convenience store chain, I make a little over minimum wage, and I have a terrible boss. 

Her name is Jessica, and she's been making my life miserable for far longer than she's been my boss. We went to high school together and we were not friends. She was the head cheerleader, and I was getting high with my friends under the bleachers. She was firing the school up pep rallies, and I was getting fired up in the bathroom with my friends. She was homecoming queen, and I was home, well, you get the idea. 

To be fair, it's easy why she was so popular. She had huge brown eyes and the kind of long, dark hair that always seems to be waving in slow motion, even when there isn't wind. She did the competitive cheerleading so she was in fantastic shape, and she wasn't afraid to show it off. She tested the limits of the dress code with plunging shirts and seemed to own a thousand pairs of leggings. She seemed determined to be spankbank material for the entire school, and she succeeded. 

It was like a 90's coming of age movie. She was the most popular girl in school and I was the kid wearing a ratty t-shirt repping a bad metal band you've never heard of. 

Unfortunately, my life isn't a John Hughes movie. She didn't live next door, we didn't realize we had more in common than we thought, and there wasn't a happily ever after. 

She and her posse of jocks made high school miserable for me. I spent more time in lockers, trash cans, and toilets than I did in classes my freshman year.

However, fast forward four years and things have changed. 

I've always been kinda scrawny, but a gym membership and smart dieting have bulked me up a little. I went from wearing small shirts and skinny jeans to tanks and gym shorts. My hair smoothed out and the pimples disappeared. My taste in music however, is still shit. 

For Jessica, life after high school wasn't as glamorous. As perfect as she may have seemed, she was more on her knees than honor roll. She didn't get into any of her big schools, and she wasn't going to "belittle" herself by going to community college... like I did. 

We started working at this chain around the same time, but for whatever reason, she got promoted faster than I did. After a month, she was running the photo department. After two, she was in the pharmacy. A year into our time at the store, she was an assistant manager, while I still stocked shelves. 

It made no sense to me. She slacked off while I busted my ass, but no matter what, she got promotion after promotion. I asked for a week off so I could go to my grandfather's funeral, and my boss denied me because Jessica had already taken that week off to go skiing. 

Some nights, it would just be Jessica and I closing, and she would relentlessly torment me. I'd take the trash out, and then she'd clean out the office. She'd ask me to mop the floors, only to come by, and "accidentally" spill her frozen coffee drink. The biggest offense would be when I'd close the register, and the next day, money would be missing. The boss would ask me why, and I'd tell him to check the cameras. He'd say I could've stolen money from the office, where there weren't cameras, and I'd remind him that it was Jessica's job to close the store.

After Jessica complained to the manager about my lack of work ethic, I saw my hours get cut severely. 

However, through hard work and determination, I was able to get back in his good graces. I kept asking if there was anything I could do to improve, but no matter what, I always got blown off. I couldn't figure it out. 

Until one faithful night. 

The longer I worked hard without my efforts being recognized, the more frustrated I got. The more frustrated I got, the more resentful I became. And as I became more resentful, I stopped working hard. It's not like anyone at work recognized my hard work anyway. It was Jessica, the manager, and I closing the store, and she told me to go out back and sweep the parking lot. 

Happy to get away from her, I obliged. But when I got to the back, I realized I didn't have the key. I walked back towards the office, and that's when I saw it. 

Looking through the small window in the office door, I saw my boss splayed out in his chair with his pants around his ankles. In between his legs knelt Jessica, her assistant manager's blouse unbuttoned, slobbering all over his dick. 

My heart raced and my face turned beet red. Just like in high school, Jessica had worked her way to the top by going down. As I watched her massage his balls and bob up and down on him, I grew furious... and then I had an idea. Quickly, my hand darted to my pocket, and I snatched my phone. I did it so quickly that it almost flew out of my hand, into the door, but I caught it. 

I opened up my camera and I began to film the events occurring inside, making sure as little of my phone was visible. Though it probably didn't matter, because his eyes were rolled into the back of his head and I swear to god, he was drooling. I looked a little closer and saw that the top of her pants were unbuckled as well, and that her hand was moving up and down pretty quickly. 

He grabbed her head by the pony-tail and began forcing quick, sharp movements down on himself as his legs began to shake. She braced herself on his chair and allowed him to fuck her face, and a few seconds later, his jaw dropped, and he convulsed. Her hand went to her mouth, and he shamefully began to pull his pants up. Satisfied by my evidence, I pocketed my phone and snuck to the back of the store.

A few minutes later, they came out, and I pretended to come back inside. She was buying a tea, and neither of them made eye contact with me. 

"Okay guys, I'm heading out," I announced as I walked towards the exit door. They both nonchalantly waved me off as I walked out into the night, smirking. I'd already uploaded the video to my dropbox, and tomorrow, I would send it to corporate, anonymously of course. They'd both be fired, it would put a black streak on Jessica's resumee, and I can't imagine my manager's wife will be too pleased. 

I was so excited that night that I couldn't sleep. Finally, my shitty job was about to get better. I'd been there for a year and a half, and with the store losing both managers, things were only about to get better for me. I'd definitely get promoted, and I wouldn't have to deal with either of those assholes ever again. 

No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't get any sleep, so I did what I always did when I couldn't sleep. I slowly pulled my boxers down and grabbed my laptop. As I was waiting for it to load, I had a thought. 

From the angle in the video, I could see Jessica's perky tits bouncing up and down. And if I'm being honest, I'd definitely saved a couple of her profile pictures in high school for personal use. 

The pale blue light illuminated the small studio apartment, and I went to my dropbox. I downloaded the video, and clicked it. The video was a solid three or four minutes long, and my camera got a great angle. 

Her perfect round breasts bounced a little every time she went down on his dick, and she really knew what she was doing. I mean, she really, really knew what she was doing. She seemed to take all of him with relative ease, and could even run her tongue around his cock. Practice makes perfect, I guess. 

I didn't even subconsciously realize I was jerking off, but before I knew it, I was ready to bust. I desperately reached for the shirt I wore the day before, but even then the first shot fired onto my wall. 

It was then that I had another idea...

The next night at work, it was just Jessica and I closing. She'd been extra shitty to me, but I kept cheesing it up. I even apologized when she blamed her headache on me existing. She got on me about not sweeping the night before, and I swore up and down that I did it. 

Then it came time to close. 

She called me into the office to count the register, and I rushed over to the manager's chair. 

"Man, this thing is comfy!" I said, whirling around and testing the adjustment lever. 

"...when's the last time you were drug tested, freak?" she spat at me, disgusted. I just laughed in response. 

"Oh man, you're funny," I said, pulling out my phone. "Hey Jess, say hi!" I exclaimed before taking a picture of her. 

"What the fuck? That's so creepy. What's your problem?"

"What? This?" I said, motioning to my phone, "Yeah, phones are kinda creepy. But super cool too. This thing can do everything! Call, text, record", I said, putting extra emphasis on the word record. 

"Whatever," she mumbled, returning to her paperwork.

"Oh no Jess, not whatever. You've gotta check this thing out. Look at this picture of my dog!" I exclaimed, showing her the picture of my black lab. She glanced at it, scowled, and went back to her paperwork. 

"Not a dog person? That's fine. I have a cat too."

"Dude, seriously? Shut the fuck up. I don't care about your ugly ass pets," she barked. I smiled. This was going to be a lot more fun if she was angry. 

"Okay, okay. Pets aren't your thing. But you've gotta check out this video I got last night. I think you'll be super interested," I said, playing the video on my phone and turning it towards her. 

She opened her mouth to say something nasty, but when she realized what it was, she went pale. Her jaw dropped, her eyes grew wide, and she watched in horror as she blew our boss.

"You... fucking... pervert," she whispered, almost growling at me. 

"Whoa! I'm the pervert? At least I do all my fucking at home."

"Delete that," she ordered. I titled my head to the side and tapped my chin, thoughtfully. 

"Nah. I don't think I'm gonna do that. I think that I'm gonna send it to corporate instead. Then I'll never have to see your slutty ass again. Well," I chuckled. "Unless I want to," I said, gesturing to the video. If looks could kill, the one she gave me would've put my whole family in the ground. Then her eyebrows softened, like she was realizing something.