#I had more to say but my building's fucking fire alarm is going of so. toodles

[g0nta-g0kuhara]

There is something so wrong with komaeda and its so funny he thinks he's normal i love him

ITS SO FUCKING FUNNY I'm kind of obsessed with him this time through dr2 and I'm having a blast with it

[eatmyass-x]

“What do you mean you didn’t bring the fob?” The bubble of Wei Ying’s bright pink bubblegum pops as he speaks.

“I mean I didn’t bring the fob,” Nie Huaisang shrugs.

“So then how did we get back in?” It’s three o’clock in the morning and they’re standing in the foyer of Jiang Cheng’s fancy apartment building, in front of an elevator that cannot be operated without a security fob. Their arms are laden with snacks and Wei Ying is chewing five different flavours of bubblegum together. It’s an interesting combination.

“The door was open.”

Wei Ying turns back to look at the main entrance. It was open when they stepped out of the building to go hunt for the unhealthiest, ungodliest snacks the local 24-hour convenience store could provide, and had remained open this whole time, right until the two of them stepped back inside.

“We'll just have to use the stairs then.”

“Jiang Cheng lives on the fourteenth floor,” Nie Huaisang screeches in alarm.

“Exactly.” Wei Ying pops his gum again. “Easy peasy!” But when he tries the door that leads to the stairwell, the door does not open. So he tries again. And again. But the door refuses to budge. “Don’t tell me we need a fob to use the stairs too.”

Beside him Nie Huaisang taps on a sign with a well manicured fingernail and reads, “The stairs cannot be accessed without a fob.”

“Fuck.” Wei Ying squints at the empty security desk. “Jiang Cheng will have to come down to let us in.”

“He’s going to be so pissed off,” Nie Huaisang says, but takes out his phone to message Jiang Cheng anyway.

Several minutes pass as they wait for Jiang Cheng to respond. Wei Ying watches as Nie Huaisang taps irriatedly at his phone, his frown getting deeper and deeper. “What is it?”

“He hasn’t read any of my messages, but they’re all going through so I know his phone is on.”

“Maybe he’s in the shower or taking a shit, or something.” Although Wei Ying remembers Jiang Cheng complaining about the time of night and how much he wanted to sleep. “Try ringing him instead.”

Nie Huaisang nods and puts his phone to his ear. Wei Ying leans against the wall and waits.

And waits.

Eventually it becomes more than clear that Jiang Cheng is not going to pick up. “He’s probably fallen asleep,” Wei Ying groans and slides down the wall to slump onto the ground, nearly choking on his bubblegum. He spits the now discoloured lump out into a tissue with a grimace.

Nie Huaisang follows him down and buries his head in his knees. “What do we do now?”

“Break in?” Wei Ying suggests, and gets a disparaging look from Nie Huaisang in response. “What? I could totally break in! Remember when—”

“Yes, I remember,” Nie Huaisang cuts him off. “I know for certain that you’d be able to break in. But I’m really not in the mood to get arrested tonight, Wei Ying. Please.”

“Well, what else can we do?” He’s already eyeing the security system, thinking up ways he might be able to bypass it. A packet of gummies hits him square in the head. “Hey!” Wei Ying scowls at Nie Huaisang and tears into the packet. “If only Jiang Cheng had a girlfriend so we could call her to come let us in instead,” he says around a mouthful of gummy mush.

“Yeah, if only pigs could fly,” Nie Huaisang scoffs.

Wei Ying gasps, “I’m going to tell him you said that!”

“Right now I wouldn’t care if you told him I fucked his mom. As long as he wakes up and lets us in!”

“I’m going to tell her you said that,” Wei Ying tells him with a grimace, unable to stop images of Nie Huaisang and Jiang Cheng’s mom getting it on popping into his head.

“She’ll fuck us both up, and you know it.”

“That’s if we ever make it out of here alive. This whole building is a death trap!” Wei Ying gestures aggressively around the place. “What if there was a fire? Or the emergency services needed to get in? Or an axe murderer was chasing us? What would we do then?” He puts on an overly saccharine voice and bats his eyelashes, “Oh sorry, Mr Murderer. Please give me a moment while I go and fetch my fob.”

Nie Huaisang grabs the packet of gummies from him. “Rich people don’t give a fuck about safety regulations,” he shrugs. “The building has a gym, pool and a sauna.”

“A sauna?” Wei Ying perks up. “Why didn’t Jiang Cheng tell me?”

“Because he's a hater.”

“That he is.” Wei Ying fluffs up the large family pack of chips they’d bought and places it on the ground to use as a pillow. The marble floor is cold and hard beneath his outstretched body, but otherwise the building is mostly warm. He closes his eyes and settles in. He’s slept in much worse places than this.

“Are you really going to sleep here?” Nie Huaisang sounds appalled.

Wei Ying cracks one eye open. “You won’t let me break in, so what other choice do I have?”

After staring at him morosely for several long moments, Nie Huaisang sighs and balls his jacket up to make a pillow for himself. “Well, at least we’re not trapped in your apartment building. The rats would have eaten us alive.”

“They’d be better company than you,” Wei Ying huffs.

Instead of responding, Nie Huaisang sits back up and punches his balled up jacket several times. “This pillow is shit.”

Wei Ying’s own makeshift pillow crunches loudly under his head. “Should we sixty-nine instead?”

“What?!” Nie Huaisang shrieks, his face rapidly draining of all colour.

“As in, you sleep on my ass and I sleep on yours. Although I’m not quite sure how it’ll work.” He uses his hands to try and figure out the positions they would need to be in. “And my ass is way juicier—”

Nie Huaisang interrupts him with a gasp. “Brilliant idea!”

“What, sixty-nineing?”

“No.” He gives Wei Ying a disgusted look. “Using grindr.”

“What?!” Now it’s Wei Ying’s turn to shriek. “This is not the time nor the place for hookups!” He looks around at the confined space of the foyer in distress. “Are you planning to have sex in front of me?”

“No, you idiot,” Nie Huaisang says, pulling his phone out once again. “I’m gonna try and use it to find someone who lives in this building so that they can let us in.”

“That’s a great idea!” Wei Ying crawls over and makes grabby hands at him. “Huaisang, I could kiss you on the mouth!”

Nie Huaisang pushes him away. “You’re not my type, Wei Ying. How many times do I have to tell you?”

Wei Ying laughs, “Fuck off, I’m everyone’s type.” But his laughter quickly fizzles out when he sees the look on Nie Huaisang’s face. “What’s wrong?”

“My phone just died.” He flips it around to show Wei Ying his phone screen; completely dark and unresponsive.

Wei Ying takes Nie Huaisang’s jacket, wraps it around his own neck and says, “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t end it all right now.”

“Oh, don’t be overdramatic.” He waves a hand dismissively at Wei Ying. “We can just use your phone instead.”

The jacket falls limply out of Wei Ying’s hands. “But I’m not gay!”

“I’m not asking you to suck dick, just download the app.” When he makes no move to comply, Nie Huaisang snatches Wei Ying’s phone out of his hand and downloads the app for him. Wei Ying watches with terror as the unfamiliar black and yellow icon appears on his homescreen. It takes just a few clicks before he’s got a profile up and running for Wei Ying to use. “Here.”

Wei Ying takes his phone back from him with a visibly shaky hand. “What if they want sex?”

“Then you give them sex,” Nie Huaisang shrugs.

“What!”

“I’m just kidding.” He huddles close so that they can both go through the app together.

Wei Ying has no idea how grindr even works so he lets Nie Huaisang take the reins. But that doesn’t save him from having to see a throbbing hard penis in high definition right off the bat. He yells in fright and nearly tosses his phone into the wall.

“Don’t be a baby,” Nie Huaisang laughs. “It’s just a dick!”

“Yeah, well—” Wei Ying splutters. ���Find someone less… aroused!”

Nie Huaisang snickers at him and then disparagingly narrates his way through a few profiles until he comes to a stop. “Oh, this guy looks normal. Message him.”

“Why should I—” he begins, but the rest of the words immediately die in his throat when he lays eyes on the profile. Fuck. The man on his phone screen is beautiful. Face of a movie star and built like an underwear model. Wei Ying can’t make himself look away from his golden eyes, or the terribly low-slung waistband of his sweatpants.

“Earth to Wei Ying!” Nie Huaisang punches him in the arm. “Message the guy. I’m pretty sure he lives somewhere in this building. He might be able to let us in.”

Wei Ying almost tells Nie Huaisang to message him himself and then realises that he doesn’t want that. For some strange, inexplicable reason, he wants to talk to the guy himself. Wei Ying swallows to wet his dry throat and croaks, “He’s too… He’s probably a catfish.”

“Who cares? It’s not like you’re looking to marry him,” Nie Huaisang rolls his eyes.

Wei Ying’s cheeks turn embarrassingly red. “What if he’s an axe murderer?” But he’s already typing out a message.

WY (03:55): Heyyy

“That’d be kinda hot, if you ask me,” Nie Huaisang says, biting his lip. Wei Ying gives him a disgusted look, but when he sees the guy’s picture again he can’t help but imagine him wielding an axe and covered in blood and woah. Wei Ying feels a bit dizzy.

Nie Huaisang reads the message he’s sent and nudges him. “Why are you messaging him like you do want dick after all? Tell him straight up that we’re trapped and need help.”

Wei Ying scowls at him but does as told.

WY (03:55): Do you live in lotus apartments?

WY (03:56): This might be a bit weird but my friend and I are trapped in the foyer on the ground floor cos we forgot to bring a fob

WY (03:56): Pls can u help us 🥺

Several long minutes pass but they don’t get a response from the guy, even though he’s definitely seen the messages. Wei Ying can’t help the pang of disappointment he feels.

“Maybe he thinks you’re lying to get into the building, or something. Just try someone else,” Nie Huaisang suggests.

But Wei Ying doesn’t want to do that, so instead he snaps a picture of himself looking pleadingly up into the camera, eyes wide and lips pouted, the same look that always convinces Jiang Yanli to give him an extra helping of dessert. Then he takes a quick picture of Nie Huaisang where he’s once again slumped across the floor with his jacket over his face, the foyer easily recognisable in the background.

WY (04:06): I promise I’m not lying look

WY (04:06): [2 images attached.]

WY (04:06): PLEASE 🥹

WY (04:07): We’ve literally been stuck here for over an hour

He’s still typing when a blue reply bubble pops up on screen.

LZ (04:07): Coming.

WY (04:07): What?

WY (04:07): To help me?

WY (04:08): TO HELP ME RIGHT????

Wei Ying’s momentary relief quickly turns into panic when he doesn’t get any further replies from the guy. He stands and starts to pace around, ignoring Nie Huaisang’s huffing. When the light above the elevator lights up, indicating that someone is on their way down, he knows he should feel relieved that the guy is coming to help him, and not anything else. But instead he feels jittery all over. He’s not sure what would be worse, if the guy really is a catfish and looks nothing at all like his pictures, or if he looks exactly like them. The elevator pings. Wei Ying wipes his sweaty palms on his jeans and turns to face the metal doors as they slide open.

The man that steps out of the elevator is the farthest thing from a catfish. Six-foot-something tall and bathed in the warm glow of the foyer lights, he’s somehow even more attractive in person than he was in his pictures.

Wei Ying feels his breath catch in his throat. “Wow. Fuck.” The words spill out of his lips unbidden and Wei Ying has to slap his hands over his mouth to keep it shut.

The man slowly looks him up and down, amused. “Likewise.” His voice is deep and gravelly.

Wei Ying’s whole body heats up. “I mean— You’re not a catfish. You’re…” Beautiful. Breathtaking. A dream. Every single word that comes to mind cannot be voiced out loud.

“Lan Zhan,” the man offers.

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying repeats the name. It makes itself at home on his tongue. He licks his lips and sticks his hand out. “Wei Ying.”

Lan Zhan looks even more amused as he takes Wei Ying’s proffered hand. On anyone else the look might come across as cocky, over confident, but on him it just looks good. Instead of shaking Wei Ying’s hand he gives it a light squeeze, thumb stroking over the back of Wei Ying’s hand, and makes no move to let go. Wei Ying does not want him to.

“Ahem!” Nie Huaisang coughs loudly from behind.

Wei Ying reluctantly turns to look at him, still not letting go of Lan Zhan’s hand. Nie Huaisang has gathered all their snacks from the ground and is tapping his foot impatiently. He’s almost invisible behind all the junk food in his arms but he still manages to look irritated. Wei Ying rolls his eyes. “Thank you so much for coming to help us, Lan Zhan. We would’ve had to spend the whole night down here if it wasn’t for you.” His palm is so warm and large against Wei Ying’s. “You’re a saviour!”

“There is no need to thank me.” He tilts his head towards the elevator. “Which floor do you need?”

“Fourteen. My brother—” The word feels much lighter, easier than it used to, “—lives here. He’s probably fast asleep in his room right now with his phone on fucking silent. Me and Huaisang went out to get snacks and forgot to bring the spare fob with us.” He follows Lan Zhan into the elevator when the doors reopen, Nie Huaisang trailing along behind them. “What would we have done without you, Lan Zhan?” He bats his eyelashes. Just a little.

“Oh, I know you,” Nie Huaisang chimes.

Wei Ying doesn’t like the sound of that at all. Does he mean he’s come across Lan Zhan on grindr before and hooked up with him? He whips around to frown at Nie Huaisang and surreptitiously makes a very rude gesture to inquire whether the two of them have had relations before. A dick sucking gesture.

And then he looks up and realises that all four walls of the elevator have mirrors on them, and Lan Zhan has just seen him make that exact gesture. Wei Ying wants to die.

“No,” Nie Huaisang shakes his head. “We’ve just bumped into each other a couple of times when I’ve come to visit Jiang Cheng.”

“Oh.” Wei Ying turns back to face Lan Zhan with a sheepish smile, running his hand through his hair. “I see.”

Lan Zhan’s pretty eyes track the movement of his hand. “I have not seen you around before.”

“Yeah, um.” Wei Ying eyes the phone in Lan Zhan’s hand. He figures he has to explain himself now. “I’m not, I’m not really—” But the rest of his sentence feels stuck in his throat. It had been perfectly easy to yell, ‘I’m not gay!’ at Nie Huaisang but now Wei Ying struggles. “I’m not on grindr,” he says instead. “I only downloaded it to find someone who could let us into the building. I don’t—” and this bit feels important for some reason. “I don’t do hookups.”

“Mn.” The intensity of Lan Zhan’s gaze does not waver. “But I meant that I have not seen you around in the building before.”

“Oh!” Wei Ying wants to punch himself in the head. “Of course. Yes, I— My brother. Jiang Cheng. We’re good now, but we fell out a few years back. So this is my first time visiting his place.”

“That explains it,” Lan Zhan nods. “I would have remembered a face like yours.”

Wei Ying’s heart does something funny in his chest.

“Can someone please hit the button?” Nie Huaisang groans.

Wei Ying nearly jumps out of his skin. He’d forgotten there was someone else in the elevator with them. It’s impossible to look away from Lan Zhan, despite Nie Huaisang’s huffing and moaning. Like there’s a magnet beneath the surface of his skin, somewhere inside his ribcage, pulling him towards the man.

The elevator hardly even jolts as it begins its ascent upwards, but Wei Ying stumbles anyway, a step and a half closer to Lan Zhan. Lan Zhan steadies him with a hand around his waist, warm through the thin, threadbare cotton of his two sizes too small t-shirt. Wei Ying looks up at him through his eyelashes, his own hand coming to rest on Lan Zhan’s chest, sturdy and firm under his tentative fingers.

“Which floor do you live on, Lan Zhan?” he asks. His voice comes out low, murmured in the air between them.

“Thirteen.” Lan Zhan’s hand slowly travels further along his waist, slipping just slightly underneath his shirt.

“Right below us!” Wei Ying gasps. The gasp is less to do with Lan Zhan’s words and more to do with the touch of his hand. “Lan Zhan…” he breathes, watching Lan Zhan watch him chew at his bottom lip. “Do you think it’s fate?”

“Maybe.” There is laughter in Lan Zhan’s eyes, but it doesn’t feel mocking. It feels indulgent, good enough to drown in.

“Yo, what the fuck…” Somewhere far away Nie Huaisang sounds like he’s drowning in disbelief. Wei Ying has never found it easier to ignore him.

The elevator pings as it comes to a stop, breaking Wei Ying out of his reverie. Lan Zhan follows them out onto Jiang Cheng’s floor to let them through the final set of doors with his fob. Nie Huaisang is quick to push past them and make his way into Jiang Cheng’s unlocked apartment, muttering something distinctly homophobic under his breath and slamming the door shut behind him.

Wei Ying on the other hand, loiters in the hallway, unwilling to part ways with Lan Zhan. He doesn’t know how to draw this out any further without saying anything, but for the first time in his whole life words are evading him entirely. When he looks up at Lan Zhan, he finds him already looking back at Wei Ying, still as indulgent, still as beautiful.

“It’s not my apartment or I would invite you inside…” he finally says, mustering up as much courage as he can. His intention could not be any clearer. He can feel as his face heats up with a vivid blush.

“It is late—”

“Of course.” Wei Ying’s heart sinks. “Yes, of course. Sorry…” he laughs awkwardly. Lan Zhan had only come to help them and here was Wei Ying, practically throwing himself at the man. “Thank you so much for helping us, Lan Zhan. I won’t keep you any longer.” He thinks about getting Lan Zhan a box of chocolates or something of the sort tomorrow to thank him properly for his help. At least it’ll give him a reason to see him again. He really hopes it won’t come across as too desperate. “Thank—”

“Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan interrupts his awkward rambling. “What I mean to say is that nothing will be open at this time of night. Will you let me take you out tomorrow?”

“Out?” Wei Ying’s mind screeches to a halt.

“For lunch,” Lan Zhan says. “Or dinner, if you’d prefer.”

“Oh. You…” Wei Ying blinks. Hope bubbles all through his body and pours out of his big, stupid mouth, “So you’re not going to just hit it and quit it?”

“No. Not unless that is what you’re looking for?” Lan Zhan quirks a brow up in question.

“No,” Wei Ying is quick to correct. “No, no. A date.” And it is with no small amount of astonishment that Wei Ying realises he is feeling shy. Something he has never, ever felt before. “A date, right?” he asks hesitantly.

“A date,” Lan Zhan confirms with a smile.

[blissfulbarbie]

Scary Husband Privileges / Joel Miller x Reader

Description: No outbreak AU. Joel hates your boss. Hates him. What was meant to be a day off for the both of you, turns into Joel grumpily driving you to work and meeting you for lunch. And then you bump into your boss.

Word count: 1.5k

A/N: This was inspired by @cruelfvkingsummer's grumpy!husband!Joel prompt ! All credit for the original idea goes to them.

"Who do you think would win in a fight, me or Mr. Weasel?" "Wessell. And the answer is neither of you because it's never gonna happen." "No, but if–" "Joel, you are not fighting my boss. Not even in your head. Got it?" "But he's a fucking-" "Joel." "Fine."

Unbeknownst to the wealthy CEO, there was a one-sided beef going on between a Mr. Joel Miller and Mr. Carter Wessell. Mr Wessell is your boss at the publishing company you've been working at for the past year, and Joel does not like that man. Mr. Wessell is too comfortable asking you to work overtime without giving you the chance to say no and not approving your days off even when you work more days than any of the other employees in the company. Despite being married, his eyes also tend to wander when you are around, and you find yourself trying to avoid being alone with him. His suggestive comments and "friendly touches" toe the line of being inappropriate. Of course, Joel doesn't know this part because if he did, he would set fire to your office building.

Today is one of those days where you tried to request a day off, which was denied by your boss. You wanted the day off to spend with Joel as he had arranged a day off work too. But your boss insisted that he needed you at work to complete an "urgent task."

Joel's phone alarm blares relentlessly, ripping through the morning's peace. Grumbling under his breath, he slaps the off button. The room is bathed in a soft, golden glow as he looks over at you, still fast asleep beside him. Cautiously, he brushes a strand of hair from your face, his touch gentle for a man with such a gruff exterior.

Joel gets up, careful not to wake you, and heads to the bathroom. The cold shower sends shivers down his spine, but it’s enough to wake him up, frustration boiling just beneath the surface. Your boss had refused to let you take the day off so you could spend it together, and it's gnawing at him.

Dressing in his usual jeans and a plain t-shirt, he can't shake off the frustration. He was so looking forward to spending the day with you. Why does some stuffy old man in a suit get to decide whether or not you get to spend the day with your husband?

As he descends the creaking stairs, Joel can't help but sigh. Despite all of his annoyance, he was going to make this the best damn work day as possible for you. He'd start by making you breakfast. The sizzle of the frying pan fills the kitchen, filling him with the smell of victory. I can do this. I can make today good.

As Joel daydreams about different methods of torture for your boss, you appear at the kitchen door, hair tousled, and a sleepy smile on your face. "Morning. You're up early. You should've slept in." You walk up behind him and give him a kiss on his back before taking your place at the dining table.

Joel grunts a vague response, not wanting to make a big deal out of the fact that he woke up earlier than he would have, just to make you breakfast before you head off to work. He places the food in front of you, kisses the top of your head, and tucks your hair behind your ears before sitting down next to you.

"Your boss is a real piece of work," he grumbles.

You smile sadly, clearly sharing his frustration, but you attempt to diffuse his irritation. "I'll talk to him, Joel. But we won't let this ruin our day, okay?" Finally, he gets a day off from his job, and all he wants to do is spend it with you, and he can't. Your heart aches.

Joel nods, his eyes softening just a fraction. "Yeah, yeah. I just think you deserve a break. You work so hard.”

You nod. “You know, despite my boss being a Grade A asshole, I really do like my job. And the money is good."

Joel nods silently in response. He can’t deny that. Ever since you got this job, you've both been living more comfortably than before. You got the kitchen renovated and managed to build him a shed to work on his woodwork projects. He loves it.

And God, he's so damn proud of you. You don’t know this, but he brags to all the guys at work about his wife who works in a swanky new building in town and has her own office. "Where's your girl?" they ask when you miss out on a get-together they're having. "She's still working. Yeah, they're starting a new project, and she's leading it, so they need her there. Important stuff," he replies with a serious look on his face, but his heart swells with pride. My wife is so fucking cool, he finds himself thinking often.

After the dishes are washed, and you've finished your coffee, you move to get the car keys. "Okay, I should get going. Thanks for breakfast, sweetheart. We're still having lunch together, right?”

Joel gets up with you and snatches the car keys from your hands. “I’ll drive. And yes, we are having lunch together.”

“Joel, go rest. I can drive–”

Already at the doorway by this point, Joel keeps walking towards the car and yells back at you, “Clock’s ticking, slowpoke. Don’t wanna be late. Get your ass in the car now.”

You shake your head, racing towards the car with your grumpy husband already in the driver��s seat, honking the horn like a lunatic and probably waking the whole neighborhood up.

--

Joel’s jaw is set with determination as he drives. He wants to spend every minute of his off day with you because that was the whole reason he took the day off in the first place. If that means driving through rush hour traffic to get you to work, so be it.

"You didn't have to do this, you know," you mumbled.

Joel gave a curt nod. "Damn right. That’s what makes me such a good husband.”

You smile and nod in agreement. As the car pulls up to a stop in front of the building, Joel turns to you.

“I'll pick you up later for lunch. Remember. We. Are. Having. Lunch. Together.” He enunciates each word loudly and clearly.

“I know, Joel.” You smile. Even through his grumpy old man antics, you can’t help but find him adorable.

“And that means, you say no if Mr Weasel–”

“Wessell.”

“Weasel asks you to go out for lunch with him and the team. Got it?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And if he insists that you go along, you give him my number and tell him to talk to me. Yes?”

“No.”

“Baby–”

You cut him off with a kiss on the lips. “I’ll be there. I love you. See you later.”

--

After you finish your lunch, you and Joel are walking back to the car, fingers laced together. You round a corner, and suddenly, you both catch a glimpse of Mr. Wessell exiting the restaurant opposite the street. The man was in the middle of a heated phone call, his face reddening as he yelled into the phone.

Joel's eyes narrow, and he clenches his jaw, his blood pressure rising. Although they’d never met, Joel recognized him from the company Facebook page that he only followed to see pictures of you at work. He couldn't help but scoff, "Now we can’t even go for lunch without seeing that dumbass?” 

You're quick to intervene. You cup your hand over Joel’s mouth and whisper, "Shut up, he might hear you.” 

With a hand cupped over his mouth, Joel didn’t look very menacing, but he made sure to shoot a glare at the man who was still distractedly yelling into his phone. 

You tug on Joel's arm, trying to pull him away. "Come on, let's go, little bulldog. Down boy."

Joel reluctantly gets dragged by you, your hand still cupped over his mouth. His voice comes out muffled as he glances back at your boss saying, "I’m gonna destroy him with my mind."

You keep dragging him along as you say in a placating voice. "Oh, I’m sure you can. Big scary grumpy old man. Now let’s stop playing John Wick and get to the car.” 

Joel narrows his eyes at you. You release his mouth and turn to face the street. You chuckle softly as you walk back to the car together. Your scary husband privileges amuse you to no end. It’s funny, but it’s also reassuring to know that he has your back if things go south.

--

"I am kinda like John Wick." Joel mumbles as you walk hand in hand back to the car.

"Joel, we are not having this conversation again. You are not like John Wick."

"No, you're right. I'm better."

Tag list: @just-some-random-blogger @joeldjarin @pattwtf

[davinashifts333]

JUST FIVE MORE MINUTES

(DAMONXWITCH!READER):

⚫️summary; You had know Damon & Stefan for over 100 years and have been secretly seeing Damon since he got back to Mystic Falls, You being there already with Stefan just made it easier for him to be near her & to enjoy himself with You. However, him letting his guard down to the only person that he’s ever truly loved? A bit dangerous.

⚠️warnings; smutty, implied smut, horny!Damon because why not, swearing, implied nakedness, blood, etc. 18+ ONLY!!

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The sheet draped over your bare body as Damon drew shapes on your legs. You stirred in your sleep as the after effects of the long night prior came to light. Body sore in the best way possible, his touch so familiar yet still sent shocks through you.

“Damon. Mmm.” You hummed as he mimicked the noise that escaped you.

“Yes Princess?” His signature smirk crawled onto his face as his eyes found their way to yours. You laid there for a moment, taking in the perfectly chiseled features he had been blessed with until a knock interrupted you both. Stefan.

“Hey Y/n! Time to go if you wanna make first period!” He shouted as he made his way back to his room down the hall.

“Got it! Thanks! Shit shit shit. I missed my alarm. I gotta go.” You pulled the sheet to cover yourself as you frantically searched for anything to wear. But, little to your dismay your body was suddenly under Damons once again, air knocked out of your lungs as he kissed your so softly yet with such hunger.

“Da- Hey! I have to go! You heard him i’m gonna miss first period if I don’t hurry.” You struggled to get out as Damon planted kisses down your neck and chest.

“Just five more minutes baby, please. You know I hate begging.” He mumbled against your skin. Your hands found their way into his raven locks as he found his way down your torso.

“Okay enough! I seriously have to go now and if we just end up fucking again, i’ll never leave this bed.” You said a bit harshly. He leaned back holding his head above yours.

“Fucking? You do know I don’t just

fuck you right, Y/n?” He sounded somewhat offended in a sense & you sat up to face him.

“Well isn’t that what we do? Just a couple of friends who have been friends with benefits for over a hundred years?” He scoffed getting up to grab a blood bag from the mini fridge in your room. You had conveniently put it there for him specifically. He sighed as he finished and turned to you. A bit of blood still on his chin.

“Damon? Are you okay?” You already knew the answer but never expected for his response to end the way it did.

“Let’s see Y/n. The girl I have been in love with for over a hundred years thinks I only fuck her for fun and doesn’t notice that I give myself to her entirely. So no, I am not okay.” He sits on the edge of the bed, head hanging low as he somewhat regrets the erratic confession he had just made.

“The girl you’re in love with huh? Well. Does the guy i’m in love with know that there’s no one else i’ve ever laid with and let touch me the way he does? Does he not notice the ways I have even made it easier for him to stay longer? The bite marks on my body from him that I adore every time I look in the mirror the morning after?” Silence fell as he was now sitting up straight, head filling with thoughts he had never had.

“Does he know how passionately I love him while he lays between my legs with his head in my chest? Or how a fire builds when his fingers dance on my skin? How about this. When I lay here and pray to every god out there that he whispers that he loves me back so I can finally call him mine?” He turns to you and goes to say something but before he can, you connect your lips to his.

“I do. Mmm. Of course I love you. God!” He says between breaths. Lips melting into one another as you lay back into the huge comforter.

“Skip class for me? Stay with me longer, I don’t want this to end.” He begged you as he laid on your bare chest. Your hands finding his only to have him interlock your fingers.

“How could I say no to you after what just happened? Of course i’m staying Damon. Forever.” You said as he smiled back up at you, lifting you up into his lap earning a fit of giggles from you. Safe to say you never made it to school and Stefan had a hell of a time learning the news when he got home.

•

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•

•

•

ENJOYYY!!!

[flying-nightwing]

Moonlight by the Docks (And They Say Romance is Dead) - Slade Wilson

Hi. It's been a while. But guess fucking what babes, I'm pulling all the stops to be forgiven. It's been more than a YEAR in the making, and mark my word it probably won't happen again so take it all in, but here is the Deathstroke smut a LOT of you have been wanting. Y'all, this is the long awaited sequel to Tango à Deux. Please forgive me?

(it's technically a sequel but can be read as a standalone if you accept that batsis and Slade already know each other)

Also, enjoy!

Pairing: Slade Wilson x Nightshade!Batsis

Word count: 4721

Warnings: violence, death/killing unnamed NPC, porn with plot, dirty talk (lots of it), unprotected sex, p in v, batsis and deathstroke fighting for dominance (NO classic dom/sub dynamics bc that's a pass for me), more dirty talk, body fluid, kinky shit, creampie, biting, rubbing, rough sex, reference to voyeurism, major praise kink, everything is extremely consenting and willing by both ADULT parties, might have missed something but I think if you made it this far you're into it.

Have fun ;)

“Nightshade, status”

You barely heard Batman's hushed check in as you barrelled into a boarded up window, breaking the moulding wood with your shoulders and rolling out of the building as bullets rained over you. You wasted no time getting back on your feet, starting to sprint away from the semi automatic rifles rapid firing in your direction.

“Nightshade, status?”

“JUST A MINUTE” You yelled as you dived behind a large container, flinching at the sound of the bullets hitting the metal and ringing loud into your head. “Fucking fuck shit”

“What's going on?” Batman's voice grew agitated despite remaining a low hiss. “Talk to me Nightshade”

“Wrong fucking intel!” You replied as you jumped on your feet again, taking advantage of the opportunity window their reloading gave you to run across the dockyard to find better cover. “It's happening now! There's at least twenty guys here, all trained and armed to the teeth. And they're all on my ass right now”

What was supposed to be a simple recon mission with a possibility of stealth takedown op turned into a giant mess at the first opportunity. The second you slipped into the warehouse, you quickly realized that the three guards on shift that you had been briefed about was, in fact, a small militia that was ready to be deployed on some combat mission, or that's what you believed was being said before you got made. 

You would have also liked to know in advance that the building was littered with state of the art tripwires, movement detectors and heat sensors. Alas, you had gone in believing it was just a normal warehouse, and you had realized a moment too late you had triggered pretty much every alarm on the upper floor and very much alerted the militia of your presence. 

 “Tell me your position, I'm coming”

Your eyes went to the containers around you, taking as much information as you could without slowing down. Going into the maze of old containers was a great idea until you had to describe your surroundings. “I'm westbound, but those crates all look the same, B”

“On my way”

You ducked as much as you could to make yourself smaller as the symphony of bullets bouncing on the metal caught up to you. You took a hard left, trying to remember which way was more likely to not end up with a dead end, then went to your right. You could hear them shout, not giving up the chase, but you still tempted a look over your shoulder. They weren't on you yet. You faced forward and picked up some speed, rounding the corner towards the darkest and narrowest path to the left.

Before your eyes could even adjust to the shadows cast by the containers, your feet lifted off the ground and a large gloved hand was slapped tight on your mouth. On instinct, you began trashing to get away before your back was pulled flush against a hard armoured chest with a strong arm locking your waist against it. 

“Quiet, little bird”

The militia paused at the crossroad, then after a string of barked orders, turned right. At the same time, your brain took in the orange and dark grey of the armour around you and pieced it with that voice you couldn’t mistake for anyone else's. You stopped struggling, yet, he didn’t release you. His hand was still firmly cupping your jaw while you could feel his other arm flex around your waist. 

He tsked as the echoes of the yells grew more distant. “Once again getting in my way. What will I do with you now?”

You replied something, but it was muffled by his glove. You reached up and pulled his hand down, but he still let it linger on your neck once your mouth was free. You felt a bit weak in the knees and cursed yourself for getting turned on so easily, and even more for your next words. “Hopefully finish what you started last time if you’re not a coward”

Oh, that was so not the thing to say right now. You felt his hand around your neck tighten enough to be noticeable, but still loose enough for you to weigh your next words carefully. The yells once again grew closer, telling you the militia found a dead end and were backtracking towards your position. 

“Do you really want to do this right now?” His voice was so close to your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. As much as pouncing on him right there and then was generating divine images in your brain, you were still being hunted down by an enemy who’d be on you much sooner than later. And well, if you died riding Deathstroke, Bruce would bring you back to life just to kill you himself, his own code be damned. 

“As much as I wanna say yes,” You breathed back. “This bunch of angry men want me dead, so I believe the smart thing would be to deal with them first”

He released you. “Alright then. I’ll be here”

Your feet were fully back on the ground and you turned around to face him. Wow. You had been so right in your assumption that his other suit–namely, the one he was currently wearing–would be hotter on him. Even in the dark, he looked positively glorious and mighty delicious in all that armour, and with a small armoury worth of weapons strapped all over his, big, strong, menacing body– 

You forced yourself to calm your thoughts down. “A little help would be appreciated”

“Why?” You couldn’t see his face, but you just knew it was full of smug arrogance. “I’ve got my own mission here. Who says they're part of it?”

You glanced in the direction of the ever growing noise, then back to him. “C'mon, I'm literally about to have sex with you, the least you could do is make sure I'm alive for it”

He sighed loudly. “I suppose you make a compelling point”

The militia rounded the corner and spotted you as Slade stepped between their fire and you. In one swift movement, he pulled out his sword and twirled it in his hand, as if provoking the armed men in front of him. For a moment, he just stood there, shielding you from the onslaught of bullets suddenly incoming your way. They all bounced on the front of Slade’s armour, painting him off as some kind of god of war, and you couldn’t help but gawk at the sight. You were so caught onto just how hot he looked that you almost didn’t register him springing into action and starting to cut through the group. 

You reached for your karambit blades in your thigh straps and followed him in, making sure not to stray too far from his shadow to keep your cover from the fire. 

You waited for the reload to duck under his arm, sliding on your knees in a spin and slicing the tendons of two men. That sent them straight into the path of Slade's swords, adding to the bloodshed. You swiftly returned behind him as another round of bullet was fired, but by the sound alone, the number of gunmen was plummeting. 

The next reload came and you once again stepped away from him as he brought his two swords down onto some poor son of a bitch. You noticed a knife coming down and aiming for the small opening between his suit and his mask, so you sprung into action. 

Literally.

You used his propped up knee to propel yourself up and jump onto the guys' shoulders, gripping onto him by squeezing your thighs around his skull. He tried to get you off of him by spinning and thrashing like a mechanical bull, but you held on tight. He was getting desperate to throw you off as pressure grew around his head, lifting his knife in the air to stab your leg. You were faster however, reacting on instinct and plunging your karambits into his neck. 

He began sputtering as he tried to claw at his throat, blood squirting out of his artery and onto your suit. He dropped down to his knees and you got off, only then noticing he had been the last one standing. Key word, had been. He fell down on the floor in a puddle of his own blood as you observed him. Then, you felt like you were being watched intensely. 

You trailed your gaze up to see Slade on his feet and unmoving among the carnage he had mostly caused. You couldn't help the thoughts that flashed into your mind, or the way your body reacted to it. You closed your eyes and let out a sigh, wondering what the hell was wrong with you.

Because somehow, you found it fucking hot.

And the fact that he did all of that just to get a taste of you? Yeah that did it. You completely switched your brain off as your feet took determined steps to him, quickly closing the distance to him and paying no mind to the bodies littering the floor. The second you were in front of him, you ripped his mask off and kissed him hard. 

And he was ready for you. Without a single after thought of hesitation, his gloved hand yanked your hood back and cupped your neck, dragging you back in the shadows with him. 

Just like the first time you sneaked out in a quiet place to make out, his lips were rough and insistent on yours. His hands were busy mapping your body, gripping your hips tight as he pushed you back onto the metal of the container. Like a reflex, his fingers seeked your back for a zipper, but found none. He kept searching for the proper way to undo your suit, until he pulled back with a glare of frustration.

You rolled your eyes. “I'll take care of mine, take care of yours”

Of course it was hard to figure out, it was made as such. But telling him that would only push him to try and get it and you weren't nearly patient enough right now to nurse his ego. 

In practiced motions, you undid your belt and unclasped several buckles that held the top part of your suit to the bottom. You barely had the time to pop off the button of the waistband that you were pushed once again on the cold metal, a much larger hand quickly replacing yours. 

Your pants were quickly undone and his hand slid down your stomach, reaching their destination with haste. You gasped as his calloused fingers began working on your clit, rubbing it in circles at a pace that was both tortuously slow and absolutely fantastic. His free hand slapped on your mouth just as you let out a moan that would have definitely bounced around the whole shipyard. 

He tsked. “As much as I would like to hear you, I'd rather not get interrupted by another armed militia. You'd agree, wouldn't you?”

Your breath shuddered and you nodded. Still, his hand didn't go away. 

He gave you a smug smirk. “I'll keep it there just in case”

You didn't even think about arguing, instead, you squeezed his forearm to encourage him to keep going. His fingers expertly worked you, alternating between pressure and friction and making your eyes roll back into your skull. Your hips followed his movements, chasing more friction from the fabric of his glove. You were greedy for him, for his hands, for his body. All you wanted to do is take, take and take, and luckily for you, he seemed more than happy to give it all to you and more. 

“That's it little bird, fly for me”

His hand moved just right with his words, and you couldn't do anything else to obey his command. You let go and came harder than you had in years, your vision going completely white for a second. Good thing his hand was muffling your voice, otherwise you were sure the whole city would have heard your scream bouncing from the dock. 

When he was certain your whimpers had quieted to an acceptable level, he took off his hand from your mouth and caressed the side of your head. “I think I like you like this” He hummed. “Being a good girl for me”

You were already half coherent from your orgasm, but him calling you a good girl like this, even if it was most likely condescending, was definitely getting you worked up for round two. “Fuck, if this is what you give me every time, I'll be whatever you want”

Oh yeah, you were NOT thinking with your brain at the moment. 

And the groan coming from him did not help calm down your heartbeat. And judging by how his entire body flexed along, you could only figure out those words of your equally turned him on, creating a feedback loop that threatened to keep you here with him until well past sunrise. 

Like a man starved, he shoved you back into the wall with his whole body, pinning your naked hips with his. You took in a sharp breath when his hard cock rubbed against your sensitive clit, spreading your orgasm all over his pants. Before you can make any more noises, his lips were on yours, reclaiming back with interest his dues from the previous ride. The grinding of his hips against yours drove you delirious and made you forget everything that wasn't about him right now. 

He reached between his body and yours and pulled out his cock, letting it bounce on his chest piece and stand proud, already glistening with precum. Just like the rest of him, he was huge. Good thing you had a whole waterpark going down there, otherwise he would never have fitted. He snaked his arms around your thighs and put his hands on your ass, then hoisted you up like you weighed nothing more than a feather.  

“Not one drop on this suit” You warned breathlessly as he lined himself with you.

“What, no more ruining your clothes?” He raised a teasing eyebrow. 

“That dress was worth pocket change compared to this” You replied, eyelids half open as you forced the moment of clarity. “Buying me a new one would have you file for bankruptcy”

“Fine, no stain whatsoever” He drawled out, leaning into your space once again and ghosting his lips on your ear. “Will you be my good girl and take it all inside then?”

The spell you had broken returned tenfold over you as your knees buckled. It took you several seconds to find your voice and prepare an answer that wouldn't be an embarrassingly loud moan. “If I say yes, will you get going?”

The pressure from his tip at your entrance alone made you whimper in absolute delight. This is what had been peeking more and more often in your naughty dreams ever since you met, and more often than not they ended with your hand doing what you now knew was a mediocre impression of his.

Slowly, he lowered you into him until you couldn't go further down. You were so full of him it was literally impossible to think about anything other than the pressure between your legs and the massive cock impaling you. That too, had been greatly underestimated by your imagination. Nothing would have done the real thing justice. You wrapped your legs around his waist and pulled him just a little bit deeper, and it took all of his restraint not to start fucking you like an animal after that. 

“Fuck little bird,” He said, his voice low and rough. You hadn't started moving yet, but a quick squeeze around him made him let out a low grunt that you would definitely replay in your head later on. “You always take ‘em that easy?”

“I think that's only you,” Feeling bold at how much he tried to act tough about it, you decided to return the favour. You snaked your arms around his neck and pulled yourself closer, leaving a trail of sloppy kisses up until you reached his ear. “Maybe your little bird has just been dreaming about getting railed by the big bad wolf one night too many to give him any resistance”

He switched his hands from your ass to your waist and pushed you back roughly on the wall. The angle changed and stars flashed in your vision for a moment. 

“Why don't you tell me about those dreams?” His words were demands and he started moving inside of you, hips thrusting forward in a tortuously slow movement. Yet, it made your body sing along, meeting him halfway. 

“It always starts with you dragging me off to a dark secluded place after I said some shit to get you hard” You smiled as he kept hitting the right spot. Your focus on his questing was a lifeline you gripped with all you had not to just become some fucked out doll for him. You intended to make him work a little more before getting to this point. 

He gave you a particular hard thrust that made you gasp for air. “Keep going on, little bird” He grunted in your ear.

“And then– Fuck” You threw your head back on the wall. He wasted no time claiming your open neck, grazing his teeth on the skin. “No marks either”

You could practically feel him rolling his eyes, but he backed off with the teeth and kept going on with his lips. “And then what?”

“And then we rile each other up properly” You smirked as you threaded your hand in his hair and gripped hard. The low reverberating moan that came out of him combined with the very obvious twitching of his dick inside of you nearly made you finish right here and there. “Your head between my legs, taking good care of me…”

His thrusts definitely picked up speed as your words hit their mark. He did nip your neck at the moment, but it was light enough that you let it fly. 

“Then when you show that you know how to warm me up, I'd get down on my knees–” That made his hips jut forward and hit a deep spot in you that made you moan like a whore. “Maybe– Maybe even let you fuck my face if your tongue made me cum hard enough–”

“Fuck, who knew Gotham's little princess had such a dirty mouth on her, huh?” He straightened up and returned his glove to your oversensitive clit, brushing it hard enough to catch your voice in your throat. “What would everybody think if they saw you so eager to be my good little fuck toy?”

That would be a proper scandal indeed. 

“I don't care what they'd think” You managed to mumble. It was getting harder to keep your mind sharp now that he had begun rubbing you again. “They can even watch, as long as they don't interrupt”

You should have kept your damn mouth shut, you realized seconds later. You had obviously called irony upon yourself just by speaking the words.

“Nightshade?”

It was like you were suddenly doused with a bucket of ice water. You grew rigid as your earpiece came to life with probably the last voice you wanted to hear right now. Your eyes slowly widened as you remembered that your father was on his way to be your backup. And him walking in on you and Slade wouldn't be as low key as it had been with your brothers. There would be bloodshed. 

Slade obviously noticed your change of attitude and paused his thrusts. You dreadfully raised your hand to your comm and double tapped it to turn on the mic. 

“B?”

It took a few seconds for Slade to understand what was going on, and the shit eating grin he gave you told you he definitely wouldn't make the next step easy. With his good eye never leaving your face, he began thrusting again, challenging your murderous glare.

“I got delayed by another armed group in the shipyard,” He explained. “I’m on my way now. Where are you?”

You thanked whatever divine intervention that put obstacles on his way, because you had totally forgotten about him once you had caught sight of Slade. You were in an uncomfortable situation, but not as much as if he had walked on you. You took a moment to come up with a good enough excuse to keep him away just a little bit longer for you to get out of this mess. In the meanwhile, Slade still kept at it, obviously trying to make you slip. “Um, I–” You coughed to hide a gasp as he hit you deep.

‘Fuck you’ you mouthed to Slade, which he replied in the same fashion, ‘Already am’. That fucker.

“Nightshade, what’s going on?”

You could have killed him right there if he hadn’t been doing it so right. 

“Nightshade?”

“Yep, uh,” You took a deep breath and got a hold of yourself. Batman was getting impatient and you had to start being credible. You made a show of coughing exaggeratedly before speaking your next words, your eyes never leaving Slade's. “Just got sucker punched. It's fine though, it just took me by surprise. T'was nothing but a weak shot”

Slade’s smug expression faltered just a little, and you gave him your own version of the shit eating grin he was no longer giving you.

“Ok, where are you now?”

“I've backtracked and now Northbound, but I’ve got it under control” You took the opportunity of your previous lie to breathe deeply and counter some of the absolutely not family-friendly noises that were threatening to come out of your mouth instead of words. “But I’m not the only one here–” Deep breath. “I was being chased, and then I wasn’t. Only a couple of guys kept my trail… Somebody is picking out targets here. I think it would be smarter to fall back on the meetup point and recon”

“... Are you sure?”

“Positive” The word came out short and dry. “I think they might have done the same”

“Alright, I’ll reroute”

“I’ll catch up to you” You managed to say without tripping. “Nightshade out”

You made sure your comm was definitely off before hitting Slade on the chest. He only let out a quiet chuckle at what most likely felt like a breeze to him. “Asshole”

He leaned forward and rested his whole forearm on the container behind you, then thrust up. The new angle had you rolling your eyes in your skull, seeing black and orange stars in the blur of your vision. “Gotta make you pay somehow for all that work you made me do”

“As if you haven’t enjoyed it– oh”

He resumed his pace from before the untimely interruption, effectively cutting off your train of thoughts. “Now little bird, I believe you have somewhere else to be. Such a shame I don't have time to make you beg for it”

“Mhhfp, fine” You muttered as your arms went back around his neck. “Just because you have been quite compliant with my demands–”

He seemed confused for a second, until you pulled yourself up and nuzzled against his neck, letting out your prettiest little moans every time his hips hit yours. With your voice low enough just for him to hear, you gave him what he wanted. 

“Please Slade, I need it” The out of rhythm thrusts and the low grunt that you felt through his chest told you everything you needed to know. “I need your cum inside of me, fuck your cum into your good girl”

He slapped a hand on the wall behind you and wrapped his other arm around your waist, moving you faster up and down with his own thrusts forward. He grunted louder and louder in your ear, getting closer to his release. You had no idea if it was the begging or his reaction to it that turned you on, but you were getting pretty close as well. 

“Fuck, little bird” His voice was rough and low, and you couldn't help the nip to his throat instead of something louder. “I'll ruin you– I'll fucking ruin you”

“Please ruin me” You whined, feeling the familiar crescendo of your orgasm build. “Oh fuck, oh fuck, please, I'm so close, please don't stop”

“C'mon, be a good girl and cum for me” 

He drove you into the wall with his hips and the friction of his belt on your clit drove you to the edge. You had expected it, but holy shit, your orgasm hit you like a freight train. Your walls clenched around him hard and you pulled him deeper into you with your legs, holding onto him with everything you got. Your vision fully went white and your teeth bit into his neck like they had a mind of their own. 

After a string of swears, he completely lost his rhythm and stilled, his hips sputtering forward and spilling inside of you with a low moan that almost got you ready for another round. 

You didn't move for a moment, focusing on catching your breath. Your eyes were half closed, glazed over, watching sweat pearl over Slade's exposed skin and your bite mark slowly disappearing on his neck. 

“Something interesting about my neck, miss Nightshade?”

A genuine smile curved up your lips at his comment; the same he had made all those weeks ago when you were waltzing around the dance floor. “Just admiring the view, that's all” You signed, content. “Why, are you afraid I will bite it off?”

He shook his head, looking up at the sky in a failed attempt to appear annoyed that you also remembered exactly what you replied.

“Huh, I guess you were into it after all” You mumbled as you slowly let yourself slide off of him and fell back on your feet. 

He took a good look at the mess he had made, seeming satisfied at how your knees slightly buckled as you hit the ground. Without a word, he pulled himself back in his trousers and readjusted his belt.

You then started to pull back on your suit, the rough material now sitting uncomfortably on your sweaty skin. “That's gonna be a bitch to clean…” You thought aloud, realizing tonight's run was far from over and the many body fluids would have time to nicely settle in the fabric.

“You said not a drop on the outside” Slade commented, then pointed at the clearly not soiled outside layer of the suit. “And none there is”

You couldn't help but laugh as your eyes subconsciously went to his own suit, where the glistening on his thigh guards extended to darker spots on his trousers. Anybody catching a glimpse of it would know exactly what caused the wet spot, and nobody would mistake it for him soiling himself. “Can't say the same for you”

He looked down, then frowned in what you could only describe as a cartoonish way. “Hm. This is upsetting. Whatever will I do”

Both of your eyebrows shot up as you let out a short laugh of disbelief. “What that… a joke?”

He only gave you a stern look that didn’t quite reach his good eye as he put back his mask on. 

“Oh, he has a sense of humour now? Who would have known” Despite your half dizzy state, your brain still found enough drive to tease him about it. Considering he was rearranging your guts minutes ago, you believed it was now fair game. 

He pointed a warning finger at you after he finished making sure everything was strapped correctly on his armour. “You’re lucky I’m in a good mood”

You rolled your eyes as you flipped back your hood on. “Yeah I fucking bet. ‘Can say thank you Nightshade about it”

As expected, he elected not to comment on that. He only turned around and looked over his shoulder. “Until next time, little bird”

You did gratuitously check out his ass as he walked away, then prepared a damn good reason to give Batman to explain your dishevelled state.

[anotherwritingblog12]

The minute before

Bruce took a calculated risk and this was the consequence. He had managed to get everybody out of the building before it inevitably collapsed under him. He would do it again in a second. Everyone was safe.

Everyone except him.

He was under an alarming amount of rubble, there was a fire somewhere and a burst pipe that kept screaming a few feet behind him. He was trapped under a fallen piece of wall, he could barely turn his head to see his surroundings.

Bruce was badly injured, he could tell because he couldn't quite feel anything. He could see the blood in his suit, in his gloves, he felt around his head and he was definitely bleeding. But he didn't exactly feel pain. Maybe he felt a tad lightheaded. He had pressed his distress signal on the way down, he would be fine.

That's when he saw Alfred.

Just standing there, next to Bruce, in a perfectly clean and pressed fitted suit. Looking at him.

Alfred had died 2 years prior, and his death still haunted the manor and everyone in it. Bruce wanted to think his death had brought the family together but it had only brought to light every problem they ever had tenfold.

If he was there, Bruce was definitely dying.

He wanted to talk to him, but he feared if Alfred answered back Bruce would be tempted to follow him all the way to the afterlife to be with him again.

Bruce knew this was a product of his imagination. Unless it wasn't. He wanted to tell Alfred everything he couldn't before. He wanted to apologize for everything Bruce had put him through, for his transgressions as Batman, as a father, as a son.

If he was dying why couldn't he feel it, goddamnit? Maybe he was already dead and Alfred was just here to get him to the other side.

He didn't want to die, he had so much to do still. This couldn't be the end-- The Batman beaten by a pile of rubble. No. Bruce tried to move but the wall simply wouldn't give and the more he struggled the more blood would pour out of him.

Bruce wouldn't be able to say goodbye. He had to tell Dick he didn't need to take up his mantle, none of them did. Bruce wanted to apologize to Damian for what he'd said after Alfred's death. Had he done it already? Probably, but one more time couldn't hurt.

Hurt. God he had hurt them all so much. He argued that they all hurt him back too, but he was the adult none of that mattered. They were all adults now, they would survive. He wanted to tell every one of his kids he was proud of them for everything, everything they had ever done had been a testament to their strength.

He felt tears running down his face. He looked at Alfred again and Alfred looked back with a questioning look in his face.

"My boy," Alfred said.

"I'm sorry--I'm sorry. I can't go." Bruce cried harder.

"I know," Alfred replied. Bruce stared at him wide eyed.

"I know," Alfred repeated. "but your body doesn't. Its holding out until you're rescued, and you won't feel anything until you're out there again."

Alfred moved closer to him. "There are instances in which a person will wait until they are safe to give into their injuries. Once the adrenaline rushes out of you, you will die, Master Bruce. You need to fight it."

Bruce shook his head. Alfred was right, of course he was.

"How?" Bruce asked.

"Feel. Feel how many things you still need to do here. Your kids need you, everyone needs you. You need them. You're getting out of here and you are going to live."

Bruce wanted everything to stop. He wanted everything to be over, the rubble gone, he wanted the fire to stop burning and the pipe behind him to run out of fucking water.

"I miss you so much." Bruce sobbed.

"I never left you." Alfred replied.

Bruce would live. He would see his kids again, he would love them and then they would fight. And Bruce would continue to put himself in dangerous situations that would get him killed, but he would be alive to do so. He hadn't even told Clark that he loved him, he couldn't die before seeing him again, he was going to wine and dine him so bad.

That's when he felt the ground above him shake. Then some of the rocks above him where moved and he could see a glimpse of light. Then more shuffling above him and that's where he saw Superman.

"Batman!" Clark said and dove straight into the building. He moved the wall from Bruce's chest, but Bruce still couldn't move.

"I'm getting you out of here okay?" That's when Clark noticed the bleeding in Bruce's head. "Just-- just hold on."

Clark grabbed him delicatley and with such gentleness, but the moment he started flying everything hit.

He was saved now, the adrenaline begins to dissipate, and everything comes back. His back hurt so much he started struggling to breathe, his right arm was definitely broken, and his head, his head was going to explode. His ears started ringing and his vision started to blur. He was drifting off.

"Bruce! Hey we're almost in the cave everyone is there we'll get you better."

Was that Alfred? Alfred's voice was so soothing, he could fall asleep to it again, just like he had done so many times in his childhood. Bruce had just seen him, hadn't he? Did Bruce even say hello? He would now. Bruce closed his eyes.

--

Bruce woke up freezing. He was in the cave, good. It must have been a rough patrol becuase he coulnd't remember falling asleep. He was laying in the medical cot plugged into a lot of a lot of machines.

He turned his head and found Clark sitting in a chair next to him, sleeping. He looked so uncomfortable, and he hadn't shaved. Bruce reached out to him and moved Clark's knee to wake him up.

"Christ, you look terrible. Please take a flight around orbit, you know Gotham doesn't get any sunlight."

Clark opened his eyes drowsily and then fully. He jumped when he saw Bruce.

"Bruce. Oh God. Let me tell the other's you're awake. How are you feeling?" Clark looked at Bruce with such softness and a hint of fear.

That's when everything came back to him. The building, the rubble, the fire, the pipe, Alfred.

Bruce was alive, he did it, he did it because of Alfred.

"How long was I out?" Bruce asked.

"Too long." Clark rubbed his temples, he was looking at him like Bruce had just handed him a million dollars.

"I'm sorry." Bruce said.

"No, no, everything is okay now. You're okay and everything is fine. The kids will be here in no time, don't worry." Clark looked so beaten up. Bruce grabbed his hand.

"Thank you." Bruce said.

"Of course." Clark whispered.

They looked at each other in silence. Bruce was rubbing circles in Clark's hand.

"I love you." Bruce finally admitted.

"I love you too." Clark answered.

There was a shriek in the cave.

"I can't it took Bruce almost dying for you to confess your feelings to each other? I owe Jason so much money." Dick Grayson was standing in the cave along with the rest of his kids.

Everything was perfect.

-

2:24AM

[rafesgoldrings]

I’m gonna need some protective!Rafe for trophy wife!Reader please and thank you. 🤭 maybe a guy at the office won’t get the hint that she’s married to the Rafe Cameron and won’t leave her alone

So obviously it’s Rafe’s company and he has final say over who’s hired, but there are some people that manage to stay under the radar and go unnoticed by him. One of those people being the creepy guy who worked in the finance department that was constantly hitting on you. At first it was just harmless flirting, a comment about how pretty you looked in your skirt, how nice your hair looked after you’d get it cut, nothing too alarming. But then it would start escalating to physical touches, his arm brushing a little too close to your ass when he needed to brush behind you for something, his crotch ‘accidentally’ brushing against your hand when he walked by you during your lunch break, but the final straw is when it was just the two of you alone in the break room. You were pouring your morning cup of coffee when he came in and the tension in the air became unbearable. You wanted nothing more than to leave, just go find Rafe or go to your desk to start working, but instead, the guy pinned you against the counter. His crotch pressing into your ass and hot breath blowing against your ear, you were trapped. Screaming wasn’t a very smart option because what if that just made him more angry? You would frantically ask what he was doing, that you were married and wanted to leave, but the guy just replied “come on baby, he doesn’t have to know. I know you want it, I can see the way you look at me when I walk past you” he was crazy. You had never made eye contact with this guy in the entirety of your time working for Rafe. Your eyes welled with tears as your breathing became erratic. His lips pressing against your neck gave you the advantage and you quickly brought your heel down on his foot, the sudden pain causing him to yelp and stumble backwards allowing you to run out of the room. You ran into a firm chest and quickly apologized before realizing it was Rafe, he put his hands on both sides of your face and looked at you with concern asking what happened. You quickly explained the situation, he’d tell you to go to his office and try and calm down before storming into the break room. The guy was now sitting and clutching his foot when he noticed Rafe, his face full of fear as he sat up straight. “M-Mr. Cameron I can explain. She wanted me man, she ca-“ the guy wouldn’t even get the full sentence out before a loud crack filled the room, his nose oozing blood from the force of Rafe’s ring slamming against his face. From there it was punch after punch until the guy was barely conscious, pulling him up by the collar of his shirt and speaking in a low voice “If you ever touch her, hell if you even look at her or breathe the same air as her again i’ll fucking kill you. Get the hell out of my building, you’re fired” throwing him on the ground, spitting on his bloodied face before going to his office to comfort you. Nobody touched his girl and got away with it

[tgmsunmontue]

Come on baby light my fire… 2/2 (or 7/7?)

Hangster. 3k. Explicit. Apartment fire alarm at 1am featuring Jake in his underwear and Bradley with kittens.

All six potential endings are included in one post below. If you'd rather read them as separate chapters you can check out AO3 where I posted it first for once.

PART ONE (on Tumblr)

OPTION A

                Jake looks down at the sleeping man, so tempted to curl up back in bed with him. But he’s got to go and figure out how to get back into his own apartment. Most importantly though is he wants Bradley’s number, and he knows his own. He grabs Bradley’s phone, carefully grabs his hand and presses his finger to the fingerprint reader and sure enough it unlocks. There’s a photo of a couple as the background but he’s more interested in adding himself as a contact. He does so quickly, his name followed by a little flame, night cityscape, cat emoji, then an eggplant and some droplets because he’s hilarious and he’s pretty sure Bradley will think he’s funny.

                He sends himself a couple of messages, basically with all the details of where he’s gone and that he has no plans for the rest of the day and will come back to the apartment if he can’t locate Javy at the gym, or message him as soon as he’s in his apartment and has access to his phone again. He rifles through Bradley’s bag, a little perturbed by the number of Hawaiian shirts he finds, but pulls out a very worn US Navy t-shirt that has a very retro feel. None of it is what he’d usually wear, but all of it is better than being naked. It’s bad enough that he’s going to have to be barefoot and he wonders whether he could really chance taking what look like Bradley’s only pair of shoes. Screw it. He’ll be back soon enough.

                He laces up, the shoes a bit too big, then jogs the two blocks to where Javy prefers to go to the gym, glad it’s not further. It’s still at least another fifteen minutes before he usually starts, but Jake can’t risk him being early and missing him. But he is a man borne of military routine and walks up about a minute before Jake expected him.

                “Javy! Hey!”

                “Man! What are you wearing?!”

                “It’s a long story, well, actually, it’s not that long. My apartment building had a fire alarm, I left without my keys but I was only wearing my underwear. Hooked up with this guy who is fucking scorching hot –”

                “But has terrible taste in clothes.”

                “He’d make this work, trust me. Anyway, I need you to get my spare key.”

                “I’m not skipping my workout for you…”

                “Yes you are, in gratitude for me not waking you at two in the morning in my underwear to give me my spare…”

                “And I’m sure you were really suffering with the scorching hot guy. Your story is truly heart wrenching.”

                “Come on!”

                “Fine, here, take my keys, go and grab yours, then you can return your spare and my keys back to me. Deal?”

                “Yeah, good plan. I probably shouldn’t have both sets on me.”

                “You think?” Javy says dryly and Jake gives him the finger.

                After agreeing to take Jake’s car to make it all much faster he gets through the logistics of getting to Javy’s, grabbing his spare keys and then back to his apartment. Lets himself in with a sigh of relief and immediately goes to his phone, ignores all the other messages and clicks on the new messages and clicks Add Contact. He enters in Bradley, following it with a cat emoji and then three little flames. He’s not going to forget who Bradley is in a hurry. He doesn’t bother changing, needs to return Javy’s car and keys and then come back again. As he’s walking back he sends a message, nerves fluttering in his stomach.

>>I have keys, my phone and am heading back to my apartment. 5A. Want to come over?

>>On my way.

OPTION B

                Jake rolls his eyes, of course Bradley’s phone is dead. Ah well, he can go old school. There’s a pen and paper on the bench and he quickly writes down his name and number, along with his apartment number and a hope to see you soon. Leaves the piece of the paper smack center in the middle of the kitchen counter where it can’t be missed. He pulls on his underwear, then rifles through Bradley’s clothes and pulls out some sweat pants and a t-shirt. Okay, this is going to be a mortifying experience however slightly less mortifying than if he went out in just his underwear. Also less likely to result in any indecency charges.

…            …            …

                Bradley looks at the little pieces of paper and his heart sinks. He’s pretty sure that it’s a note, now ripped to shreds and missing pieces, the kittens having wrecked havoc on the little piece of paper, now scattered around like soggy confetti. He picks up one of the pieces and it’s definitely got a number on it. What number, he has no idea, it could be an apartment number for all he knows. He freezes, realizing that he’s not going to be thwarted by two baby cats. He knows Jake’s name and that he lives in this apartment building. Eight floors, six apartments on each floor. That’s forty-eight handwritten notes, minus six because he doesn’t need to do one for Hilary’s apartment or any of her neighbors, because surely Jake would have mentioned if he’d been on the same floor. That’s something you’d mention right?

                He finds some paper, making sure it’s a decent size because the last thing he wants is for Jake to somehow miss his note in return, that just makes him look like an inept love interest in a romcom. He’s in charge of this. His hand starts cramping around the thirtieth message but he keeps on, then pulls on some clothes, not caring what he’s wearing. He takes the stairs down to the lobby, eyes up all the little mail slots and then just starts posting a handwritten note in each one. Stands back and looks. Right. Now all he has to do is wait for Jake to contact him.

                The entire day goes by and he refuses to panic. Not everyone checks their mail everyday, he might even have to wait a couple of days, although Hilary is returning tomorrow and he’s meant to be going and staying with Nat for a couple of nights before his next deployment. But Jake will still get his number. He just has to want to use it.

…            …            …

                He should have gotten Bradley’s number.

                It’s been hours and Bradley hasn’t sent him a single message.

                Would it be weird to go and knock on his door?

                Yes. That just seems a shade too desperate. He can act cool.

…            …            …

                Jake frowns at the piece of paper, the only thing in his mail slot and he’s only check it because he’s walking past. A note. A handwritten note.

                Hi, I’m looking for Jake. This is Bradley. Please contact me.

                And then a phone number and he grins at it, because he’s going to get some answer now, multiple answers he suspects, because his number of questions has just doubled. He enters the number into his phone as he walks, presses call and holds the phone to his ear.

                “Hello, Bradley here.”

                “Hi. It’s Jake.”

                “You called! Hi…”

                “Hi… any particular reason you’re leaving me a handwritten note and not just using the technology available to us?”

                “Because I didn’t have your number. The cats, they ripped it to shreds and I just… had to figure out a way of contacting you.”

                “Smart and good looking. If you knew which apartment was mine why didn’t you just come knock on my door. I would have let you in.”

                “Ah… I put a note in every apartments mail slot.”

                “Of course you did…”

                “Well, sitting around outside waiting for you to enter or exit the building seemed a little stalkerish.”

                “Yes. So… not playing hard to get.”

                “Definitely not.”

                “Good. So I can assume you’ll say yes if I ask you out to dinner?”

                “Why don’t you go ahead and ask.”

OPTION C

                He knocks on the door, a little disappointed that Bradley hasn’t sent him a message, is surprised because he’d kind of thought they’d connected on a level that was maybe, hopefully, more than just sexual. The door opens and it’s not Bradley answering, but a woman his age, looking very comfortable in too-big sweats and hoodie. His stomach starts souring, twisting into unpleasant tightness.

                “Hi. Uh…”

                “Are you looking for Bradley?”

                “Ah, yeah. Sorry to have bothered you. He just helped me out the other night,” he flushes, hopes whoever this woman is doesn’t read too much into the helped me out aspect of the sentence, because he hadn’t meant it as an innuendo.

                “Oh, yeah, he was just kitten sitting for me while I was out of town. Do you want his number?”

                He sucks in a sharp breath, the relief sharp and instant.

                “Do you have it?”

                “Of course I do, he’s a college friend. And I’m assuming you’re the hot neighbor who he was annoyed at me about not warning him about?”

                “Jake. My name’s Jake.”

                “Nice to meet you Jake. I expect an invite to the wedding…”

                “Well, he didn’t message me, so maybe don’t plan on that…”

                “Oh, yeah, I found little shreds of paper, so if you tried leaving a note that was a no-go…”

                “What?”

                “Orea and Cracker. They shred paper. I think I found a couple of pieces. Floated my theory past a very forlorn Brad Brad and he said it was maybe a possibility. Here, take his number and go put your man out of his misery…”

OPTION D (Version I – fits within TGM events)

                Pete frowns, because he hasn’t seen that shirt in years. Maybe literal decades, and now that’s a scary thought for other reasons. But he’d swear that that man is wearing Goose’s old Navy shirt, old sauce stain down the front and everything. Bradley had taken it when he’d left, had always used it as a pyjama top and it had always made Pete smile to see, the memories still bittersweet of the dinner shared with friends. He needs to know.

                “Ah, excuse me. This is going to be an odd question, but I just need to ask. Where did you get that shirt?”

                “This one? Ah, funny story actually… I ended up locked out of my apartment in the middle of the night due to a fire alarm and this guy helped me out. Said I could borrow anything, cause did I mention I was only in my underwear? Anyway, I left before he woke, and I’ve never been able to return it to him…”

                “You couldn’t go and knock on his door?” Pete asks, because something isn’t adding up.

                “Well, I almost did, but then I saw this woman leaving and decided it was maybe best not to rock any boats.”

                “Oh. Hmm. Well, I’m pretty sure he’d like that top back. It belonged to his father. He usually sleeps in it…”

                “You know him?”

                “Bradley? Yes. You want his number?”

                “I… sure.”

                “Okay. You just can’t ever tell him who gave it to you, okay?”

OPTION D (Version II – only ending where Mav and Bradley have a relationship)

                There’s a guy staring at him and it’s starting to annoy him a little. It’s even starting to border on a little creepy and he gives him the side eye. Instead of it putting the guy off it has the opposite effect and he’s now walking over, about to make fucking conversation of all things while Jake is just trying to work out.

                “Where did you get that t-shirt?”

                Okay, that wasn’t quite what Jake was expecting. Maybe a sly comment on his form, or body… not the almost threadbare shirt he borrowed from Bradley and has never been able to return. Also this guy is old enough to be his father, he’s not familiar enough with the brass on base to not give this man the potential respect he deserves.

                “Sir?”

                “Where did you get that t-shirt?” he repeats.

                “Uh…” Jake looks down at the shirt, and it’s the one he’d taken a couple of weeks ago from his night with Bradley. “From a guy.”

                “A guy.”

                “Yes sir.”

                “Sorry, I’m Captain Mitchell. I… Wait… your middle-of-the-night fire-alarm underwear-guy!”

                “Excuse me sir?”

                “I believe we have someone in common, and he’s going to want that t-shirt back. It belonged to his father.”

                “You know Bradley? I went looking for him, but there was this woman at the apartment.”

                “His friend Hilary, yes. He stays at her apartment whenever she’s out of town to look after her cats.”

                “Oreo and Cracker.”

                “Yes. Who I believe are to blame for shredding the note you left.”

                “What?”

                “They found tiny pieces, some of it chewed up. Not enough to make anything out of it. Trust me, I’ve heard this lamented to me far too many times in the last couple of weeks to not be very familiar with it all. Your first name is Jake isn’t it?”

                “Yes sir. Lieutenant Jake Seresin.”

                “Of course you are. I’m picking he has no idea you’re navy, because this would have gone a lot faster if he’d mentioned that.”

                “No sir, we didn’t exactly swap life stories.”

                That gets him a raised eyebrow and smirk and Jake flushes, not really sure who Captain Mitchell is to Bradley, but if what he says is true, then Bradley does want to see him again. That’s a swoop of positive feelings after a couple of weeks of feeling rejected.

                “Right. Stand just there. I’m going to take a picture and send it to Bradley, tell him I found his shirt… he was just as sad about the shirt as he was about you.”

                Jake blinks, the guy is taking his picture before he can even say anything, Jake doesn’t even know if he was smiling, probably looked like a stunned rabbit. He glances over the shoulder and the man, this Captain Mitchell, is cropping his face out of the picture completely, thumbing out I found something that I believe belongs to you, and pressing send before Jake has time to even think of asking for Bradley’s number.

                “Can I get his number?”

                “How about you come home with me and you ask him for yourself, hmm?”

OPTION E

                Jake wakes slower than usual, warmer, and he stetches and then freezes when something grabs his foot. His brain registers then, kitten and he smiles into the darkness, memories coming back and yeah… this is definitely a preferable way of waking up.

                “Mornin’…” Jake says, sliding his body over Bradley’s, naked skin sliding against his and he’s glad they’re both naked.

                “Mmm… Hi. Why are you waking me up so early?”

                “Well, I realized one of the few ways of getting my spare keys is to hunt down my friend who has them. And he goes to the gym early.”

                “Ugh. This early? Is there any way we can get your friend’s number which does not involve us getting up right now and doing a manhunt across the city?”

                “It’s not exactly the city, just two blocks.”

                “Is he listed anywhere as your emergency contact that we can ring and ask for it?”

                Jake opens his mouth and immediately shuts it. There is someplace he can ring which would maybe give him Javy’s number, or at the minimum pass a message on.

                “Actually, yeah. Well, they might not give me the number but they’d pass a message on for me.”

                “And can we ring them later?”

                “Yeah, we can definitely do that later…”

                Worst case, he can always try catching Javy at the gym tomorrow instead.

…            …            …

                Later, after another heavy make out session in bed, messy and leaving Jake wanting more, he takes Bradley’s offered phone and thumbs open the keypad. He’s going to ring the HR line for military service people, because there are surely people in worse positions than him that call up asking for weirder and wackier things than an emergency contact number. Even if Javy isn’t exactly his emergency contact, they can ring him and give him Bradley’s number. As he enters in the number he sees various contacts pop up and then;

                “Why is the number for the Military HR service line programmed into your phone?”

                “Because I'm a commissioned officer.”

                “Oh shit! Me too. Lieutenant Jake Seresin.”

                “Ha. Lieutenant Bradley Bradshaw.”

                “Wait… Bradley Bradshaw. You know Javy. Coyote. He flew with you.”

                “Coyote is your emergency contact?”

                “Well, he’s the guy that has my spare keys…”

                “Well, I already have his number. I was planning on meeting up with him later actually.”

                “Of course you were. Bradshaw. He was right.”

                “What?”

                “You are exactly my type.”

[what-gs-watching]

“Do I wanna break into a dead guy’s apartment and go through all his shit? Sounds like an afternoon.”

Okay so I obviously needed a real good palate cleanser after I watched Barry and subsequently melted down a little bit, and there was an obvious choice because Y’AAAAAAALL

ONLY MURDERS IN THE BUILDING IS BACK!

I’m fucking crazy for this show. Steve Martin??! Martin Short???!!! being amazing old guy best friends with Selena Gomez to temper their ridiculousness and bring that fantastic sass? 

It’s one of those rare, perfect shows. Everything about this show is absolutely on point. It’s funny. It’s smart. It’s emotional. And ridiculous. And gorgeously stylized. I’ve been on this wagon since day one and it’s truly wonderful.

Wherein, three tenants of an upscale apartment building in New York City, The Arconia,  start a podcast after someone dies in said building, and they’re convinced it was murder. 

Since season 4 is starting, it’s the perfect time for a rewatch, gang. And it’s my first one! That’s always a fun experience, getting into something you know you enjoyed for a second time. It’s not quite familiar yet, it can still surprise you because you remember the shape of it but not necessarily all of the details. It was extremely satisfying. 

I’m trying to decide which has been my favorite season so far, let’s talk it out.

Season 1: Victim, Tim Kono

A lot of shows struggle in the first season but dang this one is so strong. Charles (Steve Martin) is a mostly washed up tv star from the 90’s, Oliver (Martin Short) is an eccentric Broadway director who got blackballed after his disastrous last production, and Mabel (Selena Gomez) is in her late 20’s, squatting in her aunt’s posh Manhattan apartment and not doing much else. 

At the start, the fire alarm in the building goes off and all three head to a nearby restaurant and run into each other. They bond over a podcast about a missing girl’s murder in Oklahoma, produced by the podcast queen Cinda Canning (Tina, effing, FEY!!!!!!). Cinda is an amazing addition to this show, I love Tina Fey in absolutely everything but she is so great here.

Anyway, then they find out a tenant in the building apparently shot himself, but they’d been in the elevator with him not long before and none of them were buying the story, so what else was there to do than start a podcast and investigate? It’s a ridiculous premise honestly, but it works so fucking well. 

In my mind, Mabel is the focus of that season, it turns out she has a connection to Tim Kono, the victim, and the story winds out of control which I love, but they do a really good job of balancing between the three of them. Charles’ storyline ends up being insane and I enjoy Oliver’s snark and pluck and his confidence. 

And I obviously love the bromance that blooms between Charles and Oliver, it’s so sweet. Like their real friendship bleeds through. 

Another highlight of season 1 is Charles’s stunt double from Brazzos, played by Jane Lynch. The way they make the two of them really look like each other is funny as hell and Oliver’s reaction to meeting Sazz is classic - believing it’s Charles he asks what work he’s had done. It’s hilariously uncanny.

I won’t go into too many specifics, it’s too good to spoil, but I think I can say now that the killer in season one is my favorite. Didn’t really care about the victim but ooh, I DID NOT see that one coming. 

Season 2: Victim, Bunny Folger

So after they solve their first murder, the trio celebrates and everything is awesome, but Mabel goes back to her apartment for more champagne and guess what! She finds the dead body of Bunny, the head of the board for the Arconia, who they’d spent season 1 not getting along with - Bunny had even tried to evict them.

Surprise, surprise, the three of them immediately get arrested since Mabel was found basically standing, covered in blood, over the body.  #bloodymabel

It’s fun that they spend the season trying to clear their names, I liked that aspect of it. Of course they had to come under suspicion at some point, how many murders can realistically occur in an Upper West Side building before it gets weird and you have to look at the people who’ve suddenly gained notoriety because of it? 

This season for me was all about Charles, his backstory with his not-really-a-step-daughter and his dad. I guess it’s really about family overall, with Oliver’s own family drama bubbling up. I loved that they did an entire bit about Oliver always knowing when someone is lying - the scenes of him orchestrating rounds of the Son of Sam game are fantastic - but then of course he gets a big ol’ shock when a devastating secret is revealed. 

I wasn’t a huge fan of Mabel’s storyline with the random british artist that popped up out of nowhere, she was kind of a twit, but you do you girl. I’m with it. 

The killer reveal in season 2 is definitely my favorite - along with the joke about them throwing a “killer reveal party” - WAS it a party to reveal the killer, or a party that was going to be killer in nature??! Definitely the most satisfying reveal so far. 

Season 3: Victim, Ben Glenroy

So after they solve a few murders back to back, the three of them suddenly have some good press and their lives start to turn around. Oliver gets a call to direct a new play actually ON Broadway this time, even though his last production had been a literal disaster - mermen jumping from the rafters into what should have been a pool, but was definitely just a hard stage floor, instead. L O L at the retelling he does of that tragedy during season 1. 

Mabel of course is still a muddling millennial but she’s at least finally finished renovating her aunt’s apartment, and Charles’s return to his rebooted show, Brazzos, is on hiatus. SIDE NOTE, I love all of the Brazzos flashbacks, they’re so ridiculous and yet absolutely 100% what a crime drama in the 90’s was like. 

Anyway, Charles joins Oliver’s show, which is starring Ben Glenroy (played by PAUL RUDD who I absolutely love), a famous actor who’s known for his superhero franchise, CoBro - which is about a bro who turns into a literal COBRA and fights crime. 

One of the best parts of this season is the mentions of Ben’s starring roles. Mabel loves him from a show called “Girl Cop” and there’s an adorable moment where she does the handshake from the show with him (kind of). I want to be able to watch all of the invented content, it sounds so incredible.

BUT, of course, on the opening night of Oliver’s play, Ben ends up dead. He is by FAR my favorite victim. He seems like a dick and he definitely is but as they investigate you see a different side of him as well and I will always and forever love Paul Rudd. Bringing him on was a fantastic decision.

Did I mention that MERYL fucking STREEP is in the musical as well?? And her character is wonderful. When Oliver decides to turn the show into a musical after Ben’s death, she gets the best song of the entire thing and the first time she performs it is so poignant. I choked up a little bit the first time, and again the second time. 

Also, this season has my favorite episode of the series - Charles is trying to learn a ‘patter song’ for the musical and the first time he performs it in front of the cast, he devolves into a string of hilarious curses and he blacks out and ends up in a white room, surrounded with soothing music and he’s happy and dancing and everything is great. Until they cut back to reality and his pants are down and the stage he’s on is a mess and everyone is fucking MORTIFIED. When he asks what happened, Oliver screams “TOO SOON!!!” while Mabel is shouting, “Not ready!”

It’s absurd and absolutely fucking hilarious. He goes to the ‘white room’ a few more times in that episode and I can’t help but die everytime. I don’t know why I find it so hilarious but the sequences are perfect. You never know what happened and neither does Charles and I love it. 

I think I’ve decided this is my favorite season, even if the killer is kind of obvious. There was so much going on with the musical that the usually elaborate story of getting to the murderer is kind of muted, but it’s still so. good. 

And so, season 3 wraps up nicely, but we find out that Sazz has basically been executed in Charles’s apartment while they celebrate. Uh oh.

Which leads me to the start of Season 4. I’m SO excited. One of the best parts of this show is the cameos, and I am losing my mind over the addition of Zach Galifianakis. I’ve been in love with his insane face since his comedy special “Live at the Purple Onion” was on Netflix. I’m talking like, 2008, people. I saw him perform at some random festival before The Hangover ever came out. For a long time “Purple Onion” was my comfort watch, before ‘comfort watch’ was really a thing. 

He’s going to be incredible, and I can’t wait. I’m sure Eugene Levy and Eva Longoria will be good too but whatever, it’s gonna be all about Zatch Gaspifinasky for me. 

I’m not a huge fan of streaming shows releasing one episode a week, but I’ll endure it happily for Only Murders In The Building. Not many shows lately have been as solid, consistent, and FUN to watch as this one. 

Who killed Sazz Pataki, y’all?! I can’t wait to find out…

[final-girl96]

My Boyfriend's Back Chapter Twenty-Three

YN

I groaned, reaching blindly for my alarm to turn it off. "God, shut the fuck up!" I slammed my hand down on it and rolled onto my back, stretching out my body. I was sore. Why am I sore? My eyes shot open and I sprung into a sitting position. I looked around my room but I was alone. Flashes from last night played in my mind. "Motherfucker!" When I looked down I was naked, my sheet only covering my bottom half.

I flopping back down, covering my face with my hands. I had a deep ache between my legs both from Stu fucking me last night, making me come several time and from wanting more. I started to wish he was still here to take care of it and I scolded myself. "Stop it! He's a fucking psychopath for fuck sake."

But he always makes me feel so fucking good. The way his rough hands feel against my soft skin. The way his tongue works me into…STOP!

I quickly threw the sheet off of me and stood up, grabbing clothes and putting them on. I went to grab my key, pepper spray, and backpack when I saw a note on my desk. I looked at it for a few minutes debating if I should read it or not. I decided to shove it in the draw instead and then left my room. A hand landed on my shoulder while I was locking my door and I screamed. "It's me! Yn, it's just me!"

"Jesus fucking Christ, Sid! You can't just sneak up on me like that!" I put a hand over my rapidly beating heart. "I called your name like twice," she said. "Oh. Sorry. What's up?" She gave me a concerned look, "are you okay? You've been pretty jumpy lately." I scoffed, "I have not been jumpy." Hallie came around the corner nodding her head, "girl, yes you have been." I rolled my eyes and started walking for the stairs. "Is there a reason you came up here?" I asked them.

"There was a murder last night at the movie theater. Two Windsor students were killed at the Stab premiere." I stopped and looked back at Sidney. "What?" She nodded her head, "it's happening again. They were both stabbed by someone in a ghostface costume. People thought it was a publicity stunt."

Did Stu do this before he came here?

"Where's Randy?" I asked, walking down the stairs. "Film theory, I think," Hallie said before going back to their dorm. As soon as me and Sidney walked out the door of our dorm building we had microphones shoved in our faces as reports fired question after question after us.

"Yn!"

"Yn, do you think Stu Macher had a part in this?"

"Do you know where Stu Macher is? Did you help him escape?"

"Are you hiding him?"

"Do you know who the killer is?"

Sidney grabbed my hand and pulled me along with her as we ran across campus to the film building. We waited outside the classroom Randy was in until they were done discussing sequels. Mickey walked out and smiled at me. The dude gave me the fucking creeps. "Awe, did you come to walk me to my next class?" He put his arm around my shoulder and I shoved it off. As soon as Randy came out of the room I grabbed him. "We need to talk," I said.

Sidney and I told him about the two students killed last night and he denied it having anything to do with us. He was also talking in a weird accent. "What's up with the fucking accent? Would you people get your head out of your ass and fucking listen!" I said. He stopped walking and looked at me. "This has nothing to do with us," he said. "Oh, my god, Randy! You're so deep in denial!" I threw my hands up, turning and walking away.

"She's right Randy, you're in denial. We don't want this to be happening again either but it is," Sidney said. Randy started saying something and then Sidney's new boyfriend Derek showed up. Randy walked over to me and mumbled something about getting a room while they stood there kissing. "Sorry, buddy. The geek doesn't get the girl unfortunately."

We all went to sit by one of the walls to watch the press conference with the Chief of Police. Randy nudged me and Sidney, "looks it's Gale Weathers." I looked where he was pointing and sure enough there stood Gale front and center. "I heard she got calf implants," Randy said. He started talking into Mickey's camera and I sat on the wall. "I'm going to get closer," Randy said and down to where all the reports were.

Then the fucking sorority sisters came. They completely ignored me and went for Sidney. They were throwing a party tonight, a parry I would be skipping. Then I saw Dewey. "Oh, my god, Sid, look!" I pointed to where he was standing and we both ran over to him. "Dewey!" He turned around and smiled when he saw both of us running towards him. "What're you doing here?!" Sidney asked, hugging him. He hugged me next before answering. "Heard what happened and needed to come and check you three." He said. "Where's Randy?"

"Being nosey. Come on, we can talk over here." We went to the gazebo and talked for a little while before he left and we met our friends again. Mickey tried to talk about how many times they were stabbed but Derek stopped him before asking who we were talking to. "Was that Dewey? What's he doing here?" Randy asked, coming up beside me. "Wanted to come make sure we were okay."

As we were all walking away to go to our classes Mickey came up beside me. "Don't worry I'll protect you," he whispered in my ear then walked away. It was a little fucking creepy but of course he was fucking creepy. After my class I went back to my dorm and pulled the note Stu had left me.

Baby,

I'll be back tonight at 9 pm. Meet me outside. If you're not there, I will be coming up to your room and getting you.

I Love You ,

XOXO

why couldn't my life just be fucking simple? Why can't I just have a normal life like everyone else? That's all I wanted but no, my mother had to be the whore of the town and had an affair with her daughter's boyfriend's father. Then my sister's boyfriend murdered her along with my boyfriend and they pinned it on someone else, waited a year and killed more people saving us for last and trying to kill us.

My boyfriend ended up surviving and getting away and now he won't leave me the fuck alone. Oh and let's not forget to add I'm there that someone is back to killing people as ghostface and it's probably Stu!

[skyfall8600]

Sucked In Chapter 28: Faded Memories

Summary: You wake up in the world of Stranger Things before the events of Season 4. Are you able to help in the fight against Vecna, and save the man of your dreams?

Pair: Eddie Munson x fem!Reader

Series Masterlist

Eddie Munson Masterlist

Previous: Chapter 27

Next: Chapter 29

[1.8k words]

The fire alarm went off, and not long after sirens were all around the school. Eddie followed along with the others, being led outside into the parking lot. There were police and firefighters rushing into the building.

“What happened? They won’t tell us anything.” Steve said suddenly, making Eddie jump.

“I don’t know—“ he started to say before Nancy found them, taking over as the one person in the group who somehow knew everything.

“Windows exploded, they’re worried it might be a gas leak or gunshot.” She said, She let out a sigh of relief when she saw Johnathan and Robin walking out with the rest of the photography class. “Oh thank god.”

Eddie looked around, trying his best to see above the heads of all the students. His eyes scanned everywhere, looking for you. He knew that you should have been in English Lit with Miss Hughes, but when he saw Miss Hughes and the rest of the class, he didn’t see you.

“Where’s Y/n?!” He screamed, getting the attention of his friends. “Of course, of fucking course! First day back and all hell breaks loose again, oh sweet Jesus… I can’t—“

“Eddie, you need to calm down. This is nothing like that. I’m sure she’s just with another group.” Steve said, trying to reassure his friend.

The truth was, even Steve didn’t know why you weren’t with the rest of the student body. And that wasn’t good enough for Eddie.

“She’s still in there, and none of the teachers are bothering to even find her.” He said, shrugging off his jean jacket and giving it to Steve. “I’m gonna go look, keep this safe for me will ya?”

“Wait— Eddie!”

It was no use, Eddie had already made up his mind. He did not go three years of school and literal hell for it all to end now with a gas leak. Running into the school, through a side door where the teachers couldn’t see him. He began his search for you.

Dodging the fire firefighters performing leak checks and the police guarding the English Lit classroom, Eddie was surprised how easy it was for him to be unseen.

He popped his head into the Drama prop room, “Pst. Angel— Y/n?” He yelled in a whisper. After no response, he continued to make the rounds.

From door to door, he halted in his tracks when he heard crying behind the janitor's closet.

“Y/n?” He said softly, opening up the floor.

And there you were, sitting on the floor with your legs tucked into your chest. You were crying into your arms. Your hair soaking from the humid air. The steam pipe never did get fixed. He remembered how nervous and happy you were the first time the two of you were in this closet, accidentally locked in.

You looked up, tears still spilling down your eyes. Your face was cut and bleeding.

“E—Eddie?” You said. “I— I didn’t mean to make it happen. I didn’t mean to hurt anyone.”

He got the spare pipe from the corridor, using it to keep the door open after he stepped inside.

“Hey. It’s okay, you’re okay— you're okay right?” He said, slowly moving to crouch down in front of you. His hands instantly grabbing yours.

You nodded, “it’s just a few scratches— but one kid got glass in his eye. I didn’t mean it.” Crying, you lowered your head again. “Normally, I’m good at controlling it….”

“I know.” He said, and it surprised you. Springing up to look at him, he smiled as you hiccuped.

“What do you mean you know? How could you— don’t you think I’m crazy? I just said the window exploding was my fault.”

“I know more than you think,” he said, moving to stand up. He held his handout, encouraging you to follow him. “Come on, I know someone who can help. For now, we gotta get out of here.”

You nodded, crying into his shoulder. It was weird how accepting he was of the situation, you were so used to people running away in fear or berating you for being different. Yet here he was, a sincere look of concern overriding all other emotions in his face.

He shielded you with his arms, walking you around the corridors he knew of by heart. You were shaking against him, the blood still dripping along your cheek.

Back in the parking lot, teachers were all smoking away without a care in the world for the students' wellbeing. Eddie used it as the perfect opportunity to sneak you away into his van, hoping to get you away from the crowd and prying eyes.

“Are—are you sure it’s okay?” You asked.

He nodded, taking in the sight of you once again in his passenger seat. “We’ll have to wait a bit for them to be home, but we can get you all cleaned up, yeah?”

“Y—yeah.”

Never get in the car with strangers. Your mother always told you that. She always told you of the time a strange man wanted to take you away, threatening your parents. But you saw the man for what he was, a cold blooded monster. The images of him coloured in blood, his body burned and scared haunted your dreams for years after. Unsure why your mind saw him that way, you reacted defensively. By the time you were done with him, the blonde man in front of resembled the corpse in your mind.

You felt safe with Eddie. The low hum of the rough music filling the van as he drove. Perhaps you should have questioned more about where he was taking you, but you didn’t care. Your body and mind both felt at ease, like this was exactly where you were meant to be.

“Wayne— my uncle, is at work today.” He said, nervously. He understood that this was all new for you.

“Okay.”

“I um….. I should have asked if you were okay coming to my trailer, being alone with me— I’m sorry. I just wanted to make sure you weren’t hurt.” He said, his fists tightening around the steering wheel. “This is— my castle.”

The trailer was small but significantly well kept. You half expected dead grass and windows falling apart, but while the trailer itself looked old, its surrounding environment was lively.

“Not bad hey?” He said, smiling as he switched off the engine. “I got really bored last summer so the kids and I decorated and cleaned up the place.”

“The kids?” You questioned, eyeing him up. “Are you telling me you’re a teenage father?”

“No! I mean— they’re my friends.” He said, mentally hitting himself for his choice of words. Of course you didn’t know who Dustin or Mike or Will were. “I took them under my wing, shielding them from the horrors and tormenting of high school bullies.”

“Aah, I see.” You smiled, “Much like you have for me today. Thank you, I don’t know what excuses I would have given if the police started questioning me.”

Like the gentleman he was, he rushed outside to open the door for you. Giving you a fake curtsy, he bowed down. He missed this. He missed having you this close to him, laughing ever so slightly at the way he was.

“Get in situations like this often?”

You sighed, “Sort of. It’s a long story— by the way….I still don’t understand how you seemed to calm by what I said.”

He paused for a moment, running his hand through his hair. Which was easier to do now, he remembered how much you teased him for not having a conditioner and he wasn’t going to make that same mistake twice. Besides, he’d be lying if he said he didn’t like how soft and bouncier it made his curls.

“And why’s that so hard to believe?” He teased.

“So you believe that I somehow shattered the glass… even though I didn’t mean to?”

Leading you inside, you were taken aback by how many mugs and photographs hung around the walls of the trailer.

“Maybe, is it so crazy if I do?” He said.

“Um, yeah.” You said, laughing in disbelief at him. “You’re not even going to question it?”

“Nope, now come here. I got the disinfectant wipes.” He patted the bathroom bench, encouraging you to jump up. You followed his orders and finally saw what you looked like in the mirror. Shuddering to yourself.

He had to stand close to you, due to the right bathroom confinement and the need to be close enough to clean the wound. Luckily there was no glass stuck inside your cheek.

He was so close that you could make out the number of eyelashes on each of his eyes. Long and thick. They partnered up perfectly with those dark button eyes.

You were so lost in taking in all his glory that you failed to register the words coming from his lips. It wasn’t until he tapped your knee did you regain focus.

“Huh?”

“I said….” He smiled, “You’re all cleaned up.”

“Oh—thank you.”

The two of you stayed in the close proximity you were in. Unable to pull yourselves apart from one another, neither of you searing to look away from the other’s gaze.

His presence, no…. His entire being was so addictive to you. Not even 24 hours knowing him and he warped all your senses. You were utterly sucked in.

You wanted to kiss him, not caring how forward it was. You had to. You couldn’t deny the feeling building up inside you as you continued to look in his eyes. And you could tell from the way his eyes were locked on your face, and the way his hands tightened on their hold of your thighs…. Perhaps he felt the same.

Unlike anything you had ever done before. You leaned forward, crashing your lips to his.

It was like heaven opened up around you. Literally. As Eddie melted away into the kiss, you had the whole world slip away. Clouds of once foggy memories played through your mind. Flashing green and red lights, screams and monsters howling. It wasn’t what you expected to be focussing on during your first kiss; but the more you kissed him, the more you remembered.

The memories overpowered you, causing your already tearful eyes to cry profoundly. Eddie felt the tears against his skin and he was worried, worried that it was too soon to be kissing you.

He had to force himself to pull back from you, “Angel— are you okay?”

You didn’t respond, you grabbed his shirt and pulled him in close again. Kissing him with full force. You remembered everything. You were safe, Eddie was safe…. And right now, you wanted to kiss him for as long as possible.

It was only until you needed air did you part from him. Leaning your forehead against his, you looked at him like it was the first time. Your hands running all along his face.

“I told you it’ll work.” You whispered.

He could see the change in your eyes, the slight change that signified you were back. It was you, inside and out.

“Y/n?” He said, this time it was his turn for emotion to break his voice.

“It’s me.” You said, placing a soft kiss on his lips. “It’s me, Eddie.”

—————————————————————————————————————————————————-

This is it! Reader finally has her memories back and we have 1 chapter left! Also, I write this on my death bed, coughing and fever, so if you see any errors, DM me or pretend you saw nothing.

Eddie Taglist - added in part 2 of post because tag limit has been reached

Series Taglist

@assassinsasha23 @dreamingsmile @introvertedmouse @thegirlwhohides @gobringmemyfood @munchabunch @empty-and-nameless @el1997 @gooblerstan @bigbundabucket @theprettyandthereckless @earthtokace @ifellinlovewithawarsblog @secretsicanthideanymore @blueberryhitosh1 @maryan028 @bakugouswh0r3  @loliakeoghan23 @gamorxa  @stardustworlds @bakugouswh0r3 @taeddybearkim @azaleaitsgreen @eddiemunsonslips @awhoreforeddiemunson @strangerthingsstories5255 @queenotaku23 @sweetberry47 @sammararaven @anothermunsonsimp @megumimind @zephyrs-world @thegirlwhohides @lem0nb0iii @whoreforhowl @kaitebugg03 @preciousbabypeter @snapped-chopstick @cutiecusp @sl-tfor-joseph-quinn  @crescent-moon-palace @silky-luxe @resident-gay-bitch @anonymousstoryteller2000 @ches-86 @dreamingsmile @assassinasha23 @introvertedmouse @ick90

[credince--writes]

Humble Beginnings

AN ACT OF ARSON

JITTERS AU

AO3

A/N: IT IS HERE! I SPLIT IT INTO TWO. WELCOME TO THE CONTINUATION OF JITTERS!

WARNINGS: SA Themes are discussed. Not fuckin around on that note.

At first, it started with the shitty online tutorial classes. Following Reddit threads and watching hours of YouTube videos as if she were learning an entirely new language. She was scraping up as much information as she easily could to harass her high school's IT guy. 

Maybe he allowed it because she was interested.

Maybe he was a pervert.

Either way. She had started to get what she wanted- feeding the beast, soon enough it changed from reading Reddit threads not understanding what was happening to selectively strangling the internet connecting in a class she didn’t want to work in, maybe even remotely triggering the fire alarms in a separate building if there was a test. 

Then, it morphed into more.

When she was sixteen, she had begged her friend who had her driver's license- and such a rickety and old piece of shit car that it was a wonder they got to their destination in the first place- to take her to a college party. For them both to slink around the background of the party to rub elbows with a computer science major she barely knew- one she was fascinated with. 

He spoke with sweet, honey-like words that made her feel like she was special. Like she wasn’t a stupid teenager that he could easily manipulate because the simple concept of his attention made her giggle as no one had ever gotten her to do before.

The way he softly touches her shoulder lures her into a sense of safety. 

The way he would pick her up after school and take her to get food before dropping her off at home- not that her parents were home to notice that she wasn’t walking home anymore. That it wasn’t her friend taking her home and dropping her off.

The time that he was unconscious, in the back seat of one of his friend's cars while she sat next to him. Leaning down and reached into his book bag because he’d come straight from the university- there was no time to stop and drop his things off. Just toss the bag in the back of the dar, drive to the party and then move about his night with it in tow. Sticking her hand into his back and pulling the USB drive that held all of his TA documents, logins, files, and grading information. Quietly tucking it into her pocket and playing dumb and innocent when he couldn’t find it the next day.

And he would fade from her life, when she was no longer fun to play with. When she didn’t put out enough she supposed. When she wasn’t going to reach that goal of another pin in the wall for him to brag to his friends about. As if all of those sickly sweet words never meant anything- which she realized now never did mean anything.

It made her feel a lot less guilty about all of the drives, files, passwords, and more she’d stolen from him.

It marked the change.

Her realization.

The malicious intent blooming in her.

She knew his fucking birthday - what his first dog's name was. 

It was the first time she’d felt so alone- her friends could only do or say so much. Not that there were many for her to console her pain in. Horrified of admitting her faults outward to her parents in fear that yea, maybe she would be reprimanded and punished on top of her emotional suffering.

It was the first time she had wanted to give that pain right back to the person that brought it onto her.

And what a dark, dirty feeling that was. It scared her- it really did. To look into the mirror and to be able to say ‘I want to ruin his fucking life for breaking my heart’. 

But she didn’t.

It was her pain.

Not anyone else.

Maybe that was her way of wallowing in her own sorrow. For her to say ‘This is it, I’ll never do this again because I’m gonna make sure it really hurts this time.’ Like she was little, sticking her hand on the metal coil burner on top of the stove wondering why it had turned red.

Or that she was terrified- terrified of hurting the same man that hurt her. That maybe those sickly sweet words still had some purchase. That she was still worth something in his eyes and that all of it wasn’t a lie- even though she knew it really was.

But life lives on.

She graduated high school and started her work on classes at college at seventeen.

Then her parents got divorced. They just wanted to wait until she was old enough to move out- she was the only reason they were together in the first place .

And she had to move into the dorms.

And they stopped talking to her.

Her grandma died-

Then her grandpa.

Said he couldn’t live with a broken heart.

Couldn’t blame him.

The familiar light blue of her bedroom walls turned into white-painted cinderblocks in the dorms. Where they hid a air fryer under their bunk rather than a bottle of wine so that they could fry up snacks late at night while she crunched on a topic, going above and beyond as she always did because lackluster wasn’t a fucking option in her mind. She was proving herself, proving that she could set the curve without any remorse to those behind her. That she was able to build friendships- build bonds with the people around her.

Searching IRS documents and finding the home address of Zoe’s- her roommates- professor. Some staunch asshole who taught physics. The two of them made a trek out early in the morning- timing it out with maps from the rough time it took for him to arrive in the university parking lot every morning, calculating the rough time of his sitting in a coffee shop line, to leaving his house safe some traffic. That his TA would unlock the door, drop some shit off, and pick up papers before leaving for the printer room. Just so that she could plan the perfect time to go in for office hours- catch that TA and bat her eyelashes in a way that made Jayme want to vomit.

The way Zoe’s eyes followed the TA, trailing down as if she were going to drool onto her dark purple top and stain the basic cotton fabric.

“Hey.” Jayme hissed.

“Sorry, I can’t help it.” Zoe would whine.

The two of them, sat on the floor of their shared dorm room. 

“We need to make a blood pact if I’m going to do this.” Jayme said, casually.

“We aren’t making a blood pact.” Zoe sighed.

“Then I’m not helping you.”

“I’m going to fail the test.” She whined.

“Maybe you should have, I don’t know, studied?” She questions.

“Oh shut up, you hermit.”

“Just saying. Why would you take a physics class?”

“It’s in my major!” She protested.

“Maybe you shouldn’t be majoring in underwater basket weaving.” Jayme snarked.

“Not everyone gets to sit with the stinky computer nerds all day long.”

“Submissive and pliant men, ripe for the picking with mommy issues.” 

“Maybe you can lure one in with a sun dress and a pot roast.” Zoe joked back.

They laughed.

Then it fell quiet.

She hated the quiet- Zoe was just fine with it.

It meant an empty house.

It meant being alone.

It meant she could go down a rabbit hole of thoughts.

“Please? ” Zoe whined, again.

Jayme glanced up at her, from her laptop screen. As if her glance was going to break her determination- she was sure she’d grovel at her feet even in the showers if she had to if it meant she could get her help.

“How do you know I can even help?” Jayme questioned.

“You found his tax return- I’m sure you could find something to help me with a test .”

She wasn’t wrong.

Jayme sighed.

“Yea. I can help. Just go to class and be normal- I’ll figure it out.”

She honestly felt like a burglar. She’d done this before, didn’t know why it would be so nerve-wracking to do now. The cameras on these hallways didn’t work- she had checked. Always double checking, sometimes triple checking if it was going to be something really sketchy. This wasn’t something horrible- she wasn’t burning down a server room or anything. She was simply triggering a fire alarm- cutesy little gadget tucked into her pocket she’d already mimicked the frequency the trigger would emit when the original handle was pulled. 

It was a good purchase, she’d scrounged around for the cash to buy it- doing others' homework and projects for them until she was able to obtain enough funding to buy the gadget all the way back in high school. Which was the first place she had managed to do it. Even though it wasn’t entirely on purpose, sitting in the back of the class fidgeting with the little gadget- accidentally locking it onto a frequency and suddenly all of the fire alarms start going off.

She was wearing a sweatshirt with the hood pulled up over her face, a black fabric gater pulled up from her neck covering her nose and lips. Striding out, keeping her steps even as she walked down the hallways meeting the most important factor of the whole thing- look like she was supposed to be there. It was a little scary how complacent people could be, even if the person was a little suspicious- how could they be suspicious if their steps were entitled? If they weren’t nervously walking around, as if they were about to commit a crime?

Was it a crime?

She’s pretty sure it’s a crime.

She glances down at her watch.

Thirty seconds-

Twenty.

Then seven.

Three,

Two,

One.

Her hand slides into her pocket, feeling the slightly warm plastic- smooth with some small notching on its corner. Pushing down on one of the buttons as she keeps walking, keeping her steps even and her eyes on the prize- the doorway she would be walking out of in no time.

The lights on the fire alarms flash first, following the piercing, chirping noise that lets anyone within earshot know that the building is being evacuated for a fire. Drill or not- the teachers never mentioned anything about a drill. Maybe a stoner set the trash can in the bathroom on fire again.

She keeps walking forward, and the doors in front of her push open, lines of students filing out into one giant sea of people heading towards the same door as her. They mesh around her, and she blends into the crowd as she keeps walking.

Went smoothly, and if she keeps up her pace, she won’t be late for class across campus.

“ It is a crime called "identity theft" when a fraudster acquires vital pieces of "personal identifying information" (PII), such Social Security numbers and license numbers, and utilizes them for their own financial advantage. ” He speaks.

He’s older- at least to the point where his hair has begun to grey.

“Our data can be formatted and transformed using cryptography to make it more secure when traveling between computers. Modern mathematics is added to the technology, which is founded on the fundamentals of secret codes and safeguards our data in powerful ways. The manager in charge of security needs a methodical approach to identifying security requirements and characterizing options to satisfy those criteria in order to analyze the security demands of a company effectively.”  

Professor Wills.

Cold hard bastard- with a seeming soft spot for gingers. That’s at least what she noticed when she stalked his social media accounts. Well, maybe not his social media accounts. Found photos of women he was seen with taking them out to dinner- no doubt paid by him with his tenured salary.

He had started out the first day of class introducing himself, as well as his ‘resume’. He’d apparently worked for the CIA- counterterrorism projects since the seventies. When he retired- he decided to un-retire himself and crawl his ass back to work. So now he sat here, droning on about the lecture she wasn’t sure why he was giving it- this was all surface-level information.

Maybe this was another one of his tests.

“The Playfair Cipher, which treats diagrams in plaintext as single units and converts these units into cipher text diagrams, is the most well-known multiple letter encryption cipher. The Playfair algorithm relies on a 5x5 letter matrix that is built using a keyword. Let "monarchy" become the crucial keyword. The matrix is created by first filling in the letters of the keyword (after removing any duplicates) from left to right and from top to bottom, and then completing the matrix with the remaining letters throughout alphabetically.”

He projected himself across the room, strides forward, sideways. Maybe if he was feeling especially spicy he would throw something across the room at someone seemingly drifting off.

“One Time Pad Cipher.” He drawls out, meaning he will be starting an important topic- or spiraling into a tangent about Panama. “A secure cryptography system. The message is represented by a series of 0s and 1s. This can be achieved, for instance, by writing all integers in binary or by utilizing ASCII. The key is a coincidentally long random sequence of 0s and 1s. A key is never utilized again after it has been used once. And….” He pauses, reaching over for a whiteboard marker, and stalking up to the board. “Is represented as such.”

‘C/i = P/i K/i C/i - i^th binary digit cipher text P/i -^th the binary digit plaintext K/i - i^th binary digit key ’ Is scribbled onto the board- in his nearly illegible handwriting. 

“An extremely lengthy key is needed, which is expensive to make and send. Reusing a key for a second communication after it has already been used is risky since any knowledge about the first message would also reveal information about the second…..” He starts again, her eyes slowly closing as she starts to drift off in the lecture. “Developed by IBM, the digital immune system is a thorough method of viral defense. The growing threat of Internet-based viral spread has been the driving force behind this advancement. Recent years have seen an increase in the effects of two significant Internet technology advances on the viral spread: Integrated mail systems: Programs like Microsoft Outlook and Lotus Notes make it very easy to send anything to anyone and deal with received objects. Systems for mobile programs: Programs can transfer themselves automatically from one system to other thanks to features like Java and ActiveX.”

She swore to herself she’d never fall asleep in class.

She almost broke.

She didn’t quite a few other people did though.

“Remember class. Detection, Identification, Removal .”

…

The SQL Slammer worm first appeared in early 2003. A buffer overflow flaw in the Microsoft SQL server was used by this worm.

She sat- more correctly lay in her bed. Her eyes were tired. Past that point where she had been staring at a screen to long. Feeling cry- maybe borderline itchy. Zoe had offered her eye drops the first time she had complained of it. 

She’d never take them.

God, she hated eye drops.

Just the concept of it freaked her out.

Well, it made sense. She couldn’t even open her eyes in the pool.

The sound of the door knob jostling, the jingle of keys, and then the door being thrown open broke her from her trance. She should really be studying. She should really be doing something other than feeling sorry for her dry eyes and actually being productive.

“Jayme!” Zoe charges forward, arms reaching up as she scuttles over the small ladder leading up to her bed, climbing on top of her.

“Fuckin- What?” She half hisses out, moving Zoe over to her side and rolling over to look at her.

“He asked.” Her mouth was split open into a huge grin.

“What?” She asked.

“He asked me out! To coffee!” She squeals, throwing her head back.

“Ohhhhhh.” Jayme grins, raising her hand up and pinching Zoe’s cheek. “See? I told you it would work.”

Zoe lifts herself, pushing off of the bed and jumping down onto the ground, starting to rummage through her things. “No, no you didn’t. You spent the entire time telling me how bad of an idea this was. Because A, you’re bitter and lonely, and B-” “Wanting to fuck your TA is on par with sucking your professor's dick?” Jayme asks aloud.

“No, oh my gosh.” She groans, throwing her head back. “I’m filling in for a coworker at the store until closing, so you’ll be all alone.” She grins again.

Zoe worked at a run-down, stinky, Office Depot. Her uncle was the manager- and sometimes, he’d offer up free school supplies to them. Cutesy little pens, sometimes Journals and notepads. They usually had some kind of flaw about them that made it so they couldn’t be sold on the floor, but regardless. She’d gotten a few nice binders out of it and she wasn’t one to complain. Even if the man's constant wheezing raised her blood pressure and made her swear to herself to never pick up the habit of smoking.

“I’ll enjoy every moment,” Jayme replies, rolling back over, grabbing her pillow, and covering her head with it in hopes it’ll drown out the buzz of people walking down the hallway outside.

It never does.

The buffer overflow vulnerability that the worm took use of was first identified by David Litchfield, whose proof-of-concept code was used to present the worm at the Black Hat Briefings. The only thing this short bit of code does is generate random IP addresses and transmit itself to those addresses. A computer that is running an unpatched instance of Microsoft SQL Server Resolution Service listening on UDP port 1434 and receives a specified address becomes infected and starts spreading the worm program throughout the Internet.

She should really be studying, not working on other people's projects.

But, she was hungry. What could she say?

In all honesty, it wasn’t that hard. As dirty as it was, she was feeding it all through an AI system to generate the text, she would read through it and dumb it down because there was no was this asshole knew how to use the word ‘eloquently’. Then feed it back through, generate some filler to get some dings on his grade, all to make it more believable and then give it back to him. Grab the cash, and go buy something for her and Zoe to eat for dinner. 

She owes it to her, really.

Without Zoe she wouldn’t really make it. Yea, she was being supported by her parents and whatever pocket change she made off of working at that stinky ass office supply store went to her crippling shopping habits-

But Zoe took care of her. And Jayme would try to help in any way she could back.

Even if it meant stalking a professor to get the perfect window to insert Zoe into a TA’s life so that he would fall in love with her.

As if love were a real thing, she’d muse with herself. Her parents were in love- or at least they said they were. It left a horribly bitter taste in her mouth to be thinking about it. To be thinking about how it was a long haul to wait until she was old enough to move out- out of high school so that they could move on with their lives as if she were a burden.

Not that they ever called her a burden, it was just how she took it.

She was probably right to take it that way.

It would happen the way it normally does.

Zoe gripped the doorknob and jiggled it a bunch of times as if Jayme ever forgot to lock the door. Not ever- never once in their continued stay in these dorms had she ever found Jayme in the room- unlocked. It was like a paradox.

Pushing the door open after she clatters around with her keys for a good while, throwing the door open giggling and squealing about how amazing the coffee date was, and how he was ‘soooo hot’, he had even opened the door to the coffee shop for her, and pulled out the chair.

Jayme would nod, trying not to rain on her parade with her bitter outlook on the concept, and allow her to ramble, at no one in particular if not her about how great it was. Oh, and how she has to try out this new mocha-chai-something-bullshit concoction that he had recommended she taste. Leaning forward and letting her take a sip out of his cup as if it was the same thing as them aggressively frenching out in the bathroom.

She’s back in the classroom, staring at the whiteboard spacing out as Professor Wills rambles about the importance of the autonomy of American citizens- as well as their online privacy.

“I've made light of the fact that I don't really care if the NSA can read my emails during class. They will not be bothered about whatever I have. There are, however, bigger issues involved. ” He starts, standing up and starting to pace, back and forth and back and forth in a way that makes her motion sick.

“ Our best look at how a government can employ computer surveillance to monitor and control its populace comes from the Chinese government, most likely. ” He snickers at the end of it, as if it were some kind of joke the class would get. No one else laughed, because they didn’t get it. Only he would understand it- probably doing his fair share of rooting through, crossing that fine line in the name of evidence. “ The goal is to compile all online data about Chinese businesses and individuals in one location, score each of them based on their political, commercial, social, and legal "credit," and then compile the results.”

“I bet a lot of you in this room would fail on the social aspect, with those Instagrams of yours.” He teases. 

There's a light- may be forced in the name of politeness laugh that fills the room. 

“ The three V’s !” He yells, throwing another object somewhere in the room.

“Volume – The amount of data. The size- quantity. How many gallons of dirt do they have on you? 

Velocity- The speed at which data is produced is known as velocity. Different processing approaches may be employed depending on the velocity.

Variety- Data might be structured or unstructured. The processing of structured data is ideally suited for computers. Not so with unstructured data. A passenger manifest is an illustration of structured data. Unstructured video from a CCTV camera shows passengers leaving and entering a passenger terminal.

And last of all?

Veracity – Your accuracy.”

There was a stiff silence.

“Um, Professor.” One of the guys in the front pipes up. “That was four.”

“At least someone was paying attention! Class is dismissed!”

The recognition of the worm spreading was recognized too little, too late.

Jayme sits on the cold linoleum-tiled floor, scratching at some kind of chart when the telltale sign of footsteps up to her door breaks her from her train of thought. 

The sound of keys jingling first- not the jiggling of the knob. And the distinct sound of her choking on a sob at the door.

She stands, ready to hear about how horrible the date went- that he was talking to another girl. It had happened what- six times already in the few years she had known Zoe? It wasn’t anything new. They’d go somewhere- Trader Joe’s probably. Buy a bunch of snacks and shit talk and pig out until Zoe felt better.

Walking over to the door and opening it up, she’s met with the dark mascara splattered down her face from Zoe’s tears. She opens the door more, stepping out of the way as Zoe drops to her knees- at Jayme’s feet and lets out a sob. One she’d never heard before- ever. She sheer amount of fear- rage- hurt. She blinks, kneeling down with her to realize her horror.

She’s back in her childhood room, sobbing, staring up out of the window, and watching the stars. Her heart aches and the feeling of her puffy eyes and stuffed-up nose do nothing to fight against the horrible headache that blossomed in her head either from the stress, or the dehydration of crying like a baby for this long.

She's standing up, walking into the little bathroom connected to her room, and looking in the mirror, smearing the snot and tears off of her cheeks and seething.

She didn’t want to inflict the pain for her own sake. To make her feel better.

But she would, she will, she would inflict pain for her sake. 

The hospital is cold.

Quiet.

The buzz of people moving about doing their jobs. Sipping on stale coffee and listing to the chatter in the radio or clicking on a poorly hidden tab of solitaire.

It makes her itch. The kind of itch you feel when there's a spider crawling up your arm in the dark- you can’t see the spider but it’ll wake you from a dead sleep to freak out. She picks at the skin on her thumb, bites her lip, and taps her foot. Anything while she waits. 

One of the nurses brings her a soda from the vending machine.

It was a nice gesture, but she ends up with the tab cracked, listening to the sound of the carbonation fizzling off while she stared off into space feeling nothing but anger- and guilt.

How it was all her fault-

She had started the spiral,

The snowball.

Had she not of given in- had she not of let Zoe blindly chase tail as if she were a neurotic dog. She’d be ok- she wouldn’t have been kneeling at her feet sobbing .

The police arrived. One young male officer, and one female. 

The female stepped behind the curtain.

The male officer sat down next to her.

He tried- awkwardly. To try to coax information out of her, what happened? What really happened.

The condescending words as if she had been lying.

As if it was just a jest .

So she calmly, even if she had to stop a few times breaking down crying. Explaining the situation.

He took his notepad and fucked off a while later.

It was three weeks later.

The Disciplinary board ruled in favor of the TA- put him on suspension with no pay due to the circumstances.

She never saw Zoe again.

She Just kind of… Left. One night. She woke up the next morning. She had packed up some clothes, and left in the dead of night.

Leaving her alone.

In Silence.

Again.

Soon enough, one in four computers connected to the internet was affected.

[merge-conflict]

persistence

Once an attacker manages to gain access to the network, via exploit or other method of compromise, they will seek to gain some measure of persistence, i.e. a way of maintaining their access. That access can then be leveraged to allow them to further explore the network, exfiltrate data, and escalate privileges.

water wears away stone

3.6k - explicit - cw: dysphoria, suicidal ideation

Post-ending. Valentine is back working for Arasaka, but she still secretly makes time for Johnny, who is body-hopping in dolls with Alt's help (and the doll's permission). Things go a little different from usual.

written for @silverv-week :3 (prompt: no-tell motel)

<>

It’s a rainy day in Night City– a rainy day in a string of rainy days that’s turned streets into spent fuel pools, stripping all the grime off the buildings to collect in the gutter. The whole city smells like a sewer, and inside the bar where Johnny sits waiting he can also smell the moldy bloom of rot. Things are busier than usual, full of gonks looking to drown their sorrows in alcohol instead of floodwater. The space he’s carved out for himself has grown smaller and smaller, his neighbors crowding in around his stool, some of them just looking to get the bartender’s attention and some of them buzzing like flies on meat.

He tries to wave down the bartender for another drink, but another body slides in front of him– some two-bit corpo with a cheap suit just starting his night. There are times when Johnny misses his body more than others, and this is one of them– just the sleazy smile on the other man’s face makes him wish he could rearrange it. But dolls are built for flash, not fire, and his arm is perfectly polished Realskinn, not heavy metal.

“You look too good to be here alone,” the corpo says, “Who’re you waiting for?”

“Waiting for a goddamn drink,” Johnny snaps, setting his empty glass down onto the bar with a heavy thunk.

The man laughs, but it’s a mean superior little laugh. “I can help with that.”

“Fuck off,” Johnny says. “Got a better chance of getting your dick sucked by bending over.”

“Hey, bitch–“ All of the corpo’s charm dissolves into an arrogant sneer. “–you’d better watch how you speak to me.

“Or what?” Johnny asks, leaning in. “You gonna cry to daddy?”

The corpo grabs his arm, and on instinct Johnny throws a quick jab up into his jaw. His head snaps back, but his grip stays strong as he drags Johnny closer and the first set of alarm bells start ringing as he realizes he’s not strong enough to just pull free. “You’re gonna pay for that you cheap fucking whore–“

The asshole is cut off by someone suddenly grabbing his shoulder and punching him in the back of the head so hard he collapses like a puppet with its strings cut, hitting the floor with a crash that causes a silence to settle in the bar save for the blare of the television. V stands over his body, soaked to the bone, hair plastered to her face, and a slight sneer on her lips. Her chrome left hand is still curled into a tight fist. She rolls the body over with her foot, eyes sparking for a moment before she loses interest and steps over him to join Johnny at the bar.

He always wonders if she’ll recognize him, but she always does. This time is no exception. She smiles at him, in the way that gets his blood pumping even higher, and more importantly, even lower. The corpo she laid out had been drinking something brown– she tosses it back and sets the glass down with a thunk and a contented sigh. Johnny grabs her by the collar to pull her down for a kiss and tastes some kind of sickly sweet brandy on her tongue, hears the drunken laughter of their neighbors at the bar. She pulls away first, letting out a deep breath but keeping her head bowed so their foreheads touch.

“Was starting to think you weren’t coming,” he tells her.

“Had to wait to make my entrance,” she says, darkly amused.

“My own personal knight in shining armor.” He pulls her closer by her belt buckle and hears the smile in her sharp exhale. “You hoof it all the way here from downtown?”

“Got busy–“

They’re interrupted by the groan of the idiot still entangled in between the bar stool legs and V’s feet. She watches impassively as he struggles to pull himself free and then staggers to his feet, holding the back of his head with one hand. His eyes flick to Johnny first, full of rage, but then he meets V’s eyes and decides to cut his losses. A few of the other patrons jeer and laugh as he leaves, entertained by a little run of the mill humiliation. V leans back against the bar and preens, still wearing her corpo arrogance like a second skin as she slides in close enough to touch him.

“Don’t look so pleased with yourself, you only sucker punched the gonk.” He finally has a chance to wave the bartender down for another drink, more eddies sliding away from his borrowed account. “My grandma could have done it.”

“Your grandma was a mean old drunk with a meaner left hook.” V’s back is still to the bar, her eyes scanning the rest of the crowd, restless with adrenaline. “Family trait.”

“Where the hell have you been?” Johnny asks, suddenly feeling the full force of the alcohol hitting him like a fist to his own skull. “Been sitting on my ass here for hours.”

“Where the hell have I been?” she repeats, mockingly. “I’ve been working at my fucking job. Unlike you I have responsibilities.”

She finally meets his eye, and it’s one of those disorienting moments where he can feel what’s going on underneath the surface just by looking at her– nerves clanging, teeth grinding, skin itching. She’s stuffed to the gills with stims, primed to pick a fight with anyone who rubs her the wrong way, himself included. He hooks his fingers around her belt buckle again, pulling her in close for another kiss. This time she doesn’t try to pull away, but growls into his mouth, fingers digging into his hips.

“Trying to charm me?” she accuses, when they finally break, breathing hard. She pauses. “You look good.”

“I always look good.”

V exhales sharply through her teeth. “Fuck you.”

“Something really got your tighty whities in a twist, huh?” He kisses her cheek. “Let’s get out of here.”

Her grip on his hips tightens, her left hand painfully tight. “Don’t try to fucking manage me.”

“Stop being such an uptight corpo bitch.” He tries to kiss her again but she pulls away and he settles for grabbing her by the tie. “Now you want to fight or you want to do something more fun?”

She’s about to argue some more, but before she can think of anything cutting her eyes land on his chest and linger there. He grins and cups his hands under his borrowed set of overflowing tits, and she sighs in irritation. “Don’t know why the hell I put up with you”

They set out into the rain, which has turned into more of a drizzle. He has another reason to hate the shoes he’s strapped into, open toes letting in cold, filthy water. Rosie had offered to give him a quick lesson on heels, and he wishes he’d taken her offer instead of laughing at her. Maybe then she would have agreed to change into something he could actually walk in instead of laughing right back.

He slips and nearly eats shit, V catching his arm and holding him upright. She stifles her laughter, but he knows she’s suppressing a grin. “Where the hell are we going?”

“Close,” he says, righting himself and gestures with his chin to where the bright sign of the No-Tell gleams brightly in the gray mist.

“Fuck, I hate that place.”

“You got a better idea?”

The corner of her mouth creases into a deep frown along with her furrowed brow. It’s charming, although he’d never be stupid enough to tell her, at least not while she’s got a whole foot on him.

“You always take me to the shittiest places,” she says, in such a sweetly saccharine tone that he nearly falls over laughing again before she yanks him back into motion.

The inside of the motel is more crowded than usual, humid smoke saturating the lobby, separated into two groups of people: those avoiding eye contact and those trying to catch attention to sell a little comfort. A few of the latter give Johnny a professional sneer– he’s the wrong class of whore for this neighborhood. V heads straight for the kiosk, not even pausing before she’s pulled out her knife and starts prying off a side panel. It doesn’t take her long to pull it free, and there’s a warp to the metal that suggests she’s far from the first to do so.

“You’ve got the eddies, just pay for it,” he says, freeing his left foot and putting his bare foot down on the floor with a sigh of relief. Prosthetics have gotten much better than he remembers. He can feel every detail of thin, crusty carpet covering concrete underfoot, but at least he doesn’t have to worry about tetanus. And it’s better than being hobbled.

“I am not paying for a room in the motel where I got shot in the head,” V mutters, already recalling her personal link into her wrist with a snap.

He grunts, prying off the right heel and throwing it down next to the other one. “Should qualify you for some sort of discount, at least.”

She turns to look at him and wrinkles her nose. “This floor is filthy.”

“You sound like that old ronin.”

The look she gives him in response is fit to kill. She bends to snatch up his discarded shoes with one step and scoops him up in the next, grunting as she adjusts him in her arms.

“Alright, princess. Your tower awaits.”

“Easy there, tiger, you’re going to throw out your back,” he says. It’s not so bad, getting carried around. Closest he usually got to this kind of thing was crowd surfing, but with this, there’s only one set of hands feeling him up. He leans into V’s neck and kisses her over her pulse point, provoking a sound that is halfway between a laugh and a growl.

“Next time you do all the lifting,” she grumbles, shifting him in her grip as she waves her hand over the lock and then shoulders the door open.

Johnny’s been thrown around plenty of times, but there’s something different about it when his back is on the mattress and he’s looking up at someone he couldn’t wrestle his way out from under. He doesn’t always miss his arm, but he misses it now, feels naked without it. V isn’t even looking at him, eyes scanning the room with a frown, annoyed by the mess, or the memory of the place, or maybe both.

“Hey,” he says, interrupting her train of thought. “Eyes on the prize. I can’t tell, are you supposed to be Prince Charming or the dragon?”

She grins, pleased as a cat with the cream on both comparisons. “Which do you prefer?”

He moves to the edge of the bed, annoyed by the way his dress restricts his movement, but equally gratified by the way it draws her attention. When he’s in some chump with nice hands she wants to fight. When he’s in some chick who can barely see over the counter she wants him to tell her what to do. If he points that out she’ll probably try and strangle him.

“C’mere,” he says, tugging her closer by the belt.

He’s been on the other side too many times to count, so he knows what it means when she moves in close, suddenly quiet with concentration. As eager as any gonk to get her rocks off. She takes one look at his face and exhales sharply, turning away in embarrassment.

“Found your weakness,” he says, undoing her buckle and her pants, lifting up the only dry part of her shirt. She inhales as he kisses the soft part of her stomach. “Is it the tits, or the fact you can finally throw me around?”

V scoffs, hands making short work of the buttons of her shirt. “It’s definitely not your sterling personality.”

“Ouch,” he pretends to be wounded, slipping his hands around her hips and squeezing her ass. “Personality is all I’ve got left.”

“Fake it til you make it.”

She finishes unbuttoning her shirt and he helps her peel it off her skin, grinning as she tenses her stomach. After she’s ditched her shoes and pants she slides in behind him on the mattress, pulling him back into her lap and rucking up the skirt of his dress until she can spread his knees on the outside of her own. A small part of him wants to protest, but he can hardly think over the chaotic struggle of shame and lust he feels at being exposed, at being feminine and weak, and at feeling V solid behind him, knowing that there’s no part of him she could ever look at in disgust. It’s been lurking around here and there, but now it’s got him by the throat, and everything is wrong.

“Okay?” V asks, one reassuring hand on his thigh and the other– her chrome hand, tracing gentle circles around his collarbones. Her breathing is steady, and he matches himself to that. “You’ve gone quiet.”

“Fine,” he snaps, reaching back to grip the back of her neck in one hand. She shivers at the contact and for some reason makes the tension in his stomach dissolve. He doesn’t have to explain anything to her. “Fine.”

V hums, leaning back so she can loosen the zipper to the dress. “You know this gives me an opportunity to teach you a thing or two?”

“Oh yeah? About what?”

Her damp skin sticks to his as she pulls him close to her chest again, the fabric of the dress suddenly pushing away from his tits, the slack enough to give a well positioned observer something extra, or to let a hand slip in. V finds a nipple and pinches, and Johnny goes from observer to specimen, the brief moment of pain mixed with pleasure, branching out from his core. He wants her hands all over him, to let her devour him whole.

“Fuck,” he says, and doesn’t even care that it doesn’t sound like his voice. “Get this thing off me. See what other things your mouth can do besides talking big.”

She’s happy to oblige, stripping him down with practiced ease. The best thing about V is she never asks any unnecessary questions, shows not the barest interest in why he’s in this body and yet seems to have a preternatural sense for the brief moments of discomfort that bubble up while she’s mapping him from toe to tip with her palms. The exercise is as much for her as it is for him, but he relaxes anyway, the sensation of her gently squeezing his tits going from strange to good in a way that still feels fragile.

He’s not prepared for how easily she lifts him so his legs are hooked over her shoulders, how vulnerable it feels to have her breath warm in sensitive places, how different it is from how it was with Kerry, when he was inside her in a different way. Then she puts her mouth on him and his only concern is chasing the high, abandoning all concerns about self to focus on her tongue and the bruising grip of her hands.

The alcohol works against him but still, he comes spectacularly, bucking and writhing. No sooner does she gently lower him down then she’s right back at it, the shock of her fingers sliding into him offset by the gentle kisses she feathers around his sensitive clit. He can’t think of anything except the way she alternates between rhythmic thrusting and the fluttering of her fingers, until she’s got him again– this time the pleasure not constrained to a single peak but a long wave, crashing over him until she deposits him back again into the sweaty nest of sheets that have somehow wrapped around his arms.

While he’s still enjoying the afterglow, she curls up against him with her face in his chest, and is almost immediately out like a light. She doesn’t stir. Not when he rests his hand on the back of her neck, or when he makes one feeble attempt to reach his cigarettes– almost a whole foot out of reach and taunting him where the pack sits in a pile of discarded clothing at the edge of the bed.

He holds out for another five or ten minutes, and then has to wriggle out from under her to take a piss. When he returns he finds her sprawled in the space he’s left behind, breathing slow and even, but not quite yet unconscious.

“How’s the crash?” he asks, and receives a grunt in response. “Didn’t even give me a chance to return the favor.”

“I don’t care.” She cracks open one eye and then closes it. “Rather sleep on your tits.”

He snags his cigs and lighter before laying down next to her, and she drags him closer and makes herself comfortable without ever opening her eyes. She even lets out a little sigh, like a dog settling in for a nap, grumbling when his laughter makes for an unsteady pillow.

“If you were so tired you could have said so,” he tells her, running fingers through her hair with one hand while he pulls out a cigarette with his teeth.

“Why?”

He pulls the cigarette out of his mouth, fiddling with it a bit. “I mean you could have canceled.”

Her head shoots up at the sound of his lighter, and before he can defend himself she’s snatched the cigarette from his lips. “No smoking in bed.”

“The hell do you mean, no smoking in bed?”

“It’s disgusting.”

“I guarantee a lot more disgusting things have been done on this bed.” He gestures to the cig with his chin. “C’mon, this ain’t exactly the Konpeki.”

V frowns at him so deeply he thinks she’s going to toss the cigarette to the side, but eventually she places it back in his mouth. There’s a certain amount of huffiness in the way she nuzzles back against him that means he’s going to be hearing about this again. She searches blindly for his free hand, and laces her fingers into his.

“I didn’t want to cancel,” she mumbles.

Johnny realizes too late there’s no ash tray. He flicks ash onto the comforter and watches the fibers melt into each other, and then stubs it out entirely. “Miss me, huh?”

She really must be exhausted, because for once V doesn’t deflect. “Yeah.”

They lay in comfortable silence for a while, and Johnny traces circles along V’s neck and spine, his craving for nicotine replaced by a feeling akin the way he used to lay awake at night and try to imagine metal and plastic was really flesh and bone. This body is as good as any other body because it isn’t his. This body is as worse as any other body because it isn’t V. Just another interchangeable part.

“Who knew we’d miss the good old days?” he asks.

V props herself up on her elbow so she can look in his direction, although her eyes are fixated somewhere over his shoulder. “I still talk to you. It’s not you, obviously, I don’t see you or hear you or anything.”

“You never let me win an argument,” he says, and it feels good to see her real smile, and not the one she uses to cover up something else.

“I can’t keep doing this,” she says. “One of these days I’m going to get sloppy. I feel like I’m falling apart, Johnny. I wish you’d just let me die.”

“Jesus, V–“ He sits up, but she doesn’t move a muscle, staring blindly forward with her teeth gritted. She’s trying not to cry. “What is it?”

Her mouth thins into a flat smile, and she wipes at her cheek. “Nothing. I’m just tired. Haven’t slept in…” Her expression goes blank, silently calculating. “I don’t know. Since Wednesday.”

In another few hours it will be Saturday. She does look exhausted, awake only through sheer iron will, the circles under her eyes darker than usual. She looks miserable too, in a way he hasn’t seen since he was inside her head. It’s her fault, walking right back into that fucking snake nest, too chickenshit to accept actual freedom.

“Go to sleep,” he says, leaning forward to kiss her. She sighs, leaning her forehead against his. “Got these huge cans, might as well put them to use.”

She chuckles, then clears her throat. “They are pretty great.” Her metal fingers are cool against his skin, light and tender before she pulls away. She bows her head, shifting so she can press a kiss where her hand was. “Going to keep them in the rotation?”

“Nah.” He threads his fingers through hers again as she settles back down to use him as a pillow. “Think you got the right idea about them. Besides, I miss the old bait and tackle.”

“You and your goddamn dick,” she grumbles.

“Jealous, huh?” He pets her hair, tracing the shell of her ear with his fingers. “Don’t have to keep doing this, you know. Could leave all that shit behind and live your life without some jackass telling you what to wear and what to eat and when to sleep.”

She sighs, but there’s not even a grumble of argument. No stubborn noises about her job being a part of her, what she’s good at, what she wants. He idly rubs his thumb over the small fine hairs at the base of her neck. He knows her inside and out better than anyone, and a lack of an answer is as good as confession. Between one minute and the next he feels her go slack, while he lays looking up at the slowly growing stain in the ceiling. Another day of rain like this and it’ll split open.

[minileena-sfw]

Okay theres definitely gonna be five of these I've mathed it out I think but the fourth one is my fav and this is the 3rd so you better follow me hahaaaa

Layna

As the rival thief whose pocket I'm riding in walks through the main hall, I occasionally poke my head out to get location details for Becca. I fully expect her to take an unplanned turn and start running with me.

She doesn't.

This might actually be a clean getaway.

...

Then the alarm starts blaring.

Doors are locked down and in the panic of all the guests who don’t know what’s happening, my rival-turned-accomplice manages to slip away to a stairwell. After a minute or two of thumps jostling me around, the air becomes cool and I realize she's taken us to the roof.

"Jade? Where am I?" She calls out into the air, to no answer. "...Jade?"

Silence follows before she takes a deep breath.

"They seem to have found Jade's van," she huffs.

"Fucking fuck!" I shout as my fingers run through my hair in exasperation. "If you had just let me take the goddamn-"

"Hush, thinking," she said as she started pacing before pressing a finger against my head and pushing me back down into her pocket.

Wha... hey!!!

I almost start cussing her out, but the brazen way she pushed me away, as if I were a cat pawing at her leg, leaves me kinda stunned.

And... maybe a bit bashful???

"Layna," Rebecca calls in my ear. "Location. Now."

"Roof," I reply quickly and with a touch of frustration in my voice.

"Uhh... depending on the section you're on, there might be a fire escape ladder attached to the wall on the south side of the building," she shoots back.

"South wall!!!" I call out from my pocket.

We finally hit a stroke of luck, finding the ladder and making our way down just before the cops circle around back. My rival sprints across a parking lot and jumps a fence right as our escape route is illuminated in blue and red.

I try not to throw up from the motion sickness.

"Layna! I'm--"

Rebecca's voice is cut off by sirens playing through the static.

"Fuck," I breathe.

My captor makes her way a tad further from the scene before finding an alleyway to sit down in to catch her breath. She tries to sit down before hearing a squeak coming from her leg as I'm pressed uncomfortably against the fabric.

"Sorry!" She calls as she slowly reaches in and pulls me out.

I scramble to sit up in her hand, trying to keep from trembling at the situation I ended up in.

"Okay," she sighs between huffs of breath. "Done. Safe. Where's your ride?"

I move to lie and say she's on her way, but there wouldn't be a point. No endgame. I'm... at a loss.

Out of options.

At her mercy.

My silence and the slight tremble in my legs are enough to clue her in.

"Ah," she sighs. "Gotcha."

"L-Listen," I stutter, already frustrated near the point of tears at the loss of all of my composure. I hate being small sometimes.

"Listen," I say again, more steadily. "Obviously I'm..." I manage to control a shaky gasp on its way into my lungs. "Uhm... k-kinda... like, f-fucked."

This is so humiliating.

"I have no reason to screw you over. L-Like, I'm not gonna pull a 'if I can't have it nobody can' on you. You can just... l-let me go."

I hope I'm small enough that she can't see the tears starting to bead in the corners of my eyes.

If cops catch you they arrest you. I would give almost anything to stay out of jail, but one thing I wouldn't give is my life.

This woman is not a cop. She's a thief who would directly benefit from keeping me silent.

I'm terrified.

She sighs and gives me a smile that's about as close to comforting as it could get given the circumstances.

"95 million, you said?"

I nod, my eyebrows furrowed.

She gives me a smirk. "My fence quoted 75. Probably trying to skim."

I think I'm getting it. "You can have my fence. I can take you to them."

She shakes her head. "No, hon, I'm saying it's okay. We'll split. I'm not gonna fuck you over."

Tentative relief runs down my spine and relaxes my tensed legs. This woman isn't gonna kill me, that much is clear, but... split it? She has no incentive to do that. I can do nothing to make sure she keeps her word--no leverage, no power, nothing.

I live in a world of leverage and power. This obviously applies to my line of work--the only reason Rebecca doesn't take advantage of me during our jobs is because I have blackmail on her. The reason I offered her a cut despite my leverage over her is because she has blackmail on me. We're not friends. I don't have friends in this line of work. I have people I need to keep under wraps so they don't take advantage of me, something most people can do with extreme ease.

This also, however, applies to my day-to-day life. I'm a parvus. Most people try to treat me decently and equally in my daily routines, but there's almost a sort of palpable tension in the air when I speak, as though a lesser is speaking to her betters and everyone in the room is waiting for someone to put her in line.

I'm at the bottom of the food chain. I hate it, but it's true. It's just the world I live in.

Which is why I'm so shocked to find that I cannot come up with a single logical reason for this woman to lie about splitting with me.

I have no leverage over her. That makes me lower. That's the deal. So why is she treating me like I'm not something to be taken advantage of?

"I..." I try to find the words to acknowledge her offer, but simply land on "okay," out of pure fluster.

"When do you meet with your fence?" She asks.

"T-Tomorrow morning," I tell her. "A few miles down--"

God, she has me so ruffled I almost actually *told* her.

"Er," I interrupt, "I'll lead you there tomorrow."

She gives me a lighthearted smirk and presses her thumb to my cheek. My breath is caught in my chest at the gentle touch, careful and delicate against my frame.

"Almost slipped there, huh?" She says in such a way that I can almost feel in my bones that she wouldn't have done anything with the information had I told her.

I've never felt like this before.

"So... probably need to find a place to stay tonight?" She asked. "Jade and I were gonna sleep in the van, so... I'm open to suggestions."

I pause, still a little shaken by her caress, as well as how unusually smooth things are going.

"Uhm... motel?" I offer. "There's one a few blocks that way, I'm pretty sure."

She gives me a smile and a quick, gentle tap to the cheek before standing up and setting me on her shoulder. "Lead the way, little gps," she says as she starts off. “Oh, and what's your name, by the way? You can give me a fake if you want, just need something to call you.”

It's stupid. It's so fucking stupid. It's giving her leverage with a piece of information that I have no reason not to lie about.

“Layna,” I say anyways, cursing myself for letting things get this bad.

“Evelyn,” she replies in kind.

Part 3 of 5 and pls go read 4 its rlly good I liked writing it Layna's rants are always so fun to do oh you should read zookeeper btw this is an au of the characters and zookeeper is the original I never found a smooth way to end it though

[forcebookish]

i know there's still 1 ep left so maybe i'm saying all this prematurely (i don't think so though bc there are still way too many things we don't know) but i really wish we had more questions answered and more of the loose ends tightened up. like...did mew ever find our about the full extent of what boston did? what video did boston show top or are we seriously supposed to believe it was just of them kissing for .2 secs? did mew ever find out who spread the recording? and what exactly happened between sand/boeing and top that led sand to pass around a sex tape just for some petty revenge? bc they could've done A LOT more with that and instead we just get some "he stole my ex" and nothing more. and now that boeing is in the picture it has completely fallen flat bc the viewers have no reason to care about him or what he did. and top's trauma? mentioned in ep 2 and never again (and maybe we will get it next ep but it is way too late...we should've seen him dealing with it from the beginning). idk i just feel like the show is supposed to be character driven but it kind of doesn't feel like it at times. and they should've spent more time focusing on that especially for the last few eps but instead we get boeing and honestly who the hell cares about his contrived drama that isn't even going anywhere?

agreed, there are a lot of unanswered questions that would be impossible to address in just one episode.

however, i don't totally agree that top's trauma hasn't been mentioned since ep2 - it's come up a couple times with regards to his being unable to sleep alone, but it certainly hasn't been expanded upon. the way it's been referenced feels more like a way to remind the audience of it rather than build off of it. tbh i think this is a pattern with all the characters' backstories. even ray doesn't get much more than "dead mom" lol

it is looking like they're following through a little bit, since i'm pretty sure that this

is a ptsd flashback. they're in bed, top looks disoriented, there's no smoke or fire alarm, and mew is confused/didn't notice anything.

(obv my predictions aren't always right! i was wrong about the nickboston teaser last week, but they're kind of a blindspot for me. i never know what the fuck those chuckleheads are going to do lmao)

look, it's a drama. i get that we should have expected that there would be at least some contrivances. clearly, they are inescapable. but it's still frustrating since they obviously had so much material that they could have explored but it has still felt like they've run out of ideas and added a bunch of padding near the end🤷‍♂️

let's hope some of these questions end up answered and we can gain more insight into these characters and what went down, because right now it's looking like they didn't bother to think through what actually happened with sand, boeing, and top :/

thanks for stopping by, anon! 💗💗

[augment-techs]

“Why are you helping me?” + LOSH Phantomwolf please!

"That's such...a stupid...question..."

No powers, no ship, no shelter. Just an injured Brin on her back, wrapped up in her cloak like a child in a brace, and Tinya climbing up the side of a mountain in the rain. Her mother would probably say she was, "Being a little too ambitious," but FUCK THAT. “You’re...my friend... We are... teammates... Why wouldn’t...I help you... Oh, grife, my ribs...” Lowering herself so that Brin was anchored up while her face was down near the ground, almost touching a sodden flower that looked so very close to a dandelion, she breathed in and exhaled slowly.  Talking to him now was ridiculous. He had been unconscious for nigh on hours. He couldn’t hear a word she said and talking out into the void of rain and nothing was doing her no good. But she needed to vent. Venting would keep her from following after Brin into the unconscious; a place neither of them needed her to be out in the wilderness, where long-legged beasties were doubtless waiting to pounce from the shadows on something warm with blood. …And now she was internally narrating like the heroin in an off-brand arthouse film of the 20th Century. Inhaling again, she spat the blood that had steadily been accumulating from biting her inner cheek on impact with the side of the mountain, adjusting her grip on obnoxiously thick arms, and groaned on her return to a vertical position. She stiffened a little, the feeling of Brin taking what felt like a painful gulp of air for himself against her neck setting off alarms and bells in her head. There was a crack across the sky, silver lightning hurtling onto the other side of the mountain, the thunder hurting her ears, but probably hurting Brin more. She set off again for the top of the mountain; for the hope of shelter, somewhere dry, somewhere to set Brin down and wrap his wounds a little tighter before showing off how good she was with the outdoor survival techniques she had learned because Superman wouldn’t shut up about it for a week until Brainy made them all go through the motions of learning how to at least start a fire and build a small den out of dead foliage. (It would be awful. It would be gross, and sticky, and she would burn her hand; but Brin would be dry and safe, and there would be something for the rescue party to see in a flame tended to with care.)