#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

[d-z20]

The Agent Next Door part 2 (NSFW)

Pairing: Agent Rio Vidal x Reader

Summary: You've not seen Rio since you moved back into your apartment, but a prank leads to you two going on a proper date which ends well. Very well indeed. -OR- You guys go on a date and end up fucking all night because you've missed each other so much

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, smut, fingering (R & Rio recv), strap on (R recv), oral (Rio recv), switch Rio & reader

Words: 2.4k

A/N: The voice of the people asked for smut, so smut you shall receive. I've kept it light for this part to establish more of a relationship and then there's a darker theme in the next part.

AO3 | Part 1 | Part 3 | Master List

Fire Drills and First Dates

The days after staying with Rio feel oddly quiet. You’re back in your own apartment, and though everything is fixed now—the door, the shower—you find yourself missing her presence. You hadn’t realised how much you’d grown used to having her around—her sharp wit, her teasing smiles. You’ve only exchanged a few texts since she’s gone back to work, and each one leaves you wanting more. It’s silly, you think, how you’re craving her company. It’s not like you’re avoiding her, but you haven’t had a proper excuse to run into her yet, either.

That is, until one evening when you’re lounging in your pyjamas—an old, baggy tee and some basketball shorts—when the shrill sound of the fire alarm pierces the air. You nearly jump out of your skin, fumbling to grab your phone, keys, and—out of pure panic—a spatula that was on the counter. You bolt for the door, clutching it like it might somehow help.

The hallway is already filled with a few confused neighbours milling about, but it’s Rio you nearly crash straight into.

She’s in a sports bra and shorts, hair mussed like she’s just rolled out of bed. “Well, well,” she says, her grin wide and teasing as she eyes you up and down. “Didn’t realise we were dressing for the apocalypse.”

You look down at yourself, realising just how ridiculous you must look in your mismatched, oversized tee, clutching a spatula like a weapon. "Oh, so you're a fashion critic now too, are you?” you shoot back, rolling your eyes. “And in case of emergency pancake flipping, I’m clearly prepared.”

Rio laughs, the sound echoing down the hallway. “Pancake flipping? Were you planning to defend us from the fire with that?”

“Hey, you never know,” you retort, waving the spatula in the air. “Could be a very specific kind of fire.”

Before you can respond further, the building manager appears, looking exasperated. “False alarm, folks. Some kids pulled it as a prank.”

Rio gives you a sidelong glance, smirking. “Well, that was anticlimactic.”

“Speak for yourself,” you say with mock seriousness. “I risked life and limb to look like this.”

She snorts, shaking her head as she turns to you, stepping closer. “You know, we haven’t actually spent time together since you moved back into your place,” she says, her voice softer now, a hint of something else in her eyes.

You raise an eyebrow. “Was that your way of asking me out, or...”

She huffs a laugh, reaching out to tug lightly at the hem of your tee. “How about we go on a real date, then? Somewhere that doesn’t involve fire alarms or broken doors.”

You grin. “I’d like that.”

—

You meet at a small bar a few nights later, dressed up for once, but there’s still an easy, casual air between you. The place is cozy, with dim lighting and an impressive drink menu. Rio’s leaning against the bar when you walk in, looking effortlessly stunning in a tailored black suit with a sleek blazer and matching trousers. Her hair is neatly styled back, accentuating the sharp lines of her outfit. The deep neckline and confident stance make her presence magnetic, and you can’t help but stare. Her eyes light up when she sees you, extending her arms to embrace you in a quick hug.

“Well, if it isn’t my favourite neighbour,” she greets, flashing a smile. “You clean up nicely.”

You had chosen a soft, striped blouse paired with wide-leg pants that cinch perfectly at your waist. The relaxed fit feels comfortable yet polished, and the delicate necklace at your collarbone, paired with a few understated rings, brings a subtle touch of elegance. You catch Rio’s approving gaze as she takes in your look, a small smile playing on her lips.

“Thanks,” you say, sliding onto the stool next to her. “Figured I should leave the spatula at home this time.”

She laughs, leaning in a little closer. “Probably a wise choice.”

The date flows effortlessly. You banter back and forth, teasing and flirting like it’s second nature. You tell her the story of your worst first date, and she counters with a tale about a stakeout that went horribly wrong, involving a coffee spill and a suspect with an unfortunate penchant for karaoke.

At one point, she leans in, lowering her voice. “You know, I was worried we’d have one of those awkward first dates where we run out of things to talk about.”

You smirk, taking a sip of your drink. “Rio, you broke into my apartment and saw me half-naked. I think we’re past awkward.”

She chuckles, her eyes sparkling as she reaches across the table, taking your hand. “Fair point.”

The night ends with you walking back to her place, the conversation never once faltering. The city lights cast a soft glow over everything, and when you reach her door, she pauses, turning to face you fully.

“So,” she says, her tone a little lower, more serious. “Do I get to kiss you goodnight, or would that be too forward?”

You tilt your head, pretending to think. “Well, you did promise me a real date. I think that earns you a real kiss.”

The moment her lips meet yours, it’s like everything else fades away. She pulls you closer, her hand sliding up to cup the back of your neck. It’s soft at first, but then she deepens it, her tongue teasing against yours in a way that has you breathless. She presses you back against her door, and you can feel her smile against your lips when you let out a soft, involuntary moan.

“Since you left, all I’ve been able to think about was doing this again,” she murmurs, her voice rough and low, filled with that same intense need that always leaves you breathless.

You smirk, pressing closer, letting your fingers trace the line of her jaw. “Oh, I noticed,” you tease, your own voice coming out softer, more vulnerable than you intended.

Rio’s response is a low throaty chuckle that turns into a deep, searing kiss. It’s urgent this time, no hesitation, like she’s trying to make up for every second you weren’t together. Her hands are already tugging at your shirt, her touch firm and possessive. You don’t waste any time either, and start undoing her blazer, pulling her closer until there’s no space left between you.

The two of you stumble back into her apartment, her hands never leaving your body as she guides you through the door. You push her up against the wall first, fingers threading into her dark hair, tugging slightly. She groans against your mouth, and you can feel her grin as you take control, sucking at her lower lip before trailing kisses down her neck.

"Bedroom, now," you whisper against her skin, and she doesn’t argue, practically dragging you to the bed.

The second you reach the mattress, she spins you around, pushing you down firmly before climbing on top. Her eyes are dark, pupils blown wide as she looks down at you. "I love it when you try to take control," she purrs, her voice dripping with amusement as she straddles your hips, her hands sliding under your shirt.

You arch up, letting her peel the fabric away, but before she can continue, you flip her over, pinning her wrists above her head. She lets out a surprised laugh, a glint of delight flashing in her eyes. “Oh, taking charge now, are we?” she taunts.

You lean down, nipping at her jaw. “You got a problem with that?”

“Not at all,” she breathes, her voice catching as you kiss your way down her neck. Her legs wrap around your waist, pulling you closer as you grind against her, both of you groaning at the sensation.

It’s not long before she reverses the position, pinning you to the bed with a smirk. “My turn,” she says simply, and her mouth is on you again, hot and insistent as her hands slide lower, making quick work of your pants.

You lose track of time, caught in a fevered rhythm of give and take. It’s heated and frenzied, the two of you constantly switching who’s in control, neither willing to yield completely. Her hands roam your body with a knowing touch, exploring every curve like she’s memorising you all over again. You respond in kind, your fingers gripping her hips, nails digging in just enough to leave a mark.

She pushes you back against the mattress, pinning you there with a smirk that turns into a hungry kiss. You gasp into her mouth as her fingers slip lower, finding you already wet and wanting. The first touch makes you arch up into her, a strangled moan escaping your lips. Rio takes her time, working you with slow, deliberate strokes until you’re trembling beneath her. She watches you with hooded eyes, clearly enjoying the way you fall apart under her touch.

But you don’t let her stay in control for long. With a quick movement, you roll her onto her back, pinning her wrists above her head, your lips trailing down the line of her throat, sucking at the delicate skin. Her breath hitches when you move lower, slipping your hand beneath the open blazer to reveal the smooth expanse of her stomach. You kiss your way down, taking your time until you reach the waistband of her pants. Her hips lift, silently begging, but you pause, teasing her just like she teased you.

“Patience,” you whisper against her skin, loving the way her eyes darken with desire. You take your time, fingers tracing the waistband slowly before unfastening her pants with deliberate slowness. You tug them down inch by inch, letting your knuckles brush against her thighs, teasing her as her breath catches in anticipation.

You gaze down at her, taking in the sight of her matching green lingerie. “Did you put this on just for me?.” You ask, pulling the thin strip of fabric covering her pussy to the side, making sure your knuckles brush over her clit as you do. You bite your lip at the sight of just how wet she was, letting out a low moan as you try to compose yourself.

When you finally take her in your mouth, her reaction is immediate—a deep, guttural moan that sends a shiver down your spine. Her hands tangle in your hair, pulling you closer as you work her over, the taste of her intoxicating. She comes undone beneath you, her entire body tensing, back arching off the bed as she gasps your name.

You barely get a moment to catch your breath before she flips you over again, her mouth crashing down on yours in a heated kiss. She slips her hand between your thighs, her fingers finding your most sensitive spot and circling there with a relentless rhythm. The pleasure builds quickly, leaving you breathless, moaning into her mouth as she brings you to the edge and then pushes you over.

“Fuck, Rio,” you cry out, your whole body shaking as you come apart, clinging to her.

She grins, looking utterly smug, as she kisses you again, this time slower, more intimate. “I could do this all night,” she murmurs, and you believe her.

It’s a cycle of heated kisses, whispered praises, and a desperate need to touch and taste each other. You take turns pinning each other down, exploring every inch of skin like it’s the first time, making good on every unspoken promise from the last time you were together. The bed creaks beneath your movements, sheets twisted and tangled around your bodies.

At one point, you find yourself straddling her hips, guiding her hands to your waist as you rock against her strap. She looks up at you like you’re the only thing she wants in the world, and the intensity of it makes you falter for a second. But she steadies you with a firm grip, thrusting up against you, making you cry out as you ride the waves of pleasure.

You both end up tangled in the sheets, panting and laughing in between gasps and moans. You soon find yourself on top of her again, pressing kisses down her chest whilst you curl your fingers inside her, your name falling from her lips in a way that makes your heart stutter. It’s messy and passionate, filled with half-formed words and needy whispers, other fantasies from your mind playing out in real-time, surpassing even your most vivid daydreams.

By the time you collapse beside each other, the room is filled with the smell of sweat and sex, and the only sound is your ragged breathing. She pulls you into her arms, still catching her breath, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

“You good?” she asks, her voice soft now, almost tender.

You nod, curling into her side, feeling the beat of her heart beneath your palm. “Yeah,” you murmur, a lazy smile spreading across your face. “Better than good.”

She laughs quietly, pulling the covers up over both of you. “I’m glad to hear it, sweetheart. Why don’t you get some sleep now, hmm?” she says, her fingers tracing circles on your back.

You don’t argue, letting your eyes flutter shut as you sink into her warmth, feeling more at home than ever.

—

The next morning is slow and blissful. You wake up tangled together, her arm draped lazily over your waist. When you stir, she presses a kiss to your shoulder, mumbling a sleepy “Morning, sweetheart,” that makes your chest flutter all over again.

You smile, turning over to face her. “Morning. Did I keep you up last night?”

She smirks, eyes still half-closed. “Worth it.”

You both spend a while just lying there, talking about nothing and everything. Eventually, you get up, pulling on one of her shirts that’s much too big for you, and pad into the kitchen together to make breakfast.

It’s domestic in a way that surprises you—easy and comforting. You’re cooking pancakes while she makes coffee, the two of you moving around each other like you’ve done this a hundred times before. When she hands you a mug and leans down to steal a kiss, it feels like you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be.

“Brunch at home,” she says, raising her mug in a toast. “The best kind of date.”

You clink your mug against hers. “Here’s to many more, then.”

Rio grins, pulling you in for another kiss. “You’re not getting rid of me anytime soon, you know.”

And for the first time, that thought doesn’t scare you at all.

remember to like and reblog if you enjoyed <3

Part 3

[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

[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.

[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!!!

[thebennsofdallas]

A Nandermo rant -Season 6 version

I'm not sure what they (the show runners and writers) are doing with these two. Nandor and Guillermo have been building steadily toward a romance for over 15 years (technically 5 seasons). But to quote various cast members, the ending will be “bittersweet".  More about that later.

For me, Season 5 was Nandermo, all the way. A two alarm fire (only two alarm because they would have to kiss to get more alarms from me). Nandor “remembers” Guillermo’s birthday and takes him to dinner. He notices Guillermo spending time with Laszlo and is hurt and jealous. He goes to outer space in an attempt to impress Guillermo. He tries to make Guillermo jealous by spending time with a new friend. When he thinks Guillermo is dead, he sobs his heart out. He remembers the card that Guillermo sent him 14 YEARS AGO, word for word. And once again, even though he is devastated by Guillermo’s betrayal, Nandor goes against vampiric law to save Guillermo’s life.

If the show had ended at Season 5, I would have been happy. As far as I’m concerned, I got Nandermo — maybe not the Nandermo of my dreams but it was close enough. 

So if the show runners wanted to depict a deep, platonic love between Nandor and Guillermo, they have royally fucked it up. This ain’t it. If they wanted to tease us into thinking this great love is never going to be consummated, it’s a big swing and a miss. 

As to bittersweet? What would that look like for these two? Here are a few ways in which the ending, for Nandor and Guillermo, might be bittersweet:

Guillermo comes to terms with his brief time as a vampire and decides he really did make the right decision. For the rest of his life, he’ll have his human family and his vampire family

Nandor comes to terms with Guillermo’s decision to remain a human and knows that he will lose him one day but they will make the most of the time they have left

Guillermo makes a go of Cannon Capital and earns enough money to finance a relatively normal life. He moves out for real but stays in contact with the vampires

Nandor finds a mate that isn’t Guillermo (that's not really bittersweet but out and out evil)

Together, Nandor and Guillermo have an honest discussion and decide that it would never work for them and they part friends

There are more, I’m sure, but I’m worked up now. For me, the first two are the only two outcomes I could even remotely accept and not organize a riot in front of Paul Simms’ house.

If Nandermo is not going to happen, if TPTB  have fucked us over for over 5 years and made us believe that, on the show where NO ONE is straight, that these two men are going to end up pals, then so be it. It won’t be the last time I’ve loved a show that screwed me over like that and it probably won’t be the last. I’ve been through this before.

But Nandor marrying someone else out of this  vampire group? No. Guillermo and Nandor say goodbye and part ways forever? Hell, no. Either of those outcomes would mean that I wasted a lot of my time loving this show and investing in these characters. And that would be a shame.

[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.

[three-bunnies-in-a-trenchcoat]

The Dark Lord can never win against The Chosen One.

(Full fic below the cut, please check the ao3 link above for full tags before reading)

The first time, after their escape, isn't so serious. 

They've stopped at some sort of diner in a small town near the latest website they've destroyed; Dark can still see the smoke in the distance, but it doesn't seem like anyone else in the diner has noticed, although both of them are getting eyed at suspiciously by the owner (and neither of them have any money, but she's sure that problem will solve itself with a well placed ball of fire or two.)

Chosen goes at the food like she's had nothing to eat in the last decade (which isn't true, because she does this every time). 

He reaches for Chosen's last onion ring– smacked away. Reaches again, glared at with red tinted eyes. A third time, and she jumps across the table to grapple with Dark.

It's a lighthearted tussle, no powers involved, and Chosen pulls her into a headlock within a minute, pulling her down next to her on the booth.

"Choooo." He whines, kicking at her knee. "Come on, let me go."

Chosen ignores her, and starts taking stuff from his plate, which is an indignity he will not let go unpunished–

Chosen catches her fist and gives her an unimpressed stare. The rest of his food quickly falls prey to her appetite. Dark weeps internally and vows vengeance.

---

The second time, it's a bit more serious.

"Teach me how to do that." Chosen says bluntly.

"Uhh." Dark says, letting the end of the pen she was chewing (oh fuck, she's not going to be able to use it again, Cho's rubbing off on her) fall out of her mouth. "Teach you what?"

"Those energy ball things you like to throw at buildings."

"I… don't know if I can?" His powers came to him instinctively, the same way he knew Chosen's did to her. "Cho, why do you even want to know?"

She shrugs. Stick of few words, that one. Not like Dark minds; she's plenty good at filling the silence.

She sets down her newspaper (she liked to keep up on the reporting of their crimes; the crosswords were fun, too) and gets up, stretching. 

-

"So, uh." Dark bounces on her feet. They've relocated outside, to make sure their meager belongings don't get destroyed. "You've just got to, uh…" She trails off as Chosen gives her a disbelieving look. "What? Come on, Cho, I've never taught anyone anything before!"

"Describe how it feels, maybe."

"Uh. Feels like I've got big ball of fuck off in my hand?" 

Chosen crosses her arms and taps her foot.

"It's kind of… itchy." He finally says. "Especially when it's bigger or slower. Like I'm drawing the energy out of myself and it doesn't like it."

She nods. 

"And it's… cold."

"No, it's not." Chosen says immediately. 

She huffs. "To me it is, and that's the important thing, isn't it? So what if it's hot when it explodes?"

She rolls her eyes. “Just stop. I’ll figure it out.”

“Well, fine, but–”

Chosen closes her eyes and pointedly turns away.

The first attempt splutters out miserably. The second explodes directly into her face as soon as it's formed. The third succeeds, and Chosen looks at it with a brief moment of hesitation before awkwardly throwing it down into the street. 

(It explodes, and a dozen car alarms go off in perfect unison.)

She watches Chosen do it a few more times, then lazily tosses a ball of fire at her before taking off into the air.

"Come on!" She says as Chosen splutters and gives her an affronted look. "Experience is the best teacher, or whatever! Fight me!"

Chosen rolls her eyes. “Is that really necessary?”

“Probably not! Let’s go!”

It's a fight that's in Dark's favor– Chosen is trying to fight only with the energy balls, which slows her down and leaves openings that Dark has learned to cover, but she does gradually get better.

Eventually– a ball of fire is tossed her way, which she easily dodges– right into the path of an energy ball, staggering her enough for Chosen to appear at her side and punch her. The surprise and the force of it is enough to send her flying back through the wall of a nearby building.

Dust and a few small pieces of rubble fall onto her. She squints up at the ceiling, seconds before it collapses halfway onto her.

…Goddamnit. She’s not going to be finishing her crossword today.

---

The third time they fight, it's against her will.

There's been an itch steadily building in the back of his mind all day– usually their usual brand of wanton destruction, as he had heard a reporter call it once, would satisfy it–

("Aren't wontons a kind of food?" Dark asks.

Chosen frowns. "I would never destroy food.")

–but it's not working today. No matter what she does, the itch doesn't go away, until it's all she can think about.

Chosen finally notices, a stupid little frown of concern on her face, and it's all she can do to not punch it off. "Are you alright?"

"What's it matter to you?" He snaps– physically snaps, sharp teeth clacking loudly. 

"I'm just worried–" 

And something breaks– Dark lunges for her, fire already cupped in her hand. 

"What the– Dark?!" Chosen weaves out of the way, and ducks under her next swing. "What are you doing?!"

"What I should have done when we met!" 

The next blast of fire catches the edges of Chosen's long, long hair, setting it alight, which is honestly a great look– if only the rest of her was on fire.

He startles for a second at the thought, how full of malice it is, and it gives Chosen the opportunity to tackle him to the ground, hands clamped around his wrists and ice spreading onto his arms.

Unlike Chosen, he can only channel his powers through his hands, a task that's nearly impossible with how she keeps freezing him back over when he breaks the ice.

Dark snarls, writhing under her hold and biting at her. "Let me go, you f–"

"Not until you calm down." She said. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

"There's nothing fucking wrong with me!" 

Chosen looks at her skeptically, like she wouldn't know her own mind, wouldn't know if something was wrong. 

He keeps flinging insults at her, but Chosen has always had thick skin, and eventually she just looks away, like Dark is so far beneath her that she doesn't even need to watch him to keep him restrained.

"You're a real bastard, aren't you, Chosen One, thinking you're better than me?" She growls. "Well, at least I wasn't the one enslaved for years!"

Chosen flinches. Dark knees her in the gut, slides away a few inches, but it's all the leeway she gets before she's held down even harder.

"Awfully pathetic, aren't you? Your creator hated you, and the only person you could ever get to like you was your enemy, how messed up is that?!"

"Shut up." She says quietly. The ice spreads further up her arms.

"Scared of a few words, Chosen One?" She croons. "You should be. It's the truth, after all."

"Shut up!"

She's slammed down against the ground; her head rings, and the taste of blood fills her mouth from where she bit her tongue. 

The pain doesn't bother her, though, and as Chosen glares down at her, flames flickering around her mouth, all she does is laugh.

-

Eventually, her struggles to escape weaken, until finally she blinks, and it feels like a cloud has lifted from her mind.

"What the fuck was that?" She says, voice hoarse. 

"Finally back to normal?" Chosen looks and sounds tired– more tired than he's ever seen her, except for the day they escaped the PC.

"...I think so." 

Chosen pulls away, standing up, and Dark pushes herself up on her elbows.

"I'm sorry for… what I said earlier." Everything seems tinted in a red haze, so filled with hate that Dark can't even believe it came from her.

"It's fine." Chosen says, offering her a hand up. 

Even Dark can tell it's not. She doesn't say anything, though, and just accepts the offer.

-

Two days later, Dark hooks himself up to a computer and finds the code still lurking in him.

---

The fifth, sixth, tenth, fifteenth, twentieth, fiftieth, hundredth time they fight, she still loses, every time.

She's gotten close to winning plenty of times, sure– but at the last second before she can claim victory, some absolute bullshit happens, and Chosen wins.

Chosen doesn't say anything about it– Dark doesn't even think she noticed, because Chosen is dense as hell all the time. It's both one of her best and worst qualities– best because Dark can just do whatever he wants, worst because she doesn't notice when what he wants is to claw her face off.

(Which he can do, now; he'd found this armored glove– vambrace? Bracer? Whatever– with claws on the fingers that he hadn't been willing to take off.

Chosen had said that, with the long coat he had, it made him look like a proper Dark Lord. Then she said that of course, that didn't make him look any less lame, so he had tackled her.

He lost that fight.)

She's glad she always loses those fights, when she loses control. She doesn't want to hurt Chosen– she's not just her friend, she's her partner.

(And neither of them can think family, because of the creator that forsook them.)

Over the years, without another outlet for destruction (retiring to the countryside– it's so ridiculous that Dark still laughs at it sometimes, but he figures after everything Chosen deserves whatever she wants), the fights where Dark isn't himself increase, but her proficiency at handling him does too.

She had managed once to hack into her code to try to get rid of the compulsion to kill Chosen, but it hadn't exactly worked out– Chosen had found her unconscious and twitching, the computer she was using on fire, and had told her in no uncertain terms not to do it again.

It hadn't all been in vain, though– now, at least, she can sometimes keep her head even as her body fights. It unnerves them both, but it's a better alternative to have kept saying horrible things to the only person she cares about.

(It makes her easier to subdue, too– no strategy behind her attacks. It's the best either of them can hope for.)

---

The last time they fight, it's a death match.

None of the cloudy haze of hate that Dark has long since learned to identify is present. This isn't a forced fight, or one for fun. Something is different, and she can tell that neither of them will make it out unscathed– or at all.

And the confusing thing about it is– for the last few years, they've lived a happy life, a quiet life, together, but it still wasn't all that long ago that they were burning down sites. She doesn't understand why Chosen is being so vehement about this– especially not since her first victim is their fucking creator.

(And she's learned a lot, over the years, of just what exactly had happened to Chosen on that damned PC, how it wasn't even a fraction of what happened to her, who was made for a singular purpose to eventually be discarded.)

"Why did you go help that bastard?!" He shouts, throwing Chosen against the rocks. "Why would you side with him over me?!"

Chosen stays infuriatingly silent. 

"Did he do something to you?" Her heart stutters. "Did– Are you–"

She shakes her head; it fills Dark with relief, and then another flood of anger. "Then why did you fucking do it?!"

"He didn't deserve my help." Chosen finally says, and it's the first thing she's said all day that Dark agrees with. "But what if there were more sticks there, who couldn't escape?"

"So? Killing people has never bothered you before!"

"I'm tired of death, Dark. Why do you think I wanted us to stop?" She gestures back to the hole in the sky. Dark nails her with an energy ball and she shrugs it off. "There were children there! Even you tried not to kill children!"

"'Even you'?" She growls, sending a wave of fire at her with a sweep of her arm. "Do you think you're so much better than me, Cho? You've destroyed and killed just as much as I have, and I know you enjoyed it too!"

"That's not what I–!"

"It sounds like that's what you meant!"

They go tumbling through one of her portals, and Chosen, used to desktop fighting more than she is, takes the upper hand. 

Once they're out, he obscures her vision with the smoke of an explosion, and with a final explosive move, Chosen is thrown deep into the water. He wipes his eyes (probably just damp from the spray having splashed in his face), and heads back to his control panel. She won't stay down long.

(Chosen is acting like she's the one betrayed, the one wronged, but she was the one who extended her hand, who convinced Dark to join her side against their creator.

…She'll regret this.) 

The vira-bracelets snap in place over her wrists, and she flexes her fingers as a surge of new energy rushes through her, and up into the sky.

She flicks her wrists, and two crackling blades of virus filled energy form. 

-

His side aches with pain. Between Chosen and his creator, they had gotten some good hits in, and unlike Chosen, he didn’t have the luxury of being able to heal himself– but neither has Chosen, with his relentless attacks.

“It didn’t have to come to this.” Chosen says, pushing against the spiders’ hold. 

“Of course it did.” She says, getting ready to reignite her blades. 

An orange stick jumps down in front of them, and they both recoil in surprise.

“You were the one that summoned him, weren’t you?” He orders his spiders away, giving the stick a scrutinizing glance. 

“Well, it wasn’t me in part–”

Four more sticks jump down and settle into fighting stances. None of them say anything, but the yellow one gives them an admonishing glance. The red one is the first to leap into action– and the first to fall.

“These are the kids, I’m guessing?” She says to Chosen as she kneels over his body. “Well, I guess you were wrong about me.”

She doesn’t say anything, looking away. Dark kicks the body away, and dismisses his blade. None of them are enough of a threat for it.

The blue one rushes her first, followed swiftly by his friends, but even with four of them, they’re hardly doing anything to her and are swiftly knocked down.

The claws of her gauntlet dig into the yellow one's throat. She seems to realize that her life, at least, is forfeit, and kicks weakly at Dark, pleading for her friends to run. 

It's annoying. She makes sure she dies last.

The orange one– and what an idiot, still standing here even after their friends have disintegrated– looks back at Chosen, swarmed by spiders, like she can do anything. 

"Get out of here." She rasps over the spiders' skittering. "You don't owe me anything–"

Dark punches her blade through their stomach. "They're one of his, aren't they? The others weren’t."

(They must have been doing something, to have survived unchained for this long– or maybe he's just gotten better at programming loyalty.)

Their head lolls back, and eyes filled with pain and hatred glare at him. 

"What's your name, huh?" She asks while waiting for them to die. "What role did he give you?"

Their breath is ragged as they sink to their knees. "Orange."

She laughs, and lifts them back up to see their face. "That's it? Orange? He really did learn his lesson, huh?"

An elbow slams into his face.  He gives them an unimpressed stare, and flips them down to the ground, stabbing them again. They're tougher than any stick she's fought besides Chosen– held out longer than any of their friends, that's for sure.

They push at him, one final protest, and Dark takes a moment to study their face. They're only a little younger than he and Chosen had been– but the fury in their face is an equal to what theirs had been.

It occurs to her that from their perspective, she's the one taking the role of their creator, and she can't stand to see them any longer. 

She throws them up into the air, and within seconds injures them enough that even with their strange hardiness they won't survive long, and sends them crashing into the cliff with enough force to make a crater.

She looks down at Chosen. She's done enough damage and the spiders have forced enough of the virus into her that she's struggling to heal herself. She'll be easy prey now.

He opens the portals, flicks his wrist again, and his spiders fly toward them. Green sparks flit along the edges of his vision, and it's all the warning he gets before an orange blur slams into them, and then him.

Orange– and that can’t be their real name– tosses and punches him with a speed and strength that not even Chosen possessed. It hurts, in not even a way that his fight with Chosen and their creator had, something in his torso cracking with a sickening sound. 

She skids on the water, calling her remaining spiders; they’re decimated in a fiery green explosion in seconds, but it gives her enough time to get behind them. She throws them away and turns to flee, something she’s never once done.

A rock slams into her back. Something else breaks, and she freezes, gasping for breath. The stick flies up to her side, hitting her with a series of blows that leaves her stunned and reeling.

He falls in slow motion, holding just enough control to keep him from plummeting into the ocean but not enough to stay upright. Just barely, from the corner of his vision, he can see Chosen staring at them in horror.

What did you think would happen? He thinks. One of us was always going to die here, and it was always going to be me. I can never win.

Then the laser hits, and she thinks of nothing more but pain.

[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

[ivanttakethis]

Wren’s Log - Entry 1.0

————————————————————

Wren was surprised Tov had taken everything so well.

The twin sibling reveal.

The pseudo-sibling reveal.

The “surprise-you’re-a-year-younger-than-you-thought” reveal.

Even Tov’s reaction to the shock ring was tamer than the call for security and restraining order Wren was expecting.

Granted, she was still recovering from a heart attack and heavily medicated. It could take a few days for her to fully process through all of what she, Elias, and Prem had shared.

Maybe Wren would get the restraining order in the mail, or maybe Tov would follow through on her threat to wring her by her neck.

Naz is gonna get a kick out of that.

As soon as she and the boys left Tov’s hospital room for the night, Elias took Wren aside as Prem led the way down the hall.

“I didn’t want to alarm Tov, but I found something on the stage.” He said in a low voice. When Tov was shocked, goes unsaid.

“Oh?” Wren couldn’t resist the chance to mess with him. “You’re speaking to me so soon. I was sure I’d get the silent treatment for being ‘out of my fucking mind’.” She said.

Elias leveled her with a withering look that fell flat on its face, “I’m still mad at you for that. It was a batshit insane idea and if I knew about it, I would’ve stopped you.”

“Which is why I didn’t tell you. Besides, it’s not like you had a better idea.”

“Not the point.” He said.

She took that as a concession, “Yeah, yeah. What did you find?”

“The bullet.”

Wren stumbled mid-stride.

A shot was actually fired?

The crack she’d heard over the broadcast, right before she sent the electric shock through the ring, had been pinging around in her head since Tov collapsed.

That must’ve been the shot.

The shooter just missed.

“What kind of bullet?” She asked.

“Not any kind that guards would have easy access to.” Elias said. “This bullet had a paralytic tranquilizing agent inside of it. Whoever planned to shoot Tov wasn’t trying to kill her, they just wanted it to look like they did.”

So someone else wants Tov alive? How interesting.

“Any thoughts on who could be behind this?”

He shook his head, “Not yet. But if I had to guess, it’s someone who can afford to pay off a guard.”

Or a guard themselves…

Wren kept this thought to herself.

They rounded a corner toward the elevators, passing by floor to ceiling glass windows looking out onto the bustling city street below.

Even deep into the night, the buildings were still brightly illuminated and cars clogged the roads.

“Could it be Tov’s guardian, Cassio?” She asked.

“You know them better than I do,” Elias said, shrugging. “What do you think?”

It wasn’t a secret that Cassio was extremely wealthy. Their fashion house Cassiopeia was a well-regarded luxury brand these days.

And Wren knew Cassio cared a lot about Tov, more than enough to orchestrate her “death” to keep her alive.

The amount of money to bribe a guard would’ve been pocket change to them.

But still, Wren wouldn’t say she knew them “better”. More exposure, maybe.

As the group came upon the elevators, Wren glanced through a glass door leading out to a balcony.

A tall, pale blue figure stood alone out at the railing.

Cassio.

Speak their name and they appear.

“I’m gonna go find out.” Wren said, nodding toward the door. “Don’t wait up on me.”

Elias followed her line of sight, “I see. Be careful.”

She smiled and clapped him on the shoulder, “I’m always careful.”

They both knew Wren was joking.

———

“Evening, Guardian Cassio.” Wren greeted as she approached the balcony railing.

Cassio tucked their phone back in their pocket and nodded to her, “Good evening, Wren.”

Curt, but polite.

Not many words.

I see where Tov gets it from.

“Tov woke up not too long ago.” She said.

“I know,” Cassio said. “I suppose I have you to thank for that.”

Wren frowned, “How so?”

“The heart attack was too well timed to be a natural occurrence.”

Ah, well.

There was no reason to deny it now.

It wasn’t like Wren was ashamed of what she did either.

The only person who had to live with the morality of her decisions was herself. She would sleep just fine.

“Guilty as charged.” She said with a shrug.

Cassio hummed, “I can’t really blame you. If Tov were my sister, I probably would’ve done the same thing.”

Only now did Wren realize she wasn’t wearing her mask or her contacts.

She chuckled to herself, “Also guilty.”

“When were you going to tell her?” They asked.

“I wanted to tell her when the Season 39 contestants came to Anakt Garden, after Round 12.” She said. “But then I saw her face… when that Flor girl died… I could tell she cared for her a lot. She didn’t need anything more to worry about on top of that.” Wren shook her head, “And every time after that was an even worse moment to bring it up.”

Round 17? Wrong.

Round 24? Wrong.

Round 26? Wrong.

Round 29? Wrong.

Wrong wrong wrong.

It was all wrong.

“I should thank you, truly.” They said, drawing Wren out of her thoughts. “You’ve given me the chance to make things right with Tov… eventually.”

She glanced over at them, eyebrows furrowed. Their gaze was still fixed on the cityscape ahead.

There was a somberness laced in their tone of voice.

“I don’t get it. Aren’t you going to see her soon?”

Cassio sighed, long and suffering, “How am I supposed to face her? After everything I’ve put her through? She lost so much and it’s all my fault.” They said. “If I hadn’t enrolled her in Anakt Garden, none of this would’ve happened.”

That’s true… but…

Wren turned to look out at the city too, thinking.

If she could go back in time and reject the Anakt Garden scholarship, would she do it?

Most of her classmates would probably say yes, but Wren hesitated.

Without Anakt, she never would’ve been placed in Ra’s care. She never would’ve met Cindy, or Toki, or even Inna. She never would’ve fallen for Naz either.

If Wren hadn’t gone to Anakt Garden, she wouldn’t have become Wren.

And she quite liked herself and her life, even if it wasn’t always pretty or easy.

Only Tov could answer if that was true for herself.

But if those stars in the sky named after her friends held as much meaning to Tov as she said they did, Wren already knew what her answer would be.

“Did Tov tell you that?” She asked.

Cassio blinked at her, “What? No, she hasn’t.”

“Then ask her.” Wren said. “She might surprise you.”

“I hope you’re right. I don’t want to fail her any more than I already have.” They said. “When Tov was younger I… wasn’t there when she needed me, and I regret it every day. I don’t know where to even start trying to make it up to her.”

“You can’t change the past. All you can do is be there for her now.”

“Is that enough?”

Wren could only shrug, “It has to be.”

We don’t have any other choice.

“You’re off to a good start.” She said instead.

Before Cassio could respond, the shrill ring of their phone cut through the low din of the night and startled them both.

Their lips briefly curled into a snarl as they read the caller ID.

“You’ll have to excuse me, I’m being summoned by Alien Stage producers for an ‘emergency meeting’.”

It’s definitely about Tov. She thought, nodding.

“Good luck. I’ll come back some time tomorrow to see Tov again.”

Cassio smiled, genuine, before turning to leave.

“Oh, by the way,” They started, stopping themselves short and looking back at her, “I wanted to ask how you did it. How did you trigger Tov’s heart attack?”

Wren held up her right hand — with the good luck charm now on her ring finger — and pointed to it, “Electric shock.”

They chuckled in surprise, looking mildly impressed. “That was better than my idea. I just made Tov’s dress out of bullet resistant fabric, requested they shoot her center mass, and hoped for the best.”

Oh.

Oh shit.

Wren forced herself to smile as she waved them off, waiting until they returned back inside the hospital before letting it drop.

Cassio didn’t bribe anyone to shoot Tov with that paralyzing bullet.

If they weren’t behind the bullet, then that meant someone else was involved.

An unknown third party.

But who were they?

And what did they want with her sister?

————————————————————

Huh… I wonder who else wants Tov alive? (I say, knowing full well who it is)

Anyways, I’m finally doing Season 40 stuff! Tov will still have her logs, but I’ll also be doing some for Wren too.

Next up is a log from Cassio’s point of view. That emergency meeting for Alien Stage should be interesting 👀

Naz belongs to @lookatmysillies.

Cindy belongs to @tsukacchako.

Toki belongs to @zerostyrant.

Inna belongs to @alien-til-i-stage.

Tagging: @starry-skiez @rockwgooglyeyes @chevalperd @apple8ees

[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…

[alicepao13]

Hudson and Rex S02E17 - The Graveyard Shift - PART B

Well, I'm not even in the middle of the episode yet. I'm scared.

Mankiewicz: "That's what I like about you, Hudson. Cheeky. Even under the most challenging of circumstances". Makes me think that none of the criminals in St. John's are professionals, because cheekiness in this situation would normally get one pistol whipped.

Dude has thought of everything. Too bad that Rex is a superdog.

I can't believe they had the forethought to back everything up and then instead of locking the flash drive in a secure location, they left it with Jesse!

He really, really shouldn't. Nor should he expose it to extreme weather temperatures.

Rex: Second time, only tonight. I want a raise.

Poor Charlie. But I love Mankiewicz's sadistic streak.

"I could never hurt a dog". Why would Mankiewicz reveal that? Also, I don't think Kai over there has the same sensitivity.

I want it on record that Rex was the one to hatch the plan for them to escape. At least the camera work and editing are showing that.

Kommissar Rex adaptation. That tracks.

So how come not one of the police officers recognized any of Mankiewicz's posse? Most of these guys must be in the system and a lot of them must have been arrested by this precinct, right?

I think this is the smartest Charlie has ever been in six seasons. I might call him a himbo sometimes but I have to give credit where credit is due. And they're actually showing us instead of telling us. Bravo.

lol they're trying the flash drives one by one. This will take a while, boys.

I'm sorry, Joe heard a voice that sounded like Charlie but said about Jesse, "His girl is about to dump him" and he didn't get suspicious? Since when would Charlie be so mean when talking about Jesse? Also, I thought the point of this phone call was to get Joe suspicious but that's not what happened.

There's no time for that!

Not the paperclip again!

I bet this is a trick he mainly uses when he's avoiding bath time.

The next part needs a heavy dose of suspension of disbelief, as Rex pulls the fire alarm to get the doors to open.

Rex: Argh, why can't humans understand me?

Well, she snatched the flash drive from Jesse with three cops watching and no one realized.

Okay, we do not need any more of Charlie's weaknesses in that building. But for my own enjoyment, go ahead.

If I was Sarah, I'd definitely have a couple of questions about what exactly Charlie has been telling about her to criminals.

Well, of course she'd say that.

Charlie: Can I get a fucking break?

I love this line! It's my favorite line in the entire show. The sass!

And of course he came. Is there a universe where he wouldn't?

Sassy couple of hostages lol

"Let her go". Why didn't you negotiate before? Now you have no bargaining chip. They already have all three of you. Okay, maybe he didn't have time to think things through because Mankiewicz said, "I'm killing Sarah in ten seconds". Fair.

"Doing a solid for my pal Charlie."

"You okay?" Ever since she started working in this precinct with you, probably not.

When Mankiewicz started leaving with Rex I'd seriously wondered if this was a two-parter.

"What do you mean, go with him? You go with him!"

Oh, now we're unlocking police cuffs with a paperclip.

Even more unrealistic part of the plot. While supposedly the criminals had been hatching this plan for sometime and we can assume they've gotten samples of Charlie's voice from various sources (the guy had already given one tv and one podcast interview that we saw), Jesse is now using Morgan's voice. Which he got from... where?

Rex: Ah, finally, I get to bite the dirtbag.

me when I watched the first time: Who could this boot belong to? (We don't get to see their shoes much.)

"Jesse, the hug was real". Shoo, Morgan. We don't accept ladies with criminal record who just fooled us.

Small praise from Joe to Jesse. Give the boy some encouragement.

"My heartbreak is the department's gain". lol

Well, that baby bump must have gotten huge, judging by the size of that box.

"Will Charlie join the festivities?" "In a bit. Something he needs to do". You mean gloat to Mankiewicz? If that guy ever escapes, he's coming for us hard. Hopefully.

Oh, please. It's all over your face.

For now. Only partner for now.

Rex: I'm so tired of hearing your voice *slams door*

Oh that's why Charlie went. For the cool shot in the end.

Well, I always have fun watching this episode. There's a lot to enjoy and few to grumble about. Also, I want Mankiewicz to come back and do an altered version of this https://archiveofourown.org/works/37336006/chapters/93163204

Altered because Charah is now canon.

Well, looks like I managed to keep it under 60 screenshots.

[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!

[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.