#and that last one is people flipping him off in the parking lot for blocking their cars while they’re trying to back out

[articskele]

Going to Walmart with Micolash stimboard, based on this post >:D

x|x|x x|x|x x|x|x

[wolfsrainrules]

Me, Staring into the Night: Oh No

Discussed with @deepwithintheabyss on discord, and as a result:

I'm just Saying. I have been contemplating a Jurassic World in DC verse (with the understanding that I have not actually READ nor SEEN much DC content and am working off fandom.)

Jurassic World, as in, a JW that has done the work to hide and defend their island from super villains and various heroes poking their heads in. The full nine yards, everything they could possibly stop- and all that focus on "outside" threats? It's what allows the internal issues that result in the mess that is JW.

The thing though? Jurassic World still needs sponsors and Batfam has still been trying to get a look into that- because it should not be left unchecked. Legally they can't send a hero in. But Timothy Drake-Wayne, CEO of WE and potential sponsor and good word on JW? That they would allow. So if he gets a VIP access tour to 'tempt him into sponsoring Jurassic World" that's supposed to last a week or two...

They've already got the park operating on front of house, and they have a camp with six kids who got sent in. What's one more VIP who could get them a ton of money, and may sponsor their work and expand what they're doing? Thing is- VIP access means that technically, Tim isn't supposed to have any tech that operates inside without proper access. He knows it CAN be gotten, because there's a kid here- Brooklyn?- that is a very popular vlogger who is allowed to record and post things. He's also not here as a Bat, but as Timothy Drake-Wayne and that comes with some handicaps to what he's able to do int he open.

So he has to look like he doesn't have access to anything, can't be caught snooping around, and also is instinctively keeping an eye on the kids when he's in the same areas they are.

And then. And then the park goes down. Assets are out of containment. And we have this really shitty time, where Tim has to figure out how the hell to get them all off, when the protections from outside 'interference' mean that the heroes cannot set foot on Jurassic World, Jurassic Park, or anything within without causing a hell of an issue. Interference also means Tim can't get the emergency signal out. The only thing allowed out of JW is what's done on it's own network. He needs to find a way to hook into it, when the power is shot. Would it stop them? No. Especially not when people are dying, and definitely not the BatFam when Tim is on the island.

Problem? By all rights, the island was evacuated of all survivors. So far as anyone can determine, the others are dead, and the island is overrun with assets that got loose.

Tim didn't make it off.

And Tim doesn't have a functioning access to internet OR signal to get a call out, the white noise machines and everything else are blocking him from just yelling for evac. He technically doesn't have any BAT- grade tech or supplies for himself- this was Timothy Drake-Wayne that went in after all. He didn't bring anything big while he snooped. He had some things, yes, but not for this level of FUBAR.

The BatFam are losing their minds. The world is saying Tim died on the island, since he didn't get off. Tim is struggling to find a way to get a message out. BatFam refuses to accept that Tim is dead until it can be confirmed.

And then.

And then the kids and Tim get the generators back on. And everything has gone to hell, but the power means Tim has a way to get something out. A way to hook into the network finally

It's not perfect. It involves him making trips to the faculty, and a LOT of tech-work so he can get these things routed properly, that he's not even sure are WORKING. And he can't leave the kids either- this island has tried to kill them all over and over again, he's not willing to let them wander around alone.

So he sends something like video diaries out, careful to maintain that he is a civilian trying to reach his dad, with six other kids surviving with him.

Bruce absolutely FLIPS when he gets the first video. Tim is front and center, looking like literal hell, blood smeared on his face, dirt and mud, a ruined set of dress pants, a stolen set of boots (because Timothy would have been in dress shoes for something like this, so he hadn't had his good shoes with him) an absolutely stained, ripped, and ruined dress shirt, smeared face, just- looking like he's survived dinos, and kept kids alive doing it.

Bruce cries. That's his boy. He's not dead. He's not dead. Oh God.

So Bruce gets an update, Tim talking about what happened, that he's not dead, he's surviving with six kids- who all pop into frame and frantically try to cram as much "NOT DEAD HI MOM AND DAD AND SIBLINGS" into the video while Tim is still trying to update everything.

And then the video ends with Tim's head- and six children's as well- all snapping to the side while there's a large echoing clank and the shadow of a dino. And the last image is Tim reaching forward to send the video out, hoping it gets through.

He takes a tablet hooked intot he system, and uses that to film various updates around the park while surviving. A sneaky update on what exactly the park has done, as well as continuous updates on their survival for their families. He has to trek back to the generator room to actually post these out but he's sending them.

The systems aren't great. Sometimes the videos go through a little glitchy, sometimes they get sent out of order. The uploading speed is shit, and occasionally corrupted videos go out due to a sudden need to stop or a flicker in power or any other number of factors.

But Bruce recognizing the chance to use the videos as proof that his kid is still alive- as are six other family's children, and he can bring this forward to get to the island quicker and by leagal means.

It's a huge thing in Gotham, Bruce Wayne's kid on this island surviving, These six kids he's helping. Their families all coming to Gotham to back Bruce on their crusade to get their kids out. Public pressure building as more and more videos go out, more and more people watch what they're going through.

They don't have to get themselves off the island. Bruce Wayne, their families, and public pressure all combine to get a rescue sent out to them. And sure it takes a little bit to get put together, but Bruce Wayne is funding it, and he will not rest until his son is home, until all of these kids are home.

The families all bond over the trauma of their children being on a death trap of an island. And the work to get them off of it. The relief they're ALIVE. The horror of what they'd gone through. The terror of not knowing if they're STILL alive. The fear-terror-hope of waiting for the next video update, hoping it's one that actually WORKS, that isn't corrupted or cut off cause of some disaster. The trauma of seeing their children on these videos, seeing the changes, and the rough surviving, of thinking your kids were dead only to find out NOPE they're in a historical horror of predator species that would eat them instead.

And Bruce knows Tim is capable. He knows he is. He also knows Tim would do whatever was necessary to get the kids home alive and whole.

And that? That's terrifying for Bruce. Because he knows Tim would jump in front of those kids to save them. His mind is running every worse case scenario through. He knows the (official) list of dinos that are in the park. He can imagine exactly how wrong an encounter could go. And then he gets the video updates of Tim and the kids explaining hybrids and the horror of THAT. So he's not even sure what the hell the kids are running into, and THEY don't even know, because they're could absolutely be more, so many more and-

And then you have Tim's brothers. His brothers who get the news he's presumed dead after the park goes wild and there's late videos and all kinds of things going live as survivors get off the island and into range of posting again, without access to JW's network. His brothers who all wait, all scared, all worried, for him to step off a ferry. Only he doesnt. Only he's one of many names presumed dead. And oh they aren't willing to leave it at that. The hero community is pushing for their ability to look into the park and what went wrong, but by all accounts- Tim is supposed to be dead.

And while they keep hoping, thinking, not without a body, and even still- there's every chance there ISNT one on an island full of dinosaurs. There's plenty of videos from those who escaped of paradactyls flying off with people, of various dinosaurs outside containment and the chaos and panic of it. Of deaths caught on camera and everything else. They're trying. But they're not even sure if-

And then Bruce gets the video. And they are right there with him in using the proof to get to the island faster, to save him, and the kids he's with, and just-

And there's HOPE and horror. Because he's alive! He is. But he's lost weight, and he's so obviously working to keep these six other children alive, and surviving and all the horror of that, and just-

It's such a mess.

But they are all there, every family, when they go and get the survivors.

There's tears and fierce hugs. And every kid has to introduce themselves to everyone's families. And every parent has to thank Tim for being there for their kids, for saving them, for not abandoning them for FIGHTING for them- because they all have stories.

And Tim did his level best to be there for these kids, to lead, to save, to keep safe. His very, very best. And the parents are so so thankful for it.

And if Tim meets each of his kids parents from the arms of a different family member (Alfred, Bruce, Dick, Damian, Jason, Cass, Duke, Steph, Babs...) the kids are happy to see Tim getting the support they couldn't give him, no matter how much they tried.

[h0n3yk1tt3n]

4 + boyfs :)

Boyf Riends + 4. things you said over the phone

September 1, 2015, 7:12pm

"Hey, I got my stuff from my hookup. Where are you right now? I've been looking around the food court for like ten minutes and you're just, gone. Uh, I guess I'll check Hot Topic until you get back to me. See ya."

September 1, 2015, 7:47pm

"Jeremy, why did I have to learn from the cashier at Forever 21 that Brooke and Chloe offered you a ride home?? And that you ended up just walking out instead?? I can't find you in the parking lot, man, like... Did you just-... walk home? Some warning would've been nice, ya know? Anyway. Text me so that I know you didn't die or whatever. Later."

September 2, 2015, 12:25pm

"Oh fuck off, don't pretend you don't know I'm calling you. I can see you sitting next to Rich! Your phone is right there next to your lunch tray! Good job taming him I guess, but can you stop ignoring me? For like, a minute?? Ditching me at the mall was one thing, but this is just... weird. You're being weird. And not the good kind. The like, got-replaced-by-a-changeling kind. Look- can you just look at me, Jeremy?!"

September 2, 2015, 3:43pm

"'Optic Nerve Block-' dude, what are you doing?? Is this a bit?? Haha, very funny. Jeremy's hot shit now and is too good for Michael. Great. Cool. Just-... actually ya know what, it's not cool. I'm not laughing. I mean, congrats on snatching Brooke up. That's... I mean I thought Christine was... you've just been gushing about her since... I- something about this is... *sigh* Never mind. Let me know when you decide to stop doing... this, whatever it is you're doing."

September 6, 2015, 12:56pm

"I hope you know I'm just gonna keep blowing up your phone with texts until you acknowledge me. I'm not asking for much, man! Just... an explanation? Maybe? Just something so that I know we're still cool or whatever. I know you're probably busy with rehearsal and all, but it's... weird that we haven't had a sleepover this weekend. I... can't really remember the last weekend where... *huff* Ok, so your SQUIP clearly doesn't like me. Fine. It can join the club. But... you still like me, right? Can I... can I get that much?"

September 12, 2015, 2:36pm

"Hey, since you and Rich are like, buddies now or whatever, you think you could call him off? He's still pulling his bullshit on me. And normally I wouldn't care that much, but... I dunno, it was different when it was both of us. And now you're just letting him go off on me?? Where's the Jeremy that broke his finger on a homophobic dickhead's nose two years ago? Where's the kid that became a little ball of rage that I had to restrain when guys gave me shit? I know freshman year was like, a really angsty spell for you, but... fucker- what do you want from me?! Can we just talk? Please??"

September 28, 2015, 2:03am

"Look, if you never wanna see me again, can you at least just say that?! Just tell me so that I don't have to question if you've actually decided to look in my direction or not? You haven't blocked my number, so you obviously... You're just-! Ugh! This isn't like you! Even if you do give me the silent treatment, it's never for this fucking long! If I fucked up somewhere just-! Tell me!! As much as we joke about it, I can't read your fucking mind! Fucking- text me! Pass a note! Flip me off! Something! This is fucking stupid!"

October 14, 2015, 4:47pm

"Have I mentioned how weird it is to hear other people actually name-drop you in the hall? Like, I'm still Antisocial Headphones Kid and probably will be until graduation. It's not like I care. Shit's not gonna matter in college. And even if it does, it's not gonna matter in the real world. In jobs or whatever. ...I don't... *sigh* I can't just keep calling you to yell about how you left. It just- it's old. And annoying. For me. I don't care if it's annoying for you. You're probably not even listening to these. Just... ugh, whatever. I'll see ya. Gonna go out on a limb and say you won't see me though."

October 27, 2015, 10:56pm

"Look, I- ...something about this whole SQUIP thing is really fucking shady. I just... it-it's creepy, ya know? You had to buy it at the back of a Payless, the dude selling it was sketchy as hell, and there's fuck-all on the internet about it. It's... and this isn't just because I'm salty! I mean fuck you still, but this isn't about that! Like I'm genuinely... this- it just- it's weird. I shoulda- fuck, I shoulda picked up on it sooner. I should've-! Ugh, I wouldn't have to leave you all these stupid voicemails if I'd just used my brain for two seconds! I'll... *sigh* tonight's been exhausting. I'll pick this up later. If you decide ya wanna clue me in after all this time, be my fucking guest."

October 30, 2015, 10:32pm

"Shit- ok, I get you're still doing your dumb little ignoring me thing but- fuck, you gotta get that thing outta your head. It's- I-I have this online friend, his brother had a SQUIP and- I'm looking at the videos and-... Y-you just- it's bad. It's really, really bad. I wanna come to you about this in person, but you're like, never home when I go there. And your dad doesn't know where you are either?? He just assumed you were with me! Which, I don't blame him after all these years, but... Jer, it's so fucking bad. I'm... I'm getting you to listen one way or another, so fucking help me."

October 31, 2015, 11:47pm

(There's no sound for several seconds, besides slight shifts in movement. It's all very muffled. Any words spoken are too quiet to distinguish, if they even are words at all. There might be the slightest inkling of a song in the distant background, though it's anyone's guess which song it is.)

*knock knock knock knock*

"*sniff* Shit-"

(There's some indistinct sound on the other end akin to one clambering about in a confined space. Metal rings clatter on the curtain rod as the plastic sheet is swept back.)

*knock knock knock knock*

"Just a fucking minute, man!"

*ssssshhhhhhhhhh*

(The sink is turned on, water rushing out of the faucet and hissing against the pearly white bowl that it's confined to. Its flow is interrupted by the flesh of cupped hands collecting it every few seconds, followed by the splatter of it falling back down in a scattered arc rather than a focused stream.)

*knock knock knock knock*

(It's not long before the handles squeak and the water is shut off, leaving the indistinct thrumming bass of a song that's been turned up far too loud.)

"...Hello?"

(Besides the underlying hum, silence. A lonely, lonely lack of sound, before a long sigh.)

"Figures..."

(There's nothing more than this quiet, rhythmic thumping for a long time. There's very little to break the monotony of it beyond the occasional sniffle of swallowing of phlegm.)

"Is that really how you see me? Or were you just reaching for the pettiest fucking word you could've used?"

(The scream of glass echos chillingly in the small room. Sparkling crystals twinkle and sing against smooth porcelain, a prickly harmony to go with the melody of ragged sobs.)

"God-! Dammit!"

(There's a soft thud, and then a long dragging sound akin to one sliding down to sit against a wall.)

"Fuck..."

(An eternity of smothered weeping seems to pass, though in reality it's barely more than a full minute, before a blood-curdling scream is heard, disturbingly loud for how distant it sounds.)

"FIRE!"

"Shit- what the hell??"

November 1, 2015, 2:14am

"I'm guessing you don't know this, since you didn't run out of the house screaming or get dragged into an ambulance, but Jake's house burned down. Yeah, that place where that party was happening where you-... I'm fine, by the way, because you obviously cared. Paramedics got all the glass out of my knuckles. I just... wanna confirm you're fine too. Because... still fuckin' care about you and shit. Yeah, thanks for waiting up, by the way. There's no indication you were ever fucking here, so I can only assume you bailed before anyone even smelled smoke. Glad you're safe, dickwad. Hope you can extend the same relief to me."

November 12, 2015, 5:49pm

"Hey. I'm... coming to your performance. Your dad kinda... If he's suddenly wearing pants the next time you see him, you're welcome. Guess you can thank him for me coming to see your show too... I won't have any flowers for you, but... hopefully I'll have something just as good."

November 12, 2015, 6:52pm

"--- entire stu--nt bod- -- do it!"

"Wh- Jeremy?"

"Mich- GAH!"

"Shit! Where are you?"

"-- ---- ---- ---- -- ---! -- --- -- ------ --- ---!"

November 16, 2015, 11:47am

"Hey, um... it'll probably take you a while to listen to this, if you... choose to listen to it at all. Um... it was nice seeing you at The Play, all things considered. It... it was almost like things were normal again. I... I missed it. A lot. Maybe uh... maybe once you wake up, once things settle down, we could... talk? Just... at all? Doesn't have to be a call back. Could be a text, in person, note passed in class-"

"Carrier pigeon."

"Rich says carrier pigeon. He's your roommate. You'll see that soon enough if- ...when you wake up. You've been pretty determined to stay asleep though. Four days... heh, you tryna make us jealous? I just... hope you wake up soon. Before New Year's would be nice. No pressure, obviously, just... I... *sigh* 'I miss you' would be an understatement."

November 23, 2015, 4:13am

"Hey, Michael, um... I... listened to your voicemails a couple... couple hours ago. I was going to call back when I finished them, but it was late and I figured you were asleep. Um... I guess it's even weirder that I'm calling at 4am than it would've been if I called at 1:30, but... *sigh* I'm sorry. For everything. I know I said it at The Play, but I didn't... I couldn't really... I-I'm sorry. For bailing on you at the mall. For the optic nerve blocking. For the... the shit I said on Halloween- just- refusing to believe that you were trying to help, and- Fuck- the fire. I know I didn't have anything to do with it but... I'm sorry... for making you think I didn't care about your safety. I'm so glad you got out ok, really, and... I'm... sorry for making you punch a mirror. I don't... think you meant to call me in the bathroom, but... I heard... some stuff. I don't know if it was everything."

(There's an audible swallow.)

"I just... I don't... understand, why you still helped me in the end. After... after everything. I'm grateful, and thank you, but... I was so afraid I'd burned that bridge on Halloween. No- no pun intended. I thought you wouldn't-... I-I was so sure- the SQUIP was so-"

(There's a long pause. One would think that the message had abruptly cut off if not for the shaky breathing on the other end. There's a tightness in his voice when it eventually comes back.)

"'He won't come back to you. No one is coming for you.' That's what it said. And I was convinced that I'd fucked everything up and you'd never-... but you did. And-and I'm sorry we haven't done anything together since the hospital. I've just been really... it-it's an adjustment, not having a computer telling me what to do, and balancing hormones and chemicals and- fuck, I've gotten like, no sleep this weekend. I toss and turn all night and if I don't toss and turn, it's... it's nightmares, about... *sigh* Sorry, I shouldn't dump my shit on you. Not-not like this, not after..."

(His voice crumbles, like it's taking every ounce of strength he has to keep it audible without devolvng into indecipherable cry-speak. It's all but a raspy whisper.)

"I... I do wanna see you again. I do... still care about you. A lot. So much. Not seeing you for so long, it... it's caught up to me, and... I just wanna fall asleep next to you again. Which sounds clingy as fuck, and maybe it is, but I... You're the only one that..."

(He can't hold the sobs back anymore, but he does his best to muffle them. Keep them quiet. Avoid waking his dad. Hide the pain because he doesn't want this to be about him. It shouldn't be about him. Why is he making it about him?)

"*sniff* Fuck, how long've I been talking? Sorry, I'll- just- cut this off now. Ok, um... night. I... I love you. I just... wanna make sure you know that."

November 28, 2015, 1:12pm

Send you my love on a wire~

Lift you up every time

Jeremy startles awake at the sound of Michael’s ringtone, something he hasn't heard since before the start of the school year when Michael absolutely had to tell him about the dream he'd just woken up from. He tries to shake the remnants of sleep fog from his head as he pats around for his vibrating phone, thankfully finding it before the chorus ends.

"Mmg, h-" Jeremy's voice is scratchy from being woken up, so he clears his throat and tries again. "Hello?"

"Hey, bud." Michael's voice is quiet and soft through the receiver. He sounds tired as well, but in a constant, passive way instead of a groggy way. Jeremy wonders how long he's been awake.

"Hey, um..." Jeremy sits up and loosely hugs his knees, unsure of what to say next. Not wanting to leave Michael with nothing, he circles back to, "hey."

A weak chuckle flows through the speaker, colored with a fondness Jeremy's not sure he's heard since the last time they got high together. "Are you always this articulate?"

It's sweet, knowing that Michael's first reaction is banter instead of what Jeremy would consider much-deserved exasperation. He doesn't understand it, but it tugs his mouth into a small smile. "I uh... didn't fall asleep until like 6am, so..."

"Right, yeah. You did mention trouble sleeping, didn't you."

That smile crumbles as dread pools into his chest. He can't help but hide his face despite Michael not being able to see it in the first place. "Oh gods, you listened to that voicemail?"

"Couple times, yeah," Michael confesses, and it makes Jeremy cringe in embarrassment."I wanted to come see you earlier this week, but there was school stuff, and then Thanksgiving happened and..." he trails off a bit."Yeah, um... sorry."

Jeremy shakes his head fantically. "Nono, you're fine!" he insists. He doesn't want to lose this chance, but in the moment, his scrambled brain doesn't quite know what to do with it. "It's... I- do we wanna, I dunno, um..."

"Yes," Michael says immediately. "We- I do, yeah. Totally unrelated, but you should look out your window."

Jeremy blinks as he crawls off the bed toward the window. "Is it all snowy or are you waiting out there like you're in some kind of movie?"

He pulls the curtain back to see Michael standing on the sidewalk, a bright red swatch on a brilliantly white canvas, his hoodie lightly dusted with snow. It reminds Jeremy of powdered sugar on a lemon square. Michael waves his free hand, the other one still holding his phone to his ear.

"Yes."

Jeremy tentatively waves back, though it feels more like his hand trembles against the cool glass than it feels like a proper greeting. He feels his body shaking not from the winter weather creeping its way in, but from the nerves that come from seeing his best friend again after... well, admittedly not very long, but it's different this time. "Hi. I'll uh, I'll meet you downstairs, yeah?"

"Cool, see you in a second."

"See ya." Jeremy hangs up and pulls on some soft pajama pants before hurrying down the steps. He doesn't even check the downstairs window to confirm Michael's location before opening the front door.

Sure enough, there he is, a vibrant red light in the dull white fog behind him. Jeremy holds back on his urges just long enough to let Michael inside and shut the door before throwing his arms around him. Michael catches him easily, the cold from white flakes melting into red fabric doing little to negate the warmth of his embrace.

He remains sturdy as Jeremy quivers against him, silently refusing to let go of him any time soon. Jeremy attempts to blink back the tears threatening to spill out, but only really succeeds in disguising his sob a shaky sigh. As long as he can release the tension in his throat without being too loud about it, he'll take the win.

"I love you too," Michael whispers into Jeremy's hair, squeezing him snugly. "I hope you know that."

[beautiful-and-terrible]

“falling into place”

mike schmidt x reader

summary: “You meet Mike Schmidt under rather unfortunate circumstances. Luckily, he's a decent guy, and tries to make it up to you. Besides, who could say no to those big brown puppy-dog eyes?”

tags: Slow-burn, domestic, hurt/comfort, gradual friends-to-lovers, whatever the opposite of a meet-cute is, because mike is a disaster, sub!mike, dom!reader, eventual smut

Part 2

also available on my Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/51690952/chapters/130675165

A sigh escaped your lips as you watched raindrops race down the window. It was a Friday afternoon, and you were an hour away from being done with your shift at your town’s local, run-down grocery store. You were working the cash register - a mindless, repetitive task that sucked the soul out of you, but it paid the bills. You didn’t mind talking to customers, when they were polite. It was usually hit or miss with the older customers. They never seemed to understand that you couldn’t accept expired coupons. Or that eggs really were $1.05, yes even for the non-organic ones.

This particular afternoon was going especially poorly. You had two people refuse to pay their bills and just walk out with their groceries, you had a screaming child in line with her mother who kept begging you to just “give the kid a piece of candy for free”, and at least three older men had told you “you’d do your job a lot better if you smiled.”

By the last hour of your shift, you were on the verge of a breakdown. Tears pricked your eyes - your feet hurt, your back ached, and your heart was still tender from being chewed out by your manager for letting those two people walk out without paying. As if you, a minimum wage employee, had the authority or skills necessary to stop two shoplifters. And besides, you didn’t really think stealing essential things like food warranted arrest or reprimand, anyway.

So that’s why when a particularly mean old bat who smelled like mothballs and cat piss yelled at you for not scanning her groceries quickly enough, you finally snapped. You slowly put down the fifth carton of prune juice you had scanned, untied your apron that had your name tag pinned on it, and let it drop to the ground.

You looked the old woman in the eyes, flipped her off, and walked out. As you passed your manager on your way to the front door, you flipped him off, too. The way his face went beet red with rage would remain in your brain as one of the funniest things you’d ever seen. You were pretty sure there was a vein in his temple about to burst.

So now you had no job. Great. You sighed, putting your head in your hands as you stood under the covered walkway that led into the store. You stood like that for a long time, just letting the reality wash over you. You knew you wouldn’t be able to cry in public, but as soon as you got home you would put on your softest hoodie and sweatpants, and have a good cry about how shit your life had been these past few months. You steeled yourself, raising your head and starting to walk towards your car.

You were about half way out into the rainy parking lot, holding your jacket above your head, which blocked your peripheral view, when you were suddenly on the hard, wet ground and your vision pulsed with white stars. It felt like you had been sucker-punched by the Hulk. You looked around dazedly, trying to figure out why you were suddenly on the ground.

Headlights beamed directly at face level as you sat up, rubbing your head. You brought your hand away - no blood, at least. But your wrist hurt like a fucking bitch. The throbbing pain got worse by the second - each beat of your heart caused the flesh around your wrist to swell up like a balloon. Or at least that’s what it felt like.

“Holy shit, I’m so sorry, are you okay? I looked away for a second and you came out of nowhere I’m so fucking sorry-”

You looked up to see two very distressed, very pretty hazel-brown eyes staring down at you. A man with a mellow voice was apologizing profusely, attempting to help you stand up. You could only nod dumbly, holding out a hand placatingly.

“I’m fine, I think… my wrist really hurts,” you pouted, trying not to sound like a child but your day had been so dogshit that your usual barriers were crumbling easier than normal.

“Let me take you to the Urgent Care, it’s the least I can do…” he trailed off, grabbing you by both elbows to help you up off the wet ground. You shivered, from the cold rain dripping down your neck and from the adrenaline of the moment starting to wear off. The man helped you into the passenger seat of his car and got in the drivers side.

You looked down at your wrist - it was already swollen. Your lip started to tremble, and big, fat tears started to leak from your eyes. You sniffled, which caught the guys attention.

“Oh, hey, don’t cry. I’m sure it’s just sprained. And I’ll even try to help pay for your cast or whatever… not that I have any extra money but that’s the right thing to do…” he murmured under his breath. You glanced at him and gave him a half smile, wiping the tears off your face.

“Don’t worry about that. I just appreciate the ride. I’ve had a pretty shit day - getting hit by a car was just the cherry on top.

“Yeah, I know about shit days,” he said simply, then winced, looking in the rearview mirror. “Sorry, Abs. A pretty crap day, is what I meant.”

You turned around, confused. In the back seat was a girl of about 11 or 12, looking sullenly out the window. She shrugged noncommittally.

“Hi,” you said softly. The girl glanced at you, frowned, and turned more toward the direction of the window. You looked at the guy, who just sighed.

“That’s my sister, Abby. She’s having a crap day, too.”

“Dang. The three of us should start a club,” you said, which made the guy let out a snort of laughter. You looked at him, surprised by the display of mirth.

“So… what’s your name?” he asked, stopping at a red light. You told him your name, which he repeated before saying, “Nice to meet you. I’m Mike.”

[ladylooch]

Letters in Your Last Name - Chapter 6

A/N: Sam visits Sweden! And another first for these two 😘

Word Count: 4.9k

Warnings: some light smut, swearing.

I bite my lip as I look at the signs in the Gothenburg airport, trying to figure out which way to the arrivals area. I think I’m going in the right direction, but I’m tired and everything seems to be in Swedish first and English second. Understandable of course, but my tired brain can’t seem to make out which direction I’m supposed to go.

“Sam!” I hear Kevin’s voice call to me from the left. I whip my head and see him striding confidently towards me. “Hi!” He says as he lifts me off my feet and into a tight hug.

“Hi!” I exclaim as he sets me back down. His lips connect with mine in a hot, needy kiss and my knees are instantly weak. “Did you miss me?” I wonder as he pulls away briefly.

“Uncontrollably.” He confesses before capturing my lips in his. “I am so happy you are here! I can’t wait to show you around and introduce you to people.”

“Oh! You told people about me; that’s a good sign.”

“They are probably sick of hearing about you at this point.” He laughs, reaching for my hand. “Let’s go get your suitcase.” Kevin begins to lead the way to the baggage claim. “How was your flight?”

“It was good! Not as long as I thought. I’ve never been on a plane that long and I was a little nervous.”

“Yeah, it’s weird the first time. Soon you’ll be a pro.” He winks at me.

“Mmm, I don’t think I’m ever coming back here.” I stick my tongue out at him. “That’s my bag.” I point to the Navy, hard cover suit case coming towards us on the carousel. Kevin grabs it and easily pulls the heavy bag off the machine. “Hot.” I wiggle my brows at him.

“So, my friends were dying to meet you right away.” He begins with an eye roll. “We are heading to lunch with them right after this, but we could stop at my place and drop off your things first.”

“Okay.” I nod to him as he laces our fingers together.

We walk out of the airport and into the bright, blue summer day. My skin tingles in response to the sun after being on the plane for 7 hours. It’s funny how I left one day in Minnesota and have entered into the next one in Sweden. The concept is foreign to me since this is my first international experience. I wouldn’t want it to be with anyone else.

“How far away is your place from here?” I ask Kevin as we reach his car. This one is a silver BMW, a stark contrast from his black Audi in Minnesota.

“Like 20 minutes.” He answers me as he places my suitcase in his trunk. “The restaurant we are going to for lunch is close to my place.”

“What is it called?” I ask as I settle into my seat.

“It’s Kafé Magasinet. It’s a popular spot in Sweden. They have pastries and sandwiches, so traditional lunch food.” He assures me.

Kevin enters the highway as we head to his apartment. His hand finds mine and we spend the drive to his apartment catching up. I share how the family is doing- of course they all say hi. Even my brother who has participated in several FaceTime calls with Kevin this offseason. Kevin shares with me his training numbers including how he has lost 10 pounds and added a considerable amount of muscle so far this off-season.

“I really miss cake though.” He confesses to me in exasperation as he signals to turn into a parking lot. “And it’s everywhere here. You’ll see.” He puts the car in park and we both exit the vehicle.

Kevin’s building is a few blocks off the river in a bustling, young neighborhood in Sweden. There are cafes, restaurants, and several businesses lining the street to our right. It reminds me of the North Loop neighborhood in Minneapolis- trendy, upscale, and vibrant. Kevin grabs my suitcase and we begin the walk into his building. We take the elevator to the fifth floor, the highest, and step out into a dim hallway that leads to his unit. Kevin flips the lock of his door and pushes it open for me to walk in.

“This is a little different than where you live in Minnesota.” I chuckle as I look around the small apartment. It is a similar size of one bedroom apartments in Minnesota, if not a little bit smaller. It’s furnished with the bare necessities for living along with a few house plants that I’m not sure how he keeps alive while he’s in the U.S.

“I live in a bigger space in America because I’m there longer than here now.” He tells me, tossing his keys on the counter. “This is a little small, but it’s just me, so I don’t need much. I picked this place because of the view though. Come see.” He opens the door to the balcony that overlooks the Göta älv. I step onto the small balcony and instantly smile. The view of the city and the water with a glittering surface is stunning. “Wait until the sun sets tonight. It will be even better.” He assures me. I place my hands on the railing and look out at the city. There are boats cruising on the water. The sun is shining and there is a warm breeze that has my hair dancing about my face.

“Sweden is beautiful.” I murmur to Kevin, running my hand through my hair to push it out of my face.

“It’s nothing compared to this view.” He tells me with smoldering eyes. I watch him as he moves to stand behind me. His hands come to my hips and he tugs me back into his body. A coy smile tilts my lips at the feel of his erection pressing into my butt.

“I thought we only had a few minutes?” I breathe out to him as he begins to kiss along my collar bone, heading towards my neck.

“They can wait.” He mumbles against my skin. The feel of his hot breath dancing across the wet kisses he left on my skin has me shivering. “I can’t though.”

“You’ve waited long enough.” I agree with him, turning in his arms. My hands cup his face as his lips press down into mine. His lips are hungry and his tongue dances against mine in a rhythm we haven’t forgotten. “How much time do we have?”

“As long as we need.” He walks us back into the apartment and guides me towards his bedroom. I take in the plain white walls, navy blue comforter and the made bed.

“You definitely cleaned for me.” I grin as his hands find the bottom of my shirt, lifting it over my head.

“You wouldn’t have stayed here if I hadn’t.” He tells me honestly, his fingers moving to the button on my shorts and opening them. I wiggle my hips to help him undress me and he groans at the sight of my sexy bra and panties. They are black lace you can see through just enough to incite a fire. Kevin leans down and places his lips on my nipple, sucking it into his mouth through the thin fabric of my bra. I draw in a deep breath and push my breasts into his face, holding him there. Fuck, I forgot how good he is at this. I let out a moan as my head drops back in ecstasy.

“Welcome to Sweden, baby.” He murmurs against my skin while trailing kisses up my chest and neck to my lips. “You’re going to love it here.”

With his lips on me like this, I already do. _ _ _

“Sam!” A beautiful blonde woman shouts when Kevin and I enter the patio of Kafé Magasinet after we have finished loving on each other. I cautiously slow as she runs to me with open arms. “Finally!” She pulls me into her embrace and gives me a squeeze. Her hug is so genuine that I find myself hugging her back willingly. “I’m Ella.” She says. “Martin’s girlfriend.”

“Oh! Martin, your training partner.” I look at Kevin who nods his head in confirmation from the discussion we had in the car.

“Ella has been dying to meet you.”

“Yeah!” She insists, shoving at Kevin’s shoulder. “Fiala won’t stop talking about you. It’s fascinating! I must get to know you!” She shares a look with Kevin before she turns back to me. “Come meet Martin!” She grabs my hand and pulls me over to an equally beautiful man with dark brown hair and mirrored Ray bans.

“Sam!” He greets me enthusiastically. I give a large grin and shake his out stretched hand. “Please, join us.” I look around the table he came from, taking in the sights of the rest of Kevin’s friend group. They all have big smiles on their face and greet me with nods and waves.

“Hi.” I wave shyly to everyone. Kevin introduces me to everyone individually, sharing the back story of how long he has known everyone and how they met. I nod my head along in understanding. I feel a little overwhelmed at meeting everyone at once, but am thankful for the positive response. I bite back a yawn as we reach the last person- a fit looking man with a bald head and a kind smile. “Andreas.” I say before Kevin can introduce us.

“Sam.” He repeats back to me and welcomes me into a hug.

“I’ve heard so much about you. I feel as though I know you!” I laugh as we step apart.

“I can say the same about you! How are Alex and Felicia? And Sawyer and Serena?” I tilt my head back and laugh with genuine joy at the sounds of my family member’s names.

“Ah! You do know all about me. They are good. Probably missing me, but they’ll survive on their own for the next few weeks.”

“Yes, I’m sure they will. We are happy to have you join us in Sweden. Kevin has been looking forward to this for awhile.”

“I keep hearing that. It’s good to know he’s missed me since he left.” I turn and take in Kevin’s face. His brown eyes have melted into pools of chocolate and I have an overwhelming desire to kiss his lips. His smile is easy as he pulls out a chair for me to sit down at the table.

“I’ve missed you very much.” He whispers to me before placing his lips against my cheek. I blush as I notice everyone at the table seems to be watching us. I lick my lips and glance down at my menu, noticing it’s all in Swedish. I furrow my brows as I look for words on the menu that look familiar.

“Here you are.” The waitress says over my right shoulder, handing me a menu that has been translated to English.

“Thank you!” I say enthusiastically. I glance down at the menu then snap my head back up. “Oh shoot… What is Thank You in Swedish?” I whisper to Kevin. He smiles with pursed lips as he swallows a drink of water.

“Tack.” He says to me as he puts the glass down. “Most people here speak English, so don’t worry about it.”

“Tack.” I say back in a whisper, feeling the letters fall off my tongue awkwardly. He nods his head that I spoke correctly and gives my shoulder a slight, encouraging rub. He knows I’m out of my comfort zone. I can feel his appreciation for my embrace of it all.

The conversation around me has reverted back to Swedish and I find myself studying my menu for awhile. Finally, I decide on a Margarita pizza. The menu states they have a wood-fire oven and I think that sounds light but delicious for a warm day. I slide the menu aside and grab my water, taking a delicate sip while looking around the table. There has to be something in the water over here- every single person at this table is gorgeous. It’s a mix of blondes and brunettes with blue or green eyes. High cheek bones, bright smiles and perfect teeth stare back at me.

“Hej, kan ni alla prata engelska för Sam?” Kevin asks the group who collectively and immediately switch to English. I glance at Kevin for a translation. “I asked them to speak English. Then they can actually get to know you.”

“Oh, I don’t mind.” I insist to him, waving my hand in the air like it’s no big deal.

“Well, I do. They’re here for you all to get to know each other. If you don’t know what they are saying, that’s going to be tough.”

“Sorry, Sam.” Ella says from down the table. “It’s just natural.”

“It’s okay. I wish I knew more Swedish, so you all didn’t have to adjust for me.” I shrug with red cheeks. I hate that I feel out of place right now. I force my smile wider to fend off the insecurity I feel blooming in me.

“Kevin, you need to teach her more.” Andreas scolds him.

“It’s not like we have known each other for that long.” Kevin defends himself. “We will work on it.” He assures me, dropping a brief kiss on my lips. “In the meantime, you all can brush up on your English.” Kevin points around the table.

“Kev, our English is perfect. You’re the one who needs the work.” Martin laughs as him. “Sam should teach you.”

“Fuck off.” Kevin rolls his eyes at him as the rest of the group giggles.

“His English is good!” I defend him. “Except, now that he’s been here, his accent is really thick.” I admit with a shrug.

“Yeah, that happens every year. In America, it’s thick, then when I’m here, speaking in Swedish, I have an American accent. I can’t win.”

“What happens when you go home to Switzerland?” I ask him.

“It’s bad because my words morph into a combination of Czech, German, Swedish, and English with all of those accents combined. My mom gets frustrated with me a lot the first few days I am there.” Kevin laughs.

“That would be something to hear.” I giggle in response.

“Hopefully you’ll come with me to Switzerland soon and then you can experience it.” He murmurs just to me.

“Following a man around the world really isn’t my thing.” I tease him gently, wrinkling my nose at him so he understands I’m kidding.

“I’ll make it worth your while.” He insists to me. I bite my lip at the look he is giving me- like he wants to throw me on this table and lick every inch of my skin.

Lunch continues with easy conversation- in English of course- until we are stuffed to the brim with pizza, wine, and bread. Kevin and I break off from the rest of the group after we settle the tab, opting to do a little sight seeing rather than follow them around Gothenburg to drink the day away. I promise Ella we will meet up later this week while the boys are training so she can show me a few local shops for gifts to bring home.

Kevin and I make our way to Slottsskogen- a park and mini zoo in the center of the city. As we drive, Kevin points out other local attractions such as Liseberg, the famous amusement park in Sweden, along with the Botanical Gardens and the Gothenburg Museum of Art. We spend the rest of the day in the park, wandering around and taking in the sights of the area. We do make a stop at the zoo which hosts all different types of animals that make Sweden their home during various season. We see elk, deer, goats, ponies and even geese. They also have a handful of exotic animals as well, including Penguins and Seals. We happened to be there at the right time and laughed at the sight of the seals enjoying a meal of fish.

Hours later, we wander back to Kevin’s car and begin driving towards his apartment to drop off his car. He has reservations for us at a local restaurant, but we can walk there from his place. We both run up to his apartment to change into more date night attire- a dress for me and a button down for Kevin.

When we stroll up to the restaurant, Dinner 22, we are immediately seated at a quiet corner booth. The hostess hands Kevin and I menus, both of which are graciously in English. I feel relief at not having to ask for one or have Kevin translate the menu for me. Everything on the menu looks decadent and expensive. Despite the late lunch we had, I still feel like I am starving.

“Okay. How can I possible pick what I want?” I ask Kevin after scanning the meal options. “Everything looks incredible.”

“It is. This is where my agent and I have been meeting to discuss my contract. By the time we are done, we have to be rolled out of here.” He chuckles. “The steak and potatoes are to die for.”

“I believe you.” I tell him setting my menu down in resolution. You can’t go wrong with meat and potatoes.

The waitress returns and takes our food and drink orders. Kevin grabs a bottle of expensive, French wine that will pair nicely with both of our beef centric entrees. We clink our glasses together in a cheers before I sip the decadent red liquid between my lips.

“Oh Fu-“ I cut myself off with a laugh before I swear in such a fancy place. “That is some good wine.” I glance at the bottle, wondering if we can find that back in Minnesota.

“I brought my parents here last summer and my mom got this wine. It was so good and I usually am not a fan of reds.” He shrugs. “I figured you would like it.”

Soon, our food is being placed in front of us and I’m salivating at the smell. I grab my fork and stab a piece of perfectly cooked steak. The meat melts in my mouth and I say a silent prayer of thanks to the chefs in back.

“Wow… you were not wrong.” I tell Kevin excitedly.

“I’m glad you like it.” He is watching me over the candle in the middle of our table. The orange rays flick across his face but there is something about him that seems different tonight. His gaze continues to watch me as I softly chew on a potato. I glance around behind me nervously then look at him again.

“What?” I wonder with an awkward laugh.

“Hmm?” He asks as though he was lost in thought, sitting up a little straighter and taking a sip of his wine.

“You’re staring at me.”

“Yeah because I like the view.” He says nonchalantly. “I’ve been imagining what it would like for you to be here. You should know you’re fitting in well.”

“I don’t know about that.” I tell him, stabbing another potato. “The hostess had me pegged as American. That’s why she gave us the English menus.”

“I don’t think so. I asked for English menus in the reservation notes. If she thought you were American, she would have said enjoy your meal in English, not Swedish.” I think back to when we sat down, realizing that she did speak to us exclusively in Swedish.

“Do you like that I fit in here?” I ask him with a tilted head and inquisitive eyes.

“Yeah, it’s important to me.” He confesses softly. “Sweden is a big part of who I am and I wanted you to see me here. Meet my friends and fit into this part of my world too.”

“So, since I’m passing here with flying colors, I get to go to Switzerland too?” I joke with him.

“My sister will love you.” He confirms with a grin. I give him a genuine, soft laugh, pushing my plate away as Kevin does as well. Both of us are part of the clean plate club, not surprising with how delicious everything was.

“Are you making plans with me, Kevin Fiala?” I ask innocently, watching the way his eyes glitter in the light.

“Maybe.” We share a gaze that has the rest of the world fading from my mind.

I try to hold in the yawn that is pressing at my tongue to keep our light banter going, except I can’t help but let it out. Suddenly, I’m sleepy. The carbs and meat have taken over and the jet lag is threatening to pull me under. I glance at Kevin across the table who is giving me a cute and knowing smile.

“You’ve done good today.” He murmurs to me, reaching for my hand and giving it a squeeze. “You have officially reached a time that you can go to sleep and not risk more jet lag.”

“Am I a professional international traveler now?” I wonder sweetly, batting my lashes dramatically.

“Yeah baby, you are.” He reaches for his wallet and pulls out a few brightly colored bills, tossing them on the table. “Lets start walking back.” He reaches for my hand and we exit the restaurant into the Swedish night. I lace my arm through his and lean my head gently on his shoulder as we make our way down the street. “Are you up for some dessert?” He wonders hopefully. “There is an ice cream place close to here that’s pretty famous. Otherwise, we can just go back home.”

“I’d love ice cream.” I tell him. It sounds good, but the hopefulness in his features is really what has me saying yes. We turn off the street we are on and head one block to the east until we reach Triumf Glasscafe. Kevin and I both order a two scoop cup- him Salted Caramel and me a Cookies and Cream equivalent. We take our ice cream back to the square we just left as it has more seating than the overcrowded creamery. We find a spot on the fountain within the square and sit, listening to the sounds of the water clashing together.

“This is really good.” I admit to Kevin. “It is like the perfect kind of sweet and the texture is so smooth.”

“It’s not surprising they are one of the more popular places in Sweden.” He tells me.

“Definitely.” I agree, taking another bite. I still feel full from dinner though and am not sure I’ll be able to finish it. Regardless, I know a certain hockey player who would gladly devour the rest.

“I really enjoyed meeting your friends today.” I say to Kevin after a few moments of silence. “It’s nice to put faces with names and get to see what your life is like here.”

“I’m lucky to have some really great friends here. I moved to Gothenburg a few years ago and found a great group of people to take me in.”

“You must miss them while you’re in America.”

“I do.” He nods slowly to me. “Lately though, I’ve been finding myself missing America more than enjoying being here.” His eyes find mine and we share a knowing look. I give him a small kiss on his lips and place my hand on his thigh comfortingly. “I know I already said this, but I’m really glad you’re here, Sam.”

“Me too.” I say to him as he places his empty ice cream cup down.

“I ate too much. I might need a minute before we start walking again.” He pats his non-existent belly jokingly.

“Okay… Oh! You can start your Swedish lessons with me.” I say with an excited clap.

“Sure. Um… let me think of something common that you could use while you’re here.” He pauses for a moment then says “Oh here we go: Jag heter Sam. It means, my name is Sam.”

“Oof…” I say to him. “Jag-“ Kevin laughs and shakes his head.

“No, not Jag like Jaguar. It’s more like yo.” He motions for me to try again.

“Jag Heter Sam.” I repeat with extra concentration.

“Better!” He encourages me. “Okay how about.. Trevligt att träffas. Nice to meet you.”

“What?” I ask him with a laugh, “Repeat please.” Kevin does but I give him a cringe look and shake my head. “Those are tough sounds to make this late at night.” It’s currently 8:30pm but it might as well be 2:00am with the time swing I’ve been through today.

“Okay. Let’s try something else. Here is one you learned part of earlier: Tack så mycket.” Kevin says to me. I repeat the words to him and he nods with a shrug. “Close. It means, thank you so much.”

“Good, I want to keep my manners here.”

“Swedes like Americans that have manners.” His eyes twinkle at me. I can see the deep appreciation he has for me trying to learn Swedish. It’s strengthening our foundation and makes me feel close to him, which is a nice contrast to how I felt at lunch earlier. That insecurity and ineptitude has dissipated as the day has transpired.

“Noted.” I say to him. I feel a little breathless as he looks at me. Maybe it’s the night. Maybe it’s finally being together again, but the connection feels stronger and more tingly than ever. How am I going to leave here in 15 days without him?

“Oh here is a good one.. Talar du engelska? It means, do you speak English?” I nod, letting the words slowly roll off my tongue.

“I feel like I sound so American!” I finish with a loud laugh.

“You do.” He confirms with a quick laugh.

“You can take the girl out of America but not America out of the girl.” I chuckle. “Okay one more, then I definitely need to go to sleep!”

He wrinkles his brows together as if he is thinking, pursing his lips in a puzzling look. His gaze searches mine for a moment. His eyes slowly soften and his entire demeanor changes to something more serious. He reaches for my face and brushes my hair behind my ear. His hand cups my neck as he gradually brings his lips to mine. Our lips connect and I sigh, leaning into his body and grabbing his shirt lightly to keep him close. He tastes like caramel and smells slightly like wine from dinner.

“Jag älsker dig, Sam.” He whispers as he pulls away from me. His eyes are genuine and his body is very still. I freeze in response, my heart pounding as my eyes search his for the meaning of his words. Finally, he tells me after one more soft press of our lips, “I love you, Sam.” A slow grin breaks out on my face as I reach for him again, pulling our lips together once more. It’s a long, sweet kiss that I never want to end.

“I love you too, Kev.” I confess to him, resting my forehead against his. We are both smiling too wide to kiss again, so instead, I wrap my arms around him and hold him close to me. I bury my face into the side of his neck, feeling the warmth of his skin against my forehead. I breathe in slowly, smelling sweetness and the bright scent of his cologne.

“You could have said that in English first.” I finally whisper to him.

“True.. but this way, you’ll never forget.” He insists to me, his hands rubbing slowly up and down my back.

“As if I could ever forget being here.. like this.. with you.” I tell him, resting my chin against his shoulder. He pulls me into his lap so I’m straddling him. I squeak and pull my skirt down, worried I’m flashing the groups of people who are walking around us.

“I’ve been wanting to tell you that since I left Minnesota.” He confesses to me softly. “Today, when I saw you standing there in the airport, I knew I had to tell you before you left. You’re my missing piece, Sam. The one I’ve been waiting for.” I look down into his perfect, sweet face and feel myself falling for him all over again. It’s like crashing through the floor, going deeper and deeper into a new, uncharted level of love.

“I knew I loved you weeks ago, even before you left Minnesota. I don’t know how, but it only took 6 weeks to love you, Kev.” I place my lips against his and his tongue slides into my mouth like it belongs there.

“It’s because this is the real thing.” He assures me.

“It is.” I confirm to him as I weave my fingers through his hair. Kevin’s eyes search mine once more as I grit my teeth together against another yawn.

“Let’s go home.” He whispers to me, encouraging me to stand and lacing our hands together again.

The walk to his apartment is quiet and content. Knowing Kevin loves me makes my heart ache a little less about leaving in a few weeks. I feel a security wrap around me that I didn’t have when I left the United States yesterday evening.

Maybe, with the confession of his love coming home with me, he won’t feel so far away.

[fidothefinch]

Familiar Stranger

Read Here on AO3

Ric swore when opening the bar door let in a gust of wind so frigid it made his eyes water. Looked like the winter storm had finally rolled in. Fat, wet clumps of yet-to-be-dirtied snow fell quickly in gusts with the wind. Shit, maybe he should have left before last call like the bartender had suggested.

“Shut the door!” someone yelled from behind him.

Ric shot a glare behind him, toward nobody in particular, and flipped the bird to the drunk stragglers left inside the filthy dive. The wind slammed the door shut as he passed into the hellishly cold landscape. He’d had to park in a garage a few blocks away and with the first step was already dreading the walk. Invisible patches of ice threw his feet out from beneath him, and he had left his hat in his car earlier. Stupid mistake.

He seemed to be making of lot of those, these days.

At least there weren’t any other people out in this weather to see him. Nobody saw him slip and fall flat on his ass, but nobody was staring at his head either. He knew the puckered skin of his scar stood out against his shaved head. He knew what people assumed when they saw it – that he was in a gang, that he was a fighter. Last week, a bartender had offered him a veteran discount. And he hadn’t refused, because technically he was, wasn’t he? He’d been a soldier for a freak in a costume who sent children into combat.

That wasn’t who he was, anymore. His life was simple. Blizzards meant no people, meant no business, meant he was going home early. He didn’t look for trouble anymore.

But trouble had a way of finding him.

He was on the fifth floor of the parking garage, pulling out his car keys, when some long-dormant instinct had him pause. He scanned the garage around him. It was almost empty, but for his beat-up cab, a junk car with a flat and a thick layer of dust, and a black van with a lightbulb logo and a ladder on its roof.

It was in the reflection of the latter’s glossy windows that he watched a group of five men approach him from behind.

Ric ducked his head and picked up his pace. He made it halfway across the garage before the five pairs of feet behind him got heavier and faster. He fumbled with his keys only a second before cursing and finally breaking into a full sprint. He turned away from his car in favor of the stairway. If he could get back downstairs, he could get back on the street and. . .

And?

Shit.

“Get him!” With no more pretenses to uphold, his five pursuers ran after him. In the reflection of the warped corner mirror above, Ric saw the glint of a gun in one of their hands.

“Oh, he’s running! The chase is the best part,” a man taunted. His voice echoed eerily off the concrete walls of the vast empty space. It made Ric’s breath loud in his own ears.

They were gaining on him fast. He hadn’t exactly been healthy in a while, let alone running, so in a bid to put some distance between himself and his pursuers, he vaulted himself over the banister without any of the grace he had had as a circus brat. He only barely twisted enough to get his feet landing on just one step, and then he was running again, bouncing down the steps in a way that made his head throb.

He was running out of breath, chest tight. There was no way he could keep this up. A litany of swear words repeated in his head.

He could hear when the men reached the steps above him. They didn’t try to jump down, but they definitely sounded faster than him as they descended. Their footsteps echoed down the steps, overlapping one another in a cacophony of noise that wasn’t doing his headache any good.

Desperate now, he fumbled in his pockets for something to defend himself with. All he had were his keys, his pain meds, and his flimsy wallet. He wound his car keys between his fingers like claws. On the next platform between floors, he found a glass beer bottle, and he scooped it up with nimble fingers as he swung around the next turn.

A gunshot.

Ric’s ears rang.

He lifted the cold beer bottle in his hand to the scar across his head, hoping it would help numb both the real and remembered dart of pain.

He didn’t see where the bullet landed, but it didn’t hit him, and he made it to the bottom floor of the steps in record time. (That he remembered, at least.) In the short time he had been inside, the snow had managed to spread in a thin blanket along the roads and sidewalks. He would leave tracks if he left now, not to mention the ice that he knew hid under that thin crust of frost. No, instead he turned back into the first floor of the garage.

There were more cars down here than there were upstairs; the first floor was, predictably, nearly full. He ran as far as he dared out in the open before ducking between two parked cars and trying to quiet his breathing.

Just in the nick of time, because the men spilled out of the stairway not a moment later. “He went inside,” someone said. “No footprints.”

Ric jumped when something slammed into metal. Still far away – a car by the steps, maybe?

“You can’t hide forever!” a man shouted. “We’re going to find you and beat your punk ass!”

Punk. That was a new one.

Ric’s head pounded in time with his pulse, but he kept one hand over his mouth to keep his breathing from being too audible. The car he crouched behind sat low, but not so low he couldn’t slip underneath. If he was caught under it, he was a goner. But if they didn’t look?

It was the best chance he had. He didn’t think he could run again.

Slow, as to not make any unnecessary noise, he slid down to his side and peeked under the car. From here, he could see that the group had split. Two sets of shoes headed toward the ramp leading back up into the garage. Two more scoured the area between himself and the steps, checking between cars as they made their way toward him. He couldn’t see the fifth man, so assumed he was guarding the exit.

They were moving faster than he had thought; no way he would make it under before they caught up to him. His head tilted back against the car door and he let his eyes rest a moment. He’s been shot once, right? Maybe, by some twist of irony, it would just getting shot again to magically bring all of his memories back. Or maybe it would kill him, this time.

He wasn’t sure he was too opposed to that.

Still, as the footsteps drew near, he tightened his fist around his beer bottle. Whatever he had been before, he knew deep in his gut that he had never been a quitter. That much, at least, hadn’t changed.

He counted the pace of the footsteps and mentally drew up a plan of escape: hit this guy over the head with his keys, run for it, hope he didn’t get shot. (Terrible. No wonder he had almost been killed before.)

He held his breath as the footsteps rounded the far edge of the car he was leaning against. His hearth thumped loud in his ears, in time with his pulsing headache – probably the beginning of another migraine.

Any moment now. . .

The lights went out without so much as a sound.

There was a thump and a shout from across the garage.

“Bill?”

Another gunshot, flashing in the dark room. It set a car alarm off, and the high-pitched siren was piercing in the air.

“Shit,” hissed the man on the other side of the car, and he retreated quickly toward the exit.

Ric couldn’t believe it. The quiet sound of flesh hitting flesh and the scraping of shoes on pavement echoed in the concrete labyrinth. He blinked, eyes still adjusting to the dim lighting – yes, this was definitely going to be a migraine — and edged forward until he could peek around the corner of the car.

Three of the men were engaged with a smaller figure. As Ric watched, one of his assailants managed to land a punch on the smaller man, and the sound cracked across pavement. But the smaller man barely flinched, moving fast enough Ric couldn’t make out more than a blur, and then the taller man was on the ground.

The movements were blurring together, and Ric raised a hand to the scar on the side of his head almost subconsciously. Medication. He needed to take his meds.

He fumbled with the pill bottle in his pocket — his hands were shaking — and nearly spilled the whole thing when another shot rang out. He managed to get two pills into his palm and downed them dry, swallowing against the familiar bitter taste.

It would take 30 minutes to kick in.

He pocketed the remainder of his pills and pressed the palms of his gloved hands into his eyes, hoping it would help relieve the splitting pressure behind them. It never did.

He sat like that, curled over his knees in pain, for an indiscernible amount of time. When the nausea and pain had ebbed enough, his fingers and toes were numb from the cold. It took him a while to realize that the sounds of the fight had stopped, and even after that it took him longer to feel steady enough on his feet to try standing, let alone walking.

But when he finally staggered out of his hiding place, it was to find that he wasn’t alone. The smaller man was still there, slumped down against the wall just inside the exit.

Ric paused as the man looked up, but he couldn’t make out any distinctive features in the dark. He had to be cold, sitting there in the wind.

“What do you want?” Ric asked, not daring to yell for fear of making his migraine peak again. “I’m not looking for a fight.” He distantly regretted leaving his bottle on the ground.

The figure only stiffened. “I shouldn’t be here.” He mechanically began to rise to his feet, clearly struggling and using the wall as support.

Shit, that voice. It was a kid. “What the hell are you doing?” Ric asked. “You have a death wish or something?”

The kid turned away from him, back into the exit. In the light from the outside street, Ric was able to make out more details, dark jeans and a navy sweatshirt that hung off his frame. He would guess homeless, if it weren’t for the shiny green combat boots. But they didn’t do him any good when he stepped outside and immediately slid on a patch of ice, sending him back to his ass.

Ric was used to this city, now. He didn’t go poking around other people’s business just like he didn’t like people poking into his. But when the kid pushed himself back up with an audible hiss, and he saw red in the fresh white snow where he had been lying, he forgot all of that.

“Shit, kid. They stab you?”

The hooded boy only briefly glanced over his shoulder before trying to stand again, one hand pressed firmly to a growing patch of dark in his sweatshirt. “No.”

But they didn’t have knives, did they? They had guns.

The guns.

“Holy fuck – did they shoot you?”

The kid was easy to read, even under the oversized sweatshirt. His shoulders tensed and his bare fingers – why wasn’t he wearing gloves – tightened against his side. “I’m fine.”

“Fuck, no. You need to go see a doctor.” The kid slipped again, and now Ric was close enough to catch him. “What were you thinking, going after those guys?” A thought struck him, and he checked his surroundings suspiciously. “Was this a gang hazing?”

“No,” this boy spat. He yanked himself out of Ric’s grasp. Asshole. “I have to go.”

“Wait –“ Ric grabbed the back of the hood and it slid off the boy’s head, revealing black hair. The boy turned toward him, and Ric could make out his face for the first time. And despite the beginnings of what were sure to be dark bruises against his tan skin, his face looked familiar.

Ric couldn’t place it.

“Do I know you?” he asked.

The kid glanced away with a “Tt.”

It came to him suddenly, and Ric stepped back at the realization. “You’re that Wayne kid.”

Something tightened in the boy’s face. What was his name? David? Jamin?  “Damian.”

“What are you – are you following me?”

“I’m leaving.”

Damian turned to leave again, but Ric grabbed his arm to stop him. “No, I want answers. Did Bruce send you? I thought I made it clear that I —”

“Father did not send me. I just wanted. . .  “ Damian shook his head. “This wasn’t supposed to happen.”

Why couldn’t they just leave him alone. “Damn right, it wasn’t supposed to happen.”

“My apologies. It will not happen again.”

“That’s not good enough.” The kid flinched. Good. “I don’t want to see any of you ever again. I don’t know who you are, and I’m not interested in your little child soldier pyramid scheme. You can go tell Batman to fuck off.”

Damian glanced away at the word Batman, but they were the only ones around now. Nobody’s stupid enough to hand around after what sounds like a shootout.

Satisfied that Ric hadn’t ruined their precious identities, Damian nodded. “I am sorry to interrupt your evening,” he spoke with a clear, monotone voice. He turned back toward the street.

Ric didn’t stay long enough to see where he went. He stormed all the way back to his car, fueled by his burst of anger. He had scarcely sunk into the worn upholstery before all of that energy was sapped out of him. He turned the heat on and let it begin to defrost his fingers and toes. The migraine was threatening a return, so he pressed his head back and tried to even his breathing.

What a night.

 Later, when he was certain the migraine had been avoided, he would think back on the interaction. He wasn’t wearing his Robin uniform, but street clothes. Bruce hadn’t sent him. He had wanted – what, to see Ric?

And he had saved him.

And after that, Ric would curse and scour the streets for the kid, at least to offer him a ride back into Gotham.

He wouldn’t find him.

[aliwritesfic]

The Night Shift (part 7) (Frankie Morales x F!Reader)

So uh,,,,, it's been a while........ perhaps this is the end of my block? one can only hope. anyway, if you're still here, i love you <3

part 6 part 8

The rain didn’t stop for the rest of the weekend, instead, it seemed to move between a light drizzle in the afternoons to raging storms during the night. It had gotten so bad that Ethan had relented to driving you on both Monday and Tuesday, a task he had bemoaned the entire way. You had sat silently in the passenger seat, watching the water droplets on the window. 

“I can’t pick you up in the morning,” he said on Wednesday, pulling into the small parking lot behind the diner. Through the window, you could see the shape of Frankie sitting in his truck. 

“That’s fine,” you said. 

“Debra needs me to come in early at the office,” he explained, even though you didn’t ask why. You weren’t sure you really cared that the excuse sounded sketchy as hell. A six in-the-morning start? You weren’t stupid.

“Okay,” you said simply. You had an umbrella in your bag and knew you could wait out any major storms in the diner. 

“See you tomorrow,” he leaned over, gripped the back of your neck uncomfortably tight, and kissed you roughly. Ethan had never really been a pleasant kisser, or maybe he was a perfectly fine kisser, and kissing wasn’t something you really enjoyed. You weren’t sure.

You counted to five in your head and pulled away, the taste of ash in your mouth. He had been smoking again. Probably with his shithead friends, hopefully with the windows open.

I don’t like you anymore.

The thought came quickly as you looked at Ethan in the dim light and for a moment you were overcome with nausea. The truth of it rocked you, flipped your stomach.

Before you could dissect the thought too thoroughly, you dashed inside the diner, clothes soaking through quickly. Shivering in the doorway, you peeled off your heavy jacket and hung it up on the hook usually reserved for aprons.

You caught Frankie’s eye as you passed through the kitchen. The past couple of nights the rain had kept most people inside, meaning you were free to take over the kitchen (or at least part of it) as you saw fit, spreading out across the stainless steel benchtops trying to figure out if your love of adding an insane amount of lemon was perhaps too much for everyone else. So far, Frankie had been a willing guinea pig for your experiments.

The first couple hours into your shift kept you busy enough; mostly fellow night workers getting dinner and caffeine before their own shifts started. The rain kept most of the regulars away as the storm worsened through the night. 

It was almost midnight when the power went out.

“Oh, fuck,” you said setting down the coffee pot. You looked back at Frankie, who was looking at you. 

“Uh,” he looked at the spatula in his hand, as if seeing it for the first time. 

“Out,” you turned to the lone customer, handing him a to-go cup for his coffee. He left without much argument, allowing you to lock the front doors behind him. 

Through the rain-streaked glass, you could see rest of the street had lost power, creating almost absolute darkness that was broken only by the occasional flash of lightning. 

“I’ve turned off all the main switches in here,” Frankie called. You nodded. You hadn’t even thought of anything besides locking the doors and drinking the last of the coffee before it went bad.

Frankie appeared by your side, looking out onto the street. 

“Oh, see that?” He pointed into the darkness. You squinted and shook your head, moving closer to the glass. He took your shoulders gently, his grip firm. Your heart stuttered as he guided your body to better see. 

“About a hundred yards up,” he murmured. A tree, an oak probably, had fallen and knocked over a power line. 

You groaned. “That’s gonna take forever to fix.” 

“Do we have to stay?” Frankie still hadn’t moved his hands and every fiber of your being was aware of it.

You shook your head. “You don’t have to if you don’t wanna.”

“But you do?” 

“Not technically,” you said, “but I’ll stick around anyway, just until we can find out when the power will be back on.” Truthfully, you weren’t keen on walking home in that weather.

“Well, I’ll stick around with you. Want a sandwich?”

Less than ten minutes later, the both of you were sequestered in a booth with coffee, sandwiches, and a view of the fallen tree when the lightning flashed. 

“So, that was Ethan, huh?” Frankie broke the silence. You nodded without saying anything. Somehow, the sound of Ethan’s name coming out of Frankie’s mouth made you feel a little sick. It felt wrong.

The wind howled outside, the sound cut only by the rumbling of thunder. “Can I tell you something? And it can’t leave these four walls? Not even Manny can know because he will be so fucking smug about it.”

“Yeah, anything.” Frankie sat forward, all his attention on you. 

You bit down on the inside of your cheek, scared to say the words aloud. It was one thing to think them, to feel them occasionally in times of discontent, but it was another thing entirely to speak them into existence. Speaking them made them real, made it so you could never take them back.

“I - I don’t want to be with him anymore. I don’t like him as a person, I don’t think I’ve been happy in a while. I need to get out of that fucking place it’s suffocating me.” You paused, collecting your thoughts. Frankie waited silently, dark eyes on you. “But I’m really scared. Like more scared than I’ve ever been. It probably sounds stupid, with everything you’ve seen and done, like relationship drama, is probably so fucking inane to you.”

“It’s not,” he said quietly. You tilted your head, tears welling up suddenly. “Do you want advice or just an ear?”

“I don’t know,” you groaned and pressed the heels of your hands into your eyes, “I’m just so fucking confused.”

“What about?”

“Everything. I need a fucking therapist. Maybe I should ask for a sign to bite the bullet and break up with him.” Outside, a loud crash made the both of you jump as lightning struck another tree. ”Surely fucking not! That’s it! I’m gonna do it! I’m gonna- well, now that’s sorted, what’s new with you?”

“Just like that?” Frankie raised a brow. “What are you going to do?”

“I’ll sort it all out. Don’t worry about me,” you smiled, feeling light. Your chest, your shoulders, and your own soul felt like it had been put through the washing machine and had come out brand new. Was Frankie some kind of emotional wizard, able to extract and make sense of your clouded emotions with barely even a word? Or was that just the effect of finally being able to get all your thoughts together and hear them aloud?

You decided to give the praise to Frankie - after all, if he wasn’t here, you wouldn’t have even said the words. You wouldn’t have come to this decision. You grinned at Frankie, winning one of those heart-stuttering smiles back.

~ 

June had a way of making Frankie feel not so lonely. They could have been the only two people in the world, and he wouldn’t have noticed. It would have been enough for him. 

She had set up your phone against a pair of salt and pepper shakers, turning on a show she had been binging. June had been explaining the plot and characters, but he was barely even taking it in. Her earlier words rattled around in his brain, the declaration that she was done with Ethan. Frankie had spotted him earlier, in the parking lot dropping you off. It had made him feel . . . angry to see. So angry he had barely spoken a word to June all night until the power went out. Stewing in his feelings, hardly able to look at her for fear of snapping at her. He wasn’t mad at her. He didn’t even know what exactly he was mad at, but the feeling had lasted too long for comfort.

June’s laughter rang out, her eyes on the small phone screen. Frankie looked at her, repeating her words in his mind. She was done with Ethan, that much he was certain about. It was the only thing he was certain about. Everything else was murky, and confusing in his broken, rotting brain.

Pushing his feelings to the side, he decided to deal with them later. “How are you getting home?”

June glanced out the window. The sky outside was still dark and stormy, even though the sun should have been rising. “I’ll walk when the rain lets up.”

“It’s supposed to be like this all day,” Frankie said.

June groaned. “Really? You’re sure? Ugh, I’ll get an Uber or something.”

“You’re not getting an Uber.”

“No, it’s so far out of your way.”

“What if it wasn’t?”

“But it is, so your point is moot.” June was smirking triumphantly as if that put the matter to bed. Frankie rolled his eyes and shook his head.

“What if you come back to my place? Just for the day, to get your head together?”

June’s face softened. “Are you sure?”

“Positive.” Frankie’s voice was firm. “Plus, Benny is probably there and I know he’d love to meet you.”

“Only if it’s not a nuisance for you.”

“You would never be,” Frankie said. He meant it, every word. She never would be, not to him.

tagging: @maievdenoir@luvmeijii@phandoz@you-got-me-starry-eyed@sunnshineeexoxo @meandorla

[trashyinfernomusic]

WIP Wednesday

I've been so busy, I haven't lots of time to really sit down and write - which sucks, because I've got a birthday gift I'm working on and I have fics I really need to sit down and write ;-;

Anyway, here's something from the Greek Mythology!AU I've been thinking about for a while now :D It's kinda a PJO/9-1-1 crossover because events and details are mentioned, but as of right now, I don't plan on any character crossovers! -----

The day starts off well. He wakes up, makes himself a coffee, doesn’t bother with breakfast – Bobby will probably have something for him at the station – changes, slips his knife into his boot, and grabs himself a bell pepper for the road. He makes sure to check his phone and the mail for postcards or messages before he leaves the apartment. Just in case.

It’s an easy routine, one that he’s somewhat happily fallen into post-Abby’s departure.

It doesn’t hurt that he’s dropped a half percent in body fat since his last DXA scan. Hot firefighter calendar, here he comes.

The drive is even easier than his wake-up routine. He makes good time, traffic isn’t actually all that terrible – a miracle in LA – and he’d managed to get the Jeep’s cooling fixed last week just before the heat wave hit the city.

It’s all easy. Too easy, even.

When Buck gets within one block of the station, the air shifts.

To most people, the kind of shift he’s talking about is one that’s imperceptible. A shiver down the spine, the hairs on the back of the neck rising in alarm, the uncomfortable feeling of being in an odd fog – things people explain away as an odd feeling or exhaustion or paranoia.

To Buck, it means that something is Wrong. He doesn’t mean wrong as in, oops, I got a math problem wrong. No. When he thinks Wrong, he thinks of Monster Donuts and the one-eyed daycare teacher who tried to eat him when he was a kid Wrong. Wrong is a field trip to the AACA Museum that ended with Buck driving off in one of the vintage Camaros after he’d asked the museum attendant very nicely for the keys (though that one had ended with the car catching fire when a very angry harpy decided to chase after him).

Okay, so maybe Buck’s life is a little weird. He gets it. But the weird has taught him to pay attention, to focus on the Wrong.

Ignoring Wrong gets people killed.

Complacency gets people killed. Good people.

Sometimes bad people, too, but things aren’t always that black and white when it comes to gods and monsters.

And Buck’s never been all that great at ignoring problems. He’s caused his fair share of them, sure, but ignoring a problem when it’s staring him in the face? No. He’s not great at ignoring problems.

The Mist is wrapped so tightly around Station 118 that Buck feels like he can barely see the building through the haze. It’s almost as if he wants to look away, like the building itself is too blinding, too present, for him to see. He wants to drive past. He thinks about pulling out his phone (flip phone, obviously, because a smartphone is one heck of a Bad Idea) to call Bobby and say, hey, I’m not coming in today –

He frowns, shakes the thought away, and pulls into the parking lot.

And then he immediately tries to pull out, suddenly struck by the urge to take another lap around the block. It wouldn’t hurt anything, would it?

But then again, he’s spent the past few months working hard to prove himself to the rest of the 118. What would they say if he were to just not show up for his shift? He’s worked so hard recently, and he hasn’t even used his mom’s gift to do it.

It wouldn’t be that big of –

He pulls the knife from his boot and quickly slices a small cut across his palm. The urge to leave instantly dulls into a gentle prodding at the back of his mind. The familiar building snaps into focus. The fog is still there. It tugs at him, gently dulling his senses in a manner only the Mist can. He’s never really been the best at controlling it – he’s not a Hecate kid, and he’s got no affinity for illusion work – but he knows enough to protect himself from its influence.

Somewhat, anyway.

He slips the knife back into his boot and frowns. Something’s brought the Mist to his metaphorical front door. Something powerful if it’s affecting him this badly. A part of him wonders if everyone else at the station feels the effects, too.

He steps out of his car and grabs his duffel bag, quickly pulling out his recent DXA results so that he has something to crow about when he makes his appearance. Hopefully, he’ll be able to gauge everyone’s level of awareness based off their reactions.

He smiles as he walks into the engine bay. Everything seems to be normal. C Shift is finishing up their work as scheduled, Bobby and Hen are talking over by the locker rooms, and Chimney’s still not in yet, but that’s not entirely surprising. The Mist is still present, annoyingly so, but it’s not impacting normal station operations.

“I got another DXA scan,” he calls loudly both in the hopes of catching his co-workers’ attentions and finding whatever it is that’s brought the Mist into the building. Hen and Bobby turn to him. Buck waves the papers with his results in the air once he gets close enough to them. “Guess who dropped another half percent?”

“What?” Hen asks, her eyebrows furrowed as she squints at the papers. “Wait, Buck, is that blood?”

Buck glances at the papers that are rapidly turning red where his palm meets their edges. Ah. Right. That.

“Uh, yeah,” he says, his smile faltering a bit. Bobby’s own smile has fallen into a concerned frown. “I cut myself making breakfast this morning, was running late, so I didn’t have a chance to take care of it.” He grimaces, mostly for show, and purposefully glances back towards the parking lot where he’d left his Jeep. “I’m going to have to wipe down the steering wheel later.”

Bobby gently pulls the papers from his hand so that Hen can snatch the offending injury and get a better look at it. “Buck, you could have called,” he chides. “I would have been alright with you being a little late if it meant you’d take care of it properly.”

“You know I only use my phone for emergencies, Cap,” Buck replies with a shrug. “And I knew I’d have access to some awesome medical care when I got here. Not a huge deal.”

“I’d say this qualifies as an emergency, Buck.” Hen looks up, clearly about to order Bobby to go get something, but she stops when something catches her eye. “Chim! Can you get me some gauze, wipes, and some antibiotic cream?” She levels Buck with her best glare and says, “Who knows what you’ve been touching since you injured yourself. Does that fancy scan of yours check for brain cells? Because I’m a bit worried about a deficiency.”

Buck grimaces for real this time. Chimney’s already scurried off towards one of the ambulances so he’s safe from razzing for a bit, but Bobby’s already giving him the Disappointed Dad Glare and honestly, that’s worse. “No,” he says, “a DXA scan measures your body fat. You can see your percentage in every part of your body.”

“Oh yeah?” Chimney asks as he walks up to them, Hen’s requested items in his hands. “Did they measure the fat in your head?” He glances down at Buck’s cut and sucks in a loud breath. “Ouch. I hope that’s not as bad as it looks.”

It really isn’t, Buck thinks to himself. He knows his body; he knows injuries. He knows his body and injuries. It’s really not that big of a deal.

The old scar along his side twinges painfully at the reminder of a time something was a big deal.

But there’s a difference between a sword going through your side and a knife barely cutting your palm. Buck knows – he’s had both happen. He’d much rather take the knife.

“Ah, see, the fat joke would be funny,” he says quickly, hoping to change the subject as Hen begins poking and prodding at the wound on his palm with a wipe. “But we’re about a week away from submissions being due for the Hot Days, Smoldering Nights: Men of the LAFD wall calendar.” He lets a bit of smugness drip into his voice. “And I’m already at my goal weight, so it seems my head is working perfectly.”

Hen scoffs, none-too-gently scraping at a bit of dried blood on Buck’s hand with her wipe. Buck almost yelps when she literally rubs his skin the wrong way, but he bites down on his tongue before it can escape. “Do you really need to use the whole title?” she asks. “You could just say ‘that idiotic, reductive, sexist calendar that insults the dignity of this organization and furthers the myth that all firefighters are male.’ Chimney, the antibiotic please.”

Chimney wordlessly hands over the cream with a she just went there look on his face.

And Buck? Well… Buck doesn’t really have an answer for that. Neither does Bobby, who shifts awkwardly from one foot to the other.

Definitely the Mist’s fault. Mhm. Yep. That’s what he’s going with.

He internally breathes a sigh of relief at the fact that his co-workers seem to be unaffected by the Mist – on the surface, at least. His mind wanders just for a moment back to the Princess Andromeda in the early days of the war.

Back then, he’d thought the mortals were funny as they’d stumbled around in what seemed like a drug-induced haze. Now, he gets how truly fucked up the Mist had made them.

“Yeah,” he finally says, “that’s not any less words.”

“Hen, come on, it’s for charity,” Bobby cuts in with an amused grin.

“No, Bobby, you too?” Hen despairs. She hands Chimney the cream and takes the gauze from his hands without even looking.

Bobby shrugs. “Well, why not? They say a man is at his sexiest when he reaches fifty.” And it’s then that Buck knows Bobby is joking.

…probably.

“Is that what they say?” Hen asks, her voice heavily laced with disbelief. She carefully tapes off the gauze and releases Buck’s hand with a gentle pat. “That’s what they say.”

Buck wisely, in his opinion, stays out of it.

[bindtorturekillme]

Your Eyes, Vacant & Stained

Ch.2 - 4k

Pairing: Frank Iero x Gerard Way

“Have you been bit?” He said more like a statement, than a question. 

“Uh, wha- bit?” Frank stammered over his words, he’s been in a couple of drunken fist fights but he’s never had a gun held to his head.

"Did one of those things bite you . Answer me, or I'll shoot." The figure threatened.

Warnings 

Gore, Death, Murder, WORK-IN-PROGRESS, not completed (and chapters unknown) but I know the ending, trust me guys I will write it, I just need people to love this idea with me, Zombies, Gay, mcr??

Support my AO3 with part two otherwise, enjoy ♥

Chap 1 | Chap. 3 | Chap.4 | Chap.5 | Chap.6 | Chap.7 | Chap.8 | Chap.9 | Chap.10 |

I think it might be zombies...

The joint was gone within ten or fifteen minutes, Frank wasn't sure. He was unaware of how long he’d been driving, either. Much to his fear, radio stations were almost all out. Some stations were playing songs still, but others were just silent, the ones that preached were very quickly skipped. 

This truck had a CD player, and a couple of CD’s hidden in the glove box. The song title and artist blocked the clock on the outdated radio. The sun was still high but it was definitely past noon, the joint had pushed the hangover into a hazy, less nauseating spot in the back of his mind that allowed him to relax. 

The drive had been mostly boring, it was basically all wasteland besides the bodies and cars littering the streets. Most bodies in the roads had been driven over so many times they were practically flat, the others were in piles near flipped cars almost as if someone had been piling them there. Occasionally packs of them would be wandering in the distance, turning towards the sound of the truck as Frank drove by. Frank never really liked sand, or hot places, but his boss had said there would be some big people at the event last night. He wondered if any of them made it out alive.

It had to be nearly two hours before he finally hit a town. The town came out of nowhere, the town literally came to a dead end in the middle of the desert, where Frank rolled in from. He feared for a few moments that he was seeing a mirage, but he pulled the truck over in front of a couple of shops and got out. Using his hands to block the sun, he gazed around the small town that seemed to just go straight down a dusty, two-lane road.

The town felt horrifying, ghostly. The silence made Frank’s ears ring as the wind picked up slightly. A banging of a window cover in the distance made him jump then laugh at himself . He shook off the goosebumps and took a few deep breaths. A few blocks down he spotted a gas station, the truck was so close to empty, he wanted to kiss the parking lot once he reached it. 

But bodies were sprawled aggressively around the town, most of them looked crushed by vehicles, and Frank wanted to avoid any contact with whatever virus was changing people. 

He turned to look at the businesses he parked in front of, one was a thrift shop, the next one was a post office, and the third one was a pharmacy. Post office seemed useless to Frank, he slung the duffle across his back so both of his hands were free. He also took the wrench from before in with him, for protection , he told himself. He clutched it close to his chest as he bee-lined it to the pharmacy, almost praying that it hadn’t already been hit. 

He silently pushed open the door, inside was dark but Frank could see supplies scattered on the floor and two of the shelves laying on top of each other against a wall. Supplies were scattered everywhere, a few lights had been shattered and the shelves that were on top of each other were also broken.

From the outside, it looked like a small building, but as he was making his way through the aisles, they seemed to just keep moving further and further back. He scoured the shelves, unsure of what he really wanted, but the store did not have much left to offer. Many of the boxes or bottles containing things had been ripped open, left spilled on the ground scattered with other broken glass and plastic.

I know it's the apocalypse but is destroying everything on your way out a necessity?

Eventually he dropped onto a knee and grabbed a travel aid kit from the bottom shelf, shoving what was left of it into his bag. He stood up and slid down the aisle to grab a couple different types of pain-killers that were shoved so far back they must've been forgotten. Even if they weren’t strong enough to get him high, he knew the joints were going to run out eventually.

He was lost in thought while browsing what remained of the leftovers when he heard the click of a gun. Slowly, he looked back towards where he came in as he raised his hands up.

A dark figure stood tall next to him holding a shotgun nearly in his face. Frank couldn’t figure out how the man got so close to him so quickly and quietly, but he didn’t think now was the time to ask.

“Have you been bit?” He said more like a statement, than a question. 

“Uh, wha- bit?” Frank stammered over his words, he’s been in a couple of drunken fist fights but he’s never had a gun held to his head.

"Did one of those things bite you . Answer me, or I'll shoot." The figure threatened.

“Please, I just woke up like three hours ago and the world is suddenly on fire. I haven't been bitten by anything.” 

“What’re you doing here?” The figure was unmoving but Frank had calmed himself down a little, although his heart beating could probably be heard from where the figure was standing. 

“I- I am literally just driving through, this car is out of gas, I pulled over, now I’m here and you have me at gunpoint.” He let out a minor sound of panic as he ended the sentence. “I have nothing to fight you with, look,” Frank lazily tossed the wrench to the person's feet, the gun twitched a moment but maintained its target.

“What’s your name?” Again, he said it more like a statement.

“Frank! It’s Frank, now come on man!” The stress was heard in his voice even more this time, even though both spoke in low voices.

The person lowered the gun and Frank was pleasantly surprised to see the man was more attractive than he wanted to admit; his hair was overgrown, greasy, and black, his skin was smooth porcelain with very slim features; his lips and nose were thin and piercing, contrasting his enticing round brown eyes. Frank thought maybe vampiric was a better term to describe the lanky man. He was wearing all black clothes as well, Frank refused to believe he was not drenched in sweat.

Don't let the pretty boy distract you, Frank.

“Thank you,” The man budged the wrench back to Frank with his foot, creating a short scraping sound and then deafening silence. “What’re you doing here, anyways? Isn’t this, like… some apocalyptic shit?” But the man had already walked back around a different shelf,  presumably back to where he came from. “Hey! Hey, hang on!”

Frank scrambled up, collecting his things, slinging the bag across his back again and followed the man around the corner to see him packing a similar bag with gauze and alcohol. The man seemed to ignore Frank, which annoyed him.

“Do you really think I’m going to let you off the hook when you just had a gun pointed to my head?” The man sighed and shoved a bottle of isopropyl into his bag.

“Do you want me to do it again?” The man threatened, Frank immediately threw his hands back up.

“Hey, you seem like you’ve been doing this thing for awhile. I just woke up this morning to people eating people.” The man sighed again, defeated.

“My name’s Gerard. Obviously I’m doing the same thing as you are except my friends and I have been following the virus. Will you get over here and help me pack some of this shit?” Frank rushed over and dropped down, Gerard pointed at sanitizer and sanitizing wipes and Frank followed his direction and stuffed some into the other mans bag. 

There was a moment of silence between them before Frank spoke up again, “Did you say you were following the virus?” 

Gerard nodded, “There’s a lot to it but basically no one believes the virus exists because it’s moving so fast and slow at the same time.” Frank only became more confused, and he figured Gerard could read it on his face. “Look, it’s a lot to explain, but I’ll help you fill up your truck if you drive me back to my safe-house.” Gerard looked Frank in the eyes this time, and Frank felt a twist in his gut.

Frank gulped, they both paused the packing to look at each other, “You, uh… you guys already have a safe-house?” Gerard smiled and Frank felt his face grow hot and red, feeling like a child he looked away.

“I’ll explain more while we get gas, it’s just an abandoned building we’re squatting in.” He laughed lightly and continued to steal random boxes, Frank wondered if Gerard even knew what he was packing. “Come on, there isn’t much else here, did you find what you needed?” 

Frank shrugged and nodded, he wasn’t going to admit he came in here without a plan. “Did you check out the place next door yet?” 

As Gerard stood up, Frank shrunk in his spot. “The post office?” 

“No, no, sorry, the thrift shop? Have you been there yet?” Gerard frowned and shook his head.

“No, sorry, shopping for clothes wasn’t exactly top priority on my mind today.” He chuckled and held out his gloved hand to help Frank stand up. Frank accepted his hand, but when Gerard pulled him up, he also pulled Frank towards him. A faint smell of nicotine and coffee radiated off of the strange man, Frank enjoyed the combination more than he wished he did.

“Sorry, I just… Making conversation, aha…” Frank rocked on his heels and shoved both hands into his pockets. 

Shut up. Shut up. Shut up.

“Did you want to check it out before we get gas?” Frank shook his head. Gerard remained fairly relaxed as he led them both out of the pharmacy building, careful to scout outside before giving Frank the okay. “There should be canisters there.” Gerard’s tone lowered and Frank knew to follow.

They walked over a block before speaking again, careful to remain fairly quiet even though any creature that was here seemed to be dead now. “So, you and your friends are squatting in an abandoned building… trying to catch up to the virus?”

Air escaped Gerard’s nose as he smiled, “Close yet so far off.” He gave Frank a side eye as they continued towards the gas station. Each building they walked by looked just as abandoned as the last, none of them were destroyed but most were obviously ransacked. Doors hung open, an eerie silence floating around. “My brother and I are from Oregon, that’s where this started actually. I’m not surprised you haven’t heard about it, we’ve been listening to the news stations we can find but nothing is actually covering what’s going on.” Gerard checked around a corner where the road led down into a neighborhood. It was clear, they were almost to the gas station now. “And we aren’t trying to catch up to the virus, we’re more like… storm chasers except we’re… virus chasers.” Gerard grinned widely at Frank, very proud of what he just made up. 

“So, is your brother back squatting for ya?” This made Gerard chuckle.

“He’s not squatting for me, I’m the quietest one in the group so I tend to over scrounge when I get free time. It’s been awhile since we ran into someone, though.” 

“You keep talking about your “group”, who’s your group?” They arrived at the gas station and stopped next to each other.

“It’s just my brother and I and a friend we grew up with.” Gerard shrugged and nodded his head towards the gas station, not giving a chance for Frank to process before he started walking closer.

Frank scrambled to follow him carefully, getting his wrench into a defensive position. Gerard peaked inside through the windows, it looked as deserted as any of the other buildings they found, but they remained cautious. 

Frank kept watch closely next to Gerard as Gerard pushed open one of the front doors, the inside surprisingly still had electricity but the place had clearly also been ransacked.

Cash registers were tipped over, shelves were barricading some windows and side doors. Blood was splattered randomly around the store, a couple of bodies behind the counter had been nearly fully devoured.

There was a body laying on the ground between two shelves, food scattered all around and over it, it was unable to be seen without looking down the aisle. The body was severed at the waist but her head was twisted up and it seemed to stare at Gerard with her twisted scream frozen onto her face. Intestines spilled out down the aisle and her legs were wrapped around the corner of the end of the shelf. Gerard sniffled and continued on towards the refrigerated section.

Frank was stuck on the woman’s body. She was looking at him now with her terrified, vacant eyes. When he was finally able to pull away from her face, he realized she was missing an entire arm while her other arm reached upwards towards him.

He couldn’t help but wonder who she was reaching for. Or why they didn’t help her. 

“Haha, hell yeah!” Frank jumped at the sound of Gerard exclaiming something from the end of the coolers. He heard the sound of a fridge seal back shut as he peaked around the corner. He saw the woman’s legs bent in all directions poking out from behind the shelf at Gerard's feet, but Gerard didn’t seem to care.

Gerard turned around and flashed a couple of frozen pizzas that looked almost fake to Frank, until his mouth started to water and he realized how hungry he actually was. “Are those both supreme?!” Frank quickly met Gerard in the back, forcing the image of the woman away, “We’re gonna have to get you home before they thaw anymore.” They were still mostly frozen, but there was a slight squish as Frank maneuvered the pizzas into Gerard’s backpack.

A crunching drag behind Frank made his blood run cold and Gerard twisted around, raising the shotgun again as he’d done when he met Frank except Gerard had the gun over Frank's shoulder this time. 

They quickly met eyes before Gerard looked back at whatever was behind Frank. His expression was hard and intimidating, but the crunching slowly moved a crawled closer. " Get behind me... " Gerard whispered.

Frank slithered around him to hide and saw the woman from the other aisle pulling her way towards them. Her face was still frozen in a mid scream, her mouth was drooling and her tongue was whipping around randomly as she dragged her body closer. Loud groans were escaping from her throat, her sounds made her look less human.

Okay, zombies are real.

The crunching sound made Frank’s hair stand on end. She dragged her intestines through the broken glass of the fridge doors, a couple of pieces of glass were big enough to cut her and create spurts of blood at the leftover containers and rations on the shelves. Frank’s hunger quickly turned to nausea again and he pulled away a bit, allowing Gerard’s body to hide the woman’s mangled one. 

Gerard took a step, she continued to scrrrrraaaaaaapppppeeeee through the glass. Her mouth made strangled, gurgling sounds, but since it wasn’t able to close, a lot of the bloody saliva continued to spill out of it. 

As Frank ducked to his right he felt himself get hot again at the sight of the woman's mangled legs, what little water he had from the drive there was gone again. From around the corner, a couple of loud thuds that were accompanied by the sound of a thick material shattering could be heard. Frank wiped his mouth clean and stepped back around the corner to see Gerard holding the gun backwards with the hilt embedded in the crushed skull.

He felt the nausea come back and pulled away again. He looked down the aisle where the woman’s body originally was and saw a few leftover medications, some basic summer supplies, and a couple of bags of chips still.

He wasn’t hungry, but he needed to distract himself. He pushed himself down that aisle, pulling his duffel around to his front, he started shoving everything still sealed into his bag. He grabbed two bottles of sunscreen too and stared at the condoms for a moment. Was this something that really mattered during the end of the world?  He questioned himself.

“Hey, did you get my zipper closed?” He turned around and saw Gerard barely peeking over the shelves to look at him. 

“Oh, uh, no, hang on, sorry.” Gerard's head dropped a little and his eyes disappeared as he chuckled.

“You’re fine, I’ll come over to you, there’s nothing else over here anyways. I guess a lot of people had coolers when they left town…” Did anyone leave town or did everyone just get eaten or turned?

Without another thought, Frank shoved the box of condoms into his bag and zipped it quickly. Gerard rounded the corner as he was situating it onto his back again. Gerard had a small smile the entire time and Frank wondered how he could be so positive while actively killing people.

But he realized they weren’t people anymore. The only people left were them and whoever Gerard was with. Gerard stopped right in front of Frank and spun around so he could finish closing his bag. 

“Thanks.. Come on, I think I saw the way into the basement, they have to have canisters down there.” Frank sighed deeply as Gerard went back towards where he found pizzas, Frank followed without question.

And Gerard was right. In the back corner of the gas station, they had two bathrooms and a way into their basement. The basement was dark and dingy, but there weren’t any bodies down there, let alone any blood. There weren’t any windows and the room was relatively small minus two shelving units pushed against a wall that held random cleaning supplies, light bulbs, and snacks that hadn’t been touched. 

Gerard flashed a devilish grin at Frank, “You got any room, still?” Frank flushed but nodded and followed Gerard to the shelves.

They weren’t stocked with much, mostly just bags of salty snacks and a couple boxes of candy. When Frank threw his bag off onto the floor, he unzipped it quickly and shoved his hands in, feeling around to push the condoms into the back. He didn’t really want to raise any questions with a stranger. 

“Hey, you gonna help out?” Gerard was staring at Frank but his arms were out grabbing everything he could.

“Yeah, sorry, I’m just rearranging stuff to fit everything.” Frank mentally patted himself on the back before hopping up to help Gerard. They were able to fit a couple of bags of nuts, sunflower seeds, a few different types of sour candy, a bottle of disinfectant plus a bottle of bleach stored in the water bottle pouches of Frank's duffel. Gerard collected as many cartons of cigarettes' as he could shove into all of his pockets.

Gerard exclaimed, “Yes!”, once they had finally gotten the zipper to the other end. Frank noticed the weight difference but was hoping Gerard would split the loot if he helped him out more.

Canisters were sitting in an opposing corner, Gerard was already making towards them before Frank had time to even stand. He threw the bag over his shoulder instead and followed. Each took two canisters and made their way outside. “Then we’ll know they have three more here if we lose these, or if someone steals them.” Gerard said casually as they made their way out of the gas station. 

“Unless someone comes here and finds them.” Frank argued as Gerard squatted and used a stray metal rod to pry the gas pump open. To Franks, inside looked like a lot of metal and copper rods. But Gerard reached into a side pouch on his duffel and pulled out a plastic tube. As he began yanking at different things in the gas pump, Frank realized he was holding a hand pump and within a few minutes Gerard had hooked the pump up and was beginning to pump for fuel.

“You weren’t kidding when you said you’ve been at this for awhile…” Frank spoke without meaning to, but Gerard basically ignored him as gas began pumping through. He watched as Gerard skillfully switched the pump with a canister while barely spilling anything. 

Gerard smiled up at him. “So, we can just split everything once we get back to our place.” Frank sagged slightly with relief, his stomach was painfully empty, he would’ve accepted food even if it fell on the ground.

Frank stood and watched Gerard fill each canister as they mostly remained silent. Frank scouted around nearby corners at one point, but returned back to Gerard when nothing interesting was discovered. 

Eventually the gas stopped and the last canister was mostly full. Gerard capped it off and they left.

They pretended as though blasting someone's brains out meant nothing as they walked in silence back to the truck Frank stole barely three hours earlier.

Frank tossed his duffel into the backseat before crawling into the driver's side, he started the car's accessories and watched the gas level rise as Gerard dumped the not-yet-full canister into the truck. He slapped the outside of the driver's side door from the window when the needle reached the F.

The canister was empty. 

Gerard pulled open the back door and placed the empty canister onto the floor behind the passenger seat, leaving the door open as he lugged the last three canisters over. He placed them in a row behind the drivers seat on the floor, the seats hugged them together to prevent them from spilling.

Gerard slammed the door shut and rushed around the front to get into the passenger seat, Frank started the car. Gerard yanked the door open and used it to pull himself in. He flashed Frank a wide, toothy grin as Frank watched him in fear. It took him nearly a minute to snap back into his consciousness and shift the car into drive and begin driving through and out of town.

"Okay, turn up here," Gerard resisted against the seat belt as he pointed out the windshield, "it's gonna take awhile, and you're gonna think you're lost, but please trust me."

Even through Gerard’s greasy, shoulder length hair, and his coffee stained teeth, Frank felt a safety radiate from him.

Stop acting like a U-Haul lesbian, Frank. Pull yourself together. But he could not stop himself from sneaking glancing at Gerard when he got the chance.

[rubywithin]

Guardelia Cloak 5

(Mother) "Fernie breakfast is ready" (Fernie) "Okay thanks mom" I got up earlier than usual! I wanted to go back to Glocelle Park to see if that girl from last night was around. I felt like I should apologize for upsetting her....Nico should also apologize for it since going there was her idea but she is probably too stubborn to. I ate up and started to make my way over to the park....there was a shop along the way so I went in to check if they had any card packs. After that I went back over to the park....it was weird...it was empty! I could of sworn this place was full during the day, (???) "Were you one of the visitors from last night?" I dropped my deck case from the shock, (Fernie) "I um yeah was sorry for that. Wait you weren't there!" (???) "I am a friend of the one you agitated you can call me Leon, hmm so you play that game too?". (Fernie) "Um my name is Fernie and yeah but I only recently started again, I just wanted to apologize to the girl who told off me and my class mate!".

(Leon) "I see, I will tell her you came by to apologize but for now please become my opponent". He took out his own deck....it still felt weird to me how dramatic some people were when it came to challenging others. But then again I tried acting like some hero when I challenged Miguel after he disrespected that nice man who gave me his deck. (Fernie) "Okay I accept" he then flipped a coin, this was my first time not being told which turn I would have. (Leon) "It looks like I get the first turn so feel free to go all out on your attacks". The way he talked to me was weird....was he trying to get me riled up or something? Okay Fernie you can do this....I felt a bit nervous as this was my first time facing someone I only just met, (Leon) "I will bring out Stone Bird as my ace and then place 2 effect cards!". Hmm looks like a defensive start, (Fernie) "I summon Pearl Mage as my ace and then summon a second one, they both attack your ace!" I went for 3 damage on him but he didn't defend....I could of gotten a 4th life darn it. (Leon) "I summon Statue Crow as my new ace and will attack your ace!" I took the hit since I can keep the lead.

(Fernie) "I summon Emerald Mage as my new ace and then I activate Crystal charm to boost Pearl Mage's power for this turn! Both my monsters will attack your ace!" (Leon) "I activate Petrification to stop Emerald Mage's attack!". (Fernie) "Huh? I thought only shields can stop attacks..." (Leon) "It's a conditional effect card, it only works if I have less monsters than you!". I was able to at least get some damage in but he didn't look fazed at all! "I now summon Statue of Gryphon as my ace and I summon a new Stone Bird in the defence line, Gryphon attack the ace!". (Fernie) "I guard with Emerald Shield, Emerald Mage's ability boosts the effectiveness of a gem card!". I felt I had to block as he seemed like he would go for 5 damage. I can get a lot of damage off this turn if I play my cards well, "I summon Sapphire Witch as my new ace then I use her ability to bring Emerald Mage back to the battle line!". I just need one more monster for a new strategy I have in mind, "Emerald Mage will attack Stone Bird while Sapphire Mage will attack your ace!". (Leon) "I activate Forged Stone to power boost my Stone Bird! then Gryphon also gets a power boost when a stone type effect card is used!".

No way...this guy was able to stop both attacks and hasn't even played a shield. I was down 11 stones and only took out 5 of his lives, I almost forgot (Fernie) "Pearl Mage attacks Stone Bird!". That should limit his defence a bit, (Leon) "Good job on remembering that last attack". (Fernie) "Thank you, those defensive plays definitely threw me off for a bit". I don't get what he is going for...but I guess this could maybe be a good experience for me to see a different play style. (Leon) "I summon a new Statue Crow and place 2 effect cards, both my monsters attack your ace!". I took both hit's to save a shield for later...I lost 7 lives, this took me down to 10! This guy is definitely out matching me despite his limited monsters, this is where I have to up my game!

[twfarlan]

Damn but I miss this crew. Wild nights, chummers.

Alt text for those looking for it:

Okay, sit back, cause y'all ain't gonna believe this drek. Hand to sky, this happened exactly as I'm going to describe.

I'm driving the van, which Rook has named "Harold." I legitimately do not want to know why. Rook's passed out in the back, as is Dex who has learned that there's a reason the shake machine at Stuffer Shack is meant to be broken. (He's calling it "Suffer Shack" and I cannot argue.) Butch is polishing her suit or something; lady, I have a tailor in Missoula that you DESPERATELY need to meet. Deadeye is performing surgery on that frickin drone, mounting the Eye of Sour-bun on it. Damn wiring smoke is worse than the leftover Meat Haters pizza Butch claimed. There's a reason no one else had touched it. Dandelion sprouts do not belong on deep dish pizza.

We get a call from Mr. Smuggler Guy, something I may regret. Wants something smuggled, there's a shock. Oh, he wants a LOT of it smuggled. Oh, we have to pick it up. Oh and we probably need to steal it. From the people who stole it in the first place. It's bound for a clinic in Minneapolis-St. Paul, a place where literally nothing and no one else is bound for. I'm thinking of blocking Guy's number.

We pick up a call from a femme of military bearing whom I've decided in hindsight to refer to as "Uniformed Asskicker." She's got field intel and an address, so she's already ahead of us. We park at the Stuffer Shack across from the place we're going to hit to review the plan: she's going in to rough things up, and then we come in like a horde of rabid squirrels. Great plan.

Rook wakes up about the time I drive Harold through the gate and Tokyo drift one orc ganger onto his ass. This would be just in time to see Deadeye kick the back doors of the van open, flip up onto the roof, and start preparing to lasso a semi. Seriously. Butch slings a fierce spell at some concrete that was insulting her, or we can admit she missed. I pull up to the driver's side of the semi, which Deadeye swings over next to planning to hogtie it or some damn thing. Butch takes another shot at the gangers coming our way, this time blasting what I can assume is the next pothole the yard owner will have to fix in the tarmac. (coughwhiffeditcough)

Deadeye sticks that revolver of hers in the face of the semi driver who apparently forgot how to start a push-button semi... well paid rigger, right there. Dude thinks he can grab a gun outta his face, so Deadeye talks cowboy shit and drills him one all over the inside of the cab. Rook has her CDL, thank the spirits, and Deadeye has to sit in the wet spot. Me, I warned Butch to cover her ears, cause Ares makes a shout when he speaks. Damn near strips the clothes off that poor guy I shot. Butch hears the glory of the coming of the bells of St. Mary or some equally tormented metaphors, but still managed to glower at the guy so hard that his soul withered and died. His buddy, seeing the better part of valor, runs headlong into Uniformed Murdergirl, and that's the end of his story.

After the most exciting stuffing of a shack that joint had ever seen, we roll the frag up the highway for a couple of hours. Deadeye is treating us to round 84 of Seelie Dan or Dr. John and the Electric Mayhem or whatever off-key Western mess she was singing, when lo and behold, we find ourselves making a new friend! Mr. Five-Oh pulls over the semi; I can't imagine what made it stand out aside from being graffitied to death by NeoScum and being stolen. I mean, we stole it from people who stole it; doesn't that cancel out? Double negative or something? Butch is sleeping through this and refuses to believe me, but Deadeye was hiding in the sleeper cabin and heard the whole thing. Rook... gave this poor rookie smokey a line of such radioactive bullshit that it made him reconsider being a cop. He walked away; he left his car, man. She punched him in his will to live as a human being. Last I saw him, he was walking off the highway into the woods to join a sasquatch commune. I quit as the resident liar; Rook is Mes ti'Dungmouthiesh: she follows the Way of the Bullshit Artist.

Hand to heaven, y'all. If I'm lying, I'm dying. ... At least, if I'm lying about this. Don't pin me down on anything else right now.

-- Will Rill Hetrick, no regerts (except about deafening Butch; gomen-nasai, omae.)

[mistiell]

WHIPLASH | Chapter 1

Eddie Munson x Fem! Reader

Summary: A season 4 fix-it fic with an ‘x reader’ insert because it destroyed me and I still need comfort months later.

A/N: Here it is! I figured if I’m gonna post it on Wattpad, I might as well take a little extra time to post each chapter over here, too. Who knows, maybe Ao3 is next lmao

Update Dec 2023: Hi there, I forgot to update this. I’m afraid I won’t be continuing this series and figured I should let y’all know.

Chapter Warnings: Strong language

Word count: 2.4k words

One/Two (coming soon)

__________________________________________

You sit in your seat, knee bouncing up and down quickly in a feeble attempt to release some pent up energy. Your teacher drones on and on about a topic you quite frankly don't care enough about to pay any attention to. Instead, your focus is on your notes, or what little you have of them, anyway. You stopped writing nearly twenty minutes ago, opting instead to scribble little stars and hearts in the margins of your notebook. You've never been one to enjoy math. You understood it to a relatively impressive degree according to your peers, but you failed to see the intrigue that few people had it in it. English and Art are more your speed, mostly because you love to create.

You sigh and look up towards the window for what you think has to be the fiftieth time in the passed half an hour, displeased but not surprised to find that the parking lot is the same as it was the last time you checked. God, this day could not move any slower if it tried.

As if on cue, the shrill sound of the bell makes you jump and breathe a sigh of relief, quickly collecting your things and getting the hell out of that godforsaken classroom. You're met with the regular cacophony of noise as you weave through the sea of bodies towards the cafeteria. You have to dodge a few people as they nearly walk straight into you, seemingly none the wiser to your presence despite the fact that they came within centimetres of you. You try to get to your locker to drop off a few textbooks but find that your neighbours are currently looking through theirs. Coming to the conclusion that the space between them isn't wide enough to reach yours, you stand behind them and shift your weight between your feet awkwardly. As confident as you may seem to others, you really couldn't feel further from it sometimes.

There's a word for how you're feeling right now. A feeling of being out of place, a persistent voice in the back of your head that tells you that you're not supposed to be here. That you should just leave before people start getting annoyed with you for standing still in the hallway.

Monachopsis

That's the word. Fitting, you think, as one of the people blocking your path finally departs and allows you to open your own locker. You make quick work of stuffing a couple textbooks inside and grabbing a small paper bag before continuing on your way. 

When you finally reach your destination, your gaze automatically slides to your regular table and the feeling begins to dissipate.  The Hellfire club, lead by your childhood best friend and town pariah, Eddie "The Freak" Munson, has become your tight knit group of friends. You find that with them, you feel like you belong, even despite not knowing all that much about D&D.

"Look who it is," The metal head smiles as you take your place between him and Garreth, "What took you so long?"

"Had to drop some stuff off, sorry." He nods and hums in acknowledgement as you reach across the table to steal a couple of Jeff's M&M's, drawing a comically high pitched whine of protest from the victim of your heinous crime. You pull out your lunch bag while Eddie flips through a magazine you're not familiar with.

"Guys, listen to this," Eddie scoffs, clearing his throat to proceed with what you can only assume is about to be a dramatic monologue, "Dungeons and dragons."

Yup, there it is.

You snort at the deep, theatrical voice he's taken on and Gareth elbows you in the side, earning himself a hushed but curt, "Watch it, asshole."

"At first regarded as a harmless game of make believe, now has both parents and psychologists concerned. Studies have linked violent behaviour to the game, saying it promotes satanic worship, ritual sacrifice, sodomy, suicide, and even," He slams the magazine down on the table, a wild glint in his eye, "Murder!"

You all laugh at the absurdity of the article when out of the corner of your eye, you spot the two freshman Eddie had welcomed into the group standing just a few feet away, looking like they're about to piss their pants. You shoot them a look of confusion but they keep their eyes on the floor as they scurry over to sit adjacent to you.

"Society has to blame something. We're an easy target." Jeff adds and Eddie nods his head in agreement.

"Exactly. We're the freaks because we like to play a fantasy game. But," You jump in your seat when Eddie slams a hand down on the table before climbing on top of it, "As long as you're in to band, or science, or partiieess."

You chuckle at the nasally tone he says it in, watching him walk to the end of the table and cup his hands to his mouth, "Or a game where you toss BALLS INTO LAUNDRY BASKETS!"

Jason Carver stands up from his table to yell at your eccentric friend from across the room, "You want something, freak?"

Eddie's response is to stick his tongue out and put his fingers up against the side of his head like devil horns, clearly pissing the jock off but not enough for the situation to escalate further. Eddie smirks at him as he huffs and sits back down to talk heatedly amongst his friends before turning around to walk back down the table, "It's forced conforming."

"That's what's," He hops down to the floor and yells in the direction of a teacher, scaring the shit out of her, "KILLING THE KIDS!"

Everyone at the table laughs as he steps back and gestures for two cheerleaders to walk passed him before taking his seat, "That's the real monster."

There's a short moment of silence before Dustin hesitantly breaks it, "So, uh, speaking of monsters. Um, Lucas has to do his, uh... balls-in-laundry-baskets game. So," The poor boy looks like he's about to be eaten alive as he titters out his next sentence, "He's not gonna be able to make it to hellfire tonight."

You chance a glance at Eddie to find he has a very unimpressed look on his face as he munches on a single bag of walnuts. You slide him your yogurt and a spoon while Dustin continues talking, nodding when Eddie throws a quick, "Thanks," your way.

"And I know there's no way we can beat your sadistic campaign without him. So, me and Mike. We were talking, shooting the shit, and we were thinking that we... m-maybe we might..."

"Postpone?" Mike finishes, sending the table into an uproar of protests.

“Postone?!”

“Over my dead body!”

"I worked for weeks re-painting your figures!" You exclaim alongside everyone else before Eddie cuts you all off.

"Shut up!" You share a disgruntled look with Garreth before turning your attention back to the dungeon master, "You saying Sinclair's been taken in by the dark side?"

“Uhh, something like that?”

"Something like that?" He echoes, tossing a nut at the boys and earning a high pitched, "Jesus Christ," from Dustin, "And rather than find a sub for him, you want... you want to postpone, the cult of Vecna?"

"I- I don't want to postpone it, we don't want to postpone it," Eddie pushes away from the table with a screech from his chair and stands up, "It's just that, you know, most of the subs will be at the championship game."

He whips back around to face the boys and you swear you see them flinch, "Oh, it's the championship game?"

“Yeah?”

"Can I level with you? Jeff graduates this year. Garreth's got, what, a year and a half?" He walks behind you and you crane your neck to watch him as he goes, "Me? I am army crawling my way towards a 'D' in Miss O'Donnel's. If I don't blow her final, I'm gonna walk that stage next month, I'm gonna look principal Higgins dead in the eye. I'm gonna flip him the bird," He raises his middle finger as he slowly turns around to the rest of you, "I'm gonna snatch that diploma and I'm gonna run like hell outta here!”

You chuckle at his little jog as Gareth speaks up, "Didn't you say that last year?"

Now it's your turn to elbow him in the side.

"Yeah, Yeah, and I was full of shit!" He exclaims, jogging back down to your table, slowly turning to survey the cafeteria, "This year's different. This year is my year. I can feel it."

He turns around and grins at you, "'86, baby."

It makes you happy knowing he's so optimistic about graduating this year. You can't count the amount of times you've had to reassure him that he isn't stupid over the years.

"Y'know what that means?" he settles his gaze on the freshman once more, coming around to squat between them and place each hand on one of their shoulders, "It means that you boys are the future of hellfire. I knew it the moment I saw you. You were sat at that table right over there looking like two little lost sheep. You were wearing a Weird Al T-shirt, which I thought was brave."

Dustin replies with a tense, “Thank you.”

"And you," He turns to Mike, "You were wearing whatever shit your mommy bought you from the goddamn Gap!"

You snort along with your friends at his comment, remembering exactly what outfit he was talking about. Suddenly, he's pulling them up by the backs of their shirts like you would a puppy by the scruff of it's neck, "We showed you that school didn't have to be the worst years of your lives, right?"

He gets two soft, “No”’s in response.

"Well, I'm here to tell you, that there are other lost little sheepies out there who need help. Who need you, and all you guys gotta do is get your Bo Peeps on and go find one." And with that, he shoves them forward to start their quest.

He rounds the table to plop back down in his seat and you give his shoulder a half hearted shove, "You didn't have to scare them so bad. Poor little shits looked like they were about to piss themselves."

"Not scaring. Motivating, princess." He smirks at the way you frown at the nickname.

"Watch yourself, Munson." You say as you roll your eyes and feign indifference. In reality, your heart flutters and your cheeks flush at the nickname, but you pray he doesn't notice.

"You coming to Hellfire tonight?" He asks, peeling the top off the yogurt you'd given him and taking a spoonful.

"I don't know, I don't wanna intrude-." He scoffs at you as if you'd just said something absolutely ludicrous.

"Y/n, you're a member. You can't intrude on a club meeting if you're apart of the club."

"Yeah, but I don't even play."

"Sure, but you help me write the campaigns, paint our figures, make us dice-."

"Okay, I'll come!" You laugh and he grins at you, "Speaking of dice, I actually have something for you guys."

They all lean in to get a better look at what you're doing as you rummage through your backpack for that paper bag you grabbed earlier. When you find what you're looking for, you sit back up and reach inside to remove a black box in the shape of a coffin. They all watch you curiously as you hand it to Eddie, "I know I gave you a set last month but since this is the end of your campaign, I wanted to make something special."

"That's very sweet of you, princess, but you really didn't have-," When he opens to the lid, his eyes blow wide and his lips part in what you hope is awe. The set of dice inside are made of a combination of black and red resin, the numbers painted in a shiny silver. On the inside of the lid, the name of their band, Corroded Coffin, is painted in the exact font they had chosen for the posters they had hung up around town.

"You made this?" He asks, looking at you like you'd just handed him the Mona Lisa. Gareth and Jeff are now urging him to show them, and when he turns it around to show them they look just as shocked as he is.

“Are you serious?”

“Those are fuckin’ metal!”

"Thanks." You giggle bashfully, cheeks and ears heating at the onslaught of praise.

"How long did it take you to make these?" Eddie asks, brushing his fingertips over the dice.

"Not too long. Two weeks max." You reply nonchalantly, popping an M&M into your mouth as he looks back up at you.

He really isn't sure what to say. You've made dice for them several times before but this feels different somehow. Normally, your dice were pretty generic. Either solid colours or a marbled mix of different ones. Never had you ever put this much time and effort into a set, especially with the damn near exact copy of their band name that you had hand painted on the lid. Part of him doesn't even want to use them in fear of damaging them.

"Thank you. Really, this is just... holy shit." He chuckles, shutting the lid and slipping them into his bag.

"'Course. I had to do something to mark the big finale." You smile, resting your chin on your palm before jerking your nose towards his backpack, "You better use them tonight."

He places one hand on his chest dramatically and takes yours in his other, "You have my word, fair maiden."

"Good." You laugh as the bell rings to mark the end of lunch. He pulls his hand from yours to pack up his things as you and the others follow suit. You stand and sling your backpack over your shoulder, "I'll see you guys after school."

“Yeah.”

“See ya.”

You turn and begin walking towards the doors before spinning on your heels to face Eddie again, continuing to walk backwards, "If you lose those, I'll kick your ass!"

“Ooh, is that a promise?”

“Suck my dick, Jackass!” You laugh.

“Don’t tempt me, L/n!” He hollers back.

You flip him the bird and he gives it right back, his smile damn near blinding you before you finally make it to the doors and slip back into the crowded hall to make your way to class.

[homoose]

Teach Me Something I Don’t Know: Part I

Summary: When Will asks him to pick Michael up from school, Spencer may or may not develop a schoolboy crush on the kindergarten teacher.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: fluff

Warnings/Includes: none

Word count: 2.5k

a/n: Here she is! I’m not sure exactly what it is about Spencer Reid x teacher!reader, but it is my most requested fic topic, and I am happy to oblige! This is the first in a multi-part series. Weird is Good also takes place in this verse. Any teacher!reader requests will be folded into this verse as well, so feel free to continue sending me those!

Series Masterlist

Click here for the story mentioned, read by everybody’s fave Michelle Obama.

———

“A strong geographical profile is one of the most important pieces of the overall behavioral profile; it significantly narrows the area the team has to cover, allows for law enforcement teams to prioritize and maximize limited resources, and helps focus the investigation in conjunction with the other elements of the profile. And that wraps our section on building geographical profiles!” Spencer smiled at the faces in front of him, gesturing to the board. “The information we covered today will make up a significant portion of your midterm, so make sure to review it before next week. See you all next Thursday!”

As his students began packing up their things, Spencer’s phone rang from inside his bag. When he retrieved the phone and saw Will’s name on the caller ID, his brow furrowed in concern. “Will— everything ok?”

“Hey, yeah, yeah, everything’s fine,” he assured him. “I’m sorry to ask, but JJ’s on a case, and my partner and I just finished our last call clear on the other side of the city. Henry’s got soccer practice, but Michael’s gotta be picked up in about— well, shit, right about now. Would you mind picking him up and bringing him ‘round to the house?”

Spencer looped the strap of his bag over his shoulder and started up the aisle out of the lecture hall. “Yeah, of course! It’s over by the Naval Observatory, right?”

“Yeah, that’s the one. If you pull ‘round the parking lot, they usually come out the side door. His teacher’s real sweet, Ms. Y/L/N. I’ll let her know you’re picking him up.”

“Okay, sounds good.” Spencer pushed open the door and made his way down the hall.

“You’re the best,” Will drawled. “I’ll only be about half an hour.”

…

When Spencer pulled the baby blue Volvo into the parking lot of the school, he saw Michael and Ms. Y/L/N sitting on the steps of school. Their heads were so close they were almost touching, looking down at a book laying across their laps. Her legs were stretched out straight and she pointed down to the page, saying something that made Michael throw his little head back in a laugh that floated in through the open window of the car. Spencer grinned at the familiar sound as he pulled around the carpool loop.

When he recovered from the giggles, Michael caught sight of the car and waved his hand excitedly at Spencer. Ms. Y/L/N looked up and gave a wave as well, albeit a little less vigorous. She closed the book and turned her torso slightly to unzip Michael’s backpack and drop the book into it.

Spencer put the car in park, stepped out, and walked around the car to meet the two of them. Michael was already up and running, throwing himself at Spencer’s legs and hugging them tightly. He leaned down to return the hug. “Hey, buddy! How was school?”

“It was amazing,” Michael gushed, pulling out of the hug to gesture wildly. “We learned how to write the zzz sound, and now we know all the sounds! Oh, and then we used blocks in math, and that was so fun, because Ms. Y/L/N let us build with them when we were done counting. Oh, and then we learned about frogs, and they are so cool. Did you know that frogs have night vision? Oh, and Ms. Y/L/N said I could borrow my favorite book from the classroom library! She read it to me already while we were waiting for you, but maybe you could read it to me, too? I can read some of the words but not all of them yet, so I still need some help.”

Spencer smiled widely at him. “Wow, that does sound like an amazing day. I did know that about frogs, actually! And of course, I’d love to read with you.”

“The book’s called Giraffe Problems, and it’s about this giraffe named Edward who doesn’t like his neck.” Michael looked at Ms. Y/L/N. “What’s the turtle’s name again?”

“Cyrus,” Ms. Y/L/N reminded him.

“Right, Cyrus.” He looked at Spencer. “See, that one is tricky because c’s don’t usually make the sss sound, but sometimes they do. Ms. Y/L/N’s teaching me about it, even though she said it’s kinda hard for kindergarten.”

“Because you’ve got a big, powerful brain, right?” she said, tapping her temple and winking at Michael. “I’m Ms. Y/L/N, by the way. You must be the infamous uncle Spencer. I’ve heard a lot about you.” Then she smiled at him and his big, powerful brain melted inside of his skull.

Michael continued talking, and Spencer briefly wondered if this is how people felt when he rambled. Michael lost his attention immediately, because all he could do was stare at Ms. Y/L/N. Her eyes glinted with humor as he chattered on. She followed his expressive motions with well-timed nods and mhmms, a skill she’d no doubt honed through years of indulging kindergarten babbling. She met Spencer’s eyes every so often, only a slight eyebrow raise indicating her amusement. Her hair had been tied back, but soft pieces had come loose throughout the day, falling into her face and around her shoulders. Up close, he could see that the print of her collared a-line dress was hundreds of green frogs. On her feet were a pair of beat up, low top converse, and Spencer thought he could physically feel the crush branding the chambers of his heart. He was jolted out of his thoughts by Michael’s hand tugging on his pant leg, and he looked down to see him looking up expectantly.

“Sorry, what?” Spencer asked him.

“I said,” Michael repeated with a sigh, “can we look up the author and see if he has any other books?”

“Oh, um, yeah. Of course, buddy.”

“Jory John has lots of amazing books,” Ms. Y/L/N confirmed. “You’ll love the series he wrote with Pete Oswald.” She smiled at the pair of them before checking her watch. “I’ve gotta go pack up, but I’ll see you tomorrow, Michael.” She winked at Spencer, and he almost swallowed his tongue. “It was nice meeting you, uncle Spencer.” She waved again and then turned up the stairs to disappear into the building.

Spencer let out a breath he didn’t even realize he’d been holding, and then turned to Michael. “Well. All right, are you ready to go home?”

…

They were settled into the car and halfway home before Michael finally needed to take a breath. Spencer capitalized on the break in conversation.

“So, Ms. Y/L/N seems pretty cool,” Spencer hedged.

“Yeah, she’s the best,” Michael confirmed with a nod. “On Fridays she lets us put on the smocks and paint. And she has really good story voices. Oh, and she also has these really cool blocks that stick together—magnet blocks. And when I fell off the jungle gym and got a big scrape, she gave me a Paw Patrol bandaid! And she gives great hugs.”

“Good story voices, huh?” Spencer met Michael’s eyes in the rearview mirror. “Better than mine?”

Michael tilted his head in deep thought. “Hmmmm. It’s pretty close. Your wizard voice is good, but she does accents.”

Spencer blew out a dramatic breath. “Guess I’m going to have to up my game.”

“You’re gonna have to practice a lot, because Ms. Y/L/N reads to us every day.” Michael raised his eyebrows in a challenge.

“Hey!” Spencer looked incredulous. “I read every day, too!”

“Yeah, but do you read with story voices every day?” Michael clarified.

Spencer sighed. “Well, I guess not.”

“It’s okay, uncle Spencer,” Michael soothed. “You can’t be the best at everything.”

“So they are better than mine?”

Michael pressed his lips together, and Spencer almost laughed at how much he looked like JJ. “... maybe.”

…

A trail of shoes and school supplies led to the couch, where Spencer and Michael sat shoulder to shoulder. They were on their second read of Giraffe Problems. Spencer took a long, dramatic breath before launching into Cyrus’ banana speech, and Michael burst into a fit of giggles. With his best theatrical voice, Spencer read down the page. “Yet, day after day, I’ve felt like such a fool as I stretched my neck toward those greedy branches, only to be limited by my own physical shortcomings.” He flipped the page and changed his tone. “You… want a banana from a tree?” He looked at Michael and said, quickly and in a low voice, “That’s what I said, yes.” Michael wheezed out another laugh.

Spencer finished the story, Michael mouthing the words along with him. When they reached the last page, Spencer softly closed the book and propped his feet up on the coffee table. “That’s a pretty great story.”

“Yeah,” Michael agreed. “Ms. Y/L/N said she likes it because it reminds us that we gotta love ourselves and our bodies for how they are.”

Spencer nodded. “Absolutely. We’re all different, and that’s what makes us special.”

“Yeah. I just really like when he’s wearing all the scarves.” Michael burst into another fit of laughter, and Spencer couldn’t help but laugh with him.

The front door opened, and Will was smiling as he stepped over the threshold. “I could hear y’all laughing all the way down the sidewalk.”

“Daddy!” Michael jumped up from the couch, and Will bent to scoop him up, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

“Hey, kiddo. Sorry I couldn’t pick you up. It sure sounds like you and uncle Spencer had fun, though.” He shot Spencer a wide smile.

“We read Giraffe Problems. Can we read it again later?” Michael asked.

“Sure thing. We can read it before bedtime.” Will set him down, furrowing his brow. “Wait, Giraffe Problems? Is that a new one?”

Michael shook his head. “Ms. Y/L/N let me borrow it from the library. I have to give it back in two weeks.”

“Man, Michael, you really lucked out, huh?” Will posited. “Ms. Y/L/N is so good to you.”

“Jeez, everybody’s saying that today,” Michael sighed. “Yes, Ms. Y/L/N is amazing, we all know this.”

“All right, sass monster. I didn’t know uncle Spencer thought she was amazing, too.” Will grinned. “We gotta go pick up Henry in a few minutes. I’ll get you a snack, and you can pick up your things?” He gestured to the mess of shoes and school supplies in the foyer.

Spencer smiled sheepishly. “That’s probably my fault. We were just so excited to read the book.”

“Ah yeah, I know how he gets.” Will crossed to the kitchen. “A one track mind, that one. Thanks again for picking him up today.”

Spencer stood from the couch and followed, hands stuffed in his pockets. “It’s no problem at all! I can do it any time.”

“Well, I don’t want to bother y—”

“It’s not a bother!” Spencer schooled his voice back into a normal register at Will’s raised eyebrow. “It—It’s not a bother at all. I, um— I have a lot of free time when I’m on sabbatical. Especially since I’m only teaching one course this semester. Plus, I love seeing the boys.”

“I’ll remember that.” Will smiled. “So… Ms. Y/L/N’s amazing, huh?”

Spencer just knew that his cheeks were as red as the apple Will was cutting up. He tried to shrug nonchalantly. “Yeah, she was— she was really nice.”

“She’s not bad looking, either,” Will supplied. When Spencer’s mouth fell open, Will continued, “What? JJ thinks so, too. Don’t tell me you didn’t even look, because I know that’s a lie.”

Spencer sputtered, “I— well, I—”

“Daddy, can we get an ice-cream on the way home?” Michael interrupted, completely unfazed.

Will laughed. “Saved by the bell, uncle Spencer. Yeah, buddy, we can get ice-cream.”

…

“It’s not weird to look her up. I just want to know more about the person who’s educating my godson,” Spencer tried to reassure himself as he pulled up the school’s website. He scrolled to find the teacher pages, a little smile crossing his face when he saw Ms. Y/L/N’s picture— white ruffled shirt, red bow, and black hat. A perfect tribute to Mary Poppins.

He dropped his smile. “She barely said five sentences to you, and you didn’t say anything back.” His eyes wandered over the links on the side, landing on the About Me section. “But she did say she’d heard a lot about you, so it’s only fair that you get to know a little about her.” Against his better judgment, he clicked the page link. A photo of Ms. Y/L/N— grinning and holding a very distraught-looking black cat— popped up on the screen, and Spencer laughed aloud.

I grew up on a farm outside of Fayetteville, NC before moving to Boston to complete my undergraduate degree. I moved to DC to earn my Master’s in Early Childhood Education, and I have been teaching here for 8 years! I love working with young learners, because children grow so much in their foundational years. Watching a child have a lightbulb moment is one of my greatest joys. When I'm not in the classroom, I love to read, travel, play scrabble, and spend time with my cat Roald (pronounced Roo-all)!

Spencer scrolled through the pictures of Ms. Y/L/N and her students. There were pictures in their “smocks,” which Spencer discovered were really just old t-shirts. There was one of her in the middle of some very animated story telling, and another of a field trip to the zoo. In each one, the smiles beamed out through the computer screen in a digital portrait of unbridled joy, contagious even over the waves of the internet. Smiling to himself, he clicked on the tab labeled Teaching Philosophy.

I believe that every child is an extraordinary and essential piece of our classroom puzzle. In order to nurture the unique individuality of each of my students, I work hard to make our classroom a safe, positive, and supportive community where students are given the space to express themselves. Our classroom culture is also one of kindness and creativity, where each individual is valued and celebrated for who they are!

Spencer swallowed the unexpected lump in his throat as he thought back on his own school career. While his teachers had always appreciated his intelligence, he honestly couldn’t recall a moment where he had felt valued for just… being himself. The majority of his time in school had been spent unsuccessfully fending off bullies, completing other students’ homework, or being gawked at like some sort of alien. He was grateful that Michael would hopefully never go through anything like what he’d experienced; at least not while Ms. Y/L/N was around.

His phone buzzed in his pocket, and he leaned back in the desk chair to pull it out. He swiped it open to read the incoming text.

JJ: So......... you like Ms. Y/L/N, huh? 😉😉😉

Spencer: What?! Did Will tell you that? I didn’t say that.

JJ: Some things you don’t have to say out loud, Spence.

———

Tags: @spacedikut

[littlepadika]

Summary: You and Frankie visit the local book shop.

Rating: Explicit (18+ only)

Warnings: fem reader, DDLG 🎀, semi public sex, unprotected PIV, no use of y/n, some possessiveness, p0rn with a wee bit o’ plot.

AN: Told ya I wasn't done with sweet pea and Frankie :))) This is the brain child of @heythere-mel and me 😈🤝😈. Set after Calling Home series but works as stand alone too

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You loved your life with Frankie. The only dark spot was when you had to say goodbye to Rosalia on Sunday nights. You had latched onto the little girl almost as much as she had to you. Two peas in a pod, as Frankie would call you, but she was so like Frankie; quiet, kind, and tough. She was remarkably well behaved except for when it was time to say goodbye. As soon as Frankie would put on his shoes, it was like a switch flipped. Tears would start and she would kick and scream as you put her in the car. Frankie was used to this but you felt like the meanest person in the world. She was still too young to understand it wasn't up to you.

After handing Rosie off to Laura with a forced smile, you and Frankie would pull around the block and hold each other for a few minutes. Saying goodbye to one of his girls would make him needy. Many times you two ended up in the back seat, fucking frantically, because he couldn't wait until you got home.

Frankie introduced you to his routine of going to the bookstore on Mondays. It cheered you up almost more than him just because you loved books so much. The bookstore was a hole in the wall, a hidden gem. The large windows were almost completely covered by stacks of books. The white paint over the doorway was chipping. The facade discouraged a lot of people coming in but you liked it that way. It felt like a special place for just you and Frankie. Every Monday you both would pick out a book for each other and read at the small circular tables until closing time.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This monday, you were feeling particularly clingy. Benny and Will came over last night for Will's birthday so you didn't get your usual movie and cuddles. You enjoyed hanging out with the boys of course, but you had needs. Needs only Frankie could fill.

Frankie picked you up at work, kissing you on the cheek and and asking how your day was. His eyes trailed over your bare legs and your little sundress.

"That's a nice dress, sweet pea." He licked his lips.

"Thank you, Frankie." You smiled innocently.

"I should just get you home. Someone might try and steal you from me."

"Silly." You squeezed his bicep. "They would have to be crazy to try."

"They'd be dead." Frankie muttered, pulling out of the parking lot. His serious tone made you cross your legs tightly. There was a little evil inside of you that loved to see his dark side come out.

"I thought we were going home?" You asked when Frankie made a left turn instead of a right turn.

"Nope. Bookstore." He said. "It's Monday, remember?"

You tried not to pout. You tried.

"Why the long face, sweet pea? You love the bookstore." Frankie rubbed your bare knee. There was something you loved more than books. You stayed quiet, knowing this little routine made Frankie feel better. Maybe you could still find a way to get some relief...

Frankie pulled into open spot in front of the shop. A little bell rang when you pushed open the door.

"Hey Elizabeth!" You waved at the elderly lady working the register. She was so pleased the first time Frankie brought you in, commenting on how nice it was Frankie found someone. She was the first fan of your novel.

"My best customers!" She smiled.

"Anything new?" You asked, like you always did.

"I have a special edition of Pride and Prejudice arriving tomorrow. You'll have to take a look."

"I do love me some Mr. Darcy." You laughed, giving Frankie an apologetic look.

"He's quite dreamy." Elizabeth agreed. Frankie shook his head at your antics.

"Whatever." You heard him grumble under his breath.

"Okay... well I think we'll just browse." You took Frankie's hand leading him down the thin aisles lined to the ceiling with books. "Last week you did mystery. What do you feel like this week?"

"I'll let you pick." Frankie squeezed your hand. "What do you want? Another Steven King?"

"No! I had nightmares."

You two split up both on the hunt for the perfect book for each other. It was always a little competition. Having learned the odd organizational style of the shop you knew exactly where you were going. Erotica.

You were a book worm in all things. You had no shame whipping out your vibrator while you read a good piece of smut. With Frankie you didn't need to masturbate but you wanted to push his buttons a little today, see if he'd be up for some experimenting. You loved his deep voice. You wanted him to read erotica to you. You wanted to read it to him. Better yet he could just fuck you right here and now. It was a dirty fantasy but romantic too: You wanted to be fucked by a person you loved in the places you loved.

Frankie knew exactly what he wanted to get you so it was a quick trip for him. He was on his way to find you, a battered copy of The Magic Mountain in his hand. He walked deeper and deeper into the stacks. He had never been back this far.

"Sweet pea?"

"Over here." You called, closing the book you were reading. The crude words already made you wet with anticipation.

"What are you doing back here?" Frankie turned down the aisle looking around. His eyes fell on the small sign on the shelf. Erotic Novels.

"I found the book I wanted." Something about the quiet area made you whisper. You placed the book in his hand, looking up at him with the innocent eyes you knew drove him crazy.

"I'm not sure this counts, sweet pea." Frankie felt his face heat up as he read the title. An Eternity of Pleasure.

"Erotica is literature." You pressed up against him, smirking when his hand fell to your waist instinctively. "What book did you get me, Mr. Pretentious?"

"The-It's the-" He stuttered when you cupped him through his jeans. You felt him start to harden under your hand.

"It's called 'The'? That doesn't sound as good as my book." You teased him. He quickly looked around checking you both were alone. No surveillance cameras.

"You're being so naughty." Frankie backed you up against the shelves. He dropped both the books on the ground before pushing your hips against the wood, causing loose books to fall around you. "Wearing this little sundress, giving me a dirty book.” His dark eyes melting you down, silencing your retort.

His voice was husky against your ear. His strong thigh was shoved between your legs. You rocked against it, bunching his shirt up in your fists. Frankie could feel how hot you were, pretty soon he felt how wet you were too. You had him exactly where you wanted him.

"You don't need to read this filth, sweet pea, when Daddy fucks you better than anyone." He pulled you down hard on his thigh making you gasp.

"How about we write our own then, daddy? Right now." You landed the final blow.

Frankie groaned, giving into temptation. He pulled you into a hard kiss and lifted you up into his arms. He spun you around until you were pressed against the shelves, your eyes looking through the opening at the main aisle. You planted your hands on the small bit of shelf left uncovered. Lord knew you’d need all the support you could get.

"You gotta be my look out, okay?" Frankie instructed, pulling up your hem over your ass. Your cotton panties were damp and clung to your outer lips. "Dios mío..." Frankie sighed, tracing his fingers over the outside of the material to your clit.

You bit your lip as your eyes scanned the empty stacks. You felt so vulnerable yet strangely powerful. You were about to own this place in a way you never have before. The place where Frankie used to come to alone, now he was fucking the woman he loved. You liked the poetry of that.

You pushed your ass back as he slid your panties halfway down your legs. The cool air hit your clit, making you inhale sharply. You heard Frankie's belt open and his zipper come down. You were trembling with anticipation. You could feel his rough jeans against your leg, his breath right above you. You had always wanted to be taken like this, and now you finally had a man you trusted to do it. Frankie could flip up your dress whenever he felt like it and you’d be ready for it.

Without warning Frankie pushed into you all at once. It was uncharacteristic of him to just take like this. Not that you minded. You cried out as his girth stretched your pussy to the max, momentarily forgetting where you were. Even though you had been soaked since the car ride over, it was still amazing to you just how big he always was.

Frankie clapped a hand over your mouth. "Quiet, sweet pea." He whispered. His rough voice even more arousing in the quiet of the stacks. His other arm wrapped all the way around your waist, pulling you onto your tip toes as he pulled halfway out. You heard him gritting his teeth trying to stay quiet himself. Every sharp inhale you took filled your nose with the smell of books and Frankie. Your two favorite scents.

"Mmm!" You whined against his hand as he started moving. Frankie pushed your legs further apart making you lean into the book case. More loose books fell in the aisle next to you, hitting the floor with small thuds. Even though you were in a semi public space, Frankie didn't hold back. He was just as hard and purposeful as he always was. Balls deep every time.

Frankie’s low voice dripped honey. “You could have just asked daddy to flip your little dress up. I’d never leave you needy. Even if I have to-to fuck you where people may see.”

“P’ease” You drooled against his hand.

The doorbell in the front rang. Even from this distance you heard it.

"Mm! Mmm!” You warned, sound muffled by his hand. Frankie didn't stop, in fact he sped up. The sound of your wet flesh sliding together gave your activities away. His belt clinked from time to time. You felt your heart race against your chest. He was breathing harshly, some low grunts slipping out.

"Think they'll come back here, pretty pea?" Frankie whispered into your ear. "See what a needy girl you are. Making daddy fuck you right here." You saw no one coming still, but you were struggling to keep your eyes focused as pleasure burned through your veins. "I'm not gonna let that happen." Frankie murmured ominously. "Only I get to see you like this. Only I get to hear your sweet sounds."

You nodded unable to give verbal agreement. His possessiveness despite fucking you so openly only added to the excitement of it all. The mystery behind what he would do to make sure he kept you for himself. He gripped your breast tightly through your thin dress pulling you back against him. You licked his palm looking for something more.

“You need something in that mouth?” Frankie shoved two fingers into your mouth. You sucked on them like it was his cock, tugging them slightly. There was another bell, as another person entered the store. Frankie ripped his hand from your mouth putting it on your clit instead. Your dress was bunched from both sides now, not even hiding his thick length disappearing inside of you. Speed vs stealth was a trade off Frankie was willing to bet his life on.

"Daddy-I'm gonna cum." You whimpered as softly as you could manage. He silenced you with a kiss. You were barely hanging on, only a sliver of your consciousness still aware of your vulnerable position. Your pleasure was spilling over what you could contain. At this point you didn't care if someone walked by. Nothing would stop you from having him. You came biting his lip, to keep quiet. Your pussy clamped tight around his length making him cum on the spot. You felt his growl vibrate, trapped in his chest. Ropes of his cum slid down from the deepest part of you as your pussy tried to suck them back up. You could feel it leaking out around the base of his cock.

There was no time to bask in it. Frankie withdrew and pulled your panties up around your ruined pussy. He entertained the idea of putting them in his back pocket and letting you walk bare out the door but he liked the thought of sealing himself into your pussy better. The thin fabric did little to soak up your combined cum. It was coating your thighs too. He tucked himself into his pants gingerly, still aching.

"Thank you, daddy." You hummed pressing your skirt down.

"I can't say no to you, princesa pea. But I missed hearing your sounds." Frankie pulled you back into his chest. His neck glistened with sweat and flush but otherwise he looked totally composed.

"I know." You smoothed out his shirt using the opportunity to squeeze his biceps again. Fuck you loved his arms. You loved him. "I just really needed you."

"Let's go home. I'm not done with you yet." Frankie started pulling out back to the main aisle.

"But what about the book?" You giggled. After all, that was why you were here in the first place.

"Like I said, sweet pea." Frankie said darkly, instantly erasing your humor. "Daddy fucks you better than any character ever could. And if you’re not totally wrecked after I’m done with you then you can write your own little dirty novel for Daddy to read."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Taglist: @floraandfrost, @agingerindenial, @heythere-mel, @icanbeyourjedi, @linnie0119, @pedrosmustache, @thisshipwillsail316, @peterhollandkait, @leias-rebelion, @phoenix-of-loki, @prettypedros, @kennedywxlsh, @punkerthanpascal, @the-witty-pen-name, @twentyfirstcenturyfox, @madslorian, @sarahjkl82-blog, @bison-writes, @lightning-fast54, @maievdenoir, @nicolethered, @kenoobiwan, @danniburgh, @janebby, @dihra-vesa, @yespolkadotkitty, @ilikechocolatemilkh, @headinthestarz, @tanyaherondale, @christina-loves, @dobbyjen, @fangirl-316

@ajeff855, @what-iwish-you-knew, @kirsteng42 @fan-of-encouragement

Inbox 📥 always open for Frankie x sweet pea ideas 💕😘

[writingforyourpleasure]

I have a thing for Car wash

Genre: NonIdol!AU, SummerJob!AU

Pairing: OT7 x Reader

Summary: You do car wash as a summer job each year. But this year , 7 new employees are added to the mix.

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: none

A/N: Thoses Butter's concept photoshoot are gonna be the death of me ...

______

Summer’s Job never been dreamy or appealing you always preferred to stay home and play games or hangout with your friends.

You were doing the same summer job from your high school’s years throughout your UNI years, this year was the last year where you could work at the same gas station you usually spent your summer’s at. You were quite happy about this news because your work there wasn’t really enjoyable to say the least.

You were working as car washer.

The staff was limited to you and Gladys. Gladys was an Australian grandma’ with an heavy accent and a loud voice.

You used to complain about the underpaid job and understaff issue to her each year , but even if she tried her best to pay you more each year, the problem of understaff was remaining.

Plus you had the marvelous advantage , note the irony, to be a woman. So of course you had some guy every now and then asking you for some porn kink including cars and water to you.

And of course as soon as you dared to say to them that it was not respectful of them to ask for such favors , well their ego feeling insecure will make them insult you ‘til Gladys will come out and try to dissolve any trouble. And if they didn’t leave… well then Tallulah will come help you out. Were Gladys was a true perfect cottage core granny , Tallulah her spouse, was a weightlifting Olympics coach. So she was , massive and looked very frightening.

But since she was often occupied most of the time Gladys would have to do the trick , and if too much persistent she would call her little brother Jeff a policeman always coming in and out of the shop to check on things.

It was nice, for a summer or two, but seeing as it’s been years since you were first introduce to this summer’s job to say it became painfully annoying was an understatement.

And this year would be the same…

Or so you though.

Gladys finally took your complains about the car wash job being understaffed and recruited a few people to help out .

When she said a few, you though she was talking about 2 to 3 people.

But no, no non no no no. Gladys took in 7 people !

She promised you your check wouldn’t take any damage by the presence of those new employees , but you sincerely doubt that.

And of course you’ll have to show them around and proceed to show them how to wash a car because of course it’s not like anybody could know how to do it by themselves.

You were moody when that tons of information’s felled down on your head, but now finding yourself in front of the 7 new employees changed everything.

Apparently Gladys misspelled car wash job for model’s photoshoot coz’ those 7 boys were for sure way too beautiful to need a car wash job.

It had to be a prank, right?

So being more self aware in what you’ve been for years you showed carefully those men of to do the job. And no it wasn’t cute or sexy, far from it.

You were dressed in your yellow hoodie and black jogging with flip-flop.

For once you wished you had were those fucking shorts looking like panties more than anything, and a crop top or something similar, like all those freaks watching too much porn often asked you to.

But no , and those guys were dressed in matching outfits in jeans and whites tee.

Even if they were very dreamy swoon over , you had more pressing issues to think about.

Like why one of them started a water fight with another one, and putting a stop to it before one of them put soap into their eyes.

“Okay guys!!! Please stop …? I don’t want to have to report you to Gladys on your first day okay? So keep that behavior for when you’re on your own okay?”

“Sorry , we didn’t meant to …” Said one.

“Huh sorry to interrupt , but none of us seems to have catch your name earlier ?” Said the guy with blue hair.

You liked his hair, it was nice, like blue waves , more darker on the edges and lighter on the center of his scalp. He had such beautiful eyes too, so sharp an-

Oh god , wait did you really lost yourself by admiring him?!

“Huh miss???”

“Y-Yeah !!! Haha my name’s Y/N !” You extended your hand , losing your mind for talking in a higher voice to him , good job at not being suspect Y/N….

And you hated yourself even more for being awkward by presenting your hand to him. But he, on the other hand sensed your discomfort and made your move seem completely normal shaking your hand lightly and giving you a cute smile showing off his dimples.

“Namjoon,…. And those two are Jungkook and Taehyung, and I hate to be the one breaking it to you but we’re probably gonna have a hard time keeping them calm.”

“Oh… Okay” You just ended , looking to the two guys involved in the previous water fight, and looking back to Namjoon’s face. He was calm and put you at ease. Hargh you were staring , good job on not being a freak Y/N .

The one all covered in jean from head to toe approached you, and ever so silently spoke to you.

“Hate to be a bother Y/N, but can I have a bucket to wring out my sponge, please?”

“Huh Yeah of course huh-hu….”

“Yoongi’s the name…”

“Oh huh well yeah let me get that from Gladys to you okay I’ll be back in just a sec Yoongi.”

He nodded very calm much to your dismay as you were starting to feel anxious about advising Gladys for more employees, maybe you should have just shut it.

You entered the store who basked in a sunny light as the morning was starting to begin for most of other people’s in the city.

At the register was one of the new employees, he wore a plaid skirt and converse’s with a white thee and jean shirt. You couldn’t believe how gracious his lips draw themselves on his face. They looked pillowy and as dreamy as the six other’s man out there waiting for you.

“Huh hello ? You might remember me from earlier ? Y/N the foremost employee?”

“Of course I do you’re the sweet mango! “

“I’m sorry what ?”

“The sweet mango ! The color of your sweatshirt look alike a mango!”

“I-I Yeah it does…”

“Would you like another nickname maybe? I’m sorry if this one doesn’t fit your style haha. What about little mouse ?”

“Do I look like a little mouse ?”

“No ,you look like a fucking rat”

Said another voice coming from behind you.

“I beg you pardon?”

You turn over to the masculine voice behind you to find yourself facing a chest. Your eyes flew up to the face of the stranger, ready to take down any bratty client. And you were surprised to face a smiling shit eating brunette man glancing down at you . He was snickering and looking at you like he was mentally undressing you with his eyes.

“Yah ! Jin ! Don’t be rude to our new friend!”

You look down to the content in his arms, some sandwiches squeezed between bottles of water.

“Wait your on job duty ! Why aren’t you with the others ?” You started to take over yourself and focus on your task, keeping everything organized.

“Some of us forgot to bring our lunch to work this morning , so I volunteered to go for it , but you’ve been blocking the line too preoccupied to talk to mister big flirt over there.”

He gestured at the cashier.

“We weren’t flirt-“

“You totally were!” Gladys interrupted you coming out from the back of the shop with several boxes of energy bars .

“Gladys I would ne-“

“Don’t lie to me girl ! Okay Jimin go fill up the shelves with those and Jin , you’re lucky you have a nice face, it’s on the house for today so go back to work will you now?”

“Sure thing Gladys! Thank you so much !” He offered her a wink before smirking down at you , going back to his devices.

“AND SHE DOESN’T LOOK LIKE A RAT! BUT YOU SURE TALK LIKE A BRATT!!!” Shouted Gladys at Jin, while a girl was approaching him to take care of her car and asking for his number. He was a blushing mess and Tae had to intervene to talk an eligible sentence to, the poor lost girl, after that.

“Now, Y/N what do you need sweetheart? I mean other than Jimin’s number of course?” She had said it loud enough for Jimin to hear it and bringing a cute smile on his face content of his accomplishments.

“Gladys please stop. “ You warned her with a tired face. She maybe looked old but she was fearless for sure .

“I need extra buckets for the boys, please.”

She leaved the register for what felt only two seconds before bringing over 5 extra buckets for you , to share.

“Thank you , you’re a life savior!”

“I know , should have started a sect when it was trendy.”

You left laughing to her dumb joke , but not before quickly glancing to Jimin. After that event you formed three distinct groups between all of you to get their heads in the game.

But with Jimin busy with helping out Gladys around the store, one of them was standing by himself.

“Okay since your alone I’ll help out for today.”

“Really? Thank you so much I was worried I’ll found myself alone when everyone’s having fun in groups.”

You looked around to indeed found them more busy playing around then actively work in silence .

“Yeah well normally having so much fun isn’t part of the job but I don’t want to kill the mood.”

“I’m Hoseok by the way but you can call me Hobi ! “ He said with a heart shaped smile.

“Y/N. Haha did you had to see Jimin assigning you a nickname too?”

“No this one’s for my crushes .” He said glancing up at you with stars shining eyes behind the comfort of his sunglasses.

“Yah! Hobi Does it mean I’m one of your freaking crushes?!” Yelled a not-so-speechless Jin , across the parking lot.

“Why don’t you come found out ?!” Yelled back a way too enthusiast Hoseok.

The day went by pretty quietly apart from those 7 agents of chaos you were stuck with from now.

Lunch came around pretty quickly and you all went to the back of the shop to have your break there , enjoying the nice breeze of the fan, while chatting.

“So , how come you’re all working here this summer?” You asked between bites of your meal.

“My aunt knows Gladys and told me she was recruiting , and since I was in need of a job I took it.” Said Jimin looking at you oh so charmingly.

“I have a thing for car wash.” Said Jin like it was completely normal.

“Your such a weirdo something hyung I swear… I was in need of a summer job saw the flyers by the campus and thought why not ? Here I am.”

Replied Jungkook slowly slurping down his noodles.

“We wanted to prove some sexist asshole that , no it wasn’t , a job only reserved to women.” Said a disgusted Namjoon swallowing quickly his part of the sandwich.

“I want to be a social entrepreneur.”

Said Taehyung leaving you with wide eyes.

“How is that related to bein-“

“If I succeed to make this place a rentable place from just the car wash then I could do anything.”

“And how would you do that ?” asked Jin dismissing his lunch to look over at Taehuyng.

“What about a photoshoot?”

[reddus-sideblog]

M.E.R.C.s - Killing Field

4-22-890 AR

Manuel lit up a cigar as he walked, the long tails of his stainless white, gold-embroidered Holy Mercenary Brigade coat flapping behind him in the light wind. As he brought the cigar to his mouth and took a puff, he grimaced at the taste. Everyone in the brigade always told him how good and smooth Captain Black’s tasted, but he couldn’t stand the thick, dark smoke. It tasted like inhaling vaporized pavement. Either way, he needed the buzz right now. It was late and he’d had a tail on him for at least three blocks now. He wasn’t sure of it at first, as the sun went down, but by the time that the street lights were coming on and people were turning on their headlights he was positive.

    Crossing the street, he got another block further away from his apartment. Manuel took a deep breath and calmed his mind. He knew right where he was going, where he was leading these poor men. He needed to get further away from his home to keep them following him, and he needed to clean up the mess he was going to make by getting rid of them. As he plotted, the Holy Mercenary surreptitiously took glances off of reflective windows and the side view mirrors of parked cars. He was walking along the wide, though empty, sidewalk adjacent to a relatively quiet four lane street. Manuel was pretty sure that at least three men were following him, but it was probably more like five or six total. All of them were too well dressed to be typical Illigan gutter trash, and they had no obvious signs of pacts or horns between the lot of them so they couldn’t be Infernalites. The sergeant’s best guess was that they were some corpsol hit squad in plainclothes. 

    “Don’t walk,” called out the automated voice at the crosswalk.

    Manuel swore silently to himself as his tails gained ground on him while he stood idle. He just kept his head ducked into his coat’s collar and pretended they didn't exist, pulling a long drag on the horrible cigar. The dark cloud of smoke he exhaled was whisked away on the light breeze that smelled faintly of rotting meat and industrial solvents. He knew a place, it was right up ahead, and when he reached it he would be ready to strike back against these lowlifes. As the signal turned it became a walking race to reach the alleyway behind the workshop. He turned into the familiar dead end alley with a quick prayer that his pursuers would somehow be stupid enough to lose him. He was disappointed, but not surprised, to see all five of them at the mouth of the alley when he turned around. 

    “Seems you took a bit of a wrong turn, pal.” One of the stalkers joked as he pulled out an electro maul. The weapon crackled to life as it sent arcs of deadly electricity along its length.

    The men were all dressed in gray suits and wore large, dark sunglasses to conceal their faces. Their getups were about as inconspicuous as a tech-seer in a brothel. Three of them brandished machine pistols that looked like some generic crap that should have been collecting dust at a supermarket’s Home Defense aisle.

    The last one brandished a heat blade of obviously Shogaian make, which got a chuckle out of Manuel as the man clearly was not from the eastern region.

    “Don’t worry, our boss told us to make it hurt, a lot.” The tanto-wielding Illiganite said right as his blade sparked to life in an attempt to be intimidating.

    “Well you’re doing a great job.” Manuel responded after taking one last puff of the cigar before flicking the stub aside. “This little performance is painful to watch.”

    “Bastard!” The Illigan man cried out as he charged with both hands on the handle of his red hot blade. The hot-headed man moved quickly, but Manuel was a much quicker draw. With a single motion Manuel drew his laser sword from its scabbard, flipped the “on” switch, causing the energizer to flare to life, and planted a devastating blow on the head of his attacker before their blazing tanto could be properly thrusted. The pursuer’s face was sliced from the bottom of his jaw through to his eye on the opposite side of his head by the blade of light that cut through flesh and bone as if he were a well cooked Souther Bay salmon. Chunks of cooked meat and fragments of singed bone were thrown across the alleyway as the faint smell of rotted flesh was replaced by the scent of charred skin.

    The four remaining men were frozen with fear at the display. Before the heated tanto could even hit the ground, Manuel had drawn his Red-96 in his offhand and unleashed a wall of lead. He pulled the trigger as fast as he could, saturating the alleyway with its full clip. One of the machine pistol wielding men ate every round fired at him before falling over with a gruesome, blood-choked gurgle. The next died quietly when a bullseye shot collapsed his lungs. Unfortunately, the rest of Manuel’s ten round clip either went into a long-closed shop across the street or into the brick walls of the alley. 

    The remaining two men seemed to rally themselves as the one with the electro maul charged while the other laid down suppressing fire. Manuel wanted to charge back at them but without his armor even a Datenight would turn him to Strauss cheese, so he tossed aside his pistol and dove for cover behind a dumpster, leaping up into a crouched position to prepare his counter-attack. The man with the electro maul tried to round the corner and deliver a crushing strike but only found himself as the new owner of a gaping wound through his chest from Manuel’s sword. Having punctured the lowlife, the laser blade sputtered and then turned off. He’d left work with a low battery and now it was a dead battery.

    But now what? Manuel caught the sound of his last assailant racking the bolt on a fresh magazine. He looked around to count his options, but there weren’t many. He could try to cross the alley into the workshop or rush the armed man with an unpowered sword. Neither was without its risks, to say the least.

Shit, I need the key to get in, he thought to himself while weighing his options. Without thinking he turned to locate the brick where the spare key to the workshop was hidden. Manuel thanked Deus Machina. He was so glad that Tex had shown him the hidden key’s location. Upon pulling out the brick and picking up the key he realized exactly how he would get himself out of this mess. 

    “Hey man, I really don’t mind,” the last man shouted down the alley. The would-be assassin chuckled out loud, already believing victory was laid at his feet. “All you did was increase my pay. Now be a good boy and let me send you to your beloved Deu-”. Before the man could finish his taunt a brick collided with his forehead and knocked him to the ground. In the moments it took for him to regain his senses, Manuel had escaped through one of the doors into one of the buildings that framed the alley.

    The interior of the workshop he rushed into reeked like nothing else. The stench was a combination of powerful industrial acids, all the mechanical smells of a machine shop, and the unmistakable scent of fetid blood and half-rotted flesh. Loud industrial music blasted over a sound system in the back alley butcher shop, as if to somehow mask the abhorrent scents. A horned individual in bulky coveralls was hunched over an oversized stainless steel workbench, readying a high-frequency saw over a particularly foul, bloated carcass.

    “Hey honey!” Manuel shouted at his girlfriend as he quickly cast his eyes about the work area. The chimera whipped around, her HF saw still idling. The woman let out a yelp as his entrance was the first sound that was able to pierce her deafening atmosphere of music. Apparently even the gunshots outside hadn’t broken her concentration. Manuel kept looking about frantically, realizing that the gunman would be after him in but a moment’s time.

    “What the hell are you doing here?” Tex asked, her voice muffled by the mask and face shield she wore to keep corpse juices out of her mouth. She was somewhat shocked to see her boyfriend at her workshop, and her tufted tail flicked in apprehension.

    Manuel rifled through Tex’s tool drawers and racks quickly. He needed to hurry or he’d end up on the chopping table next. Before the chimera cleaner could protest against Manuel going through her things, the last stalker stepped into the doorway with his machine pistol ready. He looked like he was ready to be finished with this shitty job, get his pay, and see some tits at the most expensive strip club he could find.

    The machine pistol levelled at the Holy Mercenary was just a moment too slow, and the last thing the thug would see was the flickering white-blue of a Purifier’s pilot light. The flamethrower spat a long gout of flaming petro-fuel at the man in the doorway, engulfing him in flame and soaking him in burning fuel. The force of the pressurized, flaming liquid blasted the gunman out of the workshop into the alleyway, where he would die screaming moments later, writhing in agony from the fire wreathing his body. 

    After quickly putting out the splattered petro-fuel around the alley entrance to the workshop with a fire extinguisher, Manuel and Tex looked over the aftermath of the fight. Manuel and Tex were both grateful that this particular sector was still mostly abandoned ever since the Burning Maw Incident, the last thing they needed was law enforcement to further complicate the situation.

    “So… could I… ask you to help me out, sweetie?” Manuel asked tentatively.

    “You break in during my work hours when I need to concentrate, use the birthday present you got me to incinerate someone chasing you, and nearly burn down my shop, and then you want me to help you get rid of the bodies?” she asked imperiously, giving him a glowering gaze from behind her protective gear. Tex Mass was known for a lot of things, but charity wasn’t one of her main personality traits.

    Manuel nodded sheepishly while giving her the most charming smile he could muster. Tex’s glare could only hold out a few moments more, before melting away. She inhaled deeply and sighed equally loudly.

    “Fine, but you’re helping me, five bodies is gonna take all night. And you’re buying me lunch and dinner tomorrow, got it? No takeout either, we’re going somewhere nice.”

    The M.E.R.C smirked behind Tex’s back as she went to grab the bodies. Lunch and dinner were going to be way cheaper than her usual rates for corpse disposal.