#and yes this is based off of the dvd cover !! BECAUSE HE'S SO HOT IN IT

[reyy-chanx]

AAAA THE BRAINROT FOR THIS MAN 🙇‍♀️🙇‍♀️🙇‍♀️ he's so fine i cANNOT-

[ladyfloriographist]

Prompt: 13. “Can we just make a decision? Please?”

Pairing: Adam (Only Lovers Left Alive) x femme!voluptuous!Reader

Warnings: night drives to a video store, fluff-ish stuff, flirting, cursing (because it’s Adam), and would vamps love the idea of temperature play? I think they would

XXXX

“Oh, my God. Adam, stop. Pull over.”

Adam glances out your window for the briefest moment. “What is it?” his vaguely interested baritone drones.

“Look!” It’s an old video store, a movie rental place, a relic from a time gone by. “Please please—oh! We’re past it.” You sigh and slump back in your seat, staring out the window as the next-to-deserted moon-lit city rolls by.

Slowing to a stop before a red light, Adam looks to you. “Really?” he says, with the faintest smile—like he could humour you, if you were sweet about it.

You put your hand on his where it rests on the gearshift. The chill of his flesh is comforting, somehow, and he feels the same about your warmth. You run your thumb over the exposed back of his hand. “I haven’t seen one of them in so long. I didn’t even know they still existed. Will you take me, baby? Can we go?”

Ever so subtly, the corners of his mouth tug upward, like he’s trying to hold back a smile.

“Five minutes,” you attempt to persuade him further, “that’s all. And we could have a movie night!”

His brows raise, and you shuffle a little closer to him in your seat.

You adjust yourself, pushing your chest out and pressing your arms together to exaggerate your ample cleavage. Then, you drop your voice and murmur huskily, “You could watch me eat a choc-top—”

The traffic lights turn green.

“—feel my mouth get all cold.”

Adam tears his gaze from yours and throws a u-turn, spinning his old Jaguar around and following the road back the way you’d come.

He smiles slyly at you out of the corner of his eye as the engine rumbles down the desolate street, and you grin at him. No more words need be said.

Adam pulls into the carpark, and an old neon ‘open late’ sign flickers and flashes in the large window.

“Wow,” you whisper, ripping off your seat belt and stepping out of the car. “I can’t believe this place is still here. I thought they all closed a few years ago.”

Adam huffs a shallow laugh as he shuts and locks his door. “Time in a lost place is a funny old thing.”

You whip around to face him, and find him glaring at the old building with thinly veiled disgust. The large windows are a little grimy, and two nearby rubbish bins overflow with garbage. Inside, one of the fluorescent lights in the ceiling flickers, and another one is cracked and broken, illuminating nothing beneath it.

“Fuck’s sake…” Adam murmurs quietly.

You stretch your arm out to him. “Come on, grumpy.”

Slowly his gaze lands on yours, looking every bit the part of a sullen teenager.

“For me,” you beckon him closer, offering your hand. “We won’t be here long.”

Begrudgingly, Adam stalks towards you and slips his gloved palm into yours. “They’d better sell that fucking ice cream here,” he growls, slipping on his Oakley shades.

“I’m sure they will, baby,” you croon, smiling back at him as you push open the large glass door.

It’s stale inside, the damp and dust only just kept at bay by whirring air conditioning that churns out crisp, cold, recycled air.

You shiver a little, and Adam finds it delightful.

The young clerk behind the counter looks up, slightly surprised but mostly disinterested. “We close in ten,” they grumble.

“Midnight?” Adam questions, and the clerk nods, going back to their phone. He squeezes your hand and says, “Make it quick,” – but your attention is already elsewhere.

“How much for a slurpee?” you call to the sales clerk eagerly.

They look at you with a blank stare.

“Sorry,” you gesture at the machine, rotating crushed, watery ice artificially coloured a deep pinkish-red. “For a slushie?”

“Two-fifty for a small, four bucks for a large.”

You glance at Adam, smiling sweetly. “It’ll make my tongue red,” you murmur breathily.

Adam regards you with an intense, lingering stare.

“I’ll taste a little sweeter,” you whisper.

He looks deep into your eyes, and when he glimpses your lips his nostrils flare very, very subtly—but enough for you to know, your whispered words are affecting him.

After pleading and paying you and Adam find yourselves strolling into the paranormal and supernatural section.

You break from his palm to grab at one of the selection, and hold it up to his face.

“This,” you say emphatically, “this was so popular, babe.”

Adam tilts his head to the side as he scrutinises the cover. “’True… Blood’?” he says slowly, turning over the concept in his mind.

You nod. “It’s what the vamps drink. This manufactured kind of…” you search for the word, “synthetic blood.”

“Hm.”

“Based on books.” You hand the Blue-Ray to him and he peruses it further. “And HBO made it, so,” you wrap your lips around the clear plastic straw and suck more of the icy treat into your mouth.

You keep your eyes locked with his as you do, and Adam watches from behind his black sunglasses, rapt. You swallow and finish your sentence. “So, it’s very sexy.”

Adam looks set to lunge for you and tackle you to the musty, un-vacuumed carpet.

You think quickly, having bitten off more than you can chew and needing to pump the brakes on your teasing. “Here,” you grab the first thing you see and hand it to him, “another option.”

Adam takes the DVD case and his features soften. Gently, he trails the tips of two fingers over the cover art. “Vlad,” he murmurs, and his mouth breaks into a small, wistful smile.

Your gaze flicks back and forth from Adam to ‘Bram Stoker’s Dracula’ in quick succession. “You know Gary Oldman?” you squeak, incredulity lacing your voice and your features.

Adam smiles. He places the DVD back on the shelf. “By another name.”

You stare, gobsmacked, as Adam picks up another movie—continuing on as if no revelations have been divulged. His smooth forehead creases as he inspects the DVD and he flips the case over in his hand.

“Handsome,” he says softly. “Was this popular too?”

“’Twilight’?” you raise your brows. “Very.”

The furrow creasing Adam’s brow deepens, and he slides the movie back into its place on the shelf.

After a few more minutes of browsing, the clerk calls out from behind the counter, announcing to the pair of you that the store is closing.

You spin on your heel to face Adam. He’d been getting lost in small moments of nostalgia, disdain, and melancholy. Perhaps bringing him here was a bad idea.

“Come on, baby,” you take his hand in yours, “they’re closing. Pick one and let’s go.”

Adam grumbles an inaudible growl of a word and looks up from the DVD he’d been holding. He stares at the shelves, and clenches his jaw.

This isn’t good. “Can we just make a decision? Please?”

“Is this what you thought of me and my kind before we met?” Adam says in the dull, drole tone of someone particularly unimpressed. “That I could, fucking, sparkle and glimmer in the sunlight?” Unceremoniously he drops the movie back onto the shelf, and his lip subtly curls in distaste. “How terrible for you to realise the truth. Fuck, you must be bitterly disappointed.”

You cock your head to the side. Though you couldn’t possibly have foreseen Adam confronting his own undead immortality at a Blockbuster in the middle of the night, this was definitely a bad idea. Adam was dipping his toes in the cold, dark, rippling pool of vampiric existentialism and no, you will not try this again, lest he fall in.

The clerk calls out to you again, impatient and tired.

You switch tacts, trying on something that all men fall prey to, living or undead. “Well, the truth is stranger than fiction, my love.” You step closer to Adam, and place your palm on his chest. You step up on your tip toes, and let your hot breath fan over his neck. “And far more… seductive.”

Like dropping a cube of ice into warm water, the press of your hand thaws his surly mood.

Adam gazes at your face. “Look at you,” he purrs, eyeing how the crushed, syrup-laden ice has changed the colour of your tongue. “You look like…” he licks at his bottom lip, “you’re just like… my little strawberry.”

You smile. “A strawberry, hm?”

“Yes,” he murmurs darkly, backing you against the shelves.

“Hey! Hey—excuse me. Look, I’m locking up and I really need y’all to leave,” says a voice off in the distance.

“Well, come on then, baby,” you murmur with a soft, breathy voice, “take me home and eat me.”

Adam’s almost never moved faster.

XXXX

Come and let me know if you have a prompt you’d like me to write! There are some lists on my blog, and at this stage I’m happy to write for the Enola Holmes versions of Sherlock and Mycroft, and any Tom Hiddleston character b/c I’m in love xx

[clevermonkey93]

Mr Frilly part 2

Part 1

Jaskier makes pizza with Geralt and Ciri. It’s cute and fluffy. Oh and they flirt.

also on ao3

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Jaskier wasn’t nervous. He absolutely wasn’t nervous. Except he was. He totally was because he had a dinner date – was it even a date? It’s just dinner, come on Jask – with a gorgeous hunk of a complete dork of a dad that was utterly besotted with his angelic little gremlin. And Jaskier had just met him. Just met Geralt and Ciri and already he was determined not to blow it. Frankly, Jaskier didn’t care if Geralt wasn’t interested – he's probably ten years older than me, he’s got a kid, he might be straight-straight not just kinda straight – but he so desperately wanted to spend more time with them both and get to know them.

God knows he could use some more friends. Valdo seemed to have left their relationship with all their mutual friends, but I suppose that’s what happens when you date a guy from university for four years and just make friends with all his music friends and –

Jaskier wanted so badly to get this right.

Which is why he stood outside the Rivia house – a beautiful old tall town house which Jaskier would have bet has one of those gorgeous long winding gardens – with a distinctly not-rubbish film and some flowers. A simple but beautiful bunch of wildflowers that Jaskier had stared at for at least fifteen minutes at the shop after he’d left Geralt and Ciri in confectionary. He’d decided to risk it but they’re white and delicate so if he's read the vibe completely wrong they’re obviously for Ciri.

He knocked. Geralt said not to ring the doorbell because next door has a baby.

Oh God I should have changed. Why am I still wearing my shopping clothes and this dumb scarf –

“Hey, Jaskier.”

Jaskier looked up to see Geralt at the doorway, long white hair tied up now and an apron at his waist – oh man why is that sexy?

He had a flour smudge on his cheek and his shirt was covered in flecks. Jaskier was about to tease him and ask why he’s only got a tiny apron when he's wearing a black shirt when he heard footsteps behind the man.

“Mr Frilly!” Ciri cheered as she joined them in the doorway. She was wearing a full-size apron which on a child should look utterly ridiculous but she was also wearing an expression that said she was in charge.

“Already started on dinner I see!” Jaskier said with a grin.

Geralt looked down at his shirt and gave a very sweet shrug before standing to the side and gesturing for Jaskier to join them inside.

“Make yourself comfortable,” he offered. Ciri had already bounded back down the hallway so Jaskier shuffled in and started to wiggle his shoes off with his feet. This inadvertently drew attention to the flowers in his hand.

“Uh, I brought these,” Jaskier started, studying Geralt’s face carefully. Beneath the white smudge of flour there was a distinct pink blush. He didn’t think Geralt looked uncomfortable but oh God it’s so hard to tell. “I brought these.” He repeated quietly.

Jaskier inched the flowers forward to Geralt and thank God he took them. Geralt smiled. No doubt there, that was a proper nice smile.

“Thank you, Jaskier,” he said softly. Jaskier felt Geralt's hand on his shoulder and he was about to say something when –

“Daddy, the dough has gotten SO big!”

Jaskier and Geralt shared a little laugh before Geralt lead him further into the house.

The kitchen was in surprising order considering the state of the chefs, and Jaskier and Geralt walked in to find Ciri proudly holding up a bowl of proofing dough.

“I’ll show you how to make a base,” Ciri said excitedly.

“Wash your hands, Ciri,” Geralt reminded her and Jaskier also took his turn at the sink. As he dried his hands, we watched Geralt dig around a cupboard for a vase, as though he hadn’t used one in a long time, before carefully arranging the flowers to sit in the middle of the kitchen table.

It was a wonderfully sweet evening. Jaskier and Ciri both managed to get covered in flour as they tried to shape pizza crusts while Geralt seemed to be able to do it blind and helping them at the same time.

Jaskier had figured they’d be using tomato puree (he won’t admit to how many years at university he’d lived on pasta and tomato puree) but Geralt brought over a pan of homemade tomato sauce that smelled so good. Even better was the proud little smile he made when Jaskier told him how good it smelled. Best yet was the blush and sudden inhale Geralt didn’t manage to hide when Jaskier couldn’t resist sticking a finger in to try a lick.

“Toppings!” Ciri exclaimed as she carried what Jaskier assumed was a stack of everything from the fridge. Cheese quickly went absolutely everywhere as they each assembled a pizza and it turned out the pair had a tradition of making an extra Frankenstein pizza with every topping.

They loaded them into the oven – “Daddy's going to build a pizza oven in the garden next spring,” Ciri excitedly informed Jaskier. “But they’re still good in the oven.”

Geralt started to clear up while the pizzas cooked, and Ciri immediately vanished. Jaskier stood next to him at the sink to dry things up.

“Thank you for asking me over,” Jaskier said, even though it was clearly Ciri that asked. “I'm really glad I’m here.”

Geralt Hmmed at that, and Jaskier had started to notice it might be his default setting but it sounded like a happy Hmm at least. “What would your Saturday night have been otherwise?” Geralt asked.

“Oh, um,” Jaskier hesitated and dammit he knew he was blushing but he’s going to think I'm so naive and just struggling and – “Well, I’m usually performing at some venue or another, if I’ve managed to get any bookings.” He looked over at Geralt and he seemed interested, not like he suddenly regretted inviting a hipster over, so, “I sing and, uh, play guitar. Among other things.”

Geralt nodded, and definitely didn’t look at Jaskier's mouth when he bit his lip nervously, except Jaskier definitely saw his eyes dart down.

Jaskier shrugged. “But nobody knows me around here. Not yet anyway,” Jaskier laughed quietly. “I’m on at the open mic night this week at Posada's –”

“The live night at The Mandrake is pretty good,” Geralt cut in. Jaskier couldn’t have contained his smile even if he’d tried. Honestly, so many people laughed at him for still trying and –

Breathe, Jask.

“Yeah? What kind of music do they usually have? I mean, well, a lot of my covers usually go down really well, but I also play a lot of my own songs,” Jaskier asked as he dried up the last bowl. Damn it, he was starting to ramble. But he looked over again at Geralt and the man was nodding, and Jaskier thought he might have Hmmed again. Silently though. Jaskier got a little distracted again watching Geralt dry his hands on Jaskier's dish towel and then start to put things away.

“Hmm? What sort of things do you write?” Geralt finally asked, and he definitely stood closer than he needed to as he reached around Jaskier to pick crockery up from the counter.

Jaskier was absolutely not about to reply something like meeting hot dads at the supermarket when the oven timer beeped loudly.

“Pizza!!”

Jaskier jumped a little at Ciri's sudden – immediate – reappearance and although he had no real reason to blush, his cheeks felt like they were on fire.

Geralt laughed ever so quietly. Jaskier eyed him carefully as the man's mouth turned up in the slightest smirk. Oh, Geralt was teasing him.

Jaskier flicked the dish towel at Geralt before joining Ciri at the oven, taking the mitts from her before she could try to hurt herself carrying too many hot pizzas. They took the pizzas to the lounge and before Jaskier could worry about where he should sit, Ciri sat him in the middle of the sofa because that’s where guests sit, Mr. Frilly.

“What film are we watching?” Ciri asked, sat on the floor in front of the telly to get to the DVD player.

“Oh!” Jaskier popped up again and went to his bag. “Have you guys seen The Princess Bride?”

Ciri had not and Gert agreed it was a not-rubbish film. Not that Jaskier would have judged him too harshly if he didn’t liked his favourite film.

He sat between Geralt and Ciri as they ate pizza, and Jaskier definitely agreed it was at least the best pizza in town and quite frankly until he tried ‘Papa Vesemir's’ pizza, he was willing to say best ever. They watched the film, Geralt and Jaskier both half watching Ciri watch it for the first time. When Geralt took his hair out from its bun, Jaskier couldn’t help but reach over to tuck a stray lock behind his ear before Geralt tied half of it back anyway.

Away from the warm kitchen, it cooled down quickly in the lounge so Geralt pulled the throw blanket over them from the back of the sofa. He laughed softly when Jaskier stole the opportunity to tuck in closer as his arms were raised, and then laughed properly when Ciri used Jaskier's distraction to steal his frilly scarf.

Jaskier must have dozed off towards the end of the film because he woke up to Geralt carefully easing him up from leaning against his chest as the credits rolled. “Just putting Ciri to bed.”

Ah, yes, parenting to be done. Jaskier blinked himself awake somewhat while Geralt followed Ciri upstairs. As he listened to muffled arguments about whether she'd brushed her teeth for long enough and how many stories she needed before sleep, Jaskier took their cleared plates back to the kitchen.

He was putting the last of the clean dishes away when Geralt reappeared.

“The princess sleeps?” Jaskier asked softly. Geralt Hmmed at him, leaning against the door frame in a way that looked far too good for him to not be aware.

“Are you awake now?” Geralt teased, and Jaskier admirably resisted sticking his tongue out. Really though, he only resisted because he finally closed the distance between them and leaned up, hopeful, towards Geralt. He was pretty sure, but Oh god what if he really had misread things –

Geralt kissed him. He kissed him softly, steadily and with a firm hand holding Jaskier's hip to his waist.

Jaskier sighed, only loud enough for Geralt to just hear. “Yeah, I'm awake.”

[nightowlfandom]

Anime! Fictional! BTS x Real World! Reader- Welcome To My World~ Episode 1

HEY HEY! IM SO EXCITE! Btw who here plays BTS World? This is very loosely based off that.

I need to download it again tbh.

CHECKOUT MY MASTERLIST HERE!

Leggo!

...

What does it mean to escape? To get away. If it means leaving behind all you know, all you’ve been raised to know, all you’ve been led to believe, with just yourself and the clothes on your back. Scary, but thrilling. Terrifying, but inviting. Unbelievable, but definitely possible....

...

On a early Tuesday morning where the sun was barely grazing the orange sky, you sat by your windowsill. You were dreamily staring out into the halo that was a mixture of red and orange. The halo of greyish clouds matched your mood to a complete tee. The aesthetic beauty of nature wasn’t enough to make you smile or even blink twice, however. It was always like this though. Yet something about this scene made you go sour.

Releasing a sigh, you stepped away from the window, shutting the curtains. Another day, the same thing. All you could do was attempt to power through.

As you lazily pulled your shirt over your head, you had managed to dodge that annoying dog. The little brat wasn’t even yours, but your oh-so loving step-sister’s. He always had a affinity for making your room a hot mess.  Only yours in particular. 

“Get out of here you little-.” you chased the dog out of your room, slamming your door as it scurried off. “What did you screw up this time?” you curiously scanned the room. Everytime that little fluffy beast rammed his little head into your personal space, something would end up broken, ripped, shattered, or completely destroyed beyond repair. 

You almost screamed when you saw a familiar book cover on the floor. You instantly dropped to your knees, praying to yourself that it wasn’t true. The cover had a pretty violent looking rip along with the first few pages. 

Your absolute reason for waking up in the morning was tarnished. A signed cover of BTS Universe Issue #1. Probably your one and only favorite series on planet Earth. You gingerly picked up the book, trying to inspect it with hopes that the damage was minimal. As little as this was, you almost felt like crying. However there was no time, you needed to tape up the pages and fast! Who cares if you missed breakfast.

...

“Morning Y/N!” Your step-dad greeted you in the kitchen. “You were upstairs an awful long time, I was about to send your mother to see if you were still up playing that game of yours!” he smiled warmly.

“Thanks Mr. Chai.” you replied politely. “I’m sorry I’m so late.”

“You know...Y/N...you could call me Dad.” he set a plate down on the table. “I know I’m not your father, but I want to be the best father-figure for you because I know...you haven’t really had that.”

You had to stop yourself from saying anything else. You haven’t had the best parental relationship, and your new step-dad really was trying. Maybe it was just his daughter that drove you nuts.

“Thank you.” you replied, smiling. “...Dad.” you winked, making finger guns. “Geez! You made a lot of food for just the four of us”

“ Well you ain’t see muffin, yet!” he winked. “You and Nari have a busy day today. She auditioning and you, my friend....well I don’t know exactly what you have planned for the day.”

“I’ll tell you if we can skip the food related puns.” you sat down at the table. It was a rule that everyone waited for everyone else. Even though you had taken the extra time to repair your copy of BTS Universe, you had seemed to be the first person down the stairs. In all honesty, you were just going to hang out at the comic store until Nari called to tell you she was done.

“Hey now, Donut kill my vibe!” he continued, laughing. “I have a million more of these, come on. Don’t go bacon my heart, Y/N.”

“Good job Y/N, you’ve gotten him started.” You mom came down the stairs in her little blazer and pencil skirt. “Whatever will we do now.”

“He did it himself, the guy’s an animal! You married a wild child, mom.” you joked. “He might just be a serial killer.”

“Don’t you mean...cereal killer?” he held up a box of Raisin Bran to make his point. You could only shake your head as your mother and step-father laughed together. Food related humor so early in the morning had to mean today wasn’t going to be a horrible as it started, at least for you.

“WHERE ARE MY THIGH HIGH BOOTS!” you heard a screech from upstairs. “THEY BETTER NOT BE IN YOUR ROOM, Y/N!”

“...WHY WOULD I WANT TO WEAR YOUR SHOES!” you yelled back after taking in a deep breath. “NARI, IF I WANTED TO BREAK MY ANKLES, I’D HAUL MYSELF DOWN THE STAIRS.”

“When will you two get along?” your mom shook her head. “It’s been three years.” 

“We don’t not get along.” You shook your head. “Not my fault she’s difficult.”

“I can think of a few times you’ve been difficult yourself, young lady.” you mother pointed a stern finger at you. “Like when you locked yourself in the room to read that silly cartoon of yours.”

“It’s not silly.” you defended yourself.

“Oh come on!” Nari’s voice voice could be heard alongside some loud footsteps. “I think it’s cute to be honest. Y/N here actually has a hobby besides stalking celebrities online.”

“Shut up, Nari.” you grumbled. “And keep your dog out of my room! He ruined my signed copy of BTS Universe!”

“Dorie got out again?” she seethed, looking annoyed. “I really have to put a bell on that dog.”

“Yeah.” you sighed, you bummed mood returning. Everyone knew just how much you loved that edition. You kept in in a super special display case, you cleaned the case every week, you kept your other issues on their own bookshelf along with your figurine and digital visual novel editions of the series. You were even on the buyer’s list for the special early anime release. You LOVED this series. Not even Nari dared to disrespect something as important as that, and she loved getting under your skin.

“I’m sure you’ll be able to find another one.” your mother set down a bowl of cereal in front of you along with a muffin. “Now eat, you have a big day today.”

“Yes mam.” you replied, helping yourself to some cereal.

“If you want, you can take a muffin or bagel with you.” your step dad said. 

“Dad! I can’t, I have to be super focused remember? Breakfast will just slow me down!” Nari scoffed.

“Not having breakfast will make it even worse, dummy. Dude, you’re gonna pass out on stage.” you threw a tiny cereal piece at her. “Eat something.”

“I’ll eat later, I just have my eye on the prize and nothing is going to stop me.” Nari stood up determined. 

“Will you at least eat some toast, crazy girl.” your mother said. “Y/N’s right, you need to at least have eaten something to calm your nerves. Y/N make sure Nari eats something before you two go your separate ways.”

“I’ll try, no promise.” you shrugged. “Nari, if you’re done, then get your stuff and let’s go.” You promptly finished your cereal and went to go back upstairs. “You got ten minutes.” 

“What’s her deal?” you could hear Nari ask, followed by an sudden whispering of your mom stating exactly what she thought was wrong with you. Your bet was on ‘everything’.

You walked back into your room, grabbing your purse from your desk. You eyed your taped up issue of BTS Universe #1. There was no way you were going to find another issue like that, and that damned dog just treated it like a loved toy. You grabbed your phone and shoved it into your purse. You went over to where the issue was and placed it on your desk. 

“NARI LET’S GO!” you shut the bedroom door behind you as you walked out the room. 

...

You sped to a stop outside the building. Nari was shaking in her shoes. She seemed hesitant to even open the door. 

“Call me when you’re finished so I can pick you up.” you said, getting ready to unlock the doors.

“You’re leaving me!?” Nari looked like she was about to explode.

“Hello?! It’s idol trainees only?” you raised an eyebrow. “I can’t go in there with you. Nari what’s the problem?”

“...Um...I’m nervous alright! I’m giving up almost everything and if I don’t get chosen...I’ll just prove my dad right. I need this.” she stared down at her hands. “I’m not used to being a reject. I don’t know how you-”

“You wanna leave here with two working legs, I suggest you don’t finished that sentence.” you cut her off. “I’m not a reject.”

“That’s not what I was gonna say. I’m saying I don’t know how you deal with nerves like this.” she looked like she was gonna pass out. 

“...You just do.” you nudged her shoulder. “You just go for it and hope. Go for it.”

“...Okay, I’ll try.” she opened the door. “...Thank you.” she stood up. “I’ll call you when I’m all set.” she shut the door. 

“I’ll literally be at the store around the corner.” you replied before driving off. You watched in the rear view as she took her sweet time going into the building. 

...(Later on)

You trudged behind Nari as she ran through the door. She seemed happy, so that must have meant the audition went well.

“I’m gonna take a nap.” you called to your mom and step-dad. “See you guys at dinner!”

You didn’t wait for them to reply before you closed the door. As you walked over to your bed, you noticed a disc laying on your bed. Just a random DVD. The closer you got, the font on the front got clearer.

“BTS World?” It didn’t look familiar in the slightest. “It’s called BTS Universe, Nice try Nari.” you wrote it off as a stupid prank by your oh-so-loving Step-Sister. It was only then you realized Nari was with you all day. 

You took another look at it, gently taking it in your hands. It looked like it was glowing. 

Call it curiosity, but you needed to know.

Your laptop was sitting at the edge of the bed, so you put the disc in. 

“State your name.” a voice came out of nowhere. 

“What?” you looked around in shock. The voice sounded like it came from right behind you.

“Please state your name.” the female robotic voice repeated. 

“Y/N.” 

“Are you sure that you want Y/N as your name?”

“Um Yes?” you raised an eyebrow. You still didn’t know what the fuck was going on.

“Would you like to start a new game? You don’t appear to have any saved filed under the name Y/N.”

Maybe you were sleepier than you thought, but you ran with it. “Yes.”

“Starting new game....now”

Your screen began glowing a bright blue, a vivid, saturated blue. It was like your screen had turned into a flashlight. 

“What the fu-” you suddenly stared at your hands, the very tips of your fingers turned pixelated. “MOM!!!” You tried to scream, only to have it come out in the form on an echo. You felt your feet leave the ground as tiny little pixels moved towards your computer. You could see the color draining from your walls, leaving everything white. It was like an earthquake ran through your room...only through your room.

Then...everything went dark.

...

(Why hello there...LET US PREPARE. I’m gonna go through with it this time, I swear on my bacon! The guys are coming next chappie!)

[hollandsmoose]

better than sex

A/N: I've been writing on this for ages, holy shit. This is based on that thing Shawn said about performing being better than sex lmao. @particularrose​ basically wrote this one with all the ideas she gave me tbh so special shout-out to her for being so incredible! So here you go, dudes, here's 6k of some flirty sub!Shawn with a guest star appearance by Niall Horan himself!

part 2 in masterlist

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Summertime in Los Angeles is positively scorching. When the sun is high in the sky, it can feel a bit like you’re boiling. Niall’s house thankfully has stellar air conditioning, but it doesn’t stop things from getting a little heated at times.

When Niall had suggested that you could spend your summer with him in his Hollywood home, you hadn’t even hesitated to accept the offer. The prospect of spending several weeks alone with one of your best friends was almost too good to be true. And, of course, it was.

What Niall hadn’t told you when he made that offer was that he’d also made that same offer to someone else. Shawn. And it’s not that you don’t like Shawn; it’s more that you perhaps like him a little too much.

You’d met Shawn through Niall, and you’d initially been a smidge smitten with the curly-haired and brown-eyed boy who was nothing if not cute. But the more you got to know him, the more you realized that he wasn’t just cute; he was hot.

It’s even worse now, to be honest. The heat means that Shawn is never wearing too much clothing, and every goddamn time you see him, he’s got some part of his body on display. When you’ll be trying to read a book by the pool, for example, he’ll come out in nothing but swim trunks, his glorious torso on exhibition. The amount of times you’ve caught yourself fantasizing about running your hands over those defined abs or biceps or that back of his is astounding and almost worrying.

You don’t ever want to make it too obvious that you’re staring. Niall is much like a brother to you,  you treat each other like siblings, and openly thirsting for one of his best friends seems like a bad idea.

You catch Shawn staring too, though. When you’ll go to take a dip in the pool in nothing more than a bikini, his eyes will linger a few moments too long. When you’ll walk around the house in booty shorts, the looks he gives you when he thinks you’re not looking are definitely indecent.

Almost subconsciously, it develops into a game of who can be the biggest tease, and it’s exhausting. Your only break from it is when Shawn goes off to the studio to write, although he always comes back frustrated, annoyed with the writer’s block he’s going through.

Niall does his best to help him, but there’s not much to do. Niall says it’s just something that happens every once in a while and that Shawn just has to let it pass. Shawn is not one for patience when it comes to things like these, however. He tells you that he’s looking for inspiration, and about two weeks into your stay is when he finds it.

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It’s a slightly colder day than usual, yet it would be a lie to say that it’s actually cold. LA is never cold. Not to you, anyway. All it really means is that you eat your dinner inside in the kitchen.

Niall has cooked tonight. It's always either you or him who's responsible for food because Shawn is absolutely hopeless in the kitchen. Therefore, he's often the one in charge of loading the dishwasher as compensation.

Niall has made you fettuccine alfredo which is cooked to perfection. He's picked up a couple of bottles of good white wine, a type that has certainly not been cheap. You suppose the price doesn't mean much to someone like him, though. He doesn't exactly lack money.

It doesn't take long before you've finished eating, but you remain at the table, drinking the rest of the wine. And that is when the topic falls to Shawn and his writer's block.

“I just really wanna finish this album, you know?” Shawn says, a little frustrated, and you both give him sympathetic nods. “Like, as soon as I'm done with it, I can start planning tour and shit. And I can't wait to get back on the road,” Niall raises his eyebrows and nods, knowing exactly what Shawn means. “Performing is just… the best fucking thing. Even better than sex.” The noise that leaves you is not one you can hold back.

“Ha!” you exclaim, giggling to yourself. When the two men give you confused looks, you smile. “I'm sorry, it's just…” You lock eyes with Shawn. The wine is making you too brave. “What kinda sex are you having?”

At this, Niall bursts into laughter, a laugh you would recognize anywhere, and he actually slaps the table. You can't help but laugh at your own comment too, but when you take in Shawn's expression, he doesn't seem amused.

He squints a little. “What does that mean?”

You pick up your wine glass. “Well, I'm just thinking that you must be having some pretty boring sex to be able to say that,” This only makes Niall snort out loud, now resting his forehead on the hard surface of the table.

“Maybe I just really like performing,”

“Maybe you do,”

“I do,”

“Great! Then that's settled!”

“I don't have boring sex,” Shawn bites back with a smirk, not willing to let it go. “I just think performing is better.”

“So performing is better than having your face buried in pussy?” you ask, incredulous. Niall is practically dying at this point in the conversation, gasping for air, and Shawn's face burns bright red. “Or being balls deep in one?” The wine's influence has made you too confident, and you know you should probably keep your mouth shut, but it's impossible. “I'll need to show you a good time, then.”

Niall doesn't seem to hear what you said, and you're glad. Niall may not be your real brother, but he is as overprotective as a real brother would be. Shawn, however, does hear.

He chokes on nothing, coughing desperately, and his eyes are wide. Niall gives him a confused look, but he doesn't give an explanation, and neither do you. Thankfully, the older man soon finds himself distracted, and no questions are asked. Not unless you count the silent one that Shawn is asking with his eyes.

-----------------

It's not until a little later that you find yourself alone with Shawn. Niall goes upstairs, to the living room there, after dinner to pick a movie to watch, still quite fond of an old-fashioned DVD, and you stay behind to make some popcorn. Shawn, of course, is in charge of loading the dishwasher.

There's a great deal of tension in the kitchen as your words from before hang in the air, and you watch from behind as he puts the things into the dishwasher. His back muscles flex under his tight T-shirt every time he bends down to put something in, and you have to rub your thighs together. The microwave hums, and the kernels start to pop as you eye Shawn, leaning back against the chair behind you.

“You're watching me,” he states and turns to look at you. Of course, he's smirking. “Like what you see?”

“Hmm, maybe,” you tease, deciding to make this even more fun. Maybe it's dumb to even go along with this. You know you should probably shut him down, but this has been a long time coming, and you will never forgive yourself if you give up this opportunity. “I mean, I've seen better.”

Shawn tilts his head, arrogant smirk still playing on his lips. “You sure?”

You squint as he slowly approaches you. “Are you always this cocky?”

“Only when I have reason to be,”

“And you do now?”

Shawn comes to a stop in front of you, right as the microwave beeps. You're frozen to the ground, unwilling and unable to move. Your bodies are maybe a bit too close, and it's actually hard to breathe, every breath of yours shaky and laboured.

“Yes,” he confesses, his fingers stroking your upper arm. “‘Cause you think I'm hot.” Busted. You can’t let him win, though. Resting your hand on his hard chest, you smile.

“Well, how cocky am I allowed to be, then?” you retort, meeting his confused eyes. “‘Cause you think I’m hot too,” When Shawn blushes profusely, confirming your suspicions, your smile just grows even wider. “Thought as much.”

He gulps and bites his lip. “Y/N, I-” He doesn’t get to say more.

“You guys ready?” Niall says, walking into the kitchen, and you and Shawn jump away from each other, hoping to get as much distance between you as possible. Your heart starts to race with the thoughts of what Niall will say, but he is too busy staring at his phone that he thankfully doesn’t take much notice of the situation unfolding in front of him. “I picked a movie. I think you’ll like it.”

And then Niall finally looks up, but you and Shawn are far apart, looking perfectly decent. There’s no reason to suspect a thing.

-----------------

It’s hard to focus on the movie when you’re sat right next to Shawn who keeps glancing your way, meeting your eyes with sin in his own. Upstairs, it’s slightly colder, and therefore you’ve picked up a few blankets, something you’re very grateful for.

Because when your hand purposefully finds its way onto Shawn’s thigh, the blankets over your bottom halves manage to cover it up. There’s no covering up the surprised gasp that leaves his mouth, but when Niall looks at him questioningly, he just excuses it as a cough.

“You’ve been coughing a lot tonight,” Niall asks, and the worry he feels for his friend is more than clear. It almost makes you feel a little bad, but when Shawn blushes anew, you can’t help but feel just a bit pleased with yourself. “You’re not sick, are you?”

“No, no,” Shawn protests, and as your fingers trace circles into his skin, pushing a little at the hem of his gym shorts, the flush on his cheeks only deepens into a dark red. He gulps. “Just had to cough, that’s all.” And with that, Niall’s attention goes back to the TV.

Shawn’s shallow breaths are a good indicator of the effect you have on him. You revel in how his eyes screw shut every time you venture a little too close to where he really needs your touch, his hand on yours urging you to continue. You play with the idea of actually giving him what he wants and putting an end to your teasing, but you’re having too much fun to stop, and with Niall right next to you, it doesn’t seem like the best idea. That’s a decision you come to regret, though. Because when you pull your hand away with a confident, shit-eating grin, Shawn is quick to get revenge.

The first thing you feel is the tips of his fingers tracing circles on the side of your thigh, and you know exactly where this is going. Payback time. You don’t dare to take a look at him, keeping your eyes fixed on the screen in front of you.

A shaky breath leaves you when his hand moves to rest on the top of your thigh, and when Shawn squeezes your skin ever so slightly, you have to bite your lip to keep a whimper from escaping. You hear the small chuckle that comes from him. He knows what he’s doing to you.

A heat is definitely pooling low in your stomach. A part of you is praying for him to give you some relief, but you know it’s not likely - not after your teasing. From your calculations, you figure that there is still a whole hour of the movie left, and you sigh. It’s gonna be a long hour.

The movie ends just before midnight, and you can honestly say that you’ve only understood about 10% of it. You and Shawn have not been playing nice, and you’re terribly worried for your underwear, surely soaked by now.

“Great movie, huh?” Niall says as he gets up to take it out of the DVD player. “What did you think?”

“Uh, yeah, it was…” you stutter, forcing a smile, meeting his eyes. “It was good.”

Niall tilts his head, squinting. “You okay, sweetie? You just seem a little… off,”

You gulp. “Just tired, that’s all,”

“Yeah, maybe we should head to bed,” Shawn suggests, his tone even more suggestive. Oh God, yes. No matter what happens now, you need to be in private. “I’m pretty tired too.” Niall agrees, and so do you.

You’re not tired in the slightest, though. You’re quite the opposite. You and Shawn’s little game has left you on the edge, and you’re practically bustling with energy. It’s endlessly funny to watch Shawn as he gets up, leaving the cover of the blankets, and tries to conceal the tent in his shorts. Niall, thank God, remains oblivious.

Soon, you’re all walking to your rooms, and you bid each other goodnight. Niall’s master bedroom is in one end of the house, whereas the rooms you and Shawn are occupying are on the same hallway in the other end. The distance between you and Shawn’s rooms and then Niall’s makes you feel a little safer.

Niall wouldn’t notice. It’s this thought that goes through your mind when you stand in the doorway to your room, and you turn to look at Shawn in the doorway of his. There’s a look in his eyes that is hard to decipher, and, for a moment, you consider asking what it means, but then there’s a noise from the living room, distracting you.

“Sorry, guys,” Niall says, chuckling to himself, and he picks something up from the coffee table. “Forgot my phone.”

When Niall has gone back to his room, you decide to do the same. Biting your lip, you give Shawn a look too. You both linger in your doorways for a few moments before you enter your rooms.

-----------------

Just about an hour has passed since you started getting ready for bed, and you're wiggling around on your mattress, trying to get comfortable, but you know very well that, even if you wanted to sleep, it wouldn't be possible.

There's a distinct ache between your thighs, and it needs relief. Your fingers toy with the waistband of your underwear. Shawn hasn't tried to get in contact, and you're almost at your breaking point. You need relief.

But right when you're about to dip your hand under the elastic, a thought crosses your mind. What if Shawn's doing this right now too? It's enough to make you clench involuntarily, only furthering the ache. Making a hasty decision, you throw the covers off and plant your feet on the floor. You're going to walk down the little hallway and knock on his door. Damn the consequences.

You've only just exited your room and shut your door when you hear another door open. Just down the hallway, Shawn emerges from his room, and then your eyes meet.

Whatever confidence you had before has left you. Had it stayed, you would have marched right up to him and kissed those pretty lips of his, but it's different now. None of you say anything, but, almost subconsciously, you both start to approach each other. It's slow - agonizingly slow, to be honest, but you do end up within touching distance.

“Can't sleep?” Shawn asks in a whisper, and there's a certain breathlessness to his voice that tells you all you need to know. When you shake your head, he swallows. “Me neither.”

The ache you're experiencing is not helped by the sight of his bare torso, barely visible in the dimly lit hallway. It's visible enough to have you rubbing your thighs together. He catches the movement, and you're expecting a smirk, but what you get from him is more like a whimper.

Even Shawn looks surprised by the sound. It’s hard to see much, the only light coming from your room, but you can see how his cheeks redden. Without a word, you lift your hand to rest on his chest, feeling the soft patch of hair there. He sucks in a sharp breath at your touch.

“Do you want this?” you whisper, establishing eye contact, and you pray that he’s down for this because you need him, and you might just cry if he turns you down. “Do you want me?”

“Oh my god, yes,” Shawn answers, the words rushing out from his mouth. “I want you so bad.”

You give him a coy look. “Then take me,”

Shawn doesn’t hesitate. He pushes his mouth on yours with such passion that you actually stumble back, but he has lightning reflexes and places a strong hand on your back to keep you from falling. The hand manages to press your bodies flush together, no space left between them.

His other hand cups your cheek, a delicate touch compared to how you're kissing. You're unsure of what to do with your hands at first, but they end up gripping his shoulders, trying to get him impossibly closer. It's not that you can't already feel almost every bit of him, though. There is an unmistakable hardness pressing against you, and if you weren't in a fucking hallway, you would have dropped to your knees by now.

Shawn doesn't seem to care much about the whole hallway thing nor about the fact that Niall could walk out and see the two of you at any time. Instead of leading you to one of your rooms and to privacy, he guides you backwards until your back thuds against the wall. The whine is impossible for you to keep in when he detaches his lips from yours.

Moving his hands to under your ass, Shawn squeezes a little. “Jump,”

You eye him skeptically, but he seems confident in his ability to carry you, and you're confident in his confidence. So you jump.

You wrap your legs around him, but he holds you up as if you're as light as a feather. Shawn doesn't go back to your lips, yet you don't complain. Because shortly after, his mouth is on your neck, kissing and licking - no biting or sucking, though. You would have no chance of hiding the hickey that that would leave behind. Your fingers have tangled themselves into Shawn’s curls, and when you pull on them, impatient, he gets the clue and tears himself away from your skin. Instead of giving you what you want and kissing you, he shakes his head slightly and smiles.

“Oh god,” Shawn says, still quiet. “Niall’s gonna kill me.”

Sighing, you roll your eyes. “Don’t mention Niall right now,” It’s bit of a mood killer, really.

Shawn raises his eyebrows, his expression undeniably cocky. “Giving me orders now, baby?” That gives you an idea.

“Yes,” you answer with no hesitation, seizing control. “Yes, I am,” You tug on his curls with more force than before, and he hisses. The atmosphere changes. You can feel it. The ball is in your court now. “Your room.”

Shawn is more than pliant. He carries you, only putting you down when you’re inside his room. He leaves you for a moment to close and lock the door, but then he’s back. It is different now, however. He doesn’t reach for you or try to kiss you; he awaits your command. So when you tell him to lie down on the bed, he does it in an instant.

He’s left the lamp on the nightstand on, so you’re able to see much better than in the hallway. You can so clearly see his flushed cheeks, his toned abs and his brown eyes, darker than usual. You can so clearly see the way his lips part when you crawl onto the mattress and between his legs, sitting back on your knees.

“What do you want, Shawn?” you ask as you run a finger up his thigh, and your tone is deceitfully sweet and innocent. You’re fully expecting him to beg for your mouth or hands around him, but he takes you by surprise - and not in a bad way.

“I wanna taste you,” he tells you, voice shaky and absolutely wrecked. “Want you to sit on my face.” Fuck. You have to fight to keep a whimper from leaving your mouth. How can you possibly say no to that request? It takes a fair bit of manoeuvring, but you manage to pull off your teeny-tiny, exposing shorts and your underwear, leaving you in nothing else than your camisole. You tug his grey sweatshorts off, and his already prominent bulge just becomes even more prominent when he’s just in his boxers. Unconsciously, you lick your lips.

You crawl up his body, but you don’t waste any time, going straight for his face. Settling over his face, you shiver when his hands come up to grab ahold of your thighs. Shawn stares up at you, wanting reassurance that he’s allowed to touch you, and you nod. In fact, you might just die if he doesn’t touch you. That may be an exaggeration, but it doesn’t feel that way to you.

You pull your camisole over your head, and that leaves you naked. Shawn’s eyes widen, and you don’t even think he’s aware that he’s moving his hands until they’re cupping your breasts. You don’t tell him off for not asking for permission, though. You’re far too consumed by the fire that his touch ignites inside you. When his thumbs brush against your nipples, you emit a keen noise that you can’t even believe comes from your own mouth.

Shawn groans beneath you, and when you glance down, you see the conflict in him. His eyes flicker from where his hands are to your dripping heat. You know he wants to please you, but it seems he can’t decide on where to start. So you decide for him.

You move his left hand down, back to the back of your thigh where he grips your flesh, bringing you closer to where he needs you. When you lock eyes, it’s almost overwhelming. There’s a hunger in them, yet he still waits for affirmation that he can go on. Such a good boy. You nod.

And then his mouth is on you. You moan, and Shawn groans. There’s a relief in it for both of you. His tongue runs up your slit, spreading you out so he has better access to all of you. You desperately need something to hold on to so you grab the headboard of the bed. His fingers pinch your nipple, just as his tongue touches your clit for the first time, and you gasp, rocking your hips against his mouth.

The noise that leaves him can’t be described as anything else than a growl, and the vibrations from it are utterly thrilling. Shawn’s other hand comes down and grips your other thigh, and he pulls you even closer, even further down onto his face. You’re almost worried that you’re drowning him, but, to be fair, he seems quite happy to drown.

Everything you’ve dreamed of for these last two weeks is coming true. Shawn wraps his lips around your clit and sucks. Instinctively, one of your hands reaches down and goes into his hair, running through it. He almost moves into your hand, almost like he’s seeking your touch. He really is fucked for you.

“So good for me,” you purr. “So good.” The praise seems to please him; it seems to encourage him further. His tongue definitely becomes a little more forceful and pushes down on your clit with even more pressure than before. The pleasure shoots through your body, and the fire within only intensifies.

Several hours of teasing has left you sensitive, and when his lips close around your clit again, you’re made aware of just how close you really are. God, what is this boy doing to me? Shawn doesn’t seem to have a particular method to his actions; he just eats you out like he’s been starving, lips and tongue everywhere, licking and sucking. It’s kind of rushed, but oh dear God, is it good. And, besides, you really don’t need him to go slow.

His hands travel to your hips, and you understand his hint when he pushes you a little away from him. He comes up for air, and it’s such a sight to behold when you look down at him. The area around his mouth is absolutely covered in your juices, glistening in the light from the bedside lamp.

“You taste so good, baby,” Shawn pants, placing a few kisses on the inside of your thighs. “So sweet,” Your hand strokes his curls, all tousled and unruly from your treatment. “Wanna make you cum.”

You can’t resist a smirk. “Make me, then,”

Shawn curses under his breath, and then he can’t hold himself back anymore. Hands still on your hips, he begins to guide you back and forth, effectively making you grind against his tongue, making you ride his face. You have to hold back the cries that are so close to leaving your lips, knowing very well that you can’t be too loud.

You’re so close, and Shawn is doing his very best to please you, to push you over the edge. It’s like he keeps trying to pull you closer, although he’s already buried in you. He’s groaning and moaning against your pussy, clearly finding some kind of pleasure in this too. You’re trembling and shivering with every touch of his tongue, and you’re panting, mumbling barely coherent encouragements. You can feel it building inside you, that release you’ve been aching for. It builds and builds and builds, right until you can feel yourself right there at the edge of the cliff. And then you dive in.

There are no words to describe the feeling that courses through your body when your orgasm hits you. Words like mind-blowing, sensational and extreme all come to mind, but they’re simply not enough. You honestly have to hold back your noises because you know they would be far too loud. You can’t keep in a gasp of his name, though.

Shawn leads you through your release, slowing down gradually so you can come down. His hands gently stroke your skin in an attempt to calm you down. You’re still catching your breath when you start to move down his body, settling on his thighs, your own thighs still shaking with the aftershocks.

“Good boy,” you praise, and you catch how his cock twitches in the confinement of his boxers where his precum has created a small wet spot as well. “Such a good boy. All for me,”

He nods desperately. “All for you,”

Shawn seems to get the hint when you crawl up a little further up, and he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. When you press your lips to his again, you’re still very much able to taste yourself. You’re not complaining, though. You deepen the kiss, your tongues meeting, and the taste of you is so strong on his that you actually moan into his mouth.

You don’t even mean to do it, but your hips grind down against his, and he moans right back. The friction is almost too much to bear for your sensitive sex, yet you need to feel it again. You grind against his clothed cock, feeling how hard it is for you.

Shawn whines when you draw away from his mouth, taking his bottom lip between your teeth before you let go completely. He doesn’t whine when you begin placing kisses down his neck and move further down, your kisses following. You pause for a few moments when you reach his abs, and then you lean in and lick a stripe up his six-pack. His muscles contract underneath your touch, and you enjoy how he makes this strangled noise in response, obviously having tried to muffle himself.

Upon reaching the waistband of his boxers with your kisses, you smirk. “Such a good boy deserves a reward, don’t you think?” He doesn’t answer, but you’re not surprised. He probably doesn’t want to be presumptuous. When you snap the elastic waistband against the skin of his stomach, he lets out a startled moan, and then he seems to understand what you’re asking him to do.

“Please, baby,” Shawn begs. “Please, just… please.”

Accepting his plead, you crawl back until you reach the end of the mattress, You keep eye contact as you move down to the foot of the bed and down to the floor, sinking to your knees. You yank on his one leg the tiniest bit, but he understands. Soon after, he’s wiggled down to where you want him, and Shawn sits up. He clearly wants to watch. He helps you to remove his boxers, and your mouth actually fucking salivates at the sight of his cock springing free. You don’t often call things perfect, but his cock certainly is. The perfect size, the perfect color, the perfect everything.

Shawn quite eagerly kicks off his underwear, desperate to be rid of them. He stares down at you, and you stare up at him. He’s leaking from the tip quite a lot, but that only makes your job easier. You don’t even have to spit on him or in your hand; he’s already lubricated himself enough. You maintain eye contact when you wrap your hand around him, and it’s almost amusing to watch how his eyes flutter, fighting the urge to close.

You tsk-tsk. “Keep your eyes on me, Shawn,”

It’s a challenge, and you’re aware. You want to challenge him. You run your thumb over his tip, spreading the precum over the length of him. He inhales sharply at your touch, and it makes you smile. You like knowing that you have an effect on him. His hands are gripping the edge of the mattress, fingers digging into it.

“Y/N,” Shawn says, voice shaky. “I’m not-” He’s interrupted by a hiss from his own mouth when you touch his tip again. “Not gonna last long.” You appreciate the honesty, although you’re not surprised in the slightest. You’ve practically been edging him for hours now.

You pump a few times, revelling in his responses, before you lean in and press a kiss to his tip. His chest is heaving, his lip between his teeth, and he’s visibly struggling to hold back his noises. You kiss down to the base of him, and you take a second to consider what to do next.

You’re in a mood to make him suffer a little. And when you lick from base to tip, he definitely suffers. He whimpers, his knuckles turning white. You make sure to keep eye contact the first time you wrap your lips around his cock. He lets out this gasp in response, high-pitched and a bit too loud, and it only makes you want to go further. You keep your hand wrapped around him, and when you start to bob your head, your hand follows the rhythm.

The sounds of your movements are absolutely obscene, and you suspect it all looks just as obscene. His cock is warm and heavy on your tongue, his precum a bit salty. Sucking dick is usually not something you enjoy, but Shawn makes it more than enjoyable. His reactions are encouraging, gasps and moans and whimpers all revealing just how good you’re making him feel.

You can see how he struggles not to lift his hips and thrust into the warmth of your mouth. Had this been a different situation, you might’ve let him fuck your face, but you’re in control now. You want to take this at your pace.

Not that you have any intention of going slow, to be honest. You even let one hand go down to his balls, making sure to stimulate him even further. It takes Shawn by surprise, though. He loses control for just a moment, and his hips move up. The accusatory look you give him when you pull out for air has him apologizing in an instant, and you soon return to business as normal.

You become sloppier towards the end, something that he seems to like. He screws his eyes shut, but you don’t bother to chastise him because you know he’s getting to where you want him to be, and you can’t blame him for not being able to control his body right now. The bobs of your head begin to quicken, your saliva coating him thoroughly, and you just know he’s approaching his release. His cock is twitchy, his breathing is unbelievably unsteady, and the words that leave him are unintelligible, although you can hear that he’s trying to say something.

Shawn does manage to get something out. “Gonna… gonna cum,”

His warning is a nice gesture; it gives you time to pull off him. But you don’t. He’s been so good for you, and he deserves a treat. You only pull away the tiniest bit, resting his tip on your tongue, while your hand keeps pumping what used to be in your mouth. His one hand finally lets go of the mattress to cup the side of your face, and it’s an oddly cute thing to do.

When Shawn cums, he almost shouts out a curse, and it’s far too loud, but you really don’t care. You take everything he gives you, and it’s only when he jerks a little away from you that you let him go. He watches you swallow, and the sight seems to be a smidge overwhelming. He groans and falls back against the bed, covering his face with his hands, his chest heaving and all flushed. Shawn only removes his hands when you’ve crawled up, and you’re face-to-face again.

“Y/N, I… fuck,” he pants. “That was fucking insane, holy shit,” You giggle, stroking a few curls away from his sweaty forehead. “C’mere.” He brings you closer, and his lips find yours. To be honest, you’re kinda impressed. He definitely isn’t too touchy when it comes to tasting himself.

“So…” you begin when he releases you again. “Is performing still better than sex?” He raises his eyebrows, giving you a shit-eating grin.

“Hmm, yes,” Shawn answers and laughs, and you scoff as if truly offended. You know he’s playing with you. “Well, I didn’t get to hear you scream for me,” He smirks. “And when I perform, I usually have thousands of girls screaming for me.”

You roll your eyes. “Honestly? I could have screamed. But Niall would’ve heard, and I have the feeling I’d have to attend your funeral, then,”

Shawn playfully shrugs. “Would’ve been worth it,”

“Speaking of Niall, though,” you start, getting off the bed. “It’s been fun, but I should be going back to my room. Can’t be found with you in the morning, you know?” There’s a sort of sadness to Shawn when he nods and watches you get your clothes back on. “Goodnight, baby boy.”

-----------------

The next morning, you wake up with a grin on your lips. Thinking about what happened last night almost makes you ache again. You get up, and while you’re getting ready, the grin falls off your face. You can’t be sure what it’s gonna be like to see Shawn again. You don’t know what he’ll say. You can’t believe you even care, but you do.

So it’s with a slightly erratic heartbeat that you enter the kitchen a little later, but to your surprise, the only person you find there is Niall, cooking breakfast.

“Morning!” he greets and offers a smile. “Sleep well?” You feel the heat travelling to your cheeks at his question. If only you knew.

“Uh, yeah… yeah, I did,” you answer, and then you make a bit of a show of looking around the room. “Where’s Shawn?”

“Oh, he left for the studio about an hour ago,”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” Niall replies and shrugs. “Said he found some inspiration during the night,” Oh god. “Dunno what he meant, but good for him. He’s been looking for it for quite a while.”

You know exactly what he meant.

-----------------

@sauveteen @peachnpomegranate @yellowitsmendes @me-a-hopeless-romantic @couple100miles @rishlo @bluerroses @nervousroses @shavvnmcndcs @crxssourbones @ashwarren32

[butterflyinthewell]

Disabled abusers

Yes, I’m going there, because it’s what my dad does. He has advanced Parkinson’s and is not independent anymore.

This post is not attacking all disabled people who are dependent on caregivers. This is not attacking disabled people with memory, mental or mobility issues who have no choice but to need caregivers to survive.

It’s a very specific group where the disabled person is an abuser and the abused person is their caregiver. This is based on stuff my dad does, knowingly and intentionally, to suck the life out of me and by proxy my mom. We can’t afford outside help and insurance won’t cover out of home care either, so we are trapped.

My dad doesn’t have dementia. He has a lot of mobility issues, but is capable of doing some things himself without help.

And here is the stuff he does:

Waiting until me or mom are trying to accomplish a task and asking for something that is complex and time consuming— like needing to go to the bathroom or wanting us to put in a dvd. This can include knowingly interrupting complicated tasks like cooking, counting money, balancing a checkbook, trying to deal with a massively important phone call or right before we go out the door for appointments, church, etc..

Doing the above, and moving to get up if we don’t respond that very second. He’s a fall risk when he’s getting up and knows this, so he forces us to run over and stabilize him.

Doing the above, but giving deliberately unclear instructions so it takes even longer and leads to everybody pissed off at everybody else.

Doing the above several times in a row when me or mom are trying to watch something on tv, trying to accomplish a personal task or read something, and this is after we have asked him to please give us a break for awhile.

When my mom was in the hospital having her gallbladder taken out(she’s fine now), I was trying to run the house and do a lot of things I didn’t know how to do and had to learn on the fly. Dad made no effort to instruct me or help me, he just demanded, demanded, demanded attention nonstop. When I melted down (I’m autistic), he yelled at me for not sitting with him and basically said how dare I make him feel bad.

We will get all the things we know he needs all set up for him, walk away and as soon as he sees us get engrossed in something he asks for something that’s not his usual, like he wants his slipper socks when the weather is hot, or he wants to see the first 10 dvds in his movie cupboard so he can decide which to watch, or he will knock his drink over and make a huge mess.

Being reckless and careless, which leads to items being damaged or broken, and getting all upset at me or mom when we get upset that we lost something we use. (Could be a lamp gets broken by a fall, or papers with phone numbers and addresses gets Gatorade spilled on it, or a drawer gets knocked off its track and broken; basically the items damaged are never his own and not being able to use them makes life harder for mom and me.)

Getting up in the middle of the night (huge fall risk) which forces me or mom (usually mom) to stay up with him. He’s usually stoned up on massive amounts of sleep meds and still he wakes up. He ignores requests to please go lay in bed so everybody else can sleep. My mom is very sleep deprived. I think she finally took my advice and just goes to bed; if dad wants to knowingly put himself at risk of a fall then it’s not her fault if he falls.

Putting on an “I’m so helpless” act whenever he knows he pissed me or mom off with all of the above. Especially when we’re out in public (on those rare occasions) so we can’t show any frustration or tiredness without us, the caregivers, looking like terrible people. (Yes, it is clearly an act, not a fluctuation in ability. His fluctuation of ability leads to a different pattern of legit needs than when he’s acting.)

Using his dependence on me and mom as a way to keep us from having any real freedom to just go have a girls day out at a movie or something, so outings are super rare. He will say things that make my mom feel super guilty for wanting to go out or whatever. I don’t go out much, except to choir stuff, so I just go “okay bye” and head out if I have a ride to the event, but my mom falls into the guilt real easy and tends to just stay home with him.

If me or mom try to set up anything to allow him to do something more independently, he will find a way to mess it up so bad that we have to go back to doing it for him. For example, we arranged his meds in cups in ways that are clearly labeled and separate so he can’t possibly mistake one pill for another. He stuck a bunch of pills into one cup and said it’s too hard without even trying the new way. So we have to dole out certain meds to him to make sure he takes them correctly. (This is not confusion on his part, it’s deliberate.)

He won’t use the desk bell we put out in his reach to get our attention and will instead shout. His voice is not strong, so he may shout two or three times before me or mom hear his voice and go see what’s going on. He will then accost us with claims that he was yelling for ages and ages and how dare we ignore him. (Gaslighting basically.)

Telling me I shouldn’t run my air conditioner or fan when it’s hot “so I can hear him if he needs me” when the desk bell is guaranteed to get my attention. I told him I’m not going to swelter in my room on the chance he might need me and to use the bell.

The house looks like a dump most of the time because dad’s legit needs on top of his manufactured controlling ones take up so much time in the day that mom and me are just too tired to tackle it. And then dad will invite one of his friends over with short notice, so mom and me scramble to vacuum and dust so there’s at least an illusion of clean. This has forced us to cancel plans last minute before.

And the most insidious part of it all is knowing my dad has so many legit needs means me and my mom both feel like terrible, neglectful people when we’re tired or frustrated with his unnecessary demands.

It would be a totally different picture if dad wasn’t aware of how he was acting, but he totally is aware, is totally in control of his behavior and he totally doesn’t care how stressed out everyone else is. His needs take all precedence and everybody else is just window dressing.

I was raised to never behave the way my dad is behaving, and now he makes me feel like the bad guy when I display anger and frustration. I feel like my childhood was a gaslight. My dad always punished me for doing things he turned around and did himself, and I feel like this situation he has me trapped in is his worst way of doing it yet.

I am in professional counseling because the anger issues I have are getting ugly and out of control. I’m stuck in a state of burnout. I am no longer able to muster compassion towards my dad, but I still feel it very strongly for any other person in a difficult or painful situation. But if I look at my dad, I’m just numb.

There needs to be awareness of disabled abusers who knowingly use their needs to trap and demean caregivers. It happens. There are icky people in every community and enabling or covering them up is extremely damaging.

In a world where we call for equality, we have to call out all abusers, even marginalized ones.

Abuse is never okay.

[365days365movies]

February 5, 2021: The Notebook (2004)(Part 1)

...Do I have to?

...The year was 2004. I was 13, my Mom was still into romance movies, and we had a Hollywood Video nearby. God, I miss Hollywood Video, you have NO idea. Anyway, I obviously didn’t watch this movie (or I wouldn’t be watching it now), but I do remember kissing in the rain...or was that just the DVD cover? Other than that, I got nothin’. Still, I like both Rachel McAdams and Ryan Gosling in other works, so I guess we’ll see.

I also can’t start this without acknowledging the fact that this is based upon a Nicholas Sparks book, and...I’m not into that. Sparks sucks, man. Sappy, overemotional, and constantly predictable folderol.

OK, Nicholas Sparks, let’s get this over with. SPOILERS AHEAD!!!

Recap

We start with scenic shots of a boat rowing through a marsh, being visited by a flock of snow geese. As they fly off, an elderly woman (Gena Rowlands) looks out of a window over it. The woman is in an old-folks home, and is visited by Duke (James Garner), another resident. He’s here to read from a book, despite it not being a “good day,” according to the woman’s attendant.

The story in the book begins on June 6, 1940, at a carnival in South Carolina. There, Noah Calhoun (Ryan Gosling) sees Allie Hamilton (Rachel McAdams), and it’s infatuation at first sight. He’s a lumber yard worker, and she’s a rich heiress. He’s also EXTREMELY forward, and she’s EXTREMELY not interested. He approaches her for a dance (at a...carnival), and she says no, having literally never seen this guy before. He responds to this rejection by...butting into her date with another dude of a Ferris Wheel? 

And when she once again rejects his offer for a date...he, uh...he threatens to kill himself off of the Ferris Wheel?

Um. Yeah, no. That’s a new level of manipulation. She pants him on the Ferris Wheel and humiliates him, but JESUS CHRIST, this dude is a lot. That’s compounded the next day, when he continues to pursue her, and she continues to be EXTREMELY not interested! DUDE. GET A GODDAMN CLUE HERE, she is NOT INTERESTED IN YOUR SHIT.

Is Noah the first simp? Because he’s really starting to seem like it. Anyway, Noah and his friend Fin (Kevin Connolly) basically set her up to go on a double date with Noah, and he continues to be overly forward. Maybe this is supposed to be romantic, but it definitely doesn’t feel like it to me.

We find out that Allie is a quite well-educated young woman, whose schedule is basically completely controlled by her parents, who want her to go to college as well. Noah questions why her life is so restrictive, nothing that she should be free, which she insists she is. He then lies down in the middle of the road, watching the street...lights…

Holy shit, he’s a manic pixie dream boy. HOLY SHIT HE’S A MANIC PIXIE DREAM SIMP. He does all these quirky things, and breaks the girl in the restrictive lifestyle out of said lifestyle. Even if his dumbass actions nearly get him and Allie killed. See, she lies down in the street with him, and they nearly get run over by a car. And this second near-death experience is apparently SO romantic, that Allie’s won over, and they...just dance in the middle of the street. Because Ryan Gosling has no idea where to dance, apparently.

Billie Holiday sings “I’ll Be Seeing You” in the background (which, yes, I love), and we cut back to Duke reading to the elderly woman, who correctly guesses that they fell in love. And yeah, they go head-over-heels, apparently. Which is symbolized by, just, the most graphic of PDAs over, lord. 

Allie meets Noah’s father, Frank (Sam Shepard), a seemingly nice man and poetry fan (he’s a Tennyson man apparently). He asks her if she wants breakfast-for-dinner, and he’s my favorite character so far.

However, as if to set up the conflict to come, we’re reminded that this is a summer romance, and that they come from two different classes and worlds. Because of course they do, but whatever, moving on. That is when the following scene takes place.

...Look, I’m a bird guy by trade, and even I think that was weird.

We get more glimpses of their romance, including them dancing at a gathering with...a bunch of black peopNOPE. HOLD YOUR TONGUE, 365, WAIT FOR THE REVIEW TO TALK ABOUT THAT SHIT. At the end of this montage, we meet Allie’s father, the uppity and rich John Hamilton (David Thornton), and his GLORIOUS mustache (mustache). 

He invites Noah to Sunday brunch, which is being attended by...black servaHOOOOOOLD. NOT NOW 365 NOT NOW. We also meet Allie’s controlling mother, Anne Hamilton (Joan Allen). When Noah tells them how much money he makes, they immediately look down on him and his poor, poor ways. Anne reveals that Allie is headed to Sarah Lawrence, an all-girl’s school in New York. Which is, uh...NOT close.

Anne very much disapproves of her relationship with Noah, seeing him as a low-born of little consequence. Not that it matters, because the two head to a DEFINITELY HAUNTED house in the woods one night, which overlooks the marshlands. The bats from the Scooby-Doo intro fly by as the two walk in to, again, AN ABSOLUTELY HAUNTED HOUSE. This is the 1772 Windsor Plantation, home to...the Swamp Fox? Huh. Didn’t expect a crossover with the Mel Gibson movie The Patriot, but OK then.

The two talk about their house in the future, and somewhere in the house, a painting’s eyes move mysteriously. Allie plays a tune on the piano, which 1) sounds AMAZINGLY creepy, and 2) I’m pretty sure is the opening song, which is a neat touch. Guess that’s the theme for the movie, or possibly Allie’s leitmotif.

Anyway, it seems that the ghostly wails of Old Man Marion have gotten them both all hot and bothered, and they prepare to make love, right there in the old haunted house. The two undress while social distancing, then approach, significantly raising their risks of contracting COVID-19. Allie is CLEARLY very nervous, and as they attempt to begin the dirty deed, Allie can’t stop rambling about the current situation. Which is clearly putting Noah off the mood, but the two still clearly care about each other. It’s weirdly sweet, considering the fact that there’re, like, 50 ghosts watching, and God knows how many of those are slaaaaaaaAAAANYWAY

Fin suddenly bursts in, as it would appear that Allie’s parents have every policeman in town looking for her. Her parents are clearly upset, and her mother demands that Allie stops seeing Noah, whom she literally describes as “trash.” Jesus. And they aren’t exactly quiet about it, as Noah hears the entire conversation. He understandably leaves, and is also clearly disheartened by the whole situation. 

When Allie catches up to him, he says he has to think about this whole thing, including the fact that she’s going to Sarah Lawrence, and he’s staying behind. And I’m not gonna lie, he’s actually being realistic about this whole thing, and she’s acting FAR less rational. She actually breaks up with him right then and there, and as she’s literally physically assaulting him, I realize that SHE is actually the psychologically unstable one, HOLY SHIT. Emotionally compromised or not, Allie goes BONKERS here.

The next day, her folks decide that they’re leaving, that very day. Allie doesn’t want to leave without making amends with Noah, and she’s regretting her actions the previous night. She goes to Fin, and tells him to tell Noah that she loves him, and that she’s sorry. Noah shows up a little too late, and goes to return the comments, but Allie’s already gone.

Noah somehow gets her address, and writes her 365 letters, one letter every day. He never gets one in response, so he gives up and moves with Fin to Atlanta. Allie’s mom is seen getting the mail, so we know EXACTLY what happened to those letters. Meanwhile, it’s now 1941, and it’s time for World War II for the USA! Fin and Noah fight with Patton’s troops, and Fin doesn’t make it.

Allie, meanwhile, is in college, and works as a Nurse’s Aide for war veterans. She sees all of them as Noah,,,which is weird because she hasn’t gotten any of his letters, so she wouldn’t know that he went to war, but whatever. One of these injured men is Lon Hammond, Jr. (James Marsden). And...aw...AWWWWWWW. Did I just type James Marsden? GODDAMN IT HE’S GONNA GET CUCKED

James Marsden seems to have only one role in movies, and that’s to be overshadowed by another dude, even though in many instances, he’s a totally fine guy. The X-Men films, Superman Returns, Enchanted, the Westworld series in a way, TELL ME I AM GODDAMN WRONG. Dude’s always in movies where he plays the love interest to a girl, and that girl is pursued by another guy, and he ALWAYS LOSES TO THAT GUY. You could argue that Cyclops in the X-Men escaped that fate, but need I remind that first, Jean died, and then she came back AND KILLED HIM. STOP SCREWING OVER JASON MARSDEN’S LOVE LIFE, MOVIES!!!!

Seems like we’re once again headed down that path, though, as the very injured Lon asks Allie out on a date while in recovery, then takes her out once he’s healed. And, since he’s about as forward as Noah was, but less crazy when asking her out, she falls in love with him quickly. And it’s Duke that makes that assessment, not me. And, OF COURSE, he’s a rich Southern boy, meaning that her parents are going to approve.

At a dance club in the city with...black performDEAR GOD IT’S GETTING HARD TO HOLD ON BUT I GOTTA DO IT MOVING ON

He proposes to her, with her parents’ full permission (of course, because he’s rich and southern, gross), and she gladly accepts. He jumps on stage and announces to the entire club that they’re getting married. However, she’s still missing Noah subconsciously.

Speaking of, Noah comes home from war, presumably in 1945, and finds that his father sold him the house in order to buy the Windsor Plantation. Around the same time, Noah finds out that Allie’s moved on, and is with Lon. So, what does he do? The only logical thing: he restores the entire plantation by himself in order to win Allie back FUCKING REALLY?

Dude, you rebuilt an entire house on your own, your father died, and you could EASILY get rich off of selling the house and continuing to restore other derelict properties in the area! Upwards mobility, my man! You don’t even need to stay in town anymore! Hell, THAT’S a better plan to win both Allie’s AND her parents’ approval! STOP SIMPIN’, AND IF YOU’RE GONNA SIMP, DO IT RIGHT!!!

He’s also sleeping with a war widow, Martha Shaw (Jamie Brown), and STILL thinks only of Allie, and her sweet, sweeeeeeet bathwater, probably. Speaking of, Allie’s trying on a wedding dress, when she sees a photo of Noah in the paper in front of the plantation, which certainly shocks her. Confused, she goes to see Lon at his job as a stockbroker, and laments to him her lost romantic whimsy, brought up by seeing Ryan Gosling (AKA a natural response). She tells him that she’s going to Seabrook to “clear her head.” Lon asks if he should be worried. She says no. SHE LIIIIIIIIIIES.

Halfway mark, and this is a good place to cut! See you in Part 2!

[mickeychii]

Truces & Teasing :: Darkiplier x Fem!Reader

Being the caretaker of a sick close friend and roommate is no easy task. Especially when one of Y/n's sick friends supposed 'brother' comes along to help, who wasn't told of Y/n's presence. 

Y/n stared back into the surprised, black orbs belonging to Mark's supposed twin. Y/n had always known it was a cover up story but she never acknowledged his lie and rolled along it. "Uh...Hell...hello." She sputtered quietly. Y/n was a bit bashful and shy with new people, but she sucked it up with a timid smile towards the male a few feet from her. They've only really met once or twice in passing. Holding a conversation was both out of question and their comfort zones. "Hello there...I believe we've never officially met." The grey-scale toned male held his hand out to her in a simple, business-like manner. Y/n nodded and gave a firm handshake out of habit, which seemed to surprise him even more. But a good handshake shows character. Y/n realized her grip and sucked in a breath through her teeth. "Ah, sorry. It's nice to meet you." Their hands quickly fled to their sides again. An awkward silence befell them. "I'm...I'm Y/n, nice. I'm Mark's roommate- well sort-of. What's your name?" Y/n spoke lightly in an attempt to release the awkward tension in the doorway of Mark's room. Her sick friend currently sleeping ever so heavily. The Mark look-alike nodded lightly. "I supposed it's nice to meet you too, Miss L/n. I am Darkiplier. But, you may call me Dark if that eases it." 'Darkiplier' spoke in a sophisticated and calm manner. "Now may I come in?" Y/n stiffened for a moment and let the silence envelop them again. How'd he know her last name? She stayed quiet, gathering her guts. "Are y-you here for Mark?" She asked a bit more confidently than before. Darkiplier nodded a bit more firmly this time. "Yes, he had called me earlier. He didn't mention anything of a...friend." Dark averted his gaze as he spoke of Y/n's position in Mark's life - as if it hurt him to face it. Y/n furrowed her brows and crossed her arms over her chest. "Best friend." She bluntly stated. "And I think I have it handled, Mr." Y/n let out the last word with a straightforward, direct force.

Dark stifled a smirk with a heavy sigh as if this saddened him greatly. Y/n couldn't help but feel a bit guilty but her common sense prevented any sort of apology. "Besides," Their eyes met. "He's asleep. And it's gonna be like that for a while." Y/n turned around and carefully closed the bedroom door. A dark presence seemed to come up behind her. Her body stiffened in a startled instinct with her hand gripping the door handle. Carefully turning her head, her eyes caught onto his. Noticing how he had tints of red in the dark brown of his eyes, giving off the black abyss feel. Y/n gulped. He hadn't moved an inch but it felt as if he was right up against her. Dark tilted his head and took a step forward. "You alright?" He asked after it felt like years of just staring. Y/n felt like a deer in the headlights but nodded nonetheless. "Yeah..just got a bit..chilled." With the clearing of her throat, she walked past him. Their arms brushing against another for a brief moment that felt like an eternity to him. Dark repressed a shiver and followed at her beckoning hand motion. "You want anything to eat..drink?" Y/n asked politely as she poured herself a glass of O.J. "Any wine?" Dark mused in a hoarse, amused hum. Y/n couldn't help but let out a soft chuckle. "I suppose so if there was any. If you knew Mark enough.." She giggled, a grin making its way onto her features. Dark joined in with his own chuckle. "I must've skipped that saddening fact about him." He sighed in an intentional dramatic way. Making Y/n smile a little. "Well, I guess I'll have some of what you're having." Y/n nodded and grabbed another glass, filling it with the juice before placing it before him. He nodded in thanks before taking a sip of it. "So...Are you family..? Twin?" Y/n asked and leaned against the counter with a soft grip around her cup. Dark paused for a moment, the cup freezing at his lips. He slowly placed the cup down as he swallowed the juice left in his mouth. "You could say that." Dark leaned forward some, intertwining his finger as if in an important meeting. Y/n raised a brow. "Now that's a bold-faced lie." She grinned, Dark's eyes widened some then raised his own brow with a sardonic, shit-eating grin. "And what makes you believe that? I could be his dad for all you know." Y/n scoffed at the idea with a roll of her eyes. "I know what his dad looks like you dimwit." She pointed to a picture frame on the wall of Mark posing with his mother as a child. He definitely had his mothers smile. Dark chuckled. "Then what am I, Miss. Y/n? Since you seem to know everything." He urged lightheartedly, resting his chin on the heel of his palm. Y/n thought for a moment. "I for sure know you're not his father or any sort a family. I've been...advised about you." Y/n gave her own shit-eating grin as she walked over to the sink and washed out her cup. Dark opened his mouth to speak but quickly shut it as she went on. "Besides, I know you're a demon of some sort. It's not hard to tell." Dark was completely taken aback of this humans' knowledge. He sighed. "I assume Mark's the one who warned you? He gets worried too easily I must say." Dark mused and met her gaze. He gingerly stood up and walked over to her. Y/n tensed. She was fine talking earlier but that was only because a counter was between them, preventing any contact. But now nothing stood between them. "Let me do mine. I can only assume you've had enough to deal with today." Dark stood beside her, rolling his sleeves up above his elbow. 'God that's kinda hot..' Y/n gulped and looked away, not seeing the subtle smirk on his face. She hadn't noticed that he had been wearing professional attire - everything up to the hair & down to the shoes except for a suit jacket. "I-I'm fine, Mark isn't really that much of a handful. He's just kinda like a toddler if he doesn't get his sleep in." They both gave a small chuckle. He looked over to her, Y/n currently drying off the cups. Darkiplier didn't know why, but this woman was leaving a great impression on him and it had only been a few minutes since they actually met. Y/n let out a sigh through her nose, putting the cups away. A more comfortable silence settled between them. Y/n closed the cupboard with a quiet hum before turning to the man. A very broad-shouldered man. "Well, it's gonna be a couple of hours until he wakes up. Wanna watch some movies?" Y/n suggested in a casual manner. "I got some snacks for a perfect movie night." She mused, lightly scratching her cheek. "That sounds...nice. I'd love too, Miss Y/n." He replied, letting a soft smile beam through. As if he actually appreciated being included. "You don't have to call me 'Miss.' Just call me Y/n." She smiled back and walked to the living room. Sitting onto her haunches in front of the DVD shelf. She preferred DVD's over Netflix or Hulu and the such."Do you like horror?" Dark raised an eyebrow and Y/n froze. "Oh gosh, sorry, I didn't mean-! Based off you, I-I meant-" Y/n's spew of apologies and concern was cut off by a burst of real but quiet laughter as too not wake his sleeping counterpart. Y/n looked to her feet in embarrassment. A heavy blush on her cheeks and the tips of her ears. Dark, of course, noticed this and placed a hand on her head. "Oh no, I don't mean to laugh at you, Y/n, I love horror. No need to apologize." Y/n finally looked up to him. A beaming smile gracing his face. "It's alright. I get stereotyped all the time. Nothing new." Y/n slowly nodded and forced a small smile. "O..OK." She meekly answered and looked to the shelf. He reached over her shoulders and grabbed a case. "How about this one?" Y/n looked to see it was the 'The Conjuring.' She nodded with an accepting hum. "Sounds good. Want any popcorn?" Dark shook his head, standing up from his crouched position. Y/n noticing how his arm had been lamely draping over her shoulder. The warmth on her back leaving suddenly. "Lemme close the curtains. Better movie experience, don't ya' think?" A smile enveloped Y/n's features as he placed the disc into the player. Dark stared for a moment in slight wonder before shooting a smile back. Causing her to immediately look away. 'Such a shy girl.' He thought to himself with a small chuckle and stood up. Y/n finished closing the living room off from any source of light. "Oh! I'll be right back. I need to check on Mark." She jogged out into the hallway, his eyes following her with a nod. Dark feigned a smile but it became a cold, emotionless as soon as she left. 'I must've forgotten. It's always going to be about him, huh?' Dark's fists clenched as he glared into the hallway. A staggered, harsh sigh escaped him. A three-D, blue and red outline engulfed his body. Seemingly as if a 'shell' was shattering within seconds around him. God he sometimes absolutely hated Mark for that very reason. "Sorry about that. Mark wanted me to check up on him, in his words, every twenty-seven minutes." She let out a shy laugh and rubbed her nape. Dark's sudden fury vanished and replaced with a state of mind so calm it almost scared him. Almost. Dark let out a small grin and patted the spot next to him on the large couch. "Well, let's start this. It's getting late." Y/n, without any sort of hesitance, sat next to him with two blankets in hand. Both equally fluffy and smelled like lavender and vanilla. But kept at least a foot of space between them for the sake of respect of space. "Here's a blanket in case you get cold." She whispered as the movie began. Dark noticed this and let out a slight huff through his nose. 'She's a thoughtful one too..how adorable.' His thoughts soon succumbed to the horror movie. Thoroughly enjoying it. On the other hand, Y/n loved the adrenaline rush of fear she felt when she watched horror. It was one of the main reasons she loved the genre. The black blanket was tugged around her frame in an attempt of receiving warmth and warding off the slight fear she experienced. Dark would glance over to her every so often, seeing her eyes widen in wonder, admiration, and some anxiety. The movie ended with facts about the case from the movie. Y/n checked the time on her phone and cursed to herself. She was supposed to check on Mark- an hour ago. "Shit...Just a sec, Dark." Y/n basically sprinted to Mark's room, she froze as Mark wasn't there. A flood of anxiety and irritation at herself overtook her. "Of course he's gone!" She muttered and turned on the room light just to make sure. Yep, still gone. Dark heard her urgent whispers and appeared behind her. "What's wrong, Y/n?" His voice was quiet and his eyes flickered across the room. In truth, the reason Mark had wanted Y/n to check up on him is because of Dark's presence. Mark knew he'd be coming, not knowing of his intentions. "He's not here! I fuckin' flunked the one job he gave me!" She groaned and rubbed her face. Dark chuckled and lightly set his hand on her head. "Maybe he went to the restroom, Y/n. Calm down." An amused smile settled on Dark's face as Y/n couldn't help at his jesting. "Wow OK, I've never thought of THAT." She glanced up at her head and crossed her arm. "You planin' on just stayin' there?" A flicker of a smirk flashed on her lips. "Why yes, I find it rather comfortable here, madam!" Dark retorted, mimicking some high-up British masquerade. "What the hell is happening here--Dark? The heck you here for?!" Mark's groggy voice rang out from the bathroom doorway in his room. The two jumping slightly at the burst--Mainly Y/n. Dark only shuddered some. Y/n looked over to him and froze like a deer in the headlights.

 "OhmygoshMark! I'msosorryIforgottocheckuponyouearlierand-" 

Y/n began to ramble and trotted over to Mark with a sorry expression. Dark's face became cold and hardened. The feeling of peace leaving as soon as Y/n entered Mark's presence. Mark forced a laugh and waved his hands slightly, placing his right on her shoulder. "Calm down, Y/n! I'm fine, you're fine-I hope. But on that note." Mark looked over to his parallel and sent a glare towards Dark who had already been given him a death glare of sorts. Y/n had never seen Mark look so..hateful and full of animosity towards anyone. "Why is he here." It wasn't even a question, it was more of a command. "W-well, he came in earlier a-and.. yeah.." Y/n gulped. Oh, how she hated the tension. It had been a few hours since Dark came and they became quick friends. Y/n couldn't understand why Mark hated him so. "So he broke in?" Mark looked to Y/n in disbelief, as a parent looked to their child when they did something bad. "N-No! He came in with the k-keys!" Y/n quickly looked to Dark who sighed in annoyance and held up the keys. They looked relatively normal compared to his grey-scale palette of color. Mark looked back over to him and narrowed his eyes. Marching over, Mark snatched the keys from Dark's light grip. "Get out." He spat, taking Y/n back. She felt as this was her fault, inviting him in instead of kicking him out onto the street. "M-Mark, calm down..please." Y/n asked quietly, she felt like she was shaking. Her breaths were short, struggling to breathe. Feeling her panic attack worsening. Dark glared to Mark. "You're acting worse than me, Mark. Can't you see what you're doing to Y/n." Dark glared at Mark as he walked over to the trembling girl and pulled her into a genuine, careful side-hug. Y/n kept her eyes to the ground as the waterworks lined her eyelids. Mark looked to her and immediately stiffened. He remembered how she couldn't handle shouting. Mainly of how her parents would shout and talk down at her as she grew up, it was the usual of having a beating for no reason at least three times a week. Or more. It left her with a shattered mindset that slowly repaired itself. Y/n had been seeing treatment and therapy at Mark’s kind push in the right direction. Mark felt terrible, he had promised when they first meet he wouldn't be too loud around her. Mark had promptly just broken that promise. Y/n glanced over to him but her eyes dropped to the floor once again. "Y/n, I...I'm sorry. I didn't mean to.." Dark shot a glare over to him, his demeanor changing from calm and collected to enraged. But as soon as Y/n slowly hugged him back, the three-D blue and red glow faded. Mark noticed this and held his breath. "Y/n..." The young woman sniffed but her head felt too heavy to look over to him. Her episode luckily had ended sooner than she thought it would. Most of the time they lasted more than three minutes. Mark sighed heavily. Dark hated how pitiful he looked. Just begging to the situation to turn toward his favor. "Just don't do this again guys..OK?" She paused with a sniff and parted from the man's embrace, much to his dismay. "I know how-how much you guys um dislike each other but just don't fight in front of me...OK?" Y/n's voice was quiet but audible. Mark glanced to Dark. Subtly nodding to another as they established their truce. "I, Mark Fischbach, promise to never shout again - around you of course." Dark let out a small sigh, catching the young woman's attention. "I also promise not to yell aswell." Y/n let out a small smile much to both of the men's' relief. "I, uh, should get dinner started." She headed to the doorway and the boys looked to each other. "Truce?" Mark held his hand out to Dark who flinched slightly in surprise. He looked down to the hand with a cold, suspicious glare. Dark sighed, relieving his shoulders of the tension from the situation. "Truce. But, only for her sake. If anything happens, I won't hesitate to end you." Mark chuckled and walked to the doorway. "You like Y/n?" Dark stiffened and cleared his throat, adjusting his dress shirt. "Well, platonically speaking. She didn't run away when we first met." Mark couldn't help but smirk suggestively at Dark who was noticeably nervous. Normally he wouldn't let such emotions surface, but they did. "Alright then, whatever you say lover boy." Dark rolled his eyes and walked past him, intentionally bumping shoulders. "Don't call me that." Dark paused and a grin played onto his lips. "Remember Mark? I'm only you just much.....darker and vivid intentions. If anything, I’ll end up with her. I’m sure Amy wouldn’t mind another woman in the house." Mark laughed nervously at this. Wondering what his counterpart meant by ‘intentions.’ Although, he did have an idea. Y/n giggled quietly from the kitchen as the pizza rolls bake in the oven. "Those boys sure are loud, aren't they? Her gaze flickered to her transparent friend at the counter. "Yep, aren't very private about their 'fee--lings." Anti drew out the words before looking to the woman with a grin. This was going to be a long night of teasing. ————- 18,068 Characters

[crystalninjaphoenix]

Talks and Transfers

A JSE Fanfic

I was not expecting to write the next part of this so soon, but I’ve hit a block on other stories, and also one of my friends read the last two parts a few days ago and went absolutely feral when I started being cryptic and it was weirdly motivating XD Anyway, here’s number three. We finally get to see a boy besides Schneep! Which is great, because things aren’t going so well for Schneepy boy

You can now find the other two stories under the #pwtimeline tag!

“Why am I doing this, why am I doing this, oh god why am I doing this?” Dr. Laurens kept muttering this under her breath even as she dialed the number. She listened to the phone ring with slowly building dread. Maybe she should just go to work anyway. She could power through this; maybe she shouldn’t miss the session. But she was making the call. And soon it was picked up. “Hi, Dr. Newson?” She asked.

“Oh hey Rya, what’s up?”

“H-hey. I, uh, I can’t come into work today. I’m sick.” It wasn’t a lie—for the past few days there had been a slowly building headache behind her eyes, and today she woke up with a sore throat and a raspy voice. “Can, uh, I know you talked about how you’d be willing to take the Schneep case, so can you cover my session today?” Laurens winced privately. She hated to do this; she always believed in consistency, especially with schedules.

“Oh yeah! Sure, I can do that!” Dr. Newson sounded excited, and eager to help. Which was weird, because Dr. Newson didn’t do ‘excited.’ Or if she did, she didn’t show it.

Still, Laurens breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you. I keep my notes in the turquoise notebook, it should be on my desk in my office.”

“Uh-huh. Got it.”

“And the session is at one o’clock. Room 309.”

“Rya, chill, I’ll take care of everything,” Dr. Newson assured her. “You just rest. Your voice sounds awful, if you need some more time off just tell me.”

“I usually get over things in a day,” Laurens said. “But thanks. I-I’ll let you know.”

“You do that. See you later.” And with that, Dr. Newson hung up.

Laurens sighed again, exhaling all the nerves she’d built up as she leaned backwards against the seat of her car. She felt kinda guilty for not coming in to work. Like she was abandoning Schneep in a time of need. But he’d been doing pretty good ever since the hoodie incident. Hadn’t made much progress, but at least he wasn’t trying to hurt anyone anymore. And besides, wasn’t what she was doing now also a way to help?

It was true, she was feeling kind of under the weather, but under normal circumstances, it wasn’t bad enough to stop her from going to work. But she’d used the sick excuse so she could have the day off to search.

Laurens pulled her keys out of the ignition and stepped out of the car, looking around. She’d never been in this part of the city before. In the suburbs. If she was forced to guess, she’d say that most of the houses here were taken by families. But still, from what Schneep had said about this guy during their sessions, he lived somewhere around here. Laurens groaned silently. Guess she’d have to go door-to-door. Like a Girl Scout.

Twenty minutes later, she was starting to wonder if she was maybe wrong about thinking she was well enough to spend the day walking around an unfamiliar neighborhood. Her sore throat had faded a bit, but her head was pounding, and it felt stuffed full of fluff. Just a couple more houses. Then she could maybe drive home and take a nap, and try again that evening.

Laurens walked up the path to the door of the next house. She rang the doorbell, and while she waited she looked around idly. The yard was less well-kept than the others on the block. The grass was yellower and there were no flowers in the flowerbeds. But not everyone had the ability to do yard work. That was why she lived in an apartment.

The door opened, and she snapped to attention. “Hi I’m looking for...” she trailed off when she got a closer look at the guy who answered the door. Okay, this was him. God, Schneep had said the two of them looked similar, but she wasn’t expecting such an uncanny resemblance. He’d said they weren’t related, right?

“Uh...yeah? I mean, excuse me?” The man had brown hair and blue eyes, just like Schneep, though his hair was partly hidden beneath a snap-back cap. He wore a gray shirt underneath a red jacket with some sort of logo on the lapel, and his voice had a slight American accent.

Laurens blinked, clearing her head. “Sorry, are you Chase Brody, by any chance?”

“Yeah, that’s me. What’s up?” Chase seemed to examine her. “If you’re selling something, or if you’re like, I dunno, looking for autographs, then—”

“Oh no, no no,” Laurens hurried to say. “Um, my name is Rya Laurens. Dr. Laurens. I, uh, I know your friend Sch—Henrik, and I, uh, wanted to talk to you about him.”

The change was instantaneous. Chase, who’d been previously leaning against the doorway, stood up straight, his eyes widening. “Oh, yeah, h-hang on, d’you want—please, come in.” He stood aside and let her step past him into the house.

The living room looked about what she thought it would look like. Chase had a quality entertainment system, with a widescreen TV and several video game consoles, as well as a shelf full of DVDs, most of which seemed to be kids films or Marvel movies. “You have a nice home,” she said politely.

“It’s a little messy, sorry about that,” Chase muttered, closing the door. “D’you want anything to drink? I can make tea.”

“That would be lovely.”

She followed Chase into the dining room, with adjoining kitchen separated only by a counter. While she took a seat at the dining table, Chase busied himself making the tea. She looked around, noticing a pile of dirty dishes by the sink and what looked like children’s drawings stuck to the fridge with magnets. After a few moments, during which she sat at the table in silence and failed at not feeling awkward, Chase set a mug down in front of her, sitting in the seat next to her. “Hope you like Lyons. Actually, I probably should’ve asked you before I made it.” He laughed a bit.

Laurens took a sip. “It’s good. A bit hot.”

“Oh good. Anyway. You said you knew Schneep? Do you work with him?” Chase started to take a sip of his mug of tea as well.

“Uh, no, not...I’m not that kind of doctor.” Laurens cleared her throat, which only served to make it raspier, so she coughed instead. “I work at Silver Hills—”

There was a sudden splutter as Chase seemed to spit out his tea back into the mug. “Sorry, just—” He wiped the sleeve of his jacket across his mouth. “Jesus christ, has he been there the whole time?”

“What...do you mean ‘the whole time’?” Laurens asked.

“Well, since August. When that whole...thing happened. You heard about that?”

“Oh, I know what you mean. And, uh...” Laurens shifted awkwardly in her seat. “You haven’t been watching the local news, have you?”

“No, I don’t watch news at all.” Chase looked down at the table surface and shrugged. “It...depresses me.” He looked back up. “Why?”

“A-ah...well...” God, this was awkward. Laurens kept drumming her fingers on the mug. “Henrik—Schneep—has been...implicated in several...murders.” 

Chase blinked. “You’re joking.”

“No, I-I am not.” Laurens tried to smile apologetically. She wasn’t sure it was working. “You, um, should be able to look it up. It became quite a big deal.”

“Oh my fucking god...” Chase briefly covered his mouth with his hand before lowering it again. “Did...did he do it?”

“The, uh...the evidence pointed that way,” Laurens said slowly. “They had video and DNA and everything...sorry.” She didn’t know why she apologized.

“Oh my fucking god,” Chase repeated, gaping. “I—I knew Schneep had issues but I didn’t think he was—was capable of—jesus.”

“Well...” Laurens looked down into the mug of tea. “Sometimes when...you know, the human mind is complicated, especially when it lies to you.” Chase didn’t answer. Laurens wished she could say something better, somehow more reassuring, but...ironically, despite being a psychiatrist, she wasn’t the best with people. So she tried to move on to the reason she actually came. She took a deep breath, and looked up. “He misses you, you know.”

Chase’s eyes snapped toward her. “Really?”

“Yeah. He talks about you a lot. And two others, uh, Jackie and Marvin?” When she saw recognition in Chase’s eyes, she continued. “I think it would help him if you visited. And maybe those others two.”

“That’s not possible.”

Laurens’s heart turned to rock, thinking that this day had been a waste. Chase seemed to catch her expression. “Oh I mean Jackie and Marvin visiting, I’d be happy to. Just...they can’t.”

“Oh I see.” Laurens exhaled slowly. “Why?”

“Well...” Chase rubbed the back of his neck. “Marvin skipped town. He’s not answering any of my calls or texts. I think he’s mad at me but I dunno why. And Jackie...” He took a deep breath. “Jackie’s been missing for a few months now. He—he disappeared.”

“Oh, god.” Laurens’s mind went blank. What were you supposed to say to that? She didn’t know. “I-I’m so sorry.” That was the best she could do.

“It’s fine.” Chase paused, then sighed. “Well, no, it’s not, but thanks.”

“The police—you’ve told them?” She didn’t know why she had to ask it, but she felt she had to.

“Yeah, of course. But after five months, I think they’ve given up.” A new, hard light entered his eyes. “He’s still out there, though. It’s hard to knock Jackie down. He’s tough. I don’t know what happened, but I know he can handle it.”

Laurens gave him a reassuring smile. “Well, I hope it works out.”

“Thanks, doc.” Chase took a long drink of the tea, seeming to stare into the distance. “So...how’s Schneep doing? He’s alright?”

“Last I saw him, yes,” Laurens nodded. “It’s...it’s a bit of a roller coaster sometimes, but I think he’s getting better.”

“That’s good. Great.” Chase’s fingers were drumming a rhythm on the table surface. “Silver Hills has—has visiting hours, right?”

“Oh! O-of course. They’re on our website,” Laurens explained. “But the diagram can be a bit complicated, because they vary based on a couple factors. It’s safest to visit on Fridays, from three to seven.”

“Okay. Hang on a sec.” Chase reached into his pocket and took out his phone, opening it up and tapping for a bit. “That’s on my calendar now. I guess I’ll see you on Friday, then?”

“Yes, of course! I-I should get going.” Laurens pushed her chair back, standing up. “Thanks for the tea.” She said this despite not drinking most of it.

“No problem. Thanks for stopping by and, uh, filling me in on all this.” Chase nodded. “Do you want me to walk you to the door, or...?”

“I can see myself out, thanks.” Laurens smiled awkwardly. “See you on Friday. Goodbye.”

“Bye.”

Only ten minutes later, and Laurens was back in her car, contemplating whether to drive home or go to work anyway. On the one hand, she was loathe to miss anything that went on at work, and if she went now, she could barely make it in time for her session with Schneep. On the other, her headache was starting to blossom into a migraine, and her nose was stuffing up as well. She probably wouldn’t be able to concentrate like this, and a session done poorly wouldn’t do anyone any good.

After a few more moments of wrestling with this dilemma, she started her car and set off. It would probably be fine to miss one session. Dr. Newson could handle it. What’s the worse that could happen?

——————

One o’clock rolled around, and Dr. Newson strolled into Room 309. Schneep, who’d been pacing the length of the wall by the window, stopped, staring. He watched as she sat down in one of the chairs, setting Laurens’s notebook down on the table. “Hello, Henrik. Are you ready to start? Please sit down,” she said cheerfully.

Schneep stayed where he was. “Where is Dr. Laurens?”

“Oh, she called in sick today, asked me to fill in. I’m Dr. Newson. Please sit down.”

“Sick? With what?” Schneep’s eyes flicked over Dr. Newson’s shoulder. Two people came into the room behind her, closing the door behind him. “Who are they?”

“Don’t mind the orderlies, they’re here just in case.” Dr. Newson waved away his question. “Now if you would please sit down so we can start.”

“In case of what?”

“If you would please,” Dr. Newson’s voice hardened, “sit down.”

Schneep stayed where he was for a few seconds longer, before slowly walking over and sitting in the other chair. He crossed his arms, posture stiff.

Dr. Newson simply settled into the chair, folding one leg over the other. “So, I’m obviously not caught up on how far Dr. Laurens has got in these—”

“You could check in there.” Schneep nodded at the unopened notebook on the table. “She kept very detailed notes.”

Dr. Newson smiled. “Well, I know that. I’ve checked it, but given how detailed they were I wasn’t able to read it all. I’ve skimmed it, though. And that was enough to understand that she hasn’t gotten far in asking you about what really happened.”

Schneep narrowed his eyes. “What really happened when? About what?”

“Oh, you know.” Dr. Newson pulled Laurens’s notebook toward her, flipping open to a blank page. “How about we start with Christmas? Do you remember that night?”

“Do I remember that—you are not police, Doctor,” Schneep scowled. “They have already asked me about that. I do not think it is your place to do so.”

“Well, I’m just doing my job, Henrik.”

“Do not call me that.”

“Well alright, then. I’m just doing my job, Mr. Schneeplestein.” When Schneep opened his mouth to berate her for using the wrong prefix, she pushed forward anyway. “And I think it is important to my job if we discuss the events of that night. You remember, right? Those videos?”

“I had nothing to do with those videos,” Schneep insisted.

Dr. Newson laughed. “Well, you were in them, so I doubt that. Led the police on a merry overnight chase, making them keep watch for, what, twelve hours? It was quite a feat for you to pull off.” 

“I did not make those.” The words came out between gritted teeth.

Dr. Newson raised an eyebrow. “Well then, who did?”

Schneep didn’t answer. He seemed to fold in on himself, and his eyes flickered to the side. “I do not want to talk about it.”

“Oh, I get it.” Dr. Newson took a pen from her pocket and jotted a few words down. “You believe someone else did. Or was it that you thought someone was forcing you to?”

Schneep jumped, but then his eyes suddenly flashed. “I said I do not want to talk about it. I do not have to say anything to you.”

“Yes, you do, that’s why you’re here.” Dr. Newson looked up from the notebook. “Now let’s get back to the question at hand. Was there any particular reason for the Christmas incident? Did you want to try something new? Oftentimes sending letters, or videos in this case, to the police speaks of arrogance or says that it’s seen as a game. Was this a way for you to have fun?”

“Will you shut up!” Schneep sprang to his feet, slamming his hands down on the table. The two orderlies in the room jumped to attention. “Shut up and stop pushing your questions to me! I am supposed to have a chance to speak here and you are not giving it!”

Dr. Newson merely smiled. “Well, you weren’t answering, Mr. Schneeplestein.”

“Because you were not listening! I told you I do not wish to speak of it! Yet you keep asking and asking and—do you know how bothersome that is?!” He folded his arms again. “Maybe I will be ready to tell you about that night one day, but this is not that day. So shut up!”

“Mm-hmm. So you were involved in that somehow?” Dr. Newson made another note, seemingly unconcerned by the death glare Schneep was giving her. She looked up at him. “You want me to stop asking? What are you going to do to make me? Are you going to try to kill me?”

Schneep suddenly burst into laughter. Loud, screeching laughing that hit him so hard, he had to double over and lean onto the table. The two orderlies, now standing behind his chair, exchanged uncomfortable glances as he wore himself out, laughter fading to giggling as he slumped into the chair. He looked up, and there were tears in his eyes. “I do not know. Maybe I will. But I do not know. And I do not like that.” His voice was tired.

Dr. Newson stared at him. “Well, that’s good to know,” she drawled. “Maybe—”

“Maybe you really should shut your stupid mouth before it gets you in trouble.” The change of tone in Schneep’s voice was so sudden that Dr. Newson had to take a moment to recognize it as his. “Maybe you should just leave now since you clearly do not want to be here.”

Her lip curled. “I don’t think I ever gave any indication that I don’t want to be here. In fact, I didn’t even need to fill in for Dr. Laurens today. And there aren’t a lot of employees here willing to get close to you, so you should be happy you’re even getting a session today at all.”

“What, people are afraid of me? I wonder why.” A smile flashed across Schneep’s face. “Is not like I did anything to deserve that. Only that thirteen are dead and more injured.”

“Oh, I thought that ‘wasn’t your fault’,” Dr. Newson said, a sudden edge to her voice. “I thought you were ‘sorry’ about that.” 

“Two things can be true at once.” Schneep’s head slowly tilted to the side. “Especially when things are not in your control. Who is in control? And who is just playing pretend?”

“I don’t see how this is relevant, Mr. Schneeplestein.”

“But it is! You do not understand because you do not see. You do not see these things.” Another smile. “Perhaps your eyes are in the way. Would you like to get rid of them?”

Suddenly, Schneep lunged forward. Dr. Newson pushed her chair back, ready to flee, but the orderlies sprang into action. Before Schneep could get far, they managed to grab hold of him. It wasn’t an easy task. He kept twisting and wiggling his way out of their hold, and wasn’t afraid to lash out.

“Right, then.” Dr. Newson smoothed down the front of her shirt, trying to mask the way her heart had suddenly leapt into her throat. She picked up the notebook, tucking it under her arm. “I know the sessions usually last an hour, but I’m afraid we’re going to have to cut this short. Very short. Maybe you’ll see me tomorrow, maybe you’ll see Dr. Laurens tomorrow, who knows? Oliver, Theresa?” She nodded at the two orderlies. “I trust you came prepared?”

Maybe her question distracted them, maybe what happened next would’ve happened anyway. Schneep snarled “Let go of me!” and managed to get an arm free, shoving one of the orderlies away. Then he threw his weight against the other, who shrieked and fell—

Crack!

Time stopped. The world concentrated down into that single sickening crack, and the red that was suddenly decorating the sharp edge of the table. The orderly was still on the ground, a pool of identical red spreading from her head. It was a stain against the white floor, stark in the bright light.

Dr. Newson was the first to react, reaching for her pager. “Oliver, can we get a sedative while I page the med team?”

That sentence brought Schneep to his senses. “What? No! No, it was an a-accident, I did not mean—”

“That’s true. But two things can be true at once.” Dr. Newson’s voice was cold. “Oliver? Now, please?”

The orderly stopped staring, shocked, at his fallen coworker, and soon there was a needle buried in Schneep’s neck. Schneep gasped and stilled, though he kept muttering that it was an accident.

“You should probably take a good look around this room, Henrik, cause you won’t be seeing it for a while, if ever,” Dr. Newson said stiffly. “You’re getting a new one. On the first floor.”

Schneep’s eyes widened, before the sedative really kicked in and he closed them. Dr. Newson nodded, then looked down at the still orderly. “When the med team gets here, get them to take him to the medical wing, too. He can stay there until the new room is ready.”

“Yes, Dr. Newson.” The orderly hesitated for a moment, and then asked, “Dr. Newson, if I may...you’re sure about this?”

Newson sighed. “I should’ve done it a lot sooner, if you ask me. Rya convinced me not to, you know it’s hard to say no to her. But god.” She knelt by the orderly on the floor, picking up her wrist and pressing two fingers to it. “We can’t let it go further than this.”

——————

When Laurens arrived at work the next morning, she was immediately called into Dr. Newson’s office. Once there, she listened in shock as the entire story was told. “The new room number is 1010,” Dr. Newson said at the end. “I know the numbering makes no sense, but it’s in an older part of the building. And you’re now required to bring an orderly in with you whenever you visit. You know Oliver Hopkins? He’s volunteered.”

“Is...is Theresa going to be okay?” Laurens asked hesitantly.

“She had to be rushed to the hospital,” Dr. Newson explained. “Last I heard, she was still in critical condition.”

“Oh my god...” Laurens covered her mouth with her hand. She couldn’t help but feel that if she was here yesterday, she could’ve somehow prevented this. Guilt settled down into her stomach. “I hope she...well, I hope it’ll be alright.”

“Yeah.” Dr. Newson sighed. Her eyes drifted over to the picture frame on her desk. “While you’re here, is there anything else you want to talk to me about?”

“Um, well...” She wasn’t sure if this would sound in bad taste after this serious talk, but... “So, uh, residents on the first floor still have visiting hours on Fridays, right?” When Dr. Newson hesitated, she pressed. “You can’t take away visiting hours, those are required by the county board.”

“‘Unless there have been incidents wherein the patient has shown hostility to visitors,’ yeah, I know, I read the section,” Newson snapped. Then she took a deep breath. “Sorry about that. Just on edge. Yeah, it’s still Fridays, that’s the only day for most of the first floor patients. Why?”

“Well...yesterday, when I was home sick, I got a visitor.” Laurens was aware she was adjusting the story, but she didn’t want to sound like she’d been skipping out on her duties. “He said he was a friend of Sch—of Henrik’s, and that he just found out he was here and wanted to visit him. So I, uh, told him the hours and he said he’d stop by on Friday.”

“That’s three days away.”

“...yeah.”

Dr. Newson sighed, rubbing her temples. “Yeah, fine, that’s allowed. But you have to supervise it, okay?”

“Okay.” Laurens nodded. “I’m, uh...going to go find Room 1010 now.”

“Oliver knows the way, ask him to take you.”

Laurens did just that, finding the orderly nearby. Soon, she was following him down the corridors of the first floor. Unlike the ones above, the first floor was distinctly more...hospital-like, choosing to forego the wallpaper and carpeting of the upper floors, and replacing their lamps with fluorescent lights. There were also a lot more orderlies bustling about, all wearing that beige uniform that made them sort of blend together.

“So...you were there, yesterday?” she asked Oliver.

He nodded. “Yeah. It was...it was scary, man. Just all of a sudden there was yelling and then Theresa was on the floor.” He glanced at her. “Was...was that guy ever like that with you?”

“His name’s Schneep,” Laurens reminded him. “And...well, there were moments when he was loud, and sometimes seemed...a bit aggressive, but he never attacked me.” She bit her lip. “I wonder if Dr. Newson triggered that somehow...”

Oliver didn’t answer, merely looking back away. “Hey, we’re here. Room 1010.” They stopped outside a door that looked just like all the others. “I’m, uh, required to go in with you.”

“Yeah, Dr. Newson told me. She also gave me this.” Laurens pulled out a key card. While doors on the upper floors could open on their own, doors on the first floor were locked, though some of them could be opened from the inside but not from the outside. Laurens didn’t know if Room 1010 was one of those. She swiped the card through the reader next to the door. It beeped, and there was a click. Laurens pulled the door open and went inside, followed by Oliver.

The difference between the first floor and upper floors was even more evident here. Room 1010 was smaller, but also emptier. The only furniture was the white-blanketed bed, a circular table with rounded edges next to it, and a single, rather uncomfortable-looking chair next to that. A half-open door showed a connected bathroom beyond. As it was an internal room, there wasn’t a window, and the overhead lights were controlled with a single switch, no lamps anywhere.

Schneep was sitting on the bed, leaning against the wall and hugging the bed’s single pillow to his chest. He was wearing a simple white shirt and pants, which Laurens recognized as standard-issue clothing, since regulations on the first floor didn’t allow patients to bring any of their own. Schneep didn’t look up as Laurens crossed the room and sat in the room’s only chair. Oliver, meanwhile, hovered in the corner, seeming to sense that he had to stay out of this.

“Hi, Schneep,” Laurens said. “I’m back. Sorry I wasn’t here yesterday.”

He nodded. “Was not your fault. You were sick. I’m sorry.” That last statement sounded less like an expression of sympathy and more like an actual apology.

“It’s okay, it wasn’t your fault either,” Laurens said gently.

After a quiet moment, Schneep cleared his throat and asked, “The woman, the orderly from yesterday, is she alive?”

“Yes, she’s alive,” Laurens confirmed. Seeing how Schneep relaxed, she decided not to mention the critical condition.

He looked at her for the first time since she entered the room. And she almost physically started when she realized his eyes were rimmed with red. “It was not my fault. You know that, right? You believe that?”

“I know. I believe you.”

“You always do.” He nodded. “Or at least, you sound like you do. Even if you don’t and you only sound it, I appreciate it.”

“It’s no problem, Schneep.” And it really wasn’t. Laurens straightened. “Well, I have...news for you. I don’t know if you’ll see it as good or bad, but it’s news.” Schneep didn’t say anything, but he did sit up a bit. Laurens continued, “So, uh, yesterday, while I was sick, I met one of your friends. Chase. He said he...wanted to visit.”

A wide variety of emotions flickered across Schneep’s face. Surprise, joy, realization, worry, fear, consideration, then back to joy, though a bit tempered. “I think I would like to see him,” he said, squeezing the pillow tighter.

“I told him you would,” Laurens said. “He’s coming on Friday, three days from now.” She paused. “You think...you’ll be alright until then?”

A strangled laugh. “Is hard to predict. But I hope so. I would not want...anything to...happen.” The words were chosen haltingly, as if he was trying to find the simplest way to say it.

“Nothing’s going to happen,” Laurens said, surprising herself with the firmness of her own voice. “You’re doing good, you know. You can do it.” She wasn’t sure what ‘it’ was, but sometimes you just needed to hear it. “And I’ll be there that day, too.”

“That would be good,” Schneep agreed. For a moment, he was silent. “I...I do not feel like talking today. Would you leave, please?”

“Oh. Of course.” Laurens stood up. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then?”

“Yes.”

Laurens left, finding her steps taking longer than usual. She glanced behind her one last time before leaving to see Schneep had buried his face in the pillow. She hesitated. Maybe she should stay...but he seemed like he wanted to be alone. In the future, she might be able to bring something so she could be alone with him. After all, there were times when that was really what was best. But she couldn’t, today.

She followed Oliver back through the first floor halls. “That was...different than I was expecting,” he admitted.

“It usually is,” Laurens agreed. “But people aren’t just one thing, you know?”

“...yeah, I think so.”

“Good.” Laurens took a deep breath, and sighed. Three days. She just had to hope things would improve in three days. And then she had to believe things would continue to improve from there.

And somehow, she did. Perhaps she was more optimistic than she’d thought she was, but she believed things would get better. They usually did.

[phcking-detective]

1. Caught Dead with a Beretta

Fic Title: First Blood

Rating: E

Length: 1/33 chapters, ~128k

Tags: Slow Burn, Idiots to Lovers, Trans Character (gavin), Autistic / Asexual / Non-binary Character (nines), BDSM, learning to use good etiquette and safe words, Dom Nines / Sub Gavin, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort

Chapter Tags: suicide, death / murder, verbal hazing

Link on AO3

***

Gavin's sick of working suicides—they're depressing as hell and aren't going to do anything for his promotion. He's just got to the crime scene already wants to go home. It's fucking ass'o'clock in the morning, and he hasn't slept worth shit, so of course Nines texted to let him know about the scene the second he'd finally dozed off. 

The elevator ride up to the two thousand square foot loft gives him enough time to get hit with shit, did I take my meds before I left home? Fuck. Maybe? 

Goddammit. Maybe he should switch to those patches and gels instead of a weekly injection. Taking his T is the one thing he never, ever forgets, so if he switched to something he could do daily and took his meds for the BPD and ADHD at the same time … 

The elevator doors ding open, ruining his train of thought. Nines is here already because he doesn't fucking sleep, apparently. That hot fuckboy he sucked off once—and the beat cop for this side of town—Brayden, is in there too, but Gavin's most recent bout of soul-crippling insomnia has actually worn him down too much to be horny. 

Well, too much to put forth the effort for flirting, at least. 

"—huh, Nine Thousand?" Brayden says as Gavin walks up. 

Nines doesn't respond. 

"He's RK nine hundred," Gavin says. "Not like the meme. Super disappointing." 

Brayden grins. "Yeah, but I mean like, the movie." 

"Nine thousand?" 

Gavin frowns, trying to force his stupid idiot brain to think. All he can come up with is 300. Maybe it's a movie based off of that one book? The like, underwater … and submarines. Something-number thousand leagues under the sea? No fuck, that's not nine thousand. 

"Two thousand," Brayden says. "And one." 

Shit, is that the number of leagues or the title of the movie? 

"Man, I am way too fucking tired." Gavin waves him off. "I'm not even into that film shit. I just like action movies." 

Brayden heaves a deep sigh. "I've seen your file, Gavin. You're too smart to willingly lump yourself in with the uneducated masses." 

"May we proceed with the crime scene, detective?" Nines asks before Gavin can reply. 

Brayden flinches a little. The only reason Gavin doesn't get scared himself is because he's gotten used to Nines not breathing or moving—until he suddenly does. Makes people jumpy as shit to realize they forgot about the giant fucking android just standing there.  

Not blinking. Or breathing. 

"Go ahead," Brayden says with a sweep of his hand, like he didn't just jump half a foot. 

"May we proceed with the crime scene, detective?" Nines asks instead of complying. 

"Yeah, sure," Gavin grants permission. 

Nines proceeds. Gavin tries to hold back a smirk. Brayden's the pretentious kind of asshole who loves explaining shit no one cares about, but he's pretty hot too, and Gavin's not quite ready to burn that bridge to Terra-dick-bia by pissing him off. No, that sounds terrible. The bridge to … mm, dick. 

Damn, he's tired. 

He follows after Nines, a little worried he might wander off in his sleep-deprived state and get lost in all this square footage of prime fucking real estate. Even saints would have to work to feel sorry for dead people as rich as this. 

Finally, he stumbles into a section of the open floor plan that seems to function as the living room. There's a flat screen tv nearly as big as the wall it's mounted on, a coffee table made from a whole chunk of mahogany with a half-full tumbler, and a dead guy sitting in a chair with a gun in his hand and a hole in his head. 

The TV still blares out the news, and the vic's own face flashes out at them. 

"This the Ponzi scheme guy?" Gavin asks. 

"Maverick Russell, age forty-seven." Nines shoves a finger inside the vic's mouth with no shame or preamble. "Blood alcohol level point-oh-nine-seven. The entry wound in his head appears to be consistent with a nine millimeter Beretta." 

He takes a small packet out of his Cyberlife jacket pocket and somehow has the coordination to open it one-handed. Gavin wrinkles his nose at the antiseptic smell as Nines sanitizes both hands with the wipe, even though he only touched the vic with one finger. Then he lifts that same finger to the victim's head. 

"Hey!" Gavin barks. "What have I told you about that shit?" 

Nines stares back at him with that unblinking, lizard-eye look. He touches his finger to the entry wound but doesn't push it in. Just brushes it back and forth, which is somehow way freakier. 

"The entry wound in his head is consistent with a nine millimeter Beretta," Nines says. 

"Great." 

Gavin walks a perimeter around the designated living room space. At first it's just to keep himself awake, but by the second circle, he's got one of those gut feelings. Something about this scene is off. Fuck if he can tell what though, 'cause the victim was drunk, watching his own demise on the news, and has a bullet in his head from the gun in his hand. 

"You feel that?" He asks. 

Nines cocks his head to the side. "The circulating air temperature is seventy--" 

"No." Gavin huffs and starts on another circle. "Do you like … you feel what I’m feeling?" 

"Your question is incomprehensible." 

Gavin sighs and grinds the heels of his palms against his eyes. He bites back a comment about this being why androids can't make good cops. Fuck knows why he's bothering to be nice now. He just wants to get this shit done and go home. 

When he opens his eyes, everything swirls with black spots in front of him. What's bugging him about this? The guy is dead, the gun is in his hand, the news says—

Gavin blinks the spots away and stands in front of the vic. Fake tan, but high enough quality that it'd look real if he didn't live in fucking Detroit. Decently fit, and the open kitchen on the other side of the room has one of those blenders that cost more than his car. The loft's decorated in masculine colors, all brown and navy and black leather. 

"Go check out the kitchen," Gavin tells Nines. "Tell me what's in the fridge." 

Nines does as he's told, but only after considering it. Gavin takes back the lizard comparisons. He's like a cat. One of those big jungle cats that's smart enough to eat the humans hunting them. 

"Dannon Oikos triple blended greek nonfat yogurt, coffee, four pack, five-point-three ounce cups," Nines says. "Dannon Oikos trippled blended greek nonfat yogurt, peanut butter banana, four—" 

Gavin rolls his eyes. "Just say yogurt. What else does he got?" 

"Yogurt. Eggs. Milk. Sparkling water. Chicken breast. Mayonnaise. Sliced ham. Apples. Protein shakes." Nines opens the freezer. "Chicken breast. Chicken breast. Chicken breast. Chi—" 

Gavin starts giggling. He can't help it. Nines turns around and glares at him, deliberately flashing his LED red for a second. 

"OK, fuck off, it's late," he says. "I'm like, super tired. Just analyze that shit or whatever and tell me if his food matches any of the latest high protein fad diets." 

"Yes," Nines replies so instantly Gavin wonders if he actually even looked it up at all. "The victim's food intake matches the Eight Step Enligh—" 

Gavin waves him off. "Yeah, yeah. Cool. Does the bar have gin, vodka, and vermouth?" 

Maverick Russell, definitely confirmed for one of those ultra-rich masculine gym types. Not like, an actual gym rat, just that generic rich person level of fitness achieved through liposuction, personal fitness trainers, and the latest fad diet. 

"Yes, along with seven other distinct liqueurs." Nines finishes checking the bar and returns to the living room. "How is this information relevant, detective?" 

"This drink and that gun don't match," Gavin says when Nines returns. 

Nines cocks his head again. "Match." 

"Yeah. I don't see any Bond memorabilia in here." Gavin takes another quick glance around, but the entertainment center doesn't display any vintage DVDs, and rich film buffs are not subtle about displaying their collections. "He ever purchased anything like that?" 

Nines's LED spins yellow for about half a second this time before he replies. "No. There are no significant purchases of memorabilia relating to the James Bond books or movies present in Maverick Russell's finances." 

"OK, then why the fuck does he have a Beretta?" Gavin asks. 

Nines looks at the victim, and then back at him. "That is what he shot himself with." 

"Yeah, but why," he stresses. "Would this guy—this self-obsessed, rich guy masc, desperate-to-be-cool motherfucker—have a Beretta?" 

"It is the tool he used to complete suicide." Nines frowns. "Is there a reason he would not have a Beretta?" 

"Because it's a ladies' handgun," Gavin says. "This guy's got three different TV remotes, a flat screen covering an entire wall, jesus, how old is that scotch?" 

Nines sticks his finger in it, because of course he does. "One hundred and twenty-three years old, consistent with—" 

"Shit, I would've thought this guy was trying too hard when I was twenty and desperate to be cis," Gavin mutters. "Look, I fucking promise you, this particular man literally wouldn't be caught dead with a Beretta—unless he's a James Bond fan. Even then … hey, Brayden!" 

"His input is unnecessary, detective." Nines cleans his hands with another sanitary wipe. "If you would be more clear—" 

His jaw shuts with a click as Brayden jogs over. 

"Hey, you like the Bond movies?" Gavin asks. 

Brayden heaves a tortured sigh. "I really prefer foreign movies, but for an American—" 

"All right, sure. Would you ever kick it with a Beretta?" 

Brayden bites the inside of his cheek, opens his mouth, then closes it with a frown as he thinks about it. 

"What if you were like, a super fan?" 

"Why?" Brayden glances around the loft with an interested look. "This guy have some collector's memorabilia?" 

Gavin shakes his head. "Nah. But why else he's got a fucking Beretta?" 

"Well that's not the drink for it," Brayden says immediately, then scoffs. "A scotch?" 

"Yeah, and he had the shit to make a martini too." 

"Weird. You thinking …" Brayden trails off, then winces. "Ah, shit. We uh, we got a guy a floor down. Said he heard the shot that, you know. But he said it was two bangs. And you know how shit witnesses are about getting anything right, and the TV was on and—" 

"That's shit I need to know," Gavin snaps. "Doesn't matter how stupid you think it is, you're the first officer on the scene, you report every-fucking-thing to the responding detective." 

"Yeah." Brayden clears his throat. "My bad." 

Gavin lets it slide only because now he has something to go on. "Whatever. Check me on the precon for this, RK." 

"Preconstruction running, detective." 

"So we got two shots." Gavin backs up so he's approaching the living room from twenty feet away. "So we should have two guns. The perp, coming in here, gets shot 'cause the vic's only got the one entry wound, but—" 

Nines touches the victim's hand, and then his cellphone buzzes. 

The distribution of gunshot residue on Maverick Russell's right hand is not consistent with a Beretta. The gun he fired has a longer muzzle and larger caliber. My preliminary preconstruction matches it to a .500 S&W Magnum. The victim has four registered in his name.

Gavin closes his eyes and rubs the bridge of his nose. Would it fucking kill him to send that in five separate texts like a normal person? Now he's going to look dumb as fuck staring at the screen for five minutes trying to read one paragraph. 

OK, he’s got the fifty caliber Magnum, that's easy to read. Longer muzzle, larger caliber, right. 

"So the vic has a fifty caliber Magnum instead of a dinky Beretta, makes a lot more sense." 

Nines doesn't correct him, so that must have been the gist of the message. 

"The perp gets shot—" 

"Where's the blood though?" Brayden asks. 

Gavin glares at him. "Can you let me fucking work?" 

Shit, he's doing it again and this is why no one wants to work with him because they fuck up--everyone fucks up, he knows this, he fucking knows this--and then he just can't let it go but why the hell does Brayden think he's allowed to speak right now when—

He's not in trouble. He's not in trouble, it's just the loft, being in another rich empty room again. None of them are children and he's not in trouble. 

His cellphone buzzes. 

The floor has been scrubbed clean throughout the loft. I did not realize that was relevant information. I will give you full reports of my analysis moving forward.

That's not too bad to read, and concentrating on making the letters stay still actually helps him cool off a bit for once. Gives him something to look at other than Brayden's pretty, hurt face or the perfect fucking interior design that still feels like when he was thirteen and— 

Gavin shoves those memories aside and starts typing out a reply. 

just text me that shit

I'll prolly yell if u try telling me about the floors at every crime scene

"Am I dismissed then?" Brayden asks. 

Gavin looks up from his phone and can't force out any sort of apology. He never can. And anyway, fuck him. If Brayden wants to get pissy about getting snapped at twice after a legitimate fuck up and interrupting a senior detective mid-sentence, then sure. He can fuck right off. 

"Go get the maid," Gavin tells him. 

"The … android?" Brayden asks. 

"No, the roomba. Yes, the fucking android maid. Someone scrubbed the floors clean." 

And the side table.

Gavin doesn't bother with texting back this time. "That where the blood splatter would have hit?" 

"Yes, detective," Nines answers out loud. 

Gavin turns back to Brayden. "So there's your answer. Get the maid, 'cause I doubt the perp stuck around himself to clean the entire two-thousand square foot floor." 

Brayden hesitates. 

"She's still here," Gavin asks. "Right, Officer Burton?" 

Brayden gives a curt nod, but he breaks into a run as he leaves. 

AP700 #480 913 876 is located in the foyer of the building, along with Officers Miller and Abrahamson. I have sent alerts to their cellphones that the AP model is needed for questioning.

Gavin starts to ask how Nines knows that but … isn't this what he was literally designed to do? 

"She's not a suspect yet," he says instead. "So cool it, Terminator. And don't hack peoples' phones. That's what the officers have walkie talkies for." 

Nines makes a face like Gavin just suggested they all start using smoke signals. He's not exactly the type to go all buddy-buddy on witnesses himself, but they're definitely not going to get anywhere with Nines scaring the thirium out of their one lead. 

Gavin takes a moment to wallow in how much he hates this before he calls Hank. At least if he has to be up before dawn, so will that motherfucker. 

"We do not need assistance from Lieutenant Anderson," Nines says, his expression souring even further. "Or my predecessor. I recognize that I did not meet the necessary level of efficiency when I neglected to—" 

"Hey, this isn't a punishment," Gavin says, tilting the phone down away from his mouth. "I fucking hate Connor too, and when we have an android suspect, I get that's your thing. But right now we have an android witness, and that's his." 

"Ahh, fuck," Hank's voice comes out of the phone. "Sun's not even fucking—goddammit, Reed." 

"We will be at your location in twenty minutes, Detective Reed," Connor's voice says next. 

Gavin stares out into space as what's left of his soul collapses in on itself at the confirmation that those two really are fucking. Not even just fucking, they're sleeping together. In bed, for literal sleep. 

"Nines, tell them they're disgusting," Gavin orders. "You can put way more hate into it than me." 

 "Disgusting," Nines says with a sneer that would put Gavin's mother to shame. 

Gavin hangs up before Hank can reply. "I know you lack the capacity and all that shit, but if it makes you not-feel any better, I bet you five bucks the perp's android." 

"Based off of what evidence?" Nines asks. 

"Took a bullet and kept going." Gavin steps back into place where the perp probably walked in. "He's got the Beretta, but it's just a gun to him. He grabs the vic's gun, maybe disarms him, maybe doesn't even have to after the first shot." 

"The blood vessels on the victim's wrist have not been damaged." Nines starts cleaning his hands again even though he hasn't even touched anything this time. "Why would the human stop shooting?" 

"TV's on, he's drinking, has a gun out already." Gavin shrugs. "Might have been a suicide interrupted by a murder. Might've fired the first shot just being scared, y'know, gut instinct." 

Nines just looks at him. 

"Or you don't know, whatever." Gavin rolls his eyes. "But once he realizes what's happening—maybe he couldn't pull the trigger himself, but now here's someone gonna do it for him. Maybe he just sits back down. That still work with your preconstruction?" 

"Yes," Nines says. "Along with two thousand, one hundred and fifty-eight other scenarios." 

"Whatever. And just like, for the record, don't ask Hank about how this suicidal shit works," Gavin tells him. "Hank might not care, but those are fighting words with Connor." 

Nines doesn't move a single centimeter as he stares silently at him. 

"And don't fucking fight with Connor, we don't have time for it. Anyway, if anyone gets to pick a fight at a murder scene, it's me. So." Gavin walks up to the chair with his hand pointed like a gun. "The perp gets him back down, shoots him in the side of the head, then switches the guns so the ballistics will match." 

"He could have taken the victim's gun." Nines's LED spins a few yellow cycles. "It is registered in his name. The suicide would have looked more authentic." 

"And that's why I'm thinking our guy's an android," Gavin replies. "Someone who hasn't ever seen a movie before in his whole life. Thinks a gun is a gun is a gun. I mean, you didn't know why the Beretta was weird, and if you made A Plan to kill a guy with this gun, would you switch it up in the middle?" 

Nines's LED immediately hits blue, but it's that fake-blue that means he's really covering up a red. Gavin almost kind of … has a feeling about it? 

But then the elevator doors open with Brayden and the android maid inside. Gavin's got a burned bridge, a possible eye witness, and an a murder to deal with. Worrying about his partner's not-feelings will have to wait. 

***

***

1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8 / 9 / 10 / 11 / 12 / 13 / 14 / 15 / 16 / 17 / 18 / 19 / 20 / 21 / 22 / 23 / 24 / 25 / 26 / 27 / 28 / 29 / 30 / 31 / 32 / 33

This fic is also available on my Patreon! $1 tier gets you each chapter a week early, so you could be reading chapter two right now~

$2 tier gets you deleted scenes and bonus content--this week, it’s extra scenes about how Nines was found at Cyberlife and how he gets his first apartment

$3 tier gets you access to the first chapters of two new AUs I’m currently writing--an A/B/O universe in which Gavin is a bitter omega and Nines is his android partner determined to help him during his heat; and a Reverse AU where GV200 “Gavin” is assigned as Detective Richard Stern’s sobriety companion

[findcalums]

You teach me and I’ll teach you

Taron x Reader 

I haven’t wrote smut in a very long time. Enjoy :)

Contains strong language and smut*

Word Count: 2.7k

He was the first person you saw when moving into your university dorm room just opposite to his “nervous?” Is the first thing he said “yes, but also excited” he nods his head “i moved in yesterday, so if you need help” you smile at him “that would be great thanks”

Thats how you started a great friendship with Taron and every Friday (well most Fridays) you’ve spent together watching a film and today was no different. “I have snacks” he says walking into your dorm room, he got to the point where he doesn’t knock anymore.

“Good because I have nothing but a shitty movie I picked up” he pick it up “showgirls?” He laugh at your choice of movie before putting it in the dvd player. The movie is only twenty minutes in before you are just talking over it.

“Have you ever had a one night stand?” You place crisps in your mouth as you sit cross-legged facing Taron “No, I really lack confidence when it comes to women” he says laying on his back looking up at the ceiling “i’ve had sex with girlfriends, its been good but never anything breath taking”

“Ok so hear me out” you brush the crisps crumbs of your fingers “how about we have sex, no bullshit, no faking, and we tell each other whats good and whats bad so we can improve?” Taron practically jumps onto all fours to face you “you want to what and a who now?” You giggle “have sex, you know when a lady and man …” “yeah ok I don’t need the birds and bees talk”

You raise your eyebrow at Taron “well since sex has never been mind blowing I thought you might need it” you cant help but laugh at your own comment “i’m fucking great at sex, the ladies always orgasm” he folds his arms “OH PLEASE” you laugh even harder “i bet 7 of those were fake” Taron now has a pouty face “ok fine miss I’m so perfect lets do this”

Taron leans in fast to kiss you but you move away in one swift movement “that’s how you come at women to kiss them?” Taron sighs while titling his head back “i don’t, I’m sorry.” He runs his hand up your thigh and puts a pressure on his grip when he reaches the top of your thigh which sends goosebumps all down your skin.

“Turned on already?” He whispers before leaning in to kiss you gently on the lips and you reciprocate. “cocky much?” You put more pressure with next kiss wanting to feel his lips on yours again. “you’ll soon find out” and you can’t help but roll your eyes but you also love the dirty chat. You just keep the kisses to a minimum too worried to make the next move.

“Are you jealous that you are so turned on before I am? You push your hand on Taron’s chest “I got a few goosebumps and you think I’m that thirsty for you?” He has a cheeky grin on his face “yes.” You make your way of the bed and stand with your back to him before slowly removing your vest top and taking your bra off before dropping it down by your side. You look over your shoulder “if you want me, you’ll have to come and get me” You cross your legs and toss your hair over your shoulder. 

Taron can handle being a tease but hates being teased, within fifteen seconds his pulled his top over his head and is standing behind you. You can feel his bare chest pressed against your back and his hand slowly graze your shoulder as he moves your hair out the way. “I don’t appreciate…” he kisses your neck “being teased” he kisses your shoulder.

You spin around and wrap your arms around his neck before tugging on his hair ever so slightly “awww poor Taron doesn’t like being teased” you tilt your head before going into kiss him and as he leans into the kiss you tug his hair more to stop him “now who is turned on?” You kiss his neck all the way down to his shoulder and you can feel his erection pressing into your thigh.

“Fuck I hate you” he hugs your body and doesn’t hold back when kissing you making sure to use tongue and his hand are running over your body. He picks you up letting your feet dangle in the air and you giggle before he puts you down on the bed. 

He places his legs in-between yours and just looks down at your chest biting on his inner lip, you knew he was staring and it made your nipples go hard just the thought of him admiring your body turned you on even more. He runs his tongue over your nipples sucking ever so slightly and you let out a small moan, he takes his hand and starts rubbing your other nipple and you let out a louder moan.

“That was so hot” Taron stands up and starts undoing his jeans, you want to keep your eyes on his but you can’t take your eyes off his body and thats when he pulls his boxers down as well and you gulp “like something you see?” He places his hands on his hips “yes” you look up at him and smile. “Good” 

His quick to unbutton your shorts and get them off “oh, are you wearing a thong?” You suddenly realise the underwear you put on this morning and freak out, you cover your hands across your underwear “that say is it Friday yet?” He laughs “I need to do some washing ok?” He reaches his hand out for you “I do need to see your arse in these” “of course you do” you take his hand and stand up, Taron jumps on the bed laying there with his hands behind his head. “Turn around then princess” You turn around and as soon as you do you hear Taron wolf whistle, you turn back around and curtsey “thank you.”

*

You lay next to Taron totally naked on your bed feeling your chest take deep breaths in and out not looking at Taron as you now start to feel nervous “you ready?” You let out a squeak not really an answer to what Taron asked for “how about if we want to stop and walk away from all of this we just tap each other anyway on the body twice?” You look at him and nod “ok then” and thats when Taron starts by placing his middle finger inside you and you feel your body relax until he starts going in and out with his finger dead straight at a very fast-paced.

“ok no” Taron stops and looks at you “just curl your finger ever so slightly and slow down I’m not going anywhere” and he curls his finger once it reaches inside you and pulls out slower still keeping his finger curled. Taron is watching to see your reaction and notices how your body language is totally different you wasn’t so tense and almost squirming for him to stop. 

Your fingers where digging into your hand and head pushed deep into the pillows “god thats so much BETTER” ‘better’ came out more high pitched than you expected. Taron starts to go a bit faster and light moans come from your mouth. Taron uses his other hand, taking his thumb to rub your clit in small circles, he still can’t take his eyes of you even though you are not looking at him. 

Your fingers are now digging even harder into your hand and more moans are now leaving your mouth “fuck, I am so turned on” Taron says and thats when you look at him “your turn then” and he chuckles “oh no, I can wait” he stops what his doing and makes you bend your legs up so your feet are flat on the bed, he moves his face close to your vagina and just as he was about to start eating you out he stops “looks like I’m not the only one turned on and by the looks of it you are extremely turned on” you can tell his so very smug you just can’t stop winding each other up about it. 

“That’s what happens when you imagine that sexy guy from the library, you know the one” you knew Taron didn’t like him, he thought the guy was always so smug, you always thought they were too alike. “we’ll see about that when you are begging for me to fuck you.” He starts licking your clit slow, moving his tongue up and down, your toes start to curl and your body relax. He starts to move faster and you start to let little moans slip past your lips. 

Taron starts flicking the tip of his tongue fast and thats when you let go and you start grabbing at the bed sheets “oh fuck Taron” he keeps going and going and your body is now arching of the bed, he hooks his arms under your legs and places them on top of stomach to keep you still. You feel your orgasm approaching and Taron knows it is as well as he can feel your legs tense up. He comes to a complete stop, so you sit up to look at him, very annoyed “what the fuck are you doing?" 

“Beg me” you tilt your head back “you’ve got to be joking right?” “beg” he puts emphasis on the word, you throw yourself back onto the pillow and place your arms over your face “Taron, I’m not begging” he takes one big lick over your pussy and you flinch but still nothing comes out from your mouth but a moan “ok then, my turn” he starts to move away from you “no, no, no” you take a deep breath “please” you say very quietly “i’m sorry, what was that?” “please Taron.”

“As you wish princess” he gets back into his position and starts going faster, just constantly going over your clit. It doesn’t take you long for your orgasm to start building up again “FUCK TARON, DON’T STOP” you practically cry out. You moan very loud and tug on Taron’s hair as your orgasm comes, Taron slows down before he pulls away.

“Was it really that good?” He wipes his mouth on the back of his hand “so fucking good, never stop doing it that way” you keep taking deep breaths as you lay there. “I bet you wasn’t thinking of the guy from the library then was you” “I hate to add to your ego, but no I wasn’t”

You get up and Taron watches you as you get on your knees “stand up then” Taron practically jumps of the bed and stands in front in you “i’m telling you now, most girls do not like it when you face fuck us, so don’t even think about it” “can I least play with your hair?” You have a smug smile on your face “I like it when it gets pulled, hard” you see his dick twitch at your comment. You place your hand at the base of his dick before licking the pre-cum off and then wrap your mouth around his dick and start moving your head back and forth going as deep as you can.

You swirl your tongue around his dick and you feel Taron’s fingers running through the back of your scalp and it sends shivers down you body because you know his about to start pulling. You go even deeper trying to make Taron feel good and you also really want him to pull on your hair “oh fuck” he grabs a fist full of hair and starts tugging on it, you moan around his dick and start sucking faster. 

You pull away from his dick and dribble runs down your chin “oh god you look so hot like that” he pulls your hair back to get a view of your face and swollen red lips. You wrap a slightly tighter grip around his dick and start pumping up and down just sitting there on your knees still with your mouth open waiting for him to cum. “no fuck stop” you pout and sink down with your bum touching your feet “god, I so badly want to cum on you but I also want to fuck you so bad” you blush at his comment.

“Have you got any condoms?” Taron asks as he throws himself down on the bed out of breath, you make your way to your bottom bedside draw bending over giving Taron a great view of your arse and he can’t help himself and that’s when he smacks it and you let out a loud moan. You turn to look at Taron “oh my god you get turned on by being spanked?” He laughs “oh shut up” you throw the condom at him “its actually hot, really fucking hot” he rolls the condom onto his dick “but we can talk about that another day” 

He takes your hand leading you to climb on top of him before you stop him “erm, I’ve never done cowgirl before” you tuck your hair behind your ear “you don’t have to do it” He questions “no I want to, you learn something new everyday right?” You place your legs either side of Taron’s and putting your hands on his chest “you look so beautiful from this angle” you cant help but smile at his compliment.

“ok, so do I just put it in or what?” He chuckles “no, its easier for me to do it” he lines his dick up with your vagina “ok now move down” you move down and feel a slight tingle, you start moving fast and at an awkward angle “woah, hold on” he places his hand on your hips “slow down and a tilt your body a little more forward” you do as you are told and everything feels so much different, so much better. 

You start biting down on your lip just rocking up and down at steady pace “fuck stop doing that” you let go of your lip “sorry” you now feel awkward and uncomfortable and Taron can see that expression on your face “its just so sexy and I really don’t want to cum within the next three seconds” you smile.

He keeps ahold of your hips and just watches your body bounce up and down “you can go faster if you want?” Taron says. You place your hand on his chest and start to go faster, as you go faster your boobs start to bounce up and down “oh fuck, no slow it back down” “but this feel so good” you moan out and tilt your head back letting your hair fall behind you and moans keep escaping past your lips. 

Taron so badly wants to keep watching you and how your body is moving against his but if he does he knows he wont last much longer, Taron sits up and starts kissing in-between your breast and licks over your nipples and it sends you over the edge and you cant help but bounce harder and faster “fuck Taron” you scream out and run your finger nails along his back. 

“Taron I can’t hold on much longer” “oh thank fuck because I’m trying so hard not to cum right now” Taron relaxes his body and lets his orgasm start to build back up, you close your eyes and lick your lips before biting down on it “oh fuck Y/N” Taron legs twitch as he cums within second after you biting your lip. “YES” you scream loud as you feel your cum running down your inner thighs. 

Taron lays down on the bed and you rest your body on top of his “I want to move, but I don’t know if I can” Taron chuckles at your comment before smelling your hair “your hair smells like candy” “thanks” you laugh before laying next to him “for someone who is not confident with women, you sure are cocky during sex” you rest your head on his chest “big cock, big ego” you scoff before yanking the pillow from underneath his head and hitting him with it. He places his arms over his face “I was going to say we should do this every Friday but you hurt me with the pillow” “i’m up for more lesson in sex if you are? You smile at him “done deal then” Taron kisses you on the lips.

(I really didn’t know how to end this!)

[gb-fics]

Warmth

Fanfiction:

Kiryuuin Shou x Kyan Yutaka (Golden Bomber)

Note: This one is really just a quickie. It’s based on the DVD that comes with Golden Bomber’s latest Album “Killer Tune shika neeyo”. There, the members stay over a the house of Kenji’s parents and in the morning Kenji goes berserk on them and rips off Yutaka’s blanket. And for a moment he is crawling around so desperately looking for cover, I really thought he was going to sneak under with Shou. (Which he didn’t, but I don’t care :D) Also, the fact that Shou slept in such light clothes and Yutaka looked like they were spending the night at the North Pole ... XD To me it looked as if the sweater he slept in, was the one Shou wore earlier while drying his hair and first I thought that maybe they lend clothes from Kenji or something, but I think the pants Yutaka slept in were the ones he also wore at the Line live they promoted the album with, so it must have been their own clothes. (But let’s pretend Yutaka sleeps in his stage outfits and NOT that he is performing in his pyjamas, okay? xD). Anyway, all that considered it can be assumed Yutaka slept in Shou’s sweater. End of reasoning :D

The music was deafening.

„Everyone, wake up, get up, it’s 6am already!”, Kenji shouted, clapping his hands in the rhythm of the song.

The song was Memeshikute. Of course, it was.

Yutaka pulled the blanket up over his head. It was a heavy down duvet, but it didn’t manage to drive out the noise completely.

Kenji was a master of creating noise.

“Get up, get up!”, he shouted again.

Yutaka kept his eyes closed.

He hadn’t slept well last night. Maybe Kenji had slept well in his own room, but the guest room Yutaka had to share with Shou and Jun was unfamiliar and he felt more comfortable at home anyway. He had taken up the space in the middle, too, trying all night to remain still as not to wake his bandmembers.

In spite of the futon, the cold had crept in from underneath and Yutaka had been freezing all night. Shou had lend him his sweater, because Shou was always watching out for him and because he was sweet and gentle and caring and for a second there Yutaka had felt very warm at least on the inside. But even with the sweater and an additional jacket on top, Yutaka had been cold. He froze way too easily.

Now it was getting cold, too. Kenji had let in a wave of fresh air by opening the door. Even underneath the duvet, Yutaka could sense it.

It was stuffy under there, but he decided to rather suffocate than face a world that was noisy and cold and way too bright.

Yutaka had a hard time waking up in the morning anyway, but after a night like this – and especially at 6am – there was absolutely nothing that was able to reconcile with reality.

“It’s a bright new morning!”, Kenji shouted and then Yutaka was confronted with the worst sensation of his entire life.

He felt someone tugging at his duvet and dug his fingers into it violently, but he didn’t stand a chance against wide-awake Kenji. The duvet was ripped away from his body and tossed up into the air.

Where it had been too noisy, too cold and too bright before, it suddenly turned even noisier, colder and brighter.

Squinting his eyes against the sudden light, Yutaka felt around with his hands to maybe grab his duvet again, but Kenji had already pulled it out of reach completely.

Yutaka rolled onto his stomach, disorientated and just trying to press his face into the pillow to make the hostile world disappear again.

Memeshikute was still playing on full volume.

Kenji was still shouting.

He was standing at the end of Yutaka’s futon, still clapping his hands.

Trying to get away from the source of noise, Yutaka scrambled to his right. He didn’t think of where that would lead him. He didn’t think of Shou and Jun and not of the cameras probably filming him right now. He just wanted to get away from this loud, cheerful nightmare.

His arm hit something soft. Another duvet, Yutaka realized.

His leg brushed against something warm.

Irritated he blinked down, only to find a bare leg sticking out from under the duvet.

Shou - this direction was obviously where Shou was sleeping. He had gone to sleep in nothing but shorts and a thin shirt, leaving his sweater to Yutaka. Even now, he seemed too hot to keep his body beneath the duvet. That man was producing heat like a nuclear reactor.

Yutaka thought about how warm it must have been under that duvet right now.

He let out a little groan of despair, trying to sneak closer to maybe absorb some of the warmth.

Much to his surprise, he felt Shou shuffle over and the duvet was lifted just a little.

Taking his chance, Yutaka slipped in underneath.

And for the first time in at least 24 hours, he felt warm.

Even the futon underneath him was warm where Shou had lain only seconds ago. He had heat up the space beneath the duvet so much that entering it felt like slipping into a warm, cosy bubble. Inside this bubble, nothing was able to hurt and even the noise all around seemed more endurable.

Yutaka wrapped his arm around Shou, snuggling even closer. He hoped it wouldn’t make Shou uncomfortable to be cuddle like that, but Yutaka didn’t care. Shou was incredible warm and he had been freezing all night long. He could sense his body heat very clearly through the thin fabric of his clothes. For a confusing moment, Yutaka wished Shou would have been naked, just so he could get as close to his warm skin as possible.

Instead of pressing his face into the pillow, he was now burying it against Shou’s shoulder. He could smell him clearly that way. He smelled nice. They all had used Kenji’s soap for bathing last evening, but the scent seemed to have changed on Shou’s skin. He smelled clean, but with the faintest hint of lemon and also like early mornings. The warm bubble around them seemed to be filled with this scent, too and Yutaka thought that inside this bubble, he would have been able to spend a perfect night for sure.

“Oi, what are you doing? Get up from under there, both of you!”, Kenji shouted.

Somewhere in the back, Jun made a soft sobbing sound that Yutaka would have found very relatable only moments ago.

By now, he himself felt almost reconciled with reality, though.

“Kenji?”, Shou said next to him. His voice sounded hoarse right after waking up. Yutaka wondered why he had never noticed before. When Shou spoke, he could sense his chest heaving with each word. “Just fuck off.”

“You have to …”, Kenji protested, but he already sounded more hesitate.

Shou was their leader after all. You didn’t argue with him.

“Later”, Shou groaned.

He spoke rather calmly, but his voice was cracked around the edges. Maybe, Yutaka thought, he wouldn’t have been able to hear it from further away. It was nice to notice those small things about Shou. Like his smell and how smooth his lower arm felt where Yutaka’s hand was resting against it.

The music finally went silent.

Yutaka let out a small sigh of relief against Shou’s throat. Shou’s chest heaved, but he didn’t make any sound. It felt as if he was silently chuckling. Yutaka’s breath was probably tickling him.

“Alright, I’ll be back, though”, Kenji announced and Yutaka kept his eyes closed until he heard the sound of a shutting door. Only then did he dare to blink again.

It was finally quiet now and the light dimmed. If he listened closely, he could hear Shou’s breathing. It was very even as if he had fallen asleep again immediately.

Yutaka raised his head to check on Shou’s face. He had never seen it up this close in the morning. His features were showing more clearly somehow and his skin looked very smooth as if the stress of being awake hadn’t worn it out yet.

Sleepily, Shou blinked, obviously trying to focus on Yutaka as well. He looked cute that way, his eyes even smaller than usually with sleepiness.

Briefly, Yutaka wanted to kiss him, because the situation felt so much like it. Because the warmth and the smell and the silence they were sharing felt so intimate and because he felt more affectionate when he wasn’t quite awake yet.

He suppressed the urge and let his head sink back onto the pillow.

“Good morning”, Shou whispered.

His voice was hushed now, but still hoarse. He sounded sexy that way.

“Good morning”, Yutaka replied quietly, although he didn’t feel like speaking at all.

“Let’s catch some more sleep, before he gets back, yes?”, Shou suggested.

“Do I have to go back to my futon?”, Yutaka asked. He was scared that Shou would send him away, because maybe he wanted to have space to himself and because maybe cuddling like this felt inappropriate to him and because maybe he didn’t enjoy their bodies this close to one another nearly as much as Yutaka did.

“No, stay”, Shou mumbled back. “It feels nice.”

“I was cold all night”, Yutaka confessed in a whisper. “But not anymore.”

Shou shifted next to him, wrapping his arm around Yutaka’s waist. He could sense the weight through the jacket and the sweater.

“Stay by my side. I will always keep you warm, promise”, Shou mumbled, his voice slurring towards the end.

Yutaka was sure he would never have said something like that when he was fully awake. Shou hated being vulnerable. But there was something about being dizzy and sleepy that made you vulnerable in general. And inside their shared bubble, nothing was able to hurt anyway.

“Then I’ll never leave”, he whispered back and shifted his weight as well to put his head against Shou’s chest.

His heartbeat was slow and calming and his chest warm. Shou was the warmest person Yutaka had ever met.

“You are my personal sun”, he murmured.

“Oh, come on!”, Jun shouted. “I’m still in the room!”

Yutaka chuckled and he felt Shou doing the same. He still had his arm around Yutaka.

“Let’s sleep”, he suggested once more.

Yutaka closed his eyes. Everything about him felt warm, his arms and legs and his back and his toes and especially the inside of his chest. Slowly, he felt himself calm down after Kenji’s violent attack and the tiring night.

He assumed that it wasn’t just about the heat Shou radiated, but also about the kindness of allowing him under the duvet and about lending him his sweater the night before and about the sound of his hoarse whispers in the morning and about how nice it was too feel his body and his skin through only a thin lair of clothes.

And who could tell, maybe, if he woke for the second time today and felt a little more rested – all those things would make Yutaka feel warm enough strip off some of his own clothes as well.

Provided, Jun left the room.

[steviemae]

curvy // sp - pt.2

part two of this imagine, but also requested by anonymous: I loved you SP imagine❤️ and I would like to request a sweet pea smut (if your okay with that) but in his POV where the reader in self conscious and he doesn’t understand why? Thanks💞

warning: smut. smut. smut. smut. and more smut. 

The movie had ended and you were taking the disc out of the dvd player to put back in its case and on the shelf.

“You ready for Chamber of Secrets?” you asked, your back facing Sweet Pea. You received no reply so you turned around to see if he was even paying attention to you, only to jump back in surprise when you found Sweet Pea standing right behind you.

“You scared me, you ass.” you said clutching your chest.

“Sorry, but i have something else in mind.” His voice was low and gruff and you stood shocked as his hands gripped your waist, running up under your cropped hoodie before going back down to your hips. His head buried itself in the crook of your neck, leaving chaste kisses leading up to your jaw before ghosting over your cheek and finally brushing against your own.

“Are you only doing this so you don’t have to watch Harry Potter? Because if that’s the case you can just leave.” you said feeling  yourself getting kind of angry pushing against his chest making him take a step back.

“No, i wouldn’t have suggested a marathon if i wasn’t fully intrigued to watch them with you. But i’m also intrigued as to why you hide behind baggy clothes when your body looks like that.” he said.

“That’s exactly why i wear baggy clothes. Because my body looks like this.” you said as if it were the most obvious thing and motioning towards your body.

Sweet pea’s pov.

“You’re joking right?” i said, my eyes widening as she crossed her arms over her stomach to stop my eyes from scanning over her body for the hundredth time today.

“No, i’m not joking, Sweet Pea.” she mumbled not meeting my eyes, but looking down at the carpet as her foot ran across it, back and forth. I took the opportunity to walk up to her and grab her wrists, gently prying them away from her stomach. I bent down so i was kneeling in front of her, letting go of her wrists and placing my hands on her hips, moving the hem of her hoodie out of the way so i could leave kisses across her stomach.

“There’s nothing you should be insecure about, you’re beautiful and i can honestly say that this outfit is driving me insane.” i mumbled against her skin. My fingers dipped into the waistband of her spandex shorts, pulling them down a little to expose her hip where i left  my mark before kissing a line across to her other hip. I heard her let out a sigh above me, her fingers burying themselves in my hair. A smile pulled at my lips as i continued to leave kisses across her stomach before i stood back up. Her hands were still in my hair, only this time at the base of my neck while mine stayed on her hips, tugging her closer to me.

“So are you gonna let me worship that body or not?” i whispered in her ear nipping at her lobe gently. She said nothing, but tugged my face to hers and kissed me with so much need. I didn’t hesitate to pick her up, letting her wrap her legs around my waist.

“Bedroom or couch, love?” i asked pulling away from the kiss for a brief second.

“Couch. The bedroom is too far.” she mumbled slapping her lips against mine again. I laid her on her back on the couch crawling between her legs, my hands roaming her body. After making out for a bit i pulled away tugging the hem of her hoodie up so she’d take it off. She gave me a hesitant look before slowly taking it off and tossing it to the ground. Her arms immediately moving to cover her stomach making my eyebrows knit together.

“Don’t do that. Don’t hide from me, there’s no need. You’re gorgeous.” i mumbled, grabbing her wrists again to move her arms up, pinning them over her head with one hand while i used the other to drag my fingertips from her neck, down her chest, over her stomach and stopping when they hit the waistband of her shorts. I leaned down to kiss her again, letting my fingers slip underneath her shorts and underwear, teasing her folds making her gasp into my mouth. I slipped my tongue into her mouth allowing it to dance with hers as i rubbed small gentle circles over her clit making her hips buck and small sighs to leave her mouth.

Much to her dismay, i pulled my hand out of her pants and pulled away from the kiss, letting go of her hands i still had pinned above her head. I brought my hands to her shorts, pulling them down along with her underwear before i kneeled on the floor by the couch, moving her body so that my face was directly in front of her heat. I kissed both of her thighs letting my hands roam the skin of her outer thigh and hip. Her arms moved to cover her stomach yet again but i stopped them, “if you cover yourself, i’ll stop. Either keep them above your head or your hands gripping the couch or my hair. Understood?” i dropped my voice down low so she knew i wasn’t joking. Her eyes widened but nodded. I let go of her wrists going back to kissing up her thigh, feeling her fingers tangle in my hair. I flattened my tongue against her core, licking from her entrance to her clit making her squirm above me. When i reached her clit, i flicked my tongue against it over and over making her moan and her fingers to grip my hair tighter. I let out my own groan as she continued to pull my hair, it turned my on that i was making her feel this way and of course, boosted my ego a bit as well.

“Sweet Pea, i-” Her body was writhing on the couch as my tongue continued to flick over her sensitive area. My eyes never left her face as she came against my mouth, her chest heaving as she breathed heavily, nails scratching at my scalp because of how tight she gripped my hair. Mouth open as moans slipped past her lips and eyes screwed shut. I pulled away with one final kiss to her clit, kissing my way up her body, leaving marks up her stomach and across her breast. Whenever she’d look herself in the mirror she’d see those marks and remember how i cherished every inch of her body. Maybe she would stop feeling so insecure. She cupped my face in her hands, kissing my lips. I took one of her hands away from my face, pulling it down and placed it over the bulge in my jeans.

“Feel that?” i whispered in her ear, “that’s all because of you. There’s nothing you should feel insecure about, you’re fucking hot. Your body is amazing. God, i’ve never wanted someone so bad in my life.” I groaned when she squeezed me gently making my hips buck into her hand.

“Take them off, Pea.” She whispered licking over my Serpent tattoo before biting down, surly leaving a mark there. I pulled away in a rush, tugging my shirt over my head and practically ripping my jeans and underwear down my legs before climbing back in between her legs.

“You’re on the pill, right?” i asked rubbing the tip of my cock over her, spreading her juices. She nodded, “yeah, but still pull out.” she gasped feeling me put the tip into her entrance. She cupped my face, pulling me in for a kiss as i slowly pushed all the way into her. I decided i was going to take this slow, not rush anything. Making sure she felt every inch of me and i felt every inch of her, drawing out both of our orgasms so we’d last a little longer.

“Pea, faster please.” she begged making me shake my head.

“Sorry, love. But i’m taking my time with you.” i said kissing her neck and collarbone. Her quiet moans and sighs of pleasure filled the room only adding to my pleasure. I decided to pick up the pace a little bit but not too much, only sliding in and out of her the tiniest bit faster. Her nails scratched into my shoulder blades making me hiss and let out a long groan into her neck.

“God, y/n. Fuck you feel amazing.” i panted. I pulled out and slammed into her making a loud moan leave her lips. She quickly placed her hand over her mouth to stop another from slipping out, but i grabbed her hands and pinned them back above her head like i did before, “what did i say about hiding from me?” i slowed down my thrusts to tease her making her whine.

“That means those glorious moans of yours too. I want to hear you.” she nodded pleading for me to go faster. I kept her hands pinned above her head with one hand and let the other slip between us to rub her clit making her back arch off the couch and her chest to press flush against mine.

“Pea, yes. I’m gonna-” she moaned biting into my shoulder.

“Cum for me, baby. You can do it.” i coaxed into her ear sucking on the spot right behind her ear that i knew drove her wild. Her moans grew louder and i could feel her walls clench around me. She moaned my name louder as her climax ran through her body her wrists straining against my hand. The feeling of her walls pulsing around me was enough to bring me to my own orgasm. I pulled out jerking myself, spilling all over her stomach moaning her name in the process. I watched as my cum dripped down over her heat, mixing with her own juices making me moan one more time before i let go of her wrists, standing up to grab a towel out of the downstairs bathroom and wetting it a bit before going back to clean her up. She hissed as the towel brushed over her sensitive clit her hips bucking up and legs clamping shut, “just let me clean you up, baby.” i mumbled giving the top of her thigh a kiss. Once she was all cleaned i tossed her my shirt and slipped my boxers back on before taking the towel to throw into the dirty clothes hamper in her laundry room.

Making my way back to the living room i picked her up off the couch bridal style before sitting myself down, back leaning against the arm rest, placing her between my legs allowing her head to rest on my chest.

“Thank you.” she whispered.

“For what?” i asked kissing the top of her head. She lifted her head up to look at me.

“For making me feel less insecure even if it was just for a moment.” she said. I shook my head, “you shouldn’t feel insecure, ever. You’re beautiful. I’m not saying you should go around showing off your body if you’re not comfortable with that, but i am saying that you never have to hide your curves from me. Ever.” a small smile spread across her lips and she leaned up a little to place a quick kiss on my lips.

your pov.

Sweet Pea stayed over all weekend, taking the opportunity to worship your body the whole time and you weren’t complaining. He left sunday night to go back to his trailer before your parents came back from their cruise. When you woke up monday morning you were feeling confident and wanted to show off everything you had going on so you grabbed a pair of form fitting high waisted jeans that were slightly distressed putting them on and checking your butt out in the mirror, giving yourself a nod of approval you took off the hoodie you wore to bed that night, putting on a lace bralette and pulling the shirt Sweet Pea left over the weekend over your head. You gathered it at the front and tied it in a knot so that your stomach was showing slightly. You walked downstairs after gathering everything you needed for school in your backpack catching your mom’s attention when you walked into the kitchen.

“You look amazing, y/n. What happened to the sweater and boyfriend jeans?” she asked.

“Someone made me realize that i had nothing to be insecure about. That my body is perfect the way it is and today i felt confident. Do you not like it?” you asked your smile dropping.

“No, no sweetie i love it. Don’t change. You look amazing and i’m sure whoever it was that helped give you a confidence boost will love it to.” she said giving your forehead a kiss.

You walked through the hallways with your head held high everyone doing a double take to make sure it was actually you. All of your friends jaws dropped, except Sweet Pea who had a smirk plastered on his face, as you walked into the lounge.

“Hey, guys.” you greeted smiling happily at them.

“Who knew that you were hiding such a killer body under those baggy clothes, y/n.” Reggie said walking over to you and placing his hand on your hip only to be dragged back by the collar of his letterman jacket, “back off mutt, she’s mine.” Sweet Pea walked up to you giving you a kiss on the lips telling you how fucking hot you looked in his shirt and that he couldn’t wait until the two of you got to his trailer after school so he could rip it off of you.

[revwinchester]

Centerfold - Epilogue

Summary:  Dean stumbles across an interview and photoshoot starring his high school crush (and younger brother’s friend) Castiel.  He decides he’s going to stop at nothing to get back in touch with the boy with the blue eyes who used to sit in front of him in homeroom.

Genre: Mostly fluff with a touch of angst

Pairing: Destiel

Characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Castiel

Word Count: 2066

Series Warnings: AU - No Supernatural, Porn Star Cas, Mentions of Sex (but no depictions), Bastardization of SPN Lines, Scenes, and Episode Titles

A/N: This whole series came out of a prompt for @thinkwritexpress-official​‘s Back To School Challenge!  The fic is based on the J Gelis Band song “Centerfold” in which a man finds his high school crush on the pages of his favorite porn magazine.  This is it, friends, we’ve reached the end of this little ride.  I hope you’ve enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!!  And be aware, there’s a time jump here - you (probably) didn’t miss a chapter ;)

Find it on AO3

Centerfold Masterlist

Centerfold - Epilogue - 

The sights and sounds of Las Vegas were among Dean’s favorites.  He and Sam had been making yearly pilgrimages to Sin City since the winter after Sam’s 21st birthday but, lately, the trips had been more about business than pleasure.  Then again, business was pleasure when your partner was a porn star.

Dean was charming the pants off of anyone who was in the line for Castiel’s autograph, working the merchandise table and talking to the fans about the different items they could buy or sometimes just talking about Castiel’s work.  It had been an adjustment, at first, knowing that everyone Dean interacted with at a convention like this had seen his boyfriend naked and had watched him have sex with a bunch of other actors but once he had gotten over the initial shock of that, Dean found he enjoyed the events.  Specifically, he loved watching Castiel at these things.  

Cas, or really Jimmy, interacted with his fans with ease, snapping selfies and signing DVDs, posters, and the occasional dildo.  Most of the fans wanted to fawn over his work and some were brave enough to ask for a lewd pose in their photo.  A couple asked Cas about his partner.

Castiel had revealed in a recent interview that he had begun dating someone just after his spread in Hot Rod Hotties and that now, two and a half years into their relationship, things were rather serious between them.  Cas had said that they weren’t someone in the porn industry but, besides that, he hadn’t shared any more info about the mystery partner but, of course, fans were curious.  “What’s their name?” and “Do they watch your movies?” were the two most common questions, though Cas only ever answered the latter, and no one ever gave the attractive merch guy a second glance.  No one besides Cas, that is.  Whenever he had a spare moment, he’d catch Dean’s eye and send a smile his way.

The pair had discussed going public with their relationship but Cas had suggested waiting until he retired from being on screen.  Dean didn’t need that kind of attention, he had reasoned.  “After all,” Cas had joked, “there are a lot of weirdos out there and not all stalkers get their happy ending.”  After he had finished scowling and pouting at Cas, Dean had agreed to wait.  He was still able to attend most events with Cas, since he ran the sales portion of his boyfriend’s booth, and he had learned that it was fairly common for the talent to travel with the same entourage from one convention to the next rather than having to train new people in each city.

As the day wrapped up, Dean began to put away the unsold merchandise.  He was organizing a stack of photos when he felt familiar arms wrap around his waist and a warm chest press against his back.  

“Don’t drool on the goods,” Cas laughed, “I know that Jimmy guy is pretty hot but you can’t sell the pictures if you’ve slobbered all over them.”

Dean spun around and out of Castiel’s grasp.  “You gotta be careful, someone could see, Cas,” Dean chastised but Cas just smiled and winked at him before he picked up a handful of DVDs and packed them away.  They cleaned up the rest of the booth in companionable silence and then made their way back to the hotel room they were sharing.  

Dean stashed the box while Cas headed into the bathroom.  The AVN Awards were that night and he was nominated for Best Actor for his work as two characters in The Big Empty and for Male Performer of the Year.  He was predicted to with them both but, if everything went well, those two awards weren’t the only thing Cas would be celebrating.

Cas showered quickly, knowing that Dean would want to take one as well.  He got out of the stall and dried himself off before wrapping the towel around his waist and stepping back into the hotel room.  “The shower’s all yours,” he told Dean, who had situated himself on the bed and was flipping through the channels on the hotel’s tv.  Cas pulled his towel off and rummaged through his bag for a fresh pair of underwear.

“Nah, I’m good here,” Dean replied.  

Cas turned around and looked at Dean.  The man, who had clearly been staring at his ass, was not unapologetically raking his eyes over Castiel’s naked body.  Cas arched an eyebrow at him.  “Dean, go shower or you won’t have time.”

“I was enjoying the show,” Dean mumbled as Cas pulled his underwear up over his hips, covering his groin from his boyfriend’s view.  He rolled off of the bed and continued grumbling as he made his way into the bathroom, pulling the door shut and starting the water.

Cas finished getting dressed, putting on his favorite suit and shirt, opting for a blue tie that he knew brought out his eyes.  He finished tying the tie and tucked the little box he had been hiding all week into his jacket’s inner pocket just as the shower shut off.  Cas smiled at his reflection; he needed to look good tonight - at the very least, he’d likely be all over YouTube in a couple of hours.  

Dean came out of the bathroom surrounded by a puff of steam and crossed the room st stand behind Cas.  “You look gorgeous,” he assured the man who he had caught fidgeting with his tie, before pressing a kiss onto Castiel’s cheek and turning to his suitcase to find the beginnings of his outfit for the evening.  His towel was drooping and Dean let it fall, wiggling his ass when Cas let out a wolf whistle.

Once Dean was dressed, they made their way down to the awards ceremony.  They were brought to their seats by an usher but before they sat, Cas turned to Dean.  “Do you mind finding us some drinks?  I need to go and have a quick chat with my manager before the show.”

Dean smiled and winked before he headed back out of the theater and towards the open bar in the lobby.  

Cas watched him go before he tracked down someone who could get his message to the person running the camera crew during the show.  If he won both awards, he wanted the camera that would have been broadcasting his face onto the big screens in the room to stay put.  Once he was assured that the message would be relayed, Cas joined Dean back at their seats just as the lights dimmed for the show to begin.

Awards were given and speeches were made and, after about an hour, it was time for the first category in which Cas was nominated, Best Actor.

The awards weren’t being broadcasted on any television, but Cas knew that a couple of the major porn sites would be live streaming, so there were cameras in the room, one of which was pointed at him.  He smiled at the camera when the presenter said his name and then schooled his features into a gently anticipatory expression.  

“And the winner is…” The presenter opened the envelope.  “Jimmy Novak in The Big Empty!”

Cas stood, as did all of the people around him.  He hugged a few of them, giving Dean an extra little squeeze, and then made his way to the stage.  

“Thank you, thank you so much.  There are so many people to thank… Thank you to the team behind The Big Empty, especially my costars and Director Dick, Thank you to my manager and to Dean.”  Cas paused for a second and winked.  It was the first time he had named Dean, though he didn’t pontificate on who Dean was.  “I’m so excited to win this award, especially because it’s always fun to go out with a bang - pun intended - and I,” Cas paused again, waiting for the little bit of laughter to die down, “and I am announcing my retirement tonight.  I’ve got one more shoot scheduled and then I’ll be transitioning into the next phase of my career.  Thank you all, for this award, and for making the last 20 or so years amazing.”

Cas retreated back stage as the next presenter came to the microphone.  He cut the interviews short with the promise to sit down for a longer interview after the show ended, wanting to get back to Dean.  The retirement announcement had been a surprise for his boyfriend and Cas didn’t want to leave him wondering for too long.  As soon as he could, Cas sat down beside Dean again.  “Hi,” Cas whispered, a small smile on his face.  “Surprise!”

Dean surreptitiously grabbed Castiel’s hand.  “You’re doing this because it’s what you want, right?” he asked quietly, looking at Cas.  “Not because you think it’s what I want?”

“Yes, Dean,” Cas replied.  “While I won’t lie and tell you that you didn’t play a role in this decision, this is what I want.  I have a few ideas as to what might come next for me and we can talk about them soon.  The one thing I need to know now, though, is if you still want to be open about our relationship with the porn world now.  If I win the next one, can I thank my partner?”

Dean squeezed Castiel’s hand and brought it up to his lips.  “That would be perfect, Cas.”  

The pair settled back into the seats, Dean still holding his boyfriend’s hand as the awards progressed.  As the night went on, Dean noticed that Cas was starting to get more and more nervous.  It was odd.  This wasn’t the first time he had been up for awards and he had never gotten this riled up over it before.  Dean did what he could to calm Cas and quietly reassure him but by the time the presenter was announcing the nominees for Male Performer of the Year, Cas was practically buzzing with nervous excitement.  

“And the AVN for Male Performer of the Year goes to… Jimmy Novak!”

Cas rose from his seat again.  This time, he didn’t hug anyone before Dean.  He pulled his boyfriend in and held him tightly.  “I love you,” he whispered, kissing him before making his way to the stage.  

“Thank you, this is truly an honor.  I don’t know if it’s possible to top my last speech, but I’m certainly going to try,” Cas laughed.  He took a deep breath and centered himself, allowing himself to be Castiel for one of the first times ever in the presence of his colleagues.  “There are so many people to thank and I promise I’ll call you all tomorrow.  Right now, I want to use my time to say this: Dean, I love you.  The past two and a half years have been among the best in my life and I am so glad that your brother and I let the air out of my tire in an attempt to orchestrate our meeting and that you took me to dinner instead of to the police station… We always said that we would share our relationship with the porn world once I retired so I can’t think of a better time to do this.”  Cas reached into his jacket and pulled out the box he had hidden there.  “Dean, will you do me the honor of marrying me?”

The crowd erupted into applause as Dean’s face was displayed on the large screens to the sides of the stage.  He looked shocked but then started laughing, one of his hands rubbing his eyes and then swiping down his face before he nodded and Cas saw, rather than heard, him say “Yes.”

Cas left the stage, adopting his Jimmy persona for the final time as he went to meet the media for the interviews he had promised them earlier.  He was just as eager to get back to Dean and to his seat this time but he knew that playing nice and answering their questions would be the quickest way to do that.  

Cas made it back to his seat just in time for the final award of the night but neither he nor Dean would be able to recall who had won that prize because as soon as he was seated, Dean pulled Cas in and kissed him soundly.

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[nemolian]

Real Genius turns 35—celebrating this cult classic is a moral imperative

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Mitch (Gabriel Jarret) and Chris (Val Kilmer) play young science whizzes trying to build a 5-kilowatt laser in the 1985 film

Real Genius

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TriStar Pictures

Back to the Future justly dominated the summer box office in 1985, but it's too bad its massive success overshadowed another nerd-friendly gem, Real Genius, which debuted one month later, on August 9. Now celebrating its 35th anniversary, the film remains one of the most charming, winsome depictions of super-smart science whizzes idealistically hoping to change the world for the better with their work. It also boasts a lot of reasonably accurate science—a rare occurrence at the time.

Real Genius came out the same year as the similarly-themed films Weird Science—which spawned a 1990s TV sitcom—and My Science Project, because 1980s Hollywood tended to do things in threes. But I'd argue that Real Genius has better stood the test of time, despite being so quintessentially an '80s film—right down to the many montages set to electronic/synth-pop chart-toppers. The film only grossed $12.9 million domestically against its $8 million budget, compared to $23.8 million domestically for its fellow cult classic, Weird Science. (My Science Project bombed with a paltry $4.1 million.) Reviews were mostly positive, however, and over time it became a sleeper hit via VHS, and later, DVD and streaming platforms.

(Spoilers for the 35-year-old film below.)

Fifteen-year-old Mitch Taylor (Gabriel Jarret) is a science genius and social outcast at his high school. So he is over the moon when Professor Jerry Hathaway (William Atherton), a star researcher at the fictional Pacific Technical University, stops by the science fair to inform Mitch he's been admitted to the university. Even better, Hathaway has hand-picked Mitch to work in his own lab on a laser project. But unbeknownst to Mitch, Hathaway is in league with a covert CIA program to develop a space-based laser weapon called "Crossbow," designed for precisely targeted political assassinations. The only remaining obstacle is the weapon's power source: they need a 5-megawatt laser, and are relying on Hathaway to deliver.

The first act is a nerdier version of the classic fish-out-of-water tale, as Mitch arrives at Pacific Tech and tries to fit in. His roommate Chris Knight (Val Kilmer), is a senior who was once a bright young star like Mitch, but has since rebelled against the high-pressure academic grind and embraced a goofy YOLO approach to life, urging his fellow students to allow themselves to blow off a little steam now and then. Mitch butts heads with Kent (Robert Prescott), a less gifted older protege of Hathaway's who is jealous of the attention Mitch receives.  He finds friends and allies not just in Chris, but also fellow science nerds "Ick" Ikagami (Mark Kamiyama) and Jordan Cochran (Michelle Meyrink), a hyperactive young woman who rarely stops talking or inventing gadgets, and by her own admission almost never sleeps.

Then there is Lazlo Hollyfeld (Jon Gries), a former star student who cracked under the pressure and is now an eccentric hermit living in the dormitory steam tunnels. Fun fact: Lazlo's steam tunnel hideout, accessible through Mitch's closet, is an elaborate homage to Leonardo da Vinci. As depicted when Mitch finally figures out how to gain access, it features a multidirectional elevator built out of a small car controlled by a rotating screw. The car descends to a horizontal track and propelled forward by a hidden drive chain. The automated scribbler Lazlo uses to submit over a million entries to the Frito-Lay Sweepstakes was inspired by a sketch in one of Leonardo's notebooks.

Eventually, Mitch and Chris succeed in solving the power problem for their laser, only to realize (thanks to Lazlo) that it will be used to build a powerful directed-energy laser weapon. The five of them team up to foil Hathaway's big military test of the system, in their usual eccentrically ingenious way.

15-year-old Mitch Taylor (Gabriel Jarret) is admitted to the fictional "Pacific Tech" to work on lasers.

TriStar Pictures

Mitch's rival, Kent (Robert Prescott) and his rather shady mentor, Dr. Jerry Hathaway (William Atherton)

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Mitch's roommate is the equally brilliant but idiosyncratic Chris Knight (Val Kilmer)

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Jordan (Michelle Meyrink) surprises Mitch in the men's room with the sweater she knitted

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Lazlo Hollyfeld (Jon Gries) is a former genius who cracked and keeps mysteriously going into Mitch's closet—and vanishing.

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Mitch discovers the passage to Lazlo's secret lair.

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Conked out

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Of course Chris sleeps like a pretzel.

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Chris engineers a "pool party" so everyone can let off some steam.

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Jordan and "Ick" Ikagami (Mark Kamiyama) help Chris and Mitch take revenge on Kent.

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"Is that you, Jesus?"

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Yes that is a giant pile of unpopped popcorn in Jerry's foyer. All it needs is a bit of heat.

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Hacking a defense department laser weapon provides that heat.

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Hathaway realizes his system has been hacked.

TriStar Pictures

The team celebrates a job well done.

TriStar Pictures

It fell to film consultant Martin A. Gunderson of the University of Southern California (who has a bit part as a math professor) to help ensure that the science and campus culture depicted in the film were plausible, even if certain liberties were taken. Certain details were deliberately left out, according to Director Martha Coolidge, such as those for Mitch's flash-pumped ultraviolet laser at the science fair, and technical details pertaining to a directed-energy laser weapon. ("We didn't want to inspire any lethal tinkering.")

I've always appreciated how closely the laboratory laser setups hewed to reality: Gunderson himself provided the blue-green argon laser and tunable dye laser used in those scenes. Chris uses a cube beam splitter to create the laser light show announcing the Tanning Invitational pool party that incurs Hathaway's wrath. That said, a 5-megawatt laser had certainly not been achieved in 1985. While Chris's construction of a xenon-halogen laser to solve the power problem was purely theoretical at the time, the underlying scientific details were later outlined in a scientific paper—a fitting example of how science and Hollywood can both benefit from such collaborations.

For the "Smart People on Ice" scene, the crew used a frozen volatile gas, pumped through thousands of feet of tubing beneath the corridor flooring that was connected to a refrigeration unit to keep the gas cold. And as Ick explains when Kent asks him what will happen when the ice melts, the frozen gas shifts directly from a solid to a gaseous state, rather than melting into a liquid.

Then there is the famous popcorn scene that marks the group's triumph over Hathaway. Mitch, Chris, Ick, Jordan, and Lazlo fill his newly renovated house (accomplished with funds embezzled from his CIA grant) with unpopped popcorn covered in tinfoil. They place a prismatic-like piece of glass on the window sill, and hijack the computer during Hathaway's big military test to redirect the laser energy through that window. The kernels start popping, expanding to fill the entire house until it quite literally bursts at the seams.

Real Genius movie clip: Jerry's House of Popcorn.

In a 2010 interview with the AV Club, Atherton revealed that the studio had six ten-foot-high air poppers devoted to popping popcorn all day for three months, filling a massive storage tank. Since the popcorn had been treated with fire retardant to keep it from combusting, additional measures had to be taken to ensure the birds didn't eat it. All that popcorn was then carted out to a new subdivision being built in Canyon Country just northwest of Los Angeles, and then stuffed inside a Victorian frame house specifically built for the film. That way the crew could pull the whole thing down in the climactic scene, with the help of an elaborate network of conveyor belts, hydraulic lifts, airblowers, and vacuum hoses. "Now they'd do it digitally, I guess, but in those days, you had to pop the dang popcorn and put it in a truck and schlep it out to the valley," Atherton said.

As evidence of the film's enduring popularity with the nerdy set, the Mythbusters decided to test the feasibility of popping that much popcorn with a laser and destroying a house in 2009. The initial test went well: the team successfully popped a single kernel wrapped in aluminum foil with a ten-watt laser. Unfortunately, they weren't able to get a sufficiently powerful laser for their scaled-up experiment, relying instead on a large pan used to cook the popcorn via induction heating. They also built a scaled-down model of the house in the film with a piston on the floor, pushing popped popcorn upward, to see if it could generate sufficient force to break apart the house. Alas, the Mythbusters determined it would require several tons of force. So myth: busted. But it's still an entertaining movie comeuppance.

Real Genius is admittedly a bit cheesy. The plot is predictable, the characters are pretty basic, and the dialogue can be clunky. And it goes without saying that the sexually frustrated virgin nerds ogling hot cosmetology students in bikinis during the pool party reflects hopelessly outdated stereotypes on several fronts. But the film still offers smartly silly escapist fare, with a side of solid science for those who care about such things. And its yearning idealism is a good antidote to the current prevailing cynicism.

via:Ars Technica, August 9, 2020 at 11:25AM

[supercultshow]

Hello Supercult West! This is Supercult South Bad Movie Professor Cameron Coker (BS in “Hitting Stunt Men with Cars” with a minor in “Saving the hot girl, and leaving the guy to get eaten by a Mummy”) and I’m reaching out to you from across the country to help hype tonight’s screening of basically the best genre film in the world, the Seventh Curse! Which genre, you ask? All of them.

Released in 1986, this Hong Kong adventure film is based on the Dr. Yuen adventure novel series by Ni Kuang. The film is basically a Chinese language fusion of Indiana Jones, Alien, and Army of Darkness and if that description alone doesn’t keep you in your seat for the next 78 minutes then you may need to get your head examined. But just in case, let me give you the low down on why this is probably a better film than all three of those films combined.

They have to put actual film on the poster so people won’t think that they’re advertising a book, or a stageplay, or a cutlery set or something.

Superfluous! How dare you! Removing even ONE of these ridiculous action set pieces would ruin this film!

Hahaha! What a great story! Now tell us the one about the time your leg exploded on your one night stand!

It’s almost as creepy as that baby dinosaur muppet from the Dinosaurs TV show.

I don’t think this guy got the memo.

Now THIS GUY! This guy got the memo!

Send back the cult guy opening act! I came to see The Cure!

Look, I know you’ve got some sort of mystical death curse or whatever, but can I get a refill of scotch?

Overacting is relative. If everyone hams it up, nobody’s hamming it up.

Don’t worry, the film has a lot more squares than this. Like at least 3 more squares.

First off, Seventh Curse has the pacing of an avalanche on methamphetamines and enough blood to give a young Peter Jackson a hard on. The stunts, explosions, and gore are cranked up to eleven, there’s a fight scene every couple of minutes whether it makes sense to have one or not, and from the opening titles onward, it never lets its foot off the gas. This film has kung-fu doctors, pool parties, blood curses, fighting shaolin monks, mutating cups of KFC gravy, evil effeminate Chinese Marilyn Manson cult leaders, gruesome practical effects, flaming pillow fights, pants wetting-ly scary skeleton zombies that know kung-fu, neon green cave lighting, bazookas, alien monsters, demon babies, alien monsters fighting demon babies, and a magical shrine heist straight from the cover of the Advanced Dungeons and Dragons Players Handbook. Depending on the release version (the original, the first video release, or the DVD edition) there are even 3 different endings to this film. Don’t worry though, every single one of them ends in a cheesy 80s freeze frame. It’s pretty much a perfect film from a Supercult perspective.

But what’s the story you ask? What’s all this about an adventure novel series? Well you see, all you needlessly logic seeking weirdos, Ni Kuang is an incredibly prolific Hong Kong writer. He’s written over 300 chinese-language wuxia and novels and more than 400 film scripts. To put that into perspective, Steven King has only published a measly 63 novels and 200 short stories. *cough* Get Rekt! *cough*

Ni Kuang, my nominee for Supercult Saint

So anyway Kuang wrote an amazing sci-fi, supernatural, action, comedy, horror, mystery, thriller, 145-book series about a guy named Wisely. He also wrote a completely different 32-book adventure series all about this other guy named Dr. Yuen. Sometimes these two globetrotting bad asses go on adventures together. They’re basically Sherlock Holmes and Watson and they go around solving mysteries, defeating evil, and then telling groups of glamorous women about their adventures at their mansions over glasses of cognac that sponsored the making of the film. Because both characters take part in this film, technically every other film adaptation of either character’s story is technically in the Seventh Curse series, which means that Supercult classic The Cat, also known as Wisely’s Old Cat in Chinese is technically a distant sequel to The Seventh Curse.

So who the hell can they get to represent these beloved, long-running characters? Well, first they get the amazingly talented actor and martial artist Siu-Ho Chin to play Dr. Yuen, which is all fine and good, but then they top it by grabbing Chow Yun-Fat to play Wisely. Yes, that bad ass, shotgun wielding, baby-saving Chow Yun-Fat, star of Supercult Classic Hard Boiled (oh yeah, and some other random film called…uh…what was it…Crouching something Hidden Whatever)! Chow Yun-Fat’s job throughout the entire film is to just show up when things are getting rough and save the day like a handsome Chinese Aslan the Jesus Allegory Lion. It’s fantastic. But wait, order now and we’ll also add in Lam Kgai Kai, the director of Supercult Classic Riki-Oh: The Story of Ricky, aka the one where a guy disembowels himself and tries to strangle Riki with his own intestines, so Riki Mortal Kombat X-Ray punches him in the skull.

Seeing as this is an older, obscure, foreign movie, there is little to no box office or review numbers online. Even if there were it wouldn’t matter though. Because I have now thoroughly convinced you that this is the best film you will ever see in your entire life…or at least in the next hour and a half or so, anyway.

Don’t forget to bring your guns and grenades to this mystical cult fight, everyone!

Supercult West is proud to present, The Seventh Curse!

The Seventh Curse Hello Supercult West! This is Supercult South Bad Movie Professor Cameron Coker (BS in “Hitting Stunt Men with Cars” with a minor in “Saving the hot girl, and leaving the guy to get eaten by a Mummy”) and I’m reaching out to you from across the country to help hype tonight’s screening of basically the best genre film in the world, the Seventh Curse!