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sorrowsofsilence · 6 months ago

Text

Cymbal-ism • Folio

Pairing: Nick Folio x Fem!Reader

Words: 2.2k

Warnings: smut 18+ (unprotected pnv, pls wrap it b4 u tap it; male!recieving, slight degrading, rough!folio) enemies to lovers, arguing/bickering

Prompt: You're the new bad omens drum tech, and Nick Folio sure does get on your nerves. Is he a pain in the ass? Or is it the fact you two have some un-discussed sexual tension? Sent via anon

Author note: its hella late, ive had three margaritas, and this is not proofread lol

THIS IS A FANFIC USING REAL PEOPLE IN A FICTIONAL SITUATION! I AM NOT IMPLYING THAT THIS PERSON WOULD DO THIS IRL OR ACT LIKE THIS! ITS FICTION!

“You’re fucking insufferable,” you muttered under your breath as you brushed passed the short-haired brunette, shoulders knocking against him.

He scoffed, his dark brows narrowing as he hollered after you down the hallway, “Huh? What did you say?”

You glanced his way, flashing him the middle finger with a sarcastic smile while you opened the studio door, before slamming it loudly behind you in frustration.

Nick fucking Folio.

You two got off on the wrong foot the first day you met him two weeks ago. You had bought coffee for the team as a kind gesture, hoping to make a great first impression since you would be with them around Europe for two months.

However, shit hit the fan when you and Folio collided in the hallway as you got off the elevator, spilling the drinks all over him, and immediately giving him a childish vendetta.

To him, if his new drum tech was that clumsy, this tour would be the longest two months of his life. But to you, he was the one who entered the elevator looking down at his phone, not paying attention.

And even though you two barely knew each other, he already made your blood boil.

Perhaps it was the fact he was always trying to nit-pick every little thing you did or the way his attitude was always witty, having a sarcastic retort for everything you said.

It’s also possible it was the way Jolly, your childhood best friend and how you landed the job in the first place, was constantly teasing you about the sexual tension budding between you and Folio.

Or deep down, you thought that maybe it was the way Nick’s annoyingly perfect hair slicked back so effortlessly, or how flawless his ochre eyes were when he glared at you, the deep abyss titillating every time his brows furrowed in your direction.

Everything about him, and to do with him, pissed you off.

But it made you even more mad that you found him extremely attractive, his presence making your heart pound with anger and infatuation.

Nick stormed into the room, kicking the door closed with his foot, “If you’re going to insult me just do it to my face, you coward.”

“Wouldn’t want to hurt your feelings,” you said, kneeling next to the drum kit, loosening bolts on the boom stand.

Folio hovered over you, analyzing your movements as you adjusted the cymbals, taking them down one by one to place them in their cases. There was less than an hour until sound check, and none of the drum gear was moved from the studio room to the stage- thanks to somebody.

Groaning, you stopped to look up at him in annoyance, “I’m glad you think I’m pretty Folio, but maybe you can take your eyes off me and help? Instead of ogling?”

He scoffed, shaking his head as he started sliding the copper off of the loosened bars, “I’m just making sure you’re not fucking up my set.”

“Sure buddy,” you said, standing up and starting to unscrew the kick drum.

The two of you worked in tense silence, the air thick as miffed glances were shared taking apart the kit.

You tried not to watch the way his arms would flex as he twisted the rack tom, tattoos glistening slightly as the room heated.

You averted your eyes for a final time when they met his once again, stacking the cases onto the trolly to wheel it out to the stage.

Folio pushed passed you to grab the handles, ready to cart it down the hall even though it was your job.

“Do you even know where you’re going?” You asked as you trailed way too closely behind him, just to push his buttons. The smell of his faint cologne and slight musk of weed on his tanktop left your heart picking up pace.

“Of course I do,” He mumbled, about to walk past the stage entrance.

“To the left- the left-” you shook your head, staring at him with disdain, as he completely ignored you and continued walking, “Oh my god- Folio! it was left!”

You heard a chuckle behind you as Jolly and Ruffilo walked down the hall, stopping at the backstage door as they watched you humorously.

Rolling your head back you gave them an exasperated look, sighing audibly.

“You two ok?” Jolly smiled, folding his arms.

Shaking your head in frustration you bitterly laughed, “He is the biggest pain in my ass. I’m seriously debating quitting the industry as a whole.”

Ruffilo snickered, glancing at Jolly and then Folio, “He only does that because he thinks you’re cute.”

“Excuse me-” Nick interjected, shaking his head in disagreement, “I’d rather kiss a wall for five hours. At least it would be quiet.”

Shooting them a pointed look you walked passed the boys as they chuckled, letting Folio follow you onto the stage.

It only took about ten minutes to set the kit back up before you sat on the stool, practicing a few solos to test the position.

Nick watched in irritation from the side, but what you didn’t know was under all that show, was an immense amount of admiration. The brunette loved watching you play. He was always impressed with your coordination and keen ear, the ability for you to instantly stop playing and slightly adjust a drum before falling right back into a quick rhythm, breathtaking.

He’d never want to admit how good you are; but he would always be biting back a smile as he watched you test out his kit for him, making sure it was set and tuned to perfection.

You sighed once you finished your adjustments, before tossing Nick the sticks.

“All yours pretty boy.”

“Don’t call me that,” He huffed, before looking at the kit, “Also, your dumb ass forgot the hi-hat.”

Not believing him at first you glanced at the drums before swiftly swearing to yourself.

He was right.

Getting up you pushed past Nick, but he followed you back down to the studio, an annoyed murmuring coming from your mouth. As you entered through the door Folio closed it behind you, locking it.

“Nick seriously what-” You began, but were cut off by the brunette.

“God, do you ever shut that annoying fucking mouth of yours?” He said, standing close to you as he leaned forward, eyes narrowed.

“If it’s so annoying to you, make me,” You scoffed, tilting your head to the side.

The proximity of Nick subconsciously began to make your face warm as you backed up from him, but he was right on your trail.

You hit the soft padded wall of the studio, Folio’s body millimetres from pinning yours against the surface.

The tension grew as you both stared at each other with hatred.

“Fuck, you.” Nick spat, false venom dripping off his words.

Without hesitating you sneered, “You wouldn’t, pussy.”

It took all of two seconds before his auburn eyes flicked to your lips, a greedy hand reaching up and gripping your jaw as his mouth attached to yours.

It didn’t take long before you melted into Nick’s touch, angry at how good his tongue felt swiping against yours, the grip on your face tightening as his other hand reached to grip a fist full of your hair at the back of your head.

Fury, hatred, and lust fueled the fire between you two as your fingers gripped his belt loops, tugging his hips toward you as you began rutting against him.

You wanted nothing more than to claw down his skin, begging to dig your nails across the ivory and ink, embedding your mark. You wanted him to wince in a mix of pain and pleasure as your imprint but decided that grazing your teeth along his lips would have to do.

Nick moaned into you, quite literally ready to tear your shirt off, tempted to rip the cloth from its seam and destroy the fabric; but he withheld himself, aware that the two of you were hallways away from the exit to the tour bus.

The two of you pulled away panting, catching your breath.

“What the hell are we-”

Nick stared into your eyes, attempting to shift his desire into a glare as he leaned down to bite against your neck, nipping and kissing down the skin, “Just shut up, for five minutes. Please.”

A small whimper escaped you as his tongue grazed your collarbone, Folio’s fingers fiddling with the button on your jeans. You shimmed the fabric down your legs, kicking it off as you tugged at his tanktop, pulling it over his head.

His fingers gripped your hips, pulling them toward his own as he rubbed against your underwear, the bulge and stiffened desire evidence of how badly he wanted this. Reaching for the bottom of your shirt you tore it off your torso, exposing your chest.

Folio pushed your hips into the wall as his fingers danced along the hem of the thong you wore, threatening to dip lower to where you wanted him most.

“Please,” You whispered, desperation falling from your tone.

Folio shook his head, almost throwing his head back in humour, “We need to do something about your mouth.”

He pushed your shoulders, beckoning you to the ground before pulling his belt from the clasp. Freeing himself from his jeans, you watched hungrily as he gripped the back of your head, lining up his hardened desire to your lips.

“Open. Now.”

You obeyed, too turned on to fight back his commands. Wrapping around him you began to suck along the skin, closing your eyes as you relished in the feeling of how hard he was, all for this.

You reached up to stroke the base but he gripped your wrist, holding you in place as his hips thrust forward. He took complete control of how fast and how deep he went, using you to his desire.

“Your whore mouth exists for me to fuck,” Nick swore, his other hand holding the base of your neck as if feeling for himself through your skin, “All that backtalk can be shoved right down your pretty throat.”

Moaning at his words you closed your eyes, gagging on Nick’s thrusts as you took your free hand between your thighs, allowing yourself to slide past your panties to trace small circles against the skin.

Your arousal coated your fingers as your hips rutted against your hand, Nick’s fingers leaving your wrist to grip the back of your head. He pushed you down further on him, your eyes watering as he forced you to gag along his cock.

Air dissipated from your lungs, your body shuddering from the lack of oxygen momentarily before Nick pulled you away, causing you to cough.

“Fuck,” he groaned, almost chuckling.

You licked and sucked against him for a moment longer, before he pulled you up, gripping your hips. He kissed you desperately again for a few more minutes as his cock pressed against your thigh, before you pulled away, a hand against his chest.

“Are you going to just kiss me, or fuck me like you said you would?” You pushed, your hand gripping his erection, fingers dancing across his skin.

Nick moaned into your lips again before taking his hand between your thighs, slipping his fingers between your folds as he prepared your body for his, “Don’t make it a challenge, or you won’t be able to walk after.”

The brunette lifted your leg, gripping underneath your thigh as he hoisted it up to his hip, positioning himself against your arousal. It was a matter of seconds before he slid between you, your body taking him eagerly as your head fell back, mouth agape at the sensation.

He filled you fully, satiating the hunger you always had for the drummer as he began to thrust into your core, pounding senselessly. The angle gave him access to where you wanted him most, soft cries heaving from your chest as your brows furrowed.

Frustration dissipated into pleasure as Nick gave you everything, fucking you with complete adoration and need. Your nails gripped his shoulders, digging into the skin with haste as you rested your forehead against his neck.

“I hate how gorgeous I think you are,” Nick mumbled into your ear, soft groans escaping him.

Your laugh turned into a moan as his fingers trailed to stimulate you while he thrust, your body convulsing from the bliss, “I hate your perfect laugh, and how you have a lopsided smile.”

“I hate how talented you are.”

“I hate the way your eyes light up when you’re happy.”

“I hate how you walk with a skip when you’re excited.”

Your eyes lidded as Nick gripped the back of your head, forcing you to watch him as he spit on himself, lubricating your combined story as you pushed into him to meet his hips.

His thrusts began to waver as you clenched around him, the stimulation from his cock and fingers causing your legs to shake. Nick was close himself, trying to push you to the edge first before allowing himself release.

“I h-hate how-” You tried to get out your words as complete bliss took over, but Folio’s lips attached to yours once again, his pace never ceasing through your orgasm. Your walls engulfed him as Nick succumbed to you, his breathing staggered and haste as his chest vibrated in contentment.

His hips jerked into you as he allowed himself relief, taking over your body.

You watched him for a moment before his eyes met yours, lips agape in a pant.

The brunette shook his head as his fingers squeezed the skin along your torso, “We have two minutes till sound check.”

“Of course, you’re making us late,” you frowned.

“Oh shut the fuck up.”

Tags: @sammyjoeee @spicywhenspeaking @cookiesupplier @th4t-em0-k1d @dsireland86 @whenthesummerdies @foliosgirl @thatchickwiththecamera @blackveilomens @xserenax-13

#nick folio fic #nick folio fanfiction #nick folio smut #nick folio x reader #Nick folio #nick folio bad omens #bad omens smut #bad omens #bad omens band #bad omens cult #sorrows of silence #enemies to lovers #enemies to lovers smut

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megalony · 1 year ago

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My Squad- Part 3

This is the newest part of my Evan Buckley series, thank you for all the lovely messages so far I hope everyone likes this next part.

Taglist: @lunaticspoem@butlegendsneverdie@langdonzvoid@jennyggggrrr@rogmeddows@radiob-l-a-hblah@rogertaylorsbitontheside@chlobo6@rogertaylors-lipgloss@sj-thefanthefan@omgitsearly@luckytrashgooprebel@scarsout@deaky-with-a-c@killer-queen-ofrhye@bluutac@vousmemanqueez-blog@jonesyaddiction@milanosaurus@httpfandxms@saint-hardy@7-seas-of-fat-bottomed-girls@mrsalwayswritex @rogerina-owns-me @hellsdragon@im-an-adult-ish@crazylittlethingg@allauraleigh@onceuponadetectivedemigod@ceres27@avyannadawn@noonenuts@sleepylunarwolf@coverupps@justagirlthatlovedtoread @musicistheway @avada-kedavra-bitch-187

Series Taglist: @paramedicnerd004 @embersflame @allmybattleships

911 Masterlist

Part 1

Summary: Evan hasn't been with the team long and has kept his family a secret, but now he is ready for the team to meet his daughters. All of them.

Enjoy.

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"Oh, where's Cora gone, where is she? There she is!" A grin broke out on Evan's face as he moved his hands in front of Cora's eyes before waving his hands out at his sides and leaning down to kiss her nose. He loved the way she smiled and showed her two tiny front teeth when she grinned, gurgling and pawing at him.

He covered her eyes again with one hand before gasping and leaning down, laughing as she squealed and grabbed his nose.

"Let's go shopping," He murmured at her, lifting her from her carseat to tuck her up against his chest. He could feel her tiny hand grabbing at his chain like the magpie she was and it only made Evan smile more when she started to gurgle and make little noises into his cotton shirt.

With Cora safely nestled in his left arm, Evan shut the door and rounded the other side of the truck. He opened the front door so Angel could hop out before he moved to the back door to get Ella.

He had done a twenty-four hour shift yesterday and was desperate to spend some time with his girls and that meant bringing them with him to do the weekly shop. He'd left (Y/n) asleep on the sofa, satisfied that she'd managed to drink two protein shakes and felt a bit better than she did the other day.

Evan liked doing the food shop, he had a system and he was always in and out and the girls were good. They were all nervous in their own way and attached to him so they never strayed or played up which made life so much easier for him. Cora stayed in the trolley and Ella was tired so she would sit in the trolley too so she could be close to Evan. And Angel would help grab food off the shelf and load up the trolley.

They were a well-oiled machine.

"Off we go, girls. Stay close," Evan held Cora in one arm and Ella perched high on his other hip with her arms coiled around his neck possessively. And when he looked down at Angel, she stuffed her hand in his jean pocket so he could feel her close by and make sure she didn't wander.

He knew once the next girl- or boy- came along, the truck was going to have to be traded for something else. It was a six seater, three in the front and three in the back, but it would be too cramped to fit three car seats in the back as three of his girls would be under the age of six and Angel was still on a push up seat too.

Once they crossed the road, Evan watched Angel skip ahead and grab one of the larger trollies that they always used.

"Okay," Evan bent down so he could set Ella on her feet and kissed Cora's forehead while he moved her round to perch in one of the two baby seats at the front of the trolley. He cooed down at her, grinning from ear to ear while he untangled her hand from his gold chain she was mesmerised with and clipped the tiny belt around her waist. "Come here babygirl."

Ella wiggled into the seat, trying not to push or nudge Cora who had started to hang her hands down on the handle bar until Angel held out her teething toy she grabbed from the jeep.

A gentle smile flooded Angel's face when she felt her dad hold her shoulders and move her between his legs and the trolley so she could stay close and feel safe. Evan arched his back out, folded his arms over the handlebar that all three girls were holding onto, and started a slow walk into the shop.

They headed through the doors and turned the corner towards the fruit and veg. They had a system, they wandered down each aisle and Evan let the girls pick a lot of the stuff. He had a mental note of the main things they needed but it was always easier to quickly go down every aisle than follow a list and traipse round the shop three times for whatever was written down.

He tapped Angel's shoulder and pressed his finger and thumb together into the okay sign, moving his hand from left to right before holding his index and middle finger out in a straight line into the fruit sign.

"Any fruit you want," He pointed towards the crates and nodded so she could dip beneath his arm and pick something out. "What about you baby, what fruit do you want?" Evan didn't need to ask, he knew what the answer would be which was why he pushed the trolley further ahead towards the berries.

"Strawberries," Ella grinned, watching her dad mouth the same word at the exact same time with raised brows and curved lips. He grabbed a punnet and placed it behind her in the trolley. "Daddy…"

"Ella," Evan repeated in the same sing-song voice as he moved his hand to hold hers that had moved out towards his chest. He waited patiently for her to meet his gaze with those big blue eyes and fluttering lashes and that same perplexed smile she had when she asked him random questions.

"You know mummy's new baby,"

Evan's eyes narrowed but his smile remained while his intrigue heightened. He watched his middle daughter take his hand and hold it out in front of her like she was examining it. She traced her fingertip over each finger and moved to draw the lines and creases in the palm of his hand before she looked back up at him.

"I do, what about it, girlie?"

"Is it a girl?"

For a brief second, Evan turned and looked over at Angel, nodding when she held out a honey melon for approval before she delicately placed it in the trolley. When he saw she was holding the edge of the trolley, he slowly pushed his weight on the handlebar and they started walking further up. Angel grabbed the veg Evan pointed to while he reached his thumb out to brush against Ella's chin, making her smile.

"I don't know, it might be. I can't exactly choose, why'd you ask?" He knew there was a reason behind her sudden curiosity and he wanted to know what Ella actually wanted to ask. She was building up to it, he could see it in her eyes that were finally looking up at him.

"Make it a boy, daddy." Her eyes flitted around, searching for some sort of confirmation in his blue orbs but when he grinned, Ella whined and tugged on his hand.

"Why a boy? You want a brother this time?"

When they were expecting Cora, Ella didn't really understand what it meant or what was happening. She had always patted (Y/n)'s growing stomach and curled around it but she didn't comment or ask questions. Not until she saw Evan walking in the front door with a new bundle in his arms and she immediately started to cry. Up until that point, she had been his little girl and Cora changed the dynamics.

This time, Ella had more of a grasp of the situation. She understood that there was a baby in (Y/n)'s tummy and that there would be a new baby in the house soon.

It was different with Angel, she didn't have the same jealousy that Ella possessed. Angel liked playing with Cora and dressing her up like a doll and she liked looking after Ella and being the big sister. Plus Angel knew she was the first born, she remembered auntie Maddie always telling her she was called Angelica because Evan fell in love with his 'little angel' the moment he laid eyes on her.

Evan had different connections with each of his daughters, Angel was his first girl, Ella was his clingy baby girl and Cora was his sweetheart who always stopped crying the moment he picked her up. And when the next baby came along, he would have a new dynamic with them as well.

"No more girls daddy. No."

"Oh, are you giving me an order, Eleanor?" Evan curled his fingers and pointed his index finger at her until she squirmed and whined. "Explain."

"Baby should be a boy, you have girls a-and if you have another, I won't be babygirl anymore." Ella pulled his hand until she could nuzzle her cheek against his palm but she frowned when Evan chuckled at her. He wasn't being fair, he was laughing when she was being serious, she knew her dad could do anything. He was a brave firefighter and he could make the new baby a boy if he wanted to. If she wanted him to.

"Ella, listen to me baby," Evan kept his elbows on the handlebar and moved both hands to cup her face. "Angel is my big girl, my first Angel. Then there's someone called Eleanor, who's my babygirl. And I've got Coraline, my little button, and mummy who's my best girl. You'll always be my baby, if we have a girl I'll find another name for her and if it's a boy, I will be shocked. Okay?"

Part of Evan had felt guilty when Ella was born. He was guilty that he called his first daughter Angel because he thought when they were older Ella would be upset or felt he was favouring Angel for her nickname. He had never really called Angel babygirl, she was always his little star, his angel without wings.

And Ella had always been called his babygirl, something she was attached to and answered to every time. Cora was his button because of how delicate and small she was when she was born, and referencing the movie (Y/n) loved.

Whether they had a girl or a boy next, Evan would find a nickname for them and it would be unique and especially for them. Although he would be gobsmacked if he had a son for the first time after three beautiful daughters. He wasn't so sure he was supposed to have sons, he was a girl dad through and through so far and he was committed to it. The girls were his life, his team, his squad and they meant everything to him.

"Okay daddy,"

"Alright, now let's do some shopping." Pulling her close, Evan pressed a sloppy kiss to her temple before he sped up the pace and headed down the next aisle with Angel trotting at the front of the trolley. Happily oblivious to the conversation they were having.

Every few seconds, Angel turned around and pointed at some bread and biscuits and crumpets on the shelves, waiting for a thumbs up from Evan to know what to put in the trolley. And Ella would whine and make grabby hands at whatever she wanted which Evan would check and approve to make sure she wasn't allergic to anything in them.

He was starting to get worried at the growing list of allergies Ella had which neither Angel, Cora, (Y/n) nor Evan were allergic to. She was a mystery.

Moving the trolley to the end of an aisle, Evan grabbed a pack of eggs and kissed Cora's temple when he put them in the trolley. He held her grabby fist that was always reaching for him and swayed her hand for a minute before he went to get something else.

"Cake? My cake?" Ella held her left hand out flat and curled her right hand into a claw and started to bash her right hand down on her other palm. Making the sign for cake to her big sister who was stood near the large display of cupcakes.

Angel nodded and turned towards the shelves, scouring through until she found some vanilla cupcakes that looked like the special ones they bought. They always bought cakes that didn't contain milk rather than have special cake for Ella and different ones for the rest of them. It didn't taste too different and it was safer in case Ella got confused and ate the wrong one.

Grabbing the box, Angel turned on her heels and lifted her chin towards Evan who was heading back to the trolley.

"Daddy?" Her voice was meek and timid but she caught Evan's attention when she held up her hand, pressed her thumb to her forehead and pulled her hand away. The sign for dad.

Her fingers half-bent and her thumb curled into her palm for the sign of E before she held the cake box out and made a claw with her other hand, tapping her hand down on the box. She didn't want to put them in the trolley if they weren't the right cakes for Ella.

"Pass them here," Evan scrutinised the fine print before he nodded and put them in the trolley.

"Thank you," Ella pressed her fingers to her chin and made the sign at her sister.

Evan cooed at Cora again and bent down to rub their noses together when she started to squeal and make a few strange noises around her teething ring. He steered the trolley down the meat aisle with Angel half a pace in front of him and rounded into the tins.

He threw a few things in alongside Angel before she turned towards him. She curled her hand into a fist, holding out her index finger and moved her hand in front of her, curling her finger repeatedly. The sign for cereal.

"Go ahead, but stay close." Evan didn't like Angel wandering too far ahead of him.

It was easier if she was behind him because he could turn and sign and talk to her but if she was in front, it was harder to gain her attention and she didn't always turn around often. Sometimes he had to run up behind her and gently grab her shoulder so she knew it was him and not some stranger sneaking up on her. But Angel knew to stay close to him wherever they went and she was too nervous to stray far from her parents anyway.

"Jelly, daddy, mummy wants jelly for baby," Ella tapped the shelf beside her and watched Evan card through the packets until he found the raspberry one. (Y/n) didn't normally like jelly, the texture was off-putting but their newest baby had a craving for it.

"Yes she does, what one do you want baby?"

Angel dragged her fingertips along the edge of the shelf, feeling the different boxes quake and move beneath her touch as she scuttled to the end of the aisle. The cereal was on the next aisle to the right and she wanted some of the chocolate cookie cereal (Y/n) had bought her last week.

She barely turned round the corner when she collided with someone. She stumbled back a few steps, coiling her arms into her sides and closing her eyes for a second before she dared look up and see who she had ran into. She hadn't expected anyone to be that close to the corner she was curving around.

Her eyes looked up to see a man a bit older than her dad, staring down at her with intensive eyes that unsettled her and a curling lip like a dog snarling at her.

Angel could feel her hand trembling as she curled her fingers into a fist and quickly brushed her fist over her chest in repetitive circles, whispering a quiet 'sorry' along with the sign. She didn't like talking in public, she couldn't tell how loud she was being or if she was being too quiet and her pronouncing was very off. She could only tell by her parent's approving nods or their tentative smiles whether she was correct or needed a bit of tweaking to her words.

Her eyes darted down to the floor and her mouth fell open when she saw she had knocked two boxes of cereal and about three small boxes of teabags out of his hands by mistake. Without thinking, Angel squatted down and reached out to gather the items up that had spread across the floor.

Her skittish eyes dragged around the floor to see if she had grabbed everything but she couldn't hear him telling her to stop.

Adrenaline burst through her chest and a scream left her lips when she suddenly felt a hand coil around her shoulder and give her a sharp shove. Her trembling hands dropped everything back onto the floor and she tipped backwards on her heels and fell back onto her bum.

The impact didn't hurt but she could feel tears welling in her eyes as she looked up at the stranger like a deer caught in the headlights.

When he leaned down like he was about to either shout at her or try and touch her again, Angel whipped her head to the right and locked her eyes on her dad. She could see the thunder burning in his eyes and how red his face was starting to turn but she couldn't work out what he was saying. His lips were moving too fast for her to work out but he looked like he was shouting.

Her hands shook so badly she could barely hold them out straight. She held her left palm out, curled her right hand into the thumbs up sign and started to bash her fist down onto her left palm.

Help.

Evan's heart pounded in his chest as he bolted down to the end of the aisle, leaving Ella and Cora a few feet behind him in the trolley so they were close by but not next to whatever scene was playing out with his other daughter. He could feel the fury radiating through him when he noticed Angel was crying and she was shakily trying to sign for help.

As soon as he was beside her, Evan grabbed her beneath her arms and picked her up. He placed her a few feet back and stood in front of her with his left arm curled behind him, holding her hip to keep her safely behind him like a human shield for his girl.

He could feel her fingers curling around his trouser leg and her face buried in his lower back just next to his left hip.

"Did you just touch my daughter?!" Anger dripped off Evan's tongue like venom as he looked the elder man up and down.

He was an inch shorter than Evan with hair fading to grey and stubble covering his chin but it was the displeased look on his face that sent Evan reeling. He looked at Angel like she was some kind of inconvenience or a child terrorising him. But Evan had seen his daughter try to pick up whatever was on the floor so he guessed she had bumped into him by mistake.

He heard the stranger angrily tell her to stop- which she couldn't hear- but he went livid when he watched him push his daughter. How dare he think he had any right to try and touch her or get stern with her. She was being kind, she was being considerate picking his items up off the floor when she didn't have to.

"She ran into me-"

"Yeah, by accident and she was trying to apologise."

He held his hand out and shook his palm to try and get his point across while his other hand stayed behind him and rubbed up and down Angel's back to calm her down. At least she couldn't hear what was happening. He let his eyes dart back to the trolley where Cora was gurgling and Ella was watching with worry in her eyes. He had to keep watch over all his girls and keep them safe.

"I told her not to, she should have been careful-"

"No, I don't give a fuck-" Evan curled his hand into a fist and pointed his index finger at the stranger who was really starting to rub him up the wrong way. He was being snarky and inconsiderate and Evan was going to lose his temper. "You do not lay a hand on my daughter or talk to her like that. Get the fuck back."

He pressed his palm into the man's chest and gave him a rough shove back to add some space between them. He had no right to push Angel or try to grab her, he had frightened her when he should have let her pick the items up and hand them back to him. She said sorry and she made amends, he was in the wrong here.

"Don't touch me-"

"Don't touch my daughter."

"She needs to learn some manners."

"Manners?!" Angel took a step back when Evan let go of her and grabbed the man by the collar of his shirt. He shoved him back into the shelf behind and pinned him up against the baked goods. "She's deaf and she was signing for help because you frightened her! Manners is having some respect for a child and letting her pick up the shit you dropped. If you want manners, you apologise to my girl before I deck you."

"Help daddy," Angel made the sign for help twice before she raised her thumb to her forehead and signed dad. Her eyes locked on three familiar faces just down the next aisle. The colleagues from her dad's place of work.

"Buck, what're you doing?"

Bobby let go of his trolley and ran towards the scene along with Eddie and the pair of them grabbed one of Evan's arms each and pulled him back before he did something he would regret. Their large shop for the station meals was long forgotten when they moved over towards Evan. While Chimney held Angel's shoulder and moved her a few feet away towards the trolley where Cora was making strange noises and Ella was repeating 'go daddy!' not understanding the situation.

"I'll call the police-"

"Go ahead and I'll tell them some stranger thought he had the right to grab my daughter in the middle of the shop and push her!"

Evan riled in their arms but he held his hands out and sighed when the man shivered and stormed off. He knew he wasn't going to win this argument and if the men let go of Evan for one second, he knew he would be caught up in a fight he didn't really want. He was in the wrong and everyone would know that if the police got involved.

"Buck, wanna explain what that was all about?" Bobby patted his shoulder while Eddie dragged him a few feet towards the girls and away from the crowd that was starting to gather.

"Angel bumped into him and he fucking pushed her down, he frightened her I- I thought he was gonna hit her." His chest heaved and pounded to gain back his breath but he froze when Angel pulled away from Chimney and shot forward to wrap herself around his legs.

He bent his knees and scooped Angel up into his arms, sitting her safely on his hip so she could curve her arms around his neck and burrow down into his chest like she was a toddler again. Evan cupped the back of her head and pulled her closer so he could merge his lips with her temple and reassure himself that she was indeed alright.

"I've got you, Angel."

"Come on, we'll do our shop alongside yours." Bobby patted Buck's shoulder and motioned towards Eddie to go and grab the trolley they left behind. It would be wise to follow Evan for the remainder of his shop in case anything else happened while they were all here.

"Aren't you a cutie?" Chimney whispered, tuning out of the conversation and into his own interaction with Cora who had taken it upon herself to grab his hand and start gnawing on his index finger.

***

A groan bubbled up at the back of Evan's throat and he moved his head, nuzzling his face down into the back of (Y/n)'s head to try and get comfy again. He could feel he had his right arm draped over her waist and he used it to his advantage and pulled her closer until her back was glued up into his bare chest.

He brought his knees up until they were curved beneath (Y/n)'s bent legs and his groin was pressing up into her bum.

He let his hand smooth up and down her bare stomach for a minute while he breathed in her scent and tried to get comfy again and settle back down. There was no streaks of light creeping through the curtains and his surroundings were dark so Evan knew he wasn't about to get woken up by his alarm just yet.

He could feel (Y/n)'s breathing change when he grinded into her again and when she slowly turned onto her back, Evan took full advantage. His leg looped over hers and shimmied between her thighs to part them and he wormed his way over until his upper half was laid on her chest and his face was buried in the crook of her neck.

It felt heavenly to have (Y/n)'s hand lazily reach up to card through his curls and scratch his scalp. He knew she wouldn't stay on her back for very long, she was never comfy laid like that and with the amount of time (Y/n) spent being pregnant, she didn't like laying on her back with the baby pressed down on her.

His hand moved up to cradle the back of her neck when she turned onto her side to face him. She let his knee press up between her legs and she looped her thigh over his own like they were playing a game of jenga with their limbs.

But just as Evan groaned and ran his hand down from her neck to her bra, his eyes shot open and his whole body jerked when he felt an arm curl around his neck from behind him.

"Fuck!"

"Babe…?" (Y/n) kissed Evan's chest and moved her hand to rub up and down his bare chest, wondering why he suddenly moved like he had been possessed. She could feel herself about to fall back asleep until she felt her husband moving around again.

"Jesus, it's Angel, she's in here with us."

When had she snuck in bed with them?

Evan usually knew when either Angel or Ella tried to sneak in the bed, he could hear Ella clamber onto the bed and huff. She tried to be stealth and quiet but she fidgeted a lot and he knew when she laid on his chest and fell asleep on him. Angel was a lot quicker and quieter and she usually stayed on the edge of the bed and slept where there was a gap so they didn't know.

This time he didn't feel her clamber into bed. She could have been there for a few hours for all Evan knew.

Evan was slow and careful as he sluggishly twisted round and laid on his back so he could look down at his eldest girl. She had been glued to Evan all day since the incident at the store, Evan couldn't even get a shower without Angel hanging by the door waiting for him to pick her up afterwards and cuddle with her. He had stayed with her while she fell asleep and now she was back in their bed for comfort and love.

"Alright girlie, I'm here, I've got you." It didn't matter that she couldn't hear him, she could sense him and that was all Evan cared about.

He flopped like a fish onto his right side and reeled his arm around her so he could tug her into his chest. His lips smothered the top of her head and he nuzzled Angel into him, feeling her arm curve around his torso and her nose brush against his sternum.

He shuffled back a little until he finally felt (Y/n)'s stomach pushing into his back just above his hips and her arm fell over his waist. She knew he wanted touch to be able to go back to sleep again and (Y/n) wedged her leg between his thighs for added comfort.

When Angel fidgeted in his arms, Evan gave her a bit of room to get comfy. She curled both her arms around his bicep and pressed her lips into his arm, clinging to him for dear life.

Even as his mind was starting to switch off, Evan worked on automatic. He curled his middle and fourth finger into his palm, leaving his pinkie, index and thumb sticking up and he pressed that hand against Angel's back. Letting her feel the sign he was gently patting into her skin.

I love you.

#evan buckley #evan buckley imagine #evan buckley x reader #buck imagine #buck x reader #imagine #pregnant! reader #911 imagine #911 fox #my squad

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disasterchild20 · 3 months ago

Text

Meeting them for the first time (Boys)

James

Bump into each other after a Quidditch game

He accidentally walks into you while celebrating the win

"Sorry, Love, I didn't see you there."

"You need to get your glasses checked then."

Immediately loves your sense of humour

Get teased by Sirius for watching you walk away

Sirius

Gets paired with you for potions

Amazed by how good you are

"How come you never answer any of the questions Slughorn asks?"

"Hard to answer them when he clearly has favourites."

Asks for help with potions homework

You agreeing as long as it's in the kitchens

Remus

Helps get a book down off a shelf in the library for you

"Here, let me get that down for you."

"Thanks, I've been trying to get it down for at least ten minutes."

Asks you about the book

Two of you getting lost in the conversation

End up being kicked out by Madam Prince due to the library closing

Peter

You cover for him when he hides in a classroom cupboard after pulling a prank with the marauders

Surprised that you covered for him

"Why didn't you tell McGonagall where I was?"

"Eh, you guys always do funny pranks."

Thanks you at least three times

Brings you a bar of chocolate a couple of days later to say thank you again

Evan

Bumps into you on the train

Knocks you to the floor by accident

"Didn't know I could make someone fall for me so easily."

"When you're not paying attention, it's easy."

Helps you to your feet, smiling at your attitude

Apologises and buys you something from the trolly

Regulus

Sits next to you in Charms

Doesn't really pay attention to you until he sees how meticulous your notes are

"Your notes are meticulous."

"Thanks, it helps when it comes to revising and homework."

Asks if you'd be willing to revise with him in the library

You agree, telling him that you're there everyday between last class and dinner

Barty

Gets paired with you in Defence Against the Dark Arts

Cocky until you manage to get him to the floor easily

"How... How did you do that?"

"It's easy when you know the theory like the back of your hand."

Asks you if you could teach him

You agree as long as he brings sweets as 'payment'

Severus

Sits opposite you in library when everywhere else is full

Notices your text books are covered in notes

"You take notes in your text book?"

"I add stuff that it misses, you'd be surprised how much they miss."

Smiles slightly, realising that you do the same as him

Asks if you want to compare notes

Frank

Finds you in the greenhouse working on the plants

"Sorry, I didn't know anyone was in here."

"That's alright, I was just tending to the venomous tentacula

Immediately asks you about your favourite plant

Two of you discussing plants for the next hour

Lends you his book on rare plants

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thekeystothebasement · 2 years ago

Note

Awesome that you’re taking price requests cause we definitely need more of those!!! Thank you for your service and writing!!

Request:

You’re drunk and your friends dare you to introduce yourself to captain price at a bar. You actually have a nice conversation end up dating and he shows you off and then he breeds you

Haha idk how that escalated quickly but yasss

A/n: I'm so sorry this took so long to post! I've been facing some writer's block, nothing I've been writing has been sounding good 😫

So I apologize if this doesn't meet your expectations! 🧎‍♀️

---

"Your beard looks amazing, it would look even better wet between my legs."

Maybe playing truth or dare with your best friend while alcohol was running through your veins wasn't such a good idea.

Your body went rigid in shock at the words leaving your mouth.

You didn't even greet the man.

You didn't say hello

You didn't ask for his name before the horny thoughts that were clouding your mind all night escaped at the first chance.

Drunk and horny wasn't a good combination.

"What the hell happened to buying someone dinner first?" Price chuckled before taking another sip of whiskey and glancing at you.

"I Ummm..." your train of thought had stopped as you looked into his amused eyes, and a small grin lingered on his lips. "I'll...eat you out for dinner???" your words slurred out, unsure of what you said sounded right.

"fuck. I meant to take you out for dinner.." you cursed. "Not eat you out." you laughed nervously as you looked at the male who couldn't contain his laughter.

"You're fucking pissed..." Price said with an amused tone. " Can't hold your liquor well can you?"

You shook your head no as a small blush dusted your cheeks.

"Dinner sounds nice but so does option two." Price teased.

"Who says we can't do both? I always have room for dessert" you teased back, liquor courage making a comeback inside of you.

"Big appetite?" Price asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Always" you responded with a small smile on your lips while batting your lashes at the older bearded man. His head tilted slightly to the side as his amused eyes never left your face, the smile on his face making you weak on your knees.

"You look like you bite off more than you can chew, young lady."

A playful pout formed on your lips at his words, "awfully rude thing to assume," You crossed your arms under your chest as you glared playfully at him. "Besides, I've been raised to lick my plate clean."

"A good little girl ain't ya?"

"Only when I want to be rewarded." flashing him an 'innocent' smile.

You see him digging through his pockets before pulling out a black marker, he held out his hand and which you reached over and placed your arm in. His calloused hands gently held your wrist as the cool ink of the marker traveled through your arm. You could smell the mix of whiskey and cigar smoke from being so close to him.

"Call me when you're not trollied," he said with a raspy voice, his eyes looking into your shining eyes.

"Trollied? I'm just a bit tipsy," you whined. You tried to lean closer to him but you underestimated the lack of control you had over your body. Before you knew it your face had planted into his chest. Price held onto your upper arms pushing you up.

"Just tipsy, huh?" he said mockingly.

You sent him the middle finger before you rested the side of your head against the bar countertop. You were looking at him while he looked down at you with a soft smile.

"...Harry?" you asked.

"Harry?" he asked back.

"I'm trying to guess your name...Henry?"

"Nope." he took another big gulp from his drink before giving you a clue. "First letter is J."

"James?"

"..."

"...Jack?"

"Fucking hell, do I look like a Jack to you? " he grunted, his eyes squinting at you.

"I'm trying, jeez...Jonathan?"

"You're getting closer, sweetheart."

You kept chanting the name Jonathan before your eyes widened and you looked at him with disgust.

"John? That's such a boring name," you muttered.

"Like your name is any better." he countered

"Best name that will ever leave your mouth" you argued.

"Is that so?" he asked with an eyebrow raised and a cocky smile on his lips.

"It is so, John," you said with emphasis on his name. "The name's y/n"

"Y/n? Only a muppet would have a name like that."

"Fuck you."

"I know you do sweetheart." he teased. "Too fucking drunk to remember your first words to me sweetheart?”"

"Yeah, but with a mouth like yours, the beard gonna stay dry" you taunted.

"Sounds like a challenge," he said while getting closer to your face, noses nearly touching. "Tomorrow night after dinner?"

"Tomorrow night after dinner." you recited his words in agreement.

---

"You're dating the captain?" Gaz asked, bewildered that such a young fine woman would be dating his captain. The captain that he knew was a gruff, grumpy, and bearded old man. The exact man who had a harsh grip on your waist, fingernails plunging into the fabric of your sundress, and harshly pressing into your skin. His usually warm kind eyes, now cold and ruthless, picturing how he could make both of his sergeants suffer for having their eyes roam your body. You both have noticed how their eyes flicker between your eyes and the deep neckline of your dress exposing your cleavage to the young men.

"Why do you both sound so surprised?" Price asked. Standing right behind you, he leaned down and rested his face between your neck and shoulder. His mouth licked a stride of your skin, maintaining eye contact with his men. You let out a small whine at the feeling of his rough beard pricking at your skin, your body slightly squirming against his. "Don't believe your Captain still has his charm?"

"Stop teasing them." you scolded Price, slightly slapping at his chest and pushing him off of your body. You held out your hand, greeting both men formally and apologizing for your lover's behavior. "Well, I hope to see you both more often."

"Likewise bonnie."

---

What was such an honest and somewhat innocent statement from Soap, was the final breaking point for the Captain. Having to constantly see younger males fawn over your beauty, their undeserving eyes devouring your body sometimes left Price self-conscious. It made him question his worth, but you were always ready on your knees to praise him and remind him how wonderful of a lover he is. At other times, it made him territorial, spewing commands and punishments onto you. You were always eager to comply with his commands, and his jealousy and anger were welcomed with your legs wide open, your wet cunt for his personal use. Your moans and whines were encouragement enough for him to know you were his alone.

But for Price to see his own men practically swooning over his lover awakened primal urges in John that were left dormant for far too long. Urges that had you face down onto the sheets with your ass in the air, juices running down your thighs, and a wet cunt milking the captain of his semen.

Rings of white at the base of his cock as you cummed around his length for the fourth time that night. His promises that he growled into your ear had you throbbing around his cock yet again.

"A cunt full of my seed..." Price mumbled against your neck, his fingers kneading the skin of your stomach. "You know what happens if I fuck my cum into your womb don't you darling?" he asked in a teasing voice.

"..b-baby." you cried out. Your back was now pressed against the mattress, Price mounted on top of you with his cock drilling into your gushing wet cunt.

"That's right, princess. You'll look so pretty with a round tummy." Price hissed. Your nails scratched at his back and your legs locked around his waist. "I'll make you a mommy, fuck a baby right into you."

"yes please, daddy." you sobbed. Your back arched as you felt another toe-curling orgasm creeping. "I want to be a mommy. Make me a mommy."

"Shhh..." John shushed, wiping off the tears rolling down your face. " I'll make you a mommy, no need to cry, sweetie."

Small chants of daddy spewed from your mouth as you felt yourself your love juices gush onto Price, absolutely soaking his pelvic region.

"Make you round with my child, your breasts engorged with milk for the baby," Price continued to thrust into you, his cock throbbing, eager to fill your welcoming cunt with his seed. "But you'll let daddy have a taste of your milk, right? Wouldn't want the baby to grow up greedy like his daddy?"

You let out a loud moan as you felt his hot semen spew inside of you, bursts of cum launching deeper and deeper into your womb, Price's words of making you a mommy increasing in possibility. Your legs freed Price from temporary captivity, allowing him to lean back but not pull out just yet. He wanted to ensure his cum stayed inside, his cock merely a cork for your hole at the moment.

---

For the rest of the week, Soap, Gaz, and Ghost would hear you far more often than see you. Your moans of 'daddy' have nearly become background noises, but at night it only serves as a broken alarm keeping them all awake.

" I blame this shit on you" Gaz spat out, trying his best to ignore your begging moans of 'daddy please' through the walls.

"Steamin Jesus." Soap cursed, running and pulling at his mohawk in frustration. "I only called her bonnie, you were eyeing her tits."

Before Gaz could retaliate, Ghost's ruff voice cut through the room. "We are in this fucking bloody situation because you twits don't know to act around anything with tits and a cunt. "

Both men watched as their lieutenant stood up from the room and stated he was going out for a smoke.

"It's gonna be harder to ignore her tits if the Captain knocks her up."

"She'll be walking around with huge milkers."

---

#cod x you #cod x reader #cod imagine #cod smut #captain price #call of duty fanfic #call of duty #call of duty mw2 #captain price smut #captain price x reader

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alexanderwales · 1 month ago

Text

The Witness and The Mountain

Since The Witness is a game that's impossible to really play twice (it's about learning and observation, and the save game is inside your brain), I sometimes watch Let's Plays of it for that vicarious thrill. You get to watch people figure things out! You get to see them make assumptions about how the rules work, and watch them have epiphanies!

Spoilers for The Witness follow.

Unfortunately, a lot of these people simply do not get what the game was going for. That's fine, that's how art is sometimes, and most LPs are streamed by people who are, at the very least, aware of their audience and filling air (or at worst, engaging with chat and only half paying attention).

There is, in particular, The Mountain. Through the whole game you've been completing different areas, lighting up lasers that shine up to the mountain peak, and eventually you make your way up there, and there's a beautiful puzzle that requires changing perspectives, and after that you're on your way down into the bowels of the Mountain, which it turns out contains an enormous modernist facility. There are bits and pieces of design laying around, models and diagrams showing someone going through the work of making all the things you've seen around the island.

It's not just the environment that's different, the puzzles are too. And in particular, there are a few series of puzzles that I've seen many many people think are just the stupidest trolliest shit. These are the panels that are obscured by black bars, the ones with flashing colors, the ones that are at an uncomfortable angle, the ones that twist and turn when you try to do them.

Now, is this trolly shit? Yes, absolutely. But it also has a point.

The Mountain is about constraints, and design, and how we have to work within the limits of a medium, how what was shown to you throughout the whole game was limited. The puzzles of the Mountain are in one way or another about breaking outside of the constraints, showing you the limits of the puzzle grids, all the things that weren't done. They are, in some sense, just pointing out scope and how it works.

This is the only place in the game where there are puzzles that affect each other. It's the only place where you have two lines on the same grid. It violates the rules that the game has set up, rules that you probably didn't ever think about, in the same way that you've come across a lot of rules you didn't think about in this game (and this is one of the main experiences before The Mountain, being challenged on what you think you know).

And is it irritating to have to solve a puzzle that's off-centered? That you can't see that well? That's spinning in place? Yes. But it's that way for a reason.

What's crazy to me is that I've seen so many people say "how did this make it past QA" or "this is the dumb shit you do when you're first making a game", as though it was a mistake, as though Jonathan Blow had just run out of ideas and was trying to pad the game. Or they'll say "why would you do this to me" and then not actually think about why.

The thing about The Witness is that especially in The Mountain, it's challenging game design and not taking it as gospel, and it's doing this in what I think is an interesting way. But sometimes the people playing it are so used to "good" game design and have had so many brushes with "bad" game design that they just don't even stop to question it.

And I know, I know, I'm saying that it's Bad on Purpose ... but it is! The whole area has a claustrophobic feeling to its puzzles, like you can feel yourself straining against them, and it's really wonderfully thematic, especially as the final section of the game. And I wish that I could sit down with the people playing it and have a conversation about it, what the game is trying to express, how gamers should also have reading comprehension.

I can absolutely understand not liking that section of the game. I think it's easy to get the point of what it's doing and say "yeah, yeah, I get it, but do I need to play these jank puzzles, isn't it enough to comprehend the gimmick?" Personally, I don't think it is, but that's because I have an appreciation for the artsy fartsy stuff. And this is aggressively artsy, in a way that I think is extremely rare in games, particularly because it approaches its artistry from the game mechanic/design perspective rather than the aesthetics/narrative/tone side of things.

#the witness #media analysis #niche posts

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corazonette · 1 month ago

Text

There was a longer story here once, but it ended up getting way too long and detailed, and eventually I lost interest publishing it here in it's entirety. It did finally stop the bitchy clown motherfucker's. promiscuous bitchy-smashing lifestyle once and for good due to a certain traumatic incident. He got trolled back so hard by his own greedy misconduct, but the details got out of hand at some point. It became more like personal literature than something I wanted to publish online, and included a 'character' that has no business existing anymore on any of my public media. She almost deviously and sneakily made herself the 'star' of the show again in this story. SHE'S MOTHERUCKIN' DEAD NOW! REMEMBER THAT FACT!

But let's just say the main theme and plot of that story was: Boogie Woogie Wu hides under your bed!? Uhm, something like that! Close enough! You'll wish it wasn't deleted, because it was quite tangy and spicy. Very long, with multiple chapters, and very damn mature content too boot. You might've thought I'm a bonafide troll myself to come up with this shit, rite?! RITE?! Maybe I am! Or maybe I'm just VERY fluent in the language of trolling! YOU'LL NEVER EVER KNOW FOR SURE! HEHEHEHE!! I may not write very graphic detailed lemons at all, but the amount of depravity and trolliness must make up for it, rite? I can make this shit sound so perverse even without describing anatomical details. I don't like graphic lemons very much, you'll know soon. I love teasing and torturing with vague descriptions and metaphors more. What is that called? A lime? I DON'T FUCKIN' KNOW, BUT NIGHTY-NIGHT! OR MORNING! GOOD AFTERNOON! WHEREVER THE FUCK YOU ARE! Don't let Boogie Woogie Wu stab you with a broken broom in your sleep!! 'Cause, you know, that's what the real Boogieman be doing! He's hiding UNDER your bed! NOT IN IT! He don't play fuck toy games like the main bitchy clown motherfucker did in that private story, and accidentally got trolled back by his own dirty game. HE JUST FLAT OUT MURDERS AND DESTROYS! MERCILESSLY! AND VIOLENTLY! NO HOLDS BARRED! BROKEN BROOMS! BLANKET SUFFOCATION! RIP OFF YOUR HEAD AND PLAY WITH IT LIKE A BOUNCY BALL! WHATEVER THE FUCK! Oh, right, like someone else did in one of the story chapters! Maybe that fine man was the real Boogie Woogie Wu all along! 😈

The conclusion of the story is: YOU FIGURE IT OUT! IT WAS HERE FOR A BRIEF MOMENT, BUT IF YOU MISSED IT, YOU BLEW IT! NO MORE STORY-TELLING! NO MORE GAMES! SHUGGY WAS THE CORRECT ANSWER. THE MOTHERFUCKIN' END FOR REAL NOW!

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gumballavocadoharry · 4 months ago

Text

Unjust Corporate; Jack Chambers:

*This is the 50s, so corporal punishment was around and that meant teachers were allowed to administer swats with paddles or canes then. It's unethical, but I have to be historically correct to set the scene. I do not agree with this, and it's a trigger containing: mentions of abuse, abusive childhood, student abuse, hitting, beating, some racisms, bad parenting and bad educational system. *

Mr. Driscoll. Hated by every student (and teacher) in the building. Possibly the district.

A very strict and callous type who would punish for even the simplest infringements. Assignment was a day late- an F. One word misspelled on a paper- F. Whispering in class- a hard paddle against your backside. None of the teachers in the school used the paddle or the cane. But Mr. Driscoll did. He expected perfection from every student, despite even if their best attempts couldn't come to par. A painly thin older man with white hair, a thin pasty mustache and liver spots all over his hands. A slight slouch in his posture, but still managed to stand a solid six foot in a half.

Then he met Roger Chambers. The boy swore he hated him from day one. His name was spoken stringent against his lips. Sharp and stern looks into Roger's mischievous but innocuous green eyes where filled with this utter disgust like the way you spot maggots in rotted fruit. "ROGER! STOP TALKING!" Roger wouldn't say a word.

"ROGER STOP DAYDREAMING AND PAY ATTENTION!" Roger would force himself out of his gaze through the classroom window and snap back to the teacher's lesson. It was during class that Roger realized he could use both hands when writing. Left and right.

Finishing the last piece of his Benjamin Franklin- using his left hand- a harsh burning sting was slapped to his wrist. "Ow!" grabbing his wrist and looking up to Mr. Driscoll. "Use your right hand, Mr. Chambers!" Tapping the ruler against his palm, Mr. Driscoll gave Roger a acrimonious glare. Tears brimming his eyes, Roger slowly picked up his pencil with his right hand; ignoring the mordant pain that was shooting through his wrist.

The walk home from school was quiet. "Hey Roger, what did you get on that Algebra test?" Roger shrugged. "Maybe, a 56- I don't know." Susan glanced to Roger with a slight furrow. "Did Matthew Malkin give you wedgie?"

"I don't know, probably." "Did Mom and Dad jump across the moon and into a pile of turnips that shoot out raisins?"

"Yeah, probably." A laugh escaped from Susan. "Did you even hear what I just said?" Roger turned sharply to Susan, almost ringing himself out of his world. "Uh... what?" Susan crooked her head to the side. "Roger, what's wrong?" Roger scratched the side of his head. "Oh, nothing. It's just.... I have a lot of homework." Susan bit the edge of her lip and kept quiet. Letting the sound of the swishing spring wind bellow her skirt, Susan would occasionally look to Roger and then back to the sidewalk. "Hi sweeties," Alice wiped the last path of suds off the tables from the cleaner. "I'll make you a snack in just a minute."

"Thanks." Susan said, taking a seat on the couch. Roger smiled before charging toward his bedroom. His wrist brushed against his slacks, twinging the boy with pain. Roger scanned his left wrist again. A thick red welt formed in the center of a purplish-pink bruise. Roger stared at the sore. Watching it ooze from his skin like an ugly patch. Changing into a droopy maroon sweater that hovered over his legs, making them look little under the cloak of garment. Roger trollied down the stairs, ignoring the stares from his sister and mother. "Roger, you changed your shirt." Roger smiled and took a seat at the bar, reaching for the fresh baked cookies on the platter in front of him. Alice let a slight furrow arch through her eyebrows. "I got cold, so I changed my shirt." As if Roger could sense Alice's buried question. Alice raised an eyebrow. "Okay...." Roger kept his gaze on the counter. A fear slithered through him- wafting in this musky glower of already having blown his cover.

Roger perked himself up with a smile. "Sorry, if I'm coming off mysterious.... it's been a long day." Alice gave Roger a small smile. She leaned in closer, pouting her lip a bit. "Are you alright honey? Feeling okay?" Alice put her hand on Roger's left wrist and rubbed- pressuring the fore of it against the brim of the counter. Roger bit the inside of his bottom lip. "I'm fine- it's just that- my new history teacher had us doing a lot of work in class today." Alice smiled wider. Rubbing her hand against Roger's cheek, she leaned back and went back to the stove. Roger kept his stare on her a bit longer- wondering if her mind was already made up. And.... it was.

Jack came home and hour later. Roger was already at his grainy oak desk, finishing the last of his assingment. Signing the last cursive word on the paper, Roger's heartbeat sped up. A warm patch heated against the nath of his neck. A burning heat flashed through his skin. Mr. Driscoll taught history. Mr. Driscoll would fail him for one mistake. Or maybe not one at all. He hated Roger after all. He would cane his wrist again. Or berate him in front of the entire class. Roger didn't tell anyone of how Mr. Driscoll seperated his desk to the outside of the classroom for laughing too much. The memory burned deep into his brain- sauntering the grimness of how he couldn't even cry because of the passing students and teachers. Embarrassed and angry, Roger was banished to the outskirts of the class until lunch, where his desk was brought back inside, but with his crayons sprawled out over the hallway. They were swept up and thrown into the garbage when asked about them.

Roger scratched the itch by his eye. His finger became wet, letting the realization of brimming tears that trickled down his face sink in. He swallowed hard- letting the hollow of his woe slide down into his gut to loll there.

A knock on the door sounded. "Rogie?" Jack's soft voice was both a reassurance, and a parcel. Roger couldn't afford to carry a burden. His mind was weighted with Mr. Driscoll's rasping jarring voice. Jack invited himself in. He always did that when he thought the problem was big. It annoyed the children, but it would disperse with realization of Jack's love and concern. He took a seat on the bed, letting his eyes- filled with worry- bore into Roger's. "Hey bud.... you've been quiet today... everything okay?"

"Yeah. Why, why wouldn't it be?" He frowned. "Because, you came home and didn't say anything-"

"I was tired. Mr. Driscoll piled on a lot of homework." Jack raised an eyebrow. "Mr. Driscoll?" Roger nodded. Jack rememberd Mr. Driscoll. He hated him too.

He never taught Jack's grade as a child, but when he moved to California as an adult, he found Mr. Driscoll to be the biggest prick of an educator he met. Uttering several words about him behind his back, the old man was embittered, in Jack's mind. He hated how he demanded unquestioned respect, despite never showing it back to anyone. Sometimes, even to his own superiors. Jack never forgot how in the line at a supermarket, Mr. Driscoll glared at the young ebony man, a bagger, who was extraordinarily polite and kind. His name tag read, Dan, and Jack didn't think twice about him. He just thought good business was good business.

"I bet he steals from the registers." Mr. Driscoll snarled. Jack puncated his frown to the elderly man, who was in his early sixties at the time. "He probably has kids all over with different woman." Mr. Driscoll didn't say this to anyone but himself. But Jack heard him. He heard everything the man said. "I think he's doing a good job." Jack wished he hadn't opened his mouth. But was still glad he did. Mr. Driscoll turned around, but Jack stared straight ahead. "Respect your elders." He said before turning back towards the line. Jack towered over the man slightly. He stared deep into the back of his head like he wanted to burn holes through it. He did want to.

Mr. Driscoll turned around with a scowl over his face. "Maybe you could learn something from us elders, hm?" Jack smirked. "I think society's already beat me to it, hm?"

"I can help the next customer!" A lady clerk yelled. Jack happily took his cart to the next line. Ringing up faster, Jack pulled an extra five from his wallet. Handing it to Dan, he smiled. "Thank you very much sir, have a nice day." Dan smiled. "You too!" Mr. Driscoll watched as Jack walked out of the store with the biggest smile across his face, before turning around to share one last smart alec smile toward the old man.

The name sent this ping of anger through Jack. "Mr. Driscoll." He repeated. "He's your new history teacher?" Roger's eyebrows furrowed as he gave another nod. "Racist bastard." Roger gasped. "Oh! I'm sorry Roger! Don't repeat that, okay?"

"Mr. Driscoll's racist?" Jack nodded. "I know him. Don't worry it'll be okay." Roger felt reassured. A warm glow had illumentated through him like a candle in the dark night. Jack's face was set serious. Serious into this deep rigid frown. Jack turned back to Roger after staring at the specks of carpet for too long. "What did he do in class?" A cool fanned through Roger's chest. He didn't want to tell him what happened today. But he knew Jack would find out. He would come to the classroom and surveillance Mr. Driscoll like a prison guard. And he would deserve it. But it wouldn't help Roger forever. It wouldn't etch the pain from his mind, or the fear in his gut... or the twinge of heat from his bruised wrist.

"Roger?" Jack's voice softened and warm. "He.... was strict. Very strict- he always is with everyone. Even some of the teachers." Jack narrowed his eyes. "But what did he do to you?" Roger swallowed.

"I was talking too much in class. So....." Roger looked down. Jack wanted Roger to come closer to him, but couldn't choke out the words to say so. "What did he do Roger?" His voice laced more thickly in concern.

"He yelled at me." Roger held in his tears. But Jack could sense them. He could sense the pain snaking through Roger, while his head was held down and his voice as frail as parchment paper. "What else?" Jack knew. Roger didn't know how, but he did.

"He put my desk....." Roger choked. Tears- not even having time to brim- begin dripping onto the carpet. He looked back up with tears and a wobbly mouth. "He made me sit out in the hall because I was laughing too much!" He brokedown. "Today in class, I decided I could use my left hand to write. And I did pretty good. Mr. Driscoll- ow!" Jack perked up. Roger had brushed a particular sensitive part of his wrist against his pants. "Ow.. ow...ow." He cried. Jack hurled himself up from the bed and grabbed Roger's wrist without question.

A big welt on his wrist. Bruising and burning with pain. The sight shattered Jack's heart to a million pieces. David would whip Jack's legs with a thick belt, till welts would sprout over his little calves. Sometimes, he whip his bare back or strike a paddle against his bare bottom. Coupled with slaps across the face and a throng of curses thrown at him, the sight of Roger's wrist nearly made Jack sick. He never bragged about his disciplines- there was nothing to brag about. Who could take pleasure in being beaten senseless for pratically nothing? Some boys at his school would laugh or brag about how many beatings they took from their fathers. Jack never joined in and in fact, would judge the boys.

"What's so great about that?" he said once. Steward Hollister looked around before piping up. "Well, hasn't your dad ever beat ya?"

"Yeah. I just don't laugh about it. It's ridiculous and abusive..... I'd much rather take pleasure in striking him back." He said, before walking back to his locker. "Sensitive little pussy." Steward laughed along with his friends. Jack slammed the books into locker and continued to the bleachers for the rally.

Looking at Roger's little wrist- his soft little wrist that was hurting, causing his little boy to welp in pain- sent an angry shiver through his spine. A muderous desire to wrap his bulky hands around Driscoll's neck and choke the life out of him until his face was as blue and purple as the bruise forming around the welt.

"He... caned me." Roger's voice was so little. So innocent and fragile. Jack looked into Roger's eyes before cuffing his little lanky body into a bear hug. "Oh my little baby.... it'll be okay. Daddy's here. I'm so sorry.... I'm so sorry." Jack sounded regretful, despite not doing anything. "We'll take care of the boo boo." Roger didn't mind Jack's baby puns. In fact, he wanted it. He needed it. Clinging to Jack as he took him into the bathroom, Jack smoothed an ointment onto the welt before applying some kitchen ice. Placing a gentle hand on Roger's cheek, Jack looked into Roger's eyes with unfathomable sympathy and blazing fury. "Just hold it onto the welt and the bruising will go down in no time." Roger nodded, still sniffling. Jack placed a long big whistling smooch to Roger's cheek. Then another one, then another one. He didn't want to leave Roger's side for a second and would rather hold him in the hollow of his chest, placing candy kisses onto the ridge of his forehead.

Caned. It stuck out in Jack's brain all night. He would cane Mr. Driscoll. What he did to Roger, Jack would do to him thrice as hard. Jack kept his fists balled up all night, making the knuckles stiff in the morning. Jack finally hit it.

He would surprise Driscoll. He had no idea Roger was his son... but he would soon find out. Today... in the middle of history class.

Roger was sitting quietly at his desk. Mr. Driscoll spiting out nonsense facts about the british war of whatever. "ROGER! SIT UP STRAIGHT!"

Jack could hear the harsh address from down the hall. Storming harder up to the classroom door- Jack dressed in his navy blue office suit, neat matching black dress shoes with a very stern look- peeked through the window of the classroom.

"Roger come up here now!" Roger gulped, taking little steps up towards Mr. Driscoll. "It's funny. It's really funny how you think class is a joke? That all these students don't deserve to learn in peace!"

"But-"

"Hush up!" Grabbing a thick wooden paddle, Roger's eyes widened. "Turn around." Mr. Driscoll's voice venomed with hatered. Grabbing Roger's arm and snatching him around, Jack barged through the door- without thinking and yanked up Mr. Driscoll's arm- dragging him out of the classroom.

He practically slammed the old man against the walls of the corridor. "How dare you!" Jack hissed. "How dare you even lay a fingernail on my son like that!"

Mr. Driscoll straightend his suitjacket. "I didn't paddle him for your information- I was about to and he deserved it!" Jack came closer to the teacher's face. "I don't care what he did or didn't do. I saw you. I'll be the one to decide how and whether my child gets punished or not!"

"I am fully qualified to do my job, sir!" "To hell with your job- you ever touch my son again, it'll be the last time, you ever touch him... is that clear?"

Mr. Driscoll squinted his eyes. "Do I know you?" Jack didn't respond. His gruff breaths puffed out like steam out of the nostrils of a dragon. "That man.... you were in the supermarket- defending that colored boy-"

"He was a man. A grown man." Jack hissed. "How dare you." His voice trailed a little. "And yes! It's me! And that's my son."

Mr. Driscoll scoffed. "No wonder. The boy never knws when to keep his mouth shut- I'd pop him if I could." Even the burning glare from Mr. Driscoll, didn't save him from being lifted by the fringed of his collar.

"You're lucky I don't break your jaw into a million pieces! If you ever take that paddle out again- then you can shove it up your ass, because that's the first place I'm gonna come looking for it!" Dropping Mr. Driscoll back to earth, feet pinging so hard against the ground, that an ache begin to radiate. Jack's deadly glare riveted the man, before he whizzed past and into the classroom.

"Roger," Jack took Roger's hand and led him back outside. "How about you and me take the day off? Just the two of us?" A bright smile fell over Roger. "Oh boy! You mean it?!" Jack bent down and hugged Roger tightly. "Of course! I thought you could use some fun after that awful day you had." Jack cooed. Kissing the side of his temple, Jack took Roger's hand- both skipping down the hall with peps in their step.

For Mr. Driscoll, this would surely be a day that would go down in history for him. He counted that as walked back into the classroom, wobbly and red faced.

The same way he left Roger yesterday, but with more vigour. Not able to look the class in the eye. He picked the paddle from the ground and set it on his desk.

"Class dismissed." He said shakily. As the classroom emptied out, Mr. Driscoll sat his desk and started his resignation letter. Somehow, he believed Jack. And he didn't want to take that risk.

#jack chambers imagines #jack chambers son #jack chambers imagine #jack and roger #jack chambers #susan chambers #alice chambers #roger chambers #dont worry darling #harry styles dwd #dwd blurbs #harry styles #harry styles imagine #dadrry #dad!harry

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queersrus · 4 months ago

Text

Candy theme

[candy theme]

for @seraphim-coinz 's event, prompt one !

partnered with our other blogs @dollilian, @objectumluv, @systiveboxes, @skelatomy

(nick) names:

aero, almond, altoid, astro, ayd, airhead bonbon, bonnie, butter, burst, bar, bounty, boyer, bubble, bear, bubba

candi/candie/candy, candice/candace, candiette, cotton, caramel, caramilk, crisp, cadbury, creme, cane, corn, charlston, chew, charlie, chik, chip, choco, chocolate, chuckle, chupa, chup, clark, crunch, crunchy/crunchie

dot, drop, dove, double, dum, dunkaroo five, fazer, ferrera, ferrero, flake, fruitella, fudge, fruit gummy, gusher, galaxy, gob

henry, hershy/hershey, heath, haribo, hi-chew, hubba ike, ice jelly, jello, jellybean, jolly, joy, juice, juicy, juju, jujube

kit, kat, kitkat, kiss, kinder, knopper, krackel lolly/lollie, lollypop/lollipop, lemon, laffy, licorice/liquorice, lindor, lemonhead

mint, minty, mike, milky, mallo/mallow, marsh, marshmallow, maltese, malteser, mamba, mars, mento, milk, milka, milton, moonpie, mound

necco, nerd, nestle orbit, oreo

pixy/pixie, patch, pop, parma, payday, pb, peanut, peep, pez, pocky, peppermnt

reese/rease, ruth, ranch, rancher, rocher, rock, rolo, runt skittle, smartie/smarty, sour, snicker, star, starburst, sixlet, skor, spree, sweetart, sweetheart, symphony

tootsie, taffy, toffee, turk, twizzler, twix, trident, tape, tempo, tic, tac, toblerone, topic, treet/treat, trolli, tupla, twinky/twinkie, twirl violet

way, wunder/wonder, wafer, warhead, whopper, wine, wispa, wonka york zaotang, zero

1st p prns: i/me/my/mine/myself

ai/ae/aery/aeroine(aerine)/aeroself ai/aire/airy/airheadine/airheadself bi/bone/bonbony/bonbonine/bonbonself ci/cande/candy/candine/candyself ci/care/caramy/caramine/caramelself(caramilkself) chi/choce/chocy/chocolatine/chocolateself gi/gume/gummy/gummine/gummyself(gumself) ji/jelle/jelly/jelline/jelloself pi/pocke/pocky/pockine/pockyself ri/ree/reesy/reesine/reeseself ski/skitte/skittly/skittline/skittleself ski/skore/skory/skorine/skorself ti/tootse/tootsy/tootsine/tootsieself ti/taffe/taffy/taffine/taffyself wi/wonke/wonky/wonkine/wonkaself

2nd p prns: you/your/yours/yourself

ao/aer/aers/aerself aio/air/airheaders/airheaderself bo/bonbonr/bonbonrs/bonbonrself co/cander/candiers/canderself co/carameler/caramelers/caramelerself cho/chocor/chocors/chocorself go/gummer/gummers/gummerself jo/jellor/jellors/jellorself po/pocker/pockers/pockerself ro/reeser/reesers/reeserself sko/skittler/skittlers/skittlerself sko/skor/skors/skorself to/tootser/tootsiers/tootserself to/taffer/taffers/tafferself wo/wonker/wonkers/wonkerself

3rd p prns: they/them/theirs/themself

ae/aero, aer/ro, ae/ro, aer/aero, aero/aeros, aero/bar, air/head, airhead/airheads bo/bon, bon/bon, bonbon/bonbons can/dy, can/candy, candy/candys, candy/bar, cara/mel, car/caramel, caramel/caramels, cara/milk, caramilk/caramilks, cho/colate, choco/lat, cho/colat, choc/ olat, choco/chocolat, chocolat/chocolats gum/my, gum/gummy, gummy/gummys jel/jello, jel/lo, jello/jellos po/pocky, po/cky, poc/ky, pock/y, pock/pocky, pocky/pockys re/eses, ree/ses, ree/se, ree/reese, reese/reeses, reeses/pieces ski/skittle, skit/skittle, skittle/skittles, skit/tle, sko/skor, sko/or, skor/skors to/toots, too/tsie, too/tootsie, tootsie/tootsies, ta/taffy, taff/y, taf/fy, taf/taffy, taffy/taffys wo/wonka, wonk/a, won/ka, wonka/wonkas, wonka/bar

titles:

the candy seller, the candy maker, the candy hoarder, the candy man/woman/being, the candy lover, the ruler of candyland

*one who collects vintage candies, one who shares candy, one who owns many candies, one who is making many candies, one who holds candy knowledge

candy maker

*one can be replaced by any prn

#npts #npt #npt list #npt ideas #npt pack #npt blog #npt suggestions #id pack #candy npts #candy theme #1st person neopronouns #2nd person neopronouns #3rd person pronouns #serachurch728

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mrhaitch · 3 months ago

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Mr. Haitch what's the weirdest thing you've ever witnessed.

Apart from every day on Tumblr?

I'll list a couple of things.

1. When I worked in cinemas, one of my usual jobs was to man the floor. This meant checking the screens, general patrols, customer complaints, and any and all cleaning required. I had finished cleaning a screen and was returning equipment to a storage area next door and there was a shirtless guy stood there, washing himself in the sink. Not a staff member, just a guy. He had a plastic bag full of shampoo samples open on the window sill. He turned and looked at me, partway through soaping himself and gave me a flat, empty look.

I told him to get out, he mercifully stopped soaping himself, and I gave him a sec to rinse off.

2. A man introduced himself to me and Haitch at a train station as "the hardest man in Norwich", and proceeded to tell us all about the fights he'd had, times he'd jumped out of a woman's window when their husband came home, etc. partway through the conversation Haitch and I switched seats so he'd leave her alone. After a few minutes he slunk off, only to reappear near the flower stall (the woman working it told him to fuck off), and then he re-emerged with a luggage trolly.

I watched him psych himself up for a full minute, before I gripped the bars and charged the gate. A security guard watched him approach, rolled his eyes, and stepped in his path.

'Knock it off,' he said.

The Hardest Man in Norwich came to a dead stop, turned, and walked away.

(I'm sure there's more, especially from my cinema career but they've all blurred into a haze of fights I've broken up, heroin needles fished out of toilets, sex toys disposed of- it's hard to pick even a handful)

#mr.haitch #mrhaitch #mr haitch #mrhaitch answers you too

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starzshopoflove · 1 year ago

Text

Read the fine print

(141 x F!Reader)

Notes: This is concept is taken from herethereb3dragons on AO3 following a similar plot concept but not the same. Yes this is a omegaverse story I have no apologizes I wanna feed my brain worms.(Will be switching between first and second person in this writing) Summary: Lost your job after finding out your boss was committing federal crimes and the local economy crashes? Omega Re-housing services suddenly deciding to tighten their requirements? Sick of living in a shitty apartment alone everyday with no one to come home too? No problem! Just become a Contacted Companion to a military group overseas and never look back, full proof planning right?! A/N: This is a more intro chapter idk how to explain it but you'll get it when you start reading

WC: 2.4k

I could’ve been a nurse if I wanted too, or maybe I would have opened a cafe. Probably not, I hate blood, well I don't hate it. I just don't want to be around it everyday, I don't mind a cut or a ugly scab but then again that's always on my body. Owning my own business would stress me out, I can barely handle being 3 days behind on work, imagine not making enough to keep the shop open for another month I’d go into shock.

On the other hand I’d probably not be in the position I'm in now If I had my own business or hell a medical degree. To be fair I couldn't predict this, I couldn't predict any of this no one could and if they did there’d be hell to pay from every single person in that fat shiny building downtown. Everything happened so fast, the market value crash, our manager getting arrested for embezzlement, the company housing getting repossessed, all our assets getting seized and sold. I wish I could lie and say it was a blur but it wasn’t, call it a trauma response but I remember every detail of that day from the moment the building shut down to signing away my dignity.

***************************************************************

Everything hurts, your back, your eyes and your legs. Oh yeah and you're sweating, gross right? Isn't it wonderful that they stuck the little archivist all the way in the back of the office in her own little office where she can do all her “important” work. All the way where no one can smell or see where they’re hiding all the omega employees, what a coincidence.

Yeah it's mid september and it's chilly outside but you’re boiling in here now and the fabric of your jumper is sticking to you and everyone in here can smell you now. At this point all you wanted to do was run back to your office, peel off your jumper and wipe away all your sweat while drowning yourself in scent masker. Honestly it's humiliating, getting burnt up in your tiny room then being forced by your superior to trolly off all the files to the accounting department upstairs.

You weren't in any danger of course most people were civilized and wouldnt attack you on sight or in this case on the whiff of unmarked omega scent. It still worried you, but no one could touch you here, not while you were an employee, not while you were safe under the watching eye of the corporate security cameras watching everyones every move.

Doesn’t that make you feel a little safer? Always being watched? Yeah they could fire you for the littlest thing but you could be safe. The camera doesn't discriminate, the camera can't lie, the camera shows what happens and doesn't care if you’re Alpha or Omega.That reminder makes you feel a little safer when you're pushing your little cart into the elevator pushing the button for the 26th floor. It's not as hot in here as it was downstairs.

You lean back a little on the bar between you and the mirror while your eyes stay trained on the little black screen of red letters rolling up as the elevator dragged you upstairs. Do you ever do that thing where you stare at the mirror like your face is gonna change the longer you look at it? You do now.

Just standing in front of it poking at yourself, making sure there's no crust in your eyes, sometimes bearing your teeth to check that you don't have anything stuck in them. If you know what was going to happen you might have spent longer staring at yourself, capturing the moment maybe.

You look tired, you are tired. Hollow eyes stared back at you in the mirror forcing you to look at how empty you were from the inside out. It was always day in day out move on. You didn't have time to think about mating, joining a pack hell even having kids. Wake up. Work. Go home. Trash TV. Sleep.

You try smiling and letting that go seeing if it would change anything. It didn't. Mirrors were more indifferent to you. Check if you’re clean and move on with your day not thinking too much about it. Elevators forced you to look at yourself they always do. There's no one else in here but you, the mirror and those 2 doors.

The little hum of mediocre elevator music churning out whatever pop tune combination the media had coined dead would be your last unknown moment of peace.

When those elevator doors opened and you pushed out your little cart all you felt was the sudden slam of a body knocking your poor cart away. That alone ripped you out of your tired little haze forcing you to look around the room and see what was actually happening.

The accounting department of U&G Food Supplising Inc.? In shambles

The air of the floor felt thick, suffocating. Too many people were up out of their chairs, people were paired off to the side staring into their papers like life was drained out of them. Pale faces, and sweaty hands clambering around wire phones tuned out voices shouting into their speakers. The stress off of them was enough to start scaring you know.

It was everywhere, one of the brokers was seated back in his chair holding papers in both hands with his phone pressed onto his ear yelling incomprehensible jargon into it while his eyes dizzied out on the papers he was holding. Others looked like they already lost hope standing in the middle with empty blank expressions that told you enough, they were probably savoring the last few moments of normalcy.

A heavy buzz cut the air and that's when everything stopped. The market just closed, everything was so quiet. People stopped talking, staring at the big screen hooked up on the wall where a chart was displayed with its thick red line descending into the negatives.

Papers were in the air, Phones were rattling off like crazy, Desks were flipped over and files covered the floor. Out of panic you might have started slamming the button on the elevator faster but you got the other side of the coin and was stumped in shock and maybe a little anger.

All you wanted was a quiet boring life, is that so much to ask for? You got your degree in the most boring field possible, you got a job at the most mundane company that would hire you, you got a quiet little apartment tucked in the dreary part of town where nothing happens and you thought you finally won. Small victories you thought, I wont get forced to mate with anyone here, I can pass as a beta here, I can, I can, I can't.

In hindsight you should've seen it coming, Omega Rehousing Authorities were getting stricter, The company was losing money and you were ignoring all of it. Until now where you were trapped in the corner of the accounting department where everyone was screaming and panicking when all you were trying to do was bundle up all your files and run back to your stuffy little room.

Staying on the ground was safer then standing up I think, you can just stay down here on your knees trying to gather all the papers you can so you can slam on the elevator as hard as possible to get you back to safety. Yeah! Just keep grabbing papers, don't think about the Alpha across the room practically tearing out that betas throat, or those 2 slightly to your right scruffing at each other to grab as much cash as possible. You won't get in trouble right? You're just an archivist delivering papers, you don't know what's happening but that's a good thing. You don't know what's happening and it's bad because now you're holding all your papers to your chest and you don't have any scent masker practically leaking your scent everywhere while there's so much yelling.

Keep ignoring it you’ll be alright, there's police here but they're not here for you, keep ignoring it. Yes the screaming and yelling is getting louder while there are people getting arrested but you're still under your illusion of safety so keep ignoring it. There's nothing wrong, get your papers and leave there's nothing wrong you can't hear anything no one's calling your name just stand up and leave.

But there is someone calling your name, your full name. With your Identification number.

Pulling your head up felt like dragging it out of water and meeting the eyes of 3 ORA agents in crispy black suits and sunglasses did not help with your anxiety when you were stuck down on the floor.

“We’re with the Omega Re-Housing Authority, we’d like to speak with you”

_____________

That's when everything started moving faster and phasing out until I realized I was in a new room. The room felt sterile, steel table, plain gray walls, the uncomfortable plastic chair I was stuck in. My heart was rattling inside my chest and I kept breathing in for more air but every breath felt stale and dry no matter how many times I sipped at the little plastic cup they gave me.

Why was I here? What did I do? I didn't know what was going on, I had all my paperwork, I had a job and a house they can't take me away can they?

That creaky door opening and shutting dragged my attention away to the ORA agent in front of me. They look less threatening without the glasses, it doesn't help much but seeing their eyes makes them look more human. He looked like he was pitying me and that just made the bile in me churn, I felt like I was in trouble.

He took his seat right in front of me, placing down a plain manilla folder on the cold steel table before he folded and placed his hands on top. God, when he looked at me I thought I was gonna be sick. I bet he could feel the fear weeping out of me, I didn't have anything on me. I didn't feel safe without my scent masker or some sort of suppressant. I didn't make it this far passing as a Beta without them, now I felt like I was waving a white flag screaming Omega.

All the anxiety from years of drifting through life poured through you since you got your class as omega. You wanted to hide in a thousand layers never to be seen again. Where no one could see, touch or hear you. An isolation but a safe comfort like how you made your home. The one you will shortly no longer be able to afford.

You tried making friends you really did, you had friends but then something inside you would rear its ugly head out and whisper for you too leave them alone how much you're bothering them can't you see?

So you would let it slip through the cracks. One missed plan turns to another and suddenly you spend every afternoon curled up on your beat couch watching drag reruns on cable tv in your dingy apartment thinking this is better than being out and feeling your stress turn your guts around.

Now look at you! Sitting in a ORA “interview room” probably about to be shipped out to some random alpha in the middle of nowhere shucking corn for the rest of your life popping out babies you can't afford. The worst part is no one would notice!

“You’re not in trouble Ma’am”

‘Yeah thanks for that buddy.’ I wish I could say that but I just kept staring at him, more watching his lips move than hearing him speak. I caught some words here and there of “Bankruptcy” and “Liquidation”. By the end of it from what I can tell is Im unemployed and soon to be homeless. I could move in with my mom, or maybe my sister then ORA couldn't relocate me at least, they won't have the chance to.

The last time I sent my papers my mom passed as the register on my guardian substitute. I'm not sure if they’ll take it again, Beta guardians work but If regulations keep changing they might start demanding she terminate her rights and they assign me to an Alpha.

How sick is that? I spend my whole life fighting tooth and nail acting like nothing scares me, trying to prove I can fend for myself and don't need a pack. I did everything by the book and I still got stuck in the chair everyone told me I’d never end up in.

I should be angry, I should be boiling and here I am shaking like a leaf in this chair playing in the pliant and meek omega stereotype, fantastic.

Sliding the folder over to me on the table the ORA agent opened up the folder, sliding his hands over to his pocket to pull out a fountain pen. He cleared his throat almost condescendingly as he uncapped his pen, tapping it onto the paper in the folder.

Is it weird I forgot he was there? Everything started meshing together when I heard him say I wasn't in trouble. I mean I didn't completely forget, his scent was basically choking me forcing his presence to be made aware. I'm listening now but I wish I could roll over and sink into the floor.

“ORA would like to offer you an employment opportunity, aboard.”

***************************************************************

TERMS OF EMPLOYMENT

1.)i.) Signing party will be placed under the employment of STATION CHIEF KATE LASWELL and CAPTAIN JONATHAN PRICE

ii.)Singing party will be taken as a pack member to Task Force 141, bearing responsibilities of archival tasks, moral support, and contracted companionship.

2.) Signing party will be salaried, paid biweekly on fixed income.

i.) Signing party will be provided private quarters on base

ii.) Signing parties quarters will be located by the nearest employer

iii.) Signing party will not be obligated to travel in deployment or relocated without prior consent

iv.) Signed parties quarters will be furnished as usual, any additions will be added upon request.

3.) Signed party is under no obligation to complete orders from any authority not listed within this contract.

SIGNATURE : ________________ INITIALS: ______________

“You gotta be fucking kidding me”

I hope u guys like it please leave a comment if you do and dont be afraid to ask or suggest any ideas you would like too see from me in other works or in this! - lots of love star <3

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joshslater · 2 years ago

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Chinstrap

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The woman that opened the door and let her into her apartment looked nothing like what Abigail had expected. She was about the same age as her, fit and healthy, pitch black hair, and wearing comfortable home clothes. Without waiting while Abigail removed her coat and shoes the woman walked out of sight into the apartment. "You're disappointed. You were expecting an old lady with a black cat?" she asked from a room away.

"No. Yes, maybe. I don't know what I expected," Abigail answered, trying to figure out in what direction to walk. The woman appeared again in front of her. "His name is Steven," she said and held up a docile black cat. Abigail not really liking cats gave it a perfunctory pat. "This way," the woman said and led the way to a room that looked perfect as a cigar room at a men's club. Two large armchairs with a small round table and a bar trolly in between them at the center of the room, otherwise decorated in dark green and brass. The walls were filled with shelves containing books, boxes, and trinkets.

"Sit, please. You told me in the email this was about a boy problem."

"Well," Abigail started, uncomfortably, "he made me... I..."

"Don't bog yourself in details. I don't need details, you don't want to relive the past. Pastis?"

"Relive pastis?" Abigail asked confused. The woman grabbed a bottle from the trolly with a big "Pastis aperitif anise" label. "Oh, no. Thank you. I'm driving."

She put the bottle back. "Just tell me what you want for him."

"I just don't want him to hurt anyone else as he hurt me, but you said that wasn't possible didn't you?"

"You can't change who people are, fundamentally. Everyone has a role to play. If you try to change too much somewhere, something else gives somewhere else. There is the occasional pawn that turns into a queen, but otherwise the best we can do is to move the pieces around to where they make the best contribution. Or the least damage anyway." She grabbed the pastis again and poured a shot each in two glasses. "Or you can remove them from the board."

"No! No, I don't want that. I did think a bit about what you wrote in your response. What if he can be the cautionary tale? That guy you date to discover everything that's wrong with guys. I think my problem was that I didn't see it coming."

The woman slid one of the shot glasses over to Abigail's side of the round table. "How do you mean?"

Abigail struggled to get a folded piece of paper out of her jeans pocket, then placed it on the table. She hesitated for a second before she emptied the glass of pastis next to her. The woman unfolded the paper and made a giggling snort. "I am 100% on board."

Matt couldn't peel his eyes off her body as she pulled off the tight, white shirt. He liked how the light color made her tan stand out, how her tits jiggled as the sports bra lost its friction grip on the shirt, and how her long blond hair fell out in a cascade over her body as she finally pulled it over her head. She was only wearing the pink bra and matching panties now. She held out the arm holding her shirt straight out to the side and demonstrably dropped it on the floor near the rest of her clothes while looking straight at Matt. His gaze locked with hers, though he desperately wanted to keep undressing the remaining few items with his sight. He had heard someone say that if a girl's underwear matched she was the one who had decided to have sex that night. Her bra and panties did match, but he was too excited by what he saw to draw any conclusion from the quote.

Slowly she walked towards him where he was lying on his bed, propped up by a big pillow his ex had left him with. She was clearly putting on a show for him as she climbed onto him and the bed, straddling him. As he looked up on her he could see himself in the ceiling mirror reflection. Of course she had decided to have sex with him. White socks, blue, straight jeans, black Ed Hardy T-shirt, chinstrap beard, sparkling ear piercing, and the cap on his head at just the right angle. No shit her panties matched. How could you not decide to get to bed with him?

She leaned forward into the reflection and put her pink, lipglossed lips on his and started to kiss him. The first few kisses were tentative, but the next one was almost forceful, ending in an almost slurping sound. Before he could inhale she threw herself on him again, kissing him harder than before. Her blonde hair enveloped him on all sides and he started to squirm to get free. He could feel his lungs burn and darkness creeping in into the edges of his vision as his consciousness was fading.

With a sharp, inhaling sound Matt sat up in his bed and looked around confused, heart racing. He fell back into his pillow and stared at the white ceiling. It had felt so real, but clearly some of the details were wrong. There was no bombshell girl in the room for one, but it had all felt so real. He tossed a bit, trying to calm down, but he knew there wouldn't be any more sleeping after that dream/nightmare, and he needed to piss.

He got up and walked into the bathroom. Looking back from the mirror was a man that didn't look as he expected. Something was off. He touched his smooth earlobe where the clear stud had been in the dream, but now there wasn't even pierced hole. He scratched his chinstrap beard and looked at the reflection of the rest of his body. Had he always been that skinny? And his hair was too long, wasn't it? Fuck, that dream had really rattled him. He badly needed a smoke.

Having finished his business in the bathroom he found himself standing half naked in the middle of the bedroom, completely lost. Where did he keep his cigarettes? Or lighter for that matter? It was like that part of his brain had been wiped out. And everywhere he looked in the apartment he just saw appalling shit he knew that he had bought, but couldn't for the life of him understand why. Chinos and shirts and nerdy shit. He needed to get out of there, have a walk to try to collect his thoughts. Maybe buy a pack of cigarettes somewhere. The clock showed 4:11, but there was a 24/7 convenience store a mile away.

He found socks and jeans, but only ugly shirts until he reached the bottom of the pile and pulled out a completely white T-shirt. Better than the rest, but just like the rest of the clothes it felt like a size too large. He would need to do some serious shopping. He was just about the leave when he remembered his hair. He would need a haircut today too, and a piercing.

He grabbed a promotional snap back from the rack just next to the door, made a mental note to add a proper Chicago Bulls cap on the shopping list, and put it on just as he had seen in the dream. Brim 3/4 to the back.

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evesaintyves · 1 year ago

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for @remadoramicrofics 10/5 prompt, "Midnight." Nine 100-ish word drabbles. Read below or on AO3 🍻

The streets are shiny with all-day drizzle and they double the colour of the neons and the traffic lights and and the creature-eyes of cars. Young girls flocking down the avenue like calling birds. The fuzz and whine of a band tuning. And Tonks's eyes are smokey dark—Remus can't tell if she leaned into a mirror to line them with kohl, or simply squeezed them shut and changed them from within—and her lips are like glossy red lacquer. She's smiling, pulling his lapels to make him stumble into her. He's stumbling. He's letting it happen.

It's already midnight and he's due at work by four. He's just started, hasn't been paid yet, so Sirius is buying drinks. If she knows, she's been nice enough not to mention it. It's been months of this uncomfortable charity and Remus has been lying awake thinking of what happens when it dries up. The plan is to squirrel some cash into the bag he keeps always-packed out of habit for whenever things fall apart; the reality is, he's never been good at that. There's always some crisis or some hundred small exigencies eating his savings until they're gone.

He's thought about telling her. Not just tonight because he needs to get some sleep, but because he entertains a silly fantasy of her dropping by when it's slow, of slipping her an espresso and one of his chelsea buns, and her delighted face: Lupin, you made this? Leaning over the counter, playing with his apron strings. It's idiotic, and it's not how that would go. There'd be questions ( working for muggles? Do you need the money that much? ) and there'd be the tacit admission that this, baking rolls and tweezing biscotti into piles, really is about the best he can do.

She mentioned, once, that she worked at Madame Malkins' for four days before being sacked.

Well, she said, cracking a licorice snap, it was partly because I altered the uniform—horrible long frumpy thing. I made it shorter, nipped in the waist. I also made it lime green.

And... the other part?

Told a customer to suck my dick.

She played the line completely straight, which made him laugh so hard he inhaled a mouthful of the crisps she'd brought him, and the two of them had sat chuckling, in the dead of night on a surveillance mission, for an absurdly long time.

But when he thought later about the various reasons he'd been sacked—too ill to work, or worse, too ill and showed up anyway, bosses thinking he was dopesick or high, bony arms and knackered clothes making it hard to argue—it left a sour taste in his mouth. He has smiled through rudeness, through undisguised smouldering contempt, to keep a paychecque coming in. Dignity is a luxury.

When they stop for pizza the place is slammed, the slices take an age to reheat, and Tonks rolls her eyes and mutters unbelievable when the kid hands over their greasy paper plates.

There was a girl at a bar, long ago when he was twentyoneish and still trying, who pulled at his clothes quite like Tonks is and let him kiss her in the fog of last-orders cigarettes outside. He was drunk, absolutely trollied, and when she yanked back from kissing him to look him in the face he could see that she was too.

You reek of chips, she told him, and hailed a cab.

He'd lost his job at the chippie moping about it in bed all week. Fifteen years later, he still worries that he has that stench on him—not just of shit work, but of desperation. Loneliness.

She buys an entire packet of fags to smoke one and throw the rest away.

I'll smoke them all if I don't, she shrugs. Three hours until work. He's sobering up, but she still has this glow about her, luminous and hazy as the bar-lights reflected on the street.

I ought to get you home.

Out of money?

Er—

She presses up against him. Her smoke gets in his eyes. There's no lipstick on the cigarette butt; it must just be her.

I don't want to go home, she says. I'm having fun. I could kick around on the street with you for hours.

He almost tells her, then, standing by the rubbish bin on the corner, bass vibrating the pavement, being jostled by hen-nights and lads in packs walking four-and-five-abreast. But tonight has been so lovely he'd like to preserve it under glass, keep it on a shelf, look down into the electric colour of it forever. If he told her, there'd be fumbling explanations, she'd muster herself to seem excited for him, the way she does. Not tonight. Not this one night.

So he bends to kiss her cherry lips instead.

He hates the taste of cigarettes. Still, it's heavenly. She slides her hands under his jacket and around his back.

Four-sixteen. He flips the switches. Fluorescents buzz like a headache. He's late because he indulged himself to brush his teeth and shave. Buns out to proof, then into the oven. Coffee grinding, that head-clearing smell. Closing shift left the milk out. Down the sink.

Before he flips the OPEN sign, when it's dark outside the windows and the café is just a bright box in a black void, it's easy to imagine: the bun fresh and steaming, her blue fingernails clinking on the little espresso cup. She takes a bite, makes a tiny wordless sound. Closes her eyes, lost in pleasure.

image by me

#remadora #remadora microfics #tonks #remus lupin

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