#but 'oh lord - where did that t-shirt go' was so stupid yet so fucking funny. oh my god. that IS my kind of humor...

[musicrunsthroughmysoul]

Speaking of which, on a much less heavy topic, I found out that the performance I mentioned in this post was from 1991 and I ended up watching the whole thing (except for the songs I cannot stand; I skipped those, LOL) on Youtube last night and discovered that the reason all of them are shirtless by that last song is because Stuart was literally undressing his bandmates on stage during "Chance" (valiant effort with Tony, sir, but you failed completely with Bruce, LOL). And eventually the drummer and keyboardist/organist were like 'Well, for the sake of uniformity...'

I didn't think I was going to get so emotional over this Big Country video/performance, but I did and it's...not pretty.

I'm not gonna post this video, but I actually watched it in spite of wondering why literally all of them are shirtless (not that I'm, uh...exactly complaining), and aside from that, when Stuart says "So when you're going [around?], going home tonight, to your nice, safe, warm cars, take a good look around you - there's a great, [brave? grave?! that beautiful accent befuddles me], big world out there, and all of us are responsible for it" he then gives...a smile. But it's an incredibly, deeply resigned (almost polite) smile. And it's going to haunt me for the rest of my days. I wish I was joking. It upsets me a lot, actually, because I believe from his facial expressions and everything (including a pause where it's clear he's not quite sure what he's going to say, but it seems like he's searching for something to say that will have an impact on the audience - which is part of why this is so painful) he's being sincere about his brief speech, but then he, like, very briefly moves his mouth away from the microphone (I think because he's fully gauging that he's about to not get any kind of reaction from the audience) and then moves his face again so his mouth is mostly hidden by the microphone and gives that resigned smile (those deep dimples!!!) which says...oh god, everything. To me, it says: "I know what I just said meant nothing to you all [or I would've had at least some reaction (from the audience)]," "Sorry for wasting your time," "Oh, how funny of me to think that any of you would catch that I'm calling you out on your privilege - my bad," and finally, "Hello EXISTENTIAL DREAD, MY OLD FRIEND". 😭 All of that plays on his face in that like not-even-two second span of a smile. And. Oh god. Yeah. I'm just gonna be...haunted. By it.

I don't say any of this at all negatively, by the way - I do not think less of him for that. But then again, I appreciate when my favorite artists give little, like...motivational speeches and stuff at their concerts, actually, because no matter what anyone else thinks, THEY'RE PRETTY MUCH ALWAYS RELEVANT. Stuart's speech was relevant because of what "Rockin' In The Free World" is about! I mean, okay, maybe it was a bit redundant because, with a song like "Rockin' In The Free World," we get it. It's presented very plainly, lyrically, why it was written - what its intent is. BUT, he still makes a good and not-quite-as-strongly-implied-by-the-song point about privilege WHICH, TO SAY AT A CONCERT, IS KINDA BALLSY, NOT GONNA LIE! And clearly it didn't go over with that audience, but does that mean he just shouldn't try at all? So I do think he had reasonable motive (that was actually not totally unnecessary) for saying his spiel. I give him props for trying to give people something to think about, even if they're not going to think about it while they're at a rock concert, lmao...still! Why not take the risk?

Anyway. I don't know if his face there is going to haunt me because of the audience, or because it's like...my empathy just went, "Oh fucking SHIT that hurts, ahaha"...because I can imagine it being both.

[akumaalert]

not a request just sharing bc i couldn't stop thinking of just "what if lucky called heis good boy" like how he calls her good girl sometimes but like.. i'm pretty sure he would break

This was supposed to be a mini-fic....but...uh....it'll likely be the first chapter of "Divergence" instead LMAO But hope you enjoy!

Good Boy

Karl Heisenberg x Reader, Explicit

CW: Masturbation, Accidental Voyeurism, Voyeurism, Happy Ending, Virgin!Karl Heisenberg

An AU happening during chapter 19 of "Heavy Metal Lover" but can be read without reading the main story.

"Unfh..."

That had been the first noise from Lucky besides the scratch of a pencil against paper that he had heard in about an hour.

Stuck in his office with her as he searched for a misplaced - not lost, just misplaced! - core schematic, Heisenberg tried to ignore the nagging thought of how domestic the space had become. Lucky never moved his things - something he was infinitely grateful for. He could recall too well his ever boiling frustration at having his room "cleaned" when living in the castle. The maids were well-meaning, but always adjusting. The room he had held would have felt more his own had he been able to move his own furniture around without the chambermaids fawning over him.

"No, no, young Lord Heisenberg! This is all wrong...off you go...go play...we will fix this mess."

Now on his own and in his element of chaos, he felt comforted, even if secretly so, that Lucky never seemed to complain.

Comforted...but cautious.

The day at the stronghold seemed stamped into his memory...right in the front for all to see. It remained a wonder Lucky didn't see it on his face.

The knowledge.

The horrible, horrible knowledge.

Love.

Staring at an old newspaper clip-out that he had saved with a picture of a modern car on its faded pages, he absently pushed the glasses back up his nose.

It tired him - the constant need to flip back and forth between acknowledging his feelings and thrusting them as far down as he could manage. Drowning them out with that beautiful sound of cinching machinery. Allowing them to seep into him with every laugh from her lips.

Heisenberg was starting to fall in love with the woman. The woman he had failed to kill - the lucky one to survive his maze. The woman his mother expected him to impregnate in order for Miranda's mad vessel to be born and to be killed all in the name of misery.

Misery otherwise known as Eva.

Slowly but certainly, Lucky was driving him insane. Reminding him of things he could never, ever have. Teasing him over and over for days on end.

Heisenberg remembered all too well his reason for entering the office. He had nearly sliced his own arm clean off his shoulder when he lost himself to his situation. To the possibility that, despite his body being so ill-suited for the task, Lucky could have his child. Would want his child. His thoughts, as they so often did, snapped back to the need for freedom - for the need for the arms to come loose from his latest corpse to transform them into one of his many soldiers.

But the more he thought of freedom, the more she sat in the background of his mind.

The more she sat there, the more his tired musings began to stitch together.

The more freedom and Lucky - the two dreams of his world - became intertwined.

He had been thinking of her - of Lucky - beside him the day that he won freedom from the village.

Won freedom...and her.

"You did it, Heis! You did it!"

Lucky would never know how dear it was to him...the fact that her emotions ran so freely with her very being. Beaming. She would do nothing less than beam at him. Her eyes would glow and crinkle at their tails as they did when she gave him her most genuine smiles.

"You did it. You're free. Our...our family is free."

"...family?"

She would grab his hand. Just one. He needed the other steady on her cheek.

Lucky would bring that hand clasped in her own to her belly.

"Our family..."

"Our...another...another Heisenberg?"

In his dreams, she shyly escaped his gaze to nod.

"You...you haven't been alone. Not with me. Not with the start of our family. But now...now, Heis..." Her eyes popped back up all soft and sincere. "Now you'll never be alone again. Not with our baby Heisenberg on the way..."

The only break from his reverie was the slice to one of his favorite stained t-shirts. Only the fact that it was Heisenberg's powers directing the saw had it falling to the floor instead of through his tensed skin.

Heisenberg could only stand in shocked silence. The arm that had been spared from the violence came to grab his shoulder. Though no injury had occurred, he felt stabbed all the same.

Family...and joy?

Lucky...with him?

Another Heisenberg...alive?

A thought washed over him like ice entering his veins.

A boy or a girl...would we have a boy or a girl first?

First.

As if Lucky wished to be objected to more of his perverted and preposterous daydreams.

When he left the room, the metal was still shaking.

"Gotta get that fucking schematic...keep forgetting it...keep going to the office and...fuck...keep talking to her. Gotta stop fucking talking to her. Schematic. Get the fucking schematic."

Lucky had been asleep in bed when he first entered. A rushing relief to his soul. But as the search for the schematic went from flipping through one file to frantically reshuffling the wayward stack the paper should have been in, he knew it was only a matter of time before she would appear.

"Oh...ah!" Lucky yawned all cute and squeaky. "Good morning, Heis."

"Morning," he said flatly. "You...you move any of these lately?"

"No," she said sleepily. "I don't touch those...way above my pay grade. What are you looking for?"

"Core schematic," he grumbled. "Not fucking here...where the hell did I put it?"

Though Lucky made a very pointless questioning noise, she said nothing as she sat down and began her daily transcriptions. Hell, he had been grateful. She showed concern because she was simply a good person beneath all of the trauma and the terror she had reigned on his self-image. But she didn't pry or attempt to enter his space afterward where she would clearly only be in the way.

But that was before her second moan filled the office.

"What's wrong with you?" he asked, never looking up from his stack of papers.

A frustrated sigh and a grumble came from the desk chair.

"Think I slept on my neck funny last night," she said. "Doesn't help that my posture is shit. Just making it impossible to find a good angle to work in."

Growing agitated at his fruitless search, Heisenberg whipped around to look at her. "Want some help?"

"Mmn?"

"Want a massage or something?" he offered. "A...ha! You'll find this funny. Supersized one up in the castle? Used to love to make me massage her neck when I was a kid. Fucking manual labor when I was barely old enough to write. Had maids to do it - an assload at that - and forced me to instead."

Raising an eyebrow at him, Lucky frowned. "Was it...did she...did she hurt you? Like...if you didn't do it?"

"Ah nah," he said, taking careful steps over to Lucky. "Told you...when I was a kid, I was off limits. I whine about it now...but...well...I was a kid. Bitch loves kids. So I had to massage her back...but only part of this stupid salon thing we used to do together. It was nothing. Stupid. Just like her."

He did not know what to make of Lucky's face. Tilting her head, she steadied a look on him that could only be called curious.

"It's...it's a good memory? Of Alcina when you were small?"

Heisenberg scoffed.

"It's a memory," he said, standing behind Lucky with a wide stance and an even wider stare at her neck. "Not good or bad...just...there. Now...where's it hurt, kid?"

Raising a hand, Lucky placed her fingers on a section of her neck before swirling her touch.

"Ah...there...like just this one spot, but fanning out..."

"Okay...looks like your C7."

"My what now?"

Chuckling, Heisenberg moved her hand out of the way. "Your C7 vertebrae. Duck your chin down so I can get in here properly."

Doing as she was told, Lucky's head moved forward and Heisenberg placed his gloved hands against her neck. His thumbs encased the pained area and began to move in slow yet sturdy circles.

Lucky immediately began squirming.

"Can you maybe try without the gloves?" she asked. "Those are like...rough or something."

Casting off his gloves quickly, Heisenberg rolled his shoulders before trying again. "Wah, wah, wah...doing you a favor and you're out here complaining. That better, your highness?"

"Yes, actually," she said, relaxing. "And thank you. Asshole."

Puffing air out of his mouth, Heisenberg merely shook his head as he kneaded her skin.

"Mmn!"

Heisenberg tried to hide his stillness by immediately starting to massage her skin again.

But the noise could not be ignored.

"What was that?"

"Your hands...they're so warm. Fuck...feels good."

"Oh..." he said dumbly. Blinking down at her, he turned his head away as he kept his fingers in motion.

The fact that his cock had begun to waken in his pants was not lost on him.

"Are you using your electric powers? Is that why it feels so good?"

"Nah...really shouldn't do that on the living above the waist."

Above the waist...but below the waist...

"Ah," he continued, running his teeth over the scar on his lower lip. "Cause of the heart or whatever. Probably your brain too from this angle. Could fry both without meaning to. And I was working...earlier. Probably why they feel hot."

Lucky sighed as he continued to work her neck. His fingers were sweeping but slow. He had started off so intently and so rough. What had happened?

I felt her skin. Felt her beneath me. Felt her neck...for all she knows I could snap it right now and instead of being afraid she's welcoming me...she trusts me...trusts me enough to let me do this...

The next round of his fingers on her neck dipped into skin purposeful in their worship.

Her response was immediate.

"Oh...oh...good boy," she whispered.

To say he was lost for words was like calling water wet.

Though he kept his massage in a rhythmic round, his eyes were wide as they could possibly be behind his glasses. So wide that they hurt.

What the hell did she just do to me?

If he had to go off of physical injury, he would say she punched him in the stomach with all the force of a train running at full speed.

If he had to go off of an attack to his psyche, he would say she wormed her way into some long buried and forgotten wire that sent his entire brain into overdrive.

If he had to go off the erection now straining against his paints, he would say that he was royally fucked.

"You really are so good at this," she said, her voice still breathless. "Good boy...my good boy, Heis."

Heisenberg snatched his hands away as if Lucky were lava.

"Wait! No...what's wrong?" she asked, turning slightly to look at him.

If she looks down...if she sees...

"GOTTA TAKE A SHIT!" he exclaimed suddenly.

Lucky's mouth dropped open as she gaped at him.

Then she nodded with a laugh playing at her lips.

"Yeah. Go. Just come back and finish your massage."

Before he could finish blinking, he found himself storming down the hallway.

Well...intending to storm. His gait was impacted a bit by his dick standing at full mast and his hands hurriedly attempting to unbuckle the straps around his pants.

So FUCKING dumb. A shit? Really? he thought, visibly grimacing. It would have probably been less embarrassing to admit I was about to jack it to her calling me hers.

Hers...her good boy...good...I'm her good boy...hahaha...

What am I? A fucking dog?

...don't answer that.

Rushing into the break room, he considered the couch before catching sight of the bathroom. With a flick of one wrist as his other hand pulled his cock from his underwear and pants, Heisenberg slammed open the bathroom door.

He managed to slide his pants down his legs as he sat on the toilet and closed the door with the weakest of hand movements.

Finally free from judgment, Heisenberg hissed as he fumbled his glasses to the nearby counter and took himself into his hand.

"Good boy...her good boy...fuck...fuck yeah I am, baby..."

A groan and a grunt fell from his lips as he jerked his hand along his shaft.

All too often this act had been nothing but release from tension. An exploration so technical and so tedious as to be boring. But now with Lucky at his side and in his bed - however platonically she slept there - the images that plagued him seemed vibrantly real and tempting in their joyful teasing.

Imaginings - hopes and dreams and fantasies - that he could only cling onto in the moment.

The desk.

He would take her right on that same desk she was taking notes on.

"Oh, Karl," she would say, despite not knowing his first name. "Gonna be my good boy?"

"Yes," he said aloud, eyes closing and mind prickling with sights of her and waves of pleasure.

Lucky would be splayed on his desk - lying on her back and presenting herself to him as if she were a meal to be consumed instead of a darling treasure to worship.

"That's good...only good boys are allowed to fuck me. Isn't that what you want?"

"Yes...yes...god fucking damnit. YES." Huffing and hating the tremble in his thighs, Heisenberg bucked into his hand. "Yes...only me...wanna be your good boy. I'll be so good for you. Only you, Mein Schatz..."

A dirty laugh from her lips. The Lucky of his dreams becoming more and more defined as she palmed one breast and teased her clit with the fingers of her other hand.

"Mmm...know what you're saying you know...my treasure...that's so cute...been feeling the same way about you lately...thinking of you...dreaming of you...my good boy want to tell me what else he's been feeling? Mmn? Big boy wanna tell me before you put your cock inside of me?"

Lips loose along with his pleasure, Heisenberg found he could not build his voice to say the words aloud.

So he mouthed them instead. Mouthed them and stuttered in his quest for pleasure as his hand curled about his shaft at the "lah" tipping silently from his tongue.

"Oh, darling..." A smile. She'd smile. Genuine and sweet and sincere and all for him. "I love you too, Karl."

"Mmnnn....ah...fu-UCK!" With a panicked inhale, Heisenberg quickly pinched the head of his cock to prevent his end from coming too soon. "No, no, no...not yet...not yet...please..."

Though the pleasure was unlike anything he had previously experienced and his calves clenched in protest of a release delayed, his oncoming orgasm stalled and began to fade.

"Such a good boy," said Lucky, eyeing him in his fantasy like she would look at a drink of water on a hot day. "That's right. You don't come until I tell you to. Understand?"

A nod of his head.

"Good, good boy. My good boy. Good Karl. Come on...think it's time you got your treat...here...I'll help you..."

With her fingers moving to fully expose the inside of that wet and preciously pink pussy of hers, Lucky looked up at him with a lidded look.

Heisenberg had no experience with another person when it came to handling his physical pleasure. Hell, with any pleasure or positive feeling at all. Except maybe the triumph of victory over others, he had never had the chance to experience happiness - true happiness and trust and faith in another soul.

Until her.

And for her...for her he would indulge and give himself freely...if only locked away inside of his mind.

Inexperience taking a back seat to passion, he pictured himself guiding his cock into her waiting and welcoming body. Maybe he would steady himself with a hand on her hip or simply with a heated stare into her eyes.

He all but strangled his cock to try to mimic a feeling he had never known and had never thought to miss before her.

"Uh-huh," whined Lucky in his dreams. "Oh...you're so big...fill me up just right. So fucking thick..."

"Hah...ah...your good boy big enough for you?"

"Yes...oh yes...yes...so big...such a perfect dick...please...please Karl...Heis...please, baby, please...Heis?"

When he began to rut into his own hand with a purpose, he felt flames like that of standing directly beside the blaring crucible dancing across his cheeks. Though some of his daydream seemed vague and hard to read, he had enough to know that he could not delay the inevitable for much longer. Lucky - the real and actual Lucky - was still waiting for him back in the office. Waiting and none the wiser to his desperate need for her affection. It sickened him - the want for anything and everything to do with her.

Sickened him...and sent electric shocks of white pleasure down his spine.

"So fucking perfect...you're so fucking perfect for me, Lucky...oh..."

"Heis..."

"Huh...ah...already so close...so damn worked up...can't stand it...can't stand you looking like that..."

"Like what?"

Heaving and heatedly squirming where he sat, Heisenberg noticed for the first time that one of his boots jutted up and down on the floor beneath him. As if his entire body refused to be still.

"Most beautiful fucking thing I've ever seen," he bit out. "Please...please, Luck...I know it's soon...but please..."

A tilted head and a gentle grin. A pointer finger that danced around her clit and drew his eyes away only long enough for her to breathe out shallow and short. His eyes snapped back to hers immediately.

"Please what?"

"Please let me come...let me come inside you...wanna...wanna take you...claim you...don't want you with anyone else ever again."

Glinting eyes and lush eyelashes.

"You're gonna be all that to me, Heis? Well...in that case..."

Her lips finding his own. His very first kiss - albeit imaginary. Her lips soft but without taste. His own lips puckering even as they trembled from the need for more.

"In that case," she continued, taunting him in his ear. "Come, Heis. Be a good boy and come for me."

Hindsight would have him chastising himself for not thinking to grab some tissue. In the moment, however, he was too busy panting and watching his cum dot the floor in thick strips. Heisenberg growled...tried to hold on to the image of her with one eye still closed.

Reality settled in on him. Settled in even as his stomach quivered underneath his shirt and his orgasm began to relax into his bones. It was pleasant and his every nerve seemed to stand on edge. Tingles of pleasure radiated from his chest to his feet flat against the floor. Gulping in air, he knew he had never come so hard before in his life. It was good...great even.

But it was not her. It was not enough.

Clean up was a quick and tedious affair. Lucky could not know what he had done in her quarters. The tissues he found too late to wipe his seed from the floor were tossed and flushed away. He checked the room once and then again once his shades were back on his face.

Finishing the belt at the top of his pants, he cleared his throat before exiting.

The television in the break room still hummed though it sat completely dead in the meager light from the ceiling.

Shit...glad she wasn't in here. Never had anyone here to care about when I got down to business...no telling what my powers do with electronics...

The schematic. He had to find that damn schematic.

Trying to level his breathing as he stalked the hallway, Heisenberg considered the day before him. Lucky had not wished to attend a revitalization attempt with him yet. While he didn't intend to push her into seeing something that might scar her again, it might be worthwhile to have her eyes in the room at some point. She hadn't complained about the notes yet. Maybe he should offer? Make it sound like a small deal and let her in when it was near completion? Give her a taste before exposing her to more?

Fucking stupid...it's all so fucking stupid...what happened to me? If she were any assistant, I would just drag her ass there and have her record the whole thing. Fuck me with all this concerned shit.

But she's not just any assistant...

Entering the office, he stilled at the doorway when he saw Lucky facing him from her chair.

"Uh...hey," he said, licking his lips. "Sorry about that. Took...ah...let's just forget it."

"Actually," she began. "I need to be honest with you. Because of what happened before..."

Eyebrows shooting up, he stood in silence before she continued.

"Um...so...I was sitting here...sitting here and trying to rub my neck or whatever..."

"Yes?"

"Well...the radio came on and it freaked me out a little bit..." She paused, her fidgety look dropping to the floor. "But...the more I listened...the more I...recognized your voice."

"My...my voice?"

"Yes."

Heisenberg could not move. He shouldn't be looking at her, but he was afraid if he blinked that the tension would break and she would begin laughing or cursing or, worst of all, apologizing.

"Umm...it...I heard you. And I guess you were...I guess it was real time." A tent of her fingers and a swallow in her throat. "I heard your comment and responded and...I think...I think you could hear me too. Possibly? You seemed to...seemed to be replying to what I said directly."

Shame. Shame for a million years fell on his shoulders that had felt so light before.

"Where?" he managed to say. "Where did you come in? What comment did you respond to?"

How she looked at him, he had no idea. She was far braver than he could ever be. Heisenberg planned to face down Miranda without a single hesitation one day on that glorious battlefield where his freedom could be won.

But now? Faced with Lucky standing and walking toward him with the full weight of her eyes upon him?

He looked away.

"You said...you asked me if my good boy was big enough for me."

The purr in her voice. The sound of her steps growing closer. The burn in his throat.

"After that," she said. "I called your name...I...responded to you and you to me."

"That didn't...I..." He shook his head. "I...umm..."

"Can I hold your hand?"

Head shooting up, Heisenberg caught her heated look. The same heated look she had worn in his dreams.

He nodded. Nodded even though he barely registered it until she took his hand and steps to press herself flush against him.

When she spoke, it was hushed and low.

For him and him only.

"I'm going to go to the bathroom...freshen up. Since we know you can communicate from the radio to the television...I want you to tell me when it's okay to come back here. I'm giving you two options."

Heisenberg hung on her every word and looked at her as if she controlled his every movement.

"The first...you can leave. Can give me enough time to go there...find what you were looking for...then tell me you're off to do whatever. I won't mention this again. We won't mention it."

Silence fell between the two of you. A crackle of the radio to the side of the room.

"And the other option?" he asked, voice nearly breaking.

A shy look. A happy tilt of her lips.

"The other option...you can rest for a bit before I come back here and make whatever fantasy you were having come true."

A mouth drier than dry left his tongue feeling too large. Too large and too needed to swipe across his lips.

"You don't have to answer now-"

"The second one," he said. "Second one. Want that one. Screw the first one."

A bright and happy smile. A smile that crinkled the tail of her eyes and lit up her face.

She was beaming at him. Squeezing his hand before parting from him.

Not for long...not for damn long if he could help it.

"You give me the word then, good boy," she teased, walking out of the room.

Legs nearly buckling and sending him to the ground, Heisenberg took uneasy steps to his office chair before throwing himself on it. His entire body buzzed, though it seemed far less like electricity and far more like promise and hope. Not love on her end...not yet. But a maybe. Potential.

More.

Grinning stupidly and looking at the desk, he made quick work of clearing the area for the fun he planned on having from his daydream to come true.

As soon as he picked up the recorder Lucky used to transcribe his notes, Heisenberg saw it.

That damned schematic.

His last visit to this same room. A note on said schematic stating "DON'T FORGET" in large words. A note he carelessly put there before guiding Lucky to sit down to look at her transcriptions and laugh with her over the sixth stable boy in one week to die of drunken stupidity.

Quietly and contentedly, he opened the desk drawer to stuff the schematic inside.

"Mmn...don't think I'll need you for a while yet actually..." Eyeing the radio on the wall, Heisenberg tossed his glasses to the table and tried to slick and perfect the wiry hair about his head. "Oh, Lucky, honey...room is ready whenever you are...and so is your good boy."

[fireblaze5555]

Fire Away: Chapter 3

WARNING: This chapter contains assault and attempted sexual assault. If this is disturbing to you, please view the synopsis of the chapter in the end notes on Ao3.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/24934339/chapters/61045300

Chapter 3:  Pretend I'm a Shelter for Heartaches That Don't Have a Home

It was amazing, Karen had missed Frank incredibly since she last saw him, worried herself sick about him after she left the hospital. And yet, he had managed to infuriate her to an amazing degree twice in the span of just a couple of hours.

She felt her face heat with anger, how dare he take this decision from her. Karen let Frank make his decisions, as much as it hurt her to do so and he couldn’t even give her the same courtesy?

"Oh yeah? Just keeping up with your proclivity for double standards? Well YOU don't get to decide for me Frank. I didn't ask you to track me across anything, sorry you wasted your time.” She paused for a second, her eyes searing him with her fury as she thought carefully about her next words.

“When you asked me to walk away before, I listened," Not without fighting tooth and nail , she thought, but that's beside the point . Karen's voice dropped low and harsh, "You don't have to ask me walk away this time." She pretended she didn't see hurt flash across his soulful eyes before she stood from the table. Pretended like just saying those words didn’t make her heart feel like it was being ripped out and now she had to back them up and actually leave.

His eyes followed her as she straightened and said softly, "Thanks for dinner Frank. Have a safe trip back."

She was proud of how steady her voice was despite her throat closing around her anger and the fragments of her broken heart.

Karen turned on her heels and headed for the door. She heard his muttered curse but continued through the door and took off into the night, headed back to the motel on foot. Cutting behind the closed Dollar Store next door she tried to stick to the shadows as much as possible in the sparsely populated complex. Both trying to avoid being spotted in general but also to avoid one agitated marine.

Karen knew he meant well, it softened her anger towards him a little but he didn't get to force her out of his life only to pop up and tell her what she was going to do. Okay, so maybe her anger wasn't softened that much. She deliberately stayed off of the roads to avoid the van she was sure would be rolling by looking for her. Funny how being followed by a murder van driven by one of the most dangerous men in New York was a mere annoyance to her.

Scoffing to herself at the thought, she walked through parking lots and side streets that ran parallel to the main road that brought them from the motel. It only took a few minutes for her to realize she didn't have her jacket and despite the pleasant temperature during the day, night was still pretty chilly. A shiver ran through Karen, making her gasp when it reminded her about the large bruise covering her side. It was to a point where she could forget about it until she moved just right. Turns out, shivering was 'just right' because the ache got deeper and more persistent. It occurred to her as well when she went to reach in and verify she had a room key, that she had also left her bag in the room. Frank showing up had completely thrown her off.

"Well this is going to be a long walk back. I should have made my point a little closer to my destination." She murmured wrapping her arms around herself.

Karen tried to walk a bit more briskly, hoping a faster pace would help warm her extremities some. The crunch of tires on road debris had her rolling her eyes, it hadn't taken him as long to find her as she thought. Taking a deep breath to prepare herself for the coming storm, Karen turned to glare at Frank the best she could through her shivering but went suddenly still.

‘He’ had found her it would seem but it wasn't Frank. It was a normal looking silver sedan, nothing out of the ordinary for  small town USA. The man who climbed out of the driver seat, however, was not a 2nd shifter headed home from work, try as he might to look casual. He was a large man, several inches taller than her and muscularly built and she really hoped he was just a good samaritan.

"Excuse me Miss, you look lost. Do you need some directions?" His voice seemed sincere, light and friendly, it made her pause for a second until she saw the glint of something in his waistband.

Putting as much casual pleasantness in her voice as she could, Karen waved a hand vaguely ahead, "Oh, that's very kind of you but I actually don't live too far from here. I'll be meeting up with my husband soon anyway, he usually meets me halfway!" She gave a blinding smile but didn't turn her back. If it really was a good samaritan, he would get back in his car and let her go but if it wasn't, she wasn't going to turn her back on him.

He took a step closer, causing her to take a step back and with a smile that was all predator he began pushing his jacket sleeves up his forearms, "Funny, the file didn't say anything about you being married. It didn't say how pretty you were either, though, which is even better."

Well that answered that , Karen took off in a sprint, rounding the first corner she could to avoid any possible projectiles. She didn't hear any cracks of gunfire but she did hear footsteps behind her that sounded like they were covering much more ground than her. She cleared the next building and had an open parking lot between her and a small scrubby wooded area, if she could reach that she may be able to lose him. Pulling from her days in track she lengthened her stride and tried to regulate her breathing, ignoring how her heaving breaths made her ribs burn. Lord don't let all those years of running be for nothing .

As the sparse wooded area came closer, Karen felt like she might actually make it. Until a hand tangled in her hair, pulling her up short, knocking what wind she had left out of her lungs when she hit the pavement on her back. The man stepped into view so Karen wasted no time, lashing out with a long leg, kicking hard and hoping to land a blow to his groin. The kick landed but unfortunately it was only to his inner thigh. He let out a grunt only losing his footing for a second before landing a much more on target punch to her face.

Karen's cheek lit up with pain, her vision blurring. She was pretty sure the inside of her cheek got cut with the impact as well because she had the coppery taste of blood in her mouth.

"Now, now," the man panted above her as began dragging her the rest of the way into the scrub trees by her hair, his voice was light, like he was amused by her struggle, like tracking someone down to murder them was just the every day norm. "Be a good bounty. No need to make something so inevitable so difficult. I promise we will have a good time before I put you out of everyone's misery."

Ice cold fear gripped her spine at his tone. He didn't intend on just killing her and being done with it. Redoubling her efforts, Karen gripped the hand embedded in her hair doing her best to dig her nails into his wrist. Her other hand reached up until she felt his eye, digging her fingers in as much as she could there as well. The grip in her hair loosened just for a second while he cursed but then he was slamming her head into the ground causing the world around her to go black for a moment.

A weight on Karen’s ribs quickly brought her back around as the man straddled her hips and had heavy hands pushing her t-shirt up over her breasts. Karen let out a whimper but quickly started pushing at his face, an edge coming into her voice, "Don't touch me, motherfucker. I will fucking end you!"

He just laughed, pushing her hands away and pressing harder into her ribs. She did at least have the satisfaction of seeing blood running down his cheek. That evaporates quickly though, replaced  by a sick feeling when he canted his hips so that she could feel just how much he was enjoying himself. His amusement was abruptly halted by the sickening crunch of his nose when Karen brought her elbow down onto it, baring her teeth and clenching her jaw against the pain that radiates up her arm from the impact.

"Goddamnit! Stupid fucking bitch!" He landed another blow that had her arms falling to the sides of her head. Her vision was dark around the edges but she could see the blood running from the man's face and the rage burning in his eyes. She was only vaguely aware of his hands unlatching his belt. Her mind was screaming at her to move, to do something but her limbs would not cooperate, the panic bubbling up through the sludge of near unconsciousness just giving her enough energy to stay awake.

An inhuman yell echoed through the area before Karen felt the man move off of her. The fog was starting to clear from her vision but she still flinched when she heard the crack of gunshots.

Looking in the direction she thought they had come from, she saw Frank fighting with the larger man, a power struggle for the gun. She had only managed to pull herself up to an elbow when she heard the sickening crunch of the man's wrist and before he could process the pain he had two bullets in his head and the rest of the magazine in his chest.

Karen shivered as she looked at Frank. Well, not quite Frank, at least not a side of him she had seen very often. She was looking at the Punisher, in all his wide eyed glory. He landed a kick to the side of the man's head for good measure, his breaths coming out in sharp bursts, his muscles coiled and ready for another attack. It only took a gasp from Karen as she tried to sit up to snap him back to himself.

"Karen!" he was kneeling at her side instantly, gently pushing her back. "Hey, hey, don't move, let me look ya over first." He started at her head, she hissed when he found the large bump on the back of her skull from where her assailant had bounced her head off of the ground. He skimmed over her cheekbones and down her arms, looking for broken bones. He stilled, quiet rage building in his eyes, his jaw clenching as he saw her shirt pushed up over her breasts. His hand was scorching hot against her chilled flesh as he ran his calloused hand lightly over her watercolor ribs.

Karen placed her hand over his on her side when she saw his rage start to bleed into torment. He met her eyes quickly. She spoke quiet but firm, "That was from before I left New York. This isn't on you Frank, none of it." She could tell he wanted to argue but settled for pulling her shirt down and quickly stripping his jacket off. Gingerly he helped Karen sit up and thread her arms through the much too large garment.

Voice low and ragged he gently pulled her to her feet, "The van is just up the embankment over there. We will get back to the room to get your stuff and then we need to leave."

She made a grunt of acknowledgement, doing her best not to let the pain show too much on her face as they moved up the hill to the waiting van. They were closer to the main road than she had realized but it still felt like an eternity as they made their way up the embankment. Frank had pulled the van hastily to the shoulder, presumably after seeing the struggle below.

Quickly, he bundled her up in the van before pulling back onto the deserted road to her motel room. Her shivering was starting to subside, his residual warmth in the jacket seeping into her bones. Karen took a deep breath, breathing in Frank's scent of gunsmoke and leather and with a sigh she realized how incredibly tired she was. Karen felt his eyes on her frequently and held his gaze for a while but before long she rested her head against the window and shut her eyes until the van eased to a stop.

---

Frank had slammed the ticket and money on the counter as quickly as he could but when he stepped outside it's like Karen had vanished into ether. Cursing louder this time, he stepped around the sides of the building hoping she had just stepped out to cool down.

The woman was infuriating. Karen was so goddamn headstrong, so damn stubborn and despite his rising frustration and unease he begrudgingly had to admit she had a right to be angry. It really wasn’t fair of him to push her away so strongly only to pop into her life when he saw fit but also, there was no way he could leave her to be hunted down. Just another example of her showing him she wasn't going to take his shit. Karen matched him blow for blow in so many ways.

However, if she got herself hurt to prove a point to him, he was going to kill her. Or at least give her a very stern talking-to. Right after he ensures there isn't a scratch on her and she is safe.

He crossed the lot, wrenching the van door open and hopping into the driver seat. She couldn't have gone too far, so he looped around a couple of buildings before getting back on the main road. He suspected she would not be out in the open so he scanned the surrounding area as he slowly rolled through. Thankfully there wasn't any traffic out, the less prying eyes the better.

Frank stopped abruptly, there was a car parked on an access road to his right. The lights were on and the driver's side door wide open. It had been about 10 minutes since he last saw her, there was no way she could be in trouble already...right? Who was he kidding, Karen was a shit magnet, trouble could find her at the drop of a hat.

He sped up a bit, dividing his attention between the road ahead of him and the access road to the side. It opened up into an empty parking lot that, for a second, had Frank thinking maybe the car had been a false alarm after all.

Movement caught his eye at the edge of the parking lot in a copse of trees. He saw a flash of blonde under a large man's hands as he was beating her head against the ground. Instinct took over before Frank had a second thought, the rage that fueled him blooming out from his chest and he pulled the van to the shoulder, slamming it in park with his sidearm in hand in a matter of seconds. He heard her beautiful voice spitting venom at the man on top of her and his heart stuttered in his chest knowing she was conscious and fighting back. The man's back was mostly to him but the angle of the embankment prevented Frank from having a clear shot. He didn't want to risk the bullet passing through him into Karen, so he holstered the gun and took off at a sprint. He saw her elbow come down and the man's answering punch and he was nearly mad with the fury from it but the world bled to crimson when he saw the man reaching for his own belt, a sadistic smile on his face.

Extreme military training and his current lifestyle allowed Frank to operate on near autopilot when he pulled Karen's assailant off of her. He barely felt the few blows the man got in on him and didn't flinch when he broke the man's wrist after a brief struggle, taking the gun and ending him with two shots to the head and 5 more in his chest for good measure. Everything was still tinged red, each breath raked his throat raw as Frank tried to rein himself in before he kicked the man in the head.

A pained gasp behind him brought the world back into full color and sharp focus and Frank was kneeling before Karen before he had time to blink. He thinks he said her name, he isn't sure, "Hey, hey, don't move, let me look ya over first."

There was a large goose egg on the back of her head, he would have to watch her for concussion. He skimmed his fingers over the delicate bones of her face, there was swelling but he didn't feel anything broken. He noticed blood gathered at the corner of her mouth, hopefully no broken teeth. As his hands smoothed down her arms he noticed her shirt had been pushed up over her bra and her side was a mix of blues and purples he was used to seeing on himself but would do anything to prevent ever seeing on Karen again. Rage and nausea hit him at the implications of what was about to happen.

Asshole, you had to be an asshole and chase her off. This wouldn't have happened if you weren't such a prick ...Frank was brought out of his thoughts by her hand resting firmly on his. He hadn't even realized he had reached out to touch the large bruise. Her voice was small but laced with steel, "That was from before I left New York. This isn't on you Frank, none of it."

He wanted to tell her how wrong she was but the way she was looking at him made the words stick in his throat.

Frank was pretty sure there wasn't a heaven or hell but if angels existed, Karen Page had to be a prime example. She never gave up on her crusade to redeem him and it blew him away every time. He glanced quickly over at the man with his broken nose and what looked like scratches by his eye before he looked back at her and saw hellfire in her eyes. Yeah, an angel of truth and retribution, burning the guilt out of every sinner. They'd build monuments to her one day.

Shaking himself out of that line of thought he tugged her shirt down gently and noticing her tremor he was out of his jacket in seconds. It felt like an eternity before he had her safely in the van, tucking the man's gun into a bag behind the center console before taking off in the direction of the motel. Every time he glanced at her he was met with her steady gaze but the final time he noticed she had closed her eyes to rest her head against the glass. He tried not to let his worry influence his driving. The last thing they needed was to be pulled over, both had blood splatter on them, she was beat to hell and there were numerous illegal guns in the back.

He pulled slowly into the spot closest to her room, leaning over and resting a gentle hand on her leg, "Hey," he spoke softly to not startle her and it took a second for her eyes to focus on his, "We're here. Let's go get you cleaned up and grab your stuff, yeah?"

She nodded and started to open the door and slide out but Frank was at her side in a second, a solid wall for her to lean into as they made their way to her door. He had the key inserted, cleared the room and ushered her inside before she had much chance to think, laying her back on the springy mattress.

Once he was sure it was as secure as it was going to be, Frank ran back out to the van to grab his first aid kit. He didn't think any of her injuries would require stitches but a cold compress would be good to keep the swelling down on her face. He took a quick second to change his clothes, tossing the blood stained outfit in a bag. Karen was still laying down when he came back and made a line for the sink to find something to wipe the blood from her face. She gave him a wan smile as he sat down beside her with a warm wet washcloth and began gently wiping away the blood.

Standing, Frank went back to the sink to grab a paper cup, filling it with tepid water from the faucet before stepping back and handing it to Karen.

"Here, you can rinse your mouth with this.” She took the cup, draining the contents with no protests, wincing slightly when she sloshed it around her mouth and spitting it back in the cup. Frank gave the barest nod as he set the cup aside, “Open up, let me see where that blood is coming from." He cupped her chin gently as she opened her mouth. "I don't see any broken teeth, looks like you cut the inside of your cheek pretty good though. Gonna be hell eating anything on that side for a while."

She gave a little huff as he let her go and handed her another cup full of clean water to drink.

Stepping over to her bag, he handed it to her, "Gonna wanna change, looks like there is just some blood on your shirt."

Karen didn't question anything, just dug around in her bag to find a different top. Frank busied himself taking out her other things, listening for any sign she might need help. Once she was resettled, he placed one compress to the back of her skull and had her lay back on it and instructed her to alternate the other one on each side of her face while he took her remaining things out, throwing her shirt in the same bag as his sullied clothes to be disposed of.

Before he stood up though, Frank looked her in the eye that wasn't covered with an ice pack and ground out a quiet, "I'm not goin' anywhere Karen."

He saw her lip twitch slightly before she laid her hand gently on the side of his face, running her thumb over his strong cheekbone. He saw moisture gathering in her eyes and just as quietly she rasped, "I know."

Frank leaned into her cool hand, leaving a soft kiss on her palm before moving off the bed. He tried to pretend he couldn't still feel her hand on his face. Tried not to feel how her touch was seared into his flesh. He tried, he failed. Frank felt like if he looked into the mirror he would see exactly where her hand had been, a red brand on his skin where she had caressed him.

It didn't take long for him to have the van loaded up with her meager belongings. He set up the small cot he kept in the back for stakeouts, cursing when he realized he just had one threadbare blanket. Frank walked quickly back into the room, gathering up the blanket bunched up around Karen, carrying it out with one of the spare pillows. Frank felt Karen's curious gaze on him as he absconded with the laundry but she didn’t say anything. She was sitting on the edge of the bed when he came back in to retrieve her. Her cheek was swollen and he could see bruising starting around both of her beautiful eyes. Each developing color and injury marring her skin was another monumental failure on his part. He catalogued every one of them. When he was able to get his hands on Wilson Fisk, he would be sure he got each bruise in turn. Before he died of course.

Without a word, he offered her his hand, pulling her gently to her feet. She gave a small grateful smile before heading out the door. Frank could tell she was trying to keep her shoulders straight but he could see her favoring her ribs. He would need to look closer at those when they had a chance to stop.

He stopped her as she started for the passenger side door, "I set up a cot in the back, why don't you start there. It'll give you a chance to rest and keep ice on those bruises." Karen opened her mouth to argue, he already knew what it would be, 'I'm fine. I don't need rest .'

Frank doesn't like to plead but desperate times and all that...he rested a gentle hand on her shoulder and pleadingly, "Please, Karen." He knew those words would have an affect on her, they always do. With a sigh, she gingerly climbed into the back managing a small exasperated look as she went. Her long legs looked a bit cramped on the small cot but before long she was settled in, cold compresses back in place.

Wasting no time, Frank slid the door shut and rounded the van. Glancing back from his spot in the driver's seat, he isn't surprised to see that Karen is already asleep. Double checking that there was plenty of gas in the vehicle and his firearm was tucked in the door, Frank pulled out of the parking lot. Before long he was on the interstate, heading West and dialing David to see about getting a safe house secured. It only rang once before a familiar voice answered.

" Did you find her ?" David's voice was urgent, not bothering with pleasantries.

"Yeah. Yeah I got her with me. Listen Lieberman, I've already involved you too much but I nee-,"

" Need a place to stay? Yeah I figured, I've been working on getting something set up while you looked ." Frank heard the tell-tale clicking of a keyboard in the background as the hacker's fingers worked deftly. " I have a couple places lined out: Illinois, South Dakota and Colorado. What are you thinking ?"

Frank shook his head, as much as David drove him crazy, the man was incredibly intuitive and efficient. He just hoped he wouldn't get him and his family involved in any shit.

" Hey, Earth to Frank, stop with the brooding and answer the question ."

"Fuck you Lieberman. Colorado, send me the info and then get off the grid. Don't get  yourself into any shit trying to help me."

" Yeah, yeah, sure thing. I'll get it to you soon. " There was a pause, " How is she?"

Frank stayed silent for a moment, then quietly so he didn't wake her, "She's pretty beat up." He finished with a growl, "A couple guys got to her before I could stop them."

Another moment of silence.

"She's tough though, she put up a hell of a fight. She even tried to send me home once I found her, said she didn't need me." Amusement laced his tone, then he realized just how quiet David was on the other end of the line.

"Oh fuck off Lieberman. Don't start that shit. Just send me the information and go spend time with your family or somethin'."

There was a smile in David's voice and no small amount of smugness. There was no way to miss the affection in Frank's voice when he talked about Karen.

" Yeah, alright, it's sent. Try following the route I outlined, it will be easier for me to track you and make sure you don't have a tail. I've got channels open for any mention of Karen here in New York. You kids just relax and have a good time. Don't do anything I wouldn-.. " Frank hangs up the phone and tosses into the passenger seat before David can finish.

A muttered, "Asshole." Was all he said before settling in for a long trip.

[jaspitch]

Five Nightguards At Freddys

Night 1- Storm's Archives

Somehow she knew she had to do it. Make it through the night running around the pizzeria, nobody with her, without any power, or a damn flashlight. Storm had never wanted to work at this shitty pizzeria. But oh no, "We gotta stay to keep Michael safe!" Since when had September ever actually cared about Mike anyways?!

So after surviving only three and a half hours on limited power because the generator wasn't worth crap, Storm found herself in complete darkness. When Freddy had started thumping his way towards the office, Storm knew she couldn't just die like this. So, what's the next best thing? Yep, running into party room four and hiding under a table. It was easy, especially considering she was a short stack, 5'4 to be exact.

However, her special uniform seemed to illuminate her. The jacket, which was oversized and a dark blue due to her ranked status by Henry (Executive manager's first aid), had kept her warm, sure. However, because of her small frame, it would hang right before her knees. Which not only meant it caught on things when she moved, but tripped her up, and the blue was somehow seeable in the pitch dark.

Longing for the original, but less warm, baby blue and gray uniform, seemed stupid. And it would be, if Freddy wasn't currently staring at her, his hand having moved the tablecloth up, and Storm trying her best to untangle the end of her jacket from some ribbons that had been swept under the table. As the brown bear reached over, Storm finally untangled the damn sweater and bolted from underneath the table, running for the entrance to the party room.

Man, weren’t Wednesdays just the best? She kept running down the hallway, hearing the metal of most likely Freddy follow her at a decently slow pace. She turned down another hallway, just to be met with a dead end: the janitor’s closet. Now sweating buckets, Storm started to frantically look around. Something caught her eye in the corner. Looking to it with her dark blue eyes, a small ray of hope blossomed in her chest. It was, by far, the most beautiful thing to be stowed upon her. A vent. A vent that could hold someone at least 6′6 with a weight of 350 lbs. Thank the Lord.

When her hand touched the metal, she drew it back. It was fucking burning hot! The heater was supposed to be off after hours! Her only guess was that Fritz left it on again. Regardless, Storm sucked in a deep breath, and then pulled on the metal, which surprisingly gave in and came off. Dropping the damned hatch, Storm jumped a bit and climbed into the large vent. At first, she felt as if she were burning alive, but that almost went away within ten seconds. Almsot as if on que, Freddy passed by, his eyes glowing a light white. They were pupil sized and had black floating around them. Since when had his eyes not been blue? That just fueled the thought of the pizzeria being haunted.

Eventually the mascot walked away, creaking and groaning as he did so. Sighing, she squinted at her black watch, which lit up with a green light when she tapped it twice. The bright light dialated her pupils and aggrivated her eyes, but she got over it. The time was 4:38. Great, it’s only been what, an hour or so? Staying in the vent wasn’t possible, along with her body heat and extra warm uniform, the heater was starting to overheat the nineteen year old. After checking to make sure the coast was clear, Storm jumped out and placed the vent hatch back on. That, of course, took a good ten minutes because the thing kept turning sideways and not sitting straight.

Finally free from her heated domain, Storm went flying towards the office to try and find the flashlight she had dropped when Freddy had entered the room. After searching for a few minutes, she found the flashlight, noticing the glass had a small crack in it. Whatever, Henry could fix that after he found her dismembered body inside one of the mascot suits. It wouldn’t be a surprise if she didn’t see sunlight. Deciding that staying in the room would be smart, Storm sat under the table, dusting a few cobwebs from her jacket as she glanced from under her hiding spot. This place was the abolute worst, especilly in the dark. Fuck, forget the creepy atmosphere when the lights were on.

With plenty of time to think, Storm started to think of the people in her life. Tall, slender, September Charles. He was the best friend a person could ask for. Despite being self-centered and a total introvert, he did anything Storm asked him to do. Play video games all day despite both of them having work? Sure. Going to a party with only druggies, alchoholics, and underage kids? Yep, perfect. Aside from that, he was especially handsome. That thought made a light blush dust Storm’s cheeks. September had somewhat messy, yet silky, shoulder length ginger-brown hair and stunning bright orangish-brownish eyes. He had thin-framed green glasses that sat beautifully on his lightly tanned face. Everything about him was amazing. 

Who else was there to think about? Mike, alright, her mind flew to Mike. He was her other best friend, who by the way, was in some sort of rivalry with September. Beautiful black hair that was shoulder length, matching his bright blue eyes. He was more of an outrovert, but still kept to himself because of how judgemental people were. Storm remembered the first time she saw him at college- struggling with a math course in the multipurpose room. She had been reading a baking guide for lullaberry pie when she had noticed the taller male run a hand through his silky black hair in frustration. Scooting closer, she noted the advanced algebra course he was taking. Which happened to be the same one she had taken last year. “Hey, need some help?” Storm finally asked, making the blue-eyed male look up. “What?”

“Do you need some help? I’d be happy to, that math course is a bit difficult, huh?” Although Mike had been hesitant at first, he eventually got used to her helping him every Monday and Friday. So when she had graduated after taking a one year Doctorate course, Mike had been left alone. That is, until he got her number and address and started doing zoom calls. Of course they sometimes showed up at each others places. Storm had been laughing her ass off when Mike stepped into her large house, his eyes had widened and jaw dropped. Due to her mother being insanely wealthy (and also gone all the time after divorcing Storm’s dad), she had left all of her assets to her after dying. 

It was almost as funny when September and Mike had met. While chilling at a caffe, Mike walked in, catching the eyes of Storm. September noticed this and raised an eyebrow, asking in his deep, monotone voice, “You know this guy?” She nodded and got up, skipping over to him. After inviting him to her table and paying for his carmel macchiato (He complained about her paying but she didn’t care), they both sat down. A flash of recognition crossed both men’s faces before they both gave eachother a glare. She found out that day that September had been one of the people who had completely ignored Mike all while making him look bad. They had both been in the library when they met, standing in line to check out science books. When somebody who had been goofing around behind Mike pushed him, he knocked into the brunette (who was part of the ‘popular clique’) and pushed the books out of his hands.

Turning around with a fierce glare, September recognised Mike from his science and law classes, then picked up his books, looked back to the black haired male and said, “Why don’t you watch where you’re going, Retard? I don’t want to contract your disease. “ After that, whenever Mike tried to say anything, even ‘sorry’, September would only say one word. “Disease.” That eventually went away when they were forced to get along. Didn’t mean when she wasn’t around that they wouldn’t be at eachothers’ throats.

A creak forced Storm from her thoughts, making her look up. Two orange three-toed feet were walking past, the weird ‘ahHaRgHhA’ sound coming from withing the chiken’s beak. She no doubtly had her head to the side, twitching and spazzing out. Just as she thought her luck could get no worse, the bell rang and the lights flickered on. Storm, now sick and tired of this shit, scrambled from her hiding place, flipped off Chica, and ran towards the doors. William with his beautiful red bow that held his equally gorgeous purple hair was just unlcking the door as Storm rushed by. “Fucking fix this,” is all she said before handing the flashlight over.

After a one hour drive to her property in a brand new red comaro (Yeah, she’s rich and is only working for fun, duh. Jk, she’s just working there until Mike quits, which means she and September can quit, and then move onto software design.), the small female ran into her house, changed into some comfy sweats and a t-shirt, then fell into her silky soft bedsheets. As soon as her head hit the pillows, she fell asleep, snuggly and warm.

Storm’s Archive ends here. 

[pengychan]

[Good Omens] Winging It - Daniel 7:4

Summary: Shockingly, attempting to destroy an angel without consulting God first comes with consequences. There is more than one way to fall, and a thousand more ways to inconvenience an angel and a demon who just wanted to be left in peace. Characters: Gabriel, Crowley, Aziraphale, Beelzebub, Michael. Rating: T  

Prologue and all chapters are tagged as ‘winging it’ on my blog.

A/N: This chapter is brought to you by Gatwick Airport's free wifi and also sheer spite. Mine, not the airport's.

I'll only be able to be online on my phone for a couple of days, until I sort out my Internet key because wifi is still a mirage where I'm going. So I might be slow to reply to comment - but I'll get to it as soon as I can, I promise!

***

“I-- I didn’t mean to! He came out of nowhere-- I couldn’t brake on time-- oh God I never go that fast, I don’t know what came over me…!”

It sure had been a bad crash: as they ran up to the scene, Crowley could see that the car’s windshield was shattered and the bonnet crumpled by the force of the impact. A shame, that: it had been a nice car. As it was often the case with traffic accidents, there was a lot of confusion: the cries of the distraught driver, a small crowd of bystanders stopping to watch in horror, a few people trying to help and screaming for someone to call an ambulance. 

The person closest to Gabriel was a woman kneeling over his mangled form - hands hovering over him but without touching anything, the way humans do when they desperately want to help but don’t know how. Aziraphale had always found it endearing: without realizing it, they were holding their hands exactly the way an angel healing the sick would. 

“A doctor!” she was screaming. “Is there a doctor here? Anyone?”

“We’re doctors,” Aziraphale spoke quickly, causing Crowley to roll his eyes behind the lenses of his glasses; it’s not a clever lie to tell when you have just stepped out of the shop you have owned for something like two hundred years. Luckily, angels and demons both had a knack for getting mortals to believe them if they just willed it hard enough. 

“I’m not touching him,” Crowley muttered as the woman stepped back to make way for them, only to be entirely ignored. 

“Gabriel,” Aziraphale called out, turning Gabriel’s face towards him. He was alive and conscious, at least, eyes wide and fixed on him. He tried to speak, but he could only cough up frankly concerning amounts of blood. His legs were bent at an odd angle, too, and stark white bone poked out of his left arm; the shirt he had just miracled on him was in tatters, asphalt embedded in his skin. “All right, all right - could be worse. I’ll heal you.”

“Why?” Crowley asked, and lifted his hands quickly at Aziraphale’s exasperated look. “No, I mean it! Have you considered that if he dies, he might just-- go straight back to Heaven? I would be a win/win. Wouldn’t he want that? Hey, Archangel Fucking Gabriel, nod if you want that. Or, uh, on second thought, do not. I think your neck is broken. How about you blink?”

Put like that, Aziraphale supposed it would make sense. He probably wouldn’t return as an angel the way he used to be, but he would at least be home… or would he? “We don’t know that,” he muttered. “For all we know he might go straight to Hell, given that-- oh, don’t look at me like that!” Aziraphale protested, looking down to see Gabriel had somehow found it in himself to look offended, even with his face and… just about everything else a literal bloody mess. “You were cast out, and-- and--” Ah, they really had no time to argue, not with so many people around to watch and an ambulance approaching. “Crowley, can you buy us time?”

A sigh. “If I must,” Crowley muttered, but raised a hand without further ado, and snapped his fingers. Everything and everyone around them - time itself - came to a standstill. “There. Now we can end him without witnesses.”

“Crowley.”

“Just kidding.”

“No, you were not.”

“Mostly kidding,” Crowley admitted. Truth be told, the only reason why he wasn’t being very serious was the sheer relief upon finding out, in the most unexpected way, that not only Aziraphale was not in danger: somehow, he was under the direct protection of God. 

Not bad, that. It looked like Gabriel, the insufferable first of the class, had already received due punishment for what he’d tried to do to his angel. So maybe he shouldn’t give him an easy way out, after all. He may as well stay and face the music, live like the humans he so dismissed. And, as a perk, Crowley would take every chance to make the experience just… a little bit worse.

Unaware of his thoughts, or perhaps able to guess them all too well, Aziraphale sighed and looked down at Gabriel. He was still, like everybody else, staring at nothing. It did make him easier to deal with, Aziraphale though, and proceeded to pass a hand over him for the second time in less than a couple of hours.

Ghastly as they looked, the injuries were made by mortal means, and closed much more readily than the deep holes on his back had. Within moments the bones were set, the neck straightened, the wounds closed. Gabriel’s eyes maintained that distant cast, of course, but he’d be fine as soon as time restarted. 

“Well, you’re welcome,” Crowley muttered sarcastically. 

“He can’t talk. His mind is frozen in ti--”

“What, you think he’d be thanking you if he could?” Crowley groaned, and stood. “All right, let’s drag him back in. Then we come back out, restart time, and convince everyone the car only ever hit a pole.”

“Sounds sensible,” Aziraphale agreed, miracling away the blood on the car’s shattered windshield and pooling on the ground with a wave of his hand. When Crowley began to drag Gabriel back - literally drag him like a potato sack, he just grabbed his arm and began walking towards the shop - he almost protested, then decided against him. 

Given the scope of the headache he was giving him, Aziraphale was fairly sure he deserved it.  He didn’t think he was supposed to have headaches, but then again angels are not supposed to turn human as punishment for trying to destroy other angels, and yet there they were.

The world was even more full of possibilities than he’d previously thought.

***

“It’s not possible. You must be mistaken.”

“I am not, my Lord. It was definitely the Archangel Gabriel - I met him when I went upstairs with the Hellfire, for the angel they couldn’t burn. Oh, I knew something was off about him. This Aziraphale, I mean. When I saw him I wanted to try punching him, but he looked at me and--”

A furious buzzing noise caused the demon - someone so insignificant, Beelzebub didn’t know his name nor cared to - to abruptly fall silent, cowering. Beelzebub stood from their throne and took a step forward, towering over him. Figuratively, of course. It’s hard to really tower over anyone when the form you use the most is several inches shorter than most.

“Are you telling me,” Beelzebub spoke slowly, “that you went there to have a look at the angel they couldn’t burn, tempted a passing driver into speeding while you were at it, and that the car struck the Archangel Gabriel.”

“It did, sir. It was him. Didn’t recognize him until a moment before the impact, but I’m sure.”

“And he stayed down. Bleeding. Like a mortal.”

“Yes. It did seem really odd. Then the demon Crowley came--”

More furious buzzing at the mere mention of the name. The demon swallowed. “I mean-- the traitor came. Along with the other traitor. The one from upstairs.”

“And?” Beelzebub snapped. It got tiresome, really, how underlings kept pausing while reporting as though waiting for a reaction. Why do that, anyway? It wasn’t like the Prince of Hell was known to offer pats on the back and cookies - although at one point in time they had appreciated the traitor’s idea to get humans to bake cookies with raisins instead of chocolate chips, as well as the samples he had brought to the meeting.

“Well-- the traitors ran to him. I think they told the mortals they were doctors, and talked to him.” 

“Did you catch what they said?”

“No. I don’t think he answered - he was in pretty bad shape. For a moment I thought he was dead.” There was a laugh, echoing in the mostly empty room. Standing by the throne, Dagon stood silent. The underling shifted. “Er… it’s funny because that would be absurd, of course. Angels don’t die in car accidents.” 

“Nor they lie bleeding,” Beelzebub said quietly, frowning. “Yet he did.”

You can’t have him, Michael had snapped when Beelzebub had inquired about the fallen angel who had, apparently, not fallen all the way to Hell. He's not a demon. He’s not one of yours. 

“I demand a meeting with Gabriel, at least he can--” 

“He is unavailable.”

… Well. Now that certainly painted an interesting picture. Could it be that the one to fall, and yet not to Fall, was an archangel? And Gabriel, out of all of them? Had he been punished with mortality for… for what? Strategic meetings aside, which were needed to maintain a certain… order until their final war, Gabriel had always done everything painfully by the book. 

“Do go on,” Beelzebub spoke quietly.

“Well, I remember they knelt next to him, and then… nothing. I swear I blinked and they were gone, and everyone was acting like the car had hit a pole - they must have done something.”

“Time,” Dagon spoke. “The traitor can pause time. They must have taken him somewhere else."

"Or destroyed him," Beelzebub mused. They crossed their arms, their scowl deepening. "I doubt either has warm feelings for him." Or for us, they thought. 

"But one of them is an angel - surely he wouldn't… er." The demon - Beelzebub settled to call him Disposable 24601 - paused, having clearly realized how utterly stupid the statement was. Angels had killed plenty of times, and there had been that business of drowning out a sizeable part of Earth's population which, as far as Beelzebub was concerned, amounted to Heaven taking over what should have been Hell’s job. 

It was almost as annoying as the swarms of flies unleashed upon Egypt. That had been nothing short of a personal insult given that those were supposed to be their trademark. Was God the Lord of the Flies? No. Was Moses? No. That was Beelzebub and Beelzebub only, and yet of all of the insects they could have picked, it just had to be flies. 

It was one of many things they had meant to make God regret dearly once the Armageddon was underway, but now it looked like they’d have to wait indefinitely for a new chance. That really pissed them off. 

"But they could have left him to die," Dagon was muttering, unaware of Beelzebub’s thoughts of vengeance. She was better at quiet observations than at rallying troops, really, and her observations were rarely wrong. She wasn't the Lord of the Files for nothing. 

"Or ended him there while time stood still," Beelzebub agreed. "No need to take him elsewhere."

A nod. “The situation is-- unusual. Even by the current standards of unusual. Shall we send--”

“I’ll look into it myself,” Beelzebub cut Dagon off, causing her to blink. For good reason, too - they rarely left Hell, leaving work on Earth to lesser demons - but this was no ordinary matter.

 An archangel had been cast out of Heaven, one of those most loyal to God’s plan, and they had every intention to find out why. Plus, as far as they were concerned, Gabriel belong in Hell now - just like every angel cast out of Heaven up to that point. Beelzebub wasn’t going to give him a pass, losing out on a new soldier for Hell, because Heaven had decided to pull a distinction between fallen and Fallen out of their halos. 

Michael could take the fine print and shove it; Hell had a claim on the being formerly known as the Archangel Gabriel, and Beelzebub had every intention to uphold it.

***

“I can’t stay here.”

“I agree with him there.”

“Can you not agree on-- listen. You need to at least eat something.”

“I am not eating that. Never.”

“It’s sushi. It’s good, I told you. There’s the soy sauce, and--”

“And you drink it.”

“Crowley, please.”

“Oh, come on. Let me have some fun. Hey, Archangel Fucking Gabriel, see the green thing? It’s wasabi. Eat a spoonful.”

“Gabriel, you absolutely do not do as he says.”

“I have no intention to consume any of this. The smell alone makes me sick.”

“Mhh, maybe you should try having a toast…”

“Whatever that is, I refuse.”

“All right. You should at least drink some water, you must be dehydrated.”

“Give up, angel. It’s worse than trying to force Warlock to eat his vegetables.”

“You never tried to get Warlock to eat any vegetables.”

“And it made meal times a whole lot easier.”

“He got scurvy!”

“And you healed him, so no harm done. He sent Nanny Ashtoreth a postcard, by the way. He and his mother are going to the States now that his father was moved. Said he’d have preferred to return to England.”

“Oh, I received one as well! He said he’d try to convince his mother to come back for a visit. He’d like to say hi to Brother Francis. A darling boy, considering his upbringing.”

“Yes, his father is a prick.”

“... We also raised him as we would the Antichrist.”

“Don’t all nannies do that?”

“You and I remember Mary Poppins very differently.”

The discussion went on, and Gabriel paid attention to precisely none of it. The word ‘Antichrist’ would have made him listen intently before, but not anymore. What did it matter? The Armageddon had not happened, the war had not happened, the plan he’d spent his existence following and preparing for was null and void. And even if it weren’t, he had no say in such matters anymore. No mortal did.

They should have let me die. Let me go home.

The thought made something ache in his chest. He had never thought of Heaven that way - home - until now. And why would he? Heaven was simply Heaven, his obvious and natural place; he’d never been anywhere else for this long, nor wished to be. You don’t quite think of any place as home until you’re away from it and longing to return.

I want to go home.

For all we know he might go straight to Hell. Oh, don’t look at me like that! You were cast out.

No, not Hell, never, not him. It was impossible. Incomprehensible.

Ineffable?

Gabriel had never needed to ask himself as many questions as he did now, nor had he ever felt so lost. It made his head hurt in ways even the earlier incident and the bickering going on in the background hadn’t. Was this what humans had to do day by day? Question everything and make choices without guidance, on the hope they weren’t the wrong ones as they played a game whose rules were unknown? No wonder they had turned so self-destructive. Gabriel held back a groan - why oh why was his throat so parched - and tried to stop thinking. He could not. 

How could this be happening? Why was it happening to him-- he had done everything right. He had followed the instructions, the orders. He’d done everything he had for the greater good, and yet there he was, exiled and doomed to walk on Earth for… how long? Was it temporary? Would he have to wait for the end of a mortal lifespan before he was allowed to go back?

… Would he be allowed back at all?

Too many questions and not a single answer. It would drive him mad; however insignificantly short human lives were, the idea of spending the next decades with that doubt in mind and no answers made it feel like half an eternity. Was he supposed to do something to return home? Was he supposed to earn it, to atone for… whatever he had done wrong? But how? He had no plan, no instructions, no nothing. If only God could send him a sign, any sign as to what he had to do--

My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?

There was a low, keening noise; Gabriel didn’t even realize it had come from him. All he was aware of through the veil of despair was a sudden silence as he burrowed his face in his hands, the bickering gone. There was a touch on his arm. He didn’t flinch away. 

“There, there.” Aziraphale’s voice sounded just a touch awkward. He slid something across the table - the glass. “Have this, at least. It’s only water.”

“I don’t want--” he croaked, his throat and mouth so dry it hurt, but Aziraphale cut him off by waving a hand. How many times had he done that, silenced him with a gesture because his blabbing was of no importance? He shut his eyes. “I can’t stay here.”

What he had meant to say was that he couldn’t stay on Earth; where that would leave him, since Heaven was closed to him and the thought of descending to Hell filled him with yet more dread, there was no telling. The universe was vast, but he lacked the power or means to travel it now. He was trapped.

Aziraphale, however, seeed to understand it differently. “Yes, it is a little awkward-- listen, there is a decent hotel nearby. The Underlook Hotel. You can stay there for now, all right? You’ll be safe. A room has just been reserved and paid for.”

“A hotel-- that’s--?”

“A place where humans like to get naked. You walk in the hall and take off your clo--”

“You definitely do not take off your clothes,” Aziraphale cut him off, giving him an annoyed look. “I’ll explain you everything you need to know, Gabriel. But you need to drink.”

Gabriel stared at the glass; there was ice in it, and the sight made the thirst even worse. He almost spoke again to say he didn’t know how - he knew it went in through the mouth, but then humans did something with their throat to get it down and he wasn’t sure what it was - the thirst was so bad, he just reached for the glass and brought it to his lips, anything to make it end. 

The water was cool relief in his dry mouth, and the act of swallowing for the very first time came without any thought at all; the water went down the right way, he didn’t choke and oh, the relief was immediate and so great he couldn’t even muster the pride to pretend otherwise.

The demon, Crowley, looked more than slightly disappointed. “Well, you know how to drink,” he muttered. “By the way, do you know what to do when the water needs to come out again?”

Still reeling over how good that drink of water had felt, Gabriel blinked at him in confusion. 

“... I’ll take it as a no. So, you’re fully human, no? With all that it entails?”

“What?”

“Got anything in your pants?”

“In my--?” Gabriel reached down, entirely missing the way Aziraphale rolled his eyes, and stilled. There was something, a bulge beneath the fabric that hadn’t been there before. He’d seen enough humans naked at the dawn of time to have a vague idea of what it would look like if he disrobed. Which he had no intention to do. “... This wasn’t here before.”

“Well, there you go. A pair of wings for a pair of testicles.”

Gabriel gaze him an unimpressed look. “It doesn’t seem a fair exchange.”

“It’s not,” he agreed, and turned to Aziraphale. “Well, angel, I won’t be the one to explain him biology. For when, you know, the water needs to come out.”

“The water needs to come out?” Gabriel repeated, now rather lost. “But I just consumed--”

“And he’ll have to eat at some point.”

“What-- I’m not-- I have a book,” Aziraphale said suddenly, and stood. “I’ll go fetch it - you’ll find it useful,” he added quickly, and left before Gabriel - who would later read the children’s book about potty training Aziraphale was about to throw at him, and come to the conclusion that humans are positively disgusting - could say anything. 

He gave Crowley a wary look. “What are you talking about?”

The demon grinned widely. “Oh, I could tell you,” he said, letting the dark glasses slip down his nose to look at him with snake-like eyes. “But why spoil the fun when you can find out all by yourself?”

***

“Ah, to be a fly on the wall!”

Beelzebub knew that was something mortals said often, whenever they wished to be able to see something they shouldn’t be able to. They were on to something: there was a lot to be said in favor of being, literally, a fly on the wall. Or rather, right now, on the window. 

Not quite as good as being inside, but it offered them a good view of their target. He looked… bad.  Relatively bad, because when you dwell in Hell your idea of looking bad is very, very different from that of most being in existence. And they liked bad, anyway; Beelzebub took no small measure of satisfaction in knowing that, should they show themselves to mortals with their true visage, they would run screaming. 

However, for an angel’s standards - and for what had been Gabriel’s standard, especially - he did look bad. More dishevelled than Beelzebub had ever seen him and tired; dark shadows under his eyes, skin gray-ish, his hands shaking as he drank some water. 

There he was, one of the Almighty’s lap dogs until he’d been kicked out by his master to become Hell’s newest recruit. Maybe he wouldn’t make too much of a fuss; he was ill-suited for life as a mortal, and there were perks to joining the forces of Hell. Either way, Beelzebub had said they were going to claim him and they would. Their honor was at stake, at that point, however questionable said honor was.

Hell’s concept of honor was a tiny bit skewed, too.

As they kept watching, both traitors stood and so did Gabriel, more slowly, slipping something that looked like a small book in his pocket. Honestly, Beelzebub have burst in to claim him already if not for the traitors sitting right there. 

So, you're probably thinking, "If he can do this, I wonder what else he can do?" And very, very soon, you're all going to get the chance to find out. 

It wasn’t that Beelzebub was in any way scared of them, of course, it would be laughable, but...

I think it would be better for everyone if I were to be left alone in the future. Don't you?

… Well. Best to avoid unnecessary confrontations. Gabriel would be alone, at some point. And when that happened, the Lord of the Flies would be ready to act.

***

The Underlook Hotel, where they dropped him off after an unnecessarily fast car ride that would have made Gabriel throw up if his stomach hadn’t been emptier than a pint glass after Nigel Farage’s passage, was a small but clean establishment, with large windows that let in what sunlight was to be found in London, which wasn’t much that day. The entrance hall had a long front desk and a smiling receptionist sitting behind it, and Gabriel headed towards it - more on a guess because he actually knew what the process was supposed to be at that point.

“Good afternoon,” the woman at the reception said, voice entirely too cheery. Truth be told she would have been very happy to personally set fire to about half the guests and a quarter of the staff, as do many people who work in the hospitality sector once their will to live has taken enough blows. This usually happens within the first two months and a half, a scant couple of weeks more than it takes to destroy the soul of a retail worker. Still, like most people working in the hospitality sector, she could hide it with a smile. “Can I help you?”

Gabriel nodded. “I have a reservation,” he said, and glanced down at the card. “Room 217.”

“Let’s see...” The woman typed, stared at the screen, then nodded. “Gabriel F. Archer?”

No. I’m the Archangel Gabriel. The Messenger. That’s all I ever was and will ever be, it can’t be gone forever, it just cannot. And what does that F stand for, anyway?

But of course, that was not a viable answer. With a knot in his insides and a weight in his chest, he nodded. “That’s me,” he said, and managed to smile. It would have probably looked more real if he’s pulled up the corners of his mouth with his fingers, but she didn’t seem to notice.

“Lovely. Now let me-- oh, I see you completed your check-in this morning.” That was good, he supposed, because he knew nothing of what a ‘check in’ would entail. “Need help with your luggage?”

“I don’t have any--” Gabriel began, then paused, and glanced down. By his feet there was a single, black suitcase. He stared down at it for a few moments, and worked his jaw before speaking again. “... I think I can manage,” he said, and picked it up. It felt heavy, but of course it was not. He was just laughably, ridiculously weak. His very name - God is my strength - felt like a mockery now.

“Good. The lift is that way - your room is on the second floor. Do you need anything else?”

Gabriel hesitated. He didn’t want to ask, he really did not; it would feel like admitting defeat, that he truly was a mere mortal in need of gross matter for nourishment. But his stomach was almost cramping up, and he felt faint, and he gave in. After all, he couldn’t really keep pretending after finding himself, bleeding, on the hard ground. “Would you happen to know where I may be able to acquire some edible matter?”

That gained him a startled look. “Some... what?” she asked. In the back of her mind the Weirdo Alert light - it comes free after the first month working in the hospitality sector, along with several neuroses - began flashing yellow.

Right, they had a name for it. What was it, again? “You know… food?”

“Oh! Of course. It’s a bit late for lunch, but dinner is served from six - would you like to reserve a table? I’ll do it for you. You’ll find some snacks and drinks in the mini fridge in your room.”

“... I see. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome! Here for business, or are you on vacation?”

“Exile,” Gabriel muttered, turning her Weirdo Alert light red, and walked towards the lift without another word, dragging the suitcase and focusing on nothing but putting one foot in front of the other. Once alone in the room, he’d-- he didn’t know. He’d tried to ask, after Aziraphale gave him a mobile phone and his number, desperate for any indication of what he should do.

“What am I supposed to do now?”

“You figure it out, Gabe,” the demon Crowley had muttered, still sitting behind the wheel, sneering. “It’s the gift of free will.”

It didn’t feel like a gift at all; it was terrifying, and he’d thought at least Aziraphale would understand, but he… didn’t. 

“It doesn’t have to be a bad thing. You do whatever you want from here on.”

Wanting was a foreign concept to Gabriel. He’d never wanted anything, only ever done what he had to do for… for the greater good. The only thing he wanted now was to shut his eyes and open then again to find he’d been living some sort of nightmare, to be vanquished by daylight. He only wanted things to go back the way they were.

He only wanted to go home.

By the time the lift stopped on the second floor, something peculiar had happened - his vision was blurry. Gabriel blinked it away, and found his cheeks wet. Oh, wonderful, now that mortal body was leaking the water he’d been forced to consume. Was that what the demon had meant when he talked about the water coming out? He’d probably have to read the book he’d been handed, although the illustration on the cover looked absolutely puerile and unlikely to hold any meaningful information about his condition. It would give him something to do, if nothing else. 

Or maybe that could wait. Maybe he’d pray, first thing - throw himself on his knees as soon as he found himself finally alone and pray like he never had before. Maybe God would listen. Maybe he’d receive a sign, guidance, anything that would tell him what to do. Yes, he’d do that; it wasn’t much, but it was still the closest thing he had to a plan. 

As he walked down the corridor and to the door of his room, he didn’t notice the fly that buzzed after him.

***

“The first beast was like a lion with eagles’ wings. As I watched, its wings were pulled off, and it was left standing with its two hind feet on the ground, like a human being. And it was given a human mind.” Daniel 7:4

***

[Back]

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[deacied]

evening sun  .  //  one .

summary: messaging stupid things to your celebrity crush on instagram has no repercussions because it’s not like they’re going to read it anyway! obviously this doesn’t entail sexual harassment or general creepiness, but sending a meme they’d like or a picture or maybe something actually stupid like your phone number seems irrelevant in the grand scheme of things.

or the one where you dm joe on instagram and your life actually changes

warnings: none other than like fluff 

word count: 1.7k

    she sends the stupidest message she has possibly ever typed in her entire life (eighth grade, angsty teen posts on myspace included) to him in the second week of march. the chances were low that he would open her dm, but he had been known to ever so often answer a handful at a time, and what did she have to lose if he did answer the message? she had sent him other things before as if he were her best friend, memes that reminded her of him or funny t-shirt ads, whatever it had been that she thought might have him grinning to himself--- however, clearly the response never-received wasn’t with this particular “friend”. she didn’t really know him, and he, blissfully unaware of her existence, yet she tried weakly to get the attention of him while he received thousands of others flooding his messages doing just the same. it was just a bit of fun really. a shirt that showed a t-rex wearing mickey ears, “wrong park!“ written across it had her laughing manically to herself before sending the post over to joe. she hoped she would see him in that shirt soon.

    it was a hopeless cause that, well, wouldn’t crush her if the odds weren’t in her favor. nearly a month after she had sent the stupidest message, a notification of a new text pings through her phone. a glance over to it only to be met with an unknown number loses her attention as quick as it held it. she yawns. the action comes of mainly boredom though sleepiness threatens to claw its way into dominance as the summer rain continues to pummel unto the roof, warm florida air shifting through the porch, and the novel in her hand losing focus. a nap would be good-- perfect actually.

    the crackle of lightning followed by a gargle of thunder shook her out of her sleep only an hour later and back into reality. every afternoon without fail, the casual shower of rain would pass over her family home just after three as if mother nature were taking her time with her garden. florida often promised hurricanes so the thunderstorms weren’t uncommon, but this particular one wasn’t supposed to hit until thursday, and with it being only tuesday, she knew this storm would last forever now: the earlier they came, the longer and harder they reined apparently. notifications sound off at a quick rate, though she easily dismisses it as something extraordinary going on in the group chat. trekking back into the house with book and phone in hand, her free fingers pass over her dogs’ heads as she passes them to head to her room. the thought of a shower to wash away the dampness from outside was the most ideal option she possessed, however, the implied doom her mother promised of a shower during a thunderstorm was the least. more notifications go off in time before she turns off the ringer entirely and plugs it into the charger. sixty-four (jesus) messages in the group chat on discord, another twenty-one from the same group on instagram, and god knows how many more on snapchat, but the one, singular cluster of notifications tucked at the bottom that held her interest had her pausing with head tipping in interest: another message from the unknown number.

lower lip curls between teeth as brows furrow an inch together. finally clicking on the messages, she feels like she might throw up as her eyes follow the pixels. holy. fucking. shit.

FROM unknown 11:18 am: It’s super dangerous giving your phone number to strangers on the internet you know? FROM unknown 11:20 am: I tried to call and kind of chickened out. I got nervous and I’m sorry. FROM unknown 11:43 am: Oh my god, did you really shoot your shot and just leave the court?

    she has to read the messages at least eight times, take a screenshot, send it to her brother, and have him confirm she’s not having a stroke before she can go back to the originals with an intent to reply. thumbs hover over keys making absentminded shapes as she breathes deeply, loudly, anxiously trying not to have a whole mental breakdown. the message directly referenced her messages to none other than the boy from jurassic park, the bassist of bohemian rhapsody, the very angry baseball player of undrafted. there was absolutely no way that this was actually, truly, literally joseph francis mazzello iii. couldn’t be. nope. not happening. she doesn’t know what to reply back with for a good long moment, taking a second to collect herself and open up instagram to confirm for the hundredth time now that this is who she thinks it is.

    the dm’s screen welcomes her, exhale escaping lowly as she clicks on joe_mazzello’s chat. he hadn’t replied -clearly, she most definitely would have received a notification for that or else instagram would have a very angry woman on their hands- but he had opened it. the time read 3:56am two weeks ago when he read them. her head falls backwards as the mental math floods hurriedly through her brain, trying to understand: so he had called a week after reading them apparently, and then waited another week before engaging contact again. he... he had been thinking about this for a while; it wasn’t just a spur-of-the-moment ploy to entertain a fan. god, she might throw up actually this time. thumbs navigate to open the texts from the unknown number again just to make sure they hadn’t magically dissolved into thin air. a slow exhale. one more final time she moves over the keys.

TO unknown 12:56 pm: who is this? TO unknown 12:57 pm: if this is who i think it is i’m gonna Lose My McFreakin Mind

    she nods to herself as they send--- vague enough that whomever was on the other side wouldn’t think something strange was going on no matter what the outcome turned out to be. it had happened once where a friend texted the wrong number instead of her, asking if “mc fuckhead” was there. (that was an incredibly fun inside joke to explain.) head tips to the side slightly, hopping her train of thought from joe mazzello and him genuinely thinking of you to how strange every inside joke must sound to people outside of the inside. another vibration of the device jerks her back to the matter at hand, unable to help her heart thumping uneasily.

FROM unknown 1:26 pm: Hi, I’m Joe Mazzello from Jurassic- I mean, Bohemian Rhapsody and you’re watching Disney Channel! FROM unknown 1:26 pm: Thank God you’re a multiple text person too FROM unknown 1:27 pm: Please don’t Lose Your McFreakin Mind! FROM unknown 1:27 pm: Wait. FROM unknown 1:27 pm: .....Is this (@ y/ig)? Did I just fuck everything up with an actual wrong number?

    suspicions couldn’t get more confirmed than that. her next set of texts goes out rapidly and without much second thought, a stupidly huge smile graced on her face that probably made her look like a maniac--- but really, if any person’s celebrity crush had texted them wouldn’t they have the exact same reaction? actually, now that y/n thinks about it, she’s being really, really calm. the internal screaming stays internal -thank the lord- though her cheeks already ache from the face-splitting grin she currently wears.

TO unknown 1:33pm: if i’m (@ y/ig) then wouldn’t you be @joe_mazzello? no? just me? ok TO unknown 1:33 pm: but hi yes i’m y/n ??? holy shit ??? what the fuck ??? TO unknown 1:34 pm: definitely losing my mind rn   TO unknown 1:34 pm: but also 👀 real talk i was 👀 actually asking you 👀 out TO unknown 1:34 pm: like if you wanted to hang out 👀 haha

    as soon as the last one sends, her heart drops with fear. fuck, what if the actor just wanted to do a fan a favor and answer her dm just for shits and giggles, or, best (worst?) case scenario he wanted to online-befriend her. she can very easily lose the one single chance she’s gotten and--- god, yes, definitely going to throw up. she sends another message in a haste, praying to whomever was up above that her last text actually saved her ass. he responds in actual record time, the girl tucked up on her bed unable to help the excited and very, very, very ugly squeal she let out as she starts reading the messages.

FROM joe omg 1:36 pm: Interesting.... I’ll have to accept your proposal. We meet at dawn! FROM joe omg 1:36 pm: But you’re in Florida right? I think I read that on your account, I hope I didn’t just pull that out of my ass. FROM joe omg 1:36 pm: I haven’t been to Universal down there in God knows how long and I was planning to go at the end of the month funnily enough FROM joe omg 1:36 pm: If dinosaurs and King Kong and Harry Potter and whateva are your thaaaang

    an anxious groan soon follows-- of course this was the alternating year she had gotten a disney annual pass instead of a universal one like last year, and upon further inspection of prices, her bills due, and her bank account, it was a couple hundred dollars she definitely didn’t have to spend. she sets her phone down to calm her now raging anxiety, skin heating up and palms sweating profusely until she fists her comforter in hopes to dry them. asking an actual rich and famous person for financial help just to hang out with them was forcing her eyes to prick with tears-- she had to find something else, right? they could work something else out and she was just overreacting. it takes her verbally saying “you’re crying over universal, chill the heck out” before she comprehends and truly relaxes, tension melting out of her back as a slow breath falls from anxiety ridden lungs.

TO joe omg 1:42 pm: i actually love universal but i have a disney pass right now if maybe that was something you wanted to do TO joe omg 1:43 pm: idk if you’ve ever been to disney world but its so much better than disneyland if i’m honest lmao i’ve gone to california once and i went and i wasn’t super impressed TO joe omg 1:43 pm: i mean it was really cool cause it was the original disney but rides and attractions wise you know what i mean??? anyway im rambling wtf

    the conversation rolls with no further lulls in topics to talk about, one in the afternoon soon turning to one in the morning and her eyes threatening to droop closed. with a final goodnight text the pair decide to resume conversation in the morning, and lord, did she have something to excitedly scream about then.

[thecreativeangel]

Hijacked Suit (Peter Parker x Reader)

Peter Parker x Fem!Reader

*Please don’t plagiarize my work, thank you :3*

Summary: Everything was fine until Peter felt the need to be noble. 

Warnings: Swearing. Otherwise just bad vine references. This is an entry for @spectacular-spiderboy and @yourtomwritings, author’s note to them is at the bottom. Prompt: “I don’t want to call you stupid, but...”

Word Count: 1,442

That day had been a nice day. A calm day. Your mind was in a serene, floaty place and your shoulders bore no weight of anxiety. Classes had been stress-free, your projects were all finished and Mr. Bittner agreed to give no more tests for the remaining two weeks of class. And hell- if school was easy, life was easy. That's just a basic principle of high school. It was a good Friday to finish off a good week…

Until Peter “I Can't Lie For Shit” Parker decided to open his mouth.

Your first indication of danger? Shuri. The only warning you got was her distant shrieks of laughter, getting louder and louder as she got closer. You stopped in the middle of the Avengers Facility hallway, ears perked, confused. Shuri turned the corner and almost toppled you over in her hurry, a string of quick apologies leaving her.

“Fucking run!” she yelled over her shoulder, sprinting towards the main exit. You blinked twice and stared after her, feet stuck to the ground.

A hand latched onto your arm and you lurched forward with the force of the pull. Well I guess we're fucking running now, you thought angrily. Peter ran like he was about to be jinxed by the Dark Lord, panting and tugging you along with him.

“I'm sorry!” he yelped, taking a sharp detour from the main lobby into the laboratory wing. Agents and construction workers alike gawked at the three teenagers running for their lives. Your arm felt ready to pop out of its socket as you struggled to keep up with him, but Peter was still rambling breathlessly. “-and it wasn't my fault! I mean- kinda? I should've kept my mouth shut, I know! I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!”

“What the hell are you talking about?” you yelled over the screams of “You little assholes!” and “Shuri come back here!”. Stress crept into your system, a nasty contrast to the previous state of calm. Peter’s hand gripped your arm harder. “R-remember when you pranked T-Tony and T’challa a-and Rhodey and-”

Your felt your soul bleed out of your body. “Oh no.”

Peter thrust open a random door and threw you inside, pushing you past rows of DNA samples, beakers of steaming chemicals and a caged mouse. You started to duck under a table when he pulled you up and pushed you into a particularly large lab coat closet. Darkness enveloped both of you, but at least you were safe from whatever Peter was to terrified of. You rounded on him. Well, probably him. It was almost pitch black and you could only sense him by his heavy breathing.

“Peter. Benjamin. Parker,” you seethed quietly, feeling him wince at the use of his full name. “Did you rat me out?”

“N-no?”

A low growl rumbled in your throat.

“Maybe?”

You batted away lab coat that kept swinging into your face. “Peter I swear to God-”

Peter clamped his hand on your mouth and turned to look for Rhodey and T’challa through a crack in the closet doors. He spoke in a rapid, hushed voice. “Yes! I accidentally told Tony, okay? Now please, please be quiet.”

You pried his hand from your mouth. “You jerk! Tony had no idea about that! What did he do to get the information- torture you?”

With what little shred of light the crack between doors provided, you saw Peter look down sheepishly, his cheeks darkening. You huffed as the annoying lab coat swung again on its hanger and hit you in the eye with a button.

“Tony didn't actually ask,” you concluded, tone dripping malice. “Did he?”

“W-well he kind of did,” Peter's voice cracked a bit too much. You raised an eyebrow at him.

“Peter, I don’t want to call you stupid, but…” you poked him in the chest. “-wait, yes I do! That was so stupid of you! What happened that you couldn’t keep your mouth shut?”

“Alright, alright- stop poking me! Just listen! We were talking about Queens and school and stuff, right?” Peter explained, rubbing the spot where you poked him. “And Tony asked ‘do kids still play pranks?’ and I said no. And then he said: ‘funny, because I think you're lying.’”

“You're a terrible liar, by the way,” you added spitefully, crossing your arms.

Peter sputtered indignantly, running both hands through his messed up hair before resting them on the back of his neck. “Well if someone programs a prototype suit to throw random shit and yell ‘this bitch empty’, I think Tony would figure it out! Of course he thought it was you and Shuri!”

“It's ‘this bitch empty’, and then ‘yeet’,” you corrected him snidely.

Peter blanked. “What?”

You licked your dry lips. “We programmed it to scream ‘this bitch empty- yeet’. It’s a joke.”

“Who cares?” Peter cried softly, still painfully aware that you were hiding.

“Okay, okay-” you said calmly, trying your best to appease him. “If Tony didn't want us to do that, would he have added a new A.I. to the suit? No, he'd have stuck with FRIDAY.”

Peter blinked at you, put his head in his hands and let out a long groan. You grinned in the dark, knowing full well your logic was bullshit. But a frustrated Peter was a cute Peter. “I- How- You're going to give me a heart attack, y’know? Oh fuck.”

“Such dirty cursing for such an innocent snitch,” you said passively, craning your neck to see through the crack. No one had entered the lab yet.

“I'm not innocent!” Peter all but squeaked, making you laugh under your breath. “Y-you're just dirty minded and dirty mouthed-”

“Ooh, Itsy Bitsy Spidey’s afraid to talk dirty?” It was slipped out before you had the sensibility to bite your tongue. You slapped your hand over your own mouth as soon as the words left. Peter’s eyes widened comically as your ears and neck grew hot. All of a sudden, you were the one who was stuttering.

“I didn't- I uh, that…” you ran out of excuses. “That came out wrong.”

Peter was deep in thought for a moment and you could see the mental gears turning just by looking him in the eyes (they were dark like fireplace ashes, only because everything was dark because y’know...dark closet). He finally moved, leaned closer until his mouth was right next to your ear- but he wasn't touching you at all. And yet you shivered, grasping the hem of your own t-shirt for support as his warm, panting breath heated your skin.

“I can handle dirty talk,” he whispered, the tip of his nose brushing your neck. “Can you?”

The way your throat hitched was pathetic, to you at least. Maybe the momentary distraction was good; the hand that you'd places lightly against the (not locked) closet door searched for a stable surface that wasn't there. You yelped as the door opened, making you fall out of the tiny damned closet and land on your ass. Peter still stood in the closet, still leaning slightly, now with a terribly smug grin.

Shuri burst into the lab and ran to your side, pulling you up. “There you are! My brother has not seen me yet but he was putting on his suit I think, so we should really go-”

She spoke fast, almost too fast for your dazed mind couldn't comprehend the words. You glanced back at Peter, who looked like the purest image of filth. His curls were disheveled, cheeks pink, jacket and shirt wrinkled, breathlessly gasping for air; the perfect image of “suddenly interrupted”. Shuri, bless her, was too busy shoving you out the lab’s back door to notice.

“Come on, come on!” she urged, pulling you out until the crisp October air pleasantly cooled your overheating body. “We're out of options, if you want to know. Tony is guarding  our lab and rooms.”

You squished your cheeks in both hands, wishing for them to stop burning and managed to speak without sounding winded. “The invisibility cloak I made?”

Shuri giggled at your obsessive love of Harry Potter. “Couldn't get it. And T’challa took my sneakers! He's being overdramatic- it was funny!”

Your turn to laugh at her pout. You crouched behind a decorative bush and motioned for her to follow. Sitting on dirt and mulch was less than fitting, especially with an aching tailbone. Not the best place for hiding, but it would do.

“Peter was ve-ery red when you came out,” she said slyly. You shot her a halfhearted glare. “Care to explain?”

“We ran from Rhodey,” you said flatly.

Shuri only snickered. “Sure.”

Author’s Note: Sorry to the lovely spectacular-spiderboy for taking so long. Hope this follows all the rules...Love ya. 

[teacoffeeandwhatnot]

The Gay Agenda - Chapter 3

Whooo Chapter 3! Its Chanhun week. 

Please keep in mind, sentences written in Italic is what is being said by the panel, or people in the studio. Normal text is what is happening otherwise.

As always, also available on my Ao3!

(if you want me to tag you every time i update, please dont hesitate to message me and I’ll add it in the next chapter)

Honestly, Sehun felt a little bit pathetic. He’s had this massive crush on Chanyeol for about 3 years now, ever since the older had almost knocked him over at the orientation fair in his first year at university. Chanyeol had been walking backwards, animatedly talking to his friends, when he had tripped over his own feet and promptly toppled into Sehun. Sehun was ready to yell, already being on edge from having to adjust to the new environment and not really knowing anyone yet, but when he turned to face Chanyeol, he was startled into silence.

Chanyeol had been an odd mix of jock, with his tall stature and defined (so, so well defined) biceps and an overgrown puppy, with his soft face, big dumbo ears and doe eyes. Sehun was immediately infatuated with the older.

His infatuation grew into a full-on crush when he saw Chanyeol perform for the first time in the university’s talent competition. He had sung with his velvety smooth voice, whilst expertly playing the guitar, and Sehun was convinced he was In LoveTM.

But that was 3 years ago. Since then, Sehun had pined from a distance, treasuring every single little interaction he had with the older. Chanyeol had remembered him and sent him small smiles or waves whenever they crossed paths on campus, but they never had a proper conversation.

Sehun told himself that he would finally get over it and gather the nerve to just go up to Chanyeol and strike up a conversation with him, but chickened out every single time

So, when he saw the flyer to the show, it was pretty much a “fuck it” decision. Maybe this would be the perfect opportunity for him to get over Chanyeol, maybe meet someone new and mayyyybe even win a bit of money, which, being a university student, couldn’t hurt. (He knew deep down though, that it would never be that easy to forget about Chanyeol.)

Sehun decided to work in the costume store during the show. One, he loved costumes and since it was close to Halloween, it would probably never boring. Two, he loved to judge people for their terrible costume choices.

He had met his manager, a dismissive, pudgy middle-aged man, who actually worked there, but, for some reason that was escaping Sehun, he agreed to let the show put someone in his store. The man really didn’t seem like he’d be someone who would put up with something like that and Sehun mentally noted to not piss the man off.

His co-workers were a lot nicer, a lot of them around his age, seeming to be students or high schoolers, working part time. He was glad that there were some nice people, considering he didn’t really know anything about the store and was glad that there would be someone to help. Overall, his job was pretty easy. Keep the racks and shelves looking clean, help customers find items when they needed help, and clean out the changing rooms, should someone leave items in it. Of course, Sehun was doing all of these things pretty half-heartedly, considering he was there for another reason.  

“So, our second contestant, let’s see who this is,” said Holland, ruffling through a file.

“Oh Sehun, 24, currently a dance student in his 3rd year. Applied to, I quote ‘get over this pathetic crush I’ve been harbouring for this dude at my uni for way too long’,” he read aloud.

“Well sounds like Sehun is using this opportunity as a crush-be-gone mechanism,” Heechul mentioned.

“Precisely.”

“Well guys, how do we think he’s going to do,” Holland prompted.

“Well, he chose a costume store, which can be quite good, since the atmosphere is very relaxed and there’s a good opportunity to have a laid back, funny conversation with someone, so I don’t think he will be lacking in that department,” said Taemin.

Key chimed in, “I wish we could know what this crush of his looks like, because I want to see if he is going to go for someone that’s similar to him, or completely different.”

“I just hope some actual person his age will be there in the store at some point, because so far I’ve only seen parents or children, and I really hope he doesn’t hit on either, because that would just be….creepy”

“Yah, Daehwi, have some respect for your elders, I think he knows what he’s doing!”, Heechul scolded.

“Well let’s fucking hope so.” Daehwi mumbled under his breath.

He was bored. There was only so many snotty teenagers that he could help find the most ridiculous costumes for, some of which he had no idea what they even were (what the fuck was “bongocat”??). He had severely overestimated how many hot, grown men would be visiting the store, which looking back, was a stupid thought to begin with. The only adults that he had seen in the store so far, other than the staff, were tired parents accompanying their overly excitable children. Which….should’ve really been the realistic expectation Sehun should’ve set for himself.

He ended up loitering around the back of the store, trying to hide from his manager and not doing any real work. He even sneakily tried on some of the costumes, debating on whether to keep one on around the store, but realized that the boredom was making him slightly delusional and his normal clothes, which he had very carefully picked out that morning, and made sure to not clash with his silver hair, were definitely the better choice,

All of a sudden, his co-worker, Joy, a bright, tall, beautiful (seriously, if Sehun had a single straight bone in his body, he’d be all over that) walked by hastily, hissing “hottie in aisle 3, all yours” in his direction.

Him and Joy had bonded quickly that morning, both for distaste in their manager and the fact that Joy was super excited to have another gay person with her in the store, if only for one day. They had spent their whole morning break getting to know each other, and even if Sehun failed on the show today, at least he would walk away with a new, totally awesome friend.

Sehun perked up at the news of the “hottie” and made his way to the aisle…where he promptly turned around and hid behind the shelf. Shit. In the aisle, right in-front of the full-body, skin-tight (fuck) costumes, was Chanyeol, of all fucking people.  

Chanyeol being here was already bad enough, but on top of that, he had apparently died his hair over the weekend because, instead of the soft, fluffy brown hair he usually had, his hair was bright red and styled off his face, which….. dear lord. It looked so fucking good. His outfit didn’t help either. He was wearing a dark jean jacket over a flannel and t-shirt, paired with tight skinny jeans.

Sehun willed his breathing to calm down and wracked his brain on what to do. Obviously, this was the perfect opportunity to talk to Chanyeol, but the rules of the show were to find someone that he didn’t already know.

He eventually decided to walk up to Chanyeol.

“Sir, can I help you with something?”

When Chanyeol turned around and his face indicated that he recognized Sehun, the latter quickly lowered his voice and whispered, “Just act like you don’t know me, I’ll explain later!”

Chanyeol looked confused for a second, before apparently deciding to play along (thank god), since he continued, “Hi, yes, I’m looking for a costume for this Halloween party I’m going to.”

“Certainly, Sir, do you have anything specific in mind?”

“I was thinking Deadpool.”

“Good choice, Sir. If you would follow me, that would be in our superhero aisle.”

Chanyeol trailed after him, immediately tugging on Sehun’s heartstrings, since he looked like a lost puppy.

“Is this something along the lines of what you were thinking?”, Sehun asked, holding up a body suit printed with the Deadpool costume. Chanyeol’s eyes lit up, and he started nodding cutely.

“Ok, great. What size would you like so I can find it for you?”

“Uhhhh, I’m not sure to be honest,” Chanyeol replied, sheepishly.

“Can I ask how tall you are? Then I can estimate what size would fit you from there.”

“Oh, sure. I’m 6’5.” (Sehun groaned inwardly. Fuck.)

“Ok, let me just check.” He started rifling through the costumes before letting out a small “aha” and holding up two suits.

“So, I picked up two options, since you don’t know your size. I suggest you just try them both on and see which one fits best.”

Chanyeol nodded once again.

“The changing rooms are right over there. Would you like me to accompany you to the changing rooms, in case you need anything else?” (Sehun knew that he was laying it on a little thick, and that the store’s customer service was never this good, but he could honestly not care less at this point.)

“Oh yeah sure, Se-Sir.” Sehun grimaced at Chanyeol slipping up and almost calling him his name, but also felt a slight blush spreading on his cheeks at the cheeky grin Chanyeol sent his way.

Sehun made his way towards the changing rooms, held the curtain back on one of the stalls and handed Chanyeol the costumes while he entered.

“I’ll be waiting right over there,” Sehun pointed towards a counter basically across from Chanyeol’s booth, “so give me a shout if you need anything. “

Chanyeol gave the Ok and closed the curtain. Well, closed was an overstatement. Although he did pull the curtain across the rail, he didn’t pull it all the way and Sehun was still able to see his back through the slit. He had a small internal battle, debating whether he should let Chanyeol know, but ultimately decide to just not look….which proved very difficult about 0.2 seconds later when Chanyeol took his shirt off and Sehun had the exquisite view of his muscly back. Fuck, that man was well built. Sehun really, honestly, tried to tear away his gaze and stop ogling, but he couldn’t. I mean, let’s be honest, how could he? Here he was, with the perfect view of his shirtless crush of almost 4 year in from of him, and he was supposed to look away? Seems unrealistic.  

Apparently, Sehun had kind of zoned out for a moment, because all of a sudden, Chanyeol turned around to walk out with his costume on and Sehun was definitely caught staring. Immediately, he felt his face go bright red and he tried to clear his throat awkwardly.

Luckily Chanyeol only smirked at him, which didn’t really make the situation much better for Sehun, but at least he wasn’t mad or disgusted.

Sehun tried to slip into his professional store clerk persona again.

“How does it fit, Sir? Everything all right?”

“I don’t know, what do you think?”

Sehun had to really pull himself together to not blurt out anything embarrassing about how he wanted to climb Chanyeol like a tree right then and there, and how the tight costume make his arms look delicious, and many other, NSFW thoughts.  He eventually settled on, “Looks good to me.” Good one, Sehun.  

“Mhh, I don’t know, it seems a little loose in some areas. This is the bigger one, I’ll go try on the smaller one just to see.”

Sehun was honestly in pain. How was he supposed to survive seeing Chanyeol in an even tighter costume than the one he had already been wearing. The man was really just here to torture him. Sehun hoped the floor would open up to swallow him and just take him directly to hell, since that would be more merciful, but without avail.  

Sehun didn’t notice Chanyeol re-emerge out of the changing room due to his breakdown until he heard a throat being cleared and his head snapped up. He promptly choked on his own spit and was coughing up half a lung with tears streaming down his face, mortified at the fact that Chanyeol came rushing over to clap him on the back with a worried look on his face.

“Oh my god, are you ok? What happened?”

“No-nothing…. I just…uh… inhaled wrong…” Way to go Sehun, solid excuse.

He batted away Chanyeol’s hands, insisting he was fine. Chanyeol slowly moved back, but still adorned the worried look on his face.

“If you say so…”

“Ok, ok, I’m good now, sorry for that. How does this one fit, better than the other one?”

“Yeah a lot better, thank you,” Chanyeol turned to him once again, smiling his megawatt smile that made Sehun feel all warm inside.

Suddenly, it dawned on him. Being around Chanyeol had made him totally forget the point of the show. He was SUPPOSED to find someone to flirt with. Sure, it was risky, since he didn’t know if Chanyeol was going to respond in a good way, and he really didn’t want to ruin whatever small tiny good thing they had going, but then again, if it didn’t go well, he could always explain later and lie, saying it was all for the show.

“Well, if I may say so, it definitely extenuates all the right elements of your body,” he tried to say without feeling incredibly awkward about it. Now it was Chanyeol’s turn to turn beet red. He awkwardly laughed and looked extremely flustered.

Sehun thought fuck it and decided to just go for all in. Might as fucking well.

He walked over to Chanyeol, who was standing in front of a full body mirror just outside the changing rooms. He stood behind him, making eye contact with Chanyeol through the mirror. Slowly he started running his hands up and down Chanyeol’s (realllly well defined) arms.  

“Yeah, it makes your arms look really nice,” he whispered directly into Chanyeol’s ear in a sultry tone. Luckily, even though he still looked flustered, Chanyeol didn’t seem to pull away or look weirded out.

“Ohhhhhh, my boy is finally stepping it up!”, Heechul screeched, “I was getting a little worried about him there. Hot muscly dork, I like his taste”.

“He definitely chose well, I approve,” Key agreed.

Sehun slowly started to relax and become more confident, and he was very much enjoying that he was able to make Chanyeol look so flustered. It was cute. 

He stayed close to Chanyeol for another few seconds, making sure that Chanyeol definitely saw him rake his eyes down his entire body while biting his lip and keeping his mouth near his neck, so that he could feel the hot breath on his skin.

Sehun felt validated when he felt the small shiver run down Chanyeol’s body and his cheeks become even more dusty pink.

Eventually he stepped back. Chanyeol turned around to stare at him, eyes blown and mouth hanging slightly open.

Sehun ran his finger down the front of Chanyeol’s costume, across his chest.

“How about you get out of that costume, and I’ll treat you to a drink?”, Sehun asked.

“Uh…sure… what about your job?”

“Oh, they’ll understand that I can’t let this opportunity pass me by, don’t worry your pretty little head.”

He heard Chanyeol mumble a startled “pretty?” under his breath and luckily managed to suppress the little chuckle bubbling up.

“Wait, opportunity? What opportunity?”

Sehun invaded his space once again, placing his hands on each of Chanyeol’s shoulders and standing up on his tip toes, so he was able to whisper right into Chanyeol’s ear.

“To go on a date with the hottest guy I’ve ever seen and have had a crush on for like 3 years now.”

When he stepped back again, Chanyeol was once again staring at him with his mouth hanging open.

“Wait, you’ve had a cru-“, Sehun panicked and quickly put his hand over Chanyeol’s mouth to stop him from exposing the fact that they knew each other. Chanyeol squeaked in surprise.

Sehun got close again and hissed at him, “Shhh, don’t say that out loud! Let’s just get out of here and I’ll tell you why, I promise.”

Sehun looked into Chanyeol’s eyes, to make sure he understood. Chanyeol nodded and promptly licked Sehun’s hand, which made him pull back in disgust. Chanyeol chuckled and smirked at him again, which threw Sehun for a loop. He wasn’t ready for confident Chanyeol to be back, he didn’t know how to deal with that.

He breathed a breath he didn’t realized he’d been holding in when Chanyeol got back into the changing room, fortunately (unfortunately? Who knew) actually pulling the curtain completely closed this time.

Sehun slumped over the counter he was standing near, mumbling a quick, “what the fuck am I doing?” under his breath.

He startled back upright when he heard the curtain pull back and awkwardly tried to make it look like he was casually leaning against the counter, which apparently didn’t work, considering the laugh Chanyeol let out when he saw him.

“Ok, but before we go, I do actually still want to buy this.”

“Ah yes, well that’s great, let me ring them up for you.”

Sehun walked to the till and rang up the costume for Chanyeol. He startled when he realized how much the costume was. Holy shit, he didn’t know it would be that expensive.

“Uh yes, that’ll be 300$.” Quieter, he said, “holy shit, are you sure you can afford that?”

In lieu of answering, Chanyeol simply smirked, whipped out his wallet and took out a black credit card. Holy shit.  

Sehun looked from the card to Chanyeol’s face, with wide eyes and his mouth hanging open. Ok, wow, he hadn’t known that Chanyeol was apparently filthy rich. Maybe he’ll even get a sugar daddy out of this whole experience. What a day.

He packed up the costume in a paper bag while Chanyeol was paying and set it on the counter. He then quickly looked for Joy, who was near the front of the store and definitely trying to look like she wasn’t eavesdropping, even though she definitely was. Sehun caught her eye and rolled his. She at least had the decency to look just a little bit embarrassed at being caught.

He waited for Chanyeol to pack away his wallet again, and then made his way to the entrance with him.

“Hey Joy, I’m gonna go take my break I’ll be back…at some point”, he yelled in her direction while trying to get past her as quick as possible, fearing she would say something embarrassing.

He really hoped that Chanyeol didn’t hear her “Yeah, my man! Go get some!!” as they were leaving the store. He threw up a middle finger over his shoulder for good measure.

As soon as they stepped out of the store, he pulled Chanyeol into a small hallway away from the main store pathway. He rummaged around the back of his shirt until he found the mic pack and switched it off.

He looked up to see a slightly bewildered look on Chanyeol’s face.

“Wait, why the fuck are you mic-ed? Oh my God, is this an undercover mission? Are you working with the police? Wait, what did I do? I’m not a criminal!”

Sehun was silent for a second, before he burst out laughing as Chanyeol became more and more panicked. He couldn’t stop and every time he looked at Chanyeol’s confused face he had to laugh more. Eventually, after about 5 minutes he managed to catch himself.

“No, dummy, I’m on a TV show! Oh my God, you really thought I was an undercover cop? This is gold,” Sehun explained through his laughs and while whipping his tears away. “it’s an undercover kind of TV show, that’s why the mic was hidden.”

“Well excuse me for assuming, what else was I supposed to think?”

“Are you a criminal?”

“No, of course not, what the fuck Sehun?”

“Well then why on earth would you assume that I was a cop??”

“What the hell was I supposed to think? You tell me to act like you don’t know me and then you pull me into some sketchy hallway and then you pull out a fucking secret wire? Like literally what other conclusion was I supposed to arrive at??? What TV show is this for anyways?”

Now it was Sehun’s turn to look embarrassed, “It doesn’t really matter.”

Chanyeol immediately had an evil grin on his face. “Well now I definitely want to know”

“It’s really not that important lets just g-“

“I’m not going anywhere until you tell me”

Sehun looked to see if he could get away, but apparently Chanyeol had foreseen what he was trying to do and stood between Sehun and the way back to the main part of the shopping centre. There was no way Sehun would be able to get passed Chanyeol, considering he was taller and definitely stronger than him.

Sehun slumped his shoulders and looked the floor.

“Fine,” he mumbled. “It’s called ‘The Gay Agenda’.”

“The what?”

“The Gay Agenda,” Sehun repeated, possibly even quieter than before.

“I really need you to speak up.”

Sehun finally accepted his fate.

“Fine, ok? Its called ‘The Gay Agenda’ and I was supposed to find some guy and seduce him, but then you walked in and I get if you’re not into it and I’m sorry and if you never want to talk to me again I totally unders-“

His heated rant was suddenly cut off by him being pushed against the wall and warm lips being pressed to his own.

His eyes went wide, and he was frozen in shock for a second before he realized holy shit, Chanyeol was kissing him. This was actually happening. He quickly relaxed into the kiss, closed his eyes and reciprocated.

He didn’t know for how long they ended up kissing. At some point his arms snaked around Chanyeol’s neck as Chanyeol pulled him closer by his waist. He licked across Chanyeol’s bottom lip, asking for entry and when their tongues met, it was like he was dunked into a hot tub. His entire body felt warm and like this was the best thing he had ever done in his entire life. He couldn’t help but moan into the kiss.

Chanyeol eventually pulled back and put his forehead against Sehun’s. They were both breathing hard, but neither let go.

“So, uh, I take it you didn’t mind?” Sehun asked awkwardly, breaking the silence.

Chanyeol let out a laugh, stroking his lower back, his arms still around Sehun’s middle.

“No, you idiot, I’ve liked you for like 3 years, this is like a dream come true for me.”

“3 years?” Sehun was shocked.

“Yeah, ever since I bumped into you at that fair. I’d always hoped that you would come up and talk to me when we saw each other on campus, because I sure as hell wasn’t going to do it. I’m so fucking awkward.”

“SERIOUSLY? I’d always hoped that you would come talk to me!! I never did because I thought you didn’t like me and were just too nice to not say hi when you saw me!”

Chanyeol chuckled, pecking Sehun on the lips again.

“We’re both idiots, I guess.”

Sehun couldn’t help but agree. He pulled Chanyeol into another kiss, still not believing that this was actually happening. He could do this forever.

“So, what about that drink you said you’d buy me?” Chanyeol eventually asked, when both their lips were swollen and red, and they couldn’t continue because they were getting dangerously close to “not public appropriate” territory.

Sehun was still kind of disoriented and out of breath. “What?”

“Well you said earlier that you would buy me a drink, so I want that drink now. I guess you could say that I’m thirsty.” Sehun smacked him in the chest lightly at the terrible pun and wink, but still slid his hand into Chanyeol’s and made his way back to the stores.

He couldn’t believe that he had started the day, determined to get over Chanyeol and ended up, hand in hand with him, after probably the best make-out session he had had in his entire life. He couldn’t believe his luck.

“You know, I really enjoyed it when you called me Sir earlier.” “Oh my God, we’re not even together yet and I’m breaking up with you.”

Pt. 2

[araliyaintheskywithdiamonds]

A Million Eyes You Are The Brightest Blue - A CrissColfer Fic

Loosely based on this prompt: “You broke into my apartment drunk thinking it was your friend’s house and I should call the cops but my cat kinda likes you so we’re good” AU

Bc I can’t seem to stop writing, and was suddenly inspired to write a NYE fic. 

Word Count: 2215 AO3

*Title from A Great Big World’s This Is The New Year 

This is the third New Year’s Eve Chris has spent alone. He’s actually gotten so used to it that he no longer feels that sorry for himself. Living in downtown LA should’ve meant that he’d have made at least some friends, but clearly that hasn’t happened yet. Maybe it’s the fact that he’s a struggling college student slash writer who holes himself up in his too-small apartment, and gets his groceries delivered to his doorstep.

Maybe. Probably.

Chris has already set himself up for the night- several cans of diet coke are set out on the coffee table, along with some boxes of Thai takeout and all three Lord of the Rings movies lined up on Netflix. He’s about to settle himself on the couch, from where he probably won’t move for at least four or five hours, when there is an almighty crash in the hallway.

Chris’ heart almost stops, and in a flash of panic, he grabs the television remote, wielding it like like a weapon. He sits as still as he can, keeping his ears out for any more noises. This is it. This is totally the night he dies. He can almost imagine the headlines- Innocent Man Brutally Murdered By Thugs On New Year’s Eve: A Tragic Ending To The Year-

An excited yelp and a hiccup startle Chris out of thoughts of his imminent obituary, and he frowns in disbelief when he hears someone cooing animatedly, as if to a baby.

“Oh my god, you’re adorable- Jules totally didn’t say she had a cat- who are you, my lovely-”

Whoever it is, sounds either raving mad or incredibly drunk, and seems to have found Brian. Oh god. Brian. Brian, who must now be in the hands of a cold-blooded killer. Brian, who could just as well be about to join Chris in his fast-approaching grave.

Scrambling to the kitchen, he fumbles for a knife from the drawer, and picks up his phone, fingers already on the number 9. Pointing the knife away from him, he tiptoes over to the opening to the hallway.

Heart thudding in his throat, breathing shallow and fast, Chris is totally prepared to use the knife against a ferocious attack, but what greets him is not a psychotic serial killer who gets distracted with house pets before a murder. Instead, it’s a completely harmless looking man, sitting cross-legged on the ground, with a purring Brian in his lap.

Chris drops the knife.

It makes a clattering noise against the wood, and the burglar slash murderer slash cat whisperer looks up at him. Chris is immediately greeted with a blindingly enthusiastic smile.

“Heyy, man! You a friend of Jules?” he slurs, Brian falling out of his lap with a disgruntled yelp when he makes a move to get up and greet Chris.

Chris immediately backs away, brandishing his phone as a warning. “I am going to call the cops right now, if you don’t get out of this apartment.”

The man’s face falls almost comically, and for some reason Chris feels bad. The guy looks genuinely heartbroken.

“Wait, why? I know Jules, she’s like one of my best friends!”

Chris would probably feel like he was talking to a toddler were this guy not clearly a grown man in at least his early 20s, and also a very hot grown man at that. Which is totally an inappropriate thought to think about a felon, since breaking and entering is a felony in California, but Chris really can’t help himself.

He shakes himself out of rather un-PG thoughts of those dark curls and stubble, and brings his mind back to what the guy just said. “Who is Jules? Why would you think Jules lives here?”

The man’s (weirdly shaped yet insanely attractive) eyebrows furrow in confusion. “This isn’t Jules’ house?”

Chris groans exasperatedly. “No, this isn’t Jules’ house. Clearly, in your inebriated state, you’ve come to the wrong apartment. Broken and entered, actually.”

The man leans heavily against the wall. “I didn’t break anything. The door was open.”

Oh. Shit. Chris must’ve left the door open when he got his food from the delivery boy. Maybe not a felon, then.

“I’m Darren.”

He’s introducing himself, why is he introducing himself? Chris just wants to get back to his warm blankets and thai food, not make friends with a drunk stranger, no matter how hot he is.

“You also need to leave.” Chris means it in a firm way, but it just ends up sounding mean. Darren pouts and Chris winces. He looks like a puppy left out in the rain.

“Why?” Darren whines, and then his eyes flicker with recognition. “Oooh- are you with someone? Am I interrupting something?”

Chris flushes. “No, I’m not with anyone right now-”

“Wait, you’re alone? On New Year’s Eve?”

Chris stomps towards Darren, ignoring the fact that he could very well be walking straight to his death (what if he was just a really good actor?), and holds the door open wide. “Yes, I’m alone. And that’s not actually a bad thing. Maybe I want to be alone!”

Chris tries to make it sound confident and assured, but it ends up sounding painfully defensive.

Darren pouts again, and Chris almost melts. “Don’t you want company? I could be your company!”

Chris raises his eyebrows. “Don’t you have somewhere to be? Jules or someone?”

Darren waves his hand airily, thereby removing his anchoring on the wall, leading him to stumble precariously. Chris grabs his waist on instinct, ignoring how well it fits under his arm.

“Nah, I won’t miss much. Everyone’ll be smashed anyway.”

“Like you are?”

“I could sober up!”

Darren sounds almost hopeful, and Chris wonders why on earth he would be. In his ninja turtles t-shirt and shapeless pajama bottoms, Chris doesn’t really look like the most interesting person on the planet.

“I should be calling the cops.”

Darren waggles his eyebrows. “But you haven’t, even when you could have.” His grin is like the cheshire cat’s.

Chris can already feel himself caving. “Won’t your friends miss you?”

“Nah, they saw me yesterday. They’ll live.”

“You’re still drunk. I don’t want to have to babysit you.”

“Then catch up. We’ll both be drunk, and then you won’t have to babysit anyone.”

Chris narrows his eyes and lets go of Darren’s waist, wincing when he falls against the wall with a thud. “Why are you doing this?”

Darren looks confused. “Why am I doing what?”

“Why are you offering to hang out with me when you don’t even know me?”

“That’s how you get to know people. By hanging out?” Darren says it like he’s telling Chris that water is wet.

“But why me?”

“Well, I feel like you’d be more interesting than my drunk friends that I see like, every day, and plus you’re like, beautiful- in a surreal, elfin way.”

He’s drunk, Chris tries to assure himself. He’s drunk and he probably didn’t mean that.

“How are you still able to use words like that?” he asks instead.  

Darren shrugs, and leans his arm against the door so that it falls shut with a soft click. “I’m not that drunk.” As soon as he says it, his arm gives way, and he’s falling to the floor in a heap.

Chris rolls his eyes. “Clearly, I’ve got a lot of catching up to do.”

He tries to ignore the swooping sensation in his stomach when Darren whoops with glee.

***

“That is a lie.”

Darren’s sprawled over his couch, legs tangled with Chris’, while Chris watches from the other end. It’s probably weird, because they’ve literally only just met, but Chris is ready to start doing weird things. He’s also partway drunk, so it helps.

“There is no way you haven’t ever had a boyfriend.”

Chris raises his eyebrow and downs the rest of his glass of rum and diet coke. “Not a lie. No one wants to date me, and even if they did, I wouldn’t know. I barely ever go out.”

“But you’re like-” Darren gestures wildly. “Gorgeous.”

A pink blush joins the alcohol-induced redness on Chris’ face. There cannot be any way he looks gorgeous right now.

Darren however, is on a roll. “You’re also super fucking smart- you write for fuck’s sake, and you’re funny, and kind, and you let me into your house without even knowing who I was.”

“I’m also stupid, then.”

Darren’s gasps indignantly. “That was like the best decision ever! I am so glad you actually let me stay! I’ve never spent a New Year’s with someone like you.”

Chris suddenly feels sick. He sets down his empty glass, and curls up under the blankets. “I think I’ve drunk enough for one night.”

Darren seems to notice the change in the atmosphere. “Okay, then. I think you’re sufficiently caught up anyway.”

Chris suddenly feels bad, and decides to ask about Darren’s family. Darren’s eyes light up and it’s enough to ward away images of Darren with other people on New Year’s Eves, doing things that make Chris heart ache to think of.

***

“Do you have sparklers?”

Darren’s looking through Chris’ cupboards, and Chris is hoping that there’s a sufficient amount of healthy food in there so that he won’t be judged.

“Why do you want sparklers?”

“It’s New Year’s!”

“And?”

Darren stares at Chris like he’s sprouted two heads. “You light sparklers during New Years.”

“I know that, Darren.”

“Don’t you want to?”

Oh, and it’s back. The lost puppy face.

“Is it safe to light them inside?”

“We’ll go out on the balcony! Please?” Darren looks so excited that Chris finds himself caving, once again.

“I might have some left over from Hannah’s birthday party.”

Darren squeals like a little girl, and Chris tries not to think about how he’s already told him all about Hannah, and their relationship. He also tries to ignore the fact that no one he knows in LA has ever been close enough to him for him to even mention his sister.

Chris retrieves the sparklers, and suddenly Darren’s grabbing his hand, leading him out to the open balcony. The air is cooler that he expects, and sends a pleasant shiver up his spine.

“Seven minutes to midnight,” Darren whispers, and Chris startles.

Oh yeah. This is happening. He’s on a balcony with a gorgeous stranger (not a stranger anymore, Chris reminds himself), and they’re about to count down to the New Year. Said stranger also swings both ways, a useful tidbit of information Chris garnered when he told Darren he was gay, fully ready to kick him out if he even got the slightest whiff of homophobia.

They’ve got the sparklers and matches at the ready.

The mood is suddenly serious, standing out here in the open, wind whistling in their ears. There’s a distant pulse of music from one of the other apartments.

“Are you wishing for anything?” Chris asks quietly.

“Yeah.”

“Don’t tell me, or it won’t come true.”

Darren’s eyes glow amber in the moonlight. “Can I tell you if it does come true?”

“Are you that confident?”

Darren holds his gaze, lifting up Chris’ unlit sparkler to light it with a match. It fizzles to life immediately, bright and brilliant between them.

“More like hopeful,” he replies, using Chris’ sparkler to light his own. They’re one of the long ones that go on for several minutes instead of several seconds. They take turns drawing patterns in the sky, until Darren’s phone pings to let them know it’s almost midnight.

“I’ve never had a New Year’s kiss,” Chris whispers into the darkness. He doesn’t know why he says it.

“Neither have I.”

Chris turns to look at Darren in surprise. “That’s impossible.”

“Really. I always clear out as soon as they start the countdown.”

“Why?”

Their sparklers glitter closer to the ends of the sticks, and Darren gently takes Chris’ hand in his own to hold them away from their bodies.

“I guess I’ve never really wanted to have a New Year’s kiss that’s meaningless. They say the person who you kiss at New Years is the person you’ll spend the rest of the year with.”

“And you’ve never met someone you’d want to stay a year with?”

“I have.”

“And?”

They’ve somehow moved closer together, so that they’re sparklers are touching and there’s barely a hair’s breadth between their bodies.

“And I really don’t think a year’s enough.”

Fireworks explode out from behind them. Chris recognises them as the ones that are lit at Grand Park, in downtown LA.

“We missed the countdown-” Chris starts, and suddenly Darren’s kissing him, one hand cupping his jaw, and the other twined with Chris’ where their sparklers share a flame.

Darren’s kissing him, and it feels like the world just stopped turning.

Darren’s kissing him and all he knows is how soft his lips are and the feel of his hair under his fingers and the smell of sparkler smoke.

Darren’s kissing him, and Chris really just needs to know. He pulls away to rest his forehead on Darren’s, gasping slightly. His lips still tingle from the memory of Darren’s touch.

“Who was that someone you said that a year wouldn’t be enough with?”

Darren’s lashes brush Chris’ cheeks as he steals another kiss.

“You.”

[romericasecretsanta]

good times, riches, sonuvabitches

So many things have happened to make this belated Secret Santa gift...so happy day after Christmas to conflicted-in-wonderland, and this is a submission so I have no idea how to @ or tag this. BUT this can also be read over at ffnet, just in case the format turns out wonky. 

This started out for the prompt of a Prince and the Pauper AU, but I tried putting a twist on it and then it got out of hand. THANK YOU for your continued beautiful contributions to this lovely rarepair, and hope your holiday season is going well!!

good times, riches, sonuvabitches

Lovino knew that shit was about to go down when he came in to work (at precisely 7:30, which was a godawful time to even be thinking about being awake, much less at work) and his phone was already ringing. His phone ringing was never good. On the plus side, his boss — Utley —wasn’t in yet, so it was unlikely it was him on the other end with yet another unreasonable and smarmy request. So he sighed, put down his coffee, and answered the phone.

“Yes, Vargas speaking.”

“Oh shit, someone actually answered!” came an all-too-chipper voice through the headset. Lovino briefly pulled the phone away from his face and closed his eyes, already able to tell this was a capital M capital P Morning Person. Ughhh.

“Yes, I answered my phone, because it was ringing,” he said pointedly once he’d collected himself.

“Oh yeah I tried a bunch of random phone numbers already but you’re the first to pick up. I guess not a lot of people are in at this time?”

There was literally no one else on Lovino’s floor.

“Is this a prank call?” he asked, much more politely than he was thinking in his head.

“Whoops, no, it’s not! I need someone to help me out with something, and it’s kind of important? I figured anyone who was willing to here this early would be exactly the kind of person for the job, but I guess there’s not a lot…”

Lovino held back a groan. Great. He’d been here for less than five minutes and already someone had a task for him. “I’d love to help,” he said, maybe a bit too dryly because the person on the other end picked up on it.

“You sure, dude? You don’t have to.”

He stopped, took a breath, and tried to think about what his brother had told him about self-sabotaging. “No, I can do it,” he finally said. “Just...haven’t gotten through my coffee yet.”

“Yeah, I get that!” was the reply, sounding like a person who’d never needed caffeine in their life. “Well come on up to the top floor, I’ll meet you up here!” And then they hung up.

Lovino put the phone down, mind suddenly racing. The top floor? As in the floor where all bigwigs hung out? Who the hell would be calling down here from all the way up there?

Only one way to find out, he decided, and downed his coffee.

He headed for the elevator.

  The person who had called, it turned out, was named Alfred — a fact that Lovino learned as soon as he exited the elevator from a very loud and very enthusiastic voice. He was so taken aback that it actually took him a moment to visually process the person standing in front of him. The guy was blonde, wearing glasses, and seemed to be fairly well-built under the ridiculous T-shirt he was wearing, featuring a screen-printed Errol Flynn with his stupid distinctive mustache.

Seriously, did they just let the people on the top floor dress however the hell they wanted?

Aside from the terrible fashion sense, he was actually pretty good looking. Not that it mattered to Lovino, who just wanted to know what awful task he was being setting up for now.

“Did you get your coffee? I got some more if you want.”

Lovino considered it. Top floor coffee was tempting, but really he just wanted to know what he’d been called up for. So: “No, not at the moment. Thank you, though. What was it you needed help with?”

Alfred looked almost disappointed, but soon enough he was smiling again, although a bit sheepishly. “Right, that. It’s gonna sound like a really weird request.”

“Okaaaay,” he said warily.

“You know that big meeting happening down in Florida the day after tomorrow?”

He sure did. Everyone who was anyone was going — so basically, all of higher management was having a “conference” down in the Florida keys while some important CEO meeting happened between seven of the top-ranking companies on the East coast. Utley had been rubbing it in everyone’s faces for weeks that he was going.

“Well, it’s about the actual meeting, between the big seven. I need someone to present some information at that meeting, someone reliable and who’d be able to answer questions about the information, so like, someone who knows a lot about what we do and has a good head on their shoulders, and I know it’s usually the ground-level guys who can answer the questions like logistics, what actually needs to get done…”

True, and gratifying to hear acknowledged, but. “Isn’t that meeting between the CEOs of these companies, though? Do you mean you need someone to give this information to Mr. Jones before the meeting?” He glanced at the double doors at the end of the hall, which had a plaque reading Jones, A. F. The mysterious CEO of their company — no one seemed to actually know what he looked like, just that he had a head for business and finances. When he looked back, Alfred was giving him a funny look.

“Right...um, well. This would actually be a job that involved. Um.” He looked at the ceiling and rolled his head back and forth nervously, like he was trying to crack his neck.

Lovino took pity on him. “I’ve been asked to do all kinds of off-the-wall things,” he told him. “Just tell me.”

“Okay, well, it would involve...pretending to be the CEO at the meeting and presenting all the information yourself,” he said quickly.

“What.”

Alfred chuckled weakly. “Uh, yeah. Y’know, the dude’s just been an isolationist so long, right? And he’s super nervous about this, and it’s not like any of these guys knows what he looks like, so why not get someone else to do that part?” He phrased it like he was actually asking, so Lovino gave him an incredulous look.

Alfred hurried to continue. “And obviously you’d be paid for the trouble, and you’d be doing him a huge favor, so....” He trailed off and looked at Lovino expectantly.

“Where’d you say that coffee was?” he asked in lieu of an answer.

“Oh! Right over here.” Alfred motioned to an open doorway. Lovino walked through in a daze and briefly noted that what appeared to be a break room wasn’t that much bigger than the one on his own floor, except fewer people used this one. And it had a really super nice Keurig. “Is it okay if I use this?” he murmured, pointing at the bag of coffee grounds and the resuable K-cups beside the machine.

“Yeah, go for it!”

While he waited for the coffee maker to warm up and brew his coffee, Lovino turned and leaned back against the counter, crossing his arms as he thought. Alfred imitated his position, crossing his arms and tilting his head as he looked at Lovino consideringly, and also, thankfully, not saying anything.

“I guess none of these big seven guys know what Mr. Jones looks like either,” he mused.

Alfred shook his head, smiling vaguely.

“How long is this meeting supposed to be? Not that I’ve decided I’m doing it yet or anything.”

“In theory about an hour, it really is just a show-and-tell kind of thing to compare notes on trends and stuff. These are all guys we’ve been friendly with in the past but we’re trying to strengthen relationships, y’know? And like, I’m really not trying to pressure you here, if you don’t wanna do it I’m sure that uh, Mr. Jones can suck it up but he really really doesn’t want to.”

Lovino raised an eyebrow.

“Why not?”

This seemed to stop him short.

“Personal reasons?” he tried, weakly.

Lovino bristled. “‘Personal reasons’ better not mean ‘I think I can foist all my work off on my poor underpaid and overworked minions because I wanna vacation in the Florida keys —”

“No!” Alfred interjected. “Really, it’s not that. Um. Anxiety kinda runs in the family? And I, uh, well I heard his brother has it even worse even though it would be super convenient if he could do it because they’re twins, actually, and it’s dumb because Jones is a cheerful enough dude, I feel like he does well enough interacting with people but for some reason it’s just the idea of going to this meeting —”

This time Lovino was the one who interrupted. “Well, anxiety doesn’t always work out in a way that’s convenient! You should know better, honestly, who talks about their boss like that?” This was conveniently ignoring the shit he’d said about his boss, but Utley didn’t have anxiety, he was just an asshole.

Alfred blinked. “Right. Sorry.” He seemed genuinely sheepish, so Lovino let it go. For now.

“How extensive do you think the Q&A session would be?” he asked.

“With seven people there all trying to talk about their own accomplishments, shouldn’t be too long.”

“Yeah, except we want to impress everyone not just sit there in silence.”

“Haha, yeah, ideally. But we could have a plan to like, extract you if you needed an out.” He perked up. “Oh man, ‘extraction,’ makes it sound like a secret mission, right?”

Lovino rolled his eyes and picked up his coffee, taking a sip.

Fuck it was good.

“Okay, I made up my mind. I’ll do it if you put one of these coffeemakers in the lounge on my floor. Lord knows we need one down there”

“Done!” Alfred said immediately, like he was afraid Lovino would take it back.

“Done,” he repeated. And stared at Alfred for a second. “So, do you have the information for me to look over or…?”

“Oh, yeah, I pulled some stuff together for you to look at, you can tell me what else you think you’ll need.”

Well at least he wouldn’t have to do that himself. This was probably the weirdest thing he’d ever done, but already it beat the hell out of the work he usually did.

The next day, he was on a plane to Florida.

  Lovino ended up being chauffeured — chauffeured, damn he could get used to this — to a restaurant on Key West, where the meeting was being held in a private room above the bar. Alfred was texting him nonstop the entire ride, which usually would have been annoying but the man was so earnest and nice that Lovino couldn’t really bring himself to be annoyed. Even if the guy did use an unnatural amount of emojis.

He was the first one there, and the staff had already put a bunch of food on the side table, so he took some pictures of some truly beautiful sliders that he sent fo Alfred before he put his phone away, munching on a caprese skewer as he looked over some of his last minute notes.

He’d spent the entirety of yesterday with Alfred, going over graphs and charts and all kinds of information collected into easy-to-digest yet impressive tidbits for the other CEOs. Some of the information had been outdated, from what Lovino had seen on the floor, and he’d made Alfred update it accordingly. Also some of the graphs were just confusing, so he’d edited those, as well. But all in all, the info provided had been excellently organized; “of course,” Alfred had said, “I wasn’t going to ask you to do all that after asking a huge favor like two days beforehand!” Which was more consideration than he got from his own boss, so that was nice.

He was feeling pretty confident, until the door opened and his brother walked in.

“Porca vacca.”

“Lovi?!”

And then Beilschmidt walked in behind him, and everything got even worse.

“Feliciano, why is your brother here?”

Lovino groaned, pulled out his phone, and opened his conversation with Alfred.

Hey about that thing you said about underpaid and overworked minions, Alfred’s last text read. He ignored that in favor of sending, Well this is a fucking mess

He immediately got a reply: oh god do you need an extraction???

No, just going to have to talk to you afterwards

That sounds super ominous :((((

Feliciano had started making confused noises so he put his phone away without answering and started on damage control.

Because of course. He’d been so focused on the information he was presenting, he’d forgotten that his fucking twin was the assistant to one of the CEOs attending the goddamn meeting. God he was an idiot.

But he plastered on a fake smile — which was enough to make Feliciano recoil warily, but Beilschmidt didn’t know any better — and started bullshitting.

“I’m Mr. Jones’s assistant,” he told them. “He got food poisoning so I’m here in his place.”

“You’re going to be giving his presentation, then?” another voice came from the doorway. Kirkland, if Lovino remembered correctly from his prep. “Bit rude to send an assistant to a meeting like this.”

Lovino grit his teeth and kept smiling. “Beilschmidt brought his.” And he just happened to be his brother. Dammit.

“Yes, well, he’s not the one giving the presentation, ‘izzee?”

“Well, food poisoning, it can’t be helped, non?” Bonnefoy had arrived, and was examining the food suspiciously.

Kirkland opened his mouth, no doubt to complain some more, but Lovino beat him to it. “I assure you I’m well-prepared to present this information.”

There was some minor grumbling, but no one else objected. The last of the bigshots filed into the room. Braginsky actually started eating the food, despite Bonnefoy’s protests, while Wang and Honda looked on in what looked like either mild disgust or vague amazement.

His brother kept trying to get his attention, tugging on his sleeve and whispering, “When did you get promoted? Why didn’t you tell me, fratello?”

“Not now,” he hissed back. Then he addressed the room. “Let’s get started, shall we?”

  Afterwards, he met Alfred at Ernest Hemingway’s house. The man was crouched next to a bush in the backyard, petting a six-toed cat. His other hand was clenched on the bottom of his T-shirt, loosening and tightening reflexively.

“Hey, quit that,” Lovino told him as he approached. “You’ll wrinkle your..” he looked closer, “Star Trek shirt?”

It said, in large letters and no accompanying picture: BEAM ME SOMEWHERE MR. SCOTT. What a weirdo.

Alfred startled and made to get up, but Lovino beat him to the punch and sat down instead, reaching out to pet the cat, who seemed thrilled to have two people’s attention on her.

“How’d it go?” Alfred asked, seeming scared of the answer.

“Well. They didn’t think I was Jones, because it turns out that my brother was there as Beilschmidt’s assistant. And we’re twins, so that one wasn’t getting explained away. So I told them he was sick and gave his presentation anyway.”

Alfred sighed. “I guess it’s for the best? I was thinking about it and I’d have to send you in his place every time we met with these guys in order to keep up the lie. Not really my best plan.”

Lovino nodded. “Shame, though,” he said with a barely contained smile. “Because I was really good.”

Alfred looked up at him and grinned. “Yeah?”

And he sounded genuinely excited about it, which made Lovino’s grin come out full-force. “Yeah, I fucking aced it.”

“Nice!” Alfred exclaimed, and offered his palm for a high five. Lovino indulged him.

They smiled at each other for a few moments, but were interrupted by the last voice Lovino wanted to hear right now.

“Why the hell are you down here?” Utley demanded, strolling up with a posse of his insufferable friends (who were also higher management demons). “I know you weren’t invited to the conference, I would have seen you at the orientation this morning. And you definitely don’t have the vacation time to have taken a trip just to follow your betters here.”

“Who,” Alfred cut in, “are you?”

“Who are you? With Vargas, are you?”

“Alfred,” he introduced himself mildly. “I’m with the Jones company.”

“Mike Utley, junior second-level assistant manager.” He paused to preen. “I haven’t seen you around before, but if you’re associating with Vargas you must be another one of the peons. Honestly, the shitty quality of the people we hire never ceases to amaze.”

“All the work I’ve seen so far from Lovino has been excellent,” Alfred said, and although he was still speaking calmly and politely, Lovino got the strong sense the guy was pissed. Actually it was kind of hot.

Utley sniffed dismissively. “I’m sure you think so, but as his supervisor I can tell you his work really is abysmal. I’d find a better role model if I were you.” He turned and walked off without another word.

Alfred stared after him. “What an asshole!” he exclaimed after a minute of silence.

“You’re telling me.”

“That guy is your boss?” he asked incredulously.

“Yeah. He’s pretty typical for that management level, unfortunately.”

Alfred huffed and resumed petting the cat, who had been plaintively nudging at his stationary hand.

“We’ll see about that,” he muttered. “Hey, how would you feel about a promotion?”

Lovino laughed, not sure if he was being serious. “Gonna put in a good word for me with Jones?”

Alfred looked at him blankly, so Lovino prompted, “Your boss? The CEO?”

“Oh, right. Seriously, though, would you want to be in a higher position? Like, managerial?”

Jesus, he wasn’t joking. “You’re not joking, are you?”

“Nah, I figure that meeting counts as a trial-by-fire interview, right? You’ve definitely proved you’re more than competent. And you’ve basically dressed for an interview, too, right?”

“I’ve what now?”

He had dressed nicely, like how he thought a CEO would.

“I just, I mean, you look real good?” Alfred offered, crooking a half-grin at him.

And, oh. That was an awfully sweet smile.

“This coming from a guy who seems to always wear shitty T-shirts,” he grumbled.

But he smiled back.

The next week, he was back on his own floor. He and his coworkers were all at their desks, sharing looks and grimaces as Utley’s voice drifted through the door to his office, complaining as usual.

The elevator opened, and Alfred stepped out. His T-shirt read, HAS ANYONE SEEN MY SALT SHAKER? Lovino had just enough time to roll his eyes before Alfred hopped up on a desk and cleared his throat.

“I have an announcement!” he announced, very loudly. He waited a few seconds for Utley to emerge, giving him a pointed look but continuing before the man could launch into a tirade.

“My name,” he said, “is Alfred F. Jones. You all work for me, and can I just say, I really appreciate it, because everything I’ve seen coming out of this department has been excellent.”

Lovino’s jaw actually dropped, because wait, what?

And more importantly— he stole a glance at Utley, who’d gone ashen. Oh my god.

“And while you’ve all been doing awesome, it’s come to my attention that there have been some managerial issues, so I just wanted to let you guys know that I’m going to be doing a review of some of the positions on this floor and the others.” The beautiful bastard actually turned and smiled at Utley while he said it. Lovino’s coworkers started whispering frantically amongst themselves, but he was too caught up in watching Alfred’s performance to join them.

“Helping me do that,” the CEO continued, “will be my new COO, and my brother, that’s President Williams if you don’t know, tells me that stands for chief operating officer, which is very exciting, I’ve never had one before.” He beamed down at the crowd, who were all staring at him in disbelief.

“Oh yeah, and the COO is gonna be Lovino Vargas.”

Everyone went nuts.

Alfred jumped off the desk and made his way to Lovino, who was standing stock-still in shock. He gently guided him towards the elevator with a warm hand on his shoulder — past Utley, who had sat down with his head in his hands, and past all of his coworkers, who congratulated him and cheered as they went by.

Once they were safe in the elevator, Alfred gave him a shy smile. “Was that too dramatic? Mattie said I should just ask you normally but I thought it would super cool that way.”

“When you asked if I wanted a promotion I figured you meant something like an assistant, not…” He trailed off but collected himself. “Mattie is your brother? You mentioned a twin?”

“Yep, that’s him! And, uh, I’m sorry about the whole thing where I didn’t tell you who I was, I just, I got nervous, and uh.” He stopped and shrugged. “It was nice just being Alfred for a while.”

“What does the F stand for?” Lovino asked suddenly.

“Hm? Oh, uh, nothing, actually. My middle name actually starts with a D, but I wanted to put Jones AF on my business cards, so…”

Lovino laughed, which made Alfred visibly relax.

“I think we’ll make great partners,” Lovino told him.

And standing there with Alfred smiling at him, hopeful about his future for the first time in a long while, he thought he might mean that in more ways than one.

[geek-gem]

Infinite And Lord Dominator

This is something just I’ve been wanting to make ever since I made the post, “Infinite’s An Asshole”. Including waited a bit for my mom’s sister to not be by even said to her I was chilling when I was first about to go, looked at the Sonic Heroes cover a bit, wiped it as good as I feel it needs to be, went number 1 in the bathroom, and went to see my cousin’s T’s girlfriends mom is here changing her daughter’s well baby daughter. So it wasn’t a Desinty shirt some American Vapor thing. The logo sorry yet sorry about that.

So Lord Dominator from the show Wander Over Yonder. A show I really like and ever since her appearance and as she went on in the 2nd season. Some things were revealed and she’s kind of become a popular icon on the internet or well mainly for cartoons. I’m just saying ever since that fucking song aired and was on YouTube shit okay not insane.

Also I felt it would be appropriate to put lord in the title. Yet despite that…..my whole mindset of Infinite from Sonic Forces being a major asshole and douchebag. It seems very out of character yet we hardly know much of him mostly from his appearance in the E3 trailer, his own trailer, and his theme song which amazing and tells a story within it possibly talking about what happened to him. Kind of meaningful and makes the song a lot more beautiful.

So just like the, “Infinite’s An Asshole” one honestly these are all taking place within the same thing. The characters will make 4th wall mentions because they don’t give a shit if they are fictional. Including this will be…quite harsh. Along with…..a bit of my own thoughts. Seriously I’m as sad as everyone else who misses Wander Over Yonder and it being cancelled very early at only two seasons which sucks said it in my head stop.

But at times just…I forgot I think we passed the day when the final episode aired on tv. Which sucks as theirs no more Wander Over Yonder reruns on tv.

So please beware. Because I’ve been thinking I feel I don’t wanna hold back but I’m kind of scared of what I’m gonna put for this gas or some shit meh.

Infinite: So your the one and only Lord Dominator. I’ve heard a lot about you. Kind of interesting to meet you now. I’m surprised you’ve still made an impact on some stuff.

Lord Dominator: Pfft yeah I did. I’ve heard and seen of you too *puts her left hand on her hip and points with her right finger* your mister edgy with his all so edgy song HA!

*Infinite then remembers the Stupid Infinite Head Canon post that he hates the word edgy*

Lord Dominator: EDGY EDGELORD EDGY EDGELORD EDGY EDGELORD EDGY EDGELORD EDGY EDGELORD! *she flayed around her arms and laughing just to piss him off*

Infinite: How does it feel to be cancelled and left for dead whore.

Lord Dominator:…..exuse me *she looked furious as her face was filled with rage and was gonna attack with a right lava arm, and left ice arm*

*Then two huge cubes enclosed on both her arms basically stop but keep her arms motionless*

Lord Dominator: What!

*She struggles and grunts as Infinite is ready to speak again*

Infinite: Again how does it feel to be cancelled and left for dead whore.

*Dominator was enraged hearing mainly that final word he said of what word he decided to describe her*

Infinite: Here’s the thing. What I find funny about her of how your the worst. How and your stupid song makes you seem like the worse being ever to exist. For what now…never to be seen again. Including never to be heard from again.

Lord Dominator: Umm *She decided to listen a bit more this time*

Infinite: What I mean is how your existence means nothing now. Including how fucking stupid you seem to be. Such as wanting to kill everything just for fun, and just learn everyone’s weakness, and use them against them destroy them even more. The fun part I’m a bit bothered by. Including how fucking pathetic you are when theirs other God’s out there more terrible beings showcasing to be more worse then you. Along with how your a absolute fucking child, you get beaten, and act like a fucking fool.

*Dominator’s face actually went to become less filled with rage, with a bit more confusing with sadness slowly rising*

Infinite: Or what about the fuck your possibly all alone, no friends, I’m surprised you spoilers let a fucking hippie of a space alien and a actual fucking dumbass of a villain beat you but that’s not the thing. Also you denied the hippies welcome of being a friend. The fact you became weak and decided to turn your back on anyone. I wonder now and I find it funny. We’re your parents not nice to you. Did some people pick on you.

Lord Dominator: Stop.

Infinite: Oh no what about the fact compared to me a God who can simply kill you right now yet I rather destroy your fucking spirit. Because your weak, helpless, and you act all high and mighty. Where the fuck did you have your beginning. With my song which is so much better then your own terrible song. Have you been through I felt. Seriously have to Lord Dominator ever felt pain, and see the world as it really is a fucking lie. A world where heroes think they are right but are terrible people who will never save you. Who inspire hope but what I got from it their is no such thing as hope. It’s all a lie all a fucking lie. Which now leaves to my mindset that everyone you and anyone good or evil no matter who or what they are must die.

Lord Dominator: Stop please!

Infinite: My face, my scars are proof I’ve seen some shit I’ve been through shit. Your just a fucking child you actually says this business is fun. I’m the God damn fucking devil compared to you, the world, the universe, every dimension doesn’t deserve a chance. Because I never got that chance. This mask here is the true face of evil compared to you. Including the other real deal you will never come back!

Lord Dominator: STOP PLEASE!

Infinite: Your show was cancelled and it doesn’t matter how much SaveWoy their is, at this point it might never come back. They cancelled you because you were a fucking failure. Your song is fucking horrible, you never made it beyond season 2, it doesn’t matter how much your loved, you might as well be fucking forgotten. I at times may enjoy being the devil but you never gonna go anywhere in life again because they denied your chance, Disney didn’t give you a chance, your fucking gone and that’s final. Unlike you I’ve seen shit and I will even this day show who’s better your whore!

*As Infinite stops talking, Lord Dominator just looks to the ground. Then slowly begins to cry as you hear the sounds of her beginning to sob. Then both cubes disappear as she manages to keep her arms to the ground first so she doesn’t fall on her face. Including as she’s trying to not let her face be shown to Infinite to show even more embarrassment of herself. As she slowly sobs and tries to not be loud*

Infinite: Much better.

On a funny note all the characters from the, “Infinite’s An Asshole” post simply have their mouths jaw dropped.

To be perfectly honest I was hoping for something like the last post where Infinite insulted characters. Yet I didn’t think this through a bit. It mainly led to something very personal and just…down right harsh.

Oh head but… Jesus it now makes me want to see what Infinite is really like. While this is mainly a parody of how I see Infinite’s personality. Jesus I mean…I’m scared to tag Wander Over Yonder related stuff…

Along with my cousin T came in here hugged me, and washed my hands and got back to the part where I mentioned the ice arm…..

Jesus I thought in my head I feel like I don’t want Infinite to be this harsh almost left hard. From what I know the game is it E10 already just I know it’s not gonna be like this and we don’t know much of Infinite’s personality. Yet Jesus just…I went dark for this one a bit more then the Cream one which was my last text post about Infinite.

What turned and thought Infinite being an asshole dancing and just being an asshole to everyone to…..God damn I thought of putting could put but no Eggman saying damn and I thought I was a terrible person or bad person shit.

Got tags down and…took out sonic forces infinite and put it back in…I almost left the word out but I put the WOY related tags they have Lord Dominator again….

Sorry just wow sorry mainly this is supposed to be a parody and I like the character of Lord Dominator despite some problems.

Forgot what else to say…for the last this and the last two Infinite related posts. Listened to Infinite’s theme the Natewantstobattle cover with Arin Hanson which is still amazing to just inspire me to make these…just stalling now

Edit so up out of chair almost put shit. Yeah that's silly I've been thinking even before I ever made these of mentioning or whatever mainly the Amy Rose one with Infinite that I feel it's best to read some other versions of how people wrote Infinite and listen to the Natewantstobattle cover of the theme which is amazing...but also read fan fiction stories damn audio thing now done I mean gone just how people already write Infinite. Said please don't suck in my head yet it might not random shit ticks.

[tellerford13]

MO ASTOR- CHAPTER 29

We don’t own the bikes, brothers, or any “related” Sons of Anarchy, trust us, if we did we wouldn’t have the time to write. No money is being made from our stories. So, please don’t sue. It’d be a fruitless endeavor indeed. That being said, Harley, Journee, and any other newbies are ours, and we don’t share. :Whispers in creepy voice: “My precious.” The universe This reality is a mix of cannon, and our own ideas. We strive to keep the boys cannon, but since we will be shifting around some of the events, that will reflect in our writing and their personalities as well. It’s our goal to provide you with quality fiction, and solid, fleshed out OFC. We appreciate constructive criticism and love LOVE reviews, they are a writers life blood and definitely help encourage us and inspire us. We will be posting on our Tumblr where we’ll have fun pictures from time to time as well. http://tellerford13.tumblr.com We’ll also be taking requests for one shots, preferences or imagines for all things Sons at our other Tumblr, so check it out and send your thoughts!http://tellerford13oneshots.tumblr.com/ And just for fun, we’ve decided to start a Pinterest for the story! So if you want a glimpse at our girls and see into our world, check it out! https://www.pinterest.com/tellerford/

                                                 A/N : Thank you so much for waiting for us guys. I’m sorry it took so long to get out. You know how life can be.  I hope this was worth the wait. More is coming soon.

                                      Mo Astor Chapter 29

Lee

“You receive any strange emails lately?” Journee asks as she peers at me over her burger.

I roll my eyes. “No.”

She narrows her gaze and studies me. I can lie with the best of them, but not to Journee.

“Good.”

“Whatever Juicy did shut him down. I’m guessing he got tired of thinking up new ways to dick with me. Punk ass kids.”

Journee snorts. “Too much time and technology on the hands of the youth these days.”

“Pretty sure your son would know all about that, Ma.”

She sticks her tongue out at me, and I giggle.

“Keep it up, and I’ll find a better use for it.”

We’re posted at the picnic benches outside the clubhouse. Some days we meet up outside of work for lunch, but today we were both feeling lazy, and this way she gets to see her hubby, so she picked up food on her way in.

“He’s a good boy, leave him alone.”

“Spoken like a true little Gemma.”

“You wench.” She tosses a fry at me, and I move dodging it.

“Just calling it like I see it. Don’t worry Ma would be proud.”

“Please, she’s preening over you and Jax finally climbing out of the river of De-nile.”

“We weren’t.” I protest.

“Uh huh. A lie to yourself is still a lie.”

“You’re one to talk,” I mumble.

“Exactly, takes one to know one,” She flashes me a wide grin that gets her out of most things.

“How’s the blowback from Psycho?”

“I don’t know. I’m assuming good because Jax hasn’t said anything. He goes over once a week to check in. They’re civil at least because he doesn’t come home agitated, or worried about the baby. I know her morning sickness has gotten bad. Having a prospect over until she got back on her feet was a wise decision. I’m guessing she liked the company too. In a way, we did take away everything. It’s got to be shitty for her to come around the clubhouse now.”

“Hmmpph. She’d best get used to it.  ‘Cause no way in hell she’s pulling a Mary and keeping that baby away from Jax and its proper family.”

I nod my head in agreement. We both know the importance of family.  “I’ll never let that happen.”

“Wendy would go missing first,” Journee agrees.

“So bloodthirsty.”

She grins. “Nah. Just putting it on the table. So, did he move in yet?”

I pop a fry in my mouth and shake my head. “Not yet.”

“You want me to kick his ass?”

“It’s not him. It’s me. I’m just. This is all moving so fast. I’m not ready to give up that last piece of my independence.”

“Lord,” Journee huffs. “Please tell me you did not turn him down.”

“No. Nothing like that, he hasn’t asked yet. I think he’s waiting because he knows I’m not ready yet.”

“Of course he does. I don’t think you give him enough credit when it comes to you, Lee. You’ve always been different from anyone else. He gets you, and believe me when I say he catalogs your every move and stores it away in that big ass brain of his. This is him earning the right to have you. I’m all for that. He played the field and lived a self-revolving life for a long ass time. But don’t let it go too far. It’ll build a wedge. He needs to know you’re just as invested and ready to make concessions to make this work. Jaxy has never been the type to do anything slow. This hesitation is all for you.”

I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. “I know.”

She gives a nod, and we let the subject drop. She’s got a precarious place, standing up for both of us against the other. I don’t know how she keeps the balance. Perhaps because she loves us both so fully.  Where he’s impulsive, I’m cautious, it’s led to friction before, but now we have a tentative waiting place. I see his dedication daily. It’s in the way he checks in on me during the day, shows affection without worrying about who's around, and makes it clear to the Crows he’s off limits. That’s new. With Wendy, they always knew there was a chance.

It’s changed the way I viewed him. I knew the boy, but this is Jax, the man, and the growth and maturation look damn good on him.

I peer over to the garage and bite my bottom lip as I watch him work on a car. He’s sexy, but it’s more than that, he’s comfort and protection, and L. My throat clogs up.

“Oh my God, I’m fucked.”

“What?”

I turn my attention back to Journee. “I think I’m in love with Jackson Teller.”

She throws back her head and lets out a full-bellied laugh that draws attention to us.

“Shut up,” I mumble.

“I can’t. I can’t help it.” She clutches her stomach. “To be so damn smart you are sure stupid when it comes to him.”

“What?”

“Girl you’ve been in love a long time. Both of you. It was so evident.”

“That’s not true,” I say.

“I’ll say this. It was past like.”

“What’s so funny?” Jax shouts from the entrance of the garage. Journee lapses into another fit and I shake my head.

“Your sister is loca.”

“Ain’t nothing new there,” Jax says as he shakes his head with a smile.

I can’t help the smile that slides across my face in response. With anyone else, I would begin to panic. I like to stay on top of my emotions. It keeps me from getting too attached which leads to being hurt down the road. For once, I’m just… excited. Is this what it feels like to be a normal woman in love? There’s no shadow of the past looming over me. I know without a doubt Jax will never be my father, and he has an army lined up to kick his ass if he steps out of line. Not that I can’t do it myself, but it speaks to his commitment.

Little by little the bastard has won me over. I shake my head and give a laugh. He’s a Teller, what else did I expect?

***

I’m watching HGTV as I fold clothes. Downtime is a blessing I never take for granted. Between keeping up with the upper crust of charming, cooking books at the shop, and being called on for God knows what else the club needs at a moment’s notice, I’m short on downtime. It’s mindless work as I make piles on the couch to put away while I decide on my next home project. A commercial break comes on, and I turn toward the pile and freeze. Boxers and white t-shirts are piled up just as high as my bras and panties. When had he brought over so many things?

I tilt my head to the side. We might not be talking about things, but they’re happening organically. I like having someone to come home to. Kick loved the road and the club more than he could ever love me. Jax is a strange combination of family man and biker. He’ll do whatever the club requires, but he’s never forgotten his family; blood and otherwise. It’s the one thing keeping me from running for the hills. I learned things that seem too good to be true generally are. Even with Kick, it fell apart right under my nose. I was thinking about marriage and babies while he found my input so insignificant he went Nomad without checking in with me first.

The relationships before him were casual, and I had to work up to that. My Father devastated me in more ways than one, and in another way, so did Gemma’s grief. She and JT had something special. She lit up around him, and he treated her like gold. Losing Tommy put a real hurting on them, and his death changed Gemma. Seeing the power, you give with your heart made me want to steer clear. Yet here I am wading into deep, permanent waters. Jax and I can never go back to the way we were. It’s not in either of us. So we make this work or risk fucking with dynamics that have been set in stone for ages.

I ignore the voice inside me that tells me I’m making a mistake. That’s the remnants of a broken little girl who needed her father. I’m a full grown woman who knows better. All this time Journee has been right. He’s been right in front of me, the perfect blend of lover and fighter.  A man I can trust with my entire heart, who knows me inside and out. There’s no explaining my past, or the rules of this life because he’s been there for everything. Warmth flows through my body.

The sound of a motorcycle coming down the driveway makes me smile. Speak of the devil, and he shall appear.

“Honey I’m home.”

I roll my eyes. People would be stunned by his silliness. “I’m in the living room, Ricky.”

He comes around the corner and grins.

“I like this view.”

I frown. “What do you mean?”

“You doing my laundry.”

I grab a handful of whites, and he dodges.

“I didn’t mean it like that?!”

“Right.”

“I like this domestic thing we’re doing, Lee.”

He walks over and sinks down on the couch beside me.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah?” He nods and gives me the bashful boyish smile that’s as rare as a unicorn. “I want to do more of this.”

“You offering to take out the trash and do the dishes when I cook?” I ask keeping things light while I fish for more information. The last thing I want to do is read too far into this.

“If that’s what you want me to do.”

I blink. “You’re serious.”

“Sure am, darling. I know we’re not rushing into anything, but I like what we have going. Don’t you?”

I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear and peer up at him through my lashes. “I do.”

“Good.” He cups my face and pulls my mouth to his. Silence falls. He teases my lips with his tongue, and I suck it into my mouth. He moans, tilting his head as he fists my hair and takes over the lip-lock.

We surface for air breathing heavily.

“I think I need to thank you properly for all your hard work today.”

“Is that right?” I ask huskily.

“Mmmhmm.”  He bites my bottom lip. I groan, and he nibbles his way down my neck, tickling my skin with his beard as he sucks on my skin.

I shiver.

“Jax,” I whimper as I gently push him away. “I have meetings this week.”

“Good. They’ll realize you’re taken.”

I giggle. “Jax,” I say firmer.

He nips my skin and moves from the couch onto his knees in front of me.

“I’ll just have to find other things to mark then.” He pushes my dress up around my hips and strokes his thumb down the seam of my panties. “Already wet for me? Naughty little Lee.”

I give a throaty laugh. “You know exactly what you do to me.”

“Damn straight. Life those hips up.”  He hooks his thumbs under the sides of my underwear, and I help him ease the scrap of red lace down my body and over my heels. He spreads my thighs wide and licks his lips. A streak of desire runs through my body. His eyes are dark with desire, and his thumb is circling my clit, quickening the pulse in my core.

“So damn pretty.” He licks a path up my slick core and dives in, a man starved. I groan as I bury my fingers in his long hair and move with him. He’s an artist with his tongue, stroking, swirling, and penetrating me until I cry out. I lose track of the times I come as the world becomes a haze of pleasure and roughly whispered encouragement.

“I got to be inside you, Lee.”

I struggle to focus. “So be inside.”

He’s a ninja, stealthy and swift as he undoes his belt, lowers his pants, and places me in his lap.  I grip his firm shoulders as I lower onto his granite cock. I tilt my head back, moaning as he fills me to the brim.

“I need to see those blues.”

Our gazes lock and I lift up and slam down. We both cry out as he grips my hips helping me keep the frenzied rhythm as he goes deeper with every stroke. I swear I can feel him in my chest as we ride out the storm we’ve built. I flex around him as he pushes me to the edge. My breath comes in small puffs and my body trembles. Two more pumps and I’m gone, screaming his name. He follows me over, filling me with his heat as I collapse on his chest, my face in the curve of his neck. He smells like sandalwood, soap, and leather with a hint of oil. It’s a scent I’ve begun to associate with home.

“You know, I did three loads today,” I whisper.

He laughs. “Oh yeah? Guess we need round two then.”

I pull back and lose myself in the bright blue of his dancing eyes. This is exactly where both need to be right now.

***

“You okay, baby?” Jax rasps as he nuzzles my neck.

“Yes, but now I’m starving.”

He laughs. “Taco Tuesday?”

“You cooking, Teller?” I ask glancing over my shoulder.

“Haven’t you heard of Teller’s Taco Tuesday?”

I laugh. “No, but I like the sound of it.”

“Good.” He kisses my shoulder. “Take your time. I’ll get everything going in the kitchen.”

He slips from the bed, and I admire his firm back and ass. “You should balance out all those boxers and undershirts with more pants and shirts,” I say taking a leap of faith.

He pauses in the doorway and gives me a smile that would rival the sun. “I’ll be sure to do that this week.”

[grammercy]

ring out the false, ring in the true - alfred lord tennyson

Before 2016 finally comes to a close, I’d like to reflect on the past 12 months; some of the highlights of my year, some of the sad parts, and some of the happy moments.

January was as thrilling as it could be; a month of firsts. First meal of the year. First cheerleading training of the year. First New Year without my Lola by our side. And my first 2016 account that I was determined on finishing; even making the effort to apply aesthetically pleasing filters. That's the one thing I didn't see through till the end.

The month of February held my first ever cheerleading competition. The weeks of training that led up to that day were absolutely hectic and terrible. After having my coach yell at me numerous times and eventually kick my stunt group and I off the mats, we finally made it to the Rizal Stadium. We didn't win, we didn't even place. But it was an experience. This month also held an experience that I would continue to talk about for the rest of the year. Having missed my CAST due to unforeseen circumstances, I also missed out on my Batch Interaction in order to attend a make up CAST to Porac, Pampanga. Let's just say I wasn't thrilled to be spending my Saturday in a mountain surrounded my kids and dust and boodle fights, while my batch spent it with boys. Oh well, it was another experience. And it makes a funny story to tell.

March marked the month where I got my first ever injury. Having watched my sisters have their turn in the emergency room or being bandaged up by my dad, I never thought I'd end up in the same position. But three days before my last cheerleading competition of the season, I miscalculated my catch and my flyer’s butt hit me square on the face. I still caught her though. Blood gushed out of my nose and onto my shirt (good thing it was red) and wouldn’t stop for the next 5 minutes. It was also my very first nosebleed. I thought it was nothing until my dad took me for a CT scan, showing that I had a fracture. I went to school the next day, my nose swollen and blue, happy that I could still compete as long as I was careful. My friends said I looked liked Voldemort or one of the Avatar character, it’s something they still laugh about until now. The competition went terrible; our stunt fell and my side of the pyramid didn't go up. It's something I'll never forget it and still regret it up to this day. The feeling of letting down my entire team still lingers in me, I hate it. My photos from that competition are well hidden because my face was completely fucked up due to my broken nose. Additionally, 4 of my other teammates and I made the decision to leave Hardcourt and not join in the following school year. It was a tough decision but we made it. It caused some drama among the upper batches who were crushed that we were leaving. Things are good now, but it’s still a sensitive topic.

I attended my first ever actual party in April. One of my good friends was throwing a party and I was helping plan it. It was stressful but I was really excited to drink and meet people. By people I mean boys; there's no shame in saying it now. The party was an absolute flop, for me. I hated the romper I wore and even ended up losing it in the end after changing in my friends house; some boys got drunk an hour into the party and threw up everywhere; the drinks table collapsed twice resulting in the loss of some needed drinks, parents were watching the drunken people throw up and try to call for an uber as they told the drivers to take some drinks away; the party was super exclusive, the boys you'd want to try and talk were huddled in a corner, obviously high. I don't like thinking about that night. I hear my friend wants a Part 2 of the party, I am not getting myself involved in that again. There was also my batch’s moving up ceremony. My favorite part was singing all the cool songs we learned. I liked showing off how we could sing in Italian.

I went to Japan with my tito, tita, and cousin in May. We went to Harry Potter world, my second time there, and we had lots of fun. We also adopted a dog in May, much to my dismay. My sisters and mom were taken in by his cuteness and allowed Charlie into our home. I have conditioned myself to hike up my legs whenever we’re eating dinner because I have never liked dogs.

June was memorable. We left for our Bengzon family vacation to Seattle. We had rented a lovely house on Vashon island with a lovely view, and lovely pier. I absolutely loved it there. Everyone was happy. Everything was okay. Sewage problems led us to rent other house, this one even nicer than the last. This was one of the best trips of my life. We then rented an apartment in Seattle, reserving the top floor for my family, and having photo shoots by the beautiful living room, photo shopping in a movie on the large projector. I must have posted about a dozen photos on Instagram, a lot more than I’d actually post in a year. The area was just so beautiful, you couldn’t resist.

Who could forget the amazing month that was July? For 3 weeks, I attended a creative writing program in Columbia University. It was more than I could have asked for. I produced some of my best works of writing there, was taught by some of the best and brightest teachers who’d let you call them by their first name, and I was surrounded by incredibly talented writers all over the world who continue to inspire me up to today. July was great, I learned a new sense of independence from those 3 weeks and I am so glad to have been given the opportunity.

 In August I went back to school. I was thrown of guard by how different this school year felt compared to all the other years. We were the first batch of Grade 11/ Senior High, so everyone was adjusting. For this entire month, I constantly missed my old friends who were a whole building and 4 flights of stairs away, missed my former teammates, my more easy going Basic Education teachers, and the much simpler lessons. I was introduced to college professors and political science, and sociology, and a lot more information I expected to learn only in college. It was one of the most difficult changes I’ve had to adapt to, I’m still not sure if I’ve fully accepted it yet.

 I remember the month of September for 2 reasons. First: It was the first party I went to where I actually enjoyed. I got to talk to people (boys!!) and find out a lot of things about my friends. I never knew I could actually enjoy a party. Guess there’s a first time for everything. Second: my birthday. Also my lola’s birthday, but this is the first time in 15 years where I would not be celebrating with her. It wasn’t a sad occasion, but as we sat around the table stuffing ourselves with fancy food, we couldn’t help but feel like something was missing. Oh, and I got a new phone! Thank the Lord.

 October. The month when all the stress of SHS came pouring in, drowning all 216 of us without warning. We were bombarded with quizzes, transfer tasks, and SO. MANY. PAPERS!! Oh god, thinking about how bad that month was is giving me a headache. I thought Grade 10 was hard, I thought fourth year was hard, but SHS is on a totally different level. And who could forget the first time I got drunk? It was at a class party and my friend told me that the house we were in was cursed; if you drink here, you would for sure get drunk. I shrugged it off because I’ve never gotten drunk before, but man was I wrong. It didn’t help that I was super sleepy plus that I hadn’t eaten, so of course I got hit pretty quick. I felt like I could say anything. I felt like I couldn’t sit still. I felt like my head was spinning and my arms and legs had a mind of it’s own. I felt stupid, but I felt like I was having fun. The morning after wasn’t so good. My entire body was sore, especially my arms. I just stayed home the whole day and pretended I was okay. I was going through my first hangover.

I went the cemetery for the first time during All Saints day in November. My dad also joined and completed the New York Marathon; Anne Curtis finished 15 seconds ahead of him. Donald Trump became the president of the United States. I stood up for what I believed in and it blew up in my face. That was such a bad time for me, and I’m sure for the people I hurt. I did a lot of self-reflection during that period and I came to the conclusion that I was a bad person. Ferdinand Marcos was buried in the Libingan ng Mga Bayani. The entire nation erupted in protests. My sister and I began selling “Youth in Revolt” t-shirts, which blew up bigger than we expected resulting in more than 1000 orders nationwide. We had our annual fair, nothing great. November was filled with a lot of ups and downs.

Started December off by submitting our position paper which felt like Jupiter was lifted off our shoulders. More papers were submitted, and our burden got lighter and lighter. It’s hard to describe the feeling of looking at a complete project, a stapled and filed paper, and a well-edited AVP. It’s the best feeling a student can feel. The first semester of Senior High finally came to a close, and none of us could wait to get the fuck out of here. We had another class party and guess who got drunk again? It was a lot worse this time because I ended up falling asleep on my bedroom floor and woke up at 4am, didn’t shower and just got in bed. The next morning, my arms felt like they’d been broken in half and stabbed 10 times. I vowed to never drink again. I spent the first week of Christmas break going out with friends, arranging promposals, eating in Sunnies Café, and drinking when I vowed I wouldn’t. Then it was the 24th, we had a mass for the one year anniversary of my lola. Then it was Christmas, it felt so different, but we were still surrounded by family. Then it’s today, December 31st, New Years Eve.

 I’m actually writing this at 4am and it’s already January 1, 2017. Despite every bad thing that happened in 2016, I actually had a lot of fun. I met some great people I know will be constant in my life this 2017, I rekindled some old friendships, I extinguished some toxic friendships, I got a postpaid line, and I discovered what I could possibly be doing in the future. 2016 is now a memory, it will be used as a funny anecdote over lunch or dinner with the family, and 2017 will now be referred to as now. Today. Funny how something so big can happen just overnight.

 I hope 2017 will be better than any other year I’ve lived to see. I hope it’ll be filled with laughter, friends, family, writing, reading, less eating, more exercising, less shallow TV shows, high grades, and even, a successful prom.

Happy New Year!