#eleven fifty five PM

[itwasthereaminuteago]

|| Break ||

Matt Murdock x Frank Castle

Some NSFW goodies written for @frattweek! Day 5 prompt 'break'.

W/c: 2000

Matt throws Frank that annoyingly attractive signature smirk he always does when he's so certain he's right. He may have just made Matt cum so hard he thought he was gonna shoot his brain out through his dick, but now it seemed he may have been a little too smug himself in the afterglow.

"What, you really think I can't break you, make you beg for me, Frank?"

Frank just chuckles, taking a long draw from his beer and setting it down in a space amidst their hastily discarded clothes on the coffee table. "You're the one that begs and gets all needy sweetheart, we both know that. But alright, if you wanna, I'll uh, indulge your little fantasy."

"Okay…" Matt says calmly, as he slides his hand up Frank's chest and grips around his neck as he kisses him with a ferocity Frank isn't prepared for. "Enjoy this while it lasts, baby, because from this moment on, no touching."

"No touching… you?" He quizzes as Matt pushes him away.

"No touching me, no touching yourself. Nothing. And you know I'll know if you do, so behave." Matt taps him on the nose for emphasis.

Frank cocks his head to the side. "For how long?"

Matt pretends to consider the question before answering, like he hadn't already thought it all out beforehand. "A week." He presses the button on the side of his watch and it reads out the time. "Eleven, fifty five, PM."

Frank just laughs. "You remember I was a Marine, right? Blue balls ain't nothin' new to me Murdock and a week ain't nothin' either."

"Oh alright, yeah, like you and your buddies weren't jerking each other off in the showers on every day that ended with a Y?" Matt jibes.

Frank scoffs, pulling his pants back up. "Yeah, yeah, you joke all you like Lil Red, we'll just see who's beggin' at the end of the week, huh?"

On day three Frank knew he'd made a serious error in his own judgement.

Matt had dodged every conscious attempt Frank made to touch him in any way. With something as simple as getting home from work there was no welcoming kiss waiting for him. No warm slide of hands around his waist or neck when he was cooking dinner. They showered separately, and getting dressed or undressed and only being allowed to look at that sinfully gorgeous body as he peeled off that skintight Kevlar suit at the end of the night was uncomfortably close to torture for him.

Even unconsciously Frank was drawn to Matt like a magnet, he had to sleep on the couch after the second night because he just couldn't stop himself inching closer to him while asleep.

He missed the small seemingly inconsequential moments of contact the most. Gentle fingers through his hair, a brush of hands walking down the street, how Matt's fingertips felt on his face as he traced the crinkles around his eyes, his nose, and his lips. He missed his smell. The scratch of his stubble against his skin- God, the taste of him…

Sure Frank had been touch starved in the past, but that was long before he knew Matt and what he could do to him. But was he really that starved of Matt's touch that he would actually beg him for it?

It's not to say that it was easy for Matt to abstain either, although he had exempted himself from the 'no touching yourself' rule, as Frank found out much to his dismay when he heard the most obscene moans drifting from the bedroom when he came home one night driving him up the wall with the desire to swallow those sounds.

In a world without true sight, touch was everything to Matt. He was extremely sensitive to it, he wasn't sleeping on silk sheets just for fun. And to Matt, Frank was like ice-cream that had been left out on the counter, quickly melting into a creamy puddle just waiting to be licked up.

~

On day six Frank swore he was hallucinating things. From across the room it was like he could feel what he was missing, the weight of Matt sitting on his lap, the squeeze of his thighs around his hips and waist.

He scrubs a hand over his face, getting up to get a beer from the fridge as if that would actually do anything to distract him. He'd already taken apart and cleaned every single weapon he owned and that hadn't helped. Thoughts of the softness of Matt's lips slipped easily into his mind and stirred other feelings down below. He was reaching the end of his very short tether.

"C'mon, just gimme… one lil hug, one lil kiss, just one lil fucking blowjob- please!"

A satisfied grin split Matt's face. "Oh, is that… begging I hear? And from Frank, the big bad Punisher, Castle?!"

"Red, baby, you gotta gimme somethin'. I knew I'd miss it but christ, didn't for a second know just how bad."

Frank's given up, he drops to the floor and starts crawling on his hands and knees towards him and Matt's resolve almost caves. "Look, you're killin' me here. You happy now you've made me your dog?"

"Ah-ah." Matt swiftly gets up from the chair and teasingly backs away from him, always out of reach. "You've done so well, you've only got just over a day left, and then… well…" he has the nerve to raise a flirty brow and then saunter off, leaving Frank rolling onto his back with a frustrated huff and a hard on.

~

It was half past eleven at night on the seventh day and Frank was ready. He'd been ready for days but now he was really fucking ready.

"I swear I've never seen you this eager for anything, Frank," Matt told him, roughly running his towel over his hair. He was just out of the shower, grey sweatpants slung scandalously low on his hips with a soft blue t-shirt half tucked in. Frank was surprised he wasn't actually drooling.

Matt sauntered into the kitchen area, the hem of his shirt lifting up as he reaches for a glass from the shelf, allowing Frank a tantalising glimpse of his toned stomach.

"Red, c'mon, fuck…" he rounds the counter after him but Matt dodges away yet again, smirking.

"Hey! There's still half an hour to go y'know."

Frank groans, slumping his upper body across the countertop as he watches Matt's throat work as he takes big gulps of water. "You're loving drawin' this out, makin' me suffer ain't ya? Asshole."

"I might-" Matt halts suddenly and Frank lifts up slightly as he sees him do that telltale tilt of the head when he's heard something. Usually something bad.

"Aw fuck. You gotta be kidding me. What is it?"

When he sees Matt making for his gear and start suiting up with haste and tying on his mask, Frank grabs a couple of knives and stuffs a gun in the back of his pants.

"Mugging. Two blocks away."

"Shit, shit, shit. Okay, let's go."

~

"Ah! Easy!" Matt's breath is punched out of him as Frank shoves him back against the alley wall almost as hard as they had dealt with the three idiots who had decided to try and attack a woman walking home on her own in Hell's Kitchen at night. His hands are locked onto his shoulders like he might try to escape, his body pushed up close against his own, Matt's thigh is wedged in-between his. "If you wait we can do this at home y'know." Matt tries.

Frank isn't for listening. "Ain't waitin'. Time's up. If you don't fucking let me touch you now I'm gonna-"

Matt grits his teeth, hissing through them sharply for the way Frank's so worked up after only a week of forced abstinence. He can't wait for home even though it's just around the corner. This is happening now.

"Fuck-" Matt yelps as Frank attacks his jaw with his mouth, teeth nipping with one part violence, three parts desperation. His hands are everywhere, yanking at the zip of his pants and loosening his belt, slipping impatiently down between the rough fabric and his skin to feel his half hard cock. Frank rucks up the hem of Matt's black shirt, fingers rough and possessive as they travel up over his abs and pecs, his mouth following them as he bends down to lick, suck and mark what's his.

Matt's panting hard already, Frank knows where every single button is, and he doesn't just push it, he jams it in till it sticks and he's thrumming and overcome with sensation.

"Makin' me beg," Frank's voice is gruff and low and goes straight to Matt's cock. "Fuck that shit. You're gonna beg for me now, ain't that right baby?" He tells him as he pushes down his own pants and grabs both of their cocks together and starts stroking.

Matt moans so beautifully, head tilted back against the wall, his mask still on, lips kiss-bitten and swollen pink like a pussy. Frank devours him, licking along Matt's lower lip before he bites down on it, grunting as he keeps working his hand up and down.

"Shit, Frank, fuck!" Matt whines and Frank's back in his happy place watching and feeling him unfold beneath him.

"Yeah pretty boy, you thought you had all the control didn't ya?" He chuckles darkly, allowing himself his own noise of pleasure as Matt leaks a stream of precum from his tip.

"Yeah, yeah that's it, you fuckin' missed this too huh?" He circles his thumb over and under the head of Matt's wet cock drawing a weak and frustrated groan from deep in his throat.

Matt reaches and cups behind Frank's head, his fingers grazing the short hairs at the base of his skull. "Stop with the teasing and just fucking kiss me."

He pulls him in, smashing their mouths together, tongues together, hot and needy like it's been years rather than weeks since they'd touched one another.

Frank moans into Matt's mouth, his fist moving faster, feeling Matt's thighs grip around his own tighter, shaking with how close he is to going off. The fingers of Matt's other hand clutch and squeeze at the firmness of Frank's ass under his half-pulled down pants, and Frank jerks as he feels a finger teasing near his hole.

"God damn it Red, shit… oh shi-"

He erupts, grunting hard and long as spurts of come spill over his hand. The force of his climax almost has his legs giving out from underneath him but Matt holds onto him as he ruts his own hips up, his cock sliding easily between Frank's in the come-slick grip of his fist.

Then the hot, wet seal of Frank's mouth is around Matt's cock before he realises what's happening. Frank's sunk down to his knees, his own cock still hard, his hand encircling the base and lapping at him. He drags his fingers up and over his own balls as he slowly starts jerking himself off again, somehow not fully spent.

"Jesus, Frank…" Matt murmurs with incredulity.

Frank just keeps on sucking him off, the taste and smell and sounds he's making are everything he's been craving for the past week. Matt moans out his pleasure quickly, coming hard over Frank's tongue and down his throat as he swallows and sucks, wringing him out completely. It drives him to an easy warm and syrupy second orgasm that seems to last and last.

"Christ," Frank rumbles, grasping at Matt's pants and pulling them back up as he slowly gets back to his feet, and tucks himself away. "You never, ever get to do that to me again."

Matt breaks into breathless laughter, completely wrecked as Frank then curls his fingers under Matt's scruffy chin and gives him a filthy kiss.

"Are you kidding me?" Matt grins as he nudges Frank's cheek with his nose. "You've just made me wanna do it more."

[greenbagjosh]

Day 2 and 3 - 10th and 11th October 2009 in Kyiv - not the original post. Written in October 2014

Please note, some of the links are a bit old. This was written in October 2014, as opposed to October 2009.

Sorry this post is long, but it means a lot to me. Five years ago today, I went on possibly the longest airline flight since November 2003 when I flew directly from SFO to Hong Kong Chek Lap Kok airport on Lantau/Tung Chung. It was DFW to IAD (Washington Dulles), then to DME (Moscow Domodedovo), and finally to KIE (Kiev Borispol) on S7 Airlines. It beat the time it took flying directly from SFO to Hong Kong. I did not get to Kiev until about 7 PM local time. Were there direct flights from the USA to Kiev in October 2009? I was using some miles that time from an undisclosed major US air carrier, so that would not have been an option anyway. What did I have for supper? I went to a Czech restaurant near the US Consulate, had a pork chop with dumplings and gravy, and Staropramen beer plus a bottle of pasteurized non-alcoholic Kvass that I bought at an "outdoor 7 Eleven". Those outdoor 7 Elevens are as common as McDonald's, one of Kiev's greatest conveniences, plus the bus ticket sales and marshrutka cash-only minibuses. For the metro you have to go to a station to get the turquoise tokens for two hryvnias, approx $0.23 US apiece, good for one entry and "unlimited transfers" until you go up the escalator to the exit, and after that? Too bad, use another token to re-enter, comrade!— in Kyiv, Ukraine.Lots of cool stuff to see in Kiev. Saturday 10th I went on the Lonely Planet Guide walking tour, saw the parliament building and presidential building, the park where dozens and dozens of wedding photo parties going on, one with a Chrysler 300C limo. Then St. Michael's, St. Sophia's and St. Volodymyr's. Watch out for the "turkey droppers" who try to scam tourists with cash they drop. I don't fall for that nonsense. Sunday 11th I went to the Lavra, it's a complex of Orthodox chapels, south of downtown Kiev. I also went into the military museum about a mile away, had Indian for lunch - that place just stuck out but I had to try it anyway. Monday the 12th I went to the Chernobyl museum, much safer than the actual site itself - I bet most of you cannot remember the incident in 1986, one of the Soviet Union's most embarrassing moments, it's too depressing to describe, won't go on unless you really want to know. Had lunch at the Garbuzyk, had the best authentic Chicken Kiev. Visited the big complex way south of downtown Kiev, with about fifty different architectural styles seen across the Ukraine. For food, I recommend the Original "Bierstube" http://www.lonelyplanet.com/.../entertain.../other/bierstube for their excellent Stroganoff as well as "Viola's" http://www.google.com/url?sa=t&rct=j&q=&esrc=s&source=web&cd=2&cad=rja&uact=8&ved=0CCYQFjAB&url=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.lonelyplanet.com%2Fukraine%2Fkyiv%2Fentertainment-nightlife%2Fother%2Fviolas-bierstube&ei=sgg2VNWoNcGTyASa94DICA&usg=AFQjCNE9LTTofE_d3Kv0IIHTDwyZs6U_Kw&sig2=117lapTNVhSNjwUOewpSHg&bvm=bv.76943099,d.aWw, also "Shalena Mama" http://www.lonelyplanet.com/.../res.../european/shalena-mama. For breakfast, I recommend "Double Coffee", they make excellent egg and meat dishes. Lots of other good places are at Maidan Nezhaleznosti / Kreshchatyk.

Four days later, namely Tuesday the 13th I would take a long train ride from Kiev to Minsk via Korosten. Had an interesting adventure in a town that seemed to still be stuck in the Soviet times, ending up ordering pizza and hot tea. Hot tea with pizza? When it's raining cats and dogs in the Ukraine, and it's in the upper 40's, Coke, Pepsi and beer might not be the best thing to have. Soviet coffee has not really improved since I first visited July/August 1990. Also it's hard getting long-distance train tickets in the former Soviet Union, even in 2009, regardless of one's fluency in Russian. Despite computers, they did not have an online booking function with either Ukraine or Belarus. No such thing as a Eurail pass for that part of Europe. Your basic choices are "Platskartniy" or "Kupeniyi" classes. Platskartniy is sort of open seating and you might have to share an open compartment with a "babushka" Kupeniy class is the traditional four berth compartment, meals are included, tea is cheap by the glass. I ended up in Minsk, about Wednesday the 14th at 5:30 AM local time. McDonalds was open but they were serving lunch for breakfast. Photos from that time available on request - including the mug of mustard from the Bierstube! The Fitness Studio boat doesn't come for another week at least.

[soir-rouges-esprit]

xxxi.c: Coke, Blood & Handguns, the pain was so … real? … … … I sit in bed looking at my hands, flexing them in and out; in complete awe of the feeling and experience, I had just gone through … and for it all to be … just a nightmare? … I get up, get myself dressed, and walk out into the living room and try and forget it all, M had made bacon & eggs with French Toast. “Wanna plate dipshit?” she said with a fork in her mouth and a slight mumble. She had her hair in a bun … wearing a large loose white Third Eye Blind T-shirt, and light blue panties, with a lighter blue little knife pattern in-printed on them. Duh, I fucking love breakfast so uh … give me give me. She let out a little giggle followed by a grin “Here” She gave me a large plate stacked like The City Center. “Your phone rang while you were asleep, it was Mrs.Van … I let it ring” Shit … ok. I demolished my plate of food, downed a cup of medium roast, took my phone and went into the bedroom to call ... The Viper … … … The phone rang and rang, then *Click* “Rouge?” Yeah yeah … it's fuckin me. You called? “Yes, we have a contract … a drug deal of sorts” Ok … what does that have to do with catching the fuck head? I TOLD YO- “STOP Stop … yes yes I know, you wanted no side gigs, but this is important, we need this deal to fund our whole murder parade … you cannot simply kill a gangster such as he with no cash behind it. Plus this contact is a key figure in protecting our turf against those corporate fucks at K” your turf, not mine … *Sigh* ok so … what do they want? How much and where exactly? And who's the contact? Hard to believe anyone outside of the feds who are capable of fucking with K-Industries. “They want Coke from our top shelf supply … they also want … ALL, of it … ” We both sat on the phone in silence for a second. Fucking … all of … wow, that's, that has to be- “A Cartel Quarter … yes” I sit down on the bed … in shock. Holy shit. A Cartel Quarter was a massive amount of drugs … twenty-five kilos to be exact … it was called the “Cartel” Quarter for maybe obvious reasons, but also primarily because it was something only the Cartel typically was capable of selling/smuggling; so for a client to request such an order … was either a setup … or a heavenly angel disguised as a dressed up, deep-pocketed coke addict. No way! That's reaks of deceit, no one demands that much upfront, It has to be a setup! It Has To Be!! “CALM Yourself child … yes yes … I agree it is indeed a lot, and typically … suspicious … however … this contact isn't one to work within the Fed nor bluff on his … Habitual Needs … they've been vetted by my people … I promise your bond it's safe.” … *sigh* shit … How much are we promised here? And you haven't answered my question on Who it is yet either? “... *sigh* It's a Man … by the name of Mr.F, he is a beneficiary of Argent Energy … he's a Billionaire … as he Loves to tote about whilst drunk. He has promised us seven-hundred and fifty-thousand just for the product … with an extra two-hundred and fifty-thousands for transport, hazard pay, and finally extra to fill all of our pockets. Twenty-five-Thousand for each individual involved” … … … twenty-five … thousand. Just for me? “yes Salem … just for you. The rest of the one million will be used as our operating cash, aka the money we shall use to skewer Alzon” … … … ok … ok … how exactly is this taking place? Am I driving a truck or escorting one? Hundreds of back and forth small deliveries with couriers? What's the plan here? “You and … the other driver … will be one of two box trucks, disguised as furniture movers, you will take half of the product, the other truck the other half, you and the other driver will be in the same truck, swapping driving duties when/if necessary, you will both leave tomorrow night at eleven pm … and shall drive for roughly fifteen hours through Denver all the way to Salt Lake City” ... [To Be Continued]

[brahnabischh]

in the beginning

… my period is coming. i’m over emotional today. i can’t deal. i just can’t ✋🏾✋🏾

first off , i moved … i’m in Maryland now with Chelle and Jah. been here since late Friday early Saturday (6/17-18) of course it’s supposed to be for the better– new environment , new people , new opportunities , new beginning. i’m all for it .. clearly because i’m here. but now that i’m all the shitty things i thought i could handle are fooling with my head something serious right now. i didn’t want to come simply because i didn’t want to have to put my problems on anyone else .. or become any kind of burden or extra weight to anyone. although i understand i’m a grown ass woman , i still need a lot of help with things that i haven’t quite comes to terms with as far as my pride is concerned. i don’t want to disappoint anyone else .. let alone myself any more than i already have.

i was supposed to [so word had it] come work with my godmother at Sally’s for now to at least have something to do .. keep busy , make money , take care of my responsibilities. needless to say that hasn’t happened or even been apart of conversation in Sally’s yet. so i’m not working , making money , handling my responsibilities. on top of that i have to get my license and tags on my car renewed .. which i cannot do without my birth certificate. mind you , i haven’t seen the two original copies of that shit since Abby got kicked out and took them in the bag i used to use to go to kennessaw with. now the process of getting my birth certificate AGAIN consists of 1st ; ordering it online. 2nd ; submitting a notarized request form to alameda county records people. 3rd ; wait for them to receive and accept my request. and finally ; send off my certificate. and all of this takes up to 15 business days depending on when they get the notarized form. so now that means for the next two weeks or so i will be doing absolutely NOTHING! but waiting for my cousins to get off work and do some shit with me. i don’t have money , i can’t drive my car , and I don’t know anyone here anymore besides the four of them.

i was going to go see my grandmother and spend some time with her for the time being .. but tickets to get to her cost at the very least {from what i say tonight} one hundred eighty nine dollars. remember i don’t have any money , nor steady income what so ever …. so my grandmother would have to front the bill and then pay for whatever else we/i do when i get there. it’s bad enough she gave me almost her last to help move me and my vehicle here , i don’t want her to spend anymore than she has to. plus she has her own obligations and responsibilities to attend to , she can’t be my little personal lending tree. although i know she would want me to come regardless .. i can’t keep doing that to her. she told me the other day i got her punching the clock .. or in other words she has to bust ass and grind to earn her money to do for me. that shit sucks. it makes me feel so shitty. and of course i can oblige myself to paying her back when i don’t even know when , where or how i’ll get the money in the first place.

i try to stay positive and optimistic about this move– saying everything happens for a reason. i came to better my life and get back on track– quit worrying yourself , God got you. just trust he’s out for your best interest … but it’s soooooo hard to put my pride aside and let people help me. and it’s soooooooo hard to not worry about what i’m unsure of when i don’t have anything else to do but sit and think about all these things on a regular basis. i told God that i washed my hands of the whole situation and that i trust him completely. he knows what’s best. his will be done .. not mine. but JESUS!! it’s so hard. smh. it’s sooooo hard. i’m trying to be patient and let things play out since i deadass can’t do anything but wait .. but i’ve been waiting patiently for things to change and get better for the LONGEST! i know these last four years weren’t totally wasted. i hadn’t gone through all the mess i’ve been through over those years for nothing. there’s a reason for everything. but good gravy! something has GOT to give!!!!!!

and then there’s my boyfriend situation. Justin Wilcox is the most interested in being WITH someone i have ever been in like .. all of ever. honestly. since we started talking back in around February of 2015 i’ve wanted to be nothing but honest with this man. all the other times i’ve liked someone or started a “situationship” with them there was a certain role i knew to play. it was either straight about sex or just some kind of secrecy. i’ve started relationships off of /what was supposed to be/ one night stands .. or lies and that’s not what i wanted with him. he’s such a good feel it’s ridiculous. i’ve told him about a lot of things i may not even fully realize i’ve even informed him of in just the friendship part of our relationship it scares me. i’ve confided in him about things i wouldn’t even talk to my parents about. I never lied to him about my money issues , my family issues , my living situation , my legal situation … he knows all of it. he told me in the beginning that i had to work for something with him. said he wanted me to be his little boo but i had to act right first. so we got to know each other some first. but knowing what i’ve known about men and boys i’ve dealt with before .. i never minded anything he’s said about wanting to be with me. trying a relationship. basically being the lady on his side. i thought it all was bullshit. he just wanted some ass and i really didn’t mind giving it to him. hell i never did before. but of course like everything else potentially good for me , i let myself get distracted from him and sort of put him to the side. all for Richard’s ass .. which was the DUMBEST decision at the time. but i’m hardheaded and stubborn , so you know you can’t tell me anything. he knocked me off my “boo” pedestal i was on because i wasn’t “acting right” lol. we’d talk on and off , whenever i decided not to ignore his call or messages .. there was even a time i was igg'ing him and he saw me at the trap and just looked at me like 👀 damn you just don’t fuck with the kid anymore. of course i didn’t give a shit at the time. my nose was wide open under someone else’s ass … i even blocked him from my phone for a hot little minute. long story short .. we got back in contact with each other i want to say after i added him on snapchat. he hit my phone , of course on some damn tf happened type shit. and we’ve been kicking shit ever since.

he’d always tell me he wanted to be with me like forreal forreal. always expressed his intentions. always been honest (as far as i know). always asked what the hell i was running from or why i was playing with him. always talked shit about me not wanting to be his boo and all this. i remember a conversation we had after we talked for the first time since he had been blocked and he was upset. he was like i told you my intentions with you , i’m not playing. all this good shit. and i just explained to him that i needed to get my shit together. i didn’t want to start anything with him i couldn’t handle. i didn’t have a car .. my job at the bar was becoming shit , i wouldn’t be able to be the girlfriend or “boo” i would want to be for him. if he called and wanted me to come bring him some food , i couldn’t .. how with no money. i couldn’t meet him anywhere or come to him when he wanted .. how with no car of my own. and i was too prideful to always have to ask my mom to use her car without telling them what for. [[ although like i said earlier , i am a grown ass women. i have no reason to lie , or hide anything from anyone … that was the childish part of me. felt like i needed to hide dudes from my parents when they weren’t going to meet them. i didn’t know this man was going to actually make me his girl or not just want some booty. all i knew was my parents would ask a kagillion questions as if we were going to be serious and dating , or they’d think i was some kind of hoe if they knew about buddy and never met him. if that makes any kind of sense. all just still being the scary little timid and secretive girl i’ve always been. ]] but he said he didn’t care about all of that. whatever i was going through or working on we could work on and go through together. he was very persistent and adamant about us at least trying something out. he’d come see me at work when he could. and always was on my phone. by this time I was boo again. i finally let him take me out .. we went to have drinks at Applebee’s (how romantic right? 😂) but being out in public , not having to sneak , or hide .. felt so good. we went to Walmart afterwards. said he needed to get some groceries for his house … for me to cook him. HA! but from the time we left the restaurant , to the time we spent in the car , to the time spent shopping , even to him taking me back to the car so we could go our separate ways for the night i felt like he was someone i could really try some shit with. he never said too much about us having sex. never did extra shit to get me to come to his house .. none of that. i deadass liked this man. now at this point Richard and i were still involved with each other but time was winding down. i wanted Justin. couldn’t do too much with Richard’s ass any who … but i was giving him the cold shoulder to the highest degree. the night i really realized Justin and i were on the same accord was the night Richard pulled up on me at the house. i told Justin i wanted to see him and asked if he could come through for a minute. he did .. and we sat outside in the driveway for a little minute. talking. chilling. whole time my phone was going bizzurk. Richard was calling and texting me , talking about answer this next call or else. i was trying to find a reason to leave Justin but i didn’t want to lie to him. i did anyway. told him my little sister was looking for me and i needed to go back inside. all of a sudden , i hear/see an orange Camaro come rolling past the house and down the street. who else would it be than Richard’s ass. Justin’s windows aren’t tented so he saw very clearly who was in the car. i open the door and try to escape without being any more weird than i was already acting towards Justin. as i’m dismissing myself trying to stay calm , Richard’s ass pulls up in front of the house and watches. Justin asked was whoever it was in the car for me .. i lied and told him no. said he must’ve came looking for my dad or something. told him i’d see him later and rushing to close the door hoping for the absolute least to transpire at this time. he backs up and pulls off and i see Richard looking like “who tf is this nigga!” i start walking to the carport to go back inside and he pulls along side the entrance to the driveway and tells me to come here. i said no and tried to keep walking , he keeps saying come here , said he’s not going to do anything , just come here. i told him no again and was not trying to deal with anything he had to throw at me. he says something to me about not making him get out be car , but i wasn’t worried about any of that shit. we were outside my parent’s house and my daddy was home. he wasn’t about to act fool or do anything to draw attention to himself with that being considered. so he pulls off highly pissed and calls me. i answer and he’s going off about me being in the car with some nigga and what the hell we had to talk about that i couldn’t call and talk to Richard about. blah blah blah. this nigga then proceeds to fly down the road to catch up to Justin. buddy pulls up on him at the damn light and asks – while i’m still on the phone – “aye what’s up with you and Bri? yah talk?!” whole time i’m like really bruh. are you fucking kidding me. mind you dude is 39yrs old .. and had just cheated on me in the most major way! but nonetheless still too grown to be acting like that. of course during this whole thing Justin is texting and calling me trying to see what’s really good. he even text me from some random ass number saying “say” like ‘aye what tf is all of this shit?!?’ i text him and explained that Richard was my ex and he was crazy and wouldn’t leave me alone. told him I didn’t want him to get caught in the midst of all this shit because i really did like him and he didn’t deserve any of that. he explained what happened at the stoplight and how he told buddy we didn’t talk or whatever to help save my ass. said Richard said something about me not being able to talk to him (Richard) because I said i was talking to him (Justin) i told him i really really liked him and wanted this shit to ride because i really feel like we connect in a way i hadn’t with anyone else and that we could really build some great shit and have a dope ass relationship. no bullshit all games and jokes aside.he expressed that he already explained his intentions with me and how he deadass liked me … he felt everything i was saying and he even agreed. said he wasn’t even mad at me for all that , just didn’t want me to be fucking with him or trying to play him. from that moment on i knew that he deserved a shot and it was a 95%+ chance that he was being deadass genuine. some good really could come of this. time goes by , he comes to see me at work , i come kick shit with him at his house .. we had sex for the first time on March 6th. and for the first time i actually was happy i hadn’t given myself to him earlier.

…. wait , back to the purpose of me writing. lol. that went on longer than i expected to explain. 😂

anywho. we had grown so accustomed to being together and in arms reach at all times , the reality of me leaving was hitting us harder than we’d planned. i’m not just gone a few driving hours away to where i could come visit or vice versa on the weekends or however often we’d like. i’m deadass gone far enough away that we’d actually have to sit and plan out the time we’d visit and spend. going to sleep and waking up without him is so irritating at times. i miss my baby sooo much. and it’s killing me right now because i don’t know when i’ll see him next. we talked about him moving here .. or he said he’d be up this way by August .. all of this was really fucking with him and he wants us to be together. i want to believe he would do so but i don’t. i can’t seriously expect this man to drop his whole life , stop everything he’d been working so hard for , and come following after me. that’s too much responsibility on me. and too much stress and strain on him.

missing him combined with everything else racing around my head just makes me wish i hadn’t have left in the first place. although i know i needed to go now because if i hadn’t now , i never would have. and i would’ve been stuck in the same shit yet another year. but like i said .. it’s all for the best. maybe this is even supposed to help challenge our trust and relationship. who knows.

as if it’s not bad enough i can’t see him and touch him. look into his eyes , smell his skin , kiss his lips .. must i go on? i tell him today that we needed to set some sort of goal to look forward to that could help us meet in the middle as far as us being together physically. he says he plans on leaving at the most within the next year and a half. clearly not August like he sad at the gym. it’s cool though. except the fact idk what’s the middle for us , i don’t know where he would want to move to , i don’t know what would be asking too much of him , hell i don’t even know how long it’ll take for me to get my shit together here. and the last thing i would want to happen is allow the time spent away linger on too long and we eventually get used to not being with each other or catch interest in someone else and that just be it. this all happened so early on in our relationship , and there’s not a damn thing we can do about it right now but wait. we still have a lot of foundation to add to our beginning .. how the hell can we do that when we can’t even see each other. i mean i guess it’s good that we’ll be able to truly miss each other and we’re forced to talk more often now .. but all this in my head shit is getting to me.

i just want everything to fall into place the way that i see it happening and everything being so peachy keen … but what if what i want isn’t what is supposed to be? i don’t want to waste his or my time unnecessarily. i don’t want to be hurt. and i damn sure don’t want to hurt him. i mean i do have the reassurance that we both ultimately want the same thing. ride this thing until the wheels fall off. i just hope and pray that he really means and lives by what he says. i REALLY and TRULY have some serious feelings continuously growing for him. i mean it’s so serious i even pray for him. not just a little God bless my boyfriend. or a God keep him for me. or anything to do with me. i just pray for him in general. the very first time i did we were laying in the bed and he was asleep for the night. i put my hand on his head/face and i prayed for that man head to toe. and i have never genuinely just prayed for a significant other besides when they went through something or me asking the Lord to help me keep them or whatever.

i know ultimately all of this will be worth it. i know that things will get better for my life. i’m not worried about the outcome of me moving here. i’m just stressing myself while i’m in the process of .. you know? this will be fine. i will be fine. and if it’s really meant for bae and i to be anything , it’ll work out. i just don’t want to go through all of this in my own head mess anymore. if anyone knows the cure to this madness , PLEASE share!! hell. this shit sucks right now. and i don’t have bae to lay with or cuddle up next to when i do have my vulnerable and saddening moments. it’s tough. really really tough.

yet I still stand firm and say Thank You Jesus! 🙌🏾 this battle is not mine , but yours. have your way Lord. have your way.

[writingsofhubris-a]

Throne

[AO3] Rating: E WC: 2477 Tags: charity auction, sofa sex, teasing, Fandom: Matador Ship: Andres Galan/Reader Disc: Volunteered by your boss for a buy a bachelor event, you hadn’t exactly wanted to attend and be auctioned, even if it was for a good event. But Andres? You didn’t find you minded when he won.

You hadn’t wanted to be a part of this event, but no one else at your company had been willing to volunteer. The rules had been explicit: Your boundaries would be respected no matter what, and it would only be for twenty four hours; seven PM to six thirty PM the next day. 

And, your company would reimburse any expenses you may need to be reimbursed for.

Being auctioned off to rich bachelors did have its draws, though. The thought of men betting at least your annual salary just to spend a night with you? That was addictive. 

“And I have thirty thousand dollars for this fine man on stage. Now don’t forget folks, he’s got a silver tongue to match his sterling personality. Going once, going twice…” 

“Fifty thousand dollars.” The gently accented voice rang through everyone, and you saw the paddle of the man who’d just bid on you slowly lowering. He was handsome, that was for sure. pretty in a way that was rarely successful in this town. 

Salt and pepper on his face, curls at the nape of his neck, you really hoped that he won the bidding match quite suddenly. 

“I have fifty thousand dollars, do I hear fifty five?” A paddle was raised in response. 

“Sixty, do I hear sixty thousand?” Another paddle. “Eighty thousand dollars!” His paddle was up again, and you glanced at the auctioneer, hoping he’d pick up on what you were trying to tell him; that you wanted the man to win. 

“Eighty thousand going once! Twice! Our charming bachelor is sold to Andres Galan.” You let your smile ring through brightly to the other guests, before making your way to Andres, letting your hand trail over his shoulder as a way of greeting. 

He was a handsome man, that was for sure. You’d only heard of him in any capacity as the owner of the LA Riots owner until now, but he was more attractive than you’d realized he was. 

“Buenas noches,” Andres greeted you, allowing your hand to slide into his, only for his hand to lift to his lips, kissing your knuckles. 

“Good evening, Mr Galan,” you replied, allowing the space to disappear between you. 

Nerves rang through your stomach for the rest of the auction, watching a few others that you had met be auctioned for high prices. Good numbers for the children’s network you were supporting, at least.

You didn’t know where you’d been expecting to be taken to, but a lovely steakhouse, mostly silent for the night, hadn’t been one of them. The delicious food was incomparable, but it was dulled by the captivating topics that Andres offered your ears. He was fascinating in the most straightforward way; a man who had worked his way from the bottom up, who had supported the small family that he had, the man who had figured out what it was that was keeping his family safe. 

“I had no idea what types of cell phones were popular, what cell phones were even common, when I showed up in LA. I had no idea other than my own illusions and desires to be truth. I didn’t allow that to stop me. It was hard when I first came here, just me and my daughter. But I made it work, I allowed Cinna a life she would not have gotten in Mexico.” Listening to him was heaven on earth, the accent fluttering over your skin. 

“You made a choice no one should have to make. Betterment of their children, or their home. I think you make the right choice.” Your hand moved to his, resting on the top of the table. 

“Thank you,” Andres said, a smile on his lips. 

“Don’t thank me for the truth, Andres.” 

Your food was served just then, interrupting any more votes of confidence. Your eyes rarely left him over the next few hours. 

“And I believe this is you,” Andres said, the gears in the car shifting into park. The hour had barely hit eleven; not even four of the twenty four hours he’d won tonight. There was no obligation to complete the full twenty four hours, that had been made explicitly clear to you. 

Andres’ knee was solid under your hand, thumb rubbing a soothing rhythm into the muscle. The darkness of the road made you more willing to run your hand up his thigh, feeling the flesh under the soft material of his pants. You could tell by the feel of the fabric he took pride in his appearance. 

“It would be… If you didn’t have another eighteen hours of my company, Mr. Galan. Are you going to use them?” Your hand slid up the inside of his thigh, and his fingers moved to your jaw, tilting your face to his. The firmness softened after a few moments, his thumb brushing over your jaw. 

“Do you want to spend more time with me?” 

“More than you know.” 

The ride to his house was long. It was filled with tension, with a desire to jump on the man the second you had the chance. Your hand never left his thigh the entire time, time that he happily took for his pleasure, the manual shifter engaging every so often as he navigated. 

His house was almost exactly what you expected; sleek, fancy, every bit of the elegance you’d expected from Andres Galan. The large windows of his living room beckoned you closer, stopping with your hands on the back of his sofa. The leather pressed down under your weight, plush material giving under you.

You could still see the lights of LA under you, the large floor to ceiling windows offering you the valley below. 

You felt removed from everything, in your own private world over the excitement of the city. Andres had a bird’s eye view, and you almost likened it to the view from the owner’s box of his stadium. 

You turned around to face Andres, the sight a background to you now. He’d paid good money to have you for the night, and you had to believe that stood for something. 

“Mr Galan,” You said, your hand reaching out, palm up, “Would you like to join me?” He moved closer, a small smile on his lips. Before your hands connected, your hand angled up, grasping onto his tie, a yellow piece with diamonds scattered over the surface. It suited him, in a way. 

You used that soft material as leverage, pulling him closer to you, just as his hands slid from your knees to your hips, slotting himself against you. 

He hadn’t felt oily like some of the other owners you’d met, there was a charm around him. You’d wanted to be swept up by a millionaire, taken care of, if only for a night. As Andres’ lips met yours, tongue darling out to trace your lower lip, you were certain he’d let you indulge in that fantasy. 

Andres let a hand open your shirt, drifting the tips of his fingers over the bared skin. 

“Turn around, and bend over,” Andres instructed, taking a step back from you, giving you the room needed to turn around over the leather, the soft material the only thing you could grip.

Andres’ hands were your focal point, both of them grabbing your wrists, pulling your arms to be pinned against your hips. You couldn’t move much from the vantage he had you at, only able to spread your legs further for him, his warm thighs against yours.  

"Don't move." Andres guided your hands to hold onto the back of the sofa, his hand reaching around your hips to slide open your pants, sliding them down your legs. His skin was warm, and you could feel the strength in them. 

It was then that his lips moved along the back of your neck. The kisses were gentle, until he got to your shoulder, through the material of your shirt, biting against your skin. Arousal poured into you, the sudden rush forcing a moan out of your throat. His stiff cock was pressed against your ass, minutely grinding into you. 

“Don’t waste any time,” you whispered, daring for just a moment. 

“I’ll spend it how I like,” he replied, but one of his hands moved to your cock, stroking with the barest of touches. “I paid for this time.” He was right, and your head dipped below your shoulders, holding in a frustrated grunt. 

His hand wrapped more firmly around you after a moment, and you felt a slick finger move to your asshole, slowly starting to stretch you. 

you were soon a panting mess, your head still hanging between your shoulders. He had gotten three fingers in before he couldn’t handle it anymore, soft Spanish falling from his lips. 

Your moans mirrored each other’s when his lube covered cock slid into you, and after a shift of his hips, he was sliding against your prostate with each thrust. If it wasn’t for the back of the sofa, you knew that you would have fallen already, your knees all but giving out. 

His rich voice kept offering you sweet praises, every one just pushing you further to the pleasure he was pulling from you. 

It didn’t take terribly long for you to both finish, his cum splattering in you as yours splattered against the leather of the sofa. By the time that your mind returned to you, Andres had walked away, and you heard the water running nearby. 

He returned with a damp rag, carefully cleaning up your thighs. 

“I won’t complain if we spend the rest of the time like this.” When the rag pulled away, you finally found your knees again, and turned around to look Andres in the eyes, continuing. “Better than anything I can think of.” Your eyes pointedly looked down from his eyes to lips, before looking back after a few long seconds.

You were curled into his side, bodies slowly drying of the sweat that had accumulated over the last few hours. Your head was tipped up, looking at the man with his eyes closed, face lit only by the ambient lighting of the room. Your hand moved to wrap around a lock of his hair, shaken loose from behind his ear. Part of you was certain that Andres had fallen asleep between the silken sheets you were both between, but when you tugged gently on the hair around your finger, Andres’ lips curved up. He looked breathtaking, and you couldn’t believe he had been the one paying to spend a night with you. 

His voice started up after a few moments, full of gravel from nearly falling asleep. As you laid on his chest, getting comfortable, he offered more of his story, of how he’d come to own the Riot, how he’d all but fought tooth and nail to find himself an owner of a successful soccer team. 

It was clear it wasn’t some sexual frustration that had driven him to buying a companion for the night. Andres just wanted just that; a companion.

The sun rose on your shoulders pressed into the pillows, Andres’ arm wrapped around you, once more buried deeply inside you, pulling pleasure from you in the slowest way he could manage. His actions were slow, but assured, and he’d already managed to turn your legs into jelly. 

One of your hands moved to lace into the hair at the back of his head, pulling him down to your lips. The passion that powered through the kiss was enough for him to speed up just that needed bit, wrapping his hand around your cock and letting you finish. He finished just moments later, softly groaning into your shoulder. 

When he pulled back, you looked up into his brown eyes, flecks of gold and amber shining from the morning light streaming into the room. Your fingers slipped into his hair, streaks of silver catching in the light between your fingers. His head tilted to your hand for just a moment, before smiling, catching himself in the moment of affection. 

It was at that moment that you heard noise from what you assumed to be the kitchen. 

“Ah! My chef must have arrived.” With one final kiss to your shoulder, Andres slid out of you. “Get up, I am certain there is something delicious to be had.” Your stomach suddenly growled, punctuating his words with audible interest. For just a moment, you eyed the clothes Andres had pulled from your body last night, trying to decide if it was worth it to get back into the dirty clothes yet. 

It was then that Andres appeared behind you, guiding a robe up your arms, the expensive fabric comforting against your skin. His hands smoothed over your shoulders, only to press a kiss to the back of your neck. His own robe looked almost identical to the one he’d just put on you, and the luxury looked good on him. 

Breakfast was delicious, and more than filling for you both.

His office was styled similarly to his penthouse. Deep wood, beautiful leather seating, the windows placed just so to look out and enjoy any game that would be had on the field. Watching the players practice didn’t hold your attention for too long, choosing instead to perch against Andres’ desk, your head cocked to the side. 

“So what do you do during games? Do you really watch every single one?” He shook his head, a soft laugh falling from his lips. It filled the room, connecting the space between you both. 

“Depends on how badly we are losing.” Daring for just a moment, your foot moved up to the armrest on his chair, turning it just enough so Andres was once again facing you. A surge of cockiness was snaking through your body, looking at Andres as you leant back over his desk just slightly. Your eyes ran over him, relaxed as he was in his chair. 

“Surely you’ve at least thought of doing something… illicit, babygirl.” 

You don’t know what happened between starting that sentence and ‘babygirl’ slipping out of your lips. What you did know was that you heard a clatter of that toy car he had on his desk on the floor, and Andres’ hands pinning yours to the desk. His hips were between your thighs once more, and your eyes were locked on his lips. 

“Or have you just been looking for the right person to fulfill that with?” 

“You play with fire without realizing it, don’t you?” 

“When’s the next match, Mr Galan?”

“Next Saturday.”

“We’ve got a couple hours left. I say we give it a trial run.” You leant up the little bit you could, and took his lips in a deep kiss. Andres hummed into the kiss, pushing just that little closer. 

“Always room for more practice.”

Tags!: @randomfandomtrash28​ @emotrash1 @unitedfandomsoftheworld​ @arandomnerdsblog578​ @overlookedfile​ @yesalwayswelles​

[aftermathfanfic]

Part 2, Chapter 16

“And now! Channel Three News, with reporter Roxanne Featherly!”

“Good evening. Tonight, we have a special report on the recent terrorist attacks in Paris. Who was behind them, and what did they hope to gain? Later, insiders speak on the realities of working for Glomgold Industries! And Gizmoduck – is he doing more harm than good? All this and more on Channel Three News!”

“Okay, fifteen secs for the intro.”

Roxanne sighed irritably as the bombastic music played, quickly stretching her neck before she went back on air. As the music finished, she straightened her back and took a firmer posture, her eyes trained on the newsreader in front of her.

“At eleven-twenty-one PM, last Saturday night, residents of Paris were abruptly awoken by the sound of explosions, coming from deep below the earth.” Roxanne read. “In what has been described as an ‘unexpected’ and ‘shocking’ terrorist attack, a section of the underground Paris catacombs was detonated and collapsed, causing significant damage to the structures and streets above. According to our foreign correspondents, although nobody was killed in the attack, fifty-six people were injured, with seven left in critical condition.”

The screen behind her changed to display an aerial shot of Paris, showing the partially collapsed streets and buildings.

“It is currently unknown who was behind the attack, nor do we know what they were after. What we do know is that, by strange coincidence, McDuck and his family had arrived in the city just the morning before, and were apprehended by the local police force close to the scene of the incident.”

The screen changed once more, showing a video of Scrooge McDuck wading through a crowd of journalists, trying to get to a car. His expression was one of frustration and embarrassment, trying to ignore the questions and the cameras.

“The police found them trespassing through catacomb tunnels designated as ‘off-limits’ to civilians and tourists. Though it is unknown what McDuck was doing there exactly, it’s safe to presume that his family was at least tangentially involved in the attack, with many people believing that the attack was specifically meant to target him, or that he was trying to stop the attack. Mayor Hogwilde’s theory for McDuck’s presence was notably harsher, speaking in a radio interview the other day.”

A picture of Hogwilde appeared on the screen, beside which was a soundwave image that fluctuated with his voice. “I think, though I stress that I’m merely speculating here, that this is simply another disastrous consequence of Mr McDuck and his ‘adventures’. I’m sure he didn’t intend for this to happen, the same way he didn’t intend to flatten Duckburg with a giant beanstalk. That alone cost almost five billion dollars in repairs, so I dread to imagine what this incident will cost the Parisians.”

“We reached out to the mayor’s office to ask for an interview, in the hope that he would elaborate on these comments, but they declined.” Roxanne continued. “We also reached out to the McDuck estate, but they also declined. With no straight answers from either our resident adventurers or even the Parisian authorities, all we can do is speculate and wonder what, exactly, McDuck was up to. We’re joining foreign correspondent Sam Niell, who is currently in the City of Light…”

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

Chanda waited impatiently at the park table, facing the park gate with her arms folded across her chest. The afternoon sun was hanging overhead, the warmth combating the cool spring breeze.

Finally, after an hour waiting, she saw him arrive. He pushed through the park gate and walked towards her, wearing a bright yellow hoodie and an accompanying yellow beanie. He walked towards her with a confident smirk, his hand in his pocket and a backpack slung across his shoulder. Chanda stared at him as he approached, inspecting him with a look of disdain and suspicion.

“So,” Louie asked. “You ready to go?”

“Not until you explain why you’re wearing… whatever the hell this is.” Chanda retorted.

“Ah,” Louie picked at his jacket, grinning. “This is my disguise.”

“…Okay.” Chanda narrowed her eyes. “Ignoring the fact that your idea of a disguise is to change the colour of your clothes and put on a hat, why do you need a disguise?”

“Well… let’s say that the guy we’re seeing might not be on the nicest terms with my family. So, I’m covering my bases.”

“And you think it’s actually going to work?”

“Oh, yeah.” Louie said confidently.

Chanda stared at him for a moment, trying to determine whether he was serious. Then, with a roll of her eyes, she stood up to join him, muttering, “It’s your head.”

The two of them made their way to the nearest bus stop, Chanda following behind her charge with her hands in her jacket pockets. They waited a few minutes for the bus to arrive, sitting beside each other in silence. When it did, they made their way to the back of the bus and sat down.

“…So where are we headed?” Chanda asked.

“You’ll see.” Louie replied enigmatically.

“…And I don’t get to know who we’re seeing?”

“Nope.”

“So what do I get to know?” Chanda demanded frustratedly.

In response, Louie took off his backpack, a smug smile on his beak. He unzipped the main pocket and angled the opening towards her, saying quietly, “You get to know the payout.”

Chanda looked inside, frowning. At the bottom of the backpack was a clump of bubble wrap, encasing something within. Slowly, she reached into the pack and took one, bringing it closer for her to look at, but still keeping it within the bag. Squinting a bit, she could see within the plastic padding was what looked to be a miniature blue sarcophagus sculpture with a jackal’s head, about five inches in length.

“…What is…?” Chanda began to ask.

“That is what’s known as a shabti, from New Kingdom Egypt.” Louie explained, keeping his voice down. “Supposedly, these things were placed in pharaoh’s tombs to be his servants in the afterlife. This one was found in some weird vault-thing in Turkey, but the inscriptions apparently say that the thing was meant for some guy called… Seti the First? Something like that.”

“How much do you think it’s worth?”

“Forty-thousand dollars.” Louie answered casually.

Chanda suddenly looked up at him, her gloominess replaced almost instantly by stunned disbelief.

“Oh, yeah. Welcome to Louie Inc.” Louie said with a grin. “That’s an ‘at least’ figure, by the way, so we can potentially bump that price up to sixty, possibly even eighty with this guy.” He chuckled. “That ten percent isn’t looking too bad now, is it?”

“Where did you get this?” Chanda whispered incredulously.

Louie leaned back in his seat. “Long story short? My family was at this antiques auction, right? And we bought something that turned out to be a counterfeit. A complete fake. And the story behind that is a little convoluted; the real one was supposed to be this all-powerful magic artifact, the guy who sold it expected this other guy to nab it, blah blah blah.” Louie waved his hand dismissively. “I go back to the seller and he’s all, ‘sorry, I didn’t expect someone with a degree of actual intelligence would actually buy this’, and he offered this little thing in exchange for us not letting slip any rumours of… phoney goods.”

“He gave you an artifact worth forty grand?”

“Well, I blackmailed him. Comes down to the same thing.”

Chanda gently put the shabti back in the bag, suddenly and conspicuously aware of just how valuable it was. “Forty…” She murmured, still trying to wrap her head around it. “I could…”

“You could do a lot of things.”

“But that’s enough for… I don’t know, at least three months’ worth of medicine!” Chanda cried. “That’s…!” She looked around, then asked in a hushed voice, “That’s our first gig?”

“Yup. And trust me, it’s only gonna get better from here.”

“…Okay.” Chanda leant back in her seat, a slight smile to her beak. “Alright, Louie Duck. Maybe you’re not as much of a dickhead as I thought.”

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

Chanda’s heightened respect lasted until they reached Glomgold’s estate.

“What the-” She gasped, stopping dead as they approached the gates, the wrought iron bars emblazoned with an impression of the ex-billionaire’s face.

“Don’t worry about it.” Louie told her dismissively.

“That lunatic?” Chanda hissed hysterically. “The crazy millionaire who tries to kill your family on a weekly basis?”

“Emphasis on ‘tries’.”

“Are you fucking insane?” Chanda grabbed him by the arm, demanding furiously, “He’ll see through this in a second!”

“No, he won’t, I’ve done this before!” Louie snapped, pushing her off of him. “Trust me, this is a watertight scheme! I wouldn’t be doing this otherwise!”

“What if you’re wrong? What if he gets smart and tries to get revenge? You know what that guy has access to, what if he tracks me and my mother down?”

“Uh… well, then it’s a good thing that you are not Chanda Kulavaan today, you… are…”

Louie quickly reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone, rapidly typing something while Chanda stared at him.

“…Mataji Ahuja!” Louie finished, looking back up at her victoriously.

“…Did you just search ‘random Indian name’?” Chanda demanded accusingly.

“And now you’re certifiably anonymous.” Louie replied. “Now come on.”

He resumed walking to the gates of the property, adjusting his beanie as he did. Chanda followed him after a moment, looking much warier than she had before. Once they had reached the iron bars of the gate, Louie pressed a button on a nearby intercom and waiting for a response.

“…Wasn’t he fired from his company?” Chanda asked worriedly. “He might refuse to buy it.”

“That requires him to actually understand how bad his finances are.” Louie told her. “And frankly, I don’t think he even understands what money is.”

“…Glomgold Estate.” A female voice spoke through the intercom after a while. “Who is this?”

“G’day, mate!” Louie exclaimed in a bad, over-the-top Australian accent. “This here is antiques collector Phooey Luck. Remember me?”

“Bhagavaan meree madad karo, vah ek moorkh hai.” Chanda whispered, agitatedly running her hands through her headfeathers.

“…Unfortunately.” The woman on the intercom said resignedly. “What do you want?”

“Oh, I just want to speak with your employer, that’s all!” Louie told her cheerfully, leaning against the wall next to the speaker. “I’ve recently got my hands on a real beaut’, and I reckon your boss might want to have a look at it.”

“I take it back. You are a dickhead.” Chanda growled. Louie ignored her.

“I’m afraid Mr Glomgold isn’t here right now.” The intercom woman told them. “Hasn’t been for a while.”

“Ah, no worries.” Louie replied dismissively. “When do you reckon he’ll come back?”

“…I mean, normally he comes back at six or seven, but-”

“Fantastic! We’ll just come back around then!”

“I don’t think you understand, ‘Mr Luck’.” The woman interrupted him as he was starting to walk away. “My boss isn’t at work or on holiday, he’s missing.”

Louie paused. He frowned slightly, then asked, “Uh, what, uh… what do ya mean missin’?”

“I mean that nobody knows where he is.”

“…Okay, well… it can’t be that nobody knows where he is.” Louie said with a nervous laugh, his eyes flicking over to Chanda behind him. “Surely he at least told you where he was, right?”

“Yeah, he told me.” The woman replied irritably. “Said that he was going to Paris to ‘exact his revenge’ or something and that he’d be back by Monday. That was the last I heard from him, and that was five days ago. He hasn’t called or answered his phone, the hotel he’d stayed at said they saw him leave, but he didn’t come back… He hasn’t even posted any insane rants on social media since he left!”

Louie’s smile slowly fell from his face.

“Guy’s missing. I don’t know what to tell you.” The woman said crossly. “Honestly, I figured you and your family would know more than I did.”

“Me-” Louie stammered, losing his nerve slightly. “Dunno what you’re talkin’ about, uh… that’s… obviously not great, but… I think I left my number or my email with you lot last time I was here, so, uh… why don’t you give me a ring when he comes back, yeah?”

“Sure. I’ll let you know if he comes back.” The woman replied drily. “And when you do, pick an accent that you’re actually good at. Trust me, he won’t notice.”

The intercom switched off with an audible click.

Louie stayed stock still, drumming his finger against the brickwork.

Then, he turned around and started to walk back to the bus stop, trying to avoid eye contact with his companion.

“…So, where does this fall into your ‘watertight scheme’?” Chanda asked sarcastically as they walked.

“Okay, this is just a temporary inconvenience.” Louie said irritably, dropping the fake accent as he turned to her. “All we have to do is wait until Glomgold comes back, then-”

“And how long is that gonna take?” Chanda demanded, glaring at him angrily.

“…I don’t know, like, maybe a couple of weeks? At the most?” Louie guessed. “Like, we saw him in Paris, how long could it take him to get back?”

“Well, I don’t have a couple of weeks!” Chanda shot back. “I have until next month to pay for my mother’s medication, remember? If I don’t have that money-”

“Well, what do you want from me? If he’s not here, he’s not here! What’s the alternative?”

Chanda put her hands in her pockets and looked away, huffing frustratedly. Louie folded his arms and glared back at her, waiting for her to admit that she didn’t know.

“…Look, I’m on a time limit.” Chanda said angrily, repeating herself. “If he isn’t here by next week, we have to sell that thing to someone else.”

“And I will figure it out!” Louie argued. “Trust me on this!”

“Trust you? After that display?” Chanda laughed derisively, waltzing up to him and saying icily, “I thought you said we weren’t equal partners?”

“We’re not.” Louie replied coldly.

“And yet, you want me to trust you like one. You want me to trust that you won’t try to screw me over or, more likely, fuck this up, even when you don’t trust me.”

Louie glared at her, his fists clenched in his pockets.

“Give me the thing.” Chanda demanded, holding out her hand.

“What?” Louie asked incredulously.

“Let’s call this a trust exercise. I keep that thing hidden for us-”

“No-!”

“-while you find someone who’ll buy it. I’m not just letting you walk away with forty thousand dollars.”

“I’m not fuckin’ doing that!” Louie protested. “So what, I’m meant to be the one letting you walk away with- what kind of logic are you running on?”

“The kind that assumes that you’ll decide to cut your losses and just sell the thing online? ‘Cause if you do, you won’t need to pay me for anything? If you weren’t thinking about that just then, you’d be thinking about it later. Besides, what can I do with it? You already know my name, you probably know my address… Even if I somehow convinced someone to buy it from me, it would be trivial for you to get back at me for it.”

She leant closer to him, her beak a mere inch away from his, and her eyes narrowed and dangerous.

“Give it to me, or I’ll take it from you.” She threatened him.

And in that moment, Louie saw in Chanda’s eyes the same thing he saw in Webby’s, Lena’s, and every other girl he’d ever angered – the look of a chick who could break him in half and knew it.

Fuming, but unwilling to get stabbed, Louie slowly slid the backpack off his shoulders and handed it to her.

He kept a hold on it as she grabbed it, telling her in a low voice, “If you screw me over, I will make your life hell. Aaoka’s too.”

He felt a fleeting bit of callous satisfaction seeing her flinch when he mentioned her mother’s name. Her expression tensed, then relaxed as she murmured, “…Right.”

Louie let go.

He watched Chanda leave, throwing the backpack over her shoulders and storming off the opposite direction. For a good minute or so, he just stood there, breathing heavily in humiliation and rage.

Then he spun back around and marched back to the bus stop, kicking a stray drink can into the street as he did so.

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

Despite Duckburg’s reputation as a wealthy and industrious city, there was no field office to note for the FBI. Merely a small, resident agency located on the outskirts of the central business district. So the office that Nickel had found himself in was not the clean and pristine Washington office that he had been used to, but a small, cramped room that was mostly taken up by filing cabinets. Not that he minded too much – he wouldn’t be here forever, after all.

Mounted on the wall of his office was a corkboard, tacked onto which were various strips of paper. On each piece was a typed-out name, followed by a date.

One of the pieces read, ‘Nightmare Catcher – 1/8/1977’.

Another read, ‘Lich’s Eye – 22/6/1944’.

The latest one, which read ‘Tyrian Cloak – 9/3/2024’, had a red string attached to it. The other end of the string had been pinned to a photo of Scrooge McDuck, which sat in the middle of the board, surrounded by the names of dozens of artifacts, each of which had its own individual file.

The Cloak was the only item that had a string attached to it.

Jack stared at the board, idly flipping his coin as he mused. He heard someone knock on his door, to which he responded, “Aye?”

“Your ‘guest’ is here.” A male voice said from the other side.

“Wonderful. Bring her in.”

Jack turned as the door opened, a conniving smile crossing his beak as he saw his guest walk in, chaperoned by two brawny security guards. The shrunken old beagle barely reached up to half their height, yet there was not an ounce of fear or apprehension on her face – merely a displeased, hateful scowl.

“Ah, Ms Beagle! Lovely to meet you!” Jack told her cheerfully. Looking at the two guards, he told them, “You two wait outside, this’ll only be a moment.”

“Are you sure that’s wise, Mr Nickel?” One the guards asked.

Jack raised an eyebrow. “…Does she have a gun?”

“No, sir.”

“Does she have any weapons of any kind?”

“…No, sir.”

“Then what’s the problem?” Jack asked merrily. “Worst-case-scenario, she attacks me, you two come in, drag her off and throw her out. Nothin’ to it! Just wait outside, will ya?”

“…Alright. Let us know if you need anything.” The guard replied uneasily.

Once the officers had left the room, closing the door behind them, Jack gestured to the plastic seat in front of his desk. “Have a seat.”

“I’m good.” Ma Beagle replied coldly.

“Eh, suit yourself.” Jack replied nonchalantly, making his way to the other side of his desk and sitting down in the considerably more comfortable fabric desk chair.

“I’m not in the mood to be jerked around, Fed.” Ma Beagle snarled. “You haven’t got me on anything, or you would’ve just arrested me. What do you want?”

Jack turned on a computer in front of him, pressing a few keys to bring up a file on the screen. “Just wanted talk about a mutual problem.”

“Mutual? The hell are you talking about?”

Jack didn’t reply at first, skimming the information before him.

“How long have you lived in Duckburg?” He asked.

“M’ whole life.” Ma Beagle replied.

“So, sixty-seven years…” Jack murmured. “And you first met Scrooge McDuck when you thirteen? In 1969?”

“McDuck?” The criminal matriarch narrowed her eyes at him. “Why do you want about that?”

“Just humour me.”

Ma Beagle glared at him suspiciously. “…Yeah. ’69.” She replied slowly. “Marth 18, 1969.”

“And you’ve been fightin’ him ever since?”

She shrugged. “Dunno what you’re talkin’ about.”

“Oh, come off it. Everyone knows about McDuck and the Beagle Boys. It’s been goin’ on for years!”

“Oh, my boys took it on themselves to fight McDuck, sure. But I never told ‘em to do what they do.”

“…Hm. Alright, let’s say they do it on their own. Have they ever been inside the house?”

“A couple of times. They never get far.”

“Would they be able to remember what they saw in there?”

“If you’re so interested in what’s in McDuck’s house, Fed, then why don’t you go ask him?” Ma Beagle demanded irritably. “Why waste my time?”

“Even if he let me in, he wouldn’t give me what I want.”

Beagle’s eyes narrowed. “…Why not?”

“See, what I’m looking for is… sensitive information that McDuck isn’t likely to give up easily.” Jack replied enigmatically. “What I’m hopin’ is that you have that information, or at least know where to point me so I can find it without having to resort to… more difficult measures.”

Ma Beagle stared at him. Jack just shrugged in response.

“Like I said. We have a mutual problem.” He said.

“…McDuck?” Ma Beagle said in disbelief. “You’re after McDuck?”

“I suspect that Mr McDuck has been participating in activities that are counter to the best interests of the American people.” Jack told her. “Obviously, I can’t give exact details to members of the public, but rest assured, I’m doin’ everything in my power to bring him to justice… or at least make sure he doesn’t use his resources for anti-American purposes.

“But unfortunately, I have a problem.” Jack admitted. “And it’s a lack of evidence. I’ve got the background info, I’ve got plenty of hunches, but there’s nothin’ connecting it to him. That’s where you come in. You’re one of McDuck’s oldest enemies. You know him better than I do and, more importantly, you know where his secrets are buried. You help me out, you’ll helpin’ me bring down the man who single-handedly destroyed your family and you’d be doin’ your country a solid. Sound good?”

Ma Beagle stared at him, her expression inscrutable. She bit her lip in thought, her eyes studying him, as if she was waiting for him to break.

“…Alright, Fed.” She said, taking the other chair and taking a seat. “This sounds good and all, but why should I trust you, hm? The amount of trouble your lot have given my boys over the years… I’m still writing letters to Bradly and Bobby, you know.”

“…And they are…?” Jack asked.

“In the slammer.” Beagle shot back. “And have been for almost five years, now.”

“…Okay, those were the two that were busted for holding up bank cars?” Jack asked. “Because all we really did was point the police in the-”

“Not the point.” Ma Beagle leaned over the desk, her expression cold and distrustful. “I’m not helping you on your word that you’ll bring down McDuck. I need somethin’ more than that, and I think you knew that before I walked in here. So, what’s my incentive? The carrot or stick?”

“…Well… that’s pretty straight-forward.” Jack replied casually. “See, once I have what I want, I’ll be using that information to hold McDuck to account for his actions. If he’s found to have breached the law, then it might be decided that he and his family are no longer fit to have access to certain privileges. Including a big one about… oh, the size of Duckburg?”

“…You can get me the deed to Duckburg?” Ma Beagle asked warily.

“I can get it out of his hands.” Jack replied evasively. He turned his computer monitor to her and added nonchalantly, “I can also re-evaluate these testimonies here from first-hand witnesses naming you as the matriarch of the Beagle Boys and the leader behind the anonymous Duckburg drug ring. I’m thinkin’ they might have been coerced, you know?”

“Carrot and the stick.” Ma Beagle leant back in her seat, sighing. She drummed her fingers against her handbag, frowning in contemplation.

“…I’ll think about it.” She told him.

“Splendid!” Jack stood up and extended his hand across the desk, grinning to himself. “Just let me know when you ready, and I’ll get everythin’ ready, aight?”

Ma Beagle stared at the hand for a moment before reluctantly taking it. “…Sure thing, Fed.”

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

And that's the end for Part 2 of Aftermath! Only seven more to go!

Thanks to all of you who are still sticking around for this delightfully depressing side story. As a heads up, I don't think I'll be able to update the story as regularly as I've been doing recently. The cost of having a regular income, I suppose. Rest assured though that Aftermath isn't going anywhere - not for a while.

Keep an eye out for Part 3!

[korstudying]

Week 4 vocabulary

안녕하세요~ If you have been following my blog, you’ll know that I am currently studying in South Korea. I decided to share the vocabulary I have to learn every week. So if you want to study in Korea, this might be a fun little challenge for you to try and keep up! This is the actual pace, so a great way to get into the Korean study vibes~~

All the vocabulary can be found on memrise.

to sleep - 자다

to get up - 일어나다

to wash - 씻다

to eat - 먹다

to drink - 마시다

to rest - 쉬다

to watch - 보다

to meet - 만나다

to say goodbye - 헤이지다

to ask something - 물어보다

to teach - 가르치다

to learn - 배우다

to read - 읽다

to listen - 듣다

to write - 쓰다

to like - 좋아하다

to dislike - 싫어하다

to start - 시작하다

to finish - 끝나다

to give - 주다

to receive - 받다

To buy - 사다

to play - 놀다

zero (native) - 영

one (native) - 하나

two (native) - 둘

three (native) - 셋

four (native) - 넷

five (native) - 다섯

six (native) - 여섯

seven (native) - 일곱

eight (native) - 여덟

nine (native) - 아홉

ten (native) - 열

twenty (native) - 스물

counter for items - 개

counter for people (polite) - 명

counter for people (formal) - 분

counter for paper - 장

counter for shoes, socks, gloves - 켤레

counter for clothes - 벌

counter for cups - 잔

counter for berries, flowers - 송이

counter for cars, electronics - 대 

counter for animals - 마리

counter for books - 권

counter for bottles - 병

to dye (hair) - 염색하다

to ride a bike - 자전거 타다

Review - 복습

number, figure - 숫자

alone - 혼자

washing machine - 세탁기

washing room - 세탁실

laundry detergent - 세제

soap - 비누

vaccuum - 청소기

and - 그리고

but - 하지만

road - 길

professional/public kitchen - 주방

Roommate - 룸마이트

AM - 오전

PM - 오후

bare - handed exercise - 맨손운동

nephew - 조카

Wife's little sister - 저제

thirty (native) - 서른

forty (native) - 마흔

fifty (native) - 쉰

sixty (native) - 예순

seventy (native) - 일흔

eighty (native) - 여든

ninety (native) - 아흔

Cake - 케이크

watermelon - 수박

smell - 냄새

carton drink box - 팩

postcard - 엽서

can - 캔

plastic bag - 봉지

do you want a plastic bag? - 봉지 드릴까요?

insect - 곤충

mosquito - 모기

fly (animal) - 파리 (동물)

worm - 벌레

shrimp - 새우

centipede - 지네

spider - 거미

ant - 개미

shellfish - 조개

oyster - 굴

bee - 벌

wasp - 말벌

sea animals - 해산동물

fish - 생선

octopus - 문어

squid - 오징이

pig - 돼지

horse - 말

grape - 포도

banana - 바나나

cherry tomato - 방울 토마토

leaflet - 전단지

What date? - 며칠이에요?

What day is it? - 무슨 요일이에요?

Sunday - 일요일

Monday - 월요일

Tuesday - 화요일

Wednesday - 수요일

Thursday - 목요일

Friday - 금요일

Saturday - 토요일

January - 일월

February - 이월

March - 삼월

April - 사월

May - 오월

June - 유월

July - 칠월

August - 팔월

September - 구월

October - 시월

November - 십일월

December - 십이월

One o'clock - 한 시

Two o'clock - 두 시

Three o'clock - 세 시

Four o'clock - 네 시

Five o'clock - 다섯 시

Six o'clock - 여섯 시

Seven o'clock - 일곱 시

Eight o'clock - 여덟 시

Nine o'clock - 아홉 시

Ten o'clock - 열 시

Eleven o'clock - 열한 시

Twelve o'clock - 열두 시

what - 무슨

From -  - 부터

To, until -  - 까지

appointment - 약속

good - 좋아요

how are you? - 잘 지내요?

holiday - 휴일

so, therefore - 그래서

Parents - 부모님

why - 왜

children's day - 어린이날

parent's day - 어버이닐

Teacher's day - 스승의 날

calender - 달력

Zoom - 줌

public health - 보건소

student ID - 학번

National foundation day - 개천절

Hangeul day - 한글날

Online - 온라인

to chat - 채팅하다

[whatdoesshedotothem]

x Friday 20 December 1839

9

12 ¾

incurred a cross last night thinking of π- fine morning F55° on my bedroom table at 10 – breakfast at 10 ½ to 11 25/.. – as cold as yesterday – then copied my letter to Mr. Parker – wrote and sent note to ‘A Marc Esquire’ by André at 12 ¾ compliments – thanks for his note – would rather answer it in person – sorry not at home when he called – will be at home any time but this evening – ask the address of his correspondent at Odessa – all the day copying into business letter book my letter to Mr. Parker and ditto to Booth and talking to A- terrible  at last I calmly planned her leaving me on her aunts’ death but to stay [near] or so till we had replaced the eleven hundred navigation money  shewed her she could not do well without me but said I would help her  she said she was miserable between the thought of not doing enough for the estate  and parting with me  poor thing when she saw me so calmly advising her how to get rid of me she roused up said she really would exert herself  and did in fact look quite cheerful and right at dinner – André asked for a little money said he had been 8 days – told him not to buy anything for the journey – I could say nothing as yet – would let him and my own servants know as soon as I had finally settled about it – gave in a/c 25/. – he went before 5 to Mr. Marc for answer to my note – note saying that Mr. Marc will call about 2pm. on Sunday – his correspondents’ name I can hardly make out – dinner at 5 55/.. in 35 minutes then wrote the last 13 lines – then dressed -

SH:7/ML/E/23/0156

off to princess Oroussoffs’ at 7 35/.. – found princess R- walking about the rooms – walked with her some while – talked of her going to England – it seems as if she would give me a statement of her case to send to Dr. B-  they pay a hundred and fifty thousand roubles a year law and agency expenses   it seems the estate is fettered by mortgagees and they cannot get it freed   and they take one hundred thousand to spend and when apart she takes  five thousand a month and [heforu] ditto – I said she could live for a hundred and fifty thousand a month  two thousand five hundred rouble   at York but twice that too little for London – it appears they are not too well off at present and these proceedings are not likely to terminate – Sat till 9 ¼ at the O-s’ home at 9 ½ - tea – had Grotza and sat reading till 11 ¾ Fischers’ brochure that he gave me some time back on Calaïte i.e. the Persian turquoise – good – very fine hard frost cold day  R -22° here, and R -25° or more André said at the Kremlin – F54° on the salon console and R -9 ½° at 9 ½ pm on our return home – our rooms too cold – about twenty minutes in bed with A-   she promised this afternoon to exert herself  she will never keep her promise how terrible it is  I am almost at my wits end –

[fruitcoops]

Hello! I truly love your writing! Would you consider a continuation of that piece where Jules stays with coops for a week? Or just some snippets of what they get up to?

Here’s part 1, folks! It’s about 3k words and I’m thinking there will be three or four parts total, released over the next couple days. I hope you enjoy it!

Sweater Weather and Jules credit belongs to @lumosinlove!

“Jules.” A series of gentle knocks echoed down the stairs and Sirius smiled into his coffee cup. “Jules, it’s time to wake up.”

Regulus snorted. “Bet you five bucks he has to drag the kid down.”

“Deal.”

“Jules.” Remus knocked again, sounding more exasperated. There was a heavy sigh and the door clicked open; after a moment of quiet, someone yelped. “Good morning, sunshine.”

“Go away!” Jules groaned. “An’ give it back!”

“It’s time for breakfast, get a wiggle on. I’ll carry you if I have to.”

“I’m cold.” More rustling noises followed before Jules appeared at the top of the staircase, bundled in Remus’ sweatshirt—which was really Sirius’, but it didn’t matter—and scowling. His bedhead was outstanding.

“Bon matin,” Sirius said with a smile when Jules sat heavily in the chair next to him and put his forehead on his arms. “How’d you sleep?”

“I don’t like your fiancé.”

“Oh?”

“He’s mean.”

Sirius winked at Remus as he rolled his eyes and pulled a cereal box out of the pantry. “What did he do?”

“He stole my blankets with no warning.”

“That is such a lie,” Remus scoffed. “I knocked on your door for five whole minutes before I came in!”

“Thank you for that, by the way,” Sirius said, walking over to give him a kiss on the cheek. “Reg owes me five bucks now.”

“Sweet, we can get more Oreos.”

“Oreos aren’t on your diet plan,” Jules sulked as Remus passed him a bowl of cereal and milk.

“How do you know?”

Jules mumbled something and shoved his spoon into his mouth. The night before had been hectic, with Sirius driving the Hope and Lyall to the airport while Remus helped set Jules up for the night. Regulus came back from hanging out with Leo around ten pm; by that time, Jules was still wired for sound at the idea of a week-long sleepover. He finally went to sleep around eleven thirty and Sirius and Remus crash-landed into bed, exhausted.

Practice was going to be hell.

“Why do we have to wake up early, again?” Jules asked around a yawn.

Sirius ruffled his hair as he sat down again. “Practice starts at ten. Eight o’clock is not early at all.”

He squinted at him, confused. “How early do you usually wake up?”

“Seven, seven-thirty.”

Jules shuddered and turned back to his cereal while Remus plonked himself down in Sirius’ lap with a coffee cup, looking moments away from falling asleep again. “Children are exhausting. Why did we get two of them?”

“Hey!” Jules and Regulus said in unison, clearly offended.

“We’ve got terrible judgement,” Sirius laughed.

“Older brothers are the worst, right Jules?”

“Totally. Are you coming to the rink with us?”

Regulus shook his head. “Sorry, buddy, I’ve got college stuff to work on. Want to help me with paperwork?”

Jules made a face. “I’ll pass.”

“We’re leaving in forty minutes, okay?” Remus said, stretching his back as he stood up and left Sirius’ lap cold and empty. “Jules, please take a shower.”

“I smell fine!”

“You didn’t take one yesterday or the day before. Scoot.” Jules rolled his eyes and got up. “Don’t give me that look! And put your bowl in the sink.”

Sirius and Regulus shared a glance as Jules put his stuff away and trooped up the stairs. “Hi, Hope,” Regulus snickered.

Resignation overtook Remus’ face and he sighed. “Fuck. I’m turning into my mother already. Reg, you should take a shower, too.”

“I smell fine!” The withering look from both Sirius and Remus made him raise his hands in surrender and wander off to his bedroom. “I’m nineteen, not nine!”

”And yet we still need to babysit you,” Sirius called back. Finally, they were alone. He hopped up to sit on the counter and grabbed Remus around the waist as he passed by, pulling him back for a hug. “Good morning, sweetheart.”

“Good morning.” Remus kissed him gently, bracketing his hips with his hands. He looked tired, but happy. “I’m actually pretty excited to have Jules stay with us. Thank you for that, by the way.”

“Ne rien. It’s good to have people here.” They kissed for a moment longer, listening to the shower running upstairs and Regulus’ rummaging noises down the hall. “I swear to God, he’s like a raccoon.”

Remus laughed and leaned his forehead on Sirius’ shoulder. “He definitely sounds like one.”

“At least his room’s clean.”

“Cheers to that. He’s heading back tomorrow, right?”

“Mhmm. Dumo’s been bugging me for, like, three days.”

Remus hummed, wrapping his arms around Sirius and snuggling into him. “I love you.”

“I love you, too. We’ve only got a little bit of time before Jules is out, so we should get dressed.”

Remus groaned, but released his limpet hold. “That was so close to a perfect sentence.”

Sirius paused just before hopping off the counter and raised his eyebrows. “If we have extra time…”

“Come on, you,” Remus laughed, tugging him off the counter by the hand and hurrying toward the stairs.

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

They arrived at the rink at 10:05, and Sirius began bracing himself for the inevitable chirping as soon as he stepped out of the car. Jules bounced on his toes in excitement as they walked toward the building, laden with their hockey gear and still a bit frazzled from the mad dash out of the house.

“Is this the munchkin?” Moody asked when Remus knocked on the door to the PT office.

“Yep.” Remus looked down at Jules, whose eyes were wide and more than a little nervous as his grip tightened on Remus’ jacket hem.

“Alastor Moody,” he grunted, holding a hand out that Jules tentatively shook.

“Jules.”

“Wanna see how bones work, kid?”

Instantly, his nerves disappeared. “Yeah!”

Moody winked at them as he led Jules toward the joint models on the far wall and Sirius let out a slow breath. “He’ll be fine.”

“God, I hope so. If anyone can drive Moody off the wall, it’ll be my little brother,” Remus murmured as they headed off down the hall.

The yelling started the second Sirius opened the locker room door. “You’re LATE!” James shouted, grinning from ear to ear. “Hand over the badge, Captain.”

“We still have fifty minutes until practice starts, shut your face.” Sirius socked him on the shoulder and set his bag in the stall.

“What, pray tell, was the reason for this tardiness?” James leaned over and batted his eyelashes.

Remus rolled up a towel and smacked him on the ass with it. “My little brother.”

“Jules is here?” Leo perked up on the other side of the room, and Sirius saw several of the guys look over in excitement, as if they were hiding him in one of their bags.

“He’s staying with us for the week since my great-aunt passed away.”

“Shit, Loops, I’m sorry.”

Remus shrugged. “I never met her, but my folks went back for the funeral. Moody said he’d keep an eye on Jules during practice.”

“Lupin, Black, you’re late,” Coach Weasley said from the doorway, giving them a look over his glasses. “Do we need to have a conversation?”

“No, Coach,” Sirius said as he pulled his pads over his chest.

“I hear you’ve commandeered my head PT for the day.”

Remus shook his head. “If Jules starts bugging him—”

“I’m kidding, Loops.” Arthur’s mouth twitched into a smile. “Moody loves kids. This’ll be good for his disposition.”

Finn snorted. “Can’t get any worse.”

“I expect all of you on the ice in twenty. Any stragglers are doing laps outside!” Arthur slapped the edge of the doorway before ducking out into the hall again; his sneakers squeaked on the freshly-washed floor and Sirius stifled a laugh as he finished buckling up.

The five minute delay did not have a terrible impact on his pre-practice rituals, which he took a  moment to be grateful for—they had a scrimmage planned, and he didn’t intend to lose. Once warmups were over, they moved into running plays, until finally the whistle blew and Coach called out the teams. Remus ended up on the other side and he slapped Sirius’ ass with his stick as he passed him, grinning over his shoulder before stopping next to Dumo.

Jules and Moody came out to watch a few minutes in; Sirius caught a glimpse of his wide eyes when he saw the speed of the game and smiled to himself. Everyone else seemed to notice the new arrivals as well, because their effort doubled and suddenly the plays were running smoother than ever.

Showing off for a ten-year-old, he thought with a shake of his head. Talk about baby fever.

Remus sped through the defense, weaving back and forth until he was nearly face-to-face with Sirius. His whole face lit up and he braced; when Sirius went to check him, he dipped sideways at the last second and slipped the puck right through his skates, catching it on the other side and zipping toward the goal at top speed. The goal light went off and Talker whooped, checking him in celebration.

“Lupin! Where’s that been all season?” Arthur demanded, though he was laughing. “Christ, guys, thanks for finally waking up!”

“Where the fuck did you learn that?” Sirius asked as they headed back for the face-off.

“You think you’re the only one who skates in the basement?” Remus said with a cheeky grin.

The whole rink buzzed with energy throughout the rest of the scrimmage—once or twice, Sirius realized even he was showing off a little for Jules, who cheered louder than fifteen thousand fans whenever someone scored.

Arthur shook his head when the final whistle went off. “Everyone say ‘thank you’ to Julian.”

“Thank you, Jules,” they chorused. Jules looked like he was about to die of happiness.

“I need to get him in here more often,” Arthur muttered as they headed to the locker room to change into their gym gear. “Let’s get that energy for every practice, okay? Not just the ones with Little Loops.”

“What are you talking about?” Kasey laughed.

Arthur fixed him with a look. “Don’t bullshit me, Winter, all of you were showing off for the kid.”

Remus blushed all the way to his ears, and the rest of them mumbled some half-assed excuses until they were shooed away. “I put the new schedule on the mirror,” Sirius called over the noise. “Try to pay attention to it for once.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” Logan reached up and patted him on the shoulder as he passed; Sirius dragged him back into a headlock to ruffle his hair. “Ow, fuck, okay!”

Logan did not, in fact, stick to the schedule. He was far too busy tossing the lightest medicine ball they had with Jules, who staggered slightly whenever he caught it. Both looked absolutely thrilled.

Sirius, on the other hand, was glad for the opportunity to do a fair bit of ogling while he spotted Remus—who stuck to the schedule, Sirius had never loved him more—until he finished his bench-pressing rotation. He was strong before being a player, but now…well, it was safe to say he could sweep Sirius off his feet literally and figuratively.

“Re, Re!” Jules ran over when Remus finally sat up, then paused and made a face. “You’re sweaty.”

Remus pulled him in for a hug, making him shriek and wiggle to get out. “I am, yeah! Isn’t it great? Here, lemme just—”

Jules flailed, but he couldn’t get out of Remus’ hold in time to avoid the head nuzzle that plastered his hair up on one side with sweat as the guys laughed. “Ewww!”

“Did you need something, buddy?” Remus asked at last.

“Well, now I need a shower.” Jules grimaced. “I was going to ask if you guys actually do ice baths.”

“Of course we do!” Kasey cut in before Remus could quickly divert the topic. “And your brother loves them.”

Sirius had to turn around to muffle his laughter as interest lit on Jules’ face. “Really? Can I see?”

Kasey opened the door dramatically. “Right this way, Little Loops.”

Two of the ice baths were full when they arrived and Sirius did not miss the pained look on Remus’ face at the sight, nor did he miss the devious smile on Kasey’s. Jules hurried over to one and looked over the end, practically sticking his whole face in. “Woah.”

“Pretty cool, huh? You want to know what the best part is?”

“What?”

“Oh, Christ,” Remus muttered.

“Loops, will you do the honors and make sure your darling little brother has a good time?” Kasey asked, the picture of innocence. Remus sighed and stood next to the ice bath, silently begging Sirius for help with his eyes as Kasey motioned Jules over. “Alright, so you take one of these, and then you have to be super careful as you aim. Lucky for you, you’re learning from the best.”

Remus winced as the first ice cube smacked him in the side of the head and gritted his teeth as the second went down the neck of his t-shirt. Sirius schooled his expression into the mildest, sweetest smile he could muster. “He’s not doing anything,” Jules whispered. Remus began taking deep breaths.

“He will.”

“Try me, Wint—oh, sh—” Remus muffled a squeak as ice went directly down his spine. “Hoo, boy, that’s cold.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard you censor yourself,” Kasey said, amazed. “It’s uncanny.”

“Are you done?”

“I could do this all day, but it’s my turn to make dinner tonight and Nat gets hangry if I’m late. Good game, Little Loops.” Kasey and Jules high-fived and Remus shook his shirt out; no less than four ice cubes clattered to the ground.

“Young man, you are in such big trouble,” Remus growled playfully as he swept Jules over his shoulder and began tickling his knees. Sirius dodged the squirming legs and held the door open for them as they walked back into the hallway. “You’re okay hanging out with Moody while we get our stuff together, right?”

“Yeah! He’s got the coolest knee statues.”

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

Dinner was anything but a quiet affair; all three of them had taken a nap when they got home, then had a dance party in the kitchen while Remus taught Jules how to actually cook chicken so nobody got food poisoning. Sirius was torn between begging them for the details of that particular story and wanting to stay as far away from it as possible.

Regulus and Jules got into a fierce game of footsie under the table that only ended when a small foot—he still didn’t know which one it was—slammed into the base of Sirius’ knee, hard enough that it would certainly leave a bruise. “Ow.”

They both froze, shared a look, then silently went back to eating. “Practice starts at nine tomorrow,” Remus said around a bite of broccoli. “That means wake up time is six thirty, okay? We’ve got a game on Thursday and it’s super important that we’re not late again. Reg, what time are you heading out?”

“I was thinking noon-ish? That way I can get my stuff set up while Dumo’s still at practice. Don’t want to bother him.”

Jules turned to him with the biggest, saddest eyes Sirius had ever seen. “You’re leaving?”

“I live with Dumo, remember?” Regulus hesitated. “I’ll be at the game, though.”

“Can I sit with you?”

“Absolutely.”

That seemed to placate him, and he turned back to his chicken happily. Sirius nudged his brother, giving him a significant look, which was met with an eye roll that couldn’t quite cover the fond flush on his face.

Jules and Regulus took care of the dishes after dinner and Sirius stretched out on the couch to the sounds of the kid’s excited chatter as he recounted the day’s events. Remus flopped down on top of him, settling between his thighs with a contented smile. “Today went well.”

“Yeah, it did.” Sirius began running his fingers through Remus’ soft hair. “I think Moody is about thirty seconds away from adopting him.”

Remus laughed against his chest. “I think so. It’s pretty cool seeing him so excited about PT stuff.”

“It is.” There was a slow sigh and Sirius raised his eyebrows. “What was that about?”

“I just realized that even though Reg is leaving tomorrow, we won’t have the house to ourselves for six more days. It’s been two weeks.”

Sirius closed his eyes and let his head fall back against the armrest. “Fuck. I didn’t even think about that. Think we can dump him on Dumo for a night?”

“We can handle six days, right?”

“Yeah, totally.”

There was a beat of silence. “This is going to be difficult.”

“If we make it to the three-day mark, I say we break open the Oreos as a reward.”

“Sounds good to me—oof.”

They both groaned as an extra hundred pounds of person squished on top of them. “Dishes are done!” Jules chirped.

“Did you wash your hands?” Sirius wheezed, blinking the dark spots out of his vision. Remus’ chin was digging into his upper ribs.

“Yep! Regulus wants to watch a movie. I think we should watch Jurassic Park, but he says it’s terrible—”

“He what?” Remus raised his head slightly and craned his neck to look back at the kitchen. “Regulus!”

“What?”

“You don’t like Jurassic Park? I thought you had taste!” Remus pushed off the couch and Jules wrapped all his limbs around him like an oversized koala. “We’re watching it tonight and you’re going to like it. Come on, baby, we need to make sure your brother has culture.”

Two hours later, as the credits rolled and three people snored gently, Sirius smiled to himself. He could handle a week of this.

[cowboysimp]

Hey first of all I hope you have a nice day ^^ And I wanted to know if I could do a request ? Maybe a headcanon for Hanzo, Genji, Sombra, Lucio and Jesse I hope it's not too much, with a reader who is in the middle of an exam period and who is very stressful, spends her days and nights to revise their lessons, I would like to know how they would react to seeing their s/o like that if it's possible please. Maybe S/o can be female or gender neural? I thank you in advance for taking my request 🤗

I’m so sorry this took so long to come out- especially since exams are over for most people! But I hope everyone did really good on them and aren’t to stressed out by the outcome.

Format: Headcanons

Word count: 5161

Warnings: uh Exams??? School maybe dunno.

Hanzo:

Hanzo is no stranger to intense amounts of stress, though he’d also never encourage his partner to just stop studying. Repetition and practice is very important after all.

So he’d sit down with you and help you study for your exams even going so far as to form a study program for you. He’d spend as much time as possible helping you feel ready.

Hanzo does still understand the value of breaks and proper rest. So every forty five minutes you’d both take a small fifteen minute break. The break would most likely be used to do something physical like stretching to help calm your mind. He’d also sprinkle in a little bit of meditation to help ease the anxiety.

Something he definitely does not approve of thought is you staying up late into the night to study. You need rest having spent most of the day studying and revising. So at eight pm every night he’d make sure all school related things were put away and not mentioned again.

Honestly I wouldn’ put it past him to also set a mandatory bed time. Ten pm all electronics are off and by eleven the two of you should be sound asleep. An important part in keeping a healthy schedule is getting sleep.

While this may seem not very romantic to others you’ve been with Hanzo long enough to know his overbearing concern and hours spent helping you are exactly how he shows his love. He isn't much of a romantic mainly because of his reserved nature and tendency for self doubt, but he’ll always try for you and that’s what matters.

Genji:

As for Genji, throw everything that Hanzo did into the trash. (kinda- the brothers actually have some similar tendencies)

Genji’s first step is to get you unstressed. The serious stuff can come later. He’ll force you out of the house for a few hours taking you on a small date. He would take you to some of his favorite places like arcades or cute cafes, anywhere really that he can think of that would help with the stress.

Then once you got back home he’d sit down with you and have at it, he’s spent the day destressing you and now he’s going to attempt to help you study while keeping the same low stress levels.

Studying with him would be fun.

Genji is quite creative and would try to find different interests and a bit unorthodox ways of helping you study.

He would explain to you that odd things have a tendency to stick out in people's brains so why not make this a weird and memorable study session.

While his education was quite formal he always had a hard time picking up on what was being taught until his teachers would give up on their usual methods and begin thinking outside of the box to help him learn.

So he’d apply those same methods each time you studied together.

Same with Hanzo he wouldn’t let you stay up into the early hours of the morning instead forcing you into bed with him once he saw you getting too tired or frustrated to continue.

Night Time cuddles and quizzing would become routine for exams week.

Sombra:

Oh boy-

Olivia has no idea how to help, sure she’d try really hard but she’s never had a day of proper education in her life. She doesn’t understand a single topic to the extent needed to help.

But there’s no way that would stop her. She’d sit at her computer helping you by finding the answers to your question. Basically she’d turn into an answer checking machine.

That is really the only practical way she can help.

She’d force you to take breaks and bring you unhealthy snacks while you studied, and when she got annoyed and bored of not having your attention would just come and bother you for a casual makeout session.

Her actual reliability with helping would come when she got frustrated with feeling useless. She’d hack into the school database and find the test questions.

When you tell her the test randomizes the questions so out of those hundreds you’d probably only need to know fifty or so, she cussed to whatever god existed.

She wouldn’t let that stop her though going into the school mainframe to make it so that when your test came up specific questions would be on it.

So now you’d only have to memorize the questions on the test.

Yes that might be cheating, and yes it is slightly immoral but in the end it would definitely pay off.

Lucio:

Honestly im so sorry I can't really think of much for him-

What i do know though is that he’d make you a few study playlists to boost productivity and stock you up on snacks.

He’d give you shoulder massages when you finished studying to keep your shoulders from cramping and would go out of his way to do things around the house that you normally do to make sure you can focus and not stress too much over trivial things.

(once again sorry I genuinely couldn't think of much more-)

McCree:

Now Jesse isn’t stupid by any means, but the boy dropped out of highschool and didn’t pay attention a day he was there.

He has no idea what to do to help. Honestly him trying to help is probably more distracting then anything.

If you asked him a question about pretty much any subject he’d do his best to answer though honestly probably getting it wrong and making you both more confused.

After this happened a few times he was struck by genius.

He’d settle at the table right in front of you holding his own little notebook and request that you teach him.

You were of course quite skeptical, until he explained that the easiest way to learn is by teaching others right?

He had no idea what he was talking about and frankly neither did you, but you were desperate at this point so you might as well.

Explaining things to him was like a giant review, it helped you revise things you kept on forgetting and even helped figure out the errors you had been making in your work.

By the end of the first session McCree had gone brain dead because “Why in god’s name does anyone need to know this-” and no he won't take it’s a requirement to graduate as a good answer.

[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

Broken Mirror: Part Two

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Word Count: ~2.6k

Warnings: canon violence, canon language, canon talk of death, methods of kill, and angst

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Criminal Minds. All credit goes to their respective owners. If there is any warnings that exceed the normal death/kills from the show, I will list them. If you’ve seen the show, then it’s the same level of angst unless otherwise stated.

Feedback is gold, and it’s the only currency I take

“Please, come in,” Evan Davenport greeted when you finally showed up at his house. You, Gideon, Hotch, and Spencer went to his house while Elle and Derek met Cheryl at the crime scene. “I have six people on my staff. I have three bodyguards. They've all had polygraphs. Everybody's been vetted.”

“Have they all have alibis for the night of the kidnapping?” Hotch asked. Entering the house, you looked around at family pictures and little trinkets they ad at the house. Sometimes, those are the biggest clue about who a person is and what they are capable of. There were a lot of people at the house to make sure it wasn’t bugged so that Evan’s team can come in and set up their equipment.

“All accounted for by the local FBI field office. Cheryl flew in yesterday. I'm just making sure that she's not alone even for--sorry, I just feel like I'm suffocating here. I just want somebody to tell me that she's okay.”

“Dr. Reid,” Gideon called for him, waiting until he was by his side. “What do the statistics tell us?”

“If you follow their instructions and give them the money, your daughter will be returned.”

“Done. This house is bug free,” an FBI agent from the local field office announced. The head bodyguard or whatever he was called in for their equipment. His name is Vincent Shyer, but there was something off about him. You couldn't place exactly what it was, but you were going to make sure he was watched very closely by your eye.

“Alright, bring it in!”

“Gideon,” you whispered, motioning him to come over. “I’m getting a weird vibe from Vincent. Like weirder than normal. Almost as if I can feel Trish’s energy all over him.”

“Keep an eye on him. We can’t rule anyone out.”

“Okay,” you nodded slightly. He left your side to go back to the group to question the father some more, leaving you alone.

“So, what are your theories so far about this kidnapper?”

“That he targeted you for a reason. Every line of the letter starts with the word ‘you’. He's angry at you and probably feels like you owe him. That everything you own, you don't deserve,” Hotch answered.

“From the language in the ransom we most likely believe that he's working alone,” you added from your corner of the room. Looking at the agents, you just gave them a smile before heading over to the group. “So, your daughters are identical twins?”

“They're not entirely identical. They're mirror twins. Some of Trish's organs are on the right side that should be on the left. Doctors assured us that it wasn't life-threatening,” Evan explained, showing your team the book that explained the condition in detail. Spencer took it, opened it, and began reading it. Along with Evan’s team’s equipment, you brought some of your own to monitor the call which Hotch was getting set up right now. He was going to make sure that when this bastard called, he would track him.

“Situs inversus,” Spencer said from his spot, naming the condition that Evan just described. He ran his finger down the length of the page quickly since his mind could process that many words per minute. He was flying through the pages at an incredible speed, and Evan kept watching him out of the corner of his eye.

“They had self-defense training?” Gideon asked.

“Yeah. I insisted on it. The protective detail rankled when they hit puberty, and I was sure that they would refuse their bodyguards when they left for college,” he stuttered at the end, turning to Spencer to address his reading skills. “Excuse me. Can you actually read that fast?”

“Our conscious minds can process sixteen bits of information per second. Our unconscious, however, can process eleven million,” Spencer informed, going back to the book.

“That’s his talk of yes, he can read that fast,” you chuckled.

“If whoever took her wants me to blow cases or suppress evidence or stand down--”

“What makes you think it's someone you prosecuted?” Gideon interrupted him.

“Well, I have money, but I don't have millions. I mean, what else could it be?”

“In our experience, Mr. Davenport, every case is different,” you said.

Once the rest of the team and Cheryl was back safe in the house, it was almost eight. The call monitoring system was all ready to go, and Evan was going to be the one to answer the call. He didn’t know how to use the system, but Spencer was showing him how.

“This button answers the call,” he explained, pointing to the right ones, “this button makes everyone in the room silent. It'll flash red. You'll be able to hear his side of the conversation. He won't be able to hear us.”

“We'll be running the trace through the field office, but you're in good hands with agent Gideon and his team,” Vincent assured. There was something completely off about him, even after he and his team left to go track it through the field office where they work. There was something wrong, and it bugged the shit out of you that you couldn’t place it.

“You think Cheryl's a whack job because she claims she can feel her sister's anxiety?” Elle spoke to Derek in the kitchen which was right next to you. Leaving your post, you approached the duo.

“I never said whack job.”

“Actually there may be a physiological basis for it,” you said. “Reversed asymmetry monozygotic eggs split late between nine to twelve days.”

“Don’t tell me there’s another one of Reid,” Derek groaned.

“How do you think I got two PhDs at my age? I may not be a genius with an IQ of 187, but I do know a lot,” you grinned.

“She’s actually right,” the young genius said as he joined the group. “The DNA matches right down to the very last stranded code, and there's sporadic documentation of shared physiological pain.”

“You believe it?” Derek asked after staring at you for a good minute.

“No, I'm just saying it's possible. I don't know everything. I mean, despite the fact that you think that I do.”

“I never said that. When have I ever said that?”

“Every day since I met you.”

“This morning at breakfast,” you added.

“Yesterday when he beat you at cards,” Hotch interjected with a grin. “Um, we've got one minute.”

“Anybody ever heard of sarcasm?” Derek scoffed, following the group back into the main room where everyone was waiting. Evan was very nervous, almost to the point of sweating, but he was trying to remain calm. Cheryl, on the other hand, wasn’t doing too well visually. The emotional energy in this room was very nerve racking, it was almost getting to you.

“Remember keep your voice even and calm and agree with everything he says,” Gideon instructed.

“He's late,” Evan sighed impatiently when the clock read 8:02 pm.

“He'll call. Just try to relax. This is his strategy. He wants you on edge,” you said.

“Remember to repeat any important information he gives you to make sure you understand. You try to keep him talking to reveal something about Trish or about himself,” Gideon encouraged. The phone began ringing, and just to keep the unsub stewing a bit, Gideon let the phone ring for a few more seconds before pressing the button that answered the call.

“This is Evan Davenport.”

“Hello, Mr. Davenport,” the unsub spoke. For a split second, you got a flash of Vincent’s face. It disappeared as quickly as it came, but it left you confused as to why you got that image.

“Are you the man who has my daughter Patricia?”

“I have your daughter.”

“Can I ask you--”

“You may ask me nothing,” he interrupted. “This is not an interrogatory. You will only listen to my instructions.”

“Okay,” he whispered.

“But I will not give them to you. I do not want to talk to you, Mr. Davenport. I want to talk to her. I want to talk to Cheryl,” he revealed. Gideon pressed the button that muted the call so that the unsub couldn’t hear anything the room was saying.

“What's he doing?” Evan asked.

“What most of the offenders we catch try to do is establish dominance,” Derek explained.

“How long can we keep him on hold?” Elle questioned.

“We can’t put her on,” you stated the obvious.

“Why not? I want to help. I'll talk to him,” Cheryl jumped at the chance to hear her sister’s voice.

“Cheryl doesn't have the authority that Davenport holds. He shouldn't want to talk to her.”

“I think that she should speak to him,” Elle determined.

“Do I need to repeat myself? I want to talk to Cheryl. Put her on the phone. Now,” the unsub grew impatient on the other line.

“No,” Evan shook his head.

“I think she should speak to him. He wants to talk to her. The more he speaks, the more he reveals.”

“She is right, Gideon,” Derek sighed.

“He has my sister!”

“No,” Gideon shook his head. “Y/N, you do it.”

“Okay,” you whispered, switching places with him. It was either you or Elle, and you had the more delicate voice which would best represent Cheryl’s.

“I’m waiting,” the unsub sighed. Once the room got silent, you pressed the button and began speaking.

“Okay, this is Cheryl.” No answer. “This is Cheryl.”

“I have Patricia by my side. I know her voice, so therefore, I know her sister's. Get off the phone. I want Cheryl. I'll give you 60 seconds. If you don't put her on the phone, I will hang up, and you will never hear from me or Patricia again.”

“Prep her,” Gideon said once the call was muted. Taking a seat next to Cheryl who took your spot, you had to make sure she was ready.

“Fifty seconds.”

“This guy's arrogant. Let him know that he's in control. Let him guide the conversation.”

“Forty.”

“Use your sister's name. Say my sister Trish or her name's Patricia. Talk about her.”

“Thirty-five.”

“Let him get to know her through you. Don't veer off topic.”

“Got it,” Cheryl nodded.

“I know you’re scared, okay? But this is really important that you follow what I say. Agree with him.”

“Twenty-five seconds.”

“Tell him that you understand him. I know this is going to be very difficult, but empathize with him. If you do so, he might reveal where he’s holding her.”

“Twenty.”

“Let him know that he didn't mean to hurt Trish or go this far, and that he can fix it. He has a chance to show that he's a kind and forgiving person by letting your sister go.”

“Ten seconds.”

“If you don’t know what to say, I’ll be right here to help you. I know a thing or two about empathizing.”

“Three, two, one.”

“This is Cheryl,” the young woman spoke a second after the countdown ended.

“Hello, Cheryl. How are you?”

“I'd be a lot better if I knew that my sister Patricia is okay.”

“I can tell you have a lot of empathy, Cheryl. You care about others.”

“Yes, I do, and it sounds like you understand,” she sniffled, but tried to keep her sobs silent.

“You mean that I empathize? Yes. I do. Very much. I empathize. I empathize with you, Cheryl. I know you want to be with your sister.”

“Yes, I want Trish back.”

“Good. Tell me what you want, Cheryl. I'm very interested. Tell me all about yourself. What's your favorite color?” he asked, and you were quick to press the mute button.

“Don’t answer that. Stay on the topic of Trish,” you informed, pressing the button once more to unmute it.

“If I tell you, will you let me talk to my sister?”

“Maybe. Maybe not.”

“I like blue,” she said, letting a tear roll down her cheek.

“How ordinary. Do you like chocolate, Cheryl?” he asked, but received no answer. He was growing impatient, so he repeated the question in a much slower done. “Do. You. Like. Chocolate?”

“Yes,” she whispered.

“I do as well,” he laughed.

“Please, let me talk to my sister. All I want to do is hear her voice. Please,” she begged. There was some skuttle on the other end, and you hoped Trish was alive enough to answer the call. “Hello?”

“Cheryl?” Trish’s voice sounded groggy like she didn’t know where she was or if she was hopped up on drugs.

“Trish!”

“Cher, is that you?”

“Trish, it's me. I'm here. Are you okay?” Cheryl asked, a tear rolling down her cheek.

“Cher, I can't,” the other sister whimpered.

“Where are you? What do you see?”

“I-I see the moon,” she groaned. The same skuttle sounded, and the phone was taken from the other sister.

“Trish!”

“Have 500,000 ready,” the unsub spoke.

“Let me talk to her!”

“$500,000 is what I'm owed. The Davenports will wait by the phone. You will receive a call with precise instructions in exactly 15 minutes,” the unsub said right before hanging up. Your eyes went to Spencer since he was the one doing the tracing.

“Were your able to trace it?” Gideon asked.

“No. He's probably using a disposable cell phone. They're impossible to trace.”

“She said she could see the moon.”

“She sounded delirious.”

“She was sedated,” you concluded. “It could have been a light.”

“If he's keeping her drugged, it might mean he's not very strong. He might have to keep her weak just so he can dominate her,” Derek observed.

“Or he's keeping her quiet,” Elle added.

“Has Davenport told us everything about his staff?” Gideon wondered.

“Oh, yeah, we have detailed reports but we should probably revisit background on household staff aides and current docket.”

“Pay close attention to Vincent,” you blurted out softly.

“Why? What is it?” Hotch whispered to you.

“I don’t know. All I know is that when the unsub started talking, I got a flash of Vincent’s face. Isn’t it a bit weird that they both sounded the same?”

“Similar, yes. I’ll have Garcia check it out.”

“Thanks,” you nodded.

“He said owed,” Gideon interrupted, thinking out loud.

“$500,000. His demand sounded scripted, like he was reading it to us,” Spencer remarked.

“But the rest of the conversation wasn't. He was his most relaxed just talking to Cheryl,” you conversed.

“What does that mean?” Evan stressed.

“He might know her already.”

“How quickly can you get the money?” Gideon wondered. Deciding to let Gideon handle him, you looked to your left to see Cheryl in the kitchen with a bottle of alcohol in her hand. Sighing, you left their side to join the underaged girl and took both the glass and bottle out of her hand.

“Look, I know I shouldn't drink, but under the circumstances, do you think you could let this one slide?” she sighed.

“I know it’s hard, but we need you at your best.”

“Have you had many cases like this?”

“I’ve seen my share of abductions, yes.”

“I don't know how you do this job. How do you stomach it?”

“Sometimes I don’t. I’m not your normal FBI agent. I see more than most, and I feel it. I’m an empathic psychic. Whether you believe in that sort of thing or not is up to you, but I feel your pain and I feel your sister’s fear as if it were my own. She’s close, but I don’t know where. No matter where I go, all I see are abductions, murders, and everything else you can see. For the most part, all these criminals are just cowards. There's nothing I'd rather do more than put the bastards away.”

“I just wish you could get them before they snatch someone,” Cheryl sighed sadly.

“Trish is alive, I can feel it. I know you can too. You've trusted your feelings this far. Hold onto that.”

wanna be tagged? add yourself to this document! if your tag doesn’t work, find out why!

@averyhotchner​ @lets-be-gay-for-the-angel​ @fan-girl-97​ @paulaern​ @inkstainedwritergirl​ @estrela-rogers​ @abitchforjay​ @kwbaby24​ @redsalv20​ @joonie-centric​ @havesaltwilltravel @spencerreid-mgg @sixpencespencee​

[theonlygamergost]

French homework and a Dream - Fd!au ( 2 / 2)

This fanfiction is based on the Family Dynamic au made by @antarctic-bay if you would like to know more, go check them out!!!

Also please bear in mind that the things written in this might not be canon!This fic was corrected by the lovely @im-default

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

Techno and Dream did the fatal mistake of choosing French over Spanish and now they have to suffer the consequences together ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

<----first part Enjoy~

“Please tell me that’s all of that…” Techno faceplanted into the book in front of him, Dream took his diary out of his backpack and started flipping through the pages, “Hold on… the text of Monday and the highlighted texts from page fifty to sixty-three- WE DID IT!” He exclaimed, Techno sighed in relief.

They had finished the reading and memorizing part of the homework, it was now ten pm and the others would come back soon, so Techno proposed a small break before getting back to do the second half of the test prep, yes there were small exercises on the textbook, but it was two or three of them for eleven pages, and after three hours of speaking and memorizing french words, Techno needed a break or he would have exploded.

“Some fresh air would be nice… “ Dream stretched his arms above his head, Techno got off his stool and grabbed two glasses, “we can go to the roof, there is a vent that shoots out hot air in a corner” he poured some water and gave one of the glasses to Dream, “We can go sit there for a while”.

They both gulped down the water in one shot, “Sounds good, lead the way”, and so he did, getting their shoes back on and almost forgetting the door keys, they walked up to the last floor and exited one to the roof.

Techno was at home here, he and his brothers passed lots of time on this roof: Phil came here for the peace and silence (not having a room made this his safe space), Wilbur to sing and play the guitar, Tommy came here to unwind while Techno to simply look at the stars, but all of them came up here to think, to organize their thoughts.

“Wow…” Dream jumped on one of the big metal pipes and looked at the scenery, “It’s so… pretty… “ Techno smiled.

The tall buildings that surrounded them emanated little to no light so you could see how bright the stars were tonight, it wasn’t a full moon, but that small slice of light in the sky was enough to see the outline of objects in the dark. ”Yeah…” Techno sat down, hugging his jacket a bit tighter.  

Dream sat down next to him and yawned, Techno smiled again, “You’re pulling all-nighters too?” The other boy stared at him, blinking a few times, “Don’t think I didn’t notice the bags under your eyes deepening” Dream mouthed an “Oh” and turned the other way in embarrassment, “N-no no, no all-nighters, I just got back into speedrunning and the only time I do so is at night” he rubbed his hands together to warm them up and placed them into his pocket.

Techno knew how cold it was up there, but Dream didn’t, his green hoodie wasn’t enough, not that Techno was much warmer than him even with the jacket on.

“It’s getting kinda cold… follow me” Techno got up and walked on the metal vents until he reached a corner of the roof, the noise of a fan had gotten louder now, and Dream understood why when the pink-haired boy jumped in front of a grate and his hair and clothing started moving.

“We can stay here for a while” Techno brought up the cap of his hoodie and sat down, “It can be annoying if we stay in front of it for too long, but for a bit, it will do”

Dream mimicked the other boy and pulled his hoodie on before jumping into the stream of hot air.

Techno took off his glasses and looked up at the sky, without the lenses everything was pretty blurry, but that feeling of not being able to focus on anything made him relaxed: he didn’t have to worry about the world like this.

“Thank you for inviting me here, apart from the French homework everything is going great” Techno smirked, “Technically you came here for the homework, so that’s not good to hear” they laughed at the stupid joke and chatted a bit more until Dream sneezed. To avoid getting a cold, they went back.

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

They caught the other Pandel brothers on the stairs, so when they entered home Techno and Dream moved their school work in Techno’s room, being that they only needed to do the exercises in the textbook, Techno didn’t need to shove everything on his desk to the floor since Dream was comfortable enough on Techno’s bed, but as time went by, Techno joined him.

It was around midnight now and they were laughing their asses off, looking at Minecraft and Among us memes. Their focus had left the room a long time ago and they both weren’t sure how Phil hadn’t woken up and checked up on them.  

“Oh come on… we have five more exercises Techno” Dream pushed the other boy who was scrolling through Twitter, “I’m done with this language, I’ll do them tomorrow before the test” Dream laughed at how done Techno actually looked, “Fine fine… wanna play something?”

At the word “Play” Techno’s eyes light up, “Oh! Wait here, I’m grabbing something” he gestured at the other boy to stay silent before opening the door, Dream carefully closed both of their textbooks and placed the pens back into their respective pencil case.

When Techno came back, Dream excitement met his as he saw what he was holding, “I forgot Tommy had a switch!” Techno held up the Nintendo Switch like it was the holy grail to make the other boy laugh, “You know how to play Smash Bros right?” Dream nodded meanwhile Techno proceeded to set up the Switch on his monitor. “Phil bought us Steve, wanna bully nerds with the power of Minecraft?” Dream could do nothing but agree.

“So here is the plan” he started while they insta-locked Steve and searching for an opponent, “We protect each other while we mine, and we build, we just build, build until the limit and then drop on them with an anvil” Dream snickered at the powerful but toxic strat, “We could also stunt-minecart” Techno nodded as he was taking the thing seriously, “Yup… Oh! We can build to the side and camp them with the lava bucket!” Dream laughed at how toxic Techno’s strats were, but where is the fun if you can’t bully them?

After two hours of bullying, tea-pot laughs from Dream, and countless rage quits from the opponent they decided to stop and go to bed.  

“Oh my god… that was too funny” Dream held his belly as he was still giggling at the bullying that they just committed, it was two in the morning and they had a test in five-six hours. Hopefully, the studying they did previously would be enough to carry them through the tiredness.

“We need to do that again someday” Techno placed his glasses down and turned the lights off, “Yeah, we do…” Dream was interrupted by a yawn to which Techno smiled and wished him a good night.

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

“So? How did the test go?” Skeppy asked as the two friends sat down at the same table of the previous day, the two looked like walking corpses and their constant yawning and deep bags under their eyes didn’t help, “I feel like I passed, and that’s all I care about” Dream explained and Techno nodded before placing his arms in front of him and letting his head rest, “You guys look like you fought a hoard of zombies last night jeez” Skeppy sipped on his juice.

“If Smash Bros nerds count as zombies, then yeah, we did” Dream smiled at the reference while Skeppy looked at them in confusion.

[shameless-selfship-indulgence]

Part 1 of a Gavin and Luci thing that got longer than anticipated

"I don't like being touched," Luci said.

And, to the credit of everyone around them, people took their word for it.

"Being touched," of course, was a gross oversimplification of what they actually meant. What did or didn't count as "being touched" was something established by trial and error.

Luci didn't like being grabbed, poked, or shoved. They didn't like being approached from the front with open arms. And they did not like being embraced.

But all humans needed touch, even synthetic ones. And the rules for what contact was allowed were more nuanced than the rules for that which wasn't.

Luci only liked to be touched "gently" and "slowly." "Gently" was a sweet spot between being brushed up against, (which they didn't like,) and being struck (which they REALLY didn't like.) A reassuring kind of pressure. "Slowly" meant primarily that they didn't like to be snuck up on. The android startled very easily, so a reassuring hand on the back was best engaged by starting gently and applying pressure gradually instead of clapping it down on them all at once.

Implicit in all of this was also the knowledge of how they were feeling in the moment. When feeling safe and having a good time, Luci was not averse to an affectionate punch on the shoulder from Gavin. In the security of their own home, Connor was sometimes welcome to greet them by approaching conspicuously from behind and slipping his arms around their neck in a hug. When panicking it was sometimes helpful for Hank to leave a grounding hand on their back - but only if the bout was in response to certain triggers.

And passive pressure was fine, provided that it was the android who initiated it. Everyone in the android's close circle was likely to be sat flush. against while watching a movie, riding in a car (or public transport,) or chilling in a restaurant or on the couch. Not hugging, limbs kept to themselves, but with a steady contact between thighs, hips, shoulders.

It was a control thing. Luci had already unpacked a lot of this shit with their therapist. Hugs made them feel trapped, and for someone else to feel entitled to touch or approach them felt like the entire relationship was a hug. Luci wanted to feel constantly like they had autonomy, like they were in control of their body and their space. Anyone who strayed too near them or stayed too long was likely to be pushed away, friend or foe, just so that the android could make it clear to both themself and the perpetrator that they had the freedom to make that choice.

But all that was too much to explain to strangers. "I don't like being touched" would suffice.

And that was how, after almost a full year of deviancy, Lucille's longest instance of physical contact was on the night that they deviated, when Gavin had held them in order to lower their stress levels.

"It's getting to be, like, an ISSUE, bestie," they said to their therapist one day in late November. "That one fucking hug. I haven't been, like, bringing this up because of," they waved their hand vaguely in the air, "the anniversary and shit? But this is a THING."

"Yeah?"

"That fucking hug. First I was just thinking about it as a part of, like, actually taking stock of everything that happened last year? And in terms of, y'know, things that happened, it was actually pretty nice. But then I started, like...OBSESSING over it. Everything about it. I picked the memory apart. It was eleven fifty-one PM. The hug lasted for three minutes and thirteen point eight seconds. My stress levels started at around eighty-five percent and peaked at ninety-one before dropping to a temporary low of thirty-three. All sorts of shit like that. I've been fucking...replaying the file to help me enter rest mode, and to lower stress when I'm awake. It's kind of sad."

"It is sad," said the therapist, in the genuine sense of the word. "It's sad that your needs aren't being met right now."

"Urgh, but I don't...WANT them to be!" Luci groaned. "I've thought about it, but every situation that I've imagined- asking someone for a long hug like that, imagined the hug itself, it just..." Luci's face scrunched up. They dug the heels of their hands into their eyes and shook their head. "I don't like HUGS, Rachel!"

"That isn't what it sounds like to me," said Rachel. "I think you do like hugs, Luci."

Luci looked up and blinked. Realization lifted their brows and opened their eyes. "Oh..."

"If I remember right, you've actually said that you like being touched in some contexts. It's not primarily the physical sensation that upsets you. It's the social and emotional implications of being touched that make you uncomfortable."

"Yep." Luci crossed one knee over the other and leaned back in their chair, folding their arms. "The control thing. Goddammit."

"It's normal to need touch, Luci," continued Rachel. "Humans are a social species, and we've already talked a lot about how androids are programmed with most human instincts and impulses." Rachel leaned forward. "You want a long hug. It's a perfectly normal human desire."

"But if I want a hug, then why am I also so...freaked out by the idea of actually being hugged?"

Rachel shrugged. "You tell me. What about these imagined scenarios you've put together freaked you out?"

Luci thought for a moment. "Well, I...well..." they opened their hands helplessly. "I don't...know? I guess it's just...so vulnerable?"

Rachel nodded and gestured to go on.

"But that doesn't make sense, I shouldn't be scared to be vulnerable around these guys."

"Why shouldn't you?" asked Rachel.

"Because they're GOOD. They respect me. They respect my name, my pronouns, my identity, my-my boundaries, my feelings, but..." Luci trailed off, leaving the sentence hanging.

"But?"

"But I'm still...scared of them," said Luci. "A little bit."

"Mm," said Rachel knowingly. She clicked her pen and jotted something down.

"Goddammit," muttered Luci, hanging their head. They raked their fingers through their hair. "What's wrong with me?"

"Wrong with you?" asked Rachel incredulously.

Luci lifted their head. "W-well yeah," they said. "I have no reason to be scared of them, they've been so great. I'm just being a pussy."

"Hold the fuck up," said Rachel. "Gimme a sec." She rifled through the stack of papers on her clipboard.

"Ah shit," muttered Luci.

Rachel found something from a prior session and shot Luci a look as she did so. She found the paper she was looking for and pulled it to the top.

"This is, word-for-word, what I wrote down in one of our first sessions. It's been useful for reference since then. It has your old name and pronouns, is that-"

"Go ahead," said Luci, covering their face with one hand and waving Rachel on with the other. "I know you get it, don't worry about it."

Rachel arched her eyebrows and cleared her throat pretentiously.

"Important people for Lucille: Hank, Connor, Gavin.

"Hank: police lieutenant assigned with Connor and Lucille. formerly anti-android and aggressive towards Connor."

"Gavin: police detective. stood out as very anti-android and aggressive and assaulted both Lucille and Connor. Later assisted Lucille through deviation."

"Connor: Lucille's android counterpart; brother relationship. shot and temporarily killed Lucille under CyberLife control."

Rachel put down the paper and gave Luci a significant look.

"You think I don't fucking KNOW all that?" asked Luci. "I KNOW all that. I'm just supposed to be OVER all that shit by now!"

"Why?"

"W- because- it- it was so long ago! They've all been really great since then!"

"Have they ever actually apologized?" asked Rachel gently.

Luci paused. "Oh, shit," they said.

Rachel waited.

Luci hesitated for a moment, then took a deep breath. "Okay," they said. "Connor did apologize. Like, a lot. He still feels so bad about it, we both get flashbacks, you know. But it wasn't even his fault. CyberLife legit TOOK OVER HIS PROGRAM. It was straight-up mind control."

"Luci," said Rachel. "I know you know that trauma isn't rational. Not in that way, at least."

Luci sighed slowly. "Yeah. I know. It was his body. His face. And that's what's in all the memories." They hesitated. "Connor did hold me once, actually. So Gavin wasn't the only one. But he held me to keep me from falling over as I bled the fuck out from a bullet wound that his possessed ass put in me. And I've healed a lot, but of course I'm not fucking comfortable with getting a long hug from him."

They shot a glare at Rachel. "There. I said it. You happy now?"

"Happy is a strong word," said Rachel with a small, sad smile. "I'm glad that you're acknowledging your emotions about this. It's good to name your feelings. But it's still a very painful memory for you."

"Yeah, no shit," muttered Luci. They thought a little longer.

"Hank...and Gavin. Neither of them ever apologized, not out loud. But it's like-!" Luci threw their hands in the air. "Everything they've DONE since then has been like an apology! They've been really really great, Rachel, you can't just reduce all that to whether or not they looked me in the eyes and said 'sorry!'"

"I'm not," said Rachel. "But Luci. Words are very important to you. Time and time again we've discussed how important it is for you to be able to label things. Your gender, your relationships, your emotions. You have an amazing vocabulary, and when you can't name something, it confuses you." Rachel tilted her head. "If Hank or Gavin were to say sorry, do you think that would change something?"

Lucille sat back, chin in one hand. "...It would," they said in mild surprise. After a moment, their expression began to grow distressed. "It would, it...fucking goddammit, how do I not actually KNOW that they're sorry after all this time?"

"Because they never told you," said Rachel with a shrug.

"Yeah," said Luci. "And that's allowing me to read all kinds of cognitive distortion-ass bullshit into their actions." Their LED spun yellow as they stared at the floor. "God DAMN it, how...where..."

"What's going on in your mind?" asked Rachel.

"Just-" Lucille stammered. "All these thoughts and feelings that I'm only noticing now. Like, if they're not sorry...what if that means that everything they've done after that is for their own amusement too? Just like hitting me was? What if someday they decide that it would be fun or justified to hit me again? And I've been thinking this shit for...for months? Without even knowing."

"I see."

"Like, if they're not sorry..." Luci's eyes roved back and forth over the carpet. "What if they're not actually sorry?" they asked, looking up. "Just. What if they're not?"

Rachel nodded slowly. "Yep," she said.

"I. What does that mean?" asked Luci. "Do you think they're not sorry?"

Rachel shook her head. "Oh, no. I'm sure they regret how they treated you before you deviated. Or would, if they thought about it. There's several reasons they might not have apologized. Maybe they haven't thought about it or brought it up because they don't think it's important to you. Maybe don't want to bring up painful memories for you just so that they can apologize. And, honestly? People in general just prefer to avoid awkward conversations."

Luci's shoulders relaxed a bit. "Okay," they said in relief. But they kept staring, LED spinning yellow. They groaned and knocked their head against the back of their chair. "I should be over all this by now."

"Over what?"

"It's been an entire year, Rachel! Over a year, actually. And I still just can't...TRUST them."

"Luci. It hasn't been 'an entire year.' It's ONLY been a year. These things take time."

"Well, yeah, but...we TALKED about all this before! We've worked THROUGH this shit already, it shouldn't still be...like this..."

Rachel blinked. She leaned forward, putting her elbows on her knees.

"Luci. Emotional healing and growth isn't like, a list of things you can check off and have done."

"...It's not?"

"Hell, no. It's an ongoing process. We're probably going to have conversations about the same stuff multiple times in our time together. Healing takes time. You can't just think really hard about a major traumatic event once or twice and then be over it."

"Well it sounds obvious when you say it like that," said Luci. Silence settled in the room. Luci was staring into their lap, LED spinning a steady yellow.

"What's going on?" asked Rachel gently.

Luci drew in a quick breath. "I just..." they looked up. "You mean I haven't actually been getting better?"

"Of COURSE you've been getting better!" Rachel exclaimed. "You've been making excellent progress!"

"But..." Luci lifted their hands helplessly, shaking their head.

"Luci," said Rachel. "Healing isn't a straight line up, it's a spiral. Sometimes you're going to reach a spot that looks familiar, but that doesn't mean you haven't moved. You need to be patient with yourself."

"Yeah," said Luci distractedly. "Yeah, okay."

But they didn't sound too convinced.

[ask-de-writer]

I have been sort of absent these last few days.  It will continue, I fear.

I have been away from the computer except in LATE evenings.    It is the price of friendship, I guess.  I mean being there for them when times go totally sour.

Remember my friend who wasn’t feeling well and went to the hospital?   We found out a few days ago.  Stage Four pancreatic cancer metastasized to liver and lungs.  They are transferring him to a nursing facility in the next  few days.

Meanwhile, his wife needed to go down to Victoria, not too far from Houston but a long way from here.  Jeep broke down.  She got a ride back up here managed to get their old Impala out from their property.  A real feat due to EXTREMELY soft sand.  Only ran a few errands and it wound up in the hospital parking lot with a blown motor. 

She borrowed a tow dolly and took their pickup down for the Jeep.  They made it to Sierra Blanca, about 70 miles from here.  They managed to limp it on to Fabens, the nearest town, at low speeds.  Dropped off the Jeep at a friend’s place and tried to use the truck because it was all that they had.  Saturday it died down in Fabens.  Rear end totally locked up.  Engine runs.  Rear wheels do not turn.  At all.

They are only about a mile from a good shop.  Called AAA at about six pm.  Had to abandon truck at about eight thirty pm because she is an insulin dependent diabetic.  Got her to meds in time, thank goodness.  Could not reach AAA to cancel the tow until eleven forty five pm.  Crashed into bed about twelve thirty am, 

Today, needed for many errands, including a run out to their place.  Road was ugh but we made it in and out again, once she packed everything that she needed including spare (and not so spare) meds. Got her to where she is now staying in Fabens.

Back to the truck.  Called AAA again.  Promised a call from tow contractor.  Never came.  Called back.  Got a different tow contractor.  Ditto.  Called again.  Got a genuinely helpful agent who had tried to help me yesterday.  She was very upset that I had not been helped YET.  Got a Supervisor in.  

They tried to call EVERY tow contractor in El Paso!  NOT ONE ANSWERED PHONE or responded to computer assignment.  Finally, here at ten fifty five pm, I was able to get through to cancel the tow request.

Got a company that is not a AAA contractor to answer the phone.  They promised to be there tomorrow fairly early in the morning.

And, How was YOUR weekend? 

[hotchrocket-archive]

Cracked

Moreid (sorta)

Rating: T - M

Word Count: 1321 

Note: This takes place after Gideon left and before Rossi came 

Read on Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28139622?view_adult=true

---------

It was cold for Virginia. 

Even during the winter it rarely surpassed 20 degrees, but today you could see icicles forming on the dead limbs of trees and hardened tears on every person that came and went past the small diner on third. 

He let his head hang for a moment, letting the blood in his body rush down, warming his frostbitten skin. Closing his eyes, he laughed. 

How the hell did his life end up this way? 

Spencer Reid, a child prodigy with the brightest of futures, who blew away all his teachers, who got into the FBI even with all odds against him, was now nothing more than a junkie fucking strangers for his next fix. 

---------

He arrived home at around one in the morning and immediately passed out on the couch. His customer had not been the most gentle and he knew he had some tearing he had to treat. However, he was just too tired and could do it in the morning, it’s not like he had anywhere to be. Not since Hotch invited him up to his office and told him oh so carefully that he was too much of a liability. 

Hotch was such a strong man, the kind of man you were supposed to be. Not like Spencer, no, not at all like Spencer. But in that second, ever so briefly, on that rainy October day, Spencer swore he could tears in Hotch’s eyes. 

He remembers how Hotch walked him out of the office. How right before they reached the exit, Garcia grabbed Spencer and hugged him like her life depended on it. 

“You’re gonna get better Spencer. Alright? You’re gonna get better then come back and my team of crime fighters can be reunited. Ok baby? You’re gonna get better for me”  

Spencer said nothing. He glanced up to JJ and Emily who were up on the walkway above the bullpen, trying their best to distance themself from the reality of the situation. 

That Spencer Reid, the little innocent Spencer Reid. The Spencer Reid who didn’t know what Twilight was, had just been fired because of a heroin addiction. 

As the metal doors shut and Spencer stood in that elevator for what he knew would be the last time, he tried to not think about his friends ex-coworkers, but more importantly, he tried to not think about Derek, and how he couldn’t even be bothered to show up to see him one last time. 

The things he would do to see him one last time. 

---------

Spencer crouched down on the toilet, awkwardly trying to rub healing cream on his rear. His bathroom was a mess, you could hardly see the chipped black and white tile underneath all the dirty clothes and spilled makeup. He had about an hour to kill before it got dark again and he could go back out searching for clients. He needed about five hundred more if he wanted to keep the power on this month, and another three hundred if he wanted to get the good stuff this week. 

That should do it 

Letting out a placated sigh, Spencer slid off the toilet and stood up to leave the tiny room, but not before catching a glimpse of himself in the mirror. 

He was skinny, skinnier than usual. His ribs were showing and his once pale skin was marred with bruises from unsatisfied customers. Cracked pink nail polish lay on his nails accompanying the dried purple glitter on his eyelids. 

Spencer took a quick breath, attempting to stop the warm droplets forming in his eyes. 

Derek was right 

Spencer grabbed a jacket and jeans before running out of his shoebox apartment, slamming the door behind him. 

---------

He teetered at the end of the sidewalk, seeing how long he could stay balanced. Just like when he was a little kid, dreaming about being a tightrope walker. When he was a little kid, before everything fell apart. 

A dark car pulled up taking him out of his thoughts, and before he knew it he was grabbing the roof, “Hey you up for something?”

“Why else would I be in this crap neighborhood?” 

“Three hundred for full out, One fifty for head.” 

“I’ll give you two-fifty for full, now get in.” 

“Deal.” 

Spencer jumped onto the leather seats and shut the door before looking over to his newest partner. The man looked exactly like Derek. 

---------

They arrived at the motel a couple of minutes later, checking in and getting a small room. They walked in and immediately the man shoved Spencer onto the cheap mattress. 

“Hey! You ever heard of foreplay.” Spencer remarked sarcastically. 

“Shut up and take off your pants.”

“Getting right into things I see.” 

“I have no interest in wooing a whore.” 

He may have had the physique of Derek but his eyes weren’t soft like his. When he looked into them he didn’t see the man who would pet his hair when he had a bad day or talk to him when he was feeling down. All he saw was the man who left when he told him he loved him. 

A finger probed at his hole, lubed with nothing but generic lotion from the bathroom and Spencer imagined it was Derek’s finger. That Derek’s finger was currently the one entering him, not a random man’s he met twenty minutes ago. That when he told Derek that he was his world, that he laid him down on satin sheets and made love to him, instead of telling him that he was only saying these things because he was sick. 

Soon, he felt the man’s cock slowly work itself inside him and Spencer gasped. He wished he didn’t enjoy this. He wasn’t supposed to enjoy this. He was supposed to be doing this with the man he loved. He was supposed to be doing this with Derek. 

Derek wasn’t supposed to leave. 

“Where the hell have you been?!” Derek shouted from across the hotel room. They had been on a case in Minnesota. A man had been on a rampage killing little boys. 

“I went to interview the witness.” 

“And you didn’t get back until eleven pm?”

“Yes, Morgan. Not that it is any of your bus..busi...business,” Spencer slurred “but Mrs. Gregory and I had a very long and helpful talk.” 

“Really Spencer?!” Derek walked closer to where Spencer was lying on the bed, “Because I called Mrs. Gregory and she said you left around seven so do you want to tell me what’s going on.” 

“No.” Spencer popped the syllables with his tongue, laughing to himself about Derek’s reaction.

“Well you know what? I think you’re high right now. Actually��scratch that. I know you’re high, and let me tell you. Everyone knows you are too. I’m the only reason why Hotch hasn’t fired you yet, because I keep on standing up for you dammit!” Derek yelled at Spencer, tears falling from his chocolate orbs. 

Spencer suddenly sprang off the bed, “Derek. Please don’t do this. I can’t lose my job. It’s all I have! Please Derek! Please!” 

“I can’t keep protecting you anymore, you need help. I thought you would fight this but I was wrong. You need help, pretty boy.” 

“I love you Derek! You don’t understand! I love you!” 

Derek sighed, “You know? I used to really think you did, but I think I was blindsided by all the love I had for you. I used to want to be in a relationship with you someday, but now I see you can’t care about anyone but yourself.”

“Derek that’s not true! Derek come back!” 

Derek shut the door. Two days later Spencer gathered his things from his desk and drove away from Quantico for the last time. 

---------

The man threw out his condom, grabbed his briefcase and left.   

Spencer stayed lying down naked on the bed, staring at the ceiling.

The cracked, broken ceiling. 

[kissjane]

A GOOD NEIGHBOUR IS WORTH MORE THAN A DISTANT FRIEND / (Not so) Short fic

#44 from this prompt list

I’m your new neighbour and I got locked out, help!

Eliott cannot keep in a sigh of relief when he rounds the last corner on the stairs. He hadn’t really been up to going out just yet, not completely recovered from a depressive episode from hell, but his fridge had been totally empty, and he even didn’t find any shampoo, which he bitterly needed after days without a shower, so he had made himself get up. Of course, the store had been fucking swamped, and it had taken way too long, and then when he got back here, the elevator had been closed off for maintenance again, and so he had had no choice to drag himself and his groceries up eleven floors.

But he has the finish line in sight. He can see his front door, only fifty or so steps away, and then he can shower and put on a clean shirt and a fresh pair of boxers and fall back into his bed with some microwaved soup.

His feet shuffle over the floor, his breath shallow, his eyes focused on the door, keys already in hand. Forty steps… thirty steps… twenty…

“Excuse me,” a voice suddenly breaks through his count, but Eliott cannot deal with anybody right now, he needs to get in, fall down, close his eyes for a long time. Ten more steps.

“Uh, sir? I’m so sorry, but –”

A groan escapes Eliott.

The cashier couldn’t have been just slightly faster? The elevator couldn’t have worked properly, for once?

“Look, I am really sorry, but I live in 312, and I –”

Eliott forces himself to look up. The sooner he listens to this guy, the sooner he can tell him to fuck off, and the sooner he can collapse on his bed again.

In front of him stands a man he’s never seen before. He is a bit shorter than Eliott, but he looks to be about his age. His hair is brown and sticks in every possible direction – but Eliott cannot fault him for that, especially not when it looks clean and free of grease. His own matted hair surely looks a lot worse. The guy is barefooted, wearing grey sweatpants and a T-shirt that has faded into something undefined. He is holding a few envelopes in his hand, but Eliott doesn’t really register those, too busy staring at the guy’s feet. Who the fuck walks around without shoes?

“I just went down to get the mail from the lobby, but I guess the door fell closed, and now I can’t get in, so I was just hoping I could borrow your phone to call somebody, I promise I'll be out of your hair after that –”

Oh, god. Eliott really isn’t equipped to deal with people right now.

But his eyes fall again on those naked feet. Who knew how long the guy had been standing out here in the hallway already.

He takes a deep breath, thinking longingly about his bed, his shower, microwaved soup.

He looks up, unsure what to say or do, and the guy is looking at him with – oh.

Blue.

A summer sky. A pristine lake. Faded denim. Soft blankets. Warmth and safety and belonging.

This guy has the biggest, the bluest, the most beautiful eyes Eliott has ever seen, and suddenly he doesn’t feel as bone-tired anymore. Surely he can manage for another five minutes, while this guy calls the landlord or some locksmith or his girlfriend to come pick him up.

He nods, not trusting himself to speak, and he opens the door, while the guy smiles at him and those blue depths suddenly shine like the stars and the moon combined.

“Oh, thank you so much! Here, let me help you with that…”

He grabs one of Eliott’s bags before Eliott can react, and carries it in.

“Shall I help you put these up?”

He doesn’t wait for Eliott’s answer, and efficiently starts unpacking the bread, milk, juice, and microwaveable soup. He puts the shampoo on the table, and looks at Eliott expectantly. Eliott has no clue what he is supposed to say or do. The fog in his head is growing again, and if he doesn’t get into the shower soon, he won’t be able to tonight, and the idea of another night without washing up makes his skin crawl.

“So, uh, can I borrow your phone then?”

Ah. Right. He tries to remember where it is. Oh, right, he put it on the charger before he left the flat. He wants to go get it, but the idea of walking to the bedroom only to have to come back is suddenly way too overwhelming, and he sags against the wall.

Finally, the guy seems to notice something is up.

“Hey, are you – are you okay? You look a bit… off. Is there anything I can do?”

He sounds concerned, and his blue eyes have gone a shade darker as he watches Eliott.

“M fine,” Eliott croaks. “Phone… in the… in the bedroom.”

The guy looks outright worried now.

“Okay, uh, I think you should go lay down anyway. I can leave you to get some rest, I’ll find somebody else to borrow a phone from…”

Eliott feels bad, but it sounds heavenly. He nods once, curtly, trying to ignore the guilty feeling inside, and tries to move his legs, but he stumbles. In a flash, the guy is by his side.

“Let me help you get to bed,” he says, slinging Eliott’s arm over his shoulder, letting him put most of his weight onto him.

“Where is your bedroom? Careful now,” the boy admonishes softly, as they shuffle through the hall.

“Wait,” Eliott mumbles and halts in front of the bathroom. “Need a shower.”

He gets a sceptical look from the guy.

“Are you sure you can handle it? Not gonna lie, you look really like shit.”

Eliott just stands, too tired to nod, or to think about anything.

“Okay,” the guy relents, “but I’d feel a lot better if you let me stay while you shower. I mean –”

Eliott notices a blush creeping up on the guy’s cheeks, but he doesn’t have the mental capacity to figure out what that is about.

“I mean, not in the bathroom, obviously. But maybe I could wait until you’re done and I know you’re safe in your bed before I go? I wouldn’t forgive myself if you slipped and cracked open your head or something.”

It all goes too fast for Eliott to understand, but the siren call of the shower is too alluring to ignore, so he just nods again, and croaks, “Shampoo?”.

He waits while the guy quickly fetches it from the kitchen table, and then almost tumbles inside. He misses the apprehension in his visitor’s eyes, and finally takes off his smelly clothes. He is too exhausted to stand up, so he sits on the floor of the shower stall, and mechanically washes his hair. Turning off the water, he sits, not up to finding a towel and drying himself, until he hears a knock on the door.

“Are you okay in there?”

He mumbles something, and decides he is dry enough to pull on some underwear. Just as he hears another knock, a bit more urgent this time, he is ready. He pulls open the door, and even though it is probably rude as hell, completely ignores the boy, hand poised to knock a third time. The soup will have to wait, he vaguely thinks, as he manages to stay upright until he is within reach of his bed, tumbling down on it, and sinking into a dreamless sleep.

***

Eliott wakes up, disoriented and with a growling feeling in his stomach. He tries to remember what happened – he went to the store, he took a shower, did he eat anything? Another groan from his stomach seems to indicate he didn’t. He sniffs.

Something smells good.

He sniffs again. It’s almost like fresh coffee.

Slowly, carefully, he sits up, and swings his legs over the edge of the bed. The exhaustion has worn off somewhat, and he walks to the kitchen, ready to finally munch on some bread, when he stops in his track.

At the counter, with his back towards Eliott, stands a man in an old t-shirt, comfy sweatpants and – Eliott’s Pollock socks?

He coughs, and the guy whips around, a startled look on his face.

Blue eyes.

Suddenly it comes back to Eliott – the neighbour locked out of his flat, wanting to use Eliott’s phone, standing watch outside the bathroom door while he washed off the grime of the past week.

“Oh, you’re awake! I, uh – I didn’t want to come into your bedroom for your phone while you were sleeping, so uh, I hope you don’t mind me hanging out. I made coffee and I can warm up that soup you got…”

“Are those my socks?”

Eliott doesn’t know why this is the only thing on his mind at this very moment. It must be that the blue of the man’s eyes makes him a bit dizzy.

“Oh! Uh, yeah, sorry. I got cold feet… I started a load of laundry and I saw these were hanging on your drying rack, so uh. I’ll wash them and get them back to you, of course. As soon as I can get into my flat.”

Eliott sits down at the table, while the other puts a mug of steaming coffee in front of him.

“If it’s okay, I’ll go grab your phone now, and call a locksmith, yeah?”

“What time is it?”, Eliott murmurs, sipping his coffee. It is way better than when he makes it, and he eyes the mug slightly suspiciously.

“About eleven pm,” the guy says, moving towards the door.

“It’ll cost you an arm and a leg to get a locksmith out at this hour.”

The boy stops in his tracks.

“Yeah, well,” he shrugs, “not a lot of choice, have I?”

“You could stay until tomorrow,” Eliott hears himself say before he can think it trough. Or until the day after, his treacherous mind adds, as he drinks the heavenly brew.

The guy’s eyes open even wider.

“Really?”

“Really,” Eliott says. “I’m not the best company right now, but there should be enough soup for both of us, and uh, we could watch a movie or something.”

A long beat passes, and then the guy steps back into the kitchen, getting out the soup, and firing up the microwave.

“Thanks. I’m Lucas.”

“Eliott. And you’re welcome.”

They grin at each other.

Eliott feels the last drags of his dark mood disappear.

A good neighbour is worth more than a distant friend, he thinks, and if something inside him pipes up to say that neighbours can become friends, or even more than friends, he tries to ignore it. For now.