#god it is hard to type with the cat between me and the keyboard My vær så snill baby jeg trenger å

[isbergillustration]

Suicidal Ideation Sunday (advance)

[emmywrites-blog]

pink headband

pairing: tasm!peter parker x fem!reader

word count: 3.1k

genre: angst & fluff

summary: after getting in a vicious fight with one of the most recent mutants in New York, you got to your best friend for some fixing up.

warnings: mentions of violence, depictions of blood, graphic injuries, needles, possible death, undressing, pining, kissing

notes: this is my first peter parker fic so i hope you all like it!

It was hard to keep your identity a secret to those around you, but you relished in the fact that one person could understand. That your best friend since childhood could relate to the struggles of living a double life. It was hard, always hard to live this way, but it was worth it. Maybe it was selfish, but the feeling you got everytime after you helped someone or stopped an accident made this double life worth it. And you were helping people, no matter what the media said. 

It wasn’t ever boring either, especially when you got to swing around the city attached to your best friend's back. You spent evenings surrounded by orange and pink glows, night skies decorated in navy blue, and early mornings accompanied by fluffy white clouds. Sure, you got to beat people up and save the city, but it was the small moments, the ones where you sat on the top of the Empire State building with Spider-Man, that made it fun. 

You and Peter Parker had grown up together, connected at the hip. It started in elementary school when a boy in your class picked on you for your bright pink headband, thinking it was ugly and girly, but Peter came to your rescue, plucking that headband delicately off of your head and intertwining it with his very own brown curls. He wore that bright pink material like it was his birthright, which you started to believe it was as the day went on. 

It was since then that you fell in love with Peter Parker. A deep and unconditional love, one you had denied to your parents many times. 

You took a deep breath before jumping up, your feet leaving the concrete below and landing silently on Peter’s roof, just outside of his bedroom window. You groaned softly and pulled your mask off of your head, pushing away the feeling that you were going to collapse as your hair stuck to your forehead and cheeks. You sucked in the cold night air, feeling like you just couldn’t breathe enough for your lungs to fill. 

Pushing yourself onto your feet, you limped to his open window, the glow of his lamp a stark contrast to the darkness outside. The pain in your left side spread throughout your body viciously. You dropped to your knees, throwing your mask inside while taking in the view of Peter at his desk, typing something hurriedly while his gaze flicked between the monitor and the keyboard, “Hey bug boy.” 

Peter whipped his head around and smiled fondly, a familiar feeling creeping through his chest, “Hey cat girl,” He greeted before taking in your form, along with the blood pooling through your grey suit, “Woah. What the hell happened to you?”

The fondness battled with the current pain you were feeling. Peter’s smile just did that to you, made you happy. He was contagious, like the most fatal flu. 

You let out a pained laugh as you crawled through his window, falling to the floor with a thud, “It’s just a scratch…” You joked, pressing your gloved hand to your side. You were careful not to let your metal claws make it any worse. 

You and Peter were quite the duo, one of you having been bitten by a radioactive spider while touring Oscorp, and the other having been clawed by a radioactive leopard while studying experimental serums, at Oscorp. It was fate for you to be a team, even before you knew it. It took you both a while to tell each other who you were, and it only came to light when you both ended up in the same place at the same time, fighting with one of the many unhappy mutants in New York. 

Peter rushed from his desk chair over to you, kneeling down next to your badly beaten body, “God, why didn’t you call me?” He questioned, his voice full of concern. He pressed his large, calloused hand over your own, applying a bit more pressure than you had been previously.

It was entirely the wrong time, but you couldn’t push away the warm feeling that filled your body. 

“Oh, just stitch me up, Parker.” You said, hissing at the pain coming from your wound. You leaned your head back and closed your eyes, breathing deep, shallow, “Don’t think Aunt May would appreciate it if you let me die here.” 

Peter rolled his eyes and removed his now bloody hand from your side, “Humor is still intact.” He quipped, moving around the room until he could reach under his bed, pulling out a first aid kit for times like these, “You’re gonna have to take your suit off.”

You smirked a bit and hummed, not moving from your position, eyes still closed, “Could’a just told me you wanted to get into my pants.” Your jokes left Peter grimacing at you, despite the fact that he was the exact same way, “Is your room cold? Feels cold. Really cold…” 

Peter moved back over to you and set the first aid kit down, cupping your face in his hands, “Hey, I need you to stay with me. Can’t have you blacking out on me, alright?” He lifted your head and sighed when you opened your eyes back up, “Alright…”

You smiled softly and lifted your free hand to his cheek, stroking the side of his face with pure care, despite the streaks of blood you were leaving behind, “I’m sorry, shouldn’t have left you to deal with this.” You whispered, letting out a hiss when you adjusted your body.

Peter shakes his head with ferocity, refusing the implications you were letting sit in the air, “No, it’ll be okay.” He said and slipped his hands down to the collar of your suit, stretching it with a grunt before slipping it down your shoulders. 

“Pete,” You whispered, the pressure on your gash faltering a bit, “Peter.” You lifted your other hand to his wrist, stopping his movements to his frustration, “Hey, I’ve left a puddle on your floor…Don’t think there’s much coming back from that. It’s okay.”

It wasn’t that you wanted to give up hope, or to just let yourself waste away into the hardwood floor of Peter Parker's bedroom, but you were tired. You were so tired. Stars lined the corners of your eyes and your head felt heavy, weighing down like a bowling ball on your shoulders. You wanted to sleep.

Peter looked up at you and then down to the pool of blood under your body, undoubtedly staining his floor, “Stop.” He begged, getting up to grab a pair of sharp scissors off of his desk, “You’re not dying in my room, okay? I don’t care if that’s what you think is gonna happen, but it's not. You’re gonna let me stitch you up and take care of you. Understand? After that you can fight with me all you want about whether or not you’re gonna die, but not right now. Not until I fix you up.”

You took a deep breath, the pain coursing through your body slowly numbing, “Yes, sir.” You responded with a low breath, watching as Peter neared you once more. He crouched down, angling the scissors so he could cut through the stretchy material of your suit, “Gonna have to make me a new one…”

The charcoal grey material was difficult to cut through, despite the scissors being sharp, but Peter managed a straight line down to your belly button, exposing your beige sports bra underneath. He dropped the scissors to the floor and pulled the suit down your arms, letting the ruined material hang around your hips, dipping into the puddle of your own blood. 

You hummed and pushed the sleeves and gloves off your hands, looking down at the deep gash just under the left side of your ribs, “Oh man…” You whispered softly, taking in the brutal sight. 

As you examined the wound, Peter opened the first aid kit, pulling out some gauze and bandage tape, as well as a needle and thread. Your eyes flicked to his face, watching as he pulled his brows together while quickly pushing the thread through the needle. 

Even in moments like these, he was still so beautiful.

“Okay, I’m gonna wipe you off a bit.” Peter informed you before grabbing a clean cloth from inside the kit, reaching out and lighting wiping up the blood around your cut. When you threw your head back and groaned in pain, his eyes softened, “I’m sorry.”

Peter had patched you up many times before, but none of those times had been this bad. You had never been laying on his floor, nearly bleeding out while he attempted to save your life. He wasn’t going to give up though, not on you.

In all honesty, Peter loved you. He had loved you for years, he just never felt that was something he could tell you. 

You shook your head, tensing your jaw and gritting your teeth together, “Just get it over with, Parker.” You hissed. The anger caused by your pain wasn’t directed at Peter, not at all, but you couldn’t fully hide the way you wanted to cry out.

Peter sucked in a deep breath and nodded while reaching out, setting his free hand to lightly push the skin together before slipping the needle through.

After minutes filled with pained groans and gentle tugs from the thread, you were finally closed up. Peter was taping some gauze over the stitches in order to assure that it wouldn't get infected. 

You were still lightheaded and felt like you needed to sleep, still propped up against the wall, “Thank you.” You whispered as you watched Peter, his hands moving swiftly over your abdomen while his brows were pulled together. 

Peter glanced up at you, nodding, “Yeah yeah, let's get you on the bed.” He slipped his hands under your armpits and stood you up, eliciting a groan, “We’ll get you in some clean clothes.” 

You smirked lazily, raising a brow while Peter laid you on his bed, setting your head against his pillows so you would be comfortable, “First on your bed and now getting my clothes off? Never thought I’d see this side of you, Pete.” Your voice wavered and shook, clearly showing how out of it you were despite the fake flirting you were attempting to do. 

Peter pushed your cheek slightly and rolled his eyes at you, walking to his closet so he could grab you something to wear, “You’re annoying when you’ve lost a lot of blood.” He commented, shaking his brunette locks. 

You just hummed and nodded in agreement, carefully attempting to push the rest of your torn apart suit down your legs. Peter rounded with a large shirt in his hands, “Help.” You uttered, pouting while staring down at your tangled legs. 

“You can’t do anything, huh?” He joked before sitting down on the edge of the bed, “Let me get your shirt on first.” Peter told you as he shook the shirt, leaning towards you. He rolled it up a bit and pulled it over your head, slipping your arms in one by one. 

You let Peter manipulate your body as he needed in order to dress you properly. He took the time to ease his hands along your arms, his touches laced with care and love. The shirt fit your body nicely, covering the stitches as though the assault never happened.

You sat back comfortably as Peter slipped the suit down your legs, leaving you in just your underwear and his shirt, “You’re pretty.” You complimented, lifting a hand to his hair, stroking his head softly. 

Peter looked to you, dropping your suit to his floor, “And you need sleep.” He commented, pulling his covers up to your waist, “I can get you some pain killers and some water.”

You shook your head, grabbing Peter’s hand in your own, “Don’t leave me.” You whispered, staring into the boy's brown eyes, “Please, Peter? Just wanna sleep.”

Peter watched you for a moment, taking in how your skin was paler than usual, how your eyes were dim and tired, “I’ll just be at my desk, then.” He suggested and gave you a small smile.

“No, I want you to lay with me.” You informed him, your voice a bit more demanding now as you painfully shifted over, opening the covers for Peter, “Please just lay with me. Make sure my heartbeat doesn’t fade and my breathing doesn’t stop, or whatever you want to do just…Just lay with me, okay?” 

You were emotional. You felt as though if Peter refused to lay with you, to hold you and remind you that you were here, your life would surely fade. You needed the warmth of his body to keep your negativity at bay. 

“Okay,” Peter agreed and slid in beside you, pulling the covers up both of your bodies. He looked at you and opened his arm. You immediately laid on your side, carefully curling into Peter’s body, head on his chest and arm over his waist. Peter could tell you were tense, unsure, “Hey, you’re okay.”

You nodded and held him tightly, closing your eyes, “Don’t let me die.” You whispered. It was meant to be a joke, to lift the mood and lighten the tension, but it sounded like a plea. 

Peter pressed a kiss to your head, breathing you in, “Never.”

- 

You woke up to movement underneath you along with the sound of shuffling, causing you to quickly sit up and pop open your eyes, pain striking you from the fast movement. You let out a strangled gasp and held your hand to your side. 

You finally took in your surroundings, seeing a startled Peter Parker on the bed next to you along with the glow illuminating the room due to the orange sky outside. Those were the only notable things. 

“Did you fuck up your stitches?” Peter asked and sat up, his eyes landing on your shocked face after examining the hand on your side, “Hey, are you okay?”

You just nodded in a confused manner, turning your attention down to your hand, “Yeah,” You responded, looking back up to Peter and then around his room, “Just forgot where I was…”

Letting your hand drop from your side, you lowered yourself back onto the bed, pushing your head into the fluffy pillows behind you. You stared up at the ceiling, somewhat shocked at the fact that you woke up. You didn’t think you would be here, the pain a testament to the fact that you were very much alive, and very injured. 

Peter cleared his throat from next to you and sheepishly smiled, “Um, I got Aunt May to bring in some advil and water,” He began, getting up from the bed and walking over to his desk, grabbing the two things, “Took me a bit to convince her you had a migraine, but you know, it worked. Had to push her out, lock the door.”

You nodded slightly, “I’d rather morphine.” You stated dryly before sitting back up, pushing yourself against the headboard. Your hands found the two extra strength painkillers as well as the large glass of water, “Thanks.”

Peter sat on the edge of the bed, watching you closely, “You have to drink all of that, by the way,” His smile caused your demeanour to soften, a wave of that familiar and undeniable feeling coursing through you, “doctor’s orders.”

You hummed and popped the two pills in your mouth before chugging the water, your stomach happily accepting the needed hydration. Your hands wrapped around the empty glass and settled in your lap, staring down at the condensation dripping along the length of the glass. 

You felt this need, this need to admit everything to Peter. It was like the near death experience opened you up to completely telling him the truth, to revealing why it was him you decided to see. Why it was him you wanted to spend your last moments with. Peter was the boy you had loved since he wore your pink headband, since he defended you against bullies. Your love had only strengthened when you reached highschool, becoming the muse of most of his photographs.

“What are you thinking about?” Peter asked, staring at you with interested eyes. The brown saucers examined your face as if you were an unknown creature, one living in the depths of the ocean that he has just discovered. 

You took a deep breath, staring at him with your brows pulled together. You were building up the courage to just do it, to just tell him you loved him and always had. To tell him that he was it for you. 

The words refused to spill past your lips though, held back like how a dam would block the flow of a river. Instead, you did the only thing you could think of. You leaned forward, pressing your lips to Peters in a feverish kiss, quick and needy. 

Peter was shocked, unable to kiss back due to the pure wave of confusion taking over his body. He frowned when you pulled away, noticing the terrified expression on your face, eyes wide and lips parted. Peter breathed deeply, regaining his composure, “Wait.” 

And with that, Peter leaned back to you, settling his hands on the sides of your face, his fingertips sliding past your hairline. He pressed his plush lips back to your chapped ones, kissing you slow and steady. It conveyed many emotions; fondness, longing, care, love. You kissed Peter back, the years of crushing and loving him surfacing, urging you to press your lips hard against his own. 

When you pulled away for air, despite the fact that you swore you would let his lips steal away every breath, you smiled, “I love you.” You blurted out, not caring at this point about the rejection. You almost died in this boy's arms, you doubted he would throw you out now. 

Peter watched you, sitting in the admission before a childish grin spread along his lips, “You love me?” He asked, wanting to clarify before he said anything that could embarrass himself. When you nodded, he tucked his bottom lip between his teeth, “I love you.” 

Your eyes softened, pure joy and happiness spreading through you, “Really?” It was Peter's turn to nod now, prompting you to discard the empty glass on the bed and wrap your arms around the boy's neck, hugging him tightly, “Oh, Peter.” 

The brunette wrapped an arm around your good side, pushing you close to his chest, “Ever since I wore that stupid pink headband.”

[moorishflower]

hi, sorry for crashing in here every once in a while, would you share some of your writing process with us? I don't know how you manage to consistently put out god tier writing so regularly and would like to know if it's not too much trouble?

my dear my darling you can crash through these walls whenever you want just absolutely rip through 'em <3

So I always find it a little bit funny when the topic of writing process comes up because I really don't consider myself to have one, or rather, not a particularly VIABLE one

But the process goes kind of like this:

Have idea (idea is usually had while lying in bed trying to sleep, or while in the shower, or sometimes as the result of a prompt from my personal server or from an ask here)

Go to work the next day and absolutely SLAM KEYBOARD during my breaks. I have ADD and I am not medicated for it because I am largely well-functioning and I've previously had some uhhhh unfortunate side effects from Adderall, but one of the results of that is that I write fastest and best when I'm under pressure to do so. A manufactured time limit is the easiest way to trigger this, so I have a little bluetooth keyboard that I can connect to my phone, and in my spare time at work I write. I usually do like. 2,000 words this way? Sometimes more sometimes less.

It is important to note here that I used to do metadata entry for a living, a job which required me to have an insanely high wpm type speed, so at my fastest I was clocking somewhere around 89 to 92wpm with like a 75% accuracy. I am at this point probably typing 70-75wpm with a significantly higher accuracy (have not measured in a while, so this is a rough guess). What this means is that I type fast and hard and have broken keyboards, so I can and do fuckin SLAM words out, in very short periods of time.

When I get home, mostly what I want to do is write? It gives me a lot of joy to do so, and so at home I usually work on smaller projects, or answering prompts or asks. In between I play Pokemon or read or play with my cats (I got Pokemon Violet, and Shroodle is my one true love).

So kinda the unfortunate thing for me is that my writing and my reading brain are connected by some mysterious psychic link, so it's hard for me to switch back and forth between them. It means I don't have a lot of attention to give to other fic when I'm caught by an idea, which SUCKS ASS because everyone is writing a TON of really cool and good stuff. I suspect i will go through a hibernation phase at some point and catch up on like a year of fic in 1 month l o l

As for the quality of my writing I don't have a lot to say for that! I have a bachelor's in English and World Literature, which might contribute to just. Basic understanding of the flow of stories. But I mostly don't do editing, I've never taken classes on writing outside of what I took in college, and honestly I think any quality of my writing is more of a tribute to all the fantastic things I've read. I tend to absorb little bits and pieces of other writing styles as I go, so there are concepts and turns of phrase buried in my subconscious going back 20 years to when I first started reading fic. basically I turned imposter syndrome into my identity! (j/k j/k)

idk my friend judging the quality of my own writing is difficult, but if it resonates with other people, if it gives you feelings, if it makes you laugh or makes you horny or makes you think, that's all I can ever really ask. I have to try not to think about it much beyond that because i try to keep aware of my self esteem issues and hyperfixating on whether people "like" me is a problem, sometimes! though thankfully one I am often aware of, and can take steps to mitigate.

so like, the short answer to your question i guess is: have a cool job, regularly give yourself wrist damage, be feral about words. and write. just keep writing. the more you write, the easier it gets, the faster it gets, and the better the words feel!

[allywritesanimeforfun]

The Pick Up Lines That I Think OHSHC Characters Would Use On You

copy and pasted from this site 

if you like this make sure to tell me if you'd like a part 2!

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Tamaki

Are you a parking ticket? Because you’ve got FINE written all over you.

Are you French? Because Eiffel for you.

Feel my shirt. Know what it’s made of? Wifey material.

Are you religious? Cause you’re the answer to all my prayers.

Can I give you a hug to show you how soft my sweater is?

Roses are red. Violets are blue. I didn’t know what perfect was until I met you.

Can I follow you where you’re going right now? Because my parents always told me to follow my dreams.

You dropped something. My jaw.

Are you an interior decorator? When I saw you the room became so beautiful.

You must be a broom because you swept me off my feet.

Did it hurt when you fell from heaven?

Come live in my heart, and pay no rent.

I’m going to make you my partner for the next five minutes. Let’s see how you like it.

Are you a cat because I’m feline a connection between us

If nothing lasts forever, will you be my nothing?

I’m new in town. Could you give me directions to your apartment?

Can I borrow your lips?

If you were a tear in my eye I would not cry for fear of losing you.

Do you want to see a picture of a beautiful person? (hold up a mirror)

I’ll give you a kiss. If you don’t like it, you can return it.

Wouldn’t we look cute on a wedding cake together

I may not be a genie, but I can make all your wishes come true!

If I followed you home, would you keep me?

Kyoya

Are you a magician? When I look at you everything disappears.

Do you like coffee? Because I like you a latte.

You look great right now. Do you know what else would look great on you? Me!

If you were words on a page, you’d be fine print.

Are you a bank loan? Because you got my interest.

Are you a keyboard ? Because you are my type.

Does your name start with “C” because I can C us together.

If you were a library book, I would check you out.

When God made you, he was showing off

Is your last name Gillette? Because you are the best a man can get

Life without you is like a broken pencil… pointless.

If happiness starts with “H” why does mine start with “U”?

Roses are red. Violets are blue. It would be a shame if I couldn’t date you.

Do you like science? Because I got my ion you

There isn’t a word in the dictionary for how good you look.

Do you know what I would do if I was a surgeon? I’d give you my heart.

I’m learning about important dates in history. Wanna be one of them?

Kaoru

I’m no photographer, but I can picture us together.

Are you Australian? Because you meet all of my koala-fications.

If a star fell from the sky every time I thought about you, then tonight the sky would be empty.

Somebody call the cops, because it’s got to be illegal to look that good!

Sweetness is my weakness.

Is it okay if I take a photo of you so I can show Santa what I want for Christmas?

Are you lost? Because heaven is a long way from here

Hello. Are you taking any applications for a boyfriend?

You spend so much time in my mind, I should charge you rent.

Well, here I am. What were your other two wishes?

Do you have a name, or can I call you mine?

Would you touch my hand so I can tell my friends I’ve been touched by an angel?

Are you Australian? Because you meet all of my koala-fications.

Do you want to build a snowman? It might be hard since you’ll probably melt his heart, too.

Hikaru

Are you from Tennessee? Because you’re the only 10 I see!

There is something wrong with my cell phone. It doesn’t have your number in it.

Is it hot in here? Or is it just you?

I don’t have a library card, but do you mind if I check you out?

Hey, tie your shoes! I don’t want you falling for anyone else.

You know what’s the worst thing that can happen to you right now? Me not dating you.

I know you’re busy today, but can you add me to your to-do list?

Drake would call you and I God’s Plan.

Hello, I’m a thief, and I’m here to steal your heart.

If I were to ask you out on a date, would your answer be the same as the answer to this question?

My lips are like skittles. Wanna taste the rainbow?

Do I know you from somewhere? Oh, that’s right. My dreams.

I’d rate you a nine because the only thing missing is me.

If you were a fruit you’d be a fineapple

Be careful! You might get arrested for stealing my heart.

Kiss me if I’m wrong, but dinosaurs still exist, right?

Can you pinch me, because you’re so fine I must be dreaming.

Takashi

If I could rearrange the alphabet, I’d put ‘U’ and ‘I’ together.

Do you believe in love at first sight — or should I walk by again?

There must be something wrong with my eyes, I can’t take them off you.

Do you know why it doesn’t matter if there’s gravity or not? Because I’d still fall for you.

Do you have a map? I just got totally lost in your eyes.

Has anyone ever told you how beautiful my eyes are?

If you were a steak you would be well done.

Have you always been this cute, or did you have to work at it?

Did you just strike a match? I swear as soon as you walked in, it got lit.

Do you have a New Year’s resolution? Because I’m looking at mine right now.

Your hand looks heavy. I can hold it for you!

I must be in a museum, because you truly are a work of art

They say that kissing is a language of love, so would you mind starting a conversation with me?

There is something wrong with my phone. Could you call it for me to see if it rings?

Hug me if I’m wrong, but isn’t the earth flat?

You must be a ninja, because you snuck into my heart

I’m not drunk, I’m just intoxicated by you.

Do you have an inhaler? You took my breath away.

[southsidestory]

Hi, I’m Scarlett, and this is Butters, my beloved cat. I adopted him as a spunky young boy when I was a senior in college. Now he’s a grumpy middle-aged man, and I’d like to see how cantankerous he is when he’s an old man. To do that, I need a little help.

In September, Butters started wheezing, so I took him to the vet. His symptoms were odd for an upper respiratory infection, and over the last two months, it’s become clear that this isn’t a simple kitty cold. His breathing has become more and more labored. He went from nearly 11 pounds to 9.7 in only a month because he’s choking on his food and barely able to eat. After two rounds of antibiotics, steroids, nasal drops and ear drops, and an appetite stimulant, Butters’s vet says the next step is a CAT scan (or possibly an MRI). We don’t know what’s wrong yet, but the most likely culprits are either a foreign object or a tumor in his nasal cavity.

I’m asking for $2500 because my vet estimates that a CAT scan will be between $1500 and $1800, I’ve already spent over $700 on medication, and I want to account for GoFundMe’s 2.9% transaction fees.

If you know me already, then you understand that this year has been hard. So far in 2021, I’ve lost my marriage (and with it my only immediate family), my sweet dog, my financial security, and the place I called home. Truly, if I lose my cat too because I can’t afford to take care of him, I don’t know what I’m going to do. Butters has seen me through thick and thin. Grief and sickness, successes and failures, every major event of my adult life, I’ve had this cat by my side for all of it. Sometimes he felt like the only thing I had left to hang onto, and I’m not ready to let him go yet. Even right now, as I type this, he’s sitting between my arms, purring up a storm. Because God forbid I touch my keyboard without his help.

I’m disabled and living on a fixed income, so anything you can give will be deeply appreciated, whether it’s $2 or $20. Thank you for reading this, and even if you can’t donate, please boost!

[granger-or-garcia]

A Nice Welcome

Contains- wlw, mutual pining, murder, crime, kissing, smut

18+!!

Ch 2

The next day at the BAU seemed somewhat different than yesterday. Today, I felt like all eyes were on me. The team seemed to know something I didn’t. I was filling out paperwork on my desk when someone threw a balled up piece of paper at me. I look up and Emily, Morgan, and JJ are trying not to smile at me as I open the paper.

Hey Y/N, Do you still like Penelope??

“Morgan, did you tell everyone about what I said to Penelope?” I wish I could take back what I said yesterday.

“Listen kid, it’s ok, it’s not like were going to tell her.” Morgan holds his hands up innocently.

“Yeah we’d never tell anyone else if you don’t want us to.” JJ assures me, which makes me feel better. We continue chatting for a while until Hotch comes up to my desk. 

“Hey Y/N, can you go see Garcia, our technical analyst, there seems to be something wrong with your file, you’re not in trouble just go check with her.”

“Yes, sir. I’ll be right there.” He walks away.

“Hotch knows too?” I look at the three of them.

“No, just us, Reid, and Rossi.” Morgans smiles which makes it hard for me to be upset.

“Well, I need to go see her, can one of you help me get to her office.”

“Yeah sure, I’ll walk you down there.” Emily gets out of her chair and walks me out of the office. “ So, Penelope, huh. I think she’d really like you.”

“Well, thanks Emily. That’s nice of you to say.” I smile at her as we turn the corner to her office.

“Well this is it, go get her tiger.” Emily laughs as she pats me on the back and leaves me at the door. I can feel my palms getting sweaty. I knock on the door tentatively.

“Come in!” I hear that familiar voice as I push open the door into her small office filled with trinkets and knick-knacks. “Oh, hello stranger, nice to finally meet you for real.” Her voice is shaky as she smiles. I hold out my hand which she gently moves out of the was and pulls me in for a hug.

“Wow” I didn’t even realize the words came out of my mouth until she pulled away from me.

“Sorry, sometimes I forget not everyone likes hugs.” Her face is red.

“No, you’re just really good at giving hugs, that’s all.” What a dumb excuse. I feel myself fumbling around with my fingers.”Well, uh, Hotch says there’s something wrong with my file, so what would that be?”

“Oh, yes. Well, we have to put in our loved ones like parents, siblings, and partners. You didn’t put anything down for partner, so I just wanted to check what your status is.” Her hands were shaking as she typed on her keyboard to pull up my file. 

“I’m single, but I was dating a girl for almost 3 years, so should you put her down?” I look at her to see how she reacts when I tell her about my ex. 

“Uh, um, no, not if you haven’t been dating within the last year.” She was really nervous now.

“No, it’s been a few years. But, if you happen to know anyone I am ready to date.” I joke with her, trying to ease the obvious tension.

“Oh, well, I do happen to know this one girl,” Penelope spins around in her chair and stands up,”She just so happens to be single, and in this room.” I did not see that coming. She brushes my hair behind my ears. Was this just some kind of prank by Morgan? She moves around me and locks her office door. 

“Hey, you’re okay with this, right?” Penelope looked at me seriously.

“Of course, I’d like nothing more.” I see her blush as I go to unbutton her shirt. Quickly, I pull my shirt over my head. I look into her eyes. She grabs my face and crashes my lips into hers. I feel around her back and slyly unbutton her bra. I step back after a few minutes, leaving kisses down her body until my lips meet the waistline of her pants. I look up at her, she nods. Slowly, I undo her fly and pull off her pants and underwear. I kiss her thighs as she leans against her desk, moaning softly.

“Please, I want you.” Penelope moans as she pushes my head in between her thighs. She tastes so sweet, getting wetter and wetter as I lick her, moving my tongue in different ways to keep her eyes in the back of her head. She squeezes her thighs around my head, only causing me to bring her more pleasure by bringing my fingers into the mix. Pulling my fingers in and out of her wet, tight core, I feel her legs start to shake. I don’t slow down, licking her clit and fingering her until she moans my name so loud.

“Y/N, Oh my God! Wow!”She pulls me back up to meet her face. She licks her cum off my lips and kisses me harder than anyone ever has. I fight the smile hiding behind my lips as we kiss so passionately. After a while, we get redressed. 

“Well, I should probably get back to work, but maybe I could take you out for dinner sometime?” I hand her a slip of paper with my number on it, causing her to blush. 

“I’d love that. How about tonight. I’ll meet you in the office as 6.” She smirks because of her abnormal confidence. 

“See you then. Bye Penelope.” I wave slightly as I shut the door on my way out. I take a deep breath and walk back to the office. I walk to my desk and see the whole team, except for Hotch and Rossi, staring at me. 

“Oh, my, God,” Derek looks me up and down in disbelief.”You didn’t.” How did he know?

“What are you talking about?” I try to play dumb, which doesn’t work well with profilers at all. 

“Nice shirt.” JJ adds. I look down. Last time I check I didn’t own any purple shirts. 

“Uh oh” I smirk as all of their mouths drop in surprise.

“Well, I for one, am glad that this happened, I think it’ll be great for both of you.” Spencer always had something nice to say, which brightens my day. I quickly rush back to Penelope’s office once the topic of conversation isn’t me or her.

“Hey, can I come in?” I knock on her door.

“Yeah, come on in.” I open the door to Penelope sitting at her desk in my shirt. “Personally, I feel like grey suits me.” She smirks as she puts the end of her pen into her mouth.

“Me too, but the team noticed so I guess the cat is out of the bag.” I smile, trying to make light of the situation.

“Well, I say we keep it out, who cares, Y/N, as long as we’re both happy.” She holds my hand.

“Yeah, good point.” I kiss her cheek and head back to the office. I return to see the chatting has mainly died down and everyone is working, so I do the same. Filling out papers is not the best way to spend my day, but I’m glad we don’t have a case so I can still go on this date. Finally, 6 rolls around and Penelope meets me at my desk.

“Hey Y/N are you ready for tonight?” Penelope smiles as she comes up to my desk. The team’s whispers and smirks are drowned out by her beauty.

“More than ever.” I smile and kiss her hand. I get up, grab my bag, and hold out my arm for her. She takes it gently and we step into the elevator.

REMINDER- i do requests for criminal minds AND harry potter so don’t hesitate to request anything!!

[internalsealpanic]

Thorn part 2

summary: You really should check who’s watching or not. 

a/n: My quest to cram as many kinks into a fic continues. Special thanks to @littleredwing89​ for helping me finish this and proof reading.  Also, yes, I am trying to convert as many people as humanly possibel into Slade simps

warnings: voyeurism, exhibitionism, bondage, blindfolds, degredation-ish, spreader bar, threesome, (what do you call stuffing panties into someone’s mouth), oral (male receiving), vaginal fingering, orgasm denial, dirty talk, spanking and probably somethings I forgot.

villain’s masterlist

main masterlist

part 1

Something’s been bothering you for the last few days- an itching in the back of your mind that made the nerves in your hands prickle even as you leafed through the notes piled high on your desk. You flex your fingers, reading over a transcript of a witness’ statement. There was something wrong. 

 “Give us a good show.”

 Us

 Heat trails up your neck at the memory of his skin against yours but it also agitated something in you. It was probably nothing but the way he said it bothered you. There was something you were missing. A joke. A hint. A pun. Something. Maybe you just hung around Nicky too much. Maybe, but that didn’t still your mind. It was Slade.

 You haul March’s fluffy body on to your lap. She rumbles but makes no move to get up even as you thread your hands through her thick fur. In some lazy retaliation, she pads her little front paws against your papers but you don’t find yourself minding since you’re already too distracted.  You gaze into her dark fur, a sea of black pooling and shifting on your lap like a dark mass of shadows. Your mind buzzes with too many details. That night was cluttered with too many… sensations. You cup your hand over your face feeling the heat rising on your cheeks.  March’s ears perk up and the inky mass in your lap twists to face you. Her golden eyes leering at you questioningly. 

 Us

 Your stomach plunges. You remember Slade's eye, how carefully it inspected the corners of the room, how it would wander to them while you were… The prickling in your mind told you something was wrong. You set your notes down to the side and begin to move March but she yawns contentedly on your lap so you let her be.  You drag your laptop closer to you, arching your back carefully so as not to move March. The scratching in the back of your mind definitely has something to do with the Thorn. Who knows maybe it was something relevant to the case this whole time? The dread rising in your stomach says otherwise. 

 Then there it was. Of course, it was in the fucking fine print. 

 High ranking clientele have 1 week to accept or decline the option to keep their private room videos private.  

 You swore viciously, putting your face in your hands. Your blood rushes to your ears. Of course, they would have cameras! You groan curling in on yourself. March bristles and shifts trying to pry your body open but you can’t make yourself budge not when you just want to implode. March, having given up on your sorry ass, squeezes her way out of your hold and hisses at you as if to tell you off. 

 “Yes, March. I know. I know. Oh my god- Shit, I know.”

 Her judging gaze did not waver even as she flicked her tail at your papers. You look at her pleadingly but she does not relent and even turns away from you. God, even your cat thinks you’re an absolute dumbass. Did Sita know? Did Nina? Did Anthony? Sita, probably not. She wouldn’t throw you under the bus like that. Ok, she would but not this badly. Nina, yeah probably. Anthony, definitely. But those two probably thought you were ok with it. This was such an amateur move. 

 You bite your lip and drum your fingers against the keyboard staring at the clock on the corner of your screen. Your eyes flick to your eyes to your notes and the grumpy cat making a nest out of your papers. There wasn’t much you could do with the case right now, not until Sasha made good on her end of the bargain. That would likely not be for a few hours and …

 You didn’t exactly trust Slade to keep this between the two of you. Besides, shit like this? Shit like this had a bad habit of leaking to other sites and whatever weight you pulled in the force would vanish in an instant. You ruffle your hair in frustration. Of all the mistakes you could make, why him? 

 “Such a good cockslut.”

 You bury your face in your arms as the heat creeps up to your ears. Out of habit, you put some pressure on the back of your neck but instead of quieting your mind, it slung your mind back to when Slade’s hand wrapped around your neck. You could still feel his calloused fingers grazing your sensitive skin, his breath fanning against your shoulder. How the hell were you supposed to fight him when the mere thought of him made you so flustered?! You were a goddamn professional! You want to scream or to be swallowed by the floor or both. Both sounds better. 

 You sigh, exasperation bleeding through the sound. You don’t regret it. Not really. You just wished this wouldn’t end up being career suicide. Sadly, you weren’t lucky. March’s tail flicked angrily at the thought. You say a nasally apology. She, appropriately enough, does not accept your apology. 

 You look at your phone. 1 AM. The thorn should be busy right now, meaning the guards should have their hands full.  You could definitely- Fuck it. You need to delete that thing. 

You spring out of your bed, launching yourself out the door not bothering to change out of your pajamas aside from throwing on a jacket and a pair of tennis shoes. It would be a quick in and out job if you did it correctly. 

 “See ya, March! Don’t wait up!” you call out from the door, waving your jingling keys. The sound makes March stir but she doesn’t look at you. You snort but the fondness in your features wins over the anxiety and the annoyance. 

“March?” Anthony’s voice rises above the echo of sensual music coming from the main room. You freeze, the movements of your limbs stuttering along with your heartbeat. “Uh hey,” you answer, voice infinitely more stilted than you were envisioning. 

 In the low light, you can see Anthony tilting his head, a wrinkle of concern marring his perfect brow. “I thought you were supposed to be off for a day or two since-” his statement falters when his eyes flicker to the hickeys dotting your skin. You fight down the urge to zip up your hoodie. “-since Mr. Wilson likes to play rough.” Anthony continues both from not really being able to stop the words and the need to get more information out of you. 

 You smile easily. For once, you’re thankful for the low lighting of the club. The corners of your lips twitch unconvincingly. “I- Mr. Wilson called me about an hour ago and told me to meet him here- same room- He said something about an offer and considering the tip he gave me… I found it hard to turn down.” You lie, shrugging your shoulders casually and giving him a look roughly translating to ‘eh what can ya do’. You will your muscles not to wince or fidget. Maybe your lie would be convincing enough. 

 Finally, after a long pause, Anthony gives you a knowing look and says “Well, don’t let him work you too hard.” You give Anthony a wry smile unsure what to say. “I won’t. Promise.” 

 You wait for Anthony to disappear before letting your shoulders roll into a slump. You wonder if he’s ever…

 You shake your head. That wasn’t your business but that doesn’t stop your mind from wandering. 

 The security guard in charge of the monitors was almost insultingly easy to take out. Given, he had his hand crammed down his pants and he wasn’t exactly paying attention to the surroundings. Then again, could you really blame him when part of his job is just watching porn?

 You drag his unconscious body to the closet, jamming the door with the guard’s chair. You would think this place could afford a rolly chair. Nope. You suppose they had to cut corners somewhere. They probably should have cut it at the cameras but then again you weren’t the one running the joint. 

 Just as with the guard, getting into the system was fairly easy. The universe may be telling you something. It likely was but you ignored it in favor of the screen lighting up with dozens of thumbnails of naked men and women. You fight down the spike of embarrassment that rises in your chest. The idea that one of these guards watched you as you… It was mortifying but something in your stomach stirred. It was a mix of humiliation and something unexpectedly warm. You shake your head doing your best to ignore the feeling bubbling in your stomach. 

 Underneath each thumbnail was what you assumed to be the client’s initials and what looked to be the dates of each video. Well, they’re horny but organized which really helps you. You type in ‘S.W.’ just to shorten your agony. 

 The screen flickers again and when it lights up with another set of thumbnails, your mouth dries and the blood rushes to your face and to your groin. You bite out a curse for letting your eyes wander to the images. The first one your eyes land on has his back facing the camera in all his naked glory. You scan the image, eyes tracing over the scars littered all over his body and the rippling back muscles you could only see through his shirt. You groan in frustration. You can feel yourself growing wetter. Because of course, you didn’t account for your body’s reaction to him factoring into the speed of your work. You slip up and play one of the videos, the vulgar sounds permeating the room and reverberating in your bones. You scramble to pause the video. A part of you is hesitant to. The better, more logical part of you wins out. It was either propriety or jealousy that won out. Either way, you weren’t eager to investigate, not when the aching between your legs made itself so pronounced. You swear but it came out more whiny and breathless. You tighten your grip on the desk and the mouse. You had to find this thing before you turn into a runny mess on the floor. 

“If you wanted a copy, Kitten, you could have just asked,” a gravelly voice drawls into your ear. You attempt to twist, your body brushing up against something solid. Strong arms and a toned body cages you against the desk. The man certainly knows how to use his large build to his advantage.  You twist and wriggle, a mix of irritation and panic traveling up your spine. Behind you, Slade groans as your ass brushes against his growing bulge. You freeze. Heat creeps up your face and a swelling pool of warmth in your groin makes itself known. The close proximity makes your hackles draw up with all the force of the ‘fuck you’ you felt but you reign it in along with the shiver suffusing through your frame. 

 You take a steadying breath. “How the hell did you know I was here?” you snarl, voice caustic. Unaffected and more amused than anything, Slade leans in closer, his hot breath fanning against your neck. You shiver. Your nose is overpowered by the mix of musk and gin permeating off of him. The scent was delightfully potent making you squirm in discomfort. 

 Slade kisses up your neck, taking his time answering. His teeth catch at your skin once or twice making you gasp. This feels so good. The thrum under your skin worsens. Your mind was starting to become fuzzy with anticipation. This man was definitely trying to kill you. 

 “Anthony told me,” Slade says in between kisses, and the anger that statement should have drawn out of you was nowhere to be seen.  “He told me that you were waiting for me in my usual room. Imagine my surprise when you were nowhere to be seen.” You roll your eyes at him. 

  “Let’s see what you’ve been looking at, Sweetheart,” Slade murmurs against your skin, his lips brushing against your jaw as he maneuvers the mouse away from you. A large hand settles on your hip, calloused fingers toying with the top of your shorts as his thumb traces circles against your bare skin. You whine and lean into his touch not even minding the obvious distraction. 

 You feel him smile against your skin as he reads through the dates on screen. You know he could just zip through these dates, his meta powers enhancing the rate at which his mind processes things.  You know he’s only slowing down to make sure you see the sheer volume of videos he has. Your mind tries desperately to shrink away, to carve out some sort of irritation or maybe even disgust but all you could feel was a rampant tinge of jealousy and you weren’t entirely sure what to make of it. 

 The obscene sound of your desperate moans fills the room, making you flush with embarrassment. On the screen, you watch as your fingers dip in and out of your core. The slick sounds blaring from the speaker make you drip and clench together but you do not look away. Your eyes are fixed on your trembling limbs and your gasping, kiss-bitten lips. You can feel it even now, the way your body greedily soaked up the sinful atmosphere. Your body aches from the memory. 

 You yelp when Slade’s fingers slip past the waistband of your shorts. You buck against his touch, letting his calloused fingers brush up against the bare lips of your pussy. “You making a habit out of not wearing underwear around me?” Slade teases bringing you out of your haze only through the need to defend your last bit of dignity but whatever sharp or witty comeback you have dies on your lips when he curls his fingers inside you. “I’m sorry, what was that?”

 So much for your dignity. 

 Your hips rock against his hand, doing your best to fuck yourself on his fingers and brushing against his bulge. Sure, you were horny as all hell but that didn’t mean you weren’t still the pettiest little shit in existence. You close your eyes and look away from the screen trying to concentrate on the feeling of his hands inside you. But you can’t deny how the sounds from the video made this way hotter than it already was. Gripping your neck with his hand, Slade forces you to look back at the screen.  

 You open your eyes and see yourself bouncing desperately on Slade’s engorged cock. You groan, pussy clenching on his thick digits.

 “Such a good cockslut, look at how well that tight cunt of yours is taking me in.”

 Shame ravages your entire body as you hear yourself pant and whine at the statement. You recoil looking away wanting nothing more than to dissolve into seafoam at the moment. You don’t get to revel in your shame when the hand on your neck shifts and is pushing you down and closer to the screen. “Didn’t I tell you to keep watching, Kitten?”

 “Yes, sir,” you breathe, mouth pressed against the meat of your arm. You try to concentrate on the video- the needy little noises you try to bite back, the sound of flesh slapping against flesh, the wet squelching noises as his cock drills into you. You really do. 

 You hear the click of the mouse. Your eyes watch as another video loads. On the screen, Slade rolls up the sleeves of his white dress shirt, showing off his powerful forearms. There is a woman on the bed blindfolded, obediently keeping her arms in place as Slade binds her limbs to the bedposts with silk ribbons. Her parted legs show off the slick between her thighs flowing down to the sheets. Wordlessly, Slade drags a riding crop against her sensitive hole. You groan almost loud enough to snuff out her cries for him. A prickle of jealousy tugging at you makes you go rigid under his touch. 

 “Jealous, kitten?” he whispers, hand sliding into your shirt, large hand grasping the soft round flesh of your breast. You shuffle trying to kick him but stop when you feel him roll your nipples between his fingers. In the reflection on the screen, you can see him leering at your face twisting in reluctant pleasure. You can feel it against your ear. “Don’t worry, I have plenty of ideas for a good little slut like you.” You hear another click.  

 In the next video, the first thing that registers is a high keen, a mangled version of Slade’s name,  accompanied by a low buzz. In the corner of the screen, Slade’s toying with a remote, flicking the slider up and down with no real thought behind it. The woman whines, a frustrated sound, and you can understand the frustration as you grind your barely clothed pussy against the swell of Slade’s cock. 

 “Sir, please- Ah!”

 “Please, what, sweetheart?” he coos, turning the vibrator inside her back down to the lowest setting. 

 “Plea-” her plea is cut off by Slade flicking it back up to the highest setting then back down. You make a strangled noise of frustration at both the Slade behind you and the one on screen. 

 “Sir, please. Your cock. I need it. Please fill me up.” Tears are streaming down her face. Slade uncrosses his legs and stands up, smiling like he’s just been served something particularly delectable. “Such a good slut,” he purrs, turning the power back up to the highest setting. 

 The camera angle changes. You watch as Slade’s engorged cock sinks into her fold, vibrator still buzzing inside her. “You think you can take something like that? Can your tight little cunt of yours take that much?”

 “Yes, sir,” you answer, rolling your ass against him. He grunts and you grin into your arm. “This tight little cunt can take your large cock,” mouth shaping itself, showing off your pretty lips, “and whatever else you can give me” you say, voice breathy but even. You inject all the cocksure you can into the words trying to sound more challenging rather than pleading. Slade chuckles into your flesh. “We’ll see, kitten.”  

 Slade clicks on another video.  The camera trails over the swell of a woman’s ass down to her sopping core. Her face is pressed against the leather cushions of her couch while her limbs are locked to a spreader bar leaving her open and helpless to Slade’s ministrations. Slade, in all his naked glory, pumps his leaking cock lining it up against her greedy hole. She’s shaking and whimpering, trying to push her ass flush against him but his bruising grip keeps her in place. She cries out and your walls clench on nothing when Slade plunges his cock roughly into her folds. You whimper and buck against him, mimicking the way her ass bounces against his hips. The movement draws out a sharp ‘fuck’ from Slade’s clenched teeth. His thumbs press into the dimples of your back as he pins your hips to the table.   

 “Do you want me to fuck you like I fucked her?” he asks, threading his hand through your hair and yanking you up to his chest. You gasp, the pain making your blood sing.  “Do you want that, kitten?” You nod. “Take off your shirt.” Slade pulls himself back, still pinning your hips against the table with his. You shimmy out of your shirt and jacket eyes glued to the screen. You want him. You can feel how much he wants you too from the possessive way he cages you into the way his fingers curl inside you. They’re crooked just the right way to let you fuck yourself at just the right angle but it’s not enough. They fill you but it’s not the burning stretch you crave. You watch as he fucks into her relentlessly, jealousy boiling over in your veins as her eyes roll into the back of her head, completely and utterly lost in the pleasure.  “Maybe we’ll try one of those on you next time,” he whispers, pulling down your shorts and letting them fall to your ankles. Once again, your body bends over, presenting your bare ass to him. This time willingly as if to ask him to just fuck you however he wants.  

 "Tell me what you want," Slade licks a stripe up your spine, tasting sweat and desperation on your flesh and stopping at the back of your neck. You can feel him nip at your flesh. "What do you want me to do?" 

 All of that, you thought greedily.  I want you to fuck me, use me, make me cum over and over.  I don’t care how you use me. 

 "Would you rather I tell you what I want to do to you, kitten?" The hand shoved between legs is rubbing shallow circles on your clit. The motion easily cuts off whatever coherent reply was resting on your lips. You bow your sweat-drenched back into his chest. The hairs on his chest prickle your back. “I’ll tell you exactly how I intend to use a pretty little slut like you.” He grabs your neck, giving it a light but firm squeeze, his thumb brushing against your pulse. “I’m going to have you gagging around my cock as fuck your throat raw,” he growls. It sounds like a threat but it sends shivers up your spine. “Don’t worry, kitten, I won’t come down your throat. You know me better than that. I’d rather give you a string of pearls to decorate your wonderful breasts,” he says squeezing one roughly in his large hand. Your tongue lolls out thinking of just how much you want this. Slade brings down his palm against your ass; the same broad palm kneads your flesh feeling the familiar heat emanate from the red blooming on your skin. “Then I’ll fuck that tight little ass of yours.” You gasp as he enters your pussy in one swift thrust. The rhythm of his thrusts mimics the one on the screen, slowing down when he feels your insides strangling his cock. He whispers every filthy promise you don’t even dare dream of. 

 “Do you want to cum?”

 “Yeees,” you sigh into your arms. “Please.”

 “Ask nicely.” You’re going to kill him. 

 “Please, Slade. I-”

 “Oh errr-” You freeze. You turn your head to look over your shoulder. You make a horrified bleat when you see one of the security guards standing meekly at the door. He doesn’t bother to hide how blatantly he’s watching as Slade continues to fuck into you drawing little sighs and gasps out of you. Your walls flutter around Slade, sweet and tight drawing a growl out of him. Slade looks over his shoulder as if he’d just noticed your audience. “Patrick, do you think you could give us a few minutes?” Slade grunts slowing his movements. Patrick seemingly surfaces from his slack-jawed haze. “Yes, of course, Mr. Wilson! Right away.” He scampers off shutting the door in a violent haste. 

 “You know him?” you gasp, twisting your body to scowl at him. His pace slows even more as he pretends to thin his answer over. “He’s caught me a few times,” he says offhandedly. You have no idea why this surprises you. “You’re not the first slut I’ve fucked over this desk.” You shiver as Slade pushes you back down onto the table, keeping you still with a hand around your throat.  “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” he teases, pressing a kiss between your shoulder blades. “You’d want me to fuck that tight little cunt while he watches.” The hot breath fanning against your skin draws a shiver from you. 

 “What do you think, kitten?” he asks, nipping at your ear.  “Don’t worry he won’t mind. No one would mind watching that cute little ass of yours.” You whine in a half-hearted protest. It’s loud and you think you’ll get caught again. Slade seems to think so too as he instructs you to open your mouth.  Your skin feels too hot and your mind is hazy so you obey fully expecting to press his fingers into your mouth. Instead, he stuffs a lacy piece of cloth into your mouth. You make the mistake of flicking your eyes back to the screen to investigate. In your mouth was your lacy underwear from the other night and on the screen was...

 There he sits with the ease of a hedonistic king while one woman sucks on his cock, tears pricking the edges of her eyes, and the other riding his fingers chasing her own high as he devours her mouth. The satisfaction of your jealousy heats Slade’s veins. “Sometimes double is better, don’t you agree, kitten.”  You make a dissenting whine cresting over your lips. “Don’t worry we’ll let you try it at some point.” 

 “Men would pay good money to watch you like that-” Slade tilts your chin, squeezing your chin and forcing you to look at the screen as Slade fucks the woman's throat raw. “or like this-” Slade’s cock plunges into you, deep and filling and hitting all the right spots. Your nails drag against the desk feeling your insides clench around him. He leans into your ear, voice a husky whisper. “They’d pay even better money to have their cocks where mine is-” thrust “-right-” thrust ”-now.”  You whimper around the cloth in your mouth. You tighten around him at the thought of other people vying for your attention and Slade claiming you as his while they looked on with jealousy. Slade barks out a laugh, gripping hard above the arches of your hips to bounce you back on his cock.  You’re so close. You’re going to cum. You cum with a shrill cry. Slade fucks you relentlessly through your orgasm, grunting loudly against your ear. 

 He takes his cock out of you. You feel something warm spill all over your ass. It’s sticky and hot and you don’t need to look to know what it was.   

 He takes your panties out of your mouth. Your breath, greedily sucking in air but it turns into a gasp when you feel the lacy cloth rubbing against your oversensitive skin.“Gotta keep this place clean, kitten- This is a high-class establishment after all.” You don’t protest as he tosses your cum covered panties into your pile of clothes. You simply press your body against the cool surface of the table and let out a tired little sigh.  

 “Feel free to delete the videos if you want. I already have my own copy,” he says casually waving a USB stick as he walks towards the door. “As I said before, just tell me if you want a copy. I’ll happily give you a copy… for a favor.”

 “Fuck you.”

 “Anytime, kitten.”

 You hear the door close. You’re going to have to work to get your clothes back on. Your limbs feel like noodles but first, you click on your video and delete them. You saw several people on the members' list you want nowhere near you or your videos.  Your skin heats again at the thought of those people bidding just to- You push it out of your mind and hit the delete button. 

 You breathe a sigh of relief. 

 Bonus: 

 Slade brings his phone up to his ear after typing in a familiar set of digits. “How did you like it?”

 “Wilson, you’ve got her trained well,” Roman’s gravelly voice, says roughly strained from arousal as he replays some highlights. 

“Indeed, I do.”

 “How much?”

 Slade hums, taking his time to answer. “How much are you willing to pay?” 

 “You would be surprised.”

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THANKS FOR READING

Tag list:  @batarella , @anothertimdrakestan , @lucy-roo , @multifandomgirl-us , @idkmanicantenglish ,@birdy-bat-writes , @americasmarauders , @l-inkage , @arestorationofbalance  , @cloudie-skay , @wunderstell    @hyp-oh-critical @glorified-red

[captainjimothycarter]

So ignoring dementia cause that was needlessly cruel, I love this image of Steve defrosting and immediately moving into Peggy's spare room where she still lives in her little house, garden out back, cursing at politics and keeping tabs on all the not so bright stars in SHIELD. Because Steve adjusting to the modern world with a 90 year old woman giving him advice through an earpiece. Occasionally very bad advice. Optional her setting him up like Nat did, only with various genders.

i love this prompt to death but I swear I am not right for this. I can’t capture peggy just right and get so heartbroken over peggy being old. not like the dementia was anything nicer.

anyyyyway, sorry for the bleh.

--

“Steve?”

“Sort of busy, Peggy, just hang on-”

There was a loud clanging noise of metal-on-metal, followed by a heavy splashing noise before Steve was back on the line much to the elder’s relief. “Yes, dar-Peggy?”

“Hm.” Even without looking at her, he knew she was smiling. There was something about her tone that told him. “What about Jensen? The agent-”

“Pegs, I told you no,” Steve sighed heavily, despite it she can hear the sound of his footsteps echoing on the metal floor. “Anyway, Jensen is too...much for me.”

“Is it the colored hair?”

“What? No, no.” It felt good to hear his laugh despite how he was supposed to be all Captain on the mission. He always broke that facade for her. “He’s just too much. Too loud. The guy likes to party. I do not.”

“Of course you don’t, because you haven’t tried. You need to step out there, darling. It can’t hurt to try. Fine, what about Barton?”

“He’s with Natasha.”

“Right...I forgot about that.” 

Steve grimaced despite Peggy wasn’t there to see it, frowning. She almost seemed to do that a little bit more often these days.

“Hunter then?” She continued.

“Bobbi.”

“Wilma?”

“She’s courting-”

“Steve no one uses courting anymore!”

“And no one is supposed to be frozen for seventy years and survive to tell the tale.”

“Touche,” she huffed in only mild annoyment.

A silence lapsed between them, she could hear him cursing in French again, her lips twitching into a small smile at the French.

“Everything okay, Steven?”

“I need…” He cursed slightly as he made a sharp turn. She could hear his shield being thrown. 

“Extract?” Peggy requested in an all too-polite voice despite he could hear her rapidly typing on a keyboard. “Three doors down from your left, faux going right. Take the laundry suite down and an evac will be waiting for you.”

Steve said nothing in response, only breathing hard into the line. That was wrong. She’s seen him run miles and not even break a sweat. Even after his intense recovery and extended time off to try to adapt to the new world, Steve wasn’t this out of shape. 

“You’re hurt,” she said in a harder tone than she meant to. Who could blame her for still being invested in the love of her life? “How hurt are you?”

“Do you have a camera on this damn ship? Nevermind, don’t answer. I-” He cursed and she could hear rattling. “I hate you for that laundry chute trick.”

“It got you down fast, didn’t it? Back to that question - how hurt are you?”

“Just mildly shot at.”

“Mildly? Steven Grant Rogers.” Peggy sighed on the line and pinched the bridge of her nose. “If that bullet doesn’t kill you, I will. You’re going to give this ole woman a heart attack. Is extract there?”

“Yes, oh thank god. I’ll see you back at home, okay?”

“Don’t worry about debriefing, I’ll handle that on my end. You need a medic and a shower. Don’t make me find out that you’ve been skipping medic again, Rogers.”

“Yes, ma’am.” It was Peggy’s turn to hear the smile in his voice. “I love you.”

Somehow, each and every I love you broke her heart to pieces. “I know, Stevie. I love you too.”

How many times could they have said it had they’ve been given the life the other dreamed of?

--

“I told you, it’s not that bad,” Steve sighed in welcoming as Peggy, older than his mind like to admit took him from the doorstep and lead him straight to the couch to sit down. Her lips pursed together in thought as he lifted up the shirt and exposed the bandages beneath. “I went. They bitched me out about some protocol and Fury bitching me about something, but I went.”

“What is he bitching about this time?”

Steve’s lips twitched into a small smile. “Oh the norm, about how you’re spying on him through me. How you can’t keep calling up government officials when things don’t look right and threaten to send me after them.”

“I don’t threaten to send you. I told them that I’ll tell you about their new bills and you’ll go take care of the bastards themselves, but…” Her thin shoulders shrugged as she sat beside him, a hand curling around his own. “He’s right about spying on him. I don’t trust everything he tells us.” 

“Nor should you. I told you he’s been lying from the start.” Reaching into his pocket, Steve tossed the flash drive onto her desk. His arm laid across her shoulders and he sighed, eyes burning as they shut. “I’m exhausted.”

“Then come on, Mr. Exhaustion, let’s get you to bed.”

Despite it, Steve didn’t move. He stayed where he was, his arm around her shoulders. She was comfortable. Even if she was older, much older, she was comfort. 

“I talked to Jensen and no, the guys an idiot. He shows up to work drunk, Pegs! He got into a fist-fight about a-a crush, he-”

“Excuse me. You got into a fistfight with Hodge, Captain!”

“Because the bastard called you a slut. Speaking on...did some digging, that guy is related to Hodge.”

“Oh, that’s disgusting. You’re right to ignore my advice on asking him out.”

“You admitting you’re wrong?” Steve’s free hand fell over his chest in faux shock. His eyes only cracking open enough to look down at her. “Are you sure you’re not some carbon copy of Peggy? Sent here to kill me?”

Peggy’s eyes rolled but he saw the fond smile on her lips as they finally got up from the couch. Despite the sun was just peeking over the horizon, they were finally going to bed. She couldn’t help it, not being able to sleep when he was on missions. Steve was very much as comfort as she was to him, not that she’d like to admit it out loud.

“Besides,” Steve continues. “There’s no one I want but you, Pegs. These other people...it ain’t gonna work, rather it’s now or fifteen years down the road. I…” He sighed as he plopped into the bed and gently folded her into his arms. “I know what you’re gonna say, how you’re too old and everything but I don’t care. I love you and always will.”

“Steven…” She sat upon his chest, looking him dead in the eyes. Despite her old age and the wrinkles in the corners, he could see every bit of fierceness that was in those eyes. “I wish I could give you the life you deserve but I cannot. I am far too...old, but it doesn’t mean I don’t love you.” 

She looked like she wanted to say something more but she didn’t. Instead, she kissed at his throat and held tightly to him. 

If Steve was going to argue, he didn’t say a word. He fell asleep shortly after, holding tightly to his beloved.

--

“Are you sure this will work?’

“When have I ever lead you wrong, Steve?”

“Really? Do I need to answer that? Last week! You said planting catnip would be a good idea. The cats destroyed the garden! Or how about last month when you said jumping into the river was a good idea. It wasn’t frozen solid!”

“I didn’t tell you to jump into the river. I was yelling at the politician on CNN to dunk his head into water, Rogers. You-”

“Are you two done?”

The pair leaning closer than before to one another turned to find Dr. Banner standing just in the doorway. He looked amused at their bickering despite the situation. That is, Peggy laid in a hospital bed, wearing nothing but a gown and one too many machines hooked up to her and Steve half out of his seat so she could see him properly to talk to her.

“Yes,” Peggy said ever-so polite side-eyeing, Steve, as he sat down hard in the chair. “On both answers, this will work Steve.”

“And if it doesn’t?” He looked up at her with worry-filled eyes. “You could-”

“Die? Darling, that’s coming sooner or later, I’m ninety-two, I-”

“And you rather force me to accept to lose you now then wh-what? Five? Ten years down the road?”

“You have a mighty high expectation of me surviving,” she mused, reaching over to take his hand. “I’ll be fine, Steven. Everyone dies.”

“Not you. You’re the only thing...the only one I got, Pegs.”

“Captain Rogers,” Banner breathed, stepping up beside the bed to get their attention. “I assure you that this has a high probability of working. If it doesn’t, then nothing happens. It’ll be no risk to her health. We’ve poured over the notes. I’ve poured over Hydra’s and ours and compared results. It’ll be okay.”

Steve didn’t seem to believe that, his eyes falling from Banner’s face and back down to Peggy’s. “Just come back to me, okay? I don’t care in what condition, long as you’re alive.”

“Says the man running off of two hours of sleep and a broken arm.” Peggy’s eyes softened as she pulled Steve close by the labels of his jacket and pressed a tender kiss to his cheek. “Alright, then… Dr. Banner, let’s get this over with. I’m not thrilled about using Hydra’s ideas here but when in Rome…”

Steve had every intention of staying awake. He was told the procedure would take no more than three hours tops but Peggy was right (as always). He was knocked out at hour one, asleep in the hospital chair, neck falling onto his chest. 

He was woken up by a soft hand touching his cheek, blinking his eyes open to find a pair of honey-coated eyes staring at him. He smiled as the sleep cleared from his vision and he found Peggy looking down at him. A younger Peggy. A Peggy that must’ve stepped just from his memories.

“Am I in heaven?” He asked groggily, unable to shake the fog from his mind.

“Is that your way of calling me an angel?” Peggy chuckled as Steve sat up fully. “No, darling, I’m afraid no one has died quite yet. No, it...it worked. They’re keeping me overnight for observation but…” She pulled Steve closer by his jacket again and kissed him hard on the lips.

Something they’ve both (respectfully) been denying themselves for so long. 

Steve sighed happily as they pulled away, not even bothering to pretend he wasn’t crying. “Now will you go dancing with me?”

[floraisann]

ateez reaction: you’re addicted to animal crossing: new horizons

➣ requested? ✓

➣ genre: fluff, humor

➣ masterlist

sorry that some of these are kinda dry 😔 i am try

❅♩♬♩❅――

❥ kim hongjoong:

lets you do your thing tbh

you’ll probably just be vibing in the living room with the switch hooked up to the tv and everything’s great when hongjoong just,,,, moves his work over without saying anything

you’re just ???? and he’s just :)))) the “just another tuesday” grin, you know?

after long enough if you ask him why he moved, he just says he “likes the soundtrack” like bro we do be bopping to the animal crossing ost out here in this quarantine joint

watches you play, only making comments when a villager says something REALLY cursed

really likes marshal— he’s funny

not the type to hate villagers either except chops, fuck chops

once yunho shows him how the custom qr code outfit designs work you’re about to have the most stylish lil mayor that ever roamed the earth

probably also borrows your switch to make your town jingle

overall is just confused by the game dynamic, but likes the music and how happy it’s making you :)

you’re gonna have to put the switch down on your own honey, he’s too caught up in bopping to the music while doing his own work to realize you’ve been playing for eight hours

❥ park seonghwa

has the game too, probably bought it for you so you could build “couple islands” and be THAT cute gamer couple

still probably nags you for gaming too hard if too many hours pass and you’re ignoring basic needs to like,,,, get lolly on your island or something of the sort

but lolly’s cute give him 5 mins to fall in love w god cat

sends you cute in-game love letters when you’re headass six feet away from each other in real time

but it’s ok they’re cute and he likes making you blush

brings his pretty flowers to your island he also steals yours but that’s okay

dumbfounded by your blatant aggression towards certain villagers

offers to “trade” villagers with you to make you happy and marshal scares him please take marshal from him

yes he’ll bring you cute snacks as if you were studying

overall happy that you found something you enjoy together, but will make you take frequent breaks so you don’t put off whatever you actually have to do too much

❥ jeong yunho

didn’t get the hype at first. bought the game since he thought it had to be super fun if you were ignoring him for hours at a time to go bug catching LMFAO

yet when he downloads it there’s a catch

mr epic gamer, unlike you, has the luck of a god and generates an actual island paradise and probably gets a ton of shooting star fragments too 😔✊🏻

you’re the one stealing from his island, but it’s okay he loves you 💕

and he doesn’t quite understand the game yet

gives you star fragments because you can’t get any and he doesn’t want you all sad because you can’t make a wand!!

has all the cute villagers, but if any try to move will give them to you

pays off your tom nook debt because with his luck it probably takes him less than an hour to get filthy rich in game

also figures out the qr code outfits early on. yes he’ll try to make you one, yes he’ll make himself match

overall, he gets the game because of you but does it better because it’s yunho why wouldn’t he xoxo

still makes sure you’re doing what you need to before you go off to work on your island for six hours; the type to offer game rewards he magically obtains as a prize for you after you finish your daily work

oh to be jeong yunho

❥ kang yeosang

the president of the epic gamer club

probably persuaded you to buy it with him so he could rob your island of all your goods

makes you both reset the game until your islands both have good items but are different

so he can steal your fruit :D

“y/n, you— no, restart. you can’t have peach trees, i already have peach trees!”

“dates” where you guys lie on his bed with your consoles, literally just exploring each other’s islands

y’all practically end up sharing two islands. that’s how much you play together

invites you to go raid the other members’ islands

cursed humor carries into the game; like he’ll send you crackhead mail when you least expect it and the content WILL be something that’s only funny because it’s Yeosang

“you make me so incredibly happy, y/n. almost as happy as when tom nook first handed me my nookphone. almost”

celebrates with you when you’re both rid of the ugly villagers

overall impartial to your obsession, rather he’s glad he has someone to steal from share with

still will make you take breaks with him. he loves that you’ve got a pretty island but you need to take care of yourself sweetie

if you don’t listen he will randomly come on your island to beat you up with a shovel xoxo yeosang luvs u 😘

❥ choi san

would not mind the game at all if it weren’t making you IGNORE HIS NEED FOR CUDDLES >:(

tbh san would probably whine about being attention starved for an eternity 15 mins until he realizes his whining isn’t working, and he has no choice but to cuddle up to you while letting you do your thing

by that i mean he’s backseat gamer all the way, no i do not accept criticism

he’d probably just plop down next to you and cuddle into your side or lay on top of you— just positioning himself in some way that he can see your gameplay

the type to cling to you while you play while bothering you until you accept his game opinions as fact

can and will make you kick out the villagers he thinks are ugly

“i just want you to kick that smelly limberg out, is that really too much to ask?”

probably spent 10 minutes absolutely losing his shit over the animal crossing language

“WHY ARE THEY TALKING IN KEYBOARD SMASH?”

takes the next half hour to learn how to speak it

so next time you play too long and ignore him, will shut off your switch then lay down on you and scream acnh villager language gibberish in your EAR

"you didn’t have a problem with that voice three hours ago when you were talking to that cat rosie!!” :(

if you really ignore him and never stop playing NOTHING is stopping him from being dramatic and saying smth like “y/n, i can’t take this anymore! choose, me or him!”

“him” is tom nook

why the fuck would you pick tom nook

❥ song mingi

knows the game is popular but wasn’t bothered to try playing

so when he sees you, curled up on the couch in the same position he saw you two hours ago just with one less family sized bag of chips, he quietly sighs to himself and sits next to you

“is the game really that interesting?”

when you nod, he ends up like san and kind of chills with you, backseat gaming mode

except he isn’t yelling at you to kick out the ugly villagers, he can already see you trying on your own

gets shocked when the first tarantula appears and you get bitten

occasionally gives input on what he thinks you can do to have a better island

makes you go on an island tour so he can see what you headass just spent the last week making

actually is impressed by how much work you put into your virtual island

congrats! you’ve unlocked an achievement! : gaming livestream date for song mingi

will decide for himself who the cutest villager is then act cute and ask if he looks like them. it’s probably gonna be kid cat. tell him he does. please, Tell Him he looks like kid cat

basically i don’t think he’d be that put off by you getting addicted to the game because!!! acnl is the most relaxing game ever he likes to watch you while he unwinds after a long day

if you play too long though he won’t really say much, just sit by you pouting like :(((( “lov me”

pls love him, the big babie 🥺

❥ jeong wooyoung

another member that probably has the game, but isn’t as obsessed as you

will beg you for shooting star fragments if you get any though. please get this man a wand

does not get WHY you’re trying so hard on your island layout. literally only wants one villager, his island can go to shit so long as he has that one villager

that one villager is probably gonna be molly or something

another member who learns how to imitate animal crossing speak, except his voice is already in the correct pitch

makes fun of you complaining about a villager you hate but it all comes back to bite him in the ass once moose shows up on his island and he gets it

you guys are having a competition to see who can get sprinkle on your island first

spoiler alert: he wins, he stole her from seonghwa

(he steals a lot from seonghwa)

overall happy with the fact that you guys have a game to play together

but if you grind too hard on your own and ignore him for hours at a time can and will invade your island to steal your fruit and trample your flowers. AND send you spam mail

sorry

❥ choi jongho

doesn’t care for the game, and he’s mostly chill too so he’ll probably just vibe in the other room while you play, waiting for you to finish so he can do something with you

comes out a few hours later when you’re (still) lying on the couch, angrily button mashing while muttering curses to yourself

he’s really confused tbh, he’s seen yeosang play, he knows you don’t gotta go that hard to be a successful mayor, so he HAS to ask what the fuck you’re so mad about

“i’m TRYING to catch a blittering at the moment, but i keep getting these stupid carps!!! i have a debt to pay off, god!!”

becomes infinitely more amused with the game after that point

he thinks its so funny how someone could get heated while playing through probably the most relaxing game ever

watches you fish; he enjoys the puns and seeing you get frustrated when you keep catching those goddamn carps

probably takes the switch from you at one point to try his hand at it and catches a koi fish in his first five minutes

“i guess you just suck at fishing, y/n”

overall pretty unbothered by your love for the game until you start ignoring him

then he will threaten your in-game apples, saying he’s .2s away from stealing one of his members’ switches just to brawl with your trees

and we all know who’s gonna win between jongho and apples

[ilistenedin]

1. coffee mugs, teacups, wine glasses, water bottles, or soda cans?

Soda cans

2. chocolate bars or lollipops?

Lollipops

3. bubblegum or cotton candy?

Bubblegum

4. how did your elementary school teachers describe you?

Smart but lazy.

5. do you prefer to drink soda from soda cans, soda bottles, plastic cups or glass cups?

Soda cans

6. pastel, boho, tomboy, preppy, goth, grunge, formal or sportswear?

Tomboy

7. earbuds or headphones?

No preference

8. movies or tv shows?

Movies

9. favorite smell in the summer?

Fresh cut grass or when it’s about to rain

10. game you were best at in p.e.?

Basketball in elementary, dodgeball in middle, and sitting in high school

11. what you have for breakfast on an average day?

Nothing

12. name of your favorite playlist?

I don’t have one

13. lanyard or key ring?

Both

14. favorite non-chocolate candy?

I don’t think I have a favorite candy tbh. I don’t do sweets often. Starburst are alright?

15. favorite book you read as a school assignment?

La Casa de los Espíritus

16. most comfortable position to sit in?

Knees apart, ankles crossed

17. most frequently worn pair of shoes?

Birkenstock’s, baby

18. ideal weather?

If staying indoors; rainy and gloomy and cold.

If going out; cold with lots of clouds where the sun occasionally peeks thru

19. sleeping position?

On stomach, hugging pillow, one leg hiked up

20. preferred place to write (i.e., in a note book, on your laptop, sketchpad, post-it notes, etc.)?

Lately, in my notes app.

21. obsession from childhood?

Sharks. Horror. Cats.

22. role model?

I don’t really have one. But I do hold a special place in my heart for Gerard Way.

23. strange habits?

I don’t think I have any strange habits. I’m pretty boring.

24. favorite crystal?

Amerhysts, opal, moonstone

25. first song you remember hearing?

I have bad memory

26. favorite activity to do in warm weather?

Stay indoors lol

27. favorite activity to do in cold weather?

Just be outside. Maybe go chill in a park and drink some tea and smoke a cigarette/joint

28. five songs to describe you?

I don’t have the brain capacity for that rn.

29. best way to bond with you?

Interests. Asking questions.

30. places that you find sacred?

Book stores.

31. what outfit do you wear to kick ass and take names?

I don’t lol

32. top five favorite vines?

Oh god I don’t know lol. I love the “Adam!” one. “Two dudes chilling in a hot tub..” the one where the girl is about to play Mozart and the keyboard is on the wrong mode. And I can’t think of any other ones rn

33. most used phrase in your phone?

Probably lol

34. advertisements you have stuck in your head?

Oreilly auto parts for sure.

35. average time you fall asleep?

It varies way too much

36. what is the first meme you remember ever seeing?

Probably the forever alone dude

37. suitcase or duffel bag?

Duffel bag

38. lemonade or tea?

Tea

39. lemon cake or lemon meringue pie?

Lemon cake

40. weirdest thing to ever happen at your school?

Ummm weird is a choice of word I guess. My sophomore year some poor girls home made sex video w her bf got leaked and it was pretty fucking bad.

41. last person you texted?

Lauryn

42. jacket pockets or pants pockets?

Pants

43. hoodie, leather jacket, cardigan, jean jacket or bomber jacket?

I am incapable of choosing. I’m a slut for all of them.

44. favorite scent for soap?

I like mint, citrus, patchouli, and lavender

45. which genre: sci-fi, fantasy or superhero?

Tie between sci-fi and fantasy

46. most comfortable outfit to sleep in?

Sports bra and boxers

47. favorite type of cheese?

It’s impossible for me to choose. I’ve never met a cheese I didn’t like.

48. if you were a fruit, what kind would you be?

My friends used to call me Apple in HS so I guess an apple

49. what saying or quote do you live by?

None

50. what made you laugh the hardest you ever have?

I laugh hard too often

51. current stresses?

My life as a whole

52. favorite font?

Times new Roman

53. what is the current state of your hands?

I’ve stopped biting my nails and instead I file them (I wonder how long that’ll last) and they are a bit dry cause of the changing of seasons; this always happens. They get like, cracked and peely. It’s gross, don’t judge.

54. what did you learn from your first job?

How to drive stick shift. I was a valet.

55. favorite fairy tale?

I don’t think I have one tbh

56. favorite tradition?

Every year for my grandmothers birthday and death anniversary we go out to this famous church that over looks the Miami Bay Area and we throw sunflowers into the ocean for her. I’m not religious or anything, but the church location is great and it’s extremely important in my culture (Cuban).

57. the three biggest struggles you’ve overcome?

I haven’t overcome shit

58. four talents you’re proud of having?

I don’t think I have any talents per se. I used to drum. I have been told I can sing. I like to write. I doodle.

59. if you were a video game character, what would your catchphrase be?

“Sorry, can’t help it, I’m gay”

60. if you were a character in an anime, what kind of anime would you want it to be?

Horror

61. favorite line you heard from a book/movie/tv show/etc.?

Brain too tired to think of anything

62. seven characters you relate to?

I’m too tired to think lol

63. five songs that would play in your club?

Bad Bunny’s discography.

64. favorite website from your childhood?

Lol. Rotten dot com

65. any permanent scars?

One on my knee.

66. favorite flower(s)?

Peonies and roses and pansies

67. good luck charms?

I have un azabache on my wrist

68. worst flavor of any food or drink you’ve ever tried?

Don’t like cucumbers or raw carrots. Oh and recently I tried pickles that have been pickled in moonshine. Fucking no.

69. a fun fact that you don’t know how you learned?

Head empty

70. left or right handed?

Right

71. least favorite pattern?

My patterns in my love life 😁

72. worst subject?

Math for sure

73. favorite weird flavor combo?

Idk. I will literally put an egg on everything.

74. at what pain level out of ten (1 through 10) do you have to be at before you take an advil or ibuprofen?

8

75. when did you lose your first tooth?

No idea

76. what’s your favorite potato food (i.e. tater tots, baked potatoes, fries, chips, etc.)?

Mashed probably

77. best plant to grow on a windowsill?

Succulent

78. coffee from a gas station or sushi from a grocery store?

Publix has decent sushi

79. which looks better, your school id photo or your driver’s license photo?

I don’t have a school I’d anymore, but it was pretty fucking bad. But my license one is also pretty fucking bad.

80. earth tones or jewel tones?

Earth tones

81. fireflies or lightning bugs?

Aren’t they the same? I call them cocuyos

82. pc or console?

Console

83. writing or drawing?

Writing

[kentuckyanarchist]

There are few albums as bipolar as Boys and Girls in America—few that combine euphoria and aching nostalgic sadness in the same way, and fewer still that do it both masterfully and in absolute earnest. The Hold Steady’s third record greets you right from the start with a double motion: the album cover, all kids with hands in the air, hot pink with confetti flying (“up to yr neck in the sweat and wet confetti” as “Most People Are DJs,” from Almost Killed Me, had it), cuts against the very first line, where Craig Finn riffs on Jack Kerouac to affirm: “boys and girls in America have such a sad time together.” Kerouac evinced the same bipolarity in On the Road, and Hemingway too, Steinbeck too, not to mention Dylan, not to mention Springsteen—it’s part and parcel of a particular kind of American lyrical masculinity that likes to bellow and wail about its sensitive seriousness. Writers in this tradition—and Finn, whose first four Hold Steady albums approach flawlessness, is among the very best of them—plumb the unchartable depths of sorrow that provide everyday hedonism with its uneasy foundation. They give voice to a pain that can’t be outrun no matter how hard their characters try, one that catches them up in solitary moments and/or comes to suffuse whole segments of lives.

It was a feature, no doubt, of Almost Killed Me, the Hold Steady’s debut from 2004; it was unavoidably present in Separation Sunday (2005), their high-concept dramatisation of that line from “Thunder Road” about waiting “for a saviour to rise from these streets”. But on Boys and Girls songs like “Hot Soft Light” pummel you with it: the drunken reassurances and unsubtle heavy metal references of the verses cascade into the nightlife typology of the chorus, where all possible encounters are reducible to ideal types, “the guys / with the wild eyes when they ask to get you high” and “the girls / that’ll come to you with comfort in the night.” “Hot” and “soft”, such a simple pair of monosyllables, do all sorts of work here: they’re a mellow high before it becomes a problem (“it came on hot and soft / and then it tightened up its tentacles”); they’re a callback to the summing-up of human existence as just “hot soft spots on a hard rock planet” (“Most People Are DJs” again); and, when the title drops in the final line, they’re the body and the blood, Christ himself at the centre of the cross. In other hands counterposing religious ecstasy with drug-induced euphoria might seem pat, or at least like a failed attempt to shock; in Finn’s it seems entirely sincere.

Songs like “First Night” trade in a kind of nostalgia that’s not without its darkness and drama. More than almost any other Hold Steady song “First Night” runs off of Franz Nicolay’s keyboards, but there’s vastly more there too, in the strings and backing vocals especially. In the quadrumvirate of characters (not forgetting the narrator), Holly aka Hallelujah aka the central character of Separation Sunday is central, and she’s still in rough shape. The flashforward from that first night, when Holly “slept like she’d never been scared”, to last night, with Holly disconsolate and trembling, echoes in the shaking keyboards, over which the album title becomes a mantra in falsetto. At which point Finn, who from Lifter Puller days is well-acquainted with the art of the sneer and the snarl, intercedes: “don’t bother talking to the guys with their hot soft eyes”—those two adjectives for the last time—“you know they’re already taken.” All of which is not to forget that in the phrase “she was golden with barlight and beer”, “First Night” also coins the most beautiful ever way of saying “she looked hot when I was drunk.”

Songs like “Party Pit” take up the mantle of ceaseless mobility from Kerouac (the tradition Deleuze describes in which “everything is departure, becoming, passage, leap, daemon, relationship with the outside”) and run with it, juxtaposing a wayward narrator with an old friend who never escaped the vicissitudes of the teen scene. (As a 16-year-old I cycled home most nights across the Carter Bridge, over the railway just north of Cambridge railway station, and the line about crossing “that Grain Belt Bridge / into bright new Minneapolis” became wrapped up with that quotidian experience. I don’t know if “bright new Minneapolis” is a joke or just a conscious bit of mythmaking—I’ve never been to Minneapolis but I don’t see it as a city with lights so bright they can be seen glittering from above—but the image resonates nonetheless. And for the record: you’ll find lyrics sites saying the line’s “brand new Minneapolis,” but it’s not. Listen to this version.) Finn’s narrator’s been away to school and come back (“to start a band, of course”) but the heroine’s stayed put, “pinned down at the party pit,” stuck going round and round in circles, “gonna walk around, gonna walk around, gonna walk around and drink.” The party’s the site and source of sadness here and getting away’s jinxed too: coming home’s a bittersweet endeavour as much because of what’s stayed the same as what’s different.

And “Stuck Between Stations”, with its unpromising source material, its dated central metaphor, its shoehorning of a guilty-pleasure or problematic-fave author (as John Darnielle’s said—Darnielle being a man who knows his Berryman and knows his Hold Steady—the “sometimes in blackface” of Berryman’s Henry worries away at any too-friendly reading of that sad Minneapolis bard). It might not be the best Hold Steady song but it might be the one that most overtly strives for grandiosity in a Springsteenian mould, it might be the one that succeeds most evidently at making a bold statement that finds a way to hit home regardless of one’s circumstances. And the album’s clearest statement of ambivalence and bittersweetness is in the “buts” of its chorus: Berryman, at the time he took flight, we learn, “was drunk and exhausted but he was critically acclaimed and respected / he loved the Golden Gophers but he hated all the drawn out winters / he likes the warm feeling but he’s tired of all the dehydration / most nights were kind of fuzzy but that last night he had total retention.” Strung out but at least having made something of oneself—at home but not all year round—finding the booze sometimes a chore—and sometimes somehow glorious! It’s all there.

Lyrically, I wonder if this is achieved through a sort of wilful mythologisation. Berryman, after all, probably didn’t really love the Golden Gophers, but why not flesh out his story with the claim that he did? “How a Resurrection Really Feels,” from Separation Sunday, delves into its heroine’s despair but also zooms out to describe the graffiti tributes made to her by other unnamed characters—to show her story’s a legendary one in its own universe too. Once again Springsteen got there first, this time in “Highway Patrolman,” which invents a whole fictional town and county, and a slow dance for the characters to wax nostalgic about, all in order to build a world in the song and thereby make something somehow universal. Across all the Hold Steady albums the same characters recur in different (not always that different) predicaments, but their stories never totally cohere. They have the feel, at times, of characters in your peripheral vision or even on the edge of a dream, cohering to make certain points then splintering once more. The stuff of strange, half-true legends.

And then there’s the god question. Finn doesn’t just see love, or hope, or beauty, or tenacity “in the clumsiness of young and awkward lovers” (in “Citrus”), he feels Jesus there—and in so doing captures a sort of lowdown American pantheism found from Emerson to the Beats, not to mention in the final scene of Bruce Almighty. The particular form that the mystical takes in “Chips Ahoy” is not the same form it took in most of Separation Sunday, but in the narrative of the girl with a sixth sense for winning racehorses it’s there nonetheless. Even the stuttering puh-puh-puh assonance of “pinned down at the party pit” conceals a deification metaphor, its martyress fastened tight to the scene—as Lifter Puller more bluntly put it, she’s “nailed to the nightlife like Christ on the cross.” (As a disbelieving teenager I had a disproportionate number of Christian friends, I guess I was drawn to people who believed in things. It’s possible I thought I had something similar in certain bands, certain songs.) God, in America today, is as fiercely contested signifier as everything else, but it’s clear that the omnipresent God of Boys and Girls is also a personal God, not to mention a lenient, ecumenical one.

Boys and Girls met me at a particular time in my life, a couple of years after it was released, in summer 2008, which is probably the biggest part of the reason it’s stuck with me (other texts are sepia-shaded for the same reason: Bob Dylan’s “You Ain’t Goin’ Nowhere,” Kurt Vonnegut’s Cat’s Cradle, the first Conor Oberst solo album). The rest of the first four Hold Steady albums are probably just as good, but this one works in certain ways that set it apart. It’s less cynical than Almost Killed Me, less weary than Separation Sunday, less nostalgic than Stay Positive, and more holistic than all of them. It turns out that the holism and the bipolarity amount to the same thing.

[creativeskullcreations]

Outside chapter 9: Accidents Happen but This Wasn't and Accident

Ugh, this is later than I thought it'd be. I kept getting distracted with stuff, work's been hard, and mine and my sister's birthday is tomorrow so I've been trying to prepare for that. Still, I managed to get it up on the right day, so that's gotta count for something, right?

Anyways, this a real important chapter, and it has a moral: Always go to the hospital if you've got weird surgery scars from insane voodoo puppets. Or they could get infected, you could get sepsis, or maybe she's taken your entire digestive tract.

She never put that back, by the way.

Scout sat through the whole rest of the movie, and then two more with the same characters. By the time she'd finished the last one, the rain and wind had stopped, but it was still dark. A look outside showed the streetlamps on, and nobody around. The road was really shiny though, and Scout watched for a while before turning back to the dark apartment.

"Okay." She thumped the side of her head, blinking as her flashlight turned on. "It's late, so let's go to bed now." She hopped down from the couch, then Jumped her way to the bedroom. From the doorway, she could see the blanket covered lump that was her Host. She made her way to the bed, then Jumped up on to it. With in moments she had wormed her way under the covers and pressed up against Stacy, ready to sleep herself.

Five minutes later she was crawling out, feeling far too hot. "Geez..." It was burning under the sheets, and also a little bit damp. It was almost worrying, and made Scout remember some of the more... unpleasant aspects of Hosts.

"Hey. Hey, Stacy. I think something happened." She pushed against the woman's cheek, but drew back at the wetness she felt. She also felt far too warm, and her breath was coming out in short gasps.

"Stacy, this isn't funny. It's time to wake up now." Ignoring the grossness, she pushed harder. "Something's wrong! Stacy? Stacy!" She pushed harder, but the Host didn't react. It wasn't even like when she'd pretended to sleep last night, there was nothing. She was completely nonreactive. It was just like when the Hosts back in the studio were used up.

"Oh no..." She fell back as the realization struck. "No no no NO! No! I'm not even doing anything! You shouldn't be like this! Wake up! Stacy!" She tried harder, beating her fabric fists against Stacy's face, but nothing worked. "Wake up! Please!"

Her eyes burned, and she looked around the room. "What do I do?!" What do I..." Her gaze fell on Stacy's phone, sitting on the side table. She lunged for it and swiped, only to be met with a request for a security code. "No!" She threw it onto the floor and, with one last glance at Stacy, Jumped her way to the living-room, where she'd left the phone she'd been given. Stacy had told her there was one other number on there, she just hoped it worked.

()()()

Will was supposed to be sleeping, but instead was staring down at the mess of circuitry in front of him. Off to the side was fully mangled and blackened body of an almost cat-like toy, it's head sitting upside down in his lap. It had attempted to move once, and he'd tazed it until had caught fire. He was currently poking around in the skull cavity, when his phone rang. Without looking at it he braced it between his shoulder and cheek.

"You've reached the phone of Will Carson. Unless you're the government or a scammer in which case you're having a bad trip and none of this is real." He spoke in a monotone, not even looking away from his work.

"Will!" The voice of that weird Puppet crackled through the line, and Will hung up immediately.

"Ew." He muttered, though he couldn't even put the phone down before it started ringing again. He answered quickly. "Whatever you want, I'm sure Stacy's more equipped to get it to you."

"Something's wrong with Stacy!" She spoke quickly, likely scared he'd hang up on her again. "Sh-she won't wake up, and she's hot and-and wet and she can''t breathe and she won't wake up-!"

Will felt his heart stop as she rambled on, unable to follow her words anymore.

"Will run! I found out what happened to Jerome! She's in here with me! Mom's-"

Will hung up the phone, dumping the head in his lap on the floor and grabbing his shoes as he dialed 911. He was just getting into his car as they picked up.

"Hello, 911. What is your emergency?" The female voice on the other end sounded so calm it was a stark contrast against his panic. He swallowed dryly, trying to quickly organize his thoughts.

"It's my girlfriend, Stacy. There's something wrong. She's in pain, and I think she's running a high fever." He struggled to keep calm as he drove the short distance to her apartment. "She just called me, talking about it, but I think she fainted. I tried calling her back but she wouldn't answer."

"Okay sir. Can you tell us where she your girlfriend lives?" He could hear her typing away at a keyboard as he rattled off the address. He parked the car as she finished. "Okay sir, an ambulance will be there very soon."

"Thank you so much!" He said as he got out of the car and started towards the door. "Tell them I'll meet them here, since I just got here myself."

"Will do sir." She told him, and he disconnected the call before running up the stairs. He fit his key into the lock and opened up the door, shutting it behind him but leaving it unlocked for the paramedics. When he didn't spot Stacy in the living room, he rushed into the bedroom. She was laying there, still covered up in bed, and he was quick to uncover her. He pressed a hand to her forehead, hissing in sympathy at the heat coming off her.

"What the fuck did you do Stace?" He whispered, subtly glancing around for the Puppet. He couldn't see her, but that didn't mean much. She was small enough she could be under the bed, or even in the bed with Stacy and he'd never know it. Still, he didn't like not knowing, but before he could search for her, he heard knocking and rushed to let the paramedics into the apartment.

As he waited in the living room while they loaded his girlfriend onto the stretcher, he caught sight of movement in the corner of his eye. He whipped his head around in time to see Scout duck underneath the couch, and almost sighed in relief. He'd thought (half-hoped, if he would be honest) that he wouldn't be able to find her. But, as he followed the paramedics out of the apartment, he made a split second decision to lock the door behind him. It might not be soon, but he would be back eventually, and he wanted that Puppet there when he did.

()()()

Hours later, so many Will wasn't sure how long he'd been surrounded by the clean halls of the hospital, and Stacy was finally in a stable condition. She was still unconscious, but now it was more from the anesthetic than from almost dying due to infected surgery scars.

Because she had those.

A lot of them.

All over her body.

It had taken a long time for them to go into each one, clean out the infection, and then stitch her back up. Thankfully, there wasn't any damage beyond the infection, but the surgeon said it looked like someone had performed exploratory surgery on her. Badly, by the looks of things. Or at least, the doctor hadn't cared if she'd lived or died afterwards.

Will was going to murder that Puppet.

But for now he was in his own house, changing his clothes and getting ready to go hunt down said Puppet. One of those grabby things to get items off of high shelves, a large animal carrier, the long range tazer, and thick gloves. All of those went in to the back of his small car before he made his way back to Stacy's apartment.

As he reentered the apartment, he took note of how silent it was. The lights were still on from when the paramedics had been there, and nothing had moved from where it had been earlier. The only reason he had for knowing that thing was still in the building was the fact she was too short to open the door. And the one window in the room was still closed, that was a pretty big sign, too.

He searched the main room first, checking in the cupboards and under the couch. He found nothing except a couple of Stacy's smaller stuffed animals under the couch, which he found weird as usually his girlfriend was more careful with her stuff. He dug them out and put them back on the shelf, where they belonged.

Unable to find the Puppet there, he went into the bedroom, closing the door behind him with a quiet click. It was almost as quiet as the main room, with a quiet, muffled sound coming from somewhere nearby.

'Gotcha!' He peered around the room, making sure she wasn't somewhere obvious and in sight. Unable to see her, it left only under the bed, so he crouched down to look.

To his luck, she hadn't noticed him yet. Her face was buried in her arms, with her small body shaking. The sounds, he realized, were sobs. He sat back up, massaging his forehead.

'Dear God, don't let me feel pity for this thing. This is all her fault...' He sat there for a moment, listening to the quiet sobbing. He sighed. 'Fine...'

He crawled partway under the bed, keeping his distance. When she didn't react, he cleared his throat, making all sounds from her cease. Slowly, she looked up at him, and he caught the sight of her eye lids tilted the opposite way before she glared at him.

"What do you want?" She spat out, though her voice lacked the bite she wanted. Instead it sounded tired and strained, and Will figured she'd probably been crying for a long time.

"I came to check up on you." He lied smoothly. "And to, uh, give you an update on how Stacy's doing." The Puppet looked away, glaring at the wall the bed was against. "She's still alive, but has to stay in the hospital for a while." Nothing. Will licked his lips, throat feeling dry. "Did you know about all those extra scars?"

She cringed away, curling up tighter than she had been before. For a moment he thought she wouldn't answer, but her glare softened, even if she wouldn't look at him again.

"Riley did it. She likes taking Hosts apart and putting them back together weird. Sometimes she just likes looking at them, though. She only looked at Stacy, but I know she took out a Host's entire digestion tract once." She told him quietly, and Will felt the blood drain from his face.

"Uh..." He swallowed thickly, mouth dryer than ever. "Stacy still has all of her organs, at least." 'What else can I say to that? Think, Will!' "Want to come stay with me until she's better?" 'Why did you say that?! Oh my god!'

For one, hopeful moment it looked like she was going to say no. But then she forced herself up right and turned to face him. "Fine." She ground out, making her way towards him.

'Fuck! Shit! Nooooooooo!' He crawled back out from the bed, waiting for her. 'Why did I even ask that?! Now I'm stuck with her for god knows how long!' He watched her crawl out from under the bed, then stood up, grabbing his taser.

"I have to do a couple of things before we go, so hang tight a minute." He told her, then made his way back to his car, where he dumped his hunting gear in the trunk and grabbed a duffel bag instead. He went back inside and to her bedroom, where he started packing some of her clothes into it. He then put the Switch and charger inside, and grabbed the backpack she always had, making sure her wallet was inside. He'd already taken her phone to the hospital, so at least he didn't need to worry about that.

That all collected and carried to his car, he returned to pick up Scout. He found her sitting on the couch, a small Kirby plush in her lap. She didn't look up when he entered the apartment, instead just slowly petting the toy.

"Uh..." Will cleared his throat and she looked up at him. "You ready to go?"

"Sure." She "stood" up and he, after a short hesitance, scooped her up. He carried her out to the car, making sure to lock the apartment behind them, and dumped her in the back seat with Stacy's stuff. He climbed into the front seat, and took a moment to stare out the windshield.

'I can't believe I'm doing this. I don't want that thing in my house!' He glanced back at Scout, noting she had unzipped the duffel and was trying to climb inside. He sighed, turning back around and starting the car. 'At least she knows how to stay hidden. Stacy would kill me if I let anything happen to her.'

[ruensroad]

Starstruck

Are people tired of new AU’s yet? XD

It’s a JinYi so you only have @this-solaris-life to blame. P: Featuring Models!Jingyi and Yuan, author/conceptual artist!Jin Ling and illustrator!Zizhen.

(and behind the scenes Xicheng because it’s ME.)

---

It wasn’t the largest convention he’d ever walked into, but the crush of people felt oddly more intense as he followed Yuan’s expert weaving through the main area to the back building, where the Artist Alley had been laid out. Perhaps it was because only a bare medical mask was all that stood between him and what could be a crush of fangirls that he couldn’t seem to catch his breath, perhaps it was because of just who was in that Artist Alley. Probably a bit of both.

All he knew was that if Yuan’s arm wasn’t linked through his, he’d have been lost an hour ago. Typing furiously on their phones - Jingyi to his father, Yuan to his boyfriend - they’d managed to keep their heads down and look normal enough not to be noticed as the models they were, which was a headache Jingyi didn’t need. He just wished his father was a better distraction considering he himself was now the fanboy. Lan Huan, long disappeared into Artist’s Alley to find his own fanboy crush, had only sent him keyboard-smashed sentences the past hour, which was cute since ba-ba only ever wrote out his texts in perfect grammar. It just did nothing for his own herd of butterflies bashing around in his stomach, keyboard-smashing right back in spirit.

If he made it out of this without fainting, he’d consider it a win.

It was thankfully quieter in the artist’s area, with more rows of tables to better thin out the crowds. Jingyi and Yuan still kept their heads down, just in case their masks were not enough, though it didn’t take long before Yuan was quickening his steps, jolting his already struggling breath right out of him again.

Because there it was, Table C71 and C72, with the partition down between them to make a double table. One side for the illustrator of the comics splattered all over the wall behind the two men sitting there, and the other for the author…

The author, who was unfairly attractive with his hair pulled up messily and a pencil behind his ear, grinning at people as they moved up with books to be signed.

“Oh my gods,” Jingyi croaked out and did his best to stop. Yuan slowed, but pulled him along still, stronger than he looked. “I can’t do this.”

“You can and you will,” Yuan laughed, then excitedly waved through a break in the crowd. “Ah, they see us! A-Zhen!”

The illustrator grinned wide behind his glasses and practically leapt over the table to join them amidst a gaggle of giggling girls. Jingyi barely let go of Yuan before his friend was engulfed in a hug.

“You made it!” Ouyang Zizhen said, holding his hand out to Jingyi with Yuan beaming under his arm. “A-Yuan told us so much about you.”

One didn’t become a model without being starstruck often, meeting idols left and right. But these two men, who’s only spotlight was a warm spot in a comic convention, who’s following were loyal Weibo and Twitter users, not rich companies trying to break their pockets - these two men were a whole new brand of awe, because Jingyi had chosen to follow them, to love their work and stalk their social media.

Shaking the hand of an artist who helped fill his world with some normal, exciting joy was breathtaking.

“Only the bad stuff,” Yuan promised as they shook hands, eyes soft and sweet over his mask. He nuzzled under Zizhen’s jaw like a cat and Jingyi had to bite down a laugh to see it. “Speaking of, did you get it?”

Jingyi immediately felt on guard with the near identical grins on their faces, curling their eyes to the same half moons. “I did,” Zizhen promised him with a kiss to his cheek, then quickly returned to his table. A white, hardbound book was soon being pressed into Jingyi’s hands when he hurried back and he felt his entire mouth go dry.

“A-Ling put these together for Kingdoms,” Zizhen told him, which was rather unnecessary at that point. Jingyi had fallen so far down the xianxia novel’s hole he’d recognize the border art anywhere. “Last couple sketch pages are a sneak peak into a new character we’re going to introduce.”

“And!” Yuan piped up, just as excitedly and, truly, they were a match of twin devils. “He’s taking quick sketch commissions on the covers. So get in line!”

He couldn’t even make a token protest, manhandled as he was into it, and found himself staring dumbly at the book in his hands as the line slowly moved. Holding an actual, real art piece of an artist he’d crushed on for months was a religious experience, he was starting to realize. No wonder ba-ba’s texts were all keyboard-smashing. Fuck.

Nearly ten minutes of waiting was not nearly enough to prepare for the moment he was pushed to the table and one Jin Ling looked up at him, a smile on his face that immediately faltered in shock. Jingyi belatedly remembered Jin Ling had followed his social media first, which had started this whole mess, and gave a shaky wave and smile, which he showed with a careful pull down of his mask.

“I’m sure Wen Yuan warned you…” he started, awkward, and wanted to smack himself. What a lame first thing to say to his fanboy crush!

Blushing, he thrust the book at the man, which was hardly an improvement. “Uh… can I request a side character?”

He watched Jin Ling shake himself off and quickly covered his mouth again when the horde of fans behind and around him peeked in on the newest commission. Jin Ling nodded, all business, and pulled free his pencil as he righted the cover to the correct orientation. “Who would you like?”

Gods, his voice was even better than he’d imagined. Smooth and low, almost surprisingly so, and his eyes had a honeyed sheen. Jingyi had to take a moment just to remember to breathe and not vibrate clear through the floor.

“Rulan,” he said, decisive on that. “He only appeared in a few chapters, but I’ve always been curious about him.”

Oddly, that had Jin Ling blushing, but with a nod he put down some drawing guidelines. “He’s a favorite of mine,” was his quiet admission, nearly imperceptible over the excited murmuring surrounding them. “I hope i can do more with him in the future.”

The news had all awkwardness fleeing in a heady rush. Jingyi laughed, startling him, and leaned in to eagerly watch him. “Please do! He’s so biting and funny, but also strong and gallant. My kind of character.”

Jin Ling was handsome, always, but with rosy cheeks he was stunning. Clearing his throat, the artist tucked his pencil back behind his ear and pulled out a Sharpie. Seemingly out of a bare circle and line, the smirking, cocky face of Rulan took shape and quickly. Jingyi watched him in open awe. 

“It’s Jingyi, right?” Jin Ling asked, voice even quieter, and it was only because Jingyi was leaning in so close that he heard it at all. Their eyes met, a mere foot of space between them, and Jingyi felt his own face heat, even as a smile spread wide over his lips.

“It is,” he nodded, feeling like they were running with a joke only they knew, a charming secret shared, and it was only his name. Gods, he had it bad.

Jin Ling smiled at that, bashful, but a hint of that confident grin on his profile picture was starting to take root. Which did nothing for Jingyi’s heart. Shit. 

“Well, Jingyi, thank you for liking Rulan,” he said and lifted the completed book to him, face open and almost sweet. “It was a pleasure to draw him.”

Jingyi took the book and stared down at the quickly sketched in, very beloved face of his favorite character. For Jingyi, from Jin Ling had been set in the corner and he felt his heart start to gallop.

“In my line of work… well, I guess I’ve come to appreciate the people behind the scenes, so to speak,” he said, hoping Jin Ling would understand. “I will always like Rulan, even if you turn him into an asshole. He was the first character I fell for.”

Jin Ling blushed again and Jingyi desperately wished he knew the reason for it. Still, that smile was disarming and deadly and Jingyi couldn’t breathe all over again

“He’s already an asshole, but noted,” he laughed, laughed, and Jingyi was pretty sure he could die right then without a regret in the world. “Thank you, Jingyi. I’m sure I’ll see you later, yeah?”

Later. Oh gods, there was a later!

Jingyi swallowed hard and nodded, knowing his beaming smile showed even through his mask. “Definitely.”

[somuchbetterthanthat]

Okay, so -- I am absolutely refusing to write it properly, because lonely!Martin is killing me and I refuse to give him any more powers than he’ll have on me in canon. But the idea won’t leave my brain and I need to exorcize it in some fashion so, here is yet another angst thought {that i’m furiously trying to make hopeful at the end}: 

...this is not a proper story, but also it vaguely is and it’s super long. goddamnit, lonely!martin.

Jon wakes up, and the world is black; he panics, in the first moment, before he remembers what he’s decided to do. What they’ve decided to do. Martin’s hand is near him, gently shushing him, and Jon takes a breath, and he says, voice trembling with a mix of disbelief, fear, and heartbreaking happiness and relief: “Did we do it? Did it work?” and Martin says quietly “I don’t know. Did it?” so Jon swallows, and tries to look into Martin’s direction, even though he’s unsure, and goes, purposefully: “Martin, did it work?” there’s a beat of silence. And then he hears Martin’s shaky little breath, and he replies: “Nothing. Nothing I didn’t feel compelled.” 

Jon feels powerless and aching and desperatedly, overwhelmingly elated. “we did it,” he says again, and then, he clumsily touches Martin; his chest, shoulders, his neck, he reaches his cheeks when Martin’s hands cover his. Martin’s voice is full of something that must be emotion, Jon thinks, when he says: “you did it.” he doesn’t have time to analyze it, because then Martin is kissing him, and Jon stops thinking of anything than isn’t the beginning of their new life. 

*

Jon actually hates being blind; he feels horribly clumsy, and he hates not knowing. He hates that sometimes he just can’t know where Martin is in a room; he hates that he keeps bumping into their new coffee table; he hates that he can’t even open their new front door without searching for the key hole for at least a full minute. He tries not to complain too much, because Martin doesn’t. Martin figures out the tea before Jon does (of course he does), and Martin is hopeful. “Think of it this way,” he says. “That’s a whole new other world for you to learn about. Never a boring day.” They’re laying side by side on their new bed, and Jon can feel Martin’s arm brushing against his. He takes his hand into it, impulsively, and presses a kiss to Martin’s cold skin. “You’re right,” he says. “Course I am,” Martin mumbles, and Jon snorts, and rolls over to hide his face into Martin’s shoulder. Martin leans in to peck his forehead. 

(Jon thinks he’ll learn to love being blind, if it means this, forever this.)

*

“We should get a dog,” Jon says a week and a half in. They’re walking down the streets, and they’re slow and Jon feels a bit ridiculous and overwhelming glad for the cane in his hand, but still. Still. 

“I thought you were more of a cat person,” Martin says. They’re arms under arms, and Jon can feel the sun on his face. 

“I am,” Jon admits. “And I’m definitely in favour of taking in a cat as well, eventually. But the dog seems more useful right now. You like dogs, right?”

“Always wanted one when I was a kid,” Martin says. Jon grins vaguely into his direction. 

“It’s settled then, we’ll get -”

“Jon, be careful there’s a -”

Jon bumps into a street lamp pole. Martin makes a noise that’s between a worried exclamation and repressed laughter. 

“A dog,” repeats Jon, in pain. 

“A dog,” repeats Martin; they go sit on a bench for a while. Eventually, Martin laughs about the whole thing, and Jon doesn’t roll his eyes because he doesn’t have them anymore. It feels good to just laugh at himself too. 

*

Jon takes a lot of naps; they don’t know if it’s the Beholding influence slowly fading, the tiredness of having chased the Institute’s grasp on him. He naps a lot, and sometimes, he wakes up to the sound of Martin on the phone; 

“Why would I?” Martin asks, and it’s biting and cold and chills Jon to the bone. “Everything is working out.”

“Martin?” Jon can’t help but ask. 

“I’ll call you back, Basira. Thank you for checking,” Martin says, and it’s striking, how much his voice softens when he says: “Slept well, love?”

It’s the first time Martin uses a term of endearement. Jon vaguely remembers Georgie calling him ‘darling’, in university, but it was rare and such a long time ago. There’s something so earnest in the way Martin says Love. Jon’s cheeks get very red and his stomach is full of flustured butterflies but he manages to ask: 

“What did Basira want? Is something going on with the Inst -”

“Just checking if we were okay,” Martin cuts him off. “Everything’s fine there. Besides, not your problem anymore, right?”

It’s not that easy, Jon thinks abruptly, his heart tugging at something. He ignores it. “Yes,” he says. “Yes. It’s not my problem anymore.”

*

“Mmmh,” Jon mutters. “I like audio books better than movies, I think.”

“I’m shocked,” says Martin, and Jon nudges him a bit. 

“Don’t pretend you’re enjoying this anymore than I do,” he says. 

“Okay, right, her voice is a bit annoying,” Martin admits. “Maybe we should try doing something else.”

“What do you have in mind?” Jon asks. 

“Mmmh. Kissing you?” 

Jon coughs, and then he laughs. “Okay,” he says. “That sounds like a pleasant enough alternative.”

“Pleasant enough,” repeats Martin. “God, Jon.” 

(The fondness makes Jon’s heart trips in his throat; when Martin kisses him, they’re both smiling)

*

Jon takes a lot of naps. Maybe he’ll have to take them for the rest of his life, he muses sometimes. It’s alright. He can deal with this. Sometimes, he wakes up, and Martin is typing.

“What are you doing?” he asks, still sleepy. 

“... Writing,” Martin replies after a bit, softly.

“I’d love to read -- i mean, hear your poetry, one day,” Jon says. 

“Let me work on it just a bit more, and I’ll consider it,” Martin tells him.

*

It’s been three weeks, and Jon navigates their kitchen perfectly now. He’s mapped out the flat, knows the rooms and can almost see in his mind the faded, ugly paperwall with huge white roses. He’s mastered the door, as well. 

“I think I’m doing this pretty well,” he tells Daisy. 

Daisy is quiet for a very long time; Jon’s abruptly reminded of how much he misses seeing. It was already hard enough to understand people before, it’s harder now without any visual clues to lean unto. “Are you alright?” he adds, softly. “You could still --”

“I’m fine,” Daisy says. “At least as much as usual. And I don’t think Basira and I are quite ready to quit just yet. Maybe we’ll get there, maybe we won’t.”

“She can still get away,” Jon says. his throat itches, and his head hurts a bit, but he persists. “She’s not too far gone, she could walk away from this, and you with her.”

“Jon -” Daisy begins, and she sound sad, which doesn’t make sense.

“Do you want some more tea, Daisy?” Martin calls out loudly. Jon startles hard. 

“Where did you come from?” he asks belatedly, feeling Martin’s cool fingers on the back of his neck.

“Nah,” says Daisy carefully, warily. “I’m good, Martin. Think I might going back to the Institute now.”

*

Jon doesn’t have dreams anymore; in his nightmares he thinks he still seeks them out, but he is stuck in Naomi’s graveyard, fog pulling him tenderly into a icy embrace, as he walks aimelessly, craving. 

In his nightmares, he is always so cold and always so hungry. 

*

They’re almost out of the door to get breakfast out when Martin says softly: “Jon, your cane.”

“Oh,” says Jon. “Right. Where -?” 

Martin puts it calmly in his hand. 

“We really should get to a shelter soon,” Jon mumbles, cheeks flushed. 

“Soon,” repeats Martin. 

Jon isn’t sure, but something in Martin’s cheer that morning feels -- forced. “Are you alright?” he asks, eventually. 

“I’m with you,” says Martin. “Of course I’m alright.”

*

Jon takes long naps. He lays his head down on Martin’s lap after lunch, usually, and falls asleep almost right away, with Martin’s fingers gently caressing his curls. 

Sometimes, he wakes up, and he is alone.

“Martin?” he asks, and he hates how shaky his voice is. “Martin, are you here?”

Sometimes, the silence is oppressing; he knows with absolute certainty that Martin is gone, and the fridge makes no noise, and he can’t find the remote to turn on the TV, and the computer’s voice is just static. Jon opens the windows, and there is only cold wind and no sound, absolute no sound, and Jon yearns for his eyes back even though for a single, terrifying moment, he’s persuaded there would be nothing to see anyway. 

Then the front door open, and life rushes back in. “You’re awake,” Martin says, and his voice feels odd, just a bit breathless.

Jon strides to him, without bumping unto that damn coffee table, and hugs him fiercely. Martin gasps and they both shiver. 

“What were you - you shouldn’t go outside alone,” Jon says, his heart pounding to his ears. “We’re -- it’s easier when we’re together. Anything could happen when you’re alone, we should -- stick together. We need to be together.”

“Oh Jon,” murmurs Martin. 

“Please,” says Jon brokenly.

“Together,” Martin repeats. “I promised, didn’t I?” 

(his mouth on Jon is full of hunger, afterwards)

*

Jon’s real superpower, he sometimes thinks, is denial. 

“Ma’am,” he says outside of the coffee shop where Martin is ordering for them. “You’ve dropped your wallet.”

“Oh,” says the lady. “Oh, thank god. I didn’t - oh. Oh your glasses -- aren’t you --”

Jon’s throat is very tight. There is only blackness, he tells himself. Blackness is freedom. Blackness is Martin. 

“You’re welcome,” he mutters, and steps inside the coffee-shop, his hand too warm around the damn cane.

*

Jon’s naps are long and restful and sometimes, when he wakes up, Martin is typing. 

“What are you doing?” he asks.

“Working,” Martin answers immediately, and then, softly, adds: “...oh.”

Working on what? Jon itches to ask. We don’t have jobs anymore. 

“Leave it,” he says instead, his mouth a bit numb. “It’s almost four, we could get tea.”

“It’s important, Jon,” Martin says very quietly.

Jon winces; he lays on the couch, and he listens to Martin’s fingers on the keyboard. The computer’s AI never speaks out loud. Jon’s chest is icy.

*

“You’re being an ass,” Martin tells him, but Jon can hear the laughter in his voice. 

“I’ve been told it’s part of my charm,” says Jon primly. 

“By whom?”

“... You must have said it at least once.”

“... Not to your face I didn’t.”

“Well, you could try now.”

“Jonathan Sims,” Martin says, sounding giddy. “Are you flirting with me?”

“Is it working?” Jon tries. 

“I -- god,” says Martin, his fingers are almost warm on Jon’s face. “God, I love you.” 

“I love you too,” Jon says.

Martin kisses him; Jon’s hand brushes over his jaw. He wipes the few tears that escaped Martin’s eyes, and refuses to ponder on why there are tears at all. I love you, he repeats against his lips. I love you, I love you, I love you -- 

*

Naomi is back first. 

I tried, Jon doesn’t say. He is so hungry.

*

The wallpaper truly is ugly; Jon thought he wouldn’t mind, with both Martin and him unable to see it, but those white roses filled with thorns might be slowly driving him mad. Or maybe it’s because it’s the only thing in the flat; the clock is frozen, and Jon is curled up in a plaid, waiting for Martin to be back.

They should get that dog, he thinks, and knows they won’t.

*

“Jon,” says Helen, “how has your little experiment worked out for you?”

“Are you going to be here at every crossroad, Helen?” he asks with an exasperated sigh. 

“Well, that’s what good friends do, isn’t it? Did you enjoy being on your own?”

“I’m not alone,” Jon snaps. “Martin is here. Martin came with me. Martin is here.” 

“Yes,” Helen agrees. “But I thought being alone and being with one of his kind was pretty much the same thing.”

“Go away,” he tells her. “Go away.”

Helen is laughing her terrible laugh when she says: “If you insist on lying, you can’t blame me for trying to tell the truth.”

*

He waits for Martin to say it. 

He wants Martin to say it. 

But Martin keeps coming back and kisses his cheek hello; Martin keeps playing stupid board games and laughing, keeps making tea and chiding Jon for not wearing warmer clothes. Martin keeps on kissing him, and carding his fingers through his hair, and suggesting new audiobooks they could listen to together. 

He could say it first, he supposes, and knows that of course he won’t.

*

“What is it, Jon?” Basira asks. She sounds exhausted and wary.

Jon’s hands are shaking badly. There is a hole deep in his stomach. “I need,” he begins haltingly, hating how weak and defeated he sounds. “Could you come by the flat, please? I’m. I know there are statements that needs to be read.”

*

Sometimes, Jon naps. It feels good, as he stares and stares at misery and horror and fear; he wakes up relaxed and focused, and the flat is quiet, but not devoid of sounds. 

He gets up slowly, and goes to the living-room. He looks at Martin for a long time. 

“What are you doing?” he asks quietly.

“Reading,” says Martin, and then he startles bad. “Jon --”

His eyes are very brown and filled with so many expressions. Jon’s vision is slightly distorted; he’s not seeing from his eyes, but from the mirror that’s just behind him. Martin is slightly off to the left, and his face is closed off.

“I don’t understand,” Jon says at last. “What was the point of this?”

“You wanted to do it,” Martin answers, because he can’t chose not to. “It was - it was worth a try.”

“Together,” Jon says slowly. “We’d said together.”

“We are, aren’t we?”

Jon has laughed so much, over the past weeks, he’s forgotten how bitter his own laughter could sound. “Right. Except when we’re not. Has this all been -- very pleasant for you, Martin? Have I been a satisfying meal?”

Martin tenses, taking a sharp inhale. “That’s not -- fair --”

“Look at you right now!” Jon bites. Martin’s cheeks are flushed; Jon knows the deep satisfaction settling down into Martin’s bones, the delicious thrill down his spine, terror and longing and yearning for the sudden, abrupt distance between them, the inevitability of their downfall after weeks of lies and the pretence of domesticity; of connection. “Are you going to keep lying to me, and tell me I haven’t been feeding your god for the past two months?”

“Fine!” Martin spits. “Fine, alright, yes, it’s been -- it’s been -- something. I, I don’t know about feeding, and I don’t think I -- I didn’t want this. I, I didn’t expect it to feel so good, alright? To, to have you just -- but that’s not, that’s not the point! Not everybody makes bad choices for an Eldritch Fear Entitty, Jon!”

Jon feels like he’s been slapped. “Then, why?” he Asks, because if he must be the avatar of unpleasant truths, if he truly cannot escape it, then so be it, he’ll heard them all. “Why go through all this? Why pretend to have done it? Why -- why just be here, with me, while you apparently knew it wouldn’t last and you were dead set on continuing your plans behind my back anyway?”

“Because I love you!” Martin exclaims, furious and shaking and pleading. “Because I wanted to pretend we could do it! That, that we could just. Be together. You’re not the only one who can be selflish, Jon! I wanted to believe in all of it. I wanted to. To know what it was like. At least -- at least for a bit. I wanted to know what it was like to be with you. To just -- love you. Even if it didn’t last. Even if it hurt afterwards. Maybe, maybe because it would hurt afterwa -” he cuts himself off, and Jon wishes he could unheard it and reveals in the way Martin’s pulse is higher from having the truth being ripped out of him. 

He wants to cry; he wants to go to Martin, and hold him; keep him pinned under his eyes forever, until every tendril of fog is gone, until he remembers who he belongs to -

“I can’t stay here,” he says, and heads to the entry way.. 

“Jon -”

“I can’t -” 

“Jon - you’re - you can’t just leave like that, your hair -”

“I don’t care,”

“You’re forgetting your cane,” Martin says at last, when Jon grips the door handle. 

“I don’t need it,” he says numbly, and can’t bring himself to slam the door behind him.

*

“The hell?” Melanie says. “I thought we agreed. No more calls, I’m done with -”

“I know,” says Jon; stammers Jon; the streets are cold and he is so hungry he feels he may disappear if he doesn’t grasp someone soon. He can’t go back to the Institute. He can’t look at Basira and Daisy, who had known all along. “I know, I just - it’s not coming back, is it? You’re - you’re not - seeing again?”

“What? No. That’s the whole fucking point of the eye gouging, wh - oh god, has it -”

“Guess it was too late for me,” Jon tries to joke, but his hands are shaking badly, and it falls flat. “But i’m - glad. for you.”

“What about Martin -”

“Martin’s fine,” Jon hears himself say. “Martin’s always been fine.”

“Right so.. what now?”

There is a woman, Jon knows, who was abandonned by every one in her life on her wedding, and barely made it out by sheer will and the affection of a best friend. Fitting, he thinks.

“Now,” he says softly. “You tell Georgie I said hello, and you go back to your new life, Melanie. Good luck. I hope you two are - I hope you two are good.”

“Christ, don’t need to be so dramatic, we could -”

Jon hangs up. He strides in between the crowd, avoiding everybody else.

*

The Institute feels so good and familiar Jon would weep, if he still could. He settles down in the Archives, and he does what he’s always done best; he works and reads.

(he aches)

(Two floors up, Martin is typing, always typing. What are you working on? Jon wants to ask. It’s the last mystery left, isn’t it? What are you working on?)

*

What is Jon working on?

Sometimes, the dreams fade into a nightmare; it’s the same graveyard, but Naomi isn’t here. Nobody is here. Nobody was ever here. 

If Jon concentrates long enough, the graveyard shifts and looks like small flat with a really awful wallpaper.

*

Life would be easier, he muses, if he didn’t feel so much.

It takes him less than two weeks before he caves in and opens the door of Martin’s office. “Jon -” Martin begins, and his voice is filled with wariness and joy and anger and love, and it’s all muted and grey and distant. No matter. Jon bends over, and kisses him, and Martin gasps into his mouth.

“Does it feel good?” Jon asks, in between kisses, as Martin’s fingers curls around his hair, pulling him closer. “Does me missing you feel good?”

“Yes,” Martin says, because he can’t not answer. “Yes, it feels - perfect.”

“I love you,” Jon says, and he lets Martin know, he lets him know the ugly, selfish part of Jon that yearns for him constantly, the one that wants Martin to be here, that needs him to be at his side because it’s easier, because it’s easier together and Jon is so terrified of being alone, without anyone who cares, without him --

“Jon,” Martin whimpers, dizzy and overwhelmed and grabs Jon’s hips until Jon stumbles into his lap; his mouth is icy and he is devouring him, and Jon thinks the hell with it; he doesn’t mind if the clock stops ticking; he doesn’t mind that he cannot cry anymore despite his tight troat and the ache where his eyes used to be. All he cares about is Martin, and Martin can be with him, as long as he holds on through the fog. 

Martin will never entirely leave him, anyway. Of that he’s certain; it’ll defeat the purpose of the game. 

*

“We should change the wallpaper,” Jon says.

“Oh thank god,” Martin breathes out. “Yes, please. It’s so ugly.”

*

They don’t get a dog; there is a cat in the Archives, eventually, but that’s the Institute. In their home, there is nobody, and no noises; the wall paper is white and the windows foggy, and everything is calm and peaceful. 

Sometimes, Jon naps. 

Sometimes, Martin is even here when he wakes up, to both soothe and probes at the perpetual ache that chills Jon’s bones. 

[lia-jones]

Growing Pains - Chapter Three - Andrea, Not Idiot

As promised, my doorbell rang at precisely 8:20. 10 minutes before I had to leave to LFG. It was the mechanic, holding the keys of my car.

“It was the oil pump, it was broken. I fixed it, as well as other things. It’ll work like a beauty now.” The mechanic said, without greeting me.

“Good, how much to I owe you?” I said, worried about how much that would cost me. Cheap car, expensive bills, my father would say.

“It’s already paid for. I need to go. My coworker is double-parked waiting for me.” The mechanic left as quickly and unceremoniously as he came.

I looked at my wristwatch, it was 8:25 already. If I didn’t leave right away, I would be late. I grabbed my purse and the plastic bag laying on the sofa, and left to work.

When I arrived at LFG, Ted was already waiting for me.

“Bringing your dry cleaning to work? Don’t let Victor see that.” He pointed at the plastic bag with a hanger that I was holding.

“Don’t worry, I’ll get it out of the way in a moment. Has Victor arrived?” I asked, turning on my computer and taking some files out of my drawer.

“No, don’t worry. Go get your coffee, I’ll hold the fort for you.”

I went to the coffee room to get a cup of coffee, mentally reminding myself of all the things I had to do that day. Seeing I was alone in the coffee room, I allowed myself to hum the music I had been listening to while driving to work. It was this blues song by Sara Bareilles, Manhattan.

The pot was empty, so I washed it, and filled the coffee maker with water and ground coffee. As I waited for the pot to fill with a fresh brew, my fingers tapped on the table, trying to figure out the chords she played for that song in her piano, getting myself more and more immersed in the tune.

You can have Manhattan, I’m sure it’s for the best

I’ll gather up the avenues, and leave them on your doorstep.

And I’ll tiptoe away, so you won’t have to say you heard me leave.

You can have Manhattan, I know it’s what you want.

The bustle and the buildings, the weather in the Fall

And I’ll bow out of place to save you some space for somebody new.

You can have Manhattan ‘cause I can’t have you.

I sang to myself, my eyes closed, mesmerized by the depth of the lyrics. This was one of those songs that, although sad, hit you right on your core, making everything that’s negative spill all over, leaving you fresh and revived. I filled my cup while humming the notes she played in the solo part, wondering if I could replay it if my piano wasn’t back in Portugal.

I was so distracted with my own thoughts I didn’t notice someone else was in the room. Worse than that, I didn’t notice someone was in the room standing right behind me. I quickly turned to go back to my seat, when I collided with something hard that I wasn’t expecting to be there.

“Fuck!” I almost yelled as the coffee mug tilted my way and spilled all over my arm, the coffee almost at boiling temperature. I held the mug with my left hand while trying to shake the hot coffee out of my right arm.

 “What kind of an idiot sneaks behind people like that?” I gritted between my teeth, looking up to see who was the moron. It was the CEO. His eyes were wide and his mouth slightly open, and it looked like he was every bit as mortified as I was. It took him like a nanosecond to get his poker face back on, as he took my hand and led it to under the faucet, turning the cold water on.

I was speechless, as he carefully pulled the sleeve of my sweater up and moved my hand so the stream of water would glide over my forearm. He turned off the faucet and took a clean kitchen cloth from one of the drawers, dabbing my arm with it.

“You don’t seem to be burnt, but you should apply something to heal it, just in case. I’ll ask Goldman to stop by the pharmacy and get you something suitable for this.” He said, still working on drying my arm, his eyes not leaving his hands. I took my arm from his grip abruptly, feeling myself blush furiously.

“It’s ok, I don’t think I am hurt at all.” I had no nerve to look him in the eyes, remembering I just called him an idiot.

“I’m surprised to see you’re still alive, judging by how clumsy you are. Remind me to forbid any knives at the office.” He joked, although it seemed more like an insult than a joke.

“Or maybe I should remind you to wear a bell instead of a tie, since you move as silently as a cat.” I retorted, my tone moody. My sweater’s sleeve was drenched in hot coffee, I felt entitled to be a little bitchy.

“Or maybe you shouldn’t be so distracted and mind your surroundings.” He replied immediately, his tone sour, not appreciating my comeback. But I didn’t lose any time either.

“I apologize, I’m used to polite people saying good morning when they arrive. That usually tells me they’re in the room.” He was about to throw some more verbal venom at me, his expression even angrier than before, when I interrupted him, in a much softer voice. “Did I spill any coffee on you?”

“Surprisingly, no.” His tone softened as well. “It must be my lucky week, I survived you twice already.” I could see he was trying to hide a smile, but ignored it. I turned away to leave when I heard his voice again. “Did the mechanic deliver the car on time?”

“Yes! I do need to talk to you about that!” I was about to continue, but Victor stopped me.

“In my office.” He said as he walked away.

“I’ll meet you there in a minute. I have something to give you.” I ran to my desk and grabbed the plastic bag neatly laying on the chair next to mine. I went to Victor’s office, the door was ajar and he already sitting on his desk, reading something on his laptop.

“What do you want to talk about again?” He said, closing the laptop and giving me his full attention.

“First, here. I took your jacket home by accident.” I said, handing him the plastic bag. He opened it and took the jacket out.

“It smells… different.” He said, bringing the jacket to his nose and smelling it.

“I washed it and ironed it. It’s pristine clean.”

“You did all of that last night?” He asked, raising his eyebrow at me.

“Yes, but that’s not really what I want to talk about.” I said, changing the subject. “The mechanic wouldn’t bill me for fixing my car, so I assume you paid for it? How much do I owe you?”

Victor opened his laptop again, uninterested in the subject. After a long minute, he finally answered.

“Uhh… Yes. Your assumption is incorrect. I did not pay for it.” He said, typing away on his keyboard.

“Then who did?” I asked, confused, and slightly uncomfortable.

“LFG’s insurance.” He frowned, like he was trying to remember something and then looked at me. “I can’t recall you ever presenting your reports to me.”

“Ted usually does that for me, since he’s my supervisor.” I said, starting to fidget. I did not want to have to make a presentation for Victor Lee.

“Will you ask Ted to sign your internship certificate when you finish it?” He asked, his voice flat.

“Of course not, sir.” I promptly answered. “You’ll have to sign it.” I felt like I was in the army. God, that guy made me nervous.

“Be at my office at 6 pm sharp, with your reports ready for presentation. From now on, I will be your supervisor and you’ll report directly to me, understood?” I could feel the rigidness of an order.

“If I may ask, why the change? I’m pleased with my supervisor. I have no complaints.” I tried to argue, respectfully.

“Who do you think decides who supervises you? Ted?” I didn’t want to reply, the obvious answer was Victor, and it made me feel dumb to state the obvious, so I nodded silently, showing him I’d seen his point. The CEO, however, was not pleased with just a nod. “Well?” He insisted. “Did you forget how to talk?”.

“You, Sir. You are the CEO.” I answered, trying not to roll my eyes at him.

“6 pm. Come prepared.” He said, focusing on the screen of his laptop. “And I believe I expressed my disagreement over you calling me Sir.”

“I apologize. I will be here later, Sir. I mean, Victor.”

He was already entirely focused on his work, not even aware that I was leaving.

At 6 pm sharp I knocked on his door. Victor closed his laptop as I came in.

“Conference room.” He said shortly, pointing outside.

I marched quickly to the conference room to quickly plug in my computer to the screen on the wall, so I would have everything ready the minute the CEO sat down. And for a second it dawned on me why Goldman kept running all the time. Just like me, he expected a scolding every time he had to do something.

Victor walked in and took his jacket off. Then, he grabbed the knot of his tie and slid it down, removing the tie in one swift movement. Laying both items on the chair next to him, he sat down and started rolling up his sleeves.

“Let’s begin.” He said, as he undid the first two buttons of his shirt.

I started my presentation with three of the companies I was assisting investment-wise, speaking of both progress and issues the companies had been through, when I noticed Victor was slumped on his chair, his head precariously resting on the back of the chair, his eyes closed. Apparently, he was asleep. I stared at him, unsure of what to do. And for a moment, I let myself watch the slumbering figure in front of me, his usual cold and aloof expression replaced with a placid, relaxed one. The unbuttoned shirt showed his collarbone, distinct and masculine, and a little of what I suspected were very defined pectorals. If not for his temper and bitchy attitude, Victor was a very attractive man. I wondered for a moment what would be like to be in his bed, those large hands holding my back, his cute butt moving as he thrust me with his…

“I didn’t say stop. Although I have to warn I may fall asleep. Not at all what I expected from one of the future brilliant minds in Economics.” Ok, so he was not sleeping, he was just being an asshole, calling my presentation a snore-fest.

“Any comments on my work you’d like to make so far?” I asked, bitterly. If you are going to insult me, at least have the decency to do it to my face.

“Not quite yet. How do you suggest the companies should act regarding said issues?” He said, his eyes still closed.

I presented my next slide, answering his question. He sat up straight, opening his eyes. He had this evil smirk on his face, and I sort of expected him to rub his hands mischievously.

“This sounds something like Ted would say. Did Ted write your report?”

“I wrote my report. Ted provided guidance, that’s all.” I answered, offended.

“I see. And he told you this was the right answer?”

“He told me this is the answer that would please you.” I confessed. Because at the moment it seemed all my work was to please Victor, the slayer of souls and destroyer of joy.

He looked me in the eyes, his expression fierce. I could guess a bit of resentment in it too.

“Are you that afraid of me?” He asked, squinting at me. “Am I such a monster in your eyes?”

“Everybody is a little afraid of you.” I answered flatly. And for the life of me, I couldn’t figure out why I had decided to be so honest at that moment. I guess I was feeling trapped.

Victor’s eyes shimmered a bit, and then his poker face was back on.

“Do you agree with those recommendations for your companies? Speak truthfully.”

“No, I don’t. I would suggest something else. I wrote these under Ted’s advisement.”

Victor leaned with his elbows on the table, his forehead resting on his entwined hands. He was clearly frustrated, sighing heavily, as if he had some nasty words to say to me but was holding them down.

“I called your previous employers inquiring about you. The future of Economics, they said. A breath of fresh air, they said. Innovation meets elegance, they said. The golden child. Not that I believed a word of that, but I wanted to see what that golden child looked like. And disappointed doesn’t come near to describe how I feel. You are simply an idiot, just like those other idiots that beg to work for me.” His words were bitter, reminding me too much of Daniel in the final months of our little hell. Undermining. Belittling.

“You know what? Other employees may take this crap from you, but I certainly won’t.” I spat, the bad blood rising fast. “You are a bully, no more than that. You believe that because you have the most expensive toys in the playground, you get to whack all the other kids with them. I can’t really decide what to feel about you. One moment you’re this kind yet socially awkward person, the other you’re just plain rude and entitled. I’m not an idiot, nor a moron, or a dummy, or other endearing nicknames you usually call your staff. My name is Andrea, and although it may be hard for you to pronounce because it’s Portuguese, I’ve heard you say it correctly before, so I trust you can do it again. Andrea, not idiot.”

Victor sat quietly, his eyes wide, his mouth hanging. I was pretty sure I was being fired, so I took the chance and the guts I had left to blurt out all I wanted to say. But this time, my voice was softer.

“You expect me to know, but you never teach. You just expect people to learn by osmosis, as that would ever be possible, because your temper won’t let anyone go near. You never heard me say I was a golden child, or even act like one. I told you, I came here because I was eager to learn from you and others like you, because I respect your work and how much you’ve accomplished, and so far all I have are insults. I can surely say I’m pretty disappointed too.”

I could see Victor wanted to retort, his mouth moving slightly, but no words would come out. I turned to my laptop to disconnect it from the screen, and started gathering up my things.

“No need to fire me, I will hand you my resignation letter tomorrow.” I almost whispered, my back turned to him, “This is clearly not working for the both of us. Good day.”

And without another word, I took my belongings and left the conference room, absolutely sure that the following day would be my last one there.

[corny-pickuplines]

Corny Pick Up Lines that are very Cheesy to Impress your Crush!

Here are the best Cheesy Corny Pick Up Lines that will help you to impress your crush in a random style. Are you want to impress your dream girl whom you like, but can’t able to say anything in front of her. Then these corniest pick up lines would help you to break the ice and start an awesome conservation to her.

200+ Corny Pick Up Lines For Her

We have Collected the best collection of Corny Pick Up Lines for you, So that you can easily use in front of any person whom you want to impress.

Are you French because Eiffel for you.

Is that a mirror in your pocket? Cause I can see myself in your pants!

Are you a magician? Because whenever I look at you, everyone else disappears!

Are you religious? Cause you’re the answer to all my prayers.

I’m not a photographer, but I can picture me and you together.

I seem to have lost my phone number. Can I have yours?

Hey, tie your shoes! I don’t want you falling for anyone else

Do I know you? ‘Cause you look a lot like my next girlfriend/boyfriend..

You must be Jamaican, because Jamaican me crazy.

For some reason, I was feeling a little off today. But when you came along, you definitely turned me on.

Was your dad a boxer? Because damn, you’re a knockout!

Do you know what my shirt is made of? Boyfriend/girlfriend material?

What has 36 teeth and holds back the Incredible Hulk? My zipper.

I’m lost. Can you give me directions to your heart?

Are you a parking ticket? ‘Cause you’ve got fine written all over you.

Are you religious? Because you’re the answer to all my prayers.

Are you sure you’re not tired? You’ve been running through my mind all day.

Somebody call the cops, because it’s got to be illegal to look that good!

I must be a snowflake, because I've fallen for you.

I know you're busy today, but can you add me to your to-do list?

If you were a steak you would be well done.

Is there an airport nearby or is it my heart taking off?

They say Disneyland is the happiest place on earth. Well apparently, no one has ever been standing next to you.

Even if there wasn't gravity on earth, I'd still fall for you.

Roses are red, violets are blue, how would you like it if I came home with you?

I wish I were cross-eyed so I can see you twice

We're not socks. But I think we'd make a great pair.

Your lips look so lonely…Would they like to meet mine?

Are you a parking ticket? ‘Cause you’ve got fine written all over you.

Thank god I'm wearing gloves because you are too hot to handle.

If a fat man puts you in a bag at night, don't worry I told Santa I wanted you for Christmas.

I'm no photographer, but I can picture us together.

Do your legs hurt from running through my dreams all night?

Pinch me, you’re so fine I must be dreaming.

If you were a chicken, you'd be impeccable.

How much does a polar beat weight? Enough to break the ice!

Are you a 90 degree angle? Cause you are looking right!

Nice to meet you, I’m (your name) and you are... gorgeous!

If I were a transplant surgeon, I’d give you my heart.

Are you Israeli? Cause you Israeli hot.

On a scale from 1 to 10, you're a 9... And I'm the 1 you need.

Did it hurt? When you fell out of heaven?

If I could rearrange the alphabet I would put U and I together.

Hello, I'm a thief, and I'm here to steal your heart.

Are you cake? Cause I want a piece of that.

My love for you is like diarrhoea, I just can't hold it in.

Are you lost ma'am? Because heaven is a long way from here.

There is something wrong with my cell phone. It doesn't have your number in it.

If you were a library book, I would check you out.

Are you a cat because I'm feline a connection between us

If I were to ask you out on a date, would your answer be the same as the answer to this question?

If nothing lasts forever, will you be my nothing?

I'm new in town. Could you give me directions to your apartment?

I must be in a museum, because you truly are a work of art.

You spend so much time in my mind, I should charge you rent.

I want someone to look at me the way I look at chocolate cake.

Is it hot in here or is it just you?

Are you going to kiss me or do I have to lie to my diary?

Feel my t-shirt, it’s made of boyfriend material.

You must be a magician, because every time I look at you, everyone else disappears.

Your name must be Coca Cola, because you're so-da-licious.

You're like a dictionary... you add meaning to my life.

My doctor says I'm lacking vitamin U.

Did your licence get suspended for driving all these guys crazy?

Do you like sales? Because if you're looking for a good one, clothing is 100% off at my place.

I know this is going to sound cheesy, but I think you're the gratest.

If you were a triangle you'd be acute one.

Does your left eye hurt? Because you’ve been looking right all day.

My feet are getting cold… because you’ve knocked my socks off.

Wow, when god made you he was showing off.

If beauty were time, you’d be eternity.

Is your name Wi-fi? Because I'm really feeling a connection.

If looks could kill, you'd be a weapon of mass destruction.

Do you have a tan, or do you always look this hot?

Can I follow you home? Cause my parents always told me to follow my dreams.

If I were a cat I'd spend all 9 lives with you.

Are you a camera? Because every time I look at you, I smile.

Are you from Japan cause I'm trying to get in Japanties.

If you were a fruit you'd be a fineapple.

I'll give you a kiss. If you don't like it, you can return it.

Do you believe in love at first sight or should I walk past again?

When a penguin finds a mate they stay with them for the rest of their life. Will you be my penguin?

Can I take a picture of you so santa knows what I want for christmas?

I'm new in town, could you give me directions to your apartment?

I'll cook you dinner, if you cook me breakfast

What does it feel like to be the most beautiful girl in the room?

Good thing I just bought term life insurance … because I saw you and my heart stopped!

If I had a dollar for every time I thought of you, I’d be in a higher tax bracket.

Hey, my name’s Microsoft. Can I crash at your place tonight?

Was that an earthquake or did you just rock my world?

You’re so sweet, you’re giving me a toothache.

Did you swallow magnets? Cause you're attractive.

Are you from China? Because I'm China get your number.

Do you have a name, or can I call you mine?

Are you craving Pizza? Because I’d love to get a pizz-a you

Wouldn't we look cute on a wedding cake together.

Would you grab my arm so I can tell my friends I've been touched by an angel?

Kiss me if I'm wrong, but dinosaurs still exist, right?

Is your dad a terrorist? Because you are the bomb.

You must be a ninja, because you snuck into my heart

Can you pinch me, because you're so fine I must be dreaming.

I may not be a genie, but I can make all your wishes come true!

Are you Australian? Because you meet all of my koala-fications.

I’m not drunk, I’m just intoxicated by you.

If I followed you home, would you keep me?

If you were words on a page, you’d be fine print.

Are you a keyboard ? Because you are my type.

There is something wrong with my phone. Could you call it for me to see if it rings?

I've seem to have lost my number, can I have yours?

My lips are like skittles. Wanna taste the rainbow?

Well, here I am. What were your other two wishes?

Are you from Tennessee? Because you're the only 10 I see!

Are you a beaver? Cause daaaaaaaaam!

Life without you is like a broken pencil... pointless.

If I had a garden I’d put your tulips and my tulips together

Did you hear of the new disease called beautiful, I think you're infected.

I thought Happiness starts with H. But why does mine starts with U.

If you were a vegetable you'd be a cutecumber.

You know what you would really look beautiful in? My arms.

My mom thinks I'm gay, can you help me prove her wrong?

Do you want to see a picture of a beautiful person? (hold up a mirror)

Is your body from McDonald's? Cause I'm lovin' it!

Remember me? Oh, that’s right, I’ve met you only in my dreams.

Is your name Google? Because you've got everything I'm searching for.

Your hand looks heavy. Here, let me hold it for you.

I’ve been wondering, do your lips taste as good as they look.

Are you from Starbucks because I like you a latte.

Are you a banana because I find you a peeling.

Do you like vegetables because I love you from my head tomatoes.

Have you been to the doctor's lately? Cause I think you're lacking some vitamin me.

Do you generate electricity with water through the process of hydro power? Because dammmm.

Do you like science because I've got my ion you.

Are you my appendix? Because I don't understand how you work but this feeling in my stomach makes me want to take you out.

Best Corny Pick Up Lines

When you know how to make good Corny Pick Up Lines women can feel attracted to you, it is not hard to have a relationship with them. You do not need to try very hard and when you see your little gifts for her as a way of showing appreciation for her kindness then it will make it even easier.

How many times has a man kept talking about how he likes someone when he really doesn't like them? That is what this kind of conversations is called. So, while you are actually talking you should not start thinking about how you will get your woman to like you.

Cheesy Pick Up Lines

The key to this is to use simple words that are not really mean but give the idea that you are just being nice. In fact this is probably the best way to do this because you do not need to pretend that you are looking for her approval. These Cheesy Pick Up Lines would really help you to impress her.

By using the idea of compliments you are giving her a great suggestion to be sure she is attracted to you. The more compliments she gets the more attention she will give you and that will give you some space for your game to take off.

It is true that some guys are the only ones who can play with words and are the ones who have great jokes and funny lines. The other things that you can do to get her to like you are obviously the most important and the one that will make you the sexiest man in the world.

You do not need to try and trick her but rather you should pay attention to her and make her feel like she is special to you. You should go out of your way to make her feel that she is special and she is beautiful.

Best Pick Up Lines

This is one of the most important things that you should do and the language that you use will be one of the most important. This is where Best Pick Up Lines come in because these are the words that can really make you seem like the most romantic man in the world.

It is important to learn this language because you will be using it when you try to attract girls but the only problem is that you do not know how to use it correctly. With the help of the Pick Up Lines online there are a few ways that you can begin.

These will give you an opportunity to practice your language and learn some of the other points that you need to use. You do not need to spend a lot of money on this but if you could do it at home you will be much happier.

Keep your confidence high so that you can get your point across. If you want to get her attention then you should be able to use all the charm that you can so you can get some fun.

By taking some time to learn the language you will be able to make some excellent picks and pick up lines to go along with your game. You can then use this knowledge and get some great girls to fall in love with you.