#made entirely for me and two mutuals. i will be back give me a sec

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 299: No Chains Left

Previously on BnHA: Horikoshi was all “and then AFO broke out all of the inmates from six other prisons and took a nap. well anyways, here’s the hospital angst.” Kacchan woke up two days later and was all, “WAIT BUT HOW ARE DEKU AND TODOROKI AND ALL OF THE OTHER CHARACTERS EXCEPT IIDA DOING” and then we cut to Shouto’s room where the other U.A. kids were sitting around being Mutually Traumatized and giving each other moral support and such. Everyone was alll, “...”, and then the rest of the Todofam showed up, INCLUDING POSSIBLY REI?! which, omg. The chapter ended with Kacchan STOMPING THROUGH THE HALLS all “WHADDYA MEAN DEKU HASN’T WOKEN UP YET”, dragging along Satou and Mineta behind him, fueled by the power of ALL OF THE FUCKS HE NOW GIVES. He gives so many fucks now you guys. This boy cares so much he can probably deduct it on his taxes.

Today on BnHA: SPEAKING OF PEOPLE WHO GIVE A LOT OF FUCKS, the story cuts abruptly to Hawks, freshly recovering from his near-death experience, and pondering the threads that have weaved the tapestry of his life and led him to this moment. Basically he grew up in poverty with his Jerk Dad and Jerk Mom until his dad got arrested one day and his mom sent him off to go Find Money Or Something, and so he rescued a busload of people and found himself a new career. Back in the present day, Hawks and Jeanist ride around town in Jeanist’s Jamborghini having awkward encounters with civilians in a country on the brink of social collapse, and visiting Hawks’s mother’s home. Hawks is all “I know from an outsider’s perspective it must look like my life currently sucks, but now that the HPSC is gone, my public image is shot, and my parents are finally out of my life, I’m actually feeling SURPRISINGLY GOOD.” Anyway so he’s gonna go meet up with Endeavor now, and p.s. this chapter was fucking fantastic though, damn.

oh my god?? is this Hawks narration?? something about him growing up watching the heroes on TV and thinking of them as fictional characters

okay I scrolled down a little bit more to see the rest of that “Keigo” panel, and wow

this is basically a shed. poor boy definitely grew up rough. let me tell you guys, I came in here ready for some BakuDeku shenanigans; I was not prepared for Hawks Flashback Angst. I AM HERE FOR IT, but also wow I gotta brace myself now lol

HELLO MISTER HAWKS’S JERK DAD, SIR

BnHA sure does have an array of Jerk Dads, doesn’t it. makes me appreciate characters like Masaru and JirouDad all the more for bucking the trend

anyway. so Horikoshi, you really thought that one itty bitty chapter of hospital catharsis would be enough to calm us all before you went right back to showing us child abuse huh. my god man can we rest

BABY HAWKS

swear to god this kid can’t be more than five or six, and yet he has this completely blank look on his face even with his dad looming over him being all threatening and shit. like he’s shut down his emotions to protect himself. imagine what has to happen to a child for him to have learned this at such a young age. fuck

AND MEANWHILE THIS GUY

don’t mingle with humans?? not “other” humans, just humans?? what is this implying here?? and also holy shit Hawks definitely didn’t inherit his looks from his dad orz

then again he doesn’t really bear much of a resemblance to his strung-out mom here either

omg omg omg. and this child is basically trapped here in this environment with these two people. this explains a SHITLOAD about Hawks’s personality though you guys. his ability to completely separate his real thoughts from the face he presents to the outside world. his pragmatic approach to analyzing and solving problems. his layers of emotional walls. turns out almost none of that came from the HPSC training -- that was all learned hands-on in his own personal do-or-die survival nightmare childhood!! oh, boy

and small wonder then that he latched on to Endeavor so strongly if he really is the one who brought down his dad and inadvertently saved him from this. also, just putting this out there, I know people are always talking about him and Dabi being foils, and I think it’s very interesting how Touya grew up in a household where he saw firsthand the dark side of hero society, and so ended up becoming a villain in order to bring it down. whereas young Keigo had almost the exact opposite experience, growing up experiencing the dark side of villain society and becoming a hero in order to bring about a world where no one else has to experience that. just. both of them are so determined not to become their fathers. some interesting parallels there

so Hawks was sort of an accident after his parents had “thanks for helping me not get caught after I killed that guy” sex, and now this little boy is growing up in squalor and being beaten by his father for things like Sitting In The Wrong Out-Of-The-Way Corner Trying Not To Be A Bother To Anybody. holy fuck. this is so rough to read through you guys

wait so does Jerk Dad have a an eyeball manipulation quirk?? because he doesn’t have the wings like his son, but wth are these things??

this presumably also means that Keigo has never been to school or anything either. he basically doesn’t exist. he thinks heroes are fictional characters, he doesn’t realize that they’re real people. these are people who could help him if he could escape and find them, but he doesn’t know, and they don’t know about him

OH MY GOD HE’S JUST SITTING IN HIS CORNER HUGGLING HIS ENDEAVOR PLUSH OH MY GOD

how could this child possibly have an anti-fandom when he’s done NOTHING WRONG HIS ENTIRE LIFE. huh. just explain that to me. lol I mean I’m not looking to pick a fight with anyone, but also, MAYBE I AM, idk?? this kid has gotten me all riled up lmao

anyways, Protect Keigo 2021, and thank you Horikoshi for these three very terrible pages. I am pleased to inform you that you’ve effectively gotten your point across and you may now commence saving this kid already

YAY

oh no, Keigo’s dumbass jerk dad tried to steal a car and the popo nabbed his ass and now his mom can’t just sit around neglecting her VERY YOUNG SON all day long, oh horrors. sorry lady my tiny violin is on backorder. just imagine that I’m playing a very sarcastic song on it for you

anyway so what are you gonna do now, abandon him? I can hardly imagine he’d be worse off, if anything it might be a near-instant improvement

LMAO HE’S ALL “WAIT WHAT ENDEAVOR’S A REAL FUCKING DUDE?!”

AND THEY SAY THAT A HERO CAN SAVE US~~~~ I’M NOT GONNA STAND HERE AND WAAAAAIT~~~~~ I’LL HOLD ONTO THE WINGS OF THE EAGLES, WATCH AS WE ALL FLY AWAAAAAAY~~~~

lol what a randomly pivotal moment in his young life. TIME TO GO MAKE THESE MEMES INTO DREAMS YOUNG ONE

anyway so his mom freaked out and grabbed him and they wound up at a train station with her TELLING HIM TO GO GET HER SOME MONEY, oh my god. SURE MOM LEMME JUST WALTZ RIGHT ON DOWN TO THE “JOBS FOR FIVE-YEAR-OLDS” STORE AND TELL THEM I NEED SOME CASH. ffff manifesting someone to come help him in 3... 2...

...

SIGH, JUST GO RESCUE THE PEOPLE FROM THE BUS, KEIGO. is this the outfit he was wearing when that happened?? it must be, right?? I can’t imagine them surviving more than a couple days out here unless this starts getting REALLY dark in a way I know that even Horikoshi won’t explore, so yeah. cut to the HPSC now please. never thought we’d be glad to see them. I mean sure, it may be an “out of the frying pan...” case, but good god

THANK YOU!!

and I guess it was his mom’s eyeball quirk then. anyway, whatever, see you again never, hopefully. lol oh man. thaaaat, was upsetting. need to center myself here for a sec. NAMASTE

OH YAY THE PRESENT

so we cut from Baby Hawks Angst straight to Present Day Hawks Angst, huh. not that this exhausted and traumatized lil lad isn’t still a baby to me too, I’ll have you know

BEST JEANIST, ALWAYS WITH THE JOKES

“WHEW, THOUGHT YOU DIED ON ME FOR A SEC THERE KID.” lmao. Caleb will no doubt ruin this by making his word choice all stiffly formal as usual, so I’m just going to treasure this “WOULD YOU LOOK AT THAT, I’M FRESH OUT OF FUCKS” version of Jeanist while I can

look at him, driving his Jeanistmobile

again, is it any wonder Kacchan was bitching about Endeavor’s dinky little car when he was used to riding around town in style like this. anyone else staring at this panel trying to figure out how this car is somehow secretly made of jeans

NOOOOO

FUCK YOU DABI LMAO. PUTTING THESE VOICE ACTORS OUT OF A JOB ONE BY ONE

anyway so Jeanist is all “GOOD THING IT’S THE FUTURE AND WE’RE SO GOOD AT MEDICAL SCIENCE” to handwave how Hawks went from one step shy of being a very handsome corpse, to sitting around texting Jeanist in a car all of two days later

OH MY GOD, AND FINALLY AN EXPLANATION FOR THIS

wait a minute. I’m so confused lmfao. soooo, was Hawks all “anyway, here’s Jeanist’s dead body, you can examine it but please don’t look at him too closely and also I’m gonna need that back unharmed.” how tf did you pull that off lmao

(ETA: also isn’t this technically confirmation of the ol’ Noumu Jeanist theory lol. I’m gonna go ahead and say it is.)

NO BUT PLEASE, CONTINUE. I unironically love reading Horikoshi’s overly convoluted “SEE IT’S NOT A PLOT HOLE” explanations

lkldslfk so wait, you’re telling me Hawks convinced Dabi and the League to put Jeanist’s body in storage, and basically just hoped they wouldn’t use him for any experiments until he could put his plan into action and have the HPSC’s people break in and find and revive him?? WHAT COULD POSSIBLY GO WRONG. A FOOLPROOF PLAN IF I’VE EVER HEARD ONE

fff this man really asked Jeanist to risk it all to prop up his little cover story, and Jeanist was all “sure why not” omfg. anyways, thanks for recapping all of this out loud for no particular reason in your car conversation you two

LMAO NOW WHAT

TROUBLE YOU SAY? GOOD THING THE NEW NUMBER ONE HERO IS ON THE JOB THEN

okay no it’s just some random thugs strolling around terrorizing the downtown. fuck ‘em. so Jeanist is making short work of them now

uh oh

won’t come? not can’t, but won’t?? what???

WOW

well I guess that makes the local heroes A BUNCH OF SHITHEADS now doesn’t it?? jesus

and okay, serious question, if the cops are spread too thin and the heroes have literally walked out on the job, what exactly is stopping everyone from deciding to use their quirks to defend themselves, legal or not? nothing, as far as I can tell. society just got a hell of a lot more chaotic

anyway so this is an interesting panel here

man, Dabi really did pull it off, didn’t he. well anyway so here’s that better world all of the villains were wanting, you guys! isn’t it so great?? everyone’s terrified and angry and losing hope and society is inches away from collapsing into total anarchy! but hey, at least we exposed the number one hero as a hypocrite

anyway so what are these guys up to

fucking hell, he’s visiting his mom. I really wasn’t prepared to commit this much emotional energy towards reading this chapter today. BUT VERY WELL, WE PRESS ON

?? wait she’s not there?

is this supposed to explain how Dabi knew who Hawks really was? except that there’s the little matter of how he even know where to find his mother in the first place. feels like we’re still missing something there, but oh well

OH MY GOD

RHA I TAKE BACK EVERY WORD I EVER SPOKE AGAINST YOU. YOU ARE A SCANLATION GROUP FILLED WITH ANGELS LMAO. I WILL TAKE THIS PANEL IN MY HANDS, AND TREASURE IT AND KEEP IT SAFE

ANYWAY, BECAUSE MY TIRED BIRD SON’S LIFE SUCKED SO MUCH ALREADY, IT TURNS OUT HE’S ACTUALLY PLEASED WITH THIS NEW TURN OF EVENTS LOL HOW ABOUT THAT

GOOD FOR YOU BBY. YOU GO OUT THERE AND BE YOUR OWN PERSON

and in all seriousness, I love that identity he chooses -- chooses, because it actually is him making a choice now, possibly for the very first time in his life -- is “guy who helps people”, though. it really is nothing short of miraculous that he held on to that kind of optimism and desire to do good even with everything he’s been through. there were so many times he could have chosen to turn his back on the world in retaliation for the way it treated him. but he didn’t!! and here he is now, finally free, and what he wants to do with the rest of his life now is simply to help others. anyway please excuse me for a moment, I need to go find some sort of basket or a big vase to put all of my fresh new Hawks Feels in, pardonne-moi

YEAH BOIIIIII

“FIRST ORDER OF BUSINESS, MISTER JEANIST, WHERE DID YOU FIND YOUSELF THAT SWEETASS CAR.” hey, all I’m saying is if this boy’s wings really aren’t growing back, he’s gonna need to find himself a new means of transportation y’know?

oh my god you guys it’s a flashback to his mom buying him the Endeavor plushie when he was like two because, and I quote, ALL MIGHT WAS TOO EXPENSIVE

oh my god oh my god. my boy out here with a new lease on life finding hope in the darkest of times

wasn’t your throat supposed to be all fucked up lmao. Horikoshi was suddenly all “oh shit the VAs are gonna be pissed at me if I keep this up huh”

“that’s why Bubaigawara was such a great guy” motherfucker IT IS A TERRIBLE DAY FOR RAIN. FORECAST SAID NOTHING ABOUT THIS

:’)

yes ma’am. yes indeed. confirmed, I really will straight up fight some motherfuckers for this child. well not really, but YOU KEEP YOUR DISCOURSE OFF MY LAWN AND OUT OF MY BLOG YOU HEAR. THIS IS A HAWKS-FRIENDLY SPACE. WE RESPECT TAKAMI KEIGO IN THESE STREETS

and he’s saying (or is he thinking?? what a weirdly shaped speech bubble this is) that even if what Dabi said about the Todoroki household is true, “I’m not sure it’s the same now.” which happens to be ABSOLUTELY CORRECT. man this whole chapter really is all about saying “fuck the past” and moving forward and I am living for it

SON!!!!

“the first step is at my beginning” fklkjlk. what an iconic fucking line??

AND HIS WINGS!!!! THEY ACTUALLY ARE GROWING BACK AHHHHHHH. “PUT A RAINCHECK ON THAT CAR, JEANIST-SAN.” THE HAWKSMOBILE CAN WAIT, RIGHT NOW HE HAS TO GO INSERT HIMSELF BACK INTO THE TODODRAMA WHETHER THEY LIKE IT OR NOT

you guys. I came here ready for some BAKUDEKU HOSPITAL ANGST, and I got DIDDLY SHIT of that, and none of my other kids were even in this chapter, but!!! ASK ME IF I CARE LMAO omg. because bird son is hanging with his new best friend, and he’s out here Finding Himself and picking up the pieces and putting them back together stronger than ever because RESILIENCE HAS A NAME, AND IT’S SPELLED H-A-W-K-S, and you guys. profound, my love for this child. holy shit. hey google, play Silence by Marshmello

[duskholland]

Idea for a smut with tom that he's somewhere far off for filming, so you video chat before bed. One day you decide to tease him a bit by wearing something that shows off your boobs but tom being the gentleman he is, tries not to look, maybe you're still in the early stages of dating. But then when you hang up he admits he had to hold himself back from looking at you to which you answer that you did it on purpose. And he's like FUCK and calls you up again to show you how hard you made him and👀👀

this concept...ooft. I absolutely love it, thank you so much for sending it my way !!! 2.2k, nsfw; 18+ minors dni!!

—clearing out the askbox: smut edition—

extended warnings: cyber sex, mutual masturbation.

———

As your phone screen buffers and loads the video call, you pull at the top of your tank top, mischievously dragging it down your chest in order to expose some more skin. The moment you’d got the text from your boyfriend, Tom, asking if you’d like to call him, you’d pulled off your bra and slithered into the very tight, very form-fitting top. You’re resting over the bed now, on your front, and as you check out your reflection in the dark loading screen of your phone, you realise that your objective has been completed: your boobs look great, and you look hot.

You enjoy teasing Tom, love the way he always tries to act like such a gentleman when he’s around you. You’ve only been together a few months, and over the past two weeks that he’s been away on location shooting his new film, you’ve had fun stripping down and slipping into a different provocative outfit each night, just to see how far you can push it before he snaps. So far, you’ve gotten away with a variety of interesting garments: tight dresses, thin bra straps, no shirt... And yet Tom’s resolve has remained strong as he looks anywhere but your figure, eyes fixed firmly on your face as his cheeks dust red with arousal over the course of each call. You know you have an effect over him, but he isn’t allowing himself to show it, which is just testament to his endearing chivalry.

It’s fun, and you love teasing him like this, but you’ve grown fed up with the games. Now, the only objective you have is to push him over the edge, to the point where you’ve slipped on this tight top, applied a coat of your favourite lipstick, and greet him with a slightly seductive smirk as the call connects through.

“Hey, Tom,” you say, smiling at him.

Your boyfriend looks very handsome tonight. He’s sitting up against the headboard, wrapped up in an orange and green striped rugby shirt. He looks tired, deep bags hanging beneath his sparkling brown eyes, but as he meets your gaze through the camera, he grins. His entire face springs to life, a wide smile unfurling over his lovely pink lips.

“Hi, darling,” Tom replies, accented voice crisp and familiar. You sigh happily as you sit forward a little, your eyes following the lines of his brown curls, heart fluttering in your chest as you see him again. “How are you?”

For a while, you exchange pleasantries. Tom tells you all about his day on set, talking about the acrobatics involved with swinging around on high wires, and then the topic turns to you and your day. You keep steady eye contact with him, smirking softly every time you reposition and you watch Tom try very, very hard not to look at your bust. The way you’re laying, spread out across the mattress, means the tops of your boobs inhabit the entire lower section of the screen. After a while of watching Tom slowly getting more flustered, you start to play around with the thin strap of the top, enjoying the way he continuously clears his throat and tries, almost painfully, to keep his eyes up on your face.

You have to give it to him: his attempts at preserving your dignity are very valiant and well-mannered. It amuses you to work him up like this, to see very obviously the effect that you have over him as Tom resorts to scratching at his neck and pulling at his hair as he tries to distract himself from looking at your tits. He reaches breaking point about ten minutes in when you sit up straighter and the camera picks up the line of your pebbled nipples, straining against the shirt.

“Oh, uh, Y/N, darling, I’m- I’m going to have to go,” he mutters. You see him swallow, eyes wide.

“Oh, really?” You coo, pouting softly. “How come?”

Tom shifts around on the bed, managing a very weak smile. “Just remembered I have some, uh, things to do,” he says. “Talk tomorrow?”

You exchange some farewells, and then your heart sinks as Tom disconnects the call and your phone screen falls black. You scowl as you throw yourself back onto the bed, wishing that Tom wasn’t so lovely, and respectful, and kind. You love those qualities, and your boyfriend is nothing but incredible towards you, but part of you wishes that you were at that stage in your relationship where you could just cut to the chase and enact your darkest desires over video call, instead of having to try and goad him into releasing his frustrations with you.

After a few moments of contemplation, your phone screen lights up and interrupts your reveries.

Tom <3: were you doing that on purpose

You raise an eyebrow as you reach for your phone, biting your lip as you continue the conversation with him.

Y/N: idk...what are you talking about?

Tom <3: your shirt Tom <3: did you wear it so low on purpose or is it just like that

Y/N: did it on purpose Y/N: cute to see you try not to look at me Y/N: very innocent

You see the message come up with the notification for read, then watch as the text bubble for Tom typing pops up, only to disappear a moment later. Just as your eyebrows start to furrow with confusion, your phone begins to vibrate again, and you smile as you see another incoming video message from Tom. You quickly press accept, then roll onto your back and lay back on your bed, head resting against your pillows as your free hand goes to rest on your lower stomach.

The call connects, and your eyes widen as you take in the sight of your boyfriend, bare-chested now, his hair slightly messier than before. His bright brown eyes are wide as he looks at you, glaring mischievously at you as he licks over his lower lip.

“You little minx,” he murmurs, narrowing his eyes into slits. “I knew it.”

You just shrug, humming softly. “You’re cute,” you reply. You waggle your eyebrows as your eyes shamelessly take in the expanse of his naked chest. “And hot.”

Tom chuckles. “So are you,” he returns. He’s a lot looser now, you realise, his face less a bright red, more a gentle pink. “I had to try so hard not to look at you, didn’t want you to think I was being weird.” Tom licks his lips. “If I’d known you were doing it on purpose…” He clucks his tongue, and as he sees the lust in your eyes, he adds, “Makes me so fucking hard to see you like this, love.”

Your eyes move over the screen, and you realise you can’t see one of Tom’s arms. With an arching eyebrow, you bite your lip.

“Show me?” You ask, softly.

Tom glances at you, seeming to contemplate it for a moment before nodding. “Will you show me?” He asks.

“What do you want to see?”

Your boyfriend groans, as if the question brings him unrestricted levels of pleasure. “Everything.”

You chuckle as you nod. “Gimme a sec.”

With excited hands, you put the phone down and stand from the bed, making quick work of your jeans as you wriggle out of them. Next to go are your panties, and then the very thin tank top. You settle back on the bed, fully naked, picking up the phone and holding it in front of you. You keep it angled towards your face, but you know he’s able to see the tops of your chest, complete bare now for him.

“So gorgeous, love,” he murmurs, voice warm and familiar. “Look at what you’ve done to me.”

Your throat runs dry as Tom flips the camera on his phone and the image changes. He’s still laying on his hotel bed, but you’re greeted with the sight of his hand, wrapped in a fist around his hard, leaking cock. The sharp camera picks up the precum leaking from his flushed tip, and you moan softly as you watch him run a thumb over his length, spreading the precum down his length as he goes back to jerking himself off, slow but deliberate, his quiet grunts coming down the line.

“Was that all me?” You reply, captivated as you watch the muscles in his forearm flex. Your cunt clenches, wetness pooling at your entrance as you reminisce on the times you’ve spent with his cock in your mouth, or your hand, or buried deep inside you. You let your hand slip down between your legs, fingertips brushing at your cunt and gathering some of your arousal before spreading it up to your clit.

“Yes,” Tom replies. His voice is louder now he’s holding the phone closer to his face, and the sound of his tone in such high quality makes you shiver. “Show me, please?”

You continue to rub your clit, teasing your bud with delicate circles as you fumble with your phone and flip the camera too, holding the device above you as you get a shot of your chest. You know he can see your hand between your legs, but the strategic position of your fingers blocks out the sight of your pussy, flushed and wet for him.

“Fuck, darling,” Tom groans. “You look incredible.”

You bite at your lip, shifting around on the bed and angling the phone so he can see your naked chest.

“Thanks, Tommy,” you reply. You pause for a moment, breath hitching when you reach down and slip two fingers into your tight heat. As you work yourself open, you look into the camera and speak directly to him. “I feel so empty without you,” you complain, lips rolling into a pout. “Wish you were here to fuck me properly.” With a mischievous smirk, you pull the phone further down your body, parting your thighs properly and letting him get a nice, long look at the sight of your fingers fucking your cunt. “I’m so wet for you.”

Your boyfriend whimpers and the sound makes your cunt throb. You keep the phone trained between your legs, but angle it so you can watch the screen, enjoying the sight of Tom stroking himself, his cock red and fully erect. There’s something so seductive about getting off together, something very intimate about exposing yourself like this to him, and in return being able to see the power that you hold over him.

“So pretty, baby,” he says. “I think about your pretty fucking pussy every day. Get off to it with my hand around my cock, just like this. I imagine being inside you, feeling you- fuck, feeling you taking me so well, so tight.” A strangled groan comes up his throat, and you whimper. You readjust your hand so the flat of your thumb hits against your clit, a high forming in the pit of your stomach. “Does that feel good?” He asks, and you know he can hear the sounds of you fucking your wetness with your fingers. “Do you like showing me your cunt like this?”

You moan, your chest heaving as you curl your fingers up to stimulate your g-spot.

“Yes, Tom,” you reply, your voice coming out weak. “Love it.”

“That’s my girl.” Tom’s tone is high and tight, stretched thin with lust. You see the way his phone shakes as he gets nearer to peaking, his hand moving quickly over his cock. “Gonna let me watch you cum, hmm? I want to see you get your fingers wet for me, lovie.”

You moan in response, nodding your head despite him being unable to see him. “Fuck,” you whimper, feeling it near. “Gonna cum.”

Tom grunts. “Go on,” he encourages, voice raspy. “I’m gonna blow, darling, let me see you. Fuck, pussy looks so sweet. Bet it’s so tight and warm, isn’t it? Are you going to let me watch you cum?”

You moan as you peak, warmth spreading out across your centre in powerful waves as you climax with a cry. Your eyes squeeze shut as the intensity of your orgasm takes you off guard, and when you’re able to open them a few moments later, you’re greeted with the sight of Tom cumming. His pretty moans and whines make you shiver, prolonging your high as you watch him peak, white cum shooting from his tip and all across his stomach. It’s so messy, and frenzied, and it’s all for you.

“Fuck, Tom,” you groan, basking in the afterglow. “You’re so hot.”

After a few moments of his ragged breathing, Tom flips the camera and you’re greeted with his face again. Once you’ve done the same, you’re able to look into his eyes, finding comfort in the warm slopes of his lips and the gentle love reflecting from his gaze. You feel closer to him - closer than ever before.

“You’re stunning,” Tom compliments, causing you to smile at him. “So beautiful, love.”

You bite at your lip, shrugging almost bashfully. “Thank you,” you mutter, using a hand to tame your hair. You wink at him as you relax, slowly recovering your breath. “That was fun.”

Tom nods, his curly brown hair a mess over his forehead. “It was,” he agrees. His teeth glint as he smiles at you, wide and proud. “How about, next time you feel like having some fun, you just come out and tell me?” He suggests.

You grin. “You mean you didn’t enjoy my teasing?”

He chuckles. “Oh, believe me, darling, I did.” Tom grins wickedly. “Just I much rather enjoy the sight of you fucking yourself for me.”

You bite your lip, feeling your cunt throb in response to his words.

“Sounds good to me.” Your hand creeps back down between your legs, and you look at him slyly. “Round two?”

[knivesareout]

take on the world - chapter two

Pairing: Frankie ‘Catfish’ Morales x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 5.8k

Warnings: SMUT (18+), oral (m receiving), protected p in v, alcohol consumption, bad banter, possible typos

Summary: A whirlwind romance takes you by surprise when Frankie rescues you.

A/N: Aaaand here’s chapter two! I finally decided to work on an outline for this and it made things much smoother so go me! The angst will, unfortunately, come in at some point so enjoy these two while they’re being hopelessly cute. I hope you all enjoy and you can read it on AO3 here.

CHAPTER ONE | MASTERLIST

---

Wednesday rolls around quicker than you thought it would and your work day goes by even faster.

Your walk home is quiet and you enjoy the peaceful atmosphere; it wasn’t often that the sidewalks weren’t crowded with groups of people trying to get somewhere in a hurry. You were in a blissful state at the idea of seeing Frankie again and nothing was going to change that.

There wasn’t much you could compare this feeling to- this feeling you had about Frankie. All of your past relationships were one and done, if you could even call them relationships. A few dates, a hook-up, and usually that was it. Nothing clicked and it was always mutual. Only one guy had gotten further than that but only barely. He’d managed about 4 dates in total until you realized you were the one carrying the conversations, that you had nothing in common, and the only thing you could remember about him was that he hated fish. Relationships seemed more trouble than they were worth.

None of those feelings were present when you thought about Frankie. So, what was it about him that made you feel so different? So willing to let your guard down?

Was it the fact that he sounded genuinely interested in your thoughts, feelings, and passions? The fact that he was willing to be open about himself and tell you things other than the shallow, on the surface stuff? That you could talk all night and not run out of things to say? There had yet to be any sort of awkward silence between you two- both of you eager to fill the space with something funny or just a random thought, slowly learning one another.

Two dates, dozens of texts and a couple phone calls and you were already falling deep. The phone call only the night before had lasted until 2am, Frankie regaling stories from his army buddies that had you in stitches. It felt too soon to even think about but the thought was there, in the back of your mind. Was this love? Everything about this entire situation was foreign to you but welcome in a way that it usually wasn’t.

If this was even close to what falling in love was like, why hadn’t you tried sooner? Maybe it was because you hadn’t even been trying this time- Frankie had just fallen into your lap, rescued you really, and it felt like some kind of universal sign to try. Except it didn’t even feel like trying with him because it all came so natural to you.

It seemed to make the most sense for Frankie to come to your place for dinner that night since he already knew where you lived. Your apartment was thankfully previously cleaned up and you were glad for the chores you’d already taken care of earlier in the week so that was at least one less stressor.

Frankie had called on your lunch break to tell you he was grocery shopping for dinner, asking your opinions on what sounded good and if you had any allergies.

A soft sigh passes through your lips as you push into your apartment, kicking the door closed, tossing your bag on the island in the middle of the kitchen, and all but collapsing on your couch. Nerves were starting to eat at you and you scream loudly into the cushion, your legs thrashing behind you.

It takes a few moments for you to try and collect yourself, your heart still beating quickly from your anxiousness and it slowly starts ebbs away as you breathe deep and the tension releases, your cheek smushed on the couch cushion and you sigh.

“Fuck.”

Changing into something more comfortable than the work clothes you’d been in, you pull on a pair of leggings and a sweater. As much of a date this was, you were also in the comfort of your own apartment and weren’t about to dress up just to sit on the couch and eat dinner while you watched a movie with Frankie.

You busy yourself with watching YouTube videos on your TV for the next couple of hours, curled under a soft blanket while you wait for a text from Frankie. The distraction was needed because you knew the more time alone with your thoughts, the more time you’d overthink everything and make it worse.

Now time seems to creep slowly, your eyes drifting towards the time on your phone. The nerves are slowly creeping back in and it’s jarring for your phone to start vibrating when it does, your heart beating quickly.

“Hey,” you answer, “Are you here?”

Frankie grunts through the speaker and you laugh quietly, “Yeah. Do you need to buzz me up? Someone in your lobby is eyeing me weirdly since I can’t figure out how to get in and my hands are full of groceries.”

You jump up quickly and head to the buzzer on your door, balancing the phone on your shoulder. “Yeah, just push the button for 1202 and I’ll let you in. 12th floor.”

“See you in a sec,” he tells you and hangs up. The buzzer comes through seconds later and you hit the button in front of you, going to unlock your front door while you wait.

The silence of your apartment suddenly feels stifling and you pull up Spotify on your tv, playing Fleetwood Mac to fill the room. It feels better at least and you slowly start to sway with the music. You wonder what it’s like to dance with him, if he was silly about it or had rhythm in his hips. The smile on your face is probably comical at the thought but a knock breaks you out of your day dream and you rush towards the door, pulling it open quickly to see him smiling.

Your heart squeezes at the sight and you move to the side to let him in, shutting it behind closed and flipping the lock.

“Got enough there?”

Frankie’s arms are laden with bags and you can’t figure out what he’s going to be making when he goes to set them on the counter and turns to you. “I sure as hell hope so,” he chuckles, motioning for you.

It’s easy to fall into his arms. They squeeze tight around you in greeting and you turn your head to place a kiss to his jaw, the one spot you’re now determined to kiss every time you see him. He feels warm and smells great and you dig your nose into his chest, the softness of his t-shirt, and his chest rumbles as he laughs at you.

“You good there?” His voice is teasing and you mumble an affirmative, not quite ready to let go.

You finally pull back from his embrace to lean against the counter opposite him, kicking his shoe with your bare foot. “Get comfortable while I go through these.”

Frankie rolls his eyes but doesn’t say anything while you start to pull out what looks like pizza ingredients. Sauce, pre-made dough, and every topping you could ever imagine.

“I’m guessing you can’t really cook,” you turn over your shoulder to look at him now in just his socks with his jacket thrown over a barstool at your kitchen island and he shrugs helplessly.

“What makes you say that?” He tries to look indignant but he breaks the facade seconds later. “Not really. I had to call a friend and ask for help and he suggested just ordering pizza so at least this is an upgrade right?”

The thought really is sweet and you nod quickly, hoping to appease the bit of nerves you can see creeping in over his expression.

Frankie tugs his hat off and runs a hand through his hair before readjusting it back on top of his head. It’s a nervous tick he does and one you’d picked up on at the bar when you’d met him.

“I’ve honestly never done this? Like, made pizza before. Have you?”

Frankie shakes his head in reply, “Can’t be that hard, can it? Seems pretty easy.”

He shuffles over towards you and pulls the rest of the ingredients out- different types of cheeses, some oil, and a couple spices you don’t recognize. Two bottles of wine are in the last bag and you raise your eyebrows until you spot the 6 pack of beer that he’d left by the door.

He looks over everything spread out on the island and turns to you sheepishly. “Well, maybe we should look it up.”

---

The pizza doesn’t turn out to be all that hard to make and Frankie teases you about your lack of toppings- basic cheese with a few scattered veggies. His is loaded and probably weighs twice as much as yours does but he insists it’s better like that, pinching your ass as you walk away to let them cook.

Your music still plays softly in the background and Frankie collapses on your couch, tugging his hat off and tossing it on the coffee table. You like how comfortable he seems in your place, and you sway softly to the music, just looking at him.

Frankie catches you staring, a curious look in his eye and he laughs. “What are you looking at?”

“Come dance with me.” You’re still slowly moving to the music, the song switching to Tiny Dancer, and you hold your hand out for him with a pleading look. “Please.”

You watch him hesitate, debating with himself until he pushes up from the couch and takes your hand in his. “I don’t really dance,” he tells you, a hand going to your hip while his other clutches yours.

Cautiously, you both move around the small space in your apartment. It’s careful and quiet, Frankie giving your hip a squeeze. It brings your attention to him and he nudges his nose with yours. “You know what I was just thinking?”

“Hm?”

“That I haven’t kissed you yet. You kiss me where I can’t grow facial hair but you won’t kiss my lips.”

He’s teasing you again and you step on his toe, feigning innocence. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Your thumb brushes against the spot in question, the skin there smooth.

“Shit head,” he mumbles with a deep chuckle. Moving the hand that’s clutched in yours down to your back, he whirls you around, dipping you low. “You sure about that?”

“No.”

Your balance is off and you know you’re going to fall in the next 20 seconds but you surge up anyway, arms wrapping around his neck to find some balance and press your lips to Frankie’s in a slow kiss.

It’s just what you thought it would be- soft and sweet. His lips a little bit chapped but warm, your hands finding his hair and pulling him in deeper.

The timer for the pizza sounds loudly on your phone, interrupting you, and it catches you both by surprise, Frankie’s arms going slack around you and with your arms around him you bring him down to the floor with you as you both fall in a tangle of limbs, laughing loudly.

“Was that worth it?” You try to catch your breath, poking him in the stomach and he laughs even harder, batting your hands away.

“Not if the pizza burns,” he groans, rolling away from you and getting up to check on the oven.

It takes a second to try and catch your breath so you stay, sprawled out on the floor, turning to watch Frankie pull the pizzas out and turn off the oven. “They alright? Or do we need to order pizza?”

“Crust looks a little crispy but I think they’re still edible,” he glances around, looking for you and snickers when he sees you still on the floor. “Where’s your pizza cutter?”

“Drawer next to the fridge.”

Shuffling around on the floor, you finally stand up and bump Frankie out of your way to grab the bottle opener, pulling the wine bottle closest to you across the counter and popping it open.

“Don’t think I didn’t notice that 6 pack you brought in here. Go on, I don’t expect you to drink wine too,” you nudge him.

Frankie shoots you a grateful look while you bring the cut pizzas to the coffee table and sit on the floor, legs crossed and leaning back against the couch.

“You don’t wanna sit on the couch?” He’s looking at you strangely, but you shrug.

“I like the floor but you can sit up there if you want.”

He takes a seat next to you and you both dig in.

Watching him try to eat his massive pizza is hilarious- making you laugh so hard you almost snort, the drink of wine a bad choice as it threatens to come back up through your nose.

“I didn’t know your mouth could go so wide,” you manage to choke out, coughing to try and clear your throat from your laugh.

Frankie almost chokes himself at your bad joke, dropping the slice on the plate and chugging down his beer to try and breathe.

“We’re a fucking mess.” ---

You’re rinsing the dishes while Frankie loads the dishwasher, a solid system set up, because despite your protests that you’d just do it yourself, Frankie insisted that he help.

“I think I might have ice cream if you wanna share some,” you offer the dish towel to him after drying your hands. He waves you off, running his palms over the thighs of his jeans with a cheeky smile and you roll your eyes.

“Depends on the flavor,” he tells you as if your response is make it or break it.

Cookie dough is apparently an acceptable flavor so you share a bowl on the couch while you try to explain to Frankie that the new Jurassic World movies are trash.

“It’s just a cash grab!” You explain, pointing your spoon at him. “And sure, the second and third Jurassic Park movies aren’t great, but they’re at least better than these new ones. I can’t believe they’re making sequels.”

“The effects are good though, you can’t deny that,” he insists, grabbing a spoonful of the ice cream and shoveling into his mouth.

“Yeah, yeah. That’s not the point. The story isn’t good and that is the point and makes it not worth watching. Even if I do like Bryce Dallas Howard.” You pause, thinking for a second. “But I do now suddenly remember that Jeff Goldblum is gonna be in the next one so maybe.”

You eat the last bit of the cookie dough left in the bowl and set it on the coffee table, licking your spoon clean and dropping it inside.

Frankie’s eyes are trained on you and you touch your cheek, wondering if you’ve got left over pizza sauce on you. “Have I got something on my face?”

Nodding, Frankie drops his spoon in next to yours and leans forward. “Just a little ice cream here.” He’s close, just a breath away, and his mouth presses in towards the corner of your lips, his tongue darting out to lick there and you gasp, turning your face into his to press your lips together.

The kiss starts a chain of events that make your head spin. Frankie wastes no time pulling you into his lap, his hands settling around your hips. Your arms loop around his neck, hands finding his hair and tugging as his teeth nip at your bottom lip. The kiss is all tongue and teeth this time, licking into each other’s mouths. The faint taste of vanilla from the ice cream is there and it makes you smile against this lips, breaking the kiss to try and catch your breath.

You’re suddenly thankful you’d only pulled on leggings for the night, the heat between your legs easily finding his growing erection behind his jeans and you press down, seeking friction.

His lips move down your neck and Frankie pulls at the shoulder of your sweater to kiss across the skin there, teeth sinking in and sucking harshly. You know there will be a dark mark there come morning and a moan bubbles up in your throat at the harsh contact and you swallow it down, self conscious. You’d once been teased about the noises you made and you didn’t want anything to stop the delicious feeling you were experiencing with Frankie if he didn’t like them either.

You pull his mouth away from your shoulder, tipping his chin up to look at you. His dark eyes are blown wide, his mouth wet, and hair a mess. It’d been only a few minutes and already Frankie looks entirely debauched- and in your opinion, never looked sexier. “You’re so fucking hot,” you tell him, running a hand down his jaw, across his chest, down to the button of his jeans.

“Bedroom,” he chokes out as you palm him through the denim while you fiddle with the button there. “We should- bedroom. Take this to the bedroom.”

He’s right, despite how much you don’t want to move. The couch was comfortable but not the ideal place for sex so you slipped off, offering him your hand and pulling him towards your room.

Your bedroom is small and the bed takes up most of the space. A queen bed you’d treated yourself to when you had moved downtown placed in the middle with two thrifted nightstands on either side and a dresser tucked in the corner by your bathroom.

It wasn’t much but it was comfortable and you couldn’t wait to get Frankie under the sheets.

Swinging your legs up onto the bed, you settle yourself in the middle, back pressed against the pillows and crook a finger towards him. Frankie tugs his shirt off and joins you, crawling up the mattress and lying next to you.

“You are so beautiful,” he tells you quietly, running a hand across your cheek and you close your eyes at the feeling of careful intimacy. Turning your head, you press your lips to his palm and lean in to nudge your nose against his.

The kiss turns quickly heated again, your hands running across his shoulders and back, digging into the soft skin. You can feel scars and bumps beneath your palms as they explore him and you’re eager to learn his body.

Frankie’s hand slips up the front of your sweater, hands seeking more and you bite back a moan as his palm glides across your breast and squeezes, testing the weight and slowly starts to massage the flesh.

“Come on. I wanna hear you, baby. Don’t be shy.”

You close your eyes and will yourself to just let go. Nothing about Frankie has indicated that he’d tease you for something that comes so natural and you nod, leaning up to press a quick kiss to his lips.

His hand slides behind your back to unclasp your bra and the material slackens against you. Next he pulls off your sweater, your head popping out of the collar and you throw it to the side. Your bra is tossed in the same general direction and Frankie descends on your chest, mouth seeking more skin to mark.

Frankie brushes his mouth around your left nipple while his fingers pinch at the right. The dual sensation makes you keen, your hips thrusting up in search of friction. There was a fire burning between your thighs and you ached to have him fill you.

Your fingers find the edge of his jeans and tug. Pulling away from the kiss you whine, “Off. I want them off. Too many clothes.”

“I’d say we’re pretty even,” he jokes against your nipple, tugging at the band of your leggings.

“So do something about it.”

Frankie grips the material, fingers finding the band of your underwear too, and he yanks them down your legs, your feet kicking them off the rest of the way.

The cool air of your room raises goosebumps along your skin, Frankie’s hand sliding up your calf, to your thigh, and he parts your legs to allow him better access to your aching core. You know you’re soaked, wetness coating your inner thighs and down to your ass.

“Is this all for me?” He asks you, running a finger across the curls at your core and down between your lips to coat his finger in your juices.

“Yes. Fuck, Frankie please,” you promise him, watching his hand play with you.

He’s focused on everything else.

Frankie drinks in your naked form while his finger teases you up and down, his eyes scanning your body. When normally you would shy from such an intense gaze, your nerves are nonexistent. Not here, with him- not with how comfortable you’d grown with him despite your earlier misgivings.

Your eyes zero in on the denim still covering his legs and you nudge his thigh with your toes. “Take ‘em off Frankie.”

It’s like you’ve pulled him out of a daydream and he nods, sliding his finger into his mouth to clean it off before undoing the buttons on his jeans and pulling them off to toss them on the floor.

He’s back on the bed in a flash, sliding between your parted thighs and he surges up to kiss you. Your hands find purchase on his back, pulling his chest against yours and you arch up into the contact, your nipples rubbing against the sparse hair on his chest.

Frankie’s cock lays hard on your thigh, thick and dripping on your skin. Your fingers ache to touch him, feel him in your hand so you reach down while still kissing him, thumb brushing along the wet tip before you grip him firmly.

He breaks the kiss to moan against your mouth, forehead against yours while he relishes in your touch. Frankie’s hips thrust into your hand and you squeeze his cock tighter in your grip, sliding your hand up and down him in a practiced rhythm. “Does that feel good?”

Barely managing to nod, Frankie brokenly moans against your cheek on the uptick of your thumb smoothing over the head and you bring your wet hand up to your mouth, licking it clean of the pre-cum smeared across your skin. “Wanna blow you, Frankie. Will you let me?”

He nods quickly, shifting until he’s flat on his back and watching you situate yourself over his cock that’s laying hard on his stomach. You drag a finger up the length of him, Frankie shuddering at your touch.

You move closer, your mouth leaning down to press kisses against his lower stomach and around his leaking cock. Your eyes trail up to find his eyes closed, head pressing deep into the pillows while he breathes slowly and you smirk. Finally your mouth makes contact with the head, your tongue darting out to lick at the mess he’s made, moaning at the taste. The feel of your hands make up for what your mouth can’t take- Frankie’s big, thick and stretching your mouth wide and you struggle at first to take him deeper. Eventually you find a steadying rhythm, mouth sucking him in and hands tightening around the base. His moans are encouraging and music to your ears, only spurring you on further.

It’s sloppy and you’re sure you look obscene with your lips stretched wide around the girth of Frankie’s cock, spit and pre-cum dripping down your chin and fist. Your hand moves from the length of him down to cup his balls, rolling them in your palm and giving them a gentle tug. That seems to get Frankie’s attention and his eyes shoot down to lock with yours, pupils blown wide and neck veins straining.

Pulling off slowly, you give the head a hard suck and start sponging kisses along the girth of this shaft. “Do you not wanna cum?”

Frankie’s hand reaches down and rubs his thumb across your bottom lip and you suck it in, unable to help yourself. He swears in Spanish quietly, looking up to the ceiling before glancing back down to you. “I’ve got condoms- in my wallet. Wherever my jeans are. I need to be inside you.”

His thumb drops from your mouth and you move off the bed in search of his jeans. They’re on top of your sweater and you dig his wallet out, finding two condoms tucked around a five dollar bill. You leave one, dropping Frankie’s wallet back on the ground and tearing into the packaging of the other once you’re sitting back between his legs.

You sheath him quickly in the condom, moving your knees to sit on either side of his hips. You don’t realize your thighs are shaking until Frankie sets his hands on them, squeezing gently. “You okay?”

“I’m great,” you promise him with a quiet laugh.

Reaching between you, you grasp his cock and slowly lower yourself down until your hips meet his, flushed together.

The feeling of being full- stretched to the brim and full of his cock is intoxicating and you bite your lip, trying to hold yourself together. Frankie isn’t much better beneath you, his hands still gripping your thighs tight, his knuckles gone white with the pressure. His neck is bared, head pressed into the pillow behind him and he swallows, Adam’s apple bobbing as he tries to gain his composure.

You start off slowly, a slow dip of your hips to try and get used to the feeling of him inside of you. It lights a spark up your spine, a low simmering that builds the more you move. Frankie watches you, completely entranced; the way your breasts move while you start to bounce on his lap, his hands sliding up past your stomach to grip them tightly in his hands. His fingers pinch and pull at your tight nipples, a moan slipping past your lips and you fall forward, bracing yourself against his chest.

It takes no time at all for Frankie’s lips to find yours now that your mouth is closer, tongue licking in. His hands slide to your waist and they hold you there, his hips thrusting forward as he starts to pound into you. It’s too much and not enough, your mouth falling from Frankie’s to lay open against his chest while you try to breathe, panting loudly.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he grunts, hands moving to your ass and pulling apart your cheeks to allow him to slip further inside of you. “Touch yourself for me, I know you’re close.”

You’d do anything Frankie told you to in that moment and you snake a hand between your bodies, rubbing quick circles over the slippery bud, fingers bumping against Frankie’s cock as he works into you. Your body is shaking above his, a high pitched “fuck,” slipping past your lips as you start to cum around him. The feeling is like nothing you remember. Stars burst behind your eyelids, your orgasm washing over you in waves. Your toes are numb at the sensation and your breathing is heavy, mouth still open and pressed to his chest.

Frankie groans lowly as you tighten around him and he continues to thrust into you at a lightning quick pace in search of his own release. He’s not too far behind you, swearing in Spanish, and he trembles below you as he cums. His thrusts don’t stop, just slow down while you both catch your breath. It’s comforting, intimate, that you’re both still connected and you kiss up his chest to his neck, lips latching on to your favorite spot along his jaw. Light kisses go up his cheek until they finally land on his lips and you kiss him languidly, resting your hands on either side of his face.

Eventually, Frankie pulls away. His hands run up your sides, across your back and he noses against your cheek. “We should probably get up.” His voice is quiet and you nod slowly. The last thing you want to do is move but your thighs are sticky with your release and it’s starting to grow uncomfortable.

Your legs shake as you move off of Frankie, losing your balance once your feet are back on the floor and you giggle once you catch your footing. “I’m good, I’m good,” you say mostly to yourself, moving around the room and padding quietly into the bathroom.

By the time you’ve cleaned yourself up and wet a rag to wipe down Frankie, he’s disposed of the condom and is pulling back the blankets to your bed. “Here, just toss it to me,” he tells you, hands out to catch the washcloth. It’s a perfect throw and he wipes himself down- tossing the cloth onto the floor and sliding into bed.

It’s perfect how he’s picked the right side to settle down in; you always slept on the left, no matter how hard you tried to sleep in the middle and you slip in next to Frankie, maneuvering yourself until you’re tucked in under his arm, cheek to his chest.

Frankie tucks a finger under your chin to bring your lips closer to his in a quick kiss and you can’t help smiling into it. An unexpected yawn passes through you and he laughs quietly, “We should sleep.”

“I know,” you pout, “I set my alarm early so I can make breakfast for us before I head into work.”

“Thought you might’ve forgotten,” he teases with a light pinch to your hip.

The feeling makes you squeal and you go to pull away but Frankie just tugs you in closer, arms wrapping around you tightly. “I owe you right? And I’m not one to back out of a promise.”

“I’ll remember that.”

“Good-,” another yawn passes your lips and you settle back into Frankie’s chest. “You should.”

“Night querida.”

“Night Frankie.”

----

Your alarm wakes you up only a few hours later, blaring loudly in the living room where you left your phone. It’s a struggle to get out of bed, untangling your limbs from Frankie and padding in there quickly to turn it off.

Despite the lack of hours you slept, you still felt refreshed. Not once had you tossed or turned during the night, waking up in the same position you’d fallen asleep in.

Shuffling back into your room, Frankie rolls over and blinks an eye open, a slow smile sliding across his features when he looks at you. “Morning,” he rasps, scratching at his jaw.

“Morning.” You lean over, pressing your cursory kiss to the spot on his jaw that was becoming easier and easier to land on when you leaned in. “I’m gonna hop in the shower real quick.” Frankie only nods when you pull away and you’re almost bummed when he doesn’t offer to join you.

The shower is quick, efficient and you’re eager to get started on breakfast, wanting to show off what little skills you had in the kitchen.

Frankie whistles when you emerge in only a towel and you wave him off, embarrassed. Despite having shown off your body last night, it was different in the light of the day and you close the door to the closet while you dress for work. Your pull on your favorite top paired with the pants that make your ass look good and slip back out to find Frankie dressed in his jeans and shirt from the night before sat at your kitchen island.

Frankie’s eyes never seem to leave you as he watches you cook; asking questions about what you’re doing and its purpose. You answer him carefully, smiling at the fact that he genuinely seems to want to learn about what you’re doing.

You serve up french toast only a few moments later, bacon and eggs on the side.

You’re both quick to dig in, the activities from the previous night having worked up an appetite and you’re done in record time, rubbing your belly. Frankie isn’t far behind you, downing the rest of his orange juice and wiping his mouth clean with the back of his hand.

“Well, that was well worth the win. Much better than the pizzas,” he tells you, patting your thigh and stacking your plates together to bring to the sink.

You watch him move around your kitchen, rinsing the plates. It’s domestic and sweet, seeing him clean up for the both of you. Your heartbeat picks up a little at the thought that this, at some point, could be a regular occurrence. You and Frankie waking up early for breakfast before work, cleaning up and seeing each other off. The image is something you know you’ll hold onto, one you hope will come true.

Your name is being called and you blink, realizing Frankie was saying something. “Sorry, what?”

“I asked what time you had to be at work, it’s 15 til.”

“Shit, I didn’t even realize the time. Yeah I need to be there at 9, I’m sorry,” you apologize.

You hop off the barstool and start gathering your things. Your laptop and files you’d pulled out yesterday that were never touched get tossed in your bag and you turn to Frankie. “How do you feel about giving me a ride?”

“You got it.”

The ride is silent with the exception of Frankie’s truck rumbling beneath you while he navigates through downtown.

“Got any plans Friday night?”

You turn your head towards him, tilting it slightly as you think. “I don’t think so, no. Why, what’s up?”

“Was thinking about taking you to a movie. There’s a theater around my place that does showings of old movies and I think they might be playing Jurassic Park this weekend.”

The fact that Frankie’s here, asking you out again, has your stomach in knots. Was this too much? Frankie clearly didn’t think so and you hesitate.

“If it’s too much, I get it. I’ve taken up a good chunk of your time and we can figure something else out another time,” he tries to clear up, turning to watch you once the traffic light turns red. He’s tapping quickly at the steering wheel with his thumbs and you know he’s just as anxious about this entire situation between you two as you are; putting yourself out there is terrifying.

“No, yeah I’d love to. I really would Frankie,” you promise him, taking one of his hands off the wheel to lace your fingers with his. “I just don’t want to mess this up by going too fast and like, I know it seems like it is but… it doesn’t feel like it? Not really?”

“You’re right. Normally I’m not like this, I swear. I have fucking boundaries,” he laughs, “but I like being around you. A lot.”

“So, Friday then? Jurassic Park, popcorn, and candy? Maybe a little hand holding?”

The light turns green and he squeezes your hand. “Yeah. Sounds perfect.”

Frankie sends you off to work with a quick kiss and a honk as he pulls away and the smile never leaves your face that day.

--- 

TAGLIST: @icanbeyourjedi​ @bookishofalder​ @marvelousmermaid​ @soyelfuegoquearde​ @bdavishiddlesbatch​ @wyn-dixie​ @peterhollandkait​

[toosicktoocare]

prompt:  Yay it's finally letting me ask you! I'm wondering if you could do anything with sick Jason? that'd be awesome. thank you for taking the time to read this :). and also, you're easily my favorite author, and I love you so much. thank you for all you do <3 - anon

prompt:  Hey there. Could you do anything, like literally anything with sick!Jason? - @lettheseabirdscry

“Is everyone in position?”

Tim spares a glance down to see Damian crouched behind a large trash bin, the Robin’s starting position for the recon mission Bruce called all of the bats too, but when bringing his gaze back to the rooftop across from him, it’s empty.

“Hood’s not here,” Tim informs with a frown, unable to shake this nagging feeling that something’s wrong.

“Unsurprising,” Damian scoffs into the comms, his flat tone clashing with Bruce’s deep sigh.

“Robin,” Dick warns over the comms. “One sec; I’ll call him.”

Tim waits, staring hard at the empty spot across from him as if expecting Jason to just manifest before his very eyes, to just stretch through reality’s fabric with some quip about being fashionably late.

“Damn. No answer. Oracle, can we get a ping on his location?”

“He’s probably out becoming intoxicated with Harper.”

Tim doesn’t need to see Damian’s face to know the pull of muted disgust twisting at his lips.

“Arsenal’s out of town,” Barbara mutters flatly in the comm. “And Hood’s phone tracker is showing he’s in his apartment. I can’t get much of a read on anything else. Looks like he finally cashed in on his word that he was going to rig his security systems to block us out.”

“We should move forward with the mission without him.”

Tim considers nudging a loose brick over the ledge of the roof, right above Damian. “He said he’d be here.” Tim knows Jason is a lot of things; he knows that Jason thrives off of disappointing his family, but he’s not one to go back on his word, not with something like this.

“Maybe something came up in Crime Alley? He did say he’d meet us after patrol.”

Tim can hear the worry hidden behind Dick’s easy tone, and he assumes Dick’s carefully redistributing his concern, spreading it out evenly so he doesn’t lose his cool.

“Huh,” Barbara mutters absently into the comms. “His phone tracker says he’s been in his apartment all day.”

“Maybe he left his phone in his apartment?”

“I don’t know. I’ve pulled security camera feeds from Crime Alley, hitting all the locations he frequents, and... well, nothing. Not a single sight of him all day.”

Tim stands fully, narrowly scanning his surroundings for any sign of Jason. He can’t shake the uneasy pull at his chest, and though he’s not physically close to the others, he assumes the feeling’s mutual based on the silence that follows.

“B, I don’t like this. He promised me he’d be here.”

Dick’s no longer working to hide his concern, and that just heightens Tim’s anxiety that something isn’t right. He tries to puzzle together and explanation based on the four times he’s seen Jason this week: twice in Crime Alley on patrol, once two days ago at the Bat Cave, and yesterday walking out of a convenience store. He can’t recall anything out of the ordinary, but Jason’s closed off, more so thanks to the lingering pull of the Lazarus Pit, so normal, outward, physical appearances mean little to nothing.

“Can we delay the recon?” Tim asks. “I’m only ten minutes from his apartment. I can go check and see if he’s there.”

“I don’t want you to go alone.”

“B,” Tim fights back with a groan. “You and Nightwing are thirty minutes out from my location. I can be there and back before you even get here.”

“Take Robin,” Dick says, and Tim has to fight back the unconscious need to sigh loudly. “I know you’re capable, Red, but humor me. You two are stronger together.”

“Do I get a say in this?”

Damian’s voice is bleeding annoyance, and for once, Tim can agree with how he’s feeling.

“No,” Bruce mutters, sounding almost distracted. “Hood has made many enemies since coming back to Gotham, and you have no idea what you are walking into. You both go, and you both come back immediately if he’s not there.”

“Keep the line open, and stay in contact, Little Wings.”

Tim rolls his eyes and grapple hooks off the building, landing near Damian. “Okay,” he mutters into the comm, and Damian only scoffs at him and starts off toward Jason’s apartment, leaving Tim to catch up.

***

“You’re going to hack his security system?”

“Yes?” Tim frowns at Damian. “How else are we going to get in?” He starts tapping at a keypad outside of Jason’s apartment door.

“Knocking?”

“Tried that once,” Tim mutters, mind half-focused on the conversation and half-focused on working around Jason’s security. “Almost got shot.”

“You what?” Dick’s voice is alarmed in Tim’s ear, but he disregards it. 

“And you think breaking and entering won’t get us shot?”

Tim shrugs, working around the final code until he hears multiple locks click open. “Don’t get hit,” he mutters, slowly opening the door. He tenses to alert, and he can see Damian match his stance at his side.

They step inside, quietly and carefully, and though Tim’s been here before, he’ll never not be mutely surprised at how domestic the entire place is. There are books stacked on a small coffee table. A blanket’s draped across the couch, and the TV’s on with the sound muted. The lights are on in his living room, kitchen, and bathroom.

Tim glances at Damian, sharing a silent conversation before they begin their quick, quiet search. Tim starts to the kitchen while Damian pads silently down the hall.

The kitchen’s a mess. Dishes are piled high in the sink and are littering the small kitchen table. There’s a bag on a counter, the same bag Tim remembers seeing Jason walk out of the convenience store with. He moves to it, looking to see various medicines tipped over in the bag. Frowning, he makes to pick one up, but then he hears a very loud gun shot accompanied by a very uncharacteristic curse.

“Damian!” Tim drops the bag and whips out of the kitchen to the bedroom, ripping his domino off as he walks in to see Jason shakily propping himself up on one elbow in bed with an even shakier hand aiming a gun at Damian.

“Jason, stop! It’s just us!”

“Was that a gun shot?”

Tim ignores Dick’s frantic question in his ear, instead edging around the room, eyes searching over Damian in the dark. “Were you hit?”

“Of course not,” Damian spits out, stepping forward toward the barrel of the gun and ripping it from Jason’s hand. He clicks the safety and drops the gun to the floor, and then he’s tugging a glove off and slapping a hard hand to Jason’s forehead, interrupting Jason’s deep, wet coughing.

Damian clicks his tongue, a frowm sharp on his face. “You’re burning up.”

Jason weakly slaps Damian’s hand away, staring a look filled to the brim with sharp daggers between the two, stopping on Tim.

“Did you break into my fucking apartment? Again?”

“Tim, what the hell is going on?”

Ignoring Dick once more, Tim reaches around to hit the light switch on the wall, frowning when Jason winces hard.

“You didn’t show up for the recon,” Tim supplies, his stomach twisting at the sight of Jason, of the angry red splotches coloring his otherwise pale cheeks, the sweat shining on his forehead, the inconsistent shivers wracking his broad frame. He studies the way Jason’s face twists around his words.

“That’s because it’s Thursday.”

Tim’s heart clashes with worry, and he and Damian share a glance. He’s surprised to see Damian sporting a similar look of muted concern.

“Jay, it’s Friday.”

“No, it ain’t,” Jason grumbles, hand slapping around on his bed until he finds his phone.

Tim watches as Jason’s face falls.

“Oh.” Jason spares a glance through his messages, unable to read much because his headache is making it hard to concentrate. He looks up from his phone, turning to see a rubber bullet lodged into the wall beside Damian’s head. “Did I hit you?”

“No,” Damian mutters, frowning. He slips around the room, pausing by Tim on his way out. “I’m going to talk with Father and Grayson. You should get a read on his fever.”

Nodding, Tim waits until he can hear Damian’s quick talking with Dick and Bruce before he moves to Jason’s bathroom to find a thermometer, snagging a traditional, under the tongue, mercury one before making his way back to Jason’s room.

“How long have you been sick?”

“How did you hack into my security systems again?”

Tim sighs, cocks his head to the side. “Do you really have to ask?”

“Fuck,” is all Jason replies with, and he takes the thermometer Tim hands him and slips it under his tongue.

“Three minutes,” Tim says, ignoring the sharp look Jason shoots him. “You know they make thermometers now that will tell you your temperature in seconds, right? Why the hell do you have this old thing?”

“Alfred left it a few months ago.”

“No talking,” Tim points out, and Jason glares hard under glassy eyes.

“Then stop asking me fucking questions.”

Tim’s mouth snaps shut, and once he counts to the 180th second, he leans forward and snags the thermometer from Jason’s lips, studying the 102.4 degree reading, equating it with Jason’s other, apparent symptoms.

“Have you been around anyone who’s had the flu recently?”

“I don’t have the flu,” Jason mutters despite the chesty coughs that rip up his throat. “Just a cold.”

Tim takes a step back and crosses his arms. “High fever, coughing, chills, I imagine you have a headache based on the wince when I turned on the lights, and you probably have a sore throat since your voice is physically hurting my ears.”

“What? Are you a doctor now?”

“No, I’m just not an idiot,” Tim spits back, and Jason only grunts and flops back against his pillow, tugging his blanket up with a hiss.

“Give me a minute, and I’ll suit up.”

Tim... does not expect that, and he’s about to scold Jason in a way he’s sure would make Dick proud when Damian slips back into the room.

“Father called Clark. They are pulling in backup for the recon.”

“Well, why’d he go and do something stupid like that?”

Tim rips his eyes from Damian back to Jason to see Jason shuffling around his room for his suit.

“Jason, what the hell?” Tim spits out, moving to Jason’s side when Jason starts to sway. “Sit down.” He nudges Jason back toward the bed, but Jason, despite how sick he is, fights against him.

“We have a recon, don’t we?” He turns to Damian and barks out a cough. “Demon, call B and tell him we’re coming.”

“Todd, you’re too sick. You’d just hold us back.”

Tim takes the distraction to lightly shove Jason back onto the bed.

“I think I’d rather have Dick here,” Jason groans, coughing harshly into his pillow. “At least he has good bedside manner.”

“He and father are already on their way.”

“Fantastic,” Jason growls, curling in on himself and coughing harshly.

Tim moves to pull the blankets up over Jason’s shivering frame, stopping when Damian’s hand wraps around his wrist. “Let me go, Dami.”

“No. I have very specific instructions to relocate you away from Todd.”

“What the hell? Why?” Tim digs his heels into the floor when Damian pulls on his wrist, but he stumbles forward when Jason lazily kicks him in the back of the leg.

“No spleen, idiot. Get the fuck outta here.”

“I’m fine,” Tim tries, but Damian’s grip is hard enough to bruise, so he relents with a loud sigh. “Jesus, fine...” He rips his hand free and stalks to the door. “Get him medicine and make sure he doesn’t die.”

***

The deep inhale of nicotine burns Jason’s lungs and brings forth a chesty round of coughing that hurts. He absently rubs at his chest, shivering, and takes in another puff of his cigarette, and then another, desperately repeating this action to chase away the edge of angered anxiety that comes when he’s near Bruce. He leans over the balcony with another shiver, watching his shaking exhale cloud before him.

He hears the balcony door open, but the footsteps are too light to be Bruce’s. They are also too determined to be Tim’s, and too deliberate to be Damian’s. He doesn’t look back when a blanket is draped over his shoulders, and he only scoffs quietly when Dick plucks the cigarette from his fingers and drops it over the side of the balcony.

“You would still smoke when you have the flu.”

Jason doesn’t reply, not finding the energy for a snarky retort. “What have you all been doing out there?” he asks instead, tugging the blanket tighter around him to fend off the chills.

“Damian’s cleaned your kitchen, and now he’s reorganizing your movie collection. Tim started reading one of your books, but he fell asleep. And Bruce has been staring at your bedroom door as if willing you to run out and give him a big, bear hug.”

Jason huffs out a laugh that quickly morphs into deep coughs. He can feel Dick’s hand on his back as he coughs into his shoulder.

“And you?”

“Oh, I’m alternating between Candy Crush and Words with Friends with Barbara. She’s kicking my ass.”

Jason smiles, tired but genuine, feeling the anxiety flutter off with Dick’s presence. “How long til you all get the fuck out?”

“I don’t think Bruce is going to leave until he’s sure you are okay. Not sure that we can wake Tim right now, and Damian won’t leave until Bruce does.”

“And you?” Jason repeats, and Dick cocks his head to the side with an easy smile.

“I’ll stay as long as you want me to stay.”

Humming, Jason shivers again, and he allows Dick to guide him back into his room and to his bed. Dick carefully tucks him in, and Jason’s too tired and too feverish to mind.

“I’m sorry,” he rasps out suddenly, and Dick’s hands freeze, and he frowns.

“For what?”

“I promised I would show up.”

“Hey, Jay, it’s okay. I’m just glad you’re safe.” Dick brushes the back of his hand against Jason’s forehead, a sympathetic hum slipping up his throat at the heat. “No more smoke breaks until you’re better. You’re still burning up.”

“You’re saying you’ll support my chain smoking when I’m all better?” Jason bats his eyelashes, and Dick sighs and stands, swatting at Jason’s covered leg.

“Don’t twist my words. I’m going to toss all your cigarette packs out.”

Jason growls lightly, a few coughs mixing with it, and he curls onto his side, wishing the stupid medicine Damian forced into him would kick in a lot faster. “You have until 99,” he mutters to Dick, who’s already filling a small trash bin with cigarette packs.

“What?”

“99,” Jason repeats with a harsh cough that hurts his chest. “When my temp hits 99, I want you all out.” There’s no heat to his tone, and he struggles against the fatigue pulling against him.

“99,” Dick clarifies with a soft smile. “You got it, Jaybird.”

[daisybeewrites]

Sorry, I’m Married

word count?: 3.5k

warnings: canon-typical violence, i don’t describe it graphically tho, just a minor skirmish. happy ending :)

requested? no

ship: dousy/daisy johnson x daniel sousa & dad!coulson

hey guys! i wrote this on a whim after hanging out in a dousy group. i was inspired by the chat at the end of the fic. as always, thank you for reading!! and drink some water ;) fic under the cut!

Neon lights reflected off rough concrete walls as Daisy’s combat boots walked down the steps to the underground club. Light up signs glowed and glittery heels flashed as crowds of people surged and stepped on the technicolour dance floor. The sequins of her dress reflected spotlights that roved the entry area. There were booths with cushy red banquettes lining the walls near the bar, giving college girls a place to rest their feet and hotshot businessmen a table to sip beer. Currently, the club was full, young men and women crowding the bar and dance floor. Decades night, Daisy deduced, as most of the inhabitants were wearing flashy dresses or denim bell bottoms. Deke would’ve loved this, she thought. I wonder how Deke is doing…

Daisy’s mind drifted as the light up jukebox in the corner switched songs. She didn’t spot the target anywhere, so she pushed in a quarter, chose her favourite 80s hit, and watched as the jukebox queued her song. The vibrations of the speakers were reverberating through her, pumping her adrenaline up. Good, more energy for a fight if I need it. 

Three leather stools were open at the bar—one by itself, and two side by side. She nodded at the bartender and sat in the single empty seat. Her comms crackled in her right ear, reminding her of why she was here in the first place. 

“Dais, can you hear me?” She located where Coulson was speaking across the room, sitting in a wooden booth near the side exit. He casually leaned back and sipped his drink. 

“Loud and clear,” Daisy mumbled. 

“New intel from HQ just came in. The weapons the target is dealing? Alien tech.”

“Great, she said sarcastically,” said Daisy, clearly annoyed. 

Coulson laughed. “On your 3.” 

Daisy rested her elbow forward on the bartop, scanning the selection of alcohols as a premise to look down the row of people to her right. She noticed two young lads dressed in all black suits, carrying briefcases. There was no way these guys were in charge of the illegal operation. Well, at least they won’t be a problem if it comes down to a fight, she thought.

As Daisy’s eyes roamed the club, she locked eyes with a muscular, bodyguard-type with a small, raised scar over his eye. She smiled then turned around. She recognized the uniform he was wearing as standard bouncer garb, but his side-piece was not. CF380, Princetown standard issue. Daisy signaled his presence to Coulson. 

“These guys? Again?” 

Princetown was a group of rich, privileged sons of international diplomats and of heads of large corporations. They slipped through the FBI’s fingers like sand. Now, they had alien tech. No diplomatic immunity would allow them to get out of an arrest now. 

Coulson nodded behind her. She subtly turned her head and glanced in that direction. Wearing an overly expensive silk suit and holding a glass of champagne, stood Luca Casagrande. Son of the Italian Minister of foreign affairs. Notorious for his parties, wealth, and lack of self-control. He winked at a blonde waitress who slipped him a piece of paper, which was very obviously not a bill. Daisy rolled her eyes. Criminals these days are so stupid, she thought. 

Coulson bit back a laugh at Daisy’s reaction. “Alright, Daisy, you’re up.”

“Remind me again why I was chosen for this part of the mission?” she murmured while sipping her drink to hide her words.

“Because, you’re good at it.” Coulson went quiet for a second then added, “And I'm not Casagrande’s type.”

Daisy flashed her eyes in Coulson’s direction, frustrated. She mentally went over the calming exercises May taught her. Deep breath, exhale. Let’s do this.

Daisy slid off the barstool, and approached Casagrande slowly. He only looked her direction when she sidled up next to him. 

“Hey, sweetheart. What’s a beautiful girl like you doing out here all by yourself?” A smooth, accented voice inquired.

Daisy bottled up a sarcastic remark and stocked it on the shelf for later use. Only Daniel is allowed to call her sweetheart. 

“Well, I was hoping,” she blinked up at him, batting her eyelashes. “to find some product. Heard you had all the good stuff. I'm lucky I even caught you here, considering your reputation.”

“Geez. Laying it on a little thick aren’t we?” Coulson couldn’t help it. The snort Daisy covered up as a cough was too hilarious.

Luca smiled. It was charming, but unsettling. “Oh? And what reputation would that be?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Daisy countered. She looked around before continuing, “Look, I've got pressure on me to deliver. I’d appreciate it if we talked business before pleasure.”

 “Hard to get.” Luca’s eyes sparkled. “Alright. Let’s talk business.”

He leaned over the bar and signaled the bartender to bring him two glasses of whiskey on the rocks. Once a glass was in his hand, he gestured to Daisy’s. “You don’t drink?”

“Not when I'm on the clock. My employers frown upon it.” 

Casagrande nodded. “I see. So, what type of product were you looking for?”

“Anything I can sell. Uncle Sam called and said they need a next gen advantage for soldiers. Weapons, maybe?” She ran a finger down the lapel of his suit. “They pay generously.”

“You work for the US military.”

“We have a... mutual understanding.” Daisy flashed a brilliant smile. It was kind of fun playing an undercover persona. 

Luca studied her face. “I don’t get details?”

Daisy scoffed, “Of course not. Son of a foreign diplomat, it’s a risk the US can’t take. If other countries found out…”

“Yes, I understand," He responded carefully. 

“And I understand that you also do some dirty business with governments.”

A menacing half-smile rose on his face. “Only the beautiful ones.”

Looking up into his eyes, Daisy felt the same disgust that had been worn by everyone at the mission briefing. Au contraire, Luca seemed to find Daisy extremely attractive. 

“Why don’t we—”

“No.” Daisy internally cringed, but on the outside she seemed relaxed and blasé. She risked a glance at Coulson, to see his reaction. His entire body was rigid. She didn’t blame him. Hearing some douchebag proposition your daughter...yulgh. She wished Daniel was here to watch her back, too... this guy was getting under her skin. Everything about Casagrande pushed her buttons. 

“No?”

“No,” Daisy affirmed, tilting her head. “Business first. We can talk about any other deals after.” 

“But there is a possibility?” He cheekily remarked. 

Not a chance in hell, Daisy thought. “Maybe. But for now, I need to move product ASAP.”

Luca mulled thos over and sipped the burning whiskey. “I may have some contacts that could help you. In return, what will you give me?”

Though the question was innocent, his intentions were obvious. That was exactly what she wanted. 

“Depends on how good the product is.” She stepped a little closer “It’s a little crowded in here, don’t ya think?”

He pushed off the bar, inches from her. He smelled like overly expensive cologne, and not the good kind. “I'm meeting some business associates out back in a few minutes. We’ll make a deal after that.”

“Would they happen to have anything I could—”

“Sorry, sweetheart, I do business privately.”

Daisy faked a sweet smile and resisted the urge to punch him. 

Luca took two steps toward the back door, then turned around and strutted back. He tilted his head towards her. “A good luck ki—?”

BRing. BRing. Bzzzzz. 

Best. Timing. Ever. Daisy shot Luca an apologetic look before picking up. 

“Hello? Oh, Dad! One sec.” Daisy took the phone off her ear, and whispered to Luca, “It’s my Dad. He’s in the hospital. Doesn’t know what my real job is.”

She brought the phone back up to her ear as Luca irritatedly glanced around. 

“Dad? Yeah... No, I'm fine, how are you feeling?... That’s great, Dad.” She winked at Luca and held up a finger. Daisy was glad he didn’t notice Coulson over her shoulder, also on the phone. 

“I'm with some friends…” Luca raised his eyebrows. “Luca Casagrande... He does business with my marketing firm.”

Daisy waved Luca away after noticing him checking his Rolex twice in ten seconds. He nodded and headed out back. She made sure he was out of earshot before alerting Coulson.

“Coulson, he’s headed out.”

“Yup, QJ-6 is on the way. I’ll stay to watch his lackeys.”

Daisy gave the bartender a tip and walked towards the back door, grabbing her gauntlets from behind the bar. He dipped his chin and continued wiping down the counter.

As she walked into the chilly night air, Daisy was greeted with silence. Droplets of water dripped onto the leather of her boots from the rooftop. The concrete crunched in the darkness of the alley. Light from the streetlamps was scarce, melding shadowy corners with the dim alleyway.. Daisy could hear faint music through the brick walls of the club. A smirk formed on her face as her pick from the jukebox played. Walking towards the street, she checked behind the moldy trash bins for a sign that Casagrande was hiding. The opening guitar grew louder as the safety of a gun clicked off behind her. 

“So,” Daisy raised her hands up. It was a trap. “what happened to your business associates?”

Luca chuckled behind her. 

“You’re not stupid. You can figure it out.”

Daisy slowly turned around to face him. 

“You bluffed to see if I would follow you.” She wasn’t surprised. She had counted on this. “You’re a decent liar.”

“So are you.” Luca lowered the gun a bit. “Who are you? CIA?”

“That’s classified.” 

Luca laughed, haphazardly slinging the pistol to the side in a grand gesture. “Of course it is.”

“I wasn’t lying when I said that the government and I have a mutual understanding.”

“But that isn’t the whole truth, is it?” 

Daisy smirked. “Of course not.”

Technically, this was true. Her status as a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent was protected knowledge, no one but people inside her agency and a handful high-ranking world intelligence officers were aware.

Daisy decided he might as well know who she was. He was going to be locked up in a max-security cell pretty soon, anyway.

He fell against the wall as Daisy hit him with a small quake, just enough to get her point across. His expression was one of pure shock.

“You- Y- You’re…”

“Mar—”

“Daisy, what’s going on?” Coulson must have felt the vibrations. She didn’t think she had hit Luca that hard. Daisy could hear the quinjet approaching, the comforting vibrations of the engine helping to calm her nerves. She stepped toward Luca.

“You have two options: come peacefully with me, or I call the cavalry to take you in by force.”

Luca stayed on the ground, silent. He reminded Daisy of a pouting toddler. 

This toddler had a few tricks up his sleeve. 

Coulson’s voice came through her ear. “Daisy, do you ha—”

Daisy’s blood ran cold as she received static from the other line.

“Coulson? Coulson?!”

Wide brown eyes turned to watch Casagrande’s smirk grow. 

“Problem?" He said smugly. 

Daisy quickly knocked him out with the mini-ICER she kept inside her boot and ran back inside. Opening the solid metal door to the inside of the club, she registered the panicked screams from the main room. As she hurtled through the plain hallway towards the crowds, she wished she had a way to tell the backup team that they were flying into trouble. He must’ve known we’d be here. How did he know we’d be here? 

The walls were a blur as the confusion and fear from the civilians in the club became palpable. The door squeaked on its hinges as Daisy threw it open. She didn’t see Coulson anywhere. Actually, she couldn’t see anything at all. An EMP. Cool. Fun. Alright. That’s fine. 

It’s all fine.

Wandering the crowds, Daisy tried to find a way to contact the team. Surely they had a landline in here? 

The bartender pulled her aside as she passed him. He silently pointed to the jukebox. It was the only thing still on and functioning. Of course, Daisy didn’t know how she hadn’t seen it before! 

She walked to the jukebox and searched the sides for a dial, a button, something... Aha! She unlatched the panel and bent down to dial Piper’s number. She pressed the call button while her vision grew blurry. Her eyelids drooped. A sluggish head turn towards the dance floor gave a view of unconscious bodies asleep next to each other. Daisy tried to stand, to walk to the nearest victim of the sleeping gas. A burning zap that seemed to travel through her veins rendered her unconscious. I have to find Coulson…

Daisy knew she probably shouldn’t have left Casagrande in the alley by himself. She was playing right into his hand.

Coulson was more important.

Coulson. What would he do?

Daisy slowly tried to open her eyes. She felt like she had a hangover. The light was dim, the floor beneath her cold as ice. Her hearing slowly came back as she took in her surroundings. A pair of black dress shoes blurred into her frame of vision. 

“Hey, you’re awake.” Coulson’s voice flooded her with relief.

“What happened? Where…?”

Coulson helped her sit up against a rough stone wall. “I have no clue. Best guess? An Italian castle.”

Daisy was suddenly very awake. “We’re in Italy?”

“Hey, I said best guess.” Coulson pointed his fingers to the ceiling. “I heard footsteps up there earlier.”

Daisy just nodded. Last time she was in Italy, she had a hell of a lot better time. For starters, no one zapped her with— wait, what was she hit with?

“What was that weapon I was hit with? It felt like it was melting my insides.” The thought scared her. The only other time she had felt that type of pain was when... she didn’t like to think about it. 

“You know the alien tech that Casagrande was running?” Daisy nodded. “Yeah, it was that.”

A loud groan solidified Daisy’s frustration. Her eyes closed while she tried to concentrate. She tried to feel any vibrations near her, to soak up anything that could signal where they were. Instead of feeling the vibrations of a mountain or a plane, she felt footsteps. Coming closer, closer... Daisy opened her eyes. 

Luca entered the chilly cell through the thick steel door. She would have quaked him back about a hundred feet if it weren’t for Coulson’s hand on her arm. 

“You two seem comfortable. Can I get you a drink? Water? Coffee?” His smile was smug and irritating.

Coulson replied before Daisy could. “No, we’re good thanks. How about instead, you give us some answers. Starting with: where are we, and who’s your source?” His voice got harder and colder as he went on. Luca acted unfazed. 

“No. You are insurance. You have physical evidence of my illegal trades. I was going to leave you on the curb, but then this guy,” Luca pointed over his shoulder at a soldier then slapped the short lad on the back. Daisy recognized him as one the short lads with briefcases at the bar. “This guy had to go and shoot you with the Widow’s Bite!”

Coulson's eyes grew wide in recognition. Daisy could connect the dots herself.

“You stole Black Widow’s weapons?” They said in unison. Coulson and Daisy looked at each other and fell silent. By Daisy’s profile, if they kept acting surprised and in awe, he would keep giving them answers. 

“Yes, I did. Amazing right?” Luca stared off into the distance. “Last month I hired a thief to get into the Avenger’s Compound. She got a copy of Stark’s old hard drive, picked up some old relics, modified them with alien metal stolen from Hydra. But every time I tried to open it, it would corrupt my servers. I took the damn thing to every hacker I knew, now they all want to kill me because I crashed their servers. Some of them used to be part of the Rising Tide, when they were still young and hotheaded. They told me about a hacker named Skye. She disappeared, never heard from again. She has no information on her. She has no records. Not even in the top intelligence departments of America. She doesn’t exist.

“But Daisy Johnson does. Daisy Johnson, a hacker who rose in Skye’s place. Agent of S.H.I.E.L.D.”

“And you need us to get to her,” Coulson finished. “I hate to burst your bubble, but we’re expendable. You’re better off throwing us in the ocean than you are waiting for her to come.”

Luca seemed to be seriously considering this. Then he nodded. You’re right, I need to up the ante. Raise the stakes a little.”

He jerked a thumb over his shoulder as he turned on heel and swaggered down the hallway. “Bring them.”

Two soldiers came in to get Daisy and Coulson. They reached down to grab Daisy, and she swiftly brought her head forward to hit theirs. Stunned, the soldier took a step back, giving Daisy time to stand up before she gave a hard kick to his stomach. The other soldier was similarly impaired, having taken a startlingly strong punch to the jaw from Coulson. The crack! of the bone echoed off the stone walls. Daisy quaked them against the wall for good measure, realizing they hadn’t taken her gauntlets. Coulson was waiting by the door. 

“Let’s go.” 

They ran through the halls, following where they thought Casagrande might have gone, stopping in several rooms on the way to hide from Casagrande’s soldiers. They ran into him at the front of what was, indeed, a stone castle. He stood on the uneven steps gazing out at rolling hills and cottony clouds hung high above a choppy lake. The wind blew hard, just enough to make you wish for a sweater from someone warm and comforting. It was all quite picturesque. 

Except for the criminal standing in front of them. 

“Congrats, you escaped! I’m so glad.” Luca smiled and opened up his arms. 

“Somehow this guy still sounds smug. We just escaped from his prison and this guy still thinks he’s won.” Coulson turned to Daisy. 

Daisy shook her head and shouted, “Hey, Luca! The fight’s not finished yet!”

“Really, sweetheart? Because it looks to m—”

He was interrupted by a violent quake in his direction. She strided over to where he was struggling to get up. 

“It looks like what? I can’t hear you.” Daisy rested her hands on her hips. 

“It looks as if you are lost. Even if you escape, you have no way to get home,” he wheezed. 

Daisy rolled her eyes. Coulson walked up behind her, squatting down beside Luca and using a hand on his shoulder to keep him in place. 

“We’re resourceful. And while we were hiding from guards in some of your fancy tech rooms, we found an old sat phone. They’re easy enough to use, all we had to do was phone a friend and tell them exactly where we are,” Coulson explained. 

“Ah, but you don’t know where we are, sweetheart.” His rebuttal was pointed at Daisy. She decided it was her turn to prove him wrong. 

“See, that’s where you’re wrong. You counted on us not being able to crack your hard drive’s encryption and get past your feeble firewalls. That took less than five minutes. The only remotely hard part about hacking you to find our coordinates was trying to read everything in Italian.” Daisy laughed. 

Luca tried the wiggle away from them. “If you have my hard drive, then you know there isn’t anything of importance on there.”

As she pulled a pair of handcuffs out of her boot, Daisy exchanged a look with Coulson. 

“You’re right, there isn’t anything of value on that hard drive,” she said. “There are about 100 other files I downloaded from your personal computer that do have important intel, though.” 

Coulson pulled a face and sucked in a breath. “Yikes.”

“So, I guess if you’re arresting me, there isn’t any chance we could ever do business, if you know what I mean?”

Daisy mentally pulled that bottle off the shelf and dusted off her sarcastic remark. 

“Sorry, I’m married.”

Daisy locked the cuffs into place and stood Casagrande up. Two quinjets touched down thirty minutes later, one with a team of agents to search the castle, and one to take Daisy and Coulson home. Agent Piper met Daisy on the ramp of QJ-6, something metallic and glittery in her hand. 

“Thanks for holding onto it.” Daisy hugged Piper before taking her ring back. 

“No problem. Wouldn’t want this rock to get lost in the field!” she laughed. 

Daisy slipped the smooth metal on her finger and sagged into the jump seat next to Coulson. She rested her head on his shoulder, softly gazing at her hand. 

“I can’t wait to be home with Daniel.”

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

A/N: heeeey! this fic was inspired by @starkmaiden ‘s post in a dousy group i’m in. thank you!! if you have a request, question for me, or want to be added to my taglist go visit my ask box! i love each and every one of you :)

[thefanficmonster]

Somebody To Remember

Andrew (The Dark Pictures Anthology: Little Hope) x Reader (Female)

Warnings: Swearing (maybe), slight Spoilers

Genre: Fluff

Summary: Y/N wakes up in an unfamiliar place, surrounded by unfamiliar people and with a big chunk of memories missing. She’s told she, along with her professor and classmates, was in a bus crash while passing through the town of Little Hope. From that point onward she is trying her best to contribute into the group’s efforts of finding a way out of that place and also piecing together the shards of her broken recollection.

Requested by Dot Anon! Hi there! Sorry for the long wait, but it’s finally here and I hope it makes it worth it! I love writing for Little Hope and I’m very grateful you gave me an opportunity to write for Andrew with your request! Hope you enjoy the read, looking forward to hearing more requests from you! Love, Vy ❤

My eyelids lift just barely before an intense pain takes over my entire skull. Instead of battling through it, I just shut my eyes again. I feel like my head is swimming as though I’ve been spinning in circles for the past five minutes. Speaking of the last five minutes, I don’t remember them. Actually, I can’t recall anything from...I can’t even recall how long it’s been from what I last remember. I hear voices but they aren’t clear - almost like I’m at the bottom of a lake and they are calling out to me from the shore. I make another attempt at opening my eyes, succeeding this time, despite the intense pain.

“Hey, there you are.“ Unlike the rest, this voice sounds to be closer which makes it a lot clearer and easier to understand. “Stay with me now, Y/N.“

I blink a couple times, struggling to get my eyes in focus. When I finally manage, I am met with a pair of greenish blue eyes looking back at me. 

“Hi? Um, where am I?“ I utter hesitantly, letting my gaze wander all over the picture in front of me. I see a boy who appears to be in his late teens, maybe early twenties, I can’t tell. Behind him I see a shorthaired girl and an older man talking. I tap my fingers on the surface I’m sitting on - it’s no doubt gravel. And wait, did he refer to me as Y/N? “Am I Y/N?“ As I speak, I feel a sharp sting on my cheek. I lift my hand to touch the spot where the unpleasant sensation is coming from just to pull my fingers away with a wince, seeing them covered in blood. A pit of fear and panic forms in my stomach. “What happened? Why am I bleeding?“

His eyes widen. He looks border-line horrified as he backs away from me, never taking his eyes off me, though. “Professor, can you come here for a sec?” He says, his hand waving over the older man.

He walks over and crouches next to the boy. “What’s wrong? How are you feeling, Y/N?” He’s looking at me when he asks the question, so I can only assume I really am Y/N.

“She can’t remember anything.“ The boy says, his voice shaky due to what seems like panic, “What do we do?“

I switch my focus between the two, the panic growing stronger within me as well. The professor contemplates his next move carefully before calling out to the girl who is trying to catch a signal with her phone in the air. “Hey Taylor, give me your phone. I need a light.”

“Coming!“ The girl power walks to us, a smile spreading on her face when our eyes meet, “Oh thank God you’re awake, Y/N! I was terrified!“

I brave through the pain so I can return her smile, “Yeah, I’m happy to be awake too. Would be happier if I could recall anything though.”

Her expression morphs into the same one the boy had when I insinuated that I don’t remember anything. Putting her initial shock aside, she hands the professor her phone. He holds it above my face so the screen could illuminate any injuries I might have. Or the injuries I definitely have cause this headache is most certainly not the result of dehydration or lack of sleep.

“I can see some blood beyond your hairline and a cut on your temple, but that’s it. You are probably concussed. Don’t freak out, though, if you can still make sense you’ll be alright.“ He assures me. “I’m John, by the way, your professor. This is Andrew.“ he points to the boy. “I’m your professor, these two, and the other two we don’t really know the whereabouts of are your classmates. This was supposed to be our field trip for a project, but we got in a crash. That’s how you got those cuts and bruises. But, again, don’t worry we will be just fine. Your memories will come back sooner or later.“

Taylor chuckles, “I wouldn’t worry too much. She’s still got her sarcasm.”

“You bet I do.“ I choose to lift the heaviness of the situation, remove the worries from the group. I feel like I owe it to them for not remembering who they are while they obviously care about me. “Now help me up, I don’t plan on sitting here any longer. It’s quite uncomfortable.“

The professor and Andrew lifted me off the ground by my arms, steadying me on my feet. Concussed or not, I have to be prepared for a night of wandering around in a dark and foggy ghost-town. I can’t be a weakling and depend on my team the whole time.

                                                                *  *  *

My head hurts even more now, I didn’t know that was even possible. Whatever expectations I had for this night, they got thrown out the window the second Andrew and Angela were dragged five centuries back in time. Oh yeah, I also met the two other classmates John mentioned - Angela, who’s a very...interesting woman. She is a little high-maintenance and a little stuck up, but nothin I can’t tolerate. Unlike Taylor who I’m afraid will kill the woman just by glaring; and Daniel who is the complete opposite. He’s kind and sweet and really in love with Taylor. They are very cute together. Despite Angela’s attitude it’s clear that she deeply cares about John. I can tell the feeling’s mutual.

But demons and witches aside, my memory that’s slowly repairing is what’s bothering me most. The fragments that are coming back to me are so disconnected from each other and so far apart, it’s almost like I’m just making them all up to fill in the blanks. I’ve gathered most memories for Taylor, who I think is my best friend and some of Daniel, who is also a good friend of mine. Hell, I can even recall a bickering session I’ve had with Angela and I faintly remember arguing with John about a grade. But nothing of Andrew. Not a single memory involving him. I even pulled Taylor aside to ask her if Andrew and I were even friends before this. Her answer only made me feel worse, though. She seemed rather upset when I told her I can’t remember anything regarding him. She said she was surprised. When I asked her why she gave me a vague response that she assumed I’d remember him most. 

Well thanks a lot, Taylor. 

I’ve only started exhausting my brain even more now that her words are stuck in my mind.

‘That’s surprising. One would think you’d remember him first.‘

We’re currently taking a break to catch our breath. The past few hours are just a jumble of running away from these terrifying creatures and being pulled back in time. I can’t piece the logic of anything that has happened and it’s bothering me, probably more than it should.

“Hey, you ok? You’ve been cracking and biting your knuckles for a while now.“ Andrew’s voice shakes me out of my trance. He puts a comforting hand on my shoulder, sitting down next to me.

That’s another thing that has been bugging me - his touch. It’s so damn familiar and so natural! I can’t explain it, but every time he touches me, it just feels like his hand belongs there. It sounds ridiculous, I’m aware, but it’s true. I feel so horrible that I can’t remember anything about him - the fact that he has been my biggest support and comfort this whole time isn’t making me feel any better either. He hasn’t left my side for even as much as a second.

“Yeah, just frustrated. And I’d be lying if I said I’m not scared right now.“ I decide to rant and just get everything off my mind, I feel like he’ll understand. “I can’t piece anything together. Not from what’s happening to us and most certainly not from my past. So many large chunks are missing and it’s driving me mad.“ I cover my face with my hands, “I wish I could understand at least 10% of this insanity. That would be enough to give me peace.”

I can no longer feel him touching my shoulder. Instead, his hands take gentle hold of my wrists, pulling them away from my face. Holding both my hands with one of his, he uses the other to lift my chin so our eyes meet. “It’s OK, Y/N. I know how hard this is for you. I understand this is taking an even bigger toll on you than it is on us. Just know that you can trust us. I mean, it’s not like we know any more than you do, but if anything attacks you, we’ll make sure you make it out alive.” He swipes his thumb over my cheekbone. “I would go through a beheading for you, believe it or not.”

I can’t help but laugh, “I believe you, Andrew. Thank you. Just know that it goes both ways.” I squeeze his hand.

I do believe him. I believe all of them. I have faith in this team and I trust it with my life. I trust Andrew with every fiber of my being.

                                                             *  *  *

It’s over. I can hardly believe it. I can’t believe it.

“We can leave it’s over! Oh my God, it’s over!“ Taylor excitedly engulfs me in a tight hug. Tears are streaming down her face. Tears of relief and joy.

I return the hug with the same amount of strength and tenderness, “I can’t believe it’s over. Oh my God.”

“It is. It really is.“ she whispers to me reassuringly before pulling away and giving me one final encouraging nod.

We are finally free to leave that ruin of a house and this town in its entirety. We can now leave it all behind. We can go home.

I watch as Daniel wraps his arm around Taylor’s shoulders pulling her closer to his side. I see the encouraging smiles of pure happiness that John and Angela exchange. I feel all the positivity radiating off of them.

A gentle warm hand takes hold of my frozen and bruised one. I tilt my head to see Andrew falling in step with me. The warm smile on his face confirms what Taylor told me - the nightmare is indeed over. With the horrors left far behind us and 80% of my memory having returned, I feel reborn.

“Feels amazing, doesn’t it?“ He asks, his grip on my hand is tender but firm - he’s afraid of accidentally letting me slip from his grip, but also afraid of causing me pain by touching the many cuts that litter my skin.

“Words can’t describe it.“ I say with a content sigh, instinctively intertwining our fingers together.

And that puts together the remaining 20% that are missing. That special and intimate contact makes something in my brain click.

I stop dead in my tracks, causing Andrew to stop with me. He raises a confused eyebrow at me. “What’s wrong?”

A laugh escapes my lips, a huge grin plastering itself on my face. “You’re my boyfriend.” 

His eyes go even wider than when I told him I didn’t remember anything. This time it’s due to a different emotion. 

He stutters, “You remember?”

I nod eagerly, “We’ve been dating for seven months now. Daniel introduced us. Taylor kept teasing us saying we should date. We went on our first date more as a joke for the amusement of two of them and then....”

He cuts me off by hugging me twice as tightly as Taylor did. He has put every last bit of his energy into this hug and I’m returning it with every last bit of mine.

“Welcome back completely, Y/N.“ He says, pulling away while still keeping his arms wrapped around me. 

“Glad to be back finally.“ I can’t wipe the dopey grin off my face, not that I’m even trying to at this point.

With zero regards for our audience of four, Andrew presses his lips to mine, marking my return to our reality with a love-filled kiss.

@sparrow-gg  @artlovingbre  @chairtiger

[burnmyloveaway]

DGS/TGAA 2 CRACK THEORY/HEADCANON + SPOILERS MENTIONED

So I remembered a thing about Dr. Sithe and Vortex/Stronghart character designs and not only that but look at this for a sec

I'm not sure what these thingies are supposed to be and I guess it's kind of a symbol or some such of how she's his right hand and all but no one else working for him had anything resembling this stuff in shape or anything...

Perhaps I'm looking too much in it but what if there's another meaning to it? I'd even go as far as to assume that maybe, maybe the two of them had something of a hidden not-so-formal relationship (or maybe they're just shopping bffs).

Maybe Mr. Goulloyne/Gorey was a guy who courted Dr. Sithe and that she married for convenience because she was already pregnant at the time (did he die when she was still a baby?) and yes, I'm getting at the possibility of Maria being actually Vortex/Stronghart's daughter. I mean look at her eye color

It's not exactly the same as his but it's close enough, not to mention how light her hair is.

He's shown to have white (almost white? Ash blond?) hair in canon even though a man in his 40s (yes, I get it they couldn't make an entire ass model for a single flashback) and 50s usually doesn't have all his hair white yet and he's actually blond (ok maybe it's the stress of his machinations and of being evil and they hadn't hair dye back then - or did they? Idk).

Or what if "Goulloyne"/"Gorey" was just a fictitious name Maria liked combined with hers (and the man she married in her 20s to cover Maria's real father's identity had another last name entirely) and somehow her mother thought it was a good idea to come up with an original last name for her daughter should all the truth come out?

Perhaps her second marriage was for love once she met another man or she got married (again or not) to put distance between her and The Boss™ at the eyes of the public (the fact she remarried so recently after the exchange assassination plan was put in action makes me strongly suspect this was the case, it's impossible she knew nothing about it, she must have known at least something if nothing).

Also if he had Wilson and Gregson killed why not have her killed as well? Where does all that mutual trust and loyalty come from? He never seemed to have threatened or blackmailed her either (as far as I remember, at least). Hiding such a relationship would have made it more difficult to imagine that the two of them could have been accomplices into so many big secrets, too.

If Maria is indeed his daughter I don't think he was aware of it or he had his suspicions but decided not to do anything about it for the sake of his position and thus, to feign ignorance.

Though he strikes me as the type of father who wouldn’t care about his children anyway so perhaps he was aware of it but didn't give a fuck 🤷‍♀️

I mean, Idk if this makes sense or not but if Maria isn't his daughter he and Dr. Sithe still fucked

[meepmoopfanfics]

you don’t get a win unless you’re playing the game: Daveed Diggs x Reader. Chapter 2.

Reminder: this is gonna be a long fic! please be patient :)

You are finally ending an excruciating first week of dance rehearsals.

You’re gearing up finishing Act I finally, your brain feeling completely fried from all of the material given, especially the vocal parts. You were so used to singing the melody line of all the songs and being given the alto part was a challenge in itself, let alone applying singing while doing the choreography. The dancing was second nature but you didn’t realize how much stamina you’d actually need to getting the notes out without sounding breathy, pitchy or exhausted. You did NOT want to embarrass yourself in front of the OBC when it came time to integrate.

You had only worked with the ensemble closely so far and were getting close with Stephanie, the universal dance captain of the show. She had mentioned to you that the principals and ensemble members would be having a little hang out session at her brother’s penthouse apartment downtown after rehearsals ended tonight.

“Brilliant work today everyone. I know it’s been tough. But take the weekend to really review the material and let everything sink in.” Stephanie’s eyes were lit up. The way she was so attentive to detail and every backstory of every movement was so inspiring and eye opening.

You wiped the sweat off of your face as you partner, aka M3, aka George Eaker, aka Cedric, gave you a wink and a thumbs up. You were way too lucky to be matched with Cedric. If you jumped across the stage, somehow you’d trust him to catch you with seconds to spare before landing.

The ensemble cheered together and began to pan out to the house to grab their things and head up to their dressing rooms to get ready for the party.

“Is everyone coming tonight?” Stephanie yelled excitedly.

You heard a cannon of yeses and hell yeahs around the group.

“The wolfpack’s coming too!” That was her nickname for the OBC crew. “It’s gonna be a raaaaaager!” She started gyrating her hips. Everyone erupted with laughter.

“A safe one at that, of course. Be on your best behavior around Lin… just kidding he’s an absolute child.

Alright now go, get out. Go get hot.”

You followed the ensemble up the stairs backstage to end up at your dressing room which you shared with W4, Michelle.

“Girl... what’re ya wearing tonight? I can’t decide.” Michelle asked while anxiously rummaging through her back full of scribbled on legal pads, muscle rollers, and random items of clothing.

You had packed your favorite black jeans that made your legs look flawless, your signature suede boots, and a Kith hoodie. You wanted to look put together but also casual and cool. Most importantly, you wanted to impress all of your idols. This was your only chance to give them the best first impression of you.

You thought about grabbing your Oakland sweatshirt that your parents got you as a gag gift for Christmas, in honor of your celebrity crush’s hometown. You immediately regretted even thinking of wearing it, as Daveed would definitely find it way too weird. You were from Massachusetts... not California. The Bay Area would be embarrassed for you.

“I just brought these little guys. All black, of course. Feel like it does the job. Also, the sweatshirt will let me eat alllllll of the pizza guilt free.”

Michelle stared longingly at your suede boots. “These are fuckin fancy!”

“They’re only Steve Madden!!” You were proud of your ability to find luxury looking goods for a cheap price. You don’t think that will ever change, even when you saw your first broadway check hit your checking account.

You were happy you could share a safe and fun dressing room space with Michelle and knew the two of you would become close friends.

You both ran into the shower room across the hallway, and quickly washed off. You decided you were going to straighten your long light brown hair. You loved your hair, but it got so curly and tangled when you sweat. Thankfully they were going to put you in a wig for the show instead of using your natural locks. Being a head sweat-er was the worst. Your makeup was minimal, as you looked best with a nice dewy makeup glow, with highlighted cheekbones. You wore a nude matte lipstick, which matched the natural color of your lips, and lightly liquid lined a cat eye over your big (insert eye color) eyes.

You saw your reflection. You didn’t know if it was the confidence of finally reaching your goal or if you just were having a good hair/makeup day... but you were stunning.

“Damn mama!” Michelle gasped as she saw your finished look. “Whose mans are you about to steal at this gig? Better not be Cedric, he’s mine.”

You laughed. You couldn’t help to think about who you already had your heart set on.

“Definitely not Cedric.”

Michelle opened her iPhone 11 plus and immediately opted for a mirror selfie. She quickly opened Instagram and posted it to her story.

You opened the app yourself to go check if it looked good.

Posted 32 secs ago

#MamaHam and #TheBullet hit the town 🎉

“Ready?” Michelle asked, putting the final touches of her gold Fenty highlight on her cheeks. “We should grab a quick bite before hitting the place. I plan on drinking my weight in Truly seltzers tonight.”

“Let’s get it.” You smiled. “I’ll call the uber.”

——

You called the uber, hopped in, and began driving downtown. You felt your anxiety creeping up on you.

“Trulys? Really? I’m gonna need to be doing shots of Jager in order to be able to speak a single word to any of these principals.”

“What are you... nervous? You already got the role. You’re equals with these guys.”

She wasn’t wrong.

“Guess I’ll just have to act as chill as possible. That’s the plan anyways... also Michelle, wanna know something ridiculous?”

“What?”

“I’ve had a middle school full fledged crush on Daveed since I can remember.”

She blurted out with laughter.

“Well girl he is on the market now. Shoot ya shot.”

You already knew this. Daveed was recently single and focusing on rebuilding himself up. His breakup with his last girlfriend wasn’t bad. It was mature and mutual. You knew he was taking time to himself, so you didn’t want to be overbearingly flirtatious when you first met him.

You also couldn’t stop thinking about your ex, whom you left last year around this time. His goals just weren’t lining up with your future. He hated musicals, he hated almost everything you liked... but you couldn’t stand the fact you shattered his heart.

“I’ll see what happens... after 5 shots.” You responded, winking at Michelle.

__

You arrived at the cutest little Italian place downtown in TriBeCa. You knew carbs and wine were the perfect pregame for this shindig.

After loads of pasta and splitting a bottle of wine, you began to feel the confidence needed to shake the nerves from you. You hit the bathroom to give yourself a double check before walking to your final destination.

—

As you walked up to the massive high rise residence, you couldn’t believe this was your lifestyle now. As you approached, you noticed an extremely familiar face exit the revolving door.

Holy shit, that’s Rafa.

Rafael Casal. Daveed Diggs’ best friend.

You stopped in your tracks stunned.

He turned his head immediately in your and Michelle’s direction.

“Y/N?! What’s going on?!”

“Shut up shut up shut up...” you whispered through your teeth. “Just keep walking.”

As he passed you both, he smiled, and turned into the Duane Reade on the corner. Probably picking up something he forgot.

You realized you would be on edge all night not being able to keep your cool. Rafa wasn’t even in the damn OBC and here you were, freaking out entirely on the freaking sidewalk.

Through the doors you went, passing the crystal clear marble floors, giant chandeliers, and up to the doorman.

“Can I help you beautiful ladies?”

Michelle blushed. The doorman was actually attractive.

“We’re here for Klemons? Penthouse 2?”

“Oh yeah! Hamilton!!! Love that show. Have fun!”

You hit the elevator as you looked down at your phone.

9:18pm

Perfect timing. Almost 20 mins late. Fashionably late, of course.

“Oh shit shit shit.”

You realized you haven’t changed your wallpaper from Daveed grabbing his crotch.

Michelle laughed as you fumbled to change your wallpaper to a pic of you and your family from when you were younger. Perfect. A conversation starter. Your overthinking was killing you softly.

Your teeth were legit chattering. You felt anxiety waves rush through your nervous system. The pit in your stomach grew. Your heart was beating a mile a minute. This was it. Your chance at something greater than you ever thought was possible to achieve.

The elevator doors opened to the open concept apartment. Voices were clashing over the blaring hip hop music in the dimly lit room. A full bar in the corner, Joe’s pizza scattered over the island in the kitchen. Beer pong set up on the dining room table.

There they were. Every single one of em. Scattered across the flat. Starstruck wasn’t even the beginning of what you felt.

Your eyes scanned quickly around.

There he was. Curly headed locks and all. Leaning up against the floor to ceiling windows that circled the place, holding a cocktail in his strong, large right hand accessorized with a few rings. Simply staring at the sights of the city. He looked like a million bucks and he was in a simple casual outfit. Light washed jeans, black boots, with his left hand in his black hoodie pocket.

Wait. You guys were wearing the same hoodie.

The same fucking hoodie.

Of course this would happen.

tag list:

@alexander-hamilhoe

[fishfingersandjellybabies]

When Your Love Hurts - fic

Characters: Damian Wayne, Conner Kent Pairings: jondami, timkon Summary: Damian didn’t expect his brother-in-law to break into his office today. He also didn’t expect the reason that he did so. A/N: In which I write about Tim but I’m actually writing about myself, whoops. Tim did show up to Jon’s office, whatever that is I haven’t decided, and Jon just immediately took him back to his and Damian’s house. I might write more for this little scenario, or I might not, I dunno. As soon as they kind of make up a little, Tim and Conner immediately bombard Damian and Jon with questions about when they’re getting married. Damian surprises himself by not regretting a single bit of it. He loves this new life.

Freedom AU

~~

He heard a commotion in the lobby. Nothing new, not in a place like this. Dogs barking, scared cats, sobbing persons giving up their animals, angry ones trying to steal theirs back. The shelter was almost like Gotham, but nothing he, or his staff, couldn’t handle.

In fact, this commotion was more his staff than anyone else, he noted. Trying to…stop someone? Or get more information, perhaps. The dog currently recuperating in his office, Isabella, heard the noise too, and raised her head to growl.

“Sir…sir, wait!” The call was much closer than the lobby. Damian glanced up just as his doorknob turned. “You need an appoint-”

The door swung open to reveal a man in red plaid underneath a leather jacket, jeans and sunglasses. He let the office door smack against the wall, and under Isabella’s barking, Damian could only sigh.

Not the boy from Smallville he liked to see.

“Hey, Dames.” Conner grinned, raising the sunglasses to sit on his head. “Have a sec?”

“I’m so sorry, Damian, I tried-” the receptionist rambled behind him. Damian waved them off.

“It’s fine, he’s…family.” Damian said reluctantly. The receptionist glanced between them and nodded, disappearing back into the hall. Damian glared at Conner. “I told you not to call me that.”

Conner shrugged, closing the door behind him and dropping into the chair across from Damian’s desk. Immediately, his ‘cooler-than-thou’ façade dropped, and he ran his hand down his face. Isabella gave a small woof and stood, jogging over to slot her face between Conner’s knees.

“If you’re looking for your brother, for the millionth time, he does not work here. He has his own job.” Damian hummed, going back to his paperwork. “But I’m sure he’d love to catch a late lunch-”

“Not looking for Jonno.” Conner droned. Dropped his hand and gave a weak smile to the dog waiting for love. “I am actually here looking for you. I guess. I don’t know.”

“Oh?” Damian put his pen down, giving the other his full attention after fixing his glasses. “Everything…okay?”

“…Yeah.” Conner sighed again, taking Isabella’s muzzle in his hands and petting along her whiskers. “…Your brother is an asshole.”

Ah.

“I mean, they all are, but I’m assuming you’re speaking of one in particular.” Damian surmised. “…Does he know you’re here?”

“No. And if he does, he clearly doesn’t care.”

Damian almost scoffed, because that couldn’t be further from the truth. Tim cared about Conner more than probably anyone else. He did marry him, after all.

“I see.” Damian said instead. “What happened?”

Conner shrugged, focused on Isabella.

“Conner, you just broke into my office.” Damian hummed calmly. “I think I have a right to ask what you and my brother fought about that caused you to do so.”

Conner still held out, still remained silent for a few moments.

“…He doesn’t care about himself. He doesn’t take care of himself.” Conner muttered. “Says it’s a waste of time, and that his energy is better spent taking care of other people. Taking care of me.”

“You’ve known for years we’re all a bit…self-sacrificing.” Damian admitted. “What made it so bad this time?”

“He just...won’t even consider it!” Conner snapped. “I even begged him to take care of himself, for me, and he refuses.”

“It is…a flaw. One he’s carried for years. Even Grayson couldn’t rid him of it.” Damian sighed sadly. “He’s never thought he was worthy, or mattered.”

“And he does! He matters!” Conner cried, slumping back in the chair. Isabella tried wagging her tail to regain his attention. “He matters to me, to our friends. To you, I’d hope.”

“Of course he does.” Damian agreed quickly, trying to push down the feeling of being offended. It’d been years since he and Tim had been at odds, Conner knows that. “To me and the entire family.”

“And that’s why I’m here, because you get it. You get him.” Conner deflated. “But more than Dick or Bruce, you don’t feel a need to go running to him and tell him everything I said or…or try to fix everything right in that moment or whatever.”

“Because he’s a grown man. I can’t fix his problems for him, and pressuring him in a demand he talks has the opposite affect. One day our father and brother will get that.” Damian nodded. “However…in Drake’s defense, I know the feeling. You know, of not mattering, or being worthy.” Damian snorted. “I know it all too well.”

“Yeah, but you got over it.” Conner whined.

“Well, for one, that’s a far too oversimplified conclusion, as I don’t entirely agree with that personally.” Damian scolded. Isabella whined at Conner’s knees and jumped up to put her paws on his thigh. “And two, I’m only dealing with it in a healthy manner because of your brother.”

“What, did he just overwhelm you with his undying love, to the point your brain couldn’t not believe what he said to you?” Conner pouted, crossing his arms. Isabella tapped at his leg, but he ignored her.

“In the attempt to not, again, oversimplify it while not getting into a discussion of my own personal health and derail this entire conversation – yes.” Damian snapped his fingers and Isabella hopped down, trotting back to his side. “But that also took years to even get to that point, and Jonathan knows it continues to be an ongoing process.”

A pause to glance down at Isabella. She gave him a doggy grin.

“But that is also me. A person who had a poor upbringing and was not told explicitly I was loved until I was eleven, by Grayson.” Damian explained. “Timothy, if I had to guess based on observation and experience, did not have that tragic past. His idea of his lack of worth most likely comes from dealing with our father’s grief in the aftermath of Todd’s death, and then continually losing loved ones to violent deaths every few months for a number of years. He believes it his fault, that his presence somehow forced those tragedies to occur, or that he should have been able to fix said emotional issues of others, like with my father.”

“So…what you’re saying is that me telling him I love him more than the goddamn sun like Jon did and does for you won’t work.” Conner exhaled.

“Not necessarily.” Damian admitted guiltily.

“So…what do I do?” Conner asked pathetically. “Because I don’t think I have to tell you that I love him more than anything in this solar system. But I can’t…he’s breaking my heart, Damian. I can’t live this way.”

“And you shouldn’t. But I am sorry you are.” Damian nodded. “But, again, if I had to guess, based on what you’re telling me…he knows that. He knows he’s breaking your heart, and he blames himself for your frustration. He probably believes if he was better, if he wasn’t so worthless, or maybe even selfish, he wouldn’t have frustrated you.”

Conner tilted his head to the side thoughtfully. Isabella barked at Damian.

“And if in your arguments he’s yelling at you, it’s because he’s also frustrated with himself. Because he wishes he could believe you, wishes he could fix his brain and make all the disbelief in himself go away. But then it restarts the cycle of believing he could and should be better, thus cementing the idea that since he’s not, he’s worthless.” Damian leaned back in his chair, circling his hand in the air as he spoke, reaching out to pet Isabella with the other. “Logically, I’m sure he’s fully aware of all these problems. But emotionally, he just can’t fix them, as much as he desperately wants to.”

“So…” Conner repeated. “What do I do?”

“Educate yourself, for the time being. I told you what I believe, take that into account if you wish.” Damian shrugged. “But in the meantime, just stay with him. Know he’s trying, even through your mutual frustrations. And as cliché as it is, don’t go to bed angry.”

“What?”

“It’s…what Jon did.” Damian admitted quietly. “We would have fights that probably rival you and Drake’s. One of us would often storm off, without anything being solved.” Damian looked at Isabella, giving a soft smile. “But…every night, even if it was past midnight, Jon would come home, or find me wherever I went, and just lay in the bed with me. We didn’t always apologize, or even say anything. But we still went to bed together, still held each other.”

Conner waited.

“It didn’t fix everything, or probably really anything, but it was evidence, to that little demon in my brain.” Damian continued. “It…also helped when I, when we, left the costumes. But I’d never ask that, or even suggest that, to you or him.”

Conner smiled. “Because you and Tim are different people.” Damian chuckled. “And you each need different solutions.”

“So you do listen sometimes.” Damian shook his head. Just as he did, he got a text, his phone buzzing underneath some of the papers on his desk. Already having a feeling he knew who it was, he dug it out and picked it up.

It was a picture. Tim lying pathetically on his living room floor, surrounded by many of their pets, clinging to the closest cat.

I believe he’s here looking for you.

Damian snorted, texting back, ‘Be home soon. Please speak with him in the meantime about how you and your brother’s minds work. Also ask him what he wants for dinner, since it appears we’re having guests.’

“I should charge you and Drake for therapy services.” Damian murmured, lifting his phone to snap his own photo of Conner, slumped childishly in his chair. He sent it immediately.

Jon quickly responded. Niceeeeeeeee.

Damian grinned at the childish response, then glanced down to the dog at his side. “Would you also like to accompany us for dinner, Izzie?”

Isabella barked and wagged her tail.

“What?” Conner asked dumbly. “Who’s going to dinner?”

“You.” Damian hummed, standing. “And then I’m locking you and Drake in our guest room where you can fight or fuck it out. You choose. Then you’ll be staying the night.”

Conner shook his head. “Got patrol tonight.”

“As I’m sure Drake did too. But considering he’s currently trying to smother himself in the fur of my cat, I believe those plans are all cancelled.” Damian walked by, Isabella following, grabbing his car keys from the hook by the door. “Also, if you really think you’re leaving without staying the night, you don’t know your own brother as well as you believe you do.”

Conner groaned, but stood anyway, following behind Isabella like a scolded child. “I was…kind of hoping Jon wouldn’t know I was here.”

“And I would have let that happen if my brother didn’t show up on his office’s doorstep as well.” Damian smirked, opening the door. “You and Drake are predictable and far too similar.”

“Almost like we’re an old married couple.” Conner drawled. Damian laughed. “…Thanks for your help, though. I do appreciate it.”

“I’ll accept that appreciation only if anything I told you actually helps Drake heal, in any way.” Damian countered. He hesitated in the hallway, though, and glanced back. “Remember, this process will take time.”

“I know.” Conner smiled, he put a hand on Damian’s shoulder. “That’s why if you lock us in your guest room tonight, we’re absolutely fucking. Because this fight won’t be over for a long time.”

Damian frowned. “You’re disgusting.”

“But you love me?” Conner tried, waving to the front desk staff as they walked out.

Damian sighed as Isabella ran ahead, jumping and barking back at them. “Only for the sake of my boyfriend and my brother. And even then, only sometimes.”

“I’ll take sometimes as a win.” Conner grinned as they got into Damian’s car. Isabella happily wiggled in Conner’s lap. “Now, chauffeur, please deliver me to my husband.”

Damian just sighed and pulled out of the lot.

[ahiddenpath]

Digimon Adventure 2020 Ep 13 Reaction

A strange blend of “things that feel wonderfully nostalgic” and “suddenly, Star Wars (with bees).”

Man, Toei is having a field day with taking inspiration from other franchises lately!  One moment I’m grinning at the nostalgic “hey Koushiro, I’ll hit your tablet to make it work!” jokes and the traditional Digital World jungle setting.  The next, I’m like...

Giant... bee... space... ship?  Captured natives?  Disposing of the heroes in the garbage compactor?  I can’t decide if this is amazing and fun, or if I’m more in the “wait, wut” camp!

But first of all, THESE KIDS ARE GIVING ME HEART ATTACKS FLYING ON BIRDRAMON WITH A LOG SEAT.  Like, of course someone fell!  Good god, how are these children surviving this stuff?  Are they made of steel?!

ANYWHO, we see more of Sora’s compassion in this ep.  She insists on helping the (really freaking cute) Funbeemon, even after they’ve saved Jyou-

Speaking of Jyou for a sec- Jesus, kid.  First, he’s air sick. Then, he falls from waaaaay up high.  THEN, he gets captured...  THEN!  He’s thrown in the garbage compactor.  THEN!!!!  He doesn’t have the sense to move out from under the chute?!?!?!  THEN HE CRIES TO GOMAMON (WHO IS! NOT THERE!!!!) FOR A HUG BECAUSE HE IS COLD!  THEN HE DOESN’T MOVE WHEN SORA WARNS HIM TO AND ALMOST GETS CRUMBLED WITH A WALL.  THEN GOMAMON SURFS IN ON A WAVE OF FISH, AND I AM DEAD, AND THEN THEY HUG AND I CRY, and I swear they gave the pair’s likability entirely to Gomamon, like Gomamon is overflowing with the goodness and lovability of at least three characters.  AND THEN JYOU IS PANICKING BECAUSE THEY ARE SURROUNDED!  AND THEN JYOU FALLS AGAIN, AND GOMAMON LANDS ON HIS TUM AND HE GOES OOOOF!  AND THEN THEY BACK SORA UP AGAIN AS SHE TRIES TO HELP DIGIMON BECAUSE HE!  IS!  A GOOD DISASTER CHILD!

I’d say something like, “Are you okay, Jyou?”  But we all know the answer.  What a mess!  Like, THIS ISN’T EVEN YOUR EPISODE, GET IT TOGETHER!

Ahem.

ANYWAY, this ep showcases Sora’s compassion a second time, and we have it direct from Sora that she is personally choosing to take up responsibility for not only saving earth, but the digimon, too.  She’s doing it out of compassion, but...  Kiddo, please be careful.  That’s a lot on anyone’s shoulders.  I wonder if we’ll see the fatigue that loving that much tends to cause in the reboot, like we did in Adventure?  I’m definitely interested in how the series handles this as time goes on.  Sora was so good in this ep, but I’m also hoping these are seeds to explore the downside of having such a huge heart and the willpower to carry through!

(Hopefully I don’t sound like I’m complaining!  I thought this was a great episode for Sora, soooo much better than her intro episode.  I’m just personally interested in this topic, and I always hope for more character exploration.)

 And I found the mutual respect between Sora and Yamato so, so interesting.  You know...  We all know that Taichi and Yamato simultaneously respect each other and butt heads throughout all of the original Adventure material.  Over time, we see that Yamato actually respects Taichi so damned much that he gets personally offended when Taichi is “faltering,” from Yamato’s perspective.  

But Yamato has always treated Sora respectfully, and we are seeing that in this ep in such a huge way.  He was able to foresee what Sora would want to do, based on the Neamon incident.  This time, instead of fighting it...  He offers his own plan (get captured on purpose to rescue Jyou and Gomamon) and follows her... slap-dash two step plan without question to rescue the remaining captives.  And after he does his part, he just...  Just waits for her to get her end done, knowing that the power balance is all off (adult vs perfect form).  This indicates how much he respects Sora, but also how he’s stepped up since trying to go his own way a few times already in the Reboot.

And I’m just saying, if someone was going to inspire this level of trust in me, personally...  Well, I’d go with Sora, too.  Good choice, Yams.

(Yamato I think is the closest we have to a fully-fleshed character so far, with both good points, bad points, and a ton to respect about him despite everything.  Although Gomamon is the only one who is somehow getting away with being a pure, flawless ball of perfection).

AND THE NEXT EP IS KOU-CHAN!  HOW WILL I MAKE IT TO NEXT SUNDAY!  I’M SO, SO READY!  I wonder why Koushiro has “an older model tablet,” according to Mimi (who would certainly know!).  Ugh, I loved Mimi leaning over to see Koushiro’s tablet, KOUSHIRO SO SO SMOL.  And another note, Taichi and Agumon’s in-sync hive mind bit at the end?  God, I love it.

It kind of makes me assume that there’s sentimental value to Koushiro’s tablet!  Or maybe he’s so attached to it because he’s placing so much of his self worth in his abilities, which he can’t utilize without the tablet?  Ie, without the tablet, I’m worthless...  But then, in that case, it would make sense for him to use the latest tech!  Hmm...  Maybe he just can’t afford it?  Or is there something else here...

WE SHALL SEE!!!!!

[sluttysan]

ATEEZ trying mutual masturbation with you

✰Seonghwa:

Seonghwa is down to try anything that includes you and him in a bed naked together

And he already is a dominant person as your bf, but he’s still gentle and sweet

But he loved any chance to break out of his sweet and gentle nature

Which he never failed to show you when it comes to your sexual experiences with him

So you’ll always get a little bit more of his dominant side, even when he wasn’t allowed to touch you

And you bet he was more than ready to take you up on your offer

He finds fun in this way more than you’d think 

So you’ll be surprised to see how you will end up being the one who couldn't handle not touching him

And did he take this opportunity to tease you? 100% most definitely he did 

Seonghwa will keep eye contact as he rubbed his growing cock, saying the dirtiest shit to you

“Fuck, look how hard I am getting for you. Too bad you can’t suck me off” 

“You like watching me stroke my cock like this, don’t you?”

He’ll even start instructing you on how to touch yourself

“Open your legs wider, let daddy see you finger yourself”

His eye contact will be so intense

Ends up controlling the situation

“Don’t cum without me”

When he lets you cum, he’ll continue to watch you 

Then he’d release himself, groaning shamelessly as he cums on his thigh

✰Hongjoong:

Is crazy in love with masturbating with you

Like the idea is so exhilarating to him

Boy strokes his cock very quickly 

And moans super loudly

Enjoys it more than you do tbh

Like doing something he once only did in private in front of you was exciting to him

Edges himself to try to last longer than you

Like he’ll jerk himself off until he feels like he’ll cum

But then he’ll stop himself and catch his breath

Is the type to still find ways to touch you

Bc as much as he tried, he just has to

Like when you least expect it, he’ll grab you by the neck and sloppily makeout with you for like 10 secs

And his lips would be on yours before you could do anything about it cheater

He’ll also nibble on your neck 

But like it’s helping you get closer to your climax so you wouldn’t mind

He really gets lost in the moment tbh and will probably end up cumming before you anyways

Expect to witness how he sounds as he’s getting himself off when you’re not around

Like how he’d let out a few staggering moans and grunt as he came

And he cums all over his stomach

If you’re still not done, he’ll offer to eat you out until you were

✰Yunho:

Let’s be honest, Yunho is lowkey a very dirty minded one

Like normally, he’s a soft ass who makes jokes that genuinely make you laugh sometimes

But he’s a completely different person when it comes to all things sexual 

And he’s down to try almost anything with you

But when you brought mutual masturbation on the table, he would giggle

Normally, he’d stop being goofy when it comes to said sexual things, especially when you’re going to be completely naked

But you two were masturbating by each other in bed, and he found that to be kind of funny a childish man™

But then he would hate the idea of not being able to touch you

So he really though this through before agreeing

Even though he knew it wasn't his cup of tea, he decided to do it once for you

He was still going to have fun with you regardless

Ok so probably halfway in, he somehow turns it into a competition bc boy’s competitive 

So he’ll watch your every move and tries to make himself last as long as you

"You’re going to cum before me, I just know it”

You two would end up competing to see who cums last

And he’ll hold it in until you couldn’t

You could see him struggle to hold himself in, but as soon you came, so did he

Cums all over the sheets same as if he were by himself

Laughs afterwards, telling you to never suggest that ever again unless you wanted to lose...again

✰Yeosang:

Tbh is so fucking awkward about it at first

Like he’ll mess up with even taking off his own clothes bc he has no clue on what to expect

Is quiet at the start

Is a bit timid because he’s jerking off while you’re there, something he usually just did by himself

Even though you’re also touching yourself, he still feels shy

But once he sees that you’re getting into it, you’ll see him grow 

His eyes would go back and forth between your face to your fingers

He’d lick his lips as he watched you rubbed your clit and finger yourself

He’ll move closer to you, groaning and enthralled, looking down at his own cock occasionally as he played with himself 

He finds that he actually likes it...well, for the most part

He’d like it even more if you let him at least kiss you

Yeosang’s very sensual when it comes to doing intimate things with you

So he would end up kissing you deeply as he continued to stroke himself

And his kisses would be so slow and comforting

So if you were nervous before, like him, you’ll both end up enjoying it more than when you started

It would be a pretty lengthy experience with him, and he prefers to take his time with it

Yeosang would make it into something more than just masturbating next to each other

And he’s very patient with you, so if you weren’t ready to cum at the same time he was, he wouldn’t mind holding it in 

Would love to cum on your stomach or anywhere on your body since you’re there, he finds it more intimate that way

✰San:

When you first ask San to try it, he’s super excited

Like this boy will love trying anything sexual with you

But then almost instantly regrets it

He just would not have the patience

Literally this boy could probs jerk off 2-3x a day easily 

You would think he would be into it for that reason alone 

But honestly he would rather not touch himself when you’re literally right there

And he’ll tell you that

“wHy CaN’t wE jUsT fUcK?” annoying ass

Like you being right in front of him while he touches himself is one thing

And you being naked is another thing

But you touching yourself while naked??? and in front of him??? 

And you’re telling him he can touch himself but can’t touch you????

That’s a big FUCK and NO in San’s book

Will most definitely try to touch you, so you’re going to have to swat his hand away multiple times

Does it on purpose and it’s obvious

“Are you sure you don’t want me to do that for you?”

Honestly you’re going to have to deal with him one of two ways  

You could 1. promise to try something he’s been wanting to try with you

And just like that, he would switch up and comply with you

Like suddenly there would be enthusiasm

However, this lil shit would just hurry up and try his best to cum fast so he could get it over with so he could try that new something

Or 2. just give the boy the head/quickie he wants

Either way, San wins

✰Mingi:

First of all, Mingi would try anything with you, no matter how unsure he was about it

And boy was he unsure about this

But he’ll try his best bc he's whipped for you

Expect lots of questions though

“So I just touch myself?”

“Mhm.”

“Like this?”

“Mingi, have you not masturbated before”

You’re going to be the one guiding him since he’s never done it before in front of you or probably anyone 

Is so fucking nervous and might need a little help getting hard at first

“Just touch yourself like how you normally would”

“...Okay, I’ll try”

And so he’ll close his eyes and naturally start stroking himself as if he’s the only one there

Breathes loudly and bites his lip, and he’ll open his eyes to look at you every now and then 

His glancing will turn into staring and admiring you

Becomes so tempted to touch you

Especially when you’re sprawled out like that with your legs spread as you’re moaning and watching him back

It makes him so weak

“I really want to touch you right now, baby. This is so hard”

But doesn’t reach out to touch you or anything bc he wants to still give it his all for you

Asks if you were close, and waits so that you both could cum together

He really just wants to take in whatever he could from the experience

Releases himself quietly bc he likes hearing your moans

So much more when he hears you moan his name

Leaves a mess as he’s cumming, gets a little bit on you

Would only try it again if you two were going to touch each other, bc he would find it more enjoyable that way

✰Wooyoung:

Another impatient bitch

Literally whines the entire time

Doesn’t get the point of doing it because you’re right there

“Let’s just have sex instead”-Wooyoung one minute in

You probably won’t enjoy it for this reason in particular

Tries to get you to change your mind about trying it out

“Wouldn’t it be better if I finger you and you jerk me off? Wouldn’t that be more fun?”

“I feel like if I wanted to touch myself I would do it on my own, you know?”

When he sees you wouldn’t let him get his way, he stops pleading with you and gives you what you want

So he’ll pretend he’s getting into it

And you’ll never know he was just faking 

That's his way of finding a way out of it 

Bc this one was not about to cum from stroking himself when you’re with him

So you better believe he’ll stroke himself super slowly and just wait for you to cum first

And the second you do so, it gets him even hornier

So before you knew it, he’ll be on top of you 

“Well, looks like I failed at this. I have no choice but to fuck you”

You’ll probably never try this with him again bc this one practically sees it as a form of torture

✰Jongho:

Tbh when you bring it up with Jongho, he’ll be confused

Like it didn’t make sense for you to touch yourself in front of him when he was there, and vice versa

Goes in very skeptical, but he’ll still try it with you bc you wanted to

Doesn’t get hard right away because he’s extremely shy about it

Like even just normal intimacy with you made him hella shy already 

So jerking off in front of you is something he's not going to get used to any time soon

Thinks it’s something that should just stay in private

So he’ll have that mindset going though with it

But again, bc he loves you, he’ll do it with you

Even though he’d rather touch you and not himself at the moment

So he’d sigh and agree reluctantly

But when he sees you enjoying yourself, he starts growing and getting all hot and bothered

And he’ll have a change of heart when he hears you moaning his name

Is more fascinated with how you masturbate more than anything

“Is...this how you do it all the time? You moan my name?”

So he’ll end up watching you for the most part and doesn’t really tend to himself

So his hands just kind of sit on his hard member, rubbing slowly at the sight of you

Before he knew it, you’ll end up cumming before him

And then he’ll feel awkward bc you’re already finished and just watching him touch himself

You’re probably going to help him finish bc he was now sexually frustrated and unable to cum on his own

[angelkurenai]

Happily ever after - Jensen Ackles x Reader

Title: Happily ever after

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x Reader

Warnings: None

Prompt: Can you write a Jensen x Reader where the reader is like 24 and a shy, aspiring author who owns a bookstore. Jensen goes in one day and sees her and talks to her but she’s really awkward and quiet. He’s nervous to ask her out and comes back virtually every day to talk to her and then finally gets the courage to ask her out? Thanks!

You had been staring and rereading the same line for what felt like an eternity now. But despite how interesting the book was, your mind simply refused to focus on it and just like a clockwork, you'd glance every one minute at the clock on the wall. Chewing on your lower lip, nervous and disappointed to see that time just refused to pass by. You shook your head and let out a frustrated sigh. Wether you were frustrated with time for not going by faster or yourself for being unable to stop thinking so much about it, or maybe him, you didn't know. You just wished you could stop.

Just like you could wish you'd stop jumping and looking at the door every time the bell rang. Because you only got disappointed to see it was another customer, which shouldn't really be the normal reaction for any bookstore owner that wanted and needed to make money but it happened inevitably; your heart dropped and a small sad sigh left your lips. The things that man did to you.

You gave a small smile to the newest customer, adding a “If you need any help don't hesitate to ask me.” and when you got a nod from the girl, you went back to fidgeting with the page of your book.

You could stop looking at either the clock or the door, hoping he'd walk in any minute now the way he'd done all that time ago and put your wildly-beating heart to rest, or at least calm a bit.

-Flashback-

“Uhm hello?” you heard a gruff voice only a couple seconds right after the small bell on the door rang, indicating a new customer was in “Is anybody here?”

“Be right there with you in a sec!” you said as loud and clear as you possibly could, trying to pile up all the books you needed to carry but only managing to take hold of half of them. Yet somehow you managed to hide yourself behind the pile. Your steps were careful and slow, making sure no books fell over as you brought them all to the front desk.

“Are you sure you don't want any help with that?” you heard the voice say in sympathy, the fact that sounded so familiar totally going over your head because of how focused you were to balance everything. The only glimpse you got was of a tall and broad figure but again didn't give it a second thought.

“Nope, I'm for most part fine. Almost. But you're the customer so- whoa!” you stopped for a second when the books swinged in your hands “Kind of the policy here, it's my job to help you. But, you know, maybe if you were Dean Winchester I really think I'd use that extra hand.”

An undeniably beautiful chuckle left his lips and was soon followed by the words “Not exactly, but I'm probably the closest you'll get to that.”

And this time it did register in your mind, which you regretted because it made your balance slip away in a matter of second. Your curiosity and hopes got the best of you and you dared look past your books to meet the ever-so-striking green eyes of the man you'd just thought about. And it happened just like that, in mere seconds, that the books were falling right off your hands.

“Shit” you winced when one or two, or more, books hit your leg.

“Oh fuck I'm so sorry. I didn't mean for this to happen!” he, being ever the wonderful guy, hurried to help you pick up all the scattered books.

“N-no, please, no. This- it's my fault and this is my job, there is no need for you to-” you sad in one breath, hurrying to gather everything and hopefully embarrass yourself less.

“Are you kidding me? This is my fault, please just let me help you.” he still insisted, and didn't even wait for another 'no' as he started picking up books as well.

“I'm such a clums sometimes, y-you don't have to.” you mumbled, growing more embarrassed with each second passing by.

“Well, I certainly didn't make things easier, did I? In fact I-” he started but the moment he looked up it was as if the entire world stopped spinning.

Almost as if time froze. And definitely everything around him except for you became blurry. He had heard the phrase so many times, all of them actually, sometimes from his own father at least when he was mostly younger but could never believe them. He thought about how he heard it over and over again when watching a movie, mostly his mother's favorite ones, while growing up. If only she saw the scene play out in front of her, she'd say it was meant to be but he couldn't let himself believe it. He had never truly believed in something like this, despite how much he'd always wanted as he remembered. And he certainly remembered reading about it over and over again, every time the author would use their own unique words put perfectly together in different sentences that got his attention but never to the point where he could feel it. Not the way he felt it when he looked back at you.

It was one of the cheesiest things he could ever experience, one of the most surreal ones and one he always believed was simply not real. A moment he wouldn't experience, even with the woman that he would end up marrying – if he ended up finding her that is. And apparently he just had, and the thought scared and excited him at the same time.

“A-are- are you alright?” you stuttered softly, eyes big and beautiful as you stared up at him, pausing for a second from gathering all the books.

But no response.

“Mr Ackles? Mr Ackles are you alright? Did any of the books hit you o-or something?” you quickly resumed to gathering a few more “If so, I'm terribly sorry.”

“I'm- I-” he blinked rapidly, shaking his head when he realized he was probably acting like an idiot. Long gone was the confidence he usually carried around after years of being an actor. He really thought after so much time, he had things under control and looked like a man who really knew how to carry himself not that he really needed to. But apparently when did need it the most, it all came crumbling down and he was feeling no older than 16 again with two shaky hands and dry mouth that refused to form any words.

“N-no.” he admitted shakily, forcing his eyes to focus on the books he was gathering and then maybe he'd remember how to breathe again “I am sorry. That- that was probably a terrible... joke. I suppose. I just-” he cleared his throat, freezing for a moment when he realized you had both gathered all your books and he'd have to look up again and see you. He didn't know what was more scary: his excitement at the prospect and his eagerness or his fear that he'd screw up. “I just wanted to make things a little more uhm comfortable. I realized that I probably didn't though. It just...” and there you knocked his breath away when your eyes met.

“I-” he blinked “I always get a bit too excited when I meet a fan. Unless you're... probably not one and only have watched like an episode or two. Which would now make this even more awkward because I guess it's a bit stupid to instantly think-”

“Mr Ackles!” you nearly yelped and he immediately pressed his lips together. Realization dawned on him that he was indeed rambling and because of that, he felt heat rise up his neck to his cheeks and ears. “There's nothing wrong with assuming I am a fan. I've actually been one for very long a-and I'm kind of... sort of... maybe... totally freaking out on the inside right now. Mr Ackles.” gosh, your soft giggle had to be the most beautiful sound he'd heard in his entire life. Alright, that was it. Great. He was a gonner.

It was like breathing. He tried to stop it but it was only for so ling he could resist it. The geedy feeling in his chest turning into that of excitement and pure happiness when you confirmed you were indeed a fan. He never thought that he'd wish for it but even more he wished deep down that you were one of those fans that did feel a different kind of way than-

He cleared his throat but in reality wanted to shake off the new kind of hope he had never felt before in his life “Please, Mr Ackles is my father. I'm just... Jensen. I'm not that old... hopefully?”

“No, of course not Mr- Jensen. You're not old at all Jensen, and I am not that young myself.” you gave him an insanely adorable smile that was adorned by the soft red of your cheeks. You cleared your throat softly “Anyway, how could I help you? I'm assuming you're looking for a book. Supernatural maybe? I've certainly got those! No wonder you'll be able to relate with one of the characters, although at some point it might get, well, predictable.”

Sadly a moment of silence followed after your small joked which made your smile fall. Granted, he was too caught admiring the way you spoke so softly that your voice calmed him down and your presence seemed to give him a new kind of sense he had never felt before, that he didn't hear a word you said.

You winced “Terrible one, wasn't it? I- I'm sorry.” you looked down, shaking your head “I should just focus on my job. Uh what- what were you look-”

“What's your name?” his lips formed the words even before his brain could comprehend it. It was his turn to wince this time “Sorry uh that came out a bit weird. I uh just- you know my name a-and I really wanted to-”

“(Y/n). (Y/n) (Y/l/n).” you said softly, a smile barely visible on your lips but he certainly caught it “And it's ok, I- I suppose I'm acting a little weird because I honestly didn't expect that. I'm 24 and acting like I'm 16 again and it's totally unprofessional, I know.”

“Feeling's mutual.” he wished so bad he could say out loud but oh it would make things even more awkward and he didn't want it. So instead he said “No, I'd say quiet the opposite. I'm just not making it easy for you, I'm sorry for that.” he paused, rubbing the back of his neck “So you probably need help with those books?” he asked again when he realized you were struggling to put one on the top shelf.

“No, please, I've got it under control.” and you did “Besides, it's fine, you're the customer you don't have to apologize for anything.” you shrugged slightly, focusing more on putting every book in its rightful place mostly to avoid meeting his eyes “So, how can I help you?” there was something different in your voice and he realized it was your effort to avoid being any more awkward - not that he was feeling any more confident himself but at least he did do a good job at pretending to be.

Uhm well, I'm looking for a gift and the person it's meant for really likes Stephen King's writing, so I figured that a book or two for her birthday would be nice.” he saw you give a small nod, moving away from the front desk towards another place of the bookstore “She has read almost every book so I have only a few options left and every bookstore I've been to didn't have any of it. Hard to come by I suppose.”

“Stephen King, that's a great choice right there! Sometimes I swear there is nothing else I would want to read other than his books.” you said softly “Even more often, I swear there isn't a bigger inspiration than his writing. And as it seems... this is your lucky day, Jensen.”

he couldn't help want to focus only on you at the moment. You and the smile that was on your lips but you didn't really seem to notice. You seemed like the person that it would be hard for him to get a word out of you, quiet and reserved; but perhaps – and hopefully – for everything else but books. If it wasn't such a heartwarming sight that made him never want to pull his eyes away from you then he would have noticed the small chair on his way and not run straight into it, which of course he didn't until he had almost knocked it down. He was thankfully fast to catch it before it could draw your attention and he was sure he wasn't going to survive the embarrassment of that too.

“Trust me, I have a great feeling it is.” he almost whispered, or maybe he did, but he was fast to clear his throat and say even louder “I'm taking it you have Stephen King books?”

“I have all the Stephen King books.” you said with a smile full of pride and it managed to make his own smile resurface although, he wondered, had it ever disappeared? He doubted that. “So if there is one or two she hasn't read, then this is the place to find them. Your girlfriend is a very lucky one today too.”

“Oh oh no!” did he say faster than he should have? Probably yes, but he couldn't fight this. He didn't want you to think there was somebody else in his life for reasons that... he was probably a bit scared to admit to his own self too. “No, she's... she's just a friend. Only a friend. Nothing more. Now that I think about it she's probably a very very distant relative or something like that. I'm pretty sure her aunt is-” but he stopped himself when he realized he was spilling unnecessary information to make any fear or doubt disappear. And when he actually saw the relief flash through your eyes he let himself relax as well.

“Oh great!” it was that very small word that so easily had his heart jumping out of his chest “I- I mean, it's great to have such a good friend as yourself to get her a Stephen King book. I think a book in general is the best one.”

“I'm assuming you would too?” he asked softly and you hummed, nodding your head “You uhm you said something about inspiration too. Are you, maybe, studying anything in college concerning Literature o-or something similar?” he felt like he was pushing his luck but he couldn't stop it. His curiosity and need to know you more.

“Well, more like aspiring to... you know, become an author myself.” you said in a low voice

“Really?” the awe in his voice when he breathed out the words managed to make you visibly relax “That's incredible!” and instantly he felt so proud for the smile he managed to elicit from you “I can't even begin to describe how much I admire people that can write stories, let alone books. Being an author must be so hard but so exciting at the same time.”

“Yeah, I mean sometimes. But nothing can compare to the sheer joy I get when I create new characters and a new world every time you start a story. I- I feel like I could go on about writing or reading books for hours to no end. Hence why-” you looked around you “This bookstore. There's always plenty of inspiration around here, both literally and metaphorically. More so than my own home.”

“I can certainly imagine a bookstore is like heaven for an author and this one... you've done an incredible job with it. Does feel very homey if you ask me. Have you had it for a while now?”

He really didn't want to intrude in any kind of way and definitely didn't want to look like some kind of creep. But when the questions poured out one after the other, there was no stopping them simply because with every word he got out of you he felt like craved for more just like he craved air when he held his breath for too long.

Someone would say he could easily all those and just as many questions he wanted to get to know you over a nice dinner but if only Jensen had had enough courage. That day or any other upcoming one.

-End of Flashback-

You told yourself over and over again that you wouldn't look at the door every time you heard the bell rang because apparently the universe had decided to turn this into a busy hour, with new customers walking in every couple minutes. And yet every time you told yourself that, you went ahead and looked. You were sure that the one time you didn't look it would be him and sure, every time you resisted longer to glance but in the end you always did.

Some customers came and went, some even bought books which you were thankful for because they kept you away from your thoughts. And, once more, as if the universe wanted to play some sort of joke on you; the very second you actually forgot why you were so impatient today – the feeling was still there no matter what – there he was. You almost yelped in surprise, because it was still Jensen Ackles and even after so long you were so not used to this, but his smile thankfully immediately made you relax.

“Jensen , hey.” you breathed out, only for his smile to widen if possible “I was actually starting to worry you wouldn't show up.” you wanted to kick yourself for what you just said.

“You tell me.” he sighed, still keeping the fond smile on his lips “Jared kept... messing up his lines and teasing me and we barely got a scene done in time. Today of all days he chose bring it up all the time and make me even more nervous.” he rambled as he rubbed his eyes.

“Nervous about what? And... teasing you about what exactly?” you asked with a frown and he seemed to freeze for a moment.

“I'm uh- I mean I- Uhm–“ he probably looked like a deer caught on headlights. He had prepared for this, he had been preparing and thinking about it for far too long but he had hoped he'd have a couple more minutes so all in all he didn't feel prepared at all.

“'S ok, don't need to get so flustered with me Ackles.” you said softly but actually with a teasing tone that after all this time you had finally just gotten comfortable enough to use around him “Plus, remembering how to breathe would be nice to, you know, keep living?”

“Well someone's in a good mood today.” his eyes met yours as he whispered softly in addition “I'm really happy to see you like this.”

“I'm happy to be like this too.” you returned the look “But don't think this gets you off the hook. You were still considerably late today Mr. Ackles to the point I thought you weren't interested to hear how the story goes on.”

“Trust me, I would never dare miss the continuation and you know you have me on edge already. Plus-” it was getting harder to swallow and he was this close to just running away... if it wasn't for him making a fool of himself and having waited for this moment for so long that is “To make up to you for the time we uhm wasted here because I was late how about we continue this outside of your work. As in- as in see each other besides when you're at work? You know, go somewhere nice or for a drink after- after you've closed the bookstore? Or anywhere you'd-”

“Jens” you cut him off gently and deep down he was thankful because he feared he was going to keep rambling like a flustered 16-year-old forever “Are you... asking me out?”

“Well, I uh- I-” but he shook his had a bit, taking a deep breath “Yes, yes I am. So, (Y/n), would you like to go out with me... on a date, today after your work's over?”

[minijenn]

A Whole Mess of Unused Keys To The Kingdom Content

Because sometimes when I’m working on Keys, I get overzealous and write scenes that don’t contribute anything so I decide to cut them out or change them to make the flow better. So here’s a bunch of unfinished scenes from the first third of the fic (since we just passed the first third of it, I’m sure I’ll make a follow up to this once we get 2/3s done with it). Make of these what you will, I’ll try my best to explain why they were cut as we go along: 

From Chapter 7; I largely cut this bit when I remembered Kairi would actually know who Aerith is because of KH1, but of course I didn’t remember that until AFTER I wrote this scene out, either way its a pleasant interaction between the two, I think, even if I cut it because it makes no sense in terms of what actually happened in past games (I also had to straight up screencap this one bc its on word and my use of word expired so it won’t let me straight up copy stuff anymore lol): 

From Ch. 17; I originally wanted the Moana chapters to sort of carry all of the same songs as the movie did? And for the most part they do, what with Your Welcome and Know Who You Are and stuff like that but when I got to Tamatoa, I realized that the Shiny scene just wasn’t working as a musical number, hence I rewrote the whole thing and cut all this out: 

“Because if you are… I will gladly do so. In song form!”

Sora and Moana only had the briefest chance to look to each other, absolutely confused before Tamatoa launched into said song, one that was filled with nothing but all the self-adulation the crab could possibly give. Which, of course, was quite a lot. 

“Well, Tamatoa hasn’t always been this glam. 

I was a drab little crab once. 

Now I know I can be happy as a clam,

Because I’m beautiful, baby!”

To show off said beauty, Tamatoa began to spin around his cavern, allowing the mass of treasure he’d collected to glisten off its walls as he continued to latch onto his captive pair all the while. 

“Did your granny say listen to your heart?

Be who you are on the inside?

I need three words to tear her argument apart:

Your granny LIED!

I’d rather be shiny!

Like a treasure from a sunken pirate wreck,

Scrub the deck, 

And make it look shiny! 

I will sparkle like a wealthy woman’s neck--

Just a sec-”

Tamatoa’ already wide grin grew as he glance up at the pool of water hanging above his head, one that was filled with a swarming school of fish just waiting to be devoured. 

“Dontcha know--

Fish are dumb, dumb, dumb,

They chase anything that glitters!

Beginners! 

Oh, and here they come, come, come, 

To the brightest thing that glitters!”

The giant crab opened his maw wide as the fish swam down toward him, attracted by his glistening glow as they fell directly into his waiting mouth. 

“Mm, fish dinners!

I just love free food,

And you look like seafood…”

From Ch. 22; I’m surprised the longest chapter of Keys so far doesn’t have more cut content but I had started writing this bit before realizing that it would have been redundant. I wanted this information to be explained to Sora and the reader at the same time to give it more potency and emotional weight, hence why I cut this out (also cut it out to give more flow following the scene between Kairi and Axel near the beginning of the chapter that this would have immediately been after): 

Despite this reassuring thought, the mood the pair was met with upon venturing back into the house was anything but based on the first thing they heard upon entering. “What do you mean there’s nothing more you can do for him?!” Donald asked, both him and Goofy looking to Aerith for answers. 

For her part, Aerith still remained as calm as she had been before, though she did let out a small, sad sigh, stealing a glance back at Sora as he lay, still unconscious, on the makeshift cot behind her. “I’ve healed just about all of his wounds, but… to be honest, there weren’t even that many of them,” she began to explain. “The problem is that he was poisoned. Heavily poisoned at that.”

“So? Can’t ya just get rid of the poison using some sort of spell?” Yuffie asked. 

Aerith shook her head. “I tried that, several different spells in fact, but… none of them worked. I’ve never seen anything like it before. Whatever kind of magic Maleficent created it from must have been very powerful and very devastating, but… she definitely knew what she was doing when she cast it on him. It’s like she gave him just enough to incapacitate him completely. Any more than what’s already flowing through his blood stream would have-” She stopped short as she happened to glance over Kairi’s way, a brief spark of dread flashing through her expression before she put a hasty end to her explanation. “Um… n-never mind.”

From Ch. 26; the longest cut scene so far, pretty much a song-less version of I’ve Got a Dream (which I happen to be listening to while posting this, oh the irony); It’s a cute, fun little scene but it ultimately adds nothing to either the Tangled side of things or the original Keys side of things. In fact it kind of ruined the entire chapter’s pacing as a whole (I didn’t cut this out until the chapter was done as a matter of fact). Anyway here it is, because I still like it but again, it brought the chapter crawling to a huge grinding halt and I didn’t want that: 

“But more might show up,” Sora pointed out. “It’s hard to tell when they might-”

“Yep, exactly,” Flynn interjected hastily. “Which is why maybe we should get out of the woods for a bit. Just to wait ‘em out. Is anyone hungry? I know a great place for lunch.”

“Lunch?” Sora raised a curious eyebrow at this. “I thought you wanted to get to the kingdom as soon as possible.”

“Yeah, well, we can’t do that on an empty stomach,” Flynn urged the others to follow him. “Now come on. You’ll know the place when you smell it.”

***

The place Flynn led the group to was rather underwhelming compared to how he’d described it:  a squat, rather misshapen building that certainly looked its age based on the withering wood it was built from. It was practically propped up against the overgrown tree it stood in the shadows of, casting the entire restaurant in a rather shady light. 

“Aaaaand here we are!” Flynn grinned in satisfaction as he began making his way down the path that led to the diner. “The Snuggly Duckling. Don’t worry, very quaint place, perfect for you, blondie. Don’t want you scaring again and giving up on this whole endeavor now, do we?”

“Well… I do like ducklings,” Rapunzel shrugged with an oblivious smile. 

“Yay!” Flynn returned her bright grin almost mockingly. 

“So, what makes this place so ‘great’ anyway?” Sora asked, curiously. 

“Oh, you’ll see…” Flynn said, an air of mystery even as he threw the restaurant's door open. “Garcon! Your finest table, please!”

Rapunzel couldn’t hold back a terrified gasp upon getting her first glimpse at the other patrons of the restaurant. If there were any men who fit the description of “ruffians and thugs” perfectly, then they were all right at home in this restaurant, or tavern, to be more precise. The dingy dining room was packed with all manner of big, burly men, a vast majority of whom were scarred, unwashed, or weapon-wielding as they all turned their intimidating glares toward the group that had just stepped through the door. Rapunzel didn’t hesitate to lift her frying pan up in self defense and likewise, the trio was somewhat on edge as well, only barely hesitating to summon their weapons since none of the thugs had really made a move to attack them. Even so, they didn’t really rule out the option that they might based on the threatening manner they all mutually carried. 

“You smell that?” Flynn was still grinning as he began to guide Rapunzel onward into the tavern, despite the fact that she was clearly terrified by the frightening assemblage around her. “Take a deep breath through the nose. Really let that seep in. What are you guys getting? To me, it’s part man-smell, and the other part is really bad man-smell. I don’t know why, but overall it smells like the color brown. Your thoughts, sunshine?” he asked Rapunzel, who let out a horrified gasp as one of the thugs suddenly grabbed her hair. 

“That’s a lot of hair…” the thug noted, even as Rapunzel hastily pulled it away from him so she could flee. 

“She’s growing it out,” Flynn remarked. “Say, is that blood in your mustache? Blondie, look at all the blood in his mustache!”

“Hey, Flynn?” Sora interjected, his expression aptly suspicious in light of the circumstances. “What’s the big idea here?” 

“Why, I have no idea what you mean, kid,” Flynn rebuffed, feigning innocence. “I just wanted to give blondie a taste of a real five star establishment here.”

“This is what you call five-star?” Donald asked dubiously. 

“...More or less.”

“I dunno… Rapunzel looks awfully scared... “ Goofy frowned, glancing over at Rapunzel, who had essentially backed herself into a corner, her hair bundled up in her arms and her frying pan still held at the ready to attack. 

“Well, hey, you know, if that’s the case, then maybe we should just take her home and call it a day,” Flynn shrugged apathetically. “She’d probably be better off anyway. If she can’t handle this place, then maybe she should just go back to her tower.”

Despite his smooth, convincing grin, the trio only offered him a shared, disapproving glance at this, none of them on board with his plan to coax Rapunzel back into the sheltered, stifled life she’d known before. Still, Flynn didn’t get much of a chance to sway them otherwise as one of the larger thugs suddenly spun him around roughly to face him. 

“Is this you?” the thug asked, pointing to the wanted poster in his hand that sure enough, depicted Flynn Rider. 

“Uh… n-no?” Flynn shrugged, hoping the man would somehow believe him. 

“Oh, it’s him alright,” another thug, one with a hoof in the place of one of his hands, spoke up with a greedy grin. “You!” he pointed to another nearby ruffian. “Go get some guards. And as for you,” the thug used his hook to pull Flynn in by the collar of his shirt. “That reward is gonna buy me a new hook.”

“I could use the money,” another thug stepped in, grabbing Flynn roughly before another one did the same. 

“What about me? I’m broke!”

“No, that reward is mine!”

“But I want it!”

From there, an all out brawl began to break out between the thugs, with each of them clamoring to apprehend Flynn so they could claim the hefty prize that came along with his capture. Rapunzel and the trio were aptly startled by this sudden, violent shift, and even though they were greatly outnumbered, they all rushed in to try to put a stop to it. 

“R-ruffians! Please, stop!” Rapunzel cried anxiously. 

“Yeah! Leave him alone!” Sora shouted, finally calling upon his Keyblade. Donald and Goofy gaped at this, both of them realizing that Sora was more than likely to get himself into an unnecessary scuffle in doing so, but that hardly seemed to matter to him as he joined Rapunzel in trying to pick through the burly crowd Flynn was struggling to escape. 

The hook-handed thug was just about posed to land a heavy blow to Flynn’s jaw to cease that struggle when Rapunzel finally put a stark end to the aggressive outburst. All it took was using her hair as a whip to land a sharp, yet effective blow to said thug’s bald head, to get everyone to freeze in surprise at just how bold this unassuming girl seemed to be. 

“Put him down!” Rapunzel ordered fiercely, catching an ire-filled glare from the thug in the process. She gasped, afraid as the thug began to approach her, pulling out the axe hanging from his back as he did. Fortunately for her though, Sora hurried in to her defense just in time. 

“Back off!” he warned, brandishing his Keyblade against the much-larger thug’s weapon. 

“Tch, what are you gonna do with a key that fancy, kid?” the thug sneered. “Unlock the world’s biggest door?”

“Oh, believe me, you don’t wanna see what I can really do with it,” Sora retorted, more than ready to use it to keep both Rapunzel and Flynn safe. 

“Sora-” Donald and Goofy tried to mutually protest, though it didn’t really do much good as the thug inched his axe in closer. 

“Try me,” he growled coldly.

“W-wait!” Rapunzel interrupted from her spot behind Sora, not wanting to see any additional fighting break out. “L-listen, “ she pleaded with the hook-handed thug. “I don’t know where I am, and I need him,” she pointed her frying pan at Flynn, who was still being held aloft by the rest of the thugs. “To take me to see the lanterns because I’ve been dreaming about seeing them my entire life! Find your humanity! Haven’t any of you ever had a dream?!”

The thug said nothing to this at first, his expression still just as stoic as dense silence filled the bar. That is, until that stoicism finally wavered into a softer, wistful expression. “I… had a dream once…” With this, he tossed his axe aside, and as it struck one of the bar’s already weapon-ridden walls, he headed over to the piano on stage and began to play a surprisingly jaunty, upbeat tune. “I’ve always yearned to be a concert pianist!”

At this, the other thugs in the pub began to ease up a bit as well as a few of them started voicing their own hopes and dreams. “I really want to make a love connection!” a rather large-nosed ruffian proclaimed with a romantic gleam in his eyes. 

“I want to quit and be a florist!” another thug cried as he quickly began fashioning a surprisingly lovely floral arrangement. 

“Interior design!” a ruffian remarked with a flippant flair as he expertly rearranged a small corner of the pub. 

“Ulf here is into mine,” a thug pointed out his companion, who sure enough was playfully miming next to where Flynn was sullenly hanging as he watched this ridiculous display play out. Even so, Rapunzel was instantly charmed by it, and likewise, the trio eased up, confused yet curious to see where this bizarre and wholesome scene might be going. 

“You have to try Attila’s cupcakes, they’re sublime!” 

“I knit!”

“I sew!”

“I do little puppet shows!”

“And Vladimir collects ceramic unicorns!” 

“What about you?” the hook handed man asked Flynn with a suspicious glare. 

“I’m sorry, me?” Flynn scoffed, rolling his eyes. 

“What’s your dream?” the big-nosed thug pulled him down off the hook he was hanging from. 

“No, no, boys,” he rebuffed with a laugh. “I’m not into the whole sappy dream thing.” He quickly changed his tune however, as just about all of the thugs pointed their deadly weapons right at him threateningly. “Ah-ha… o-ok, well… I-I’d like to be filthy rich and live on my own private island faaaar away from anyone else. Does that work for you fellas, or what?”

The thugs let out a rowdy shout, catching Flynn off guard once more as they all threw him up into the air once more. At the same time, Rapunzel climbed up onto one of the tables, more than eager to voice her own life-long desire as well. “I’ve got a dream too!” she announced brightly, all of the thugs turning to her to hear it. “I want to see the floating lanterns! You know, today’s the first time I’ve ever left my tower, but I’m so glad I did after everything I’ve seen and all of the lovely people I’ve met like all of you!” The thugs all let out a solid cheer of support at this as Rapunzel grinned down at the trio standing on the ground next to her. “What about you guys?” she asked them curiously. “Do you have a dream too?”

“Oh, uh…” Sora hesitated, facing sudden scrutiny from both the thugs and from Donald, who was sending him the unspoken order to maintain the world order in his answer. “W-we… we want to find a special Key and use it and a bunch of others to help our friends!” he proclaimed, knowing that was a very simplified version of the whole story, but fortunately, it was enough to satisfy his companions and the pug thugs alike. 

“So you see?” Rapunzel turned back to the thugs, still maintaining her warm grin. “We’re all not so different after all! We all have dreams we want to see come true someday!”

The thugs and ruffians all let out another round of cheers at this, their excitement palpable in the aftermath of everyone sharing those dreams. The levity wasn’t able to last too long, however, as the tavern door burst open to reveal the thug that had been sent off just a while ago. “I’ve found the guards!” he announced, sending a startled ripple through the entire pub. 

Even so, Flynn wasted no time in grabbing Rapunzel and the trio alike at this, pulling them all out of sight as  a handful of armored soldiers stormed in. “Where’s Rider?!” the captain demanded. “Where is he?! I know he’s in here somewhere. Find him! Turn the place upside down if you have to!”

The captain only barely missed spotting the group hiding under the bar, not really having anywhere else to go, especially as even more guards filed in. Flynn narrowly peaked over the edge of the bar to see that they weren’t the only ones either, as he just so happened to spot them toting in his now-arrested former partners in crime: the Stabbington Brothers. Former, in the sense that he’d been the one to abandon them with the prize they’d stolen together, not only to escape the guards but that first round of marauding Heartless alike. 

Yet despite Flynn’s apt panic at such a daunting situation, the entire group was caught off guard by the hook handed thug. He said nothing as he joined them behind the bar, instead nodding for the group to silently follow him over to the far side of it. From there, with the flick of a single inconspicuous switch, a secret door opened up, revealing a passageway down into a cavern that led out of the pub completely. Just about the best means of escape they were going to get, all things considered. 

“Go,” the thug whispered with a warm smile. “Live your dreams.”

“I will,” Flynn replied, immensely relieved. 

“Your dream stinks,” the thug scowled. “I was talking to them,” he nodded to Rapunzel and the trio. Flynn simply carried an annoyed scowl as he began to crawl into the passageway. 

“Thanks for everything,” Rapunzel said, the trio offering the same grateful sentiments as they also began to make their way into the cavern. They did so just in time as the hook-handed thug closed the door to the passage way up, concealing it from sight right before the guards began to search behind the bar, only to find not a single sign of Flynn Rider, or anyone else for that matter, to speak of. 

From Ch. 27: aka the chapter I’m currently working on. Idk Tangled has a lot of scenes that went unused in KH3′s take on things and I figured this one would be necessary to explain why Rapunzel and Eugene got separated but I only ended up writing a paragraph or so of it last night before deciding I wanted to shift focus back over to the trio instead at that point. So here it is: 

“Ah! There you are!” Eugene greeted the Stabbington Brothers with a show of faux camaraderie, knowing he was just about the last person they probably wanted to see in light of his earlier betrayal. “I’ve been searching everywhere for you guys since we got separated. The sideburns are coming in nice, huh?” The brothers simply eyed him harshly at this, silently telling him to get the point already. “A-anyhow, I just wanted to say that I shouldn’t have split. The crown is all yours.” He tossed the satchel their way, the crown spilling out of it as it landed. “I’ll miss you, but I think it’s for the… best...” 

He trailed off as one of the brothers stood to approach him, hardly paying any mind to the crown as he did. “Holding out on us again, eh, Rider?”

[artificialqueens]

Girls Interrupted, Chapter 2: She Wants To Dance Like Uma Thurman, But She Can’t (Vatya) 2/2 - Maeve

A/N: Hi, it’s Maeve here, and holy fuck this is long! Sorry for the wait, everyone, it’s been a real time. I’ll admit that I spent a lot of time collecting firsthand accounts of real teen parties because homegirl has never been to one of the cool kid ones. I feel no personal shame! I hope you all enjoy it. I’m a one woman show over here, but I’ve tried to be as accurate as possible with the characterization of the queens. There are some parts of this chapter that might be a little confusing, but that’s because the story is told through Katya’s eyes and she doesn’t always have all of the information. She will soon, though! As always, constructive criticism (really feedback of any kind) is welcome. If there’s interest, I’ll drop my sideblog one of these days. Here’s some petty teenage bullshit to take your mind off of the outside world.

What do normal people wear? What’s ‘in’ with the youths? Katya furrowed her brow. She grew out of following trends in middle school. The clothes weren’t her, and they didn’t magically assimilate her into a friend group either. So Katya was no manic pixie dream girl, more of a manic sexy carny And that was okay…most of the time. There would be a wide variety of teens at the party—Alaska ran in many different circles—but all of them had eyes, and Katya wasn’t about to make Alaska question her judgement over unironically worn Hawaiian print. She’d have to pass for artistically different. Dresses were risky, so Katya opted for a pair of skintight black denim shorts and a well-worn Warner Brothers Studios shirt. A good french tuck and a statement jacket were just enough to polish off her shabby-chic ensemble. It would have to be good enough.

Katya’s freshly washed hair had dried in loose waves that framed her face beautifully. Two things she refused to guilt herself into were shaving her legs and putting on makeup, and she wore her bangs down to hide the hairline she was so self-conscious about. It wasn’t like she was trying to impress anyone. Katya had given up on that a long, long time ago. She glanced at the clock. It was only a few minutes past 6:00. Living in a constant state of perpetual anxiety was a real bitch.

Katya sighed, Wheel of Fortune and Diet Coke it is. Her parents were at the neighborhood’s annual Back to School Barbecue, so she had the entire house to herself. She hoped there would be a familiar face or two—or at the very least caffeine—at Alaska’s house.

Katya could hear the music coming from the inside of Alaska’s house through her massive front door. It was a hot and humid evening, yet Katya chose to linger in the yard. She wasn’t the first one there, and she wouldn’t be the last one, either; there was just something about crossing the solid oak barrier that made her presence…pressing. Awkward, even.

Alaska wouldn’t have invited you if she didn’t want you to be here, Katya reminded herself. She knew this was true—Alaska Honard was an absolute sweetheart—but her paranoia got the best of her. She pulled out her phone and sent a message to ‘Bianca del Realest’:

I’m outside. Walk me in? I don’t wanna know if pigs’ blood comes out of denim.

Her phone vibrated seconds later with a response from Bianca:

Pussy.

Soon, the door opened, revealing a smug Bianca del Rio. Katya grinned, “Yes, I do have a pussy, mama, and I’m serving fish all night.”

Bianca howled, “I don’t put things in me if I don’t know where they’ve been, and you’re a filthy whore.”

“You rotted cunt! That was a rash, not a herpes sore!” Katya protested.

“Just get your ass in here, Zamo, before the neighbors call the police to report a solicitor on the premises,” Bianca stepped aside so Katya could enter.

The first thing she saw was an ornately framed oil painting of Alaska and her family. It had to be at least her height. “Holy mother of pearl…” Katya gaped.

“Mother of Alaska, actually. Father and sister, too,” Bianca corrected. Katya gave her a shove. “What? I do this out of love, honey.” The blonde rolled her eyes. “Come on, there’s someone I want you to meet,” Bianca grabbed hold of Katya’s arm and steered her towards the kitchen.

Alaska’s kitchen—which was a literal gourmet kitchen—was relatively empty save for an entire island of snacks and several coolers with drinks. She could still feel the thrum of the bass in her teeth, but the walls muffled the music’s full volume. What Katya found most shocking was actually who was in the kitchen. Trixie Mattel was leaning against the sink in a pair of light wash jeans and a flowing pink top.

Wow, Katya’s eyes went wide. She was in the same room as Trixie Mattel, about to be introduced by their apparently mutual friend, and she desperately needed to be able to pull herself together.

“Oh, honey, send in the clowns!” Trixie exclaimed, noticing Bianca’s return.

“I prefer to be called an erotic clown,” Bianca shot back. Katya snorted. “This is the creature I was telling you about.” Bianca gave Katya a small shove forward.

“Hi, I’m the chemical burn from the spiral perm, Trixie Mattel,” Trixie introduced herself extending a well-manicured hand. “I sit across from you in English, but we’ve never really talked.”

“Yekaterina Petrovna Zamolodchikova. But your dad just calls me Katya,” Katya winked and took Trixie’s hand, gently kissing her knuckles. Inside her head, Katya was screaming, Fuuuuuuuck. However, Trixie’s smile only grew. The life-sized Barbie doubled over with laughter.

Trixie turned to Bianca, “I’ll keep her!” Katya scrunched up her nose. She didn’t realize she was for sale.

“Just make sure to walk her often. She’s not house trained,” Bianca warned.

Katya wasn’t given the chance to retort because the door that connected the main room to the backyard flew open, and all three girls reached to cover their ears as Travis Scott’s voice grew three times as loud. An out-of-breath Jinkx Monsoon stood in the doorway, and her mouth began to move.

“What?” Bianca shouted over Sicko Mode.

Jinkx came further into the kitchen and screamed, “I said the hotshots just pulled up! If you don’t wanna get trampled, we should probab—”

“Bottoms up, bitches!” Willam shouted from somewhere in the hall. A cacophony of voices seemed to flood the space all at once, and then the kitchen was swarmed with all of the juniors on the cheer squad and football team. Hands and bodies were everywhere. Katya, standing at 5’1”, was swept away in the sea of future frat boys. Thankfully, the kitchen was only a stop on their route, and once the kitchen had been successfully raided, the four girls could get their bearings.

Jinkx straightened her dress. “Leave. I was going to say leave,” she finished her earlier thought and slumped against the kitchen island. “The real party’s out back. Now with added kegs.”

“Now, this I gotta see,” Bianca chuckled, “You in?” Katya shrugged and followed Bianca and Trixie past the horndogs sucking face in the living room and into Alaska’s massive backyard. She didn’t know what she’d gotten herself into, and she didn’t see it getting any better.

The glass doors let out onto a patio with a cabana and firepit. Stone steps led down to yet another seating area and a resort-style pool filled with floats, fountaints, and colored lights. There must’ve been at least a hundred people outside. She’d never seen so much illicit activity in one place. What was the word? Collusion? Collusion. Collusion vibes but not in a good way, Mama. We’re all going to hell, Katya swallowed thickly. The blonde was overwhelmed by the sweaty bodies, loud music, and flashing lights. Was this what a rave was like? The kegs by the pool were a happening place, and she planned to avoid them as much as possible.

When she looked to her right, she noticed Bianca had slipped away unnoticed, leaving her completely and utterly alone with one Trixie Mattel. Fuck. Again.

“Come get a drink with me!” Trixie insisted. She might not have been entirely comfortable alone with her crush, but tagging along was a significantly better option than hiding in a corner. The two pushed their way towards the booze. Trixie filled a red solo cup for Katya before grabbing one for herself and maneuvering them over to the poolside loveseat.

Katya’s drink felt awkward clutched in her hands. She knew that most highschoolers had experience with alcohol, but it was different watching her peers getting trashed. What’s the point? Katya wondered.

“That’s gonna get warm, you know?” Trixie snapped Katya out of her thoughts.

Katya gave her a sheepish smile, “I don’t really drink. Like at all. I just took it so you didn’t think I was lame.”

“Oh, honey,” Trixie began softly, “I would never judge you for something like that. Here, let me take that.” She made a grab for Katya’s cup, but Katya pulled it away.

“One sec!” Katya stuck two fingers of her free hand right into her beer and pulled them out. She saw the confusion on Trixie’s face and gave her a mischievous look. Katya took her beer fingers and wiped the alcohol across the pulse points on her neck. Playing it safe, she repeated the action until all the places she’d usual spray with perfume were sticky with beer. She was sure she smelled like a distillery. Perfect. Once again, Trixie made a grab for the cub, but another hand beat her to it. Alaska Honard in all her glory snatched it from Katya and drained its contents.

“Thanksss, Kati,” Alaska slurred. “Jus’ needed a lil’ liquid courage before I go on.” She swooped down to give Katya a sloppy kiss on the cheek. Alaska was sloshed. Her makeup was smudged she was swaying on her feet, and she smelled worse than Katya, who had just taken a bath in her beer.

“Go on what, Alaska?” Needless to say, Katya was a bit concerned. Because the two had done most of the work for their partner scene the previous class, Alaska and Katya were able to spend the day’s 3rd period chatting away. The demure girl from earlier was nowhere to be found. She was beginning to wonder if her friend had even processed her question when Alaska finally responded.

“‘M gonna be a star, Kati,” Alaska giggled. “Britney, bitch!” She then proceeded to fist up the fabric at the bottom of her dress and try to pull her black bodycon sequin gown up and over her body. Katya could only watch as she writhed around and made pitiful whining noises in her attempt to undress. “Off!” Alaska pouted, giving Katya her best puppy dog eyes.

Katya shared a look with Trixie before standing up and carefully spinning the blonde around. Her small hands were perfect for pulling down tiny zippers, and the dress slid down Alaska’s lithe body and pooled at her feet. Katya’s throat went dry.

Underneath her dress, Alaska wore a lacy, black strapless bra and a matching set of panties. Katya could not handle it. She didn’t mean to stare, but she couldn’t bring herself to look away. Soft, pale, flawless, Katya took in the beauty in front of her. Talk about body-ody-ody. Alaska was toned with the supple legs of a dancer—unfortunately, she lacked a dancer’s poise. Katya’s aneurism was cut short when the cheerleader stumbled trying to get out of the offending garment.

“Geez, Alaska,” Katya exclaimed, “Would you be more careful?”

“I may not be graceful…” Alaska trailed off, beginning to sway on her feet.

“I need my Lasky!” Detox shouted from the edge of the pool. Alaska visibly perked at her nickname and gave Katya a sloppy goodbye kiss on the cheek before teetering off towards Detox and Roy.

What the fuck? Katya raised her eyebrows. She turned to Trixie in search of an answer as to what just happened, but all the blonde had to offer was a shrug. Katya looked back to Rolaskatox and noticed a few pertinent details she’d missed in her first glance: Roxy and Detox were also in their skivvies, three chairs were now in a row on the bridge that separated the two halves of the pool, and the music had stopped.

Katya tried to do the math in her head: liquid courage + 3 scantily clad girls x 1 chair - Kendrick Lamar = ???? She had to be missing something. “‘I’m gonna be a star,’” Alaska had said…Fame = liquid courage + 3 scantily clad girls x 1 chair - Kendrick Lamar. Katya’s brows knit together. Some kind of performance? And then it hit her. “‘Britney, bitch,’”…They’re performing a Britney Spears number practically naked. Obviously the ideal way to spend a Friday night. Katya could think of no other explanation for the weird happenings of the last few minutes, but the answer she’d arrived at wasn’t any less of an acid trip.

The three girls took their places behind the chairs, and Roxy, who had at some point manifested a microphone, gave pearl a thumbs up.

“Where my party people at?” Roxy shouted into the microphone. Praise Putin for Pearl because the feedback on the mic might have made their ears bleed. The crowd around the pool hooted and hollered. Yuck, Katya gagged on the high school movie realness. “We’ve got a special treat for you tonight! Our little Lasky here,” Roxy pushed Alaska forward, “Didn’t think that she was going to make the varsity cheer team.” Alaska flushed at her friends divulgence and squirmed in her grip. Naturally, Roxy paid no attention to her friend’s discomfort, “So Toxy and I, we made a bet: if Lasky didn’t make varsity we’d have a Golden Girls marathon, but if she did…she’d have to show off her sweet moves at the Back-to-School Bash!”

“Hit it, Pearl!” Detox shouted. Roxy tossed the microphone to someone near the end of the walk, and the three girls took their places by their chairs. Alaska was clearly less thrilled about the performance than she was when she had been talking to Katya minutes ago. Liquid courage? No dice. The instrumental intro into Britney Spears’ “Toxic” began to play from the outdoor speakers, and Alaska’s gyrated her hips mechanically to the beat.

Baby, can’t you see

I’m calling

A guy like you should wear a warning

It’s dangerous, I’m falling

Katya was dumbfounded. Mouth agape, she wondered, Does this shit happen at all high school parties? Mother, I swear I’m sober. She hadn’t had anything to drink, so she couldn’t have been drugged or anything crazy like that. This was, in fact, happening. And Katya had thought she was fucking mental. A glance to her side told her that she wasn’t the only one questioning her sanity; Trixie’s eyes were bulging out of their sockets.

There’s no escape

I can’t wait

I need a hit, Baby, give me it

You’re dangerous, I’m lovin’ it

Dangerous. There was something sinister about the atmospheric red that bathed the trio and spilled into the audience. Her hands began to tremble. Brenda, not now, she willed herself to calm down.

Too high

Can’t come down

Losin’ my head, spinnin’ ‘round and 'round

Do you feel me now?

It wasn’t just her shaking, though. Alaska’s body was vibrating with tension—not ‘loving it’. Her sisters in scandal moved a lot smoother than she did, and she was concentrating hard on keeping herself from falling off of her chair. How much “‘liquid courage’” did this bitch have? The trio had gotten up on their chairs at the beginning of the chorus and were doing what looked like Christina Aguilera choreography circa Genie in a Bottle. Katya wouldn’t be surprised if Rotox had actually gotten the wrong blonde when choreographing. Katya frowned, Alaska, please don’t crack your head open.

With a taste of your lips I’m on a ride

You’re toxic I’m slippin’ under

With a taste of a poison paradise

I’m addicted to you

Don’t you know that you’re toxic?

And I love what you do

Don’t you know that you’re toxic?

She regained her breath when the chair acrobatics were finally over. The dance routine had evolved into what could probably qualify as softcore porn. Roxy, Alaska, and Detox were writhing on the platform in an obscene manner. Katya thought they looked like cats in heat. Alcoholic cats in heat. Which was actually quite a shame because real alcoholic cats in heat were something that Katya would totally like to see.

It’s getting late to give you up

I took a sip from my devil’s cup

Slowly, it’s taking over me

Too high, can’t come down

It’s in the air and it’s all around

Can you feel me now?

Britney Spears you are a cruel bitch, Katya chewed her lower lip. She was trying her hardest not to feel anything.

With a taste of your lips, I’m on a ride

You’re toxic, I’m slippin’ under

With a taste of a poison paradise

I’m addicted to you

Don’t you know that you’re toxic?

And I love what you do

Don’t you know that you’re toxic?

Don’t you know that you’re toxic?

If she weren’t so put off by the course the night had taken and concerned for her friend, she might have been more than a little turned on. There was no denying that Alaska was attractive—even as she flopped about like a fish on a marble platter—but her mother raised her right. We do not objectify women, and we definitely do not allow others to take advantage of inebriated ones.

Taste of your lips, I’m on a ride

You’re toxic, I’m slippin’ under

With a taste of a poison paradise

I’m addicted to you

Don’t you know that you’re toxic?

With a taste of your lips, I’m on a ride

You’re toxic, I’m slippin’ under

With a taste of a poison paradise

I’m addicted to you

Don’t you know that you’re toxic?

Katya had to admit she was impressed. There really was no better way to draw attention to yourself than repeatedly slamming your pussy into the makeshift stage. It certainly seemed to be working now; she might just have to try it sometime.

Intoxicate me now

With your lovin’ now

I think I’m ready now

I think I’m ready now

Intoxicate me now

With your lovin’ now

I think I’m ready now

Roxy, Alaska, and Detox all struck their final poses. Katya could see their chests heaving wildly as they held for the raucous applause of the party guests standing poolside. It was certainly strange, but she couldn’t knock their performance. Kids would be kids, right? She was about to chalk it all up to a bit of harmless fun, after all, when tweedle dumb and tweedle dumber broke formation and pushed Alaska straight off of the platform. Suddenly, the tall blonde was in the water, limbs thrashing about in response to the sudden change in environment.

“Pool party!” Willam shouted, stripping off her own dress. Leave it to Willam to make a splash. Literally. For some reason the most inebriated of the guests decided that it was a fantastic idea to accidentally drown themselves instead of their sorrows. Soon, the pool was full of bodies and she could no longer keep track of her friend.

Alaska finally scampered to the steps with the stability of a newborn fawn. She all but fell out of the pool and took half of the water with her. Alaska’s mascara streaked down her cheeks, and her hair hung limp and matted. Roxy and Detox were nowhere to be found—either to help her clean up or to read her for filth. Coco Montrese and her longtime frenemy Miss Alyssa Edwards, however, were more than happy to fill in.

They sound like those brain dead hyenas from The Lion King, Katya snickered to herself. Maybe not that lady one, though. That bitch was fierce.

Alaska coughed up a mouthful of water right at their feet. “Hey, Coco,” She began, “Your makeup is terrible.” Coco wasn’t laughing anymore. Point Alaska.

“Have you seen yourself, mama?” Coco fired back, The blonde rolled her eyes and snatched the drink in Coco’s hand. Alaska tossed it back all in one go.

“Thanks,” Alaska drawled, tossing the empty cup back and wrapping herself in the first available towel.

Katya turned to Trixie with a question on her lips. “Does this happen often?” She asked. Trixie gave a low whistle.

“Pearl has dragged me to a lot of weird shit, but I think this might just be a first,” Trixie answered with gusto. She checked her watch, “And it’s not even 10:00! The night is still young, honey!”

Right, Katya thought, the night is still young. Just great.

Trixie soon ditched Katya for Pearl—something about the stupid pumpkin carriage coming to steal her friend after midnight—and Katya hadn’t known Trixie long enough to reasonably protest the abandonment. She hoped Bianca was somewhere inside the house.

There were still people in the living room, but it looked like the horny gremlins from earlier had finally gotten a room. Literally. Unfortunately, the cheerleaders that had taken their place were not much better. Head bitch Violet Chachki had her legs draped over one of the arms of a stately armchair in a carefree yet superior manner. Why anyone would want to be queen of the hot messes? Katya couldn’t tell you. But apparently power—or at least the perception of power—gave one Violet Chachki a raging hard on. Gag.

Bianca wasn’t in the room, but the blonde was determined to see her valiant quest through. Hopefully, she’d stumble upon a nunnery with some sexy ladies along the way. Sneaking past the wicked bitch of the west and her flying monkeys, she regrouped in the kitchen. Katya went down her mental checklist: Keys? Check. Assorted limbs? Check. Clothes? Check. Inhibitions? Check. Virtue? Debauched. Sanity? Remaining hopefully optimistic. Bianca? Still M.I.A. The kitchen was empty due to the commotion happening poolside. Chips crunched under the soles of Katya’s sneakers. That was another reason she didn’t enjoy being out in the general public for extended periods of time: bitches be nasty.

The second floor was significantly cleaner than the first. An entire floor of the Honards’ house was dedicated to entertainment. Katya knew that Alaska had an older sister, Nebraska, but she couldn’t fathom why any child—or two children for that matter—needed an entire floor to play. How could the rooms not feel so…empty? Katya wondered, shuddering involuntarily. The blonde couldn’t picture Alaska spending much time up here now. She felt as though she was looking at an abandoned playground and couldn’t help but think it made Alaska sad, too.

After a few moments, it became clear to Katya that Bianca wasn’t there, but she continued to linger on the landing. Her blue eyes were drawn to the set of stairs that would take her to the third floor. It was an idea for the pantheon of bad ideas; she was tempted nonetheless. Katya could hear her grandfather’s words in her head: ‘Curiosity killed the kitty, лисичка,’ What her Deda didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. Besides, I’m not that kind of pussy, am I? She justified.

Katya crept up to the dark third story of the house with the innocence of an intruder—she’d plead the fifth if necessary. The second door down from the landing was ominously open. Honestly, there may as well have been a big red arrow pointing towards the room because Katya’s feet were already carrying her towards it. Darkness engulfed the room, itself, save for a rectangle of warm light.

“Jinkxy, is that you?” Alaska groaned, presumably from the same direction as the light. “Jus’ leave the dress on the bed. Save the lecture for the morning.”

Katya cleared her throat, “Alaska? It’s Katya. Can I come in?” She received a grunt in response. The blonde followed the sound into what turned out to be Alaska’s master bathroom. Her friend was curled up against her marble tub with a beach towel wrapped around her.

“How was I, Kati?“ Alaska drawled.

Katya took a seat in front of her and pulled her legs to her chest. She thought for a moment before speaking, “80% sexy, 20% disgusting…like me.” Alaska whined. “Why are you still in your wet clothes?” She asked. Her friend shrugged. Right, Katya sighed. Alaska was half asleep; this wasn’t going to be a one woman job. Thankfully, Jinkx appeared moments later with her heels in one hand and Alaska’s little black dress in the other. Katya raised her hands in surrender. “I swear she was like this when I found her,” she blurted.

“This isn’t even the worst of it,” Jinx spoke candidly. She tossed her shoes onto the floor and pulled up her long, red hair. “I’ll wrangle the monkey if you go and find her some dry underwear and something to wear to bed.” Jinkx’s tone left no room for questioning.

Mother, I never thought I’d be a panty snatcher, much less an invited one, Katya made a face. Alaska’s dressers were easy to find, and she felt undeniably dirty as she began her game of panty roulette. Pulling open the first drawer, Katya sprang back, ready to strike. Assorted pajamas were hardly a foe, and she vanquished them swiftly. Rebel athleticwear laid in wait behind drawer number two. They, too, were no match for her feet of fury, Katya kicked the drawer shut with a battle cry.

“Katya, what the hell are you doing out there?” Jinkx called.

Katya had the dignity to look sheepish. “Nothing!” She shouted back. “Be there in a second!” The underwear turned out to be in the next drawer down. She thrust a hand inside without looking and tightened her grip on the first piece of fabric her hand found. Her feeling of triumph only lasted the few seconds it took for her to realize what she’d managed to retrieve: a lacy black teddy. Katya dropped the offending garment as if she’d been burned. I am going to hell, she shook her head, Straight to hell. I will not pass go, nor will I collect $100…Deuces never loses, right? The scarlet thong she fished out next begged to differ. Her face was almost as red as the fabric, itself, when she flung it across the room. Fortunately, the third time was the charm. The pastel pink boyshorts seemed like a more appropriate item to put on a drunk girl, so Katya returned to the bathroom to present her nightwear bounty to Jinkx.

The motherly redhead, unsurprisingly, was not impressed. Jinkx arched a brow expectantly.

“You see,” Katya began, “I wasn’t comfortable—I didn’t um feel right digging through her things without, you know, her permission?” She swallowed thickly. “So I thought maybe it would be less creepy if I just reached in and grabbed the first thing I touched. Well, you see, Alaska’s got such a wide range of tastes, and it-uh…It took a hot second to find something appropriate…for the…occasion?” She was expecting to find disgust when she raised her eyes to meet Jinkx’s, but the redhead cackled loudly instead.

“Lemme guess, you saw something you didn’t want to see?” Jinkx chortled. Katya managed a weak nod. “I’m sorry, doll, I forget that not everyone is as acquainted with Miss Honard’s unmentionables as little ol’ me.”

Not everyone is as acquain—Oh! Blue eyes threatened to burst from their sockets as Katya processed her words.  

“Oh, for heaven’s sake, not like that,” Jinkx exclaimed, reading the thoughts reflected on Katya’s face. “Lasky and I did community theater together. I’ve known her since the first grade. Drunk proof her nightstand for me? I’ll dress blondie over here.”

“Does this happen often?” Katya asked Jinkx after Alaska’s door was closed. The incapacitated cheerleader was finally sound asleep in her bed, and the two girls didn’t think she’d be up anytime soon.

Jinkx sighed sadly, “It didn’t use to. Roxy and Detox are more toxic than Drano, and there’s no one to stop her from going out with them. Look, Lasky’s a sweet girl. A good, smart girl. But she makes bad choices sometimes, and there’s nothing that I—that we—can do about it. She’s gotta be the one to say enough is enough.”

Katya understood. Katya understood more than she wanted to. She’d been a shell of a girl drowning in the voices in her head not too long ago. It didn’t matter how many hands reached out to her if she refused to take them. Alaska—happy and hopeful Alaska—might just be drowning, too. Katya wondered if she drank to impress, to keep up, or to forget.

Jinkx promised that she’d look over Alaska until the next morning, so Katya reluctantly chose to rejoin the land of the living downstairs. The first floor was significantly louder than it was when she left it. Games of flip cup and beer pong had picked up in the dining room, and Violet’s flock had not only grown, but had grown to include both Trixie and Bianca, who were trying their hardest not to laugh at the spectacle in the middle of the living area. Willam and Courtney were having a major bitchfest for all to see. Normally, Katya would run for the hills, but if Bianca and Trixie weren’t afraid of getting caught in the crossfire, she figured it was safe enough to stick around and tuned into the conversation.

“Your tone seems really pointed right now,” Willam pursed her lips. She was clearly the calmer of the two, as Courtney was beet red and positively radiating tension. Katya could tell Willam’s nonchalance was only winding the Australian up more.

Courtney folded her arms defensively. “Well, I’m sorry you think that, Willam,” she took a deep breath. “I feel like everything I say kinda comes from the heart, and I’m truly hurt that you threw yourself at Daniel when you knew how I felt about him.”

“Sorry ‘bout it,” Willam scoffed, picking at her nails. Her words reflected everything but the sentiment they were meant to.

Katya knew that Willam was a bitch, but this was a little much even for her. Willam and Courtney had been best friends since Courtney moved from Australia the summer of their freshman year; it was hard to believe that Willam would throw their relationship away. Katya held her breath. Everyone in the wings was uncomfortable during the pregnant pause. The scene before her was straight out of a 90s teen movie, and she didn’t have the popcorn to go with it.

All movement stilled when Willam finally looked up. “I tend to think emotions are for ugly people,” she deadpanned. The room let out a collective gasp. Courtney was across the room in a flash, and her palm made contact with Willam’s cheek. It would be logical to assume that Willam, who was just slapped across the face by her best friend, would be the most in shock at the sudden turn of events; it would also be the wrong conclusion. Courtney’s features were frozen in fear. The offending hand still hovered in the air, trembling like a leaf.

Willam was the first to react—and in a very uncharacteristic way. She engulfed the smaller girl in a tender hug. Courtney began to sob muffled apologies into her neck, and despite her obvious desire to recoil, Willam continued to hold her close.

Maybe Willam actually does have feelings, Katya’s eyebrows raised. The sight of Willam whispering words of reassurance into Courtney’s ear was enough to make even the coldest heart melt. Well, the coldest heart with the exception of Violet Chachki’s. Katya was pretty sure the stick up her ass was a permanent installment.

When the two pulled apart minutes later with smiles on their faces, they were met with a round of applause. Courtney wiped at her eyes, careful not to smudge her makeup. If she noticed Willam’s arm around her waist, she didn’t give any indication as she addressed the spectators that had gathered, “Well, I’m gonna need to be less sober before I spill any more about myself. Truth or drink, anyone?”

Truth or drink? No thanks, Katya turned to sneak out. Unfortunately, Bianca had also chosen that exact moment to glance in her direction, and Katya was caught in the act.

“Bitch, you can’t leave yet. It’s not even midnight!” Bianca half whispered, half hissed.

And Bianca doesn’t associate with losers, Katya reminded herself. Don’t be a loser. “If my locker gets filled with worms next week, I will personally marinate you like a chicken,” she promised her friend.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, I’ve heard it all before. Blame it on Bianca Del Rio. Take a number, sweetheart, you’re holding up the line,” Bianca patted the space next to her on the floor.

Laganja had batted her eyelashes—and used her mouth—to coerce one of the mindless jocks to bring in one of the kegs from outside for their “slumber party secret sesh”. There were fifteen girls, including Katya, who stuck around for the potentially risky game, and Katya wasn’t thrilled to be playing with most of them. Adore finished off her beer and placed the empty bottle in the center of the circle.

“Party!” Adore shouted before giving the bottle a good spin. Around, and around, and around it went before coming to a stop at Coco’s feet. “Miss Coco Montrese, truth or dare?” She asked.

“I’ll pick truth, mama,” Coco answered.

Adore thought for a moment before speaking, “Are you afraid that you’ll always be the runner up?” There was a chorus of oohs. Everyone knew that the race for junior varsity squad captain their sophomore year was a sore spot for both girls. It was no secret that Alyssa was originally chosen to be captain by her teammates. However, when she became implicated in a cheating scandal, Coach Calhoun was forced to denounce her and give Coco, Alyssa’s best friend and the candidate to receive the second most votes, the position. To make matters worse, it was rumored that Coco was the one who suggested that Alyssa had committed academic dishonesty in the first place. Alyssa and Coco had patched up their friendship over the course of the last year, but there was no telling whether or not the structure would hold if tested.

“Out of respect for me and Miss Alyssa, I am going to drink,” Coco responded without hesitance. Adore poured her a shot, and Alyssa gave her hand a grateful squeeze as she tossed it back. “Ain’t no use bringing up what’s past.”

Coco spun the bottle next, and it chose Trixie as its victim. “Truth or dare?” Coco asked.

“I think I’ll pick dare?” Trixie responded with hesitance. Katya didn’t know much about Coco Montrese, but for Trixie’s sake she hoped Coco was one of the nice ones.

Said cheerleader gave Trixie a small and genuine smile, “Okay, mama, I dare you to let Miss Pearl over here do your makeup. Something has got to be done because you aren’t doing a pretty girl like yourself any favors.” The reactions to Coco’s dare for Trixie were mixed. Some of the she-demons tried and failed to hide their amused laughs, Pearl’s eyes opened fully, Violet’s grip on her chair tightened, and Trixie seemed to be not entirely opposed to the idea.

“Pearlie girl,” Trixie began, standing up and crossing to her best friend on the opposite side of the circle, “Treat my face like a princess and then fuck it like a slut.” The life-sized Barbie batted her eyelashes animatedly, earning her a laugh from pearl and a glare from Violet. The ice queen’s elevated irritability prompted Katya to reconsider her previous assessments—maybe it was an entire branch up her ass.

When Pearl and Trixie left, there was a void that seemed to swallow Violet whole. The physical space around her remained largely unchanged, but Katya could feel the emptiness that moved to fill the space Pearl left. And for the first time it occurred to her that Violet Chachki might be alone. I guess there might be some truth to the saying, she mused. After all, if you’re at the top, how can anyone else be? When you stripped away the glitter, the makeup, the clothes, you were left with a girl—albeit an arrogant, entitled, straight up cunt—plain and simple.

“Heavy is the head that wears the crown, huh?” Bianca nudged Katya’s arm, snapping her out of her thoughts.

“What?” Katya asked. Had she missed something while she was contemplating the character of Violet Chachki?

Bianca chuckled, “You’ve been staring at Chachki since Trixie and Pearl left.” The blonde feigned innocence. “You know how I feel about that 48 Hours show, Zamo. Share with the class before your peanut brain short circuits.”

“What’s her problem?” Katya whispered. “I mean, aside from her general disdain for anything that has a pulse and moves.”

“With Trixie?” Bianca confirmed. Katya nodded. “Oh, this is old news. Her Royal Hardass doesn’t share, but Sleeping Beauty’s got a soft spot for one Trixie Mattel.”

The dots aligned in Katya’s head once again. “Violet’s the pumpkin carriage!” She whisper-shouted.

“Bitch, that was not English,” Bianca snarked, “You been hanging around with Jose Cuervo?”

Katya rolled her eyes at her friend’s question, “I have ninety-nine problems, and substance abuse won’t be one of them if I have anything to say about it.” She turned back to the circle just in time to see the neck of the bottle stop on Bianca, who didn’t even flinch. Katya was secretly proud; her friend had bigger balls than most of the ‘macho men’ at the party—this was going to be interesting. Since Trixie had gone upstairs to get her face redone, Detox decided that she would be the brave volunteer to issue the next truth or dare.

“Bianca, truth or dare?” Detox asked smugly. Katya couldn’t guess which one would be worse. Unsurprisingly, Bianca chose dare. “I dare you to ask Max for his number.” There was, again, a chorus of oohs, and it was Bianca’s turn to roll her eyes.

“Really, bitch?” Bianca asked. She stood up and righted her denim shorts before striding over to the meatheads playing beer pong with a clear purpose and her head held high.

Because Bianca could run with the boys, no one batted an eye—unless she wanted them to. She hoisted herself up onto the pool table in front of Max and held out an upturned palm. They were too far away to make out their conversation, and Katya was a terrible lip reader at best, but she could picture how the exchange would go down:

“Gimme ya’ numbah, beefstick,” She imitated Bianca in her head. The 1920s gangster voice was a bold choice, but she wasn’t going to mock it just yet.

“D’uhh…okay,” Fake Max droned.

The blonde chuckled to herself as the real Max stuck a fist in the pockets of his jeans and fished around. Finally, he produced what looked like a wadded up gum wrapper and snagged a pen from his pal, presumably jotting down his number. Bianca hastily took the offering and sashayed back to the group of girls. She dropped the wrapper in Detox’s lap before taking her seat by Katya.

While the hens squawked over her success, Bianca leaned over to Katya and whispered, “Never let a bitch see you sweat.” Katya had so many questions, but she wouldn’t be able to ask them until later. It was Bianca’s turn to spin the bottle, and Adore, unsurprisingly, chose truth when landed on.

“Adore, which girl on the squad is the skunkiest?” Bianca waggled her thick, black brows. Because she was the mascot and didn’t change in the locker room, she genuinely had no idea how rank the girls smelled after practice or a game. Sue her; she was curious. What Bianca also didn’t know was that the question had a definitive answer, and that answer would do damage far beyond her intent to poke a little harmless and innocent fun at one of the girls.

Even completely sloshed, Adore recognized the gravity of the question. “Fuck! If I drink any more, I’m gonna be sick,” Adore groaned. Her teammates looked at her with pity in their eyes.

“Yeah but it’s not like anyone’s ever died from drinking too much!” Laganja came to her rescue, topping off her cup, “What’s one more?” Adore could only offer her a weak smile.

“Uh, I think I’m just gonna spin the thing now…For everyone’s sake,” Adore informed the group. The bottle landed on Gia, and she picked dare.

The turns only seemed to bleed together as time went on. After Gia drank from the toilet, Roxy refused to reveal her weight. Laganja told her dad she was eloping in Vegas, and when she spun the bottle it landed on Violet. Because ladies don’t kiss and tell, the brunette tossed one back instead of revealing the number of sexual partners she’s had. Alyssa confessed that she was afraid she would never achieve her dream of owning her own dance studio. Courtney shared that she’d never been in love, and Willam exposed her entire browser history, telling Katya a lot more than she wanted to know about the girl. For obvious reasons, Joslyn refused to eat a raw egg. Detox followed by removing Adore’s socks with her teeth. Katya played it safe and suggested that Bianca would be a bad date because she’s insulting people all the time before daring Gia to reveal any childhood nickname she had. Things didn’t start going downhill until the bottle landed on Violet a second time.

“Violet,” Gia cooed, “Truth or dare?”.

“Truth,” Violet answered with an unreadable expression.

Gia thought for a moment before asking the first truly problematic question of the night, “Who in this room do you like the least?”

Ruh-roh, Katya winced.

Violet didn’t waste a moment before answering, “Willam.” There was a collective gasp across the room. Willam, on her part, didn’t seem to be phased in the slightest. Then again, you could never really read Willam Belli.

Pearl and Trixie returned, arm in arm, before Violet could spin the bottle. Katya’s jaw—along with all the other girls’—dropped. Trixie looked gorgeous. Pearl reclaimed her seat next to Violet, much to the cheerleader’s delight, but brought Trixie with her. At the group’s insistence, Trixie was allowed to take the turn that she missed, and Detox was dared to call a random number in her phone and deliver the worst pickup line she could think of. Katya was glad for the change in the room’s atmosphere after Violet’s confession until Detox took her turn. After the call, Detox dared Violet to spend the next hour trapped in a bathroom with another girl from the circle chosen at random. Anyone who didn’t know Detox might think she was trying to create a seven minutes in heaven type deal, but even Katya could pick up on her intent to stir up trouble. She pitied the poor soul who ended up stuck in there.

Of course that poor soul ended up being her, and she wasn’t about to pussy out in front of the most popular girls in school. Peer pressure was a bitch. Judge, jury, and executioner had all decided it was her time, and she accepted that; she just wished her death march had a better soundtrack. Katya would be cooped up in one of the Honards’ bathrooms with a less than pleasant—soon to be considerably more less than pleasant—Violet Chachki. She was going to punch Detox in her stupid mouth.

Katya entered the bathroom the same way she’d rip off a band-aid: quickly and without much thought for the immediate consequences. Violet, who was perched on the bathroom counter, had been engrossed in her phone when the door swung open to reveal the one girl that she just couldn’t seem to get away from. Unsurprisingly, the cheerleader wasn’t thrilled.

“Really, bitch?” Violet griped, giving Katya a once over. It wasn’t like the situation was ideal for either of them.

Katya put her hands on her hips, “You know what you can suck? My whole dick.” She unenthusiastically plunked herself down against the wall opposite of the door. “We’ve got two options, Chachki, we can either suck it up and spend the next hour in here in silence, or we can French a little.” Violet was aghast at her words. If Katya were a proper woman, she might have been able to hold in the cackling fit prompted by the girl’s scandalized reaction. Violet wasn’t impressed with her wheezing, either. Katya finally calmed down and attempted to explain herself, “Sorry, I could have been more clear, but your reaction was priceless.” She wiped at her eyes. “Thanks. I needed that. Detox said she was “‘feeling generous,’”  and if we so choose, we can suck face and then get the hell out of Dodge.” Violet sneered, and Katya wondered if it was with anger or disgust; she didn’t know which one was better.

“As fucking if,” Violet scoffed, clearly feeling as though Detox’s so-called coup de grâce was more of a personal attack.

“Well, I don’t see anyone lining up to get the kiss of the spider woman, either,” Katya observed. “I told you that you weren’t going to like it.” The cheerleader exhaled sharply, and she was surprised not to see steam come out of her flared nostrils.

Violet pursed her lips, “Just shut up and stay on your side of the room.” With that, Violet returned her attention to her phone, but Katya didn’t fail to notice that her expression didn’t soften. If Katya weren’t trapped in the room with her, she’d probably find Violet’s situation hilarious.

Katya had made the mistake of leaving her jacket—and consequentially, her phone—on the coat rack in the hall. Call her old fashioned, but it was a force of habit. Besides, she didn’t need her phone because Bianca was supposed to be there to pull her out of trouble if it arose. But are we really surprised to find ourselves here? Katya asked herself. No. Not at all. At least she found herself entertaining. Hoping to bring forth inspiration, she laid back on the floor, let her gaze unfocus, and tried to lose herself in the plain ceiling. Katya didn’t know how long she’d been drifting for when Violet’s voice shattered the silence.

“Fuck!” Violet cursed, and the sound of hard plastic hitting the floor made Katya’s whole body go rigid. She squeezed her eyes shut. I am not going to be equipped to handle this, Katya bristled. Maybe if I just keep my eyes closed, I can fall asleep. It seemed like a feasible plan until she heard the first sniffle. Of course I find out she has feelings when I’m stuck in a room with her, the blonde facepalmed inwardly. Why today, of all days, to be railed in the ass by life? Her left eye opened first, searching for any signs of danger before being followed by her right eye.

“I knew you didn’t like me Chachki, but I didn’t think you found me this repulsive,” Katya spoke. “Quite frankly, it’s offensive.”

“Fuck you,” Violet spat, but the usual venom in her voice was gone. Katya propped herself back up against the wall to get a better look at the girl on the counter. Her attention was unwanted, and Violet turned towards the door with a huff.

Clearly comedic relief wasn’t the answer. “Do you wanna talk about it?” Katya tried again. No response. The girl’s side profile was growing red and blotchy, and Katya had sent her mom enough photos of her crying to know that Violet was trying and failing to stifle an emotional response. Go figure. “I won’t tell anyone if you cry, you know?” She said softly. “Bottling it up is just gonna make you feel shittier than you do now.”

“Do you think I’m a goddamn idiot?” Violet barked. She wiped furiously at her eyes before whirling around in an attempt to intimidate the blonde. “Better make your fifteen minutes last.”

Katya was genuinely taken aback. Does this bitch really think I’m in on this? She shook her head incredulously. Her airhead friends would literally eat me alive, and I’m pretty sure I haven’t given her any reason to think that I’m faker than Malibu Barbie. If I were made of plastic, why in the hell would I keep my hands this small? “Are we really back on this bullshit, Violet?” Katya snapped. “I’m sorry you think that the universe revolves around you. I hate to burst your bubble, but I have better things to do than conspire against you with your teammates over scones. Get over yourself, Princess.” In her head, Katya blew the smoke from the pistols in her hands. Call me perestroika, Mother, for I am reforming problematic practices, she hooted.

“Whatever,” Violet grumbled. Katya, on the other hand, wasn’t willing to let this go; some conversation was better than nothing.

“How’s the back?” The blonde inquired and was pleasantly surprised when Violet outright snorted at the shift in conversation. Katya took her in as she threw her head back in laughter. There was something about this Violet—the unguarded and natural Violet—that captivated her. Violet’s eyes crinkled, and she clasped a hand over her mouth in a flimsy attempt to stifle the noises she was making. It was frustratingly endearing.

Violet cleared her throat before answering, “Fucked. I’m considering outlawing acrylics on the squad. That shit’s not even practical for a cheerleader, and it’s hurting like a bitch to corset.”

“You’re wearing a corset?” Katya gasped. For the first time that night, she took all of Violet in. She wore a nude illusion dress with a loose black lattice pattern. It covered just a little more than her ass and was cinched at the waist with a rocker belt, squeezing her in a way that left absolutely nothing to the imagination. How in the world do you hide a corset under that? Katya wondered. In addition to the dress, she donned thigh high, slick black boots and a thick, black leather choker that looked more like a collar. Hot damn, Katya could n e v e r, and she knew it. She finally composed herself, “First of all, you’re literally a cheerleader with a body to die for. Second of all, why wear something that hurts you?”

The cheerleader didn’t even seem phased by the inquiries, almost like she’d dealt with them hundreds of times before, “Pain is beauty, and I’m the prettiest.” Katya couldn’t argue there. Violet was beautiful, but she still thought her ideology was questionable.

“So what actually happened at the pep rally? We all saw you fall, but I’ll believe it was your fault when the garden is full of ducks holding pastry in their hands. You’re too much of a hardass.”

Violet raised her eyebrows, as if daring Katya to say it again, “I will let that slide only because it’s technically a compliment. And you’d be correct; I am a professional, unlike others. You’d do well to take note: one of my biggest pet peeves is when people don’t take the things I love as seriously as I do. I accept nothing less than perfection.”

“That must be lonely,” Katya couldn’t stop the words from spilling from her mouth. “You know, having such high standards? Does anyone ever make the cut?” Opening her mouth was clearly a mistake because Violet seemed to shut down all at once.

“What do you know about how I feel?” Violet fired back, crossing her arms over her chest.

Keep digging yourself deeper, why don’t ya? Katya shook her head. She needed to tread carefully. It was a miracle that she had even been having a civil conversation with Violet in the first place, and she didn’t want to ruin the progress they had made. “I know that you work harder than anyone else on that squad, and nobody gives you credit or appreciates you for it,” Katya began. “I know that people are fast to discredit your talent because of how young you are. I know that you’re waiting for the day those bitches stop hoping that you’ll screw up or get hurt, the day you can finally stop looking over your shoulder, the day that you no longer have to prove yourself. I know that you’re tired of fighting tooth and nail for the respect that you’ll probably never earn, and I know it’s fucking hard for you to pretend that your peers aren’t harboring resentment towards you. I know that at night you try to wash it all away because you’re still holding out hope that it will all be worth it in the end. Cheer and theatre aren’t that different. It was obvious in the gym, and it’s obvious now.” Katya took a deep breath. Maybe she’d been thinking a little more about Violet that afternoon than she’d like to admit. She hadn’t meant to go off on a tangent like that, but she certainly didn’t regret what she said. Based on Violet’s reaction, however, maybe she should have. The brunette’s hands were clenched into tight fists at her sides, and tears began to roll down her cheeks. Katya tried to backtrack, “Violet I—”

Katya was cut off by the bathroom door swinging open. Pearl, who stood oblivious on the other side, immediately noticed the state of her friend. “Vi?” Pearl approached her hesitantly. Violet’s gaze didn’t move from the floor. “Hey, what’s going on? Talk to me.” She moved to lift Violet’s chin up, but Violet recoiled from her touch.

“Don’t touch me!” Violet shouted, her voice almost frantic. Katya’s eyes darted from one girl to the other. Pearl, who was visibly shocked by her reaction, looked hurt, which was very uncharacteristic for the mellow girl. Katya, herself, had never seen anything but characteristic nonchalance reflected on Pearl’s face, and the change made her uneasy.

Pearl took a reluctant step forward and spoke in a whisper, “Violet, did something happen? You know you can tell me anything.”

“Is that the truth, Pearl?” The brunette questioned. “Because clearly I don’t know you as well as I thought I did.”

Pearl shook her head in frustration. “Cut the crap, Vi,” She demanded, “You’re literally my best friend, and—”

“Bullshit!” Violet interrupted. “I call motherfucking bullshit!” Both girls were standing now with less than a foot between them, the situation escalating by the second, and Katya was stuck in the middle of it. She tried to push her back further into the solid wall behind her, but there was nowhere for her to go. Fuck me! Katya grimaced. Why is Toxic so damn appropriate right now?

“What the hell, Violet?” Pearl shouted back. “God, you’re fucking impossible.”

“Fuck you, Pearl!” Violet pushed Pearl, and the blonde hit the wall with a dull thud. “Fuck you! You and I are done! You hear me? Done! Save your goddamn lies for that pathetic dress up doll. I never want to see you again.” With a huff, Violet stormed out of the bathroom, leaving an uncomfortable Katya and a drained Pearl alone. What the fuck just happened? Katya tried and failed to process the encounter.

She was caught off guard when Pearl finally acknowledged her presence. “Forecast predicts drinking to forget,” Pearl deadpanned, nodding her head towards the door Violet had just stormed through. “Want in?” Katya shook her head furiously. Getting piss drunk with those two would be like making smalltalk with a Molotov cocktail. She’d pass. She’d pass hard. Pearl seemed to understand. “It’s flazéda or whatever,” The corners of her mouth turned up slightly. “Just do me a solid and remind me to fuck with Willam’s weed on Monday.”

Katya didn’t know what “‘flazéda’” meant, or the why and how of Pearl tampering with Willam’s weed, but the questions weren’t enough to persuade her to stick around the party longer. When Pearl left, Katya made a run for the Honards’ front door. She grabbed her jacket before taking off down the street. The blonde didn’t stop until she could no longer hear the music pulsing from the house. Her phone buzzed in her pocket with a text from ‘Bianca del Realest’:

Bitch, where are you?

What the fuck happened in there?

Earth to Yekaterina?

Katya sighed and pocketed the phone again. She’d call her when she got home. That would buy her some more time to put the experience into words…and to decide just how much information she should share.

The drive home from the Honards’ was quiet—too quiet. Music normally made being in the car enjoyable, but there was something about the night that didn’t allow Björk to keep her out of her own head. It didn’t feel real, and that terrified the shit out of her. Life was monotonous, life was mundane, life was one of those stupid time loop movies where you had to learn from your mistakes over time and find out what was important in the stupid haystack of chaos. Violet Chachki and her ex best friend potentially ex best friend were not supposed to have the Chernobyl of all relationship meltdowns in Alaska Honard’s guest bathroom right in front of her. Katya didn’t know who opened this tragic can of worms, but when she found them, she was going to slap a bitch silly.

[justsomeartsthings]

Print Me A House And Home

Summary: Sans breaks the lab’s printers while Alphys is away. With a little applied quantum theory, this somehow leads to his boss becoming his flatmate. Pre-Sanster, Sans POV, Fluff (with a sprinkle of Angst).

.

“ya gotta be kiddin’ me.” 

You rap your knuckles on the side of the printer. There’s a click and a foreboding thump from inside. You take a cautious step back, hands raised. 

“uh. hey, doc, is al in today?”

No response. You glance into the empty office behind you.

“boss?”

No dice.

“…i’m stealing your snacks. speak now or forever hold your chisps.”

Nada.

“your loss, dude.”

You snag the bag of popato chisps off of his desk and pop them open. The noise is like a firecracker set off inside your skull.

…Still ix-nay on the eleton-skay.

You toss a few chisps past your teeth and knock on the printer again. No one home. Not even a suspicious ticking noise. Lame.

You’re halfway through the chisps bag, tapping an absent rhythm on the printer, when there’s footsteps and the rustling of papers in the hallway. A few seconds later, Dr. W. D. Gaster strides through the doorway, head bowed. It’s a rare candid moment; he’s too engrossed in the notebook in his hands to notice you.

You watch him for a bit, debating whether to spook him.

“‘sup.”

To his credit, he doesn’t physically startle. He does snap his notebook shut, abruptly alert. “Sans. What are you…?”

“had to use your printer.” You extend the open pop bag. “chisp?”

He doesn’t even check to see if they’re his. He takes one. “The vending machine is two floors down.”

“eh. too far.”

“You could use the elevator.”

“why bother. it’s just gonna let me down.”

“Mm. And I suppose you’ve vetoed the stairs because they are ‘up to something’.”

“hey. don’t knock my jokes. they’re hy-stair-ical.” You crumple the empty chisp bag and toss it at Gaster, who catches it and drops it in the bin. “is alphys clocking in anytime soon?”

“She’s at a seminar in New Home. She won’t be back for another four hours.” He places the notebook on his desk. “Is there something wrong with your own printer?”

“yup. i tried to print a report of some results for an experiment this morning. somethin’ went wrong, think i jammed it. figured i’d use yours.”

His eyelights snap to the printer. “And it’s jammed mine as well?”

You chuckle. Break into the man’s office under printing problem pretenses, and watch him squirm. Give him a printer to fix, he’ll hyperfixate on it so hard he almost seems sane.

“looks like it. same thing happened to al’s printer, too.”

“That would explain why I couldn’t print my notes a few hours ago.” He approaches the machine, huffing. “It’s only Tuesday, and you’ve already managed to break all three of our printers.”

“i call it a magic touch.”

“I find it highly unlikely you would ever employ percussive maintenance. Especially of the bullet pattern variety.”

“heh heh. point taken.” You shrug. “wrong on the first count, though. i gave ‘em a few love taps.”

“Mm. Bandages are on my desk.”

“cute. i can take a printer, old man, and i could take you.”

“That would put you at two counts of theft and one of kidnapping. Tread carefully.” He removes the back panel of the printer and peers inside. “That’s peculiar. This experiment report— was it for the causality trials?”

“just the test run.”

“And your printer has the same kind of jam?”

“same jelly, same jar.”

“It appears to be routine.”

“bread n’butter.”

“It looks fried.”

“that’s probably a doughboy, then.”

“It can’t be a coincidence.”

“i didn’t say coincidence, i said doughboy.”

He snaps out of his thoughts at that. “What? What’s ‘doughboy?’”

“uh, s’like pre-bread? don’t call me ‘boy’.”

“I didn’t—” He shakes his head, baffled. “What in Asgore’s name are you going on about?”

“the printer. you sure you know what you’re doin’?”

He shoots you a glare just before shoving his hands all up in the printer’s mechanical guts. “I’m a highly skilled engineer who just so happened to design and construct the self-sustaining generator which the entire Underground, including this lab, runs on. I can handle a jammed printer.”

“ok, jeez, doc. no point tryin’ to print receipts, the printer’s already doughboy-ed.”

Gaster doesn’t reply, but after a few moments of tinkering, he does squint in a concerning manner. “Hm.”

“hm?”

“Hm.”

“i’m no printer engineer, but ‘hm’ doesn’t sound like a technical term.”

“It is when I say it.” And, well, he’s got you there. “It appears Alphys has been printing Mew Mew Kissy Cutie posters on her work printer.”

“uh,” you say. “what? how do you know?”

In response, Gaster pulls out an impossibly large poster from the back of the printer. It’s slightly crumpled, due to its dimensions being bigger than the printer could ever realistically print, and even laminated, which you’re pretty sure Gaster’s printer can’t do.

“Something tells me we will find your test results in Alphys’ printer, and my notes from this morning in yours.”

“woah. you’re kiddin’. scoot over,” you say, sidling up to him to peer inside the printer’s exposed mechanics. “you think alphys’ printer and my printer are superposed in yours?”

“Potentially.”

“that’s… uh,” you say. “impractical.”

“To say the least.”

“alphys is gonna have a field day with this when she gets back.”

“I’m sure the eventual clutter of dismantled printers will speak for itself.”

“heh. i gotta say, i’m kinda disappointed. i expected superposition to sound a lot more chaotic.”

He makes an assenting noise. You look over at him, and then nearly do a double-take. You didn’t notice before, but he’s as tense as a compressed spring, very intently inspecting the Mew Mew Kissy Cutie poster. Or, more likely, very deliberately not looking at you. 

Upon second glance, you are a lot closer to him than you reasonably need to be.

“heh. whoops. my bad,” you say, stepping to the side. “didn’t mean to crowd you.”

“…Not at all,” he says quietly, then clears his throat. He puts the back panel over the printer again and straightens up. “We should, er, go check the other printers. Just in case.”

“sure,” you say.

“Good,” he says.

“great,” you say.

And you go.

It’s kind of funny, this sort of dance the two of you have fallen into. Stepping on eggshells, tiptoeing around each other at work. Ignoring that you’ve got a crush on him. That he’s got a gigantic crush on you. It’s ridiculous, and hilarious, mainly because he’s centuries old and you’re, well, not.

For whatever reason, whether he’s worried about being deemed a cradle robber or a douchebag boss, or something else entirely, he hasn’t made a move on you yet. But hey, that’s fine by you. You’ve got all the time in the world.

Though you do hope it won’t actually take him that long.

“It will be faster if we split up,” he says, once you reach the intersecting hallway between your office and Alphys’. He starts to take off by himself, leaving you behind.

You reach out and grab his wrist.

“hang on a sec. if you’re right about superposition—”

“It’s very likely that I am.”

“then you realize checking the printers separately could affect the outcome. ‘that which is observed is changed’, n’all that?”

“Well, yes. But it may be an inevitability anyway,” he says. “And even so, the replication of this event is statistically extremely unlikely. This may be our only chance to see whether our theory of personal observation holds true.”

“but it’ll kill the control variable, won’t it? we already saw your printer—”

“Oh, it could, most certainly— but not if our current theories of quantum entanglement hold true.”

“quantum—? for a whole printer? boss, we’re years away from proving that particle entanglement exists on the subatomic scale, never mind above it.”

“Not once we check the printers, we won’t be,” he points out. “There’s a chance the only way to trigger binding entanglement at such a large scale is through unrelated proofs.”

Unrelated—?

And, oh. 

You’re physically incapable of gaping, but the sentiment must show in your eyelights, because he grins down at you, the smug bastard.

“All caught up?”

“we’ll know entanglement can occur if our personal observations affect the outcomes of a superimposed subject— and if it doesn’t, we’ll have potentially disproven three separate quantum theories at once, since each cannot exist without the other. it’s… extremely assumptive and unreliable science—”

“Unless it works.”

“uh, no, i’m pretty sure it’s still unorthodox and totally fallible,” you say. “but hey. personal confirmation’s gotta count for somethin’, right?”

He laughs, bright and clear. “Yes, yes, I suppose. In a sense.”

“well, then, in a sense, it’s genius.”

More than genius, really. And Gaster knows it is, going by the look on his face. For a moment, time slows, and you take in his eyelights, fuzzy and dilated. How his entire silhouette brims with restrained excitement. Riding on the high that comes just before a dramatic breakthrough.

And yeah, maybe there’s more important things at hand, but god, he’s beautiful when he gets like this.

“heh. how ‘bout we save the ego inflation until after we get results,” you say. The cusp of quantum discovery isn’t the time or place for mutual, unspoken workplace crushes.

“Right. Then we’ll meet back here as soon as possible,” Gaster says, and turns to go—

Only to be yanked back by your hand, clasped tightly in his.

Oh.

You stare at your joined hands, soul fluttering. His fingers are intertwined with yours, slender phalanges and thick knuckles complementing each other like a welded whole.

At some point, you must’ve let go of his wrist and taken his hand instead. You hadn’t even noticed.

“uh. eheh. whoops.” You let go and try to pull away. But Gaster’s hand doesn’t budge. “doc?”

He’s as still as a statue, his eyelights focused somewhere over your shoulder. A flighty feeling grows in your bones the longer you have his hand in yours. 

And then he says, quietly: “Have you been sleeping here, Sans?”

Your soul wrenches itself in another direction.

“what?”

Gaster gestures behind you with his other hand, but you don’t turn to look. In a rush, it comes to you, what he must be looking at. 

You’d had a long night, then a rough morning with Pap. This afternoon, you weren’t as careful as you usually are. You remember leaving your office door open, and, like the idiot you are, you remember leaving out your sleeping bag, your cheap diner food wrappers, your half-sharpied sneakers. And then you got so caught up in causality, your experiment, and printing those results— 

You forgot to hide your mess.

Fuck.

“You’ve been sleeping here overnight.”

“it’s not, uh,” you begin weakly, but it really is what it looks like. And judging by the way Gaster hasn’t torn his eyelights from your mess, he knows it. 

There’s no point making a fool out of yourself by lying. 

But that doesn’t mean you don’t hate the way your voice goes quiet without your consent. 

“…it’s not as bad as it looks.”

“What about your brother— Papyrus? Is he—?”

“no. god, no. trust me, you’d know if pap was loose in this place,” you chuckle a little desperately. “he stays with a couple of friends in new home while i work. temporarily, y’know. just while we’re between houses.”

“Between houses,” Gaster echoes, finally looking down at you again. It’s fine. You’re fine. “I locked down the lab last weekend— were you on the streets for that time?”

“nah, we, uh. heh.” You clear your throat. Look to the wall. Shove your free hand in your pocket. 

Anything to distract from the fact that you can’t keep your voice steady.

You’ve never talked about it to anyone before. Out loud. You didn’t expect it to be this difficult. And it doesn’t help that Gaster doesn’t give you an out. He just stares at you, expectant. You have no idea how to read the expression he’s wearing. 

So you gather yourself and let your mouth run like a loose motor.

“we house-hopped for a while, ‘til we could make it to snowdin. there’s a place out there i’ve been savin’ up for. real spacious, real cheap. y’know. somethin’ decent we can handle the mortgage for with my salary. and the guy who owns it wanted to meet up anyway. so th’ timing worked out.”

“Sans—”

“it’s fine, doc. really. trust me. been doin’ this since i could remember,” And it is fine. The more you talk, the less he’ll hear. You’ll be fine, as long as you don’t let him speak. “listen, i’ll pack it all up when i clock out, i’ve got friends we can bunk with—”

“Absolutely not.”

“—i can make it work, but, uh, y’know, i’m sorry i—”

“Sans.” He squeezes your hand, tight. Your soul scales your throat and smothers your protests. “You’re staying in my apartment until the house is yours.”

You blink up at him, uncomprehending.

“Asgore rents the place out to me, as per our contract. I can assure you, you would not be imposing.”

Slowly, the words start to trickle in. Imposing. In his apartment.

He wants you to stay. With him. In his apartment.

“oh,” you say. Like an idiot.

“It’s fully stocked, and more than big enough to house you, your brother, and I.”

The mention of Papyrus is enough to get your thoughts moving again.

“wh— uh. hang on. slow down, doc. i can’t do that.” He doesn’t reply. You shake your head, even as some part of you starts to settle into the idea. A house, regular meals. Gaster sleeping in the neighboring room. “no, no, c’mon. i’m serious.”

“As am I.”

He is. And you hate that. You hate that he’s serious. 

You hate that you want him to be serious.

Now you can’t stop yourself from considering it. Your thoughts run ahead of you, wondering what you’d be able to do if you weren’t constantly worrying about food on the table or the roof overhead. What a relief it would be to have a stable home life, not in a few years, not in a few months, but now.

No more bed hopping, or borrowing clothes. No more stretches of time spent starving in dank alleyways.

No need to worry about transportation to the lab or to wherever Pap ends up staying during the work day.

And not just that, but someone to secure it for you. Someone you know for a fact won’t toss you out at the drop of a pin, who won’t hold it over your head, or pander ulterior motives. 

Someone who doesn’t think you’re a disgusting excuse for a monster.

It sounds too good to be true.

And to top it all off, here Gaster is, looking at you like he knows he’s offering you dinners and bedtimes and breakfasts and domestic things and stability and a normal life that you could never get on your own merit.

And the only objection you can think of is:

“doesn’t that break some sort of— i dunno, fraternization rule, or something?”

Gaster blinks down at you. You’re slightly relieved to see his expression change into something more familiar.

“We are a collective twenty steps away from an immense scientific discovery that could redefine the way we conceptualize reality itself,” he says, “and you’re worried about fraternization.”

Which, okay, that’s a little unfair.

“doc, we’re twenty steps away from an immense scientific discovery, and you wanna argue about where i sleep at night.”

He takes a breath to argue, then cants his head. “You have a point.”

“don’t i.”

“This can wait.”

“can’t it.”

“I suppose we should… get on with it.”

“uh-huh.” You swallow around the lump in your throat. “as soon as you let go of my hand.”

“Oh. Right. Yes.” He releases your hand a little sheepishly. Centuries, you have to remind yourself. “Apologies.”

“don’t sweat it.”

As soon as he starts moving, you turn heel and make a beeline for your office. 

You shut the door behind you and slide down the back of it until your knees hit your chest. Then you tuck your head between your legs and you breathe.

You’re fine. It’s fine. You just— you need a minute. Just a minute. In a few seconds, you’ll open your eyesockets, and you’ll be fine.

Alone. Safe.

Fine.

You open your eyes.

Your mess awaits you, splayed at your ankles. It spirals far into the room like an extension of yourself. You stare at it with the appropriate amount of disgust.

Strewn wrappers, unwashed laundry. Empty bottles and cans you planned to sell for a couple G apiece. You never left any of it out during the daytime before. Not where the stark laboratory overhead lights strip it of nighttime’s leniency. Right now, it’s all there, laid bare for the world to see.

It’s just things. Fabric and plastic and glass and other meaningless things. 

It is what it is, but it’s not. It’s more than that.

And you know, if it would’ve been Alphys, it would’ve been easier. Because you’re not ashamed of your situation. Really. It sucks, but it happens. You get that. She would get that. It’s just. You just didn’t want anyone to know. You didn’t want Gaster to know. 

You didn’t want Gaster to look at your things and see more than just quirks or weird habits. But he did. Almost too quickly. He saw right through you. 

You wouldn’t have pegged him for a monster who has fallen on hard times. Not like you have.

But it happens. You get that.

So…

So maybe you have less to worry about than you thought.

You swipe at your eyesockets and take to your feet. Either way, you shouldn’t dwell on it, not now. Not when you have work to do. 

...Not when you have three quantum theories to potentially disprove, what in Asgore’s name are you doing?

Your printer is just as you left it on your desk. You loop around the back of it, kicking a stray ketchup bottle out of your way, and take off the panel without a hitch.

No Mew Mew Kissy Cutie poster in sight. Small mercies. You plunge your hand into the printer’s depths.

“yahtzee,” you mutter under your breath, once you’re elbow-deep. 

Anticipation sneaks past your defenses, as you pull out the piece of paper touching your fingertips. Your shambles of a home life aside, this is a big moment. You should be enjoying it.

You shake out the page, flatten it against your desk, and quickly scour its contents.

...It’s Gaster’s notes. In his handwriting, scanned and copied and printed.

Unwittingly, you start to re-crumple the paper between your fingers. The mess in your office melts away, suddenly distant and small in comparison to the realization cresting your thoughts— the mantra ringing through your head over and over like the chiming of the Judgement Hall’s bells— 

He did it.

He was right.

Superposition, entanglement, personal observation— everything. He was right.

You don’t get the chance to bolt out of your office— he meets you at your door. You swing it open, blustered by the draft, and hold up Gaster’s notes. He starts laughing before you even see your experiment report in his hands.

“holy shit,” you breathe.

“Indeed.”

“holy shit.”

“I am treating both you and your brother to dinner tonight,” Gaster pants, slapping the report into your hands. “Until then, we can discuss a more suitable salary for your expenses. Come evening, we’ll pick up Papyrus…”

He keeps talking, but you can’t process a word of what he’s saying. It doesn’t occur to you that you probably just got a raise, or that you won’t be dumpster diving tonight, or even that you’ve somehow completely accepted the fact that you’ll be roommates with your boss for the foreseeable future.

None of it matters, because Gaster is grinning, eyesockets wide, breath stolen from wonder, his hands planted firmly on your shoulders. He looks barely in control of himself.

You can’t believe you thought he was beautiful before. You’ve never seen him look at you like this.

You don’t want him to stop.

Eventually, however, he realizes you aren’t listening to a word he’s saying. So he stops talking, rolls his eyelights, and abruptly turns around to lead the way back to his office.

You blink after his receding outline, still blinded by the afterimage of his expression. Something brushes your side, and you look down.

One of his conjured hands is clutching yours. The asymmetry of the grip is just as perfectly aligned as it was with his real hand. 

You give the mimic a squeeze. It squeezes back.

With one last look at the chaos of your office, you shut your door behind you and drift along in Gaster’s wake, smiling.

.

AO3

[fizzpixie]

LeviHan Highschool AU

Requested from @appleblondie0397

Is it bad that I initially imagined Levi as a hot senior boy and Hanji as one of  those lil freshman girls that he has a huge thing for? I’ve been seeing memes floating around about that lately.

They aren’t in this story tho I swear

I’m very excited about this prompt, thank u so much. This ended up being a lengthy monster because I got super into it so I kinda cut the ending a little short. 

Levihan Highschool AU Title: Prompted Request: Levihan with the context of them being in highschool and levi and hanji having a sleepover at Levi's place (doesn't have to be anything rated r or sexual) Summary: Hanji (a junior) is head over heels for the short boy (a senior) she sits behind in her literature class. Their friendship blossoms over the course of the semester, until one day he invites her over to work on an essay together. Little does she know, he has been paying close attention to her, too. Word count: 2882 Warnings: very seldom vulgar language, mentions of sexual themes (none related to levi or hanji)

“And remember, this is all due by next wednesday. Late work is unacceptable.” Mr. Pixis exaggerated as he passed out papers to the front row, having the front students cascade the worksheets down to the people behind them. Levi groaned as he slipped a sheet for himself when the pile came his way and handed the stack behind him without turning around. Hanji subconsciously took a sheet and passed on the stack. She stopped scribbling in her notebook, glanced at it, and then tapped Levi’s shoulder.

“I’m sorry, what did he say? I wasn’t paying attention.” Levi rolled his eyes.

“This sheet has the prompt for our next essay, it’s due this upcoming Wednesday--,” He paused for a fleeting moment after processing what she had said, then swiveled around to give Hanji a quizzical look, “now what on god’s green earth could possibly keep four-eyes from paying attention in class?” She was quick to cover the contents of her notebook from his unwelcome eyes.

“None ya.” She promptly responded. Hanji was pretty protective of her journal that she used for her advanced placement literature class. Inside she had spent a collection of hours doodling Levi’s name in little hearts within the page margins. Levi had tried to peek at it before, but to no avail. Hanji would always snatch it from his view and say ‘none ya’ as in ‘none ya business’.

Their literature class was small, with maybe a little less than twenty people in it. Their mutual best friend, Erwin, sat in the farthest front corner. There was no seating chart on the first day of school but it was created as soon as everyone picked a seat. Erwin showed up late for class on the first day of school. Hanji, on the other hand, strategically showed up to class as early as she could, then proceeded to drum up mindless conversation with the teacher until a specific person showed up for class. When Levi finally crossed the classroom’s threshold right before class started, Hanji prayed to the gods that he wouldn’t pick a spot where she couldn’t sit next to him. She abruptly ended her conversation with Mr. Pixis just to see Levi had picked an obscure spot completely shrouded by other classmates. However, she was fortunate enough to snag a spot directly behind him. It wasn’t ideal. She was typically the type of student to sit front and center to help her pay attention and perform better in class. But she had been eyeing Levi in the hallways all of last semester. When she found out they finally had a class together -- a literature class, of all things-- she was beyond thrilled.

Yes, Levi was short. But he was still entirely masculine. He fashioned a more casual-gothic look. Hanji couldn’t tell if it was unintentional or not, because naturally, his hair was darker colored and he was always a bit more pale with heavy eye bags. Though he did seem to have a preference for the color black. He often wore black skinny jeans and boots, but when he wasn’t wearing a casual t-shirt he would sometimes pose in a nice button up or polo. Whenever Levi wore his jean jacket, Hanji would melt. But despite her admiration towards the quiet boy in black, she had a deep sinking feeling that she wasn’t his type. It seemed unorthodox for an ambitious, overly intelligent, and reckless girl who followed her impulses to be his type. Not to forget, she was entirely loud and obnoxious. He seemed to like quiet and logical girls who kept to themselves.

They were coming up to the end of the second semester for summertime. Levi and Hanji’s friendship grew exponentially when they first met in Mr. Pixis’ notorious class of literature, all with Hanji’s efforts of initiating conversation with him. This was one of their final essays before their upcoming final. 

“Alright. Well, Miss. ‘None ya’, I’m getting some food with Erwin after class and then going home to start this essay. Would you like to come over to my place to work together?”

Hanji felt her heart skip a beat.

“Would Erwin be there?” Surely this was too good to be true.

“Nah. He told Marie that he would hangout with her tonight to catch up on homework. We both know what they’re actually gonna do, though.” It wasn’t. Hanji tried to act casual.

“I mean like, yeah, I’d be down to come over.” Levi gave a small nod with his head. The bell then suddenly blared, signaling the end of the school day. Levi stood and neatly tucked the sheet in between some folders in his backpack.

“Cool. You have my number, I’ll text you the address and you can come over around 9 or so.” Hanji glanced up at him.

“9? Doesn’t that seem a little late?”

“Yeah, my bad. I have a lot of errands to run after getting food with Erwin so I’m not free until then. Is that okay?” It wasn’t okay. Hanji prefered to go to bed at 10 pm sharp so she could wake up at 6 am and get a full eight hours of sleep.

“Yeah, that’s fine!” It didn’t matter. She had never been over to his house before. Looking back on it, she didn’t recall anyone ever going to his place before. Not even Erwin. She could afford to lose one night of a full eight hours.

***

Hanji parked in front of a busted apartment on the outskirts of downtown. She noticed how Levi lived an astonishing distance away from school. She checked her text again to reread the address, then scanned the address plate etched into the brick. She was definitely at the right place. She tried the front door of the apartment-- which are traditionally supposed to be locked at all times for residents safety-- that slid open with ease. Hanji also noted the gaping hole shattered in the glass on the side panel by the door, as  if someone had kicked it.

‘Okay, third floor, apartment 304.’ She anxiously thought to herself. With each creaky step up, her heart rate only got faster. The lights flickered inconsistently over her head, buzzing as if they would burn out any second. ‘I can do this. We’re literally just doing homework. I like homework. It will be fun.’ She tried to calm herself as she ambled down the dim hallway and approached his apartment.

She stood in front of the door for several seconds before knocking. She examined the walls and floors of the hallway. The walls were white and dirty with a checkered patterned accent on the baseboard. The floor was concrete. It felt like a poorly kept, horror movie hospital.

As she raised her arm to knock, the door suddenly swung open. Levi stood there with a large trash bag slung over his shoulder.

“Oh, hey Hanji. How long were you there for?” He paused, “actually, nevermind. I need to take out the trash really quick, but feel free to let yourself in and sit on the couch. I’ll be back in a sec.” He moved passed her and trudged down the hallway. Hanji didn’t say anything, and watched him as he disappeared beneath the stairs below. When she was by herself, she turned to face the entrance to his place and with a cautious step, she entered.

It wasn’t very big at all. At first she thought it was a studio apartment, but she then noticed a narrow hallways that branched off into three rooms with closed doors. She located the couch and sat down, setting her backpack to her side. To her surprise, the apartment was spotless. The floor was a dark grey carpet that seemed permanently stained with age, but there was a rug thoughtfully placed and vacuumed in the center of the room. The sink was free of dishes, the few pictures and decorations on the walls were symmetrical and clean. Even the kitchen counters had been polished. To her surprise, there were two glasses of water on the coffee table, resting on home-made cork coasters.

‘He got me water. That’s very nice of him’. It was a basic courtesy, but she appreciated it. She gingerly picked up the glass and took a sip as she examined more of the apartment. The walls were a dark green with wooden shelves that hung up and displayed odd ornaments, such as old weapons and antiques. As she continued to observe the base of the apartment, her eyes landed on a picture that was not like the rest. It was a portrait. A smaller portrait of a woman with raven hair and grey eyes. Despite looking tired, she was smiling. She seemed very happy, and she was incredibly beautiful. She also had a striking resemblance to Levi.

Her thoughts were interrupted as Levi came back into the room unannounced.

“Sorry about that. My uncle didn’t take out the trash like he said he would. He’s a bum.” Hanji chuckled.

“No it’s totally cool. I was just chillin’ here. Thank you for the water.” She remarked. He replied with a solemn ‘mhmm’ then found a spot next to her on the polyester couch. With how close they were sitting together, Hanji nearly died. He pulled out a cheap laptop from his backpack and proceeded to log on as he simultaneously checked the sheet with the prompt.

“Okay, so the prompt is ‘Life is full of opinions and people differing from you. Everyone has and will encounter times when someone they meet has a different perspective from them. What are  the most effective ways to communicate ideas? What do you do when those ideas aren’t relayed properly, then argumentation breaks out? When was there a time you met someone completely different from yourself? How did it turn out?’” He began to read, but Hanji had zoned out as he was speaking, staring intently at the portrait of the mystery woman.

“Who’s that?” Hanji blurted out and pointed at the frame. Levi glanced up at her.

“Who’s what?”

“That. That woman on the wall.” He followed her finger to the portrait.

“Oh. That’s my mom. My uncle happened to have an old photo of her, we don’t have many of them.” It made sense. He was a spitting image of her.

“She’s very beautiful. Will I ever get to meet her?” Levi responded bluntly.

“She’s dead.” Hanji felt the blood leave her face, making her grow pale.

“Oh my god, Levi I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to--”

“Don’t be,” he started, “she’s been dead for a long time. I think I was like, what, four years old? I don’t remember. Either way, I’ve healed from it now,” Hanji frowned. Even if what he said could be true, there is permanent damage when missing an important figure in your life. And it’s affecting him whether he knew it or not, “Anyway, we should continue. It’s getting late.

***

The antique clock on the wall read 12:04 pm. They had spent at least a full hour writing, but the last two hours were spent vicariously sharing stories and talking about unrelated things to the prompt. Hanji was learning a plethora of new things about Levi, and she couldn’t be more satisfied. She felt sadness swell in her heart when she peered at the clock. Her eyes were growing heavy, and she knew she couldn’t write anymore for the night. Nothing when she was tired was as quality as she would like. Levi was continuing a story.

“But yeah, my uncle can be an asshole sometimes. There was this one time when he stole my computer to watch porn on some sketch website and he infected it with 12 different viruses. It also wasn’t cool because he didn’t tell me he used it for porn, so when I opened my computer at school--”

“Hey Levi? I’m sorry to interrupt, but I really think I should go home, it’s really late and I’m incredibly tired.”

“Oh, that’s fine,” He glanced at the window to see rain pouring down outside. They didn’t notice it started to storm while they were writing.

Hanji packed her things slowly to relish her final moments in his apartment. She wasn’t too sure if she’d ever be here again. When she finished, she approached the door. Levi saw her out.

“Thanks for coming over, I think we got a lot done.” He thanked her as she stood at the door.

“Yeah, I think so too. Thanks for having me.”

***

Hanji dashed to her car parked on the side of the road to avoid getting wet.

‘I knew I shoulda got my keys out before going outside’ She scolded herself mentally as she desperately fished in her pocket to find her car keys, only to notice they weren’t there. She gave up trying to do everything with haste, being that she was already soaking wet. She knelt down to rummage through her backpack, but they didn’t seem to be there, either.

‘Maybe I left them in his apartment?’ She started to question herself as she peered inside her car window. She sighed in disbelief. She had locked her car keys inside of her car. The keys mocked her as they sat in perfect view on the passenger seat. Hanji, not really knowing what to do, took a slow walk of shame back inside the apartment to tell Levi. She trudged up the stairs and to room 304. She knocked quietly. Levi opened the door pretty quick with a confused look apparent in the bend of his brow as he observed her standing there, completely drenched.

“Is something wrong Hanji? Did you leave your keys here or something?” Hanji sighed.

“I wish. I locked them in my car…” She took a beat to think about what to say next. She didn’t think about what to ask him while she was walking up the stairs, “could you maybe drive me home?” Levi shook his head.

“That would be dumb. It’s pretty late and I know you get up in like 5 hours. Why don’t you just spend the night?”

Hanji had to take a second to process what he had said. Then another second.

“Your uncle wouldn’t mind?”

“Kenny isn’t home. He won’t be until tomorrow.” Hanji toyed with the idea in her head. She absolutely wanted to, more than anything. She didn’t even bother with the pros and cons, she just went with her impulsive gut.

“Yeah, that’d be great.”

***

“Here, you can sleep in my bed. I’m familiar with the couch we have, anyway,” He guided Hanji through the hallway into the door on the right, “the bathroom is across the hall. The closed door at the end is Kenny’s room, don’t go in there,” He continued to instruct, “If you need anything let me know.” He handed her a small stack of dry clothes. Hanji set her bag down on the floor. His room was like the rest of the  place -- spotless, but a little worn with time.

“I feel bad that you’re sleeping on the couch.” Hanji started.

“Don’t,” he paused for a moment. They shared the silence for a beat, “but keep in mind, I don't have to use the couch.” Hanji didn’t physically react to his proposal, but felt like her stomach was knotting itself.

“You mean like, sharing the bed?” Levi scoffed.

“It’s a good thing you’re cute, four-eyes. Yes, we can in fact share the bed. There are no physical limitations to us sharing a twin sized bed--”

“Oh, shut up. I know there aren’t any physical barriers, but it just feels, I don’t know, intimate.” Hanji felt her face going pale. She was making a fool out of herself. Levi crossed his arms, with the faintest shit-eating grin tugging at the corners of his lips.

“Oh, darn. Now what ever will we do? We don’t have to, of course. It’s just a suggestion.” He reminded her. Hanji didn’t want to give herself time to think about it, knowing she would over analyze the situation. It was just a night of sleep.

***

Underneath the sheets, Hanji curled up into a ball. Levi was on the other side of her, their backs touching each other as they were facing away from each other on the tight bed.

“Thank you for the dry clothes.” She said as they lay in the darkness in silence for a little while. She was sporting a pair of his old grey sweat shorts and a baggy band t shirt.

“Yeah, I didn’t want you getting my bed all wet.” She was aware. But despite being in dry clothes and wrapped in sheets, she was shivering cold. Levi could feel her body tremble next to his.

Without a word, Levi rolled over so he was facing her back, and slowly snaked one arm over her waist and another underneath her pillow to wrap himself onto her. Hanji completely froze at the abrupt feeling of warmth pressing onto her back and legs. Levi noticed her quivers completely cease.

“Are you okay with this?” Hanji noted how he noticed she was cold. She didn’t smile, but instead felt her arm search for his, lacing her fingers with his warm hand. She was entirely grateful.

“Yes. Definitely.”