#but I still don’t know how to drive and there’s no fucking public transportation out here

[tyrianlynch]

Sigh. You guys. I’m feeling rather trapped. Like a 16 year old girl stuck atop a mountain with no way of getting down.

#to be clear when I was 16 I lived on top of a mountain and didn’t know how to drive so I couldn’t get down #unless I like asked my mom #but I’m staying with my aunts in the suburbs for a few nights while my roommate is out of town #bc she took the dog and if I have no roommate and no dog I will not sleep bc the murderers will come #but I still don’t know how to drive and there’s no fucking public transportation out here #and like if I was home I don’t think I’d be hopping on the bud and going somewhere #but the fact that I could makes all the difference #and it’s just bringing up all this cptsd stuff from when I lived on top of the mountain with no way down #I swore I’d never be trapped like that again #and ya ya I can get an Uber I can leave if I choose but that’s still relying on someone yknow? #I like being self sufficient and knowing that I can stand up and go across the city all by myself #and being here just makes me feel like a teenager who has to make a whole presentation to convince my mom to take me into town #and I don’t like feeling like that person bc that person is all tied up in the trauma #whatever I’ll feel better in the morning and I’ll delete this post I just feel very afraid rn

[inkwolvesandcoffee]

Just Papa Solomons Things

Visiting Scotland with your dove

TH Masterlist

Even though you don’t want to

Alfie’s not a fan of Scotland. Not because of the people or the culture.

No, it’s because everything, right, is on a fucking mountain!

Or so he claims regardless of whether you’re walking to Old Town in Edinburgh via Princes Street, going up the gentle sloping pathway on Calton Hill, are trying to hike up to King Arthur’s Seat in Holyrood Park, or are walking down (I repeat, DOWN) the Royal Mile.

And that’s only in Edinburgh.

It honestly makes you wonder why he decided to tag along, especially since you’ve also planned to explore the rugged north. Then again, you know your grumpy partner well enough to be aware that part of the reason he’s with you is to offer protection.

Truth be told, Alfie gets bloody anxious when you’re on a trip by yourself. Enough so to disregard the issues he has with his leg. Your needs come before his. That’s “non-fucking-negotiable, mate”.

Fortunately, well, for him, the amount of solo trips has drastically reduced since you started dating. He still gives you plenty of space to do things on your own, but it makes him feel better knowing he’s nearby should anything happen.

And it’s nice because now you have him to drive you around so you don’t have to make use of public transport (depends on where you two are, though), watch your luggage when going to the restroom (again, if applicable), and hold your hand as winter casts the streets in dusk as early as four in the evening.

Another added bonus is that you get to stay in the most comfortable and sometimes downright fanciest hotels. Alfie might be frugal, having been raised that way, but he doesn’t want to do you short. Plus, having the finances, he doesn’t mind occasionally splurging a little bit if it concerns spending time together.

Now, Papa Solomons hates the cold and becomes snappy when the heating isn’t on in your coach in the train to Inverness.

“‘S bad for me sciatica. Also ain’t good for your health. They better get the heating here or I’ll make them. My cane should be plenty conviction.”

When one of the staff members walks by, Alfie beckons them over. However, before he can so much as open his mouth, you place your hand on his arm.

He glances over his shoulder, rolls his eyes with an irritated sigh as you shake your head, and clears his throat to politely inquire about the state of the heating in a strained voice. “You see, mate, my wonderful missus is gettin’ cold and we can’t ‘ave that, can we? If she starts getting the heavy shakes between let’s say now and ten minutes, I’ll personally come turn the fucking system on, right. Do you understand?”

With a stammered “y-yes, sir” and frantic nod, the attendant is off.

Three minutes later, you feel the coach warming up. Alfie leans back, eyes closed, his fingers entwined with yours. “Much better. Fucking trains. Don’t like ‘em.”

You kiss his cheek. “Thank you for not using your cane.”

“Mhm, doin’ it only for you.”

And he does. Alfie tries to reign himself in whenever he’s with you, afraid of showing you the always seething rage beneath his skin, the wrath inside looking for a way out. So, while he hasn’t discussed it yet with you and remains highly skeptical about how much good it’ll do, he’s thinking about anger management therapy or taking classes in it.

If only so he won’t turn into his father.

So he can love you properly.

So he can settle with you.

Albeit perhaps not in the place he’s envisioned.

It all happens on a day trip you booked for the two of you.

Perhaps it’s the way he sees how enamoured you are by the language, the way your eyes light up when hearing about local folklore, the strange familiarity he feels when the Norse history of Skye is mentioned while you’re at his side.

Maybe it’s the glamour of the faeries.

Whatever it is, it makes him want to stay on Skye with you.

He doesn’t mention it while you’re having lunch at Relish in Portree, but Alfie can’t stop envisioning having a little bakery in a town like this. He’d leave London and Margate behind, settle here, and live out whatever days remain for him in the peace and quiet of the island.

On the long drive back, he lets you snuggle up to him for warmth and to function as your pillow. He only wakes you up once when you stop in Broadford for refreshments, gently forcing you to get out of the van and accompany him to the Co-Op to get a semi-decent dinner and snacks.

It’s safe to say, for its rarely any different, Alfie pays for everything. “‘S what I’m supposed to do, innit? Good men take care of their wi- women.”

Despite his stoic expression and casual tone, meant to dismiss the slip of the tongue, the quick glance to check your reaction is telling. He knows he fucked up, played his cards too fast, too rashly.

You catch it, but decide to willfully ignore it. Instead, you take a sip of coffee. “Let’s go back to the bus.”

Nevertheless, once you’re back at the hotel, he goes nearly feral. It’s similar to what overtakes him every summer, but now it’s driven by the desire to claim your unbearable cuteness, completely under the spell of the magic that seems to surround you, lingering.

There’s a precarious balance when it comes to how vocal Alfie is in bed. Some days he’ll guide you to your orgasm without a single silence, each word pointed and full of purpose. Other days, the only thing he can do is growl and grunt, lost in the pleasure you grant him and vice versa, but also in the way his brain is finally off. No schemes, no secrets nor hidden motifs. Only the simple act of fucking.

Nonetheless, this is perhaps one of the few times you’ve heard him beg. Desperate and blunt, no polish to his utterances yet crystal clear diamonds compared to the muttering meant to confuse.

“Marry me, eh? Let’s, fuck, hm, yeah settle,” he murmurs in between kisses, which grow sloppier as his thrusts get more and more erratic. “Settle with me. Be Mrs Solomons. Want, hrm, need my wife. Only you. Want. Want you. Only you.” He pulls your hair so you’ll bare your neck to him. Lovingly he bites the skin, the sting and burning warmth heated by the words spilling from his lips. “Please, dove, please. Marry me.”

He doesn’t need a spoken answer, just the mere fantasy you say ‘yes’ and the way you look when he’s inside you, especially as you come undone because of him, is enough to send him over the edge with you.

As you’re basking in the afterglow, Alfie caresses your arm. His fingers slowly slide over your skin, lost in thought, wandering in the chaos reigning in his head until he’s found the words to start the conversation. Or, rather, to tell you what’s been on his mind since the afternoon, the wee bakery on Skye.

There are no words for the bleakness washing over him as you frown, taken completely unawares by his attitude. It’s unlike him to be this spontaneous, without a plan. “Alfie, don’t be rash. It doesn’t suit you. Come up with a business plan first. Is it viable? Would we manage to get by? It won’t be like London.”

“I know, but…” he groans, reluctant to admit he’s in the wrong, “you’re right, dove. Silly, ain’t ‘e, this old man and ‘is fantasies.”

“You’re not old.”

“Older than you. Old enough to be-“

You shut him up with a kiss. “No, none of this. I love you for who you are. I’m proud to be Papa’s little dove.”

“Would you one day be ‘is wife?”

You furrow your brow, wondering where this is coming from. That is, until you recall his pleading in his sex drunk stupour. “You meant that?”

He nods. “Mhm. Maybe not the proper way to ask, but I mean it. This, ‘ere, right, between us, I want it to be long term.” Voice lowered and steady blue eyes filling with the fight between panic, disbelief, and determination, he asks the question that makes him grow pale. “It is, innit?”

“It is, don’t worry.”

He cups your cheek and pulls you towards him to rest his forehead against yours. A tapered breath escapes him, shivery and frail. “Stay with me.”

You run your fingers through his beard, a burden falling off of your shoulders as you see him relax. Though you appreciate Alfie’s occasional openness, when he shows his struggles you can’t help but feel your own heart crack.

Then again, that’s Love.

For whatever our souls are made of, if we’re lucky, we find one that’s compatible. That’s the same.

“I won’t go anywhere without telling you.”

“Don’t go at all without me.”

You feel something wet warm your hand as you kiss his forehead. The sensation moves to your chest when Alfie rests his head on it. His arms wrapped around your waist in a fierce bear hug, you run your fingers through his hair, weaving them through his messy brown locks.

Alfie rarely if ever allows himself to show his vulnerabilities. Nevertheless, when he’s around you and alone like this, he does. And it still stuns him you stay at his side, that you haven’t run from, in his words, “tainted bein’, uglier than a golem”.

But how could you? How could you leave a man as doting and loving as him? Sure, Alfie’s gruff and a little rough-handed at times, even to you, but you know he tries not to be.

Sleet gently ticks against the window, filling the silence in the hotel room. As per usual on nights like this, you use it to calm the both of you down.

Until your skin is tear-stained.

Both your hearts cracked a little more.

And Alfie’s asleep.

Tag list: @potter-solomons @zablife @vir-tual @hecatemoon87 @dreamlandcreations @liliac-dreamer @rose-like-the-phoenix @hoodeddreams13 @buttercupsandboys @solomons-finest-rum @wandawiccan60 @mollybegger-blog @babaohhhriley

#Alfie Solomons #Alfie Solomons imagine #Peaky Blinders #Peaky Blinders imagine #Alfie Solomons x Reader

[hannyoontify]

the best birthday gift - jeon wonwoo

member | best friend!wonwoo x reader ft. the rest of svt

genre | fluff, attempted humor, high school!au (but they’re not at school)

word count | 2.8k

synopsis | it turns out, wonwoo works best under pressure

warnings | cursing, reader wears a tank top, reader is short and gets made fun of for it (lightheartedly), sex jokes, friendly bantering

notes | set in southern california, LA/Hollywood, based on real life events from yours truly and kids don’t jaywalk not proofread

happy (late) wonwoo day!! to the sweetest boy ever, i hope you had a wonderful birthday <33

Whoever thought taking public transportation with fourteen people to downtown LA was a good idea deserved to “be buried alive 6 feet under with those bug-eyed Chihuahuas”, according to Seungkwan. 

In his defense, Seungcheol thought it would be better for the environment. It totally wasn’t because of the fact that he was the only one with a driving license and it absolutely wasn’t because he wasn’t confident enough in his driving skills to be responsible for the lives of thirteen other people. Where would he get a 14-seat car anyway? 

All fourteen of you trudged along the cracked sidewalks of downtown LA, broken up into smaller groups as Seungcheol led the way in the front with Jeonghan and Jihoon. You stayed in the back, with Mingyu and Wonwoo, who were intensely debating whether or not a person can suck their own dick. You occasionally pitched in with your two cents, but you mostly stayed quietly in the middle, enjoying the spectacle that was laid out in front of you.

You were so engrossed in Mingyu and Wonwoo’s conversation that you almost ran straight into a streetlight. You yelled in surprise and Wonwoo barked out a sharp laugh, almost in tears as you rubbed your nose with a pout. Mingyu cracked a smile as you threatened to demonstrate firsthand to your best friend what you learned from your second grade taekwondo class. 

“You don’t wanna mess with me, Jeon Wonwoo. I was a yellow belt in second grade.”

“Yeah, and I’m, like, a whole head taller than you. What about it?” Mingyu’s ears perked up at hearing those fighting words and reached for his leftover popcorn from earlier. It was safe to assume that Wonwoo chose death today.

“You know, with your height and broad shoulders, you would think there’s at least one bone with common sense in you but I guess not,” you countered.

“You do know that tall people have the same amount of bones as short people like you, right?” Wonwoo sneered. 

You did a double take. “Wait, really?”

“Oh my god, [Name], what’d you learn in human anatomy?” Joshua asked. He was standing next to Mingyu, his hand reaching into Mingyu’s bucket of soggy popcorn. “I thought you passed that class with an A.”

“Yeah, with my help,” Wonwoo muttered under his breath. “They slept in class everyday and I ended up having to tutor them for 16 hours the day before our final.”

You swung your arm around his shoulder and grinned. “I still owe you for that one, how can I ever repay you for your kindness?” You asked dramatically.

Wonwoo reached over and pinched the side of your ribs. “How about growing another couple inches?”

“Fuck off,” You pushed him away from you and stuck out your tongue. In retaliation, Wonwoo flipped you off. 

Mingyu and Joshua watched the two of you bickering in amusement. The older boy leaned over and whispered into Mingyu’s ear, “I give them two weeks before they either start dating or fucking, I don’t know which one yet.”

Mingyu snorted. “I give them three days.”

“It’s a deal then,” Joshua reached out and shook Mingyu’s hand with his non-buttery hand. Unfortunately for him, he had reached over and gripped the latter’s oily, buttery hand. “EW WHAT THE FUCK MINGYU.” 

“Why did we stop?” You heard Seungkwan ask. He was currently holding onto Soonyoung’s backpack strap like it was a leash, stopping him from running off into the wild streets of downtown LA. Next to him was Seokmin, who just looked happy to be wearing his newly acquired Minions bucket hat. 

After walking for what seemed like forever, Seungcheol had finally signaled the entire group to stop walking by an intersection. Mingyu glanced towards the front, where Seungcheol, Jeonghan, and Jihoon seemed to be in a heated discussion about something. Although you couldn’t hear what they were saying, you could tell they were getting stressed by Jihoon’s eyebrows that furrowed into each other with every passing second, Jeonghan’s more exasperated hand movements, and Seungcheol’s lips that began jutting into a pout as he got more and more worked up. 

You let out a tired sigh. Your feet were aching and sore, your shoulders were sunburnt and itchy, and you probably smelled like a mix of sweat and weed right now. It wasn’t you that was smoking weed, but the esteemed gentleman sitting next to you on the metro-rail earlier was and you’re pretty sure the smell was permanently woven into the fabric of your tank top. You shifted back and forth between your feet, trying to alleviate any weight and pressure off your feet for at least a second and Wonwoo seemed to notice this because he silently guided you to a nearby bench,

You spared him a quick glance. “Thanks, Woo. You should also sit.” 

“Short people tend to have a shorter life span. Compared to you, I have plenty of more time to sit down,” Wonwoo shook his head with faux sympathy, almost enough to convince you that he was being serious but you knew him better than that.

Despite being absolutely exhausted, you assumed you had enough strength left in you to give Wonwoo’s shin a good, hard kick. 

“Ow, what the fuck was that for?” Wonwoo complained and you just grinned.

“I hope you shrink.”

Wonwoo stuck his tongue out at you childishly and you just rolled your eyes with a giggle, momentarily forgetting about the hot, blaring sun and the impending sunburn on your shoulders. He glanced down at you with the ghost of a smile tugging on the corners of his lips and you felt your stomach erupt into butterflies. Your not-so-little crush on Wonwoo was old news, but no matter how much time you spent with him, his smile always managed to turn you into a messy pile of goo and butterflies. 

Waiting for further instructions, Wonwoo leaned on you, his arms resting on top of your head as he scrolled through his phone. You stared down at the ground, trying to ignore the warmth of Wonwoo’s body next to yours. If it was anyone else, you would’ve pushed them off already, complaining about how hot it was, but this was Wonwoo. 

You tried to use the breathing techniques Minghao taught you a while ago, but it didn’t help calm your fastly beating heart. You wiped your sweaty palms on the fabric of your pants and licked your chapped lips. You almost forgot how much you hated summer in southern California.

In an attempt to distract yourself, you thought back to the long day and how chaotic everything was from the start. All fourteen of you agreed to go to Universal Studios Hollywood for Wonwoo’s 17th birthday, and the morning was alright. You all made it to the theme park safely via public transportation and after a long, fun day, the group decided to head back home to catch the last train.

You guys missed the last train.

In Jun’s defense, he didn’t mean to get lost. He was busy trying to apply another layer of sunscreen and when he looked up, everyone else was gone. He wandered around the city for a while before he caught sight of Soonyoung’s bright tiger backpack (no one knows why none of them used their phones to contact each other). By the time all fourteen of you were reunited, the last train had already left, leaving you guys to take the cheaper, but much more sketchy metro-rail. 

After missing the original stop on the metro-rail, you guys had to ride back for another 20 minutes, then navigate the streets of downtown LA in the late afternoon heat to find a specific bus stop, leading to your current situation.

“Okay, everyone! Our bus is supposed to be here any second,” Seungcheol called out. Immediately, everyone’s focus seemed to snap to the three boys who were standing side by side, arms crossed and firm looks on their faces. “The bus station is diagonally across the intersection so we need to-”

Jeonghan, looking somewhere else, began to urgently tap on Seungcheol’s shoulder. “Cheol, that’s 460. That’s our bus.”

Seungcheol felt his blood run cold. Across the street, he saw a bright orange bus making its way down the street, pulling up to the bus station diagonally across from where he and the rest of his friends were currently standing. 

Everyone seemed to be under a trance as they stared at the run-down bus pull up to the station. Soonyoung was the first one to shake off the trance, breaking free from his beloved tiger backpack and leaving it in Seungkwan’s limp grip. He bolted across the street, ignoring all the different car honks and curses that were thrown at him. He had somehow made it not only across the street, but diagonally across the intersection, ending up on the same sidewalk as the bus station.

Soonyoung looked behind, expecting everyone else to be following him, only to see the rest of his friends staring at him dumbfoundedly.

“KWON SOONYOUNG WHAT THE FUCK?!” Seungcheol yelled. 

“I’M SORRY HYUNG I DON’T KNOW-”

Seungcheol waved at him urgently, doing everything in his power to resist the urge to run through the LA traffic to simply throttle the younger boy. “NO, DON’T FUCKING APOLOGIZE JUST STOP THE BUS.”

Soonyoung stared at Seungcheol with a confused look on his face. “WHAT?”

Finally breaking out of your own trance, you stood up and began pointing to the bus. “STOP THE FUCKING BUS. TELL THEM TO WAIT.”

Chan noticed that the crosswalk light turned green and began running. “COME ON WE NEED TO MOVE.”

My dear reader, have you ever seen a stampede of any kind? Whether it be the stampede of wildebeests that trampled Mufasa to death in the Lion King, the rush of high school students to the canteen during lunch, or thirteen teenagers running down the crooked streets of LA, I’m sure you can imagine the picture. Sweaty and red faces, backpack straps flying off shoulders, breathless laughs, unintelligible yells, and hands tightly gripping and tugging at each other.

More specifically, Wonwoo’s hand gripping yours. 

In the spur of the moment, the only thought in Wonwoo’s head was making sure you were safe. So when the rest of your friends broke into a sprint, his first instinct was to grab your hand and pull you along. 

Here you are now, your hand still in Wonwoo’s as you guys caught your breath while waiting for the second light to change. Soonyoung stood on the other side of the crosswalk as the living epitome of the standing emoji, waiting for someone to say something.

Seungkwan angrily shook his fist that still held his friend’s (tacky) tiger backpack. “WHAT ARE YOU DOING? GO STOP THE BUS!”

Soonyoung helplessly pointed towards the bus that had already left the station and was now waiting at a red light. “IT LEFT! IT’S TOO LATE!”

“GO! GO ASK THEM TO STOP. STALL THE DRIVER, JUST DO ANYTHING,” You screamed desperately. All around you, your friends were also yelling at Soonyoung, telling him to stop the bus and ask the driver to wait. 

Soonyoung finally gave in and ran back towards the bus that was still waiting at the red light. With every passing second, everyone inched closer to the edge of the curb, impatiently waiting for the light to change. And after what seemed like forever (it had been three minutes), the light finally changed and you made a run for it. Pushing past Jihoon and Vernon, you sprinted down the sidewalk with incoherent yells. You passed by other pedestrians who all looked at you and your friends questionably, and for good reason too. It wasn’t everyday you saw a group of teenagers running in downtown LA in the middle of July. 

There was maybe another hundred feet left in front of you and you’ve never felt more exhilarated before in your life. Adrenaline coursed through your veins as your feet made heavy contact with the gum clad concrete. You felt like you were in a teen movie. You could almost imagine the BGM as you and your friends dramatically run together in slow motion, your hair flowing in the air and you find yourself smiling. Wonwoo caught up to you, running by your side as the two of you silently sprinted down the street with bated breaths. 

Wonwoo glanced over at you and felt a warm feeling spreading throughout his chest. This feeling wasn’t unfamiliar to him, but it amazed him how easily he was swept away by your charm every time he was in your presence. Your laugh always pulled at his heartstrings and your smile seemed to brighten up every room you entered. Wonwoo was drawn to you like a magnet and there was nothing he could do about it.

As the two of you got closer to the bus, Wonwoo suddenly had a thought. He reached for your hand and pulled you closer to him. 

“[Name],” Wonwoo started breathlessly. The bus was now less than fifty feet away and Soonyoung had successfully managed to convince the bus driver to wait for you and your friends. It was now or never. “You said you would get me anything for my birthday, right?”

You let out a strangled grunt, trying your hardest to not sound like you were fighting for your life after running for only five minutes because that was just simply embarrassing. Up ahead, Soonyoung had already made his way into the bus and found himself a comfortable seat in the back with a content smile. You slowed down as you approached the bus and breathlessly set down a foot on the front step of the vehicle.

Behind you, Wonwoo gently rested his hands on your hips and whispered into your ear, “How about a date?”

You felt your heart drop past your ass, your feet, and into the deepest, darkest pits of hell. Skinship was normal between your friend group, but this was different. And also, what the fuck did he just say? Were you slowly losing your hearing? Your mom was right, spending too much with Seokmin and Soonyoung did damage your ears-

Wonwoo let out a soft laugh behind you and almost as if he read your mind, “No, you’re not hearing things [Name]. This is me asking you out.”

You desperately needed someone to pinch you. 

Climbing onto the bus with a perplexed look on your face, you mumbled a quick ‘thank you’ to the bus driver who seemed a little less than happy to have a bunch of hooligans on his bus. Wonwoo’s big hands never left your waist as he guided you to an empty seat towards the back of the bus. You simply followed his lead as you tried to comprehend what your best friend just said. This was all probably a prank, right? You sank down in your chair and looked at Wonwoo, who was trying to get himself situated next to you. Was he being serious?

“Yes, you idiot. I’m being serious. I’m so surprised you haven’t caught onto my crush on you yet, with how obvious I was being,” Wonwoo had whispered the last part under his breath but you still heard it. His hand reached for yours that was resting on your lap. “I understand if you don’t feel the same way but-”

“I do,” you said abruptly, interrupting him. After realizing what you just said, you wanted to slap a hand over your mouth, dig a hole underground, crawl into it, and never come out of it ever again. “I mean- I- What I mean is…”

Wonwoo looked at you expectantly, his brown eyes gleaming with hope. He nodded at you to continue and you felt like your tongue had suddenly turned into cotton. Everything in your mouth was dry and heavy and you had to lick your lips before continuing.

“I do… feel the same way about you. I’ve liked you ever since that water balloon fight we had in eighth grade on your birthday. And-” You choked on your words again. “-I would love to go on a date with you.”

Wonwoo felt like he had just won the lottery. He simply couldn’t help the smile that tuuged up on his lips as he gave your hand a firm squeeze. “Okay.”

You returned his smile and hand squeeze. “Okay.”

Exhausted from the long day, Wonwoo rested his head on your shoulder as he drew small patterns on your knee. “I think this might be the best birthday yet,”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, since you agreed to date me.”

“You’re so corn-”

“HA! YOU OWE ME TEN BUCKS SHUA HYUNG.”

reblogs and feedback always appreciated ^-^

#hannyoontify.works #seventeen #svt #seventeen fluff #svt imagines #seventeen imagines #seventeen blurbs #svt x reader #wonwoo #seventeen fic #seventeen scenarios #wonwoo x reader #wonwoo fluff #wonwoo imagines #wonwoo scenarios #svt fic #svt fluff #svt wonwoo #wonwoo fanfic #wonwoo angst #wonwoo au #wonwoo seventeen #jeon wonwoo

[captainremmington-13]

𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖉𝖆𝖚𝖌𝖍𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝖔𝖋 𝖉𝖊𝖆𝖙𝖍

𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝖊𝖎𝖌𝖍𝖙

show!Luke Castellan x daughter of thanatos!reader

DISCLAIMER: I don’t own the image above or any of Rick Riordan’s characters/world-building.

⚠️Warnings⚠️: swearing, mentions of death, making out (not NSFW), a small argument, mention of a sexual joke but it’s not even actually said

A/N: this may be my favorite chapter so far

“I…I think you’ve got the hang of it, angel.”

“Yeah,” you laughed under your breath, wiping the sweat from your forehead. “Me too.”

You were standing in a clearing in the middle of the woods, at least a half-mile from any civilization. You were surrounded by shrubs, flowers, and grass, all of which you’d killed just by extending your hand and wiling it to die. 

It had been two days since you’d first discovered this new ability. You and Luke had made it to Nevada without many problems, only encountering a few weak monsters during the train ride. You were more concerned with figuring out the powers that had randomly appeared.

Luke had been nothing but supportive. He continued to prove himself as your greatest ally, and an incredible boyfriend. 

He had lead you to the quiet spot in the woods where you currently resided, doing his best to give you pointers regarding how to experiment with your powers. Neither of you had any idea what you were doing, but you assumed that if you were careful enough, you’d be fine. 

And you were. You’d successfully gotten a grip on your ability, which you’d nicknamed “the death thing”. You knew that you had to channel some form of extreme emotion for it to work, whether it was anger, fear, or hatred. 

If you could control those feelings, you could control your powers. 

Luke walked towards you, a small smile on his face. He gave you a quick kiss, and handed you a bottle of Gatorade. 

“I’m so proud of you, angel.” 

You grin, taking a big gulp of the energy drink. “Thanks. Honestly, I’m pretty proud of myself too. I almost passed out the first couple of times, but I realized that if I don’t overcompensate and channel more of my power than is required, I’ll be fine.”

Luke rubbed your back gently, and took the Gatorade bottle once you were done drinking. He finished it quickly, and placed it back in his backpack. “I’ll recycle this later,” he said, most likely to himself. It was an adorable habit he had, talking to himself to ensure that he remembered things.

“So,” you leaned down and grabbed your own backpack, along with your weapon. “Back to traveling?“

Luke nodded. “Yeah, but there’s no public transport that’s going directly to where we need to be. So…”

You smiled, linking arms with him. “Let me guess. You’re gonna steal us a car.” 

“Right as always, baby.”

You blushed, looking up at your boyfriend. Somehow he was cute and insanely fucking hot at the same time. You knew that he would tease you for getting flustered, but you didn’t mind. 

After all, when you did something he found attractive, he would get just as lovesick. 

So it all evened out eventually. 

.

.

.

Thanks to his knack for thievery, Luke managed to steal a nice Mercedes-Benz. You made yourself comfortable in the passengers seat, flipping your boyfriend off when he called you a passenger princess. 

“You’re the only one out of us two who can drive, Castellan,” you said snarkily, popping a piece of candy in your mouth. “Unless you wanna let me drive without having any practice, you’re gonna be the designated chauffeur.”

Luke rolled his eyes, but leaned over to give you a kiss. Thankfully, the light was red, or else you would’ve definitely ended up in a car wreck. 

“You’re lucky I love you so much, angel,” he said, giving your thigh an affectionate pat. “I wouldn’t let anyone else boss me around like that.”

You giggled, placing your hand over his, which still rested on your upper leg. “I’m honored to be the only person who can give you orders.” 

He smiled cockily. “You should be.”

It was your turn to roll your eyes. “You’re so arrogant sometimes, you know?“

“At leadt it’s warranted,” he replied, speeding up the vehicle slightly. “I mean, I am pretty fucking awesome.” 

“You sound like a dork.”

He snorted. “Okay, how else am I supposed to word it?”

“Maybe something more like ‘I’m an insanely good swordsman and a dangerously hot individual.’ It’s more obnoxious, but at least it’s not as awkward-sounding.”

Luke smirked, his lips curling upwards. “Dangerously hot, hm? I can imagine you drooling over me internally. I wouldn’t mind you doing it externally, though-“

“Castellan!” you shrieked, slapping him on the arm. “What the fuck has gotten into you?”

Your reaction only made his expression more smug. “I could make a very dirty joke, but I have a feeling you’d throw me out of the car if I did.”

You shook your head, avoiding his intense gaze to attempt to subdue the heat rushing to your cheeks. “You’re impossible.”

“You love me, though.”

“Yeah, I do, unfortunately.”

“Unfortunately?”

“I’m kidding, Castellan. You know that I love you, and only you.”

Luke’s grip on your thigh tightened slightly, sending a warm shock through your body.

“That’s much better.” 

________________________________________________

Several hours of driving later, you and Luke were sprawled out in the roomy trunk of the Mercedes-Benz. It was wide enough that both of you could lie down without feeling too cramped. A couple blankets covered you both, insulating the body heat you radiated.

“Luke?” you whispered softly. “You still awake?”

You heard him groan quietly, and roll over to face you. 

“Yeah, angel, what d’you need?” 

Maybe it was the sleepiness getting to you, but you practically melted at his caring words. “You’re not close enough to me.”

He let out a short laugh, and immediately placed a hand on the small of your back, pulling you flush against his chest. “That better?”

“Mhm,” you murmured, your body finally relaxing now that you were in his arms. 

“You ok?” he asked, stroking your hair softly. “I know today was a long day, I’m sure you’re exhausted.” 

“I am,” you replied. “But it was worth it. I can finally stop freaking out about the death thing. I’m just concerned that the other campers are gonna start seeing me as a monster again once they find out about it.”

“I doubt that your closer friends will,” Luke said reassuringly. “I know for sure that Annabeth and Chris will treat you the same.”

“I suppose,” you said. “I’m still gonna try to avoid using the death thing when I can. It’s pretty safe at camp, there should be no reason to use it.” 

“Makes sense. And if anyone gives you shit about it, let me know. I’ll mess them up real good, I promise.”

You smiled, bring your face closer to his. He cupped your cheek, and pressed his lips with yours. The kiss was slow but heated, and you could feel the romantic tension rising rapidly. Luke’s hands, which were calloused and slightly rough from years of training, slipped under your tank top, rubbing circles on your back with his fingers. It felt so fucking good. The combination of his soothing touch and his soft lips, which were now placing kisses on your jawline and neck, was practically driving you insane. 

Luke let out a quiet sigh, moving his hands down to grip your waist gently. He pulled his mouth away from your neck to whisper, “Is this okay?”

You nodded quickly. “Please, please don’t stop.”

Luke immediately resumed kissing your neck, moving down to your collarbone. Your hand wandered towards his hair, running your fingers through his curls. 

For what seemed like hours, you and Luke exchanged kisses and loving touches. You swore that nothing, not even the Isle of the Blest, could make you this happy.

Finally, you felt your eyelids get heavy, and your mind become fuzzier and slower. When he noticed this, Luke removed his lips from your skin. They were slightly swollen, but as pretty as ever. 

“Time for sleep, angel,” he said lovingly, pulling the blanket tighter around your bodies. “If you have nightmares, don’t hesitate to wake me up, ok?”

You hummed in agreement. Snuggling closer to Luke, you closed your eyes and let out a deep sigh. 

“G’night, Luke. Love you.“

“Love you too, angel.”

________________________________________________

At the crack of dawn, you and Luke were on the road again. You only had about a day left of travel before you reached the Garden. 

As you finally crossed the California border, you decided it was time to start brainstorming a plan to steal a golden apple. Winging it would be a stupid idea, especially because of the fearsome guardian that protected the magical tree.

“We could create a diversion,” you suggested. “I’ll distract the dragon, and you get the apple. Then, we flee before we get our faces melted off.”

“No,” Luke said firmly. “You’re not putting yourself in that much danger by dealing with a full-grown dragon.” 

“Luke, I can handle it. Besides, I can fly, I can lead it away from-“

“You can’t out-fly Ladon. He’s incredibly fast, you’ll be killed within minutes.”

You huffed. “Why does everything in our lives have to be so damn complicated?”

Luke reached out to grasp your hand. “Angel, I understand where your frustration is coming from, trust me. But let’s try to focus on the task at hand, so we can come up with a rational plan.”

You averted your eyes from him, feeling slightly embarrassed at your small outburst. “You’re right, I’m sorry.”

“It’s ok,” Luke said, keeping your hands entwined. “I think it would be best for me to be the distraction. I’ll deal with the Hesperides and Ladon. Try to have a friendly conversation with them, pretending to just be interested in admiring the tree. Then, as soon as I see that you have the apple, we’ll retreat.”

“That sounds like a decent idea,” you said. “But what if we can’t retreat fast enough?”

“Then we fight.”

“I don’t like our odds. Besides, it would make Zeus and Hera very angry.”

“Since when did you care about how they felt?”

“I don’t! I just don’t want their wrath to get us killed, that’s all.”

“Fair enough.“

There was silence for a few moments, as you both struggled to come up with a better solution.

Then, you spoke.

“I’ll teleport us out of there.”

Luke let out a short bark of laughter. “Good one, angel.“

“I’m not joking. I did some research a couple months back, and my fath-I mean Thanatos can teleport. That’s how he gets around the world so quickly to collect souls. I think that if I try hard enough, I can-“

“No!” Luke snapped, making you recoil slightly. His face softened immediately, his expression molding into one of guilt. “I’m sorry, angel, I didn’t mean to yell. I just…I don’t want you dying because of a quest Hermes sent us on. You deserve to live a full life, and if it got cut off because of me-“

“Okay, okay,” you cut him off, looking down at your feet. “I get it. Forget I mentioned it.”

Luke sighed. “I’m really sorry, I didn’t mean to lash out like that.” 

“It’s fine. I know you just want me to be safe.”

“Yeah,” he agreed. “But I’ll try to keep my temper under control. I don’t ever wanna take my anger out on you.”

“Me neither,” you admitted. “Especially since I know it can have some really dangerous consequences.” You rested a hand on his forearm, looking at him lovingly. “I promise I’ll try my best to avoid getting hurt, but you better keep yourself out of trouble too.” 

Luke laughed, giving you a teasing smile that made your heart flutter. “Is that a threat?”

“Maybe.”

“You don’t need to threaten me to get me to listen to you, baby.“

“Oh I know,” you replied, giving him a playful grin of your own. “All I have to do is bat my eyelashes and give you a pleading look, and I have you wrapped around my little finger.”

Luke’s cheeks turned a pale shade of pink, making you smile wider. “Where’d you learn that from?“

“Lola and Layla from the Aphrodite cabin. They’ve promised to teach me all their tricks eventually.”

He huffed. “You’re gonna be the death of me one day, you know that?”

You giggled, resting your head back against the headrest of the car seat. “At least you’ll die happy then.”

Luke chuckled, glancing at the sign overhead that read 300 miles to San Francisco. 

“Yeah, I’m sure I will.”

taglist: @orionspaperwork, @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy, @marvelescvpe, @lovingjasontoddmakemewanttocry, @louweasleymalfoy, @stars4birdie, @stargurl-battleship, @daughterofthemoons-stuff

Thank you for reading! Pls let me know what you think in the comments!!!

Ok so I decided against adding another monster fight in this chapter, I just REALLY wanted to write fluffy stuff instead💀💀I promise there will be more action in the next installment

Let me know in the comments if you want to be added to the taglist!

#luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan imagine #percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #luke castellan x you #luke castellan series #pjo tv show #pjo fandom #pjo #pjo series #rick riordan #demigods #thanatos

[jjuyocatboy]

my personal maid ♡ kim jiwoong

kjw!harddom x afab!maid!reader

warnings: fingering in the car, unprotected sex (pls use protection), reader works at a maid café, daddy jiwoong, idk what else to put

a/n ♡: hai guysss its been a long time ㅠ_ㅠ i’ve had such good ideas recently but been way too lazy to write them out and tysm for the attention i got on my first post! it wasn’t very expected hehe~ i hope u guys like this even tho this is kinda bad… >w< anyway imma stop yapping enjoy this !!!

you read the bright letters on your phone, 9:07 written in bold. it’s been 10 minutes and your hot boyfriend still hasn’t arrived. you huffed as you fiddled with your knee high socks, the polyester material feeling itchy as you huffed while crossing your arms.

the one day today you forgot to bring a change of clothes, so you just had to stand in the dark with a maid uniform on. what if you got raped by a random man in the darkness? thank the lord you were being picked up instead of riding in public transport. sooo embarrassing.

finally, you pointed a black audi cruising the streets. finally, your one and only personal chauffeur was here.

“hop on in my sweet little personal maid” jiwoong said with a smirk, rolling down his window

you huffed and and rolled your eyes, getting into the car. at this point with his handsome face you couldn’t even be angry anymore.

“what are you wearing? don’t you have a change of clothes?” jiwoong questioned while scanning you with his eyes, tilting your chin to him with his hands.

“what do you mean? this is my uniform. did you forget? just like how you forgot to pick me up?” you pouted, crossing your arms and turning the other way

“c’mon my little maid, there was traffic, you know i wouldn’t forget to pick you up.” jiwoong said in a whiny voice, gently massaging your thigh

“whatever. just keep driving” you rolled your eyes, causing jiwoong to sigh and roll ahead

while driving, jiwoong’s hand stayed on your thigh, leaving a huge hand imprint on your bare thigh.

although you were mad at him, you can’t admit that he didn’t look hot.

messy hair falling over his forehead, his muscles bulging through his tight black shirt and his grip on the steering wheel made you gulp as you clench your thighs together. fuck. he’s really making you feel things.

“princess, is there anything wrong?” jiwoong said in a sugar dripping tone, gazing at you with his honey brown eyes

“n-n-no…. keep your eyes on the road…am okay…” you stuttered, embarrassed on how wet your pussy is, just because of his thigh.

“okay princess, if that’s what you say” he smirks.

in matter of seconds, jiwoong’s evil hand sneaks underneath your skirt, tracing the lines of your soaked cunt through your underwear

“w-woongie…what are you doing??” you whispered, your thighs clenching in between his hands due to the sudden move

“isn’t this what you wanted?” he replied with a grin on his face, his index finger dipping into the band of your panties, entering your slippery clit

“no…w-who said i wanted this?” you say blushing as he fits his middle finger to the mixture

“is that why you’re soaked right now? c’mon my specialty maid, tell me you need my fingers right now.” he states, sliding his digits through you causing you to let out a high pitched whimper

“mhm…woong…i need your fingers so bad….” you whine, squirming in your seat.

jiwoong starts to curve his fingers faster and faster, adding another finger as he rapidly plunges his fingers into your hole

“f-fuck woongie that feels so good, go faster please” you whisper, your juices dripping onto your uniform and the car seat

“baby you’re so tight…” woongie sighs as he groans to the sound of your melodic moans, palming his tent in his pants

entering your shared house, jiwoong spent no time even making it to the bed, carrying you one hand bridesmaid style to the kitchen counter, ripping his clothes off before you try to take your uniform off…

“don’t.” jiwoong paused you as he spread your legs, “your uniform turns me on” he said as he looked up at you, pushing your skirt up and unbuttoning your top

jiwoong loved to tease your cunt by tracing his colossal dick along your pussy. however this time, he was in a rush.

you gasped as he thrusted inside you, forgetting how big he felt inside of you.

your walls clenched against him, your juices spilling onto his dick and stomach as you wrapped your legs around his waist, whining and moaning with your eyes rolled to the back of your head.

moving towards the bed, jiwoong ripped your uniform off, only leaving your headpiece and knee high socks

“woong!” you gasped, your expensive work uniform laid on the floor damaged

“it’s okay princess, if they ask, let them know your hot boyfriend ripped it off you.” he smiled as he dove into a kiss, smiling into the kiss as he continued to thrust into you

knitting your brows together, a blurred vision entered your headspace as you reached your climax, your stomach twisting and legs feeling numb

“woongie i’m gonna cum i’m gonna cum please woongie make me cum…” you whined as you tightened your eyes shut together

“it’s okay baby, i’m gonna cum too, let’s cum together” he whispered in a whiny tone, your milky liquid spilling on you, your stomach, your tits, jiwoong’s abs, and his rock hard dick. what a sight.

“atta girl.” jiwoong said while patting your head, planting kisses all over your face as you sigh

“can we do this every night after you come home” jiwoong chuckles, causing you to lightly punch him.

#zb1 #zerobaseone #zb1 x reader #zb1 imagines #zb1 smut #zb1 jiwoong #kim jiwoong #jiwoong x reader #jiwoong smut #zerobaseone jiwoong #zerobaseone smut #maid sama #jiwoong imagines #kpop smut

[scavengerssuccotash]

What does aftercare look like for Clint and Nat?

Depends on what kind of aftercare you’re looking for, my dear.

Was it a rough mission that left their bodies sore and aching?

If that’s the case they soothe each other’s sore muscles away in a variety of ways. For Natasha the bulk of her sore muscles rests in her thighs and legs. Clint with usually draw her a nice hot bath with some soaking salts (lavender scented) and let her decompress. Sometimes he’ll join her, especially if his back is hurting, but most times he just lets her rest in the bath and play errand boy if she needs something. Afterwards, Natasha will curl up with him on the couch with her feet in his lap so he can rub them. And oh god! His hands? If Natasha were religious his hands is the closest thing to making her believe in a god. About the time he works his way up her calves, she’s limp against the arm of the couch and almost asleep.

Clint on the other hand carries most of his stress in his shoulders and arms. (Clint often jokes that if you put the two of them together, her legs and his upper body, they could qualify for a retirement community by the state of their joints alone.) With that said, baths hardly touch the ache in his shoulders. Showers are his go-to, along with icy-hot and Natasha’s own bone melting masseuse skills. Repetition with the draw weight he’s got might’ve given him great definition but it also aged his rotator cuffs and shoulder blade ten years. After a long hot shower, you can find him sitting on the floor between Natasha’s legs with an ice pack on each shoulder as she rubs his neck.

Or are you looking for the tumble between the sheets kind of aftercare?

In which case this came to them with much more difficulty than it did with the other kind. Particularly for Natasha. Any wonder why? The first few times they slide between the sheets, Natasha would jump out of bed, quickly throw on her clothes and leave while Clint just laid in bed still coming down from his post coital high, dazed and ultimately confused. In hindsight, Natasha’s sudden departure after taught Clint a lot about himself. Namely: how much he really did like and need the after romp cuddling. Be it some internalized misogyny, or a lack of self introspection Clint had just assumed that is what you did with your partner, so…he did it and didn’t look into it any deeper than the surface level. Turns out it just took Natasha leaving him high and dry (wet?) for him to realize that, “actually no, I think I like the cuddling!?”

Conversely Natasha dipped because she had wanted to stay, which was in of itself a terrifying epiphany to have after what she’ll testify to is the best sex ever. It was all too much too fast and god she can’t do this?! Can she? She wants to, but…

In the end it took three months, a couple of drunken blurt out your feelings kind of nights, and a close call in Mumbai for them to get on the same page.

For Clint to say, “I need to a place to land after soaring that high, Nat. I drop like a fucking stone, and it’s not a good feeling!”

And for Nat to say, “I don’t know what to do with all this, I wasn’t trained on what to do if I actually fell!”

“No one gets a manual, Tasha. You just do what feels right.”

“Us. That feels right.”

Natasha relaxes into their after sex cuddle sessions a little bit better after this. She still leaves after, only spending the nights when they drink and she doesn’t want to drive or bother with a taxi or public transport, but she stops leaving right away. She lingers long enough for Clint to be on the precipice of sleep, before slipping out of bed. Which is fine by Clint, he’s admittedly a bit of a bed hog.

About a year and two months into their relationship, the aftercare is superb. Clint gets his cuddles, and Natasha, well Natasha gets breakfast in bed now. And sometimes, when Clint’s feeling a bit cheeky he will wake her up in the most delicious of ways.

Thanks for asking, hope you enjoy! 🥰

#ask me #clint barton #hawkeye #clintasha #natasha romanoff #black widow #aftercare

[klausinamarink]

happy birthday to @penny00dreadful!

Now have the Spider-Man Eddie fic you’ve been hungry for!

thanks to @pearynice for the beta read!

Chapter 1: The Bite

The van just barely makes it inside the shop before it collapses, all four wheels popping out like a cartoon, with the heavy coat of dust exploding into the air like a mushroom cloud. A perfect summary of Eddie’s life right now.

His forehead lands directly on the center of the steering wheel. The horn goes off long enough for someone to rapidly knock on the window. Said window immediately shatters into a bazillion pieces, earning a couple swears from the person outside. Eddie says nothing. He pushes the scorching tears behind his eyeballs and whips his head up with a wide smile. “Sorry I’m late, boss,” Eddie greets nonchalantly, like he isn't crying on the inside. 

“Hey to yourself, Munson, but what the fuck happened to your van?” Olive’s eyes are as wide as a bug as they stare at the vehicle in horror. “Scratch that - how did you even drive?”

“It’s a real funny story, actually.” Eddie cracks the door open and swings his legs out. His boots hit the ground gracefully, but despite the urge to immediately fall and curl up into a ball, Eddie remains standing.

“Picture this: you see the morning traffic on the expressway so you decide to go on a shortcut. Said shortcut also turns out to be a disaster for a very different reason. Can you guess what happened?”

Olive doesn’t have a chance to open their mouth before Eddie barrels on, “I swear to god, boss, it was something from those old D&D books. It was a creature from literal Hell! It rammed right into my van and broke my windshield. I thought it was some lost deer or something, but I couldn’t leave to check because then it stood up and its face opened up!”

Eddie brings his hands to his face and rapidly motions them as jaws clamping together. It doesn’t fit the exact description of seeing a spindly thing suddenly reaching out ninety percent of its face as rows of razor-sharp teeth, but it’s close.

“Obviously, I scream and I hide back inside the van. And the next thing I know, that thing was gone and it fucked up my van even more.”

He also leaves out the details of how he hid in the back and cried like a baby, but that wasn’t anybody’s business.

Olive stares at him with utter bewilderment. They rub a hand over their face with an insufferable sigh, “Okay, I don’t believe half of what you just said-”

“It’s not a lie! That shit is probably on the news by now!”

“-but because your van is in that state, I’m giving you some mercy to fix it until the end of the week.” 

The van makes another shuddering sound. Eddie doesn’t dare to turn around yet. But whatever it is, it makes Olive grimace. 

“If you can even repair it.”

Eddie claps his hands together and bows down to the waist, almost weeping in relief. “Thank you, boss.”

Olive is already walking away, “Until Saturday!” 

They disappear into their office. Then Eddie finally drops to the ground.

He’s still shaking from the whole ordeal. But he’s more freaked out about his new transportation plan and car insurance than the flower-faced monster. 

Eddie should count himself lucky that he’s even allowed to repair his van, but it’s only Tuesday and there is no way he can make it look good as new by the weekend. His van is an older model and replacement shipments will take more than a week to arrive, even if he were to call them now. Meaning that Eddie will have to either take the van to another garage (already unlikely, too expensive) or finally give her up to the junkyard (already likely). If he has to take the second option, he will need to find buy another vehicle (fucking impossible) or endure the public transport.

The more he tries to think through, the quicker he spirals. Suddenly, Eddie cannot breathe and he’s pounding on his chest like breaking his ribs will fix it.

A cold sensation taps the back of his neck. Eddie springs up with shock, clamping a hand over the skin. Patrick is standing over him, glass water bottle in hand.

Eddie wordlessly takes the water and gulps half of it in one go. It’s too cold and gives him major brain freeze, but it helps him calm down a bit.

“Thanks, man.”  

“No problem, Munson,” Patrick helps Eddie up to his feet. He jerks his chin at the van, “You seriously going to fix that by yourself?” 

“Already am,” Eddie grunts, tying his hair up into a bun.

“I can get Ronnie for the hose to wash the dirt off.”

Eddie shakes his head, already walking off to the cleaning station, “I got it. No need to help.”

Yeah, I can fix the van like it’s new again by Saturday. Absolutely no problem. 

This is fine. 

-

Eddie is still under the van when his cell phone rings. He ignores it at first, determined to finish the exhausts. It rings again, louder than his drill. Eddie sighs and rolls out, blinking rapidly at the bright ceiling lights burning his retinas. Might as well have a quick break. 

He grabs his phone from where it sits on a nearby box and answers, tired and unkindly.

“Yeah?”

“Eddie, where the hell are you?! You should be picking us up by now!”

Eddie blanks. It takes a few seconds for him to properly absorb Jeff’s words.

“Uh-” He quickly looks around. The whole place is suddenly deserted with the garage doors now closed. Looking through the windows shows him it has gone dark outside. 

“Shit.” 

“Yeah.” He can practically hear Jeff rolling his eyes. “We’re at the gym- Gareth, put that stupid candy down, it’s just meth!” 

“W-Wait, wait, hold on-” Eddie is standing in the middle of the garage like an idiot because his brain is going millions of miles per minute and he is trying to remember what the date is. “What do you mean you’re at the gym?” 

“We’re at Frankie’s gym! Think you can break the ten minute record?” 

Eddie doesn’t answer. He’s staring blankly at the empty sockets of his van’s headlights instead of checking the time.

When Jeff speaks again, it’s in an awfully calm tone that brings Eddie flashbacks to his shitty teachers all the way back in elementary school. 

“Eddie. You’re at your apartment. Right?”

Eddie bites viciously at his thumb, right between the cuticle and skin. 

“Eddie-”

“I was… just leaving…” God, Eddie wishes he can shrink straight up into nonexistence. “You know, uh- the- the garage…”

He holds his cell phone as far as he can, just in case Jeff would scream profanities into his ear. But because he’s the best friend in the world, Jeff doesn’t do that. Instead, Eddie hears him take a long deep breath.

“Okay,” Jeff clicks his tongue, “here’s what we’re going to do. I’m gonna tell Frankie to take our shit and he’ll drive us over to the bar. You meet us there in twenty. Do not forget your guitar.”

His heart rate going up in a spike, Eddie starts biting into the skin of his fingernails. There is no way for him to make it in time without calling for a taxi and even those rides cost money. 

“Jeff, man, listen-” Eddie swallows back the beginnings of a sob, “My van is fucking busted and I literally can’t make it to the Hideout without using the subway. And that’s gonna take me an hour!”

When Jeff doesn’t say anything, Eddie starts to assume the worst. But several seconds pass with more silence, Eddie frowns and checks his phone’s screen.

Even when he rapidly taps on the screen, it remains pitch-black.

Of course his phone chooses that exact moment to die on him. And people call him the dramatic one.

Eddie runs his hands through his hair, almost uncaring about how tangled and greasy it is. Before he can consider yelling or breaking something out of frustration, Eddie starts grabbing his things, throws them into his bag, and books it out of the garage.

Usually, the cool night air would refresh him after a tiring workday surrounded by oils and smoky gears, but Eddie barely cares as he breaks into a sprint.

Twenty minutes should be enough time to catch the train to his place, grab his Sweetheart, and meet up with the guys for their bar performance, right?

He’s almost out of breath by the time he gets to the closest subway station - Creel Station is as filthy as its corporation namesake - but he’s relieved to see that it’s still open. He nearly breaks his neck from running down the stairs but Eddie doesn’t stop until he makes it to the platform.

Collapsing on the nearest bench, Eddie mentally congratulates himself while panting for air. At least he can handle waiting for a few minutes until the train arrives. 

So he waits. 

And waits.

Aaand waits.

Eddie keeps checking his watch every time he thinks the subway is coming. Ten minutes has passed. 

It could be very delayed. His surviving rational brain suggests. Eddie almost believes it.

When twenty minutes pass with no subway in sight, Eddie decides to take advantage of being the only person on the platform and just yell out to the uncaring void.

Now he’s faced with a terrible dilemma: leave and face whatever more miserable luck awaits him or somehow get to the next station.

Naturally, he chooses the wisest decision.

“Why the hell not?” He grumbles to himself as he hops down on the tracks and starts walking. He’s grown up with a carjacking dad and escaped the cops for selling weed and ketamine back in high school. What’s more incriminating than a little tunnel adventure?

It’s only after entering the tunnel that Eddie realizes one thing: it’s too dark. Even with the lights aligning the ceiling, they barely reflect the metal rails. If his phone battery hadn’t run out, then he would have used the flashlight to see properly.

Eddie mutters more curses under his breath, but he’s already too far to turn around. Besides, what’s he supposed to do at this point? Buy a flashlight at the nearest convenience store?

He shuffles to one side of the wall, careful not to trip over the rails or any suspicious puddles. He keeps a hand brushing against the wall, doing his very best to ignore the gross dirt and spiderwebs. 

The first few stations he makes it through are all empty. But unlike Creel Station, the gates to the outside are closed to the public. It makes Eddie a bit claustrophobic but he tries to pretend that it doesn’t bother him. Last thing he needs is a stress-induced heart attack. 

He does wonder why Creel Station hasn’t been closed off if there was apparently no one else there. But Eddie’s starting to see some blurriness in the edges of his vision so he’s desperate to just go home. 

Also because, let’s face it, he can’t make it to the Hideout. He’s going to have to apologize and explain to Jeff and the other guys in the morning. 

But he probably won’t have enough time because now Eddie has to start waking up early and find some way to get to work.

Just as Eddie starts to curse at the world, the toe of his boot hits something. 

Then Eddie is falling forward.

Something very solid hits his face. He barely feels the sharp explosion of pain inside of his mouth before Eddie sees everything going completely black. 

-

The first thing he registers after returning to consciousness is that his nose hurts like hell. 

He’s groggy like he had too many drinks. Drinks. Right, Eddie had gone to the Hideout earlier. 

Wait, didn’t he? 

No, he hadn’t. He was supposed to be on his way there hours ago.

Eddie tries to get up but his head is full of lead and his body is like a rusty car due for a junkyard crushing. 

He tastes the pang of copper in his mouth. He runs a tongue over his teeth, hoping none of them got chipped or broken. They feel fine, but his tongue definitely hurts more at the tip. Must have bitten it. 

When Eddie finally pushes himself up, he cringes at the dirt and a piece of litter sticking to his face. Right. I went into the tunnels like a genius.

It takes a moment before he’s fully on his feet. Even then, Eddie leans against the wall to stop his head from spinning. 

He spits out some of the blood. It lands on the rail, a speckle of red reflecting too brightly on the gray metal. 

“Okay,” Eddie tells himself, “move on and get the fuck out of here.”

Once he feels stable enough and knows his ankles haven’t twisted, Eddie continues on walking. 

As he arrives at the fourth station, his feet are killing him and his eyelids are drooping. He checks his watch but what do you know, the face is cracked and he can’t hear a single tick. 

For all he knows, three days may have passed and his poor uncle is losing his mind. 

Maybe the others had already held a funeral for him. Eddie can see Jeff on the podium and giving the eulogy. Here lies our friend Eddie who died doing what he loved - succumbing to the urge to return to dark holes. Anyway, who wants his guitar?

At this point, Eddie may as well just curl up into a ball and wait for the subway to finally arrive and turn his misery into red mist.

Then there’s a resounding growl from behind.

Eddie whirls around, suddenly much more alert. He stares down at the dark end of the tunnel, expecting it to be the long-lost subway.

But nothing greets him.

All hairs on the back of his neck stand up nonetheless. The morning’s incident flashes before Eddie’s eyes. The flash of teeth in petal-shaped gums. The guttural shrieks and its casual ripping of metal. 

That was under broad daylight. Now he is in a possibly abandoned subway station late at night, very much alone with no contact for help.

But because he’s an idiot, too small and stressed for this massive world, he calls out, “Hello?” 

His mind might be playing tricks on him, a sadistic attempt to get him to fall asleep as soon as possible regardless of the filthy environment. Or maybe it’s just one of the maintenance workers. 

The growl starts again, closer this time.  

Nevermind, fuck that.

Within seconds, Eddie is climbing on the platform and dashing across the station. There’s not a single soul in sight and it accelerates his terror more. Eddie swears he can hear the growling again.

As he gets to the stairs, he prays that the gates aren’t closed and that he can make it aboveground.

When he sees the open path to the night sky, Eddie cries. 

He embraces the night air this time. But Eddie doesn’t stop, his vision blurring. He runs and runs until his legs and lungs give away at once and he collapses against a brick wall in an alleyway.

Eddie pants heavily, his lungs growing tighter with a cold dryness. As his breathing slows to normal, Eddie oh-so carefully peeks out of the alley, opting to stay hidden. 

He just sees regular people and cats on the streets. No shadow demons chasing after him. 

Eddie slides down to the ground, covering his face with his hands. He takes a moment to sob, but it gets stuck in his throat. He almost forces it out but it does make him shed some tears, so it’s a little more cathartic. 

Talk about a fucking day.

Eddie drops his hands and sucks in another breath. Before he can think about his next options to go home, Eddie feels a sudden itch on his arm. 

He scratches it, almost absentmindedly. That is until the itch starts crawling its way down his arm.

Eddie looks down in time to see a spider the size of a coin emerging from under his sleeve.

Now, Eddie is usually arachnophobic, but his reaction to tiny eight-legged demons has a delay of a few seconds. So he spends that time just staring at the spider crawling to a stop at the back of his hand. He even admires it. Unless the lighting has gotten otherworldly, the spider is glowing faintly with a tie-dye mix of red and blue. Its tiny round eyes almost seem to blink up at him.

He thinks, Huh, it looks kind of cute.

And then it bites him. 

To his credit, Eddie doesn’t even scream. 

He just does it after smacking the spider to death. 

-

read more on ao3!

#klaus writes #steddie #eddie munson #spiderman eddie munson #stranger things

[meowzfordayz]

you matter most

Shinazugawa Sanemi x Reader

Word Count: ~600

CW: explicit language, sexual harassment

Emergency Request Fulfilled: Hello T. I was looking to submit an emergency request. I've never done this before so I have no idea if we need to be incognito or not? Oh well.

If it isn't too much to ask can I have something sweet and comforting with the reader dealing with a similar situation and Sanemi being there to comfort, reassure, and just make things better in general?

Sorry this is so long. Don't worry about it if you're too busy. I want you to take care of yourself above all else. Thank you for listening. (⁠｡⁠•́⁠︿⁠•̀⁠｡⁠)❤️

“What’s up?”

“What’s up?” fondness in your expression as you roll your eyes, “You might as well have added dude at the end.”

“What’s up, dude?”

“Nothing, dude.”

“You sure, dude?”

“Very sure, dude.”

Silence. Sanemi steps toward you, your body leaning against the doorframe, keys still in hand. A warm palm cups your jaw in a single, fluid motion, thumb smoothing over your bottom lip’s nearly indiscernible tremor.

“You’re lying to me,” softly, “Dude.”

“I’m cold,” you retort, gently grasping his wrist, immediately missing his touch as you press his palm back into his own chest.

Narrow stare meets stubborn glare as he plucks your keys from your grip, a low Tsk escaping him. Quietly, he turns away and heads to the kitchen, intent on brewing you a mug of tea. You’re home, and that’s what matters most. He knows you’ll unwind in time—maybe even talk to him—and he’s willing to wait. If waiting means he’ll eventually get the opportunity, your trust, to soothe the crease in your brow, to ease the weight in your shoulders, to hold you; then he’s willing to wait.

“Nemi?”

Your voice startles him as you slink into the kitchen, empty kettle hovering above the sink, concern having distracted him from his mission. 

“Don’t hurt anyone, okay?”

His heart twinges. That means someone deserves hurting. He turns on the faucet, hoping to waterlog his imminent anger. 

“On the bus, this morning.”

“This morning?” he interrupts knowingly.

“Every, morning,” you swallow thickly, “There are…”

“I won’t hurt anyone,” he manages to choke out.

Because he knows you need to know that you can trust him. That you’re safe. Because he knows violence isn’t the answer. Because he knows he’d rather listen to you in the comfort of your home than during visitor hours in prison.

“There are men who make me… uncomfortable. On the bus. Especially, like, this one guy. Fuck Nemi, it’s so crowded and like, I can’t move and I don’t know what to do or say. I freeze. It’s never bad enough to like, scream. It’s subtle. It’s horrible. I don’t want to be rude, but I don’t want to talk either! I don’t want to like, tell him where I live. Or my favorite color. Or how many people I’ve slept with. I don’t want his stupid leg squished next to mine, and don’t get me started on his breath. Of all the places to sit, sit! Somewhere! Else! FUCK. Nemi. It’s fucking public transportation. The fuck am I supposed to do?”

Sanemi isn’t sure what the fuck you’re supposed to do—let alone what the fuck he’s supposed to do sans violence—but he is sure that both of you are crying. Kettle long forgotten, he gestures wordlessly, pulse jumping to his throat when you promptly close the distance. Teardrops stain his shirt just as they drip onto your hair, fingertips digging into his hips as you clutch tight, tightly, tighter.

Fuck those assholes.

How do I-

How can I-

Shit.

“I could walk you to work?” he whispers roughly.

“There’s a reason I take the bus,” you mumble, “Walking’s too slow. Unless you carry me?”

Snorting faintly, he kisses your head, shaky sigh raising goosebumps on your forearms, “Let’s buy a car. I can drive you.”

“But insurance-”

“Worth it.”

And you know he’s not entirely serious, but the thought of him becoming your personal chauffeur coaxes watery giggles between your sniffles.

“Did I say something funny?”

“You’re sweet.”

“I love you.”

“Nemi…”

“I love you,” he repeats, poking your cheek.

And he knows you understand the promise beneath his steady declaration, tentative grin gazing upward at his wry smile.

I love you. I’m here for you. You matter most.

“I love you more.”

“More than my oversized hoodies?”

“Don’t push your luck, Shinazugawa Sanemi. Why do you think I’m dating you?”

#sanemi shinazugawa #shinazugawa sanemi #sanemi x reader #shinazugawa x reader #wind hashira #drabble #modern au #kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer #emergency request

[hannahssimblr]

I shoulder through the front doors into the fresh spring air, still a little breathless with adrenaline, to where Michelle is waiting for me. She looks unhappy. 

“How did it go?” I say. 

“Oh, awful, they were like robots, so intimidating. I didn’t know what they thought of my work, you know? I really thought I’d start crying at one point.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, and that woman was so cold. She was pulling all of these faces at my self portraits and saying they were naive.”

“Oh, God,” In an attempt at reassurance I start rubbing her arm, “I’m sure they liked plenty things about your work.”

“Oh, I don’t know. I sensed they hated all of it.”

“They couldn’t have, it’s probably just your perception, they… I bet they’re harsh to everyone, you know? They probably don’t want to get anyone's hopes up with there being limited places and all…”

She looks at me, “Was yours bad too?”

“Awful,” I say without missing a beat, “Same as you, they gave me nothing. It was hard to tell what they really thought of my work, but they didn’t seem overjoyed by any of it to be honest.”

“Oh,” her shoulders relax, “well if they were like that with you then they must be just playing hard ball.”

“I think so.”

“What if we don’t get in?”

“Well fuck ‘em,” I grin, “We don’t need them. NCAD? Who cares, right? It’s not exactly at the top of our list.”

“Yeah, you’re right.”

“I usually am.”

“Something else will work out, right?”

“Of course it will! C’mon, let’s just grab a coffee and chill out,” I drape my arm over her shoulder and walk her around the corner to where I parked the car. 

The car, the brand new, shiny, blue Volkswagen Polo that my parents got me for my eighteenth birthday, is gleaming under the afternoon sun, one tyre wedged awkwardly against the kerb because I haven’t yet mastered the art of parallel parking when there are two other impatient drivers beeping their horns at me and gesticulating wildly out their windows. 

“He just got his fucking licence, you spas!” Michelle screamed at them from the passenger window as I manoeuvred myself into a gap big enough to house an articulated truck but somehow felt the width of a water closet as soon as I tried to fit my 1.0 litre hatchback into it. I could have told her that firing middle fingers at other drivers left and right wasn’t really doing much to diffuse the situation, but it seemed she was reaching some sort of catharsis from it. She likes that. Screaming, I mean.

This car has been a point of contention, not because I can’t park it well, but because it was an extravagance I neither needed nor desired. “We live in the city,” I protested when my parents handed me the keys, “I can just take the bus.” But they had this idea that I might like to drive it into school and be the envy of all the other students, poverty stricken losers without parents who can buy them vehicles worth half the average national salary. I told them I can just walk like always, and they didn’t like that. 

“This is a good present,” said my dad, as though insisting could make it so, “You can drive all over, you won’t have to rely on public transport any more.”

“Did I say I didn’t like public transport?”

“Well, you could get mugged on the bus, someone could pull out a knife and take your phone and all of your money! That kind of thing is happening all over the city lately.”

I showed him my Nokia from 2004 and asked him what kind of person might like to risk prison for it, but he didn’t appreciate that, and it just escalated the argument further. 

“I’m not going to even live in Ireland in a year, not if I can help it!” I cried with exasperation, after a further ten minutes of his dramatics, “What’s the point?”

“Sell it then!” he bellowed back, “I don’t care what you do! It’s yours!”

“I just don’t need it! It’s too much. You can use that money for something better.”

“Money? Money is not an issue.”

“Well that car will be wasted just sitting in the driveway.”

“You’ll figure out what to use it for.”

And I did. I still walk to school, I still take the bus into town most days (when I’m not hauling two A1 portfolio cases along with me), but sometimes, late at night Michelle and I drive up and down the coast. We get ice cream at the drive through, we talk, but mostly I park it in the darkest corner of some car park, sea facing for maximum romance, and we fuck in the passenger seat. Not that I’ve kept track of it by any means, but I’m almost certain I have spent more time having sex in my shiny, blue, Volkswagen Polo than actually driving it. I’m sure it wasn’t Christopher’s intention for it, and it might affect the resale value, but the car has become a haven of sorts, a place where we can go to be alone, at a safe distance from my nosy sister, from Michelle’s anxious father, and perhaps most vitally, from Jen, who has never quite stopped being weirded out by our relationship, even with nine full months to get used to it.

Beginning // Prev // Next

#lucky boy 2010 #the car <3 #you'll be happy to know that Christopher is such a fucker #tw: sex

[oumaheroes]

I need more brit bros in my life 🥺 pls, i am starving, i might succumb to the darkness and never return 😭

I will do anything for more brit bros please, i am down on my knees 🧎🏼‍♀️

~Izzy

Izzy, please don't starve, I know times are hard but I have a crumb for you 🙏 And longer things will come later, I promise

And Anon, I hope this fills your void too!

Characters: England, Northern Ireland

-----------

‘Why.’

‘You know why.’

‘What’s a shit answer.’

‘It’s a terrible question.’

‘Why.’

‘You know why, Sean.’ England clicked his tongue and sat up straighter in his seat. ‘You’re not seventeen.’

‘You’re right, I’m over a hundred.’

‘You don’t look seventeen.’

‘Oh come on, Art.’

‘Come on, Art? Come on, Ar- for fuck sake, “come on Art” what? You want me to change the law for you? Hmm? Somehow grant you special exemptions from what everyone else has to follow?’

‘Patrick would let me.’

England gave a sharp dark laugh, ‘On my roads? Sure. On his? You can fuck right off.’

‘Please.’

‘No.’ England said sharply, ‘You can drive on private land. You can go on youth courses. You can even go in an illegal Banger Race and burn out your needs there if that hell so suits you-‘

‘You’d never let me go in a Banger Race-‘

‘-but you are not getting a special driving licence. Not till you’re physically seventeen like everyone else.’

North groaned and dropped his head back against the headrest, ‘But I know how to drive.’

‘That tree you reversed into earlier says otherwise.’

‘It was a stump! I didn’t see it, it was too low down.’

‘So is a toddler.’

‘And toddlers won’t be running about the back of the car, will they!’

‘Look,’ England unclipped his seatbelt and turned to face North better, ‘Despite what you may think, I’m not being a hard arse. I’m not telling you no just to be cruel, or because I have a twisted sense of joy in your suffering-‘

North snorted.

‘-because woe betide you poor soul, with all of the perfectly good public transport available to you-‘

‘That’s not the point.’

‘I know it’s not the point.’ England put a hand on North’s shoulder, ‘The point is, you look too young. If you hit anything-‘ he gave North a warning look when he tried to interrupt, ‘-if you hit anything, or cause any sort of accident at all, then it’s going to be a legal and political nightmare. Doesn’t matter how old you are, or how well you can drive, it can’t be explained if anything goes wrong.’

‘It’s not fair.’ North said quietly. He ran his seatbelt between his thumb and forefinger. England’s old jeep hummed softly in the silence, the engine keeping the windows from misting up in the frigid January air.

‘I know it’s not.’

North wondered if England knew that he was talking about more than just the car, or being able to go out and drive one on the roads. It was the attached shackle of being trapped in a body that didn’t age, restricted by rules and milestones that he wouldn't be able to reach for an undefined time. Life unchanging and stunted by it. It was different from just being treated like the age of the face he wore, it was North being pinned in place by its rules.

His brothers had been physically far younger for far longer- North knew that without being told- but he was sure that they hadn't chafed against society as much as he did. Hadn’t been told no to everyday skills based on age alone. If they could physically do something, they did. Their bodies’ age hadn’t held them back from riding horses or sailing across oceans to die in wars they didn’t ask for, or that they did.

North couldn’t even drive to Tescos.

‘Come on.’ Evidently, the silence had stretched on too long for his brother to be comfortable. England squeezed North’s shoulder and clipped himself back in, ‘Let’s see how far we can get on what petrol we’ve got left.’

‘You mean until you get panicky when we get to half a tank and make us turn around.’ North pressed the clutch down and pushed the gearstick with some force into first. ‘You need to oil this.’

‘You’ve said. Three times.’

‘Well, it’s still stiff as shit, like.’

‘How on earth do you expect me to do anything about it now?’

‘Matt’s probably left some WD-40 in here somewhere.’

England chuckled, sounding fond, ‘Probably.’

Taking off the handbrake and releasing the clutch, North rolled the old jeep back onto the tiny road that ran through England’s rural estate.

As they drove, England began talking about something or other that was happening in London and North let his mind wander; the familiar tree lined roads and the early morning haze softening the sun making him feel lighter the further they drove. He was grateful that England hadn’t tried to push the issue, or convince him of anything. A change in the last twenty years that North was thankful for.

‘How about a pub lunch?’ England said after a time, ‘We’ll switch when we get near the B road and I’ll drive us to The White Hart.’

‘Will you let me get a pint this time?’

England pressed his lips together, ‘Only if you don’t tell Rhys.’

#aph england #hws england #hws northern ireland #aph northern ireland #aph brit bros #aph uk bros #hws british isles #arthur kirkland #hetalia #aph #hws #hetalia fanfiction #heroes writes #izzy anon

[atom-writings]

tangerine with an autistic s/o

0.7k words ~ gender neutral headcanons

tw: mention of ableism and subsequent violence

a/n: its my account i write what i want

Being somewhere on the neurodivergent spectrum himself (don’t @ me,) along with his brother being autistic, it’s unlikely that Tangerine would end up with someone neurotypical anyway.

Constantly nicks you stim toys. It’s like a challenge to him since they’re usually bright and loud somehow.

He finds it so cute when you miss social cues, but he’d never say anything about it to you. He knows it can be embarrassing, and he doesn’t mind explaining what people mean.

He’s endlessly paranoid about the people he loves, so expect constant check-ins. Whenever you’re in public, he likes to hold your hand tight so he knows you’re safe (which is so, so nice when you’re in a crowd.)

When you’re on the verge of going non-verbal or having a meltdown, he notices immediately and gets you out of there. If anyone tries to say anything, he doesn’t even give them the time to do so.

“An’ who are you now? Nobody, tha’s right, fuck off.”

Whenever you talk about your special interests, he pretends he isn’t interested. He’ll sigh and make stupid snarky comments, but if you look closely, you can tell he’s still smiling a little. In reality, he doesn’t mind.

“Right, calm down luv, it’s really not tha’ big of a deal,”

“It’s a big deal to me!”

He sighs heavily and leans back in his chair before speaking again, “An’ by extension… me, now?”

“Yes!” Your ecstatic expression makes him groan, but he still has to cover his mouth to hide his smile.

But still, you might not notice he was really listening until he offhandedly makes a comment that only someone who had been paying crazy close attention would know. 

He might even know things you don’t, just because he comes to associate whatever you love with you. It comforts him to engage with your interests when you’re separated.

As you already know, Tangerine is a prickly person. Normally, he’s quite prone to anger and fits; but with you, he does his best to always remain level-headed. He doesn’t want to hurt you, especially he knows how sensitive you can be to anger. But he can’t help it sometimes. He’d never yell at you, at least. Anything too harsh is apologized for quickly. 

He’s working on it. You are one of the two most important people in his life, after all.

Speaking of which, expect to spend a lot of time with Lemon. Especially at the beginning of your relationship. He’s very nervous to make the wrong move and scare you off, and knowing that Lemon (also autistic) is there makes him worry a lot less. 

Generally, he doesn’t take criticism very well… especially when it comes to his behaviour… but he does try to be as receptive as he can when you’re the one criticising him.

Ableists get the shit beat out of them. Every time. Without fail. He will not stop this even when you ask. Although, if it makes you cry seeing him do that, he might stop himself early just so he can take you home and comfort you. 

Making you cry is the ultimate sin to him.

Even more “extreme” stims and tics don’t bother him. He just tends to tune them out like he does anything else.

He also might be even more vigilant about bringing along your comfort/accessibility items. Before you leave the house, he grabs you by the shoulder and checks you have everything. Again, paranoid.

Along with that, he may be a little infantilizing sometimes. He wants to always be by your side to make sure you’re alright, which can become… frustrating.

Like yes, it’s nice that he wants to drive you everywhere so you don’t have to worry about driving yourself or taking public transportation, but also you’re perfectly capable of doing those things by yourself (or if you’re not, I guess he’s just your knight in shining armour.)

If you’re otherwise incapable of doing some things, like speaking or cooking or whatever, he really doesn’t mind doing them for you. It makes him feel even more like your protector, which makes him so, so happy. As long as you pay him in affection, he won’t complain.

Actually, that’s not true. He complains about everything. But you’ll quickly learn what is “real” complaining, and what is just him being like that.

“Sweetheart, I wan’ you to know tha’ if anyone ever said anythin’ about you tha’s like- rude, in any way, I woul’ personally blow their brains out, understand?”

#not proofread at all #bullet train tag #tangerine x reader #tangerine x you #tangerine x y/n #bullet train x reader #tangerine tag

[intheorangebedroom]

Pleased to meet you, chapter 6

Summary: You meet Frankie. Again.

Pairing: Frankie Morales x French fem!Reader.

Rating: Explicit 🔞

TW: description of a panic attack.

A/N: I know I'm telling this story for myself primarily, as a mean to get it out of my head, but I feel even less confident about this chapter than the previous ones. Descriptions are killing me, don't start me on the military terminology, and we're getting into the tough part of the story. *presses Post now and goes scream into a pillow*

Word Count: 4.3k.

[prev] * [series masterlist] * [next]

Chapter 6: That Brooklyn bathroom

“Ok, careful, that car’s like 3 inches away,” Benny’s voice comes out low and tense, his leg bouncing up and down on the car floor, the sound of his boot hitting the metal doing nothing to steady your nerves.

“Metrics, Benjamin, please. Inches don’t mean shit to me,” you retort a bit more aggressively than you intended. You’re struggling to stay focused, parallel park was never your forte, and it’s the very first time Benny lets you behind the wheel of his Mustang. Tonight is decidedly special. In a nerve-wracking way.

“Right, whatever, just don’t scratch my baby,” he says to the back seat, craning his neck to evaluate the distance between the rear of his car and the truck parked behind. 

Peering in the rearview mirror, you sound even harsher when you shoot back, “You’re not helping, young man!”. 

Your unusually high-pitched voice echoes in the car, its authoritative tone bringing the electric atmosphere to a sudden standstill. Benny’s leg drops to the floor. In what feels like slow-motion, he shifts in his seat to face you, his eyebrows raised in surprise, a teasing smile tugging the corner of his mouth.  

“What’d you call me?”

Fuck. Your lips produce a “tsk” sound as you slowly lower your head in defeat, eyes closed. He’s never going to let you live that one down. 

“I said ‘young man’?”

Laying a strong arm on the back of your seat, he leans in closer, the leather creaking under his weight. When he speaks next, his breath fans over your neck, and you shiver imperceptibly. 

“And that working for you? Me being younger?” 

You can hear his cocky smile. Opening your eyes, you turn your head to look at him, trying your best to keep a straight face. God that idiot can be sexy. But you don’t need sexy, right now.

“Let me park this car, Ben,” you warn him. 

Steering the vehicle to the right, you maneuver relatively swiftly into the parking spot, before switching off the ignition, letting your hand relax as it slides along the driving wheel. Benny is still looking intently at you, from this close you can practically feel his hungry stare grazing your skin. His baritone voice trickles in your ear like syrup.  

“Ever been fucked in a Mustang, baby?”

“No one has a car in Paris, Ben. We’ve got good public transportation. I don’t think there’s enough room for that in this car, anyway.” His smile broadens to downright insolent and you can’t help but smile too. “Oh shit, no, don't answer that.”

You like his rumbling laughter. It never fails to cheer you up, even when you don’t think you have it in you to brighten up. It teaches you lightness. 

“I can show you after, if you want,” he says with a wink. Something seems to cross his mind and he adds, in a more serious tone. “Hey. You know you’re the first one to ever meet the guys, right? The only one. You nervous?”

You draw in a sharp breath.

“Of course, I’m nervous. Will is already there, right?”

“Probably. Will’s never late.”

You glance at your watch: 7.30 pm.

“Right, good. How do I look?” you ask, smoothing your sweaty palms over your jeans.  

“Beautiful,” he replies without missing a beat. 

You’re fairly certain that if you were to cover his eyes with your hand and ask him what colour your shirt is, he would be at a loss. Yet, you don’t doubt his honesty one moment, however plain his answer. It comes in stark contrast to Éric’s snarly comments on your choice of outfit, on yourself. Especially the ones he’d casually fire at you for the sheer pleasure of throwing you off balance, before stepping out to one of the formal parties his job entailed, and that you always did so poorly at. “T’as pas autre chose à te mettre? Et si tu mettais du rouge à lèvres, pour une fois? Essaye de sourire, si c’est pas trop te demander.” [“Don’t you have anything else to wear? How about some lipstick, for a change? Try to smile, if it’s not too much asking”], Christ, you can’t understand why or how you put up with him for five years.

“Right”, you snap yourself out of it. “Ok, Benjamin Miller, let’s go before I chicken out.”

You remove the key from the ignition and hand it to him, and open the door to exit the car.  

—

When you join him on the sidewalk, he takes your hand and leads you toward what looks like a biker's spot to you. It’s nothing like the fancy cafés you used to frequent back home, and you feel once more confronted with your foreigner’s status. You try walking faster to catch up with him, but he’s already crossing over toward the entrance in a few long, rapid strides. In the small windows, neon signs announce Budweiser, an ATM, and Truly Hard Seltzer. It’s about all you have the time to notice before Benny ducks his head to avoid the awning and pulls the door, which opens with a loud, ominous creak. When you step inside behind him, it takes a moment for your eyes to adjust to the semi-darkness. 

The place is surprisingly big, considering its narrow facade. It also looks vaguely familiar, probably because you’ve seen the likes of it in approximately fifty movies. Directly on your right stands a large bar with at least half a dozen beers on tap, a mirror wall with several shelves, lined up with bottles of all sizes, shapes and colours. On the left, the space opens widely, and ten round wooden tables are spaced far enough so that customers can talk without disturbing each other. Despite the early hour, all the tables are occupied. Yet the bar doesn’t look crowded. A low-tone humming of rumbling male voices coats the atmosphere. At the back, on the far left, sits a low stage demarcated by a wooden balustrade, with three billiards and two games of darts. You make out the dark silhouette of a woman standing in front of a jukebox, the most luminous spot in the room, that the feeble wall lights struggle to brighten. Everything else looks dark, from the hardwood floor to the brown panelled walls. The styrofoam ceiling, that might have been white some years ago, is now a dirty shade of yellow.

Benny takes off his jacket and your eyes fall on Will, sitting at one of the tables. On his right, facing you, a tall man with unremarkable features and short brown hair is polishing off a pint of beer. On the left side of the table, a handsome, shorter man with dark eyes and lush black curls is laughing heartily. There’s an empty chair on his right, next to which a third man is sitting, his back to you. He’s wearing some sort of baseball cap, short, dark locks curling on his nape and around his ears. You’re not so stressed that you can’t notice he’s got nice square shoulders, his washed out denim shirt pulled taut across them, his dorsal muscles straining against the confine of the fabric. 

Will sees you and waves in your direction, and two pairs of eyes dart towards you, cranking up your anxiety a notch. Only the man with the cap remains still, but when Will gets up to greet you, he tilts his head down and to the right, exposing his profile. 

You make out the lines of his strong nose and his sharp jaw in the dim light, and your chest collapses on itself. The air rushes out of your lungs as your heart jumps to your throat, ice flooding your body. Your hand lets go of Benny’s faster than if you’d been caught cheating at a card game. Will is standing in front of you, pulling you into a bear hug, and you stand on tiptoe, eyes locked on the man in the cap over Will’s shoulder. When he releases you, you sway on your feet as he greets his baby brother. 

Finally, Frankie pivots on his chair and faces the three of you. You get a glimpse of his dimple, before his lingering smile drops, as Benny guides you toward the seated group, his hand on the small of your back.

Music starts playing but your mind fails to comprehend the sounds, distorted like a record player spinning backward. You’ve reached the table now, and you’re joined by the girl from the jukebox. She looks young, younger than you by at least eight or ten years, and stunningly beautiful, dark eyes alight with a clever spark, long black hair, thick and wavy. She’s the first one to greet you, offering her hand and a friendly, radiant smile. 

“Hi! I’m Yovanna, Santi’s girlfriend,” she punctuates her greeting by placing her other hand on the shoulder of the man with the black curls. “I’m so happy to meet you!” she stresses the word “so”, raising her eyebrows in exaggerated relief. 

Your static brain leans on her warmth to summon the strength to plaster a polite smile onto your face, and before you have to take actual action, Benny’s giving you a proper introduction. Your peripheral vision catches a glimpse of Frankie hanging his head, forearms braced on his thighs. 

“That’s Tom, here. You know, Redfly” Benny gestures towards the man with short hair who, from up close, looks exhausted. You somehow remember Benny telling you he’s the oldest. He greets you with a nod and a curt smile. 

The man with the black curls half stands up and extends his hand, his left arm wrapped around Yovanna’s waist. He flashes you a charming smile, adamant to put you at ease. “And I’m Santi. Very nice to meet you.”

“Yeah that’s Pope,” Benny’s grinning like a child, before adding, “And this right here is Frankie, he’s like a brother to me.”

Frankie raises his head, his eyes finding yours immediately, and slowly leans back in his chair. He doesn't smile. But he holds out his hand. 

"Hey", he grunts, voice like gravel. 

In the orange bedroom, you tried to fuck in the shower but you kept sliding and laughing too much, so you gave up. He fucked you hard though, right after, on the bathroom floor, and something had shifted then. His chest pressed against your back, he’d pinched your nipples so forcefully you’d screamed for him to fuck you harder, and he had sunk his teeth at the base of your neck. You bore the mark for days, wishing it would scar your skin forever. You had come together, so intensely and so loudly, the lewd sounds bouncing off the tiled walls, you were certain people heard you from the street below.

That's the first thing you recall, when your brain resurfaces to the sound of his voice. He's older now, his voice deeper, and it brings you back involuntarily to his low growls in that Brooklyn bathroom all those years ago.

Well, not the first thing you recall. Not exactly.

There’s a slight beat before you’re able to take his hand. His skin feels hot against yours. It’s the heat you’ve been fumbling for in the dark for the past sixteen years. When he releases his tight grip, your arm falls limply to your side. He lifts his cap and combs his fingers through his hair, eyes on you still.

“What you drinking, baby?” Benny asks you. “I think they have the beer you like, here.”

Frankie’s jaw ticks. Your mind scrambles, you haven’t been able to utter a single word so far, save for “hi”. 

“Can I have a whiskey and coke?”

Benny looks slightly surprised but he nods, before turning his attention to his friends, asking who wants another round. He pecks your cheek and saunters off to the bar. 

You’re left on your own. 

Yovanna sits down between Frankie and Santi, beaming at you, thawing the cold inside your limbs, so you gratefully follow her cue, sitting on a chair Will has dragged on his right, and you tentatively return her smile. 

Frankie’s breathing through his nose, well aware that Will’s eyes are on him. He should stop staring at you, but he can’t, what if you disappear again? 

You swore to call him. And vanished into thin air. Sixteen years of silence, questioning his sanity. And now you’re here, before him. He never thought he’d see you again.

Sixteen years worth of suppressed memories and sensations come back rushing, loud as a swarm of bees inside his brain, except it’s too late, and everything is tainted with anger. He needs a drink but his jaw is too tightly clenched. You haven’t changed, not that much, anyway. He just sits there, pinned down to his chair, caught up in his resentment, everything feels different, only it’s really the same. Your face, your unassertive smile, your neck, your wide eyes trying and failing to look at anything else but him, just like they did when you started talking on the fire escape. He remembers the way your skin shivered when he touched your arm with that bottle. God your skin, the softness, the taste of your skin, he can’t think about that right now. 

Benny comes back with your drink and a pitcher of beer. He sits down between you and his brother, pulling his chair closer to you, telling you they didn’t have whiskey, only bourbon, wrapping his arm around your shoulder. 

Santi and Yovanna are relentless with their questions, where do you come from, why did you come here, do you like it, how did you meet Ben… He should listen to your answers but he can’t, he knows this is probably hell for you, being the center of everyone’s attention, perhaps his, especially. He wants to shield you. Against his better judgement. Fuck that shit, let Benny deal with you.

“Ok, guys, give her a breather, let her drink,” his voice comes out strained and breathy. He just couldn’t fucking help himself.

Under the table, between his legs, his right thumb finds the small tattoo on his left hand and starts worrying at it with his nail, an old trick devised a long time ago to divert physical pain. Eventually, he faces away and reaches out for his beer, the condensation on the surface of the cold glass making it slippery. That, or his hands are shaking. 

He stopped asking about Benny’s girlfriends a while ago. Not that he doesn’t care. But there’s been too many. Around for a short amount of time. Benny has a short-attention span, but he’s not the one to blame. And even if he were, Frankie’s hardly one to talk, going through months at a time of abstinence before railing strings of random women in a frenzied row. No, it’s always been Benny’s lifestyle. 

When he met him, they were serving in the Army. The girls he picked up never stuck around for more than two or three months, not wanting to put up with the distance, or unable to live in perpetual worry. Now it’s the fighting. Women who attend the fights literally throw themselves at him afterwards, but these, Benny doesn’t care for, preferring the artsy, intellectual kind. Yea, you fit right into that. Only usually, these ones run away as fast as their legs can carry them the minute they find out what he does. 

So with time Benny stopped talking, and with time, Frankie stopped asking. 

When Benny started to mention “his girl”, Frankie didn’t even ask for your name. He got intrigued when he heard Will was spending time with you, and downright curious when Benny announced he wanted you to meet them. But again, not enough to ask who you were. Now Frankie can’t even remember if his friend brought up the fact that you’re French. He would have picked it up. Knowing Benny, he had probably said “Europe”, if anything at all. 

Frankie finds himself staring at you again, but this time you manage to avoid his gaze. You’ve already downed half your drink, and Benny tells you to go ahead, he'll drive on the way back. Benny knows your favourite beer. Benny knows your preferences in liquor. Benny calls you his girl. Benny fucks you on a daily basis. As a matter of fact, Benny’s probably gonna fuck you tonight after driving you back to his place. 

He wants to get drunk but that's really not a good idea. Fuck knows what he'd do then, or say, to you or worst, to Ben, fucking Benjamin who saved his life in that fucking shit-show near Al-Qa'im. He remembers the ACAB button on your bag, he'd like to know where you stand on that topic, now that you're fucking a second Delta Force operative. He wonders what you know about him.

He knows one thing, and it’s that he still wants you. He sees the way your breath hitches when he takes off his cap to readjust his hair, he sees your heart beating madly under the pulse point of your neck, he can see everything from where he sits, and you squirm on your chair, like you did under his body. Why the hell did you never call?

The one they call Pope cracks a joke and they all laugh. You force another smile, trying to act like you’re not in a trance. You thought about it a million times. Finding him. Seeing him again. Played the scene in your head at night, on the bus, in line at the movies, reading a bad novel. 

In all of your dreams, he looked like his younger self. 

You try your best to keep your eyes on whoever is talking, but you’re ceaselessly drawn back to him, you can’t help yourself. He’s aged but it suits him, small belly, broader chest, fuller cheeks. The crease between his brows got so much deeper. You used to smooth it with your thumb. His neck, strong and lean, with pebbled skin, and the dip at its base, you repeatedly licked it clean of his sweat. He hasn’t learned how to properly button up a shirt. You recognise that bigger freckle underneath his left ear, the one you liked to kiss best. He’s got a patchy beard, that’s new to you, with strands of grey hair. His short stubble had left the soft skin of your inner thighs abraded, toward the end of the weekend. He must be approaching forty, you think, and all the years in between, everything that you missed rests heavy on your chest. What did he look like with army-short hair? When he turned thirty? Thirty-five? It’s forever too late. 

You wonder what he thinks of you, you must have aged too, and you wince, you never fancied yourself pretty but you had youth for you, now that’s gone, what’s left? You wish you’d known that, back then. You catch yourself, how can you be so vain?

He’s not the tallest of the bunch but he’s still the most impressive to you, glaring at you from under his furrowed brow, and you feel small again, only this time you don’t want to. 

Comprehension slowly crawls out from the depth of your dazed brain. It’s not about you and his friend. It’s far worse than that. In all these years, nearly sixteen now, you never considered once that he might think you didn't call him purposefully. You bared yourself to him. There was no mistaking your feelings. He has no right thinking that. It destroys everything. 

You get up so abruptly that your chair threatens to topple over. Excusing yourself, you count your steps as you walk on shaky legs towards the toilet, so as not to run. 

When you pull the door open, a backdraft charged with a stench of ammonia rushes to your face, raising goosebumps on your skin. You dive into the room, you have no choice, you need the hiding place. This space is even darker than the main one, lit by a single naked bulb, the walls painted black, with three urinals and a stall. You run the tap and use your hand to drink a few gulps; the bourbon, too sweet, left a bad taste in your mouth, and you don’t feel the numbing effect of the alcohol yet. Fucking useless. When you raise your head, your reflection is waiting for you in a small rectangular mirror. That’s more than you can deal with right now. Turning on your heels, you get in the stall and lock the door. 

Your breath is coming short, your lungs won’t open up, you know what’s coming. Doing your very best to ignore the cold sweat breaking on your forehead and on your back, you press your right fingers on your sternum and try taking a deep breath. You can do this. You know the drill. Once, you remind yourself, you fought off a panic attack, clad in a sequin evening gown, in the bathroom of the Palais Garnier. You can do this. Only your chest won’t fucking open, and you really can’t breathe. 

Ok. Breathe in through your nose, breathe out through your mouth. Lower your shoulders, stretch out your neck. Press on your sternum. Harder. Again. Nothing. Your mind is spiraling, you're losing your train of thoughts, it’s not working. You throw your back against the panel, eyes clenched. 

Happy places, think happy places. Coney Island, 1997, with Rosie, yes, Rosie, your first corn dog on the Wonder Wheel, eyes on the open sea. 

Nothing. 

Inishmore, Aran Islands, 1995, the salted ocean breeze on your skin, eyes on the open sea. 

Nothing. 

Your chest heaves in a dry sob, your mouth twisted in pain. The orange bedroom emerges inside the darkness of your eyelids to wrap you in its humid heat, soft light, Sunday morning. The comforting contact of his smooth skin. Brooklyn. 1999. 

Your chest expands a bit and lets in a gulp of stale air. Slowly. Breathe in. Steady. The orange curtains. Breathe out. Easy. The cotton sheets. You open your eyes. Breathe in. His arm laying heavy across your waist. Breathe out. Deeper. That’s it. You made it to the other side. 

You hear the door open and Yovanna calling your name. 

“You ok in there?”

Her voice anchors your entire body back into the dirty toilet. You look at your feet on the wet tiled floor before you can answer. 

“Yeah, coming.”

Your voice is trembling but it’ll have to do. One step at a time. You refrain from looking at your image in the small mirror but you can’t avoid the worried look on her face. However distraught you must be looking right now, she quickly reverts to a warm smile. 

“They’re a lot, aren’t they? Sorry about all the questions, earlier. Can I do something for you?”

You appreciate her discretion but you don’t have the strength to be subtle.  

“I’m better, I’m good, thank you. So much for a first impression,” you grimace. 

“Oh no, don’t be too hard on yourself, you’re doing great. Look, you got Will in your pocket, and he’s the hardest to get. It took me literal months before I could carry out a conversation with him. And don’t mind Tom, he’s… well, I shouldn’t be telling you that, please don’t judge me, but he’s an asshole, so who cares what he thinks. And Frankie’s a sweetheart. I don’t know what’s with him tonight, but he’s usually very sweet. He’s a good man. Like, capital G, capital M.”

Your chest contracts just the tiniest bit. She takes a step, closing the distance between you, before cautiously but firmly putting her hand on your arm, giving it a gentle squeeze. 

“I can bring you a glass of water, if you want.”

“Oh no, thank you, I’m good. I feel like such an idiot.”

Tears start prickling at the corner of your eyes and she adjusts her strategy accordingly, stepping back just a bit. 

“Ugh, I hate this place. I think we’re the only women to ever come. I don’t know why they insist on meeting here. So we don’t join too often, I bet!”

You reward her effort with a small smile. If she goes on like that, you’ll probably kiss her too. 

“Listen. I’m eight years younger than Santi and I met him on one of his missions. My first time here was pure, fucking, hell,” she punctuates the last words with a shake of her head. “Just don’t pay any attention to Tom, and you’ll be fine. Come on, let’s go back before he makes a joke about ‘girls problems’ or some stupid shit like that,” she air quotes. 

“Wait!”

You bite your lips and pinch your cheeks to bring back some colours to your face, before nodding to indicate you’re ready. 

—

You exit the toilet in her stride and follow her sheepishly to the table. Benny’s talking animatedly to his friends and barely acknowledges you, which suits you well. You decide to ignore Yovanna’s advice and focus on Tom. Feminist wrath is just what you need to bring you around. 

If you took a peek at him, you’d see plain as day Frankie’s worried look etched on his face.

As the evening drags on, you gratefully follow Yovanna’s cue through every conversation. The guys don’t leave much room for the two of you any way, which is juts as well. 

Every once in a while, you risk a glance across the table. Is it real? How can he be sitting there, at arm’s length, how can you carry on? How can you stay still and not get up, walk over to him and curl up on his lap, wrap yourself around his frame? You’d never have suspected you possessed this kind of strength. Is it really strength? Is it shame? Or sheer terror? You’ll think about it later. 

More than once, you consider showing him the torn piece of paper with the smear of wiped ink that you carry in your wallet, next to your ID, but do you have it in you, step aside with him, a mere feet away from Benny? “He’s like a brother to me.”

“Look at me,” you plead in silence. “Look at me. I tried. I swear.” 

***

Taglist (Thank you 💕): @elegantduckturtle @mashomasho @lola766 @flowersandpotplantsandsunshine

#Francisco Catfish Morales #Frankie Morales #Ben Miller #Benny Miller #Will Ironhead Miller #Will Miller #Santiago Pope Garcia #Yovanna #Frankie Morales x fem!reader #Frankie Morales x you #The Pilot™️ #triple frontier fic #feral frankie friday #Frankie morales x fem!reader #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x ofc #frankie morales/fem!reader #frankie morales/you #frankie morales/ofc #triple frontier #and tom

[multifandombxxch]

Okay you guys have been asking how the date went.

I realized I didn’t mention this in my earlier post but he’s a white dude with long hair but the sides are trimmed .

We met up on campus so we could head to the library together.

Picking out an outfit and doing my hair for this was hell😭😭

But if you must know😌 I settled for a pink long sleeve crop top and a short cute denim skirt and my pink platform slides😌😌

I slicked my hair back into a bun (if I had braids in this would’ve been so much easier😭)

But Yh that was my outfit.

When I got there we had already agreed to meet at the campus cafe so Yh.

My heart was practically in my ass y’all😭😭😭😭 I was so nervous ffs🤦🏿‍♀️

He was wearing a regular T-shirt and some jeans and a fucking silver chain🧍🏿‍♀️

Silver accessories bring the whore out in me😭😭

I had to cross the road to get to the cafe and while I was crossing I realized he didn’t see me cuz he was looking down at his phone and I was like That’s fucking cute😭😭

But anyways I went up to him and I was like “heyyyyyy”

Y’all

Y’all

When he looked up from his phone and saw me he fucking looked me up and down and then smirked🧍🏿‍♀️

A fucking smirk🥹

He said hi back and told me I looked nice and my stupid ass said hi again😭😭 and went in for a hug

And when I tell you this man smelt AMAZINGGGG

I was this🤏🏿close to dropping to my knees.🥲

Anyways

We started making our way to the parking lot cuz apparently he wanted to drive us to the library instead of taking the public transportation.

Now Ik this should not have been my first thought after seeing the type of car he had but it was😭😭

The man had a whole Audi parked up as if it was a normal dandy day💀

When I saw the car yall I literally stopped walking💀💀 I was like

“Ohhhhh you got money moneyyyyy”

Which he laughed at💀 and told me his parents work in finance or smt like that so he got it for his 16th birthday🧍🏿‍♀️

My no drivers license ass stood there like🧍🏿‍♀️

Anyways while driving we talked about a looooooott

Like I can’t even remember most of the convo but he did make a comment that almost made me pass out

“You’re so fucking adorable”🥹🥹

I’m done.

So done.

It was the first I ever heard him curse and let me tell you😮‍💨😮‍💨

So we get to the library and by this time I’m a fidgety mess. Also giddy

The library is literally my favourite place in the whole entire world guys😭😭

So I practically jump out the car the minute he parks and I didn’t realize it immediately but he was smiling at me 🥹

Then proceeds to tease me about how he’s never seen anyone this excited to go into a library.

We have a playful argument with me basically telling him that libraries are bomb af and him telling me they’re not.

Anyways he picked up nothing…which I found absolutely hilarious 😂😂😂😂

I picked up about 4 different books and be judged me for every single one💀

So as heading up to the cashier he pulls me back and takes the books from me and he looks at me and he’s like

“I’m paying for everything today”

Now the way I grew up I have a very hard time accepting when somebody pay for stuff for me especially men so I immediately refused allowing him to do that but he gave me silent treatment and paid for them anyways 🧍🏿‍♀️. (We still argue over text about that…even though he says when I’m with him I shouldn’t even think of paying for anything)

We head back out to the car and he asks me what I want to eat and I explain to him that I’m trying to space out my meals so that I don’t over eat😬(been going through episodes past of recently with my body image)

And he asks me when was the last time I ate and I was like “8 this morning”

Y’all the way he looked at me😟😭

And practically commanded me to get in the car

“We’re getting you something to eat”

I said nothing bcz well…I was hungry😭😭😭💀💀💀

So we had quite a drive to get some Chinese and we ate in the car .

As I’m eating he starts telling me about himself and I learnt a lot🥹

I was having so much fun y’all.

And I told him that.

And he was like “me too I want to do this again with you”

And I was like sure but you have to pick the next date

(He wants to see a movie on Valentine’s Day)

We talk some more and eventually the topic of ex’s come up and I explained that I had never had a bf before🧍🏿‍♀️(I grew up with strict parents yall😭)

And he was like “good cuz I want you to be my girlfriend and I don’t feel like sharing you with anyone”

I was like😧😧😧

“Girlfriend? When did we come to that conclusion?”

Basically tells me five minutes into the date he ‘solidified’ the thought.

And l I could say was “oh”

I’m awkward sorry💀

We talked some more after that and eventually it was time to conclude the date.

Driving back was soooooooooo loooonnggggg and bcz night was coming it started to get cold yall

And yk I was in a short skirt🙂

He realized and started to rub my thigh to “warm me up” 😭

Take me now Lord😭

So I give him the directions to my house and he drops me off and walks me to my door

Basically tells me he had fun and stuff and then leans in and gives me a kiss on the cheek.🧍🏿‍♀️

Yh you read that correctly 😭

“You were really pretty today…I love this skirt on you”

😧😧😧

I sorry?!

Are you trying to make me jump you rn?!

Anyways I tell him to text me when he gets home and the date ended there😌.

I loved every second of it and I think I’m developing an obsession with him 😭😭😭

I mentioned to him over text once that I wanted to get braids soon and he was like

“How much?

Yh definitely daddy material

We’ve been eating lunch together on campus but I can’t see him often bcz he’s doing computer science and I’m doing marketing so that’s under two different faculties 🥲🥲

I will say though there is not a day that goes by without him telling me to eat on time😭😭

Practically cussed me out if I miss my meal time 🥹

I won’t lie though I love every second of it

Ohhh and he’s recently been calling me “Krissy”

I’ve been calling him giant💀 because The guy is huge yall

But yeah.

That’s it so far🥹

#nct johnny #nct mark #nct 127 #nct dream #nct haechan #nct jaehyun #nct taeil #nct taeyong #nct smut #nct imagines #nct yuta #chubby #library date #i have a crush #first date

[pandavalkyrie]

Yesterday I had a thought about self driving cars. The idea is simple, right? You tell the computer where you want to go and it takes you there. I hate driving, so at least at first, years ago, the idea of this was like a dream. Let someone, or something else, take the anxiety away. Take the risk from my hands. 

But now I’ve read all the arguments about why self driving single family vehicles are a waste. And now I agree, yes, just build trains. Just build a better public transportation system. But something else occurred to me recently while I was driving to the store.

Something kind of more existential that creeped into my understanding of how everything else is starting to turn.

Self driving vehicles will destroy the act of getting lost on purpose. 

On purpose is the important part there. Sometimes my husband and I will get in the car and go, with no real destination in mind. We just hit the road and drive, making turns at random, seeing what we see. We’ve stumbled into some incredible situations doing this. We’ve found parks, restaurants, and a creepy crumbling Christian LARP center we never would’ve found if we just plugged ‘Olive Garden’ into the GPS computer and let it go.

Automated cars will streamline the transportation experience. It’ll take out making a left turn instead of a right, because you had the thought, “Why not?”

If all cars became self driving, which some folks are claiming one day will happen, that’s one opportunity for a little extra spontaneous color in your life dead in the water.

And it’s not just that. It’s all automation. Wendy’s is testing an AI that’ll take your order at the drive thru. Yes, the primary problem with this is the elimination of jobs without any social safety net. That’s enough to side against it.

But, it also takes away a moment of interaction with a stranger. 99% of the time those interactions range form boring to frustrating, but 1% you get to talk to someone for a few minutes that makes your day. Maybe they joke around with you, compliment you, suggest something on the menu even. It’s a small social moment we need.

Everything needs to be streamlined. Everything needs to be efficient. We need to eliminate as much color and strangeness and opportunity for discomfort as possible. Television shows need to get on with the plot, quit sitting with the characters and letting the themes breathe with them. AI art generates exactly what you want to see without any little imperfections or quirks of the artist. Keep using the system, soon even the quirks of the AI itself like too many fucking fingers will also be smoothed out.

This is an existential crisis I’m having right now. Hell, maybe it’s just me. Maybe I’m being dramatic. But it feels like algorithms and so called AI are going to pigeonhole us into our little nuclear family bubbles and keep us there, lest we stop being good predictable consumers.

Stick with what you already know, tell the machine that’s what you want, and let it spit that exact thing out for you. Hell, the machine already predicted you wanted it. Google calendar told your car you have a doctor’s appointment, you don’t even need to enter the clinic’s address. How convenient.

Am I making a point here? Am I rambling or does this make sense? I have severe social anxiety and still I don’t want every interaction with a stranger replaced with a sterile and cold machine.

[darklydeliciousdesires]

Not One of Many - Chapter Twenty.

Previous chapters - Prologue  One  Two  Three  Four  Five  Six  Seven  Eight  Nine  Ten  Eleven  Twelve  Thirteen  Fourteen  Fifteen  Sixteen  Seventeen  Eighteen  Nineteen

Tag list - In the comments

Words - 4,114

Warnings - 18+ content, adult audience only. Minors DNI!

“Good morning, sunshine!”

While she might have been greeted with such a term, it was the person who used it whom Beth often equated to sunshine personified, opening her arms to give Mimi a big hug as she closed the door to Alfie’s Range Rover, arriving at the stables in good time. He’d told her it made sense to insure her on it too, should she ever want to head off anywhere without worrying about exuberant Uber fees or relying on public transport. The journey up had made Beth realise just how much she missed driving. Especially now she got to drive such a beautiful car, thanking the stars it was an automatic, as this was what she had learned in and driven back when she once owned a car herself.

“Hello, lovely girl. How are you?”

“Employed! I got the job at London Life and Style!”

Beth was thrilled for her. “Oh, well done, Mims!” she cried, another hug of congratulations following.  

“It was just the boost I needed, since Sony, Nickleodeon, a vape juice company, a builder's merchants and a small organic farm all said no. I was so surprised, but apparently, I’m just what they’re looking for. And they said they’d had a good recommendation from a certain freelance journalist, so I have you to thank.”

She had put in a good word for Mimi, this much was true. Mostly because she knew she’d be perfect for the job, but a little facet of her good deed had been driven by guilt, that because of her, Mimi’s happy relationship with Alfie had ended. She was still bowled over by how well she was taking it, until she learned that the sadness of losing her love had been somewhat softened.  

“So, I have more news!” Mimi divulged in teaser as they rode out over the fields, Beth turning to her with curiosity.

“Oh, Miss Downing-Hansen?” she began. “Do reveal!”

“I’ve met someone.” She could barely keep the smile from her face. Beth was glad, not for selfish reasons or easing of her own little slither of guilt, but because at twenty-one years old and six weeks out of her most recent relationship, Mimi was prime for a new romance. “His name is Josh; he actually works in the same building at the magazine offices are situated. We met in the lift as I was leaving from my interview! He’s twenty-six, he works at Miller Reed publishing as a copywriter and we’ve had three dates so far. I really like him, he’s so nice and easy going.”  

“And when are you seeing him again?”

“Tonight, I’m so excited! I’ve no idea where he’s taking me, I just have to be ready for 7pm for him to come and pick me up in a black cab. It’s so nice, isn’t it, in the early days of a relationship. I mean, you’re there too right now, so we can be excited together!”  

Mimi’s enthusiasm was contagious, but still, for Beth she felt a little awkward about it still.  

“You know you can be, right? Beth, you don’t have to feel bad that you’re now with my ex. If I wasn’t fine with it, I would have been selfish and hung onto him. Or I’d be behaving like that nutcase Talia. He told me on the phone a few days ago about her antics. It’s absolutely fucking shocking!”

She nodded knowingly, widening her eyes. “Oh, there’s been progression.”

Mimi’s head virtually swivelled to view her. “Progression? What, worse than throwing a glass at you and trying to gate crash parties you’re at?”

“The night before last, I had someone bang on my front door and leg it afterwards. Then they came back and did it again. I didn’t put the pieces together at first, until I realised it really couldn’t have been anyone but her. It did raise the slightly worrying concern that being she doesn’t know where I live, she must’ve been watching Alfie’s house for considerable enough time to have tracked my movements and followed me home.”  

Mimi looked stunned for a few moments, like she truly couldn’t just believe what she’d heard, going to speak, but her voice only coming out in chopped little noises. “Is she... I mean... what... the fuck?”

“I know.”

“She’s got ten years on me and she’s acting twenty younger!”

“I know!”

“I thought she was seriously beginning to lack some self-respect during the final days of her and Alfie being together, but bloody hell! That’s really taking the piss, though, acting like that. She’s so immature.” Her eyes were still wide as she processed it, shaking her head further, the whole fiasco unfathomable to her. Why couldn’t she just let Alfie move on? “What does she expect to prove by behaving like this? What, does she want him back? If so, surely she realises this isn’t the way to go about it. I mean, not that he’d be receptive to it even if she was behaving sanely. He’s in love with you and he’s happy.”

“No, I don’t think she wants him back, or at least, she does but she knows it’s over and thusly is raging about that fact,” Beth began, quietening Sunny when she spooked a little at a rabbit running out from the hedgerow, the mare having a puff and blow as she dived to the side. “I think she’s out to punish him, try and shame him with as many people there to witness it as possible by screaming her warped version of the truth. As for me, she’s trying to rattle me because she’s bitter that in her mind, I took her place. To be fair, that is what happened, just not quite in the way she’s claiming.”

Mimi snorted softly, looking empathetic. “Whatever her aim is, it’s the last thing you need, having to look over your shoulder, wondering what she’s going to do next.”  

Beth hadn’t considered escalation, but Mimi’s words suddenly made that cold, spiny feeling return to swirl in her guts. Would Talia up the ante? “Sorry, did I say something wrong?”

Mimi’s concern was touching, Beth reaching to stroke her forearm. “No, you didn’t. I just hope she doesn’t do anything next, but I have to expect that she likely will. I wonder what her end game is, but at the same time, the thought of such is a little perturbing.”

“I’m sorry, I should have been more careful with my words.”

“No, no,” Beth began, wanting to reassure her. “What you said is only natural. Whatever she does choose, though, it’s only going to prompt Alfie into filing a restraining over against her.”  

Mimi looked on with wide eyes. “You think she might do something that warrants it?”

“Well, if she’s watching our movements, she already is. What she’s doing is stalking, even though she’s only just begun, it doesn’t negate that fact.”

“I suppose not,” Mimi conceded. “Well, you get to have a nice time today with me and forget about her, so let’s change the subject.” She was only too happy to do so. “Oh! But if I can move back to an ex-girlfriend for a second, I finally heard from Amira again!”

Beth winced slightly, remembering Alfie detailing her tearful heartbreak to her. “How is she?”

“She’s doing really well, yeah. She’s gotten right back into her modelling, she apologised for ignoring me and not being in touch either, said she needed a bit of time just to get over it all and adjust to her life being so different suddenly. She revealed that while she isn’t completely over Alfie that she’s feeling stronger every day, and she wants to continue seeing me. I said I couldn’t as anything other than a friend, because of Josh, obviously, and she was really happy for me. She told me to say hello to you as well for her.”

Well, that was certainly a nice surprise for Beth to hear. Now if only the third of his exes could find a little grace.

Their day with the horses was wonderful, Mimi even managing to encourage her into taking Sunny over a fallen log fence, Beth elated since she hadn’t jumped in years and wasn’t particularly confident with it back when she had before. Mimi took photos as well while guiding her, which she was elated to see after returning back to Alfie’s, Mimi sending them over on a Whatsapp, telling her she looked forward to seeing her the following Saturday, the new friends deciding to make it a regular thing.  

“Look at you!” Alfie exclaimed, viewing the picture over her shoulder as he entered the kitchen, finding her mid-matzo snack.  

“I’m so proud of myself, I didn’t think I could do it but Mimi was so encouraging, talked me through it the entire time. She’s fantastic.”

Alfie kissed her cheek, smiling. “She is, bloody lovely girl. Did she tell you about her new fella? I’m glad she’s found someone else, glad she told me about him an’ all. I like that we’ve remained good friends.”

“She did,” Beth confirmed. “We should ask them if they want to go out as a four sometime.” Her suggestion was met by enthusiasm from him, Alfie making himself a coffee before heading back to his office. He was so close now to the whole Dubai deal beginning that he was putting most of his free time into it, Beth of course more than understanding that she had to come second for another week, until they broke ground on it and he could relax a little more.  

In the spirit of that, she gave him his space, heading home the following evening, spending the next few days at her flat, finishing her article highlighting the plight of women who had received botched plastic surgery in their quest to conform to societal-borne beauty standards and beginning the research for her new one, where she would look into women working in careers viewed as traditionally male dominated.  

It was while she was emailing a woman who worked within the car industry as an engine technician for Audi, asking if she could perhaps interview her for the piece, that she heard a banging upon her front door. Not again. She ignored it, continuing to type. Five minutes later, she heard the same again. Feeling brave, she opened the curtain, of course finding not a soul around. However, what she did see out there was a box upon the doorstep.  

Sometimes, her usual Amazon man did arrive quite late, her and the sweet Richard having a laugh about it, him knowing she was often up late so leaving her delivery until last on his way home to Wandsworth. She didn’t remember ordering anything, though, and Richard always waited until she answered the door.  

Her mind didn’t want to go to the most logical conclusion, but she couldn’t help but concede that it more than likely was Talia messing with her, trying to goad her out of the house in order to spring something on her, some kind of warped revenge. After her talk about it with Mimi five days previously, she had been expecting her to up the ante somehow.  

Heading into the hall, she hesitated, her nerves tingling, putting the chain on and opening the door while standing back and waiting. Nothing happened. She waited a little longer just to be certain, nothing but quiet outside, other than a faraway man’s voice shouting ‘oi, wait! I’ve dropped me bloody chips!’ to whomever he was with.  

Taking the chain off the door, she reached out and slid the box inside, shutting it again quickly, picking the package up to carry it through to the kitchen. It was a plain cardboard box, innocuous enough looking, Beth giving it a little shake. Something thudded softly inside, and whatever it was, it smelled pretty bad. Like a butcher's shop.  

“What on earth?” Taking a knife, she slit the tape, opening the flaps to reveal the contents. “Jesus fucking Christ!” Well, there was the butcher’s smell explained, the box containing what looked to be a cow’s heart, severed into two pieces. There was a note, too.  

“Now your heart is broken as well!”

A message, perhaps? Alfie. She hadn’t...  

Flying out of the room, she grabbed her phone, calling him.  

“Hello, baby beast. How was your night?”

Thank god. He was fine. She knew it was a ridiculous, overly dramatic conclusion to allow into her head, especially since Alfie was more than capable of defending himself, but still, she couldn’t be blamed for wondering.  

“Boo, can you come and pick me up? Something’s happened and I’m a bit scared, I don’t want to be here, I’m all freaked out!” she babbled in panic, her heart somersaulting.  

“What’s gone on, love?”

“Talia, I think she dropped a package off here meant to rattle me, and well, mission accomplished.”

He felt a knot of anger form in his stomach at hearing his ex’s name, but remained calm for Beth’s sake. “A package?”

“Just come over and I’ll show you, please hurry.”

“I’m on me way, sweetheart. You locked the door and windows an’ all that, yeah?”

“I have, yes.”

“Alright. Don’t panic, I’ll be there soon. Love you.”

“Okay, I love you too.”

She paced around, chewing her thumb nervously until he arrived, Alfie knocking and calling that it was him through the door, which she found reassuring. Letting him in, she felt instantly better for seeing her boyfriend, even more so when he wrapped her in a hug, his scent comforting. Nothing bad happened in Alfie’s arms. “What’s happened then, precious?”

“I’m probably overreacting, but come with me.” Walking to the kitchen, she opened the door and pointed at where the box was sat upon the counter. “She sent that.”

He peered in, leaning back out again at speed. “What the actual fuck is wrong with the woman? I just... I’m so sorry, darlin’.”

“Why, it isn’t your fault. This is all on her.”

He hugged her, kissing her head. “Yeah, but I was the idiot who had a relationship with her and didn’t see how mental she was right until the end.”

She appreciated him saying it, but it honestly wasn’t his fault. “You finishing with her should have been the end, but apparently she has other ideas.”  

“Not for much longer, she fuckin’ don’t.” Pulling his phone out, he rang the best legal mind for advice. “Alright, Steve. Sorry to call ya late, but I need a bit of advice.”

He detailed the situation, listening as Steve explained how the land lay legally, Alfie not looking particularly thrilled as he nodded. “Okay mate, yeah thanks for that. I’ll see ya Friday, bye.”  

“What did he say?”

Alfie scratched his beard, raising his eyebrows. “Well, since she ain’t actually threatened no one, there’s nothing we can do as yet. As and when she begins to display such behaviour is when we can take it to the police and file a restraining order. Until then, he said keep any evidence such as this, obviously you can’t keep a piece of offal that’ll rot, but take a picture and keep the note. Unfortunately, she is, as Steve said, a menace we might have to endure for a while until we can gather substantial evidence in her harassing us.”  

That didn’t particularly sit well with Beth, not able to feel safe in her own home. Alfie was quick to sense that, as well. “Pack up plenty of stuff and come stay with me for as long as you want to. I ain’t having you over here worrying yourself to death over it, darlin’.”

“Thank you.” She went through to her bedroom, Alfie wondering around her flat, the first time he’d ever been inside it. It was about the same size as his first place he’d been able to afford when moving out from his mother’s house in Camden, except not as nice as Beth’s quaint abode, full of charm and character that exuded her personality from every wall, every little piece of furniture or ornament as well.  

Grabbing her cases and hold all bags, she packed a pile of stuff, more than she probably needed, Alfie ferrying it out to his Range Rover, which he’d had to park a little way down her road, parking being so atrocious. When he came back, she was in the fridge.

“Erm, I have food at mine, petal.”

“I’ll be damned if I’m leaving my mother’s leftover kugel and my salmon pate behind to go bad!” she exclaimed, putting the dish and tubs into one of her hessian shopping bags. It was lucky she needed to do the shopping as there wasn’t much else in there, save some butter and a pint of milk she poured away, so she didn’t return to it resembling cottage cheese. Once she had those things, as well as her fruit, she packed up her laptop, grabbed her denim jacket and slid her feet into her Ugg slippers, making sure everything was switched off before locking up, dumping the cow's heart into the communal bin for her flat and the other two within the three-storey townhouse.  

“It’s alright, she ain’t gonna do nothing to you while I’m here,” he reassured her when she gripped his hand tightly, looking around everywhere.  

“I know, I’m just jumpy that she was here in the first place, that she’s been following me enough to know where I live. She must be watching your house a lot, to have seen me leave two days ago to come back here.”

“Makes me wish she was a fella, because then if I caught her doing it, I’d be able to fuckin’ headbutt her for her fuckery. But I draw the line at striking a woman.” Reaching the car, she placed her food bag in the rear footwell, jumping in, so glad to be being whisked off back to Chelsea, to the home that had the kind of security which ensured Talia wouldn’t be getting anywhere near the front door. Even if she jumped the wall, she’d be all over the CCTV.

As soon as she was across the threshold of the former church, she breathed a sigh of relief, putting the food items into the fridge and turning to hug Alfie.  

“Want me to take your mind off it?” he asked, stroking her back.  

“What did you have in mind?”  

He grinned, lifting her to perch her bum on the island, his mouth moving to leave soft kisses at the side of her neck as he pulled down her lounge suit trousers and undies, Beth letting her slippers fall from her feet. “I like where this is going.”

“I thought you might.” He pushed her back to lie flat against the island, elbows nudging her thighs apart, watching the beauty of her sex spread before him, introducing his tongue to her folds in the form of a long, flat, hard lick. Each lave was given in keener succession than the last, tasting her petal soft folds hungrily, driving glimmers through her as she warmed to him, a soft moan filling the air as he sought her clit and circled it with tight, firm sweeps.  

“Better now?”

“Ahhhhh!” That was good enough an answer for him.

“Good.” Kissing her clit, he then continued to delight it with his tongue, gently sucking, playing with her piercing, fingertips stroking her thighs as he felt her starting to get wet for him, his tongue dewy with her slick before long.

Gratification swept through her strongly as she felt his powerful hands stroke her thighs, looking up to watch him eating her, the vibrations of his moans around the mouthful of her cunt adding to the pleasure of his quick moving tongue. Each beat of it against her hardened nub caused a greater pulse of pleasure than the last, her head softly thudding back against the cool marble beneath her as she sighed breathlessly.  

He’d gotten her so sumptuously wet already that she craved the gratification of feeling him inside of her, that need somewhat sated when he licked at her glossy opening and pushed his tongue within a little, before going back to circling her aching clit. He knew she was more than ready for him, and with his erection painfully throbbing within his jeans, Alfie knew he wanted nothing more than to pull it out and arrow it straight into her velvety, wet plush. He was so ferociously aroused, he could barely stand it.  

“Ohhhh, oh fuck!” She cried, her hands clinging onto his thick biceps as he sucked at her clit, her head spinning. God, he was so good. She panted and undulated, her body moving in a serpentine manner as it thudded audibly atop the island, reaching the point of frenzied climax so quickly it took even her by surprise. Then again, this was Alfie. He was a god with his mouth. She wailed incoherently as she came against his tongue, the burst of pleasure sending ebullient tingles throughout her body, swimming in ecstasy as she panted hard, the movements of his mouth lessening until he pulled away.  

She grabbed his t shirt, yanking it over his head, Alfie stripping the rest of his attire off as she freed herself from the confines of her own remaining clothes, their kisses hungry and full of need as she wrapped her arms around his neck, his hands gripping as her thighs, pulling her further to the edge of the island, guiding his cock into her with a hard thrust.

Her heat yielded to him perfectly, his arms wrapping around her and hands stroking her back, keeping her steady as he began to arrow into her with sharp snaps of his hips. The lust he felt for her seeped over him like a mist, grasping her jaw, staring at her intently as he kissed her hotly, biting her lower lip, letting the soft flesh slide slowly from between the crush of his teeth, his other hand stroking tickled pitter patters up her spine, his mouth descending to sprinkle kisses across her chest.  

Beth closed her eyes and exhaled a bliss filled sigh, rolling her hips against him as she slid up and down on his erection, immersed fully in the pleasure of him inside of her. He felt beyond exquisite. All thoughts of her visitor and subsequent creepy, unwanted package were far from her thoughts as the object of her burning desire and consuming love fucked her relentlessly upon the island.  

“Fuck, oh god, ahhhh!” she panted, little exclamations still leaving her mouth thereafter until he silenced her with an explosively hot kiss, his hands pulling her against him and holding her tightly against his chest as he started to arrow her harder, his upward movements in perfect sync with each of her downward ones.

“Lean back, baby beast. Let me watch you, let me see how much you’re enjoying my cock.” Pushing her away. Beth arched her back and rested her hands behind her on the counter, giving him a full view of her, loving the view of her split wide around his hard, wet cock, His eyes shone brightly with desire, his mouth agape as he panted and groaned, lost in the pleasing view of how her body twitched and shuddered in response to him, rutting so deep inside her.  

She really began to cry out when his movements became harder, ramming every last inch of himself up into her deep, burning wetness, watching her pant and exclaim without reserve as sweat began to bead their bodies. Her entire core felt alight with incredible pleasure, exacerbated further by the addition of his thumb at her clit, rubbing it in the kind of expert way she’d come to enjoy from him. He knew exactly how to touch a woman.

The fervid, rapid nature of their furiously paced fuck was geared more towards quick satisfaction than something to be savoured, both rushing towards their culmination, Beth shattering shortly before he did, her teeth bit onto the meat of his shoulder as her nails tore the skin from his back, rendering her a senseless, shaking mess.  

“Fuck, you make me so damned cock drunk,” she panted, flopping back onto the island, her long, high pitched exclamation of ‘phewwwww!’ rousing his laughter, resting his head to her chest as he caught his breath.  

“Want me to get you even more hammered on it?”

She sat up, grinning widely. “You’d bloody better.”  

He did, too. Until three in the morning. Until they were tired and sore. He could survive on four hours of sleep for her.  

#alfie solomons #alfie solomons smut #alfie solomons fanfiction #alfie solomons fanfic #alfie solomons fic #au alfie solomons #modern alfie solomons #alfie solomons x ofc #alfie solomons x oc #tom hardy #tom hardy fanfiction #tom hardy fanfic #tom hardy fic #tom hardy smut #tom hardy x ofc #tom hardy x oc #peaky blinders #peaky blinders smut #peaky blinders fanfiction #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders fic #peaky blinders au

[trialnumbergamma]

How adeuce got back to school in ch 4

Future chapter spoilers

I have no idea how far en is in the main story soooooo YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED~~~~

no I’m serious I’m going to mention things from future chapters and I don’t want to spoil anyone who wants to go in as blind as possible

okay so I'm going to assume anyone still here has played jp or doesn’t care

so in a discord I’m in we talked about how adeuce got back to isle of sages and I worked out some math that at least made me appreciate our idiots a little more. This is going to be all over the place cus im in finals week and am already putting more energy into this then my final projects 

okay so to start off we are going to have to assume some things right off the bat i.e. ace is from a city towards the middle of the rose kingdom and deuce is from a town off the cost somewhere so their locations are going to be something like this (thank you discord mutuals for basically feeding all of this info to me)

ace doesn’t really share anything personal in general the most we get out of him is that he would go around the neighborhood to trick or treat also i know he’s supposed to be British but the suburbs are written all over him

now deuce’s location is pretty obvious from what he told us in ch 5 (EN’S I WARNED YOU) in order to yell out your teen angst at the beach you’d need a beach in the first place. Also deuce living in a small-med size town would explain how a 14 year old even got  a motorcycle in the first place (I swear if yuu didn’t exist deuce would have been the protagonist but that’s an info dump post for another day)

okay so ace said that how they got back to the isle of sages was public transportation /derogatory

aka: plane -> bus -> boat -> boat -> bus

so we can assume that it looked something like this

okay so if memory serves right ch 4 takes place across 6 days and 5 nights I cant remember (I'd actually check but finals, feel free to fact check me) and yuu doesn’t message them until night one so that gives adeuce 5 days or 120 hours to get to yuu meaning

Ace flies to the airport closest to deuce (california to georgia is like 4 hours so lets go with 3-4 hours)

Ace takes a bus the rest of the way to deuce’s town (buses are slower than planes so 1-6 hours it depends how far the airport would be from deuce)

Adeuce takes the 1st boat to the 2nd boat (lets say 12 hours at most)

Adeuce take the second boat to the isle (prob another 12 hours)

Adeuce take a bus across the island and probably still had to hike a little cus who knows how safe that cliff is to drive ((½-2 hours maybe?)

That’s 28:30-36 hours of traveling not including layovers, gaps between getting on/off transport and ya know CONVINCING YOUR PARENTS TO DROP $300-600 ON TRANSPORT CUS THEIR MAGICLESS FRIEND NEEDS THEM and that’s me being generous, with how last minute the whole thing was it was not cheep no wonder they didn’t nope out of vdc they hella owed their parents money

The guilt and knowledge you’ll probably not get a ps5 for christmas vs. vil

The fact that they went through all of that is crazy to me I've been on a train with a clogged toilet for 6 hours before now you’re telling me they went on a boat im surpried they partyed everytime i go through (LITTERALY A FRACTION OF) that I pass the fuck out

This goes beyond them owing yuu for ch 1-3 this is straight up ride or die best friend shit

Tdlr: i no longer believe traitor ace theory

#twisted wonderland #deuce spade #ace trappola #adeuce #im sorry if the warning feels excessive i just dont wanna deal with anything i dont have to #when you've traveled bus bus train bus before #Adeuce the real homies #lowkey hope no one sees this cus at this point ive spent more effort on this post then my research project